#and it pulled eveything together

[rawwithlove]

Another day of doing the absolute most just to go to the thrift store lmao

✨🦇✨

[capslocked]

PANACEA

male reader x sakura && kazuha

17k words

Sakura can't expect you to actually be down for this - the setup, the miscommunication, the endless drama, all that messy work, and for what, your girlfriend-in-eveything-but-name-only's peace of mind?

You lean in. "Declining. Politely. Please."

“C'mon, It’s foolproof. Have I ever steered you wrong?” she says with a click of her tongue. “We can fix her.”

(It isn’t foolproof. She has. And you can’t.)

-

If you’re going to get tangled up in origin stories, this is probably a good place to start: at this gaudy bar, on the gaudier side of Ginza, with the shops you can’t afford to shop at - whose clientele can’t afford to be seen with you. It’s not your first pick, and you can say this because it so very often is, that this one’s all Sakura’s idea.

To be specific, it starts when Sakura grabs you by the wrist - Kazuha pinched by the fabric of her dress - and shuffles you both into a coat closet, which is as empty as the frost-less days of spring might expect. It was probably a mistake, thinking she wasn’t serious, but it’s that uncanny talent of hers, to always find someplace or another to steal away.

And look, you’re not crazy about the bar scene. Not here. You never have been.

When you’re at home, when you’re alone - when it’s you and Sakura - it never takes long to fall into that sensual rhythm of give and take, but here, under the dim light of the closet, it’s no different. You can feel the corners of her wry, delighted smile beginning to quirk as she steals those little shudders at the end of each exhale.

Maybe it’s the abundance of time you’ve had to become familiar with how Sakura can set the stage: 

The soft press of her mouth on yours, the speed of her kisses, those little licks, to that less-than-gentle pull at your bottom lip. It’s like she is everywhere, all at once - the warmth of her breath ghosting along the cartilage of your ear, the curve of your throat, her teeth hovering above where your pulse thrums and your skin runs thin.

Nevertheless, something quite new, a touch of novelty. This girl in black - built like a gazelle, all legs - who you think might quietly prefer to be addressed by her full name. Kazuha Nakamura, who would rather not make a fuss over the fact you forgot it the first twenty times or so - but she does have that look about her, that, if she asked you to, you could imagine dropping everything, anything, just to be at her beck and call.

That if she were in your shoes, you could imagine her wanting to do the same.

And then she asks for the most mundane thing.

Kazuha looks at you, not the way she looks at Sakura, but there is a stilled softness, a sweetness, that has her asking for permission - like she isn’t asking to do what she’s about to do - and when Sakura gives her a little tug at her skirt, Kazuha slides onto her knees.

“What did I tell you,” says Sakura, right into the angle at your jaw, pulling tighter on the end of your tie. She wraps it once over her wrist into something she can make a real grip out of. “The girl’s head over heels.”

A touch at your thighs, touches hooked into the seam of your pants and furling elastic - noticeably different from the hand kneading circles into the nape of your neck and carding through your hair. You laugh when you realize Kazuha has your fly undone and her shallow breath is hot against you, anticipating. Part of you is shocked, though another part equally thrilled. She’s actually going to do it.

Which, imagine that.

“And just what is it we’re doing here?” You lift your mouth off Sakura’s several times, chins brushing, colliding, kisses coming together and falling apart again. Your hold on Sakura’s waist firms up, steadying her as you try to reason with her. “What do you figure happens if we bring her home?” “Oh, I have no clue,” Sakura admits. “We’ll probably fuck her, and then fuck each other again when we she leaves.” “Hm,” you start, shakily, coping with the tongue that’s begun licking up from the base of your cock. It’s agonizingly slow - fuck, it’s only the seal of Kazuha’s pouty lips cushioning themselves around you. Which feel perfect, but only so perfect to the extent that it makes you want so much more. Sakura’s looking at you like she knows you’ll take it if you have to. Like she knows Kazuha will let you.

“Well.” You’re pushing some of the dark, glossy hair that had fallen in front of Kazuha’s face out of the way, and you start to posture, “I’m not about to start complaining, but-”

Sakura shoots only the slightest smirk in your direction. She’s got that usual unrepentant expression, eyes wide and brilliant, framed by those long eyelashes that happen to land more or less exactly on what you’d describe as your type.

“You have to see how this could backfire.”

She blinks once, twice, a few times, her expression remaining all but even, studying your face. “It’s not going to backfire.”

Your lips part to voice some final concern, but if that isn’t a ship long sailed. Here you’ll be marooned, shipwrecked - something you’ll have to come to terms with later - because you’re left only with siren calls: the soft sounds of Sakura’s lips smacking, of Kazuha’s; left with only a gaspful of air when she finally steals you into the wet heat of her pretty little mouth.

See, these hookups, your dalliances and escapades - the truth is that none of this really comes to you as a surprise anymore. Because if anything, Sakura has always had that tendency, a real proclivity for it. She was mischievous right from the jump, from when you first met her, and she’s only grown bolder. But the thing that you’re having to learn anew, beyond the way Sakura gets her mouth onto yours, how she’ll make a mess of your hair and leave marks on your neck, how her tongue glides effortlessly past your teeth, is with a second set of lips - that blowjob Kazuha is now settling into, mouth inching further and further down your cock - there’s suddenly a little less surefire to your wit, to your raillery.  

(Because here, you’d anticipated for impressive, perhaps even overwhelming, but with these two - well, there’s a lot to unpack. There always will be.)

The plan is - or at least it was -  to catch an Uber back to Sakura’s apartment. All three of you piling into the backseat, acting casual and pretending like you weren’t just trying to engineer how to share a kiss between three people. How’s that for logistics? Though that was moments before Sakura dropped a doting kiss into Kazuha’s hair and helped ease her down onto the carpet of the coat closet. And when you consider letting out the moan that festers in your chest, the one growing ever more unruly each time Kazuha’s tongue slowly curls around the head of your cock, you hesitate, swallowing down on nothing. 

“Fuck,” you say quietly into Sakura’s mouth. You’re not in public, technically speaking, which is not at all the reassurement Sakura insists it is. 

Sakura twists her fingers into your hair a little bit, just enough to sting, and asks, “does that feel good? Kazuha’s perfect mouth on your cock?”

“Yeah,” you admit, slightly annoyed - slightly under duress. The pressure of Sakura’s thumb a little harder into the soft muscle of your neck can usually coax out whatever it is she wants to hear. “Of course it feels good, Sakura.”

“I’m glad, it should.” Sakura nods. “And look, she’s just a natural, isn’t she?”

Oh, Kazuha - the poster child for a debate on innate talent and hard work, because as she works more of you into her mouth, you realize she’s both, a total package, an all in one. You’re not easy to take, and she presses her lips down, and draws you deeper like she’s done it a thousand times.

Though it pains you to ever admit Sakura’s right, about anything.

“How about we dial it back,” you say to Sakura, and for the first time, you look down at the mess of midnight hair in front of your waist. It’s glossy, even here in the dim glow of a dusty closet, and it’s just as silky to the touch. As you pilfer more of it through your fingers, you watch the glistening length of your cock vanish between the pouty pucker of Kazuha’s lips - bowed perfectly into this red elegant arch. 

“Are you sure? You seem like she’s just about killing you,” Sakura says. It’s the wince here and there. That slight quiver in your lip. All dead giveaways.

“Listen-” 

“Shh-shh,” Sakura soothes you gently, and starts to ease your jacket off your shoulders until it lands in a puddle of fabric at your feet. “Why don’t you just let her take care of you, huh?”

Sakura has her hand fit under your jaw again, urging you down to kiss her, but you’ve not quite finished taking in the sight of everything - of Kazuha, kneeling and bobbing her head back and forth - really settling into this hasty tempo. She takes more of your cock each time, and when you can feel her mouth tighten around you, to where her throat narrows and offers you a truly filthy sensation, you watch her eyes open, with lashes fluttering away stray tears and looking straight up at you. Pupils blown, dark as the dead of night, and every bit as sinful. It’s hard to even start to believe, that the girl who was paranoid a few weeks ago that she looked nothing like the fake ID Chaewon had given her is here on her fucking knees, slobbering on your cock.

“What’s the matter?” Sakura asks, pouting ever-so-slightly as she realizes you’re not going to lean into her again, and settles with a hot, open-mouthed kiss into the side of your neck.

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable,” you start, kind of sharply. It’s the way her black mini dress hugs her body - this masterwork of genetics, of countless hours in the gym, a miracle in the flesh. It’s the way one of its flimsy straps is falling down her shoulder and she’s so busy sucking your cock that she can’t be bothered to pull it back up. You don’t look away. You can’t. And jesus, your voice is coming out more broken, more graveled than you expect. “I should - if she’s going to swallow my cum, I think I should get to watch.”

“You hear that?” Sakura asks, and Kazuha chokes on you, just a little. There’s spit at the corner of her mouth when she pulls herself back, runs her tongue over the head of your cock, and tries again. Sakura’s laugh comes out rather amused. Her two favorite people in the world, finally getting what they deserve. “You’re so perfect, Kazuha, you’re going to make him cum.”

Kazuha lets you slip from her lips, and for the first time since she last said anything at all - muttering, please, please, I want to suck his cock - she pulls a stray hair out of her mouth, looks up at you and says: “On my face. I want it on my face.”

“Jesus,” you murmur, gripping Sakura’s waist harder into you. A sort of reflexive response. Because, fuck, if that isn’t well within your wheelhouse. If she’s asking - if you can oblige -

Kazuha lifts her gaze toward Sakura, eyes beaming. “Can I? With your boyfriend’s cock?”

“Kazuha, sweetie, he’s not my boyfriend.” And you can almost hear Kazuha trying not to roll her eyes. It’s just not a technicality she’s ever been interested in - you’re not taken, but you’re definitely not single, and that’s the part that’s only ever mattered to her. Sakura lets her hand fall to the base of your cock, angles it up for Kazuha to instinctively start licking its sensitive underbelly, fingers threading through your balls and fuck, the little kisses she saves for those are going to fucking end you. “You have to ask him.”

Kazuha’s got her brown, bambi eyes fixed back on you when she does. And it’s just a litany of nonsense, as she tries to look you square on, asking you politely to cum on her face. "Please, can I have it? Please, please. Cum on my face. Cum on my pretty face. I want it so bad, please. Please, I need it."

She’s a self-starter at some things, but the profanity, the dirty talk, these simple methods of seduction, you’ll ease her into them. You figure you’ll ease her into a lot.

Because you’re taking note of how her soft lips pucker as you cup her face. Fucking hell, she’s breathtaking.

“I’ll try not to get it in your hair,” you tell her. In a tone that makes it feel like a compromise. Something just shy of completely corrupting, though heavens knows you want to. This want - to get your hands in her hair later, bordering on something near abusive - otherwise, it comes across as this gentle dominance radiant with authority. Something she quickly melts into, eyes twinkling up at you, and you can’t resist digging a little deeper, asking, “that always been a fantasy of yours, sweetheart?” 

“She watches porn with Yunjin.” Sakura leans into your ear. “Like, a lot.” Like, it’s borderline concerning, she explains.

The shade of crimson burning across the bridge of Kazuha’s nose is as beautiful as she is, and you’re piecing together some of the puzzle. “I see,” you say, more serious. 

For the girl who Sakura described as naive but enthusiastic, you’ve become rather lost, maybe a little too quickly, somewhere deep in the pull of it. Quick, quick, slow. Quick, quicker, painfully slow. The draw of Kazuha’s soft lips back and forth along your cock. Every now and again, you can feel her tease the head of your cock against the back of her throat, just short of dragging you past her palate and holding her nose nearly flush to your groin. 

She pumps a fist around your shaft harshly, delivering an indiscriminate pleasure. You can hear her steady her breath, and almost without missing a beat, she lets her spit drool onto your cock and familiarize itself with her fingers, corkscrewing around you faster. Tighter. 

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Sakura starts hot and close, breath fanning over your cheek, and yielding her idea a moment to the sound of Kazuha’s hand sliding up and down your shaft. It’s such a filthy noise, lathering spit and precum between her slender fingers, the obnoxious squelch of it when she grips firmer and starts to pump you in earnest.

“When we get home,” she continues, “I think you should get that dangerous mouth of yours-”

Okay, fuck. Fuck. You’re spitting the word out, groaning as your eyes snap shut - the moment Kazuha gets her lips back around you, hollows her cheeks, she inhales sharply.

“-oh?” Sakura teases, flirting her lips about the edge of your ear. Her breath is hot, close, closer. “Maybe your mouth isn’t the one I need to be worried about.”

In an instant, you’re nuzzled deep into Kazuha’s mouth, seeking damp, seeking heat. With the flat of her tongue, she has you reeling from base to tip, and oh, god, the teeth. Just the slightest, sharp scrape of her teeth as she works her mouth on you faster, sloppier - without caring for so much as a concern about the tears cornering in her long dark lashes, or the makeup smudging beneath her eyes. It’s electrifying, and it has you bucking forward into Kazuha’s little mouth, until you’re swallowed nearly in full.

But behind that, it’s silent. Behind the smacking sound of Sakura’s lips pulling harshly at yours, behind the half-chokes punctuating how hard Kazuha’s lips are trying, it’s just breaths. Sakura’s, relaxed. Kazuha’s, careful and measured. And yours, panting, desperate.

It didn’t matter what image Kazuha had in her head before, beyond the generic appeal of your smile or how you’d rub the back of your neck when you laughed, or the way your forearms looked when you rolled your sleeves up. The silence Sakura creates when she seals her mouth over yours, kisses drowning those slight shuddering whines, it reveals to Kazuha the more present truth: you’re not just perfect. No, you’re perfect for her, and with the right touches here - of which Sakura is eager to demonstrate - ever so wonderfully brittle.

“Mnpph.” Kazuha simply hums, sucks up and down, over and over. 

“Come on,” Sakura breathes against you, barely above a whisper, then says it once more as she twines her fingers with yours and makes silky knots of Kazuha’s hair for you to hold onto.

“Fuck her pretty mouth,” she tells you, and you do.

With two greedy handfuls of Kazuha’s hair, with Sakura’s hand sliding down the buttons at the front of your shirt until she’s replacing Kazuha’s at the base of your cock, you rock your hips forward, experimental. Kazuha makes a strained sound, but nothing like the protest you were listening for - and so you do it again.

And again.

It’s unreal how she doesn’t react at all, just splaying her fingers out along your thighs, ready to brace herself as your thrusts into her mouth start to quicken. Given how things started - coupled with the fact that she looks so satisfied and serene - she’s doing outstanding. And if the air dragging through your teeth isn’t enough to make that clear, Sakura’s sure to guarantee you’re all on the same page:

“Just like that,” she tells her. “You look so pretty taking his cock, love. You’re doing so good, keep going, just a little more, and he’s going to cum for you.” 

So then, there Kazuha is, bruising her knees and yielding her lips, her mouth, her throat to you - with the girl she idolizes giving her the praise she’s always craved, these sickly-sweet affirmations, a petal-blossom of assurances. They ignite something laid deep within her, something that makes her work that perfect mouth onto you just a little harder, a little deeper, a little more slacked.

She wants you to cum so badly. 

You can feel her tongue flatten again, and without hesitation, while you fuck unabashedly between her wet, messy lips, she delves, she massages, she laves. 

For god’s sake, she worships.

Sakura is grinning, because she knows. She can feel the familiar way you’ve begun to throb, how the pulse in your neck is racing and blotchy and hot - she recognizes instinctually that all the damage your teeth have now done to your bottom lip could only mean one thing - you’re spiraling. You’re cracking under pressure, and so, so quickly. And then, nonchalant as ever, she just teases, “going to cum?”

You laugh, dryly. You are. You’re forcing the mundane into your thoughts: rainwater sliding down a pane glass window, paint swatches, the sound of your alarm clock, ringing, ringing, sucking - slurping, choking and spitting and gagging and fuck, Kazuha’s making a god damn meal out of you. You’ll let her.

“I’m pretty fucking close,” you finally admit to Sakura, holding Kazuha’s face firm. It’s not a warning. It’s an admission of guilt: you’re fucking ruining her makeup. There’s mascara dark as india ink, as dark as her jet black hair, streaking down her cheeks, and you’re imagining her glassy, tear-filled eyes, the ones that are currently screwed shut, impossibly tight. But she doesn’t wince, she doesn’t whine - and aside from the choking sound her throat makes when your cockhead stains pre-cum onto the back of her throat - she keeps her lips sealed tight, totally demure. Perfectly submissive.

“In her mouth,” Sakura orders dryly. 

You still can’t look away from the place where you and Kazuha are joined together, cum and spit and lipstick clinging to your shaft, her mouth, her chin. You’re simply stuck imagining the amusement stretching across Sakura’s face when she tells you again, voice resolute - fuck your load into her mouth.

It’s nothing that might ever take a lot of convincing, but you’re being gracious, being polite, trying to take Kazuha’s side. “We both heard her. She said she wanted-”

“Unh-uh, no,” Sakura tuts, rubbing a knuckle into the base of your spine. “Not here, you can make whatever mess you want when we get home.”

You thrust again, loosening one grip, tightening another. Vaulting toward the edge.

A mess, mess, mess, mess; a proper one, of her, crying and clamoring, shaking and stuttering, you know we will, you know it’s what she wants, Sakura’s explaining. Trying to explain. Fuck, it’s hard to pay attention to anything beyond your cock sheathed deep in Kazuha’s throat, but Sakura’s voice carries that usual gentle quiver, like she isn’t describing the filthiest assortment of ways you’ll get Kazuha off, how you’ll both get off. Going to fucking take her apart - she’s murmuring, kissing into your neck - until she’s sobbing for it. 

It’s not difficult to imagine. There are these images taking shape in your mind’s eye, photographically vivid, near pornographic, and god, Kazuha’s body is magnificent: how it curves, how it flexes, how it bends. You’re so close to unloading in her throat when you can practically hear Sakura’s posh, practiced smile flirting her voice into your ear. “If you’re worried she won’t swallow it, I will.”

For once, you don’t manage to say, no, not yet.

“Mnnph.” Kazuha strains, sinking deeper into the floor, hands falling to her knees. Nothing short of full surrender.

And it’s all over in a flash, before you can even register it.

Though in fact, you’ve seen it. You know it. There’s the warmth, the wet, the tightness of the seal that Kazuha makes around your cock, and the way she just fucking stays there, her mouth unmoving as you spill down the back of her throat. You try to catch yourself on the doorframe, and there are a thousand and one things you want to say to her - tell her, ask her, beg her, please, sweetheart, please, fuck, fuck, baby, I can't-

But you don't.

Instead, your teeth are grit and your jaw is tense and your hand is knotted into a fistful of her hair and you can hear yourself barely manage to get out each sinful consonant: “I'm cumming,” and then nothing else.

In the silence, you can see the lumps roll down the column of her throat, of her swallowing, and it doesn’t end. It doesn’t stop. Kazuha’s lips stayed locked around you, and she sucks, she swallows, and sucks and sucks. Like she doesn’t even know you’re reeling.

“Oh…” Sakura says, over a tiny laugh, the kind that’s dripping with mirth. She traces a line with her finger, from your jaw over your chest and down to your hip.

Realistically, the relatively innocent touch shouldn’t make you crazier than her hand gently wringing out your cock, or the way Kazuha’s chest rises and falls with a heavy, satisfied breath, or -

The look she has, staring up at you with her heavy-lidded, sated eyes:

It’s the sort of look that’ll be stitched into your thoughts and haunt your dreams for months.

(It’s the sort of look that leaves an impression, one that cuts deep and engraves:

Adoration. Arousal. Awe.)

Sakura starts to pull her fingers through Kazuha’s hair, smoothing down the parts that were mussed, and she leans down, planting a kiss at her temple. And then another. And another. She whispers something into her ear - a request, a command - something more, until Kazuha finally lets you slip from her mouth.

It’s a disaster.

There’s a translucent thread of spit hanging from her chin, and her tongue runs a semi-circle over her lower lip to collect the last bits of cum clinging to her skin. It should be criminal, how she looks up at you through those long eyelashes, a mess of black makeup and glassy eyes; how her cheeks are rosy, and her lips swollen and parted.

How she can smile through it all and still manage to look like this is what she was made to do. Like she can go a second round, like she could go several - you can practically hear her saying it: let me get your cock back in my mouth. I can do better. I can be better.

But she never gets the opportunity. You crack the veneer of that unearthly silence first.

"Sakura."

"Yeah?"

"I have a question," you say steadily, and Kazuha makes a wounded expression as you pull up the zipper on your pants.

"What's that?" Sakura asks.

“How close is that car?”

“Should we wait outside?” Kazuha starts to say, but it's a garbled mess. She’s still wiping her lips when Sakura reaches into her clutch and pulls out her phone. There's the saliva, the spit, the cum. You can't help but think you've ruined her voice. That it might not sound the same, even a week from now.

“Yeah.” Sakura brings her fingers to Kazuha's chin, tilts it up towards her, and then she kisses her. “We probably should.”

-

This is where it gets kind of complicated, because you know Sakura, know her better than most. 

She’d been enrolled in one of your elective courses way back when. Had been the kind of girl that immediately stood out, the kind that left a mark. You were likely the more studious one, by comparison. Grounded. Whereas she had her dreams, a dream of a life, a dream of the world - and the two of you just had this way of keeping each other level-headed. When you think back to it, and for as long as you can remember: it was one, the other, a constant pendulum, always swinging back. You know what keeps her steady, what makes her tick, and she knows you just as well.

Though about this thing you share, the thread between you, it’s not something you pretend to understand.

"Maybe we could define it," you suggested, once.

"No." That was her answer. "I don't know. We're just doing what we do, right? We're just having fun."

"Okay, sure," you said. "I get it. But you know how these things are. They’ve got a tendency to go belly up."

“Oh absolutely,” she remarked, casually, leading you to believe that she both understood the peril and was somehow totally unfussed by it - she probably always had the upper hand. See, she’s gorgeous, but also there’s just that pinch of cute in the mix that makes you believe she’d never hurt you. Makes you believe that she never could. 

And that was before it metastasized into where you’re at now: 

She’s got a toothbrush on your bathroom counter. There’s a pair of shoes too, at the front door. Shirts in your closet, a jacket of hers that’s managed to claim its own hook. She’ll throw her underwear into your wash while you’re measuring detergent and give you these gentle eyes that make all these silent demands, look the other way, please, just ignore me.

There’s the coffee already in the brewer, light roast, the one she likes. There’s her side of the bed, it’s neatly made. Always. She's neat like that. And it’s all a bit much, if you’re being honest.

Because, yeah, it's not exactly conventional. What the two of you are doing is this total, unmitigated disaster. 

So the fact that Sakura wanted to invite Kazuha out -

The fact that Kazuha actually showed up -

The fact that Sakura is now helping her out of her dress in the entryway of her apartment and is kissing her neck and her shoulders and telling her, sweetie, come on, let’s go, let's get you in the shower -

Yeah, this is the part that is sort of fucking complicated.

It's a lot, even for someone like you.

- So - of fucking course it backfires.

You’re hesitant to say I told you so, but Sakura can read the sentiment right off your face. You don’t need to say anything.

Though that’s a realization that only catches up with you once a week goes by and the progress you’ve made in regards to the whole Kazuha situation is categorically negative.

Because, here it is: her lipgloss on the rim of your water glass.

The lid of her moisturizer sitting on the kitchen counter.

According to Sakura, it’s not supposed to go like this, though a lot of people, if asked, would suggest you should probably not be playing with this girl’s heart in the first place, and then there’s the issue that yours is starting to look more and more precarious, like a house of cards. Forget it, they’d probably suggest - move on, be done with it. You haven’t thought so far, in days, hell, even hours, to decide that it might be good for you. You’re usually rather decisive. But, Kazuha? Yeah. Deciding to not think about her was never going to happen.

In the sense, anyway, when the surprise cold of a winter-in-spring day still has you wearing your sandals where there's a blizzard - memorable in how there are flecks of melting white everywhere, like frozen lace, and a sensation lingering at the tip of your fingers, numb and insensate, which -

Or maybe the same is true of frostbite - or, better, hollowness: how it lingers and persists, that faint sting.

"Kazuha." You sigh, closing a book shut. It falls onto the coffee table and slides to rest, and there’s more: her perfume bottle on the side table, the socks on the couch, her favorite shirt balled into the crease of the cushions, and the sweater that she’s apparently keeping draped over one of the kitchen chairs.

You think you’re starting to understand her perspective, if at least a little.

-

It’s only a handful of days later, when Sakura wakes up to a long, bumbling text from Kazuha. She’s still in bed, holding the edge of your comforter up over her breasts like you haven’t seen her naked a million times before, and she’s twisting her lips, tapping away at her phone screen. 

The text is long, you realize as Sakura’s reading it out to you. 

Its message is a bit disjointed but legible nonetheless, more or less asking, hey, can i come over?

-

Hand to god, this was never about the fucking. Well, not exactly.

The truth is you really did want to get to know Kazuha - in whatever ways, under any circumstances - in a less...messy setting.

Not just to get her off, or to hear her make sounds she never even knew she was capable of; to have the luxury of seeing how she lets a stray moan echo in the back of her throat when she tries not to get too carried away; how she bites at the raw cushion of her cheek when Sakura works a hand beneath her shorts - like she's always desperate to shut herself up, lest someone call her out on it - because, the whole point to this, it's never really been about the fucking.

But, never you - and certainly never Sakura - were going to be able to keep your hands off her.

It isn’t totally your fault either. It can’t be. Kazuha’s at your front door, and she’s wearing the smallest dress imaginable. The tiny little piece barely qualifies as a sundress, and she knows it. Some sort of pattern recognition - she’s putting two and two together - the type of bodice that clings tightly to the gentlest curve of her chest, the skirt hem that stops right at the tops of her thighs, and you think, fuck, she’s just too damn beautiful for her own good.

Then it’s the other thing: she’s so nervous that her hand is nearly trembling around the strap of the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. It's not your fault she's so pretty. So shy. So easy.

The moment she steps inside, you can see it in her face, that same neediness, the same hunger from yesterday, the day before, from last week - at the bar, when she was kneeling in front of your cock, looking at you like you’d just offered her the world.

(And in so many ways, you did.)

“An overnight bag?” Sakura sounds moderately amused. "Correct me if I’m wrong Kazuha, but I thought you said you just needed to drop by," she continues, not in any grandstanding manner - just factually, straightforward. "How long are you planning on staying?"

You watch her bite her lip, and you’re trying not to react, but there’s a noticeable twitch in your brow. You start by puzzling out the weight of the duffel bag as you help it off her shoulder. “Feels like a couple of nights."

Kazuha nods, sheepishly. “Yeah.”

And she should be ashamed, you think. She knows exactly what she's doing, probably wearing those little lace panties if you had to guess - or maybe nothing at all - the pair of black heels, and her hair is down and wavy, and her lips are full and painted pink, and she smells like the best kind of trouble, and if she isn’t trying to get fucked -

"I'm sure we can figure something out," you tell her.

She smiles at you, and there's that fluttery, flirty kind of a gesture, the kind of coy, coy shyness that could just make anyone's heart swell.

"Want to help me find a spot for this in the bedroom?" you ask.

She nods again, and the blush coloring her cheeks is this soft, subtle shade of crimson.

"Yeah," she breathes, "yes, please."

-

Let the record show, Sakura kisses her first.

You watch her hands thread into the silkiness of Kazuha's hair, the way they firm up and hold her steady, how she draws her body into her own. It's the kind of kiss you see in a movie, the one that should happen in a rainstorm, with an orchestra swelling, the camera panning, a fade-to-black. You're watching the way their lips meet, how she holds Kazuha close, the ease in her shoulders when she feels Sakura smile against her. How it all just seems to click.

It's the sort of thing where you could watch forever.

And, honestly, Sakura is gentle with her - maybe as an overcompensation, a correction for the fact that she’ll get her mouth between her legs later and make her scream - but here she is, tender, warm, touching her delicately like otherwise she might break. The same as she was in the backseat of the car, the first time, the same every time after that. But she doesn't let the opportunity slip through her fingers either. Kazuha's body ends up pressed back into the mattress, and the sound of her breathing is slightly haggard, just like the rise and fall of her chest, as Sakura's pulling up the hem of her dress.

“Hey,” Sakura starts, with a kiss at the corner of Kazuha’s mouth, and then the other. And then a few more, until Kazuha is blushing, smiling, and she asks her, "do you want this off?"

Kazuha sits up and leans into her, and they both laugh softly, because, god, Sakura is fumbling with the zipper on the back of her dress. She tells her to hold still, and gets it down in a second. It's just the slightest sound - a little shuffle, the swish of fabric pooling on the floor, and then Kazuha is in nothing but a set of lingerie, the heels that make her legs look so long you start to ache, and and with only a moment’s hesitation, the two of them are kissing again.

"Kazuha…" she says, "you know, I didn't take you for someone who owned lingerie. This is nice."

And it is.

There's the dainty fabric hugging Kazuha's body, the way her chest looks, the bra, the lace, how her nipples are just barely peeking through the thin material, and how she's just letting her fingers trail along the top of her panties, this tiny triangle of satin and lace.

"What," Kazuha says, "you don't think it's me?"

"It's very cute," Sakura agrees, running her thumb over Kazuha's lower lip, and as you settle in next to her, skirting touches first at her bare knee, tracing up to where her skin is softest on her thighs, she adds, “but you don’t need to dress up for him.”

"I don't mind," you murmur through busy lips - dragging kisses up her leg. "I think it’s hot."

"Then I suppose she should keep the shoes on," Sakura suggests and lifts her own shirt over her head, heaping it somewhere near the laundry bin. Her hands come up to her tits, holding them in place, and as she lets go - lets them bounce back into place - the smile she gives Kazuha’s is so, so soft. 

This genuine flash of affection.

You get lost in them both a little. For a minute. Two. The three you all tangled up, bodies folded into one, arms coiled over each other, lips crushed, until finally, there is a need.

Something frantic, burning, clawing. Something insurmountable.

Kissing and kissing.

And kissing - and kissing - and -

Then you’re kneeling at the side of the bed, between Kazuha’s legs, sucking at her hip. Her skin. Pressing your mouth to every place it can reach. Up and down her thighs - running hot over the stitches and marks and stains from where your lips have dragged, peppered, blotched and bruised. Where you will, more.

In the past week, this image has hardly left your mind, sticky and unmoving. Kazuha in your bed, on your sofa, in the bath, over the cool countertop of the kitchen island - wanting to be touched, wanting to be used - chasing every possible high - you had her begging to cum on your fingers, on your mouth, on your cock. In every possible way.

That probably should have been enough. 

But after Sakura strips down to nothing, wrestling her feet from her shorts, panties hanging loose from the edge of her ankle, she mounts Kazuha, straddling her waist, bringing her hips right atop hers - rolling them down, further, inching closer and closer -

It isn’t. Oh, it isn’t, it won’t be. It never would be.

“How many times are we going to make you cum,” Sakura wonders aloud, a single finger making a slow circle around the outline of Kazuha's bra. "Huh. Two?" She’s smirking now, you can hear it. "Three? I could probably convince him to go for four."

Sakura kisses hard into her neck, and it’s reflex that sends Kazuha spinning, coiling - closing her legs around you. Or at least she attempts to, but you get your hand slipped between her thighs first, and you’re leaning forward, leaning in, pressing these tantalizing kisses to the side of her knee, drawing your thumb under the arch of her foot. You can just see it, the dark blush she's starting to get between her legs: this lovely, sweet, rose-colored flush. Radiant with heat, with want, with need.

You could have your way with the two of them, you realize, take and take and take; they could put on a show, all for you. And it's not just about the pretty picture they make in bed together, Sakura and Kazuha, who are both the type to belong on covers of magazines, on billboards. Sakura's a deceptive panoply of curves, and Kazuha’s all toned muscle - her built-like-a-trackstar physique looking amazing above you, underneath you, on all fours -

But Sakura, well. There are those things that get her going.

You slide your thumb across her pussy, and you can hear the moment her breath catches, somewhere downstream of all those sweet nothings she’s saving for Kazuha, the kisses into her jaw, her neck, crashing fast against her lips. Those nothings, filthy and sweet, obscene and tender.

“Fuck, Kazuha, I didn’t realize how bad I needed this,” Sakura is saying, telling her. Promising. Her hand is brushing through her hair, making sure she doesn’t flinch away, and god, they’re so close. Sakura’s toned stomach at the dip of Kazuha’s ribcage, laid flat - the way Sakura’s breasts press into Kazuha’s chest has them spilling out ever so slightly at the sides, and Kazuha has her hands all over the ridges of Sakura’s back, dug tight into her shoulders. 

“He���s going to fuck us again. Until we can’t take it anymore,” she adds, almost reverent, and you are, you will, your fingers catch the elastic of Kazuha’s panties, drag them to the crease of her thigh and -

It’s fucking perfect, how they’re both so impossibly wet. 

Sakura turns back to give you one last look. She tends to be bossy, she likes to feel like she’s in control, and maybe that’s why she can’t get over how Kazuha melts beneath her, but it’s not enough. She’s snapping at you, “I need you to eat me out. Right now.”

You arch an eyebrow, acting surprised. “Right now?”

“Right now,” she repeats, shifting her hips pointedly.

“This very second?” You’re teasing, you’re a little irritating when you want to be, you’re well, you’re a lot of things, but you’re also working at the button of your pants, rubbing a thumb over the fabric of your underwear where it’s stiffening, tightening, all at the sight of these two in front of you.

“I swear to god,” she practically growls at you, the sound catching in her throat.

“So demanding.” You laugh. You have to. And your breath fans right over the folds of her pussy. She hates that. She loves that.

“If you don’t start now-”

But the thought never finishes.

Because you're leaning forward, and your hands are gripping tight, pulling you into her, and -

Fuck, it's not fair, she tastes fucking fantastic. With your mouth at Sakura’s pussy, licking past her heat, she spreads her knees just a little further apart. 

Then there’s your hand, ghosting across where Kazuha needs you most, and you let the pad of your index finger roll, circle, drag and drift everywhere else. She shudders, gasping into Sakura’s mouth; you lick up, tongue through the perfect squeeze of Sakura’s lips - perniciously lapping, licking - and she’s returning to Kazuha the very same.

It's indulgent. Not that you hadn’t known it would be.

But Sakura - god, she grinds her hips down, down, down, against you, against Kazuha, and you can just hear the pair of them kissing. It’s messy, hard, hungry. There’s wet sounds, sloppy ones, and tongues, lips, teeth - Kazuha is moaning, Sakura is sighing - fuck, you could settle in here, like this, for days.

Because here’s the first truth: you’re an expert at eating Sakura out. Possibly the best.

You’re not being boastful here, it's just a fact. You know how she tastes, how to get her off - and Kazuha learns this firsthand.

And just like that, the best part about it is, when you flick your tongue flat against Sakura's clit, when she breaks her kiss enough to spit out some curse or another, Kazuha can feel it.

When you push two fingers into Kazuha - deep into her - curl them, massage, crook, tug -

Well, Kazuha can feel that too. Made certain by the way she croons into Sakura, how she holds on tight, grips hard. How Sakura does the same, rolls her hips - there’s so much to digest, just in how Kazuha breathes out your name, and by the way Sakura sighs, by the way she chokes back these whiny, winded moans. You’re afraid to miss any of it. Any single second.

And so it goes like this: your tongue working Sakura over; Kazuha writhing on your fingers; her hips shifting, squirming; Sakura rocking herself back onto your face, onto Kazuha’s cunt, onto the sharp edge of her hips - all while you’re sucking and kissing and licking - until you have one dripping down your chin. The other ruining the sheets.

Until you have Sakura practically unraveled, frayed and falling apart, that thread nearly unwound from its spool, messy and inarticulate.

Until you have Kazuha whimpering, and Sakura’s voice hushed into a whisper, speaking these words you can barely make out: 

“You’re doing perfect, Kazuha, baby, keeping your legs open for him, for me, for us-” 

It’s just the right amount of praise, of adoration, all of it cracking, splintering, breaking apart - Kazuha laboriously tries to kiss her quiet, breathing her in - and when you use the hand that isn’t mercilessly fucking two, three fingers into Kazuha’s little cunt to grab at that perfectly-sculpted ass, Sakura starts to lose it. She falls apart.

Loudly. 

“Oh god,” she sputters, again, and again, and again. Because you grab more. A handful. Your entire fist. Spreading Sakura open so that your tongue can reach further, licking in, in, in.  It starts at her thighs, a tremble, this quaking - Kazuha not far behind her: swallowing these desperate, useless sounds, gulping down air like it’s in short supply.

The room is filled, flooded, drowning, with just their voices, the pair of them moaning nearly in tandem. With the sound of your fingers fluttering, blurring, making the wettest mess between Kazuha’s legs.

Until -

Sakura cums first. And she cums hard. 

It crashes over her like the kind of thing you read about in a magazine: a flash, a spark, an explosion. It rolls up through her spine, over her ribs. You can hear her try to catch her breath and come up short, Kazuha drinking every ounce of it. How she collapses, folding - Sakura resting her face in the crook of Kazuha’s shoulder; your tongue doesn’t stop. 

Sakura doesn't ask it to, she can’t. And you keep on, keep going, making her cum and cum and cum. There’s something so satisfying about it, so inexplicably filthy - you, with Sakura’s cum all over your mouth, and Kazuha, this hot, wet flustering tangle of limbs. When you finally rise to your feet, you can tell she’s so near her own finish that the tension in her muscles is winding up, running hot over the skin of her neck. She looks so good getting fucked like this.

"Fuck," Kazuha's sighing, panting. "I can't, I need-"

Her hands are everywhere: up in her hair, down her neck, gripping the sheets, fisting at the bedspread. If it wasn’t for how Sakura had crumpled into a heap on top of her, mewling softly into her shoulder, she’d be rubbing fast circles at her own clit. 

"You want my cock," you ask her - well it’s not really all that much of question, but the look on her face tells you, yes, yes, fuck, yes.

You say it to her, and Sakura says it too, with a kiss at the side of her jaw. So good, look at you - she’s murmuring, not even coherent - so fucking good.

“Here, Kazuha, just hold on for me,” you tell her, stepping out of your shorts, and, to be honest, you’ve never seen anything so desperate. So ragged and needy. It inspires the worst kind of half-truths, these wicked assurances that slip from your lips as your palm drags the length of your cock. I’ll be good, I’ll go slow, I’ll go easy, I’ll do anything for you - oh, she’s putty in your hands, and she’s not going to fuss over the technicalities; how you’re hooking under her thighs and sliding her forward on the mattress, settling her into that angle that’ll let you absolutely ruin her cunt. 

You could tease her - you have, and you would, in a second - but the fucking noise you earn out of her when draw the shape of your cock over her wet lips is like music: a broken moan, the kind you could bottle up, save forever, the kind that has you thinking aloud, “what a good little slut, Kazuha, fuck, aren’t you just perfect. I’m going to fuck your pussy now, okay?” 

And you mean it, when you say it, when you push your hips forward, when you watch her take it. There’s the head of your cock, the way her pristine little pussy seems to open - to suck you in.

“I need - you need to fuck me.” She's barely able to say your name, begging - please, need it, hurry - it’s like Kazuha’s ticking off, minutes to midnight, gasping out: "please, please, please."

You slip inside her. Even when you’ve come to expect it, you’re still left next to speechless, because, fuck - how she can stretch. 

It’s hot, it’s heaven, it’s hopeless, and as you sink further, bottoming out, there’s all this heat - the wetness - she had to have been just made just for you. Which is wild, you think, considering you’ve done nothing to deserve it, but her gorgeous little cunt is right there, quivering, hugging every inch of you while she throws her arms around Sakura’s neck. 

You start to pull back, and then, thrust, once, twice. Just to let her know, to feel how tight she is. 

“Shh,” Sakura’s soothing her and kissing her to silence as Kazuha holds on so, so tightly. You watch the pointed ends of Kazuha’s acrylics, faux set of french nails, dig deeper into Sakura’s shoulder blades, the fine edges of bones, the muscles and the tendons - it’s all so visceral, and so quickly - her eyes screw shut, and she’s biting the inside of her cheek so hard you can see the indent. Only letting it go when you snap your hips back into her, deeper, faster - (There's something almost instinctual about it, in all the most upsetting ways.

So, here’s your new angle: it’s not usually like you, or it shouldn’t be. With you fucking fast into her sopping cunt and making her sob with it, like you need her at the furthest point, you want it the tightest possible, when she has her ankles hooked together around your waist, until she’s crying and cock-addled, all fucked-out and satisfied - with a load of cum buried so deep in her, she’ll be thinking about it for weeks.)

Sakura lets the kiss go with a loud smack. And when she turns those brilliant eyes over her shoulder, she's got that dreamy, lop-sided kind of smile of a girl who'd just been sent to the moon and seen stars.

 "Okay, look," she chides, voice uneven, but entirely the usual sound. Her arm reaches back until her fingers splay out across your hip. “You’re going to break her in half, you know, if you fuck her like that-”

"No," Kazuha whispers. Or rather, chokes. "Harder," she’s urging you, wanting you, needing you. "Please. Don't stop."

Your pace has gone reckless, rough, relentless, but this isn’t even all on you. She’s shaking. The building, the crescendo, you’d already taken the time, with two fingers, taken more with three, slowly winding her clockwork tight, tighter, tightest - like she hasn't quite yet realized: you might never stop fucking her.

There aren’t words really, and there haven't been, it's nothing but nonsense. Guttural moans, high whines, your hips fuck into her and you’re choking off an expletive here, another there. But still, she’s an open book, and you’re reading every page. You know each of those transient thoughts in her head, every single word, even if she fails to give a voice to any of them.

Cumming - Kazuha’s trying to mouth out, the silent shape of each syllable falling off her lip - I’m going to fucking cum. And you see - 

she is,

so fucked.

It just hits her: suddenly, impossibly fast, rolling her in like a tide.

Sakura is there to hold her down as she washes up. She gives her succor, she tells her not to worry, whispering this gentle hush, hush, shh - pressing a kiss to the side of her cheek as your cock dives deep and makes an audible mess of her pussy. Makes a mess of the blankets, the bedding, and you think, if she’ll be here all weekend, you’ll be in and out of the laundry, load after load. 

“I’d be willing to bet you'd take anything he gave you,” Sakura says. She’s laughing, recovered mostly, and somewhere in the doting affection and tenderness is the indistinct bite of a sneer. “Wouldn't you, you little, little fucktoy. Look how good your cunt stretches for him, for his big cock. You’re just so easy, aren’t you? Oh, Kazu, you are just so - so good for us."

Kazuha’s gasping in incoherence. "I can't - oh god, I can't - please, please-"

In the moments before, it's like every toned muscle, every taut nerve in her body had braced against one another. She takes your cock like the perfect little thing she is, and then - the twinge, the twist, the fucking release - it’s too much. She can barely make a noise out of that pretty mouth of hers, wrenched open in delighted agony, but her body is screaming. 

Here you could spill into her in a fucking heartbeat, so it feels almost wrong when you pull yourself from her cunt, teetering there instead. 

“Kazuha,” you say, slapping your cockhead against her sore clit, and it’s so sensitive that it makes her keen. “Do you think you can take it, if I fuck your cunt a few more times. Is that what you need? This pretty thing full of cum?"

It’s cute, her commitment to the bit - the bashful, the blushing, the biting into the edge of her hand. You can’t help but find the kind of innocence in direct contradiction to the sight of her: legs thrown wide, cunt absolutely fucked raw and dripping, painted in the glow of an orgasm that ripped her voice to shreds.

“Nope. Sorry sweetheart. Too slow.” Sakura’s lifting herself, shifting her hips, and she quickly has a hand reaching back to your cock. Her slender fingers encircling your shaft. Holding it, stroking it.

Like it needs any help.

"Do you have even the slightest idea?" she continues, talking out both sides of her mouth - this time at you. “How fucked you both are? I don’t think she’s going to let you off the hook until she’s got your cum inside her.” Kazuha whimpers into her hand, merely at the thought. “It’s a little cruel I imagine, to keep her waiting too long, but trust me: when we’re finished, I’m going to ride your cock - not going to stop until you fucking cum again, and then maybe, Kazuha should too.”

Probably by virtue of proximity and time, you know Sakura could go on like that forever, and it's true: when the moment is right, she's going to take what she wants, going to slide herself onto your cock like it’s hers. Right after you let Kazuha sit on your face - letting her rub herself off, however she likes it - then maybe even have her mouth. Your cock between her lips, watching those pouty things flush hard all over again.

The throuple, the three of you, this plurality you’re still not entirely sure you’re used to - not so sure you should be getting used to - there's time you figure, for Kazuha. There has to be. And Sakura again after.

But in terms of the here and now, you’ve got a set fingerprints burning into Sakura’s impossibly narrow waist, a fist around your cock, brushing Kazuha’s slick right into the wet between her lips - just a matter of alignment - and - and -

“I don’t think you should be drawing this out.” A course correction. Sakura slides lower, hips up higher, proffering, and she’s drawing back at the soft, supple skin across her thigh, letting you take her all in. Her face is flush against Kazuha’s, combing a finger through her hair, telling both of you, “our little girl looks like she can’t wait another second.”

"Hm," you're starting to say. “I suppose you’re right.” The least you could do was add the one-two of another suggestion, but then your cock is lined up perfectly with the tight muscle of her ass, and, well.

It’s like you said, you know Sakura.

There’s a sharp draw of air sucked in through her teeth as you get her started. And fuck, she’s tight, so delectably tight - with each bit, the barest touch of your tip at her rim at first, before your hand finds leverage in the curve of her back, easing her onto your cock like she’s some obscene piece of artwork. 

Even then, getting slowly fucked open, she has the capacity for these thinly veiled barbs: 

“This, Kazuha, like this - that’s the way you deserve to get fucked. Your perfect little cunt, your ass-”

You should probably be familiar with it, about how she is always, always plotting, always scheming - in control of things that should be well beyond her grasp - this is all on her own.

So as your cock stretches, inches, spreads her out - it isn't at your mercy. Though not quite at hers, either.

“Oh, fuck,” You have to steady a breath, because it feels better on you, you think, it must. Because Sakura has you squeezing past the ring, and oh, you can only imagine how it feels on her, taking it inch by inch. How full Kazuha would feel. God, imagine what you could do with a girl like her, it would ruin her. Ruin her in the best way. 

“Sakura,” Kazuha says, faintly.

You can hear Sakura biting down on nothing when she answers, “Kazu, yeah.”

“Is he… are you...”

Her sentence never really finishes. Kazuha’s holding onto Sakura with both hands, one under her jaw, another in her hair. Her eyes are trailing along, studying the serene lines of her face, how they wobble ever-so-slightly when you pull your hips back and sink into Sakura’s ass again. And again. Until you can tell your cock is starting to settle, to hit this particular angle, that perfect sort of spot - that makes her body start to grow soft, shiver, and spill over.

Sakura tries to shake the hair out from in front of her face, and you get to watch Kazuha. Watch as she delicately brushes it back behind her ears, and they lean in. They kiss. And it's nothing like before.

“Words, sweetie,” Sakura tells her, hot against her lips, “say what you want to say.” Kazuha bites at her lip, and when Sakura draws her into another kiss - an open-mouthed one, a long, lingering one - their tongues push together, meet together, dance together, the words leaving her throat with hardly any sound at all: 

“I want, him, I want - to be fucked, I want him - I want…”

Sakura interrupts her, and in the exact same lilting cadence, that same smug tone, she says, “you want him to fuck your ass, Kazuha, right baby?” Kazuha starts to blush profuse - bright pink up the sides of her neck and in her chest, this roseate smolder seared into her cheeks. Some part of you is disappointed she can’t see the whole picture, because for you, it’s all in frame: you spread a hand across the full round of Sakura's ass, squeezing as you pull out, sliding it along to press your thumb into the base of her spine as you push yourself inside her again. “Come on, of course you do,” she goads, the obvious edge in her voice looking for a reaction. And she can have an audible one from you, because Sakura looks like an absolute dream, the outline of her back flexing, muscles moving like machinery under her skin. Her legs strain against the mattress as she starts to fuck back. Taking control of it, of you, of her. You know her game, you’ll play along.

Your gaze flickers, first to Kazuha, back to where your cock is fucking Sakura open. Until it vanishes in between those two faultless curves. Buried to its base. Until the rhythm gets there. Until it takes you. There are certain things that, at this stage, are just inevitable - this momentum, or call it the weight of desire - and suddenly, Sakura’s fingers wind tightly around one of your wrists, guiding you, trying to show you: deeper is good, harder, more, rough, rougher - trying to tell you to wrap her up and fuck her - truly fuck her. “With this beautiful fucking cock?” Sakura is saying, somehow unrushed and harried at the same time, in her half-there, half-catching-her-breath kind of way. “Oh Kazuha, you just want to be an awful mess - an utter fucked-out mess. Under him and on him and filled; tell me it isn’t that you want your perfect asshole getting fucked raw and hard by his big thick dick-” As she sinks down onto your length, leaning backwards - which, god, she's probably fucking gaping - you bring an open palm down hard onto the taut, creamy skin of her bare ass, and she yelps. “Maybe we should just show her.” You pull Sakura's little frame up into you so you can say it right into the shell of her ear, and your thumb smooths a line from the bony edge of her hip, up to her navel, with your fingers splayed out over the concave flatness of her tummy. “It would be so much easier, for all of us.”

She squirms into your shoulder, agitated, but with another snap of your hips into her slick, puckered hole - with a satin-like kiss onto her lips - she bends to you, surrenders to you. She has to. Kazuha can’t look away. Pushing her fingers into her cunt. She’s watching you fuck Sakura and hold her tight. Watching closely how you’re going to take her apart. The way it all comes down, the beginning of the end, it starts with a kiss. Another.

A series of them, quick. Crushing your mouth onto hers. Sakura hums this meek sound into your mouth the moment your hands are up on her perfect tits, cupping them, squeezing, kneading, listening to her pitchy little whines when you roll your fingers around her nipples. 

Kazuha. Sakura.

Circling fingers, mussed up hair.

Folded knees, rippling skin.

There's no shortage of imagery for either one.

Lewdness, vulgarity, the truly depraved - the dark places the brain goes, the deepest recesses: the buried fantasies. You are fucking her harder and harder and faster and faster and - god, Sakura loves it, she wants it, her tiny body clinging to you - pulling you back every time your cock threatens to drag free from the confines of her tight ass - pulling you back every time your mouth leaves a spot, a smear, an unbearable, unendurable mark into the line of her shoulder. “Please, you need, it's, god, it's just, you feel so perfect,” is what you’re shaking out of her, broken, breathy. 

The screws of the bed are just about wailing with it, her chest is in full motion, the picture perfect arch of her neck is red, pink, raw. And how her skin glows, you have no idea, but her eyelids are fluttering open, closed. Open, closed - all the while using the hand that isn’t pinned behind her back to tease at her swollen little clit. “Oh,” you say, grinning, “what happened to using my fucking cock for exactly what I'm made for, hmm?”

"Don't - don’t get all funny," she huffs at you, face too stricken with your cock throbbing in her asshole to scowl. Then her body relaxes, and it seems to work. That, and the quick circles she's rubbing over her cunt, the one soaking down onto Kazuha’s legs, into the mattress, the sheets, everything. You fuck her harder. She rolls her shoulders back. And somewhere beneath, lost in the fold of the sheets, the pooling sweat, there's something so unguarded - this sick little voice in the back of your thoughts, thinking - mine, mine, mine, mine - and it’s so incredibly territorial. It doesn’t get any quieter when you look down either; Kazuha’s eyes, heavy and hazy. They have to be. She has two fingers sunk inside her. And they look like they're doing the work for you, because it's like she's been waiting for ages, ever since you sank the length of your cock into Sakura's ass. She hasn't stopped rubbing figure-eights and circles over her cunt. She hasn’t stopped, and you don’t think she ever will. “Cum, please, I want you to cum,” Sakura is frantic at you, breathless, a little miserable, and you think you could, with your own hand and just from the way Kazuha is moaning and panting and getting herself off. "Just, fuck, get that cock in her, cum, fuck, don't-"

You could lose your mind here, and it's what they’d both want.

(That is, until Kazuha calls out: fuck me, please fuck me.)

Which makes you aware. Reminds you: not even yet - you’re fucking Sakura so hard, so fast, you’re ready to burst -

“Fuck,” you spit, with your cock sliding out of Sakura’s ass and watching her recoil. 

Actually, it’s almost too late. You’re almost too slow on the draw. And for a few seconds, all you have are your senses: there’s the wet, failing noise, your skin is fevering hot as liquid fire, and the smell, blossoming saccharine sweet, turgent like gasoline.

Actually, you can’t keep your eyes open, not for a moment. You’re cumming everywhere.

On the inside of Sakura’s thigh, into the bedding, and when you get your cock into your fist and point it at Kazuha’s cunt, you spill a puddle of cum right onto her puffy, reddened lips - pumping, jerking - there’s more on the flawless plane of her stomach, hot white streaks across her body like you’re debasing a masterwork, a canvas beholden to the perfected female form. Now tarnished, and sloppy and slutty -

But, you’re fucked. You’re spent. Kazuha sees the pale in your face. You can read the wordless worry there, but what she does with it is obscene.

Just the tips of two fingers, and she traces a line down from her chest, picks a lazy path through the splatter on her skin to rub it into her pretty, soaked pussy. You watch as she pushes it all in, like it could be - where it’s supposed to be - all filthy, the fucking definition.

There’s a listless groan, and a shake of Sakura’s head. She’s running her hand over her brow, through her messy fringe and flipping it away. “Jesus, Kazuha, gross, if you want it inside - put his cock in there, seriously. Go sit on it, ride him till he can't help himself.”

(Always the smooth-talker, Sakura.)

"Wait, wait," Kazuha says, scuffing her feet against the comforter, knocking her head back as far as her shoulders will let her. "I’m close," you're barely able to catch the words, paper-thin and shivering, "just need..."

Sakura shimmies off of Kazuha and lands on her feet, gait looking kind of silly.

“Oh, Kazuha,” she says, with the kind of dejected little sigh that you’re used to hearing when you say something disappointing or objectionable and Sakura has to set it right.

She shoves you off with a gentle push from her fingertips and moves until the two of them are reshaping themselves into this soft, cozy pile. By the time they finish, she's got her fingers hooked around Kazuha's thighs and her face buried between her legs.

“There, there,” Sakura’s whispering as she laps and circles her tongue around Kazuha’s cunt, the needy tragedy of a shape that it’s in. She makes a long lick up and through the glisten between her legs before pushing her finger in, just a knuckle, curling - then two. You feel it. You’re half-hard and aching, maybe ready to go. You feel those familiar phantoms of rising pressure, in your thighs, your hips, your chest. The familiarity of how Sakura soothes her into it, inches closer to her, you never knew it looked like this.

“Fuck, Sakura, you-” Kazuha’s eyes are widening and the bones of her neck are straining, her lips parted into a perfect, pleading little bow. The duvet spills through her fingers as she searches blindly for somewhere, anywhere - she needs, and needs, and needs - needs to stay, to find an anchor, to come up for air -

She is gasping. It’s fucked: the friction, the fever-dream.

Because Sakura has her nose on her clit, mouth fucking her fast and senseless, precise, eager to please, and the way her fingers flutter in and out of her cunt looks nothing short of amazing.

It looks even better when her orgasm hits, or when it vanishes, as the case may be, because for her none of it manages to last that long; there's just this crazy moment where Kazuha goes white all over - it starts in her face, spreading across her torso, and her back snaps forward in a cresting wave before she falls. Flat and alluring and inviting.

It makes Sakura almost laugh, right into her skin. “That’s our good girl.” Kazuha is laying there, fucked-out, sodden in her own slick, destroyed. She has a hand over her face, one between her legs, feeling over her skin and what it's turned into now. Her beautiful, blemishless skin, just…smeared with you. Smothered. 

It's impossible. How could anybody function at even half their normal rate when it all just ends up here?

“Okay, alright.” Sakura crawls back on her hands, peering back. Her chin glistens and she kisses the taste off of her lips before sucking a couple fingers into her mouth to clean up. Then she lifts her arm, looking at you with a steely expression, and points to the chair in the corner of the room. 

Her smile kicks back up into the corner of her mouth, elastic, and she just says, “A promise is a promise, yeah?”

(Of course. Of course she does.)

-

It’s hours later, when a foot sharply jabbed into your rib wakes you in the middle of the night.

You have the wherewithal to take inventory, to tally it up: Sakura, Kazuha sprawled out across the sheets, the night sky flashing and splintering into iridescent sparks of darkness outside the bay window - rainfall now slowly pelting across its pane.

At the sound of a snore - a novel one, one that must be Kazuha’s - Sakura turns and drapes the sheets up to her waist. She’s half-asleep. The softness in her eyes obscured by the short, drowsy blinks of her lashes.

“What time is it?” she asks, trying to will herself back to sleep.

You tell her: “Don’t matter.”

-

The "full disclosure" here isn't of a whole lot of use. Not really. But it's all there, at least, this surface-level pretense of an explanation. 

It’s late August, a summer ago, and you can still picture the unbothered look on Sakura’s face when she brings it up.

“So, like,” Sakura starts to say. She’s inspecting a pair of stilettos, weighing them carefully in one hand. They would look lovely on her and the price tag isn’t anywhere near enough to dissuade her. “What’s your take on Kazuha?”

“Um.” You’re there, beside her, shuffling out the way so a mother and her squalling child can pass. “Is that a name I’m supposed to recognize?”

There are several people in line behind you and not a single one of them are pleased, judging from what you can infer from the grumblings in their pockets and the anger bristling amongst their expressionless faces.

You could ask: please be patient with us, it has been a long few months - I can tell by how Sakura has this irritated look in her eye and hasn't called me by my pet name since we woke up from a midday nap, or how she's barely said anything other than oh and yeah or umm or sure since. That said, there have been bigger, larger-scale concerns, so forgive us, please, we love each other, or something like that.

Instead, you lean against a wall, by a clothing boutique display full of eye-searingly-bright polo shirts, and pull out your phone.

“Seriously?” Sakura asks. “You’ve met her like, twenty times.”

You don’t look up from the screen. "Well, when you give me some kind of clue, I'll see what I can do."

This gets a tight-lipped frown. She leans in on her toes, whispering it into your ear: "The one I said is a little crazy about you."

“Ah.” It clicks. Kazuha, that one. “She was the one with Chaewon the other night right? Dark hair, yea-high? At the gala - helping Minju look for her boyfriend. Did you ever hear about where they found him? By one of the bathrooms on the second floor, with an arm around Eunbi and-”

Sakura creases an eyebrow.

(And what a glare, really. It makes her face look like the backdrop of a brick wall in some mediocre, early-2000s film noir.)

“Another quarter in the gossip jar.”

“Oh, but asking me some loaded question about a girl I hardly know is let-me-guess: perfectly kosher.”

“Loaded?” Sakura huffs, tugging at her sleeve. She pauses, though, her expression almost flounders because she can never truly ever explain why the rules don’t apply to her. “Is that the word?”

“My answer,” you tell her, “is unchanged. She’s sweet and nice and a sort of, conventionally attractive.”

"Really; nothing about her does it for you?"

A loaded question gets a loaded answer, so: “No, not particularly.”

"And what happens if the question becomes less 'what do you think' and more 'I want her to rail me,'" she says, somewhat chilly. “You know, as a hypothetical.”

She wants you to look up at that, and well you are, because you realize it now. “Oh my god. Sakura, you still haven’t told her about us.”

Sakura just makes a face, of a type of: puzzled and concerned quality, and it’s kind of cute actually. She’s perfected the look.

Although, really, she shouldn’t have to explain anything - why you sleep over some times, stay the whole night. Or several. Nothing has to be answered after. It’s you, Sakura, and it always has been. But it’s a problem. Each morning, Kazuha’s eyes get a little sadder, and that kernel of shame inside Sakura grows ever larger.

“Sakura,” you insist.

“I know, I know, I know.” She bites her lip, thinking, and hums under her breath. “Lying about it obviously isn’t helping, but being straight with her sounds…” Sakura’s expression dips. “You know she just has that - that disposition, those never-been-hurt-once kind of eyes. Disappointing her is like choking out the little mermaid with a bike chain.”

“You could set her up.”

“Trust me: Chaewon and I have tried.”

“And it doesn’t take."

Sakura shrugs. “She gets nervous easily, or something. Didn’t get enough attention from boys while in ballet school I suppose - and then here you come along and smile at her like you don’t know what it does to people. Which, careless by the way.”

“Well, it explains the legs.”

Sakura scoffs. “Conventionally attractive, huh, seems like you’ve cast a wide net.”

It earns her this pinched look, your mouth set in a tight line, and Sakura smiles - all smug-like. By this time, she’s narrowed it down, a pair of shoes in each hand, and she holds them out to you, sighing.

"Which ones."

You point at the heels Sakura has in her left: a sleek pair of green pumps with a thin gold buckle across the ankle strap.

"Hmm. Kazuha likes the color green, by the way. A lot."

"That's nice. I'm a fan of neutrals."

Sakura clicks her tongue. “You really don't have anything to say about her."

"Nothing comes to mind." You hold a tote bag out in front of you, waiting for her to plop the shoes in. "Although, she's tall - taller than you - hey, with the heels maybe you could finally kiss her."

“Ha, funny,” she says, and then, pursing her lips, you see the lightbulb go off: Sakura is struck with an idea.

You don’t go out of your way to hate her ideas. She has so many of them. It’s just that they have this tendency to be pretty damn awful.

“Can I, politely decline?” you ask, once Sakura finishes whispering into your ear, and sinks back to the soles of her feet.

Sakura blinks, innocently. (She can be so obnoxious when she wants to be.)

"No, I'm serious," you tell her. Sakura can't expect that you're actually down for this - the setup, the miscommunication, the endless drama, all that messy work, and for what, your girlfriend-in-eveything-but-name-only's peace of mind? "Declining. Politely. Please."

"C'mon, hear me out. It'll be fun."

You tip your head, onto some more dismissive angle or another, but Sakura takes it to be a whole different type of signal: that you're actually warming up to the idea.

(You're not.)

"Fun," you repeat.

“Well,” she says, cracking a grin. And that’s when you know - that her mind is set, immovable - like she’s laid the foundation, poured the concrete and is now standing in it, knee deep, spitefully triumphant. "It sure as shit ain’t going to be boring."

-

It was supposed to be like dominos, falling sequentially, until at last, the final one is knocked down and all three of you can move on with your lives.

This is how things tend to work out: Sakura, a bit of a schemer, and you - well, you a bit of something else.

-

It’s begun raining biblically by the time the three of you’ve gotten dressed, eaten and had something that even remotely resembles a functional, human interaction.

It’s over a cup of tea and a modest stack of papers - Sakura's sitting at the dining room table with her knees tucked into her chest and has taken to typing something on her laptop. It’s a whole thing, she refuses to write by hand like you. And Kazuha feels it’s within reason to start playing twenty questions. Starting simple, mundane: how did the two of you even meet? How have you not told me this story? How did it become, whatever the fuck this is?

Sakura rolls her eyes, thinking, please, how juvenile, and opens her mouth to explain, then pauses, unsure. She thinks it through - the simplest iteration, the most plausible interpretation, or at least something that makes the two of you seem a little less unhinged - but when those gears grind to a halt, Sakura's teeth click together and the words fail to make any headway at all.

You lean forward in the quiet, and end up telling Kazuha the usual story, how it kind of went down, telling her that neither of you "are looking for any sort of commitment."

(That's, by the way, exactly the turn of phrase Sakura once told you when she explained she didn't want a "monogamous, committed relationship," once upon a time, in fact - just a wayward daydream - a hazy, silly memory.)

Kazuha laughs, softly. "Cool." She does a bit of nodding, biting into a slice of toast, the crunch singular and resolute. She seems to understand.

Then she cocks her head, a frown shadowing in on one side of her mouth. "Okay, um, you're not...doing that with anybody else though right?"

"Doing what?" Sakura asks, seeming kind of amused.

"Dating - fooling around, that kinda stuff."

You let go of the ballpoint pen in your hand and take a deep breath.

"Kazu," Sakura says, clamshelling her laptop emphatically. “We are not going to (1) have a threesome with anybody we’re not absolutely candid about and then (2) fucking lie about it after.”

“Cool.” Kazuha bobs her head again. “Cool, cool, cool.”

-

So actually, maybe it’s not a total disaster, you think. It’s all with a bit of luck, and a whole lot of foolishness, but it’s however those sayings tend to go. You can’t take life too seriously, or you’ll never make it out alive.

-

Here's what tips you off: Sakura is deep into a game of Bloons on her phone when you cum on Kazuha's face.

Well - after your load spits a long stripe onto her tongue - and once the heady taste of it makes her recoil on instinct, but then she sinks a little further onto her knees and settles, with her mouth open wide, and her tongue out like she’s being baptized. She simply lets the rest of it happen. And let’s be perfectly clear, she wants it to.

She’s jerking you with her fingers, smearing it all over her. On her cheek, her forehead, across the bridge of her nose, the luscious swell of her pink lips; every gorgeous and perverse spot and stain becomes something Kazuha has earned.

Sakura’s laying totally horizontal on the couch and has yet to lift a single one of her eyes from the screen, humming approvingly, "is she letting you jizz on her face?"

You look up at Sakura's even expression, catching how she's peeking from beneath heavy eyelids, with two thumbs swirling over the face of her phone.

"Guess she is," you reply, turning a smirk into your shoulder, rolling a thumb along Kazuha's temple as a viscous glob of cum dribbles over the edge of her brow and into her lashes. "Fucking filthy little cumslut."

Kazuha lets your cock slip out from her lips. Manages still, a pretty little smile.

It’s not just that she likes it when you degrade her a little, which, honestly, you wouldn’t have ever pegged, but Kazuha likes being made to wear her sin so that it never leaves her alone. Here she is, now realizing that dirty, divine truth: getting called names, used and treated like a cumrag. 

Now, she can’t get enough.

The grip you’d woven into Kazuha’s dark silky hair to fuck your cock into her lips is the same you use to rein her in, walking her from the unassuming doorway where she’d gotten herself down on her knees for you and reached her fingers into the waist of your pants - over toward the couch where Sakura’s lounging in the world's smallest pair of shorts and a tank top.

Sakura’s still going on about this level she can’t figure out when you bend Kazuha over the arm of the sofa. “It’s this fucking chimps stage,” she says, blowing her bangs out of the way. “It’s the only intermediate one I haven’t full cleared-”

Kazuha gasps - and the sound comes out near reverent - when you pull her underwear down her thighs and slip your cock into her cunt.

Fuck, she feels incredible. You’ve claimed two greedy handfuls of her ass, watching her head drop between her shoulders as she steadies the air that rattles out of her, and you just keep sliding into her - deeper and deeper until your cock is fucking her apart, spreading her open, so very full.

“Have you tried, not spamming plantations?” you ask Sakura, the syllables slowing, making room for the rough cadence of your breathing, as you drive your hips in. “Since they, you know, don’t actually pop anything.”

“Hey.” Sakura’s lip quivers like it’s about to pout, but never does. “It’s rude to backseat.”

You’re fucking Kazuha slow, but you’re also tilting your hips down, going for the deep, sharp angle that you’ve found she likes - the kind of stroke that get’ll her sobbing if you really lean into it. You don’t miss the soft moans that drift out of her either, or the way her pussy throbs and grasps and swallows every inch of you.

“And see, that’s a common misconception,” Sakura continues to drawl, squinting up at the screen, “this game isn’t actually about popping the bloons. It’s about making as much money as humanly-”

She looks up. Sees, finally. 

You press your hips right down to the curve of Kazuha's ass and bottom out inside her. Confirming what you already knew: the way it feels to fuck this needy, insatiable, incomparable body. Sopping wet. So hot, too. So tight, snug around your cock. It's unlike anything, and seeing Kazuha like this, folded over and racked with a shudder - when it all comes down to it, it's just that simple.

It's this fucking little pussy. That fucking curve of her ass, peerless in nearly every conceivable way. It urges you to move, irresistible. To push past that tight, snug grip and pound her relentlessly.

However she wants it.

“You look pretty today, Kazuha,” Sakura tells her as she leans forward, nonchalantly and holding back a smirk, and she starts to inspect the damages: the red that taints her ears, the blush creeping in, the face you're drawing a few curls of her hair aside for Sakura to stare at.

There is, of course, the more obvious - the most obvious - all the cum still painted onto her pretty face. You find beneath your fingertips that it’s sticky all over her cheeks, the kind of sticky that is quickly drying, almost tacky.

"I always look pretty," Kazuha gathers the composure to say back at her, like her arms aren’t trembling with the effort to hold up her lithe frame.

Sakura laughs, the sound coming like a plucked chord.

And it is true, that beneath a few splatters and streaks of your cum, Kazuha looks pretty, is pretty. She's pretty because of what she is, with what she was born with, born without - and if she's sinking her teeth into her lip, covered in cum, biting down on this moan, the next, the one that shivers through her whole body when your hips snap reckless into hers, that is more proof of her flawless disposition. That is something special one could be lucky to witness: her panting and squeaking and pressing her palms into the leather beneath her so you can slam the cock inside her to its very hilt - then fucking her, razing her like a blaze, spreading her apart until she's writhing and clawing at the sofa with every strike of your cock to that sweet, spot within her.

"You just look so particularly, um," Sakura does a bit of tilting her chin, thinking, "fucked."

Kazuha smiles despite herself. Maybe there was this vision of her before - prim, polite - demure, reserved; with the role now filled out, it couldn’t have fit less.

Sakura lets her phone fall between the cushions, and leans forward, dragging her thumb along Kazuha’s jaw - smearing more of you into her skin - dipping it just barely into her mouth so that Kazuha can suck on the tip.

“So,” Sakura starts, tipping Kazuha’s chin up on a fingertip and studying how each motion urges forward a tiny, punched-out breath. “Are you two planning on doing anything else today besides fucking each other senseless?”

It’s a hard sell. Not with your hands on her narrow, wrought little waist, and certainly not when her cunt keeps rippling around you, pulsating, spilling over - dripping like she can't take it any longer. Kazuha's a bit out of sorts, has been for more than a few moments, but this one, especially. With the stilted way she's saying, "could, we go again, if, ah," then sucking a hard breath, "if, we," and "if you think," and "please, please, please."

“Just to be clear,” Sakura runs her tongue between her lips before her gaze tracks up to meet yours. “This is on you; she wasn’t like this.”

“What, you mean cumdrunk?”

Sakura runs her hand through Kazuha’s hair “Something like that.”

All the while, she is sliding one of her hands under the cotton of Kazuha's shirt, bringing another one up the sensitive expanse of her leg, thumb stroking just inches from where your cock is gliding in out of Kazuha’s aching cunt. You almost find it a shame that Sakura's never in any rush to actually fuck Kazuha, taking her apart piece by piece first, not allowing for an ounce of hurry.

Not to mention the effect she has on her - something intense, something almost electric - and there are sparks, when she leans in and silences Kazuha’s moan with a soft kiss, somewhere between their lips, as Kazuha melts -

And dissolves -

And opens her mouth -

Your hand finds the jut of Kazuha's hips, squeezing gently, using her body to pull her into you. Pumping, thrusting. Then back and in, again, and again. Kazuha goes a little boneless; this soft, quivering mess. There's one final teary squeak - and she just, takes it.

"God," you whisper out, in an almost perplexed admiration; her cunt looks so good like that. Taken. Fucked. In use.

It’s like some wild and wonderful thing - the absolute fucking wreck she is now - her bottom lip sticking out, Kazuha sighing, "m-more."

Sakura peers over her, eyes sharp, head held high. “Better not keep her waiting.”

As it were. It all goes on and on and on.

-

So,

Here’s what people usually fail to consider about “fucking each other senseless” when they’re discussing definitive day plans:

In general, it goes off the rails - like when your hand closes around the column of Kazuha's throat and the bathroom is abruptly fogged in sex-infused haze as you're fucking your cock between her legs. The tip nudging just past the smooth of her folds, slipping along the ridges and curves of her thighs, or when it all builds up to something else and the head of your cock is a sloppy mess against the little dip of her asshole and you fuck her there, too.

Sometimes, it gets very silly. When Sakura pouts at you and pulls your fingers from Kazuha's cunt to have her lick at them and there's an instant jolt that hits at the look in her eye - dilated and black, smirking, hungry. 

Then, maybe Sakura slips a hand down Kazuha's pants, gives her a little, "good girl, huh? Little fuckin' cumslut. And you can do it with your mouth full, too, hmm?"

She’ll do this thing so practiced, you’d think she’d done it a thousand times. She’ll slow the roll of her hips down on your cock, for a rare respiteful second, and press a sharp bite to the shell of Kazuha's ear. You get that gleam off her canines when Kazuha lets the words drop, mumbling with Sakura's fingers on her jaw and yours buried three knuckles-deep inside her mouth. "Yes ma’am, yes I can."

And there's when things get very serious. Maybe, in particular, a time, a moment -

(Let's call this moment one of many, but just to use it as something of an example.)

-a phone, going off and ringing, ringing, ringing.

You haven't seen the numbers - you're kind of too busy with your cock in Kazuha's cunt and her riding the edge, circling her hips on the line of your thigh, rolling into it and soaking your skin. Until she freezes, going rigid.

(Yeah,

No shit, she's the one getting Yunjin on the other line. A few days out of town, she has this text - call ASAP. ASAP means: she is now in this awkward spot, of pulling her own soaked underwear off of your wrist, trying to compose herself, not moan or writhe. You're trying to act natural, as Kazuha hastily arranges you both - nudging you onto the bed, letting Sakura wrench your shirt off from behind.)

By the time Kazuha's listening to Yunjin retell some story - no, yeah, she went out and got a new car. Then this funny thing, so she came across the scrapyard, and this other thing - did you know it costs a dollar fifty? She's got a shovel in the back, still can't believe it! - your hand is closed around your cock, trying to, gently, in vain, get some sort of handle on it.

But everything else happens way too fast: Sakura's foot falls across the meat of your inner thigh, and her expression is all, please. Don't you want to put me in my place? Please, for her - it'd mean so much to, just to, ride that massive, fat fucking cock-

Fuck, she's a bad influence, your best friend. Your lover, in all senses.

Anyways - your tongue in her mouth -

Your arm around her waist -

Kazuha gets it figured out. Yunjin's good to talk for a couple of minutes, and while your head is thrown back on a pillow, hearing Kazuha work out all this small talk about her shiny new volkswagen, your brain is somewhere between exploding, overstimulation, overload - Sakura's mouth, her tits, her pussy - whatever, wherever - just, fuck, she's -

You're just…fucking her. Truly fucking her. She's grinding, rolling her clit, making these choked noises. She’s not as flexible as Kazuha, who’d let you turn her into a pretzel or force her into the splits and pound away until there’s a load leaking from her pussy - until there’s several - but there’s something else about Sakura’s tight, grasping cunt, how you it quivers and milks you, a soft, soft silk that wants to tug at you, consume you -

Kazuha’s on the phone, wrapping up, telling Yunjin, “okay, I love you, bye, I love you, yes, okay, I love you, bye, I’ll talk to you later, soon, I love you. Yes, I’ll get to it. First thing tomorrow.”

Sakura’s on a sort of different thread, leaning into you and telling you to put a hot load into her cunt, your pretty girl, please - her mouth toying with the soft lobe of your ear, working in the angle of her hips on top of you and dragging her cunt against all the right parts of your cock in tandem, then asking: "is this little pussy gonna get filled up like hers? Make a mess and ruin me?"

And, there’s you -

Going fast, faster - you want more of her, she wants more of you - her tiny frame shaking with need, your hips slamming into hers and pushing her up the mattress and making a fucking mess of her perfect cunt. Your fingers are clasped over her mouth. Hers are probably clasped around your very soul, because you think:

This girl.

This girl -

Fuck, it isn’t complicated at all.

-

(As it is most years, the full bloom lasts about a week. There’s a cherry tree outside the window, one, three floors down from your apartment; its flowers are in their final days. A warm breeze whispers a cascade of petals to the earth below, and from this distance, they look almost dream-like, like snow falling soft.

You lie to yourself: maybe, if it could stay just like that, maybe forever.)

-

For weeks, Kazuha comes and goes. More of her belongings enter than ever leave the apartment - shoes, laundry, hair ties, the occasional purse or two. Her books take up the most space, overflowing to the point where the stack is spilling off the kitchen table.

It all serves to solidify the unspoken agreement among the three of you, that this isn’t going away any time soon.

At present, she’s currently in a moment of going. 

You and Sakura watch from the fire escape as her figure on the street below climbs into a cab and heads off in a vaguely-western direction.

With your backside to the railing and your elbows looped over the iron bars, the cigarette smoldering between your fingertips curls up a single smoky tendril. Beside you, Sakura has her sunglasses shielding her eyes from an early-evening summer sun. Her lips, just the subtlest pink shade of coral - pink, rose - start to pick up the colors of fleeting daylight. You watch her focus flit between you and the horizon, unreadable, inscrutable and turn back on the asphalt.

There's this wind that fills out her skirt and reveals a sliver of her thighs, a space in time where her legs aren’t painted red and her hair looks a bit lighter.

Sakura points the fronts of her sneakers down as though to really study the pavement below. "What's with that face?"

"No face," you say.

"Yes face," Sakura insists, tipping her head.

A strand of her bangs swings along the line of her cheekbone to where she tucks it, delicate, behind her ear. And then:

"Y'know."

You tap off a line of ash. "Do I?"

She rolls her eyes and replies, simply, "us."

-

Some mornings, there's coffee.

Some evenings, another show gets binged, or a movie.

Some nights are always reserved for bed, a three-person scrum at the very center and warm bodies laced over one another.

This one - tonight - is always the hardest to predict.

There was no denying the thud. There were no stifling the sounds - the cries and pleas, the streams of  no, please don't stop, which you think must’ve been coming from Kazuha. There were other voices too, fainter - they slipped right out your head, unabashed.

Another came from behind, Sakura moaning out a hoarse "there you go baby, just like that. Take that little cunt of hers." And on, on and on: Kazuha whimpering and mewling out an obscene pitch - fucked over and out, full and satisfied.

With that, you can't even tell which is better. Looking down, the lovely sight of your cock filling Kazuha's pussy - spreading her wide open for you - so indecent, and hot, and, really, there's that fantasy that she has that can play out on repeat. Laid out on a mattress and used, exactly as she's always wanted to be. Fucked, again, again, again - full of cum.

Only somewhere along the way it all slows down. To the basics, the essentials.

See, there’s a place by the tidal river that you and Sakura like to go, sometimes, just to take a break. It’s a clearing in the trees that by mid-summer will be swarming with bugs, but is for now, mostly okay. And if you’re going to get tangled up in origin stories, this is probably the best place to start:

"What about that one?" Kazuha asks, pointing up at another ambiguous point on the vast dark canvas overhead. Her head is in your lap, and she's tearing up the grass with her other hand.

Sakura squints. "Hmm. Let's see. That one over there is Gemini, I think." She moves her finger, dragging Kazuha's gaze across the heavens. "That star cluster right there. I call it The Bee. But if you want the real name, you can call it Messier 35. The French got to that one first, I guess."

Kazuha seems to ignore her, the brief aside, to stare, to dream.

“Sakura, hey,” she says in a half-whisper, its sound trailing into the dull drone of cicadas, the croaking cadence of bullfrogs, like a will o’ wisp into the night sky. “Where’d you learn all this stuff?”

“She didn’t,” you tell her. “She makes it up as she goes along.” 

Kazuha twists around to level her with this pout, half-crooked, almost grinning. Sakura just shrugs, blameless. There’s grass falling off her sweatshirt and speckling her knees. Her ponytail is crooked, her smile bright and beaming and contagious - you find it a wonder how you ever manage anyway.

“What about that one, you think?” she asks Kazuha, gesturing vaguely to a cluster of three bright flecks, glistening against the gradient, and Kazuha’s head tilts to follow Sakura’s index finger.

(And it’s totally worth pointing out the sort of cosmic irony here being that if any of you knew a lick about anything, you could say oh that? That’s Orion’s belt, binding together the great hunter himself - to his quiver, and to the bowstring, his pride, and to his most prized possession: his arrow, gleaming, eternally shining in the midnight glow of faraway planets and twinkling, blinking stars.

None of you are astronomers after all. Not you. Sakura, maybe, if you ask Kazuha. But for the time being, you'd never know.)

“Dunno,” Kazuha says, "but it must mean something."

You and Sakura share a long breath.

The three of you staring up into the infinite blue.

[thefiery-phoenix]

MY SLEEPING BEAUTY PART 2 (YANDERE PETER PARKER X READER)

Part 1

You woke up the next day feeling really fresh and energetic and you couldn't help but feel that during the night most of the times, something would hold you. But you had no idea that it was your friendly neighborhood spiderman Peter Parker who would hold you and fantasize about both of your lives together

Speaking of Peter Parker, he already started planning to kidnap you so he can have you all for himself. Finally all the days where he protected you and watched over you from the shadows were gone, you can be right in front of him where he'll always love you and smother you with his love. He knows it might take lot of time for you to adjust and get used to your new surroundings and life with him but it's for your own good darling! He's just trying to protect you from all the dangers in the world, and he as an Avenger and as Spiderman knows how dangerous and bad the world is for a pure kind innocent angel like yourself. He decided to take you the next night in your sleep so he won't get caught of kidnapping someone in broad daylight 

You couldn't help but get an uneasy feeling as the day passed while you were in school. You were really close friends with Peter and you told him about how you felt and how something warm was on your bed the other night and you actually had a good night's sleep for once. Oh yes, Peter DOES know about that and it's a good thing he held you in his protective arms and embrace otherwise you wouldn't go to sleep and you would've stayed up watching shows on Netflix and anime and reading fanfiction and whatnot. And Peter couldn't have that, what sort of boyfriend would he be if the love of his life couldn't go to sleep and gets tired the next day? He told you that he'd make sure nothing happens to you and you didn't think too much about his words. You thought he said them as a kind concerned friend but in reality, boi here is literally freaking obsessed with you 

You finally finished your day at school and went home and Peter followed you secretly without knowing. He kept an eye on you 'for your safety of course' and watched you through your window. He was mesmerized by whatever you did, everything you did drove him crazy. He loved the way you danced and hummed to the tunes of your favorite songs but he felt upset and wanted to hold you and comfort you again when you whined and grumbled in frustration while doing something difficult for homework. 'It won't be too long my love, I'll give you the life you deserve' he thought and watched you for some more time. Your mother called you for dinner later and you went down. While you were having your dinner Peter took the chance to look at your room in a more detailed manner and he loved the way you organized eveything so perfectly. He made a mental note to design a same room like this one when he takes you and he collected some little souvenirs for himself

When he heard you come back he quickly leaped out of the window. You saw the window open and you thought 'Strange... I thought it was closed. Meh, I probably left it open again or something' and you closed it. As you were getting ready for bed Peter got ready to take you for himself. It was now or never. He slowly snuck into your room after he changed into his Spiderman suit and picked you up carefully and gently bridal style. He brushed a few strands off from your face, gently kissed your lips and pulled back red faced and unable to believe he finally had you for himself. He'd finally take you to your new home where you don't have to get worried about school anymore. He was finally going to give you the life you deserved, of love and affection

[miaitzia]

My review on episode 5 + some comparisons with manga and ln1.

It's mainly about Souheki because if i don't talk about them every chance i get i will explode.

Start of the episode ,i love the idea of using the sound the Ramune bottle and marble to attract Atsushi's n audiences' attention.It's a shame that they didn't animate Kunikida's soft smile when Ranpo was being even more rude in the manga.

annnnnnd ofc he's gonna focus on the marble and leave Atsushi sitting there awkwardly. Ranpo autism moment.

Atsushi thought Ranpo can't do anything without an ability is funny.Atsushi sweetie that's some wild assumption for a guy you just met a few days ago.He really just saw Ranpo can't take the train and assumed the worst lol.

this scene is always interesting to me because this is the only time we saw Ranpo paying respect to the dead like this.Now i have a few guesses of the reason.

1.a simple one is that maybe he did this all the time,after all we only saw him solve crimes with real bodies like two times.in perfect crime arc they were on rush.

2.Ranpo actually said "oh it's a lady",so yeah maybe he only did that to certain people

3.it's the start of the series so eveything is still uncertain

I don't have anything to add here,i think we could all agree dazai being there wasn't a coincident.

Another thing i mourn not making into Anime is that Ranpo saying even Dazai is an enigma to him in manga.it adds more layer in their relationship.tbh it's a bit boring if Ranpo always knows what Dazai is up to.

Now it's cute seeing Dazai defending Ranpo like that because i dont think minoura would actually hit him or something,maybe Dazai just wants to stop the bickering.

I love Ranpo's motto "All's well that's well for me" because it just like him.It seem self-center at first, but if you know him a little better, you'll know it actually means as long as he's fine he can make sure everyone else is fine.It's not just the meaning,this is how everyone's impression of him at first vs when they get to know him.

this part annoyed me the most cause Dazai looks so fond in the manga ,but he looks passive and serious in anime.LIKE WTF WAS THAT???DAZAI NEVER LOOKED AT RANPO LIKE THAT>>this leads to my biggest complaint of this episode⬇

//spoil for light novel 1

it has been talked many times how messed up the azure messenger arc aka light novel 1 adaption is.But I want to add it was so poor that it has already affects this episode.In the manga, Dazai didn't explain how he knows Ranpo didn't have an ability to Atsushi.The explanation here is actually straight up pull up from ln1 what he told Kunikida after he first met Ranpo.BUT because Bones don't wanna properly adapt the novel, they have to stiffly add it here.So that's why Dazai seemed serious when testing Ranpo,they want to add the impression this is the first time he discover it.

Do you want to know another fucked up thing about this scene is?They phased it like Dazai never work with Ranpo , that they're unfamiliar with each other.But in reality, Dazai has saw Ranpo's "ability"the very first time they met.They have worked together so well that they received their own name "Souheki".Dazai admires Ranpo so much that he constantly compliment him.

End the post of my favorite shot of this episode<3 Look at my son having the best time in his life🤩🤩🤩good for him good for him.

[postwarlevi]

Happy Christmas/Merry Birthday III

Content: 2.3k words. A second sequel (part I, part II) of dad Levi's birthday and Christmas in one.

A/n: Why do I rush each of these out?! I hope you love it and the idea for Levi's present!

It's warm and cozy in the house. Outside there are piles of newly fallen snow overnight.

You yawn as you wake up and stretch, opening your eyes with a smile. It's the best sleep you've gotten in nights.

"Morning." You hear the mumble of your husband who has been awake waiting for you. He reaches over to hold you in his arm.

"Morning Levi. Merry Birthday." You snuggle into his chest for a few minutes.

In your mind you know you should be up and out of bed already. It's daylight and your little ones must be ready for you.

"Eveything is fine." Levi tells you, knowing your thoughts.

Your ten year old daughter is up, it is Christmas morning after all. She's watching her six month old baby brother in his swingset while having some oatmeal, after helping her father feed the baby.

"Did you sleep okay?" You ask, kissing Levi's cheek and stroking his arm, taking his word for it that all is well.

"I did, love." He leans in to kiss your forehead. He came back to bed just a few minutes before.

Yesterday, an old injury of Levi's acted up quite a bit. He limped around some before you got him into a warm bath.

He felt bad about not being able to help around the house much, and on Christmas eve, but you told him not to worry. He always takes good care of you and your children, you are happy to be there when he needs you.

Plus your daughter is a big help. She adores her baby brother as much as you do and would do anything to assist, especially when she knows her father isn't feeling well.

It put a big smile on her face earlier in the day when she saw he was feeling better today.

"Come on, let's go see our babies." You finally say after a bit of cuddling time.

You and Levi get up and put on our robes and go out to the living room.

Your daughter who just finished her oatmeal comes over to hug you. "Happy Christmas mama."

"Happy Christmas my sweet girl." You kiss her head and hug her.

"Merry birthday daddy." She goes over to hug Levi again and they sit on the couch together as you go see your bright eyed baby boy.

"Hello my little prince!" You light up at seeing him and he makes happy babbling noises at you.

Picking him up you join your family on the couch.

You bounce the baby on your knee while your daughter plays peek-a-boo with him. Levi smiles at the sight and reaches out to stroke your hair.

"I'm so happy you're feeling better." You tell him.

"Thanks to you I am. Thank you." He gives you an adoring look reserved just for you.

You've gotten used to what to do to help him through when his leg pains start in again. Of course you all wish it wouldn't happen, but it's more bearable for him with you there.

After some sweet silent looks pass between you, you turn to your daughter.

"Sorry I'm a bit late today. What do you want to do this morning?"

"Uncle Jean and Connie are coming over to take me sledding later! Can we bake some cookies for them?" She asks, looking between you and Levi.

"Well of course! Come on!" You grin and stand up with the baby.

Levi pulls his swing into the kitchen, a safe distance from any appliances, and you put him back in so you can keep an eye on him while you bake.

Last night the boys called to see if it would be okay to come over. A few hours in the early afternoon wouldn't interrupt family time, and they themselves are considered your extended family.

You'd already started exchanging a few presents Christmas eve, and would finish the rest in the evening, while also dedicating some of the day to Levi for his birthday.

You put on your "world's best cook" apron you unwrapped last night while Levi puts on a chefs hat, both presents from your daughter. She giggles and claps at seeing you wear the things.

"Daddy, it's your birthday, what type of cookies should we make?" She asks him, pulling out pans and spatulas.

"Hmm, those almond cookies we made recently were pretty good." He knows everyone likes those.

"Yes! And we have all the ingredients." You smile and together begin baking.

Soon you're all humming along to holiday music on the radio and laughing. Somehow the baby sleeps through most of it, once in a while giggling along with you.

With everyone helping you're able to make a second type of cookie, and you insist on an apple pie recipe that you found in an old magazine you got at a thrift store.

You see Levi's eyes light up. Apples are his favorite fruit.

"It is your birthday after all." You give him a kiss as you pass by to get more ingredients.

Levi stands back a moment, taking in the scene of his wife and little girl dancing around the kitchen, with his sleeping baby boy being rocked by the swing set in the corner. Somehow he's still the luckiest man alive.

"Daddy! We need another bowl!" Your daughter calls to him, snapping him back with a blind.

"Yes my little reindeer, coming right up." He is glad the pains of yesterday are gone and he is able to participate in the fun.

Just as the new cookies are coming out of the oven there's a knock on the door.

"Yay!" Your daughter tears off the oven mitts and heads to the door.

"Ouch!" Levi grabs a hot apple cookie for himself before anyone else can get to it, burning his fingers slightly, tossing it back and fourth from hand to hand.

"See who it is first!" You yell out to your daughter. "Levi!" You turn to him next, getting a plate for him.

"Sorry. Thanks." He says a little sheepishly.

Your baby boy is up now making a fuss from the commotion.

Levi washes his hands and picks him up while you finish laying out the goodies on the counter, smirking at your husband as he uses his free hand to pop the apple cookie into his mouth.

You go into the living room to find three new faces.

Jean and Connie are laying out presents they brought for everyone as Sasha is hugging your daughter.

"You've grown!" She says to her.

The trio then turn to greet you.

"Hey all." You smile at them, thanking them for the gifts, and let them know before they head out there's cookies in the kitchen.

"Awesome!" Connie cheers and goes over to greet Levi and the baby before going to get some goods.

Jean does the same, but Sasha comes over to tickle the baby a little bit, making him giggle. She has been a great babysitter since your daughter was little.

"Go get some before those bums eat them all" Levi tells her, knowing she really wants some sweets.

She doesn't need to be asked twice and now you're all back in the kitchen eating cookies.

"These are delicious!"

"Thanks for sharing!"

The younger trio may cause a ruckus at times, but really are a big help when you need a bit.

"Come on princess, ready to go sledding?" Jean asks your daughter who lights up.

"Go on, we'll put your brother to bed first then be out." Levi tells her, and she and the guys head out.

"Can I help?" Sasha asks you. She has lots of little siblings and will babysit for you again soon.

"Sure." You thank her and head up to put your little boy down for a nap. Making sure he's comfy you take the baby monitor and go out into the front yard.

You find the instant camera that you got for Christmas last year and take photos of all the fun.

There's sledding and snowman building and a small snowball fight leaving everyone laughing.

"Thanks for coming over guys. What else do you have planned?" You ask as you head back inside after a while.

"We have a few other places to go. But of course we had to stop here!" Sasha says happily.

Before they go everyone asks to see the baby again and you wake him from his nap. He's slept enough that he's not too fussy and is content being passed around for a few minutes.

You open up the gifts from them, both your children getting more spoiled, and a couple things included for you and Levi.

"Here, for you." You give each of them a little something too, and a couple cookies for the road.

You say your goodbyes soon after and are back down to just the members of the household and make something for lunch and put on a movie while eating. You let Levi pick.

"How about we watch a home movie?" He suggests, and you and your daughter think that's a very good idea.

You spend the rest of the afternoon cuddled on the couch, watching scenes of your and Levi's wedding, some of your daughters birthdays, and a trip to a national park.

In between you put your son back down for another quick nap to stay on schedule and finish the rest of the gift giving before dinner.

"Oh! The slippers I wanted!" You laugh at the furry cushioned slippers in bright yellow.

"It was the only color in your size." Levi says, kissing your cheek.

"I love them." You hug him as your daughter opens up a new puzzle.

A few more rounds reveal books for everyone and some homemade accessories your daughter made at school.

One last present has Levi's name on it.

"For your birthday." As is custom, he gets the last gift of the night.

"I don't know what else I could need or that you could give me." He says, taking the thin box.

You turn to him and your daughter sits at his feet.

"It couldn't possibly be…" He trails off, and you laugh and shake your head.

"No, no more upcoming children. That was last years present." Not to say there wouldn't be another one in the future.

Levi unwraps it and looks at it a moment.

"It's not quite as personal as a few others, but it's… well, I hope you like it." You look at your daughter who is grinning. She knows her daddy will love it.

"It's a… comic book." He realizes this but can't seem to grasp it.

The hero, is him. Somehow you have put an animated Levi on the cover of a comic book.

He flips through the pages, that have him having his own superhero identity, fighting crime, saving the day, and coming home to his family. You. You're all in this book. Even your son. Every detail down to Levi's missing fingers from his accident years earlier.

"It's our way of saying, you're our hero. Everyday, sweetheart." You say, brushing his hair back as he quietly flips through it all.

"You're a superhero dad!" You daughter says, laying her head on his knee.

"I'm… I'm your…" He's speechless. It almost would seem like a silly gift, that you would give a teenage boy, not a husband and father of two with an injury that acts up sometimes.

"Thank you." He says quietly, sounding a little emotional.

Levi loves it. He loves that you're all in it. That he can save the day, come to the rescue, and live out his days with his family.

"The suit's a little corny." He jokes, making you and your daughter laugh and hug him.

He puts the book down and hugs you back.

"I'll, I'll need an updated one in a few years." He tells you, voice a little shaky. One for when the kids are a little older.

This is how you really view him. Even though you tell him, for some reason, this finally makes it sink in. He's your hero.

You settle back in and look over the book together. It warms all your hearts. Especially the parts that you're all together.

You don't realize the time until you hear your son babbling on the baby monitor.

You put all the gifts aside and stand up. Hugging Levi you kiss his cheek. "Merry birthday, my love." You head up to get your son.

Your daughter leans on her fathers arm as they walk into the kitchen.

"You really like it, daddy?" She asks him.

"I do. I really do." He kisses her head.

"Daddy, I was thinking. I know right now isn't a good time, cause a baby is a lot of work…" She trails off with her thought.

"They are. What are you thinking of?" Levi asks her.

"Next year, maybe if we both ask, mama will let us have a dog." She looks up at him.

He chuckles and looks down at her.

Yes, babies are a lot of work, so now isn't the right time. His daughter is a smart one. She also has very good ideas.

"That could be something I could get behind." They share a knowing smile, just as you come into the kitchen.

"Ready to eat, my loves?" You ask with your son on your hip, feeling like maybe you missed something, but adoring the moments Levi gets to share with your daughter.

"Yes, let's eat!" They both exclaim, helping around the kitchen.

The plan for next year is put out of their minds. There is a lot of time for that. Tonight, you are all a happy family, another successful Christmas day and birthday. With many more to come.

[tpwkwriter]

hiii so i have a request! Could you do one like still in harry's 1d days. So like y/n is louis sister and she has been friends with the band since the beginning and harry has been in love with her since he first laid eyes on her and all that. But he never told her because she always had a bf but those bfs would never treat her right like always ignoring her and flirting with other girls so harry kept this like journal where he wrote how in love he is with y/n and how he would treat her right, how he know everything about her all the little things and how no one could love her as much as he does. So then one day like during prince hair harry her and harry are sharing a hotel room with seperate beds (ofc haha, but because they have always been best friends) and y/n finds this journal and like reads all the things he has written and then she goes to him and is like "well, if i didnt know any better i would say mr styles has a crush on me" and he gets all nervous and says that it isnt just a crush and he is in love and that and then he asks "will you be my girlfriend. I cant' go another day of not kissing you, hugging you, touching you I cant stand you not being mine" and y/n finds it very sweet but she is very insecure and kind of rejects him in a nice way because she feel they will critisise her because they expect harry to be w a model and gorgeous girl and harry is tells her how beautiful she is and how he feel in love the moment they met and how it didnt matter what the world thought because no one can love her like he can and he know eveything about her so he asks again "will you let me be your boyfriend" and she finally agrees and then he holds her close and protectively and then y/n starts tearing up and says sorry because she was being silly and he says "dont be. Its not silly, baby. I'll be her to wipe every tear and to comfort you. Your heart is safe here, you are safe with me, my love" and then how they spend the first night together because well they share a hotel room and then the morning after harry saying how happy he is and how he has always dreamed about it and then they meet with the boys and tell em the news and they are all very happy and are like "about time" and yeah hope you understand it thank you again so much it would be great i feel its so cute! <3

Does he know?

OMGOMG THANK YOU FOR THISS!! the detail you put in and the image it painted in my head AHHH❤️

I’m so sorry this has taken so long!! I really wanted this to be perfect!! 🌷 but thank you for your patience It means the world x

Warnings: jealousy, mentions of toxic relationships, cussing, smutty themes if you squint, pent up emotions.

— — — — — — —

— early 2013 —

Harry’s fingers held a ballpoint pen between his fingers, the lined paper sat empty on the table adjacent to him.

There new album ‘midnight memories’ was due mid November of this year, he loved his job but these deadlines took the piss.

‘Fuck’ he whispered to himself, he didn’t realise the clock had gone over midnight.

The shared tourbus was at a halt for the night the rest of the four boys remained in there bunk and no one heard a peep from them through the rest of the night.

“Y’alright H?” Y/n said Peeling the curtain that separated the bunks to the lounging area of the bus, and pulling it back behind her.

“Sorry y/n, did i wake you?” He quietly asked, dropping his pen instantly.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t have a crush on y/n, she was also the youngest of the Tomlinson family so her and Harry grew up together at the same time and age, hitting each milestone and big birthdays together.

“No, no not at all” she waved, sitting on the sofa next to his.

“What y’doing awake still?” She asked, taking a sip of her water.

“Tryna get song ideas, getting absolutely nowhere” he said, crossing his arms back and leaning back on the cushions.

“What are you doing awake? He smirked.

“Can’t sleep, excited for tomorrow” she smiles.

“Haven’t seen you all on stage for a while” she added.

They sat and spoke for awhile, what y/n was oblivious of is how many ideas he was racking up watching her.

She reached her arm out to grab her water bottle, her wrist was exposed from her hoodie sleeve for a second, what Harry didn’t expect was to see an inky drawing.

“Is that a tattoo?” He asked.

“Oh this?” She askers pulling her hoodie up her arm.

“Yeah, me and Louis got matching a few days ago, a random spontaneous idea that popped into our heads” she laughed repressing the day her and her older brother got matching ‘28’ tats.

“It’s funny because ben, hasn’t even noticed it, and it’s like our 4th month together” y/n mentioned, a slight frown forming on her face.

Harry’s heart teared a tiny bit, she was still with this ‘Ben’ it was clear none of the boys got on with him, he wasn’t the bestest of boyfriend.

“Really?” He asked, eyes widening.

“Mmhmm, don’t know what to do about this whole Situation-ship thing”

“Well, do you love him?” He asked, fiddling with the hem of his band tee.

“I can’t say I do Harry” she sighed, “but there’s a part of me that feels bad” she added.

“Don’t feel bad, if it’s not meant to be, s’not meant to be”

All y/n wanted to do was scream out her attraction to him, something clicked in, the soft and gentle words he spoke, the way he still looked good at 1am after a busy day, the way he made a band tee look like piece of designer. Y/n wasn’t sure what happened.

Y/n soon enough found herself back in her bunk, trying to push down her sudden butterflies, hoping it’s just a 1am sleepy thought, the last thing she wants is to thirst over her brothers best friend.

When y/n and Harry exchanged there goodnights, he instantly got back to his paper.

‘Does he know’ he whispered.

‘Does he know’ he repeated.

‘Your secret tattoos?” He asked himself.

He instantly jotted these phrases to himself.

Harry tried to think to himself of the little things you do.

Maybe you could be his muse this time around?

—

It was 8:45am the next day the bus was off again at 5pm so for now they could relax.

Y/n believed she was alone on the bus, she thought the boys were out doing the coffee run, she thought wrong.

“But she doesn’t know who I am, and she doesn’t give a damn about me” she sang whole continuing to organise her suitcase on her bunk.

As the beats of ‘teenage dirtbag’ continue, she moves her body to beat and sing.

“Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baaby” she sung.

“Y/n you may be a Tomlinson doesn’t mean you can sing like one though” he interrupted, almost kicking the tourbus door open and walking over to her bunk with her Starbucks in hand.

“Heeeey, I’m a lovely singer, it should be me selling out O2” she said with pride.

“She got you there tommo” Niall piped in walking in.

“See” she giggled.

“Thank you for this lou” she dragged taking a sip of her iced coffee.

“No problemo, me and and the lads are heading to the studio in a bit y’ can come if you want?” Louis offered sitting on his bunk opposite to y/n’s.

“Yeah will do” she answered.

At this point all boys were back on the bus enjoying some quality time together, but all Harry could think of was the remaining lyrics.

‘The songs that you sing when your all alone?’ He thought to himself, that’s a keeper.

——beginning of where we are 2014——

In past year y/n and Harry had become closer than ever, it’s was a night at the MSG, the boys opted on a hotel instead of the bus, to Louis’ dismay y/n and Harry were up for sharing a hotel.

“Neither of you better be doing anything” Louis called the opposite of the hotel door.

“Fuck sake lou, you can come in” she laughed, laying her head back on the hotel bed frame.

The door clicks open to see a wet head louis, who was still clad in his joggers and ‘the who’ tee.

“You nearly ready Harry!” He called, pulling his phone out and glancing the time.

“Yeah man” he said emerging from the bathroom.

“Have fun tonight guys” she called out as they both met each other at the door. “I’ll be sure to watch some shitty livestream of you all prancing about on stage” she laughed.

“Thanks love” Louis said rolling his eyes.

“See you y/n don’t get too lonely without us” Harry smirked flashing her a wink while adjusting his head scarf which kept his unruly curls at bay.

“Bye boys” she called as they slowly walked off and headed to the arena.

They had been gone about an hour and y/n knew they wouldn’t be back till maybe after midnight.

She decided to set down and get ready to stay in her bed and have a relaxed night.

When unpacking her bags and digging to find her favourite pyjamas she was sure she packed. A large ‘thump’ was heard the other side of the room.

“Shit” she jumped.

A relieved smile, when it was something falling out of Harry’s suitcase.

She turned her head and spotted a brown, leather notebook that was lying on the carpet by his bags.

Once y/n had picked out her pjs for the evening, she walked over to the bed she picked out in the hotel room.

She placed them down by her pillows and was about to reach out for her phone by the charging port until something about this note book, caught her eye, ‘one and only’ was scribed into the leather with black ink.

She knows she shouldn’t, she knows that not hers, that’s Harry’s, that’s his property not y/n’s but there was something pulling her in a feeling she couldn’t push down.

A shaky breath left her mouth as her fingers reached out towards the book in front of her.

She peeled back the smooth cover:

23rd of February 2013

Ben doesn’t know how lucky he is, such a smart, beautiful, caring woman, how could he take her for granted??.

Y/n’a heart was running a Marathon.

“No” she said louder than she anticipated.

She flicked to the next page:

28th February 2013

‘All of us were at the studio this evening I couldn’t stop staring at y/n, I feel terrible knowing it’s my best friends sister, but she is wonderful’

Her mind was now matching her palpitating heart, a million thoughts were being processed at that moment.

He really thought the same the whole time?

She quickly flicked another.

3rd of March 2013

Write a couple of songs for midnight memories is it bad to say there all inspired by one person.

If she was mine she wouldn’t be ignored or treated terribly, I hope Louis talks to her about this Ben.

Y/n did agree with this statement getting rid of Ben was the best thing she’s done.

But she didn’t know Harry was the one with a crush.

She couldn’t believe her eyes, he really felt the same? He really did like her? She was almost hyperventilating.

10th of March 2013

I’ve noticed when y/n gets anxious she plays with the ends of her hair, I wish I could just scoop her into my arms and tell her it’s going to be okay.

Ben is finally out the picture, hopefully she can be with someone who knows her self worth.

Her heart is beaming, butterflies fill each side of her tummy, her mind still feeling a little delusional and still very much in disbelief.

Maybe this was her sign to take there friendship another level up.

She slammed the cover over the paper and decided if she’d read anymore she’d become a crimson red mess.

She gently tucked it into the suitcase of where it fell and tried to go on as normal.

She decided to wait up for Harry and see what she could do about this, she couldn’t hide this any longer she wish she knew sooner about his little crush.

It was just past midnight and she heard the hotel room key click in approval.

A tired looking Harry appears.

“Y’alright” she quietly asked.

“Mmm” he hummed shutting the door behind him.

Y/n move to one side of her bed, and patted the empty space beside her, inviting him to join.

Wether it was just his sleepy mind, but he took no time and accepted her invitation.

Y/n let him adjust to the light, and get comfortable not wanting to overload him already.

“Y’okay” he asked, noticing her thinking face.

“Yeah” she smiled.

“Well if I didn’t know any better, than I think that you mr styles have a teeny crush” she said, a breathy laugh leaving her mouth.

His eyes widened, now it it was his time to go red.

“Wha-“ he nervously laughed.

“I guess y’right” he said looking straight ahead at the blank wall.

“Y/n, m’gonna be honest”

“I’m in love with you”

Y/n’s heart pounded inside her chest, this is real? This was real life, he admitted.

“Harry” she blushed.

“And I know, it’s probably weird, we’ve been friends for 4 years now and on a random night , I’m now saying this but, seeing you keep hurting yourself on these boys that don’t understand you, it hurts”

“Harry-“ her cheeks becoming a strawberry colour.

“Be my girlfriend?” Harry blurted.

Y/n’s ears almost burned at the question, Someone she actually had interest in liked her back? And wanted to be with her? She felt like. Lovesick teenager again.

She wanted this, more than ever.

But Louis.

Realistically there was nothing wrong with it, they were the same age, and both wanted it.

“I can’t stand another day, not touching you, not hugging you, not wiping your tears away” he added, which caused y/n’s thought process to halt.

“Harry, y’too good for me” she started, a glossy layer had formed over her eyes.

“Y’need someone better, your options are so big” she said head almost dropping to her lap.

“Hey” he said taking using his index finger and thumb to guide her chin up.

“What I’ve learnt is your the one I want, haven’t been able to settle because of you y/n”

“Be mine?” He asked once again leaning his forehead on hers using his free hand to wipe the tears away.

“Please” he whispered, this is all he’s wanted.

Worried that her words would fail her at that moment all she could do was frantically nod.

“Yeah?” He smiles, there noses basically touching at this point.

“Words baby, need y’words” he reminded.

“Yeah, yes harry yes” she smiled, tears still manage to cascade her cheeks.

“Thank fuck” he breathed, now hesitating to wrap his arm around the girl, oh how he’s longed to do that.

The girl crashes into his touch, not taking her time either.

“Your okay, y’safe in my arms love” he whispered into her hair, pressing his long awaited kisses.

— the following morning —

Both Harry and y/n were getting ready to meet the rest of the lads on the bus, which was round the back of the hotel.

“How are we gonna tell them?” Harry asked getting the rest of his stuff.

“They’ll understand, Louis will be unsure but he’s my brother he can’t hate me forever” she laughed.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and they made there way to the boys.

“Guys we have something to tell you all” y/n began.

— — — — —

[imaginationlover101]

Trust Issues

Austin Butler x reader

A/N: Loosley based of the Weekends song "Trust Issues"

Summary: Austin & Y/N have been best friends since birth, & after the breakup of her on and off again ex boyfriend, Austin wants to show her how much shes worth, but doesnt get the chance.

I simply couldnt take it anymore, it had been the 3rd time in 4 months that he called "quits", because he didnt see us working out anymore. You would think that after the 2nd time I would become wise, but I was too in love to notice. I didnt want to believe that the only guy I loved was too much of a jerk to notice.

I should of listened to Austin, more then I gave on. The simple yes and no's wasnt cutting it at this point. Even though he's my best friend I didnt want to believe him, because when your in love eveything seems blind. But deep down I knew that the only problem there was, was me. I needed to get over the guy that broke my heart too many times to count.

In one way I would assume thats how I ended up at Austin's penthouse. With all the breakups and heartaches Austin always seemed to fix it all, even with his own troubles hes always seemed to fix mine. So heartbroken and teary eyed I waited until the elevator opened to reveal Austin's apartment.

Standing in the archway door almost waiting for the elevator door to open, Austin stood holding two arms full of different flavor ice creams and blankets. For a moment I was stuck in the elevator waiting for my own two feet to move, but for a moment there was nothing. The closing door reminded me of my own presences and from there I emerged into Austin's home.

Dressed in grey sweatpants and favorite black sweatshirt, Austin placed the items in his hands onto the table besides him and stared at me from the hallway door. I was ready to let all my worries go and leave my troubles at home, but I knew that there was an underlying promblem. "Dont say it Austin."

Huffing Austin comes closer taking my jacket off moving it to the kitchen chair. Fixing the jacket over the chair almost caressing it (a nervous habit of his) Austin starts to reply. "Oh you mean how he left you for god knows how many times this month, I just don't get it Y/N."

"What happend to the sympathy over the phone Austin?" Raising my voice the slightest I remarked in a sarcatisic tone. In one way I couldn't disagree with him, I did get back together with a guy who broke my heart way too many time, but a little sympathy would be nice. I knew Austin was my best friend but I wanted comfort now more then conflict. Besides he was the one who told me to come over to his apartment, I wouldn't of came if I knew there was going to be arguments.

Letting go of the chair, Austin begins to pace in his tracks until he looks at me in an almost parental tone, "You don't see it do you?" Austin and his analogies, for a moment I wish he would just be upfront instead of trying to make me think of what I was doing wrong.

"He's using you Y/N." Rolling my eyes I knew he pulled it too far. Moving my way into the living room (not wanting to get too angry over the subject), I began to fix the curtains tangled up at the end of the rod. "No he's not Austin, he just has no one else."

Throwing his fingers through his hair, Austin throws his head back following me into the living room. Taking some of the cloth out of my hands, Austin begins to take over the tangled mess of curtains dropping them on the floor, embracing my hands instead. "Listen to me Y/N your too good to him, get out of his trap before he pulls you too far in."

Dropping his hands, my heart started to hurt ever more. I didnt want to push Austin away because of my manipulative ex boyfriend, but I didnt know what to do. The main reason I got back together with my ex was because Austin was dating a "new" girl. In all honesty something inside me loved my ex, but the feelings I held for Austin are stronger. But watching the guy you love be a relationship with someone else , hurts more then a shitty boyfriend who lies most of the time.

Looking at the hands that I dropped (the true ones I loved) I began to walk to the couch. The couch provided so much comfort from hurt and reminded me of the good times Austin and I spent during the winter days.

Hearing a sigh come from the window view, Austin begins to make his way over to the side of the couch, sitting next to my spot. "Its just that-" Watching his face fall before he can say the words, Austin gathers my hands in his and stares at them for a moment before saying a word. "Nervermind Y/N im sorry it's my fault I'll drop it. You know I'm your best friend, and I can't keep seeing you getting hurt like this. I'm sorry I got worked up, but I cant keep on seeing you break yourself over some scumb who doesnt deserve your time."

Rubbing my sock clad feet against the rug out a nervous habit too afraid to make any other moves. I tried to avoid Austin's blue eyes, and the way he was staring at me. "I know he treats me like crap Austin, but I'm scared."

Austin's face distorts and immediately gets tense thinking the worse out of the situation. Unlike the harsh parental tone that had previously arised, this time his voice was soft and calming. "Why are you scared? If its because of him I'll have no problem putting him in his place."

Laughing I leaned closer laying my head on his shoulder, finally thinking I was getting my feeling out I maintained eye connect. "No Austin, it's just that... I dont know how I feel? If I leave him what happend if I'll never find love again, what happens if no one ever loves me like that again?"

Watching his face become somewhat angry again he began to sigh. "I know how it feels to be scared like that, but let me tell you something. I'm sorry if you think that's what love feels like because you are so much more then that. That guy is nothing but a cheater, and should be paying for what he's done. And as far as not loving again, I think your far from it."

"Any guy would be lucky to have you and I know your not able to see it, but your so worth it. Your smile practically lights up any room your in, and your empathy is worth more then any dollar bill he might of spend on the side." Seeing Austin face change, he moves his posture to more in front of me then to the side. "I shouldnt even be telling you this right now- but" before the words could get out Austin's phone starts to ring.

While both eyes move to the phone vibrating on the table, Austin goes to turn the phone to mute. "Its okay Aus, awnser it."

Shaking his head in a no way, Austin begins to pick the phone to end the call, but awnsers it before he knows. Realizing that it was his girlfriend Austin gets up off the couch and begins to move his way into the kitchen.

Being the noisy person I am, I began to move to the end of the couch for a better ear. "Kaia I told you I'm sorry I can't do it." Hearing him pause, Austin peaks his head into the living room knowing he had company. Leaning my body against the couch as if I wasnt listening he continues.

"I'm busy right now I'll call you back." Ending the phone call rather quick on someone who seems to be your "girlfriend" seemed to be harsh. According to the tabloids, its was the lastes gossip, but who could believe it.

In all honesty I didnt even know if the two were truly dating. This had been the first time in a month Austin and I had seen each other in person. Between isolating myself at home because of my "ex", and work we haven't seen each another in a while. Although we talked on the phone either through text or phone call Austins "girlfriend" never really came up.

Walking out of the kitchen Austin apologizes for the sudden call. Deciding if I should even bring up the new girlfriend talk I decide on shutting it down. I didn't need to have my heart broken more by the supposed girlfriend talk.

Moving to my original spot on the couch, Austin sits next to me dropping his phone far away from him on the table. Looking around the room, I turned my attention back to him. Acting as I forgot the words Austin had said before, since I was curious to what he had to say. "So what'd you say again?"

Now turning his attention my way Austin begins to deny his words. "Oh nothing, it was nothing." Not believing a word he was saying I start to laugh, "Oh no you said something, you gotta finish it now."

Moving his eye sight to the Christmas tree begind me Austin continue. "Well I uh, wanted to ask your opinion on the tree, I didnt want to go with an artificial this year, so I got a real one."

Turning my head to the Christmas tree behind me I smiled. Knowing that's definitely not what he wanted to talk about I rolled my eyes. "Well it turned out pretty, you know real ones are always better smelling wise and all." Both humming in agreement the room was filled with silence. "You know it is way after Christmas right, its January now."

"Yes, Y/N I know. Dont blame me I want my decorations up as long as possible." Watching the gold lights twinkle off the window reflection I watched as Austin leaned deeper into the couch. "Okay Santie Clause."

Pushing my shoulder so that I would fall onto the other side of the couch, I realized that the atmosphere was brighter then before. The talks of horrible ex boyfriends were in the midst, and suddenly it had became all about Austin and I, but hey I was complaining.

Peering over my body to see if I was okay, Austin grabs my hand pulling me up off the couch. Pulling me into his shoulder (a lot closer then usally), I started to enjoy the ambience of Austin's late Christmas decorations.

Grabbing the tv remote from the table, Austin flips through movies stopping on a random one. Re6alaizng that I wasnt paying attention, Austin takes tickles my side for a moment getting my attention. Seeing that "The Grinch" was the movie he chose, I couldnt help but laugh. Austin was still stuck in Christmas mode.

"Fine", Nodding my head for confirmation, Austin presses the start button and the music starts to play.

"See I knew I loved you for something, sometimes you make good decisions." Pushing his body off of mine, for the lowkey backhanded comment. I got off the couch grabbing the blankets from the edge of the sofa.

Sitting back down next to Austin, he begins to wrap an arm around the back of the couch opening the blanket I brought, so that it was big enough to share. Just when he was about to lean his head on top of mine, once again his phone began to ring. Burrying his head in the crock of my neck (making me want to squeal inside), Austin groans not wanting to get up.

"I dont want tooo get ittt." Vocalizing his words like a child, I peered over to the edge of the table seeing Austin's managers name pop up. Debating on if I should tell him or not, I started to rub Austins hair. "Its your manager."

Groaning even more then before, Austin gets up fully stretching over to the table grabbing his phone. Awnsering the contact, Austin leans back on the side of the couch bumping his feet on mine.

"Hello?" With a groany voice, all I could hear over the phone was yelling. Austin's manager was seemingly yelling at him for something and the only words I could get out of it was Kaia.

Hearing Austin sighs, he begins to press play on the movie, and once again he begins to get up only this time moving behind the couch. Making a talking motions, Austin motions that he'll be a moment and to watch the movie.

Pretending as if the Grinch was my favorite movie of all time, I started to eavesdrop one again on his conversation. "I've told you Austin, you need to get rid of that girl shes no good for your image. Just leave her for a few months, replace her with Kaia. The paparazzi see her way to often we need to cleanse your image with Kaia."

Coughing as if he thought I couldnt hear his conversation, Austin walks into the kitchen talking back to his manager in a harsher tone. At this point it all made sense, I was the girl that was "breaking" Austin's image, that's why he never brought up Kaia with me. I was the girl who was ruining my best friend image.

Hearing Austin almost yell from the kitchen I felt frightened thinking if I could I be the girl he was talking about. "Ive told you before and I'll tell you agian I love her, I've always been in love with her! It's not going to change! ! Shes in my life, not yours. You can't control who I'm with or not. I have no interest being with Kaia, if it's going to ruin my own personal relationships!"

The bright Christmas ambience that filled the room previously now was getting darker. Hearing that Austin was hanging up the phone, I felt confused. Was I really the girl he was talking about? I couldnt be?

Marching his way back into the living room, Austin shuts his phone off leaving it on the kitchen table. Feeling his prescene come behind the couch, I began to sit up. I didn't think I could take it anymore. The fact that I possibly was the girl Austin was talking about was too much, and the underlying crush I had for him only amplified leaving me to feel overwhelmed.

"Hey, sorry about that again. I really gotta shut my phone off." Hearing Austin let out a nervous laugh, I stood up folding the blanket back on the couch.

With eyes filled with confusions Austin tilts his head. "Where you going."

"You know what I'm gonna go home." Grabbing my jacket from off the dinning room chair, Austin eyes begin to amplify. "You ok? What happend I thought we were fine?"

"Were" pointing between the two of us "fine, better then okay. I just feel sick all of sudden." Watching as Austin followed my movement, he suddenly stops me before I could walk to the elevator door. Seeing as his face came to a realization he blocked me from pressing the button.

"Listen Y/N, if it's about what you heard then-" stopping for a moment Austin looks at me before muttering f it. "Its true okay, I've been in love you all this time. I didn't want to scare you off and know I'm doing it. Please Y/N, can we just talk, I'll explain everything."

Feeling as if the room was 10 times heavier then before I tried to squeeze myself through Austins arm trying to tap the elevator button. "I dont know Austin, can we do this another time. I just dont know."

Realizing that I pushed the button, Austin stands away from me. Watching as each number started to get brighter coming closer to his floor, Austin placed a hand on my arm. "Come on Y/N, dont do this to me. Dont shut me out. I'm not like eveyone else Y/N I'm your best friend. I have you forever, and always dont do this to me."

Seeing the tears gather in his eyes, the elevator door suddenly opens. Watching as Austin's face seems to drop, I looked between my two options. I wanted nothing more then to run into Austin's arms, but the feelings I had deeper in my heart to told me I wasn't good enough. That I should run far away and never tell a soul.

With my heart in two places, I turned my back walking into the elevator. Trying not to make eye contact as I pressed the closed button, Austin whispers my name. "Please Y/N dont do this."

Wanting to stop the elevator to confess my feeling to him at once, the doors close, and my eyesight with filled with nothing more then silver. Austins apartment was no longer to be seen, and as the elevator lights flickeres brighter and brighter reaching every floor. My mind was only reminded of the mistake I made. The mistake of letting my best friend go.

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Sylvia & Dallas coded; reasons below

Although Sylvia has been through her fair share of hardships, at the tender age of 12, Dallas as seen more shit than she can even imagine. Yes, Dallas likes being the story teller. Likes the way her eyes light up, how she clings to every word, asks questions in all the right places. But she’s still a small town farm kid from Nowhere, Oklahoma.

Dallas knows it’s already too late for him to try and change, to turn into some respectable member of society rather than a delinquent runaway. But it’s not too late for Sylvia to keep up that southern belle act, staying as sweet as the iced tea she forces him to drink after sitting on the bleachers watching her ride. ••• Sylvia & Tim coded; reasons below

After eveything that’s happened, Sylvia thinks she’s too much for him. She’s not the same girl she was when they spent every day together—, she has a kid, for christsake. Not too mention more emotional baggage than she can manage.

and yet, despite everything he’s been through, Tim tries to be there for her. Tries to take care of her, tries to pull her out of her own damn mind and into his arms, where he knows she can be safe.

But she won’t let him. She won’t let her baggage ruin her oldest friend.

I raise you- a throwback to the Soda and Sylvia days-

If you're drunk on life, babe / I think it's great

But while in this world /I think I'll take my whiskey neat

You're too sweet for me

Sylvia knows Sodapop’s too good for her. She’s the crazy girl in town, the girl with the dead boyfriend, the girl who’s known to be a run-around. She doesn’t need to ruin his life anymore than Dallas already has, for Christ’s sake, everyone knows the youngest Curtis hasn’t been the same since everything happened…so while Soda’s bright smile and endless happiness might be nice, Sylvia will stay away, out of regard for Sodapop’s well-being

[strangerthingslover69]

You’ve got daddy problems

Dmitri + female reader

18+ no minors please!

Warnings ~ Swearing, drinking, signs of abuse, smoking and touching ~

At a party the Byers are hosting for Dmitri’s birthday, you drink too much to forget your fight with your dad. You decide to just let go. You’ve got daddy problems and Dmitri can help fix that

You make your way over to the Byers house with red eyes and a bottle of opened vodka. You and your dad had another argument. You and your dad never got along and as you were getting older it was getting worse.

You were getting ready to come to this party, it was for Dmitri’s birthday. You wanted to look pretty and feel good. You had chosen your outfit and laid it on your bed, a black skater shirt, short sleeves blouse, black fishnets and some black lace up boots. You’d just come out the shower when you heard your name being shouted by your dad. You roll your eyes and make your way down. Your dad was in the kitchen looking dressed up, your mum was passed out on the couch from being a work for the last fourteen hours and your little brother was eating his tea. ‘You need to babysit’ your dad said bluntly. ‘What? No I can’t I’ve got plans.’ You say folding your arms. Your dad puts on his jacket and sighs turning to you, ‘cancel them. I’m going out.’ He says about to grab his car keys but your too quick snatch them. ‘No. You cancel yours. You knew about mine last week! Who is it tonight, Amy or Jenna?’ You raising you eyebrows. Your dad pulls you by the wrist dragging you into the hall. ‘You little bitch. You can’t say that shit in front of your brother. What if he heard?!’ He says angrily at you still digging his fingers in your wrists. ‘Well what do you expect? Your married. To our mum or did you forget? I really don’t get why she stays with a useless man like you. Wait your not even a man. Just a little boy. Jamie’s more grown up than you and he’s fucking thirteen.’ You snarl through your teeth. Your dad pulls you in, ‘bitch. You will pay for that one.’ He realised your wrist but not before smacking you across the face. You stumble to the stairs in shock holding your face. ‘I’m going out. Look after your brother.’ Your dad said slamming the door behind. The sound wakes your mum up. She gets up from the sofa looking for you. ‘Eveything okay honey?’ She asks coming round the corner. You don’t want her to see you like this so you race up the stairs shouting down, ‘y-yeah. Fine mum.’ You go to your room closing the door behind falling to the ground crying. He’d never hit you before. Your guessing by his eyes he’d taken something again. You compose yourself and get up to get ready. You were going out. You look at your clothes and decide to change them. Just to spite him you pick your shortest skirt but keep the blouse. Still wearing your black fishnets and boots. You put on some accessories, you find a bracelet to cover the mark on your wrist. You leave your hair down leaving it to do it’s own thing and look in the mirror. Closer inspection you see your dads handprint on the side of your face. You cover it up with some make up hoping that’ll be enough. Coming back down you see your mum and brother watching a movie together. You walk past going into the kitchen swiping your dads bottle of vodka and your presents for Dmitri. You hid the bottle in a bag and say goodbye to your brother and mum. ‘Have fun honey, love you’ your mum shouts as you leave the living room. ‘Thanks mum love you too.’ You really don’t understand why she puts up with your dad. So that brings you to now, the Byers house is a twenty minute walk so not too far. You undo the cap of the vodka and take a sip. It burns but it helps your forget about your problems

You focus your mind to tonight instead. Dmitri’s birthday, his first one celebrated in America. You couldn’t wait to see everyone, there felt like a huge extended family. However you were looking forward to seeing Dmitri most. You had a crush on him the minute you saw him with Hopper. He was so mysterious and you wanted to know more about him. Any chance you tried to talk to him but something would always get in the way. You hoped he would like your present. All you knew is he was Russian, ex guard, helped Hopper escape and that he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You decided to make him a cake, you researched about traditional Russian food and Medovik came up. It was tricky to make as you weren’t the best baker but you hoped he’d appreciate your efforts. There was also a small bottle of vodka with some shot glasses. As you reach the end be of the Byers street you could feel the vodka having an effect, you didn’t realise you’d drank a quarter of the bottle. Oops. You knock and the door waiting for an answer, butterflied start in your tummy. ‘Y/N, hi! Come in sweetie’ Joyce says opening the door. She brings you in for a hug, it’s warm and welcoming. ‘You okay?’ She asks looking concerned, she can tell you’ve been crying. A mum’s instinct. You nod, you don’t want to talk about it you’ll just cry again. You clear your throat as you speak, ‘so where’s the birthday boy?’ You say with a smile. ‘Dmitri, Hopper and Murray are just outside.’ She points through the back doors. You look out seeing them all talking and laughing. They all look so happy. Dmitri catches your eye though of course. He’s in a red top with some denim shorts and a drink in hand. He looks handsome. You smile to yourself. Joyce clears her throat and you turn to her, ‘want a drink?’ She asks. ‘Got one’ you raising the bottle and smiling. Joyce knows why your drinking. You only ever do when you’ve fallen out with your dad. She takes the bottle out your hand, ‘let’s get you a cup for it yeah?’ She says bringing you into the kitchen. You sit on the kitchen island as she pours some vodka in a cup with coke. She passes it to you and you down it. ‘You sure your okay?’ Joyce asks again. ‘I just don’t wanna talk about it. Don’t want ruin Dmitri’s birthday with my sob story’ you say pouring the vodka into the cup, no coke this time. ‘Just take it easy honey okay?’ She says running your back warmly. You nod and she leaves to join Hopper.

You watch the way they interact with one another. They are so perfect. ‘Y/N already getting the party started I see?’ You turn and see Eddie grabbing a beer from the fridge. ‘Always Munson’ you say bring the cup to your lips. He stands across from you opening his beer. You get into light conversation when an idea pops into your head. ‘Wanna play a game?’ You say filling your cup up. ‘That depends. What’d you have in mind?’ He replies. ‘Drinking one of course. C’mon let’s go join the others and see if they wanna play’ you stand up nearly loosing your balance. Eddie helps you stand straight. ‘Steady their Princess.’ He says with a smile. You make your way outside towards Steve, Nancy, Robin, Johnathan and Argyle. ‘Let me just say happy birthday to the birthday boy’ you slur your words to Eddie as he joins the group of teens. By this point you are pretty drunk. The bottle you brought was almost gone near enough. Events of earlier at home were hazy. You just wanted to forget. You make your way over to the group of adults. You stumble bumping into the back of Hopper, he turns to see you. ‘Hey kid, you all good?’ He asks with concern. ‘Hopper! Hi. I’m all good. Just coming over to wish the birthday boy well happy birthday!’ You say squeezing past to get to Dmitri. You stop in front of him and he’s smiling at you, you melt into his smile. ‘Happy birthday!’ You say waving your hands up in the air. ‘Why thank you Y/N, it appears you are enjoying yourself’ he says with a hint of concern. Everyone knew why you drank, it was no secret. They didn’t know all the details but they knew it was because of your dad. ‘Yup, it’s a great party! Happy birthday!’ You say again forgetting you’d said it. ‘Thank you Y/N’ he says with another dashing smile. Definitely the alcohol but you lean in and kiss his cheek then bring him in for a hug. You reach around his neck going on your tip toes and nuzzle into it. Dmitri processes what’s happening, it takes him a second but he hugs you back. You stay like that for a minute. The other adults looking at you both, Dmitri just shrugs his shoulders to them. ‘Hey Y/N! You coming?’ You hear Eddie shouting you. You our turn around, ‘oh yeah, I’m coming! Need to get more vodka first!’ You shout back. You turn back facing Dmitri, your faces inches apart. You feel his breath on yours. ‘You think it’s a good idea to drink more Y/N?’ Dmitri asks leaning his face away a bit. ‘Well it’s a party! Happy birthday!’ You say one more time, you go to kiss his cheek again but somehow miss and plant a quick peck on his lips. Taking you both by surprise. You quickly pull away giggling and making your way into the kitchen to get some more vodka

‘Shes clearly not okay’ Murray says breaking the silence of the group. ‘She needs to stop before she gets out of control’ Hopper says. ‘Well I think our Russian friend can help, she’s clearly taking a like to you’ Murray said with a smile. ‘Don’t be silly. She’s drunk. Plus she’s very young. I’m too old’ Dmitri says finishing his drink avoiding eye contact. ‘I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Even without a drink. So what she’s a bit younger. You deserve to be happy too’ Joyce says with a genuine smile. Dmitri doesn’t know what to say. No one does so nothing is said. ‘I need another drink’ Dmitri says leaving to go to the kitchen. ‘You’ve seen the way he looks at Y/N too right?’ Murray asks Joyce and Hopper. ‘I think they both have liked each other since they met’ Joyce states. ‘Well let’s wait and see. Shall we?’ Hopper says lighting up a cigarette.

You search high and low for more vodka, almost giving up until you find one hiding behind some bottles on the top shelf. You stretch up to reach but you’re too short. You drag the stool over and climb up to get the bottle. You’re so close, your fingers brush on it, ‘c’mon c’mon!’ You say getting on your tip toes. You reach and grab the bottle. ‘Ha! Gotcha!’ You dance to celebrate but as you dance you lose your balance. Your legs give way as you fall off the stool. Ready to meet the impact of the floor you brace yourself. But instead you’re not met with the hard floor but some arms. ‘Jesus Y/N. You okay?’ Dmitri says looking at you. You turn to look up. You giggle at yourself, ‘my hero! Thank you!’ You say feeling very happy with how close Dmitri is on you. ‘Fucking hell Y/N. What were you thinking?!’ Dmitri says not looking to impressed as he helps you stand back on the floor. You hold on to him arms for balance, you can feel his muscles through his top. ‘Well birthday boy. I was thinking about this!’ You say smiling widely with the bottle in your hand. Dmitri can’t help it as he lets out a laugh, you look so happy with yourself. ‘You are trouble. Now you gonna share that?’ He asks leaning in closer. ‘Of course. But with the others. We’re playing a game. Oh oh why don’t you join us! C’mon!’ You say begging him. ‘I don’t think you’d want this old man playing’ he says chuckling. You poke his chest, ‘your not old. C’mon it’ll be funny, what do you say Dadd-Dmitri?’ You slur the last two words and they blend together. Daddy? Did you just almost call me daddy? Is all Dmitri is thinking. His dick twitched in his boxers. He can’t go out there now. ‘Maybe later I will join you’ he brings his hand to your cheek stroking it with his thumb. You nuzzle into his warm touch. ‘Don’t be too long birthday boy. Still need to give you your presents’ say winking. ‘Presents? You shouldn’t have’ Dmitri’s says. ‘Of course I did! There’s two in the bag and the other is a surprise!’ you say turning to take his hand off your face. Dmitri watches speechless as your take his hand under your skirt feeling your bare pussy. He can feel the wetness. He tenses and bites his lip. ‘ебать’ (fuck) he whispers. You lean into his ear. ‘That’s the surprise’ Just let that you walk back into the garden smiling to yourself with the bottle of vodka. Dmitri stands in the kitchen alone trying to process what just happened

[zeldaxxi]

Ok, I'm mr shipping glasses here: wanna share your favorite ships? Both in mck and in mc, and what u love abt them?

well isn't it obvious by my beautiful pfp? 🥰🥰🥰

so there's the basic bitch answer of Sürrem and Lion Taming. Sürrem because well obviously ❤️ and Lion Taming cuz it's the closest we will ever have to an MC version of NaruSasu

i also ship Nibrahim because they're hot and because @thevampiricnihal converted me by reminding me how fucking hyped my 12 year old ass was when they first fucked

i like Nurlim for their partners in crime thing they have and because they're extremely good looking bur unfortunately they don't give me enough brainrot 💔 i have a feeling they will when i rewatch s4 tho

from MCK Hümaşah and Zülfikar cuz it's the only sultana x lower ranking guy this franchise managed to pull off and not make it suck

KÖSEMKEŞ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ like i cannot stress this enough they're eveything Hürrem/Ibo shippers wishes they had!!!! fucking bitch ass slay pussy queen x her evil grand vizier ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ the fact that they never canonically get together and nobody gaf abt them just makes me ship it more

also Murad and Musa ❤️ his Ibo died and look how evil he became 💔

[stunie]

Hello darlingest Evie I saw you spoiling everyone with selfship questions so I have to throw some right back at you 🥺 I must have more Umie lore!!

What’s your favorite ways to make each other laugh? If you’re having a bad day or even just you wanna put a smile on the other’s face. Are there corny jokes or little pokes to the side or even grabbing one of your stuffies and pretending to be the voice for it and asking for a smooch?

Is there a signal you guys have when either of you are out and about and eveything’s just too much(like overstimulated or just drained socially?) Like a “get me out of here” kinda thing or is it just direct and verbal?

What’s your favorite way to kiss each other? Position, soft or hard, slow or fast, etc. and where the kiss is, if it’s not on the lips.

If you guys switched bodies for the day, how would it go and could people tell immediately?

and one more for good measure: If you were to have a soulmate au with him what would the prompt be? (ex. you cant see color until you meet them, or you have the first works they said to you on ur body somewhere etc.) like what would be your ideal for it?

MARI !! oo hehe you witnessed my raid on everyone’s inbox last night >:^) agahahaha that the most fun i’ve had in ages. it will happen again ^ ^ ahahhehehehe

making each other laugh !! i think i laugh at everything!! tis not a difficult thing for him to do. although i laugh at reactions the most!! i like to tell him very outrageous things to get an “EH?! REALLY?!” and then be like “no. i made that up.” hehe. and he pulls at my cheek like “you really scared me there!” ^ ^ if im sad, we’ll put on those lil horror story compilations !! i start laughing whenever he gets all stressed with the op, he’ll have his head in his hands and all. as for me making HIM laugh, i have a saved folder on my ig of ume laughter fuel !! >:))

overstim aaaaa. i love being out. HOWEVER. i get physically tired .. like i wanna fall asleep but i don’t wanna leave yet > < usually at that point ill tug on his sleeve and he can tell by the look on my face !! for ume… whenever he wants to go home, he wraps his arms around my middle and rests his chin on my shoulder with a heavy sigh— and that’s how i know he’s tired:>

kisses !! i get flustered if i’m on the receiving end. but i love to squeeze his cheeks together and kiss him like that !! or when im laying on him, lots of neck kisses !! nothing suggestive, it’s just the skin that’s right in front of me :> FOR HIM. I GET NERVOUS SNSNS BUT HE DOES THE LOUD MWAAAAAs all over my face and i get so red and >/////< like this ?! ?!

switching bodies. i would go for a deadlift max. you’re telling me i have his body ?! let’s test the strength here. i’m dying to know! as for ume, he gave it away so fast. WHY IS HE SITTING LIKE THAT!! IM EXPOSED. u can’t sit like that when you’re wearing a miniskirt ume !!!

SOULMATE AU ?! it has to be the one where you have the first words written somewhere on your arm. i think the first meeting would be so funny! we both speak and then our faces fall into a :O EHHHH ?????? AND THEN EXCITEMENT HITS !!!!

[kumikyuz]

➜ txt yeonjun — your wish is my command , angel ! ★﹑

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

pairing ; softdom!jun x afab!reader

genre ; smut , fluff

requested ; here

warnings ; established relationship , slight angst in the beginning , unprotected sex , soft sex , praise kink , lots of kissing and making out , lots of pet names ( angel , baby , princess etc. ) body worship , reader has stretch marks

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"oh darling , but you're so beautiful" yeonjun peppers your tear-stained face with soft sweet kisses. his heart breaks at the sight of you so sad , and all because you don't see just how perfect you are. to him , nobody else in the whole world could compare to your beauty , inside and out , so it's hard for him to see that you've been trying to change yourself.

it started with smaller portions of food , more makeup , more revealing outfits , all just to fit in with the people in your collage. yeonjun misses his slightly shy , casual styled , messy haired girlfriend and he's not going to let her change even more drastically... before it becomes a bigger problem.

"angel , look at me" yeonjun's voice is honey-warm , his hand gently cupping your jaw as he pulls you in for a short , sweet kiss. such an action always works miracles , and your tears instantly start drying out. your lips now formed into a small pout that has yeonjun smiling , eyes sparkling in endearment as he leans in again. this time , the kiss lasting much longer , but still just as soft and gentle as before. not long into the second kiss , yeonjun's tongue grazes against your bottom lip in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

"angel... can i show you how much i love you? just how perfect you are?" yeonjun questions in a quiet tone , sounding so gentle and genuine it makes your heart flutter and cheeks flush shyly. you find yourself nodding , pushing away any hair that got in your face before he joins your lips together again , laying you back on the soft pillows behind you. slowly pulling away from you , his hands hold onto your waist in a light grip and stroke over your hips. he starts with placing a small kiss to your forehead , then leaving a trail of soft kisses to your face. he doesn't miss a millimeter. kissing your nose , your eyes , your cheeks , your chin , eveything he finds so beautiful about you... but you're so insecure about.

"my pretty princess" yeonjun whispers when he gets to your ear , placing the gentlest butterfly kisses on your neck that have you more emotional than you thought you'd be. only once he makes sure he'd kissed all the skin on your neck does he go down to your collarbones , quickly slipping off your shirt and kissing you there just as attentively as your face and neck.

your stomach swirling with butterflies , eyes brimming with tears as you peer down at yeonjun who unclips your bra with expert fingers... the sight has you holding your breath. the moment his tongue meets your breasts , your back arches slightly at the feeling. it has you whining quietly , even just that has your body tingling for more and before you know it... you're staring to feel a little needy thanks to your boyfriend's light touches and pretty lips.

once he's satisfied with both , he trails kisses down the valley of your breasts , and makes it to your belly. you instinctively suck in , this being one of your biggest insecurities and you hear yeonjun click his tongue. "why are you doing that darling?" yeonjun frowns lightly , brows furrowed as he slips your sweats off , them landing somewhere on the floor.

you don't answer him , just put your head back and close your eyes. "you're so beautiful" he whispers against your stomach before placing sweet kissing all over your stretch marks , a single tear rolling down your face. his hands squeeze your waist ever so lightly , before he hovers over you and kisses your tear-stained eyes. "don't cry please , baby... am i making you uncomfortable? or upset?" yeonjun pets your hair as you blink the tears away , clearing your throat. "they're not sad tears jjuni... please.. c-continue.." you shake your head as you speak in a quiet tone , yeonjun smiling endearingly and placing a small kiss to your temple before going down once again.

you bite your lip lightly when he goes down to where he left off , the next stop being the one you definitely need most attention to at the moment. "yeonjun please..." you whine when he starts kissing your thighs instead , your neediness starting to get a little more than unbearable. "patience angel , i haven't finished kissing all my favorite parts of you yet" yeonjun pouts as you breathe out shakily , his lips pouting like that making you want to both coo at him in endearment and kiss him in irritation.

he makes sure to kiss all over your legs , finishing with two small pecks to your feet and then going up to your clothed core. he places a small kiss to the damp material , almost groaning at how well you react to even the slightest touch of his. you inhale sharply when he takes off your undergarments , yeonjun licking his lips at just how wet you've gotten thanks to him in such a small amount of time.

"yeonjun... please i need you inside me" you whine , this time sounding more desperate as yeonjun smiles lightly , going up to your face. "your wish is my command , angel" yeonjun whispers against your lips before clasping your hands together at your head , joining your lips in a sweet kiss. his fingers enter you briefly , stretching you out slightly in preperation before he pulls them out and aligns himself at your pussy. slowly entering you , yeonjun makes sure to whisper sweet praises into your ear , how pretty you are , how perfect you are for him , how nobody compares to you.

tears of overwhelming affection spring to your eyes once more , as your eyes flutter closed to the feeling of him bottoming out. yeonjun places a small kiss to your temple before pressing his forehead to yours , the look is his eyes making your insides all fluttery. with eyes locked together , yeonjun pushes in and out slowly , the hair falling from his face to yours tickling you slightly when he hovers over you closely. as you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him in for another kiss , yeonjun speeds up slightly , causing you to moan sweetly into his mouth. it has him feeling all the more need to go rough on you , but the thought of wanting to comfort you dominates his actions instead.

"jjuni... faster" you whisper as you blink up at him with wide tearful eyes , lashes clumped together in a way that has yeonjun going crazy. he immediately obliges , giving you what you want as he scans your face for all the smallest reactions you always make. he admires you as you lay under him , chewing on his bottom lip as he continues grinding into you at the same steady pace.

once he feels you're getting close to your release by the way your walls tighten around him desperately , yeonjun adds some thumb rolling to your clit. the sudden overwhelming pleasure has you gasping , eyes shutting tightly as your legs shake , so close to cumming. it doesn't take long with yeonjun's expertise before you reach your high , seeing stars. yeonjun follows soon after , dropping to your body slightly but holding himself up as to not crush you. panting in a daze , you take a while to get down from your high and get some braincells working. "can we cuddle..?" you ask quietly , yeonjun smiling in endearment. "of course my pretty angel" he replies , sliding off you to embrace you from behind.

[cbrownjc]

Hola! Writing from Sweden! I love spoilers so no problem from me.

But why would Louis burning/being killed wake Lestat up?

If eveything has happened before he went to a coma, why is armand still around. They broke it off way before the start of the interview.

And lastly. If he isn’t inte a coma. Is it possible the rockstar thing hasn’t happened and he thinks Louis is dead until the book is published? Or is he off doing his thing?

Hey Anon,

Well, honestly, the book doesn't really give an explanation as to why Lestat woke up. Before then, only music was able to rouse him briefly. But Louis trying to kill himself finally had Lestat up and completely awake, and not going back to sleep again afterward.

The reader is basically IMO supposed to infer that it was love that woke him the final time. Lestat more or less implies that's the reason why he won't go back to sleep and he's worked through his post-Memnoch ordeal and will stay awake now when he's talking to David Talbot about it:

As to when things happened, no I don't believe everything happened before this second interview if we are in Lestat's post-Memnoch coma situation right now.

See, I think a mistake that many people are making with this adaptation, is thinking that everything had to have happened in the exact order in which they happened in the books. That just isn't the case IMO. Things can very easily be switched around timeline-wise and still work IMO. Especially because the timeline has already been moved ahead when it comes to some things, not least of which is when Louis was turned and when Louis and Armand first meet each other.

Lestat and Armand both have an extra 150 years or so (and even more in Armand's case) of life to account for in the show's universe than they do in the books because of when Louis was turned in the show vs the books.

The Devil's Minion and Lestat's rockstar career could have both very well happened in the past. In the case of The Devil's Minion, for example, I'm like 95% sure it happened in the past. But that does not mean the events surrounding things like Akasha's awakening also had to have happened in the past as well, even if those two things did.

In the books, Louis and Armand were together for about 60 years - from c.1870 to 1929. In the show, Louis and Armand meet around 1945, given the diary entry Daniel skimmed in EP4 that has Claudia saying they finally arrived in Paris in 1945 (which would have been just after WWII ended). Between 1945 and 1973 when they first meet Daniel in San Francisco, that is only 28 years. Nowhere near the almost 60 years, they spent together in the book before they broke up. (And the 44 years after that before Louis first met Daniel.) And 1945 to 2022 is 77 years. We have no idea if Armand and Louis split for a time or so - or not - before they started living together again now in Dubai.

Louis and Armand being together now doesn't really mean much honestly. Armand and Louis were living together at the start of the book Prince Lestat, which is set in 2014. Just because certain events that, in the books, preceded Prince Lestat may not have happened yet, doesn't mean the show can't have decided to set that particular plot point of them living together to be happening now, even if things in previous books before it haven't happened yet in the show's timeline.

As to your last question, I actually thought about it for a while, and I've settled on thinking Louis does know Lestat's alive right now. (Just currently in a coma-sleep-like state.) I don't think Louis knew at all after the events of Paris. I think he truly thought Lestat was dead. But, just as in the books, I think Louis found out the truth about Lestat being alive when Lestat pulled the rockstar thing. Because yes, I too think Lestat's rockstar career happened in the past, back in the 1980s.

And before someone asks, I said in another post about this that Lestat's rockstar career was basically the equivalent of being a one-hit-wonder. His band had one big concert (that kinda ended badly) and then that was it. After that event, the band changed their name back to Satan's Night Out and Lestat never took the stage as a rockstar again. I may have just been a little kid at the time, but I did live through the 1980s and I can't name every one-hit-wonder band from that time. Daniel's memories are already hinted at as having holes and blocks in them. That he didn't automatically recognize the name The Vampire Lestat doesn't mean much at all right now IMO.

So yes, at the moment, I think Lestat's rockstar career bit happened in the past. I also think the reason that career happened was for a different reason than why he did in the books since IWTV was never published in the 1970s in this universe. Lestat would have had no reason to answer that book with his own book and videos. And the only thing I feel for sure that has happened in the past from Queen of the Damned is the Devil's Minion storyline.

Everything else is very up in the air for me, particularly Akasha's rising. I can very well see it having happened in the 1980s like in the books; I can see it being set up with the whole "great conversion" thing the show has made up to happen in the modern day. However, I can also see it being something that happened during Lestat and Armand's missing 150 years before Louis enters the picture. I just don't know yet.

However, I don't think that it has to happen in response or tied to Lesat's rockstar career. You can do both things at different time points and still make it work IMO.

[overgrownmoon]

vent post

i’m not allowed to be angry.

how dare i complain. how dare i argue and bicker. how could i act so childish and irresponsible, pull yourself together and act right. dont cuss, don’t hit, don’t yell; stay good. be good. i have better things to worry about. your little brother is throwing a tantrum, i don’t need you throwing one too. you’re the eldest, you don’t need to be crying. behave. act right and don’t make a scene.

don’t be so down on the state of the world. don’t let it get to you. don’t focus on politics. don’t talk about things that upset you. focus on school, you don’t have time for that anger. you have no where to put it and nothing to do with it. you have everything you need, why are you complaining? why aren’t you happy yet? everything is gonna be ok, don’t be sad. don’t be upset.

nononono. no. no. i want to be angry. i want to scream and stomp and yell and cry and hit because i am so. angry at the world and all the horrible people in it and the horrible rules of society we came up with and everything that we do to eachother and the planet and i’m so so angry that i can’t do anything about it. i’m significant. i’m not a rich oil baron that can lobby the government, i j not an elected official, im not an influencer or speaker. i have no power. for every straw that i deny and plastic cup i recycle millions more are manufactured and dumped into the oceans. for every bill i oppose politicians sche on how to add more, do more, get wicked things to pass.

i’m tired and stressed and angry. i want to do something but i have no time, money, or energy to do it.

do i make an impact? do i matter? am i more than a cog in a machine, a number on a document? can i ever be more than a depressed white middle class asshole with a broken brain? who complains day in and day out how fucking depressed they are, oh how bo-hoo sad my life is oh ducking shut up asshole. i don’t know the meaning of suffering. oh lord your parents got divorced we get it and you lived in a nice house with toys and food and a good school and loving family and ooooohhh how hard your life must have been. how much you must have suffered while you went out with friends and had a good dad and a nice computer and good grades in school. what the fuck do i have to be upset about? ducking nothing i’m just a piece of shit loser with such a broken and failed fucking brain that i somehow convinced myself that i’m not a shitty awful person!

what point is there. nothing fucking matters. at the end of the day the fuckers in charge will get what they want while us plebeians get to wallow and suffer for our wages. we’ll beg and grovel at their feet for a luveable planet, drinkable water, a home to live in. so list and fucking doomed we are. i don’t want to participate in society. i do t want to do any of this. i didn’t want to be born. i wish i was never born. i don’t want to be here i don’t want to do any of this it all sucks and unfair and no one ever ducking asked me if i wanted to be here! i am forced into this goddamned nonsense world where profits are more important that morals and i’m sick of it! but the only other option is death and that’s looking like a pretty good option compared to what the fuck is gonna happen to us in the future!

fuck this. fuck everything. fuck your “have hopes” and “look at the bright sides” and whatever the fucking fuck. they won’t change the damn bed facts right in front of us. they won’t stop this fucking garbage fire from burning. i want to be angry. i want to so angry i can cave in concrete and shatter glass. i want to snarl and rip and tear and kill and maim and destroy eveything around me and then finally rip into my own chest and rip out my own heart so i never have to have it hurt from watching everything fucking collapse around me.

privileged fucking asshole. at a good college, don’t have to work, living with my parents. i still have the absolute audacity to be so bitchy and ungrateful. of fucking course. i fucking hate myself

[glossy-doll]

Living Life in ASMR Style

I am a long time ASMR lover, and I have been thinking about living like your life is an ASMR video. I watch ASMR everyday. Watching it feels really relaxing, like everything is beautiful in its own way, like there is no rush, and I was wondering if I could implement that into my everyday life. So here is what I think can be learned from ASMR about living more slowly, intentionally.

Quiet: It is the basic requirement for ASMR. The environment needs to be quiet so the little sounds can be heard and enjoyed better. They disappeared among the loud sounds before, now they have a chance to shine. They may turn out to be very calming, but no one notices them before the quiet comes. Those sounds were just really ordinary and even boring. But now millions of ASMR fans all over the globe are tapping on everything just to hear its sound. I think the same thing can be applied to life as well. Making life as quiet as it can be, literally and figuratively, can make a space for what didn't catch the eye before come to light. And it can be a new, comforting, blissful thing or activity or something that needed attention but got lost in the midst of a sea of stuff to take care of.

Creativity and Using What You Have at Hand: You don't even need an object to do ASMR. You can use your hands, your mouth, whatever you have ready at that moment and it can be relaxing. This requires creativity and thriftiness. I think those two qualities are important if one wants to live life in a more fulfilled and less consuming, more producing/creative way.

Concrete, Sensual, Grounded: ASMR works in 3D, I think. It's got to do with manipulating the sensory experience. So it's completely grounded in reality, it is up-close, personal and sensual, it's connected to the environment and the world around the body. This is one of the main things that makes it very relaxing in my opinion. It's not just good sounds, it's the whole experience, how it pull us in and makes us focus completely on itself. It kind of reminds me of living in the moment and not in our minds.

No Rush: Every object, every sound, every word has its moment, everything takes its time. Excluding fast-paced ASMR, of course. Viewer has time to enjoy everything fully, without ever rushing from one thing to another.

Freedom to Express Individuality: People can use ASMR to convey anything. It can be educational, entertaining, purely comforting, nostalgic, artistic... It is versatile, it has something for everyone.

Anything Can Be a Trigger: Even the things that are seemingly unrelated or out of place, or unprofessional. For example, some people enjoy the quiet waiting time when an ASMRtist is switching between triggers. This may seem weird to others, but every moment comes together to form the grand experience that is ASMR. In some Lo-fi ASMR videos, the video is a little blurry, but it may add to the ambience. In life, some things seem ugly, bad, or wrong. But I think everything can be turned into something fine, because it is a part of the whole. Sometimes the camera does not work well, sometimes it is the mic, we barely have control over the enviromental noise, but we find ways to make it work, and make our own grand experience.

Thoughtfulness: In ASMR videos it is important to take care of the small details, because the creator is trying to make it enjoyable for the viewer. That is an act of thoughtfulness that comes from the ASMRtist. They may not be able to control eveything and they probably can't, they may not have the best gear, but they try their best to make the viewer have a good experience. I think that life is better when people are good to each other. Something is so satisfying about making others feel at ease in your presence. Being a source of comfort and tranquility for both myself and others is simply my main goal in life.

This is what I have learned about living life comfortably from ASMR videos over the years. I hope it can be beneficial for anyone who reads it.

[anulithots]

TW for mentions of self harm, self hatred, suicidal ideation.

(thank you all for kind responses to the previous vent post. It's fine I think. Should be fine. I have coping mechanisms for a reason and lotff will be written if it's the last thing I do.)

Okay so here's my justification for not writing as much as I should, as much as i WANT to.

My parents know about the land of the fallen fairies, they used to want me to read what I wrote to them.

Trying to please them made me do so many revisions, rewrite so many times because no matter what I did it was never good enough for them.

"too complicated' 'too dark' 'your stories you wrote when you were ten were better' 'this is just a hobby why do you let it take so much time away from schoolwork'

My happiness takes away from schoolwork and that's so much of an issue I guess and anyways:

'your going to dissaude 90% of your audience with how you write' 'why can't you write a happy story' 'do stories even need conflict' 'if you write your emotions into your writing then you aren't actually writing something good. It's from the outside world and it isn't yours'

(And fine. FINE. Do you want to hear what's mine? Do you want to hear my conglomerate of coping mechanisms I need just to get through 24 hours? No? Too dark? What do I do then?)

And that's not even mentioning the time that using non gendered pronouns caused their anger and a subsequent self harm event.

(WOuld you like to hear about that? that's mine, isn't it? The time where I locked myself in the bathroom and raked an eyebrow razor down my arm until the skin ripped off? It bled a lot. You banged at the door. it didn't even hurt. I didn't regret it at all. I was only scared that you would find out. I stuffed the blood full of toilet paper. It didn't stop bleeding. more bangs at the door. I pulled my sleeve to cover it and pressed it into the blood. Later I had to pull the threads out of the scab. that hurt more.)

Or the time that you fled to the bathroom all upset and it was my fault because my story wasn't tinkerbell happy.

Or all the times when there was something wrong with me and you mentioned lotff by name, ANuli by name. They belong to my intneral world. My safe place. My reason to live at times. 'I have to live because who else is going to finish the land of the fallen fairies?'

And you mentioned it by name to say what's wrong with me. That I should stop spending so much time on it.

(rewrite to make it better and justify it's existnece. my existence. over and over and over again.

Pour and frustrate over every word, every sentence a poetic struggle because hopefully it's enough to make it okay. To make it not a mess. It's myslef and I barely exist outside of it.

Strange coping mecahism huh?

You'd think I keep my reason to exist safer.

Nope. this is myself we're talkign about. My mess of a personality that shouldn't exist.

Blabbered about it with all my dumb words, too fast so they wouldn't bore anyone else, yet understood. I dug my own grave. silly silly.)

It needs to be perfect and it needs to be perfect the first time because it's what's in my head and all I have to say as myself and they hate it. It's known and they hate it.

they saw that fricking video and I wanted to take it down.

"you act psychotic'

ANd what if I am? What if I'm sooo messed up inside and barely keeping it together?

What if that's what I put on paper because that's me isn't it?

'burden everyone with your emotions'

SO. I. WRITE. THEM. DOWN. SO. NO. ONE. ELSE. HAS. TO. HEAR. THEM.

SO I CONFORT MYSelf with them so eveything's okay. It's never gooiing to be and I'm just fooling myself because what an utter fool am I. Wasted potential and all that.

Yes whatever's wrong with me (all of it and everything) comes out on paper and what I say and every bit of it is a burden to you all and you all would rather it didn't exist and SO do i so i don't show you all so I write it down so I perfect it with every once of myself so I mark down my existence through the characters you hate.

Making ANuli got me in trouble.

silly silly.

Spent too long on faer during vacation. Yelled at. Finished faer in the closet so no one else would see.

took faer out when I thought it was safe and you thought fae was great and that I should display faer and not mess with faer. i want to use faer for photos but how do I do that if I don't have a phone?

Fae's broken now.

how nice is that?

in cannon fae tears off all faer borken leaves and I finally get to put my self harm onto paper how nice how nice how ncie.

'writers are like this, tortured and thinks too much.'

yes yes. SImple misunderstanding. Writers like me are insane and broken and BECAUSE of that they write. The writing does not cause anything. AN effect an effect. My reason to exist and I cannot take a break if I'm unhappy with it.

Why would I take a break?

I stop existing.

and it's swirling in my head. coiling in my heart. it hurts. write it down and it's not right. not good enough. not what I had in my head. who would wnat to read this it's long and tedious but it's anuli's and you deserve to exist as you are but aren't you my vessel for feelings of self-hatred so I must exist then.

I don't want to exist.

I want my existence to live as it is.

Understand my dilemma?