#and the force kind of does what it wants so who knows

[kooyabooya]

PURITIES, IMPURITIES

yunjin & kazuha x m reader

31k words

Alright - this is kind of one of those cliché, freeze-frame moments from those sitcoms that puts you right in the middle of the action, or- when you wake up with a pounding headache of hangover after having an apocalyptic night out and somehow everything you’re trying to remember is nothing but a complete blank. 

Yunjin sells the part right away, groggily after waking up saying: “God, can you believe what the hell happened last night?” 

Sadly, you don’t recall it from the get go. 

Kazuha’s body curling the pillow serves as the first piece of information at the scene of the crime: your bed. 

“She’s gonna give us an earful of this when she's up,” you say. “We’d be lucky if she’s in a good mood by then.” 

“There’s nothing to freak out about,” and Yunjin’s reassurance gives you a warming glimmer of hope. “I’ll tell you this. She came to me, first.” 

“Are we talking back then or earlier?” 

Yunjin slaps your arm, laughing. She’s aware that the inquiry was entirely rhetorical, a minor press to her buttons. Her thumb rubs Kazuha’s temple, moving a few strands of messy hair away from her face. Bright rays of sunlight breaking through the drapes and the evidence is riddled all over her: the marks, the dry streaks of cum at her legs, sweat glistening across her skin. Your mental checklist is filling up by the minute. 

“To be fair,” and it’s a realization to be made: “She did ask for this.” 

“Yes," Concurs Yunjin. "Yes she did.” 

–

Let’s summarize it like this: post-grad life is absolutely no joke. 

Your realization of this has been deeply humbling. 

And you’re reminded, again - from one of your friends who’s on the same boat as you: taking things day by day is always the way to go, don’t ever forget that. 

It sounds easier said than done. 

The lovely chime of the lock popping out from its hole plays a nice tune of pomp and circumstance, your humble abode of trinkets and gadgets and items greeting you a ‘welcome home!’ after a long day of work. It’s worth noting: you’re not actually working - not yet, but the job search in the pool has been quite dry. 

You sigh, get your shoes off at the doorstep, and toss your jacket on the nearby chair you lay your eyes on. 

When you finally hobble over to the couch, Yunjin appears right on cue; half hair up, half down, fresh out of the shower and in one of your shirts. You know her schedule by heart: the day was Thursday, which meant that she was out for a pickleball run with Somi and Giselle who convinced her to give the sport a try. She had some prior experience with tennis, so most of the skills easily transferred over. Talk about being multi-talented. 

“Hey,” she greets, tapping your thigh as a signal to give her some space on the seat. “Long day today? 

“Yeah,” you say, rubbing the sleepiness off your face and graze your thumb on the top of Yunjin’s thigh. “Nothing much to report- oh. I managed to get a callback from that one place I told you about last week.” 

“The start up Sian’s working in? Any good news?” Her voice lights up in excitement, brows elevated and head at an angle like a golden retriever. “I thought that place was only fifth in your options.” 

“It was, but figured that I’d work backwards on the list from bottom to top.” 

Yunjin smirks, nails to your knuckles, tic bouncing off her tongue, agreeing. “What an innovator.” 

“A different angle,” you laugh, “Worth giving it a try.” 

“We all have to start somewhere,” she tells you, voice light-hearted and calming. “Besides, life isn’t a linear graph that one follows. Everybody has their ups and downs they don’t want to admit.” 

She does have a point, so you nod. 

“Don’t be discouraged if there’s no results right away,” she adds on, lifting her hand up for you to momentarily give you a handshake as if she was your brother or something, curling your fingers with hers before ending it off with the pull down, gently slapping your cheek to force a smile out of you. Yunjin’s got all the remedies you can ask to boost your mood up, no point arguing otherwise. “You also said that you didn’t like the one other place second on your list.” 

“That cafe would be nice. Can finally cross off how to make the perfect matcha drink, too,” you reply, sitting up and sliding your arm across her waist, bringing her closer. 

“Mhm,” she hums, smiling the more she leans into your touch. If there was anything that you know very well to do: is how easily it is for her to let these things slide - more so like you can literally sweep her off her feet and suck the life out of her, without having the guilt lingering whatsoever. She’s so agonizingly pretty in your eyes and the fact she can say some of the coolest things in her perspective about life because she realizes that it cuts both ways. You could listen to her talk smart all day, until she plays into the dirty ditz where it gets closer to one familiar end far faster than you would like to admit. “I’ll say this compliment, then: you already have the best cup of coffee in town,” Yunjin says, a smirk with a chin lifted up and your tongue pressing the inner side of your lip. Her gaze goes hazy, and the half-lidded eyes coming from you really sends the message either way. “I actually like the whole package you’re selling. It’s sweet.” 

“You think of me as sweet? I guess so too.”

“That’s not the only thing sweet about you,” says Yunjin, palming your crotch and scratches the fabric, her breath at your teeth. “You’re dangerous.”

“Jen, what are you trying,” you chuckle, slow and low; the tone like you’re wanting to find something without putting too much force into suspicion. “Need I remind you that you were almost late to practice earlier?” 

As Yunjin bites her lip at the lean in, only to be interrupted by the same chime at the door. A second later, the sound gets replaced by another girl’s huff, keys jangling and boots clattering on the floor before making their way further into the apartment. Both of you look towards her direction out of curiosity. 

“Back already, Zuha?” Yunjin asks, leaning out more to the point she’s almost perpendicular to the seat of the couch, “How’d the hair appointment go?” 

“Good!” Kazuha beams, shrugging off her handbag and straightening her denim jacket outshined by her new color of hair - she mentioned it in the group chat between you three with a picture of her head wrapped up in tinfoil, so the input paid off. “Thought it would take longer, but I really like this shade much more than the blonde I had a year ago.” 

“Oh god,” you breathe, “I can’t stress how much I hated the blonde shade back then.” 

Kazuha’s brows crinkle, lips inward. She doesn’t want to admit it herself, but she did say her blonde hair wasn’t the right choice. “Dickhead. I thought I told you to take that opinion outside.” 

“I’m not going to apologize for saying what’s right.” 

“Guess I don’t have to ask you what you think about my hair and go directly to Yunjin instead.” 

“Ash blonde is more of your style, Kazuha,” you admit, Yunjin also agreeing with a little nod of her own. “If you were to ask me, I’d prefer this one over the blonde you had from last year.” 

“He does have a valid reason,” Yunjin adds, palm to your chest when she stands up from the couch with a water bottle in her hand from the table. Tosses it towards Kazuha who catches it without an issue. “You staying in or stopping by tonight?” 

Kazuha chugs half the bottle down, smacks her lips soon after. “Got an hour to chill, told Saku and Chaewon we’re eating out tonight. Since Sakura’s boytoy leaves tomorrow to-” 

“Study abroad,” you input, “I remember she was talking to me about him a few weeks ago.” 

“So no more dick for me or her,” Kazuha says. 

“You’re serious,” you say back. “Dude.” 

Kazuha twists her face, hands wrapped tighter around the plastic. “Dude. It is serious. A total loss for the home team.” 

“He wasn’t even your boyfriend to begin with.” Yunjin butts in, almost ad-libbed. 

“That’s what makes it fun!” 

“This girl can’t be helped,” Yunjin, shifting her attention to the cutting board of chicken and vegetables. “Sucks for her to be put out of commission all because she can’t get her pussy filled up this weekend.” 

“I heard that, bitch.” Kazuha yells deep in the hallway. “Why don’t you tell Chaewon while you’re at it too with her boyfriend.” 

You laugh at the annoyance Kazuha has in her voice. Yunjin rolls her eyes and wheels around in the kitchen. The pair part ways into doing their own activities around the place and that’s really the end of that. There’s a sense of comfort you find yourself in within these walls. When the world outside you doesn’t swing the way you want it to, it’s always nice to lay back and relax - save the problems of today to tomorrow. You lace your fingers together, put them over your waist and cross your ankles up to the armrest, closing your eyes.

“I’ll be here,” you’re saying aloud, a usual announcement during these hours: “Wake me up when the food’s ready, or if Kazuha leaves, whichever happens to come first.” 

–

Among the never ending loop of emails, interviews, and outings at different food spots to brush up the resume, you’re getting sick and tired of the daily activities as a whole. You’re doubtful, like a running inside joke you’re not in on. 

You tell Yunjin about the struggles, to which she tells you: “there’s no such thing as mistakes in a plan that’s meant for you, babe.” God bless her, the literary ability this woman has reminds you again as to why she wanted to be an english teacher or writer. Hell, philosophy might’ve been her forte, but it’s another debate topic to save for later. 

Kazuha’s outlook is a bit more abrasive; more real and a little less innocent, doesn’t mince her words at all. “Look, I know we give much shit between us at times,” she blurts out on a random afternoon, “but I think those people who do the hiring don’t know what you’re capable of yet, and it angers me about them not caring about you.” 

“Didn’t think you’d have the heart to say that to my face.” 

Kazuha squints, confused. Yunjin looks up from her book, eavesdropping. 

“If we’re being honest,” Kazuha continues with a wave of her hand. “this is basically like you getting me through college apps back in senior year, me having the breakdowns on a nightly basis because you shat on my essays being complete trash-” 

“Somewhat relevant, yes. Still isn’t as close to what I feel.” 

Ever since graduation (and even before then), the pair have gotten used to each other in no time flat. Yunjin eventually had to end the lease on her apartment at the beginning of summer and it was a no brainer when you popped the question of moving in. They both have similar tastes, similar styles - the list goes on and on. But hey: two of the hottest girls on campus are living with you and every time someone brings it up you just give them a shrug. 

(The non-verbal message presents itself like it’s no big deal. 

Or one quiet way of answering: ‘fuck you, stay out of my business’.)

Yujin closes her book and treats herself to the cup of tea on the table. “It’s pretty much a similar experience across the board, no need to overcomplicate it.” 

You check your phone with the same kind of energy in receiving a text. Quick skim here, no luck. “Whoopty-fucking-do, still no message back from Minnie about the software position.” 

“No stress babe, it’s Friday night after all.” 

“I’d text her personally to see if there’s any hold up, rush the process a bit.” Kazuha suggests. 

You pull your lip. “I could, but what do you want me to do? It’s not my fault that the job market and economy as a whole is in shambles, toying with the idea of teasing me like it’s some ‘will they, won’t they’ kind of situation. But seriously-” and here your hands are in your face in a small sign of frustration, “it’s a bit discouraging on the latter when I could be spending my time on-” 

“Pressure isn’t a good look on you,” Kazuha tuts, snorting. She reclines back on the seat, sliding her heels on the floor, “I’m sure someone will swoop you on their ship sooner or later. The strategy here is just sit and wait, taking into account the number of places you dropped by today and they can’t look at the CV the moment you hand it to them. Ever heard the saying: “Rome wasn’t built in a day?” 

“Classic for the kids.” Yunjin recites, hands bracing her chin. “Patience is always the everlasting virtue.” 

“Both of you are dead last in lecturing me about practicing a positive mindset.” 

Here they laugh in midst of deliberation. Because Yunjin’s shaking her head while Kazuha’s turning her attention away to something that isn’t on you. The heat starts to rise on your face in embarrassment. Yunjin’s gaze lowers on Kazuha as she crosses her arms, fingers tapping along the opposite limb, sharing the same look before she looks over to you once again. Silence fills the table for a moment until Kazuha’s phone vibrates on the table, prompting her to swipe it off the surface and check the notifications in mere milliseconds. 

Kazuha’s eyes briskly shimmers from the screen, face lighting up once she’s finished reading. “Oh shit,” she breathes. “I forgot I was going out with Sakura tonight.” 

“Where to this time?” 

“Eunchae’s,” she answers, briskly standing up and typing her life away. “Just a quick outing, doughnut run, nothing too big. Yunjin, you still coming?” 

“Can’t.” Yunjin yawns. “Tired and plus I had a movie date planned with this one,” she says with a head bob towards you. 

“Ew- gross,” Kazuha mutters. You look at her dumbfounded while Yunjin smirks. “Whatever, enjoy your impromptu movie date.” 

“Prayers up for the dick that’s about to cross paths with you,” you remark over your shoulder. “Whoever’s the lucky one to bend you over tonight, I’ll drink to that too.” 

Kazuha smacks your head then walks away. “I’ll take that same fucking bottle when I come back and smash it over your head.” 

“Ouch.” Yunjin sighs, putting on her glasses and stretching. “I’ve been telling you it’s a lost cause for her.” 

“Hey. That’s her problem, not mine.” 

–

Kazuha’s problems, whether you like it or not, usually end up becoming yours. 

Not that it’s her fault or anything. The girl just spills out one word and it turns into a never ending ramble of sentences. 

Fifteen minutes have passed since dinner, for the ones who are curious - fifteen minutes of valuable time lost in Kazuha’s eyes because she can’t seem to get her life together when it comes to proper efficiency. You and Yunjin are bundled up on the couch, watching some dating series on netflix that’s been all the rage across social media. The cast upon preliminary assessment are all attractive - some with a stronger bias than others, but you deduced Yunjin’s opinion was much more important than what’s happening on screen. 

Self-insertion is a matter of conceptual perspective, is what she’s trying to tell you. 

“All I’m saying is-” she groans after your pitiful laugh, “we put ourselves in that scenario, and I guarantee the ratings would go up.” 

“Pretty high pedestal you’re putting me there,” you comment. 

Yunjin slaps your shoulder and gawks at you, playfully offended. “Oh please, if you didn’t take me to paradise, how else would you make your case compared to the other good looking guys?” 

“Don’t need to, since I’ve already got you.” 

She coos at the remark, laughing at you playing it off in the coolest way imaginable. It’s cringy, but who the fuck cares? The fact that she agrees with the statement only solidifies the pull you have on her. A win-win situation. 

“What about Kazuha?” Yunjin follows up shortly after. “I think she’d be a great fit there.” 

“If I were one of the guys on that show and she was one of the contestants, I’d try everything to date her in a heartbeat,” you tell her. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“Really what?” Kazuha walks in a second after your reply, with a zip-up to her frame and peeping over to see what was on the screen. “I heard my name down the hallway.” 

“Oh nothing, Zu,” answers Yunjin, waving her hand to shoo her off. “We were just saying that you’d be a great addition to the dating show cast. I can’t lie, some of the guys in this are super hot.” 

“Ahem,” you cough. 

“Shut up,” Yunjin says. “You were literally just telling me that you’d date Kazuha if you had the chance.” 

“Never in a million years,” you hear Kazuha say, disgusted. “That can of worms stays shut for a reason.” 

“A fun topic to talk about,” you’re laughing out loud again, shaking your head. Kazuha squints her eyes and her lips are spread wide in annoyance. A common expression she does whenever she can’t comprehend the bullshit coming out of your mouth at times - for most occasions is all sarcasm and nothing more. “You may not like it, but who’s living with who here, hm?” 

“I’ll kick your ass again if I have to,” Kazuha chuckles - a tilt of her head to keep it subtle, but you know well she intends that. 

you say

“Can’t beat my ass if you haven’t gone out yet,” you retort, pursing your lips. Kazuha glances at the clock and realizes what time it was, cursing under her breath. She shoves a hand in her pocket and bolts for the door, throwing up a peace sign to you and Yunjin, letting you both know she’s finally on her way out. 

“Bye Zuha, have fun!” Yunjin yells in a light tone.

“Don’t burn the place down until I get back, but the noise complaints are fine,” Kazuha says, slotting herself through the door the next second, into the cold. 

–

“That girl with the dark blonde hair looks like Kazuha,” Yunjin tells you, pointing at the screen. She’s right. The one on the show appears to be at the right height, similar body build, not to mention the abs highlighted from her swimsuit. “I’m telling you, it’s a carbon copy.” 

It’s been a little over an hour since Kazuha left, maybe more - you haven’t been keeping track, really. The episodes and runtimes are starting to mesh together to the point where Yunjin’s starting to get other ideas with that mischievous hand of hers, working at your shorts. 

“She’s hella popular with the others - so you might be right, considering Kazuha’s the mix of an extroverted introvert,” you say, paying no attention to the slip of Yunjin’s hand into your boxers, fingers snaking the length. She can feel you getting hard. 

You’re on the same wavelength as Yunjin: hand trailing up her thigh, thumb and index pinching the waistband of her panties beneath the blanket before curling your fingers across the fabric, hearing a hitched breath. 

“There’s no way they don’t hook up while recording, right? Like- the fuckable scales are off the charts,” she assesses, squirming her hips to the fingers circling over her clothed clit. She cocks her head as you pull your lips inward, trying to see the transmitting message in her eyes. 

You press a little further in at the opening, feel the dampness spread across. Oh yeah, she’s soaking them. 

“We wouldn’t know, per se, since the whole point of inferno is all about exclusivity. Getting to know the person without any outside distractions, that kind of thing,” you conclude. You’re paying more attention to your hand than the show. 

“Them having sex on camera would be so normal,” Yunjin says, a word slips out but her mouth forms to something else when you slip a finger inside without a warning. “So normal.”

“You’d be right.” 

“Definitely,” she breathes and it’s heavy. This segment has been slowly building in the background; the part where few words are said and relied more on the action: Yunjin’s thumb presses down on the head of your cock and grips around it, languidly stroking; your breathing stops for a moment, bobbing the air down your throat, coming up with a proper response, ending with nothing. You can feel your lower body tense and relax with the ticks of the clock, an indicator for what’s about to happen if you keep this up. You don’t fight it - nor want to, since you’re both well aware that the teasing is a better way to eat up the time with your bodies rather than everything else. 

It’s only natural to do things like these. You’d always make time for being horny. 

Before you know it, your shorts are on the floor. The same could be said with her panties, tossed away to a corner in the room for you to ask yourself “well how the fuck did that get there?” later when the damage has been done. Her shirt’s being held up by her teeth and you’re taking all the sights of her upper half uncovered past her shirt. Nothing but porcelain skin and amber nipples waiting to be marked up and bitten. Your hips get put in place and your mouth is taken over by Yunjin’s, feeling the glide of her folds across your cock and the slickness of her cunt on your fingers, smearing her thigh. 

Her breath is warm, just like her face; mouth hung open when she settles her pussy on your shaft. She finds joy in the loose and unraveling expressions: all wide-eyed and nowhere else to go. Your head falls back once the grip registers in the nerves. 

All in the rise and fall of her hips. She’s gyrating them as a test like it’s a given - which it is. She loves it when you’re raring to go, dicking her hips down or fucking herself on your cock. It’s all the same. 

“Babe,” she whispers into your ear. The blanket uncovering your lower halves, barren skin now out to the open air. “I want it.” 

Fuck, she could meet you halfway with the wetness of her pussy and already be there. You hold her hips and waist steady and she begins to ride. 

–

Here is where the story - or rather, the ordeal - truly unravels. As Anakin Skywalker famously declares on the glowing screen before the darkened room: ‘This is where the fun begins.’

You’re woken up to the incessant buzzing of your phone on the nightstand, blinded by the glare of the television, drowsy as fuck, and slightly sweating. You also don’t even bother looking at the time because your lock screen is basically a flashbang of your selfie with Yunjin even with the caller ID blurring it. It’s from an unknown number (it isn’t but you can barely see as it is) and even if you’re entertaining the idea of not answering it, you do anyway. 

“Hello?” Your voice graveled and deep, clearly tired. “Who is this?” 

“Oh, you’re Yunjin’s boyfriend, right?” The girl on the other end asks. Her voice is surprisingly masculine. You would���ve mistaken her for a guy in that case. The line goes quiet for a few seconds, afraid that she possibly called the wrong number. “You sound like Yunjin’s boyfriend. By the way, it’s Eunchae.” 

Crap, you remember that Kazuha was with her for tonight’s activities. Wondering what the hell happened this time for her to call instead of Sakura as the usual standby. 

“We have a situation here,” she continues, mouth ticked with a hint of annoyance. “Kazuha’s hammered and Sakura’s getting her business on with some guy out in the alleyway. Told me to call you if she didn’t come back in five minutes. And it’s been more than five minutes.” 

“Shit, I didn’t think it’d be that serious.” 

“The fuck were you expecting?” 

“I dunno- just a simple doughnut dine and dash? Neither of them told me about a party.” 

“That’s because the two of them tagged along with the guy they met there and it’s been downhill ever since. I wanna go home.” 

Can’t help but feel bad for Eunchae, since you were in her shoes before. 

“Mind hurrying it up a bit? I can hear Sakura’s moaning behind me and it’s looking like she won’t be going home tonight.” 

You scratch the back of your head, raking off the sleepiness before rubbing your eyes. “Alright, be there in a few. Where do you want to meet?” 

“I’ll send my location, my house isn’t far from here.” 

–

In a slight reiteration, you’ve become used to Kazuha’s antics. 

Kazuha brings in Sakura and her plus one late at night, you know how that goes; Kazuha can’t decide which top goes well with her loose pants for the grocery run; Kazuha procrastinates on some of the chores around the apartment and leaves you alone to pick up her slack. She smacks your ass for fun and runs away into her room - goes to show the years of friendship you have between you two. When you’re up late studying for midterms or finals, the noise cancelling headphones serve well to block out the sounds of Kazuha touching herself -or, the fact that you’re putting her pile of laundry on her bed and it’s riddled with the assortment of playboy magazines, dirty clothes, and the vibrator (which you don’t question) next to it. She’s an agent of chaos. A perfect anthesis to your very livelihood. 

It’s certainly no exception when you mentally add alcohol into the mix. 

“Do I want to know how she ended up like this?” You ask Eunchae upon arriving, kneeling down to a slumped Kazuha against the brickwall on the sidewalk - hand to the back of her head to get a better look of her drunk gaze: one eye open and giggling like an idiot, her words slurring. 

“She literally grabbed the first beer handed to her when we got here,” Eunchae replies, showing you a picture of the moments before disaster. “I thought she was a heavy weight.” 

“Depends on what they were passing out in that party.” You move Kazuha’s head around to ensure nothing happened to her. So far: face blushed with pink, a lazy eye, messy hair and sweaty skin. But most importantly: no marks. “Did Saki tell you to stick with her while at the party?” 

“Yes, she did.” 

“Well that’s the good news,” you’re saying to yourself. Kazuha might be a pain in your ass, but she is your longtime friend, after all. Like anyone else, you’d go the extra mile to keep an eye out for her. 

You then glance back at Eunchae, her shadow casted by the glare of the overhanging streetlight, arms crossed with the light tap of her foot. Her thumb subconsciously swipes the phone screen as you both look at Kazuha when she snorts, playfully hitting your arm. 

“She’ll be fine,” you softly say, hoisting Kazuha’s arms over your shoulders and adjusting her on your back. “Given the fact that Sakura’s getting her fuck-fix for the weekend, I’ll leave that be.” 

“Mhm, girl’s a piece of work,” Eunchae concurs, lashes fluttering in the dim lighting, air to the left side of her cheek. “And here I thought we were getting our box and heading back home but-” she then motions a hand to Kazuha murmuring behind you. “-this shit unfolded and, yeah.” 

“The regular stuff,” you admit, because it really is. You twitch your head the opposite way from the house party. “My car’s this way, I’ll drop you off on the way back.” 

–

(Dealing with a drunk Kazuha in the car was simple math: 

Make sure she’s comfy, for one. Recline the seat all the way back since her feet will most likely end up on the dashboard for another. And almost beating every red light at the intersections so that she doesn’t get cranky with all the stops and turns for the third note. 

A long list and every contingency written in the book: you know her that well.) 

–

3:00 in the morning is usually classified as ‘primetime hours’ for Kazuha. 

Except for tonight. 

You’re running through the standard procedure: get out the car, walk up the stairs, hook a right, second door past the balcony. 

Left shoulder, right shoulder, right foot up, then left; fix Kazuha’s weight on your backside so you don’t throw your back out early, lean a little too forward she’ll fall right off, look back when she’s secure. 

For a girl like her to be 5’7” and 105 pounds, it doesn’t add everything up in your head. She’s humming a song - the lyrics incoherent, tone consistent - then all of a sudden she yelps in surprise. Keep her quiet - a fifth noise complaint from the neighbors in the span of three days was not on the agenda for this week. 

She smacks your head, half awake. “Hey, how did I get home? Put me down.” Kazuha pushes herself off, landing on her feet with a stumble, prompting you to hover your hand to her waist so that she doesn’t lose balance. It’s 3 in the fucking morning and Kazuha’s drunk out of her goddamn mind. “Wait, when did you get here?” 

“I drove us,” you tell her, moving her arm over your shoulder and walking her towards the door. “Looks like you had fun tonight.” 

“I did,” Kazuha hiccups, blinking slowly. “Super fun time.” Her gaze freezes. You can’t tell if she’s grumpy or plain tired (trick question: it’s the second answer); she then closes her eyes with that neat, flat eye smile of hers to where you see the slightest dimple on her face. You could imagine the stars shimmering over her head. Kazuha has so many spirit animals that you could pair her up with, but if you had to choose one- 

“Ehe-” she giggles, staggering her right foot before readjusting her balance, doing the same laugh again. 

(She would definitely be a samoyed.)

So you stifle a laugh and close your mouth, opening the door. 

You’re leading the way back into the apartment while Kazuha tries to walk on her own. She fails. Her forearm bracing the doorway while you shift your body back around out of concern. Her body lurches forward like she just went twelve rounds in a boxing ring, fatigued. She straightens herself up with a hand on top of her head, chin tilted higher when she leans forward, about to fall. Like any other caring friend would do in this situation: you catch her. 

“Easy, easy.” You hold yourself steady, accepting the weight. Or- when you’re stumbling too and shuffle your feet for proper placement. “You said you didn’t drink that much, tell me the truth.” 

Kazuha hums, mindlessly bobbing her head in the form of a yes. 

Her gaze is sleepy. Both of your hands are at her shoulders, keeping her upright. Kazuha’s zip-up slips off her shoulder, exposing her collarbone, covering the tubetop she was wearing with a set of underwear you haven’t seen before. Probably new, you assume. “Kazuha, stand up straight for me, please?” 

“Mmkay,” she slurs. 

“Think you can walk back to your room by yourself?” 

“Nope.” Kazuha beams with her head to the left. 

You sigh. Pat the side of her face to wake her up a bit. “Guess you can’t be helped.” A hand’s extended like a peace offering. “C’mere, I’ll take you there right now.” 

“If you take good care, I’ll let you fuck me.” 

Oh, hell no- 

You weren’t prepared for this kind of Kazuha at all. There was no plan. Not even a proper response in your head could cover for it. 

Kazuha being drunk was always the marker for attention. Put her with the right people (like Sakura, Chaewon, even fucking Yunjin), and it’s guaranteed to be a never ending stream of laughs throughout the day and into the night. Not one second goes by when you’re out with friends to look over the shoulder and see the most questionable acts coming from her that twists the creases across your face and forces you to bear no mind to what’s happening behind you; stay focused now, ask questions later. When you do bring up the topic, it gets brushed over and eventually ignored. You have so many ‘why’s’ as it is, but you find it best to save it for the morning. 

“Kazuha, you’re clapped. There’s no way you just asked me to-” 

“But I’ll be good for you. C’mon, don’t you think I should repay you in some way?” 

“You getting sleep right now will be good for me. Now let’s go, I’m tired as it is-” 

Her arms wrap around your shoulder and middle lazily. You can’t afford to handle another minute of this nonsense and just get your ass back to bed. That alone should be a right in itself, but this girl won’t fucking let go. 

Next thing you know, her lips graze the bottom of your neck before resting on your collarbone. Your name is heard into your shirt, and you huff in annoyance. Plus, your voices could be a little louder than usual since Yunjin’s a heavy sleeper. At this point, you’ve had enough: so you slip your fingers into Kazuha’s hair and yank her head back to see her face wince at the sudden pain. There’s no shame when you see her biting her lip, half-lidded eyes gazing with no care of the lust behind them. “Just help me to my room, I promise not to give you trouble. I owe you. Need to thank,” she mumbles, licking her lips. “I’ll be a good girl.” 

“Christ- Kazuha, we’re not doing this.” But talking to her while she’s intoxicated isn’t going to do you any good. 

Now you carry on, dragging her closer to the room, ignoring the assault of mindless kisses she’s placing all over your neck. She ups the ante when her hand palms your sweats, trying to play it off in standing upright. 

“Jesus- Kazuha,” you angrily swear, similar to all the times she pissed you off.

“What? You don’t like that?” Kazuha asks, lips parted when she rests her fingers at your crotch. 

“Fucks sake, no.” 

“Aw come onnnn,’ she whines, trilling the last bit of the words. “Yunjin always has her fun, why can’t I?” 

“Because I said no.” 

“You won’t even let me suck you off? What if I just wanna stay here and sit so I can do that?” 

You can’t stand her being like this. 

“I always hear you and Yunjin getting it on in your room.” She leans on the wall next to the open door, curling her hand around your arm while the other doesn’t move. “How would it feel if I called you daddy again for once?” 

The scrunch in your nose shuts down the thought immediately. You’re sensible enough to not entertain the idea, despite how tempting it is. No. You know better. You know damn well what that shit does to you even if it slapped you in the face. No one casually spills the word ‘daddy’ like it’s nothing and expect no reaction. Her mind’s swimming in alcohol. You’re starting to wonder what the hell she drank at that party. 

“Again- God. Zuha.” You flicker your eyes into the void of the hallway. The nickname only comes up at times where she’s really getting on your nerves. “For the last time, you are getting your ass to bed and we’ll talk about it in the morning.” Kazuha winces at the sharp tone, realizing she’s overstepped her bounds. Bless the last bits of common sense she has left; you don’t know where you’d be if she didn’t use her brain cells for something else that required her to think. 

“Ugh, fine,” she tells you, and the tamped down ego in your head is satisfied in victory, stepping into her room. You hold her at the arms and help slip out of her jacket, tossing it on her chair as she does her part in sitting on the bed, waiting for you to lie her down. “I was hoping that you could fuck me.” 

“In your dreams,” you rebut firmly. 

Right before you walk away, Kazuha grabs your wrist. A few wisps of her hair fall over her forehead. “Wait,” she says, and that should’ve been the red flag to swipe your hand away from the imposing threat - a dangerous risk you’re not willing to take. You clench your teeth and swallow hard, with the slightest bit of pull in your arm. “At least-” 

You actually don’t move forward, but backward. 

“At least touch me, just this once.” Before you know what she’s doing, it’s already too late. Her hand guides yours to her thigh, working the curve of your thumb and index up her waist. Part of you is impressed at the amount of work she put in maintaining a chiseled frame, the muscle very much present the more your fingers press down on the skin. “For a little bit.” 

(Should’ve left the room when you had the chance.) 

Your eyes continue to gaze and drift all over Kazuha’s body, hand to her chest with the thumb curling below her breast. Her humming rumbles low, safe. It hadn’t been that long since she was out in the cold, but she’s surprisingly warm. 

She makes sure every single part of your hand feels it, flipping it over to the knuckles past her hips, fingertips making contact to the patterned lace of her panties - the fabric clearly damp when she starts to shift her hips at your touch. It’s all gone wrong - a mess, one really fucked up mess - her lower half continues to move with both of her legs pressing your hand in, holding you tight at her sensitive clit, the huffs rising and falling along with her chest the more she used your fingers to get herself off. 

Drunk Kazuha was easy to deal with. Sleepy drunk Kazuha was a cakewalk in caring for. But never in your years of knowing her where she would be like this. Let alone the fact you’re in a relationship with her best friend and you’re staring further and further away from the door towards freedom. 

The reality check will be cashed in once it’s all over.  

You say her name, which spills out in a stutter; your state of mind incomprehensible to the stacked hands working the heat and slick between Kazuha’s legs, head unable to stay still and lolling side to side, elbows digging into the mattress. 

How does she not feel embarrassed with what she’s doing? Sarcasm applied: how are you not ashamed of this? 

It hits you right then and there: in the retracted hand of yours, eliciting another small tantrum of Kazuha kicking and waving her arms like a kid. You take a second to pause, remember how you got here in the first place and why, clouded with anger and confusion, hindering a sizable amount of time to reflect. Soon, you found it best to retreat from the situation and into the kitchen, grab a glass of water and wash your hands to calm yourself. 

(Even as your thumb grazes the glass in a period of contemplating, the whole ordeal can't be swallowed down that easily, as much as you want it to. Not when you’re achingly hard in your sweatpants and that serves a few more strings of curses out your mouth.) 

One last thing that you could do before heading back to your room was set the small bottle of aspirin at the side of her bed for when she wakes up. Maybe convince her to use that body pillow of hers to mimic the warmth; you nod your head at the thought, it could work and it should. It’s been a few minutes since her mini breakdown and you assume that she’d be asleep by now. 

You couldn’t wait until the morning to tease her about being a horny drunk - worry about being her personal punching bag later. 

Apparently the teasing would have to wait. Because your personal ideal about Kazuha was about to be shifted again. 

The last thing you would’ve expected was for her to be sound asleep. Instead, she’s got her tube top up to her upper chest, one delicate hand furiously rubbing sloppy circles into her clit, the other gripping into the mattress as she’s on her knees, body pillow between her legs, grinding into the cushions. Her pants are at the foot of the bed, panties loosely around her right ankle. She’s an insufferable cocktease. 

It’s something straight out of your wet dreams, from a time when everything revolved around Kazuha. You’re sucked into an inescapable vacuum of thoughts you’d never think of again (with things like those, it’s all a lie, they always are). You can’t stop peering through the crack in the door, opening it wider to watch Kazuha grab a handful of her tit and ride her own hand. She’s too into it to pay attention to you, and you’re fighting every urge in the fingers sliding down your thigh, unable to move. 

She only seemed to have one thing on her lips, the only thing plaguing her intoxicated mind. The tube top at her pits and the gush of her cunt soaking up the last pillowcase, but you’re seeing it clear as day. 

You can’t help but think how good your name sounds on her lips. 

Kazuha then gropes both of her tits, pinching both buds of her nipples to keep her from stopping, finally figuring out that she can continue without the support, falling back on the bed, unfolding her legs like butterfly wings to reveal how wet she was. The small webbing of her slick coating her index and middle fingers, leaving more spots on the bed sheets beneath her. 

There’s a deathly, fucked up part of you in the back of your mind: that wants to give in to the temptation. Oh, you could give Kazuha the same treatment as Yunjin when you have her in a blithering wreck, fucking her full as she creams on your cock, grab her by the hair and press her to the closest thing nearby to reatalite on the slightly abusive attitude. Get your tongue all over her cunt like it’s the last meal you’d ever have on your knees and have her cumming and hands full of every single part of her body until she’s had enough (which will most likely be never in this case). The need for more is an absolute certainty, a greater purpose. You'll consciously be happier in being rough, be a pain in her ass (quite literally, sooner than you think), and completely forget about the resistance or consequences.

You’re holding yourself back for now, placing the water and two tablets of aspirin on the dresser, lean your shoulder to the door frame - inhaling and exhaling quietly to not make her realize you were still in the room. 

She doesn’t stop her fingers from dipping inside her leaking slit, wagging it across her folds with every passing shudder of her breathing, sinking it back in soon two digits at a time. Debauched, impure, sinful; you could go through the list of your lexicon to describe this present moment and still won’t give an explanation as to why you can’t look away. You watch as her eyes wander, flickering when she looks down and plop her head back on the pillow when the finger curl rubs at a sensitive spot.

And it’s almost instinctual, close to second nature: your hand tugging your dick out, paying close attention to how the slenderness of her hand widely spreading her pussy folds. How Kazuha wished her own hand was a dildo or a vibrator or your cock - they won’t stretch in the way she imagines it. 

The third finger she inserted was a good try, you’ll give her that. You can’t help but be enamored. 

Suddenly, she’s switching out names. First, your name and then Yunjin’s. That’s a new piece of information you’ll save for later. Ignoring the question of how weird because this was already fucking insane as it is; you’re slowly pumping your shaft in time with her upward thrusts, grip your shaft to mimic the pressure and emulate how the skin would be coated in her soaking wetness, listening closely to the squelching getting louder and louder it seems. 

Kazuha’s legs are flush against the mattress, as far as she could get them. She’s flexible enough to do it, opening up more room for her other hand to get a fill of her desperate cunt. A sweet view. You’re lucky to have witnessed it in real time. 

Shit, you’re silently cursing to yourself. Wishing that you would’ve abstained in committing such a wicked act. 

But you keep pumping, delusion plaguing your mind. You’re lost in the sights, the sounds, her face wobbling to more rapturous, tucking her hand and tilting her hips like those other guys have done to her, the heat tugging them tightly - God, she doesn’t let up with the lovely moaning. 

“Mmm, yes, right there-” 

Seeing Kazuha like this feels undeserved. 

“Please, please-” 

“What is it. Kazuha? Want some help there?” You ask mindlessly, slipping out of your sweats some more to open up your legs. 

And when she says your name again: “I need you here with me.” 

“I’m not far,” you answer, gaze crestfallen and wistful. 

You lower your guard when the rush of euphoria begins to spread within. The sensation of jerking yourself had the capacity to wear you out just how you wanted. Because of this, when you eventually look back up, you can see the glint of watered eyes watch across from you - in between the valley of her breasts, toned legs and reddened knees. “Look at you, so handsome,” she says, hand circling her clit faster. Harder. Fingers increasing in pace to match your strokes rather than the other way around. 

“Fuck, you look so good-” you grunt with buckling knees. A familiar, aching tension in your stomach, the pin rising to the peak in your balls. The wonders of having a pretty best friend. 

“Yeah?” she murmurs. “Like this? My pussy out wide open for you? Why don’t you walk back here and plug it up?” 

“No need. You’re doing good, so fucking good. I’ll keep myself here- holy shit.” 

“Would feel-” Kazuha wheezes, a relieving proposition. “Even better, with you.” She says it like it’s some forbidden truth. 

In an alternate reality, she’d be right. 

“Think so?” Jesus fucking christ, you’ve lost it. In the current affair, this is all that mattered. “You’d prefer my dick to split your guts up instead of your fingers?” 

“God, yes.” 

“Want me to take care of that pretty little cunt of yours?” 

Kazuha sighs once more, confirming the question for you. It didn’t take much to work her up in general; if you didn’t have the remaining ounces of common sense, you could’ve dropped your pants right at the door and get even more dirty with the arousal pouring relentlessly out of her stuffed hole. It wouldn’t be a bad idea right? Cleaning up her mess with your hands, your mouth, gurgle down the endless stream of her pussy where there’d be multiple threads dripping down her legs. Fucking hell, you really could if you wanted to. 

Though you don’t move a single muscle besides your hand. 

“C’mon, more. Just a little more,” she groans, breath hitching every other second. You can feel the air get tighter, the vibrations in your throat tremoring along with every tense fiber of muscle. Coming down to a fine point, overtaking you. 

You’re just as shameless as her. 

The piercing wail of your name off her lips sounds broken, eyes clenched shut when you finally fall off that peak. You cum all over your fingers, spurting and smearing across the skin - fuck, it comes in a panic when some of it spills on the hardwood, but you could care less since it blends in well with the color. How you managed to remain standing from your high was a mystery, knees bending forward while the twitching continued to pass.

Kazuha tenses her body from the erratic movement of her chest, struggling to calm down from her orgasm. Through your sated, lidded eyes, you watch her frame relax, head falling over to the side, hand plopping over to the edge like someone shot a bullet through her on the spot. 

“Kazuha.” You huff, hoping for a response. “Kazuha?” 

Yep, she’s knocked out. 

You take a minute or two to return to your senses, looking back at Kazuha’s body to ensure she was fast asleep. Staring at the gentle shift of her arm cuddling the pillow she just rode on, you found it best to let her deal with the clean up later in the morning when she’s fully sobered up. 

A really big ‘if’ for later: her remembering everything she did from last night. You’re swearing that it doesn’t happen - hoping you don’t breathe a word of what you’ve seen or did. 

(It would be a huge problem on your hands, and an even worse one if it becomes hers.) 

Fuck, she would be mortified. 

–

“You look like shit,” Yunjin tells you later that morning, chin perched up and eyes squinted. “Didn’t you and Kazuha come back together 30 minutes later?” 

“Something like that,” you sigh, giving up the effort in holding back your yawn. “Slow mornings are always harder than the actual day.” 

“Hangovers are never kind.” 

You shrug. “Some of us can handle it better than others.” 

Right on cue, you and Yunjin glance over to see a tired Kazuha sitting alone on one of the chairs near the kitchen. Her hoodie is up and both hands are on her face to hide the subtle cough. She looks like she could sleep for another eight hours after breakfast, and it most definitely could happen. The plate in front of her is cleaned off: holding the knife and fork, coated with syrup and clearly ran through. 

Yunjin gives you a look, probably along the lines of: ‘are you sure nothing bad happened to her?’ 

You purse your lips and open the fridge, with a cold water bottle now in your hand. 

From then on it’s a silent exchange: Yunjin walking over to Kazuha and caressing the back of her head, Kazuha looking and nodding to let her know she’s alright before going on with the rest of her unproductive day. 

As for your part: you slide the bottle over to her with two more tablets of aspirin for her to take. For insurance, you insist. She’s someone you know very well who can’t function properly unless there’s some sort of responsible figure who can facilitate and keep an eye on her condition. 

It isn’t like her to be awfully quiet at times, so you fill in that role of the opposite as needed. 

“How’s your head?” You ask, voice lowered that you don’t scare the poor girl. “Gotta say, I’m jealous you got better sleep than me for once.” 

Kazuha leans back on the chair with her eyes trained on you. The occasional beep of the smoke detector above goes on for a few seconds when you see the tip of her tongue peek out and runs it along her teeth, contemplating. 

“Better,” she says. Her first words of the day. A small win. “Thank you.” 

You nod in approval, poking her forehead for some fun. “Great. No going out for you today. Not until you’re back to normal. You know the rules.” 

The gentle clatter of the silverware along the plate compliments the soft scuffle of your feet along the floor. You’re not thinking too much about what happened last night, drawing up the conclusions that it was a one-time thing. Anything beyond that reason would bring in plausible deniability. 

But you carry on with the simple house chore with Kazuha unknowingly staring from behind: biting her lip. 

–

Ironic about the unproductive day, you do everything but that. 

Emails, papers, evaluations, your endless editing of the resume, the Spoitfy window with the classical music playlist, all of it eats up the time. With the occasional step out to grab some food or a cup of water - or maybe Yunjin piggybacking you as an attempt to get you away from the desk- 

“I know you big baby,” you wheeze, feeling Yunjin’s nose against the nape of your neck, “Just let me finish one more thing and then we can do something. Promise.” 

“You said that last time,” she groans, corralling her arms tighter on your shoulders, toes barely touching the floor, “Maybe I should change the password to your desktop so you don’t go to it first thing in the morning. It’s a dangerous addiction.” 

“It’s called a routine,” you rebuke. 

“I know your password,” argues Yunjin. 

“Might have to change it again.” 

She gets off when you settle back in the office chair, her arms still wrapped and pressing her lips on to your cheek, making you giggle at the sudden assault of touches. To her defense, they’re pretty effective - her way of swaying you to lose your concentration. You don’t think twice when she forces you to put down the phone before lunch or dinner, or when you’re out with friends and she thinks it would be a great idea to send you nudes knowing very well that it’s not meant to be seen publicly. Her hair starts to pool over your front, smelling like apple rose and aloe. “So you’re saying it’s not ‘huhyun108’? Are you serious?” And she’s got you all figured out - the many angles of pressure points to slowly give in towards. Picking and choosing her battles carefully, but you don’t go down from a fight that easily. 

“Gonna change it now, actually,” you say, fast tapping on the keyboard. “Find it best for you not to look.” 

Yunjin cackles as you’re pushing her face away, pulling the chair along with you. 

–

Yunjin doesn’t have to do too much: all it takes is one breath and a few sly words and she gets what she wants. 

She’s adamant with what’s hers: lipstick mark on your neck? That’s Yunjin. Her white scrunchie on deck at your wrist for when she can’t deal with her hair? Also Yunjin - supplying to the demand was always her kind of thing. 

It’s midweek, at the point in the day where things get stagnant and there isn’t anything of interest to note, the usual grace period where the thought of doing nothing is considered the best option. Yunjin keeps watching that same netflix series, dissatisfied with how the current season played out. To compensate: she rewatches the second season for the sixth time and her key point was the fact the two most popular contestants really hit it off, but never got together. 

That wasn’t the main concern, however. 

“She hasn’t been out of her room since yesterday,” Yunjin pouts, long legs stacked on top of yours and restraining. “I’m getting a little worried.” 

“I saw her go to the kitchen and back earlier,” you inform, tossing popcorn into your mouth. “She did have that pilates session around lunch. You know Zuha, and her cardio.” 

“That door’s been shut a little too long,” she mumbles, not entirely ruling out your observation. “I know that there’s the unspoken rule for privacy, but I’m genuinely curious what the girl’s been up to. She seems a bit-” 

“Closed off?” You fill in, completing the train of thought. “You may be right with that.” 

“Mmm,” Yunjin agrees. 

“Wait it out some more, then we’ll see what happens.” 

–

(You wonder a bit too much, and get caught off guard as a consequence. 

You haven’t moved from the couch, with Yunjin fast asleep at your side. The position so comfortable, you could honestly pass out here and wake up eons later - a tempting idea to entertain, and a plausible action to consider. 

Kazuha appears from the hallway, rubbing the tiredness off from her three hour nap. A bit bizarre to nap past 8 PM, but that’s her thing. Her shirt is so baggy that it covers some of her thighs, toes spread on the floor before she continues to make headway to the fridge. Hair frizzled in messy waves and moving gently in every step. 

So you initiate first, “Hey,” and you layer that with a lean back of the head of the couch so she can see you better in the dim light. “Everything good?” 

Kazuha twists her body towards your voice, gaze stoic and quiet, fingers twisting the bottle cap open and fiddling it around. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.” 

“Good to know,” and your words come casual. Unbothered. As if you heard enough to carry on and leave her be, aware that she’s able to interact again. “Happy to hear your voice, like alive- or something.” 

“You sound worried,” says Kazuha, cringing. “Ew, don’t do that. It’s weird.” 

She doesn’t know you can hear her snort from the couch. 

“But you are okay, right?” You ask again. Kazuha’s backside twisting once more to face you, blinking carefully. Her expression shifts to something more misty, unclear. All she gives is a nod and hum. Doesn’t say anything after. 

At least she tells you that much.)

–

Okay, it’s probably bad that you’re keeping an eye on Kazuha - reserving a spot in your head to revisit that night over and over. Maybe it means something, or it doesn’t. 

It really, really shouldn’t. Like at all. But the recurring thought fills your mind at some point between the passing days. 

“I’m heading out now.” Kazuha says to you sweeping through the kitchen, bag in hand and behind Yunjin. “Won’t be back until later probably.” 

“Where are you headed this time?” Yunjin leans over, resting her head. 

“Sakura called me to be her muse for her fashion portfolio. Said I fit the profile with the outfits she has in mind. Girl can crochet, but clothes? She has a really good fucking talent for them. I can see her go places.” 

“That’s our Saki,” Yunjin muses, hand up for Kazuha to acknowledge before making her way around the kitchen island, causing you to turn about face. She isn’t going to confront you about that (for God’s sake, you can’t stop thinking about it anyway), but rather stare you down because it’s the usual thing with her. 

It’s a little intimidating that she’s almost your height, with a body well maintained she could go twelve rounds if she wanted. Yunjin watches as Kazuha squints her eyes - works through the fridge for another cold bottle with her gaze trained on you. You and her exchange eyebrow expressions and read into the message through your eyes, Kazuha tilting her chin then breaking eye contact as you twist the other cheek. Next thing you know, her hand smacks your ass. 

“The fuck was that for?” You groan, clearly offended. “You’re the one who wanted the face-off.” 

“For being a dickhead,” Kazuha says with no color in her voice. “Also, thanks for saving me at the party while Sakura was getting railed outside. I owe you one.” 

“Amazing how you say things like that so casually,” you muse, cocking your head. “You’re welcome, I suppose.” 

Kazuha then flashes a look back with her hands now in the pocket of her hoodie. You can’t help but glance over to the defined frame of her face, the slope of her nose, her lack of makeup knowing very well that she’ll get a touch up from Sakura before the lookbook photoshoot. She’s painting a false picture with those baggy clothes she wears on a daily basis, but you and Yunjin are waiting to see the photos once they’re done. 

“Yunjin,” she says. 

“Hm?” Yunjin hums with food in her mouth. 

“Did I ever tell you about his decent looking face?” Kazuha concludes, tilting her head side to side for better angles. “Still a dickhead, though.” 

“Ha. Thanks.” 

She points her lips at you, a quirk of hers that she made as her habit. Her hand goes up in lieu of a goodbye and slides past the wall. 

–

“It’s hilarious because,” Yunjin catches herself mid snort, hand hiding her mouth, “The way they say Jurassic World is so funny to me. And the guy repeats it as ‘Jorassic Wurold’ like- the pronunciation is slightly off when he asks her about the movie.” 

You test the wording with your own mouth but emphasize on the syllables, trying to emulate what she observed from watching the other day. It distracts you from the assortment of ingredients spread out on the cutting table, falling into Yunjin’s shenanigans was always the daily driver no matter what the mood was on the hour. 

Midway through slicing some meats, you’re still practicing the wording on your lips. “Y’know, english is not everyone’s strong suit,” you tell her, portions set aside for some vegetables, leaning the other way to get a better view of your fingers, rolled up and not in the blade’s way, “gotta commend him keeping the conversation going. That takes effort.” 

Yunjin tilts the cup into her face, nodding in agreement; she’s got her legs crossed off the counter, feet pointed up when you glance back to see a hinted eyebrow. Bare face and long lashes fluttering - a light blush on her cheeks as she leans back and puts the bottom of the beverage upwards. 

She smacks her lips soon after, licking her teeth. “He was really into her, you saw it too.” 

The metal blade clacks against the wood. “Huh?” 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me. You know who.” 

“Dex?” 

“Dex,” she repeats, pointing the empty cup in your direction. 

“I saw it happening, don’t worry,” you say, attention drawn back to the chopped up greens now being placed into a bowl. “Part of me was convinced that they would be together when they met from the get-go.” 

For a quick fill-in: it hasn’t been that long since Kazuha went out, a little over thirty to forty-five minutes at most. In that time, you and Yunjin managed to get through a third of a series she picked at random before she started to get more touchy with you. Like the good boyfriend you are - ready at every beck and call, you oblige. Yunjin swung both of her legs onto the seat of the couch, easing into the slow graze of your hands on her thigh, hand cupping her hips and raising the arch in her back when she felt the hard press of your hips against hers. She hates it when it comes to the teasing, but she’s actually a hypocrite on the fact that she does it all the time when you have your legs spread either sitting or laying down; when your brains are fucked into oblivion while she’s on top, bouncing on your balls without a care in the world for damage control. But you broke her brain a little when you grinded into her clothed cunt for fifteen minutes until one of your guys’ stomachs grumbled which put everything on hold for now. 

(There’s always a red herring to be said. For this one in particular, you coined it as: “gotta have that fuel for later, especially if we’re going for more than two rounds.”) 

“Thought so too,” says Yunjin, projecting her own insights when she lets herself down from the polished marble, setting her bearings headway towards you, tending to the ingredients. 

A pot gets put on top of the stove behind you, along with the chopped veggies. “Didn’t he also say that it was a bit late for him to pursue her?” You ask, twisting the dial until the clicking sets the burner to life, gaze locked on Yunjin who stops an inch away. “Something about not being a reliability because of what she’s doing for her career?” 

“Somewhere along those lines, the gap wasn’t too bad either, five years if I recall,” Yunjin supplies, unsure. 

“She was a neuro major, Yunjin.” 

“So?” 

“Dex has his own thing going too, doesn't he?” 

“If you really think about it, I thought it could’ve worked between the two. Yes, he was into her. He was also very amazed with what she was doing with her life. Not to mention the fact that these two clicked the moment he entered the competition as the wild card compared to the other guys. Oh, and that bombshell reveal that she was attending Harvard? Literally gagged the hosts when it first happened. Don’t forget that she was attracted to him for a minute before nothing eventually came to be? I remember showing you the video of those two after the season aired and you can still see the chemistry in them. Some people say that it wouldn’t work out since the scenario is long-distance, but the mother approved of the guy for crying out loud-” You grin and shake your head. Yunjin’s left completely baffled because of it. “-okay, I’m still a firm believer that those two are endgame. That’s my point. I have evidence and a solid reason to back it up. Go ahead, try and test me.” 

“No, I hear you.” You reel her in for a hug while her hands are on her hips. “If it were me, I would’ve thought long and hard about making a big commitment like that.” 

Yunjin sighs, hands sliding up your back. “I know. I really liked their vibe together.” 

Your hands get full of her ass, beneath the fabric of her shirt, laying prints in the mix of skin and threads. Yunjin puts her arms around your neck loosely, stacked and hanging with the slightest pull from her elbows. It’s in the most innocent of pretense, the suggestion heavily implied without the use of words at all. She leans up while you tilt down, meeting in the middle for that overdue relapse of addiction: the lips. She sighs, teeth claiming your mouth as her own, pulling the lovely part of flesh that makes you want to hear those familiar octaves as her body crumbles from the greediness and weight of your touch. 

Every kiss feels like a swan song; the desire of never letting go, press your face deeper into hers, leave a mark on the refreshed canvas waiting to be painted in inspiration and curated for no one else in the world to see. You’re aware that she’s willing to incite change, create something new, get in the right mindset of a familiar avenue in your head where there’s nothing but desperation. It’s in how her fingers rake through your hair, weave down your waist, to your hips, close to the spot where she wants to bring you out the most. 

Think of it as her picking up where she left off on the couch. You could’ve done it right then and there, but you didn’t. 

“Should’ve thought long and hard about earlier, right?” Yunjin teases, half-drunk already with her slack lips. 

“There’s a reason why I set you on the counter in the first place,” you huff, pushing her body past the stove, pinning her against the drawer. “Because of this. I know you, Yunjin.” You then lift her back up to the spot where she started, height difference elevated by a mere few inches. The top of her forehead rests on yours. 

“Such a buzzkill,” she concedes, pouting her heart away like it doesn’t do anything to you. Arms holding you hostage as you try to break free from her grasp. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some kisses around here?” 

“Not a lot,” you offer. 

“Says the person who’s trying to get rid of me.” She doubles down, ankles to your backside and limits the movement. Her exhale is satirical, hoping you’ll dish out the punishment. 

“Your stomach thinks otherwise.” You declare. Pushing her legs apart and retreating. You look over to the kitchen for anything within reach, and settle for an apple. You further the distance between Yunjin to grab it, toss it over as she catches it effortlessly - bites down the fruit in defeat, satiating the cravings. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

(She would much rather have your lips again or even your cock. The fire’s already started, and the water begins to boil.) 

The space feels so far between you two, yet so small. Yunjin holds the apple with her teeth, watches you round the corner of the counter - sees your eyes dart to an open box, the bundle of pasta in the plastic, a knife- something to divert your attention for the time being while you’re forming a strategy in your head - a game plan as to how you’ll deal with her tonight. 

You see: you think you know Yunjin, every part of her body and mind, inside and out. 

She debunks the theory right out of the gate. In a million ways you can’t wrap your head around.  

All she does is straighten her posture, spreads her legs across the glossy wood, and lifts up the fabric past her hips. 

There’s nothing fucking underneath. Just sweet, smooth thighs and her pretty pink glistening  pussy lips. 

It gets your mind racing in confusion: 

“Since when did you-” you’re taken aback, torn from being half-shocked and not-so surprised, also doubling down on the fact she definitely had panties on beneath that shirt. “Didn’t you have something there just a few minutes ago?” 

Yunjin is a master of her art, the trickery in the highest rank imaginable. You envy her intellect at times - her charms, the ways that she can make you speechless just by being herself. This very girl within the walls of your home she claimed as hers, who managed to seep into the nooks of your brain, poisoning you from within until you can’t go for a second longer without wanting to see her gorgeous face, hear her voice; feel her pull you down back to earth while also sending you straight to heaven. None of it really makes sense with her, nor is supposed to. You could go through multiple lifetimes in the existence of the universe and she’ll still find a way to be in all of them. 

Though, she doesn’t give you any chance of solitude with your thoughts. She raises her right hand behind her back, middle and ring finger holding the nylon as her admission of guilt. 

It earns her a small shake of your head, disappointed and impressed in the same moment.  

“Sleight of hand, mister,” she tuts, victorious. Her thumb then grazes against the nylon before falling into its fated purgatory of the floor below. She catches you zoning out, doing two loud clicks of her tongue to keep your eyes on the prize. “My eyes are up here, by the way.” 

“Where did you think I was looking?” 

“Probably at something that matters.”

“And that is?” 

“Fuck if I know- oh wait, I do know. You’re just not doing anything about it.” 

“Want me to proclaim it out loud?” You inquire, sardonically - as if you were willing to play along with her little game of pragmatics, read into the lines of a script and catch the nuances of a hidden message past the sentences. “State the obvious since the naivety is starting to become unbearable for you?” 

“I never said that,” Yunjin rebukes. Hand sliding down to her legs - those dainty fingers having their own fun. 

And you begin your endeavor back to her. One graciously little step at a time. 

Your ears tick at the sudden hitch of breath, muffled by the apple blocking her mouth. It’s on purpose. God help her. She curls her fingertips at the first dip inside her cunt the more you glide over the floor. The weight of your feet becomes less heavier and lighter in every move. Yunjin’s head bumps the cabinet, hips tensing at the rush of her fingers sliding across her folds. She won’t fuck herself like this. No- she would prefer to have you deal the actual blows to her body when you’ve finally decided enough is enough. We’re getting there, don’t worry. Just. A little. Push. 

She finally lets the apple go from her mouth, off to where it’ll most likely be disregarded into the sink or the trash. You can’t stop the constant twitching your hands are doing; so while the pathway is clear, you take into account of the bubbling pot next to you, putting a lid on to make the gurgling much more muted, zero in on the vibrations rumbling in Yunjin’s throat, focus on the rise of her chest. 

Her head drops and to the side, the pull of fabric molding to her figure. Emphasizing on the curves of her waist, those mounds, the present appearance of her hard nipples. The implications clear as day in the form of a seductive summoning. 

But you start slowly: a hand to her knee, then the other. Anticipation is killing you both. 

Landfall.

“What am I gonna do with you?” You sigh, looking down at the sight of Yunjin touching herself, thick air being expelled from your lungs, wiping your inner self clean before repurposing to acclimate the need of getting dirty again. 

Yunjin pulls a lazy grin, beautifully - and leans back while her hips slips forward. Her grip guides your wrists over her skin, shirt hiked up past her waist and into her hips by the second. “You don’t have to say or do if you want to.” She offers, but that’s the setup. “Just wisely biding your time.” 

Not much of it has changed, the way you willingly sink down to your knees. You’re romantic about it - deserves a smirk for the appreciation. You glance up to her toffee shaded eyes, fingers rotating to hook firm on the peak of her thighs, extend your arms up high like she’s some sacred treasure, proffering. “Darling,” and the singular word sets the rest of the testament into place, the burgeoning intention of her demise at your hands. You think back to a week ago: where she found herself in the familiar pecking order, back on the linoleum with her elbow as faulty support, splitting her open and feel her body go limp when you made her cum like she suggested. Your mouth freezes with a gasp when you look closely at her seeping slit, heart stopped as you examine in awe. “I’ll have all the time in the world,” you mumble - or what’s close, honestly - into the plush surface of her thighs, brush your lips down a familiar path you know very well. “But you, gotta slowly show me you deserve it.” 

Her breath hitches again, hesitating. Nerves seizing muscle right where they are. 

“At this rate we’ll be here all night,” she hums, eyes torn from gazing down and spacing out to something in the distance. “Not that I mind, of course, but-” she then nibbles on her lip at the feeling of yours on her legs, deluded and washed over with lust to forget about everything else, “dinner’s still on the cards, yes?” 

“Pick up that apple. You eat while I eat, how bout that?” You propose the solution. One which Yunjin can’t ignore. 

She reaches for the apple and stares into the yellow crater, taking another bite. Cheeks full of fruity bits. “I could get used to this,” her jaw trembling and breath spilling out in a shudder. “Wouldn’t you rather hear-” 

Her neck loosens at the swipe of your tongue over her folds, apple tossed off to the side one more likely never to be eaten again. She leaks out a little more slick for you to clean up, and it’s delightful. Yunjin fancies the idea of scooting her hips forward, thighs hanging out and barely her ass on the counter, providing you more space to work with when your arms hook around the swell of her ass and pull her closer, hand quick to the crease of her knee to put her heel on your collarbone and takes her fingers into your hair, spread one side of her folds and dip your tongue in some more, consuming the warmth down your throat and eat her out alive. 

“Honey,” you proclaim with an arch to your eyebrow, breathless, “You’re fucking leaking.” 

Yunjin pulls this devilish grin, yanks your head back a little further back for you to look up, face twisted with madness. Staring deep into your soul, insatiable. “Your turn to eat, baby.” 

Very few people can play your game, but Yunjin was a whirlwind full of surprises. Each one more shocking than the last. 

“What’s wrong? Speechless?” she asks, but doesn’t give you a second to respond when she reels your head back in. 

So you put your mouth back what’s rightfully yours: press your tongue into her aching cunt and save the words for later. 

You hear her wince, picturing the pained expression in the creased eyebrows, eyes closed shut, jaw hung low. She grinds your face deeper, much deeper to the point where she’s needy enough to feel the light graze of your teeth. 

You slide your fingers into her, unfazed when her knees close your head in, giving you no chance to breathe. Her pants increase in pace, falling apart just a few inches above you. The sounds are absolutely wonderful, blessing you with the harmonious repertoire of moaning spilling out of her mouth - lapping up the wetness at the curl of your finger, cleaning up the salty sweetness of her arousal, slick spread across skin and the sensitive response of her clawing hand into your hair. 

Yunjin’s hair starts to pool over the front of her face, the sight alone is a delight in itself. The ripped collar showing more of her pale shoulder, handfuls of the shirt now undone as her other hand joins the fray on your head, body clenching and relaxing - unsure on which choice is the right one. You and her both listen in to the soft licks and wet smacks of skin and folds, hear her giggle in relief until your nose brushes up against her clit, throbbing core given a quick second of grace before you dive back in and don’t spare a chance for her to breathe. She asked for this, and you expect her to handle it as best she can. Until she’s whimpering and desperate and begging to be more useful than just your mouth and hands. Till she has to say the very words herself in what she wants, while her frame trembles delicately. 

More, more. The boiling pot next to you starts to bubble past the cover, droplets of water hitting the grill and sizzling. You push your tongue in deeper, get the gloss over your lips, pull her folds apart wider and hit the same spot where it kills her over and over, notice the curl of her toes into your shirt, dig her heel deep into the threads. Yunjin bites down her teeth, hand to her breast and gripping tightly. The bubbles start to lift the lid, popping. 

“Can you - be - even more - god, holy fuck-” she spits, words stuttering as her hips slide out over the edge, prompting you to hold her high, drop your jaw even more, kiss and suck the untouched areas and spread her legs. She gasps. “Baby,” she laughs even louder, slapping her palm down on the countertop, “God, I can’t believe-” 

She rucks her hips upward, mimicking a thrust. Your head fades out the rest of the outside noise. 

“-you, of all people-” And a moan pierces your ears, the sound heavenly. Yunjin’s hand palms the back of your head as you start to alternate an up and down motion. Her high imminent, in the curl of your knuckle and lick of your tongue pushing her closer to that pedestal. You push and pull, let the grip of her fingers guide you to the spots where she needs it. Her way of life: the taste of her; warm and addicting. “Fuck, s-shit, there- there! Right there-” 

You open your mouth even more, drinking her mess until she has you drowning in it. Her swollen cunt’s quivering. You can’t help yourself but smile. 

“Need your mouth, your tongue- your- fuck-” 

You’re happily swimming. 

It’s even better when her chest is puffed up, back arched. At a loss for words and just straight up gone. You hold her down as she’s shaking and suck her pussy for your own benefit - devouring her relentlessly, voice broken to a shriek as her juices gush around your tongue and fingers, groaning lowly while you carry on licking the mix of plush-soaked skin, feel the lingering effects of her orgasm leave her body with a harsh pull of her clit on your lips. 

She’s trying everything to calm down, head lightly tapping the cabinet behind her. Clawed fingers releasing their grasp as you help yourself up, legs loosely wrapped around yours and posture reduced to a slouch. “Hate you, by the way. I hate you the way that you are.” She tells you, arms barely placed on your shoulders, slipping. “Why do you have to be so good at being a douche?” 

“Don’t follow your point,” you dart back with a sigh. Height restored and hands back to where they started: on her knees; you cock your head to the right, get a closer look at Yunjin’s messy hair, rumpled shirt, thighs glistening and pink- 

She smacks the side of your neck, earning a pitiful laugh. You’re aware that she loves these kinds of treatments: the kind of treatment where you want her to tenderly run her hand down your face, whisper in your ear of all the things she wants you to do, sliding deep into her cunt and let the heat consume you, wanting - you’ve got get a grip, seriously. She has your head spiraling and somehow you always come out on top of it; the usual bouts where the victor has already been decided. “One day, you’ll see what I mean.” 

“I have a hard time understanding you and Kazuha as it is,” mouth agape, bearing no mind to the act she’s trying to pull. Unpredictability was one of Yunjin’s strong suits and that was no surprise: peeling her shirt off over her shoulders and lifting the veil hiding the endless curves of her body - the slutty little waist, long thighs, her breasts- 

“Maybe I can help you with that,” she offers, lacking judgement. Her hand slips underneath your sweats, fingers taking hold of your cock, confirming her suspicions. Your mouths meet once again, sloppily, you giving leeway after eating out her cunt and in return she has you twitching. “Goodness me,” she mutters into the warmth of your mouth, tempted, rubbing that effect on you. “I bet you’re just dying to stick this inside of me already.” 

“Watch your mouth.” 

“Or what-” she grins lazily. 

You grasp the skin a little bit tightly as your other hand cups her cunt, the heel of your palm digging into her clit. 

“-fuck, that’s what you meant,” her voice diminishing with lidded eyes. 

You then quickly take into account the small funnel of air blowing from the cover; the whirr of the vent above coming to life. 

Yunjin scoots herself over the counter, sees you tug your cock out of pants, lip to teeth as it gently touches her skin. It’s all part of the pecking order, how things build up high to eventually fall - second nature, muscle memory, all the same. 

She’s got her arms and legs around you, inching her hips forward to speed up the process, hopeful in you wrecking her body as always: “You know, not talking isn’t gonna get you everywhere if you don’t do it,” she goes on, no care for your fidgeting hands rubbing up and down her thighs. 

“What the hell is this, a silent treatment?” she asks again, impatience starting to get to her. “C’mon, say something.” 

You serve her anything but that, slicking your fingers with her cum and tap the pads into her skin, gently feeling her sensitive clit to make her lose her train of thought. She’s incessant, but it’s rare for her to be less on the offensive in pressing you for once, so you’ll take full advantage of it. 

“What do you want me to say? I’ve already told you about my observations,” you answer, digits sliding in her cunt and the girl just nods. She’ll notice but still talk out of her ass, since she loves the thrill. Her accompanying grin along with the lip bite and wink sells the whole image, leans you in with the shirt wrapped around your neck, pulling. The small twinge of romance attached. 

The shirt then crumples on the floor when she lets go. 

“That I’m fucking leaking? You sucked me clean, I can barely feel my legs.” 

“Right,” you laugh, working her face some more until her hands go languid. 

Her look goes curt, dismissive. Lashes fluttering in every blink because that’s the second best thing she has in her bag of tricks, aware of the double-edgedness it ensues. She inhales sharply, quick, sudden, bracing the tip of your cock sliding across her folds. “How long has it been since you last fucked me? Yesterday? Two days ago? Finally having your fun since I sucked you off last time, hm?” 

“I don’t need to answer that,” you rebuke. “There’s no point to it.” Is the everlasting conclusion. 

She cocks her head to the left. Elbow holding her up in the best way she can, arching her back again, your cock in position at her awaiting entrance, cup your fingers into her hip. “Don’t blame me for killing you this time.” 

Her face steadies, frozen. Then: the lines of her face warble, mouth dropping. Cunt inviting your tip pressing in. 

“Like I ever would,” she scoffs, right hand to the back of your neck, clinging. “This is what I wanted, remember?” 

(The way that she’s spread, heel hooking to your knee, she’s stripped and defenseless against you. It’s the guilty pleasure you have as her pussy accommodates you, all wet and inviting that it won’t be a struggle to fit in one seamless push. Regardless: that part alone makes sense.) 

“Question is,” you murmur during the break of eye contact, staring lower at the view of your cock finally slips inside and see the quick contraction of her stomach - like she was ready to take a punch to the gut - glancing back up and watch her eyelids flutter at the feeling. “You can’t do anything in this situation, can you?” This girl just came in your mouth a few minutes ago but she’s takes you in with no problem: filling every inch of you in a beautifully fucked up missing piece that she’s constantly deprived of every time. You dig your fingers deep into the skin, stop halfway, then continue to wrench out every inch of her walls. 

“God,” Yunjin grits, breath seething in the gaps of her teeth, brows furrowed. “Go to- fuck-” 

She doesn’t even finish the sentence when you push further. Replaced with a moan instead; her cheeks and nose wrinkle, fingers balled up to a fist behind and her elbow shaking. Her head barely keeping herself together with the cabinet as a last support, failing terribly. 

You stop your movements because the lines on her face are forming toward a familiarity: nervous, dazed, hesitant. A quick twitch of your head negates all of those thoughts away and instead focuses on ramming your hips into her, the clash of skin rippling through you and her both. 

It’s the bravado that she carries, the playfulness, her shift of her sly words, withering and fading at the amount of you: she’s fighting every fiber of muscle to sputter out her needs, though the sweat and slick spread out over body make up in the defilement of her undoing. You can see through her bullshit, and all she sees is the glide of your shaft back into her pussy - the width of you stretching so effortlessly her body forms a jagged line along the frame, mewling and bucking forward. Your fingers hold her hips still, drag your cock along the tightness, fill her up until she says otherwise. 

“Makes no sense,” Yunjin huffs, gasping, head halfway in the gutter, trying to form a point. Her hands try to carry out her words, clinging, cock-full at the lean up, foreheads clashing. She whines into your skin, “Jesus- holy shit, dear fucking Christ-” 

You’ll swallow her words and understand her completely. 

Well- to say that her hot cunt is incredible would suffice so much. The more you push, the more the connection feels like it’s meant to be, in all the filth and the intimacy that’s thrown without thinking of the repercussions after. 

You’ll give your praises and thanks - how her pussy grips around your cock so snug and tight and perfect, sing it into the skin and walls around you, paint it over as many times you’d like. To have a girl like her: a muse, with the desire and hunger impossible to resist, make you sink deeper and deeper where it won’t feel suffocating. 

“Yeah?” you hear yourself say. Like you needed to explain yourself again. “Wouldn’t you know it.” 

The strokes. You’re fucking up into her so nicely, give her no chance to breathe, legs hooked around your thighs. She’s opening up her body to you - you’re marking your own territory: shower her face with kisses, suck the skin across her neck, slide your arms underneath her back and keep pounding at the one angle where the trembling reaches her throat, presses her tongue to the back row of her teeth. 

Christ, you really have no care; roughing her up on the kitchen counter right before dinner time. The fan above you two continues to whirr the smoke in the air where it masks the bundle of moans and curses spewing out of her lips. You could feel her fingers drag across your back, keeping herself close to you, fearful that you’ll stop like earlier and make her beg for more until she has her fix. 

“Baby, baby, holy fuck,” you follow her voice, brushed up against your ear, sift your eyes back onto her and watch her loose mouth. She swallows, grazing the crown of her head to yours. “This cock, I fucking love it. I fucking love it so much, I could die here with how you’re-” 

You shut her up, meet in the middle. Line up the beating of your heart to the move of your hips, lock your arms around her back; she’ll come crawling for that high again, blinded by the guarantee of you forcing her orgasm later. 

“Yunjin,” you grit. Nearing that inevitable crash-out. It’s a never ending cycle of madness. Her cunt is eating your cock alive, soaking your waist. You want it all. 

You want her to cum again: this time on your cock; you want to carry her in her arms, fuck your cock without her feet touching the ground; you want her to scream your name so loudly that it breaks the windows around the house. You’ll never have enough of the indescribable body and feeling that she has, ruining you over and over - not to mention her mouth - that too, is another dangerous addiction. 

A fair bout. The fight for who's bolder. Who can make the other person more vulgar by the second. 

These things have been decided right from the start. 

Yunjin muffles a whimper behind her lips, cock clogging up her cunt like she’s backing away, hiding. 

“Need it, need it so fucking much,” she hushes. “You- your cock. Can never get enough of my pretty little cunt - fuck I should just let you fuck me all day, all night, whenever you feel like it.” Her voice is rasped, the words alone sinister: “Warm you up when you least expect it, yeah? You’d like that, don’t you-” She yelps, nose scrunching when you bottom out and press your groin up against her clit, stomach contracting and relaxing as if she’d done five minutes of planking. 

So you drag out and thrust in - slam your hips into hers, holding the motion there, repeating it soon after. Her hand files up to the cabinet door above and shove your cock down to the hottest point, where the wobbles of her waist finally reach up to her tits. 

Because that’s really the only thing there is to it. Brain fucked out to mush with the marks and glistening sweat spread across, remnants of what the short period has passed. 

Like you can’t help yourself. It’s in the enamored looks, the pockets of air siphoned before it’s coughed out, in the blissful enjoyment of fucking your slick cock in and out. “Holy shit,” she’s saying, head toppled off and arm going limp. She saves the energy for other than talking - let the waves of pleasure sweep her body and have you project her thoughts out for her: delirious and maniacal. “I hear- yeah- Okay. Okay, you said it yourself.” 

Of course she agrees, and she knows. Whittled down to the fine rawness of it. What else is there left to say? 

She’s amazingly gorgeous and beautiful - a gift from God himself. You remind her every time like it’s the first. When her lips met the end of your cock months ago, blowing your world away, the stretch of her pussy swallowing you whole and the tension was undoubtedly abysmal. Another second passes a shared breath: Yunjin-god-fucking-dammit, and there’s a bunch of other shit that gets said, listless and nonsensical where the only thing left to do is let the blistering warmth and clashing tongues do all the work for the both of you. 

It’s normal: the way that she clings like she hasn’t seen you for days - leaning back with an arch and quite literally her feet off the ground. 

Every moan sounds punctuated lazily, whining and whimpering and in a pitch where she almost sounds scared. 

Still, she’s lost the plot: “Fuck me.” 

That’s where everything clicks, a flame extinguished and replaced for something new, something profound: her face clenches in the quick swap of pain to relief, when you’ve put your cock at a spot inside where she sobs; the pleasure so intense the both of you exhale in unison, almost like a ‘got you’ moment entirely. 

“Honey,” you say against her cheek, fingers planted in the divot of her lower back, spreading her so well the motion is absolutely seamless, a perfect fit and pace to ruin. “Look at you, so lovely; this fucking cunt feels amazing; oh my goodness.” Your words are making sense, barely, but it’s always on this path since you’ve met the girl; you just can’t help yourself. “I adore this pussy a little too much, don’t you think?” 

“So funny, ah-” she quips, a smile brandished across her lip, eyes rolling to the back of her head, holding on to the last bits of common sense left, knowing well there’s no point. “I’d let you, to be honest. A good deal: my pussy for your cock. Fair trade?” 

“Fuck yes,” is what slips out of your mouth, a truth to savor for eternity. “Want it all.” 

It goes both ways: she wants to peg complete bullshit to you, say her fantasies of how big of a slut she can actually be, fuck that snark out of her until she’s satisfied - but then you watch and listen to the more mundane things she does, and your head can’t comprehend it either. You want her, her mind, her body, the secrets that she keeps locked up in a box sunk in the bottom of a river; things that she doesn’t want anyone to find out about; where the dares of admission only comes once in a blue moon and she tries to pass it along in conversation. 

You could make an endless list as to what makes Yunjin a treasure to behold, to keep - proclaim it out loud like you haven’t done so already - a collapsing, beautiful madness, honestly. She’s holding you so close and you can’t afford to let go. That’s just how it is. All it takes is one look into her eyes and you never want to leave. 

“You’re amazing,” you say to her, breathless. 

Yunjin’s lashes flutter shut immediately after. As if you had to tell her again and again. 

Her hips stay still while yours continue to move, every aftershock sent through her body creates these ridges you’re proud of, ankles to the swell of your ass, clamping around your cock, grinding teeth with her voice croaking: “-good, so good, so fucking good, please, for the love of God-” 

Her upper lip arches the more she inhales, mouth hung open as the moans crumble on top of each other. Most have complained about the increase in occupancy, the hollers of a drinking game, midnight conversations about relationship mishaps and failures, bassline of a song that reverberates on the drywall and the occasional shouting battles that usually ended up stopping after a few minutes. Your neighbors do hear the constant pounding at some point during the day, annoyed and fed up like they didn’t want to have the fun themselves, each thrust bouncing her where her breasts jiggle on the upstrokes, palm full of them, the feel firm and heavy; and you look at her face again - where a certain crease of skin, above her brow, and you know that she’s going to lose it over your cock, how her limbs will surrender willingly, reduced to mush and cradling the fuck through her. 

Yunjin’s arm springs forward over your shoulder. You pull her up, sit upright, body bouncing with her ass well off the counter, the angle primed and ready where the shocks to her ass start to become a cushion, tits wobbling and hypnotic and bouncing; you keep- keep fucking her little hole with no regard for her life. 

It’s right where she wants you to be. 

You’ll lay your flowers later, if you’re even alive to tell the tale: how Yunjin is completely destroyed by your shaft. Her hair frazzled, eyes half open and head tilted towards shame and in the closest iteration of a cocksleeve it could get. She’s so fucked into oblivion where it’s worth having served the verdict. The last moments of light that you want to keep forever, stay as long as you can. 

When her lips meet yours, sweeping: a part of you starts to break beneath the cracks. 

She’s trying so hard to keep a hand to your waist, then the counter, but you’re holding with every bottom out at the base and you entertain the idea where you could go any deeper, fuck her harder- 

“Just-” she pleads, into your mouth, right on your tongue. “Yours. All yours. Fuck me like it’s the only thing that matters-” 

“Jen,” you groan out raggedly, lock your elbows to her chest, matching the drag of her nails. 

“Gonna cum so much,” is what you think she says. “Look at you, such a good boy.” Her pointer finger grazes the line of your jaw. “Plugging me full, I know you love it,” she dryly laughs, lightly pinching your hip when she hears the hint of a squelch of your cock sliding back in her, “this big, fucking cock,” and she’s really not helping you in this situation, claiming you as her own, soul snatched with no hope of returning it: “Pumping and pumping until I can’t get enough. Fuck. You’re so good at this, so fucking naughty. Got you all hard and needy for me - pounding my poor little pussy just to set me right,” this girl is fucking demonic, with the stuff that she’s telling you, her body right there in your hands; you haven’t been thinking straight since you’ve gone down on her - that cunt, her pussy lips gliding your cock with her slick soaking you endlessly- 

“Shut the fuck up,” is what you manage, a futile attempt to stop her. Like it would ever work at all. “Don’t do that. Don’t do this to me.” It’s impossible. You’re so easy to trick, gullible enough to fall for anything that comes out of her mouth, let her take the advantage and leave you with nothing at the end. She believes that you’ve had your fun, and the turn switches back to her. 

“Or what?” Yunjin smiles, nearing bliss. “Wanna cum on me? In me? Use your words, baby boy.” 

You swear, or something close to that. 

The rush becomes too much to bear, the thought of doing what she exactly wants: pulling your cock out of her tight cunt and paint your load all over her stomach, or- the more addicting idea of burying your dick inside her so deep that your release has a one way trip - you simply just- can’t. You shouldn’t. Not because to play it safe, but you’re safeguarding the responsibility of the filthiness that comes with it - what you could do - what you’ve done to her. Instead, you should throw her onto the floor, on her knees, shove your cock down her dirty mouth and cum in her throat or on her face, watch her clean up the mess you’ve made, press the thick tip of your cock on her plump lips and have her taste the sweetness of you. Have her drink it down until she has those doe brown eyes of hers looking up in acceptance. She’s beautiful: in the most fucked up, soaking, ginger-haired possible way imaginable. 

“Let- let me-” you sputter towards a growl, but you can’t keep up with her words and replace it with the pace - how her cunt fits your cock so well like a perfect shoe, lengthy frame detrimental to yours. “Fuck, just let me-” 

“Mhm,” she hums, unfazed. 

“Fuck this slutty little cunt of yours,” you finally manage, and more of a promise already written; you continue to fuck into her, snap your hips in where your balls start knocking above the pucker of her ass, working your cock along those velvety walls, feel the gush with every squeeze of muscle along her pussy, stretching amazingly with the clench. 

“Keep going.” She prods at your waist. 

Oh, she knows where this is going. It’s hot. It’s diabolical. It just feels right. You’re convinced that she’s figured you out, but playing dumb on purpose to see you admit it right in front of her. She sees the quick rise and fall of your chest - your shoulders, fingers grasping pale skin as it turns to something crimson, glance at the devilish smile she possesses that severs all the nerves in your brain: you are so fucking down bad for this woman, and you can’t do anything about it. 

“Keep-” 

“I know,” and you do. 

“Love this. Love you. Love everything that’s happening,” says Yunjin, praising. “Tell me all the things- the things you want to do to me.” 

“Sweetie,” you gasp at the next firm thrust, “gonna put my cock in your mouth, fuck your throat until you choke,” you snap, madness fully consmed, “fuck your holes full and then-” 

Then what? Have her ask to pound her ass? Ride you? Make her scream with the doors wide open? What more could you say or do that isn’t in the cauldron of pure insanity- 

“Use me more,” Yunjin sighs, and that’s the crystal clear thought pulled right out of your cock, “take me, grab wherever, I just need- god, your cum- want your cum so fucking much,” each word in that sentence rising an octave, “Cum,” a simple mantra, a demand. Yunjin’s creaming cunt, filling her up whole, you’re gonna burst inside and she’ll happily accept it as a gift, getting off on the sound ripping through your chest, hips bucking, legs tensing, her lower half quivers beneath you; attitude reduced to soft sounds, you taking full advantage with the fall-off imminent. 

Some of these things, you can’t afford to think; fucked up as it is, it’s better to revel in the silliness and disregard the common sense. 

“Oh fuck,” you hear her breathe, tone low and insanely turned on, her smile already showing she’s won. “Fuck yes-” 

But even if you’re splitting her insides apart, a small fraction of control rests within you, feeling the curves of her body ripple, in a slowing rhythm, pound her cunt for one more second and finally give her the reward. 

A rope of cum is all she gets on the inside; as for the rest- 

“Yes- wait no, fuck- what are you doing?” Yunjin sounds completely in shock for what you’ve committed, snuff the flame out from her pulsing cunt, slide yourself out of the tightness, hold her leg up since she’s too weak to resist. You’re going to hell, but so is she. Painting all over the flat plane of her stomach, coating her pale skin with your cum. “You fucking bitch- that doesn’t belong there,” but she’s too fucked out to do anything about it, and you don’t even bother to dish out a good comeback, let the actions do the talking for you: “Put it back, please, please,” and you do as she says. 

It’s a fresh feeling, the way her warmth envelops your soft cock, holding it so nicely as you help her sit back up properly. Mouth back on you instantaneously. 

“I’m gonna get back at you,” is what she says against your grazing lips, brushing her cheek along the tip of your nose. Her nails lightly scratch your back, ruffles into your hair. “If you’re up for it, you’ll follow.” 

“Challenging me? A bit crude, even for you,” you remark - she grins into your face, slides off the counter, fingers dancing along your slick, softening cock. 

A familiar look in her eyes. Telling you, yeah, I know - underlying the surface, but she’s got her entire hand in every crook of your brain, unfaltering: “We’ll see.” Then she says, “Get your ass on the sofa.” 

–

If there’s anything you learned about Yunjin: she never backs down from her word. 

Oh- and your mouth’s formed in the way she wants it to be. You’ve got it all wrong there, too. 

She tells you to keep your hands on the seat, at the sides and on the ready; impulsively, you want to pick up right where you left off from the kitchen, eyes locked between your legs, her head graciously bobbing up and down, vibrations all over the sensitive surface - feeling the pinching cramp in your backside, tensing the muscle, swallowing the opposite end of you with ease. 

Her lips stop halfway when you raise your hand a bit too high for her liking. 

“Fuck me, Yunjin,” you mutter, watching her sink your cock into her throat. “Don’t do that.” 

Yunjin flashes a glare, flutters her eyelids shut, drags her head back up and gasps. Her mouth is one thing. Her hands? They show you no mercy. You’ve been in this scenario before - a lot of times for some quick context, so tonight isn’t any different. She’s working you tightly at your balls and the base, intending to wring you clean of the release you should’ve left inside her. The one-two punch killer enough to leave you paralyzed from the waist down; she runs her mouth on the tip, tongue tracing a vein and the underside, curling her fingers and stroking so delicately- 

Yeah. You’re pretty much fucked like this. It’s a losing situation. 

Your head falls back while your hips slide forward, turning your body over to her mouth which earns a moan in response. The look on her face is deadly, and the sounds ripping through your chest implicates your high not far to reach. Those fucking plump lips: well parted and sliding all over her spit, moving back up and sinking again, the suction a bit more forceful the second time around, cheeks puffing and hollowing, blinking dutifully. 

She knows how badly you want to fuck her face, shove your cock into her mouth and expect a reward in return. Yunjin knows you want to get there, eventually, pulling herself off and twists your shaft, sees the tilt of your chin to the ceiling, relishing the submission. 

“So fucking hard,” she grins, examining the mix of her spit and slick all over you, listening to the wet noises she created. “I can’t wait to taste your cum again.” 

She’s too good for your own sake, and you can’t fight back on it. 

“Be a good little toy and relax,” Yunjin instructs gently. Puckering her lips and slapping your sensitive head all over them. Soft. Lucious. Sinful. Her innocent blinks fail to cover it, nor the fact how pretty she looks with a pensive expression: it’s evil. “Let me take care of you, okay?” 

You nod right away and she dives back down. Her tongue rubs around the tip between her lips, flattening to slide you into the softness and sleek feeling of her throat, bathing you with spit when your hips produce the slightest hitch. She’s had enough practice with you - to know how her tongue moves in all the ways she knows you love, easily bottoming the whole length like she has before, determined to hear you groan in rapture, and you do. 

“Christ, Yunjin- baby-” you grit, and your head falls back to the head of the couch. 

When she sucks, you flex your ankles forward. The mess worsens before it gets better, streams of drool leaking over your cock. She spreads it around with her mouth, her fingers, palm flattening, her lips fully sealed at the root, her nose digging into your waist. You’re amazed and how well she takes you, holding her head down for a few seconds - that’s the personal trial she set for herself: how long she could keep you there, the flex in her neck, gurgling and choking. It’s also dangerous in the fast switch up from the clamp of her throat to the alternating pace of her flushing your cock in and out, deepthroating you to the point where she can feel your whole body twitch. A pressure point, cutting the line until it’s completely severed. 

You’re sucking so much air into your lungs, creating a pocket at your waist. She pops her mouth off the tip and has the audacity to cackle in your face. 

She’s testing the endurance to it’s limit, her slick hands wrapped well around your shaft when she tends to your balls, getting mouthful of each one and peppering them with licks and kisses, hair pooling over your waist and to your thighs, knowing how good she as at fucking breaking you. There’s no denying that your girlfriend is an irresistible cockslut and personal toy, since the part goes both ways when it’s the right occurrence. Once she’s through the few moments of breathing, her jaw slacks and takes you back in, hearing you huff at the subtle graze of her teeth. 

The moan sputters out on impulse as you get careless and place your hand to Yunjin’s cheek, rubbing a thumb below her eye, and you could see the tick at the corner of her mouth break into a smile. She lifts her head up, giggles at the shudder of your thighs when her teeth taps your cockhead. “Aw, are you worked up already?” 

“More or less,” you answer, and it’s a sudden moment of grace, a blessing in disguise, mind telling the rest of your body to calm down as she slowly jerks you off. “You know me, I wouldn’t back down on your escapades,” and you moan again when she speeds up the pace, “Seriously, it’ll be on you if I cum like this.” 

She kisses your cock and licks. This girl can’t be helped. “What a shame. Hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

“We can do this all night if we have to, so why not?” 

Yunjin lets out a dry laugh. “We will, don’t worry,” she says, carefully pumping you and swipes her thumb over the slit, seeing the thread of precum bridged across, twisting at the middle. “It’s just been a while since we’ve had a conversation while I gave you head.” 

“What’s on your mind this time?” you inquire, playing into the deliberation, “Probably something intriguing, I assume.” 

Yunjin blinks, locks her finger and thumb around the base of your shaft. “You think Kazuha’s fucked a cock like this?” 

You stare, pondering, it takes a second longer for the question to set in because it’s entirely out of left field. “You’re asking me out of all people? How the fuck would I know? She doesn’t bring those kinds of details up with me whenever we talk about it.” 

“But I can’t help but wonder,” Yunjin tuts, hand carelessly sliding around you, nicking her head back. “Have you ever fantasized about your best friend?” 

“Yunjin, that’s just weird. Fuck no-” 

“Aw, you can be honest with me. You and I don’t keep secrets with her as it is, no need to hide.” 

She then tips her head, flickers her eyes up at the heavy sigh your mouth makes when her lips make contact with your cock. Her smile goes even wider, noticing the twitch at your eyebrow, how you’re clenching your teeth and bring your chest up to your shoulders - where she’s managed to work you up with the finesse and enchantment that’s simply exuded from her. 

There’s nothing much for you to do except sitting back and let Yunjin take your whole length into her mouth. No notes or objections for her to hear, but the sticky wet sounds slathering your shaft and your body moments away from finally giving the reward she rightfully deserves. 

“Pretty fucked up sense,” you’re mumbling your head off, moving wisps of her hair out of her face, thinking less and less as she stuffs her throat of you, keeling and leaning forward to where you’re lifting your ass off the couch. “Shit-” 

This is her version of a truth serum, a polygraph; her mouth and hands working beautifully in tandem, her collarbone vanishing into her neck, guiding you to the well-wrapped grip she has with her fingers, fucking you with panache in the hot curves of her throat. 

She loves it when you’re like this: bending to her will and getting you off with the tightest fist. Wringing you clean now that you’ve done the hard work. 

Her hand cups your balls, nails scratching the ridges. The pace she keeps is relentless, alternating from base to tip so excruciatingly well, twisting and jerking and fucking- 

“Mmph?” 

“You’d be surprised if I said yes.” 

Yunjin slides her mouth off once more, spits the underside, lapping up the slick. “No fucking way. You’ve thought about it before?” 

“Predates you, if you want me to be more specific.” 

She flashes the same wicked grin you’ve seen before, tongue tracing a path at the root. Pursing her lips when she inhales, taking in the scent. Legitimately, fuck her. Lashes fluttering heavy with the eyelids, pupils dilating and too faded for you to notice. “If it makes you feel better, I came to that conclusion a while back, just didn’t say anything.” 

“Were you sparing me?” 

Yunjin ticks her lips, still smiling, taking pride at the concurrence. “It is also hot for you to finally confess about her.” Her hand plants firmly at your thigh and you consciously thrust your hips back in, gasping in beautiful bliss. She swallows you back up again, clenching her throat and sealing where you’re blinking a lot more faster this time. That rose colored mouth humming along the skin with every puff of her cheeks, flushing it perfectly like it’s practiced. Her back arches and bends, unfazed with the constant shake of your right leg, all the motions culminating in your muscles and hers, rising and rising- 

“Yeah, okay, alright, I’m- holy shit-” 

“Mmmphphm-” 

Your composure snaps, hand now to her head, a death grip in her hair, fucking her face ruthlessly, drunk at the feeling of her mouth and the obscene gawking noises and the bob of her throat curling your cock, lips smaking and drooling more that you regret not putting a towel on the hardwood floor beneath you two. 

It’s incredibly difficult to internalize, let alone imagine the wish you could capture this feeling for eternity, bring it out from a bottle at the shortest convenience. Yunjin doesn’t falter with the moaning, friction slippery and neurons overloaded, delusion finally high and head still to you - plugging her hot mouth full of your cock, sliding in the smooth muscle, throbbing. 

She takes another deep breath, earning a palm to her face, gaze wistful and deep into your soul. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” 

Damn right you are. 

Yunjin doesn’t need to clarify what she said, since she already knew. Instead, the flicks of her wrist are astonishingly meticulous, amazed that you’re rock solid not just because of her, but rather the thought of Kazuha doing the same thing to you, given with the experience. 

“I think you’re ready,” she declares, and the sentence alone is loaded with different interpretations. 

She doesn’t savor the moment of grace soon after, siphons the breath out of you when she puts her lips back on your cock. Your mind’s no longer there, thinking: Yunjin, Kazuha - the pair doing numerous things to you all at once. Trading your cock between their hot mouths, hands stacked along your shaft, pressing into their slick cunts and watch them keen of being split apart. Yunjin’s sloppy mouth fucking you brings it back to reality, slit leaking and ready to burst. She licks once, twice, thrice, lips wrapped around your cockhead and hand twisting the shaft, aiming in one direction where the load should go. 

Your thighs tense, breathing ragged, shoulders back and chest out when her eyes go wide - shocked at the first thread of cum caught in the roof of her mouth. A pillow falls off from the couch as you’re fighting the urge to push her face away from your hips and that’s when it get worse. 

It hadn’t been that long since you last came, but the surprise was a welcome one when more shots of white start spilling over your stomach, her hands, her face, on her button nose, your shaft twitching in her hands when she hovers her mouth over your tip and seals it to safeguard remnants of the damage. 

“Yunjin, fuck- oh, fuck-” 

“Mmm,” she hums gleefully, licking the mess off of you and squinting at the leaking slit, pulsing out more. Your cock softening again and body in a complete mess, fingertips carefully moving on your belly and brain falling in and out of consciousness. “Oh my god. You came so fucking much.” 

She nuzzles her face into your side, observing your chest calming down: “didn’t think I had more in me.” And that’s pretty ironic coming from you. “Congrats, babe. Consider me dead.” 

“There’s more where that came from,” replies Yunjin, orange hair swirling over your shoulder. “We’re even now.” 

Doesn’t get any better than that, really. The score stands at one-to-one. 

–

“By the way,” Yunjin starts off again, spent and roughed up on the mattress after going back to back rounds a little less than thirty minutes later. First in the shower and the second on the bed; a restoration to the pecking order, actually on the same page. “She drunkenly confessed to me about it while you were gone one night. Poor girl can’t keep a secret. I felt bad.” 

“Her loss, honestly. Sucks to be her for having the issue.” 

“You don’t think it’s a problem.” 

“Well that depends on your solution.” 

“Well,” says Yunjin, expectant. “I was gonna propose-” 

(You can kind of see where this is going.) 

“-maybe the both of us could- y’know, deal with her as we see fit.” 

“Meaning?” 

“Emulate a porn plot towards her, the typical one where the girlfriend shares with her best friend.” 

You plop on the mattress, tilting your head. 

“Like a collaborative effort?” You’re then asking; the thought not too far-fetched, but still brazenly out of her mind. Even for Yunjin’s standards. “What’s worse is the idea of you sharing me? With Zuha? I swear you were possessive about me, where did that go?” 

Yunjin bends her leg up against yours, brushing a thigh before her knee nestles at your waist. Nothing but smooth, soft skin just there for you to touch, to feel, and just- right on your lap. 

“Consider us sharing. Communal, I guess.” Her brain’s working next to you, then it hits. “A communal cock for the both of us.” She snorts, bursts out laughing once she’s created the twisted hypothesis. “Our cock. Kazuha and I. Please, tell me you’re loving the idea.” 

“I don’t hate it,” you’re stating, hand slipping lower to the swell of her ass. There you go again: thinking about Kazuha and Yunjin together. It’s supposed to be a silly theory. 

“So, will you help me? Unless there’s something I don’t know about.” 

“I’m not really in a position to say no, but I’ll let you do your thing.” 

“Take that as a yes, then,” Yunjin rests a cheek along your chest, prompting you to move your other arm around and fully embrace her, paying no attention to her kneecap pressing up against your balls, “you wouldn’t want to hear my plan to get our girl set up for what’s coming?” 

“You can brief me sometime later.” Another thing added to the agenda, with the rest of the responsibilities filling up your notifications and inbox. “Unless you want to surprise me.” 

Yunjin squints her eyes, purses her lips at you the next second; fingers dancing along your jaw, your throat. “If that’s what you want,” she concurs, retrieving your hand to her hip. “One more for the night?” 

“Don’t blame me if you can’t walk the next morning.” 

And so she gets herself off like that. Your cock in Yunjin’s hand and pressed up against the skin, feel the rush of her pussy lips coating you in slick. Her fingers too dainty and delicate, precise at the touch. You’re alternating from slipping inside her hot cunt - eventually stuck between her impossibly tight thighs crushing the shaft. 

Your throat and hers rumble low, locking legs and letting the hinged hips do their own thing, listening to each other’s nuances of groans and curses and names traded until the overdue exhaustion following the pleasure washes over you two. Yunjin’s face is dazed, relaxed and satisfied with the spill between her legs, her whole body wrapping around you; conserving the heat in any way she can - even if it means to sink your cock back into your cunt. 

You’re hoping the next wet dream you have turns into reality. 

–

A quick look into the inner lens of manifests and proclamations: most of the intents are put in a good light. Speak it into existence and great things will soon come its way - that type of thing. 

When you want something - you’re holding your breath for what’s to happen. 

As for Yunjin, it’s quite the opposite: 

“Imagine all the ideas you could have if you just- let it happen?” She’s on your back and flipping pancakes, breath tickling your ear and putting her down becomes a favorable option than the latter. “Look at it this way, Party A can only take action if the conditions are met in agreement with Party B.” 

“Please allow me to ask, but who the fuck is Party B?” You swivel in place and swing Yunjin’s long legs around the kitchen, the wrap of her arms hooking deeper at your neck. 

“I’m not answering that,” Yunjin says, foot to your thigh and altering your attention to a low-ponytailed Kazuha sitting across, ready and raring to go for her run. 

Kazuha looks dumbfounded, lost, predictable. “What are you guys talking about a Party B?” 

“Huh?” you and Yunjin say in unison. 

“Huh?” Kazuha repeats the utterance. 

Then all three of you say: “What?” Queue the laugh track - somebody, please. 

“Enough of this,” you declare, setting Yunjin down so she can finish cooking the meal. You glance at the glowing screen of your phone, see a few new messages pop up, and a notification from one of the places you applied to. “Crap,” you then say, realizing what’s on the attachment, “It got moved up?! Gotta run.” 

“You too, hm?” Kazuha chides, with an eye smile and a slice of banana in her mouth. “Cute.” 

“Make sure you bring your lunch with you, honey!” Yunjin yells while you blitz back into the bedroom to get changed. “Can’t own the interviews on an empty stomach!” 

–

Various managers you keep in touch with praise your skills and determination, saying that you would be a good fit for the team. It’s a waiting game now; only a matter of time before someone steps forward, claims you as theirs. 

Some places you’re fielding calls from, shortening the list. You’re forwarding it back to home base: hit or miss for today’s adventures, thinking about taking either minnie’s offer or sian’s.

Yunjen 💟: i loooove sian! miss that girl so much (;-;)

Yunjen 💟: pls say yes to her next time, for me? 🥺

🍑: u forgot ur water bottle at home, idiot 🥸

You: great, now i gotta wash it because you touched it

🍑: you’re really bout it today, huh?

🍑: i’m gonna kick your ass when you get back 

You: please, whatever you throw, i’ll catch

Yunjen 💟: aw, i won’t be there to see you school her in mario kart again 😭😭😭

🍑: if i can beat your ass at racing, jennifer, i can def beat him 

🍑: u think too low of me. 

Yunjen 💟: you two play nice now, i’ll be back by dinnerrrr

Yunjen 💟: let me know how it goes 

–

Kazuha greets you at the door, sighing with disappointment, like she owns the place - that’s partly true: she pays for half the rent but always forgets until you remind her. 

“What’s with the look?” you ask flatly. 

“Nothing,” she shrugs, face tugged to a scowl. “Just thought that you’d be back in high spirits after landing the job.” 

“Results don’t come that fast,” you remark, following her in the apartment, feet scruffing and leggings skin tight around her figure. Hair clumped together after being tied for a long period. “They said that they’re gonna do one more week of evaluations and see from there.” 

“Meaning?” 

“I get the job, which means more money; if not, we keep looking.” 

Kazuha chuckles, settling herself on the couch with her legs curled, watches as you drop your things and join soon after. “Is this the part where I ask how your day was like old times?” 

“Zuha, I’m gonna walk right out that door if you do. Please don’t.” 

“Not even this once?” 

You stare at Kazuha’s delighted wink, rolling her eyes back and cringing. “Well shit, my day hasn’t been that interesting either, thanks for asking.” She says, palm sliding down her face with a sheepish smile. “Can’t even have drinks until Yunjin gets back.” 

“What’d you suggest we do for the meantime?” 

Kazuha grabs the controller, treating it like a deck of cards for a party trick. She lifts her eyebrows, tempting. 

“You weren’t kidding.” you say, amazed. 

“Unless you have a better idea,” she drawls, shaking it to double down the offer. “What, too much of a pussy to play me?” 

“You’re on. Give me the other controller.” 

–

Full disclosure aside. 

Moments like these with Kazuha have always been the usual bread and butter for you two to bond over on. With the amount of years carried in between - part of you has imagined what it would be like if the relationship label found its way to you two instead of the opposite. 

(You remember it vividly, the brief period was short lived for a few months after keeping the emotions at bay for a long ass time. Going into high school was the usual phase where the feelings aren’t exactly certain, and eventually change. She could’ve left you out of her life then, but didn’t. Attached wasn’t the right word you or her would say, though, you’re glad she stayed either way.) 

Even after she started to come out of her shell, be talkative, get more active, fit in clothes that make you and every other horny guy on campus drop their jaws at, she’s still the same girl you met back in kindergarten: a true friend at your side going places, while also doing stupid stuff for the fun. 

“This goddamn blue shell, I swear to god-” 

As for you, well- you’ve got tunnel vision, deathly locked to the screen, blocking all outside noise and focusing on the mario character and the amount of asphalt you got on the tires. Kazuha was all up in your ear, talking about how she managed to build a gap after a poor start on your end with the amount of bananas being tossed up track and dropped along the kerbs. She also thought racing at 200cc was a great idea - when in reality she’s only raced nothing above 50cc. 

She’s using every trick in the arsenal: the hand to your face, kicking your side; hell, even covering your end of the screen if it meant being in last place. Her definition of victory was seeing you not succeed. 

All in all, it was a good way to have fun. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she asks, when she’s fully calmed down and actually playing properly. “That night where you had to pick me up from the kickback,” her body leaning with the steering motion of the kart when the controls were strictly to the joystick. “No one told me I didn’t get hooked up with anybody.” 

“Because you didn’t.” you say tiredly. Explaining the gauntlet she gave you to bring her back home safely. 

You’re finishing first ahead of Kazuha - the girl can’t drive in real life as it is. 

Her legs cross over yours, paying no attention to the spread of her toes and flex of her calves. Heel grazing your crotch before resting along your thigh, fighting the urge to break composure and adjust yourself. “Hmph, that’s a shame. Since you did see me drunk after all-” 

“Happens multiple times than I would like to count,” you’re saying mildly, glancing, “I was also hoping that Sakura would take you home instead of Eunchae calling me.”  

“Is that what happened?” Kazuha asks, and it abrupts your thoughts quickly. “Sorry- I know I asked the morning after but - still don’t remember much.” 

You look away, down to your hips. Your mind and body clearly not in sync. 

Which begs the question: “So, what do you actually remember? From that night?” 

The answer she gives goes in one ear and out the other. Vividly telling you the details. 

“You’re not very slick about me; you know that, right?” Kazuha concedes. And you agree, completely cornered.

“What do you want me to do about it?” 

“Gonna keep talking?” 

“Please, I can do more than just talk.” 

Kazuha bites her lip, pulls her legs back, shakes her head, the intent easy for you to read. There’s a few shared secrets with her you’d like to keep. 

What’s one more thing to hide from Kazuha and Yunjin? 

–

Think of it this way, racing’s got a lot to offer: the thrill, the rush, the risk. Kazuha loves to put you in the dust; always making you chase until you’ve got one over her. She’s screwed you over in other lifetimes - including this one - but, it’s worth noting the exception: a rare occasion where you’re back at the starting line and finishing all the same. 

Kazuha doesn’t look over her shoulder often; disregards the terror she leaves behind without a care, and you ought to remind her where it lands as soon as you can. 

“Jesus christ-” is what leaks out of her lips, biting down another moan in her throat. You cup her chin and force the look up, hands slipping on the glass. “Your fucking cock is just-” 

Amazing? Well, she took the words from Yunjin, and you know.

It’s extravagantly fucked up: turning back time as if it was yesterday - you’re railing her in the shower, warm water falling from above, steam fogging up beneath. 

She sure knows how to make you shut up, just like old times, and a small part of you wishes how things might’ve been different if you or her if you said something back then, but you’ll let your bodies do the talking - her cunt clenching around your shaft, skin rippling the water off with every wet slap in, hand reaching for your thigh for stability. You’re just holding on and having her do most of the work in throwing her ass back, begging you for more, press her against the wall, take your cock like she always does - she may treat you like shit in the most affectionate way possible, but that layer is stripped entirely if her heart and mind allowed it. You’re going to fuck her pretty cunt, make her remember that night where she got herself off with you watching and act like nothing happened despite the raw marks of red on her creamy skin. 

That too, and she’ll be a pain in your ass still: “What’s wrong? Worried Yunjin will walk in on us?” 

“Kind of counting on it,” you relent, and she hunches. You pull her back up and feel her breath hit your chin. “Who knows? Maybe she’d want to join us.” 

“You think so?” Her arms flush with the tile. 

“If you’ve forgotten,” you manage, bracketing her waist - grip hard enough to make her yelp, and you’re loving every second. She’s a brat and a bitch and a slut rolled up into one; someone who has no care for others, except - oh, right; you’ve put up with it long enough. It’s the perfect opposite. “You’re the one who made the first move.” 

“That’s bullshit and we both know it,” she denies, dishonored and deflective, so you drag your hips and push back in, grab her face, watch her jaw go slack. “Oh god. Baby, yes-” 

The water’s streaming down her chest, her abs, spraying off to the walls and glass - you snake your hand to her neck, a muscle memory: everything else is an easy line to follow. 

One of her legs are lifted for you to hook, so that you can reach the familiar angle you’ve lost the feeling for too long, where you’ve made her scream, swear out more obscene stuff. She’s bracing herself along the wall properly when you’ve slid your cock back inside her; she’s groaning a lot louder now, tensing, moaning - you’re supporting her and she’s taking it like you promised, her head bobbing all over the place, mouth canted, skin flushed hot-pink. A smile breaks at the corner of her lips. It’s the easy position, the natural flow of motion, keeping pace, a simple solution to a problem - all of the qualifications applied in different situations. Except, your hands find themselves on the rise of her hips, ass hypnotizing you all over your eyes; she’s leaking on your cock, cunt split open and ready to ruin - and you think you’ve finally won the argument, somewhere hidden past the heavy breathing. 

“Fuck- fuck me. Oh- shit- ah-” spills out, and it’s another win to take in, soaking the moment of bliss - that’s so fucking good, i’ve missed this so much, keep going, yes- right there, harder - she’s lost her mind entirely. 

You shouldn’t be grinning wickedly, but you are - it’s relieving in bend a girl like her to your will who can’t hold herself to the end. 

“The worst kind,” she’s huffing, gasping, mewling, trying so hard to keep her posture up while you work her towards the orgasm she’s been asking for since her feet skimmed over the bulge in your pants, playing it off like nothing terribly as it’s a routine for her. You’re aware that she’s probably touched herself while you and Yunjin fucked throughout the night. The walls around here are thin as it is, and so much for that. 

You don’t let up, fucking her hard and fast, like she wanted - praising you for finally breaking that unspoken rule left behind years ago and promise to keep it on the low. You and her both knew it would happen again eventually. How could you not? Just one little change of impulse and you’re on the one way track to hell. 

(Don’t act like this wasn’t your doing, either.) 

“I don’t hate,” she says, urging, whining and whimpering and you’re dying to hear more of it for her - “please, just- it’s incredible, I fucking love it, this fucking cock- all for me-” 

You grab a handful of her slick hair and yank, watch the arch in her spine rise, the fluttering eyelids and shape of her mouth. Kazuha drops her jaw even lower and winces when you pound her pussy deeper; the imaginary line in your head fades with the steam. She’s clenching tightly around your shaft, and you know that this won’t be a singular occurrence. She’s gonna be coming back for more, becoming addicted, clingy. “You like? S’that feel good?” you’re asking anyway, waiting to hear the same answer. 

You want this to last. Her cunt quivers around your length, clamping. You’ve fucked her through the first orgasm, onto the second or third, neither of you are keeping track - you’re chasing for your own - but there’s a sense of grandeur to this, in addition of the gratification to the reward from watching how astonishlingy you can dick her down and put her back in her place. 

Kazuha’s putting effort where it counts. Says: “Need- I need it- fucking christ, please, do it already-” And - fuck, not in a polite way, but good note for trying. 

Kazuha sobs along with a low huff that’s one of the hottest things you’ve heard from her in a while - a long time - contracting and expanding and clenching around you. Great job, baby. You did a good job keeping up with me. I don’t mind you cumming first. I’d prefer to finish second. Holy shit, you don’t realize how long it’s been since you stepped in the shower, mind focusing on Kazuha and legitimately nothing else. 

“Shh, shh,” you’re saying, a finger to her lips, feel her tongue run against the side of it - and the nod is small, but you’re thinking ahead to what she’ll do next. 

You pull yourself out and slap the tip on her pussy lips, listen closely to the squelch when you slip in again, deeper. You can’t tell if the water on her face is from the shower head or her tears, trickling down as her mouth meets yours. God, her kisses are just like the first ones. 

“Gonna cum again?” you ask, delicately. “You are. Let it out.” 

And Kazuha can breathlessly say yes without the words - she’s cumming, cumming, and wants to show you how badly. You could spend a few more minutes here, conserve the water. Paying the bill and next rounds of games can wait. 

–

There’s no complexity behind it. The sun comes up and the world still spins. 

Some days, Kazuha flutters to you - bare cunt underneath her shirt and you’re catching a second glance. Slaps your ass like every other time and expects you to bring it up later. Which you do. 

Or- 

You’re taking her by surprise, as some lousy excuse to pin her down on the nearest hard surface within reach, perch her hips up to yours until you have to carry her to the shower or bed - only for the mess to come back around again. She tugs the ends of the panties, faintly smacking on her skin, wiggles her perky ass and touches her hair - bundles it up in her hands, her slender back towards you and another spot to deal with some other time. 

“You sure you don't want Yunjin to know?” She asks, snapping you out of your daydream. 

With a quirk of your lips, “Maybe she already knows. But if I speak, I’d be in big trouble.” 

Kazuha tsks. “So wrong for you to leave her out of the fun.” To be fair, she’s more right than wrong. If you were honorable enough to tell the truth, you could’ve told Yunjin to commensurate something with the shared dynamics - albeit way more confusing than it is, because it’s all just for fun, a wacky journey with no destination. 

A rerun of you, fucking Kazuha into puddled pile of pure putty, watch her eyes shimmer when you cum in her mouth, in her hair, paint her pussy with your mess and see her relieved - a deal slipped under the table, unspoken. Yunjin might’ve swapped roles with her in being gullible or oblivious to the signs now - or even back then, you’re not quite convinced. Bottomline: you’ve missed this version of Kazuha. It’s a nice switch up and a way to disconnect and destress from the pressures of the outside world, sheltering and confining yourself since that’s always the best option to have - besides, there’s some work to do still: you got the notice of the final evaluation, from both jobs at the top of your list, somewhat nerve wracking. You’ll have to make a decision, find what fits best for you, which one pays more. Maybe get a second opinion from Yunjin or Kazuha. 

You’ll figure it out as you go along. 

–

When you do ask Yunjin about your little dilemma, part of her attention is on you - at a distance. 

She’s too busy watching Phantom of the Opera after you ate her cunt out while her hourly reading earlier in the day, only because she kept teasing you underneath the desk while on call with the same friend who managed to land a position at their new job. Relax, they’re saying at the time, don’t worry too much and just be ready for what’s to come. 

“Huh? Sorry, ask me again,” Yunjin’s telling you, chin on her shoulder and glances over at you at the kitchen preparing dinner. “The actress’s high note caught me off guard.” 

Kazuha laughs, sitting on the counter and at your side, peeling off lettuce for her salad - proximity minimized to where your hand’s grazing her thigh. “Are you sure Sian’s job is the right one for you?” she asks, rephrasing the question as her own. “I mean, you say you liked the offer from her.” 

“Possibly,” you answer, slicing a carrot, placing the knife down. “She told me she’ll call sometime tomorrow to confirm.” 

“Makes sense,” Yunjin supplies. “Good pay. Office isn’t far, convenient. Also on the fact that she’s pretty to be a manager or in charge? Heavy on the pretty, though.” 

“Right,” you agree, looking at Kazuha, fingers slipping over the rise of her thigh and in. You quirk your eyebrow in suspicion, noticing the lack of underwear (once again) and her folds already soaking. “She really is pretty.” 

Kazuha bites her lip, dips her head down. 

“I think I've made up my mind,” you say, pushing- sliding deeper in, quirk your lip in a ‘shh’ so that Kazuha can keep her voice low. “Might’ve been a pure choice from the start.” 

“You think so?” Yunjin says, puzzled. “That was easy.” 

You and Kazuha both give a confused look at her. Knuckles curled in Kazuha’s walls, inconspicuous and hidden - a familiar reflex and motion of the hand. She’s so slick for you, it’s unfathomable. A whimper rumbles within her chest, and you cough loudly to cover the sound. 

Yunjin glances over for a third time. “Everything okay there?” 

Kazuha sniffles, seamlessly playing along without a proper cue. “The onions,” you’re saying, sheepishly grinning like a dumbass. “Zuha got the first wave of them.” To that, Yunjin laughs, wiggling her head the other direction. “Should’ve been helping me over here instead.” 

“I would,” replies Yunjin, waving her hand up in the air. “But my legs have lost their feeling. Wonder whose fault is that.” 

You shrug your shoulders and carry on your work at the counter. 

–

You’re fielding calls from the shortlist, waiting for one contact. 

Then the phone rings. 

Greetings are exchanged and it’s right down to business: “Drop by the office later. It’ll be brief, I promise. Just checking in one last time on how you feel about the offer.” Sian’s telling you. “Apologies for making you wait.” 

“Nonsense,” you’re beaming, swiping through your belongings and whatever you can fill in your hand. “Wasn’t doing much besides keeping myself busy.” 

Soon you’re on the way out of the door, noticing a box next to your shoes. You don’t remember ordering anything in the past few days, so that theory is eliminated automatically. Yunjin’s made her way to see you off, arms crossed and partially excited. 

You pull your phone away, pointing to the package. You’re mouthing the curiosity, and Yunjin nods. There’s not much to assume: it’s probably a new batch of books for her to read, or some clothes. You don’t suspect much.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way now. See you soon.” 

–

(The interview goes exactly as Sian said it would. 

She’s telling you about the perks about the office and benefits within the first few months. They’re all really good, you can’t deny that. Not to mention the signing bonus. You can’t stop smiling at the new opportunity, ecstatic for what’s in store. 

You’re driving home later and feel like the sun’s burning a little bit brighter than usual - clouds filling up the endless blue sky. 

An attempt is made to call Yunjin, but no answer. You try Kazuha too, no luck. 

There’s the simple assumption that they’re both busy and they’ll see the missed calls before you get back.

A cleared schedule opens up a lot of things.) 

–

Everything seems a lot easier when there isn’t a weight on your shoulders, relieved of stress and the only current worry is hobbling back to your bed and sleeping there for the rest of the day. You click the deadbolt out of place and swing the door open, letting yourself in. “I’m home,” you’re calling out, slipping out of your shoes and the bag gets placed next to the small table where the keys go. “Genuinely thought it was going to take longer-” 

You freeze your movements when you hear the spill of moans close by. 

Because you peek the corner like a kid waiting for Santa Claus - but instead of seeing a red man placing gifts and stealing milk and cookies, you see Kazuha leaning back on the kitchen counter, sitting on the chair with someone else on top of her, leaving fresh marks it could be mistaken of her being bitten from a vampire - the person on top presses her hips up, diving down to her neck, pushing and yanking before you realize she’s getting fucked by- 

“Yunjin, what the fuck!?” you exclaim. 

Yunjin rests her head on Kazuha’s chest, fingers clasping to her shoulder - you’ve seen that wicked look on her face before, devilish and corrupt. Now, in your place: it’s Kazuha pulling her close, tilting her head back when Yunjin shifts her hips up between Kazuha’s legs, dragging out another moan. 

“Welp, I guess we got caught,” says Yunjin, and her strap-on slips out of Kazuha in one simple pull. 

Clearly, you’re confused, bamboozled. Yunjin’s coming back to her senses as she swipes a hair behind her ear, playing the innocent role poorly and none of it makes sense, at all. Your girlfriend and roommate - roommate and girlfriend, and you start to remember- 

“Thought I said that I wasn’t finished,” Kazuha sputters, oblivious of your presence. She’s sitting back up on the chair and clinging to the edge of the counter. “You told me that I’ll have my turn with the strap when you’re done - we barely started.” She’s hitting Yunjin’s arm, hair falling over and panting erratically. “Yunjin, please-” 

“Zuha,” Yunjin taps Kazuha’s shoulder, flicks a finger towards you - authoritative and calm. “I think we have other things to worry about. Also hey hi, I didn’t hear the door open or you walk in.” 

“Well I did,” you say, walking further inside and assessing the scene. Kazuha then sees you in her view and her jaw drops, both shocked and disappointed. “Didn’t want to interrupt your fun little session going on here.” 

“She knows about-” Kazuha tries to speak, covered by Yunjin’s hand, and stops her sentence. 

“You? Us?” you ask. 

“Should’ve told me sooner,” Yunjin butts in, unimpressed with a smirk. “I didn’t expect you’d have a headstart with my suggestion.” 

“Guilty as charged.” 

“Mmfph,” Kazuha tries to say, but the press of Yunjin’s hand is a lot more firm. She’s lost her talking privileges for now. This wasn’t even the worst bit of this incident, you think. 

You’re sighing, undecided, at a crossroads: two girls on your shoulders with very similar,  contrasting perspectives and ideals. Yunjin’s the purest of angels in human form, Kazuha the devil’s advocate living in your house. The thought of you being walked in by Kazuha with Yunjin on your cock was a thing of the past. With Yunjin’s strap filling up Kazuha- 

“How do you suppose we deal with her?” You’re asking, playing into the role of second fiddle to Yunjin’s wishes, wherever she wants to take them, burying your nose into her hair and looking down at Kazuha’s eyes light up in excitement. 

“I think you can help me with that,” declares Yunjin, and for the thousandth time it’s something you’re following through. “Give this girl a proper work up for once.” 

“With pleasure.” 

“But first-” 

“First?” 

Kazuha’s body tenses. “Mmrph??” 

Yunjin’s head dips, licking her lips. Her fingers tap the fabric of your crotch. “Not yet,” she sighs, and she’s teasing the pink head of plastic on Kazuha’s folds. “Actually,” Yunjin’s hearty laugh gives you an idea where this is going, and it’s not looking pretty. “We’re gonna have you watch.” 

–

Where do you even begin with these two? That’s the golden question. 

Think of it this way, a coming of age story would have all the highs and the lows, a sunset drive into the horizon with the top down and music blasting for everyone else to hear, romanticizing both the achievements and shortcomings of each character, tossing snacks to each other and clinking glasses while letting the end credits roll. 

Kazuha and Yunjin, however, lock lips at the couch; you’re breathing deep - you’re slipping down the chair, not quite shameful that you’re not in the act. 

Maybe it’s the fantasy written up in your head - in its purest form and in real time. The ambiance settling down to a space meant to be locked away; shelved behind a drawer and door, never to be seen in the light of day, exclusively for your eyes only. 

Yunjin tilts her head one side with Kazuha on the other, playing along well. Everything about it is down to the last vivid detail: her fingers carding into her hair, gripping, pulling her head up so Kazuha can get more air - slip an arm underneath the arching back and bring her leg up against her heat. You give Yunjin a look when she locks eyes with you, paying no attention to Kazuha peppering her cheek with more kisses and clearly asking for more, giggling as she indulges her request. Their hands trailing all over their unclad bodies, miles of skin between them. They both sigh in relief, finally showing what they cherished the most with each other. There’s no regrets of your actions: you’ve got a piece of Yunjin - what she’s like, same for Kazuha from another period lost to time, but it’s all culminated to this. Soon you’re towering the pair and see the crimson and sweat spread across, willing to have your fill be satisfied by both.

If your sympathy was a knife, you’d turn the blade around and twist it inside yourself. 

Kazuha’s hand grips the belt loop, grinning. Yunjin tugs your hand to her face, kissing it. Wraps her plump pretty lips on your thumb. An unspoken testament of what’s to come. The credence of raw, unfiltered, sin. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Yunjin asks, very silently. Kazuha opens her neck up as an invitation. 

“Oh,” you breathe, softly. Kneeling down at the couch and exchanging glances. “You have no idea.” 

(Show me everything. Show us everything, they said, partially devious. How bad your impurities are. We want it all. We deserve it all.) 

–

Maybe all of this was the long-awaited culmination; Kazuha’s mind is so far gone, back pinned against the wall like she knows you and Yunjin are about to ruin every part of her body. Clothes are being slipped off your frame, pooling onto the floor and soon to be ignored till the next morning. Yunjin’s hands graze your middle, feeling the hardened muscle - sighing into your neck and flashes a look across. 

“Should I know how long you two kept this from me?” she asks, half-curious. Well aware of the answer. 

You keep your gaze on Kazuha while pulling your head back - observing, but flicking your eyes back and forth. “Would it be best to hear it from the person responsible?” you say, seeing Kazuha’s face shift from her to yours and unsure who to choose. 

“Figured there were signs,” Kazuha answers, lifting her leg up at the crease of her knee, giving an implication. It’s not a pressure point - not yet, at least - an angle where you can jump in and double down on. “If they weren’t obvious enough.” 

“Are we seriously playing dumb here?” Yunjin then follows up, twisting her head. “Right now? Of all times?” 

“Choose your words wisely,” you’re saying, towering over the girl in your arms - a subtle warning. 

“You’ll be a good girl, yes?” Yunjin adds. “Then we’ll see if you deserve it.” 

Kazuha snickers, sound bouncing off the hallway, and you and Yunjin both sigh in dejection - though, Yunjin slaps Kazuha’s thigh, prompting you to pin her lower half to the drywall. “I see we’re at a bad start already,” she’s saying, and her arm slithers up to your chest, “you keep acting like this, Zuha, we’re gonna have some issues. Not to mention,” she’s rambling, taking a step back to open the space in flipping Kazuha around with her back in view, arms up instinctually and hips moving back, Yunjin’s arms crossed over her chest with the strap-on in her hand, instigating. “I think it’s best if he takes the first crack in breaking you.” 

“How generous,” you tell her, leaning down to kiss the fine line of Kazuha’s spine. “I thought you’d be more cruel.” 

Yunjin grins, finger to her teeth. “That’s more of your thing rather than mine.” 

“Liar,” you growl, and it’s a small reveal of your true intent, bringing them close and never letting go - your arm pulls Yunjin back in, gasping at the sudden move. Yunjin giggles, teetering into a small moan; you look down and she takes the hint in feeling Kazuha’s ass, listening to the hitched breaths, see the slightest scrunch of her shoulder. “Don’t think that you can hide away from me, either,” And you slap your hand firmly on the fresh skin, Kazuha slipping out a yelp in response - “I know you want your fun as well, baby.” Your thumb and index pinch both of her cheeks, squishing. “Unless you’d prefer to watch.” 

“You know me. I’ll have my go if you’re willing.” 

“I’m still down here,” interrupts Kazuha. “Why don’t you-” 

Here was the perfect time to show Kazuha again what you’re made of - you grip both of your hands to the swell of her hips, pushing them up until all of her chest is flush with the wall in front - her hand flies back to yours; clawing the skin on your arm, your hips- 

“Watch it,” you snarl, grabbing her wrist and putting it along the small of her back, hoping to break the tension. Technically, she’s doing the opposite. 

She squirms in your hands for a few more seconds, resisting. The grunts coming out of her mouth don’t apply to you; Kazuha’s feet skating across the floor, widening the stance, spilling out pleas- 

“Fucking swear to God,” she harshly swears, and you’re with her; Yunjin’s taking another step back, leaning. She can’t help but smile at the authority, the general hierarchy you’re used to giving her. Throwing out orders and demands - Kazuha with her insightful snarks, nowhere to be heard or seen as she’s finally getting a taste of her own medicine- 

Both of Kazuha’s arms are behind her back. She’s helpless once you’ve finally got a hold on her. 

“How long is it gonna take you to fuck me or force me to watch you fuck Yunjin instead?” she whines, persistent. Her hands cup the sides of your hips, pushing her ass back - you don’t fight it, laser focused on her face. “Didn’t realize that we’re dishing out my punishment like this right off the bat.” 

“We’re getting there,” you agree, and you’re palming her breast beneath the shirt, clumping up the fabric - thumbing a nipple and pinching. “Yunjin will have her fun too when I’m done with you.” 

You look right at Yunjin and she nods. 

She’s keeping herself occupied with the strap-on in her hand, putting her pouty lips on the silicone tip, licking shamelessly and her other hand to her legs - cheeks flushed in a hot pink and eyes trained on you. You’d expect her to watch - let her have her own fun in the meantime. She’s so good; fucking you and Kazuha both, though it’s somewhat on par or incomparable to the roughing up you’re gonna do to Kazuha as a means of staying true to your word. Her tongue laves the side of plastic, lowers it down to her hips, hoping to tease and have that ache sated until her turn comes along to be taken, fucked mercissely, ruthlessly.

You lift a brow for the final confirmation, and Yunjin matches it. 

“You can watch of course, baby,” you say, and Yunjin’s face lights up. “Go ahead, do what you need to do.” 

Yunjin twists her back to the wall, head tilted while her legs spread wider to welcome the space of the strap-on between her legs - you’ve curled your arm around Kauzha’s hip, rub her clit from that angle, stroking slowly at her leaking slit; so yeah, this girl leaks sex. As for you: you’re eating it up. Knowing that there’s another pair of eyes on you, greedily staring once you get on one knee, place a trail of kisses to the backside of Kazuha’s thigh, bundle up the oversized shirt in your hands. You hook your palms to the fold of her legs, brush your nose in her cunt, taste the droplets on your tongue- 

“Are we observing?” You ask Yunjin. “Not the first time I’ve seen you use a dildo in front of me.” Your mouth sucks in the dripping slick of Kazuha’s pussy, earns you a sharp inhale through her teeth. Biting down on one of her folds and pulling. “I wanna see you ruined before I have the chance myself.” 

Your gaze shifts back to Kazuha because you know Yunjin will follow whatever you say. Even when your cock is brushing up against Kazuha’s slit, pushing in her pussy and the girl sings a broken note. 

Kazuha, by instinct, tilts her head down, overwhelmed, choking on the bob in her throat; all it takes is one firm snap of your hips in and it’s not enough time to get accustomed to the stretch - that deep, open stretch, her cunt pressuring you so tight, addicting - you’re amazed at how she can pick up things quickly, breathing steadily with every stroke, see her eyes at the corners, upping the intensity, twisting her head back forcefully and curve the arch a bit more deeper- 

A makeshift ponytail is created without a second thought, locking the stare in and keeping it frozen, failing to maintain composure when she’s moments away from finally breaking in front of you, or Yunjin. Kazuha’s pride is always one thing she holds close. Snuff it out of her and there’s nothing, and she can’t deny it: the way that she’s trying so hard to not be a completely needy, slutty bitch. 

“What’s wrong, huh?” you’re taunting - imitating her snark - man, it’s so nice not to be on the receiving end in one of those. “Wasn’t this the punishment you asked for? Well guess what?” You’re grasping at her cheek that it brushes yours. “It’s here, Zuha. Just me, you, Yunjin, and your dirty little cunt, all for us to have.” 

“All talk, still,” Kazuha remarks, syllables barely stable. She’s so shrunk down over your presence that when your cock is in play, it splits her body in two, crumbling her: she can spit out words for days, but knows that she’s vulnerable in a fight. “You’re not even putting effort into me. Fucking christ- asshole. Just-” 

You can’t help but chuckle - actually laugh, because the insults don’t hurt like they used to back then, that added layer in the dynamic where you’ll take the punch and send it right back. You’re slamming your hips in, press your fingers into her hip; Kazuha can keep giving you shit, but you see her head hit the drywall, eyes lidded and mouth quirked to keep it all in. There’s no point - she’s gushing on your cock, clamping. 

“Just what?” You yank her hips out and in, make her yelp at the change in pace. “Stop? Keep going? I can’t tell what you’re asking for and neither can Yunjin.” Yunjin herself lets out a breathy sigh - the strap-on’s worked well inside her cunt, matching the strokes as best she can; at this point, you’re just waiting for her to squirt on the floor. “Could’ve sworn you were greedy a few days ago when I fucked you in the back of the car, don’t lie to me.” 

“Maybe.” You slide in - genuinely fucking her. Kazuha tries to let it go casually the way you’re cock’s tearing inside her - you’ll give her the ‘A’ for attempting. That feeling can’t be ignored - she’s close, rising within - it’s in the lines of her face, her body, it’s showing. “Fuck - that’s not the point. I couldn’t be more desperate for your cock unlike Yunjin.” 

She’s not saying it for Yunjin’s sake, but also for her own: smiling through the pleasure despite her body nearly shutting down and breaking on your cock. All that ego, that bullshit given all these years, it’s all gone in an instant. It was a pipe dream to fuck the boldness out of her - you’ll come close, but not close enough. You’ll fuck her truly in the way that she wants - and the glint over her shoulder pierces through your eyes. Do your worst, you imagine her saying. I’d love to see you try. 

So, you’ll give exactly the worst thing to her. You’ll make her cum on your cock. 

You let go of her face, grab her tit before sliding down to her pussy. “Look at you,” you tell her, matching the smirk she gave you on the couch the other day, recalling, “nowhere to go.” 

Kazuha parts her mouth, ready to dart back with a witty response - or tries to - rocked with her high so intense that it’s bubbling in her throat, on her tongue. She’s there, thanks to you; Yunjin’s honoring your request, wincing, sliding that silicone cock inside- 

She’s up next, you’re not forgetting. You take Kazuha - all the way in, past her orgasm, let her shoulders go slack, breath in thin wisps, hand losing grip and slipping from your sweat, and you’re grinding your cock deep in her - all the way down to the base, where the blowback of your balls tapping her clit, prolongs the feeling - a new sensation; fuck, she feels so fucking good- 

“How do we deal this out, you suppose?” You ask Yunjin, breathless, head held high, breaking your gaze and towards your girlfriend. “Should I carry on what I’m doing?” Kazuha whimpers when you’re massaging her ass, slowly driving your cock back in, softening the blow. “Do whatever our little slut wishes?” 

You and Kazuha both glance at Yunjin together, slick dripping down her thighs, small threads plastered on your hips, and Yunjin slides the strap-on out of her like it’s a restraint. Kazuha slides off your cock, leans back to your embrace, legs quivering - you gave her a lot to handle, that’s for sure. But you’re not done yet. Not until Yunjin’s got her chance. 

Yunjin herself is treated to such a sight, cum soaked on the plastic in her hand, but when you sweep her close she’s already falling: like she knows you’ll catch her whenever and doesn’t have to worry about a damn thing. You’re eying her eyes, those plump pretty lips, her long legs rivaling Kazuha’s, her leaking cunt - she’s shifting in your arm, like one look sends sparkles in her eyes. She’s waiting, patiently - lets you do anything to her without saying a single word. 

“Enjoyed the show, love?” You’re scratching the sweet spot behind her head and her neck relaxes. It’s those earthy eyes you can’t get enough of, love drunk and over her head with her switch flipped - hot and crazy in love she’ll want everything. “How does it feel seeing lovely little Zuha finally get humbled?” 

“I’ll literally cut your dick off if you don’t shut your fucking mouth,” retorts Kazuha, twisting her neck so she could face you. No matter how much of a pain in the ass she is while getting fucked, she’ll own that role close to her heart. 

Yunjin flashes a smile, and you smile back. Coming to a consensus. “Not enough for her, sadly.” 

Kazuha takes advantage for once, hurling your body against the hallway now, and making you shuffle back past the open door to the room. Yunjin fails at the mediary with her chin on her shoulder, pushing her weight so that the ratio is two-to-one. Both of their eyes are insane, glittering crystals and with a primal ferocity behind them - holy fuck, is it sexy, moments away from victory. Backing you into a corner where there’s no opening for escape. 

“Make you eat your fucking words out,” Kazuha says, voice unfazed when she just came on your cock a few minutes ago, “Better hope you won’t get the chance again.” 

“Careful Zuha,” Yunjin butts in, hoping to alleviate the tenacious threat. “You wouldn’t want to get on his bad side again.” 

“What she said,” you remark - leaving it at that for now. 

“Okay then,” Kazuha tuts, grabbing your face for a kiss, clawing your hair, soothing it. “I’m tagging Jen Jen in.” 

With that, Yunjin pushes Kazuha off to the foot of the bed and topples over you, claiming her prize. 

There’s a passing of the torch in the form of the strap-on - Kazuha takes it and wiggles on the bed - while you’re wrestling for control with Yunjin, grasping her waist and flipping her over so that she’s under, fingers in familiar spots where you’ve left marks and bruises before - ready to it again. “Guess you’re up,” you mumble - feeling the knuckles of Yunjin’s hand on your face before she fiddles with the cuff of your ear, pinching. You’re surveying the planes of her body, targeting the areas where it’ll hurt. “You could never have enough of my cock as it is.” 

An instant curveball when you slap her inner thigh twice, flip her over and slap her ass, then roll back to her cunt. 

Yunjin shrieks - Kazuha inhales deep at the sound when she pushes the strap-on in her cunt. You smack again, put your mouth to hers and funnel the noise down your neck. This was new to the script, and you’re certain it’ll stay. 

There’s no other pretense to act on, and you bury your cock inside her cunt. 

She is fucking dripping; given the mewls and moans petering out of her mouth, your ears focus on the sweet sound of slick as her pussy takes all of you, stretching and sliding in the ways you made her break, the noises heavenly, a symphony alone as you get back into true pace - you’re fucking her cunt so hard that it’s almost snapping her spine in half, or make her lose the feeling in her legs. Ah, you’re just treating yourself - possibly. Kazuha’s fucking herself right next to you two and has a front row seat of the one in many acts about to unfold- 

Her pussy is incredible - that’s just the jist of it, the meaning already written to existence long before you came along, Yunjin’s just huffing along, the size too grand to bear- 

“Good?” You know for damn sure it’s good. Her neck is a nice place for your hand to rest, siphoning the remaining air trapped in her lungs. The last gasp for more, taken away. “Yeah, you know it’s good. Same kind of sluttiness I expected with Kazuha. What would I ever do without you - getting off with your cunt and fucking you as I please. God, baby- it’s so fucking tight down there, I could never-” 

You’re left speechless when you abruptly pull out, slap your cockhead along her clit and she’s gushing everywhere, spraying the sheets, squirting in mere seconds. Kazuha drops her jaw in shock, ecstatic, amazed- 

“Kazuha’s in her own world, and she’s living in it,” You snap your hips, yank her body, sending another aftershock - your hands will never leave. “It shouldn’t be this easy, babe - the way that you’re just one, insufferable, cocktease-” 

Yunjin crunches her eyes, and her lower half subconsciously rolls with yours. She’s one to have her moment, but the way that she’s just taking it - so fucking well- 

“This strap couldn’t fill her enough,” Kazuha chides. And that’s the daunting realization - it’s one thing to keep things mundane, by the book, but this: the degrading, the power going to your head, the advantages you seized for yourself, you’re speaking listless shit and giving less of a fuck for your own benefit. “Now you got a taste of your own medicine, honey. All that talk about having all of him when he clearly has sights for others. Now he’s got me to deal with if you’re not around; and look at him, he’s really greedy. 

Yunjin’s sobbing, tears seeping at the corners. You’re close - everything in your body expanding and rushing to the peak - but her scared expression makes you think otherwise, spares a second thought. 

“Do you believe that, sweetheart?” You grit, releasing your grip around her throat, leaning for a kiss and it brings her back to life. “Tell us how it feels.” 

Kazuha’s scooting closer, the silicon impaled deep in her cunt, tapping her clit at a fast pace. She’s conservative, yet so smug that it’s rubbing on Yunjin instead, the build up is there, voices rising, crescendoing- 

“It’s so good, so- fuck, so fucking good,” she spits, mouth trembling and the rest of the words are in tongues - and you’re sure that you’ve broke her once again. “I love this cock so much - I can’t even begin to describe how well it fucks me, taking me just to dump your cum, come back for more - please, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-” 

On instinct, she taps your thigh. A signal to let you know she has a different play in mind. 

You snap your gaze back to Kazuha and she immediately takes the hint, a wicked grin spread on her lips to sell the implied message. 

From there it’s a simple one-two, a bait and switch. You slide out of Yunjin’s well fucked cunt and swoop Kazuha’s legs, pulling her over to you while Yunjin staggers back on the bed, taking the strap-on tossed to her so she can simmer down the aching heat engulfing her stomach. You don’t even register the quick inhale Kazuha does when you seamlessly slip back inside her waiting cunt and pick up right where you left off with her - and the screams level with the incessant slaps of skin on skin. 

“Back for more, are you?” Kazuha grunts, sucking in her gut from the pull on her shoulders and into your cock. “Such a shameless boy.” 

“Shut your fucking mouth, whore.” You’re bearing no mind to the word sputtered out. The only thing in your head is taking your roommate’s pussy and making it yours. Nothing more, nothing less. “Gonna ruin this cunt now.” 

“Hold still and look pretty,” demands Yunjin, and she’s on Kazuha’s side, strap-drunk as Kazuha’s head tips back and slides her hand down her abs to her cunt, watching you fuck and fuck and fuck into Kazuha - wrecked and full of your cock, like you needed this to relieve the stress out your body, and Yunjin’s face twists to something more evil, twisted, witnessing a prophecy come to fruition- 

“Look at our cute cocksleeve go.” Yunjin’s fingers tap your forearm, nails clawing curves into your skin - the sting going unnoticed as the thrusts keep moving - another sense acquired, you’re sweating, overheating. “I’m sure he came in you already, and guess what? He’s gonna ruin your tight cunt and fill you up to the brim - when we’re done with you, you’re gonna have to be carried around the house-” 

Kazuha cries and cums on your waist - Yunjin sits up, fingers fast to the crease of her legs, surprised and seeing it all unfold. As for you, you’re tensing, gritting teeth together, cumming inside her cunt, the release sought after now tumbling in true bliss- 

“Oh, no. We can’t have you be that loud now.” 

Yunjin waddles over on her knees to Kazuha’s head, angles her head, and pushes the plastic cock between her lips, smothering with her own spit - see the bob form in her throat when she takes it halfway in. 

You’re still going, pulling out and sliding your tip across her folds, soaked in white and convinced that there’s more for you to offer. The strokes are consistent, long enough for another minute or so until you’re spilling a second load in her walls, pumping her full. 

“God, fucking- Jesus. Kazuha-” 

“Mmfrjmph,” she’s got herself full of other things to worry about than your leaking cum in her pussy. 

“Jen, switch.” You give the order and your girlfriend drags her hips away from Kazuha’s face. From the second you pull your cock out, white strips start to drip onto the sheets. Your mind’s barely there, putting every fiber of muscle from the nerves to get you at the headboard of the bed and settle into a comfortable position - and Yunjin flips Kazuha over, hooks her hands to her hips, dragging it towards her crotch, she managed to get the strap-on in time, pointing the length to her cunt, picking up small ribbons at the tip. 

“Think she needs a little clean up before you have your fun,” you suggest, fingers buried deep into the threads of Kazuha’s hair and forming it into a lazy bun, ignoring the little ‘ah’ from her lips and focusing her head on your softening cock. “Unless you’re gonna jump right in and get sloppy.” 

“You’ve made my point beautifully,” Yunjin agrees, lowering her head and raising Kazuha’s hips up so she can get the taste of both, pushing her back down and deepening the arch with a lick of her lips. “You taste good.” 

“Are you saying that to me? Or Zuha?” 

“Whatever answer you like.” 

Kazuha, as always, refuses to pay attention. Rather- her attention is drawn back to your cock, tongue sweeping the underside, your head falling back and hitting the wood behind, feeling her mouth lap up the mess of your cum slicked cock and slide your hips deeper into the mattress. This is heaven for her, for Yunjin too. A truce made once the damage has been done- 

“Don’t go too hard on Zuha, she’s been through a lot.” you tell her, but it’s more of a blessing in disguise when you and Yunjin are on the same page in most cases. A girl like Kazuha on her hands and knees, a collective effort fulfilled. 

Yunjin cackles and there’s no further meaning there, the tone sweet, syrupy - you could get drunk on it every single time her face brightens up. She’s leaning over to kiss you, arms wobbling in support so that she doesn’t fall on top of Kazuha, and it’s happened before. “Aw, well that’s too bad. I was gonna give her that and nothing else,” she tells you, smacking her lips off of you. Her hands rest at the swell of Kazuha’s waist, kneading and slapping lightly as a light tease. “You think I can’t hold my own.” 

You’re seeing a warble in the room somewhere - on Yunjin. The outer line of her stature warps in your vision - hot, messy, maliciously - jerking Kazuha’s hips back and brushes her hips to her ass.” 

“Yunjin, fuck- holy shit-” 

Kazuha gasps, smiling. The babbles are complete gibberish, filthy - Yunjin’s ramming her strap inside her ass, cum being pushed well into Kazuha’s womb, poking a little bump in her stomach, speeding up the motion and clawing wherever she can. Kazuha swallows up your cock, brushing the head at the top of her throat, humming - the vibrations bringing you back to life- 

“She’s built for taking pain,” Yunjin assesses, experimental. She has no regard for her best friend - and you see the whites in Kazuha’s eyes roll back, her lips sealed at the base and understands where she lies between you two. It’s where she’s meant to be, it seems. You could drop witty drawls and creative comebacks; when it comes to fucking her, neither of you expected her to this soaked. “What a slut. Not even a proper dick-down and spanking can’t shut you up.” 

Kazuha’s slurps mesh with the words. “I - mmrfph - fine, I swear. Okay-” 

It’s somewhat comprehending to have her like this, split in two and mouth full of your cock. “Yeah, she’s good. Kazuha- Kazuha, baby.” 

There’s nothing better than this. 

Kazuha getting her hole fucked, sucking you dry. 

She sucks. 

And sucks. 

“If there’s anything that we’ve learned,” Yunjin says mid-thrust, pointing Kazuha’s leg up to the ceiling, deepening the angle, “We both can fuck her brains to mush if we wanted to. Any time in the day, just pull her aside and tell her what to do. What do ya think?” 

You’re nodding, stuttering. Kazuha’s mouth has you speechless. “I have no objections,” you barely say, thighs tensing and shaking. “Yunjin, I’m gonna cum in her mouth.” 

“Then go ahead,” Yunjin tells you, and you do. Kazuha cheeks puff up at the eruption, streams of white leaking at the corners, satisfied. 

Yunjin gives one more good thrust for measure, slides the strap-on out of her fucked cunt, exhaustion collapsing her body, pleased and content with her end of the bargain - the strap-on gets tossed off the bed and onto the floor, made well with its use and disregarded. 

She rolls over to your side soon after, glancing. Kazuha’s face clearly spent and drifting off to sleep. For the time being. 

–

“We might’ve killed her,” you tell Yunjin peepingyour head past the door frame to see Kazuha’s unmoving body on the bed, “Is it worth checking if she’s breathing?” 

There’s the last remnants of what unfolded hours ago, the quick debrief - that kind of thing. You’ve got your head full of mixed emotions; each one of them occurring in passing seconds: happiness, satisfaction, remorse - unsure and nervous, kind of, it’s been a long night anyway. 

(She’ll wake up in the morning and feel sore. But if her first words of the day are related to bearing you, that’s a clear sign she’s back to normal.) 

“Kazuha’s a good catch,” Yunjin says. “If anything, she’ll complain about her thighs being tight.” 

“In relation to her pilates?” You flip the cup over and let the water flow into the drain. Yunjin’s patting your face with a damp towel. “Or the sex?” 

“Both,” and she smiles. You purse your lips in agreement. “Gotta say, I didn’t expect you to match her energy well.” 

“How could I not? C’mon, the girl was asking for it.” You laugh dryly. 

“Point taken,” Yunjin concedes and opens her limbs to let you in the middle, wrap them around and embrace you fully. Her borrowed shirt crumpling in, folding and forming creases alike. “You’re too good at this.” 

You give her a fond grin. “Wanna tell me that again?” 

“No.”

“No?” 

To suffice, she slots her lips to yours, leans back and taps the bathroom mirror. “Okay, it’s past our bedtime already.” 

You find yourself slipping through the chestnut pools and the titian waves - an endless valley to get lost in, the light radiating perfectly to where it highlights and complements the shades well. You’ve said a lot of things to her, more than you can probably count. 

“Love us,” you’re proclaiming, preaching to the open air. Her dragged grin pulls you deeper, and you spot the scrunch at the bridge of her brows: she couldn’t agree more. Then it reverts back to normal: “lose the shirt, we’ll share the body heat under the sheets.” 

–

The first day with drastic changes beckoning are scary.

This is nothing new.

Starting from scratch, conceptually, is always a new brush of inspiration, no matter what the event is. Luckily, it’s reassuring that you’re not facing these new horizons alone. With a guy like you, that has wonderful people in your corner - willing to support any endeavor you indulge in, it’s empowering. You’re convinced that the clouds part in the sky for the sun to fill the endless canvas of blue and you feel that whatever’s manifested in your mind will eventually come true. 

You have the same old pattern with Yunjin: take her out somewhere nice every now and then, waste your time doing nothing on some days, hold her heels or bag without her asking, let her treat you well whenever she feels like it. You share the usual banter, fuck her if things get boring, give her a lot of things to deal with that she’ll brush off later. 

With Kazuha, it’s a dice roll: 

She still spits out shit to you with no reason, and you return the favor and fuck her till she begs for more, gets into petty arguments until she comes walking back without saying a word, unable to take compliments, rambles endless fantasies waiting to be fulfilled more than just once. And you accept that she won’t let you off easily. 

When the two of them are together, sitting across from you or on their knees; backs on the bed or one eating out the other's cunt, it’s a place of a guaranteed connection; one that’s massively fucked up and with a million ways to go about with the pair. You and Yunjin know this - and between the three of you, it remains unsaid. 

“Got everything?” Yunjin asks, handing your trusted tumbler and ruffling up your hair, dusting off your windbreaker like a mom seeing off their child for school. “Expecting a slow day, aren’t you?” 

“You know me,” you drawl, grinning. “I’d much rather waste my time here and get paid for it.” 

The back of your head nicks forward as a response from behind, looking past your shoulder to see Kazuha tilt her head in view, getting a closer look of your appearance and drawing up her own assessment. “Until one of us get another job, it seems like you’re the main breadwinner of the household.” 

“Zuha, him and I were expecting your half of the rent for this month,” says Yunjin, hand to her hip and pouting, “Wanna tell us where the fuck it is?” 

Kazuha sashays herself next to Yunjin, inciting a staredown that ends after two seconds, shaking her head and dodging the question entirely. “Don’t worry about it. But I have the money, I swear.” 

“And what if you don’t have it when he comes back?” Yunjin asks Kazuha, rolling her eyes before shifting her gaze back to normal, “Then what?” 

You’re making your way out as the two continue with the quick argument, disregarding their attention. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be heading out now.” 

“Can I fuck her again while you’re gone?’ Yunjin then asks, shouldering her weight to Kazuha. “At least until-” 

You sigh. 

“I’d like to ask the same question, but do it on Yunjin,” Kazuha replies. 

(It’s a lot on your plate with Yunjin. Sure. Kazuha’s added herself to the mix - and it’s a tad bit more complicated. Maybe worse. Fuck all you know: you like them both.) 

“I’ll handle you two later,” you’re telling the pair, and they know you mean every word - a promise. “Feel free to get started.” After, you see yourself out the door. 

[hcneymooners]

౨ৎ pink noise.

wnba!paige bueckers x influencer!azzi fudd. men & minors dni.

synopsis: paige bueckers is fed up and empty, burnt out and crushed by the pressure of her dallas debut. enter azzi fudd, a retired figure skater and niche influencer who might just be saving paige's life.

cw: implied mental health issues, mentions of injury, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers.

notes: i was really struggling and debating about posting this. i've gone back and forth, endlessly. this is the first thing in a while that i've written that i'm proud of, but i also understand the turbulence that comes with rpf and anything that associates with it. i truly just think these girls would be beautiful together, and i respect them regardless of the outcome of their lives.

before continuing, i want to give a heartfelt thank you to the following: @rosemariiaa @pbaz7 @azzibuckets who have literally been such an inspiration. you guys are incredible and i have so much love for you. hope you're taking care of yourself. x

my inbox is always open. don't be afraid to let me know what you think, or to just say hello.

alright, here we go.

"hello," she says, "and welcome back."

azzi's face blossoms over the screen, her cheeks rounded with the force of her smile. paige curls further into herself from where she lays in bed, her overhead headphones blocking all sound except azzi's soft, summer voice.

"today, i'm in berlin for a skaters' conference."

she's a figure skater, paige remembers, or at least she was. then her knee shattered, and she spun out. paige has watched her performances, seen her bend and curve her way into countless gold medals. she thinks of azzi's hollywood smile as she waves at the crowd, her curls tucked back from her face and her dimples dipping into the plush skin of her cheeks. she was almost intolerably beautiful at times. venus with dimples, a journalist had called her.

and now, she was just (@)azzi35 with her slightly shaky camera angles, earnest smiles, and breathy laughs.

"i'm here for their mentor program. my mom thinks it would be good for me. i don't know what i think yet."

she's so sweet, so honest. her lips are caught between her teeth, and when they slide out, they leave a berry pink stain beneath her two front teeth, the squares prominent like an american girl doll's. paige wants to lick it off.

azzi is bare-faced minus her brown mascara and pink lip mixed with a softened outline of her lip liner—shade name 'brownie'. the camera shakes slightly as she tries to show the world outside her uber window. paige finds her gaze settling on her subscriber count: 5,304. she hopes it never gets bigger, only to have azzi all to herself.

but azzi fudd is a wonderland. it's only a matter of time before the world finds her and rediscovers their venus with her gentle voice and kind eyes. but right now, in this space, with paige's midnight blue airpods max on and her chin tucked to her chest, azzi feels like only her girl. the vlogs are so lyrical, so soft that it feels like visual voicemails azzi's left for her to get to later.

paige resists the urge to comment, if only to keep the attention away. her fans will zero in on the activity like vultures in sight of meat.

"i got this new camera that all the girls say makes your filming really good. i'm a bit chronically offline, so i don't keep up with all of that, but i wish i did. learning how to work this thing is so confusing, and i feel like my content is a bit shit already."

azzi laughs after that statement, and paige thinks the uber driver does, too. she watches as azzi presses her powder pink acrylics to her bottom lip; she imagines them pressing into her instead.

"mario is my uber driver. he's been so accommodating of my rambling. well, i have to go for now. reached the hotel, and i should not be showing you where i'm staying."

azzi comes in close to the camera, her eyes like two pools of light. paige finds herself leaning in as if she's right there in the car with her. subconsciously, paige knows azzi is talking to five thousand of them, but she can't help but have the fantasy of being the only one to receive this message.

"we'll chat later, okay?"

okay, paige thinks.

azzi grins as if she's heard her, and the screen goes black. then, a thin line of white text appears. i forgot to keep filming! sorry!

paige laughs, but her headphones make it sound faraway. she's sleepy now, and the world is dusky outside as the morning comes in.

the video ends, but paige plays it again.

✺

that's the last sense of peace she gets for a while.

azzi posts on her instagram account—paige has a hunch that she either has a social media manager or forces her brothers to help her out—and paige lingers in the bathroom while she scrolls through the carousel. she strokes a thumb over the soft curve of azzi's cheek, its fullness pressed against a fan's as she smiles shyly.

she looks at the comments. the people's princess!, someone has said. she likes it before she thinks too much of it. an external pounding, different from the one in her head, breaks her out of the bubble. someone is yelling for her. maybe her coach, maybe a teammate. since joining the wnba, so many people seem to want her. paige closes her eyes and resists the urge to hug herself.

she should stay inside, stay here.

she goes out and plays.

paige walks through the park, hood up against the morning chill, headphones firmly in place. she's supposed to be on her way to an early team meeting, but she's deliberately taking the long route. she needs this—these fifteen minutes with azzi's voice in her ears, a buffer between last night's crushing defeat and whatever analysis is waiting for her at practice.

"so i went back to the rink yesterday," azzi's voice says, slightly tinny through her headphones. it’s the wired ones today. paige wants to feel more like herself, less jaded and more real. someone could simply pull the wire. she sort of hopes they do. "not to skate, just to… be there, i guess? my physical therapist said it might help with the mental block."

paige finds herself nodding as if azzi can see her. she knows about mental blocks. three missed free throws in the final quarter. twitter hasn't let her forget it.

"it smelled the same. that's what got me. like cold and rubber and—i don't know—possibility? is that weird to say?"

paige smiles. it's not weird. she gets it. the squeak of sneakers, the hollow echo of a basketball hitting hardwood. home sounds.

"it reminded me of this perfume a friend got me for christmas last year. it's a very icy smell. it's been discontinued, but she's so good at sourcing on ebay. it should be her full-time job. the notes say iris and vodka, which is so funny to me because i don't smell that at all. it just smells like home. like snow." paige wishes she would say what the perfume was, if only to see if she could find it, too. "anyway, so i'm at the rink…”

she's so caught up in azzi's voice that she doesn't notice the uneven sidewalk. her foot catches, and as she stumbles, her phone slips from her pocket, clattering to the ground. the headphones yank from her ears, suddenly filling the morning air with azzi's voice.

"…standing there like an idiot, honestly, but then my old coach—"

paige lunges for the phone, but another hand gets there first.

"was i saying anything interesting?" says a voice, exactly as the podcast continues, "—told me i didn't need to rush back into anything."

the surreal echo of the same voice, one from the device and one from above her, creates a strange doubling effect that makes paige freeze. the podcast keeps playing—“that maybe i needed to find my own path”—while the real azzi reaches down to silence it.

paige looks up, still half-crouched, and finds herself staring into azzi fudd's smiling face.

the same dimples. the same brown eyes. the same berry-pink lips from her videos, but now they're curved into an amused smile just for her and seem to be a shade darker. she's wearing a dior bodysuit, intricate diamond patterns tracing across it with strategic cutouts that reveal glimpses of warm, brown skin, paired with an asymmetrical gauzy lace skirt that floats around her legs, catching the morning light. it's elegant and ethereal, reminiscent of her skating days but with a modern edge.

paige's brain short-circuits. “you're—”

"azzi," she says, holding out the phone. "and based on what i just heard, you already know that."

heat floods paige's face. "i—yeah. i watch your videos. they're…" she struggles for a word that isn't pathetically revealing. "calming."

azzi's laugh is exactly how it sounds in her videos, but louder, tangible. "calming? that's a first. most people tell me i talk too fast."

"you do," paige says, finding her voice as she takes the phone. "but in a good way." she hesitates, then adds, "i'm paige."

azzi's eyes crinkle as she smiles, and her next words are a livewire. "i know. bueckers, right? i thought you looked familiar. i watched your game last night."

now paige wants to disappear. of course, azzi saw that disaster. she must be so red right now.

( azzi is only thinking of how blue her eyes are. )

azzi just shakes her head admiringly. "that three-pointer in the second quarter? with the defender right in your face? that was unreal."

paige blinks, surprised. most people only remember the misses. "thanks."

"i miss that feeling," azzi says, almost to herself, one hand absently smoothing the flowing material of her skirt. then she brightens. "anyway, i didn't mean to interrupt your… well, me." she gestures at the phone, and that laugh spills out again.

paige can't help it—she laughs too, a real version that loosens something tight in her chest. "it's not weird, i promise."

"no, it's definitely weird," azzi counters, still smiling. "but kind of cool. i didn't think wnba stars had time to watch my terrible travel vlogs."

"i make time," paige says, more honestly than she means to. “and they’re not terrible. you—you’re just doing what you love. i respect it.”

they stand there for a moment, the morning bustle of the park continuing around them. the breeze catches the edge of azzi's skirt, making it dance around her legs.

"well, i was just heading to get coffee," azzi says finally. "if you're not busy…"

paige thinks about practice, about the team meeting, about the inevitably grim analysis of last night's game. she feels her body lock up, feels her brain scramble. she knows what the right decision is. she makes the “wrong” one.

"i could use some coffee," she says.

✺

paige is learning just how much she's underestimated her need for somebody.

she never knew; she just assumed that she was doing alright. but coffee with azzi has led to friendship with azzi, which has led to her finding a hole inside of herself. she's only found the hole because it's beginning to fill.

it fills when azzi texts her absentmindedly about something she saw that she thought paige would like. it fills when she says good luck before a game. it fills when she calls, and paige purposefully lets it ring, only to hear the voicemail she leaves after. the filling is slow and endless, and it transmits into everything.

outside, the city hums with late-night traffic, horns blurring into the distant echo of sirens. paige should sleep—her body aches from the weight of practice, the constant push of competition—but instead, she scrolls. watches another video. then another.

azzi in a café, stirring sugar into her espresso. azzi trying on plum-colored lipstick in the reflection of a subway window, only to scrunch her face in distaste. azzi wandering through an open market, nose pink from the cold, laughing when she almost drops her phone.

paige presses the side of her fist against her mouth. there's something so unbearably soft about it, the way azzi lets the world see her like this. no stadium lights, no roaring crowds—just her, tucked away in quiet corners, existing in a way that feels small. still existing, despite the crumbling of her original path. paige wonders if azzi likes it that way. if she wants to be forgotten.

(she won't be. paige won't let her.)

she wonders if azzi understands just how much she's saved her life.

another game occurs. paige is better, though an outsider would call her phenomenal. she's not the best at being kind to herself.

twitter talks less. paige finds a way to leave herself alone. the hole is filling.

her teammates are gossiping, the usual buzz after a big win. someone mentions a player from a rival team who's been trying to get paige's attention all season. paige shrugs, a half-hearted smirk playing at the edge of her lips as she wipes her sweat-soaked face with a towel.

"i don't know, girl. she seems fun," paige says, eyes flicking toward her phone.

her teammates roll their eyes, but paige doesn't notice. she taps the screen, and the slight furrow in her brow softens when the name azzi lights up. she seems fun, paige thinks, but she's got nothing on her. she swipes to answer, her voice dropping to a tone that's so soft and easy it might not even be the same paige they all know.

"hey, az. miss me?" she says into the phone, the edge disappearing completely as she leans back against the locker, smiling like it's just the two of them alone in the world.

"hi, p," azzi says, her soft voice filtering through the speaker. paige almost closes her eyes, pictures summer rain. "i'm only calling for a few minutes. i have to get to this concert, but i think i'm lost."

paige feels a bolt of anxiety at the thought of azzi on her own in a new city. she asks her to hold a minute and checks her location. she's in a town called trogir. paige zooms out further. she's in croatia. she hops back onto the call.

"what are you doing in croatia?"

"you're such a little creep," azzi says fondly, her smile evident despite paige being unable to see her. "last-minute girls' trip with my mom. she says 'hi' by the way."

"hi, katie," paige says dutifully, and there's a faint whisper of someone saying hello in return.

"look, i'm getting distracted. i called to tell you something and—" there's the blare of a horn, and paige's heart jumps again.

"az?"

"i'm here. i'm fine. someone just almost got hit, jesus." azzi takes a deep breath, and paige wishes she was there to hold her hand. "um, okay. sorry! i called to say that i'm coming to dallas."

the world drains away, and suddenly paige can only hear the twin pumps of their hearts. her face warms with joy, and she feels the heat of a full-body blush. she's smiling like a loon, and most of her teammates have gone by now, but the ones who have stayed are watching her with amusement.

"are you being for real right now?"

azzi says yes through a sharp giggle, and paige spins in place. she sits down, suddenly dizzy, and squeezes her eyes shut until the black behind them is swimming with grains of white and pinpricks of light. she laughs.

"when will you be here? i can—i can pick you up. i will, if you want. which airport? can you just send me—"

"i will," azzi says, cutting through gently. "i promise. i'll send you everything, okay? i gotta go, but i promise."

paige clutches the phone with both hands, suddenly feeling like a child. she shifts in place and then says,

"azzi?"

"mmm?"

"will you…will you stay with me?" and it doesn't come out the way it's supposed to. it's only intended to be an offer of accommodation, but the words are swollen and filled with something else. she's asking for two things at once, and it embarrasses her.

"where else would i be?" azzi responds, and paige has nothing to say.

she goes to speak again, goes to expel the three little words sitting deep inside of her chest, but she swallows them down. she's such a child. she's a school girl with a crush.

"az?"

"yes?"

"i just—i can't wait to see you."

the background quiets. paige doesn't know where she is.

"me too, p. i miss you more than anything."

they end the call. the locker room has emptied now. it's only her. paige places her head in her hands. she grasps at her face, slides her hands over her mouth, and screams.

✺

the week of azzi's arrival comes so close, so quickly, like a flame.

paige barges into her coaches' office with so much force that it blindsides them, just enough for them to let out a startled 'sure' when she requests a couple of days off. she smiles with all of her teeth at the affirmative and gets on the road while she's still riding the high.

she arrives at the airport two hours early, as if punctuality could somehow make time move faster. she parks in short-term, ignoring the exorbitant fee. money doesn't matter today; only azzi does.

the arrivals hall is a mess of bodies and noise. families reuniting, frazzled pets held tightly, passengers searching hopelessly for their ubers. paige finds herself pacing, checking her phone, the overhead screens, her phone again. she's wearing a baseball cap pulled low, but she doesn't think anyone would recognize her anyway—not with her face this soft, this open with anticipation.

a text from azzi: landed. heading to baggage claim. see you soon x

the ‘x’ makes paige's heart stutter. she types back can't wait and deletes three different emojis before sending it plain.

when people start streaming through the arrivals gate, paige stands on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd. her height should be an advantage, but the nervous energy makes her feel small. she sees families, couples, businesspeople, then—

azzi.

she's wearing low-waisted jeans that reveal her belly piercing and a baby blue spaghetti-strap tank underneath a white bolero sweater that’s slipping off of one shoulder. her curls are gathered in a loose bun on top of her head, a few strands framing her face. she looks tired but luminous, dragging a carry-on behind her, eyes searching the crowd.

their gazes lock.

the moment stretches between them like taffy, sweet and pulling. then azzi's face breaks into a smile so bright it could power the entire terminal, and she's moving, weaving through the crowd with sudden purpose.

paige doesn't remember deciding to move, but suddenly, she's striding forward too. they meet somewhere in the middle, and paige doesn't know what to do with her hands. a hug? a wave? she hesitates, awkward and aching.

azzi has no such reservations. she drops her bag and throws her arms around paige's neck, her body warm and solid and real. she smells like airplane air and something sweet—vanilla maybe, or honey. paige's arms wrap around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground. she presses her face into azzi's neck and breathes.

"hi," azzi whispers, her breath warm against paige's ear.

"hey," paige says back, and it comes out embarrassingly rough. she clears her throat and tries again. "welcome to dallas."

when they pull apart, they're both smiling like idiots. azzi's eyes are wet, but she wipes at them quickly, laughing. "sorry, i'm just—it's been a long flight."

"no, i get it," paige says, even though she doesn't cry after flights. she gets it because she feels it too—this overwhelming something that makes her chest feel too small for her heart.

azzi reaches up and tugs the brim of paige's cap. "nice disguise, superstar. almost didn’t recognize you."

"shut up," paige laughs, taking azzi's bag before she can protest. "come on, i'm parked this way."

as they walk toward the exit, their hands brush once, twice. on the third time, paige hooks her pinky around azzi's, the smallest point of contact. she doesn't look over, but she feels azzi smile beside her.

in the car, azzi talks about her flight, about the book she read, about the baby two rows back who cried for four straight hours. pretty impressive actually, she says with a light smile. paige listens, stealing glances whenever traffic slows. the late afternoon sun catches in azzi's hair, turning the edges golden. paige grips the steering wheel tighter.

"you're staring," azzi says without looking over.

"you're beautiful," paige replies, the words tumbling out before she can stop them.

the car falls silent. paige keeps her eyes fixed on the road, her face burning. she's blown it. she's made it weird. she's—

"so are you," azzi says softly. her hand finds paige's on the gearshift, her thumb tracing circles on paige's knuckles. "i really love your eyes."

the traffic moves forward. they do, too.

✺

the room is quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. it's late afternoon, the world outside bustling, but here, there's warmth and stillness. paige is sitting on the couch, her legs stretched out in front of her, and azzi is curled up against her, head resting on paige's lap.

azzi's breathing is slow, even, and paige runs her fingers gently through the soft curls resting on her thigh. she's been like this for hours, scrolling through her phone aimlessly, but there's nothing that can pull her attention away now. she doesn't even notice how still she's become, how careful she is with every movement, how much she's trying to keep quiet so azzi doesn't stir.

azzi shifts slightly, her cheek pressing deeper into the fabric of paige's shorts, and paige freezes, holding her breath as if moving too much would ruin it. the sight of azzi so peaceful, so vulnerable in her arms, is enough to make paige's chest tighten. she hasn't felt this attached in months. but here she is, with the lines between her and azzi a little too blurry, and paige doesn't mind. she's unafraid.

azzi's eyelids flutter for a second, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and paige smiles to herself. there's a part of her that wants to get up, stretch her legs, maybe go grab a drink. but she can't—won't. not with azzi here, warm and trusting in her lap.

she watches the rise and fall of azzi's chest, her fingers gently tracing patterns along azzi's arm. if she moves now, she knows she'll ruin it, disturb the quiet. and for once, paige doesn't care about anything else. she doesn't care about the press or the noise or her next game. she just wants to stay like this, with azzi in her arms, forever. she wants to film this, make her own vlog to watch back when the world is crushing her.

time passes without her noticing. outside, cars begin to slow in the height of rush hour. it's perfect; it's just the two of them. azzi stays asleep, her head tucked into the curve of paige's body, and paige lets her be, letting the moment stretch on until she doesn't even know how long it's been.

eventually, paige's phone vibrates on the table beside them, but she doesn't move to answer it. instead, she looks down at azzi, resting her chin on top of her head, a soft whisper of "i got you" escaping from her lips.

it's a promise, even if neither of them has said the real words yet.

after another hour, azzi stirs slowly, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. she stretches, cat-like, still half-under, before realizing her head is resting on something warm. someone. paige.

“what time is it?” she mumbles, her voice rough with sleep.

paige shifts slightly, her hand still tangled in azzi's curls. "almost seven," she says softly. "you were out for a while."

azzi sits up, blinking in the dim light of early evening. she rubs her eyes, embarrassed. "why didn't you wake me up?"

"you looked like you needed it," paige says, and then adds with a grin, "plus, i liked watching you sleep. you make these little noises—"

"i do not," azzi cuts in, laughing as she pushes at paige's shoulder.

it's then that azzi notices the coffee table. it's covered in takeout containers—at least a dozen of them, all neatly arranged. she blinks, confused.

"i got food," paige explains, suddenly looking sheepish. "i didn't know what you'd want, so i just got you everything."

azzi leans forward, opening one of the containers. quinoa salad with roasted vegetables. another one reveals a green smoothie bowl topped with chia seeds. a third has some kind of grain bowl with avocado and sprouts.

"i thought you hated ‘healthy-healthy’ food," azzi says, looking up at paige with wonder.

paige shrugs, averting her eyes. "yeah, but you don't. and i thought you might be hungry when you woke up, so…"

there's a moment of silence, and then azzi is moving, closing the distance between them. she reaches up, curling her fingers around the back of paige's neck, and pulls her down until their foreheads touch.

"you're something else, p," she whispers, and before paige can respond, azzi presses her lips to hers.

it's soft, sleepy, a barely-there touch that feels like the most natural thing in the world. then it deepens.

paige clutches at the base of her neck and tries to swallow her, biting at her bottom lip until azzi gives her enough room to slip in her tongue. azzi makes a high noise, something like a whimper, and paige squeezes her waist with her free hand. she kisses her harder, her fingers trailing gently over the cool gem of her belly button piercing. when they pull apart, paige's eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed.

"was that okay?" azzi asks, suddenly unsure.

paige nods, a smile spreading across her face like a slow sunrise. "okay? fuck, az. that was more than okay." it was all i've ever wanted, is what she holds back.

azzi smiles back, her cheeks bunched high with the force of it, and then gestures to the food. "we should probably eat before it gets cold."

paige laughs, reaching for a container. "i think some of it's supposed to be cold, babe."

"will you shut up?" azzi says, but she's smiling far too hard for it to have any bite. they don't say anything about the pet name.

they eat cross-legged on the floor, containers spread between them, talking about nothing and everything. it feels like they've been doing this forever, like they've known each other all their lives. like, this is exactly where they're supposed to be.

at least, paige knew this was where she was supposed to be. and if it felt miles better than being on the court, that’s her perfect secret.

✺

the press room is buzzing with the usual chatter. paige's post-game routine is the same—answer the same questions, give the same responses. she's had enough of it by now, the lights, the cameras, the questions she's been asked a thousand times before.

"paige, great game tonight! you really pulled through in the second half," one reporter begins, the usual pleasantries. "but we have to ask—can you tell us about your friendship with azzi fudd? we've seen you two together a lot recently, and you two are a little bit of an unlikely duo."

paige's shoulders tense, her jaw tightening slightly. she can feel the eyes of every reporter in the room, all waiting for her to answer in the same carefully scripted way. she's never been one for this media circus, and she certainly doesn't enjoy being poked and prodded about her personal life. but something shifts in her. the question lingers, more intimate than the usual “game analysis” ones.

she leans back in her chair, trying to act casual, but her eyes flicker down to her phone hidden in her lap. the screen lights up with a text, and her lockscreen flashes. it’s a picture of her and azzi, their faces haloed by the dallas sun. paige isn’t even looking into the camera; she can’t be bothered to look at anything that isn’t her. azzi is laughing, open-mouthed and pleased.

this is her girl, the way the world once saw her, the way paige always sees her: aphrodite with the world at her feet.

"um, well," paige starts, her voice surprisingly steady, "azzi… she's everything. i mean, look, she's always been special to me. she found me at a time in life when i needed her. she's been through more than people know, and i respect the hell out of her for that. she's my best friend, my person.”

paige stops herself, eyes narrowing as if considering whether to backtrack or not. instead, she continues, the words coming out before she can hold them back.

"azzi's a queen, man," she says, a lightness in her voice that's unmistakable. "she deserves to be loved for more than just her talent, you know? what she used to be. people see her as this little ice princess frozen in time, but she's so much more than that. she's smart, funny, kind. i'm lucky to have her in my life. i wish i’d had her earlier.”

the room goes quiet for a moment. paige can't help but glance at the reporters in front of her, their pens moving quickly, capturing every word.

she doesn't care. not this time. the clip goes viral within minutes, the headline flashing across social media—paige bueckers opens up about friendship with azzi fudd: "she deserves to be loved."

✺

paige is in bed, the lights dim, but her face is illuminated by the glow of her phone. her ponytail is messy and dark with sweat from a long day of practice, but she doesn't care. azzi's facetime rings in, and her heart skips a beat.

"hey, princess," she greets, already in a lighter mood. azzi's there, scrunching her nose at the camera, dressed in a cozy hoodie and no makeup, just her.

"am i keeping you up?" azzi teases softly.

paige leans back against her pillow, trying to act nonchalant, but there's a softness in her voice that betrays her. "i was just waiting for you to call." she traces her finger along the edge of the screen. "couldn't sleep without hearing your voice."

and she sees it in azzi's face: that warm affirmation that she saw what paige said during press today. they don't talk about it. instead, azzi says,

"i love you. so much."

paige's chest tightens. she nods, tries to say i love you too, i love you more— but struggles against the lump in her throat. azzi hears her anyway. she always seems to understand.

"um, tell me about your day," paige finally pushes out.

"sure, baby.”

azzi begins to talk. paige puts her airpods in. blocks out any other noise. she falls asleep like that.

© hcneymooners.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤIRON GRIPㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto) x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How would he be when he's obsessed?

☆⁠ NOTES : Of course we have age gap with this man because he's like what, a hundred years old or something. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

It starts small. Almost innocent. A passing glance. A lingering stare.

Erik is a man who has seen too much, lost too much. He’s hardened, unyielding, a force of nature that bends the world to his will. And yet, the moment he lays eyes on you—so young, so untouched by the horrors of the world—something inside him shifts.

At first, he tells himself it’s nothing. He’s merely intrigued. A curiosity, nothing more. But the way you smile, the way you speak with such warmth, the way you look at the world like it hasn’t already burned you to the ground—it does something to him. It makes him hungry.

And Erik has never been a man to deny himself what he wants.

He watches you. Not in a passing way, not with mere interest, but with purpose. You are fragile in a world that is cruel. The idea of you being hurt, of someone tainting that purity, fills him with a rage so potent it vibrates through his bones. You remind him of something long forgotten. Of innocence. Of hope. Something he lost a long time ago, something that should have died in the camps, in the fires of vengeance. But here you are, so much younger, so naïve to the monsters lurking in the world. Including him. He tells himself he’s protecting you. That his watchful eye, his presence, his silent interference in your life is only to keep you safe. But he knows the truth—he is consumed. Every interaction with you is burned into his mind, replayed over and over again. The sound of your laughter is a melody he never knew he craved. The way your eyes widen when you’re excited, the way you chew on your lip when you’re nervous—he memorizes it all. And when other men look at you? When they dare to speak to you like they could ever deserve your attention? His fury is absolute. They disappear. Accidents, he makes them look like. A car suddenly veering off the road. A sudden heart attack. A fatal fall. No one ever connects the dots. But he knows. And he doesn’t regret a single one. You are his, whether you know it yet or not.

He doesn’t rush you. Oh no, Erik is patient. He doesn’t come to you as a predator, but as a guardian. He is gentle, careful, never overstepping in ways you would notice. He makes himself needed. Your world slowly begins to shift, and you don’t even realize it. Friends cancel plans. Opportunities slip away. The life you once had grows smaller and smaller, and Erik is always there, waiting, arms open, a comforting presence. “I worry about you,” he tells you one evening, his voice soft, his touch featherlight against your wrist. “The world isn’t kind, liebling.” You laugh, brushing him off. “I can take care of myself.” A lie. You think you can. But Erik knows better. And soon, you’ll see it too. He begins to show you the ugliness of the world in small doses. A cruel comment from a passerby, an act of violence on the news, the dangers of men who aren’t him. He tells you stories—of the war, of the hatred he’s faced, of the people he’s lost. It makes you cling to him more, rely on him in ways you don’t even notice. He strokes your hair when you cry, whispers promises that you will always be safe with him. That he will never let anyone hurt you. And you believe him.

The moment he knows he has you is quiet. Subtle. It’s in the way you look for him first when you’re scared. The way you lean into his touch without hesitation. The way you never question why he is always there, why he knows things he shouldn’t. It’s in the way you whisper his name when you think no one else is listening. Erik is not a man who shares. He does not know moderation. And with you, it is no different. You are his, irrevocably, undeniably. The rest of the world doesn’t matter—only you. You will never leave him. He won’t allow it. He’s already woven himself so deeply into your life that you wouldn’t survive without him. He’s made sure of it. You don’t have the friends you once did. You don’t have the independence you once craved. But you have him. And in the end, that’s all you’ll ever need.

You don’t realize when it happens. When the world outside of Erik fades into something distant and unimportant. It’s slow, methodical—his grip on you tightening like metal drawn to his will. You still believe you have control, that your choices are yours alone, but Erik knows the truth. You have been his since the moment he decided you would be. Every part of your life is his to command. And still, you don’t question it. When your phone stops buzzing with messages from friends, when job offers mysteriously fall through, when it feels like the universe itself is pulling you closer to Erik—you don’t fight it. Because why would you? He’s always there. A shadow at your side. A force so steady, so unyielding, that you start to wonder how you ever lived without him. "You don’t need them, liebling," he murmurs one evening, his hand brushing over yours. The weight of his touch is grounding, electric. "They don’t understand you the way I do." And you believe him. You move in with him without even realizing it. It starts with nights spent at his place, curled up in one of his expensive armchairs as he reads beside you, the scent of old books and something distinctly him filling your senses. Then, it’s your things slowly migrating into his space—clothes left behind, a toothbrush in his bathroom, personal items that make his home feel like yours. Until one day, you wake up, and it is yours. You never talk about it, never sign a lease, never make a conscious decision. But Erik is a man who shapes the world to his desires, and you are no exception. You belong with him. That’s all that matters. And if you ever tried to leave? If some foolish thought crept into your mind that you needed space, needed freedom? Well. He would remind you why that’s never an option. The first time you try to pull away, it’s small. You mention needing a break, needing to spend some time alone—maybe even visit an old friend. You say it so casually, so carelessly, like you have a choice in the matter. Erik only smiles. A slow, knowing smile that sends a chill down your spine. "Of course, schatz," he says, his voice warm, indulgent. "If that’s what you truly want." But something shifts. The air becomes heavier, pressing down on you like an unseen force. Your keys, the ones you swore you left on the counter, are suddenly gone. Your phone glitches, refusing to dial out. The door doesn’t budge. And Erik? He only watches, quiet amusement dancing in his storm-gray eyes. "Perhaps," he says smoothly, stepping closer, fingers brushing over your cheek, "you should stay a little longer." And you do. Because in the end, Erik always gets what he wants. And what he wants—what he needs—is you. Forever.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[elodieunderglass]

does killie ever make his own clothes? I know he has zero imagination but he also likes to be dapper and can't buy off the rack so maybe it would force his hand? is derek crafty enough to help him / make clothes for him?

I love that everyone looks at Killie and goes, that little fuck needs a fibercraft hobby. I find this surprising! What is it about his having zero imagination that makes us want to see him sew? Much to ponder.

We did have fun as a joke rotating him in the Great British Sewing Bee but I don’t think he did very well, even if a sewing machine is a horse. And he might take up unnecessarily aggressive quilting in retirement in a sort of multidimensional chess battle with his enemies and rivals in the quaint Cotswold village of his retirement.

He definitely outsources a lot of emotional labour to his tailor. He does not mind paying a professional for their expertise, and mostly lacks the vocabulary to describe what he wants, from colour palettes (he seems to be a Deep Autumn??) to the precise degree of sluttiness of his waistcoats (somehow managing to have them be sluttier as part of a layered outfit than his completely see-through white base layers that genuinely do show nipple.) so what exactly would make him try his own?

I think ultimately it’s more fun and interesting to ask “what would MAKE a character do this” than to say he wouldn’t. I cannot imagine him being good at it or doing it willingly BUT it would be fun to force him into a position where he had to try.

I don’t see Derek as especially crafty but he probably has more of the qualities of someone who takes pleasure in it, where with Killie everything would be this FIGHT FOR HIS LIFE. Again, what would make him do it?

Maybe some kind of costumes…?

[the-wordsmith-streetscarf]

I'm hesitant to give Disney/Marvel this much credit given that the original iteration of this show was intended to be more of a soft reboot.

But, I do like this take, and it fits, and could definitely be something that the new showrunner could have seen and ran with.

And just think... Matt lost his best friend, and while grieving, pushed Karen away. He's ready to rejoin the world, somewhat (if only just as a means to keep going), and so he finds other people who fill that void. Kirsten is a great friend and a brilliant lawyer. So of course he would gravitate toward her. Cherry seems to have a good sense of right and wrong, is someone who wants justice, and is willing to dig to make that happen. ("I would have done it even if you hadn't asked.") Plus, he knows Matt's secret and it seems he hasn't outed Matt, nor does he seem to be holding it as some kind of leverage. He really seems to want to work with Matt, and Matt lost his best investigator, so again, Matt needs this guy, especially since he's not going out beating people up for information anymore.

And Heather? I have thoughts about Heather, but my main one, at this point (three episodes in), is that he's not fully connected to her, but he's kind of forcing this connection, because he's lonely, and grieving, and he wants a sense of normal, some kind of distraction, something that he can believe is good, but there's still a massive wall up that he can't even see (no pun intended), because he doesn't want to.

He hasn't taken his glasses off in her presence yet. In the OG show, it was often a sign of how comfortable he was with someone, and how much of himself he's willing to share with the other person. He'd take his glasses off around Foggy, but put them back on the moment Karen entered the room. (This is something Charlie has talked about even). Yes, it took about seventeen episodes before he opened himself up enough to Karen to go without them, (not counting the time he was trying to connect with her to get her to tell the truth about the Union Allied thing). So, saying he should be ready with Heather by now if this was a real connection isn't the best argument, I know, but I think it's telling when he's in his home, cooking dinner for the two of them, finally talking about Foggy to someone (somewhat), and I just can't but notice that he's still wearing them like the shield that they often are.

So if Heather is a replacement, yeah, I'm sure there was a "Matt needs a love interest" discussion in the writers room. But also, yeah, maybe that's what Matt is doing, because he's still kind of pretending his way through a life without his best friends.

Another observation I had about Daredevil Born Again:

One thing that adds to the dissonance we feel while watching the show is that Matt Murdock’s life after Foggy’s passing is being made to resemble his old life. Kirsten is the new Foggy (the best friend/law partner), Heather is the new Karen (love interest), and Cherry and BB are both the new Ben Urich (Cherry is the investigator who teams up with Matt, BB is Ben’s niece). The show even tries to replicate the OG show with the new cast, such as Kirsten clashing with Matt over ideals of justice, the stoop kiss with Matt and Heather, and BB investigating Fisk. Also, I’m pretty sure the scene with Matt and Cherry at the docks was framed to resemble the scenes with Ben Urich in season 1.

I don’t think this is Marvel Studios trying to outdo or crap on the OG show. I think this is being done on purpose to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s Daredevil…but it’s not what we’re used to. You see familiar interactions, but it’s not with the characters from the OG series. Everything just feels slightly off, which works because that’s where Matt’s head is at. His whole world crumbled around him which messed him up immensely. Even the OPENING CREDITS were made to resemble the original, but with enough changes that it gives you a different feeling from the OG.

Now that I think about it, this is kind of a clever way of having the audience deal with loss/grief alongside its main hero. The main character having familiar dynamics with the new characters forces you to come to terms with the fact that the OG trio is gone. It feels off because you want these interactions with the old characters. And the opening credits? The OG gives you a feeling of strength and terror while the new one is melancholic and subdued. The new one lost the power and confidence of the original, which works since Matt Murdock is currently at his lowest.

[alphajocklover]

I loved the story you did the other day about making a deal with a devil. Could I make a deal with him? You see I’m a huge fan of Zeb Atlas and I want to be just like him. A huge muscular alpha gay male porn star. You think he’d be interested in doing that for me?

Oh thank god. I don’t want to be unprofessional but I’m really glad someone asked about this. Since my last post with Nick, the one where he helped me turn one guy into five by splitting his soul, Nick has been in a bit of trouble. Technically speaking a lot of what Nick does, hanging out with mortals, dating my Uncle, helping me with my work, is kind of frowned upon by the forces of Hell. Hell is not as strict as you might think, since their entire thing is sin and doing what they’re not supposed to, but there are some things that a devil isn’t supposed to do, and using their powers during anything but a deal is a big one. I think making another deal could definitely help smooth things over, especially since he's been so busy with helping me and has kind of neglected his work lately. There is a little problem with your request though. I, personally, try to avoid anything with celebrities in them, not because they don’t use magic or tf stuff, but since reporting on them can draw a little too much attention. However, you said you want to be LIKE Zeb Atlas, not that you wanted to be him or transform him in some way. Plus he is extremely hot, and he isn’t a super big mainstream celebrity, so I think I can get away with it. Let's turn you into a Zeb Atlas look alike!

See, my friend Nick isn’t just going to turn you into someone kind of like Zeb Atlas. For the price you’re paying, you’re going to be turned into an exact copy of Zeb Atlas. From the manly jawline and cocky smirk, to the huge biceps and sexy, almost shockingly wide shoulders, you’re going to practically be his twin. To be clear, you aren’t actually going to be his twin, you’re going to be his doppelganger. I know that sounds weird, but it’s actually weirdly common. A lot of people have doppelgangers, and while both doppelgangers being bodybuilding pornstars is a little unlikely, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen. You won’t have a tattoo like he does, so you’ll have a few differences, but besides that the two of you are going to be almost identical. Even your personalities will be similar, and the same cocky, confident swagger he has will be in every move you make. The best part? You’ll actually get to meet Zeb! Two alpha males who work in porn, it only makes sense for you guys to do some scenes together. People love the ‘getting fucked by twins’ fantasy afterall. Even more, because of your similar personalities, you’ll spend time together outside of work. Soon Zeb Atlas and Zack Titan (thats your porn name) will be fucking inseparable. 

Of course there is a price to pay, and in this case it's going to be a pretty hefty one. You won’t have to give up your soul or anything, since Nick usually gets his souls indirectly, but you will still have to give him something. Two things actually. The first thing Nick wants is your original selves apartment. I can’t be sure why, but I assume it has to do with some sort of long game he’s playing. The second thing he wants? Your and Zeb’s autographs. It’s not everyday you meet the two greatest porn stars of all time.

**I don't usually do TFs that involve real people, even slightly, but I couldn't resist something this hot. Hope you guys like it (and that I dont have to take it down lol)**

[rivereverie]

Astarion and learned cruelty (spoilers)

As always, this is all just my interpretation of the character. Feel free to disagree. 

I love the writing choice to make Astarion genuinely immoral at first. They could have easily pulled the overdone trope of "I only pretend to be evil because I'm traumatized. I'm really just a sad little guy who wouldn’t hurt anyone". Now I do believe his behavior is a direct result of his trauma, but I'll get to that in a minute. The point is that he does genuinely relish in violence, although his actions will be swayed by whichever moral direction the player decides to go. But he does enjoy combat, spilling blood, and even some more cruel and unusual things. However, what makes this so compelling and narratively rich is that this is a learned mindset.

I think that a lot of people don't acknowledge that going into act 1, Astarion has just come out of a situation where he was quite literally forced to participate in horrific crimes, with severe consequences if he refused. That absolutely does not excuse the fact that he's okay with if not outright enthusiastic about murder, but we do see that he was not always this way (e.g., he tried at least once to let a target go because he couldn't bring himself to take them to Cazador). I just think it's worth acknowledging that that mindset was the product of centuries of torment and active overt and covert conditioning. He became who Cazador wanted him to be; who he had to be in order to survive. Astarion and Karlach are two sides of a coin in this regard, in that they represent opposite responses to trauma and loss of autonomy. Karlach was forced into martial servitude, which in my opinion explains why she's still kind of bloodthirsty even though she's such a good and kind person bent on protecting others. She's shaped by the role she was forced into, and it's the same with Astarion. Again, not to say he isn't morally dubious, but there's a big difference between someone evil and someone who was never allowed to be "good" suddenly being thrust back into freedom and forced to figure things out.

To a degree, I do also think that his over-the-top declarations of his love for violence are another piece of his mask. Just like with his feigned hedonism and sexual forwardness, he's trying to hold power over people by controlling their perception of him (as well as his own self-perception). He's holding a big sign that says "I'm selfish and evil, and you shouldn't like me unless you are too", when really he's not anywhere near as selfish and evil as he pretends to be. He does this in part to keep people at arm's length, but also to convince himself; to craft his own reality wherein he is the person he needs to be to get through this situation. His worldview has been warped to see domination and control as synonymous with strength, and so he's being strong in the way he knows how. As the story progresses with a good player on his side, he's beginning to learn how to be something better. And that's why it takes time: because he's unlearning 200 years of conditioning and survival instincts.

It's worth talking about that it's not unheard of for abusers to force victims to participate in the abuse of others. I think that representing that experience in this game is important and valuable. We should all walk the line between holding these kinds of survivors accountable for what is appropriate, and to offer them oceans of understanding and empathy for them over what they were forced into. Even if Astarion weren't magically forced to do Cazador's bidding, I hope that we all could still understand the power that abusers hold over their victims, empathize with him, and see that those actions were an extension of Cazador, not himself.

Official D&D definitions of "evil" aside, I don't think he's ever truly evil unless he goes down the evil route with the player and/or ascends (Ascended Astarion is a whole other can of worms I’m not going to get into in this post). By the end of the spawn storyline, Astarion does have a lot more concern and care for others, and most importantly, he takes responsibility. To me, that shows profound strength and goodness. He's never a saint, but in my opinion he's never really evil, either. He's still learning how to live in a world where he doesn't need to be cruel in order to survive. 

Concerning the early access backstory about him being a "corrupt magistrate", it's up to the individual how to headcanon that information. Personally, I think he was probably a little self-interested, but not evil by any means. I think he was probably just a pretty normal person before Cazador, not predisposed to cruelty.

In summary, I think it’s important to talk about what makes people “bad”, especially in the context of the cycle of abuse and victimization. In Astarion’s case, much of his taste for cruelty came from implicit conditioning over his years of being forced to hurt others. There are a number of lines from him during the dungeon/crypt sequence where he keeps insisting, defensively and desperately, that he didn’t have a choice in bringing victims back to Cazador. That it was all on his orders and he couldn’t say no. This might come across to some as him trying to shirk blame, but the thing is… he’s right. He didn't have a choice, other than death, but I think Cazador would deny him even that. He wanted to make his spawn into obedient tools, but also to break them. To make them an extension of his own monstrous cruelty. But in the end, Astarion takes responsibility as best he can, and begins to forgive himself for being a part of Cazador’s evil. This is part of what makes the line “I am so much more than what you made me” so powerful.

[yslbooten]

꒰ ݂۫ · mortal combat ݂۫

་∔་། pairings : nolan, mark, and eve x reader

་∔་། notes : each imagine is some what different than the others, also the reader is just like mileena, and half of the way i describe her outfits are the ones from mk9. reader is a fem bodied

eve

when you were introduced to the team everyones mouth was opened, i mean jaws to the floor you.

your first day here and you’re already getting weird looks. was it because of your yellow eyes that resembled a cat, or was it the mask that hid half of your face maybe they weren’t used to people who hid their face like that. introducing

finally introducing yourself and your powers, you couldn’t fly but teleport wherever you wanted to. you found that more conventional than flying since it took you just seconds to teleport long distances, but you did want to try it out how the

wind would feel against your body, personally wanting to make friends with the females of the group, which were only 3 you started off with the red ginger head girl. she looked flustered when you walked over to her with your hands out —

“ i am y/n, and you are ? “ your raspy feminine voice emitted from your throat with the question

“ oh i am.. uh atom eve howw are you? “ god atom eve was embarrassed she didnt want to admit but you had a hot body the skimpy strings of your outfit barely hiding anything. she knew her blushing was noticeable and didnt want to be viewed as a weirdo for undressing you with her eyes, “ soo when did you gain your powers? “

“ haha weird question? ok well i gained my powers around 9 or 10 “ she said with the most awkwardest smile and tone in her voice, hand sweating with the feeling of anxiety — oh my god.

“ is it cause of my outfit? “ you had said tilting your head to the side to get a better view of the girls face “ i didn’t want to say anything.. how do you do it “ you chuckled not caring about the questions just viewing them as a simple convo

“ well i just don’t care plus.. i look hot in it “ you said smugly and smoothly. atom eve knew you were right thats why everyone was staring so hard. . .

mark

just like eve, he was shocked to see your outfit, you guys known each other since kids and you’ve never shown your bottom face area to him..

always saying it was private information for you. of course he wouldn’t bother you asking to see it more. your mother knew his father nolan from being in the guardians of the globe luckily your mother wasn’t there for the.. event that had taken place being busy with your powers being more visible. “ so do you like the outfit mark?! “ you

said with glee and open arms, your body was.. out he had thought having no words to say he coughed and slightly punched his chest “ oh yea y/n.. its amazing! “ he looked like a pervert as his atom apple bobbed with the heavy gulps he was taking. every second he starred at the costume he thought of different scenarios, “ yknow y/n you kind of look like those dominatrixes “

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Mark, what the hell? Does it actually look like that?” you exclaimed, twirling in front of his mirror. Your figure was highlighted under the soft lighting, your curves accentuated as you gave him an inadvertent show.

“Yeah... it does, alright,” he admitted, a hint of awe in his voice.

You caught him sneaking glances, a smirk playing on your lips. “I can see you looking at my butt, you know. I’m not blind; there’s a mirror right there!” You whipped your head around to meet his gaze, playful mischief dancing in your eyes.

nolan

You and Nolan had forged a bond through the many fierce battles you trained together. Each encounter left your costumes tattered and torn, forcing you to constantly acquire new ones. Renowned for your sultry looks, you had garnered a significant following online, with fans eagerly speculating about your upcoming designs.

Your next costume pushed boundaries even further, veering into skimpier territory and sparking heated debates within the superhero fanbase. Some critics dismissed you as attention-seeking, labeling you as inappropriate, while others pointed fingers at the designer, suggesting they were to blame for your discomfort with the revealing outfits. The controversy only intensified, highlighting the complexities of self-expression in a world that often judged appearances harshly.

Nolan had noticed the way your costumes had devolved over time. He never wanted to be rude by directly addressing it, but there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. Deep down, he recognized that you were unbothered by the amount of skin you exposed. In fact, the truth was quite the opposite; you relished the chance to flaunt your figure. Your teleportation abilities were brutal on your clothing, rendering tight bodysuits that clung to your curves impractical for combat. You preferred outfits that allowed for the freedom of movement while also showcasing your confidence.

“ y/n have you noticed that your out- “ not turning around to stop what you’re doing

“ yes nolan I know my outfit makes me look like a whore, in fact i like the look “ wow his words were blown right out his mouth of course he would choose better word choices.. “ lets replace the word whore, yea? “ he had a nervous smile with a manly chuckle playing out “ yea yea so when will our next training be “ you said confidently.

[archivewriter1ont]

My favorite little crack AU is Qui-Gon getting resurrected by some kind of Force Glitch, and the first thing Cody does is punch him in the face because of how he treated Obi-Wan.

Because Cody knows what it's like to be abandoned, passed over for another. Boba looks just like him, and yet Jango wanted him over all the other clones. Obi-Wan was a good padawan, a proven Jedi-in-training, and his master gave him up for another.

Yet another reason that Obi-Wan and Cody are the two dudes from broken backgrounds who meet and are immediately willing to take a bullet for each other. They understand each other on a fundamental level; there's a moment when they just click and then the rest of life goes on, but they're in sync. They're so alike, and they're just the best duo EVER.

[melshifting]

BIRTHDAY EXTRAS FOR YOUR DR― ✴︎｡⋆

In honor of today being my birthday!

― ꒰#01꒱ At least, one moment during the day, feels like pure fate. Maybe your fav artist releases a song, a friend randomly reaches out, or you find something you didn’t even know you’d been looking for. It’s as if the universe is gently nudging you, reminding you that today is yours.

― ꒰#02꒱ Your cake? It always looks straight out of a dream. No matter who bakes it, where you get it from, or even if you make it yourself, it turns out so aesthetically perfect that even people who “don’t like cake” suddenly want a slice.

― ꒰#03꒱ No one cancels plans. You never have to deal with the dreaded, “Sorry, something came up” text. If someone says they’ll be there, they will be.

― ꒰#04꒱ No birthday blues. No overthinking, no weird existential crisis—just a day where you fully enjoy being you.

― ꒰#05꒱ You never have to plan your own birthday (unless you want to lol). People just know what you’d love and make it happen effortlessly.

― ꒰#06꒱ Any gifts you receive are actually useful. There are no “oh… I love it!” moments, just things that are either exactly what you wanted or things you didn’t know you needed.

― ꒰#07꒱ If you make a birthday wish, even if it’s something simple like “hope today goes well,” you’ll feel it happening in real time, always.

― ꒰#08꒱ No one ever forgets your birthday—not in a generic Facebook-reminder way, but in a genuine, excited, "I've been waiting for this day!" kind of way.

― ꒰#09꒱ If you love surprises, they’re always perfect. Never awkward, never something that makes you uncomfortable—just the kind that feel exciting and thoughtful. If you hate surprises, no one forces them on you, but the day still feels unexpectedly special.

― ꒰#10꒱ You always get the perfect balance of alone time and company. If you want to be surrounded by people, the energy is right. If you need space, no one makes you feel guilty for it.

― ꒰#11꒱ No bad birthday small talk. Every conversation you have is either fun, deep, or makes you laugh.

― ꒰#12꒱ You have a skill at cake cutting—not only does it look clean, but everyone gets a perfectly even piece, no matter how 'messy' a cake may look.

― ꒰#13꒱ You never feel rushed. Whether it’s getting ready, opening gifts, or just soaking it all in—time moves at exactly the right pace.

― ꒰#14꒱ On your birthday, time seems to expand. There’s always enough time to do everything you want—relaxing, completing tasks, or spending quality time.

[slutoru1207]

Wildflowers

Warning: This story will involve emotional conflict, heartache, and bittersweet moments that may be heavy and triggering. It explores themes of loss, fear, and the fragility of love in the face of impossible responsibilities. Proceed with caution, 2,902k wc.

The first time Mark kissed you, the world felt like it could finally be still. He was Invincible, a hero to the world—yet when his lips touched yours, for a brief, impossible moment, he was just Mark. Just a boy who loved you.

You remember that moment like a dream. It felt like the calm after a storm, the kind of serenity you could almost touch. He had always been your wildflower, free, untamed, growing in places no one could imagine, but to you, it was simple. You loved him. He loved you. And in those quiet moments, in the spaces where he wasn’t Invincible, he was yours.

But now?

Now, everything is different.

You stare at him as he stands in the doorway of your apartment, his back turned to you as if he can’t bear to face you. The bruises on his skin, the blood on his suit—he wears them like a badge, but you know, deep down, they’re eating away at him. The weight of it all. The responsibility. The guilt.

He doesn’t speak. You’ve tried talking to him, tried reaching through the distance that’s been growing between you, but the words never seem enough. Every time you try, he pulls away, even if just a little. Even if just enough to break your heart.

“I’m fine,” he says, as he always does. “I’m just... tired.”

But you can hear the lie in his voice. You can see it in the way his shoulders slump, in the way his eyes no longer shine with the same light that used to make you feel like you were the only thing in the world.

It’s been like this for weeks. Months, maybe. Since he left for the battle against the Viltrumites. Since the war became personal.

You thought you knew what it meant to love him—to love someone who had to fight, to protect, to save. But this... this is different.

Every day, he slips further away from you. Every day, he becomes more of a symbol and less of a man. Less of the Mark who once held your hand in the dark and whispered promises of a future you both wanted.

And it tears you apart.

“Mark, please.” You step forward, your voice barely a whisper, but you feel the weight of the words. “Don’t push me away.”

His head turns slightly, just enough to show you the exhaustion in his eyes. But there’s something else, too—something colder. Something that scares you more than any villain ever could.

“I’m not pushing you away.” His voice is steady, but the words feel like glass, fragile and ready to shatter. “You deserve better than this. I can’t keep doing this to you.”

You blink, confused and hurt. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not good for you,” he admits quietly. His words hang in the air, sharp and painful. “You’re... You’re a wildflower, and I’m just—” He shakes his head, cutting himself off before he can say more.

Your heart tightens in your chest, and you don’t know how to respond. The metaphor stings because it’s so true. You arethe wildflower, the one who’s supposed to be free—unbothered by the storm around you, unburdened by the weight of a world that’s always demanding more. But Mark? Mark has always carried the world on his shoulders. He’s always been the one to take on everything, even at the cost of himself.

“You’re not a burden to me, Mark,” you whisper, stepping closer. “I don’t care about the world. I care about you. I’ve always cared about you. I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to stay with me.”

But he turns away from you again, his body language closed off. The space between you seems to grow, as if some invisible force is pulling him farther away, no matter how much you reach.

“You don’t understand,” he says, his voice breaking for the first time. “I can’t keep you in this world. I can’t protect you from it.”

And then it hits you. You’ve always known it, deep down. That Mark wasn’t just fighting the Viltrumites, or aliens, or other threats—he was fighting the part of him that wanted to be your Mark again. The boy who wasn’t Invincible, the boy who could laugh and hold you close without worrying about the next fight.

But Invincible has always been the one who wins. And in that battle, you lose him.

“Mark,” you choke out, your voice trembling, “please, don’t leave me.”

But the truth is—he already has.

He’s already gone, slipping between your fingers like sand.

And no matter how much you love him, no matter how many times you say his name, you can’t hold onto him.

You can’t keep him.

He’s too far gone.

The tears fall before you even realize it, and you hate yourself for it—hate that you’re crying in front of him. Hate that he has this power over you, even when he’s slipping further away.

And just when you think you’ve lost him for good, you hear it—the sound of his footsteps, tentative, careful. You feel his hand, warm and steady, against your cheek.

“Don’t cry,” he says softly. “Please. Don’t cry.”

But it’s too late. The tears have already fallen, and they’re carrying with them every fear, every hope, every promise you’ve ever made to each other. You hold his hand against your face, silently begging for the comfort you know you can’t have.

“Mark, please,” you whisper again. “Please don’t leave me.”

But the words are useless. They always have been.

The silence between you and Mark is suffocating. He doesn’t say anything as he kneels down in front of you, his hand still gently cupping your face. The warmth of his touch is almost enough to make you believe everything is going to be okay—almost enough to convince yourself that he hasn’t already decided to let go. But the doubt lingers, thick and heavy.

"I don’t want to hurt you," he says quietly, his voice cracking on the last word. He wipes a tear from your cheek with the back of his hand, and the gesture feels like a small, fragile attempt to hold onto something that’s already slipping away. “But I am.”

You shake your head, refusing to let him continue down that path. “No, Mark. You’re not hurting me. You’re shutting me out. You’re pushing me away, and it’s killing me.”

He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead gently against yours. You can feel the weight of everything he’s carrying in that touch, the burden of the world that he feels he has to bear alone. You want so desperately to take it from him, to make it easier, but you can’t. You’ve never been able to.

“I’m not enough for you, Y/N,” he admits in a whisper, his words like a knife to your chest. “I’m not good enough to be the man you need. Not when I’m constantly risking my life… not when I’m constantly torn between what I want and what I have to do.” He pulls away slightly, his hand dropping to his side. “And I don’t want to lose you. I can’t. But if I stay, I know I will.”

You look at him, tears streaming down your face, and you realize just how much pain he’s in. The weight of his choices, the sacrifices he’s made… it’s too much for one person to bear, and yet here he is, trying to do it all alone.

“Mark,” you choke out, voice trembling, “You’re killing me by leaving. I’m not afraid of the fight, or the pain. I’m afraid of losing you to the weight of everything you’re carrying. I can’t live in a world where you push me away to protect me from yourself. I love you too much for that. I want to stand beside you. Whatever comes, I’ll be here.”

His face crumples at your words, and for a moment, it feels like you’re speaking to a stranger. Someone who’s too broken to understand. You see it in the flicker of doubt in his eyes—he loves you, but it’s as if the love itself is a curse, a ticking time bomb. And he’s too scared to let it explode.

“I want to be the man you deserve,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “But I don’t know if I can be him.”

“You already are,” you reply, your voice soft but firm. “You are the man I love. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your own. You don’t have to be invincible for me.” You pause, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just want you. I just want us.”

Mark’s face contorts in pain as he tries to hold back his emotions, but it’s clear he’s losing the battle. His body shakes with the weight of it all, and he collapses to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as he reaches for you.

“I’m scared, Y/N,” he confesses, his voice raw, barely audible. “I’m scared I’ll never be enough. I’m scared I’ll hurt you. I’m scared I’ll lose you. And I don’t know how to stop it.”

The vulnerability in his words shatters you. It hits harder than any battle he’s ever faced, harder than any villain he’s ever fought. This is the truth—this is what he’s been holding inside, locked away because he’s afraid of hurting you. But the irony is, by trying to protect you, he’s already lost you.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you repeat, your voice thick with emotion. “You just have to be you. You’re enough, Mark. You always have been. And I don’t care about the world… I care about you. I care about the person I fell in love with.”

And as the tears fall freely from both of your eyes, Mark’s hands tremble as they reach for you, pulling you into his arms. You hold onto him like you’ve never held on to anything before, as if this moment will slip away the second you let go.

You feel him tremble in your arms, feel the way he breathes shakily as if he’s been holding onto his emotions for too long. He buries his face in your neck, his tears wetting your skin as he tries to muffle his sobs. You can feel the weight of his guilt, the crushing burden of his love for you that he’s too scared to let flourish.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he murmurs, the words broken, almost desperate. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” you promise him, your hands running through his hair as you hold him tightly. “You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, Mark. I’m always going to be here.”

But even as you say those words, you know that this moment can’t last forever. The world outside is still waiting for him to be Invincible, and no matter how much you wish it could be different, he can’t escape that. Neither of you can.

You don’t know what comes next. You don’t know if this will be enough to heal the rift between you, or if it’s just another chapter in a long, painful story. But in this moment, as Mark holds you and cries in your arms, you know one thing for certain: he’s still yours, and you’re still his.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

For now.

Mark's arms tighten around you, as if he’s trying to hold you together, to keep you from falling apart. His breath is shaky against your skin, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart, but it’s broken. It’s fragile, trembling under the weight of everything he’s been through. And you know, deep down, that this moment—this rawness, this closeness—might not last long.

He pulls back slightly, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumbs brushing away the remnants of your tears. His eyes search yours, desperate for something, but you’re not sure what. Hope? Reassurance? Or maybe he’s looking for a sign that he hasn’t already destroyed everything you’ve built together.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You place your hand over his heart, feeling the frantic pace of it, the intensity of his emotions. You can feel how much he’s holding inside, and it breaks you. He’s not just battling the Viltrumites, the threats to the world—he’s battling himself. And he’s losing.

“Mark,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm, “you’re not hurting me by loving me. You’re hurting me by thinking you’re not enough.”

He shakes his head, his eyes glazed with pain. “But I’m not, Y/N. I’m not what you need. I’m not even sure I know who I am anymore. I’ve been so focused on saving the world, on keeping you safe, that I don’t even know how to be the man you deserve.” He takes a deep breath, and the pain in his expression is so raw, so real, it’s like a physical blow to your chest. “I don’t even know if I can be the man you want me to be.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. The truth is, Mark has always been the one who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and now he’s carrying the burden of your love, of his doubts. And it’s crushing him.

You take his hands in yours, grounding him, willing him to hear you. “Mark, you don’t have to be anyone else. You don’t have to be anyone other than the person you are. I love you. I love you, even in your brokenness. Even when you’re scared. Even when you feel like you’re failing.” Your voice shakes, but you push through the fear. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to be real with me. I need you to be here. With me. As yourself.”

He looks at you, his eyes wide with uncertainty, and for a moment, you wonder if he can even believe you. He’s so used to fighting, so used to winning, but this is different. This fight isn’t against an enemy; it’s against himself. And no matter how hard he tries to deny it, you can see it in his eyes. He’s afraid of losing you, and he doesn’t know how to handle that fear.

“I can’t promise I’ll be perfect,” he says quietly, his voice trembling. “But I’ll try. I’ll try to be the man you need. I’ll try to be with you, Y/N. I just—” He cuts himself off, his breath shallow. “I just don’t want to hurt you anymore. I don’t want to drag you into this chaos. You deserve so much more.”

You pull him closer, your forehead resting against his as you close your eyes, letting the rawness of the moment settle between you. “Mark… I’m already in this chaos. I’ve always been in it, from the moment I fell in love with you. But I’m not leaving. Not now, not ever.”

Mark’s hand trembles as it moves to your hair, pushing a strand away from your face as he looks at you with a tenderness you almost thought he’d forgotten. “I’m so scared, Y/N. I’m scared of losing you. I’m scared of everything.”

You reach up and place your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm. “Then we’ll be scared together,” you whisper. “We’ll be scared together, but we’ll face it. We’ll face whatever comes, side by side.”

The weight of the world feels lighter in that moment, and for a brief, impossible second, it feels like you’ve found the balance between the man he is and the man he wants to be. But you know the truth—it’s never that simple. The world doesn’t stop turning because you wish it would. The fight will always be there, waiting for him. And you’ll always be waiting for him, too.

But for now, in the quiet of this moment, there’s peace. There’s a promise. A fragile, beautiful promise.

Mark leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, and for a second, you close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch. You feel the love he’s too afraid to give, the love you’ve always known was there. It’s enough. Just enough.

And then, as if the weight of the world finally catches up with him, he whispers, “I love you, Y/N. I always will. Even when I’m not enough… I’ll always love you.”

And you know that even if the world crashes down around you, even if the battles never end, that love will be enough to carry you both through. Because sometimes, all you need is the truth—that no matter how broken, no matter how lost, love is always worth fighting for.

i was listening to Wildflowers by Billie while writing this <333

[olgasaysso]

Nothing represents experiencing narcissistic parentification better than Buffy Summers' entire existence. (Buffy The Vampire Slayer)

For context: narcissistic parentification is something children of people with narcissistic personality disorder overly experience. Parentification is when children are forced to take on adult roles in their households and have too many responsibilities at a young age. This can be emotional (like being a therapist for your parent) or/and logistical (having an overwhelming amount of chores or being forced to do things parents should be responsible). For narcissistic parentification, it will be both of these + the childs identity being molded towards what their parents like.

With that out of the way, my explanation:

1. When we first meet Buffy, she doesn't want to be a slayer. There is an adult man following her around and telling her how special she is. But she knows what follows - the responsibility. She never wanted to kill monsters or miss out on her teenage years, so she stays out of it. But they still make it her problem.

This is something I know I experienced and many other people, too. Your nparent will find a talent in you, something they will endlessly praise you for. Think Jennette Mccurdy, hearing from her mother about how talented of an actress she is.

This is something I know I experienced and many other people, too. Your nparent will find a talent in you, something they will endlessly praise you for. Think Jennette Mccurdy, hearing from her mother about how talented of an actress she is.

For me, I started working at my fathers company very young because of the threat that it would go bankrupt and we'll be homeless.

2. Once she starts doing the slayer work, we can quickly see though how unsatisfied Giles is with her. He has problems with almost everything she does. How she dresses, the fact that she has friends.

He and the whole watcher organisation aren't just happy that she's going along. They don't want her to just slay. They want her to be a slave. A machine even. Someone they can completely control and make her do whatever they want.

At the same time, they offer her no support. Although over the course of the show Giles becomes more active (and then less) in helping/protecting Buffy, something that is made very clear to us is that she is and always will be alone. It's also pretty rare for anyone in her vicinity to challenge that idea.

So, we have a bunch of adults who sit around doing very little, relying on a literal child to save them. And when she dares to express any kind of wants or needs of her own, she gets shunned.

Because slayers are special.

Slayers are supposed to act a certain way.

3. Her being a good slayer is not enough. She has to die for the cause.

And I think it's very ironic how later on, Dawn (effectively an extension of Buffy) is expected to die. And everyone, with the exception of Buffy (and Spike), was ready to sacrifice her.

4. By the end of her time in high school, people around her managed to completely destroy her sense of identity. She has completely given up on her future. She had no time or emotional strength between her having to save the whole world and being given challanges by the council that are supposed to kill her while constantly being questioned and not believed by the people closest to her (her mum but also Willow, Xander and Giles. It's a continuous thing in the show that she tells them about a monster, and they don't believe her. After a while, she gives up on telling them about her hunches). She never thought about her future, what she wanted to study. What kind of work does she want to do.

And let me be clear again, this is not willingly. At the start of the show, she wanted to have nothing to do with being a slayer because she knew it'll robb her of her future.

5. So when she goes to college and people around her completely abandon her while she's struggling.... the amount of rage I feel. After she went to college, Giles whole approach to her changed. He stopped being her watcher, even after she literally forced the council to start paying him again. (The fact that Buffy doesn't get payed and Giles didn't stick up for her is yet another thing I need to add. Because it makes her quite literally a slave.)

His whole demeanor can be summed up by "Figure it out, you're an adult now. I can't always hold your hand"

Which under other circumstances would be normal. Except this adult spend some of the most important years of her life sacrificing her life, love, future and everything important to her to make him happy. He owes her at least a bit of guidance after all this. Yk, especially since she continues to be the slayer and he still gets payed to help her.

She would also ask him for help in the most reasonable ways. Like helping her parent Dawn. Considering she's not her mother, has other responsibilities, is literally going through the worst time in her entire life while having the weight of the entire world on her shoulders, I think that's not an unreasonable request. For a grown man, who gets PAYED to take care of her, to step in as a role model for her sister, so she doesn't lose that bond (once you start parenting your siblings, you're no longer siblings. Parentification is a form of abuse that has long lasting effects).

The financial aspect is another thing. Whenever Buffy is struggling with something, everyone almost acts offended and like something is wrong with her, because she should be alright on her own and taking care of everyone around them. Everyone wants Buffy to help them but how dare she ask for some support?!

She should be getting paid by the council. She should be getting rent for these 2 useless witches living at her house. She should be getting compensation everytime Xander dares to open his hateful mouth in her presence to spew some judgmental bullshit after he tried to grape her in s1 and pretended like it didn't happen, manipulated and lied to her for years.

6. She is expected to die, but they can't even let her be at peace. Brough her back against her will, didn't dig her out, didn't care to pay attention to her to figure out that something was wrong. They just expected her to be happy and get back to saving their asses. What the fuck.

7. In season 7 (which I adore btw) Buffy finally figures something out. She owns her identity as a slayer. For the first time, she stops taking shit from people who would never take on her responsibilities.

She realizes something about evil. Which is: "Evil cannot create anything new, they can only corrupt and ruin what good forces have invented or made.” (J.R.R.Tolkien)

It's why the first evil never showed its true form. Not because it's too terrifying for anyone to handle. It's because it's true form doesn't exist.

It's why she calls the girl who hanged herself an idiot. And it's why she's right.

The meaning behind this quote is that the only way evil can win/prevail is when you let it. It has no creative powers. Every single terrifying monster was once a human. It's why Buffy doesn't listen to whining anymore.

It's why she expects people around her to step up. Because, let's be real. If so many of them are capable of evil things, they are also capable of good. And they can fight alongside her.

But once it gets only a little bit hard, they corner her and throw her out of her own house. None of this mfs actually beared any costs for it. HER HOUSE.

Why do they throw her out? Because they experienced a small % of fear, pain, and hardship she had to handle for years. Almost always on her own. And suddenly, they cannot trust her anymore.

I like when Anya tells her that they don't truly know of she's "better than them" or "special". Because it shows the insane duality of this dynamic of being a slayer.

She's so special and good she has to take care of all these things for everyone around her.

At the same time, they can always tell her she didn't earn any of it. Despite the fact that there is literally a second slayer in the room, who quite literally became a murderer and a villain while Buffy saved the world countless of times.

Also, although I enjoy Anyas character, the audacity of her to say this when she became a literal demon twice.

After all of this, after they treated her this way and trusted an inexperienced (in being good) Slayer who tried to steal her life and graped her boyfriend... she was right all along. She saved their asses.

And she didn't even receive as much as a thank you.

8. I could go on an on about this topic, but just a few points to add for now:

1. Willow and Xander (and everyone on earth actually) aren't entitled to Buffy protecting them and killing herself for the cause.

2. Although I'm not saying that every single side character was bad (I actually love many of them, just not in regards to how they treat her), they were all abusing Buffy in one way or another because they were benefiting from her exploitation and keeping her locked in her situation.

3. Buffy wasn't chosen to be a slayer by some divine intervention but by a group of old men, to terrified to fight their own demons. Relying on teenage girls to save them.

4. There's something to say about the fact that the whole supernatural world is kept a secret, although I'm pretty sure the council could easily make the world aware of the truth. I think this can be interpreted as a toxic family. There is one abusive family member, and everyone protects them and hides it because one person takes it on themselves. There wouldn't be such a need for a slayer, were people aware of what was happening. They would create ways to protect themselves.

Disclaimer: I am not a therapist or a medical professional in any way. My credentials are: I experienced this kind of abuse and learned a lot about it. Also, pls, you don't need to tell me if you have npd and you're the kindest person in the world. I have no hate for you. This is about my own experience.

[awanderingmuse-fandom]

HATCHLING OC ASK GAME

How does it work? Reblog this post to let your followers know that your ask box is open for any of the following questions about your Hatchling OC! Followers will place a number or two in your ask box, along with the name of the OC they are inquiring about if you have more than one. Then you’ll answer the ask as it fits your Hatchling OC. 

Does your Hatchling go by any name other than The Hatchling? If so, what?

How old was your Hatchling on their launch day?

Does your Hatchling use pronouns other than they/them? If so, which ones!

How tall is your Hatchling?

Does your Hatchling have scales, whiskers, tails, multiple eye-lids, or some other feature not seen in game?

What color are your Hatchling's eyes?

On a scale of one to ten how perky are their ears? One being tall and pointy like Tephra or Galena, ten being low like Spinel or Gneiss.

Do they wear something other than the canon outfit/space suit?

Does your Hatchling wear jewelry, accessories, or makeup? 

Does your Hatchling have any piercings or tattoos? If so, what and where?

What is your Hatchling’s favorite color?

What is your Hatchling’s favorite food or dish?

How does your Hatchling like their marshmallows?

What is your Hatchling’s stance on sap wine? Why?

What does your Hatchling like to do with their free time?

Is your Hatchling athletic or nerdy?

Is your Hatchling more likely to sass Slate, or leave them wondering why Gossan is letting an airhead launch?

How does your Hatchling approach problem solving? Do they try to think through the problem, attempt to brute force the issue, or stumble across solutions accidentally?

Where does your Hatchling hang out when they are on Timber Hearth?

What is your Hatchling’s favorite planet?

What is your Hatchling’s least favorite planet? Why?

What is your Hatchling’s favorite space tool? Examples include signal scope, translator tool, little scout?

Does your Hatchling have an instrument? If so, what is it?

Does your Hatchling have any specific area of study?

If your Hatchling had to pick a  job other than astronaut what would it be?

Why did your Hatchling join OWV?

After a crash, is your Hatchling more likely to repair their ship or leave it to reset with the loop?

Is your Hatchling a decent pilot? Were they always that way?

If the time loop had never happened, what kind of astronaut would your Hatchling have become?

Which Villager did your Hatchling attach to most while they were growing up?

Is your Hatchling flirtatious?

Is your Hatchling dating anyone? If so, who?

Would your Hatchling OC want hatchlings of their own?

Which lost loved-one is the hardest for your Hatchling to process?

Did your Hatchling ever consider trying to add someone else to the time loop? If so, who? 

How long was your Hatchling stuck in the time loop?

Where in the solar system did your Hatchling visit first?

What was your Hatchling's first death?

Who is your Hatchling’s favorite Nomai and why?

 What discovery was the most shocking for your Hatchling and why?

Was your Hatchling tempted to break space time? If so, did they suspect what would happen?

In a normal game setting, which ending does your Hatchling get?

How deeply in denial was your hatchling about the end of the universe?

How willing is your Hatchling to end a loop early? Do they meditate through it? 

How does your Hatchling feel about the inhabitants of the Stranger blocking the Eye signal?

Does your Hatchling tend to agree more with the Nomai or the Owlks regarding The Eye? Why?

How did your Hatchling feel when they realized they couldn't save anyone? Afraid? Relieved? Angry?

How does your Hatchling really feel about The Eye?

In a post loop AU would your Hatchling ever tell anyone about the loops? Who?

Freebie! Tell us any headcanon you want.

Special thanks to @merrydock, @nephtheless, @poisonhemloc, and @tippertot for helping me come up with some of these questions and providing peer review!

Inspired by this list of OC questions over in the Cult of the Lamb Fandom made by @transtistic. 

[cimmerian1275]

@shaotie hope u dont mind the @ but i instantly got reminded of all your incredibly well-written, leo-angst fics with this idea. Thought youd love to read the angst potential of this one <3

Anyways-

Im gonna ramble about this because like woh, wooohhhh, whuuuhhhhhh... Its gonna rattle around in my brain for days. I love these quietly sad stories.

Ive read some Robot Leo fics and theyve destroyed my feels with their sad or unfinished endings where Donnie's just made a simple AI thats incredibly Leo-like n all. One of em (that was finished) just had a super vague "they act too real to be just an ai but the author never confirmed nor denied" so it was left up to interpretation... and the ending was happy/sad with the ai asking to be "let go/let me rest in peace" kind of thing.

But this??? THIS!? HHHHRRRRRR......

THE POTENTIAL!!! They dont know its possessed by the actual Leo thats slowly just manipulating the AI/taking control more and more overtime?? WHU

His bros wouldnt want to get attached to that thing bc, its just a robot! Just Donnie's way of coping that theyve all reluctantly agreed to... (THEYRE STILL GREIVING) Itd probably be rlly awkward for everyone else having a robot clone of your dead brother/friend/sensei walking around. And he gets more lifelike overtime bc Leo's slowly taking control!? Starts getting eerily more accurate to the real Leo? They begin to notice the mannerisms an AI (even one so advanced) somehow has begun to perfect to an insane degree, says things an AI shouldnt even know/be able to come up with but the real Leo does. Does the voice of the robot slowly get closer and closer to Leo's real voice because of the possession? Instead of recorded sounds and reactions, does it start making unique sounds because of it? (Did donnie program the AI/robot to have his memories??? If not, then itd freak them out if it began recalling/referencing things only Leo and the fam knows about. But thatd probably clue them in an ruin the end goal of the plot tbh... BUT STILL)

And when it starts breaking the coding, and disobeying commands, and trying to hang out with the bros who are just severely disturbed and no where near ready for Donnie's eerily similar robot to interact with them, that seems to be trying to replace Leo? What line did Leo cross for Donnie to destroy the robot...? Did his brothers draw the line or did Donnie? Did Leo approach one of his brothers and try to comfort them but it backfired? Did Raph order Donnie to do it? The robot could remind Raph of that possessed rabbit (yk the one hehe) or Mikey couldnt handle seeing Leo's face on a robot, or Donnie couldnt take something of his going awry again when the AI stopped listening... especially when THIS project means so much to him? Maybe theres a final straw, and all the little things just pile up until someone snaps. But on the other hand theres just Leo's ghost trying to return to his fam, spend time with them. Leo doesnt want to be alone so he spends every moment he can around them. He probably isnt fully aware/there at first either... Does he know hijacking the robot wasnt intentional? Does he think Donnie planned this/made a body for his spirit, or that its an accident. OR, did he see Donnie making a robot and take this as his opportunity to return? Didnt know if itd work because his spirit form was so weak, but took a chance and tried anyway?

Can he control it when its powered off? When its powered off/charging is Leo forced out or does he 'sleep'. Does it even need to be charged? Maybe he doesnt need sleep.

What about that learning curve when he begins to override the AI? Whats that like? He probably feels powerless/like a spectator at first, but when he first finally makes the robot follow one of his commands...? The implications!! If he can control it he can come back instead of just watching like an outsider.

But, the thing is when he breaks the coding/doesnt follow whatever rules it just backfires on him because they dont know its Leo possessing it. Does Leo know they dont know? Probably, pretty quickly. Hes just stuck here trying to live a second life. Maybe he tries to tell them, but everyones in denial, or just think its Donnie's coding gone haywire again and become self aware like Shelldon.

Trying to think about whats going on for Leo when Donnie destroys the robot hes living in... just hurts too much to put into words........ that whole situation D:

Little idea I just had:

After Leo's tragic death, Donnie builds a robot that looks just like Leo (like in all those fanfics). The twist? Leo's actual spirit possesses the robot.

At first, Leo's ghost can't do much. He's weak, and so the robot just follows its intended programming while Leo goes along for the ride. But slowly, as Leo gets used to his new existence, he learns to override the robot's AI, and basically use the robot as a new body. But, there's a problem.

Leo's brothers don't know that the robot is possessed. So when Leo starts to disobey the robot's programming, it causes issues. Donnie barely convinced the family to let him undertake this project, and now, his robot is getting far too invasive, clinging to it's "brothers" even when explicitly commanded not to. Of course, this is just Leo trying to interact with his family after being thrust into the spirit realm. But in everyone else's eyes, it's a weird and creepy robot, with faulty AI that can't understand boundaries.

Finally, Donnie has enough. The robot crosses a line, so Donnie takes it out into a sewer tunnel and destroys it, smashing it into scrap metal. The family is glad to be rid of the thing, which they began to see as a flawed coping mechanism. But Leo's spirit still clings to the robot.

And Leo is terrified. He doesn't understand what happened, or why Donnie would do something like that to him. Leo had been using the robot to live a second life, to speak and move freely, to talk with his family. And once Donnie destroys the robot, that is all ripped from him. Without a vessel to ground him in the mortal world, Leo is forced back into the spirit realm, separated from his brothers all over again, rejected by his family. And in his confusion, Leo gets angry.

Strange little things start to happen in the lair. People get calls that just play static, mystic powers fail more often than usual, Donnie's tech malfunctions. It's weird, but no one minds too much.

Then, one day, Donnie walks into his lab, to see Leo's robot, sitting on the table. It's perfectly repaired, to the extent that no one could even tell it was broken in the first place. It's eyelights are on, and it slowly looks up at Donnie.

"I hate you," It says in a perfect copy of Leo's voice. "I hate you."

And for the first time since his robot was finished, Donnie understands that something is very, very wrong.

[coraniaid]

It would have been very easy for the writers of The Gift to frame Giles's decision to kill Ben as something other than what it is.

Ben could have tried to attack Giles first, in order to escape, forcing Giles to defend himself (we know that Buffy herself has, by this point in the show, almost certainly taken several human lives in self-defence, whether that's one of the Order of Taraka assassins in What's My Line? or Gwendolyn Post in Revelations or some of the Knights of Byzantium earlier in the season). We, the audience, know that Ben has actually made the choice to side with Glory and betray Dawn -- the writers could have had Giles find this out somehow, rather than having him kill Ben while believing Ben to be entirely blameless for anything Glory did. If nothing else, they could have had Giles kill Ben in a less sordid and realistic way: choking him to death after establishing that he can barely move while Ben struggles feebly to stay alive.

But, notably, the writers didn't do this. At every stage they made the choice to frame Ben's death as unsympathetically as they could. They make it very clear that they don't think Ben's death is something to approve of at all. Just in The Gift itself:

Xander brings up the possibility of killing Ben to stop Glory ("I know he's an innocent, but not like Dawn innocent ... we could kill a regular guy") only to immediately rule it out with a look of disgust. Why say this if not to comment on what Giles will later do?

Willow explicitly notes that the ritual to use the Key is "a one time thing": if Glory doesn't manage to kill Dawn this time, she's got no reason to try again. Why say this if you want Giles's later decision to seem justified?

The scenes with Dawn and Glory suggest that the separation between Glory and Ben is weakening, meaning that Glory herself is becoming more human and more affected by human emotions like guilt and empathy. Why include these scenes if we're meant to see Glory as an active, long-term danger?

Tara prophetically accuses Giles of being "a killer", a word we've heard before on the show (see, for example, the way Faith reacted to being called a killer by Forrest in Who Are You?, or indeed Buffy's own fears that "the Slayer is just a killer" as expressed this episode). Why use this word, or include this moment at all, if we're meant to be cheering Giles on?

Giles himself gives Ben a speech in which he admits that Buffy would never kill Ben because it's not the heroic thing to do. Like ... this isn't exactly subtle.

We are not meant to approve of Giles murdering Ben; and we are meant to see it as murder. The writers go out of their way to tell us that it's morally wrong, that none of the other Scoobies would support it, and it doesn't even work to achieve Giles's stated goal of keeping Buffy safe: she dies anyway, mere minutes after the murder. By every measure, the show tells us, this is the wrong thing to do. Giles will never bring it up again, not even when he's trying to convince Buffy that she needs him to make hard decisions on her behalf.

So it's kind of infuriating that so much of the fandom insists on reading it as an act of heroism anyway.

It isn't. It isn't at all. If anybody other than one of the protagonists was making this decision -- if it was the Knights trying to kill Dawn to save the world, or the Initiative locking up Oz and treating him like an animal because a few nights a month he turned into a dangerous monster, or the parents of Sunnydale trying to burn teenage witches at the stake to keep their town safe -- there would be no ambiguity about this in the fandom at all. And yet, because it is one of the protagonists -- specifically, because it's the character the fandom has decided to read as Buffy's Dad who only does good things because he loves her -- somehow the normal rules don't apply.

It's not an act of heroism though. The show is right about that, and the fandom is wrong. It's one of the worst things Giles does; a complete betrayal of his promise to Buffy in Season 2 to always offer her his support and respect. It has far more in common with his willingness to drug her and lie to her face about doing so in Helpless or to abandon her in her moment of greatest need in Tabula Rasa than it does with any of Giles (many) moments of actual nobility and self-sacrifice. It's a sign that, fundamentally, Giles does not accept that Buffy has right to make decisions on her own.

Giles knows that, given the choice, Buffy would choose to spare Ben's life. He doesn't believe he could ever convince her to change her mind. And so he takes the choice away from her.

Why would anyone applaud that?

[ottogatto]

A theory motivated by:

"Harry reminded himself that Lily had intervened; his mother had been decent, yet the memory of the look on her face as she had shouted at James disturbed him quite as much as anything else. She had clearly loathed James and Harry simply could not understand how they could have ended up married. Once or twice he even won dered whether James had forced her into it. . ."

2.

that james’ actions could be compared to what death eaters do.

One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee. “That’s sick,” Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. “That is really sick...”

+ Harry sees himself in Severus, identifying James with Draco

+ Lily intervenes to shield Snape (somewhat) from James just like she shields Harry from Voldemort

+ baby Harry mistakes Voldemort for his father

The child had not cried all this time. He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib and he looked up into the intruder’s face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty light, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing — [...] The child began to cry. It had seen that he was not James.

+ James waterboards Snape with soap

i’m sorry, has james ever killed or tortured anybody purely due to their race/ethnicity?

James is a rich, aristocratic-like pureblood who bullies to hell and back a halfblood-muggleborn "just because he exists" (Snape is muggleborn too because his dad + 2 of his grandparents at least are Muggles); yet he joins the Order, he says "I'd never call you a you-know-what", marries a Muggleborn...

And that's enough for ya'll to think he can't participate in racist systemic oppression.

Very well. But in that case this:

shouldn't be an issue. As long as James says he's not racist and sports a Golden Phoenix T-shirt in honor of the Order, how could he be racist?

Which gives us Black Snape indeed.

You're right that Rowling has poorly handled the narrative if she wanted to set the Marauders in a favorable light.

does james think that all minorities deserve to die or be controlled?

“What’s he done to you?” “Well,” said James, appearing to deliberate the point, “it’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean...”

walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can

A small amount of talent on the Quidditch pitch made him think he was a cut above the rest of us, too. / Your father didn’t set much store by rules, either / Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners.

with James as your father, with Sirius as your godfather, you have inherited an old prejudice.

“Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” / “My whole family have been in Slytherin,” he said. / “Blimey,” said James, “and I thought you seemed all right!”

He did not approve of their relentless bullying of Severus Snape, but he loved James and Sirius so much, and was so grateful for their acceptance, that he did not always stand up to them as much as he knew he should. (Pottermore)

I dunno I think that that amounts to torture alright and he was pretty clearly saying Snape should die. Not because he was a DE -- Sirius didn't believe Snape could have been a DE till the end of Harry's 4th year -- just because he's a sadist who just recently learned that he could get away with killing Snape if he wanted cause the school administration would cover him up. Doesn't relentless bullying lead to increased risks of suicide too?

and do i need to remind people that snape literally WAS an avid blood supremacist and death eater??

Nothing indicates he was an avid Death Eater. Sure he loved the Dark Arts but there's no subject of knowledge that brands someone as evil so that's not a moral fault. As a DE the only thing Snape does is giving half of a vague prophecy that targeted a family that Voldemort was already planning to exterminate and that led to Snape's switching and the Boy Who Lived's survival -- Snape has never been as violent as James has been. It just can't compare.

3.

like 3000 people saying over and over that james sexually assaulted snape. first of all, comparing pantsing to sexual assault is extremely disrespectful to anybody who’s been s/a’d, myself included.

You've been SA'ed, sure. It does not give you the right to establish that "pantsing" isn't sexual assault or harassment.

second of all, that only happened in the movies, dipshits. clearly you didn’t read the books if you obsess over that argument.

James whirled about; a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of graying underpants. There was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hang ing upside down in the air. “Who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s pants?”

(lmao you absolute MORON)

Snape's underwear was forcefully revealed in a sort of public lynching, that's already sexual assault. He gets threatened to have his genitals exposed, that's sexual violence. I know you guys like to toy with the idea that since we don't read word for word that they were removed then it can't count (still does anyway), but you can't deny it's suggested and that too counts as sexual assault.

You wouldn't like me tying you up to a pole in public and strip you bottom-naked so everybody can have a good laugh at you, wouldn't you? If that happened, would you insist that it's can't be sexual assault?

4. "that lily, sirius, remus, james, and peter are all worse people than snape."

You defending Peter now? Really dude?

Snape has saved the world through an immense, lifelong sacrifice, saved countless lives, has been the key to winning the war, in a way that the marauders never achieved. While Lupin was too worried about hiding his secret past errands with his friends, letting an alleged Death Eater ("blood supremacist" or as others say "white nazi supremacist") break into the school repeatedly to kill off James and Lily's son, Snape was doing all he could to protect the boy and the other students. While Sirius was busy fucking around with James Potter pre-Azkaban then obsessing on Pettigrew + James + Harry post-Azkaban, Snape was saving his godson and spying on Voldemort himself. James in the books peaks in highschool, joins the Order, according to a side-story he loves to break Muggle law and make fun of them, and we're never told if he saved even one person. Lily marries one of the worst and most dangerous people there could be (including to her) and doesn't seem as genuine or empathetic as we're told, in fact she seems higer-than-thou in terms of morals, she participates in Severus' trauma, she saves 1 person (her own child) and that's it. Snape has been a greater hero than all of them.

“Don’t be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?” “Lately, only those whom I could not save,” said Snape.

i’m sorry, did any of them grow up to torment innocent children?

Had a fun time doing it in school yeah, and they're never sorry about it.

did any of them grow up to find pleasure in the pain and suffering and fear of little kids, using their position as a TEACHER to express prejudice?

*as Head Boy for James; otherwise pretty much yes

5. that minerva and hagrid are just as bad as snape.

oh no they're worse:

https://www.reddit.com/r/harrypotter/comments/g7699f/snape_is_not_a_child_abuser_and_hes_possibly_the/

I added some things in my own version... want them too?

hagrid never discriminated against students for their race or identity and neither does minerva.

‘You’d think they’d be a bit more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something’s going on. It was on their news.’ She jerked her head back at the Dursleys’ dark living-room window. ‘I heard it. Flocks of owls … shooting stars … Well, they’re not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something.

‘I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn’t know an’ I told him! Yeh could’ve died! All fer a dragon egg! I’ll never drink again! I should be chucked out an’ made ter live as a Muggle!’ -> to live as a Muggle = the worst punishment there could be

“I’m a ruddy teacher, aren’ I, yeh sneakin’ Squib!” said Hagrid, firing up at once.

snape punishes neville for existing.

No, because he fucks up in class.

he punishes hermione for daring to participate in class.

For interrupting her teacher and speaking out of turn several times in a row even after being told to shut it.

and malfoy goes off scott free because he’s a pure blood.

Yet Draco takes care to make his bullying of the Trio discreet.

And Ron gets a pass trying to punch Draco in the face and insulting him because Snape knows Draco called Hermione a Mudblood. We know how he reacts when he hears that word in private

“Headmaster! They are camping in the Forest of Dean! The Mudblood—” “Do not use that word!”

Meaning that if he doesn't punish Draco that's because other factors are at play, like preserving his influence to the Malfoys / knowing he can't easily get away with punishing Draco overtly.

But he also doesn't punish Ron because he knows Ron is legitimate. When just the year prior he punished Ron for attempting to physically assault Draco.

can snape stans for the love of god please shut the fuck up

No :)

moral of the story, snape stans are delusional.

We got the reputation of knowing canon better than you. I sure do.

if y’all weren’t so INSANE

Can't blame me, had to loose a few screws if I wanted to survive. Also that's not nice to someone who gets counseling for several psychiatric issues like CPTSD, ASD, ADHD, burnout... and is the subject of transphobic propaganda.

If you don't want us to speak up you shouldn't post in the severus snape tag and answer "idgaf" when kindly asked to edit it. You're getting what you're asking for.

can snape stans for the love of god please shut the fuck up

here are some things i’ve GENUINELY seen snape stan’s say today and i have receipts:

1. that lily only fell in love with james because he gave her a love potion. i…i don’t even know what to say other than that this is obscene.

2. that james’ actions could be compared to what death eaters do. i’m sorry, has james ever killed or tortured anybody purely due to their race/ethnicity? does james think that all minorities deserve to die or be controlled? and do i need to remind people that snape literally WAS an avid blood supremacist and death eater?? jesus fucking christ…

3. like 3000 people saying over and over that james sexually assaulted snape. first of all, comparing pantsing to sexual assault is extremely disrespectful to anybody who’s been s/a’d, myself included. second of all, that only happened in the movies, dipshits. clearly you didn’t read the books if you obsess over that argument.

4. that lily, sirius, remus, james, and peter are all worse people than snape. i’m sorry, did any of them grow up to torment innocent children? did any of them grow up to find pleasure in the pain and suffering and fear of little kids, using their position as a TEACHER to express prejudice? did any of them grow up to use a child’s DEAD DAD’s actions from DECADES AGO to justify cruelty? peter grows up to be awful, but the other four make childhood mistakes that they learn and grow from in adulthood. snape never learns and grows. he just gets worse, and that’s nobody’s fault but his own.

5. that minerva and hagrid are just as bad as snape. first of all, hagrid never discriminated against students for their race or identity and neither does minerva. hagrid and minerva are tough but fair. they don’t enact cruelty. when they see bullies or cruel students get what’s coming to them, then they turn away because they’re witnessing natural consequences. i won’t deny that minerva and hagrid have favorites but they aren’t blatantly cruel to people who aren’t favorites and their only acts of cruelty are ones in which the students ACTUALLY INSTIGATE something worth punishing. snape punishes neville for existing. he punishes hermione for daring to participate in class. and malfoy goes off scott free because he’s a pure blood.

moral of the story, snape stans are delusional. if y’all weren’t so INSANE, then maybe i’d actually like snape. but you are. so i don’t, and i doubt i ever will!