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jupiterpilgrim · 2 months ago

Text

Adding up

Nakamura Kazuha x Huh Yunjin x Male Reader

word count: 20K

commissioned fic

You push the door open, the weight of the day still clinging to your shoulders. The apartment smells faintly of jasmine—Kazuha’s favorite candle—and something savory, like she tried to cook but gave up halfway. You kick off your shoes, the floor cool under your socks, and glance over at her. She’s perched on the edge of the couch, phone pressed to her ear, her free hand tugging at the hem of her oversized hoodie. Her hair’s tied up in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face. No makeup, just her. Beautiful, even when she’s stressed.

You catch bits of the conversation as you head to the bathroom. “No, you can’t just—no, listen to me—” Kazuha’s voice is low, tense, the kind of tone she uses when she’s trying to be calm but is clearly pissed. You close the bathroom door behind you, the shower drowning out the rest. The hot water helps, washing away the sweat and the stale beer smell from the bar. You change into sweats and a t-shirt, your stomach growling as you head to the kitchen.

Kazuha’s off the phone by now, sitting cross-legged on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen like it owes her money. You grab a bag of chips from the cupboard, ripping it open with your teeth. “Who was that?” you ask, even though you already know.

“Yunjin,” she says, her voice flat. She picks at a loose thread on the couch cushion, not looking at you. “Her and that idiot got into it again. Big surprise.”

You lean against the counter, crunching on a chip. “They’ve been fighting a lot lately, huh?”

Kazuha nods, her brows furrowed. “It’s bad this time. Like, bad bad. She's talking about taking a break,” She trails off, shaking her head. “But you know how she is. She’ll say she’s done, then go right back to him like nothing happened.”

You do know. Yunjin’s always been like that—fiery, impulsive, but with a soft spot for people who don’t deserve her. Kazuha’s the opposite. Steady, grounded, the kind of person who’d give you the shirt off her back but wouldn’t hesitate to call you out on your bullshit. It’s why they work as friends, even though Kazuha’s technically the younger one. She’s always been the one to pick up the pieces when Yunjin’s world falls apart.

You walk over to the couch, sitting down beside her. She leans into you automatically, her head resting on your shoulder. You wrap an arm around her, your fingers tracing idle patterns on her arm. “She’ll figure it out,” you say, even though you’re not sure if you believe it. “She’s tough. She just needs time.”

Kazuha sighs, her breath warm against your neck. “I know. I just hate seeing her like this. She deserves better, you know?”

You nod, kissing the top of her head. “She does. But hey, don’t let it ruin tomorrow, okay? We’ve got plans. Two years, babe. That’s a big deal.”

That gets a small smile out of her. She tilts her head up to look at you, her dark eyes softening. “Two years,” she repeats, like she’s testing the words. “You’re right. I’m not letting anything mess that up.”

You grin, brushing a stray hair out of her face. “Damn right you’re not. I’ve got reservations at that place you’ve been obsessing over. The one with the fancy sushi.”

Her smile widens, and for a moment, the worry in her eyes fades. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“I do,” you say, laughing when she swats at your arm. You pull her closer, the two of you sitting there in comfortable silence.

For now, at least, everything feels okay.

—

The restaurant is one of those places that feels like it’s straight out of a magazine—dim lighting, sleek wooden tables, and a vibe that screams expensive. Kazuha’s eyes light up as soon as you walk in, her hand squeezing yours like she’s trying to contain her excitement. She’s been talking about this place for weeks, sending you Instagram posts of their sushi platters and rambling about how they source their fish directly from some market in Tokyo. You don’t really get it, but you love how passionate she gets about stuff like this. It’s one of the million things that make her, well, her.

The hostess leads you to your table, and Kazuha practically bounces into her seat. She’s wearing this dress you’ve never seen before—black, fitted, with these tiny silver details that catch the light every time she moves. Her hair’s down, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and she’s got just enough makeup to make her look like she’s glowing. You can’t help but stare a little. Two years in, and she still takes your breath away.

“You’re staring,” she says, smirking as she picks up the menu.

“Can’t help it,” you shoot back, grinning. “You look incredible.”

She rolls her eyes, but you can tell she’s pleased. The waiter comes by, and Kazuha orders for both of you, her voice confident as she rattles off dish names you can’t even pronounce. You don’t mind. You trust her taste.

The food comes out in waves—sushi, sashimi, some kind of soup that smells like heaven. Kazuha’s in her element, explaining each dish to you like she’s a tour guide. You nod along, half-listening, more focused on the way her face lights up when she talks. She’s happy. That’s all that matters.

But then her phone buzzes. Again. And again. Each time, she glances at it, her smile faltering for a second before she forces it back. You know it’s Yunjin. It’s always Yunjin. Part of you wants to say something, to tell her to put the damn phone away and just be here with you, but you bite your tongue. You know how much she worries about her. How much she cares. Deep down you feel the same way too. So you let it slide, even though it bugs you.

“Hey,” she says suddenly, reaching across the table to take your hand. “Thank you for bringing me here. Seriously. I’m so happy right now.”

Her words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you forget about the phone. “Of course,” you say, squeezing her hand. “You deserve it.”

She smiles, but there’s something off about it. Something tired.

“You okay?” you ask, your voice soft.

“Yeah,” she says quickly, too quickly. “Just… a lot going on, you know? But I’m fine. Really.” She forces a laugh, changing the subject to some story about her college days. You let her, even though you know she’s deflecting. You’ve learned when to push and when to let her be.

The rest of dinner goes smoothly, the two of you falling into easy conversation. By the time you leave, you’re both stuffed and satisfied, the kind of full that makes you want to curl up on the couch and do nothing for the rest of the night. The walk home is quiet, the city lights reflecting off the wet pavement. Kazuha links her arm with yours, leaning into you as you walk. It’s moments like these that remind you why you fell for her in the first place. She’s your person. And no matter what’s going on with Yunjin, or work, or anything else, you know you’ll always have this.

—

The apartment feels different when you step inside, maybe it’s the wine buzzing in your veins, or the way Kazuha’s laughter spills out a little louder, a little freer, as you kick the door shut behind you. She toes off her heels by the entryway, wobbling slightly, and you catch her elbow. “Careful,” you say, grinning.

“Shut up,” she fires back, but there’s no heat in it. Her cheeks are flushed, and her smile is loose, unguarded. You follow her into the kitchen, where she hops up onto the counter, legs swinging. The bottle of red you’d been saving sits on the shelf, and you grab it, along with two mismatched glasses. “Classy,” she snorts, watching you pour.

“We’re cultured,” you deadpan, handing her a glass. She takes a sip, her lips staining darker, and you can’t look away.

The wine does its job fast. Kazuha gets chatty, her words slipping into each other as she talks about the restaurant, the way the chef plated the sashimi like it was art. You’re only half-listening, too busy noticing how her dress rides up her thighs, how the strap of her bra peeks out from under the fabric. She catches you staring and kicks your shin lightly. “Eyes up here, loser.”

You raise your hands in mock surrender. “Can’t help it. You’re… distracting.”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile curls at the edges. “Yeah? Distracting how?”

You step between her knees, hands settling on her hips. “Like this,” you say, leaning in to kiss her. She tastes like wine and soy sauce and something sweet, and her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to make you groan.

When you break apart, she’s breathless, her pupils blown. “Bedroom,” she says, not asking.

You follow her down the hall, watching the way her dress clings to her as she walks. The bedroom is dim, the streetlights outside cutting slants of gold through the blinds. She stops in front of the mirror, her back to you, and reaches for the zipper at her side. It slides down slowly, the fabric pooling at her feet.

The lingerie is black, lace, the kind that’s all straps and secrets. She turns to face you, one eyebrow arched. “You just gonna stand there?”

You swallow. “Maybe. It’s a good view.”

She laughs, low and throaty, and crosses the room. Her hands find the waistband of your jeans, popping the button with practiced ease. “Your turn,” she says, her breath hot against your ear.

You’re down to your boxers in seconds, but she’s still in that fucking lingerie, smirking like she knows exactly what she’s doing. And she does. Always does. You reach for her, but she steps back, clicking her tongue. “Uh-uh. Let me look at you.”

The command hits you square in the chest. You stay still, letting her eyes rake over you, her gaze heavy. When she finally closes the distance, her nails dig into your shoulders as she kisses you—hard, hungry. You walk her backward until her knees hit the bed, and she falls onto the mattress, pulling you down with her.

“I love you,” you mutter against her neck.

“I love you too,” she gasps as your teeth graze her collarbone.

The rest is a blur—hands, mouths, the slide of skin on skin. She’s relentless, all sharp edges and whispered demands, and you let her take what she wants. Let her take you. When it’s over, she collapses beside you, her hair a wild halo on the pillow. You’re both sweating, breathless, the room smelling like sex and her perfume.

She turns her head to look at you, her smile lazy, satisfied. “Happy anniversary,” she says.

"Happy birthday, baby," you say before kissing her.

—

The morning light filters through the blinds, painting the bedroom in soft gold. Your body is heavy with satisfaction, limbs tangled with hers, warmth pressed into warmth. You don’t want to move. Not yet. Not when she’s here, her bare skin against yours, her slow, even breaths fanning against your collarbone.

You run your fingers lazily down her back, tracing the bumps of her spine. Kazuha sighs, nestling closer. “Mmm,” she hums, lips grazing your skin. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep okay?”

“Like a baby.” She shifts, stretching her long limbs like a cat, the sheets slipping just enough to reveal more of her bare shoulder, her collarbone, the marks you left along her skin. “Last night was… perfect.”

You smirk, tightening your grip around her waist. “Yeah?”

She giggles, soft and lazy. “Yeah.”

You feel like you could stay like this forever—just you and her, wrapped up in the sheets, nowhere to be, no one to interrupt—

Then Kazuha’s phone vibrates against the mattress.

She groans. “Ugh. No.”

You blindly reach for it, dragging it out from under the pillow and holding it up without looking. “Ignore it.”

She does, for all of five seconds. Then it buzzes again. And again.

She sighs, rolling over just enough to peek at the screen. You catch a glimpse of the name—Yunjin.

That hesitation. The way her lips press together. You already know she’s gonna answer.

“Zuha,” you groan, burying your face in the pillow.

“I have to,” she says, sounding apologetic as she swipes to pick up. “Hey, Yunjin. What’s up?”

You sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that your lazy morning is officially ruined. You drag yourself out of bed, stretching before heading to the bathroom. As you brush your teeth, you catch pieces of Kazuha’s voice through the door. Her tone is careful, considerate. That soft, soothing voice she only uses when someone needs comfort.

You spit into the sink, rinsing your mouth. Something’s up.

When you step back into the room, Kazuha is sitting up now, the sheets pooled around her waist, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the hem. Her brows are slightly furrowed, her lips pressed into a thoughtful line.

She looks up at you, meeting your eyes with that gentle, searching gaze. “So…” she starts, drawing out the word.

You sit down on the edge of the bed, waiting. “What’s up?”

Kazuha hesitates for a second, then sighs. “Yunjin’s moving out of the apartment she shared with her boyfriend. I think this time it's for real.”

Your brows lift. “Wait, really?”

She nods. “It’s… complicated, but yeah. She needs a place to stay while she figures things out. She asked if she could stay here for a little while.”

You blink. “Like… here?”

“Yeah.” Kazuha studies your face, watching for your reaction. “Only for a bit. Just until she finds a new place. I told her I’d ask you first.”

You exhale, rubbing the back of your neck. “Of course, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, eyes searching yours.

“Yeah,” you nod, offering a small smile. “I mean, it’s Yunjin. I don’t mind.”

Kazuha visibly relaxes. “Thank you.” She leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder. “I really appreciate it. And so does she.”

You pause. “She okay?”

Kazuha’s face softens. “She says she is.” A beat. “But I don’t think she is. Not really.”

That makes sense. Moving out of a shared apartment? Whatever happened, it probably wasn’t pretty.

“She’ll be here later,” Kazuha continues. “She didn’t want to impose, but I told her it’s fine.”

“Of course,” you say again. Then, after a moment, “Do you know what happened?”

Kazuha shakes her head. “Not really. She didn’t say much. Just that things weren’t working anymore. She sounded… tired.”

You nod slowly.

A comfortable silence settles between you for a moment. Then Kazuha tugs on your arm, pulling you back down onto the bed. “We have a few more hours before she gets here,” she murmurs, resting her head against your chest. “Can we just… stay like this for a bit?”

You wrap an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Yeah,” you murmur. “We can.”

And for a while, you do.

—

The hum of the vacuum fills the apartment, drowning out everything else. You push it back and forth across the living room rug, glancing around to make sure everything is in place. The couch cushions are fluffed, the coffee table wiped down, the candles on the shelf arranged just right. You and Kazuha have spent the last couple of hours making sure the place is as welcoming as possible.

Kazuha moves around the kitchen, setting out coffee mugs and snacks, her brows furrowed in concentration. “Think she’ll like it?” she asks, turning to you.

“She’s not a hotel guest, Zuha,” you say with a smirk, shutting off the vacuum. “She’s crashing with friends. Pretty sure she’ll be happy just to have somewhere to land.”

Kazuha sighs, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I just want her to feel at home.”

“She will,” you reassure her.

Right on cue, the doorbell rings.

Kazuha immediately perks up. “She’s here.”

She rushes to the door while you move the vacuum out of the way. When she opens it, Yunjin steps inside, dragging a suitcase in one hand, a backpack slung over her shoulder. She’s dressed comfortably—sweats, an oversized hoodie, hair pulled into a messy ponytail. No makeup, dark circles under her eyes. She looks… exhausted. Not just physically, but emotionally drained.

Kazuha pulls her into a tight hug. “Hey,” she murmurs. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Yunjin replies, but there’s something about the way she says it—too automatic, too practiced.

You step forward, giving her a quick but firm hug. “Good to see you.”

She exhales, her shoulders sinking a little. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” you say, waving it off.

“Yeah,” Kazuha agrees. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Yunjin nods, offering a tired smile. “Still, I appreciate it.”

Kazuha grabs one of her bags. “Come on, we set up a room for you.”

Yunjin’s lips twitch at that. “A whole room, huh? Fancy.”

Kazuha grins. “Only the best.”

They disappear down the hallway while you start cleaning up the last bits of clutter. A few minutes later, they return, Yunjin looking marginally more relaxed.

“Coffee?” you ask, holding up a steaming mug.

Yunjin takes it with both hands, like it’s the first bit of comfort she’s had all day. “God, yes.”

You sit across from her as she takes a sip, sighing into the warmth. “It’s not a huge place,” you say, gesturing around, “but it’s cozy.”

She glances around, taking in the soft lighting, the neatly arranged furniture, the framed pictures on the wall. “I've always loved your apartment. It’s perfect,” she says sincerely.

Kazuha settles next to her, pulling her legs up onto the couch. “So…” she starts, hesitant but gentle. “What happened?”

Yunjin exhales, staring into her coffee. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Then, quietly, “It just got unbearable.”

You and Kazuha exchange a look.

Yunjin swirls the coffee in her mug, eyes distant. “I don’t even know when it started getting bad. It was like… little things at first. The way he talked to me, the way he never really listened.” She shakes her head, a bitter laugh slipping out. “I thought it was normal. Just rough patches, you know? But then rough patches turned into constant tension. Every conversation felt like walking on eggshells.”

Kazuha frowns. “Did he—”

“He wasn’t violent,” Yunjin cuts in quickly, sensing the question. “Nothing like that. But he was just… mean. Dismissive. Controlling, in subtle ways. Always making me feel like I was the problem, like I was lucky to have him, even when he barely put in any effort.” She sighs, rubbing her temple. “I don’t know why I stayed as long as I did.”

Kazuha places a hand on Yunjin’s knee. “Because you cared,” she says softly. “Because you wanted to believe it could get better.”

You lean back, scoffing. “Well, he was an asshole.”

Yunjin snorts, shaking her head. “Yeah. He was.”

There’s a beat of silence, then she looks up at both of you, something vulnerable in her eyes. “Thanks for this,” she says. “For letting me crash here. For not making me feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Kazuha says immediately. “You did what you had to do. And I’m so glad you got out.”

You nod. “Seriously. You deserve better than that shit.”

Yunjin exhales again, but this time it feels lighter. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think so too.”

Kazuha squeezes her knee before standing. “Okay. Enough heavy shit. You need food, a movie, and a night of doing absolutely nothing.”

Yunjin smiles, small but real. “That actually sounds perfect.”

“Good,” you say, standing up too. “Then let’s get started.”

And just like that, the weight in the room shifts. The exhaustion in Yunjin’s face softens, the warmth of the apartment settling around her like a blanket. She’s not okay yet—not completely—but she’s here. She’s safe. And for now, that’s enough.

—

The first week with Yunjin in the apartment feels heavy. Not in an inconvenientway—more like the weight of someone carrying something too big, too raw, and not knowing how to set it down.

She moves through the apartment in an almost dreamlike state, always in pajamas—sweatpants, a hoodie, hair messy from sleep no matter what time of day it is. She doesn’t really do anything. She just exists. Sometimes she’ll scroll on her phone for hours, other times she’ll stare at the TV without really watching it.

You and Kazuha keep moving as usual. Work, errands, life. Kazuha teaches ballet—she's certainly the best you've encountered (not that you've met many). She's still hoping to open her own studio one day. You’ve got your own work inside an office, something stable, structured—enough to keep your mind occupied, but even still, you find yourself wondering about Yunjin throughout the day.

You don’t push her. Neither does Kazuha. You both just make sure she has space, warmth, and the quiet reassurance that she’s not alone.

Then, a week later, everything shifts.

You wake up to the smell of coffee and Kazuha humming softly in the kitchen. The TV murmurs in the background, some morning talk show playing on low volume. Yunjin is curled up in the corner of the couch, coffee in hand, wearing something other than her pajamas for the first time since she got here. Just leggings and a hoodie, but still—progress.

Kazuha looks up as you walk in, her face lighting up. “Morning, babe.”

You press a kiss to her temple before glancing at Yunjin. “Morning.”

She gives a little nod. “Morning.” There’s something different about her today.

Not fixed, not completely okay, but lighter.

Kazuha slides a plate of toast in front of you before nudging Yunjin with her elbow. “Tell him the news.”

Yunjin rolls her eyes but cracks a tiny smile. “I got a job.”

You blink. “Wait, really?”

She nods. “Yeah. Nothing fancy, just a front desk job at a gym. But, you know… something.”

You grin. “That’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, rubbing the back of her neck. “I mean, I’ve been out of work since the breakup, so I figured it was time to do something before I started growing into the couch. It's something to keep me busy while I find another job in tourism, eventually I'll need to put my degree to some use again.”

Kazuha nudges her again, softer this time. “I’m really proud of you.”

Yunjin huffs a small laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t make it a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Kazuha insists. “You’re moving forward.”

Yunjin shrugs, but the way her lips twitch upward tells you she is a little proud of herself.

You glance at the time and sigh. “Alright, gotta head out.” You squeeze Kazuha’s shoulder and offer Yunjin another grin. “Congrats again.”

“Thanks,” she says, and for the first time in a while, she actually sounds like she means it.

—

Later that day, on your way home, you pass by a flower shop you’ve never seen before. It’s small, tucked between a bakery and a bookstore, with bright sunflowers and roses spilling from baskets out front. Something about it pulls you in.

You step inside, inhaling the fresh floral scent. As you scan the rows of colorful arrangements, you immediately think of Kazuha. You haven’t gotten her flowers in a while. She always lights up when you do.

But then another thought crosses your mind—Yunjin.

You hesitate. Would it be weird? Seeing Kazuha get a bouquet from her boyfriend while she’s still processing everything? Would it make her feel out of place?

You decide on two bouquets. One for Kazuha, filled with soft pinks and whites, delicate and sweet. And one for Yunjin—something simple but vibrant, oranges and yellows, warm like a sunrise. Something that says you’re doing great, keep going.

When you walk through the door, both of them are lounging in the living room, laughing at something on TV. Kazuha looks up first, her eyes widening as she sees the flowers.

“Wait… for me?” she asks, sitting up.

“Of course,” you say, handing her the pink bouquet.

She beams, taking them with both hands. “They’re beautiful, babe. Thank you.”

Then you turn to Yunjin and offer her the second bouquet. “And these… for you.”

Her brows shoot up. “For me?”

You nod. “To congratulate you. And, you know… just because.”

She stares at the bouquet for a moment, then carefully takes it from your hands. “I—wow. I wasn’t expecting…” She trails off, blinking rapidly.

Kazuha grins, nudging her. “Aww, you’re getting emotional.”

“I am not,” Yunjin grumbles, but the way she bites her lip, the way her fingers tighten slightly around the bouquet—it’s clear she’s feeling something.

You chuckle. “Well, glad you like them.”

Yunjin looks down at the flowers again, something unreadable in her expression. Then, in a quiet voice, she says, “No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

Kazuha’s expression softens. “Then it’s about time.”

Yunjin exhales, shaking her head with a small, almost disbelieving smile. “You guys are too nice to me.”

“We’re just treating you how you deserve to be treated,” Kazuha says simply.

Yunjin swallows, like she’s pushing back more emotion than she expected. Then, in a voice lighter than before, she says, “Well… now we have to drink, right? To celebrate my new job, my first flowers, and the fact that I finally changed out of my pajamas?”

Kazuha claps her hands together. “Yes! I love this plan.”

You smirk. “Drinks it is.”

Yunjin shakes her head, still smiling as she looks between you and Kazuha. “You guys are gonna make me soft,” she mutters.

Kazuha grins. “Too late.”

—

The night stretches on, the three of you sprawled across the living room, surrounded by half-empty glasses, snack wrappers, and the warmth of alcohol buzzing under your skin. The apartment feels alive in a way it hasn’t since Yunjin moved in—like laughter is stitched into the air, like something weightless has settled over all of you.

Yunjin, who’s been quiet all week, is glowing now—cheeks flushed from the drinks, eyes bright as she throws her head back in laughter. Kazuha’s beside her, giggling as she recounts the time she almost got kicked out of ballet class for smuggling snacks into rehearsal.

“You snuck in an entire bag of chips,” Yunjin wheezes, wiping tears from her eyes.

“I was hungry!” Kazuha defends, throwing her hands up. “And I was smooth about it too, until somebody—” she shoots Yunjin a pointed look “—busted me out in front of the instructor.”

“I panicked!” Yunjin cackles. “She was looking right at you and you were just sitting there, mid-pirouette, crunching.”

You shake your head, grinning. “I can’t picture Zuha getting in trouble.”

“Oh, she was a menace,” Yunjin says, nodding sagely. “A cute menace, but still.”

Kazuha beams, nudging Yunjin’s leg with her foot. “A menace you love.”

Yunjin sighs dramatically. “Yeah, yeah. I love you.”

Kazuha gasps, placing a hand over her chest like she’s been blessed. “You love me?”

“You know I do,” Yunjin groans, rolling her eyes but smiling.

“That’s so cute,” Kazuha giggles, turning toward her. “You should give me a peck.”

Yunjin squints. “What?”

“A peck,” Kazuha repeats, leaning in and tapping her cheek. “Right here. Come on, best friends do it all the time.”

Yunjin huffs, but you can tell she’s too buzzed to actually refuse. With an exaggerated sigh, she leans in and presses a quick, light kiss to Kazuha’s cheek.

“There. Happy?”

Kazuha grins, but then tilts her head, eyes mischievous. “That was weak. Give me a real one.”

Yunjin blinks. “A real one?”

“Like, on the lips,” Kazuha says casually, like she’s asking for another drink. “Just a peck.”

Yunjin hesitates, suddenly looking a little too aware of your presence. Her gaze flickers to you. “Uh…”

Kazuha, already tipsy enough to not overthink, waves a dismissive hand. “Oh my god, he doesn’t care. Right, babe?”

You blink, then shrug. “She’s right. I don’t care.”

Yunjin raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

You nod, sipping your drink. “It’s just a peck.”

She studies you for a second, then exhales. “Alright, fine. But you better not make it weird.”

Kazuha giggles, eyes sparkling. “I promise.”

Yunjin rolls her eyes, then leans in quickly, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to Kazuha’s lips before pulling back just as fast.

“There. Satisfied?” she mutters.

Kazuha smirks. “You’re so nervous,” she teases. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Yunjin groans, reaching for her drink. “I hate you.”

“No, you love me, remember?” Kazuha says smugly.

You shake your head, amused at the whole thing, until Kazuha suddenly turns to you.

“You should get one too,” she announces.

You blink. “Wait—what?”

“You’ve been so nice to Yunjin,” Kazuha says, grinning. “You totally deserve a peck.”

Yunjin nearly chokes on her drink. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Kazuha says, shrugging. “I’m not jealous. Are you?” She raises an eyebrow at you.

You pause. You hadn’t really thought about it, but no—there’s no weird jealousy here. Kazuha’s the one suggesting it, and Yunjin is looking at you like she’s not sure whether to laugh or run.

You smirk. “I mean, if she’s offering.”

Yunjin groans, rubbing her temples. “I hate you both.”

Kazuha just winks. “Go on.”

Yunjin sighs, then, before she can overthink it, leans in and presses a soft peck to your lips.

It’s brief. Nothing more than a moment of warm, plush softness against your mouth. But you still faintly taste the gloss she’s been wearing all night—something sweet, a little fruity. Then she’s gone, pulling back and clearing her throat like it was nothing.

Kazuha claps her hands together, absolutely delighted. “You two were so nervous,” she cackles.

You chuckle. “Zuha, you’re so drunk.”

She gasps, pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “I am not drunk.”

“You definitely are,” Yunjin mutters, still slightly flustered.

Kazuha sticks her tongue out. “I am not drunk, I am happy.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” Kazuha says dramatically, stretching out on the couch. “I’m living with my boyfriend and my best friend. How could life possibly be better?”

Yunjin groans, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re such a lightweight.”

Kazuha only grins wider, eyes sleepy but shining. “And I love you both.”

And for the first time, Yunjin doesn’t hesitate before saying, “Yeah. I love you guys too.”

—

Life shifts. Not suddenly, not in a way that feels jarring or unnatural, but in that slow, creeping way that things do when they settle into something new.

The three of you find a rhythm.

Yunjin starts working more hours at the gym, coming home with tired but satisfied smiles. Her energy is different now—lighter, more stable. The search for a new apartment is still ongoing, but it’s not urgent, not desperate. Every time she brings it up, Kazuha waves her off, tells her to take her time. You don’t mind either. It’s been almost two months, and you don’t even think twice about coming home to find her there.

Sometimes she’s laughing with Kazuha, the two of them curled up on the couch in one of their endless deep talks that range from absolute nonsense to surprisingly philosophical. Other times, you walk in to find them in the kitchen, Yunjin at the stove, Kazuha watching (because her own cooking skills are questionable at best).

Dinner used to be whatever takeout was easiest. Now, Yunjin experiments, tests out new recipes, sometimes dragging you or Kazuha into the process. The food is good, better than good, and even when it’s not, there’s something nice about the act of making it together.

And the nights—weekend drinking nights have become a ritual. The first one was a success, and now it’s a thing, something you all look forward to.

At first, the drinking was just drinking. Hanging out, getting tipsy, laughing over old stories. But little things have started shifting.

One time, Yunjin’s hand on your arm lingered just a second longer than necessary. Just a casual touch, fingers trailing absently as she laughed at something Kazuha said. But you noticed.

Then there was the night Kazuha ended up on Yunjin’s lap, her arms slung around her neck, laughing as she pressed a lazy kiss to her cheek. Yunjin had just rolled her eyes, but she didn’t move her.

It’s always just a little more, inching past whatever invisible line existed before. But the funny thing is, no one ever seems to regret it. The next morning, there’s never an awkward conversation. Maybe a little shyness, maybe a few too-long glances across the kitchen while making coffee. But no regrets.

And that’s the thing that surprises you most. How natural it all feels.

—

The apartment feels the same as always when you step in—warm, familiar, lived-in. The faint scent of something floral lingers in the air, mixing with whatever candle Kazuha lit earlier. But the second you set your bag down, you notice something different.

Kazuha is sprawled out on the couch, looking absolutely wrecked. Not in a drunk way, not yet, but in that long-ass-day-at-work kind of way. Her legs are stretched out, one arm draped dramatically over her eyes, her loose ballet tee hanging off one shoulder.

Yunjin is in the kitchen making a sandwich. She glances up when you walk in, smirking. "She’s been like this for an hour."

Kazuha groans. "Ballet kids are exhausting. And half of them have no rhythm." She lifts her head to look at you, eyes half-lidded. "All I wanna do is drink with my two favorite people and forget I spent eight hours trying to make a seven-year-old point her damn toes."

You chuckle, walking over and dropping onto the couch next to her. "Rough day, huh?"

She rolls onto her side, resting her head against your shoulder. "The roughest. Please tell me we have alcohol."

Yunjin holds up a bottle of soju on the counter, "We're covered."

And just like that, the night begins.

—

A few drinks in, Kazuha perks up. She’s got that buzzed but still functioning glow about her now, her limbs loose, her smile lazier. She sits up straight, looking between you and Yunjin with an expression that instantly makes you suspicious.

"What?" you ask.

She grins. "Let’s play a game."

You groan. "Zuha—"

"Truth or dare!" she announces, cutting you off.

Yunjin laughs. "Oh my God, are we fifteen?"

Kazuha pouts, nudging your leg. "Come on. It’ll be fun."

You sigh. "That’s what people always say before terrible ideas."

"But it’s me," she says, batting her lashes. "I only have good ideas."

Yunjin raises an eyebrow. "Lies."

Kazuha flicks her with a coaster. "Shut up. We’re playing. You first."

Yunjin smirks, setting her drink down. "Fine. Truth."

Kazuha’s eyes gleam. "Okay. Have you ever had a crush on a girl while you were dating a guy?"

Yunjin snorts. "Obviously. Next."

You chuckle. "That was weak."

Kazuha glares. "Warming up, okay? Your turn."

"Truth," you say, leaning back.

Yunjin rests her chin on her hand, thinking for a second. Then she grins. "How many times a week do you and Kazuha have sex?"

Kazuha cackles, her cheeks already flushing pink.

You blink. "Jesus, straight to it, huh?"

Yunjin shrugs. "I’m curious."

Kazuha looks at you expectantly, biting back a giggle.

You take a slow sip of your drink, pretending to consider. "On a slow week? Three. If we’re not busy? Five, six, maybe."

Kazuha gasps dramatically, swatting your arm. "Why would you say that?"

"You wanted to play this game," you remind her.

Yunjin whistles, impressed. "Damn. No wonder she’s so happy all the time."

Kazuha groans, covering her face. "I hate you both."

You smirk, turning to Yunjin. "Okay, your turn. Have you ever seen Kazuha naked?"

Kazuha gasps again, this time more amused than scandalized.

Yunjin doesn’t even flinch. "Yep. Twice."

Your brows raise. "Really?"

Kazuha squints. "Wait—when?"

"The first time was that time we went to the beach house, and you forgot to lock the bathroom," Yunjin says, smirking. "And the second time, when you passed out drunk at my place, and I had to change you into pajamas."

Kazuha groans. "Oh my God."

You lean in slightly, curious. "So… what’d you think?"

Yunjin shrugs, sipping her drink. "Nice body. Very nice ass."

Kazuha buries her face in a pillow, but she’s laughing. "I regret this game."

You smirk, watching the way Kazuha’s ears turn pink. Then, before she can protest again, you say, "Alright, Zuha. Truth or dare?"

She peeks up from behind the pillow. "Truth."

You tilt your head, watching her carefully. "Do you like when I watch you kiss Yunjin?"

A slow, mischievous smile spreads across her face. "Yeah," she admits. "It’s pretty hot."

Yunjin raises an eyebrow. "Wow. Just admitting that, huh?"

Kazuha shrugs. "Why not? We’re all friends here."

The air shifts. Not uncomfortably. But there’s something there now, humming under the surface.

The next few rounds feel different. The questions get bolder. Kazuha dares Yunjin to sit in your lap for a whole round. Yunjin dares Kazuha to take a shot off her collarbone. You find yourself watching closely as Kazuha presses her lips to Yunjin’s skin, her tongue flicking out briefly as she chases a stray drop of soju.

No one says it, but it’s there.

The tension. The curiosity.

The way Kazuha lingers when she leans into Yunjin’s space. The way Yunjin’s fingers sometimes brush yours when she’s gesturing mid-story.

By the time the bottle is nearly empty, you’re all stretched out lazily on the couch, warm from the alcohol, comfortable in the lingering haze.

Kazuha exhales, tilting her head back against the cushions. "Best game ever," she declares.

Yunjin snorts. "You just liked the part where you got to make out with me."

Kazuha hums, smirking. "Maybe."

You shake your head, grinning. "You’re both ridiculous."

Kazuha turns her head, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. "But you love it."

You hold her gaze for a second, then glance at Yunjin. She meets your eyes, her expression unreadable for a moment before she looks away, smirking slightly.

Kazuha stretches, cat-like, arms above her head as she sighs. “I’m so tired,” she mumbles, her voice loose with the lazy weight of alcohol.

Yunjin groans in agreement, slumping deeper into the couch. “Yeah. Bedtime.”

She starts to push herself up, but Kazuha reaches out, fingers curling around her wrist. “Come with us.”

Yunjin pauses, blinking down at her. “Huh?”

“Come lie down with us,” Kazuha repeats, tugging lightly. “You’re always sleeping alone. It’s nothing serious. We’ve done worse things tonight than just… sleep together.”

Yunjin hesitates, glancing between the two of you, but there’s no real protest in her body language. She exhales, shaking her head with a small, amused smile. “You guys are weird,” she mutters, but there’s no resistance as Kazuha pulls her up.

The bedroom is dim, only the soft glow of the city filtering through the blinds. Kazuha flops onto the bed first, stretching out, and Yunjin hesitates only for a second before climbing in too, settling between the two of you.

For a long moment, there’s only silence. The three of you lying there, staring at each other, giggling at nothing like teenagers at a sleepover.

Kazuha hums, shifting closer, her fingers grazing Yunjin’s wrist. “Why does this feel so nice?” she murmurs.

Yunjin tilts her head. “What?”

“This,” Kazuha says, gesturing vaguely. “The three of us. Why does it feel so good?”

Yunjin’s lips part slightly, and for a moment, she looks like she might deflect. But then she exhales, her expression softening. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I haven’t felt this comfortable in a long time.”

Kazuha watches her for a second, then leans in and presses her lips to Yunjin’s. Not a teasing peck, not a playful dare—something deeper. Slow, warm, tongues sliding together in a way that makes Yunjin’s breath hitch.

When Kazuha pulls back, she shifts slightly, looking past Yunjin to you. “You kiss her too,” she murmurs.

Yunjin barely has time to register the words before you lean in, catching her lips in another kiss, just as deep, just as slow. She melts into it, her body pliant between the two of you.

Kazuha’s hand drifts down, fingers ghosting over Yunjin’s stomach before lightly tracing up, barely skimming over her small, sensitive breasts. Yunjin shivers, her breath stuttering, and Kazuha grins, eyes flicking between the two of you as you keep kissing her.

“Do you like this?” Kazuha whispers against her ear. “Having both of us like this with you?”

Yunjin barely manages a breathless “yes.”

She smirks. “Good.”

Kazuha’s lips press deeper into Yunjin’s, slow and teasing, a mix of playful and possessive, like she’s savoring every second. Yunjin’s hands find her waist, gripping tight, but you can tell she’s already getting lost in it—the way her body shifts, the way her breath stutters when Kazuha deepens the kiss.

You move in behind her, close enough that she can feel your breath ghosting against her neck before your lips even touch. You start slow, kissing just under her ear, letting the heat of your mouth spread down, tracing the delicate curve of her throat. Yunjin shudders instantly, leaning back against you with a soft gasp, her body melting between you both.

“God, you two are driving me crazy,” she breathes, her voice already unsteady, like she’s barely keeping it together.

Kazuha pulls back just enough to smirk. “Yeah?” Her eyes flick to you, dark and knowing. “And I bet this is making you hard, huh?”

You don’t even have to answer—she already knows. But still, you let your hand slide down, pressing against the bulge in your pants, the proof of exactly how much this is getting to you. “Fuck yes,” you murmur.

That’s all Kazuha needs to hear. She tugs you forward, switching positions, putting you between them now. Yunjin’s still catching her breath, lips swollen from Kazuha’s kiss, cheeks flushed with heat. But then both of them are on you, Kazuha kissing you deep, slow, her tongue teasing against yours while Yunjin’s lips find the edge of your jaw, then lower, her mouth warm and tentative against your skin.

Kazuha’s hand moves, sliding down your torso, fingers dipping under the waistband of your pants. She doesn’t tease, doesn’t hesitate—just hooks her fingers into both your pants and underwear and pulls them down in one smooth motion.

Yunjin makes a sound, not quite a gasp, but her eyes go wide, lips parting slightly.

Kazuha grins, nudging Yunjin’s chin with her fingers. “Go ahead,” she murmurs, voice dripping with amusement. “Touch him.”

Yunjin hesitates for a second, like she’s still processing, but then—carefully, curiously—her fingers wrap around you. Her touch is light at first, testing, her thumb ghosting over the tip, feeling the heat, the weight of your cock in her hand.

Kazuha watches, her smirk turning into something hungrier. “Good girl,” she murmurs, tucking Yunjin’s hair behind her ear. “Now, give him a little kiss.”

Yunjin glances at you, searching your face for any hesitation. But you just nod, exhaling a shaky breath as her lips brush against you—just a soft press at first, almost too gentle. Then another. And another. Testing. Experimenting.

Kazuha leans in close, her lips at your ear this time. “Fuck, doesn’t she look pretty like this?”

Your breath stutters, a groan slipping out before you can stop it. “Yeah,” you manage, voice rough.

Yunjin’s eyes flick up, something almost smug in her expression before she licks her lips and keeps going, her kisses getting a little bolder, her fingers moving just a little more confidently as she explores you.

Kazuha watches, her hand sliding down your stomach, nails dragging lightly over your skin, her breath hot against your jaw. “Mmm. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Your hand tightens in Yunjin’s hair as you moan, hips twitching forward involuntarily. “Fuck. Yes.”

Yunjin hums against you, her lips dragging down lower, her grip getting firmer, her hesitations melting away.

Then Yunjin’s tongue flicks over the head of your cock, slow, hesitant, but there’s something hungry in the way she does it—like she’s testing the waters, trying to figure out just how far she wants to take this. Her fingers tighten around the base, and when she finally wraps her lips around you, sliding down just a little further, the heat of her mouth makes you groan, low and guttural.

Kazuha watches with a lazy smirk, tilting her head, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s it,” she murmurs, reaching over to brush Yunjin’s hair out of her face. “You’re doing so good.”

Yunjin hums, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through your spine. Whatever nervousness she had before is slipping away, replaced by something else—curiosity, need. She bobs her head a little deeper, her lips slick and warm, getting used to the feeling, testing how much she can take.

Kazuha looks up at you, and the smirk on her lips makes your stomach clench. “This is so fucking dirty,” she giggles, shaking her head. “But it’s so hot.”

You exhale sharply, gripping the edge of the couch, trying to ground yourself. “I can’t fucking believe this is happening.”

Yunjin pulls off just enough to glance up at you, her lips wet, cheeks flushed. “We’re all drunk as fuck,” she mutters, laughing breathlessly.

Kazuha leans in, fingers trailing down Yunjin’s arm. “Need some help?”

Yunjin nods immediately, licking her lips before looking down at your cock, still glistening from her mouth. “Yeah,” she says, voice husky.

Kazuha moves in without hesitation, her hand wrapping around the base, her tongue flicking out to meet where Yunjin’s lips just were. She gives one slow, teasing lick along the underside, her eyes flicking up to yours to see your reaction. Then, she glances at Yunjin. “Come on. Let’s do this together.”

And just like that, they’re both on you.

Yunjin’s lips find the tip again, but this time, there’s no hesitation—she takes you deeper, hollowing her cheeks, her tongue pressing against the underside. Kazuha works alongside her, her mouth trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your shaft, her tongue darting out to taste you, teasing wherever Yunjin isn’t.

“Fuck,” you groan, tilting your head back, the sensation overwhelming—two tongues, two mouths, the heat of them surrounding you, taking turns, working in tandem.

Kazuha pulls back slightly, her hand gripping you firmly as she turns to Yunjin. “Look at him,” she murmurs. “He likes eye contact.”

Yunjin hesitates for half a second before obeying, tilting her head up, her lips still wrapped around you. Her eyes meet yours, dark and half-lidded, and fuck, that sight alone nearly does you in.

You groan, your hips twitching forward slightly, and Yunjin smirks around your cock, her tongue swirling over the tip before she takes you even deeper.

Kazuha giggles, pressing a kiss to Yunjin’s shoulder. “God, that’s so hot.”

You can barely think, can barely breathe. All you know is that you never want this to end.

Yunjin’s lips are slick now, her strokes confident, her tongue working every inch of you while her hand pumps whatever she can’t take. The nervousness is gone—replaced by something hungry, something insatiable. Kazuha, meanwhile, slides lower, her breath hot against your skin as she takes one of your balls into her mouth, sucking gently, rolling it over her tongue before moving to the other.

“Fuck—” Your voice is strained, a raw groan slipping out as your hand flies to Yunjin’s hair, gripping, not to force, just to hold on. “You two look so fucking beautiful like this.”

Yunjin moans around your cock at the praise, her grip tightening just slightly, her head bobbing a little faster. Kazuha hums, her tongue flicking over the sensitive skin before she pulls back, looking up at Yunjin with a wicked grin.

“He’s enjoying this way too much,” Kazuha teases, her fingers stroking the base of your cock, brushing against Yunjin’s as she does.

Yunjin pulls off for a second, her lips swollen, a thin string of saliva connecting her mouth to your tip. She smirks, eyes flicking up to yours. “Yeah? You like seeing us like this?”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Fucking love it.”

Kazuha giggles, pressing a wet kiss against your thigh. “God, I can feel how hard you are.” Her fingers wrap around the base, tilting your cock towards Yunjin. “Come on, baby. Make him lose his mind.”

Yunjin doesn’t hesitate. She leans in again, taking you deep, her throat tightening just enough to make you curse under your breath. Her free hand strokes what her mouth can’t take, her rhythm perfectly in sync with Kazuha’s teasing kisses along your skin.

Kazuha watches for a moment, then leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Yunjin’s mouth before her tongue flicks out, licking at the side of your cock where Yunjin’s lips are already working.

They look at each other again, a silent understanding passing between them, and the way they smile makes your stomach clench with pleasure.

“Holy shit,” you groan, your hips twitching forward. “You’re both so fucking perfect.”

Kazuha smirks, dragging her tongue along your balls before sucking one back into her mouth. “Mmm. I think we should make him beg, don’t you?”

Yunjin pulls off, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She tilts her head, eyes full of mischief. “I think you’re right.”

Yunjin’s mouth moves faster now, each stroke more confident, more determined, her tongue pressing against the vein running along your cock, dragging up and down with a rhythm that’s got you gripping the couch for dear life. Kazuha’s hands aren’t idle either—her soft, warm palms caressing your thighs, her nails scratching lightly, just enough to send tiny shocks through your system. And then she moves back down, taking your balls into her mouth again, rolling them gently, her tongue swirling around, making your hips jerk involuntarily.

You’re on the edge already, the pleasure building, coiling tight in your gut, every nerve alight with sensation. “Fuck, don’t stop,” you gasp, barely able to get the words out between heavy breaths. “Please, keep going. I’m almost there.”

Yunjin lets out a hum around you, the vibrations making you shudder, and then she speeds up, her head bobbing faster, taking you deeper. Her hand twists and strokes in time with her mouth, her grip just firm enough to make you see stars. Kazuha lifts her head, smirking as she watches Yunjin’s determination, then she moves back up, pressing her lips to the tip of your cock right alongside Yunjin’s, their mouths sandwiching the head, tongues flicking over the sensitive spot just under the tip.

“Fuck,” you groan, your hips bucking up into the warmth of their mouths, completely overwhelmed. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Kazuha’s hand slides down, cupping your balls again, giving them a gentle squeeze, her thumb rubbing circles that have you clenching your fists, struggling to hold back.

The sensation is too much—two pairs of soft lips, warm tongues, the heat and wetness enveloping you. It’s like you’re being devoured, consumed, and you’re losing control fast.

“I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you warn, your voice breaking, a desperate edge to it.

They both pull back just enough to look up at you, eyes dark and gleaming. “Do it,” Kazuha purrs, her breath hot against your skin. “Cum for us.”

Yunjin nods, her lips brushing against the tip, eyes locked on yours. “Yeah. We want it. Give it to us.”

That’s all it takes. You can’t hold back anymore—the tension snaps, and you’re coming hard, your entire body tensing as thick, hot ropes spill out, splashing across Yunjin’s lips and cheeks. She gasps, eyes widening slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she keeps stroking you, milking every last drop as you ride out the intense waves crashing through you.

Kazuha leans in, licking a stray bead off Yunjin’s chin, her tongue slow and deliberate. “Mmm,” she hums, then tilts Yunjin’s face toward hers, their lips meeting in a wet, messy kiss. You watch, breathless, as they share your cum between them, tongues sliding against each other, mixing the taste as they moan softly into each other’s mouths.

Your cock twitches, still overly sensitive, but Yunjin’s hand keeps working you, slow and gentle now, her thumb circling the head, spreading the remaining slickness around. You let your head fall back, eyes rolling, lost in the pleasure that’s still rippling through you, too spent to do anything but surrender to the sensations.

They finally pull apart, both of them grinning, faces flushed, lips glistening. Kazuha wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb, sucking it clean with a smirk. “God, that was hot,” she murmurs, looking at you with a gleam in her eyes.

Yunjin chuckles, leaning back on her heels, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath. “I didn’t think… I mean, fuck, I didn’t know it could be like that.”

You manage a shaky laugh, still trying to regain control of your breathing. “You… both of you… that was unreal.”

Kazuha scoots closer, pressing a kiss to your jaw, her hand resting on your thigh. “We’re just getting started,” she whispers, her voice dripping with promise.

Yunjin bites her lip, watching you carefully, a playful glint in her eyes. “You think you can handle more?”

You chuckle. “With you two? I’ll try.”

You’re still catching your breath, body warm and thrumming with satisfaction, when Yunjin and Kazuha lean in at the same time, pressing soft, lingering kisses to either side of your face. It’s almost sweet—almost—except for the way Kazuha’s fingers are still lazily tracing patterns over your thigh, and the way Yunjin’s lips linger just a second too long before she pulls away, her breath still a little uneven.

You exhale deeply, wrapping an arm around both of them, pulling them in closer until they’re nestled against you. The warmth of their skin, the lingering scent of perfume and sweat and sex—it’s enough to make your head spin in the best way.

Yunjin sighs, her cheek resting against your shoulder, and then, out of nowhere, she starts giggling.

You tilt your head, amused. “What?”

She shakes her head, still giggling, her fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. “I just… I did not expect this from Kazuha. I mean, you’re always so put together, so proper.” She pauses, then grins. “Little Miss Ballerina over here, full of surprises.”

Kazuha smirks, propping herself up on one elbow. “You think I’m proper?”

Yunjin raises an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah? You literally scold me when I leave dishes in the sink for too long.”

Kazuha shrugs, unbothered. “Being responsible and being proper aren’t the same thing. Besides…” She trails a finger down Yunjin’s arm, teasing, before grinning. “I told you I’m full of surprises.”

Yunjin hums, tilting her head slightly, then narrows her eyes playfully. “So… you really weren’t jealous? At all?”

Kazuha scoffs, leaning in closer, her voice dropping slightly. “Why would I be jealous when I loved watching you?”

Yunjin bites her lip, clearly caught off guard for a second, then laughs, shaking her head. “Shit, now I really don’t wanna leave.”

Kazuha reaches for her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “Then don’t.” Her voice is softer now, less teasing, more honest. “We like having you here.”

Yunjin looks at you, as if waiting to see if you’ll echo that sentiment.

You squeeze her waist lightly, nodding. “She’s right. We want you here.”

Something shifts in Yunjin’s face—something almost vulnerable. She clears her throat, squeezing Kazuha’s hand back before offering a small smile. “Thanks.”

A comfortable silence lingers, the three of you just… existing in this newfound warmth. But then Yunjin shifts slightly, biting her lip, and smirks. “Okay but… This whole thing has me sweating. It's fucking hot in here.”

Kazuha chuckles, shaking her head before she reaches for the hem of her top. “Then take off your clothes.”

Without hesitation, she tugs her shirt over her head, tossing it aside before standing to shimmy out of her pants, leaving her in nothing but a lacy bra and matching underwear. She stretches her arms above her head, smirking as she catches both you and Yunjin staring. “What?”

You chuckle, shaking your head, and stand up as well. “Nothing.” You match her, stripping down to just your boxers, sighing slightly at the relief of shedding your clothes.

Yunjin watches you both, eyes dark and curious, then rolls her eyes and mutters, “God, you two are bad influences.” But she still lifts her shirt off, then slides her jeans down her legs, standing in nothing but a thin, barely-there bralette and panties that cling to her hips.

The air is thick again, that lingering tension still simmering just below the surface. You could push things further right now, easily. But then Kazuha exhales, stretching lazily before collapsing back into bed, pulling Yunjin down with her. “Okay, okay,” she murmurs, yawning slightly. “We’ll stay like this, snuggled up, just for a little while. Then we’ll continue the fun.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay. Just a little while.”

Yunjin smirks, draping an arm over Kazuha’s waist. “Sure. Just a little.”

But within minutes, the alcohol, the warmth, the exhaustion—it all takes over. One by one, you all drift off, tangled together, the heat of bare skin against bare skin, breathing steady, slow.

And the fun? That can wait. For now.

—

Yunjin wakes up to a headache that feels like a freight train crashed into her skull. Her eyes are heavy, slow to adjust to the dim morning light filtering through unfamiliar curtains. Her body is warm under the sheets, the weight of sleep still clinging to her limbs, making it hard to move. She shifts slightly, stretching out—and then it hits her.

This… isn’t her room.

Her eyes snap open fully, her heart skipping a beat. The bed is too big, too comfortable. The sheets smell like something familiar—like you, like Kazuha. And then she notices—this isn’t just any room.

It’s your room.

Panic creeps up her spine.

The bed is empty. You and Kazuha are already up. The sheets are rumpled, the space beside her still faintly warm. But that’s not what makes her stomach twist. As her mind slowly unspools the events of last night, piece by piece, a million things start crashing into her all at once.

The drinking. The truth or dare game.

The teasing. The peeks, the touches, the way her body had moved on its own, drunk on more than just alcohol.

The way you had moaned when she took you into her mouth.

Fuck.

She groans softly, covering her face with her hands.

"I actually did that. I actually fucking did that."

Yunjin sits up too fast, the headache pulsing behind her eyes, making her regret it instantly. She blinks hard, rubbing her temples, and that’s when she notices—she’s only in her bra and panties.

Panic level: maximum.

Her clothes are scattered across the floor. Jeans crumpled, shirt halfway under the bed, socks in two completely different spots. Shit. She scrambles, grabbing them as fast as she can, shoving one leg into her jeans before realizing they’re inside out.

Then she freezes.

The apartment is quiet—except for the sound of voices.

From the kitchen.

She can’t make out the words, but she doesn’t need to. It’s obvious. You and Kazuha are talking about last night.

Talking about how this was a mistake.

About how to let her down easy.

About how to get her out of here without being assholes about it.

A cold wave of embarrassment crashes over her. She knew, deep down, that this was going to happen. The drunken jokes, the stolen glances, the playful teasing that had gone just a little too far—everyone was playing with fire. And now, she was the one left standing in the ashes, half-dressed and wishing she could rewind time.

She exhales sharply, pressing her lips together. "Okay. Don’t make this worse."

She needs to go. Now.

Yunjin sneaks down the hallway towards her room. She moves quickly, grabbing her backpack, throwing in the few things she has left in her room. The suitcase is heavier than she remembers, her hands fumbling with the zipper, her chest tight. She doesn’t even take a second to glance at the bed again—she just needs to get out before they say it first.

Yunjin sneaks into the hallway, dragging the suitcase behind her as quietly as she can. Almost there. Just a few more steps and she’ll be out the door—

“Wait—where are you going?”

She jumps.

Kazuha’s voice comes from the kitchen, sharp with surprise.

Yunjin turns, caught like a kid sneaking out after curfew. Kazuha’s standing there, spatula in one hand, brow furrowed, and you’re behind her, coffee mug halfway to your lips. Both of you are looking at her like she just announced she’s moving to Mars.

Yunjin forces out the biggest lie she can think of. “I, uh—I found another apartment.”

Silence.

Kazuha stares at her, expression unreadable. “…What?”

Yunjin clears her throat, gripping the suitcase handle tighter. “Yeah. I, uh, got a place. Last-minute thing. So, you know, I should probably just—” She gestures toward the door, already feeling her face heat up under Kazuha’s intense gaze.

You lower your mug, frowning slightly. “You never mentioned that.”

Kazuha tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “That’s funny. Because last night, you were saying you didn’t even start looking for apartments yet.”

Yunjin swallows. Shit. Think faster. “Yeah, well. Things change.”

Kazuha takes a step closer, arms crossing over her chest. “Are you lying to me?”

Yunjin opens her mouth—then closes it. She’s a terrible liar.

Kazuha sighs, and before Yunjin can react, she reaches forward and grabs the backpack off her shoulder.

“What—? Kazuha—”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

The authority in her voice makes Yunjin freeze. It’s not harsh, not angry—just firm. Like she’s laying down the law. Like she knows what’s going on in Yunjin’s head and she’s not letting it happen.

Kazuha gives her a look, one that makes it very clear this is not up for debate. Then she nods toward the kitchen. “Sit. We need to talk.”

Yunjin clenches her jaw, but something about Kazuha’s tone makes her comply. She exhales through her nose, dragging her feet as she follows her into the kitchen, suitcase still trailing behind.

You’re already sitting at the table, watching all of this unfold, the confusion on your face slowly shifting into understanding.

Kazuha gestures to the chair. “Sit.”

Yunjin slumps into it, crossing her arms. “I already know what you’re gonna say,” she mutters, staring at the table. “We don’t need to waste time.”

Kazuha raises an eyebrow as she moves around the kitchen, grabbing plates. “Oh, really? And what exactly am I going to say?”

Yunjin shrugs stiffly. “That last night was a mistake. That it shouldn’t have happened. That you and him feel weird about it now, and you don’t want things to be awkward, so it’s probably better if I just… leave before it gets worse.”

A beat of silence.

Then Kazuha bursts out laughing.

Yunjin’s head snaps up. “The fuck is so funny?”

Kazuha shakes her head, still chuckling as she sets a plate in front of Yunjin. “You’re so dramatic.”

Yunjin blinks. “Excuse me?”

You set your coffee down, finally speaking. “We weren’t talking about how to kick you out, Yunjin. We were making breakfast.”

She stares. “But—I heard you—”

“You heard us talking,” Kazuha corrects. “And then you assumed the worst and spiraled.”

Yunjin opens her mouth to argue, but… yeah, okay, maybe that’s exactly what happened.

Kazuha slides into the seat next to her, nudging the plate closer. Eggs, toast, fresh fruit. “Eat.”

Yunjin stares at it. “Are you seriously feeding me right now?”

Kazuha rolls her eyes. “You’re hungover. And you need to stop overthinking shit. So, yeah. I’m feeding you.”

Yunjin huffs, but her stomach betrays her by growling loud as fuck.

Kazuha smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Yunjin glares at her, but still picks up the fork.

You lean back in your chair, watching them with an amused glint in your eye. “So, you’re really not gonna leave now, right?”

Yunjin pauses mid-bite, then sighs dramatically. “I guess not.”

Kazuha grins, reaching out to steal a piece of Yunjin’s toast. “Good.”

Yunjin eats in silence, her fork scraping lightly against the plate. The food helps—the headache is still there, but the nausea is fading, replaced by something steadier. But the weight of the conversation that’s obviously coming? Yeah, that’s still pressing down on her chest.

But she doesn’t have to wait long.

Kazuha shifts in her chair, glancing at you first, then at Yunjin. She presses her lips together for a second, then exhales, leaning forward slightly. “Okay, so…” she starts, her fingers tapping idly against the table. “I know what happened yesterday is… hard to explain.”

Yunjin tenses, her grip tightening on her fork. “Look, I—” she swallows, staring at her plate. “I didn’t mean to mess things up between you two.”

Kazuha blinks, then immediately shakes her head. “You didn’t mess anything up.” Her voice is firm, certain. “If anything, I’m the one who started pushing boundaries. So if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.”

Yunjin looks up at her, skeptical. “You?”

Kazuha gives a small shrug. “Yeah. I was the one who kept teasing, kept pushing things further. And I know it got intense, and maybe we—” she glances at you briefly before looking back at Yunjin, “—went too far. We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Especially not after everything you’ve been through. We want you to feel safe here.”

Yunjin exhales through her nose, setting her fork down. “It’s okay,” she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck.

You lean in slightly, watching her carefully. “Are you sure?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

You glance at Kazuha, then back at Yunjin. “We just… we liked what happened.”

Yunjin hesitates. “Wait—you liked it?”

Kazuha chuckles. “Well, yeah.”

You shrug, smirking slightly. “A lot.”

Yunjin clears her throat, her cheeks tinging pink. “Oh.”

Kazuha folds her arms on the table, tilting her head slightly. “We actually talked about an open relationship a few years ago,” she admits. “We never went any further with it. Mainly because we hadn’t found the right person.”

Yunjin’s eyes widen slightly. “Wait—so you guys were already thinking about this before last night?”

You nod. “Yeah. But this is different. We weren’t just thinking about hooking up with someone. We were wondering if…” You trail off for a second, exchanging another glance with Kazuha before turning back to Yunjin. “If you’d want to actually be in this with us. A threesome. Like, an actual relationship.”

Yunjin stares at you like you just told her the sky is green. Then she coughs, nearly choking on air. “A what?”

Kazuha bites her lip to keep from laughing. “I know, I know. It’s a lot. And you don’t have to say yes. I mean, you just got out of a relationship, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship, so if this is weird or uncomfortable, I completely understand.”

Yunjin presses her fingers to her temples, exhaling slowly. “So let me get this straight,” she says. “You two—the couple I’ve been third-wheeling for years—actually want to be in a relationship with me?”

Kazuha shrugs, grinning. “Basically.”

Yunjin shakes her head, letting out a soft laugh, more disbelieving than anything. But then she goes quiet for a moment, staring down at her plate.

“…This might actually work,” she murmurs after a moment.

You blink. “Wait. You’d want to try it?”

She hesitates, but then nods. “Yeah. I mean… I like you both. You’re amazing. And honestly, the only problem with last night was that I… liked it. A lot.”

Kazuha’s grin widens. “That’s kind of the opposite of a problem, Yunjin.”

Yunjin groans, covering her face with one hand. “Oh God. I can’t believe I’m getting into a relationship with my best friend and her boyfriend.”

You smirk, leaning back in your chair. “It’s 2025. Welcome to the future.”

Kazuha laughs, nudging Yunjin’s foot under the table. “This is actually so exciting.”

Yunjin peeks at her through her fingers, sighing. “Yeah. Yeah, it kinda is.”

And just like that, something new begins.

—

It’s strange, and at the same time, it’s not.

The routine doesn’t change much—Yunjin still wakes up late whenever she doesn’t have an early shift, Kazuha still scolds her for leaving dishes in the sink, and you still find yourself in the middle of their playful arguments over what to watch on TV. But there’s a shift, something subtle but undeniable. Yunjin’s presence in the apartment feels different now. She’s not just a guest, not just someone crashing here until she figures things out.

She’s part of it.

And the two of you—you and Kazuha—are working on making that real.

It’s new for both of you, uncharted territory. You’ve talked about it before, but actually living it, actually figuring it out in real time? It’s an entirely different thing. There’s no roadmap, no set rules. You’re just… trying things out. Seeing what works. Adapting.

Yunjin, though, she never takes the initiative. She never kisses you first. Never pulls Kazuha into her lap. It’s always you or Kazuha who leans in first, closing the space, pressing lips against hers until she melts into it. But the affection is still there, just in different ways.

When you’re all watching a movie, she always ends up curled up against one of you. Sometimes it’s Kazuha, her head on her lap while Kazuha absently plays with her hair. Other times, she burrows against your side, your arm naturally wrapping around her waist like it’s second nature.

And then there are the little things. The quiet, domestic moments that don’t scream romance but feel just as intimate.

Like how, after Kazuha spends hours teaching ballet, her feet sore and swollen, Yunjin is the one who pulls out the ice packs and gently rubs her arches, grumbling about how she should be taking better care of herself.

"You're not a machine, Zuha," Yunjin mutters, pressing her thumbs into the delicate curve of her foot, making her sigh in relief. "You gotta stop pushing yourself like this."

Kazuha grins, eyes closed, completely unbothered. "I like pushing myself."

"You like being a stubborn idiot," Yunjin counters, shaking her head, but she still massages carefully, knowing exactly where Kazuha's muscles are tight, where she needs the most pressure. She's been doing this since they were just friends.

And then, of course, there’s the other part.

Sex has somehow become the part of the day. Not just because it’s good—though, fuck, it is—but because it’s new and thrilling in a way none of you expected.

It started out slow, experimental, all of you feeling out the boundaries of what worked, what didn’t, what made Yunjin gasp and what made Kazuha moan. But it didn’t take long before you all started really learning each other. Before hands got bolder, before kisses turned filthier, before whispered fuck, I want you turned into breathless, desperate moans in the dark.

Kazuha, always the playful one, took to it like it was a game—learning what made Yunjin squirm, teasing you until you lost your composure completely. Yunjin, on the other hand, was different. She wasn’t used to being wanted like this. Wasn’t used to having hands on her, lips on her, people taking their time with her. But the way she responded, the way she learned? It drove you crazy.

And then there was the way Kazuha looked at you when Yunjin fell apart beneath your touch. That look of pure, raw enjoyment, of satisfaction that you were both making her feel this good.

You learned quickly—everything about them, the way their bodies moved, the things they liked, the things that made them gasp, moan, beg. Every night was a new lesson, a new way to push each other, to test limits, to find out just how far this could go.

It didn’t take long to notice the differences.

Kazuha loved control. She liked being on top, loved riding, loved having the power to set the pace, to tease and push and deny just to make you or Yunjin whine. She was playful about it, too, never taking things too seriously—grinning through every little challenge, pushing you until you lost your patience and took what you wanted from her.

Yunjin, though—she was different. She didn’t want control. She wanted to give in, to be told what to do, to be made to feel good. She melted under hands guiding her, shivered at being pinned down, craved the feeling of being wanted so badly it made her dizzy. And when you figured that out? When Kazuha figured that out?

It changed everything.

You learned that Yunjin liked getting her ass slapped. That the first time Kazuha did it, fingers digging into her skin afterward, whispering, you like that, don’t you?—she let out the most desperate, filthy moan you’d ever heard. That after that night, Kazuha started doing it all the time, every time Yunjin got too cocky, too bratty, just to hear that little gasp when her palm connected with skin.

And then there was Yunjin with Kazuha.

Yunjin had never gone down on a girl before. She’d never even thought about it, never felt the urge. But that first time—when Kazuha straddled her face, thighs strong and glistening, lowering herself slowly onto Yunjin’s eager, nervous mouth?

She was hooked.

She couldn’t get enough of it, the way Kazuha gasped, the way she rode Yunjin’s tongue, hips rolling, fingers tugging at her hair, her body demanding more, more, more.

It became a thing. Kazuha loved using Yunjin like that, making her earn her pleasure, grinding down on her face, moaning about how good she was getting at it. And Yunjin? She got fucking addicted to it.

One night, you’d been behind Yunjin, stretching her open, thrusting deep and slow, watching the way her body arched, the way her breath hitched every time you bottomed out. And in front of her, Kazuha was straddling her face again, rocking against her mouth, gasping every time Yunjin’s tongue flicked against her clit.

And fuck, the sounds. The wet, messy slurps of Yunjin eating Kazuha out like she needed it, the little moans Kazuha let out, hands tangled in Yunjin’s hair, guiding her, riding her face like she was made for it.

You leaned over, gripping Yunjin’s hips tight, thrusting into her just a little harder, a little rougher, groaning, you love this, don’t you? And she moaned against Kazuha’s cunt, her body trembling, her nails digging into Kazuha’s thighs, completely wrecked between the two of you.

And after? The after was always soft.

Bodies tangled together, warm and slick with sweat, lips pressing against bare skin, murmured words of fuck, that was so good and I love you and holy shit, we really did that.

Yunjin always ended up curled between you two, half-asleep but smiling, completely relaxed in a way she never used to be.

Kazuha would press a kiss to her temple, to your jaw, whispering, "best decision ever."

And yeah. It really, really was.

—

Yunjin’s birthday.

She’d told you both not to do anything. That she didn’t want a big deal made, that it was just another day, that birthdays were overrated. But neither you nor Kazuha were the type to let something like that slide.

So when she got scheduled for a late shift at the gym, it was perfect. It gave you and Kazuha the whole day to set things up, to buy a cake, to pick out gifts, to make sure the apartment felt warm when she walked in.

By the time night rolls around, everything’s in place. The lights are off, the apartment quiet, the cake in Kazuha’s hands, waiting.

Then the front door unlocks.

Yunjin steps inside, sighing as she drops her bag by the door, kicking off her shoes. She mutters something about how she swears people get needier when they know she’s about to clock out.

And then she flicks on the light.

“SURPRISE!”

Her whole body jumps, eyes going wide as she stares at you both. Kazuha is holding the cake, a mischievous grin on her face, while you stand beside her, watching Yunjin’s reaction with a growing smirk.

Yunjin presses a hand to her chest, catching her breath. “Jesus fuck, you guys scared the shit out of me.”

You chuckle, stepping forward as you flick a lighter, igniting the candles on the cake. “Happy birthday, baby.”

Kazuha beams, holding the cake out slightly. “Make a wish.”

Yunjin stares at the both of you, her expression softening, something warm flickering in her eyes. She blinks rapidly, like she’s trying not to get emotional, then shakes her head, laughing softly.

“You guys are so stupid,” she mutters, but she’s already setting her hands on Kazuha’s shoulders, pulling her forward into a tight hug. She buries her face in the crook of Kazuha’s neck for a second, inhaling deeply before pulling you in too, wrapping her arms around both of you.

She presses a kiss to Kazuha’s lips, slow and grateful, then turns to you, doing the same. When she pulls back, her nose scrunches slightly. “You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

Kazuha rolls her eyes. “Of course we did.”

You smirk. “Besides, what kind of boyfriend and girlfriend would we be if we didn’t celebrate?”

Yunjin exhales through her nose, smiling as she glances at the flickering candles. “Fine, fine.” She closes her eyes for a second, murmuring something under her breath before blowing them out.

Kazuha cheers softly, clapping her hands. “Yay! Now, cake.”

You chuckle, grabbing some plates. “And presents.”

Yunjin groans. “Oh my God, you guys actually got me presents?”

“Duh.” Kazuha grins, already slicing the cake.

Yunjin shakes her head, laughing as she plops down at the table. “You two are unbelievable.”

But she’s happy. You can see it in the way she’s trying not to let the smile take over her whole face.

You all sit together, eating cake, talking, laughing—just being.

And then, when the plates are empty, you pull out the gifts.

The first one is a hoodie she’d been eyeing online but never actually bought for herself. The second is a small but meaningful charm for the bracelet she always wears, something that ties her to the both of you, something to say you belong here.

The second gift? A leather-bound journal. Deep burgundy, soft to the touch, the kind of book that begs to be filled. Inside, the first few pages are already written in—notes from both of you. Messages, little doodles, inside jokes. Words of encouragement, pages left blank for her to spill whatever she needs to, whenever she’s ready.

Yunjin flips through it slowly, her fingers ghosting over the ink, her lips parting like she’s trying to find something to say but can’t. Then she exhales, blinking fast. “You guys are so fucking unfair,” she mutters, but her voice is wobbly, her hands tightening around the journal like it means everything.

Kazuha grins, nudging her. “You love it.”

Yunjin swallows, looking between the both of you. Then she nods, voice thick. “Yeah. I do.”

You and Kazuha exchange a look before turning back to her. You reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. “We love having you here, Yunjin.”

Kazuha hums in agreement, resting her head against Yunjin’s shoulder. “We really do.”

Yunjin blinks again, then lets out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “I swear, you two are gonna make me cry.”

Kazuha leans in, kissing her cheek softly. “That’s okay.”

You follow, pressing a kiss to her jaw, letting your fingers graze the inside of her wrist. Yunjin shudders slightly, exhaling against your skin.

She pulls back, her gaze darting between you both. “Promise me something.”

Kazuha tilts her head. “What?”

Yunjin’s voice drops, quieter now, more raw. “Promise me we never let this fall apart.”

You don’t even hesitate. “Never.”

Kazuha nods, tucking a strand of Yunjin’s hair behind her ear. “You’re stuck with us now.”

Yunjin laughs softly, her fingers tracing over yours. “Good.”

Then Kazuha smirks, nudging Yunjin’s knee under the table. “You do know the night isn’t over yet, right?”

Yunjin’s eyes flick to her, slightly dazed from the weight of the conversation. “Huh?”

Kazuha leans in, lips brushing against her ear. “Come to bed.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across Yunjin’s lips. She glances at you, raising an eyebrow. “You in?”

You grin, standing up, already reaching for her hand. “Always.”

Kazuha giggles, grabbing Yunjin’s other hand, tugging her toward the bedroom. “Happy birthday, baby.”

Her grin turns wicked as she drags you both into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with her heel. “One more gift,” she sing-songs, pulling a small black box from the dresser. Yunjin’s eyes light up, bouncing on her toes like a kid hyped on sugar. “What is it? What is it?”

“Patience, princess,” Kazuha teases, popping the lid open. Inside: satin blindfold, sleek silver handcuffs. Yunjin’s breath hitches. “Oh. Shit.”

Kazuha steps closer, trailing a finger down Yunjin’s arm. “You’re gonna let us ruin you today, yeah?” Her voice is syrup-sweet, dangerous. Before Yunjin can fire back, Kazuha kisses her—deep, hungry—and slides the blindfold over her eyes. Yunjin’s lips part in a gasp, her hands instinctively reaching out, but Kazuha catches her wrists. “Uh-uh. No peeking.”

You move in, fingers hooking under the hem of Yunjin’s shirt. She shivers as you peel it off, goosebumps rising where your knuckles graze her ribs. “Cold?” you murmur, lips brushing her ear. She shakes her head, biting her lip. “Just… fucking nervous.”

Kazuha laughs softly, unclasping Yunjin’s bra. “Don’t be. We got you.” The fabric falls, and Yunjin’s breath stutters as cool air hits her skin. You unbutton her jeans and slowly slide them down until they're off. You give her a kiss on the hip before taking off her panties. Now naked, you guide her toward the bed, her steps hesitant but trusting, until her knees hit the mattress. Kazuha pushes her down gently, straddling her hips while you strip off your own clothes.

Yunjin’s hands roam blindly, fingertips skating over your chest, down your stomach—then lower. She groans when her palm finds your cock, already hard. “Jesus,” she mutters, squeezing lightly. “Show-off.”

You chuckle, crawling over her. “I'm just excited.” Her retort dies as you kiss her, slow and filthy, her back arching off the bed. Then you take her wrists and put them together, handcuffing her. Kazuha watches, biting her lip, her oversized shirt comes off in one fluid motion over her head. Underneath, she's bare. She leans in, nipping at Yunjin’s collarbone. “Feel good, Jen?”

“Too good,” Yunjin breathes, hips lifting as your tongue drags over her nipple. Kazuha hums, pinching the other one just to hear her whine.

“That’s the point.”

You settle between Yunjin’s thighs, spreading her knees wider. “Relax,” Kazuha whispers, kissing the corner of her mouth. “We’re just getting started.”

Yunjin’s chest heaves, blindfold damp with sweat. “You two are evil.”

“Your evil,” you correct, dragging your tongue up her inner thigh.

She laughs, shaky and breathless. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.”

Above her, Kazuha smirks. “This will be your best birthday.”

You drag the head of your cock through her pussy, circling her clit just to hear her whine. “C’mon,” Yunjin grits out, hips jerking up, but you pull back, grinning.

“Nah. Not yet.”

Kazuha snorts, thumbs rolling Yunjin's nipples hard. “Look at her,” she purrs, leaning down to lick a stripe up Yunjin’s throat. “So fucking desperate.” Yunjin’s breath hitches as Kazuha pinches both peaks, twisting just shy of cruel. “Zuha—”

“You wanna beg?” you taunt, pressing the tip against her entrance again, not pushing in. Just there, teasing. “Say it.”

Yunjin’s teeth dig into her bottom lip, stubborn, but her hips rock helplessly, chasing friction. Kazuha slaps her tits lightly, the sound sharp. “Jen. Use your words.”

“Fuck—fine,” Yunjin snaps, blindfold slipping askew as she thrashes. “Put it in, you asshole—please.”

You click your tongue. “Tch. Rude.” But you give her an inch, just enough to make her gasp, her walls fluttering around the tip. Kazuha’s fingers slide into Yunjin’s hair, yanking her head back. “Again. Nicer.”

Yunjin whimpers, back arching. “Please—I need it. C’mon, please fuck me—”

You sink in slow, stretching her, relishing the way her mouth falls open. “There you go,” you murmur, grinding deep but not moving. Kazuha’s already kissing her, swallowing her moans, hands roaming her ribs. “Feel good, baby?” Kazuha breathes against her lips. “Look at you—taking him so good.”

Yunjin nods frantically. “More—”

You pull out almost all the way, dragging a broken noise from her throat. “Nuh-uh. Slow.” You thrust shallow, lazy, keeping her on the edge. Kazuha’s fingers tweak her nipples again, and Yunjin sobs, her legs shaking. “You’re evil,” she chokes out, but her hips roll, greedy.

Kazuha laughs, low and warm. “And you’re obsessed.” She licks into Yunjin’s mouth, messy and wet. “Bet you’d let us do this all night, huh? Just… take it. Be our good girl.”

Yunjin’s reply is a shattered moan as you finally give her a full stroke, deep and slow. “There,” Kazuha coos, palming her tits. “See? We’ll take care of you.”

Your hips snap forward, pace shifting from lazy rolls to something hungrier, deeper. Yunjin’s nails claw at the sheets, her breath coming in ragged hitches. “Fuck—fuck—”

Kazuha leans over her, nipping at her earlobe. “That’s it, baby. Take it,” she murmurs, thumbs circling Yunjin’s nipples, red and swollen from attention. “Look at you—so fucking pretty when you’re wrecked.”

Yunjin’s head thrashes side to side, blindfold damp and crooked. “Shut up—”

“Nah,” you grunt, slamming into her harder, the bedframe creaking. “We’re gonna talk about how good you feel all damn night.” Your hand grips her hip, fingers bruising, as you drive into her. “Love how you squeeze me—Christ—like you’re scared I’ll leave.”

Kazuha laughs, low and warm, her lips trailing down Yunjin’s jaw. “She’s greedy,” she teases, pinching a nipple just to watch Yunjin jolt. “Wants us both to ruin her.”

Yunjin’s moan cracks into a whine, her legs hooking around your waist, pulling you deeper. “Yes—yes, keep—ah—”

“Keep what, princess?” Kazuha purrs, her palm sliding down Yunjin’s stomach, fingertips grazing her clit. “Use your words.”

“Keep—fucking me,” Yunjin gasps, back arching off the mattress. “Harder—please—”

You oblige, slamming into her with a force that knocks the breath out of her. Kazuha’s fingers circle her clit, relentless, as she whispers filth into Yunjin’s ear. “Bet you’d let him break you if I asked, huh? My good girl.”

Yunjin’s reply is a shattered cry, her hips bucking wildly, torn between your thrusts and Kazuha’s touch. “Zuha—fuck—”

“We got you,” you growl. “Not gonna stop ’til you’re screaming.”

Kazuha’s grin is all teeth as she watches Yunjin unravel. “Best birthday present ever,” she hums, licking the shell of Yunjin’s ear. “And we’re just starting.”

Yunjin’s voice cracks, raw and desperate, as you pound into her, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. “Zuha—please—” she gasps, her head thrashing against the pillow. “I wanna—fuck—I wanna taste you.”

Kazuha freezes, her fingers stilling on Yunjin’s clit. “What?” she breathes, her eyes wide, lips curling into a wicked grin. “You’re begging for it now?”

“Yes,” Yunjin whines, her hips jerking up to meet your thrusts. “I’m—fuck—I’m addicted, okay? I need it—please—”

Kazuha’s laugh is low, throaty, as she leans down, her lips brushing Yunjin’s ear. “God, you’re insatiable,” she murmurs, her breath hot. “But who am I to say no?”

She kisses her way down Yunjin’s body—her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts—nipping and sucking until Yunjin’s trembling beneath her. “You’re so fucking needy,” Kazuha teases, her tongue flicking over a nipple. “But I love it.”

Yunjin’s hips buck wildly, her moans turning into desperate pleas. “Zuha—please—I can’t—fuck—I can’t wait—”

Kazuha smirks, crawling up Yunjin’s body until she’s straddling her chest. “You sure you can handle me?” she purrs, her fingers tangling in Yunjin’s hair. “You’re already so wrecked.”

“Yes,” Yunjin gasps, her lips parting, tongue darting out like she can already taste her. “I need it—please—”

Kazuha’s grin widens as she shifts forward, her thighs framing Yunjin’s face. She's facing you, and her eyes meet yours before she finally says: “Then earn it,” lowering herself slowly, her wetness brushing Yunjin’s lips.

Yunjin doesn’t hesitate. Her tongue flicks out, lapping at Kazuha’s pussy, hungry and eager. Kazuha’s breath hitches, her hips rolling instinctively, grinding against Yunjin’s mouth. “Fuck,” she moans, her head falling back. “You’re so good at this.”

You don’t let up, your thrusts relentless, driving Yunjin deeper into the mattress. Her moans are muffled against Kazuha, her tongue working in frantic, messy strokes. Kazuha’s hands grip the headboard, her thighs trembling as she rides Yunjin’s face. “God—you’re obsessed with me,” she gasps, her voice shaking. “Aren’t you?”

Yunjin’s response is a muffled whimper, her tongue plunging deeper, her lips sucking hungrily. Kazuha’s nails dig into the headboard, her back arching. “Fuck—yes—just like that—”

The room is a symphony of moans, the wet sounds of Yunjin’s mouth on Kazuha, the slap of your balls against Yunjin’s ass. Kazuha’s thighs tighten around Yunjin’s head, her movements growing more erratic. “You’re ruining me,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “Fuck—I can’t—”

Yunjin’s hands, still cuffed, twitch like she wants to grab Kazuha’s hips, but she can’t. All she can do is take it, her tongue working in desperate, hungry strokes. Kazuha’s moans grow louder, her hips grinding harder, her thighs squeezing Yunjin’s head like a vice.

“Fuck—fuck—” Kazuha chants, her voice high and desperate. “You’re so—God—you’re so good—”

You lean over Yunjin, your thrusts never slowing, your lips brushing Kazuha’s ear. “Look at her,” you growl, your voice rough. “She’s yours.”

Kazuha’s eyes meet yours, dark and wild, as she grinds down on Yunjin’s mouth. “Mine,” she breathes, her voice trembling. “Fuck—she’s mine—”

Yunjin’s moans are muffled, her body writhing beneath you both, completely at your mercy. And fuck, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Your hips slam into Yunjin, relentless, the slap of skin echoing as she arches off the bed, muffled moans vibrating against Kazuha’s pussy. Kazuha’s thighs quiver where she’s perched on Yunjin’s face, her fingers clawing at the headboard. “Fuck—you like fucking her like this, don’t you?” she pants, her voice shaky but smug. “Tell me—tell me how good she feels—”

“God—yes,” you grit out, your hands digging into Yunjin’s hips, holding her still as you drive deeper. “So fucking tight—squeezin’ me like she’s scared I’ll leave—”

Kazuha moans, grinding down harder on Yunjin’s mouth. “Mmm—knew you’d love it,” she purrs, her nails scraping Yunjin’s scalp. “Our greedy little princess—right, baby? You wanna be his favorite?”

Yunjin whimpers, her tongue lashing faster against Kazuha’s clit like a plea. Kazuha throws her head back, gasping. “Shit—she’s begging for it—fuck—tell her,” she demands, her eyes locking with yours. “Tell her she’s yours.”

You lean down as you fuck into her, slow and deep. “You’re mine,” you growl, voice rough. “Every fucking inch—Christ—you take me so good.”

Yunjin’s moan is desperate, broken, her hips jerking up to meet your thrusts. Kazuha watches, biting her lip, her hips rolling in filthy circles. “Bet you wanna keep her like this forever, huh?” she taunts, her breath hitching as Yunjin’s tongue flicks faster. “handcuffed—blindfolded—just your pretty little fucktoy—”

“Zuha—” Yunjin chokes out, her voice muffled, strained.

Kazuha grins, dragging her fingers through Yunjin’s sweat-damp hair. “Aw, baby—you love it,” she coos, her tone saccharine. “You live for this—being used by us.” She glances at you, her smirk turning wicked. “Harder. She can take it.”

You obey, slamming into Yunjin with a force that makes the bedframe screech. Yunjin’s cry is swallowed by Kazuha’s pussy, her thighs trembling as she struggles to keep up, licking and sucking like her life depends on it. Kazuha’s moans pitch higher, her back arching. “Fuck—yes—just like that—ruin her—”

Yunjin’s cuffed hands twist, her knuckles white, her body strung taut between your thrusts and Kazuha’s weight. “Good girl,” you snarl, your hand sliding up to squeeze her throat gently. “Take it—all of it—”

Kazuha’s laughter is breathless, uneven. “Look at her,” she gasps, her hips stuttering. “Blindfold’s soaked—God—she’s drowning in us—”

You don’t let up, your pace brutal, your thumb brushing Yunjin’s clit in rough circles. She screams around Kazuha, her body bowing off the bed, but you pin her down, relentless. “That’s it,” Kazuha moans, her thighs clamping around Yunjin’s head. “Break her—fuck—I wanna watch her shatter—”

Yunjin’s sobs are muffled, messy, her hips pistoning wildly as she chases her peak—but you don’t let her. Not yet.

Kazuha’s thighs lock like a vice around Yunjin’s head, her back arching as her hips stutter. “Fuck—Jen—don’t stop—” she gasps, her hands clawing at her own tits, nails digging into pale skin. Her abs flex, taut and trembling, as she grinds down harder, riding Yunjin’s tongue like it’s the only thing keeping her alive. “Yes—right there—fuck!”

Yunjin moans, the sound muffled and wet, her nose buried in Kazuha’s pussy as she sucks and licks like she’s starving. You lean over her, your thrusts never slowing, sweat dripping onto her heaving chest. “Make her cum,” you growl, your voice ragged. “Choke on it.”

Kazuha’s breath hitches, her thighs shaking violently. “Close—so close—” Her head snaps back, a broken scream tearing from her throat as she cums, her hips jerking wildly, soaking Yunjin’s mouth, chin, the blindfold. “Fuck—fuck—Jen!”

Yunjin keeps licking, greedy, even as Kazuha collapses, her hands braced on the headboard, gasping. “Shit,” Kazuha pants, her voice wrecked, staring down at Yunjin’s glistening face. “Look at you—covered in me.” She swipes a thumb through the mess on Yunjin’s lips, then sucks it clean, moaning. “God, you’re good at that.”

Yunjin’s chest heaves, her lips swollen, chin slick. “Zuha—” she whimpers, hips rolling desperately against your cock. “Please—I need—”

Kazuha crawls off her, knees wobbly, and crashes her mouth onto Yunjin’s, licking her own taste off her lips. “Patience, princess,” she murmurs, her fingers trailing down Yunjin’s stomach. “Your turn.” She glances at you, her eyes dark, hungry. “Wanna watch her break?”

You grip Yunjin’s hips, slamming into her once, hard, just to hear her scream. “Fuck yes.”

Kazuha grins, her hand sliding between Yunjin’s legs, thumb circling her clit. “You hear that, baby?” she purrs, her lips brushing Yunjin’s ear. “He’s gonna fuck you stupid while I play with this pretty little pussy.” Her fingers dip lower, teasing her entrance, already stretched around your cock. “Gonna make you cum so hard you forget your own name.”

Yunjin sobs. “Please—please—”

“Begging already?” Kazuha taunts, her thumb pressing harder. “You’re pathetic.” She nips Yunjin’s earlobe. “Love it.”

You lean down, your breath hot against Yunjin’s throat. “Gonna ruin you,” you growl, your pace turning brutal, erratic. “Our good girl.”

Kazuha’s fingers fly over Yunjin’s clit, relentless, her other hand pinning Yunjin’s hips down as you fuck into her, hard and fast. “There—right there—” Yunjin gasps, her voice cracking, thighs shaking like she’s about to snap. “Fuck—I’m—I’m gonna—oh God—”

Kazuha leans in, her lips brushing yours mid-thrust, her tongue sliding against your mouth, hungry. “Make her scream,” she murmurs against your lips, her breath hot. You groan, slamming into Yunjin harder, the bed creaking like it’s about to split.

“Cum,” Kazuha demands, her thumb jamming relentless, sloppy circles over Yunjin’s clit so fast it’s like she’s trying to start a damn fire. Yunjin’s whole body convulses—legs kicking out, stomach clenching, her ass lifting clean off the bed like she’s possessed. “Do it, baby—let it rip, come on—”

Yunjin’s head thrashes against the pillow, her blindfold already slipping damp with sweat. “Wait—wait—fuck—I—I think I’m gonna—oh God, I’m gonna pee—” Her voice cracks, high and frantic, her cuffed hands yanking uselessly against the headboard as her hips squirm to escape. But Kazuha’s got her pinned, one hand digging into her thigh, laughing like a maniac, all breathless and unhinged.

“No you’re not, dumbass,” Kazuha purrs, her eyes darting to yours—dark, wild, practically glowing with how fucking turned on she is. “Trust us, princess. You’re about to lose your mind.”

You don’t let up either, your grip on her hips bruising as you slam into her, relentless, the wet smack of skin on skin filling the room. “Cum,” you growl, voice scraped raw from how hard you’re holding back. “Right fucking now.”

Yunjin’s scream rips out—half terror, half pure, unfiltered ecstasy—as her body locks up tight. Her back bows so hard you think she might snap, and then—fuck—it happens. A hot, explosive gush blasts out of her, soaking your thighs, splashing up your stomach, drenching the sheets in a messy, glorious flood. She’s squirting like a busted faucet, pulsing waves of it, each one harder than the last, and it’s loud—obscenely wet, splattering against your skin, dripping off Kazuha’s wrist as she keeps rubbing Yunjin’s clit.

“Holy shit—yes—look at you!” Kazuha howls, cackling through it, her fingers a blur as she milks Yunjin for more. The gushes keep coming—another sharp spurt hits your chest, warm and slick, then another soaks Kazuha’s arm up to her elbow. Yunjin’s thrashing now, her thighs trembling uncontrollably, the cuffs jingling against each other. “What—what’s happening—I can’t—I can’t stop—”

You’re soaked, cock still buried deep in her, and her pussy’s clenching around you like a vice, fluttering wild as she keeps cumming, keeps squirting, the mess spreading wider. The sheets are a goddamn swamp, dark patches blooming under her ass, and still, she’s not done—another desperate, shuddering wave shoots out, hitting your hips again, trickling down to pool under you. “Fuck,” you grunt, hips stuttering as you try to keep up, sliding in her slick heat. “Never seen anything this hot—shit, Yunjin—”

Kazuha flops forward, her chest heaving as she licks a slow, filthy stripe up Yunjin’s throat, tasting the sweat there. “You’re squirting, baby,” she murmurs, voice thick with smug pride, like she’s just won the lottery. “Ruining everything—our sheets, us, the whole damn bed. Look at this fucking mess—God, it’s perfect.” She’s grinning, feral, her soaked hand still moving, coaxing out more—a smaller spurt this time, but it still splashes against her palm, dripping between her fingers.

Yunjin’s a wreck—gasping, whimpering, her blindfold completely drenched now, sticking to her flushed cheeks. Her chest heaves like she’s run a marathon, her voice breaking as she stammers, “I—I can’t—it’s too much—fuck—” Another weak gush leaks out, slower now but still enough to make her twitch, her oversensitive body jerking under Kazuha’s touch like she’s been electrocuted.

You keep fucking her through it, slower now but deep, feeling her walls pulse and flutter around you, her slick mixing with the absolute lake she’s turned the bed into. “So fucking gorgeous,” you mutter, voice rough, losing your rhythm as your own edge creeps closer. “You’re a goddamn waterfall, Yunjin—holy shit.”

Kazuha’s fingers finally ease up, turning soft and careful as she rubs gentle circles over Yunjin’s clit, drawing out the last little trickles. Yunjin whimpers, her hips jolting with every touch, her body strung out and twitching. “Shh—there you go, good girl,” Kazuha coos, leaning down to kiss her jaw, her lips brushing soft against the trembling skin. “You did so fucking good, baby. Drenched us—look at this disaster.”

Yunjin’s head lolls to the side, her breaths ragged, voice a wrecked whisper. “Did I—did I really just—?”

“Hell yeah, you did,” Kazuha cuts in, smirking wide as she lifts her dripping hand to her mouth, licking her fingers clean with a low, dramatic moan. “Goddamn, you taste so good—like victory or some shit.” She savors it, sucking her knuckles, eyes half-lidded as she watches Yunjin squirm. “Welcome to the club, princess. You’re a fucking legend now.”

You finally pull out, cock throbbing and slick, collapsing onto the soaked sheets next to them with a groan. The bed’s a warzone—puddles of Yunjin’s mess everywhere, the air thick with the smell of sex and sweat. Kazuha swings a leg over Yunjin’s hips, straddling her, her fingers trailing through the sticky chaos between Yunjin’s thighs. “Look at you,” she teases, pressing two fingers back into Yunjin’s swollen, oversensitive pussy just to hear her gasp and jolt again. “Our little fountain—still leaking, huh?”

Another tiny spurt escapes Yunjin at the intrusion, feeble but enough to make Kazuha giggle darkly. Yunjin groans, her face burning red under the blindfold, her voice hoarse. “Shut up—fuck, stop it—”

Kazuha just laughs, pulling her fingers out and smearing the wetness across Yunjin’s stomach, leaving a glistening trail. “Nah, you love it. Look at you, still shaking. You’re gonna remember this one forever, princess.”

You prop yourself up on an elbow, grinning at the sight—both of them wrecked, the bed ruined, Yunjin’s thighs still trembling from the aftershocks. “She’s right,” you say, voice low and rough. “You’re a fucking mess, Yunjin. Hottest mess I’ve ever seen.”

Yunjin just groans again, turning her face into the pillow like she can hide from the embarrassment, but Kazuha’s already leaning down, kissing her neck, whispering something filthy that makes Yunjin shiver all over again.

“On your knees,” you say, your voice low, rough, and Kazuha’s eyes light up like she just won the damn lottery. She’s already moving, her hands sliding under Yunjin’s arms, helping her sit up even though Yunjin’s still a little shaky.

“C’mon, princess,” Kazuha murmurs, her voice all sugar and sin as she undoes the handcuffs, letting them clatter to the floor. Yunjin’s wrists are red, marked, and Kazuha kisses one of them softly, like she’s apologizing but also not really sorry at all. “You’re doing so good for us, baby. Just a little more, okay?”

Yunjin nods, her lips parted, her breath still coming in short, uneven gasps. She’s blindfolded, completely at your mercy, and fuck if that doesn’t make your cock twitch. Kazuha guides her off the bed, her hands gentle but firm, and Yunjin stumbles a little, her legs still weak from cumming so hard.

“Easy, Jen,” Kazuha says, her voice soft but teasing. “Don’t wanna fall before you get to taste him, right?”

Yunjin’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t argue. She lets Kazuha guide her to her knees on the floor, the cool wood against her skin making her shiver. Kazuha kneels beside her, her hand brushing Yunjin’s hair back, tucking a loose strand behind her ear.

“You ready, baby?” Kazuha asks, her voice dripping with mischief.

Yunjin nods again, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, and fuck, the sight of her like this—blindfolded, on her knees, still trembling from her orgasm—has you so hard it’s almost painful.

You step closer, your cock brushing against Yunjin’s lips, and she opens her mouth instinctively, her tongue flicking out to taste you. Kazuha’s right there, her hand on Yunjin’s shoulder, her other hand reaching up to wrap around the base of your cock, guiding it into Yunjin’s mouth.

“That’s it,” Kazuha purrs, her eyes locked on yours as Yunjin takes you deeper, her lips wrapping around you, her tongue swirling against the underside. “Look at her, babe. She’s so fucking good at this.”

Yunjin moans around you, the vibration making you groan, and Kazuha smirks, leaning in to kiss Yunjin’s cheek. “You hear that, Jen? He loves it when you suck him like this.”

Yunjin’s hands find your thighs, her fingers digging in as she takes you deeper, her throat working around you. Kazuha’s not content to just watch, though. She leans in, her lips brushing against the tip of your cock, her tongue flicking out to taste you right alongside Yunjin.

“Fuck,” you mutter, your hand tangling in Kazuha’s hair as she takes over, her mouth sliding down your cock, her tongue teasing the sensitive spot just under the head. Yunjin’s still there, her lips pressed against the base, her tongue licking and sucking like she’s trying to prove something.

“You two—” you start, but your voice cracks, your hips jerking forward involuntarily. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard.”

Kazuha pulls off just enough to smirk up at you, her lips glistening. “Yeah? You gonna paint our faces, baby? Make us your pretty little canvas?”

Yunjin moans again, her tongue swirling around you, and Kazuha laughs, low and throaty. “Look at her,” she says, her fingers brushing Yunjin’s cheek. “She’s already begging for it.”

“Keep going,” you growl, your hand tightening in Kazuha’s hair as she takes you deep again, her tongue working in tandem with Yunjin’s. “Fuck, just like that.”

Kazuha hums around you, the sound vibrating through your cock, and Yunjin’s fingers dig into your thighs harder, like she’s trying to hold on. They’re both so fucking good at this, so eager, so desperate to please you, and it’s taking everything in you not to lose it right then and there.

Kazuha passes the turn to Yunjin and, fuck, her mouth is so warm, wet, and so fucking tight around you, her throat working as she takes you deeper, her lips stretched around your cock. You can’t help it—your hips start moving, fucking her throat like it’s her pussy, and she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she moans, the sound vibrating through you, her hands gripping your thighs like she’s holding on for dear life.

“That’s it,” Kazuha murmurs, her voice low and husky as she kneels beside Yunjin, her lips brushing against your thigh. Her hand slides up, cupping your balls, squeezing gently, and you groan, your hips jerking forward again. “Fuck her throat, baby. She can take it.”

Yunjin’s blindfold is soaked, her makeup smudged, drool running down her chin, but, fuck, she looks beautiful like this—wrecked, messy, and completely yours. Her throat tightens around you, and you can feel her gag reflex kicking in, but she doesn’t stop. She just takes it, her nails digging into your skin as you fuck her face.

“God, I love you both so much,” you mutter, your voice rough, your hand tangling in Yunjin’s hair as you thrust deeper. Kazuha’s lips trail up your abdomen, her tongue flicking out to taste your skin, and her free hand slides up to squeeze your ass, urging you on.

“We love you too,” Kazuha purrs, her breath hot against your stomach. “Now cum for us, baby. Paint our faces. Make us yours.”

You’re so close—your balls tightening, your cock throbbing—and you can’t hold back anymore. You pull out of Yunjin’s throat with a wet pop, her lips swollen, her chin glistening with spit. She gasps for air, her chest heaving, but she doesn’t move. She stays on her knees, waiting, her blindfold still in place.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you growl, your hand stroking your cock as Kazuha leans in, her tongue flicking out to tease the tip.

“Do it,” Kazuha whispers, her eyes locked on yours, dark and hungry. “Cum for us.”

The first shot hits Kazuha’s cheek, thick and hot, and she moans, her tongue darting out to catch the next one as it lands on her lips. Yunjin’s head tilts up, her mouth open, and you aim for her next, painting her face with your cum. She gasps, the sensation of it hitting her skin making her moan, her lips parting as another streak lands on her tongue.

“Fuck, yes,” Kazuha breathes, her fingers brushing through the mess on Yunjin’s face, smearing it across her cheeks. “Look at her, baby. She’s so fucking pretty like this.”

You’re still cumming, your cock twitching in your hand as you shoot the last few ropes across Kazuha’s forehead, her eyelashes fluttering as it drips down her face. She laughs, low and throaty, her tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop.

“God, you two,” you mutter, your chest heaving as you finally finish, your cock still throbbing. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Kazuha grins, her face glistening, and she leans in, her tongue dragging across Yunjin’s cheek, cleaning the cum off her skin. Yunjin shivers, her lips parting as Kazuha licks her way up to her forehead, her movements slow and deliberate.

“You taste so good, Jen,” Kazuha murmurs, her lips brushing against Yunjin’s as she kisses her, deep and filthy. Yunjin moans into the kiss, her hands reaching up to tangle in Kazuha’s hair, pulling her closer.

You watch them, your cock still hard, your breath still uneven, and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Kazuha pulls back, her fingers brushing against Yunjin’s blindfold, and she tugs it off gently, revealing Yunjin’s dark, glazed eyes.

“Your turn,” Kazuha says, her voice soft but teasing, and Yunjin doesn’t hesitate. She reaches up, her fingers brushing against Kazuha’s face, and she leans in, her tongue flicking out to clean the cum off Kazuha’s skin.

Kazuha moans, her head tilting back as Yunjin licks her way across her cheek, her tongue slow and deliberate. “Fuck, Jen,” Kazuha breathes, her fingers tangling in Yunjin’s hair. “You’re so good at this.”

Yunjin smirks, her lips brushing against Kazuha’s as she pulls back. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she mutters, her voice hoarse but playful.

You laugh, your hand brushing through Yunjin’s hair as she leans against your leg, her face still a mess but her eyes bright, her smile soft. Kazuha’s grinning too, her fingers tracing patterns on Yunjin’s shoulder, and for a moment, it’s just the three of you—wrecked, messy, and completely, utterly in love.

“Best fucking birthday ever,” Yunjin mutters, her head resting against your thigh, and you can’t help but agree.

—

The ocean breathes against the shore, rhythmic and steady, a pulse beneath your feet. Warm sand shifts between your toes as the salty breeze kisses your skin, carrying the laughter of the few close friends who’ve gathered. The sun, melting low on the horizon, paints everything in gold—your skin, the waves, the three of you standing at the edge of something new, something bigger than words or law could define.

You glance at Kazuha and Yunjin, your soon-to-be wives in every way that matters. The sight of them knocks the breath from your lungs.

Kazuha, always the picture of effortless grace, is wrapped in something soft and flowing—silk, maybe, or something close to it. A pale shade of champagne that clings just right, the fabric rippling with every step she takes, like liquid light moving over her body. The neckline dips just enough to be elegant, teasing the sharp angles of her collarbones. Her long, dark hair is twisted up into an intricate braid, woven with tiny pearls that catch the sunlight. Barefoot, she looks like she belongs here, like she’s always been part of the ocean and the wind.

Yunjin, standing beside her, is in contrast—bold, striking, alive. Her dress is deep, rich red, the kind that demands attention without ever needing to try. It’s fitted at the top, cinched at her waist, then spills out just a little, giving her enough room to move, to dance, to throw her arms around you both without restriction. There’s a slit high on her thigh, because of course there is, and her hair is loose, wild, catching in the wind. A thin gold chain drapes across her bare back, subtle but decadent. She’s glowing.

And then there’s you. Keeping it simple, because it’s not about the clothes for you—it’s about them. A crisp white linen shirt, unbuttoned just enough to be casual, sleeves rolled up to your elbows. Black slacks, fitted but easy. A leather band around your wrist that Kazuha tied there earlier, murmuring something about how it made you look even better. Barefoot, just like them. Standing here, in the middle of everything you’ve ever wanted, with salt on your lips and warmth in your chest.

The ceremony isn’t formal. It’s barely structured at all—because what is there to structure? There’s no officiant, no legalities, no paperwork to sign. Just a promise, spoken into the open air, carried by the wind and sealed in the laughter shared between the three of you.

A friend reads something—something sentimental, maybe a poem, maybe just words strung together in a way that makes your throat tighten. You don’t remember half of it, too caught up in the way Kazuha keeps glancing at you with that soft, knowing smile, or the way Yunjin keeps shifting like she might just grab you both and run straight into the ocean.

And then it’s time for the vows.

Kazuha goes first, her voice light, almost teasing, but steady.

"I don’t know if I believe in fate," she says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "But I do believe in you. Both of you. And I know that wherever we go, whatever happens next, as long as I have you, I have everything."

Yunjin snorts. "That’s so unfair. You’re making me look bad."

Kazuha grins, tilting her head. "Not my fault you didn’t prepare."

Yunjin groans, dragging a hand down her face. "Okay, fine, fine. Here’s my vow: I promise to always be a pain in your ass. And I promise to love you while I’m doing it. I promise to keep things interesting, to make you laugh when you don’t want to, and to be there, no matter what. Always."

And then it’s your turn. You exhale, looking between them, feeling the weight of everything pressing against your ribs.

"You already know," you say, voice quieter than you expected. "I’d follow you anywhere. Because home isn’t a place, it’s this. Us. Wherever we go, whatever comes next—I’m in."

Yunjin makes a noise, something choked and half-laughing, before grabbing both of you and pulling you into a crushing hug. Kazuha follows, arms looping around you both, and suddenly there’s no space left between you, just tangled limbs and racing heartbeats and something bigger than words pressing against your chest.

There’s no ‘you may now kiss’ moment. No need for permission. You just do. Kazuha’s lips are the first you find, soft and slow, tasting like the faintest hint of the champagne you all shared earlier. Then Yunjin’s, warm and insistent, her fingers threading into your hair as she pulls you closer. The cheers from your friends in the background barely register.

And then comes the final rite of the ceremony.

The three of you walk down to the water’s edge, where the waves stretch out, endless and waiting. The sand is cool beneath your feet as you each kneel, tracing words into the damp shore. Wishes. Promises. Sent off to the sea, to be carried into the unknown.

Kazuha writes hers in delicate, looping script: "That we never stop dancing, together."

Yunjin, ever the contrast, scrawls hers in bold, uneven letters: "That we never get fucking boring."

And you? Yours is simple. Yours is true. "That we always have each other."

You sit back, watching as the waves creep forward, swallowing the words, carrying them out into the tide.

Kazuha slips her hand into yours. Yunjin rests her head on your shoulder.

The sun dips lower, the sky turning violet, the wind brushing against your skin like a whispered promise.

And just like that, you’re married.

—

The sun’s already high when you wake up, slanting golden through the sheer white curtains, throwing shifting patterns across the tangled mess of limbs and sheets on the bed. The air is thick—salt, sweat, the faintest lingering scent of sex. Your body feels wrecked, but in the best possible way, that slow, heavy ache of complete satisfaction.

Kazuha is sprawled half on top of you, one leg draped lazily over your waist, her bare skin impossibly warm against yours. Her hair is a wild mess, dark strands sticking to her forehead, her lips still slightly swollen from all the kissing, all the biting. She’s out cold, her breathing slow and steady, the kind of sleep that only comes after getting thoroughly ruined.

Yunjin is curled up on your other side, face buried in the pillow, her back rising and falling in soft, even breaths. Her arm is still hooked over your stomach, fingers curled slightly, like even in sleep she doesn’t want to let go. There’s a faint red mark trailing down her shoulder—your teeth, probably.

The night is a blur of heat and tangled sheets, of desperate hands and hungry mouths, of bodies pressed so tight together that it felt impossible to tell where one of you ended and the other began. You still remember the way Kazuha rode you slow and deep, the way Yunjin had moaned against your neck when you fucked her from behind, the way they had taken turns kissing each other, their bodies moving in sync, breathless and slick with sweat.

Jesus.

You exhale, running a hand over your face, blinking up at the ceiling. Your whole body feels like it’s been through a war, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The sheets rustle as Kazuha stirs, stretching out with a little sigh, her toned arms reaching above her head. Her eyes flutter open, still heavy-lidded with sleep, and when she sees you looking at her, she smiles—slow and lazy, her lips curling like she’s remembering exactly what went down last night.

“Morning, husband,” she murmurs, voice husky.

You snort. “That’s symbolic husband to you.”

Yunjin groans into the pillow, her voice muffled. “Too early for words. Shut up.”

Kazuha grins, shifting so she can press a kiss to your shoulder. “What time is it?”

You glance at the clock on the nightstand. “Almost noon.”

That makes Yunjin lift her head slightly, squinting. Her hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction, and she’s got the kind of dazed, post-sex look that makes you want to drag her right back under the sheets. “Shit. Did we miss breakfast?”

“I think it goes until one,” you say, running a hand down her back, feeling the way she shivers slightly at the touch.

“Good,” she mutters, letting her head drop again. “Because I need food. I feel like I lost half my body weight last night.”

Kazuha giggles, stretching again before finally rolling off you, sitting up, her back a perfect curve, muscles shifting beneath her bare skin. “Yeah, you were kind of insatiable.”

Yunjin groans. “Don’t start. I’m too hungover for your judgment.”

“Who’s judging?” Kazuha smirks, standing and padding over to grab one of the hotel robes from the chair. She tosses one to Yunjin, then grabs yours, throwing it at your face. “Come on, we should probably eat before we just pass out again.”

You groan, dragging yourself out of bed, stretching out the stiffness in your limbs before throwing the robe on. The three of you are a mess—hair wild, bodies covered in faint marks from the night before, Kazuha sporting a few love bites on her collarbone that she doesn’t even bother to hide. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and shake your head.

The poor hotel staff must have heard everything.

And speaking of the staff—

You remember the look on the receptionist’s face last night when you asked for a room, explaining (for some reason) that you were a married man now. The way she had blinked, clearly trying to figure out which of the two stunning women beside you was your wife. And then the way her confusion had only deepened when you casually mentioned that you had married both of them.

Pure comedy.

By the time you make it downstairs, the little beachside hotel’s dining area is mostly empty, save for a few other guests nursing coffee and looking half-asleep. The three of you slide into a corner booth, ordering a full spread—pancakes, eggs, bacon, fruit, the works.

Yunjin leans back in her seat, sighing as she stretches her arms above her head. “Man, I don’t wanna leave.”

Kazuha hums in agreement, stirring sugar into her coffee. “We really don’t have to, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “I mean… we could stay. Move here. For real.”

You blink. You hadn’t actually thought about it—not seriously, at least. “You wanna live here?”

Yunjin sits up, suddenly interested. “Actually… yeah. That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

Kazuha glances between the two of you, tilting her head. “Think about it. You know I’ve been wanting to start my own studio. I could do it here. A ballet school by the beach? That’s kind of a dream, isn’t it?”

You consider that. It does sound like something Kazuha would thrive in. A beautiful, sunlit studio, kids in tutus, the sound of waves just beyond the windows.

Yunjin leans forward, resting her chin in her palm. “And I could finally use my damn degree. You know, I actually like tourism. I just never thought I’d get another chance at it after all the shit I went through.”

You frown slightly. “Do you think you're ready to come back?”

She nods, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah. I do. I wanna help people experience places. I wanna be part of that.”

You let that sink in. Kazuha, finally running her own place. Yunjin, doing something she actually loves.

And you?

You don’t care where you live. You’ve always been like that—rootless, adaptable. As long as you have them, you’re good.

You exhale, leaning back. “Alright,” you say slowly. “Let’s do it.”

Kazuha’s eyes light up. “Wait, really?”

Yunjin grins. “You’re just gonna agree, just like that?”

You shrug. “Yeah. Why not? You two are my family now. I’ll go wherever you want.”

They exchange a look—one of those silent, loaded glances that means something big is happening.

Then, before you can react, they’re both launching themselves at you, Yunjin practically climbing into your lap, Kazuha wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

Yunjin laughs against your cheek, breath warm. “God, I love you.”

Kazuha presses a kiss to your jaw. “Me too.”

And yeah. You love them too.

So why not start something new?

#kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #nakamura kazuha x reader #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim kazuha #Nakamura Kazuha smut #yunjin x male reader #yunjin le sserafim #le sserafim yunjin #yunjin x reader #le sserafim #kpop m!reader #kpop male reader #kpop smut #kpop gg smut #m!reader

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trashytracktales · 2 months ago

Note

GIRL DONT HOLD BACK

WRITE THE LANDO NORRIS HELMET SMUT

Finders keepers | LN⁴

🟢 summary ──── A moment of boredom turns into a game of control and restraint, with Lando pushing boundaries neither he nor his girlfriend expected on such a busy day.

🟢 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🟢 rating ──── explicit

🟢 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, swearing, semi-public setting, soft!dom Lando, fingering & oral ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, overstimulation, messy finish, Lando low-key losing it.

🟢 word count ──── 3.3k

🟢 date ──── Mar. 4, 2025

🟢 a/n ──── This one has been HIGHLY requested after one of you guys sent in this ask, so I shall deliver. I hope you enjoy it as much as you imagined & can’t wait to hear your thoughts 🤍

Also, yes. This is the second one-shot of the day, because I ACCIDENTALLY posted this Charles Leclerc piece earlier. It’s very short and I was supposed to post it after this one OOPSIES get greedy & go check it out. Thank you, love you all 💋

THERE IS HARDLY enough room for more than two people in the driver’s room. A physio table is pushed against the wall, a couple of chairs sit tucked under a desk covered in notes, post-its and water bottles, and a row of plastic shelves is holding some race suits, a change of clothes and toiletries, and a spare helmet. There is a faint scent of fresh rubber and overall newness of the place in the air that blends with the smell of rain, and something so distinctly Lando, a mix of his cologne and fabric softener.

She has been waiting for hours now. Day two of testing in Bahrain is dragging, and even though she loves watching her boyfriend hit the track, the long hours spent doing nothing are starting to wear on her. She finished reading three books in two days, rewatched her favorite TV show, and scrolled through her feed until the app informed her that there were no new posts.

She sighs, running a hand over the edge of the desk before deciding to tidy up a little. Not that there’s much to clean, since McLaren keeps these rooms nearly spotless, but at least it gives her something to do. A few minutes later, the post-its are arranged on the wall by color, the documents are organized in chronological order, and the water bottles have found a new home, crammed under the table.

Out of curiosity, her fingers brush over one of Lando’s new helmets, freshly designed for the pre-season testing. It’s sleek, predominantly black with neon streaks and intricate models running along the sides. On impulse, she lifts it, feeling its surprising weight before slipping it over her head. The padding presses snugly against her ears, muffling the distant sounds of mechanics still at work in the garage.

She can’t help but feel a vague claustrophobia surrounding her, but the feeling isn’t necessarily bad. On the contrary, it gives her the impression of safety, even if it inhibits her other senses.

Grinning to herself, she pulls out her phone and angles the camera for a selfie. The reflection in the visor catches the glow of the overhead lights, giving her an futuristic look. She continues to snap a few more photos, adjusting the tilt of her head, until a blurred figure appears in the background of her screen.

“Having fun all by yourself?” Lando’s voice is amused yet he sounds tired, and before she can turn around, she feels his arms wrap around her waist from behind. He leans in, lips ghosting over her shoulder in a lazy kiss.

She huffs out a laugh, nudging at his arms, “I told you to stop sneaking up on me like that. You scared me.”

Lando chuckles, hands splaying over her stomach, thumbs brushing absentminded circles through the fabric of her shirt. “Sorry. Didn’t expect to catch you playing dress-up with my stuff.”

“Finders keepers,” she says in a singing voice, making Lando chuckle again.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“It looks cool,” she admits, “Therefore, it makes you look cool.”

Lando squeezes her a little tighter, “That mouth on you,” he teases.

The girl giggles, “Am I wrong? Also, you should’ve knocked, by the way,” she continues, reaching up to pull at the visor so she can actually see him.

“I should knock on a door that has my name on it?”

“Yeah, you do!” she sounds revolted, “Especially when you know there’s a lady waiting for you inside.”

Lando’s gaze darkens ever so slightly as he takes her in. She looks like a mirage under the dim light of the small room, her curls coming untamed from under his helmet and her eyes so bright and filled with love, looking back at him.

He nods with a boyish smile, “I’ll try to remember that next time.”

Maybe it’s just exhaustion making his eyes so heavy-lidded, the lingering adrenaline from a long day fading into something softer. But when she catches him staring, Lando has the same soft gaze he does whenever they sit on the couch and he’s about to doze off; he looks unintentionally hot like this, worn out but content.

“Alright, racer boy. Can we go now?” she asks, pressing back against him slightly.

Lando sighs, reluctant. “Not yet. I still have a couple of hours to go. Gotta go over the data with the engineers,” his fingers tighten briefly on her hips before he steps back. “You can head back to the hotel if you’re bored. I’ll get you a car.”

She pouts, “It’s not as fun without you.”

That wins her another chuckle, but this time, there’s something else in Lando’s expression. His gaze is shamelessly dragging over her with an intensity that makes her pulse stutter. It’s only now that he really registers that she’s wearing his helmet, his name and number stamped all over.

She’s worn his clothes before — his hoodies, his merch, his team’s attire — but this feels completely different. It makes his mouth dry and head spin, and he might be exhausted, but suddenly, swallowing the lump in his throat, Lando realizes he’s so turned on.

“Then stay,” he encourages her, “I have half an hour to decompress before going to debriefing. I’m sure we can find something fun to do.”

His suit suddenly feels tighter, heat creeping up the back of his neck. He swallows again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he exhales slowly.

“Is that so?” she challanges him. “Something in mind already?”

He runs a hand through his curls before reaching for her again, “Maybe,” his voice is low, amused but laced with something indulgent. His fingers skim her waist, tracing the hem of her shirt as he tugs her closer. “You’re pretty inspiring.”

She tilts her head slightly, the visor still lifted so he can see the teasing glint in her eyes. “Well, that’s new,” she laughs. “But I was just messing around.”

Lando hums, unconvinced. “Sure you were.”

She moves to take the helmet off, but his hand catches hers mid-motion.

“No, leave it,” says Lando, thumb grazing over her knuckles. His breath is warm when he leans in, his next words spoken directly against its glossy material. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.”

A shiver rolls down her spine, and it quickly goes south, right between her legs. It makes Lando grin subtly, then he reaches for the visor, pulling it down with a definitive, loud click. At that, her world narrows in an instant, and the limited view somehow makes every touch and every breath between them more intense.

Lando walks her back until she’s perched on the edge of the physio table, her pulse hammering as she watches him, excited, but mostly curious about his plans. They have thirty minutes, so his movements aren’t rushed in any way. Quite the opposite. They’re almost lazy, but there’s something precise about the way he reaches for the zipper of his race suit.

He rolls his shoulders, loosening up, then adjusts the height of the table so that when he sinks to his knees in front of her, she’s exactly where he wants her to be. Patiently, his fingers trail up her legs, making slow work of the button on her jeans. There’s no hurry in the way he peels them down, taking her underwear with them in one go, but the moment he gets rid of them, there’s a shift in his demeanor.

Lando exhales sharply, his large hands splaying over her thighs as he looks at her, half-lust and half-serious. “You gotta keep quiet, baby,” he says, a hint of mischief curling around his words. “These walls aren’t real, and anyone passing by the door can hear us blink.”

There was a little giggle stuck in her throat, but now she barely has time to react before his fingers part her, his touch light at first, just exploring while he preps her with the dexterity of a man who did it countless of times before.

Her breath catches at the first slow stroke, her thighs tensing as he traces circles where she’s most sensitive. The first sound she makes is barely a whisper of a whimper, that Lando trained his ears to hear, since is muffled inside the helmet.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, “Is that my cue?”

Before she can answer, Lando leans in.

Initially, his mouth is warm and merciful. He licks into her with a sort of tamed hunger that’s out of his character, savoring every little shift of her hips, every shudder she tries to suppress. Even so, it sends her a clear message: even though his energy is low from the long day, his need to taste her is anything but.

The world outside their room hums with noise — faint conversations, the occasional shuffle of footsteps, the distant whir of power tools in the garage. But all she can focus on is the way he’s lapping at her clit, the slick sound of it embarrassingly loud in the small space, her own whimpers barely contained behind the visor.

Lando chuckles against her, the vibration making her head tilt back slightly; the weight of the helmet forces her to let her head fall against the wall, which positions her even better in front of him.

“Gonna have to be quieter than that,” he teases, slipping his fingers between her folds, pressing just enough to make her squirm.

She barely manages to shake her head, her breath ragged. The visor fogs up as a result, which forces her to close her eyes, since her sense of sight is officially useless.

Lando looks up proudly, fingers pushing deeper as he settles in, more than happy to test her limits. He knows how to curl them just right, the wet sounds obscene in the stillness of the room.

His free hand grips her thigh like he’s starved, holding her open for him, his name echoing softly inside the helmet — muted yet desperate. He feels the way she gets even more aroused with each passing second, coating his fingers with every slick stroke, her body responding to him exactly as it does every single time he takes over.

Startled with new sensations experienced in the dark, she brings a shaky hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the moans threatening to spill out, only to realize, all over again, that she can’t. A frustrated whimper escapes instead, the same hand scrambling for something to support herself. Finally, her fingers clutch at the edge of the table, but it’s useless; her hips are already rolling against Lando, chasing more.

“Mhm,” he hums, his voice shallow. “Getting so wet for me, should’ve done this ages ago. Why didn’t we?”

She gasps, trembling on the edge and so ready to agree with him, but then Lando stops, and the loss of his fingers is almost unbearable. Before she can think, a loud, frustrated moan slips past her lips, making him laugh at her impatience.

She’s too gone now, drunk on the feeling, and the weight of the helmet is definitely not helping. Not when she’s melting under his touch, making it hard to move, and pretty much do anything but stay there, waiting. Aching for more.

Lando watches her for a moment, dark-eyed and smirking, already hard just from seeing her like this, her body so pliant and responsive under his hands. He pulls himself out with one hand, stroking lightly, and with the other, he grips the edge of the helmet, forcing her to look at him.

“Alright, baby, I’m serious. No more of that, okay?” asks Lando. “If someone hears us, it’s gonna be bad. And we don’t want that, do we?” he continues, watching her gathering all her strength only to nod slightly. “That’s right. The second I hear you moan, I’ll have to stop.”

Even Lando knows it’s a lie, but he had to say it, just in case.

She swallows, nodding again as best as she can, her pulse a frantic rhythm against his fingers when he drags his hands down her sides, holding her still. Then, with a precise snap of his hips, he buries himself inside her, stealing the breath from her lungs.

The force of it sends a shudder through the physio table, the legs creaking against the floor. She barely has time to adjust before he thrusts again, deeper this time, pressing her body into the table like he’s trying to mold her into it. Her thighs tighten around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, desperate to keep him there, to keep him buried inside her where she needs him most, the weight of him, the pressure and the friction maddening.

Lando swallows a moan, but some of it manages to slip past gritted teeth, “Fuck, you look—” he cuts himself off, sucking in a sharp breath. He doesn’t even have words for it. The way she feels around him and the heat of her pulling him back in every time he dares to pull away, it’s enough to make his mind go blank.

The table shifts again, inching against the floor with every thrust. She grips at the suit still clinging to his shoulders, trying to hold onto something, but there’s no escape from the way he’s driving into her, every drag of his cock making her shake beneath him.

“Lando…”

He knows. He feels it too. The way they’re teetering on the edge of something dangerously intoxicating, and the way they’re doing that together.

His hands tighten on her, his next thrust shoving the table another inch to the side. “Shit,” he breathes, voice husky with restraint. “Hold on, love. A little more, yeah?” He grips the edges of the table and snaps his hips forward again, watching the way her body reacts to him. “Fucking hell,” he spits, eyes dark as he watches her fall apart under him, little by little. “Keep me in, baby. Like that.”

She clings to him without hesitation, like she was made for this, for him. He’s marking her and he knows it, his fingers moving back to her waist, digging into her soft flesh. Lando’s name is all over her, in ways that only he can see, in places only he gets to touch. And the way she lets him, makes his head spin.

In the haze of it all, a sudden, foreign thought crashes into him like a gut-punch: her name next to his. It’s ridiculous, completely out of place in a moment like this, but it paralyzes him for a second. Until his body reacts on its own, fire spreading through his veins. He leans forward, caging her in, his thrusts becoming sharper, more desperate. His forehead presses against the cool surface of the helmet for just a moment, grounding himself, before he pulls back and looks at her.

He can barely see her eyes, wide and glazed over, but it’s enough. His fingers tighten on her hips as he slams back into her, dragging her flush against him, letting her feel every inch of his length. The sharp noise that the table makes underneath them is lost in the delicious sounds of their bodies moving together, of their heavy breathing, of the desperate way she silently whimpers his name like she wants to keep it on her tongue forever.

He’s spiraling, drowning in the heat of her, in the thought that she lets him take her like this, lets him ruin her for anyone else.

Yet somehow, it’s still not enough.

Her hands fly up instinctively, grasping at the helmet, knuckles turning white as she tries to steady herself against the overwhelming feeling of him.

Outside the room, voices pass by again, too close, and Lando clenches his jaw, fighting his own demons as he’s forcing himself to stay quiet.

Luckily, she’s close. He can feel it in the way she tightens around him, the way her body shakes as she tries her hardest to stay silent. Inside the helmet though, her breathing is shallow, small cries coming out of her parted lips.

“Come on, pretty girl,” says Lando in a demanding yet soft tone. One of his hands clamps around her neck, guiding her into each thrust. “Give it to me. Let me feel you.”

Lando doesn’t slow down one bit, rolling his hips in a way that he knows it drives her wild. As a result, her body tenses, trembling as pleasure overtakes her. A choked gasp echoes inside the helmet, and Lando smirks, watching her unravel. He’s so utterly captivated by the way her walls tighten around him and the way her thighs quiver in his hands, as if she can crumble if he’s won’t be careful. It’s almost too much for him, but Lando manages to pull out just in time, watching as her release coats his throbbing length, as she shudders through the aftershocks.

“Yeah,” he breaths, running a hand up and down her thigh. “Such a good girl, baby. Let it all out.”

She slumps back against the table, panting inside the helmet, her body overly sensitive. Keeping his eyes on her, Lando gives himself a few slow strokes, exhaling hard through his nose; he’s so close it’s painful.

“You okay?” he asks her, his voice as hoarse as if he screamed for hours at a concert.

Slowly coming back to her senses, she exhales sharply, “I’m good,” she manages and, before she gets the chance to ask him the same question, Lando slaps her thigh in order to catch her attention.

“Down on your knees, then. Come on,” he rasps, guiding the girl to her knees, his patience wearing out quickly, as he tilts her chin up with two fingers.

The glow of the light catches on the sleek surface of the helmet, and something about it — about her like this, still catching her breath, still his — makes his stomach flip.

“God, look at you,” he breathes, his fingers tracing the edge of the visor as he grips the helmet gently. “Obedient little thing.”

She doesn’t speak — can’t, really — just watches him through the darkened shield, completely at his mercy.

Lando’s breathing stutters as he pumps himself faster, the tension coiling tight in his core. “Gonna make a mess of you, yeah?” he asks, mostly rhetorically. “Right there on my—”

He barely manages a breath before the orgasm crashes into him, blinding and all-consuming. His grip tightens, a sharp groan breaking free as heat pulses through him, spilling in thick streaks across the dark visor. Each of his breath is shaky, his mind fogged with pleasure and a sudden possessiveness.

She stays still, letting him ruin the helmet just like he ruined her, and the sight leaves him dizzy.

His fingers twitch as he pushes sweat-damp curls from his forehead, exhaling a laugh, wrecked and breathless. The sound of it fills the space, mixing with the muffled hum of voices just beyond the walls. But all Lando can hear is the quiet, pleased sigh that leaves her lips, her fingers scratching against her thighs, as if she wants to touch him, as if she wants to taste him.

His stomach clenches at the thought, the aftershocks leaving him lightheaded, wrecked in a way he’s never felt before. He exhales sharply, looking down at her, at his helmet, at what he’s done.

Then, Lando’s fingers are flexing against her head before he finally loosens his grip, running a slow thumb over the mess he’s made.

“Hell,” he pants, still catching his breath. Then, softer, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “Might have to fuck you like this more often.”

She exhales a quiet, amused breath, tilting her head slightly. “Guess that means I’m actually keeping it.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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physalian · 10 months ago

Text

How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff Part 3

Crazy how one impulsive post has quickly outshined every other post I have made on this blog. Anyway here’s more to consider. Once again, I am recirculating tried-and-true writing advice that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice and isn’t always applicable when the narrative demands otherwise.

Part 1

Part 2

1. Eliminating to-be verbs (passive voice)

Am/is/are/was/were are another type of filler that doesn’t add anything to your sentences.

There were fireworks in the sky tonight. /// Fireworks glittered in the sky tonight.

My cat was chirping at the lights on the ceiling. /// My cat chirped at the lights on the ceiling.

She was standing /// She stood

He was running /// He ran

Also applicable in present tense, of which I’ve been stuck writing lately.

There are two fish-net goals on either end of the improvised field. /// Two fish-net goals mark either end of the improvised field.

For once, it’s a cloudless night. /// For once, the stars shine clear.

Sometimes the sentence needs a little finagling to remove the bad verb and sometimes you can let a couple remain if it sounds better with the cadence or syntax. Generally, they’re not necessary and you won’t realize how strange it looks until you go back and delete them (it also helps shave off your word count).

Sometimes the to-be verb is necessary. You're writing in past-tense and must convey that.

He was running out of time does not have the same meaning as He ran out of time, and are not interchangeable. You'd have to change the entire sentence to something probably a lot wordier to escape the 'was'. To-be verbs are not the end of the world.

2. Putting character descriptors in the wrong place

I made a post already about motivated exposition, specifically about character descriptions and the mirror trope, saying character details in the wrong place can look odd and screw with the flow of the paragraph, especially if you throw in too many.

She ties her long, curly, brown tresses up in a messy bun. /// She ties her curls up in a messy brown bun. (bonus alliteration too)

Generally, I see this most often with hair, a terrible rule of threes. Eyes less so, but eyes have their own issue. Eye color gets repeated at an exhausting frequency. Whatever you have in your manuscript, you could probably delete 30-40% of the reminders that the love interest has baby blues and readers would be happy, especially if you use the same metaphor over and over again, like gemstones.

He rolled his bright, emerald eyes. /// He rolled his eyes, a vibrant green in the lamplight.

To me, one reads like you want to get the character description out as fast as possible, so the hand of the author comes in to wave and stop the story to give you the details. Fixing it, my way or another way, stands out less as exposition, which is what character descriptions boil down to—something the audience needs to know to appreciate and/or understand the story.

3. Lacking flow between sentences

Much like sentences that are all about the same length with little variety in syntax, sentences that follow each other like a grocery list or instruction manual instead of a proper narrative are difficult to find gripping.

Jack gets out a stock pot from the cupboard. He fills it with the tap and sets it on the stove. Then, he grabs russet potatoes and butter from the fridge. He leaves the butter out to soften, and sets the pot to boil. He then adds salt to the water.

From the cupboard, Jack drags a hefty stockpot. He fills it with the tap, adds salt to taste, and sets it on the stove.

Russet potatoes or yukon gold? Jack drums his fingers on the fridge door in thought. Russet—that’s what the recipe calls for. He tosses the bag on the counter and the butter beside it to soften.

This is just one version of a possible edit to the first paragraph, not the end-all, be-all perfect reconstruction. It’s not just about having transitions, like ‘then’, it’s about how one sentence flows into the next, and you can accomplish better flow in many different ways.

4. Getting too specific with movement.

I don’t see this super often, but when it happens, it tends to be pretty bad. I think it happens because writers feel the need to overcompensate and over-clarify on what’s happening. Remember: The more specific you get, the more your readers are going to wonder what’s so important about these details. This is fiction, so every detail matters.

A ridiculous example:

Jack walks over to his closet. He kneels down at the shoe rack and tugs his running shoes free. He walks back to his desk chair, sits down, and ties the laces.

Unless tying his shoes is a monumental achievement for this character, all readers would need is:

Jack shoves on his running shoes.

*quick note: Do not add "down" after the following: Kneels, stoops, crouches, squats. The "down" is already implied in the verb.

This also happens with multiple movements in succession.

Beth enters the room and steps on her shoelace, nearly causing her to trip. She kneels and ties her shoes. She stands upright and keeps moving.

Beth walks in and nearly trips over her shoelace. She sighs, reties it, and keeps moving.

Even then, unless Beth is a chronically clumsy character or this near-trip is a side effect of her being late or tired (i.e. meaningful), tripping over a shoelace is kind of boring if it does nothing for her character. Miles Morales’ untied shoelaces are thematically part of his story.

Sometimes, over-describing a character’s movement is meant to show how nervous they are—overthinking everything they’re doing, second-guessing themselves ad nauseam. Or they’re autistic coded and this is how this character normally thinks as deeply methodical. Or, you’re trying to emphasize some mundanity about their life and doing it on purpose.

If you’re not writing something where the extra details service the character or the story at large, consider trimming it.

—

These are *suggestions* and writing is highly subjective. Hope this helps!

#writing #writing resources #writing advice #writing tips #writing a book #writing tools #writeblr #for beginners #story structure #book formatting

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yandere-daydreams · 23 days ago

Text

exhibit #5 - omorashi

an installment of the freak shit march gallery showcase.

pairing: yandere!geto x reader (jjk).

length: 3.0k.

warnings: non/con, fem!reader, watersports, infantalization, mentions of physical abuse, physiological abuse, implied kidnapping, and humiliation. dead dove: do not eat.

Geto Suguru was going to kill you.

Slowly, tortuously, and with pleasure. The same way he slaughtered curses too weak to be worth choking down, the same way he allowed his non-sorcerer acolytes to be torn apart after they’d expended their usefulness. Maybe he’d make you drink boiling water, or battery acid, something hot and corrosive that would destroy you from the inside out. Maybe he would drive some curve-bladed, ritualistic dagger through your heart and leave you on his altar to bleed out. Maybe he would have you drawn and quartered, even if you weren’t completely sure where he’d find the horses. You wouldn’t put it past him, though.

You guessed the method didn’t actually matter. Whatever he chose, whatever grisly end you imagined for yourself, the fact of the matter stood true.

He was going to fucking kill you.

You crumpled into yourself, pushing your body further into the back of the closet. Hiding would’ve been pointless, but you weren’t really trying to. Suguru had locked the bedroom door after shoving you inside, and you were beyond the point of trying to escape on impulse. It was all you could do to curl into yourself and try to forget where you were, what was coming, whose blood was drying under your nails. Even that was a futile effort – successful only in dragging your last minutes alive to a standstill and giving you that much more time to contemplate your utter hopelessness. You would’ve been better off banging on the walls and begging him to kill you now. At least, then, he might’ve gotten it over with quickly.

You buried your face in your knees, groaning aloud, but your spiral into complete despair was cut short. Distantly, you heard a lock click out of place, a door swing open, a set of padded footsteps growing ever-closer. You were tempted to stay where you were, to pretend he wasn’t there, but that would’ve only delayed the inevitable. Instead, you swallowed your fear, pushed yourself to your feet, and went to meet your hangman.

Of course, Suguru was waiting for you when you finally opened the closet door, and of course, he was the pinnacle of composure. Calm and collected, leaning on the foot of his bed, his hair pulled back and his traditional attire traded out for a plain black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants. The three jagged lines carved into his cheek had been cleaned, but not bandaged over. Either they hadn’t been deep enough to be worth his time, or he wanted you to see them. Hopefully the former, but most likely the latter.

He smiled when he saw you – the expression softened, gentle. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You weren’t so serene.

Throwing yourself into his arms was more of a survival instinct than any real bid for comfort. He caught you easily, laughing as you barreled into his chest and buried your face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you managed, voice muffled by fabric and proximity. “It was an accident, I—I didn’t mean to, please don’t hurt—”

“Slow down. I don’t even know what you’re saying.” He rested a hand on the top of your head, combing his fingers through your hair. “Why would I hurt you?”

Why wouldn’t he? He’d threatened to break your legs for so much as verbally wishing him dead, before. This was worse. This was a death sentence.

“Because…” It was hard to find an answer that wouldn’t incriminate you further. You pulled back, gesturing to your cheek. “Because of the accident.”

He hummed. “Remind me which accident, honey?”

Something curdled in the pit of your stomach. You let your eyes fall to your feet. “This afternoon, during your sermon.” And then, when Suguru continued to wait for a proper answer, “When you tried to pull me into your lap. You caught me off-guard, and I—” Fought back. Pushed him away. Acted like a fucking idiot. “—hurt you. It wasn’t on purpose.”

There was more to it than that. His followers had been watching, and the beat of silence that’d followed your little outburst had rung louder than anything he’d preached. You embarrassed him. It was only a miracle that he hadn’t gutted you on the spot.

“Of course.” His hand slipped down to your neck, his thumb rubbing circles in the apex of your spine. “And how could I punish you for something you didn’t mean to do?”

Easily. He’d done it before – more times than you could count. Your wrist still hurt from the day he’d dislocated it after finding a few loose coins underneath your mattress. You still weren’t sure they’d gotten there, let alone where you would’ve picked them up, but it’d been enough to make Suguru think you were planning to run away. Justification beyond that was superfluous.

But this wasn’t the time to point that out. You only nodded irrationally into his chest, and Suguru chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “I think someone’s had a long day,” he murmured, squeezing you against him before pulling away. “Let’s get you fed n’ cleaned up, alright? We’ll talk about your bedtime after that.”

You didn’t trust his sugary tone or saccharine expression, but obediently, you muttered a small ‘okay’. Suguru pulled back, taking you by the hand and leading you away.

His apartment was a small, depressing thing. He had a larger home further from the city, one with spare bedrooms for both of his girls and a private chamber where he could speak with his strange, eccentric guests privately. His live-in captive couldn’t exist under the same roof as his beloved daughters, though, and you weren’t the type of possession he liked to show off, so you were relegated to a well-maintained, but painfully unloved apartment not far from his temple. There wasn’t much decoration beyond the steel bolts on every door and window, nor did what few personal effects he kept scattered around bring you much joy – a cat o’ nine tails draped over the back of the sofa, a vacant dog crate set up in the corner of the living room. There was nothing of yours, of course. Suguru didn’t really let you have interests beyond him. Anything that demanded more of your attention than needlepoint or absentmindedly nodding along to his megalomaniacal rants was deemed unsuitable and quickly done away with.

The kitchen was a little homier, but not by much. Suguru sat you down at the kitchen table before moving to the nearest counter. There was nothing on the stove, no ingredients laid out to prep, but an electric kettle simmered quietly next to a small glass container. He hummed as he worked, filling the container with scalding hot water, measuring out a cup or so of some colorless powder and mixing it in. It wasn’t until he produced a lid – thick at the base with a pink-tinted nipple spouting out of it like some unfortunate tumor – that you realized it wasn’t a container, but a bottle. For a second, it was all you could do to sit there, motionless and bewildered, and wonder where he’d managed to find a baby.

The lid was worked onto the bottle, the temperature checked against his wrist. He placed it onto the table in front of you delicately, as not to damage the glass, and your confusion immediately turned to dread.

“I… I don’t think I have much of an appetite.”

“You’ll have to try. Growing girls need their calories.” He fell into the seat next to you, tapping his knee. “Right here, honey.”

You looked toward the bottle, then to Suguru – still smiling, still unwavering. You took a deep breath, reminded yourself that there were worse things in the world than ego-death, and pushed yourself to your feet.

Dinner was a slow, effortful, and humiliating task. Suguru held you snugly, cooing out praise as he held the bottle against your lips. You tried not to think about the lack of flavor, or the way the milk clung to the back of your throat in clumps, or why he’d apparently had baby formula and a nursing bottle on-hand. The bottle was refilled once at its half-way point, then again as you neared the last few drops. By the time you finished, your stomach ached and fatigue had knit itself into the very fabric of your being, encouraging you to shut your eyes, to rest your head against Suguru’s shoulder, to fall into the repetitive sucking motion despite the knots of soreness forming in your jaw. Still, you knew better than to complain. As far as punishments went, this was relatively tame. You’d embarrassed him in front of his congregation, and he’d embarrassed you in front of the only person allowed to see you - him. Fair enough, good game, etc.

There was no pretense of autonomy by way of reward. Suguru kept you gathered in his arms – tucked against his chest as he carried you through the empty halls and balanced on his lap while drew a bath, the water hot enough to steam. You half-expected him to leave you to your own devices or, more predictably, to strip down and join you, but he just perched himself on the edge of the basin, only breaching the distance to wash your hair or lather your skin. It might’ve been nice, in another context, with a more loving partner. Under Suguru’s watchful gaze, it was hard to feel like anything more precious than a pet being groomed.

As Suguru drained the water, you realized you had to pee. Badly.

Which wasn’t surprising, on its own. You’d practically drunken half your body weight, and it wasn’t like there’d been many chances for a bathroom break pre-punishment, either. You did your best not to squirm as Suguru patted you down with towel, not to complain when he carefully removed the toothbrush from your hand in favor of shoving it past your lips himself. “You’ve already gotten in enough trouble, today,” he explained as he took your jaw in his free hand, holding you still when you reflexively recoiled. “We’d better make sure you don’t have the opportunity to do anything else you might regret.”

After what felt like much, much longer than two minutes, he let you rinse your mouth out without further intervention. When you were done, you lingered in front of the vanity, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Do you mind if I…” You swallowed. “…if I get a few minutes alone?”

He hummed. “And why would you want to be alone, love?”

Your face burned. Suguru was always terrible, but he wasn’t normally this dense. “I, uh—Nevermind, I guess. It’s nothing.”

If Suguru noticed your discomfort, he was more than happy to gloss over it. Your usual sleepwear consisted of, on good nights, one of Suguru’s oversized shirts or, on most nights, nothing at all. Tonight, though, Suguru seemed to be in the mood to play dress-up – forcing an ivory nightgown over your head, combing the hair away from your face, tying a delicate, pale pink ribbon around your neck. It was only after he’d taken the better part of five minutes to slide a pair of perfectly white, perfectly frilly knee-sigh socks up your legs that he seemed satisfied, taking a step back to admire his work.

This must’ve been the second part of your punishment. It wasn’t as bad at the bottle, sure, but there was something about the way Suguru’s gaze burnt into you, the vague amusement playing underneath his lovestruck grin, the pressing awareness that he was enjoying this. You let your eyes fall into your lap, but Suguru was quick to correct you – cupping your cheek and tilting your head back, coaxing you to meet his gaze. “Feeling shy?” He squeezed, the gesture playful, yet forceful enough to bruise. “You certainly weren’t during my sermon.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to insist that it’d been an accident, but Suguru’s patience must’ve been growing thin. His mouth was on yours before you could get a word out, teeth biting into your lips, tongue raking over yours. You felt his hands, next – eager and groping, slipping under the skirt of your dress, kneading at your ass and thighs. You squeaked, jerking away, and surprisingly, Suguru let you, his hands settling on your waist.

“I’m sorry, but I—” For the millionth time that night, your voice seemed to catch in your throat. This time, you forced yourself to choke it up. “I really have to use to the bathroom.”

You heard him laugh, felt his mouth against the crook of your neck. “I know, honey.”

One of his hands drifted to your stomach, pressing down lightly. You tried to scramble back, but Suguru held you in-place – bringing a knee onto the mattress for better leverage. “I’m serious, it’s really—”

“I never said you weren’t.” His touch drifted to your cunt, two fingers dragging circles over your clit. For all the time he’d spent picking out your clothes, panties had been strategically forgotten. “It’s alright. I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

Your breaking point was staggeringly abrupt and humiliatingly minor. Suguru’s arm wrapping around your waist, his body turning over yours as he fell onto the mattress and dragged you on top of him. The bulk of his thigh pressed into your cunt, and something inside you split, cracked, spilled. It was too fast, too hot, too wet, and you couldn’t seem to make it stop. You clenched your eyes shut, anything not to have to see the growing yellow stain spreading across the white of your nightgown, but that didn’t save you from the warmth trickling down your legs, the puddle quickly forming on Suguru’s lap.

It was a dizzying juxtaposition; the tightness in your lower stomach as more pressure was put on your bladder, the heat pooling in your core as Suguru continued to trace aimless patterns into your clit. His mouth latched onto your throat, sucking hickeys into tender skin before dropping lower, following the curve of your breast. His lips sealed around your nipple just as his fingers fell from your clit to your pussy, thrusting into you with only the slightest hint of warning.

Suguru was never careful during sex, not beyond what it took to keep from breaking your neck when he wrapped his hands around your throat, but he was normally deliberate, normally intentional in the ways he used and contorted your body. Now, he seemed determined to curl and spread his digits with little to no regard for your pleasure, to batter his fingers into your cunt like he was trying to split you apart from the inside out. It hurt, but even worse, it was working – slick staining the inside of your thighs as you struggled to close your legs around his hand. You tried to get him away from you, to dig your nails into his shoulder and scratch at his chest, but Suguru only groaned into your chest, sucking that much more harshly.

It didn’t save you from his laugh – barking and cruel – or his hand on your stomach, palm pushing into your bladder, milking your embarrassment. “This,” he hissed, venom sharpening the edges of his infantilizing coo. “is a fucking accident. The shit you pulled during my sermon – that was a brat begging to be put in her place. Don’t try to pass off one for the other again.”

You tried to open your mouth, to spit that you should’ve clawed out his eyes when you’d had the chance, but the only noise you seemed able to make was an unsteady, trembling whine. A flood of humiliated tears escaped despite your best efforts, forming searing tracks down the length of your face, and Suguru leaned towards you, pressing a light kiss into your temple before running the flat of his tongue over your left cheek. There was no attempt at comfort as he dragged your hips against his, as freed his cock and aligned his tip with your entrance. He thrust into you as the last deposits of piss were forced out of your bladder, your mess leaking down his shaft. Suguru only moaned, twitching inside of you.

You didn’t want to cry. Really, you didn’t want to, but apparently, you’d managed to lose control of more than one of your bodily functions. Suguru crooned as the first sob broke past your lips, then another, until you were all-but wailing as he bounced you on his cock. With an artificial sort of exasperation, he lowered you gently onto the mattress, rolling his hips against yours. “Aw, baby, did I hurt your feelings?” The question was sardonic, teasing. As if both of you weren’t covered in your piss. “Here – I’ve got just the thing for delicate little princesses like you.”

Through tear-blurred vision, you watched him pull his shirt over his head and throw it thoughtlessly over his shoulder. A hand was brought to the back of your head and your mouth forced against his chest – lips smashed against his nipple. “Go ahead.” His nails scraped against your scalp. “All little girls love their pacifiers, don’t they?”

It was a wonder, how you’d ever thought you would get away with damaging his pride so easily.

It was a wonder, why you’d ever thought death was the worst thing he could force onto you.

He thrust into you, and you went limp underneath him. A whimper dying in the back of your throat, you let your mouth fall open, latched onto his chest, and started to nurse.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #yandere geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader

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botanicalsword · 1 month ago

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Astrology Observations • Signs, Aspects, Behaviour

Appearance / personality observation

Strong Aries energy - often have fair, youthful skin, big bright eyes, and a hint of baby fat

Strong Leo energy - tend to come off as calm and sophisticated, with a balanced facial structure, often sporting a small face and a slightly pointed chin.

Strong Sagittarius energy - people usually have a tall, statuesque presence, with long faces and legs, and their features are bold and radiant - the vibe of a confident woman

Strong Capricorn energy - their moto “You have to endure the toughest hardships to rise above the rest" even their connections are built through this kind of hard-earned experience

Strong Aquarius energy - really value their personal space in any relationship. They need to take breaks now and then to breathe and enjoy their own world. They have a wide range of interests.

Sun, Moon, and Mercury in Pisces - a strong intuition You can pick up on subtle shifts in others' emotions and anticipate their thoughts, making you incredibly thoughtful and warm-hearted.

Inner planets, and Jupiter are all in air signs with no water signs and no trine /sextiles - they come off as pretty straightforward, they are smart and quick-witted, but maybe not as gentle. They tend to focus heavily on logic and reasoning, sometimes overlooking emotions and human connections. This can give you a cool, decisive vibe, making it easy for you to stand out as a leader or a big personality in any crowd.

Air + water signs - sensing what others are thinking and feeling, choose to express that through a gentle and caring way or rational, but also depends on their personal style.

Air + water + fire signs - enhance their ability to manage any negative or repressed emotions, giving them a great sense of humor and a strong magnetic charm - not only empathetic but also engaging and lively in their interactions with others.

Aspects in Natal Chart

Lots of sextile or trine aspects in the chart - need stability If they find themselves in tough situations, it can be hard for them to get motivated and rise to the occasion. It takes time to build up that drive. If they pick up bad habits, shaking them off can be quite the challenge.

Lots of square or opposition aspects - suit for various challenges in life They constantly remind themselves to climb higher and push through obstacles. they become more resilient, learning from failures and setbacks, and ultimately growing stronger in the process.

♡

Mars-Pluto - not pushovers. Even if they seem to tolerate, compromise, or hold back in the moment, they often look for opportunities later to reclaim their sense of justice. They hold grudges and can be quite obsessive about certain issues. This energy can manifest as impulsiveness / confrontations

Mars-Neptune - soften a person's aggression, making them come off in a more subtle and gentle way. feel like they're low-key provoking you or stirring the pot, but you can't quite pin it down they can also be super forgiving, turning their frustrations into empathy and compassion instead.

How to make them feel more at ease & What they are into

Venus in Gemini - they’re all about curiosity and having fun. They get attracted to people who can keep things interesting and enjoy good times together.

Venus in Cancer - they really thrives when they’re in a caring and nurturing relationship. They love partners who are gentle and make them feel safe and secure.

Venus in Virgo - they appreciate practicality and thoughtfulness in relationships. They are drawn to partners who are reliable and detail-oriented. They value acts of service and small gestures that show care. They need you to be attentive, show your reliability, and engage in meaningful conversations.

Venus in Leo - they love being admired and want to feel like a superstar. They’re drawn to partners who shine in social situations and make them feel proud to be with them.

Venus in Scorpio - they’re into mysterious and passionate people. They like partners who have a unique vibe and stand out from the crowd.

♡

Moon in Taurus - values stability and comfort in their relationships. They prefer to avoid drama and complications.

Moon in Libra - they needs a partner who gets them, gives them space, and is willing to share the load equally.

Moon in Scorpio - they crave emotional depth and want a partner who can meet their emotional needs and keep things intense.

Moon in Sagittarius - they looks for a partner who values their independence, has their own opinions, and doesn’t rely too much on them. They feel comfortable, when others encourage their independence, share new experiences, and keep the relationship fun and light-hearted.

Moon in Aquarius - they value individuality and freedom in their emotional lives. They need space to express their feelings and may approach emotions from a more intellectual perspective if you want to connect with them, embrace their uniqueness, encourage their independence, and engage in stimulating conversations.

Moon in Pisces - they are sensitive and empathetic. They crave emotional depth and connection in their relationships. They appreciate partners who are compassionate and imaginative. If you want to make a Pisces moon feel special, be empathetic, share your dreams, and create a magical atmosphere together.

>> Relationship • Connection between Composite and Natal Chart (Based on Observations) >> Life Purpose ✧ Lost in Life? revealing the direction we've been searching for (In-depth)

>> Back to Masterlist ✧ Explicit Content

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#astro observations #astrology placement #astrology #synastry observations #astro #astro posts #astro community #astro notes #astro placements #overlays #loa #astrology notes #astrology placements #astrology observations #8 house synastry #mars synastry #astro memes #tarotcommunity #synastry

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blaire-apricity · 7 months ago

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Lip balm

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ synopsis┆ : Chapped lips are always a hassle, but you found a solution to it.

ᯓ❅ ┆ tags┆ : short fiction, soft, fluff & possible OOC

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

You grumbled softly at the uncomfortable sensation of your dry lips. It had been a constant problem lately. Fortunately, you always carried a chapstick with you. You shifted slightly from Xavier’s warm embrace, where you had been cuddling, and his eyes followed you, curious. As you rummaged through your bag, he silently observed your movements with a calm fascination.

Pulling out the chapstick, you removed the cap, the pop sound breaking the silence of the room. You applied it slowly, biting and plucking your lips gently to ensure the balm spread evenly. When you turned back, you found Xavier watching you intently, his eyes filled with a curious softness, as if he were studying something new. He looked almost childlike in that moment, an adorable curiosity lighting up his features, which made you chuckle.

Returning to his side, you snuggled back into his arms, and he welcomed you without hesitation, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you in closer, his warmth enveloping you again.

“What was that?” he asked, a hint of curiosity lingering in his tone.

“Lip balm,” you replied casually, looking up at him with a playful smile. “For dry lips.”

He nodded thoughtfully, his usual composed expression softening as he mused. That’s when you noticed his own lips, slightly cracked at the edges. “You’ve got some dry lips too,” you pointed out, mimicking the motion on your own lips.

Xavier blinked, touching his bottom lip absentmindedly. You reached for the chapstick again but paused, a mischievous idea forming.

“Xavier,” you called, drawing his attention with a sly tone. He looked at you, still innocently curious, and you cupped his cheeks gently. Leaning in, your lips met his in a soft kiss, the balm transferring smoothly onto his lips.

When you pulled away, you couldn’t hide your triumphant smirk. His reaction was priceless—his ears turned a faint shade of red, and a soft blush crept over his cheeks. He blinked a few times, his gaze softening as he smiled at you, as if you had just made him fall for you all over again.

“Again,” he whispered, his voice even softer than before.

“What—”

“Kiss me again.”

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

“Ugh… my lips are cracked again,” you groaned in frustration. The cold, rainy weather lately had done a number on your skin, especially your lips. It was becoming annoyingly routine.

Zayne, sitting at his desk reviewing surgical documents, sighed softly at your complaint. Without looking up, he shook his head in mild exasperation. “You should drink more water. Hydration is key.”

You pouted at his statement, knowing full well you’d been drinking plenty. “I do drink enough,” you countered, unconsciously licking your lips, which brought a brief but welcome relief.

Zayne glanced up at you from his papers, his sigh a bit louder this time. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a tube of lip balm and handed it to you. “Don’t lick your lips. When the saliva dries, it’ll make things worse.”

Accepting the balm, you stared at him, your eyes narrowing as they landed on his lips. “Wait, do you usually use this stuff?” you asked, a little surprised.

“I do,” he answered simply, his attention shifting back to his documents. You couldn’t help but notice how smooth and slightly glistening his lips looked, a fact that made you impulsively want to lean in and kiss him. You leaned forward slightly, but Zayne was quick, placing a firm hand on your shoulder before you could close the distance.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his tone calm but knowing.

Caught in the act, you huffed in mock annoyance, retreating with a playful pout. “I wanted to kiss you since you’ve already got balm on your lips…” Your voice trailed off, a little embarrassed by your boldness.

Zayne didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he set his papers aside, cupping your cheek with one hand as he expertly uncapped the balm with the other. He applied it to your lips with a gentle touch, the cool sensation of the balm contrasting with the warmth of his hand.

Just when you thought it was over, he finished applying the balm, then leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The kiss was tender, yet it left your heart racing, as if it had been your first kiss all over again.

“There,” he murmured, pulling away, the corner of his lips curling into a faint smile. You were certain you’d melt into a puddle right there on the spot.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

“Rafayel! You need to put some lip balm on, your lips are cracking,” you said, arms crossed as you lightly scolded the ever-dramatic mermaid.

He huffed in response, crossing his own arms in an exaggerated manner and turning away from you with a sharp flick of his hair. “No! I’ve never used that stuff, and I don’t plan on starting now. You’re my bodyguard, not my nanny!”

It was impossible not to laugh at his theatrics. Most of the time, you felt more like you were babysitting him than anything else, whether you were on duty or spending time together outside of work.

Rafayel narrowed his gaze when he heard your chuckle. “Are you laughing at me?” he asked, a suspicious edge to his tone.

“Not at all,” you said with a smile that betrayed your denial. “But seriously, if you don’t use something, your lips will start bleeding.” You held out a tube of chapstick, but he shook his head vehemently.

“I’ll survive,” he retorted, turning his head stubbornly.

You rolled your eyes and opened the tube, stepping closer. He backed away immediately, like a startled cat. “I don’t need it!”

“You do!” you insisted, gripping his chin gently, but he kept squirming and moving, making it impossible to apply the balm. You probably smeared it on his cheek at this point.

“Stay still!” you laughed, struggling to keep up with his evasive maneuvers.

“No!” he whined dramatically, but you had a trump card. Without warning, you leaned in and kissed him, catching him completely off guard. His eyes widened, and he froze in place as your lips met his, allowing you to finally apply the balm.

Pulling back, you smirked and gave him another quick peck. “See? Now your lips are nice and smooth whenever I kiss you.”

Rafayel was left speechless, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He blinked, clearly malfunctioning from the surprise kiss.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

Sylus chuckled as he examined your collection of lip balms, spread across the bedside table. His deep voice resonated in the room, a soft echo in the intimate setting. “Why do you need so many different lip balms?”

You were lying on your stomach, scrolling through your phone, only half-listening. “In case I lose one,” you said nonchalantly, barely glancing up.

“Uh-huh,” Sylus drawled, clearly amused. “And you need two extra pairs?”

“They smell different,” you added, more engaged in your screen than the conversation. When you finally glanced up, you saw him inspecting the melon-flavored balm you used most often.

He twisted off the cap, raising it to his nose. “Smells like melon, all right,” he commented.

“Don’t you use one?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied him.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, leaning against the edge of the bed. “Not really,” he replied smoothly. His eyes flickered with interest as he glanced at your lips. “What flavor are you wearing now?”

“Strawberry, I think?” you replied, a bit unsure. You touched your lips, trying to catch the scent.

Sylus smirked at your uncertainty. “Why don’t you try tasting it?”

Your brows furrowed, about to respond when Sylus leaned in, pressing his lips to yours before you could say another word. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his tongue darted out, grazing your bottom lip.

The kiss took your breath away. When he pulled back, his signature smirk was firmly in place. “You’re right,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “There’s no taste.”

Your lips tingled, and you could only stare at him, still processing what had just happened. Sylus motioned to his own lips, now coated with your chapstick. “Guess I use lip balm now too.”

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

╰｡ Author's Note: I had this idea for a while now HAHA, glad to have written it off. For once, I didn't stumble much on Zayne's part actually. Also I apologize for the different blog designs (especially my pinned post) but I was trying to keep the designs more minimal since at some websites and especially in phones there's some symbols that can't be seen. I hope I eliminated that one.

I probably should work more on my tags as well.

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youngpoetpoe · 15 days ago

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The Aespa Experience

Aespa x Male Reader

Buy me a ko-fi.

The MAMA awards had just drawn to a close, the final swell of the crowd’s cheers still lingering in their ears as Aespa navigated the backstage labyrinth, their victory cradled in the form of a gleaming trophy. Karina, Giselle, Winter, and Ningning moved with a blend of weariness and exhilaration, their steps uneven yet purposeful, drawn toward the sanctuary of their private dressing room.

The door clicked shut behind them, a soft sound that severed the clamor of flashing cameras, eager fans, and the relentless hum of the event. Inside, the space unfolded like a refuge: golden light spilled over plush beige carpet, casting warm shadows across sleek furniture—a low, cushioned couch, a vanity strewn with makeup brushes and half-empty water bottles, a wide mirror stretching along one wall to capture their reflections.

Their police-inspired outfits clung to them—black uniform tops tracing their curves, short shorts revealing smooth, pale thighs that shimmered faintly in the dim glow.

The air thrummed with their mingled scents—Karina’s vanilla curling soft and sweet, Giselle’s sharp spice slicing through, Winter’s faint floral whisper drifting, Ningning’s bright citrus twist piercing the haze—blending into an intimate cocoon that enveloped the room.

You stood near the vanity, their trusted confidant and staff member, a steady presence woven into the fabric of their lives. Through late-night rehearsals, rushed schedules, and these rare moments of stillness, you’d become a quiet anchor they leaned into. Tonight, though, the energy simmered differently—raw, electric, a triumph pulsing through them as they shed the weight of expectation, letting it dissolve into the carpet beneath their feet.

Karina broke the silence, her voice warm and laced with a pride that softened her usual composure. “We did it. I still can’t believe it.” Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders as she turned, her gaze sweeping across her members before settling on you, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She stepped to the vanity, setting the trophy down with a gentle clink, her fingers lingering on its cool surface as if to ground herself in the reality of their win.

Giselle crossed the room with a burst of energy, her steps quick and light, the carpet muffling the faint squeak of her soles as she reached you. “The crowd was unreal—you should’ve heard them screaming our names!” She flung her arms around you in a swift, impulsive hug, her breath warm against your neck before she pulled back, her grin wide and unrestrained, her playful nature spilling over like a wave.

Winter lingered a step behind, her fingers grazing the edge of a cap perched atop her head, its tilt adding a jaunty edge to her elegant frame. “It was a good night,” she murmured, her voice soft but threaded with satisfaction as she drifted closer, her presence a quiet pull that drew your gaze without effort.

Ningning bounced on her toes near the couch, her restless energy crackling like static. “We have to celebrate—something huge, something epic!” Her eyes darted around the room, bright with ideas, her quirky charm igniting the air as she flopped onto the cushions, then sprang up again, too wired to stay still.

Karina nodded, a flicker of care softening her features as she turned from the vanity. “You’re right, Ning. Let’s make it ours—just us.” She tilted her head toward you, weaving you into the moment with a subtle gesture, her leadership steady yet unspoken.

Giselle’s eyes glinted with mischief as she sank to her knees on the carpet, the plush fibers yielding beneath her. “How about a game? Keep the vibe alive?” Her accent wove a playful thread through her words, her posture open and inviting as she patted the floor beside her.

Winter tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her gaze as she eased closer. “What kind?” Her tone was even, her frame settling gracefully as she joined the circle taking shape, her movements fluid and unhurried.

“Truth or dare,” Giselle declared, clapping her hands once, the sound sharp and eager in the quiet room. “It’s perfect—fun, maybe a little daring.” She shot you a teasing wink, her energy rippling outward, pulling everyone into its orbit.

Ningning giggled, dropping beside her, knees tucked under as she leaned forward. “I’m in—let’s get wild!” Her laughter bubbled up, infectious and bright, her hands brushing the carpet as she shifted.

Karina hesitated, a flicker of responsibility crossing her face, but a reluctant smile curved her lips as she glanced at Giselle. “Alright, but let’s keep it sane, okay?” Her tone carried a gentle warning, though her eyes betrayed her amusement as she eased down, her presence grounding the group as they gathered around the one-person couch you were sitting on, the air thickening with anticipation.

The circle formed naturally, a loose ring of knees and elbows on the plush floor while you remain seated on your chair, their outfits a stark contrast against the soft beige—black fabric taut against skin, shorts riding high, the mirror behind them catching every shift and glint. Giselle took the lead, her grin fixed on Winter as she leaned forward. “Truth or dare?”

Winter paused, her fingers brushing the cap’s brim, then decided, “Truth,” her legs crossing beneath her, the faint shadow of the cap falling across her eyes.

“What’s your most embarrassing stage moment?” Giselle’s voice brimmed with curiosity, her posture tilting closer, eager for the answer.

Winter’s cheeks warmed, but she smirked, a dry edge cutting through her reserve. “My in-ear slipped out once—had to fake a hair flip to cover it. Looked ridiculous.” Laughter rippled through, soft and unguarded, as she shifted slightly, her frame easing into the moment.

Ningning turned to Karina, eyes gleaming with playful intent. “Unnie, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Karina chose, her posture steady, a quiet confidence in the way she sat, hands resting lightly on her thighs.

“Ever had a crush on another idol?” Ningning’s tone was light, her fingers tapping the carpet in a restless rhythm.

Karina kept her composure, her voice smooth and measured. “I admire plenty of people, but a crush? Not quite.” Her diplomatic sidestep drew a groan from Ningning, who rolled her eyes in mock frustration, her laughter spilling out again.

The game unfurled like a thread, light and playful at first—Giselle belting out a dramatic chorus from one of their songs, her voice cracking into laughter halfway through; Winter swaying through a goofy dance, her cap tilting as she moved, drawing giggles that bounced off the walls. But the dares crept bolder, the air shifting like a tide pulling them deeper, the golden light casting long shadows that danced with their movements.

Giselle turned to you, her smirk sharp and teasing as she leaned closer. “Truth or dare?”

Caught in the current, you chose, “Dare,” your voice steady despite the quickening pulse in your chest.

“Compliment Winter—make it bold,” she challenged, her eyes glinting with expectation.

Winter fidgeted, her thighs brushing together under her shorts, a faint flush creeping up her neck as she ducked her head slightly. You met her gaze, letting the words roll out with quiet conviction. “Winter, your eyes pull me in like nothing else, and those thighs—damn, they’re stunning.” The room erupted in teasing whoops and laughter, Winter’s hand darting to her cap as she murmured a soft, “Thanks,” her shy smile breaking through the reserve, a rare crack in her poised exterior.

The dares grew teeth, each one peeling back another layer of restraint. Ningning dared Giselle to sway through a sultry dance, her movements fluid and deliberate, the faint tap of her heels punctuating the rhythm as she rolled her hips, drawing appreciative whistles. Winter dared Karina to perch on your lap for a round, and Karina complied with a soft laugh, easing onto you with a teasing, “This okay?” Her warmth settled against you, her hair brushing your cheek, a trace of vanilla drifting up as she adjusted, her thighs pressing lightly against yours.

Giselle dared Ningning to brush a quick kiss on your cheek, and she leaned in with a cheeky grin, her lips warm and fleeting, a giggle trailing in her wake as she pulled back. Then Winter fixed you with a daring look, her cap tilted at an angle that sharpened her gaze. “Take off your shirt.”

The air stilled, a heartbeat of silence stretching out. You tugged the fabric free, tossing it aside, the cool air of the room prickling your skin as their gazes swept over you, appreciation flickering in their eyes—Karina’s steady, Giselle’s playful, Winter’s quiet, Ningning’s eager. Karina shifted slightly, her shorts riding up, exposing more of her thighs, the movement subtle but electric.

Ningning’s next dare pushed the edge further, her voice bright with mischief. “Winter, straddle his lap—give him a police inspection.”

Winter rose, her steps deliberate, the carpet muffling her approach as she swung a leg over you, settling in with her thighs framing your hips, her cap lending a playful authority to the moment. “Anything dangerous here, sir?” she teased, her tone light but firm, her hands patting your shoulders and chest, fingers lingering just long enough to spark a shiver down your spine. “All clear,” she whispered, her breath grazing your ear, her lips curling into a smirk as she eased back, leaving the air charged in her wake.

The game crackled with heat now, a spark flaring into something tangible, the golden light casting their shadows in sharp relief against the walls. Giselle broke through the haze, her grin wide and reckless. “Let’s switch—spin the bottle, group twist. We decide the action.”

Karina arched a brow, her posture steady as she leaned back on her hands. “What twist?”

Giselle snatched an empty water bottle from the vanity, spinning it between her fingers before setting it on the carpet. “Spin picks who does what—group calls it.” Her grin promised chaos, and they murmured their assent, tightening the circle as the bottle gleamed in the center, a silent promise of escalation.

Giselle spun first, the bottle wobbling before settling on Ningning. After a quick huddle, their whispers overlapping in a conspiratorial hum, Karina announced, “Ningning, lap dance for him.”

Ningning’s eyes widened, a flash of surprise giving way to a playful confidence as she rose. Someone tapped a phone, and a sultry beat pulsed through the room, low and insistent. She circled you, hips rolling with a fluid grace, her breath teasing your skin as she brushed close, then pulled back with a wink, leaving your pulse hammering in your chest.

The bottle spun again, its neck pointing to Winter. Giselle’s grin sharpened, her voice cutting through the music. “Kiss him—make it real.”

Winter approached, her movements unhurried, straddling you again with a quiet intensity. Her hands cupped your face, her lips meeting yours in a slow, deep press, her tongue brushing yours in a fleeting dance. A soft moan vibrated between you, her thighs warm against your hips, the cap tilting slightly as she pressed closer. She pulled back, eyes dark and breath uneven, the taste of her lingering on your lips.

The spins escalated, tension coiling tighter with each turn. Karina leaned in, her hair brushing your cheek as she whispered something sharp and daring in your ear, her voice a low murmur that sent heat pooling low in your gut. The bottle landed on you next, and Ningning delivered the dare, her tone bright with mischief. “Get her off—hands only.”

You turned to Karina, still perched on your lap, her nod subtle but clear. Your hands slipped beneath her shorts, fingers finding her heat, slick and ready as she gripped your shoulders. Her breaths quickened, soft gasps spilling from her lips as you worked her, circling and pressing with a steady rhythm. Her thighs trembled, her nails digging into your skin as she unraveled, her release coating your fingers in a warm rush. The sight—her flushed face, parted lips, eyes fluttering shut—pushed you over the edge, your own climax hitting hard and sudden, a groan tearing from your throat as you spilled across your lap, hot and messy, your head dipping against her shoulder as the wave crashed through you.

They watched, wide-eyed, the air thick with shared heat, their breaths hitching in unison. Giselle broke the silence, spinning the bottle again, its neck landing on herself. “My turn,” she declared, shedding her shorts with a flick of her wrists, climbing onto you with a wicked grin. Her hand, cold from the bottle, wrapped around your softening length, coaxing it back to life with slow, deliberate strokes. The chill of her touch contrasted the growing warmth, her grip firm as she teased you, her eyes locked on yours. “Not done yet,” she murmured, her voice a low promise.

The game had already unraveled into a haze of instinct, the plush carpet beneath you stained with the faint sheen of sweat and anticipation as the air thickened with the raw, primal scent of their arousal. Karina still perched on your lap, her thighs quivering from her recent orgasm, her slick juices coating your fingers as you slid them free, the musky sweetness of her release lingering on your skin. Her breath came in soft, ragged pants, her chest heaving against the half-unzipped uniform top, her nipples peeking through the fabric, hard and begging for touch. The golden light bathed her flushed face, accentuating the sweat beading along her hairline, a testament to the heat coursing through her.

Giselle knelt beside you, her shorts shoved down to her knees, her hand still wrapped around your cock—soft but twitching from your first climax, the remnants of cum slicking her fingers as she stroked you with slow, deliberate intent. The coldness of her touch, chilled from gripping the water bottle earlier, sent sharp jolts through your shaft, a delicious contrast to the warm, throbbing ache building anew in your balls. Her eyes locked on yours, dark and glinting with a wicked triumph, her lips parting as she murmured, “You’ve got more for us, don’t you?” Her voice was a low, velvet purr, dripping with promise, her thumb circling the tip of your cock, smearing the pre-cum leaking from the slit in a slow, teasing swirl that made your hips twitch involuntarily.

Winter shifted closer, her cap tilted at a jaunty angle, the shadow it cast sharpening the elegant lines of her face. Her thighs brushed together under her shorts, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on her pale skin as she knelt beside Giselle, her breath visible in soft, uneven puffs. “Taste him,” she said, her voice a quiet command laced with a hunger that sent a shiver racing down your spine, your cock pulsing in Giselle’s grip.

Winter’s suggestion hung in the air, a spark igniting the already smoldering tension, and Giselle didn’t hesitate. She lowered her head, her dark hair spilling over your thighs, tickling your skin as her lips parted wide, taking you in with a slow, deliberate slide. The wet heat of her mouth enveloped your cock, a searing contrast to her cold hand, her tongue curling around the tip to lap at the salty bead of pre-cum before flattening as she sank deeper. Her throat tightened around you, a faint gag vibrating against your shaft as she pushed past her limit, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth and dripping down your length to pool at the base, slick and messy.

Your head tipped back against the couch, a guttural groan tearing from your throat as she sucked, her cheeks hollowing with each pull, her hand pumping the base in a slick, relentless rhythm. The sound—wet, sloppy slurps echoing in the room—mingled with the faint hum of the sultry beat still playing from someone’s phone, a lewd soundtrack to the scene unfolding. Your balls tightened, the pressure building as her tongue swirled, teasing the sensitive underside, her lips stretching around your girth, her breath hot and ragged through her nose.

Ningning crawled closer, her uniform top riding up to expose the smooth curve of her stomach, her fingers threading through Giselle’s hair with a gentle tug. “Harder,” she urged, her voice a playful lilt, her lips brushing Giselle’s neck as she kissed her way up, leaving faint, wet marks on her skin. Giselle obeyed, her mouth working you with a hungry edge, her suction intensifying until the wet heat felt like it was pulling you apart, her spit dripping in thick strands down your cock, coating your balls in a glistening sheen. The sight—her flushed face, eyes watering slightly, lips swollen and stretched around you—sent a fresh surge of heat through your groin, your shaft throbbing harder, your balls aching with the need to spill again.

Karina slid off your lap, her shorts slipping down to her ankles as she knelt beside Winter, her fingers brushing your thigh as she watched, her eyes dark with intent. The air carried her scent—vanilla now laced with the sharp tang of her arousal, a heady mix that clung to your senses. “Your turn,” she murmured to Winter, her voice a quiet directive, her hand sliding to your balls, cupping them gently, rolling them in her palm with a slow, deliberate pressure that made your cock jump in Giselle’s mouth. Winter’s lips twitched into a smirk, and she leaned in, her breath hot against Giselle’s cheek as she kissed her first—a fleeting, messy press of lips, their tongues brushing in a quick, sloppy tangle before she turned to you.

Giselle pulled back with a wet pop, a string of spit connecting her lips to your cockhead, her hand still stroking you as Winter took her place. Winter’s mouth was softer, more teasing, her tongue flicking over the tip in quick, darting licks before she sucked you in, her lips sealing tight around you. The contrast—Giselle’s aggressive hunger, Winter’s playful precision—sent your mind reeling, your hands gripping the couch cushions, the fabric rough against your palms as you fought to hold on. Their tongues met again, sliding over your shaft in a chaotic dance—Giselle licking the length, Winter sucking the tip, their mouths colliding in wet, open kisses around your cock, sharing the taste of your pre-cum with soft, breathy moans that vibrated against your skin.

Ningning’s hands roamed your chest, her nails scraping lightly over your nipples, sending electric jolts straight to your groin, your cock pulsing harder in Winter’s mouth. “You’re trembling,” she teased, her lips brushing your ear, her breath hot and damp as she nipped your lobe, her tongue darting out to taste the sweat there. She slid lower, her kisses trailing down your neck, your collarbone, until her tongue flicked over your thigh, lapping at the salty sheen of sweat as she watched the others devour you. The room spun with sensation—the wet slurp of their mouths, the creak of the couch under your shifting weight, the faint rustle of their clothes as they moved, the air thick with the scent of sex.

Karina’s fingers tightened around your balls, her thumb pressing against the sensitive skin behind them, a slow, coaxing pressure that made your cock throb harder, the tip leaking steadily into Winter’s mouth. “Give it to us,” she whispered, her voice a sultry command, her eyes locked on yours, dark and unyielding. The tension snapped, a white-hot surge roaring through you, your balls drawing tight as the orgasm hit like a freight train. You groaned, loud and raw, your hips bucking as you came, the first thick spurt blasting into Winter’s mouth, flooding her tongue with hot, salty cum. Her eyes squeezed shut, her throat working as she swallowed, a soft gag escaping as the volume overwhelmed her, a trickle escaping the corner of her lips to drip down her chin.

Giselle leaned back just in time, the next shot streaking across her cheek, a pearly line that glistened in the golden light, dripping slow and thick toward her jaw as she laughed, a low, wicked sound that sent a shiver through you. Ningning tilted her head, catching a burst on her lips, her tongue darting out to lap it up, the cum smearing across her mouth as she hummed, greedy and shameless. Karina took the final spurt, tilting her head back as it hit the back of her throat, her eyes fluttering shut as she gulped it down, her throat bobbing with the effort, a faint moan vibrating in her chest as the bitter taste coated her tongue.

They didn’t stop. Giselle lunged at Winter, their lips crashing together in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, their tongues swapping your cum in a slick, messy exchange—thick and white, stretching between them in glistening strings as they parted, panting, their breaths mingling in hot gasps. Ningning licked the streak from Giselle’s cheek, her tongue dragging slow and deliberate, sucking it clean with a wet, obscene pop before turning to Karina. Their mouths met in a slow, languid kiss, tongues sliding together, sharing the taste—cum and spit mixing in a lewd, slippery dance, dripping down their chins as they moaned into each other, their hands gripping each other’s hair, pulling tight.

Winter’s hand stayed on your cock, stroking slow and firm, her fingers slick with spit and cum as she milked a final, shuddering drop, the last bead of your release oozing from the tip. She leaned in, her lips wrapping around you, sucking it dry with a teasing flick of her tongue over the slit, the oversensitive head twitching under her touch. Your groan was hoarse, your body trembling as she pulled back, licking her lips, her eyes glinting with satisfaction.

The air reeked of sex—sweat, cum, their dripping arousal—a primal haze that clung to your skin, your nostrils flaring as you breathed it in. They slumped together on the carpet, a tangle of limbs and heaving breaths, faces still streaked and glistening, the golden light casting a lewd glow over their flushed, sweat-slicked bodies. Karina crawled closer, her tongue tracing your softening cock, licking you clean with gentle, deliberate laps—her breath hot against your oversensitive skin, her lips brushing the shaft with a tenderness that made you shiver.

Giselle spotted a stray drop on the carpet, swiping it with her finger and sucking it off with a grin, her playful edge undimmed, the taste lingering on her tongue. Ningning nuzzled your thigh, her voice soft and drowsy. “You’re a mess—we’ll take care of it.” Winter pressed a lazy kiss to your chest, her cap askew, murmuring, “Well done,” her tone laced with quiet pride, her breath warm against your skin.

You lay there, spent and boneless, your cock still twitching faintly, your chest heaving as their warmth enveloped you. Karina draped an arm across your chest, her voice a whisper against your skin. “This is just the beginning.” Giselle chuckled, her breath tickling your neck.

The room settled into a hazy stillness, their breathing syncing with yours, the golden light softening the edges of their tangled forms. But the hunger in their eyes burned brighter, a simmering promise of more—far more—yet to come.

The aftermath was a fleeting pause, a deceptive calm before the storm of their insatiable appetites erupted anew. The carpet beneath you was a battlefield—streaked with sweat, spit, and the faint glisten of cum.

Giselle rose first, her grin feral as she wiped her chin, cum still clinging to her lips in a sticky sheen. “We’re nowhere near done,” she said, her voice a low growl, crawling back to straddle your thighs. Her hand wrapped around your cock again, still slick with spit and cum, stroking you with a rough, insistent rhythm that made your shaft throb, the overstimulation a sharp, burning ache that bled into pleasure.

Her fingers—cold and relentless—dug into your flesh, her nails grazing the underside, sending a jolt through your balls that made them tighten against your body. “You’re gonna cum for us again,” she purred, her voice dripping with dark honey, her thumb smearing the fresh pre-cum leaking from your tip across the head, making it glisten in the light.

Karina knelt to your right, her knees planted beside your hip, her torso angled toward you as she yanked her shorts off with a quick tug, tossing them aside. Her pussy gleamed—pink, swollen, her clit peeking out from glistening folds, dripping with arousal that begged to be touched.

She glanced at Winter, who stood near your head, her cap tilted, thighs trembling faintly. “Sit on his face,” Karina ordered, her voice a sharp command, her hand sliding between her own thighs. Her fingers dipped into her wetness, parting her folds with a soft, wet squelch that echoed faintly, her breath catching as she teased herself.

Winter stepped forward, her movements fluid, and swung her right leg over your head, straddling your face. Her smooth, trembling thighs framed your vision, her knees pressing into the carpet on either side of your ears, her pussy hovering just above your mouth.

The scent hit you hard—sweet, musky, thick with need—her juices already dripping as she lowered herself, her folds parting against your lips, smearing hot slickness across your chin. You groaned into her, the vibration making her hips buck as your tongue plunged in, lapping at her clit with desperate, hungry strokes, tasting her tangy flood.

Ningning knelt beside Giselle, her knees tucked between your legs, her head dipping low so her nose nudged the space where your cock met your balls, her breath warm against your sack. Her shorts were tugged down to her thighs, her top rucked up, exposing her stomach as she leaned in close.

She giggled softly, her hands cupping your balls, rolling them with a teasing, featherlight pressure that made your cock twitch harder in Giselle’s grip. “Look at these,” she cooed, her voice dripping with mischief as her tongue flicked out, tracing a wet, sloppy line over your sack, her nose brushing the underside of your shaft as she sucked one ball into her mouth.

The wet, obscene pop sent a shockwave through your groin, her hot mouth and Giselle’s rough stroking blending into a dizzying assault, your hips jerking upward as your balls ached, heavy and tight with another load.

Karina rose from her kneeling position, swinging her left leg over your waist to straddle you, her knees sinking into the carpet on either side of your hips. Her pussy pressed against your stomach, sliding upward in a slick, warm smear as she settled, her unzipped uniform top hanging open, her tits spilling out—full, flushed, nipples hard and grazing your chest.

Her skin was hot, slick with sweat, her weight pinning you as she leaned forward slightly. “Suck them,” she commanded, grabbing your hands from the carpet and pressing them to her breasts, her voice a sultry growl that tightened your gut.

Your fingers sank into her soft, heavy flesh, pinching her nipples between your thumbs and forefingers, rolling them as she moaned—a low, throaty sound that vibrated through her chest. She rocked her hips, grinding her wetness against your abs, leaving a glistening trail, then reached down, her hand brushing Giselle’s for a moment as she took your cock.

Giselle released you with a playful huff, shifting back slightly, her nose still hovering near your base as Karina guided your rock-hard, leaking shaft toward her entrance. She teased the tip against her folds, her juices dripping down your length, coating you in slick heat as she rubbed you there, driving you wild with the wet friction.

Ningning seized the moment, her tongue darting upward from your balls to lick the shaft as Karina hovered, her nose pressed into the space where Karina’s pussy met your cock. She lapped at you both—her tongue flicking over your length, tasting the pre-cum leaking from your tip, then sliding higher to graze Karina’s dripping folds, catching her juices as they trickled down.

Karina sank down, her cunt swallowing you whole, the tight, wet grip of her walls clenching around you, milking your cock as Ningning’s tongue followed, licking the junction where Karina’s pussy stretched around your shaft, her hot, sloppy swipes blending your tastes—salty and tangy—into a filthy mix.

Karina rode you slow and deep, her breath hitching with each thrust, her moans a low, sultry song, while Ningning’s tongue danced between you, her nose nudging Karina’s clit, her breath puffing against your slick skin.

Giselle and Ningning shifted, their mouths converging on your cock as Karina lifted off, her cunt leaving a glistening trail on your stomach. Giselle sucked the tip, her throat working as she took you deep, gagging around your girth, spit pouring from her mouth to coat your shaft in a thick, sloppy sheen.

Ningning licked the base, her tongue swirling over your balls, then up to meet Giselle’s mouth, their tongues tangling in a messy, cum-slicked kiss around your cockhead—spit and pre-cum smearing their lips, dripping down their chins. The sight—two gorgeous mouths fighting over your cock, their faces flushed and filthy—pushed you to the edge, your balls tightening, your shaft throbbing with the need to explode again.

Karina’s voice cut through, sharp and commanding. “Kneel—all of you.” They obeyed instantly, dropping to their knees in a tight semicircle—Karina, Giselle, Winter, Ningning—faces tilted up, mouths open, tongues lolling out like a pack of desperate sluts begging for your load. You stood, legs trembling, cock in hand, stroking yourself as the pressure built to a blinding peak, your balls aching, your shaft pulsing with every pump.

The climax hit like a tidal wave, a roar tearing from your throat as you erupted. The first spurt blasted across Winter’s face, thick and hot, splattering her cheeks and lips, a fat glob landing on her tongue as she moaned, her eyes rolling back, her face scrunching with the bitter taste.

The next shot streaked Giselle’s forehead, a pearly rope dripping into her eyes, coating her lashes as she laughed, licking her lips to catch the runoff, her tongue darting out greedily.

Ningning took a direct hit, cum flooding her mouth, spilling over her chin in a creamy cascade as she gagged, swallowing hard with a wet, needy hum, her throat working to take it all.

Karina caught the final surge, opening wide as it splattered her tongue, pooling there in a thick, white puddle before she gulped it down, her throat bobbing, her face twisting with the sharp, salty sting, a low moan escaping as it slid down.

Winter’s hand found your cock again, stroking you slow and hard, her fingers slick with the mess as she milked a final, weak spurt—barely a dribble—that oozed onto her fingers. She sucked them clean, then leaned in, her lips wrapping around your tip, her tongue probing the slit for every last drop, sucking you dry until your cock twitched painfully, oversensitive and spent as she grinned, triumphant.

---

The girls slumped together on the carpet, a tangle of limbs and heaving breaths, faces streaked and glistening under the golden light, their outfits a wreck—Karina’s top unzipped to her navel, tits spilling out, nipples hard; Giselle’s shorts tangled at her knees, pussy exposed and wet; Winter’s cap askew, shorts shoved aside, thighs slick; Ningning’s top rucked up, shorts pulled low, cunt dripping onto the floor.

Giselle sat up, her voice rough but playful. “Fuck, what a night—better than any award.” She grabbed her top from the couch, tugging it on, cum crusting the fabric, then yanked her shorts up, the stains dark and blatant.

Winter smirked, adjusting her cap, cum flaking from her face. “Dispatch would die for this scoop—‘Aespa’s Dirty Win.’ Worth it.” She pulled her shorts back into place, the mess sticking to her thighs.

Ningning giggled, sprawled on her back, her chest heaving as she wiped a streak of cum from her chin with her finger, popping it into her mouth with a dramatic slurp. “You’re both nasty—I’m the real winner here. Did you see how much I swallowed? I’m basically a pro now!” Her quirky energy bubbled up, her legs kicking playfully as she rolled onto her side, facing Karina. “Unnie, rate me—I deserve a ten, right?”

“Ten for effort, Ning, but your technique needs work—gagging’s cute, but we’re not amateurs.” She shot you a glance, her eyes dark with lingering heat. “He knows what we’re worth, though—don’t you? All those fans out there screaming our names, clueless about how we get used in here.”

The room pulsed with their shared secret, the weight of their idol lives pressing in—a facade of perfection shattered behind closed doors. They were Aespa, untouchable on stage, voices that moved millions, bodies worshipped by fans who’d never suspect the depravity they craved in private. To the world, they were pristine, glittering idols; to you, they were cumrags, personal toilets, begging for every drop, reveling in the filth their adoring public would never imagine.

Giselle sat up, her grin softening into something more conspiratorial as she crawled toward you, her hand brushing your thigh. “They’d lose their minds if they knew,” she murmured, her accent thickening with amusement. “All those girls copying our choreo, buying our albums—meanwhile, we’re in here getting our faces painted like cheap whores.” She laughed, low and wicked, her fingers tracing circles on your skin. “Kinda hot, isn’t it?”

Karina shifted, her leadership kicking in despite the mess streaking her face and chest, her voice steady but laced with a dark thrill. “They’d never believe it anyway. We’re too good at this—smiling for the cameras, waving to the fans, all while we’re dripping with this.” She gestured to the cum splattered across her uniform, her tone a mix of pride and defiance.

She glanced at you, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. “You holding up?”

You managed a shaky laugh, your cock still twitching faintly, oversensitive and sore, your chest heaving as you met her gaze. “Barely hanging on—think you might’ve ruined me for anyone else.” The honesty drew a chorus of soft chuckles, their voices blending in a warm, intimate hum.

Ningning grinned, her quirky charm lighting up as she scrambled to her knees, cum still dripping from her chin onto her chest. “Good! That’s the plan—keep you ours. No one else gets to have this, okay?” She poked your chest playfully, then turned to the others. “Right, girls?

Giselle broke the silence, her grin returning as she crawled toward the couch, grabbing her discarded uniform top. “Speaking of perfect, we’ve got interviews in—what, twenty minutes? Time to dress up, girls.” She held up the black fabric, cum stains splattered across it, and laughed. “Think they’ll notice?”

Winter snorted, sitting up and tugging her shorts back into place, the fabric sticking to her cum-slicked thighs. “Notice? They’d have to be blind—and stupid. But who cares? We’ll smile and wave, and they’ll eat it up like always.” She stood, stretching lazily, her cap still askew.

Ningning clapped, her energy sparking. “Selfie time—peace signs, cum and all! Let’s make it our secret trophy.” She fished her phone from her discarded bag near the couch, the others following suit, pulling theirs from pockets or the vanity. They crowded around you, cum crusting their faces—Winter’s cheeks streaked, Giselle’s forehead matted, Ningning’s lips smeared, Karina’s chin dotted—bodies pressed close, uniforms stained and rumpled.

Peace out, filthy style!” Ningning chirped, snapping a pic, her phone angled to catch their cum-slicked grins and peace signs, your dazed face in the frame. Giselle leaned in, her phone flashing next, capturing the mess of hair and skin. Winter tilted her cap back, her shot framing the group’s raw, unfiltered chaos. Karina went last, her steady hand immortalizing the moment—four idols, cum-drenched and defiant, their secret locked in pixels.

You nodded, still dazed, your body heavy with exhaustion as you watched them dress. They slipped back into their black uniforms—Karina’s top stretched tight over her cum-stained tits, Giselle’s shorts bunched and sticky, Winter’s cap perched atop her cum-crusted face, Ningning’s outfit clinging to her dripping thighs. They didn’t wipe a thing, letting the mess dry in crusty, glistening streaks—on their faces, their hair, their clothes.

Winter smirked, brushing a cum-streaked strand of hair from her face. “Hope you’re ready for round three next time.”

They gathered at the door, a vision of debauchery dressed as perfection—black uniforms stained and sticky, faces painted with dried cum, hair tangled with it, yet their expressions were flawless, practiced, the ideal idols their fans adored. They didn’t wipe a drop, letting it crust and flake as they prepared to step out, the contrast of their pristine image and hidden filth a thrill they savored.

Giselle turned back, blowing you a kiss, her voice a sultry promise. “See you after, VIP—don’t wash up yet.” Ningning giggled, Winter smirked, and Karina gave a final nod, her eyes glinting with control. Then they stepped out, cum-stained and smiling, ready to face the interviewers, the fans, the world—untouchable queens hiding their truth in plain sight.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving you alone in the dressing room, the air still thick with their scents, the carpet a testament to their rebellion. Outside, their voices faded into the hum of the venue, their laughter echoing.

---

support me on ko-fi so i can write more :)

#aespa #aespa smut #aespa winter smut #girl group smut #male reader #aespa x male reader #karina smut #ningning smut #giselle smut #kpop smut

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aventurineswife · 5 months ago

Note

aventurine, sunday, and any others when reader pretends to not remember them after a bad injury hehe…[angst with fluff at the end] i love giving my poor babies heart attacks mwahaha

anyways love u and ur writings btw k byeee drink water ok byeee 💕✨

“I'm sorry, but who are you?”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Fluff, Light Humor Angst to Fluff, Established Relationship, Memory Loss, Reassurance.

Warnings: Emotional distress (brief moments of fear and confusion).

A/N: thanks for the reminder, anon! 😪😮‍💨I really need to drink some water

Aventurine's eyes widened, his usual playful smirk faltering as you looked at him, confusion clouding your gaze. He reached out, as though instinctively wanting to close the distance between you, but he hesitated. Your words cut through the air, soft and fragile.

"You… you are… who exactly?"

The words stung more than he expected. His heart raced in his chest as he observed the faint, distant look in your eyes. He had always been in control of the game, masterful in reading people, but this? This was a blow to his carefully constructed facade.

"You don’t remember me?" His voice was softer now, the bravado slipping as his pulse quickened.

You shook your head, an empty feeling creeping into your chest. "I don’t think so. Sorry… am I supposed to?"

Aventurine's smile faltered, and for a moment, you saw something raw beneath his cool exterior. Pain. Fear. He stepped back slightly, trying to hide the cracks forming in his walls.

"I suppose I’ve miscalculated…" he muttered to himself, voice barely audible.

But then, you reached out and touched his arm gently.

"I—"

Aventurine looked at you, his breath catching in his throat as you softly smiled. "I do remember you, though. Maybe I was just… testing you?"

The game was on again, but this time, it was different. He chuckled, a soft, relieved sound that made the weight of his worries lift just a little.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" he said, his voice returning to its usual lighthearted tone, though there was an underlying tenderness now.

You smiled. "I think I’ll keep you on your toes."

And with that, the shadows of doubt lifted, replaced by the warmth of your presence—one he could no longer imagine being without.

Sunday stood there, his eyes darkened with a mix of concern and confusion, staring at you as if you were a stranger. His fingers twitched slightly, an impulse to reach out, to make sure you were real, that you hadn’t slipped into some other world.

"You… you don’t recognize me?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, fragile under the weight of his own disbelief.

You blinked at him, the blank look in your eyes unnerving him more than he cared to admit. "I’m sorry… I don’t think I do. Are we… close?"

The air between you seemed to freeze, thick with unspoken emotions. His mind was racing—how could you forget him, forget everything you had shared? The kindness, the warmth, the bond he’d built so carefully with you...

"I see," Sunday murmured, his gaze softening with a hint of sadness. "I suppose it’s a part of the dream, isn't it? To forget… to lose everything."

You could see the strain in his expression, the hope fading from his eyes. "Sunday, I… I didn’t mean to forget you."

You reached for him, your hand trembling as you touched his sleeve. The contact seemed to pull him out of his thoughts, and his breath caught.

A moment of stillness.

Then Sunday smiled faintly, the sadness still lingering. "I suppose we’ll just have to make you remember, won't we?" His voice was gentle, though you could hear the underlying fear in it.

You smiled, this time with a reassurance he needed. "I think I already do."

A sigh escaped him, a soft, grateful breath as he pulled you into his arms.

"Don't ever scare me like that again." he murmured into your hair, holding you close.

Ratio’s usual air of unshakable confidence was nowhere to be seen. He stood before you, his eyes wide with confusion and an almost frantic edge to his movements.

"You—don’t remember me?" he repeated, his voice betraying a crack he hadn’t expected.

You stared at him, trying to piece together the fragments of the world around you, the details of his appearance leaving you more unsettled than anything. "I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you."

His frown deepened, his expression unreadable but filled with something you couldn't quite place—was it hurt? Disbelief?

"I see. This is… unfortunate," he said, voice smooth yet tinged with something that didn’t fit. He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing slightly. "I expected better from your memory."

You looked at him more closely, sensing a vulnerability underneath the sharpness of his demeanor. He was, despite his intellectual brilliance, losing himself in this.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, your hand reaching for his, gently catching his wrist. "I’m sorry… but I’m sure we’ve met before. I just—"

He paused, his sharp breath catching in his throat as he looked down at your hand on his. For a brief moment, his composure cracked, and you could see the raw emotion behind his usually controlled facade.

"Don't do this to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of the situation was too much to bear. "You must remember."

You smiled softly, understanding now. "I remember. You’re the one who always insists on teaching me things."

His gaze softened instantly, a relieved exhale leaving him. "Good."

Ratio’s usual brilliance returned, but this time, there was something gentler about him. "Perhaps next time, try not to lose your memory so easily."

And though his words were sharp, his hand reached out to take yours, a reassurance that you were not lost to him.

Me lmaoo

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foldingfittedsheets · 7 months ago

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A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

#ramblies #story #writing #ffs foibles #funny story #teen angst #arizona #impulse control

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sakuraszn · 4 months ago

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ⵌ THE JEALOUS HERO !

ft. katsuki bakugo x assistant! reader

synopsis. Bakugo gets increasingly agitated when fans and other heroes flirt with his assistant during this annual hero party. His possessiveness eventually boils over, forcing him to confront his feelings.

cw. sfw content┊fluff ┊mutual feelings┊cocky bakugo┊jealousy and possessive acts┊flirtatious attitudes between these two

nia’s notes. I don’t know why but I have this obsession between boss/ceo and assistant routes they’re honestly just too good. might make future drabbles between these two🤭1.5k words.

The annual Hero Gala was supposed to be a celebration. A night when the best and most promising in hero society gathered to let loose and toast their accomplishments. However, for Katsuki Bakugo, it was a task—just another loud, crowded event where he had to deal with suckups and reporters all in your face asking dumb questions and trying to get into your personal life any chance they got. But this year, things were different. This year, he wasn’t just a lone wolf. This year, he had you.

As his assistant, you were always at his side, managing schedules, coordinating media appearances, and generally keeping him from blowing up at everyone who annoyed him; which was almost everyone who came into the presence of the "Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamite". You were humorous, smart, and had a sharp tongue that Bakugo secretly found entertaining when you used it on others. And though he’d never admit it, he liked having you around. Perhaps too much.

The ballroom was packed with heroes in their finest suits and dresses. The chandeliers glittered overhead, and soft music played as waiters threaded through the crowd with trays of champagne. Bakugo, dressed in a sleek black suit with orange accents that matched his hero costume, stood near the edge of the room, scowling into his glass of sparkling water.

You stood beside him, dressed in a deep red gown that hugged your figure and shimmered in the low light. You’d pulled your hair back, exposing the curve of your neck, and Bakugo found himself glancing at it more often than he liked.

“Try to smile,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “You look like you’re about to kill someone.”

“I might if one more idiot comes over here,” he grumbled, eyes watching the crowd.

You laughed, and the sound made his chest tighten. “Lighten up, Dynamite. It’s a party.”

Before he could retort, a group of his old friends approached, one of them—Denki, a flashy hero from another agency—zeroing in on you.

“Hey, Bakugo,” Denki greeted, barely sparing him a glance before turning his full attention to you. “And who’s this lovely lady?”

You smiled politely. “I’m Bakugo’s assistant.”

“Assistant, huh?” Denki said his grin widening. “Didn't expect Kacchan to have an assistant, you must be a miracle worker to put up with this guy.”

Bakugo bristled, his grip tightening on his glass.

“She’s not here to be flirted with Dunce Face,” he snapped, stepping closer to you.

Denki raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Relax, man. I’m just being friendly.”

“Don’t.” Bakugo's voice was low, like a storm brewing on the horizon, filled with a tension that made the air crackle.

You tugged gently on his arm, your touch grounding him. “It’s fine, Katsuki,” you reassured, meeting his intense gaze with a sweet smile.

For a moment, he stood there, caught off guard by the way your voice softened his name. It was disarming. Before he could find his words, you turned to get a drink, leaving him alone with Denki and the rest of his rowdy friends.

“She’s got you on a leash, huh?” Denki teased, laughter bubbling up in the air. Bakugo felt the heat rise in his chest, fury bubbling just beneath the surface. He glared at Denki, struggling to contain the impulse to unleash an explosive retort—specifically directed at this idiot beside him. The last thing he needed was to be the punchline of this dumb gala, especially when you had just walked away.

The night dragged on, and Bakugo’s mood only deepened. Everywhere he turned, someone was talking to you, laughing with you, flirting with you. He watched as a top hero from another agency leaned in too close for his liking, as a rookie hero handed you a rose and as a civilian guest tried to touch your arm.

And through it all, you smiled and handled it with grace, completely clueless of the storm brewing inside Bakugo.

By the time the gala was winding down, he’d had enough. He found you near the bar, chatting with a group of heroes he didn’t recognize, and stormed over.

“We’re leaving,” he barked, grasping your wrist.

You blinked up at him in surprise. “What? The event isn’t over yet—”

“I don’t care. Let’s go.”

Without waiting for a response, he pulled you out of the ballroom and into a quiet hallway.

“Katsuki, what the hell?” you pressed, yanking your arm free.

He rounded on you, his crimson eyes blazing. “What the hell are you doing? Letting all those idiots flirt with you like that?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? I wasn’t ‘letting’ anyone do anything. I was being polite.”

“Polite, my ass!” he snarled, his voice cutting through the stillness of the hallway. “They were all over you!”

You stepped forward, confusion and anger rushing through your veins. “So what if they were?” you shot back, arms crossed tight against your chest. “Why does it even matter to you?”

His eyes blazed like twin stars ready to explode. “Because you’re fucking mine!” The confession erupted from him, raw and unfiltered, filling the air with a tension that was noticeable. Silence hung between you, heavy and thick, as if the heavens itself held its breath.

You blinked, stunned, words trapped in your throat.

“What?”

As the realization of his outburst washed over him, Bakugo looked away, his expression a storm of confusion and anger. He ran a frustrated hand through his spiky hair, trying to regain control. “I mean… You work for me. You’re my assistant. You’re not supposed to…” His voice faltered, frustration boiling over like a raging inferno. “Damn it!”

The intensity in his gaze ignited something inside you—an unrelenting pull that drew you closer. “Katsuki,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, yet filled with a heartfelt urgency. “Is that really what this is about?”

The silence stretched, the weight of unsaid words and unacknowledged feelings pressing down like the world’s greatest burden. Each heartbeat pulsed with a longing that was impossible to ignore. You could see the conflict raging within him; pride clashed with vulnerability, and fear tangled with desire.

“Why do you care?” you pressed on softly, craving for him to let down his walls, to reveal the truth that lay just beneath the surface. “What you feel—it’s not wrong.”

For a fleeting moment, the mask slipped, and you caught a glimpse of the man behind the hero—a man torn between his duty and the simmering emotions that threatened to consume him. “I don’t want to see you with anyone else,” he admitted, his voice thick with vulnerability, eyes darkening. “It drives me insane.”

At that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you standing on the edge of something you both craved yet feared. Could you leap into the unknown together, or would pride keep you forever apart? The air crackled with unknown possibilities, and one truth beamed brighter than all: what you held for each other was far from simple. It was complicated, messy, and real—more than either of you had ever bargained for.

He didn’t answer, refusing to meet your gaze as his face grew warm with a dust of red painting the heroes cheeks.

You reached out, gently touching his arm. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

He sighed, finally looking at you. “I don’t like seeing other people flirt with you, okay? It pisses me off. And I know I shouldn’t feel that way, but I do. Because… Because I like you. More than I should.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then you smiled, your expression soft. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” You chuckled.

“what?”

“You’ve been jealous all night over nothing,” you said, shaking your head. “If you’d just told me how you felt sooner, we could’ve avoided all this drama.”

Bakugo blinked. “Wait… You’re not mad?”

“Mad? No.” You grinned. “Relieved, actually I’ve been waiting for you to figure this out for a while now.”

He stared at you, his brain struggling to catch up. “You… like me too?”

“Obviously,” you teased, stepping closer. “Why else do you think I put up with you?”

He huffed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re still annoying.”

“And you’re still a hothead,” you shot back. “But I guess we balance each other out.”

Before he could respond, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his with a warmth that caught him off guard. The kiss was deep and lingering, an intoxicating blend of intensity and passion that silenced any sarcastic retorts he might have had. You felt the heat radiate from him, and for once, Bakugo didn’t argue, melting into the moment as the world around you faded away.

bonus:

The next day, the Hero Gala was the talk of the city, but Bakugo didn’t care. Let them gossip. Let them imagine. All that mattered was that you were his—and he wasn’t about to let anyone take you away.

He might not have been the best at expressing his feelings, but he’d make sure you knew how much you meant to him every. damn. day.

Because if there was one thing Katsuki Bakugo never did, it was half-ass anything.

And loving you was no exception.

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mariasont · 19 days ago

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beach volleyball

hotch notices you struggling through volleyball matches and intervenes

pairing: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader warnings: fem!reader, age gap, power dynamics, fluff, hotch being protective, reader being a people pleaser (just like me fr) prompt: here wc: 0.6k

Aaron watches as Emily and Morgan launch into yet another plea for a rematch — enthusiasm undimmed by the blistering sun or the four, no, five rounds they’d already forced you through.

From where he sits, sunglasses shielding his scrutinizing gaze, he notes your laughter, the kind that’s just a shade too forced. You’re nodding along eagerly enough — he can practically hear you insisting that yes, of course, another round sounds great — but he knows that politeness is stretched dangerously tight.

You’re caked in sand and sweat — in your hair, on your skin, places he probably really shouldn’t dwell on. But it’s your breathing, becoming increasingly uneven, that truly sets off every protective instinct he’s been trying to suppress all day.

He hadn’t exactly been thrilled about the volleyball idea in the first place. Too many variables, too many ways for you to end up hurt. His mental checklist had been exhaustive: twisted ankles, sunstroke, dehydration. Every scenario plausible, every concern well-founded.

But he’d bitten his tongue — partly because he knew exactly how it would sound coming from him (overbearing, parental), but mostly because he refused to reinforce the insecurity you carried about being the fragile, delicate addition to the team.

Even if, in his quiet opinion, you very much were.

Aaron leans forward in his chair, setting down the water bottle he’d barely sipped from.

“Hey,” he calls out calmly, injecting just enough authority into his tone to catch your attention without alarming anyone else. When you turn, he gestures subtly, a slight tilt of his chin that makes it clear he’s not asking, exactly, more like strong suggesting. “Come here for a second.”

He’s relieved, maybe even pleased, to see the tension drain from your shoulders. Your smile softens, brightening into genuine gratitude as you deliver an excessively apologetic excuse to Emily and Morgan before slipping to his side.

Aaron pointedly ignores how natural it feels to have you there.

“What do you need?” Your voice is soft, tinged with breathlessness from the exertion, eyes searching his face for some sign of an assignment or request.

Aaron doesn’t answer immediately, simply nodding toward the towel laid neatly to his right, watching as you sit onto the shaded fabric. “You feeling okay?”

“Mhm,” you reply quickly, the sound practically tripping off your tongue.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, why don’t you sit here for a little while anyway? Humor me.”

You don’t reply, and Aaron takes the silence as confirmation that you’re genuinely too tired to keep up the polite charade anymore. He leans back a bit, shoulders easing into the chair, watching Morgan and Emily’s increasingly competitive volley across the sand.

“I’m really terrible at volleyball,” you suddenly admit.

Aaron smiles to himself, almost affectionately, though he quickly tamps it down. He’s been quietly confirming your theory all afternoon. A kinder man might have kept that truth to himself, yet he finds himself speaking anyway.

“I had noticed that, yes.”

“You’re not supposed to agree,” comes your drowsy complaint, the words blending as your eyes droop slowly.

His instinct to argue — to remind you he’d never lied to you before and isn’t about to start now — softens beneath a gentler impulse.

“My mistake. I’ll pretend to disagree next time.”

You murmur something else — quiet, sleepy syllables trailing off into an indistinct, drowsy sigh. Aaron learns forward, trying to catch your meaning, when he suddenly registers the gentle pressure against his leg.

Glancing down, he sees you’ve fallen asleep right there, head tucked neatly against him like he’s the most natural place for you to rest. For a moment, he sits completely still, uncertain how best to react. Protocol has never covered this scenario.

Aaron decides waking you now would be unnecessarily cruel.

A few minutes won’t hurt anyone, least of all him.

join me at the beach for my 1 year/4k event!

day 6 extras

💌 click here to check in → confirm your room (and crush)

maria's spring break getaway masterlist

#mariasspringbreakgetaway #mariaversegetawaytrip #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x sweetheart #aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader #aaron hotchner x sweetheart reader #hotchner

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brainddeadd · 2 months ago

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Misunderstanding

Neteyam couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

He watched you, his eyes tracing every movement as you interacted with Lo'ak, laughing together as you both swam in the crystal-clear waters of the reef. The way you seemed to gravitate toward him, the shared glances, the easy camaraderie—it didn’t go unnoticed. It made something inside Neteyam tighten, even though he couldn’t quite understand why.

Lo'ak, for all his impulsiveness and charm, had always been a bit of a wildcard. But there was something in the way you looked at him that made Neteyam’s stomach churn. Were they closer than he thought?

"You seem distracted, son," Jake's voice broke through his thoughts, the older man’s gaze flicking between Neteyam and the distant scene of you and Lo'ak.

"It's nothing," Neteyam muttered, trying to brush it off. But his thoughts were clouded.

Later that evening, as they sat around the fire, Neteyam couldn’t help himself. The words spilled out before he could stop them. "You and Lo'ak seem close lately." His voice was a little sharper than he intended.

You blinked, surprised by the comment. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, Neteyam felt his heart race. "What?" you asked, voice calm but tinged with confusion.

He glanced over at Lo'ak, his jaw tightening. "You two spend a lot of time together. I just… I thought—"

You frowned, the slightest hint of frustration on your face. "Neteyam, what are you talking about?"

"You and Lo'ak," he repeated, trying to keep his voice steady. "You seem close."

You laughed—softly, almost amused. "Is that what you think?"

The laughter in your voice sent a sharp pang through him, and suddenly, he felt foolish for letting the thought take root.

"Yeah," he mumbled, avoiding your gaze. "I just thought…"

"Neteyam," you said, your voice gentler now. You reached out and touched his arm, your fingertips warm against his skin. "Lo'ak and I are friends. He’s like a brother to me."

His heart stilled at the softness in your eyes, and a wave of embarrassment washed over him. He didn’t know why the idea of you and Lo'ak made him so uneasy.

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips as you leaned closer, your face softening with affection. "I don’t look at him like that. You’re the one I want, Neteyam."

His breath caught in his throat, his body suddenly aware of the closeness between you. You were looking at him like that, and suddenly everything inside him seemed to shift.

"You’re sure?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, his insecurities creeping back in.

"Absolutely," you said, your voice firm but tender, as if you were grounding him in the truth of it. "It’s always been you."

Neteyam didn’t know when it happened, but in that moment, the weight that had been sitting in his chest melted away. With a soft laugh, he shook his head. "I’m an idiot."

You smiled, your eyes dancing with affection as you pulled him closer. "Maybe just a little."

And in that quiet, perfect moment, Neteyam realized just how wrong he’d been—and how lucky he was to have you.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #° braindead writes #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water x reader

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odileeclipse · 1 month ago

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In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 13

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You exhaled a quiet laugh, glancing down at your hands before the weight of what you had asked returned to the forefront of your mind. Would he actually come? It had been a moment of impulse, that invitation. A flicker of something unfamiliar driving you to extend a bridge where there had previously been none. You weren’t sure what compelled you to do it, only that the idea of leaving this space, this feeling, behind as you stepped back into the rigid structure of your lessons felt…Lonely. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly. “It’s not exactly a scholarly gathering,” you admitted. “Just me and my friends being… well, normal. Nothing profound, no debates about philosophy or the nature of existence. Just food. Talking. Laughing.” You hesitated. “That might not be your kind of thing.” Shadow Milk Cookie was silent for a long moment, considering. “…It is true,” he said at last, “that I do not often engage in such gatherings.” You tried not to let disappointment creep into your chest. “That does not mean I would be unwilling to.” Your eyes snapped up to meet his. Something in his expression had shifted, subtle but undeniable. There was still that air of careful thought, of weighing decisions with meticulous precision, but there was also something softer. Something that felt a little like understanding. “You invited me,” he said simply, as if that alone was enough reason to consider it. You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. I did.” He hummed, glancing toward the water once more. “I will let you know when the time comes.” It wasn’t quite a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. The willow’s branches swayed, the light shifted, and the world carried on. And beside you, the distance between you and the Sage of Truth…Shadow Milk Cookie felt just a little smaller than before. The hours had unraveled between you like thread slipping through careful fingers unnoticed at first, until the spools ran empty, leaving only the quiet realization that time had moved while you weren’t looking. The sky had softened into the golden hues of afternoon, the same sky that always signaled the slow shift toward evening, toward the time you and your friends would gather for dinner. And yet, here you still were.

The koi-like creatures drifted lazily beneath the water’s surface, the willow’s tendrils swayed, and the air had cooled just enough to carry the scent of damp earth and distant hearth smoke. Somewhere beyond the gardens, the academy’s halls stirred with the sound of students wrapping up their studies, footsteps and laughter echoing faintly in the wind. You hadn’t meant to stay this long. And neither, it seemed, had he. Shadow Milk Cookie still sat beside you, his posture as composed as ever, yet… different. More at ease. As if he had settled into the moment as fully as you had, letting conversation flow in a way that was neither structured nor scholarly just natural. You had talked about things that didn’t matter and things that did. You had asked nonsensical questions simply because you could, because it felt nice to exist outside of the rigid roles of teacher and struggling student. You had wondered aloud whether the koi-like creatures dreamed, whether the stars had favorites, whether his hair, flowing like a river of ink washing into sky, was a reflection of something deeper. “If truth is endless,” you had mused, “then I guess it makes sense that your hair looks like the night sky.” He had given you a look that suggested he was torn between amusement and exasperation. “I fail to see the correlation.”

“You would,” you had huffed, though there had been no real bite to it. And now, the time had come to part ways, to return to the rhythm of your routine. Almost reluctantly, you sat up a little straighter, stretching your arms. “It’s about that time,” you said, voice lighter than you felt. He hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze flicking toward the shifting sky. “…Have you decided?” you asked, hesitating for just a moment. “About dinner?” His eyes turned to you, unreadable in the soft afternoon glow. You had asked once before, when the idea had been nothing but a passing thought, an invitation given without expectation. But now the moment had arrived, and with it came the awareness that his answer mattered more than you had originally let yourself believe. Because in these hours spent speaking as something close to equals, something had shifted. The line in the sand was still there, but the tide had come and blurred its edges, leaving behind something unspoken, something new. Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment, as if weighing not just the question, but the intent behind it. “…I will accompany you.” You blinked, caught off guard by how simply he said it. No long-winded deliberation, no careful sidestepping. Just an answer. A yes. A grin tugged at the corner of your lips. “You make it sound like a formal engagement.” He exhaled, something close to a sigh, though there was no real annoyance behind it. “Would you rather I rescind my acceptance?” “Absolutely not.” You stood, brushing off your clothes before tilting your head toward the winding path. “Come on, then. If we’re late, Chai Latte will start interrogating me, and I don’t think you want to be on the receiving end of that.”

For a brief moment, you thought he might hesitate. But then he stood, his movements as fluid and effortless as the ever-flowing strands of his hair. “…Very well,” he said, as if conceding to some great, unknown truth. And together, you left the willow behind, stepping toward something you hadn’t yet found the words to name. The dining hall was alive with the warmth of conversation and the clinking of silverware against porcelain. The high, arched windows let in the fading gold of the afternoon, casting soft shadows over the long tables where students gathered in clusters, some bent over open books, others laughing over shared meals, the weight of the day’s studies momentarily forgotten. The familiar scent of fresh bread, roasted vegetables, and fragrant tea drifted through the air, wrapping around you like something safe, something steady. You wove through the throng of students with practiced ease, Shadow Milk Cookie beside you, his presence still something you were adjusting to outside of structured learning. It was odd not unwelcome, just new to have him here, a figure who had always seemed just beyond reach now following in step with you toward something as ordinary as dinner. And yet, despite the unfamiliarity, there was a quiet sort of ease to it. When you reached the long buffet table lined with food, your hands moved almost on instinct, reaching for familiar choices the options you always went for. But something else guided your fingers, something quieter, something you weren’t entirely aware of until you set your tray down and realized you had chosen differently.

Vegetables cooked with care, grains carefully balanced, tea brewed lightly rather than steeped too long things that wouldn’t have stood out to anyone else, yet now sat before you like a quiet confession. Shadow Milk Cookie’s plate mirrored your own in ways that should have been coincidence, but now… now you weren’t sure. Had you done this unconsciously? Assimilated his preferences, however subtly, as a means of feeling closer to him? You swallowed, brushing the thought aside before it could take root. “Finally,” Earl Grey Cookie’s voice cut through your thoughts as you reached your usual table, his expression one of exaggerated relief. “I was starting to think you had abandoned us in favor of scholarly pursuits.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled from his seat beside him, shaking his head. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” You rolled your eyes, setting your tray down before plopping into your usual seat. “I do have a life outside of studying, you know.” Earl Grey Cookie arched a brow, his sharp gaze flicking to the figure standing just behind you. “Clearly.” The unspoken weight of his words settled between you for only a moment before you waved him off, refusing to give him the satisfaction of making you flustered. “Oh, don’t start.” But Earl Grey Cookie merely smirked before his expression shifted into something more appraising. “Is this going to start becoming a daily occurrence, then?”

You scoffed, mirroring his raised brow. “Why? Jealous I’m spending time with someone smarter than you?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nearly choked on his drink, while Chai Latte Cookie let out a delighted giggle behind her teacup. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low chuckle, setting his fork down. “I don’t know, (Y/N). You might be treading dangerous waters.” “Please,” You huffed. “Earl Grey Cookie wishes he could keep up with me.” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, unfazed. “Is that so?” Earl Grey Cookie, to his credit, didn’t miss a beat. “Smarter, perhaps. Better company? That remains to be seen.” “Mm,” You hummed, reaching for your tea. “I mean, you do rely on me for your daily entertainment. Must get boring when I’m not around to remind you that you’re not the most clever person in the room.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie stifled a laugh behind his hand. Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, merely tilted his head. “Ah, but you assume you are the cleverest, when in reality, I merely allow you to believe so.” You grinned, leaning forward slightly. “Oh? And here I thought I was the highlight of your day.” “I’ll admit, your suffering is entertaining.” Shadow Milk Cookie watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. It was strange Earl Grey Cookie and he were not so different. Both held themselves with quiet dignity, both carried intellect like a finely honed blade. And yet, the ease with which you spoke to Earl Grey Cookie, the way you teased and played with him without hesitation…He had never heard you speak to him like that. Had never been on the receiving end of that effortless, unguarded warmth. Something unfamiliar twisted in his chest. Something close to jealousy…no, envy. And across the table, Chai Latte Cookie saw it. Chai Latte Cookie giggled behind her teacup, the corners of her lips curving into something amused, something knowing. Shadow Milk Cookie watched the exchange with quiet intensity, his golden eyes flickering between them.

He and Earl Grey Cookie were not so different. They both carried themselves with quiet authority, both wielded intellect with precision, both understood the weight of knowledge. And yet you had never spoken to him like that. There was an ease between them and Earl Grey Cookie, a natural playfulness, a warmth that flowed without hesitation. Your sharp words with him were banter, light and teasing, filled with familiarity rather than apprehension. With him, they were still careful. Respectful, yes, but… restrained. Something settled uncomfortably in his chest. Jealousy? No. Something else. Something close. Chai Latte Cookie’s voice broke through his thoughts, light and playful, yet layered with something deeper. “(Y/N) is just so captivating, aren’t they?” she mused, stirring her tea slowly, her gaze flicking to him for just a moment. “A joy to be around.” Shadow Milk Cookie turned his head slightly, studying her. The words were simple, but the meaning was not. She was watching. She had seen. Her gaze flickered once more to you, who sat across from Earl Grey Cookie, taking a sip of tea despite the fact that it had clearly steeped too long, despite the way they winced slightly at the bitterness. Drinking it, even though it burned going down, just to be petty. Just so Earl Grey Cookie would have to remake it. Their quarrel was nonsensical, meaningless, a game they played simply because they could. And yet, Shadow Milk Cookie sat here, watching. Chai Latte Cookie tilted her head, a knowing smile playing at her lips. Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled slowly. “They are…” He hesitated, just briefly, before speaking. “Determined.”

Chai Latte Cookie let out a soft hum. “That they are.” Across the table, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, having witnessed your petty war against Earl Grey Cookie’s tea, chuckled. “Oh, enough,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “Since (Y/N) seems so intent on making life difficult for Earl Grey, I think it’s only fair we return the favor.” You stiffened. “Wait-” Before you could react, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smoothly swapped their cup with a darker, stronger brew. A drink so potent that you could smell the bitterness before you even lifted the cup. Earl Grey Cookie leaned back slightly, arms crossed, smirking as he watched them hesitate. “Well?” he prompted. You groaned but, never one to back down, took a sip. Instant regret. The sheer intensity of the flavor made you grimace, your throat tightening as the bitterness lingered. Laughter rippled around the table, Chai Latte Cookie’s delighted giggles, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s triumphant chuckle, even Earl Grey Cookie’s smirk deepening ever so slightly. You set the cup down with a slow, deliberate sigh. “I hate you all.” “Oh, come now,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “This is justice.” groaning dramatically, you slumped against the table. And for the first time, Shadow Milk Cookie felt something odd settle within him something unfamiliar, something yearning. Because despite the absurdity of it all, despite the ridiculous antics It was warm. And for the first time, he wondered If, one day, you would speak to him with the same ease. Earl Grey Cookie took a slow, deliberate sip of his freshly brewed tea, setting it down with the kind of elegance that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. His lips curled into a smirk as he tilted his head at you.

“You look defeated.” You scowled. “I am not defeated.” “Your expression says otherwise.” “My expression,” you retorted, narrowing your eyes, “is the face of someone plotting their next move.” “Oh?” Earl Grey Cookie leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “A move that will finally best me, I assume?” “Finally?” You scoffed, placing a hand over your chest in mock offense. “You say that as if I haven’t bested you before.”Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Here we go again.” Earl Grey Cookie didn’t even blink. “Go ahead, (Y/N). Indulge me. When, exactly, have you bested me?” “Oh, I don’t know,” you mused, drumming your fingers against the table. “Maybe that time you got completely lost in that one library and refused to ask for help?” Earl Grey Cookie’s smirk didn’t falter. “It was a large library.” “Right, right, a ‘large’ library. And yet, who was it that had to come fetch you?” Chai Latte Cookie giggled, resting her chin on her palm. “Oh, this one sounds good.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “I remember that. Didn’t you spend hours wandering in circles?” Earl Grey Cookie took another calm sip of his tea. “I would not say hours.” “You definitely spent hours,” you countered. “And when I did find you, you tried to pretend you had been ‘surveying the architecture.’” “A fine excuse,” he mused. “An awful excuse,” you shot back. “I saw you staring at a map like it had personally wronged you.” “And yet,” Earl Grey Cookie said smoothly, “I did find my way in the end.” “Because I dragged you out!” Chai Latte Cookie and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie laughed, the warmth of the memory making the moment all the more enjoyable. Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, merely sighed. “Ah, but I do believe my superior intellect has bested you in other matters.” “Oh, do you?” You raised a brow. “Indeed,” he replied, voice as smooth as ever. “For instance, who was it that helped you during that one disastrous attempt at potion brewing?” You grimaced. “Okay, but in my defense-” “And who,” Earl Grey Cookie continued, the amusement clear in his voice, “was it that had to explain, at great length, why enchanting your own shoes to hover was not a practical means of transportation?”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “Oh yeah, that was a fun day.” “It would have worked if I had just gotten the right balance-” “No, (Y/N),” Earl Grey Cookie interjected, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “It would have ended with you flat on your face.” You huffed. “I hate that you have good points sometimes.” “As you should.” The table burst into laughter, the kind of laughter that came from familiarity, from the joy of long-standing friendship and shared memories. You hadn’t had a moment like this in so long just playful banter, just warmth, just being. It felt good. “You are comfortable,” Shadow Milk Cookie observed. The words weren’t unkind. If anything, they were spoken with the same measured calm he always carried. But something about them felt… pointed. Something about the way his golden gaze flickered between you and Earl Grey Cookie, how his voice held an undertone that wasn’t quite jealousy, wasn’t quite longing, but something teetering between the two. Something that went right over your head. Earl Grey Cookie, however, caught it instantly. He studied Shadow Milk Cookie for a moment before offering a small, knowing smirk. “Tough luck,” he said, voice light but firm. “We’ve known each other much longer. Even before the Academy.” Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head ever so slightly. “Ah.” It was all he said, but the weight of it lingered. You blinked, realizing the shift in conversation. “Wait, did I never tell you?” Shadow Milk Cookie glanced at you. “Tell me?” You waved a hand vaguely. “About the four of us? How we met before coming here?” He shook his head. “You have not.” “Oh, well,” you leaned forward, suddenly animated, “we actually met back when we were younger…years before we even thought about coming to the Academy.” Chai Latte Cookie smiled knowingly. “Oh, this is a good story.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled. “Which one? There’s too many.” “True,” you grinned. And just like that, the night stretched on, filled with laughter, filled with old stories, filled with the kind of warmth that only years of familiarity could bring. And Shadow Milk Cookie listened. Listened, and for the first time, truly understood Just how far back you and Earl Grey Cookie’s bond reached. Just how much he had yet to catch up to. You leaned back in your seat, a grin tugging at your lips as you thought back to the past. The flickering candlelight of the dining hall cast long shadows across the table, but your mind was already elsewhere somewhere far from the Academy, far from the weight of exams and expectations. Somewhere simpler. "Alright, alright, now for how we all met " you started, glancing between them. "So, it all started when we were kids before any of us had even thought about the Academy. Back then, we were just well, us." Earl Grey Cookie hummed in amusement, resting his chin on his hand. "Just us? I remember you being an absolute menace." You scoffed, crossing your arms. "You say that like you weren’t right there alongside me."

"Only to ensure you didn't completely ruin your own reputation." Chai Latte Cookie giggled, stirring her tea. "Oh, don't act so above it. You were just as bad." Earl Grey Cookie let out an exasperated sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward, betraying his amusement. Shadow Milk Cookie listened quietly, golden eyes fixed on you with an unreadable expression. He had been silent for most of the conversation, simply observing, but his attention never wavered. You waved off Earl Grey’s dramatics and continued. "Anyway Hazelnut, Earl Grey, Chai Latte, and I all grew up in the same town. It wasn’t particularly big or impressive, but it had character, you know? A lot of old history, a lot of people who swore by tradition. And of course, a lot of older scholars who hated when us kids got in the way." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. "Which we definitely did." "So," you continued, "the first time I met Earl Grey, I-uh." You hesitated, suddenly aware of Earl Grey Cookie’s expectant stare. You sighed. "Okay, fine. I might have challenged him to a duel." Chai Latte Cookie gasped in delight. "You did? I always thought it was him" "Listen, in my defense, he was insufferable even back then." "I was correct," Earl Grey Cookie corrected smoothly. You ignored him. "Anyway, we were arguing over some old scholar’s work something about magical inscriptions or whatever. I don’t even remember what, exactly. But it was heated. And at some point, I got so frustrated I just " You gestured vaguely. "Well, I declared a duel. And being the insufferable child that he was, Earl Grey actually accepted."

"It was only fair," Earl Grey Cookie said matter-of-factly. "One must back their words with action, no?" You rolled your eyes. "So we did it. Right in the middle of town. We squared up like we knew what we were doing which we absolutely didn’t, by the way. It was ridiculous. We were flailing at each other with training wands, and at one point, I tripped over my own robes" Chai Latte Cookie clapped a hand over her mouth, trying and failing to contain her laughter. You shot her a glare. "and Earl Grey nearly knocked himself out on a statue trying to dodge me." Earl Grey Cookie cleared his throat. "An unfortunate miscalculation." "Hilarious miscalculation," Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie corrected. "And then," Chai Latte Cookie cut in, eyes shining, "I stepped in to stop them from completely embarrassing themselves, and then I had to spend the next week convincing the elders that they weren’t actually a threat to the town’s intellectual reputation." "That part is true," you admitted with a sheepish grin. "Chai Latte had to sweet-talk them into believing we weren’t complete delinquents." "You were complete delinquents," she corrected with a dramatic sigh. "And I was a saint for sticking with you all." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled. "And then I got dragged into this mess because someone needed to be the reasonable one." "I tried to be the reasonable one," Chai Latte Cookie argued, flicking a sugar cube at him. "But you’re the only one they actually listened to." "Because he bribed us with food," you admitted, shrugging. "That does sound like me," Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said, grinning.

You turned back to Shadow Milk Cookie then, curious to see his reaction. He was quiet, gaze still fixed on you, expression unreadable. "You really did grow up together," he mused, more to himself than to anyone else. "Yeah," you said softly. "We did." And for just a moment, you thought you saw something flicker behind his golden eyes, something thoughtful, something distant. Before you could say anything, Earl Grey Cookie spoke first, his voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable weight. “It’s not that we mean to be exclusive,” he said, turning his tea cup idly between his fingers, “but there’s a certain understanding that comes with time, wouldn’t you agree?” The words were measured, careful not unkind, but pointed. You glanced at him, caught between curiosity and mild exasperation. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded in agreement, ever the steady voice of reason. “Years have a way of binding people together. It’s not something you think about until you realize how much of yourself is woven into someone else’s life.” Chai Latte Cookie rolled her eyes, though her smile softened the gesture. “Oh, don’t listen to them, Shadow Milk Cookie. They’re just being nostalgic and dramatic. They’ve spent so long looking out for each other that they don’t realize how obnoxiously obvious they’re being about it.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded them in silence, his expression unreadable as always. But something in his gaze flickered just for a second. You cleared your throat, shifting the attention away. “Well, speaking of being obnoxiously obvious, Earl Grey, weren’t you saying earlier that you learned something interesting in class? Something that I’d apparently love?”

Earl Grey Cookie’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Ah. So you were listening.” You scoffed. “Of course I was. You said my name and ‘interesting’ in the same sentence. I was practically obligated to tune in.” “Well then,” he said, setting his tea aside with deliberate precision. “Allow me to enlighten you.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a soft chuckle, while Chai Latte Cookie muttered something about him being dramatic. You, however, leaned in, curiosity piqued. “Do you remember the discussion we had about astral inscriptions last month?” Earl Grey Cookie asked. You frowned, searching your memory. “Vaguely? You mean the old ones that scholars still can’t fully translate?” “Exactly. We were discussing how certain scholars believe they were never meant to be read in a conventional sense.” He paused, letting the intrigue build. “Well, our professor mentioned an ongoing theory, one that suggests they’re not a language so much as a mathematical equation. A formula, rather than prose.” Your eyes widened. “Wait, you mean like a spell?” “In a way, yes. The theory suggests that the inscriptions aren’t just meant to be understood but activated. That their meaning is revealed only when the right sequence is performed.” Chai Latte Cookie, who had been listening with mild interest, raised a brow. “That’s… oddly poetic.” “It is poetic,” you murmured, mind already racing with the implications. “Imagine entire texts that don’t just tell knowledge but become knowledge. That means-” “That some of the most enigmatic passages in history might be locked behind a logic we haven’t yet unraveled,” Earl Grey Cookie finished. You sat back, exhaling. “That’s insane.” “And yet, it makes sense,” he said smoothly. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled. “Look at you two, finishing each other’s thoughts. You really are insufferable.” You nudged Earl Grey Cookie with your elbow. “You have to show me your notes on this.” “I already knew you’d ask,” he replied, reaching into his bag. “I made a copy.” “You legend,” you said, taking the parchment from him with something close to reverence. Chai Latte Cookie sipped her tea, giving Shadow Milk Cookie a knowing glance. “See? This is what we mean. You’d think they were born for this.”

Shadow Milk Cookie had been watching the entire exchange, silent but entirely present. His golden eyes flicked between you and Earl Grey Cookie, then down to your hands as you carefully unfolded the parchment. Something in his expression shifted. Something small, something almost imperceptible. Jealousy was a strange thing. And yet, there it was. Shadow Milk Cookie finally spoke, his voice measured, deliberate. “If this is something that intrigues you, I could lend my expertise,” he offered, golden eyes glinting in the low dining hall light. “I have spent years researching ancient inscriptions. I am certain I could provide clarity where others have struggled.” The words were simple, logical. And yet, there was something underneath them, something not quite visible but certainly there. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden offer. “Oh well, I mean, that would be-” Earl Grey Cookie raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are you sure, Sage? It’s an awfully time-consuming subject to dig into.” Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze flickered toward him, his ever-calm expression betraying nothing. “I would not have offered if I did not believe it worthwhile.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie glanced between them, sensing something shifting in the air, while Chai Latte Cookie, ever the observant one, hummed into her tea. You hesitated, looking between the two of them, feeling an odd tension begin to settle. It wasn’t antagonistic, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. Chai Latte Cookie exhaled through her nose before setting her cup down with a soft clink, smoothly slipping into the space between words before they could become something more.

“Oh, come on,” she drawled, placing a hand over her chest as if the weight of the conversation had personally wounded her. “All this talk of research, and not one of you has offered to help me with my studies? Am I not worthy of such esteemed scholarly attention?” You snorted. “Chai, you don’t need help.You already climbed the ranks…You’re already top of the class in your division.” “And yet, I am neglected,” she lamented. “Truly, a tragic fate.” The dramatic delivery was enough to break the odd tension, a few small laughs rippling around the table. Even Shadow Milk Cookie let out something that could almost be considered a breath of amusement. You shook your head, grinning. “Alright, alright. If you ever need an essay proofread, I’ll drop everything.” “See, that is what I wanted to hear,” she said, satisfied. Then, with a casual glance in Shadow Milk Cookie’s direction, she added, “But really, (Y/N) Cookie is quite captivating, don’t you think? Always drawing people in, always keeping things interesting.” Shadow Milk Cookie’s golden gaze flicked toward her, unreadable. She met his eyes with an expression that was perfectly pleasant, almost too pleasant. It was a test, in a way. A subtle prod to see what, if anything, he would say. He didn’t answer immediately, instead allowing the words to settle. “…They are certainly remarkable,” he admitted at last, though his tone remained carefully neutral. You didn’t fully catch the exchange, too busy inspecting Earl Grey Cookie’s notes, but Chai Latte Cookie took in the slight change in Shadow Milk’s expression, the way his posture had shifted, and stored the moment away for later.

She said nothing more on the matter. For now, she had her answer. Dinner stretched on, laughter rippling between you all like waves in an easy tide. The weight of the academy, the endless lectures, the pressure of expectations none of it mattered in this moment. Here, at this table, surrounded by friends, it was as if time had loosened its grip just enough to allow something lighthearted to flourish. Even he the ever-poised, ever-revered Shadow Milk Cookie had been swept into the current of camaraderie. At first, he had been content to observe, his golden eyes flicking between the banter exchanged across the table. But the energy was infectious. Somewhere between Earl Grey Cookie’s exasperated retelling of how Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie had nearly set their entire laboratory station ablaze, and Chai Latte Cookie dramatically recounting a rumor she’d overheard in the library, a quiet chuckle escaped him. A chuckle that, much to your own surprise, turned into laughter. It was soft, refined, but unmistakably real. Your head turned in quiet shock, and you weren’t the only one who noticed. Earl Grey Cookie nearly choked on his tea, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned as if he had just witnessed something historic, and Chai Latte Cookie, ever quick to react, placed a hand over her heart with an exaggerated gasp.

“Oh my stars,” she whispered, as if she had just been granted a divine revelation. “Was that was that actual laughter from our esteemed Sage of Truth? I think the very foundations of the academy might tremble.” Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled, amusement still glinting in his eyes. “You exaggerate.” “I do not this is a momentous occasion! (Y/N) Cookie, did you hear that? Did you hear it?” You had, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I think he’s laughing at you.” “I don’t care who he’s laughing at. The point is that it happened.” Earl Grey Cookie smirked. “This must be a sign of the end times.” Shadow Milk Cookie shook his head, but there was no exasperation in his expression, only something quiet, something almost content. The conversation meandered from there, shifting into stories from class, odd encounters in the hallways, harmless gossip about professors and their quirks. The dining hall had begun to empty, but none of you made a move to leave just yet. And then, amidst it all, Chai Latte Cookie’s eyes flicked toward your plate. Her gaze lingered not in judgment, not in anything remotely unkind, but with a quiet knowing. A familiarity woven from years of shared meals, of whispered conversations over cups of tea, of simply knowing you. “…That’s not what you usually get.” It wasn’t an accusation, nor did she phrase it as a question. It was just an observation, one spoken with the kind of care only she could manage. You blinked, glancing at your plate as if you’d only just noticed yourself. You had unconsciously chosen something lighter, something more balanced, something that, if you thought about it, was reminiscent of the very meals Shadow Milk Cookie favored.

“I-” You hesitated, grasping for an explanation and coming up empty. She didn’t press. She just smiled, eyes twinkling, before taking a sip of her tea. “Interesting,” she mused. “That’s all.” Shadow Milk Cookie, silent up until now, observed the exchange with careful intrigue. You weren’t sure why, but something about Chai Latte Cookie’s tone made you shift in your seat, a warmth creeping into your cheeks. Earl Grey Cookie, unaware or simply uninterested in whatever silent conversation had just passed between you and Chai, leaned back with a stretch. “Alright, before we get too deep into existential crises over dinner choices Hazelnut, didn’t you say you had something planned for revenge earlier?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned wickedly. “Oh, right. (Y/N) Cookie, your days of tea sabotage are numbered.” You barely had a moment to react before he switched your half-finished drink with a concoction of his own making. It was… an abomination. Greenish in a way tea should never be. You narrowed your eyes. “You wouldn’t.” “Oh, I would.” Chai Latte Cookie burst into laughter as you glared at the offending cup, while Earl Grey Cookie crossed his arms, nodding approvingly. “Justice.” As the teasing and laughter carried on, Shadow Milk Cookie sat quietly, watching the way you so easily belonged here how you fit so seamlessly among them, how your laughter carried through the space like warmth on a cold day.

And for just a moment, the remnants of that unfamiliar feeling stirred in his chest once more. Not quite envy. Not quite longing. Something in between. As the evening waned and the last of the plates had been pushed aside, Shadow Milk Cookie was the first to rise, smoothing down the edges of his robe with practiced elegance. “I have matters to attend to,” he announced, his voice measured, but there was something unreadable in his gaze when it flickered toward you. “Thank you for the invitation, (Y/N). It was… enlightening.” There it was again. That subtle weight behind his words, something deliberate. You barely had a moment to process it before he turned on his heel and left, his steps quiet but certain as they disappeared down the corridor.

“Ohhh, what the hell was that?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s voice cut through the quiet, loud enough to make a few remaining students glance over before he huffed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Am I losing it, or did something weird just happen?” Earl Grey Cookie, still leaning lazily against the back of his chair, smirked. “No, I felt it too.” Chai Latte Cookie let out a dramatic sigh, already standing and tugging at your arm. “Come on, we have to walk you back.” You blinked, frowning. “I don’t need-” “Yeah, you do,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie cut in, waving a hand. “Because clearly, you need someone to spell things out for you.” With little room to argue, you let them guide you out of the dining hall, the cool evening air nipping at your skin. The four of you moved with familiarity, a rhythm formed through years of friendship. Yet tonight, something felt off the way they kept glancing at you, the way their expressions flickered between amusement and exasperation. Finally, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright, I’ll say it since nobody else is.” Earl Grey Cookie snorted. “Since nobody else is? We’ve been dying to say it.” Chai Latte Cookie laughed. “We were just trying to be nice about it.” You groaned. “Say what?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie didn’t hesitate. “Shadow Milk Cookie? Jealous.” You nearly tripped over your own feet. “What?” Earl Grey Cookie shook his head. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice. He was watching you like you were about to disappear.” Chai Latte Cookie hummed. “And the way he kept jumping in whenever you and Earl Grey started going at it? That wasn’t just curiosity, sweetheart.”

You scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.” “No, what’s ridiculous is the fact that you changed your whole dinner order to match his without even realizing it,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shot back, eyes sharp. Your mouth opened and then closed. Earl Grey Cookie grinned, clearly enjoying this far too much. “And that little moment between us?” He gestured between you and himself. “You know, when I was showing you that thing from class? That’s when he really started to look like he wanted to throw me into the nearest bookshelf.” You gaped. “He did not.” “Oh, he did,” Chai Latte Cookie mused, tilting her head. “You really don’t see it, do you?” You sighed, exasperated. “There’s nothing to see.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Then tell me why he suddenly had to offer his extensive knowledge to help you the moment Earl Grey started getting your attention?” You hesitated. “…That doesn’t mean” “It means exactly what you think it means,” Earl Grey Cookie cut in, his voice oddly amused but knowing. He glanced at you. “Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything about it, but just be aware. The guy’s not exactly subtle, even if he thinks he is.” You huffed, shaking your head. “You’re all reading too much into this.” Chai Latte Cookie just smirked, linking her arm through yours. “Oh, sweetheart, we live to read too much into things.” As you approached your dorm, the conversation still buzzed between them, all three of them dissecting the night’s events like it was a mystery novel they were determined to solve.

Earl Grey Cookie stretched lazily. “Tough luck for him, though. We’ve got years on him.” Chai Latte Cookie rolled her eyes. “It’s not a competition, you know.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “Tell that to him.” You groaned. “You’re all impossible.” Chai Latte Cookie squeezed your arm one last time before letting go. “We’re just looking out for you, love.” You sighed, pushing open the door to your dorm, the warmth of the room pressing against your skin. As you glanced back at them, their faces were still full of amusement, affection, and something else. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “Just… keep your eyes open, alright?” With that, they left you to your thoughts, the door clicking shut behind you. And for the first time all night, you were alone with them. You stood there for a moment, letting the quiet of your dorm settle around you. Their words lingered, pressing at the edges of your thoughts, but you shook your head, exhaling. They were exaggerating. Had to be. Sure, Shadow Milk Cookie was… particular, but jealousy? Over you? The idea was almost laughable. Your friends only knew him through you, which meant you had the better judgment in all this. Right? You sighed, pushing the thoughts aside. There was no use dwelling on it.

The next morning, you woke early, stretching lazily as golden morning light seeped through your curtains. Sunday. No lectures, no responsibilities just a day to unwind. You got ready at your own pace, relishing the rare, slow start to the day, before heading to the dining hall. Breakfast smelled incredible today. Warm syrup, fresh fruit, and oh, they had the ice cream bar open early. Well. It would be a shame not to indulge. You loaded your plate with golden, honey-drizzled waffles, the syrup pooling in each perfect square. Then, with zero hesitation, you made a beeline for the ice cream, adding a generous scoop to your plate. The cold creaminess melted slightly against the warmth of the waffles, mixing into the honey in a way that promised pure satisfaction. By the time you sat down with your friends, they were already deep in conversation. “Finally,” Earl Grey Cookie greeted, sipping his tea. “I was beginning to think you’d been kidnapped by the library.” “Good morning to you too,” you said dryly, setting your plate down. Chai Latte Cookie peered at your breakfast, eyes twinkling. “Living decadently, I see.” “Nothing like an indulgent morning,” you quipped, slicing into your waffle. The first bite was heavenly, warm syrup mixing with cool ice cream in a way that had you humming in satisfaction.

But before you could savor it for too long “Well,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie drawled, leaning back in his chair, “at least you get to eat without the Sage of Truth breathing down your neck this morning.” Earl Grey Cookie huffed a quiet laugh, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “Figuratively, of course.” You rolled your eyes, swallowing your bite. “Oh, come on” “No, no, let us enjoy this moment,” Chai Latte Cookie teased, propping her chin on her hand. “A quiet morning without a certain scholar lurking about. Truly, what a rare sight.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “Maybe he’s off brooding somewhere, nursing his wounded pride.” You groaned. “You all need to let this go.” Earl Grey Cookie only raised an eyebrow. “Do we?” “Yes.” You pointed your fork at him. “Because nothing happened.” “Oh, something happened.” Chai Latte Cookie’s grin was all too knowing. “You just refuse to see it.” You exhaled, exasperated, and took another bite of your waffle, deciding to ignore them. They, of course, refused to be ignored. You set your fork down with a sigh, eyeing the three of them as they practically vibrated with unspoken thoughts. Clearly, last night’s rushed walk to your dorm hadn’t given them enough time to say everything they wanted to say. And judging by the way Chai Latte Cookie was practically bouncing in her seat, this was a debrief waiting to happen. “Alright,” you relented, crossing your arms. “Go ahead. Clearly, you’ve been holding back.” Chai Latte Cookie let out a delighted squeak, clapping her hands together. “Oh, finally! I knew you’d come to your senses!”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie was already reaching into his coat pocket, pulling out the small, well-worn notebook he always carried. He flipped it open with a practiced ease, clicking his pen before glancing at Earl Grey Cookie, who, without being asked, leaned in to skim his notes. “Oh, for the love of” You groaned, rubbing your temples. “You’re taking notes?” “This is crucial information,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said seriously, jotting something down. “We need all the details.” “You guys are acting like this is the next biggest scoop of the century.” Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses, utterly unfazed. “Because it is.” You opened your mouth, ready to refute that, but Chai Latte Cookie had already turned to you, eyes shining with glee. “Okay, first of all how have you not noticed how he looks at you?” she asked, voice dripping with amusement. “Because, sweetheart, if looks could hold someone in place, you’d be permanently stuck in time.” You blinked. “What are you even talking about?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie gestured vaguely in the air. “The way he watches you. The way he listens.” He tapped his pen against his notebook. “The way his entire being tenses whenever Earl Grey so much as breathes in your direction.”

Earl Grey Cookie let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s true. He looked positively put out last night.” You scoffed. “He did not.” “Oh, he did,” Chai Latte Cookie singsonged. “It was subtle, but come on, this is us. We know each other too well to miss something like that.” You threw your hands up. “You don’t even know him that well!” “Ah,” Earl Grey Cookie said, raising a finger. “But we know you.” “That’s not the same” “It kind of is,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie interrupted, scribbling in his notebook. “Because if we notice things about you that change when you’re with him, it tells us a lot about him.” You frowned, shifting in your seat. “You’re all reading into this way too much.” Chai Latte Cookie gasped, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense. “How dare you?” Earl Grey Cookie smirked. “We wouldn’t be your friends if we didn’t overanalyze your life choices.”

You groaned, slumping forward onto the table. “This is absurd.” “Absurd,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie echoed, flipping to a fresh page. “But not unfounded.” Chai Latte Cookie nodded enthusiastically. “Mhm. Case in point the tea situation last night.” You peeked up from your arms. “…The what?” “Oh, please.” Chai Latte Cookie grinned, leaning in. “You burned your throat to mess with Earl Grey. And Shadow Milk Cookie just watched stiff as a board, probably fighting the urge to pry the cup out of your hands.” “That’s just” You waved vaguely. “He’s particular about tea.” “No, no, no.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie pointed his pen at you. “That wasn’t just ‘he’s particular about tea.’ That was he doesn’t know how to handle how easily you play around with Earl Grey Cookie, and it bothers him on a fundamental level.” You sat up, crossing your arms. “Oh, come on. That’s a stretch.” “Is it?” Earl Grey Cookie mused. “Because I did catch the way his expression shifted when I mentioned we’ve known each other since before the Academy.” Chai Latte Cookie hummed. “Oh, he definitely didn’t like that.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie wrote something down before holding up the notebook for Earl Grey Cookie to check. Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses, scanning the notes. “Mm. Add something about how he immediately offered to help with your research interest.” “Oh, good one,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie murmured, jotting it down. “Guys,” you groaned. “You’re killing me.” Chai Latte Cookie nudged you with her elbow. “You love us.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I tolerate you.” “Same thing.” Earl Grey Cookie closed the notebook with a satisfied hum. “Regardless, our assessment stands.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded. “This is big.” “Huge,” Chai Latte Cookie agreed. You shook your head. “You’re all ridiculous.” “Maybe,” Chai Latte Cookie said, propping her chin on her hand. “But you have to admit it is kind of interesting.”

You frowned, staring down at the last bite of your waffle. The ice cream had melted into a sweet pool around it, blending with the honey in a way that was strangely mesmerizing. “…Even If and I mean if you guys are right,” you muttered, “it doesn’t mean anything.” “Maybe not,” Earl Grey Cookie conceded. “But it’s certainly something.” You sighed, grabbing your fork and spearing the last bite of your waffle. Ridiculous. All of them. But even as you shoved the bite into your mouth, their words clung to you like syrup on your fingers, sticky and impossible to ignore. Once the final note was jotted down and Earl Grey Cookie gave an approving nod, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie clicked his pen and shut his notebook with a snap. “Alright,” he said, setting it down on the table. “Now that we’ve got all the facts down, it’s time for the fun part.” You sighed. “Oh, great. Because this wasn’t already a circus act.” Chai Latte Cookie ignored you, clapping her hands together eagerly. “Okay! Now, theory time! What do we think is going on?” Earl Grey Cookie folded his hands together, utterly composed as always. “Hazelnut, since you’ve been the lead investigator here, why don’t you start?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked, tapping his fingers against the notebook cover. “Oh, gladly. My theory?” He pointed at you. “Shadow Milk Cookie doesn’t know what to do with you.” You blinked. “Excuse me?” He leaned forward. “Think about it. He’s this big scholar, right? Super refined, theatrical, incredibly well-versed in everything except you. You throw him off. You frustrate him. He’s used to people treating him a certain way, and then you come along, all flustered and hesitant, and it messes with him.” Chai Latte Cookie hummed. “Ooooh, I like that. It’s true he’s used to people being all reverent and careful around him, but with you? You’re a nervous wreck, sure, but you’re still you. You challenge him without even realizing it.” You frowned. “I don’t challenge him” “Sure you do,” Earl Grey Cookie cut in. “And more importantly, you interest him.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s a stretch.” “Oh, is it?” Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Because if you ask me and, you know, I love my romance stories I think it’s something more.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised an eyebrow. “Go on.” Chai Latte Cookie propped her chin on her hands. “He’s fascinated by you. And not just in some casual, ‘oh, what a curious scholar’ kind of way. No, no, no. He sees something in you, and he’s drawn to it. Maybe he doesn’t even know what yet, but it’s there.” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Come on, guys. He’s not” “You don’t see the way he looks at you,” Earl Grey Cookie interrupted smoothly. “And it’s unfortunate, really, because it’s quite telling.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded. “There’s intent behind it. He watches you like he’s trying to figure something out.” Chai Latte Cookie smirked. “Or like he’s trying to figure you out.” You stared at them, feeling incredibly outnumbered. “You’re all ridiculous.” “And yet,” Earl Grey Cookie mused, sipping his tea, “we’re rarely wrong.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie pointed at you again. “So, what do you have to say for yourself, huh? Gonna keep pretending this is all just normal scholarly interest?” “Yes,” you deadpanned. “Because that’s exactly what it is.” Chai Latte Cookie clicked her tongue. “Sweetheart, denial is only cute for so long.” You groaned. “This is absurd.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shrugged. “Hey, we’re just laying out the facts. And the facts strongly support our case.” Earl Grey Cookie tilted his head, considering. “Perhaps he doesn’t even fully realize it himself.” “Exactly!” Chai Latte Cookie snapped her fingers. “You think someone like him has time for this kind of thing? He’s too wrapped up in his own world of truth-seeking to stop and realize what’s happening right in front of him.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie sighed dramatically. “Tragic, really.” You buried your face in your hands. “I hate all of you.” Earl Grey Cookie chuckled. “You love us.” Chai Latte Cookie nudged you. “So, what are you going to do about it?” “Nothing!” you cried, exasperated. “Because there is nothing to do!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “Yet.” You groaned, pushing away from the table. “I am leaving.” Earl Grey Cookie stood as well, adjusting his coat. “Then we’ll walk with you.” “Oh, fantastic.” You rolled your eyes. “Because I love spending more time being harassed.” Chai Latte Cookie looped an arm around yours, grinning. “Come on, we just care about you.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie and Earl Grey Cookie flanked you as you all headed out, their voices continuing to dissect every interaction, every detail. And no matter how much you protested, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe just maybe they weren’t entirely wrong. You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms as you walked with them. "Okay, fine. Earl Grey, you’re always the one with the most measured takes. You have to have a theory that’s actually based in reality. What do you think?"

Earl Grey Cookie smirked as if he’d been waiting for you to ask. He adjusted his coat, hands neatly clasped behind his back. “I thought you’d never ask.” Chai Latte Cookie rolled her eyes with a knowing grin. “Oh, here we go.” Earl Grey Cookie took a moment, as if carefully composing his words. “From what I have observed, Shadow Milk Cookie is not a man accustomed to emotional vulnerability. He is esteemed, revered, and above all detached. But when it comes to you, there is a shift.” He glanced at you meaningfully. “A noticeable one.” You blinked. “That doesn’t mean anything” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie cut in, smirking. “Ah-ah, let him finish. He’s just getting to the good part.” Earl Grey Cookie continued smoothly. “I don’t think he realizes it yet, but I would argue that you challenge him on a level he has not encountered before.” You frowned. “That doesn’t even make sense” “Oh, it does,” Chai Latte Cookie hummed. “Keep going.” Earl Grey Cookie gave you a knowing look. “He is used to admiration, to reverence. But you? You are hesitant, overwhelmed, and yet you still push forward. You question him. You argue, even if you don’t realize you’re doing it. And that intrigues him.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “Oh, yeah. That’s definitely got the scholar all messed up.” Earl Grey Cookie allowed himself a small smirk. “Precisely. But beyond intrigue, there is something else brewing. He reacts to you in a way he does not react to others.” “Which means?” Chai Latte Cookie prompted, leaning in. Earl Grey Cookie met your gaze. “Which means he is invested. More than he should be.” Silence stretched between you all. You rubbed your temples. “You’re all reading way too much into this.” “Are we?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Yes!” you insisted. “He’s a scholar. He’s curious. That’s it.” Earl Grey Cookie simply hummed. “Perhaps.” But there was a glint in his eye that told you he didn’t believe that for a second. Chai Latte Cookie sighed dramatically. “Honestly, you might be the worst part of this whole situation.” You gaped at her. “Excuse me?” She laughed, nudging you playfully. “You’re so blind to your own effect on him! You’re making him confused, and you’re definitely confusing yourself.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie clapped you on the back. “It’s actually kind of hilarious to watch.” You groaned. “I hate you all.” “Yet you’re still walking with us,” Earl Grey Cookie mused. You grumbled under your breath. “Only because you’d probably just follow me anyway.” Chai Latte Cookie giggled. “Oh, definitely.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie flipped open his notebook, clicking his pen. “Well, this was productive. I think we have more than enough material for today.” “Oh, fantastic,” you muttered. Earl Grey Cookie closed his eyes in amusement. “This is far from over.” You huffed, shaking your head as you finally reached your dorm. “I’m going inside. I refuse to entertain any more of this nonsense.” Chai Latte Cookie beamed. “Goodnight, sweetheart~.” “Don’t dream about the scholar too much,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie teased. You slammed the door behind you, heart hammering. Because no, they were wrong. They had to be…Right? You sighed, staring at the closed door of your dorm. Maybe slamming it in their faces wasn’t the best way to shut down the conversation, even if they were being absolutely insufferable about it. Theories, notes, revisions they were treating last night like it was the biggest scoop of the century, and you were their unwilling case study. And yet, as you stood there, arms crossed, trying to shake the lingering thoughts of their absurd analysis, something gnawed at you. Maybe you had been a little too dismissive. With another sigh, you turned on your heel and swung the door back open. Your friends were still there. Naturally.

Chai Latte Cookie blinked at you, then broke into a knowing smile. “Oh? Back so soon?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked, lazily flipping through his ever-present notebook. “Took you longer than I expected.” Earl Grey Cookie simply raised a brow, arms crossed. The look he gave you was expectant, as if he knew you had something else to say. You huffed. “Alright, look. I didn’t mean to slam the door.” “Of course,” Chai Latte Cookie said sweetly, though you could see the amusement dancing in her eyes. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “Uh-huh.” You exhaled sharply and crossed your arms. “Anyway. You all went to the Ghost City last week, right?” That got their attention. “Oh?” Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, intrigued. “Yeah,” you muttered. “The ice cream shop.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s grin widened. “Now you’re speaking my language.” Earl Grey Cookie tilted his head. “You wish to go now?” You shrugged. “Why not? I didn’t get to sneak out with you last time, so I figure why not make up for it now?” Chai Latte Cookie’s face lit up. “A morning trip to the Ghost City? How scandalous.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie clapped a hand on your shoulder. “That’s the kind of thinking I like to see.” Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his cuffs, looking over the three of you with a mix of fondness and exasperation. “And I assume we’re not taking the normal way?” Chai Latte Cookie waved a hand. “Oh, please. That would be boring.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto your face. “Alright, then,” you said. “Let’s go.” And with that, the four of you set off, the morning sun casting golden light over the Academy as you slipped away toward the Ghost City.

A/N I will reply to my inbox soon y'all I LOVE THE ART IM SEEING but I will reply to it and give my time to them...for now I have a lecture to attend so <3

anyways...

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