#of course they CAN stand to be separated they're fine

[danelloevee-sky]

Thinking a lot about Oriana and Joon

[ashfae]

The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.

As soon as Neil described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.

Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.

The problem is a story is only a story.

Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.

And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.

Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.

Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?

Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.

Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.

The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.

Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)

The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.

The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.

Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.

But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.

But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.

The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.

And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.

Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.

But they'll get there. So will we.

[capslocked]

PARITY

male reader x sana & miyeon

21k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's really fucking uncanny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

Anyway,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pretty," you say out loud.

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

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

"Lose it," you request, quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So then, what could it possibly be?”

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

Sana sits up a little in her chair.

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

You and Sana almost snort in unison.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two tops.

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

Her eyelids flicker once.

Then close.

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

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

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

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

And then her lips tighten and she just-

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

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

She just-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"-and when he has to pull out-"

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

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

"-maybe-"

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

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

The answer’s a two-part chorus. Yes.

-

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

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

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

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

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

"Miyeonie," Sana says.

"Sana," Miyeon returns, flat.

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

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

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

"You know the one."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve noticed.”

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

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

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

Sana shrugs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh, birds of a feather.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

On your phone, there are some choice text messages:

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > jesus

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

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > PLEASE

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > fuck any quieter

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come here."

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

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

It's really always about the two of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"N-need," Miyeon chokes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miyeon cries out.

“I'm going to cum-"

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

"I-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now's no different, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not meaning to, or maybe too eager.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shall we?"

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

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

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

-

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

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

-

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

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

It goes without saying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Direct.

To the point. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"-yeah," she huffs, panting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is not much talking from then on. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"-please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, it's just like this:

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

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

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

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

The smallest, lightest grind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gives you two so much to talk about."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So: "I need the both of you."

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

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

You just groan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

They're fucking-

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

- identical.

"Look, I didn't mean-"

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

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

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

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

"She isn't?" you ask.

Sana sighs. "Um. Not even close."

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

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

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

-gorgeous, lewd, completely fucking filthy.

"I got a lot, babe."

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

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

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

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

[fadedncity]

safety net

wc: 4.6k

pairing: jeno x fem!reader

cw: smut, bsf!jeno, friends to lovers, non idol au, haunted attractions, reader has coulrophobia (a fear of clowns), use of fake blood, (soft)dom!jeno, teasing, pet names, multiple orgasms, choking, manhandling, spanking, fingering, praise kink, oral sex (receiving/giving), protected sex, aftercare…pretty sure that’s it

song inspo: safety net by ariana grande feat. ty dolla sign

You could hear the screams coming from inside as you and your friends moved up in the line. You nervously bounced on the balls of your feet, glancing at every person passing, keeping an eye out for the horror actors who were going around jump-scaring patrons.

Jeno noticed you become more anxious, unable to stop fidgeting.

"You're not too thrilled about this, are you?" he asks.

"What would make you say that?" you furrow your brows, clearly unaware of it written all over you.

"You seem a little on edge."

"What? No, I'm fine-" You turn to find the presence you felt creeping up behind you. You're face to face with a clown mask and almost jump out of your skin, letting out a small shriek.

But hearing Haechan's laugh, your fear quickly turns into anger as the boy pulls the mask away.

"Donghyeok, I swear I'm gonna fucking-" You lunged at him, only to be stopped by two strong arms.

"We don't need you laying him out here in the park before we even get to the door," Jeno says.

You grumbled, "Fine, but if he's missing from the headcount after this you know what happened," you glared at the Gemini, flipping him off as he stuck his tongue out at you.

"You know we don't have to do this you know, you and I can get off the line now." Jeno offers you one last out as the line continues to grow behind you.

"I know. I'll be fine. I just hate clowns," you peer over Jeno's shoulder at the actor in the clown costume standing across the lot, scaring other passersby in the park.

"I won't let anything happen to you, alright? I promise." Jeno says reassuringly.

"Thank you, Jen," you smile at him.

Your friends were the next group in line to enter the attraction. The big glaring neon letters in bright red, reading Hollow's Horror above the entrance, followed by a disclaimer of what could happen once you're inside. 

"So you gonna make a move tonight?" Minjeong whispers.

"What?" you ask.

"You and Jeno," she nods to the boy ahead of you, talking to Jaemin.

"Me and Jeno are just friends."

"Yeah, okay," Minjeong sarcastically nodded, "'I won't let anything happen to you. I promise.'" She mimicked Jeno's voice, and you elbow her.

"Hey, Johnny, you sure no one's ever died inside this thing?" Renjun asks the seasonal employee.

"Few people have passed out or accidentally injured themselves running and tripping over something, so the EMTs are on standby," Johnny answers. "All I'll say is the more scared you are, the more they're likely to go after you," he says, looking your way like he's talking to you directly. "But no, no one has died. Yet," Johnny says with a wicked grin as the doors open and your group is ushered inside. 

"Yet?? Did he just say yet?" Ningning questions as Jimin drags her along inside. 

You all stood in the dimly lit room, listening to Ten as he went over the rules and guidelines of the attraction. Minjeong unsubtly nudged you in Jeno's direction, causing you to stumble into him, and you shoot her a death glare over your shoulder.

"You ready?" Jeno asks you.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you sigh, following everyone else into the haunted house. 

. . .

"How'd I even get talked into this? Everyone else could be dead for all we know."

"You know damn well everyone's fine. We just got separated." Jeno says, continuing to lead the way, "Look, Chenle's still on live with Jisung and Ningning," he shows his phone, and you see Chenle hysterically laughing as the three of them are chased through a corn maze by an actor with a chainsaw.

"Of course he is, he loves this shit," you shake your head, peering around the corner on the lookout for another scarer.

"Come on, we're almost out," Jeno nodded in the direction of another doorway.

"How are you sure?"

"Yangyang's been raving about this thing since Hendery went last year. He's watched all the vlogs and read all the reviews. He practically has his own blueprint of this place, and I'm pretty sure the funhouse is one of the last."

The first three letters were scratched out and replaced with others to spell out Bloodhouse instead, and you glare at Jeno.

"Oh come on, you gotta be shitting me," you protest, hearing the circus-themed music grow louder. 

"You can do this, I have faith in you," Jeno holds out his hand, "And I'll be with you the entire time."

You let out a displeased sigh as you take Jeno's hand and follow him into the hall of mirrors. 

"Just try to relax and stay calm. If they smell your fear they'll come for you," Jeno whispers dramatically.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Maybe. But if it didn't, you know I still got you," Jeno reassuringly squeezed your hand. 

You let Jeno take the lead, holding his hand firmly as he guided you through the maze of electronic attractions, jumping out at the both of you as you passed them by. 

Jeno was seemingly moving fast through the poorly lit room, wanting to get you out as soon as possible. But the next corner you turn, you find two actors dressed as killer clowns shuffling around, awaiting their next victims.

Jeno feels your body tense up as you lock eyes with one of them.

"Stay calm," he says as both clowns stalk toward you.

"I can't," you say, your breathing becoming heavy. 

"Okay, so we run," he says.

Still holding hands, the maniacal laughter follows you both down a narrow hallway, where you feel hands grab at you both through the railings. But just as you both escape the hands grabbing at you, the sprinklers above your heads go off, spraying you and Jeno in fake blood.

Still processing all the red you're seeing, neither of you has the chance to react as another clown jumps out at you, yelling, "Give Lucky a big smile!"

You instantly grab Jeno, screaming bloody murder as a bright flash goes off. The actor shoved the Polaroid into Jeno's hands as the evil laughter grew louder and louder, more actors swarming you both. With his arms around you, Jeno takes you the rest of the way out of the haunted walk-through.

Complimentary towels were offered to you and Jeno as you exited the attraction with I Survived the Night at Hollow's Horror embroidered into the fabric. 

Still, in a bit of shock, it takes a second for you to register that it's over, and you're now back in the crowd of the theme park.

"Oh thank god, we're done," you practically collapse into Jeno's arms, "I couldn't take anymore of that."

"You okay?"

"Might have nightmares for a few days, but I'll live," you wipe your face clean of the fake blood.

"Well guess what, you did it. I'm proud of you," Jeno says, causing warmth to bloom in your chest.

"Holy shit, what the hell happened to you guys?" a familiar voice grabs both of your attention.

You and Jeno find most of your friends crowded outside, waiting for you and the few others still inside.

"They definitely got the bloodhouse," Jaemin said.

Haechan erupted into laughter, "Of course you did out of all people."

"You know Haechan just cause you made it through the haunted house doesn't guarantee you'll make it through the rest of the night." you started, but Jeno immediately put himself between you both.

"We survived!" Chenle yells triumphantly.

He runs toward your group with Jisung and Ningning not too far behind, all three of them wrapped up in their own complementary towels.

"Why are you guys wet?" Jimin asks.

"We ended up in the shark tank," Jisung says, chittering his teeth.

"Shark tank!? And this thing is legal??" Aeri asks.

"They definitely weren't real sharks," Yangyang says.

"You sure about that? Cause the teeth on that thing looked pretty real," Ningning said, hugging the towel tighter around herself. 

"Who cares? We're definitely coming back next year." Chenle declares.

"Yeah, we'll see about that."

. . .

"You didn't have to drive me home. I could've gone with Jimin," you say once on the front steps of your house.

"I know I didn't have to," Jeno shrugs, "But I wanted to."

"Well, thank you. Not just the ride but everything tonight. I don't know if I would've survived without you," you say lightheartedly.

"I promised you I wouldn't let anything happen to you, didn't I?"

You laugh, "Goodnight, Jeno."

"Goodnight," he says.

But neither of you move, your hand resting on the doorknob, wordlessly staring at Jeno.

"Everything okay?" Jeno asks.

"Yeah," you nod.

"Cause this is the part where you take out your keys and unlock the door so I know you've made it inside safely before I leave," he says, "Unless you don't want me to leave-" you cut him off with your lips on his.

Jeno's hands reach for your waist and pull you closer. You curl your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Your hands find his hair, raking your fingers through the stiff strands dried with food dye and corn syrup.

"Do you wanna come in?" you ask.

"Do you want me to come in?" he retorts.

"You could at least come inside to wash up. It's the least I can offer."

. . .

The steam left from your shower poured out of the bathroom the second you opened the door and stepped into your bedroom, now wearing clean clothes.

"Whatcha looking at?" you ask, rubbing the last of your moisturizer into your hands.

You find Jeno on your bed, redressed in new clothes; a shirt, and some sweatpants he left at your place a while ago. You climb onto your bed, sit beside him, and see the Polaroid picture Jeno's looking at in his hands.

"Oh my god, I can't believe this," you take the picture as Jeno hands it to you.

"This is officially my favorite picture."

"Why? I look crazy!" you point to the terrified expression the photographer caught while you were mid-scream.

"I kinda think it's cute, I mean look at us. You're clinging onto me for dear life. I thought I was gonna lose my arm," Jeno jokes.

"Alright, you know what, I've had enough of you," you playfully roll your eyes, ready to stand and walk away. But Jeno doesn't give you the chance to get too far, grabbing your waist and pulling you back down into his lap.

"Well, that's too bad, because I definitely haven't gotten enough of you," he rubs his hands over your thighs as you lean closer.

You smile against Jeno's lips, cupping his face as you kiss him. Jeno rests his hand on your lower back, pressing firmly against your spine. You comb your fingers through his damp hair and swipe your tongue along the seam of his lips. As your tongues clash, Jeno's hands cup your ass, subtly directing you to roll your hips into his allowing you to feel the bulge in his pants.

"Wait-" Jeno stops kissing you.

"Oh my god, did I completely miss read this?" you drop your hands from his face.

"No, no," Jeno quickly clarifies, taking your hands in his, "It's just I don't want you to think I just wanna sleep with you."

"Oh."

"I mean, no, trust me I do—god knows how bad I want to. But I wanna be clear that I like you, y/n. Like really like you. And I need you to know that I'm not just using you—"

"Hey," you cut off his rambling, "I know you're not like that," you stroke his cheek, and Jeno sheepishly smiles, "So you like me, huh? Like really like me?" you teasingly smirk, resting your arms over his shoulders.

"You really think I would've just let Haechan drag me out tonight if you weren't gonna be there. You know I don't really care for that type of stuff. But for you…" he trails off.

"It's funny you say that, because I was pretty adamant about not going until Aeri told me you were."

"Sounds like we're pretty perfect for each other," Jeno says with a laugh.

"I mean it's not like nothing good came out of this," you smile, kissing his lips.

"No, lie there."

You softly nibble down on his bottom lip, making him quietly groan. You feel his fingers dig into your hips, lightly scratching his nails down your exposed thighs, causing you to gasp against his lips. Jeno takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes the remaining fruity flavor of the gummies you were chewing on in the car on your lips.

Your hips drag against Jeno's, and you feel his cock through your shorts.

Jeno pulls you flush against his body and begins softly pressing kisses down the side of your neck, making you moan and arch into his touch.

"Jen," you call his name.

"Yeah, princess?" you almost moan as the pet name rolls off his tongue.

"I need you."

"I'm right here, baby. Can't think to be anywhere else right now. I'm all yours."

Jeno switches places with you, laying you down on the bed, your lips still attached.

"Gonna let me have a taste of you, angel?"

"Please," you nod.

Jeno admired you as you lay beneath him. "Just tell me if it's too much, you wanna stop, or even if you just need a break, okay?"

You nod, just hoping he'd touch you already.

"I'm gonna need words, pretty."

"Okay," you reassuringly nod again.

Jeno softly kisses your lips, and you feel his hand roam your body, kneading every place he can reach except where you want him most.

"You're so beautiful, princess," Jeno smirks, slipping his hands under your shirt and palming your breasts. You mewl into his touch as he started lifting your shirt. "So, so pretty," he hums, eyeing your perky nipples before he lowers himself and takes one into his mouth.

With his tongue swirling around your areola, Jeno had his hand occupied with your other nipple, rolling and tweaking it between his fingers.

Curling your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, you moan and arch your back into his mouth. You squirm beneath his body, the ache between your legs growing even stronger.

"Patience, baby," Jeno pulls away from you, "I like taking my time," he runs his hands up your thighs, softly squeezing your flesh.

"You know I'm not known for my patience," you say.

"Guess you better learn quickly then."

One of his fingers lightly trailed up your inner thigh. He took his finger and traced your clothed slit with a feather-light touch. You tried to raise your hips against his hand. But he pins your hips to the bed.

Jeno tsks, shaking his head. "You want something, angel, you gotta ask for it."

"Touch me," you breathe out.

"I am, aren't I?"

"You know what I mean," you say, irritation evident in your tone.

"No, I'm not sure. You want me to touch you here?" Jeno asks, rubbing your clit through your shorts.

"Yes," you buck your hips into his hand.

"Yes, what?"

"Please, Jeno," you frustratedly fist the sheets.

"Come on, sweetheart. I wanna hear you say it," his tone is soft as he applies more pressure to your clit.

"Fuck. Just fucking touch my pussy, Jen, please," you beg.

"Atta girl," he praised. "Wasn't so hard just using your words, now was it." he smiled as he removed your shorts along with your underwear.

"Fuck off-" your words are choked up by a moan as Jeno's fingers sink inside you.

"What was that?" Jeno asks, but you can't respond other than with another moan, "That's what I thought."

Jeno scissors his two fingers against your soft walls. The muscles in his arms flex every time he pumps his digits in and out of you.

"Feels good, huh, baby?" he watches your face twist up in pleasure as he curls his fingers.

"Yes."

He plants a few kisses on your face, "You want more?"

"Please, Jen, I need more. It feels so good," 

"That's it, princess. Taking my fingers like such a good girl."

"Don't stop. Please-" The stretch of Jeno's three fingers made it harder to think. Jeno watched his fingers disappear inside you, reappearing with a layer of slick coating them.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. I've got you," Jeno talks you through it.

You weren't watching him, but you felt the bed shift.

"Oh my god!" you cry.

The most beautiful sound Jeno's ever heard came from your lips as he took your clit into his mouth. He directed one of your legs over his shoulder as he buried his face deeper between your legs.

"Come on, sweetness, say my name. Tell me who's making you feel so good."

"Jeno~"

He purred before dropping his head back down. Jeno wrapped his arms under your thighs, spreading your legs further apart. You writhed and thrashed in his hold, attempting to grind your hips against his mouth, but his strength never let up. Jeno's strong arms held you right where he wanted you. He lapped at your folds, using his fingers to part your lips, revealing your leaking hole, clenching around nothing.

Jeno hummed before delving back in. His eyes fluttered shut as he wiggled his tongue inside of you.

"Jen—fuck. I'm gonna-"

"Cum? You wanna cum for me?" he slipped his fingers back into your pussy.

"Yes, please, Jeno! I wanna cum for you," you whine.

You grab Jeno's wrist, rolling your hips against his hand as he curls his fingers just right, hitting that spongy spot inside you.

"Please-" you gasp.

Jeno kissed your thigh. "Cum," he practically growled.

Jeno sucked on your clit as your noises got louder. His fingers curled against your soft, gummy walls, and the obscene squelching of your juices mixing with his saliva filled your ears.

Your back arched off the bed, your fingers pulling at the roots of Jeno's hair. Your legs fought against his strength, threatening to close around his head.

"Jeno—ah!"

You quietly whimper when his fingers easily slip out of you. Your eyes blinked in and out of focus as Jeno licked his fingers clean with a delighted hum. He checks on you, softly cradling your face.

"Look at me," Jeno says, "Are you alright?" 

"Mhm," you nod, "You know it's been a minute since someone else has made me cum. That hard, especially."

"Which is why I was more than happy to do for you, baby," He kisses your lips, "I don't know if I would've been able to handle hearing about another one of your pathetic hookups," he mumbled.

You raise your brows and kiss your teeth, "You're one to talk. I'd rather have brunch with Pennywise than hear one more story about someone else's mind blowing orgasm from your supposed magic tongue."

"Are you saying my magic tongue didn't just give you a mind blowing orgasm?" Jeno raises an eyebrow.

"Shut up," you cross your arms over your chest.

"Aww, don't get like that, angel," Jeno uncrosses your arms. "Would it make you feel better to know I've never been that close to cumming untouched. Just from eating you out," he says, motioning toward the prominent outline in his shorts, and you notice the darkened spot of precum staining the material.

"How close?" you ask, sitting up with a smile threatening to spread on your face.

"Very close."

"Yeah?" you place your hand in his lap and start palming him over his clothes. "At least let me return the favor, you've been so good to me, Jen, let me make you feel good too," you gently trace the outline of his cock, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

He gave you a nod, and you pulled his cock out of his pants, grasping his length in his hand. Jeno hisses as you slowly jerk your wrist, teasing his tip with your thumb. Wasting no more time, you took his cock into your mouth, welcoming the weight of him on your tongue. You hummed around him, letting the salty precum coat your tastebuds.

You look up at him through your lashes, seeing him intently watching your ministrations. You lick a long stripe along the underside of his cock, his eyes refusing to leave your face, and they threaten to shut.

Spit dribbled out of your mouth onto his cock, assisting your hand in pumping the base. You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, softly sucking the angry red tip.

"Holy shit," Jeno groaned. The hand resting on your head gently grasped your hair, lightly tugging your head back. "I'm gonna fucking spoil you," he said, pulling you in for a kiss.

You collapse back onto your bed to watch as Jeno grabs the back of his shirt, tearing it over his head, and you can't stop the moan coming out of your mouth seeing his adonis-like figure above you.

Jeno smiles, his ego definitively inflated a bit as he kicks off his sweats along with his boxers. Hooking his arms under your thighs, Jeno pulls you away from the head of the bed and back toward him.

As Jeno looked at you, the most unholy thoughts ran rampant through his mind.

"God, I love seeing you like this," he kissed your chest, "All I wanna do is ruin you," he darkly smiled.

"Please do," you grin before he sinks two fingers into your pussy.

Your eyes roll back, feeling his fingers wiggle against your soft walls.

"Such a needy little thing you are," Jeno said as he added another finger.

"Just for you," you moan.

You let out a small whine in protest when Jeno removes his fingers, using your juices on his hand to pump his cock.

"Get on your hands and knees for me?" Jeno's question comes out more like a gentle order, and you roll over onto your stomach, raising your hips into the air.

While you reposition yourself, having familiarized himself with your room, Jeno reaches into your nightstand, retrieving a condom for himself.

"This is definitely a view I can get used to," Jeno runs his hand down your spine before harshly bringing his hand down on your right asscheek, making you moan.

"Come on, Jen," you mewl, pushing your hips back into his as he rolls the condom onto his length.

"So impatient," he tsked, "Can't even properly admire you, baby," he smacked the other side of your ass.

"Jeno!"

His laugh melted into a deep groan as he slid his cock into you. 

"Oh my god," your eyes roll back, and your jaw clenches.

"Yeah?"

"You feel so fucking deep. Feels so good,"

"Pussy feels so goddamn good around me. It's like you're perfectly meant to take my cock, princess."

Jeno pulled both of your arms behind your back, holding your wrists with only one of his hands, using them to pull you back onto his cock repeatedly. You whined shamelessly into the sheets as Jeno continued to fuck you into the mattress.

You know right here and now isn't the ideal time for this thought to occur to you, but knowing Jeno's heard about every aspect of your sex life, and has remembered things you've mindlessly mentioned being into in passing, only causes you to lose any sort of composure you had left. You hold onto his wrist, moaning carelessly, your pussy choking Jeno's cock as it moves rhythmically in and out of your soaking cunt.

Jeno's movements started to pick up, and the harsh sound of his hips slamming into yours filled your ears beyond your own cries and whimpers.

"Jen, please I'm-"

"Yeah, come on, baby, give it to me," he rasped in your ear, "Cum for me."

You could feel Jeno's cock twitching inside your pulsating pussy. Jeno quickly pulled out of you before he also came, flaring his nostrils and clenching his jaw when he denied himself from cumming just yet.

Pressing kisses up your spine, Jeno asks, "Think you got one more for me?" slipping his middle finger into your overstimulated cunt.

A moan squeals out of your lips, and you nod. With ease, Jeno rolls you back over, pulling your legs apart to settle between them.

"Such a needy little cock slut. You already love the way I fill you up, don't you?" he asks, running the tip of his cock up your slit.

"Love it so much." you nod eagerly.

Your eyes roll back as Jeno bottoms out once more. 

"If only you could see yourself, princess," Jeno softly wraps his hand around your throat, "All fucked out and taking all of me like a good girl." Between Jeno's fingers lightly squeezing the sides of your neck and his words, your head was spinning.

The intense pleasure came over you, you couldn't piece together words anymore. Jeno smiled, hearing your incoherent babbling.

"J-Jeno..oh my god, ple-ease!" you cried.

You blinked your glossy eyes up at Jeno as he slowed down but deepened his strokes. You smiled, feeling how deep he was inside you, and you could feel your body teetering the edges of your third orgasm of the night.

"Dumb little princess," he crooned, "Have I already fucked you stupid, baby?"

Flustered by his words, you laugh, "Yes, yes, yes, Jen! please don't stop," you arch your back.

"That's my pretty girl," Jeno deeply rolled his hips into yours. "Let me know how good I'm making you feel."

"It's so good, it's so go-ood, Jeno, m'gonna cum," you whine.

"Go ahead and soak my cock, angel," he grunted.

Red streaks decorate Jeno's arm as your nails dig into his skin, another earth-shattering orgasm slamming into you.

"Th-thank you—fuck—thank you," you cried, tears of pleasure pricking at your eyes. You could hear how heavy Jeno's breathing has become and know he's not too far behind you.

"Mhm, such a good girl," Jeno's voice drops a few octaves as his hips stutter, filling the latex with his cum.

Your legs were trembling as they fell against Jeno's. He gently caressed your face, waiting for you to come back down to him.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Much more than," you smile.

"Happy to hear. Just give me a minute." Jeno says, softly kissing your lips before slipping out of your pussy, disposing of the condom, and pulling his sweatpants back on as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Jeno quickly returned with a wet cloth to wipe away the stickiness clinging to your skin.

Once he was done, you sat up and let Jeno pull you into his arms. The usual annoyance of your clammy skin sticking to his hadn't bothered you much as you just wanted to be in his arms.

"What're you thinking about?" Jeno's voice breaks the silence.

"Hm?" you snap out of your thoughts.

"You're quiet. I can tell there's a lot going through your mind right now."

"A lot of things pertaining you, yes."

"I meant what I said earlier. I really do like you."

"I know…I kinda really like you too."

You swear his eyes sparkled as a smile broke out on his face, "You have no idea how much it means to hear that. I was too afraid I would've messed something up between us."

"And I thought I was the only one here who faces their fears tonight," you say before planting a kiss on his lips.

"Are you sure there isn't anything you need I can get for you?" he asks.

"I'm all good right here." You wrap your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his, "This is all I need."

a/n: this was especially for the five of you that had already seen this last week when I accidentally posted 😭😭 thank you for reading!! feedback is appreciated <33

edit: i can’t believe i let all of y’all read this with this many typos and shit 😭 i swear i wasn’t done editing but this was the second time it accidentally posted from my drafts and i just said fuck it 🚶🏽‍♀️

[thewritersofdeceased]

HELLOO!! Soooo I so love your Tbp content!! And This is my first time ever requesting anything, and I'm so excited for tbp 2 anyways enough of my rambling :>>

Can you please make a Vance x Reader, like for example Vance is like very into Reader but reader is terrified of him bc of his reputation and all yk? If that makes sense lol

Hey, hey! No worries about the rambling I love it! This was a blast to write!! (please anyone request more Vance stuff I love writing him so much)

Gender neutral pronouns ! 

Vance was in love.

That’s right. For once in his life, Vance Hopper was in love. It felt weird. He saw how this sort of stuff affected his parents, but he hoped this wouldn’t end up the same. His parents were a terrible duo. At least his father was. He worked with the law, and he was usually the one to show up and drag the blonde into the station. He always got annoyed. Not like Vance cared what his father thought. Let alone how many times he got dragged to the station.

No. Vance cared about what someone by the name of Y/N thought about him. That's who he was in love with. But Vance was a violent kid, a kid with a hot-temper and a couple records in the cops record book. The amount of fights he got into and the amount of times he got arrested because of them. Or the threat of charges. Now that was hell when ever a parent of a kid would threaten him with charges, let alone when it was Moose. He hated Moose. Moose was a bully, everyone knew this. Though he despised the man whenever he would go after Y/N. The amount of times those two fought and got sent to the principles office was crazy.

Way too many times could Vance recall that. But here he stood again, leaning against his locker and standing beside a couple boys. They were younger than him, he could see that. Vance was around fourteen, the oldest of the group. He was the one about to go to highschool whilst the others entered their separate grades. That was fine with him. The boys would still have connections to him, they didn't live that far and the middle school wasn't a far walk. So if any of them got hurt or in a fight, Vance could run to the middle school and help 'em. Until Billy finally hit his own Freshmen year. Griffin was the youngest, so of course it would take a bit of time for him to reach High-School.

But what if y/n and him went to different high schools? What if y/n's parents decided to leave Denver and go somewher else? A soft sigh escaped Vance as a voice to his right rang out. "C'mon, Vance. You have to talk to them sooner or later." The voice to the right of him was Bruce Yamada, the second oldest of the group. "Right. They're scared of me, dumbass." Vance commented, rolling his eyes as he leaned his head against the locker. It only stiffed a laugh out of Bruce, who raised his brow and gently nudged Vance's shoulder. Bruce knew why people were weary of the group, and it was all because of Vance's reputation. But he wasn't the one to speak up next, no. Griffin did. Even if the boy hardly spoke, being selective Mute. "It's your reputation, Vance." The youngest boy thought of the blonde like an older brother.

Which, Vance didn't mind. He would protect the youngest kid with his life. He'd protect any of these kids with his life, even if he died. Well, he didn't want to die, that was for sure. A sigh escaped him as his arms crossed. "Well, then I've gotta pick up my act, ain't I? If I want a chance with them?" This surprised the younger and second oldest. "You really plan on changing your ways, Vance?" Bruce asked as he stared at the blonde with messy hair. It'd be a challenge for the fighter. He knew that for sure. But he needed to change if he'd have a chance with Y/N. A low sigh escaped Vance as he crossed his arms and hummed. "I have to. I like 'em, you all know this." He reminded, trying to keep himself calm as he watched y/n interact with their friends.

This may take a while, but if he wanted to talk to them? He had to do it. He had to stop getting into fights, as bad as that would be. Specifically when it came to Moose. Or Buzz and Matt, and even Matty. He was a fighter, but he'd stop for his crush. Lower his reputation one way or another.

[weenwrites]

*Crawls out of the sewers to make a request*

Yoo! Hope you're having a good day, make sure to drink lots of water!

As for the request, would do you mind doing a romance pining headcanons Transformers Prime Bumbleee and Optimus Prime (separately, of course) for a human charge? The bots would develop a crush on the reader, and how would they're pining be-? Most of their time pining, he human charge would be oblivious to their advances (if there are any) and would just brush it off as them being friendly? Despote the human charge having mutual feelings for the bot as well.

Apologies for my bad english, and I'm not really good at describing stuff, so pardon if it seemed weird or something-

Anyways, thank you for your time!

A/N: Your english is great! I think you were able to communicate your idea just fine.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Optimus

It's not that he's afraid of expressing his true feelings to you, it's that he's hesitant on whether he should. You already have such a massive target painted on your back just by being under his watch, to start dating you would raise the stakes higher than you'd ever know. Of course that isn't to mention whether he'd have the time and energy to be your partner.

Yes, he sees you every day because you're his charge, but if you were to make your relationship romantic, he would need to be present and available in your life outside of decepticon-related issues. He is uncertain whether he has the time to, though he understands that he has a capable team who are well willing to break their own backs just to give him some time off, he doesn't want them to go to such lengths.

So while there's no verbal confession right away, or for any time soon, he's much more talkative with you and attentive to your every need—not overly so, but enough that it's noticeable. And however you spend patrols with him—whether it be listening to music as you drive, or just sitting in silence—words are what fill the silence as you meander down the road.

At times he'd dream about life with you, and in those dreams the war is the least of his concerns. In those dreams he thinks about how he could make his schedule align with yours, he thinks about how you might enjoy this one activity, or this one place on Cybertron. And at times he finds bits of his dreams even seeping into his waking thoughts as he finds himself wondering about your well-being on a day you're elsewhere.

Bumblebee

Surprisingly it's rather difficult to tell that he likes you because he's already so friendly towards you, but it's not inherently impossible if you can read the signs. Firstly, he's a lot more expressive around you—and while that may be surprising to hear given the fact he's already a very expressive person, I mean "more expressive" as in he seems even more enthusiastic and happy around you (even more than either of you knew was possible).

You can see it in the way he tries to keep you around, and the way that he admires stares at you for a bit longer than is considered acceptable by your societal norms. Especially whenever you go out on patrol with him, it almost feels like the seat belt around you is hugging you in a way, but you could also pass that off as he's just trying to make sure you're nice and secure.

His confession is very shy, yet there's something so endearing when it comes to seeing him offer you a hand-made Valentine's day card. The cover of the card is simple, yet the inside is what really stands out to you the most. The inside details his feelings for you—not in any showy or verbose way, but in a few straightforward and simple sentences. Yet each word is teeming with his unexpressed adoration for you, and his hesitance barely conceals the fear of your rejection, and yet he's still brave enough to look at you as if to ask "well, what do you say?"

[hazbinhappy]

Hi! First of all, happy spring break! I hope you enjoy your time off! ♡

I love Husk so much, he needs love to heal his dead heart 💔 so maybe femreader who's at the hotel with everyone and he finds himself catching feelings. And it terrifies the hell outta him. He hasn't felt anything like it in so so long, maybe nothing ever this strong. He has no idea what to do about it but the longer he's around her, it becomes more and more difficult to keep his feelings to himself. (If you like angst, maybe he pushes her away at first and she's hurt by it and it leads to a blow up which ends in his confession.)

Aaaand an idea for Overlord!Husk. We still don't know much about that part of his story, but let's say one of the souls he owns is readers. How he got her soul can be up to you. He starts to develop real feelings for her but she doesn't think they're genuine since she thinks she's just his "pet"

A/N: I am enjoying my spring break! Just lounging around, playing video games, and drawing! And of course writing and doing matchups! I hope I do these two well! I separated them with separate gifs! I changed up the first one a bit! god i just love overlord husk my man my man my man i went so hard on this for husk actually not being my top favorite (he is a top 3 three) I decided to mix the singer one with this overlord husk due to catching feels and being sweet <3

I feel like he is someone who clocks his feelings quickly or ignores the fuck outta them until he can’t anymore

I think in his past life he may have been married, but divorced because of his alcoholism and gambling addiction

So when he meets you he’s fine in the beginning. You’re just a soul who is trying out this redemption thing. So what?

But then you start to come to the bar more and more often. You don’t even get alcoholic drinks. Just Shirley Temple’s or non-alcoholic versions of drinks.

It confuses him because why come to the bar, silently have a drink, and then leave?

Eventually you start to talk with him, but you’re sober. You’re not drunkenly confessing anything, you’re just making light conversation, maybe a thing or two about your past or current life.

Soon, maybe a couple months, he starts opening up too and enjoys having conversations with you and in fact looks forward to when your freetime matches up so you can talk or even play cards (“What’s on the table?” “It’s just a friendly game of poker, Husk. Nothing more, nothing less.”)

Angel teases him one day about how he’s smiling more and seems to perk up whenever he hears your voice or even the mention of your name

That’s when it really sets into his mind and he starts to think about it.

Unfortunately that soon leads to him becoming avoidant and shut off from conversations leading to the same on your end as well before evolving into you guys simply not talking anymore

This actually upsets Angel and Charlie (moreso Charlie, but Angel decides to take care of it because we all know how Charlie can get a bit too involved in things)

Angel and you have a little heart to heart and Angel just…. He just laughs because it’s funny to him! You two are old souls who used to be married (and divorced) and y’all don’t know how to handle love anymore!

Angel comes up with this big grandiose plan on to confess but you settle on just a simple “smoke break” confession/trapping him on a break

Husk is standing on the balcony for a breather as you slip in behind him. He goes to leave but you purposefully block the door.

It’s a back and forth mini-argument. You planned on confessing first, but then he just blurts it out like a middle schooler admitting his first crush.

It’s a bit silly. This old man just blurts out his feelings as you’re standing there silent.

It’s a sweet moment to though because you give him a hug and cheek kiss (sorry I am a sucker for those I find them adorable) before confessing as well

Thankfully the hotel can run as normal without all the tension

Poor Alastor though he was loving all the misery and sadness coming from you two, mainly from Husk; he provided no real good advice

Did you know that most casinos don’t have clocks or windows so you don’t know how long you’ve been there and keep staying :D

So the only person with a watch is Husk and that is like a hidden pocket watch that he only checks when he gets a drink

I think that reader may have been one of the first souls he got! Or maybe the first he got specifically for the casino. He wanted some entertainment for the place to also keep people coming or staying so that’s what he uses your soul for!

He probably just smooth talked you into it or you made a silly bet and lost so you now have to work for him. So your relationship doesn’t necessarily start bad because you don’t hate him depending on if you choose the losing bet option, but if you choose the tricked option then it doesn’t start off well

Eventually it does get better over the years!

He starts to pay you a bit more and finally allow people to tip you; he doesn’t mind if you gamble because I like to believe that he houses people in an area above the casino so he has another layer of control as well

He tells his workers whether or not it’s daytime if they ask in private; when people know what time it is for your show they’ll be an announcement of like “Show in thirty minutes” so patrons are still in the dark about the actual time

He now doesn’t visit your shows with the idea “Yeah I own them”, but instead “Aren’t they gorgeous and saying a good job, say they’re doing a good job or I’ll fucking cut you-”

 At this particular show you sing “Once Upon a Dream” (a song from your favorite movie as a child Sleeping Beauty came out in 1959) just to change it up from all of the loud game noises and yells in the casino

When you look over at Husk with that sweet smile and look as you walk around, even running your fingers across the back of his chair before doing so to some other people

It makes him feel giddy for some reason even though he wasn’t the only person who you gently touched… but he was the only person who you gave that look to

After your shift ends and you’re in the dressing room grabbing your things, he was leaning on the doorway smoking a cigar

“So, doll, do you look at everyone that way when you sing or just me?”

“Jesus, Husk! Warn a person before you sneak up on them.”

 “Apologies, so?”

“...Well…um…the song-”

“No is a sufficient answer.”

“No… I don’t look at everyone that way when I sing.”

“Mmm, nice to know. Have a good night.”

It’s not necessarily an odd conversation, but it’s not solidified in what you guys feel about each other

It is very flirty between y’all though and it’s known that you are off-limits and your are his

You question it a lot (and so do other people) considering he owns your soul and he specifically made you an entertainment piece at his casino, but he definitely takes you out and lets you have more freedom than the other souls, so your worries aren’t completely squashed, but you feel better

[gloomysoup]

@steddieangstyaugust day 4 | prompt: angst with a happy ending | rating: g | word count: 748 | tags: hospital, vague description of a near-panic attack | ao3

it starts with a phone call

Eddie can't breathe.

He’s in his car, music off, breaking every law possible in his haste to get to the hospital.

This is a nightmare.

It started with a phone call. A vague call from Wayne that gave no details whatsoever. Something happened. Steve was in the Emergency Room. Eddie needed to get there. So, that's exactly what he was trying to do.

Eddie had never been so terrified. He didn't know what happened, or if Steve was okay. Wayne didn't say anything. Eddie is thinking the worst, of course. A freak accident has left Steve in a coma for the rest of his life. He's never waking up. It was the end of Eddie’s life as he knew it.

So, yeah, he was panicking. A lot.

His chest was tight, his vision a little blurry. He wanted to throw up, but didn't know if he even could. He had a white-knuckled grip on the wheel just to keep his hands from shaking.

Eddie swung into the parking lot, barely shifting it in park and shutting it off before throwing himself to the pavement and racing inside the sliding glass doors. Tiny pinpricks were settling under his skin as he searched the room for any sign of someone he knew.

“Eddie.”

His head snapped around. Wayne was standing up from a chair on the other side of the room. Eddie met him halfway, tugging his hands through his hair. “What happened? Where is he? Is he okay?”

“Slow down, kid,” Wayne said calmly, placing a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “He just took a little tumble helpin’ me with some house work today. The docs are still runnin' tests. Knocked his head pretty good, so they're just rulin’ out further injury.”

Eddie breathing came a little easier, but not much. More head trauma for Steve was not great. What if it did something to his brain? What if something was seriously wrong?

“Where is he? Can I see him?”

“Gettin’ some imaging and such done. The doc’ll be back to update us soon.”

Eddie reluctantly followed Wayne to the collection of chairs, sitting beside him. His knee bounced anxiously. He hated this part; the waiting. He wanted to be useful. He wanted to do something. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do. He just had to sit, and wait, and hope for the best.

It was nearly half an hour later when someone came to update them.

“For Steve Harrington?” the doctor asked, nodding toward them. Eddie was immediately on his feet.

“How is he? Is everything okay? Can I see him yet?”

The doctor smiled softly. “So far, all the imaging has come back clean. We’re still waiting on results of a blood test, just standard procedure, but everything looks good so far. He does have a fractured ankle, so he’ll need to stay off his feet as much as possible for the next few weeks or so, and also a sprained wrist. Other than that, he should be just fine. I can take you back to see him now, if you'd like.”

“Yes, please.”

Eddie and Wayne followed the doctor back to a separate room. Steve was sitting up in the bed, a cast on his ankle and a brace on his wrist and forearm. He smiled when they walked in the door, and Eddie finally felt like he could breathe again.

The first thing he did was wrap Steve in a tight hug.

The second thing he did was slap Steve’s shoulder.

“What the hell were you thinking? You scared me half to death, Steve.”

Steve shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Sorry. I was just trying to help. I figured it was safer for me to be on the ladder than Wayne. Guess I was wrong.” He looked up at Eddie, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I swear I'm fine, though. It wasn't even that bad of a fall.”

Eddie plopped into the chair by his bed, rolling his eyes with a huff. “Yeah, because a fractured ankle, sprained wrist, and more head trauma 'isn't that bad’. Bite me, Harrington.”

Steve grinned. “Gladly.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Eddie said with a loud, put-upon groan. There was no heat in his words, though. Not with the way he grinned right back.

Maybe his morning hadn't gone quite the way he'd planned, but at least Steve was safe. And Eddie would never let him climb another ladder again, as long as he lived.

[pascaloverx]

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. Enjoy reading. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance.

ONE THREE

TWO

You doze off during the rest of the car ride. When Jacob parks, you open your eyes and find yourself at the place where you spent the beginning of your life. Jacob has brought you near Sam's house, probably knowing that Uley would be upset if he wasn't one of the first to see you when you arrived in La Push.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sam Uley says in the most concerned big brother tone you've ever heard. As soon as you got out of the car with Jacob, you expected to hear comments about your current state.

"So good to see that you're still the same. I'm fine, even though I'm in this chaotic state, in case you wanted to know how I am." You say, walking up to him and hugging him. Jacob stands silently right behind you.

"You let her get hurt?" Sam asks as he steps back from you. He's questioning Jacob, who seems bothered by Uley's questioning.

"She got hurt before I was with her. Not that I'm not used to being the guy who takes the blame for any mistake you find. But it makes me curious that even when I'm no longer part of your pack, I'm still the first one you want to blame." Jacob says, not moving a muscle, looking both irritated by Sam's question and satisfied with his response. Sam, on the other hand, looks quite annoyed by Black's comment.

"Look, as much as I love watching a good fight, I'm not in the mood for it right now. Can you both pretend to tolerate each other while I'm here?" You say, stepping between the two and looking especially at Jacob. He sighs and takes a few steps back.

"Emily is inside making tea for everyone. I'd like you to meet her." Sam says, turning his attention back to you. Your gaze shifts to Jacob, who seems calmer now. You all then walk towards Sam's house to go inside.

"Y/N, did you have to pass through a pack of vampires or something to get here?" Embry almost shouts, rushing towards you as soon as you enter the house. He hugs you so tightly that you almost lose your breath.

"She just got here and you want to bring up those topics, you idiot. No wonder she ran away from us." Paul says, smacking Embry's arm and coming towards you for a hug. You missed all this chaos.

"You definitely haven't changed at all. You two seem like two fools fighting to see who's the biggest fool. But I loved the welcome. Tell me, how's dealing with Black and Uley without me?" You say as you walk towards Quil to greet him. Quil laughs when he sees Black and Uley's reactions to your joke.

"Believe me, without you, we're lost." Quil whispers as he hugs you. You look at him, expecting to see him smile as if he's making a joke, but as you look at him, you're not sure if he's joking.

"We can't complain. Jacob left the pack and took two with him, which made the pack less chaotic. Who knows, maybe you, Y/N, can convince those two that their split in terms of the pack doesn't mean they're enemies." Jared says as he helps a woman make tea. She must be Emily.

"That's literally what it means." Sam and Jacob say in unison, and everyone in the room laughs as if they were kids. Of course, everyone except the two boneheads.

"Poor girl. Just got involved in some accident, and you guys are expecting her to solve an ego battle that's been going on for years. No wonder she ran away from you all. No offense, dear." Emily says as she sets the cups on the table and kisses Sam's cheek.

"Sorry for the rudeness. I walked into your house without even introducing myself. My name is Y/N." You say, greeting Emily. She smiles sweetly and shakes your hand.

"I'm Emily, and don't even worry about apologizing. This pack drives anyone crazy. But I don't need to tell you that. I hope you're here to stay with us." Emily speaks kindly as she serves tea for everyone. You look at her and then glance at Jacob.

"She's staying with me." Jacob speaks quickly, surprising everyone. Sam looks at you and then at Black, as if trying to understand what's happening.

"And it's almost like nothing has changed…" Embry tries to whisper. However, everyone hears him, and Emily looks confused.

"Don't you think Y/F/N would be disappointed in you for dishonoring his daughter even though you're in love with Swan?" Sam says, holding his tea cup, looking at Jacob as if he wanted to provoke a big commotion.

"Unlike you, I'm pretty clear about what I want and who I want. I don't deceive anyone or take advantage of feelings. Y/N and I have been friends for years, there's room in my house, so obviously she's staying with me." Jacob responds to Sam with a certain sharpness. The two clearly aren't able to interact with each other peacefully. You set your tea cup down on the table and step in between Jacob and Sam.

"Sam, I find it disrespectful for you to bring up the memory of my late father in such a ridiculous situation as this little spat with Jacob. Jacob, I think you owe everyone an apology for your behavior. Now, I hope you understand, but I'm going to go clear my head. If anyone follows me, it will be the last thing they do on this earth. Consider yourselves warned." You say and leave, without seeing anyone's reaction or caring about being rude. The truth is, you were waiting for a good excuse to go see Carlisle. You know Edward well. If you don't go get examined by his doctor father, he'll surely bother you. And you need to forget about him. Walking, you arrive in a short time at the spot that used to be the meeting point you and Edward used for your romantic encounters. You remember how you used to spend the whole night together, talking about the future.

"Miss Y/N, it's been a while. Would it be very vampiric of me to say that you've aged?" Carlisle speaks, obviously trying to show his humorous side. You smile a little as you approach him, carrying a medical bag that looks just like any common human doctor's.

"Mr. Cullen, you have youth on your side in many aspects, but not in the humor department. Would it surprise you to say that even though I'm older, people still treat me as if I have no choice?" You say, sitting on a tree trunk nearby. Carlisle begins to examine you.

"Edward has the best intentions in his actions, I can assure you. He still cares a lot about you." Carlisle speaks compassionately, as if genuinely justifying Edward's actions. You smile, thinking it's nice that they care for each other in this way.

"So, how am I?" You ask, changing the subject. Carlisle smiles a little as he finishes examining you.

"With superficial wounds on your face and arms. No signs of concussion or anything like that. But going to the hospital for an X-ray would be most appropriate." Carlisle says as he packs up his medical items.

"Thank you for the consultation, Dr. Carlisle. I'll take your recommendation seriously. And do me a favor, ask Edward to stay away from me." You say to Carlisle, who seems to know that you've noticed Edward hiding behind a tree not far from you.

"In my opinion, you two should at least have one last conversation. To finalize the relationship. But know that my family and I will always have regard for you. If you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out." Carlisle says, looking kindly at you. Seconds later, he disappears. That must be one of the best parts of being a vampire.

"Do you think it's fair to come after me while you're committed to someone else?" You say loudly, making sure Edward hears and responds.

"I can't get you out of my mind. But I agree it's not fair. So far, my love for Bella has made me the kind of vampire I always wanted to be. And you know, it's an uncomplicated love. Sure, our situation is complicated because she's human, but the feeling has never been complicated. With you, it's like you're consuming me." Edward appears suddenly in front of you and declares this as if it were the best thing in the world.

"If I'm consuming you, why are you here? Go back to your beloved. Forget about me and do everyone a favor." You say, approaching Edward without realizing that you're almost face to face. You were immersed in old feelings when you let yourself get so close to him. His cold hands gently touch your face, pushing back the strands of hair that were in your face. He leans in, as if to kiss you. You feel that it's wrong, but you want it so much that it's like you're out of control. Before you realize it, your lips touch his. A gentle, slow kiss. As if you both wanted to savor every second of it. Or prolong the kiss because you know that this moment signifies many things. It signifies infidelity on Edward's part. Betrayal on yours. And it signifies that there are feelings between you.

[wolfybonnie759]

floyd x reader what if you got captured instead of Floyd

you knew Floyd and brothers for a long time the day of brozone I think got separated and didn't want to be a band anymore you did not know where Floyd was going to to be honest you had a crush on him you didn't tell him because you were so shy but you always been around like your best friend but you don't know if he feel the same way you went to travel somewhere and you you was singing thinking about you and Floyd been together but then you heard footsteps and the next thing you know it you got caught by velvet and veneer who are nothing but big phonies who have no talent for many months you've been stuck in a diamond prison you hope Floyd and his brothers are okay and hope somebody will save you from these horrible twins you felt so weak you were pale and some of your hair got white like if you're aged up or something in a little half of your body is Crystal about how much they use your talent for theirs and you saw Floyd's older brother John Dory oh so you and a diamond prison he tried to break the diamond prison but nothing works and you told him to leave of the twins will get him and he did he promised to get help. You really did not like the twins at all well you got a little comfortable with veneer he was not as bad as his sister for some what he was nice to you and he feels bad for you he does not want to really want to use your talent for his great but saying an popular or fortune or more important and he care about his sister. All of all you wish you was with Floyd you could have told him that you love him and more than a friend way if you wasn't so shy about it. Oh you did was just sing a bit you were singing half your heart out thinking about the memories you had when you spend time with Floyd and he was your best friend and your crush and then you went to sleep which was uncomfortable by the way you wish to sleep next to Floyd because his calm snoozing voice always hope you relax and sleep better it just feels empty without him.

When you were just sleeping you hear a noise and you slowly open your eyes to see Poppy branch and Floyd your heart stop when you saw floyd he change a lot his different look make him more attractive but still look cute though but you hide your friend and stop blushing and you told them to get out where they can or else the twins will get them Floyd looked at you in sadness because he told you how much he miss you and it feels awful without you you felt your face burning a bit like you're blushing but you're happy that Floyd misses you haven't forgot about you then when you heard Velvet and veneer talking down the hall leave or hide somewhere there between can't see and. Floyd look at you one more time went somewhere so he will be seen by the twins.

You was shocked is missing the boys that have captured by velvet and veneer they it was arguing about something you wasn't paying attention at all Floyd looked at you and shocked is he the state you're in your hair was almost white completely White you are so pale as a white snow and have your body being Crystal the others saw that too they're trying to do in their best to help you. When the final moment and Poppy and branch and Poppy sisters who got all the brothers out of there they're still in the diamond prison but at least they're out except for you who was attached to Velvet but you were so pale you you almost got nothing left anymore could you feel like dying of course Floyd can't stand around and do nothing and let you die so everybody including Floyd was singing the perfect Harmony and you're not attached to Velvet and you was floating singing it was working it's broke the diamond prison everything was fine except you was Crystal troll you were falling into Floyd catch you. Poppy and her sister branch in his brothers and Floyd were crying upset and didn't save you in time and Floyd was talking about how he wished he could confess his love to you but little did he know you heard that you were listening your face became normal and you had a smile on your face everyone was happy included Floyd and you were blushing because Floyd's love to you then you told me you did love him too so you both kiss and the crowd cheered more than ever and veneer you told his fans and his sister that him and his sister were frauds and told the truth about it but the twins got arrested the everyone went back home and you were happy with your new boyfriend Floyd.

( hi everyone I want to say thank you for liking my post I saw that people like my first Floyd x reader I wasn't expecting to get that much since 4 town or turning red post but anyway I'm glad you like it and to be honest I like Floyd too I guess you could say he's my favorite from trolls band together and. That all I have to say is thank you and bye 👋❤️)

[alexkaneinq]

Rabbit's Greed

Rating: Explicit

Contents: Wolf/Bunny, shifters, size difference, rimming, anal sex, knotting, multiple orgasms, praise kink, prostate milking. Light belly bulge, cum inflation, scent kink.

Word Count: 7,423

As a rabbit shifter, Boyd has never been taken seriously in the village. Of course he hasn't been. He's small, barely reaching five foot two, thin as a rail everywhere except his strong legs, and barely noticeable around his brother and sister who took after their ox father. He is small, and like all other small shifters, he is overlooked by most. 

And that is perfectly fine by him. No one gives attention to a small bunny darting around large rooms filled with bigger shifters as the evening of revelry starts in the tavern. The Dusty Firefly is a huge tavern, with the first level holding the main bar, the second holding a few private rooms for rent as well as the place where the high-rollers hold their games separate from the common hands of cards and dice that people get up to in the corners of the first level. And the third floor has the rest of the rentable rooms for travelers going through the city. It's a large, lively place where plenty of other creatures come for a night of indulgence, to find companionship, and gamble-- and it's a place where a small, plain rabbit can go unnoticed as he slips through the crowds and slices coin purses from belts. 

He's careful, he's been doing this for six years now, and he only ever takes a few coins from each before dropping the pouch near their feet so that when they stand to leave the table, or bar, they find the rest on the floor. Usually they look startled, sheepish maybe, that something like that could happen, relieved that they didn't end up losing the thing entirely, enough so, that if they do notice a bit of money missing, they think it must have been scattered to the floor, and are mostly grateful that more wasn't lost. Boyd hasn't made a name for himself as a thief because he is a rabbit, he is small, and skittish, and incapable of being a threat-- or even an annoyance-- to most other large shifters from predator to prey. That suits him just fine. No one pays him any attention and they can go on pretending that the money he gets selling baskets at market is what lets him live in his little apartment. 

Tonight, he knows, will be a good one because spring is right around the corner. Deer have grown their antlers, and everyone is awake from their winter slumber if they chose to slip into it, and they are all desperate to find someone to spend time with in the coming weeks to sate their instincts. Which means that the Firefly will be stuffed to the brim with people who are already too distracted to focus on anything other than finding a partner. He ignores his own need as he prepares for the night. He doesn't have a taste for other rabbits, especially doe, given he doesn't want children or anyone else peeking in on the little life he's carved out for himself. He still makes sure that he puts a bit of effort into his appearance for the night, wearing a loose, open top of pale olive green to make the green bursts in his hazel eyes stand out a bit more, and carefully mussing his curls so that they look appealingly tousled instead of wild, and puts on a pair of dark, tighter trousers that he tucks into his boots before tucking his shirt into the pants so that it bunches up artfully. His belt goes around his waist with his own small leather pouch that hooks with another leather buckle to the accessory, and his daggers, with their blades so small that they're barely as long as his pinky, are slipped into little bracers hidden under his sleeves. He forgoes a cloak even though the early spring air is still chilled, and heads off to the Dusty Firefly. 

///

He had been absolutely underestimating how busy it was going to be at the tavern. But in his defense, he really, really didn't know that a new herd of deer would be coming through the town alongside a large pack of wolves. Having so many new faces means he's far less worried about being noticed than he usually is, and as Boyd makes his way through the bar, he manages to take a great deal more coin than he usually manages. By halfway through the evening he thinks he's gotten enough gold to live comfortably in his home for two months. Enough, that it is definitely an unwise risk when he spots one of the wolves stepping in to break up a fight between two stags, both hands away from his sides, his attention clearly away from anything else going on around him, and his purse abandoned at his table with a few of his packmates who are also trying to step in before anyone gets gored. 

Boyd darts around the growing conflict and manages to get to the table. There's enough of a commotion that he just gets his hand in the bag and palms a few of the coins. He's fully intending to move away then, but he realizes, with some shock, that the shape of the coins is different. That the half-full pouch is not filled with the round gold coins with the circle in the center, but hexagonal ones with a square. Platinum. Not gold. It's recklessness that has him reaching again, distraction over the possibility of such a big score that leaves him unaware of his surroundings. And when one of the stags goes crashing through the table, he yelps as he's knocked back. 

His elbow hits the floor hard and the pain sends his instincts screaming to run, but he's not the only one on the floor from the fight getting so out of hand, and he doesn't want to draw any more attention to himself. Especially not when he sees one of his daggers has slipped from its brace and is laying among the shattered remains of the table. 

The two of the wolves alongside Oliver, a fox who works as a bouncer, gets the two stags off the floor and starts to get them out of the building. He's not expecting the third to offer him a hand. 

"Are you alright?" The wolf is easily six feet tall. Moon and stars, he might be seven as Boyd looks up, and up, and up, at him even as he crouches down to help him. He has olive-toned skin with a shock of wavy grayish hair that blends into the fur across his ears that is a mix of blacks and browns. A Gray Wolf then, with dark eyes, a long curved nose, and high cheekbones. Pretty features, but when he opens his mouth to speak, Boyd can see the large dangerous teeth glinting behind his lips. 

"Uh, I'm okay." He doesn't dare reach for his dagger, instead taking the offered hand and holding the platinum clutched in his other tight. His hand is tiny in the other man's, and as he's pulled up, he pretends that the wolf underestimated his strength and stumbles into him. "Oh!" His head barely comes up to the bottom of his sternum, and he very quickly slips the pilfered coins into his own purse before he starts to straighten up. It's not a surprise to feel the hard planes of muscle beneath the other man's shirt, but they are noticeable as he pushes away carefully. "I'm sorry!" 

"It's fine, are you sure you're alright?" 

"Yes, that was just startling!" He says, bringing his voice a little higher and letting his ears droop back to lay against his hair. He looks up at the wolf with wide-eyes, brings his hands in front of himself to fiddle nervously. "T-thank you for your help." Cute bunny things. A nervous prey animal who probably shouldn't be talked to any more out of fear of startling him further. 

But the wolf ignores it as the others start to get their cloaks and pouches out from beneath the rubble. "I'm Nicolas. Let me buy you a drink for the trouble?" 

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary-- it wasn't your fault." 

"Then let me buy you a drink so I have an excuse to keep talking to you?" 

He feels his face heat slightly. Of all of the people to get noticed by. He's about to decline again when he sees one of the others pick up his knife out of the corner of his eye. "Okay," He agrees. 

The wolf, Nicolas, picks up his coin purse and smiles at him, a little crooked, his mouth closed to hide those sharp teeth, and ignores his packmates who are still sorting through the rubble for lost coins. "And who am I drinking with?" 

"...Boyd." He gives over the name reluctantly as they start to move over to the bar. One drink. Then he'll escape before the wolf has a chance to confer with his packmates and notice the missing coins. With how much platinum he's gotten from the wolf, he'll buy a new dagger. 

///

Nicolas buys him a drink, getting an ale for himself, and they find a little corner of the bar to talk in. And they do talk. The wolf seems to want to get to know him, and asks about the village, his interests, his occupation as a weaver, and anything else he can learn. Boyd does his best to give simple, shy answers as he sips at his much smaller cup. A small cup for a small creature, and one that he can tell has been heavily watered down. He could have three of these before he even started to feel flushed. But he's just a little rabbit. Surely the bartender, an owl who Boyd thinks must be filling the vacancy for Tara, is doing right by such a small animal who's been cornered by a predator like Nicolas.  

The wolf, who is personable, and willing enough to give information about his life in turn. Their pack is actually three, soon to be five, consisting of his grandparents, parents, and he and his sister who both are at the age where they're going to be breaking away to find mates of their own . Hence the sudden departure from their normal hunting grounds and traveling from the wild forest and mountains stretching across this part of the country, and to populated cities. They normally don't see the other packs unless it's for a celebration like a wedding or the birth of a new pup. 

"If your grandparents are expecting to see you mated by the end of the season, shouldn't you be looking for a mate, not wasting your time with a rabbit?" He offers sweetly.  

"I don't think this is a waste of my time." He says in immediate response. "I'm enjoying talking to you. I hope that you don't think I'm wasting yours." 

"You aren't," Just making it more uncomfortable the longer he lingers as he notices the weight of his coin purse more and more. "I just don't want to keep you from finding the love of your life. We have a pack here too, I'm sure that there's a wolf among them who could be a good match for you." 

"Who said I was looking for a wolf?" 

His face goes very hot as he fumbles for something to say in response. He's never been interested in other rabbits, the only partners he's ever taken were a sparrow and a gopher, both prey and both near his own size. Predators and prey are already an uncommon coupling, but the sheer size of the wolf-- well, he supposes his parents made that work, but it's nearly as whispered about as a wolf and a rabbit going to bed together would be. "I--" he doesn't know if he's going to decline the thinly veiled offer or not, and he doesn't get the chance to make that decision for himself. 

"Boyd?" His brother's voice and shadow fall over the table suddenly, his tail flicking with his agitation when he sees that he's sharing it with a predator. 

"Hey, Jon." He doesn't usually come to the Dusty Firefly, preferring to stay out by the fields and the bonfires there for his revelry.

"You ready to head home?" Jon says, reaching for his arm. Trying to get him away from this 'dangerous' stranger. "Come on, I'll walk you." 

He bristles and pulls his arm back before those much larger fingers can close around it and take away his choice. "No, I haven't finished my drink, or my conversation, yet. I'm good." He only realizes in hindsight how bad of an idea that was. He was supposed to be looking for a reason to bail. But his brother's condescension immediately made him lose sight of his goals.  

"Boyd--" 

"He said he isn't finished." Nicolas tells him evenly.

"He's my brother--" 

"I don't see why that means you get to ignore what he said." Nicolas turns his attention back to him. "But I have taken up a lot of your evening, and if you'd like to leave, you're welcome to." 

Take the out, take the out, take the out-- "I thought you were interested in taking up all of my night too?" The wolf's ears perk up slightly. As his brother tenses further. He barely glances at him. "See you later." Unlikely. He avoids going to their family farm now that he's got a place of his own. His brother looks like he's going to make a fuss, but Nicolas growls softly, and even as big as his brother is, he's still a prey animal himself. He bristles and pales, and Boyd takes a sip of his watery drink to hide how that sound makes him tremble slightly as well. Jon gives him one last glance before he disappears into the crowd, though Boyd is fairly certain he'll be back with their sister if she's here as well, or someone else he thinks can extract him from this situation. 

Nicolas watches his brother go before turning back to him. "I am going to see if there are still any rooms available. Whether or not you'd like to share it with me will depend on if you're still here when I come back. And if you're not," his voice is gentle, his grip very careful as he takes his hand in his own, "Then I had a nice time anyway." His lips press to the back of his palm lightly and he is struck again by how much smaller he is than the other man. 

"Okay." He sounds a little breathless as he says it, but Nicolas doesn't linger. He smiles at him, and then lets go and slips away from the table. Okay. Get up and go. Leave right now and hope that there are so many people in here that he didn't catch his scent and won't notice when his coin purse is so light.

He stays right where he is, finishing his drink in two gulps. It's so watery it barely burns. Nicolas is a nearly seven foot tall predator, he reminds himself frantically. Not only did he steal from him, but he is a wolf on top of that, and wolves have extra features he should worry about on top of the claws, and strength, and teeth. He should leave right now. Leave, leave, leave. 

When the wolf comes back to the table with a large iron key in hand, his tail wags a bit behind him as his smile returns, slow and smooth, and his eyes linger on his body. He offers his other hand and he needs to leave. He takes it instead. 

///

The walk upstairs is blanked from his mind entirely. There's a constant whine in the back of his head of thin panic because he is a rabbit and this is a wolf and he should not be preparing to sleep with him. But he goes upstairs anyway. Goes into the darkened room of the inn, only big enough to hold a water basin, wardrobe, and bed, the sounds of activity still filtering up from the floors below. He hesitates as the door shuts behind him, but when Nicolas steps into his space, when he catches his chin between his fingers, and his claws just barely touch that thin, soft skin, a shiver goes through him and the other man pauses when he feels him tremble, looking worried. 

He's spent his whole life with other people 'protecting' him from making his own choices. Becoming a thief had been a dangerous one that he ended up taking for himself. This one is a little more dangerous, a little more stupid, but he takes it for himself when he gets up on his tiptoes so that he can get his hands in the loose collar of the other's tunic and pulls as much as he can. Nicolas makes it easier for him, wrapping his other arm around his waist and pulling him up, until his toes aren't even touching the ground, and seals their lips together. 

The dull heat of spring feels like it's gone from inert kindling to a flame spilling out across his entire body as the wolf kisses him. He shifts his grip, moving one arm to around his waist, but the other hand catches one of his thighs and uses that to hoist him higher like he doesn't weigh anything at all. Boyd adjusts his grip too, trying to hold on a little tighter as the press of their lips turns into tongues moving against one another and he feels consumed as it happens. His instincts scream at him to run when his tongue is coaxed behind such big, sharp teeth. Teeth that were made to tear into flesh. He has never enjoyed feeling small or fragile, but this-- this puts a need beneath his skin that he's never felt before. 

He moans as he's easily carried over to the bed, Nicolas sitting on the edge and situating him in his lap. The blush spilling out across his face feels impossibly hot as he's forced to spread his legs so wide around the other's muscled thighs as he's left straddling him. One hand stays on his back to keep him steady, but the other goes to his tail, easily enveloping the entire thing in his palm and squeezing and stroking the soft fur and sending a bolt up his spine that has him gasping. He hears the other's tail swishing against the sheets, 

"Does that feel good, bunny?" So good as he keeps doing it that his cock is stirring already. He nods weakly, leaning back in and being given a kiss immediately, this time the wolf licking behind his teeth as he keeps playing with his tail. He's not thinking as he shifts in the other's lap, trying to push his tail back into those touches, pressing back and bringing his pelvis down harder in his lap as a result and letting him feel the start of the wolf's arousal as well. Just the start of it and he already feels a big that Boyd loses any coherent thought for a moment. Nic hums low in the back of his throat using the grip on his tail as leverage to pull him even closer, until Boyd's rapidly hardening cock is doing so against his stomach, and the predator can grind his up against the swell of his ass. 

"Ah," he gasps, his instincts going haywire as the scent of the other man starts to fill his nose now that they're away from the crowd downstairs. Musky, earthy, and... violent. Something in that smell that reminds him of blood even though there hasn't been any spilled between them. His claws are held carefully, his teeth never even chancing a light nip. But that smell is there as Nic noses down his neck and his tongue laves over his skin. 

"I'm going to eat you up, little bunny." 

That should not make him moan. It really, really, shouldn't. But it does as the wolf lets go of his tail so that he can pull his shirt from his pants. Yeah, okay, this is definitely happening. His hands tremble a little as he starts to pull at Nic's shirt too, tugging open the laces of the vest over his tunic to loosen it, but he can't take it off, not when the other's hands are so insistent as they pull his shirt over his head. He expects his ears to get tangled and pulled on-- it's happened every other time he's gone to bed with someone-- but the other catches the ends of them carefully as he pulls away the shirt. He can't resist keeping hold of one though, holding it between his fingers and stroking along the velvet soft fur along them, and Boyd shivers again at that sensation, at the feeling of the predator's large, dangerous hand against such a delicate part of his anatomy. 

"Do you need me to slow down, Boyd?" Nic murmurs, his other hand resting against his chest once his shirt has been tossed to the floor. His shirt that was covering his bracers. Boyd tries to make his brain work through his lust and quickly wraps his arms around the other man's neck, undoing the buckles as he speaks. 

"I'm not glass. I can handle anything you give me, puppy." It's enormous talk given that he's never had someone like Nicolas before, but it has his eyes darkening and the hand on his ears going to the base where they connect to his skull and giving an enticing, little tug that puts a delicious ache beneath his skin. He nearly forgets what he's doing, but he leans in and noses up under the wolf's chin to where his scent is strongest. To where, he's been told, they bite each other to become mates. It's incredibly reckless when he licks his skin, tasting the faint tang of sweat and that overwhelming woodsy scent on his tongue, before he skims his teeth over his skin. 

Nic goes stiff under him and he thinks he's overstepped hesitating dropping the bracers off the other side of the bed in case he needs the tiny knife-- and then he has a hand around his hip and he's pulling him down against him roughly as his hips grind up so he can feel how hard his cock is now. Boyd moans, fumbling and dropping the bracers anyway, but he forgets to care as he's pulled back into another hard kiss as Nicolas shrugs out of his vest and tunic. 

The muscle he'd felt beneath is curved across his chest and down his arms, the skin puckered and scraped with scars from a life, he assumes, of fighting. No wonder he hadn't blinked as he'd broken up the fight downstairs. He doesn't get a chance to enjoy the view for long because the wolf is catching his hips and pulling him up, closer, so that he can get his hand on his belt and pull that loose as his mouth seals over his neck where he doesn't have a matching scent gland. It doesn't seem to bother the wolf as he presses his teeth to his skin and sharp nips and bites make his skin tingle and him whimper in the other's lap as he's coaxed out of the rest of his clothing. 

When he's naked in the other's lap, his cock is hard and curving up against his stomach, and he's never felt so vulnerable. He doesn't know if he's ever been this hot either as he whimpers and tries to get his hands into the other's pants as well, not wanting to be cowed. His cock is so big, as it presses against him, and his hands feel way too small as he gets them to his belt and button. 

But he doesn't get further than that, because Nic grabs him around his hips and moves him like he weighs nothing. The wind is knocked out of him as his back hits the mattress and then the wolf is blocking out the rest of the world as he braces himself above him. "You smell so good, bunny." The words nearly a purr as they leave him, as he moves down his body, mouth first going to his neck as his hands curl around the soft skin of his inner thighs as he holds them open wider than he even knew he could spread them, just to make room for the other man. "Tell me if you don't like something." The words breathed against his skin as he kisses across his chest, down his flat stomach, along his thighs. 

He whimpers when his mouth goes to his hole, his tongue licking a wide stripe over him. His mouth feels so hot as it touches him there, pleasure surging like lightning beneath his skin and making him cry out as one hand clutches in the sheets and the other tangles in his thick hair. The wolf hums approvingly and licks at him again, getting him drenched in his saliva, as his tongue moves over and around his entrance, flicking and teasing at the ring of muscles until he's moaning and his hips are trying to twitch weakly in his strong grasp to try and get more. Never had someone give him their tongue over their fingers, but as he moves he feels the prickle of his claws against him again and he supposes that he doesn't have much of a choice in it if he doesn't want to tear him open on his cock. 

But Nic doesn't seem to begrudge the task. No, the way he licks at him, the soft growls and chuffs that are breathed against his skin as his tongue prods at his center, testing how relaxed his muscles are, seem pleased. Like he's getting pleasure just from being between his legs. His body opens for the other man and the tip of his long tongue slips inside, and Boyd's hand tightens in his hair as his moans pitch louder. Stars, his tongue is so big. It was already big in his mouth, but inside of his hole, fuck, he thinks he's had cocks that were smaller. His cock is drooling against his stomach steadily and he lets go of the sheets, his need so great that he has to have a touch there to go with the ones that are moving inside of him. Each little lick inside, he pulls out a bit before feeding his tongue deeper on the next. His fist goes around his prick as the other man's tongue goes deep enough to find that sensitive gland inside of him and Boyd cries out, 

"Nic!" His hips trying to jump hard in his grip.

The wolf looks up at him from between his legs and sees him stroking himself and growls against his skin. He thinks, for a moment, that he's going to tell him to stop, but he doesn't. If anything, as he watches him stroking himself, the wolf eats him out more voraciously. Encouraged by the response, he gathers his pre that has dripped all over his stomach and uses that to make his skin slick, before he wraps his fingers back around himself. He strokes himself and in turn, Nicolas laps inside of him. His hand moves a bit faster along his shaft, and his nerves sing as that pressure inside his body is mirrored by the other's tongue. The wolf lets him set the pace, and soon he's stroking himself roughly, the grip on his thighs shifting to his hips, fingers curving around nearly to the small of his back, and holding him up so that he's practically riding the other's face, even while he's still on his back. 

It doesn't take long for him to feel like he's going to shatter apart after that, the sounds of his pleasure so loud in the room that he can't hear the noise from the bar below anymore. His balls draw tight as he strokes himself faster, tighter, and Nic matches that by pushing his tongue in deep and moving it constantly against his prostate until everything snaps in a sharp crescendo of ecstasy that sends his release spilling halfway up his chest and leaves him gasping for breath. Stars dance behind his eyes as his cock pulses with the sensation and his insides clench weakly around his tongue. Nic licks and laps at his skin as he moans and trembles through his orgasm, until he whines weakly, his ears twitching, as it goes from good to too much in a matter of seconds as he starts to come down from the high. 

Then the other man pulls back, giving one last lick to his stretched, dripping hole before murmuring, "Gorgeous, little bun." 

He is too starved of breath to offer anything other than a weak moan, as the other moves up his body again, hands staying beneath him to lift his lower half higher so that his weight is easily held up against the wolves thick thighs as they slip beneath him. His mouth goes to his stomach and he licks up his release with another growl as Boyd feels his cock pressing up against the cleft of his ass. He doesn't try to push inside, but he ruts himself between his skin, and he gets even wetter as he feels the wolf's hot pre mixing with his cooling spit. Boyd moans softly, trying to get his heavy limbs coordinated enough to rock back into the motions, even as his brain starts to try and ring alarm bells as he feels how big the other man is against him. He's never had anything so big inside of him before. He doesn't even know if it's possible for a cock of that size to fit. As Nicolas kisses him, his mouth covered in the taste of him, Boyd decides he doesn't care. He would die to try it. 

"Are you ready, bunny?" 

"Please," he pleads, reaching back to get a hold of the headboard as the wolf's eyes flash with his want. 

"Such a good boy, asking so sweetly." He presses a kiss to his cheek and that, of all things, is what he feels makes his blush go hotter again. As the sweet words also make his spent cock ache sharply with the desire to fill again. Then he pulls back a bit, enough that he can see what he's doing as he gets his hips lifted high, his legs supporting his weight, as he wraps a hand around his own cock. Fuck, fuck, he's even bigger than he'd felt, easily twice as thick as himself, nearly as long as his forearm, his head flushed dark and drooling pre, a pretty winding of veins tangled beneath that velvet skin. Definitely bigger than anything he's had inside of him before, and he wants him so badly now, that he can't possibly tighten with his nerves. The other man reaches off the side of the bed and he hears him rustle through their shed clothing before he comes back with a small bottle of oil that he smears over his length before he brings his head to his hole. 

A soft whimper leaves him as he starts to push inside. The oil, his pre, his spit, all ease the way, but his muscles twitch and flutter as they're made to spread wider than they ever have before. He lets out a soft, scared chitter as he wonders if he really will be torn open around the intrusion. But Nicolas, even though he's already been so patient, even when he must be desperate for his own release, goes slowly. He makes his own soft, comforting chuffs and coos as he strokes his skin carefully with big, dangerous hands that could rend his flesh. He kisses his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. Leans in and licks along his ears. 

Boyd moans loudly as his head fully breeches him, sending a dizzying pressure all along his nerves that is so intoxicating he almost forgets that the wolf is submitting to him as he grooms his ears. He can't keep it together then, his claws scraping across the headboard. His cock is so big inside of him and he forgets how to breathe as it keeps pressing deeper and deeper inside. No, it's not that he forgets, it's that there's no room left inside him for breath. All of the air is pressed out of his lings as he goes deeper and deeper until-- until--

Boyd keens as he sees a bump appear in his stomach. So big that the outline of his cock is visible through his insides. He's pretty sure that his brain melts out of his ears then. All he can do is moan and whimper, voice cracking on a sob as his cock swells again and his pleasure goes so blinding even though the other man hasn't even moved. 

"Nic, Nic, Nic," he babbles, tears slipping over his cheeks. Fuck, he's never cried like this in bed before. 

"What's wrong, bunny? Is it too much? Do you need me to stop?" His voice, even thin with his own pleasure, his lust, seems sincere. Really would stop no matter how much he must want more, to make sure he's not broken. 

"More, more, please, Nic, please!" He begs instead. He needs it. Needs anything to make the blinding fullness change before he shatters. 

And the wolf's restraint is torn away with a snarl. He pulls back halfway before he fucks into him hard. Boyd screams his pleasure as he's made so full again. His cock is so big that there's pressure against every inch of his inner walls, rubbing against his prostate, and going so much deeper inside than anything else has ever reached. Nicolas doesn't need to ask if he likes it, if he wants more, the way he's sobbing and trembling apart beneath him must be clear enough. So he doesn't stop. He pulls back even farther this time, and gives another rough thrust that makes their skin meet in a loud, stinging slap. That spark of pain against the pleasure sends his head into the stars as he feels himself getting even hotter. 

He doesn't slow down after that. He curls his hands tight around him, holding his body at the angle he wants, and fucks him like a toy. They fall into a brutal rhythm that he's certain will leave dark bruises against his soft skin and he wants those. He wants to be alone tomorrow night touching the bruises on his thighs as he fists his hand around his cock and remembers how good it felt to be this full, this used, this small. Stars, he's never been so happy to be small in his life as the wolf envelops him in his bulk as he leans in to close those big teeth around his throat again, licking and biting, just this side of breaking skin, as he as he fucks him so hard and perfect. 

Until he stops fucking in all the way, and Boyd chitters unhappily, wanting his full length inside again. It's not until he feels a bump starting to form, brushing against his stretched hole on each thrust, that he remembers the wolf's knot. Oh, moon and stars, how is he supposed to fit that inside? He doesn't ask to stop though, not when he's so close to his own orgasm. Neither of them are even touching his cock, but it doesn't matter. He's going to come anyway. 

"Bunny--" 

"I can take it," he says, not even knowing if it's a lie. "Please, please, knot me, please, Nic--!"

He snarls, catching his mouth in another rough kiss and then he's slamming that growing intrusion back inside of his body. Boyd's voice breaks; he moans so loudly as he's forced so wide, wider, as his knot finishes swelling inside of him as his insides are suddenly drenched in the wolf's cum. He whimpers as he sees his stomach swell slightly from how much is flooding his insides. And his knot. Fuck, his knot is so big and it's putting a fresh, perfect pressure against his prostate that has his own cock pulsing as his orgasm tears through him for a second time. He barely manages two squirts of cum as he feels the wolf's cock continuing to pulse inside of him and fill him with more. He can't help trembling and moaning, the pressing inside of him making him feel like he's losing his mind as it keeps coming. He can't escape his cock, can't make the pressure against his prostate lessen, and even as Nic pants through his orgasm, leaning in to pepper his face with more kisses, smearing against the tears and sweat that are spilling over his cheeks, he doesn't come down. He can't. His whole body is raw with his pleasure. When the other man stops spilling inside of him, he gives low comforting growls and chuffs as he holds him close and strokes his hair, as Boyd keeps falling apart stretched wide on his knot. 

He doesn't know how long it takes for his knot to start to shrink just the barest bit, but when it does, Nic starts to roll his hips again. He's not fucking him like he did before, but he's grinding and rubbing, and he's already touching every oversensitive part of his body. It's too soon for him to get more than half hard again, but even that has him sobbing harder around the pleasure. He can't. This is too much, he can't possibly feel any better than he already does. The wolf shifts a hand to play with his tail again and Boyd whimpers, mortified, as his cock twitches and starts to dribble out a very thin stream of milky cum. Every little roll of his hips as his sore prostate is abused again, makes a little more come out. The wolf nearly purrs as he makes sure that he's gotten every drop of his pleasure out of him before his knot shrinks away and he's able to pull out. 

Boyd's face is impossibly hot as he puts one big hand against his stomach as he does, pressing on the small bloat that wasn't there before as he pulls out. A humiliated whine slips from his lips as the wolf's cum pours from his body as he presses on his stomach, soaking both of their legs and the bed beneath them in a heady tangle of their scents. 

He's pretty sure he passes out before he's empty. 

///

Boyd wakes up with his mouth thick and stale, his entire lower half aching fiercely, and a bone-deep satisfaction everywhere else. And... curled up securely in Nic's arms. The wolf has wrapped his body around Boyd's much smaller form and appears to be sleeping soundly. Neither of them are crusting in dried cum, so he guesses that the wolf had cleaned them up after he-- he feels his blush go so hot it burns across the back of his neck-- after he'd passed out from how exhausted his body was in the wake of so much pleasure. He isn't being held too tightly, but he still shifts, turning into his full form, and more easily being able to hop out from the embrace as a rabbit. He slinks off of the edge of the bed before he turns back. As euphoric as the night before was, and no matter how sore he is, he needs to leave. 

He moves as quietly as possible, retrieving his bracers and clothes and getting into them as quickly as he can manage. He's gotten his boots in hand and is starting to creep across the floor to the door when he hears the wolf yawn. 

"Don't you want the rest of your payment, little bun?" 

He stiffens, but he isn't doing anything wrong per say. Lots of people sneak out after a one-night stand. "Payment?" 

The wolf hums, stretching out on the bed as he rolls over to look at him. "I had brought that platinum to buy a companion for my upcoming rut." 

Fear pulses through him followed hotly by his indignance. "I'm a thief not a whore. If you want that, you can find it at the brothel." He digs into his pouch, furious with himself for getting caught, for being duped by the pretty smile and charming words. He pulls the platinum pieces he'd taken from his purse and tosses them onto the floor. He drops his boots back to the ground, intent on shoving his feet back into them and making himself scarce just in case the wolf decides to send the guards after him. 

The bed creeks as he gets out of it and he flicks his remaining dagger into his hand, whirling to press it to the wolf's chest as he moves across the small room and into his space. Nicolas regards the small knife without any fear, but keeps his hands raised slightly at his sides. "If I treated you like a whore, then I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention when I invited you into bed last night." He reaches for him, hand cupping the side of his face. Boyd puts the blade to his wrist, but it doesn't deter him. His thumb strokes softly over his cheek. "Keep the platinum if you want it. My only hope is that you enjoyed last night as much as it seemed like you were." 

He hesitates. "Why didn't you call the guards last night? I robbed you." 

"You did. You robbed half a dozen other people too, if my count is right. But you never took more than they could spare. That's about as much honor as I suppose a thief can manage." His lips curl up into that soft smile again. "And why shouldn't you? When none of them will even give you the time of day? Even small creatures can be dangerous when they're overlooked." He shifts his hand, carefully brushing his thumb along the edge of the dagger to feel its sharpness. "I won't call the guards on you, and you never have to see me again, little bunny. But if you want to," he takes a step back, his tail swaying nervously near his ankles. "Then I'll be here for another three days before I find someone else to spend my rut with." 

He hesitates, but after another second, the wolf turns to go back to the bed, giving him a good look at the muscle corded along his back and down to his sculpted ass as his tail swishes. He tries to shake away the little pulse of heat that puts in his veins and slips the knife back into his bracer before he finishes putting on his boots. "Don't hold your breath." He grumbles, the humiliation sitting under his skin as he opens the door. 

"I may." Amusement clear in the other's voice. Boyd huffs and slinks away from the room, heading back home as swiftly as possible in case he changes his mind about calling the guards. 

///

It's not too long before he's in his apartment again, stripping away his clothes so he can go take a proper bath. There are bruises against his thighs and ass, little shadows of them around his hips as well from being held in the position that the wolf wanted. They ache softly when he touches them and that little sting feels good under his skin. He tries not to think about that too hard as he goes and scrubs his skin clean of the wolf's scent. 

When he gets back out of the bathroom, he dresses in soft sleep clothes, more than ready to eat and then return to bed for the rest of the day. But he pauses as he passes his purse that he'd set on his side table. He opens it back up and finds that he had really managed quite a good score the night before. Definitely enough to live off of for a few months. 

The single platinum piece still sitting amongst the gold begs the question of if he'll seek out the wolf again before he leaves. Boyd moves into his kitchen as he refuses to answer until he has some distance from the night before. 

Thanks for reading! If you liked this story and would like to see more of my work consider following! If you have a story you would like to see made real, my DMs are open for commissions!

[seangelfish]

buster bros with a younger sister.. you,, SHAKES YOU !! sobbing it was so so cute !! i love how you interpretated it and how each bro had a different relationship w/ her !! it was very heartwarming aughhuhuuhhh

so,, im back to request more yippee !! could i request ichiro dating someone ? what would their relationship be like, how would his brothers react and most importantly would they approve,,

sorry if this is too much i just love buster bros a completely normal amount,,

A/N: I'm so glad you liked it as I had so much fun writing it! And of course, I'm loving the Ichiro requests from you haha~ I am SO sorry this took so long, but I hope you will also like this one too! (´꒳`)♡

Relationship headcanons

Ichiro Yamada x reader ♡ Genres/types: Fluff, headcanons, established relationship, she/her pronouns, not proofread! ♡ Word count: 854 ♡ Synopsis: Headcanons of what Ichiro is like in a relationship and how his brothers react to it.

– Ichiro would be the best lover you could ever ask for. He's so attentive and loving that it melts your heart. He knows every little thing about you that you were sure he wouldn't remember, so it would always be a sweet surprise when he'd gift you your favourite snack or drink.

– Despite how busy he is, you're always on his mind. Whenever he thinks about you, a smile never fails to creep up on his face. He's always hoping that your day goes the way you want it to, but if it doesn't, he'll always be there to cheer you up!

– His love language would definitely be acts of service. If you want something done, he'll do it in seconds. If you can't or don't have the motivation to run your usual errands, he'll do it for you instead. If you're an anxious and shy individual, he'll be your voice. He won't even mind it if you can't speak up for yourself because he'll do it for you.

– He'll be there to stand up for you if you aren't able to. He'll even be mad at your behalf if something or someone hurts you. Because of this, the person who has done you wrong will apologise immediately.

"Ichiro, you don't need to do that, it's fine..."

"No, it's not. They can't say that to you and get away with it!"

– Therefore, a relationship with Ichiro would be an ideal one. He's dependent and reliable, and is always emotionally and physically supportive. You don't need to tell him what to do because he just knows what you'd like for him to do. But of course, he'd like for you to communicate the things you like too.

– It's comfortable and safe with Ichiro. You know you can depend on him and he enjoys taking care of you too. It's probably because of his brotherly instincts, but his love for you is a lot different than his love for his brothers. He loves you with his whole heart and he isn't afraid to show it... only after getting comfortable in the relationship though.

– When he first had a crush on you, Ichiro was extremely bashful. He couldn't help it though. You were just so amazing and pretty. His eyes would light up every time he saw you. But he tried being subtle about it. His confession was kind of subtle too, but it was cute and romantic - just like the romance novels he reads.

He had brought you to a place where you could see the stars in the skies clearly, how beautiful they sparkled from where you stood.

You were in awe of how they looked. "Wow, the night sky is so pretty from up here!" you exclaim.

"Mhmm," Ichiro agrees. "This is how I see you too."

– The two of you would definitely watch anime together. You would give him recommendations of your favourite ones and he would immediately watch them. He loves all your suggestions and always asks for more.

– In addition, you would read manga with him too - sometimes together or just separately - but when you read together, he likes it when the two of you lay on your fronts as he holds the manga for you.

– You would cook together too. It feels like you're already married considering you take care of his younger brothers as well. After all, they're kids, so you treat them with love and care, cooking them meals and eating together like a family too.

– However, when you first met his brothers, they didn't seem to like you. You knew why as their reasons were obvious. They were so possessive of Ichiro, fully believing you were going to take him away from them. It was hilariously cute, but you had to reassure them with actions that wasn't your intention.

– You find their love for Ichiro really sweet, so you try befriending them. However, since they were so hard to get, Ichiro had to tell them to be nicer to you.

– Gradually, they start warming up to you. Jiro probably warms up to you first before Saburo does. They realise how much you care about their big bro and how much you care about them too. They always feel fluffy whenever they talk to you since you're so attentive and kind.

– Therefore, when they finally do approve of the relationship, they start wanting to hang out with you too. They think of you as their older sister or even a mother with the way you act. They love having you around, so it feels kind of empty whenever you're not there. When you were gone for almost two weeks due to work, they're the ones who miss you more than Ichiro does.

– Ultimately, being in a relationship with Ichiro is warm and loving. There's never a dull day being in the Yamada household either. It becomes a second home to you where you never want to leave as it's so comforting and full of life.

– And perhaps one day, this life will become a permanent one, where you get to stay with Ichiro forever alongside his brothers too.

Intro page | Hypnosis Mic masterlist | Requests rules

[possessionisamyth]

Usopp getting his t-shots officially after Chopper joins the crew, but he's afraid of needles so he asks Nami to hold his hand during them. Luffy wasn't an option because he'd get bored or be annoying about it. Zoro told him to close his eyes if it's so scary, but Nami acquiesced since it's like 10 seconds at the most. HOWEVER, Sanji volunteers himself to hold Usopp's hand because Nami is delicate and what if the brute squeezes her hand too tightly or worse!!! What if she falls in love with that guy instead of Sanji??!? Can't risk it. Sanji holds Usopp's hand during his t-shots and at first Usopp is more nervous of Sanji than the needle because...come on man, Stop Glaring At Him. YOU VOLUNTEERED FOR THIS!

Chopper sometimes takes a little time to prep the needle or mix the formula, so Usopp and Sanji start to talk a bit while they wait before the needle is officially posed and Usopp grips Sanji's hand. Initially Sanji feels vindicated from saving Nami from this fate, but he also doesn't need sore hands so he starts talking to Usopp during the injection part too. Over time, Usopp's eyes go from squeezed shut as tightly as possible until Chopper gives the "okay" to making sure he's only looking at Sanji while they talk.

He gets more relaxed during the shots as a result, but he and Sanji still have to hold hands or else he'll focus on the needle going in and not another point of pressure. Soon Usopp only notices Sanji's hand when the shots are done. Meanwhile, Sanji has become completely comfortable talking with Usopp that he often forgets to let go of Usopp's hand first. Usopp never points this out by the way.

When Sanji finally notices that Usopp seems fine getting his shots, he commends his bravery and says he probably doesn't need a hand holder anymore. Usopp argues the only reason he's so relaxed getting the shots is because he has the hand holder. But he can always ask Nami or Robin or Franky if Sanji's getting bored and- Sanji's brain cuts off the sentence after Robin's name is mentioned. Absolutely not. Sanji will continue to hold Usopp's hand. This is not optional. You can't just trade him out for one of the ladies- or Franky- or that pervert robot like that??? Bored?? Ha! In your dreams long nose. Hey, how long does Usopp need to take these shots anyway? Forever? Idk, man. There has to be a shortcut or something for it right? Anyways, in the meantime, Sanji will continue holding Usopp's hand for every shot.

And then they get separated.

Usopp has to administer the shot himself lest he risk de-transitioning while on an island that wants to eat him alive. So when they all come back and Sanji catches Usopp in the doctor's office administering his own shot, he pauses. Usopp assures Sanji not to worry. That during their time apart he became really brave and needles don't bother him anymore. Sanji's like aaayy that's cool, but if Usopp ever wants to stop taking shots Sanji says he knows someone. Usopp thanks him.

Sanji remains awkwardly standing in the doorway before asking if Usopp needs both hands to do that. Usopp says yeah, one to hold his thigh and the other to hold the syringe. Sanji asks what'll happen if Usopp messes up. They're not on land. The ship sways, and he could hurt himself. Usopp is confused at this point. He'd been giving himself t-shots for two years now, so he clearly knows what he's doing. Sanji is panicking internally because he's realized his fear of Nami falling for that guy was prevented. Instead HE fell for that guy, but there's absolutely no need to get into that right now.

Yet, Usopp is not stupid. He's gotten pretty good at being not stupid for the most part, so he agrees with Sanji that it might be dangerous. Who knows when Usopp will get his sea legs back! Better let Chopper start administering the shots again, but ah, Chopper's hooves are freezing cold. Would Sanji hold his hand to distract him? Sanji puffs up his chest because of course Usopp, stupid long nose, what do you think he's been doing before the whole thing on Sabaody? This is his job until Usopp doesn't need the shots anymore. Whenever that is. Who knows. There's probably no shortcuts they can take. Okay Sanji please stop talking and call for Chopper or something so Usopp can get his shot done. They are holding hands and talking like no time has passed. Sanji is forming a 30 step plan to ask Usopp out. Usopp probably gets annoyed by step 5 and just kisses Sanji full on the mouth before a fight. It's all good.

[unicyclehippo]

Bubbles

[for @possibilistfanfiction started out as smth soft n goofy for u, then tilted toward sad :/ sorry. also i guess this is canon divergence where ava doesn't go through the portal but also she's fine? cannot emphasise enough that im not Thinking just vibe w me]

//

there's a bath in jillian's safe house, a really good one. it's deep and fancy, in the way that really expensive things are where they're sort of deceptively simple—it doesn't have a billion dials, or jets, it's just a comfortably large tub made of some heavy, smooth material that your fingertips glide over when you touch it.

you're dying to fill it to the brim with burning hot water and just. soak. for one hour, maybe twenty. you heard somewhere that a hot bath is good for aches and pains and that sounds like exactly what you need. you hurt now, everywhere. your body, your skin, your heart.

'ava?'

beatrice is hovering in the doorway. she looks totally serene but that's a fucking lie and you know it is because there's no way she can be calm, be serene, because you fought and killed an angel (big question mark there) and saw and rescued god (two big question marks) and you kissed her (you kissed her and she kissed you back) and no one was supposed to die but michael isn't here in this big house that his mum bought so that she could lock herself away in it and rip open time and space and save him and she let you back into her house even though you let him die and beatrice is standing in the doorway of the bathroom and there's two strands of hair knocked loose from her bun and the sight of it saves you, a little bit. you're going to lose your mind thinking about angels and gods and the halo in your spine and the way your whole nervous system feels like a livewire right now, stinging you raw from the inside out, but beatrice is here and you want to touch her hair. tuck the strands behind her ear. maybe, if you're lucky, she'll let you linger. twist one around your finger so you can feel the silken slide of it.

'yeah,' you croak, 'hi.'

beatrice smiles. her eyes roam over your face. she can't look away and you knew that she loved you before you kissed her, before you left her, because everything she wouldn't let her hands do, she did with her eyes instead. beatrice wants to touch you now—you want that too, of course, but you don't know how yet and you're hurting—so she stares.

'i can run a bath,' she offers. 'i can do that for you.'

you'll do anything for her. you'll die for her. you'll strip down out of your bloody clothes so that she can look but not touch. you'll let her run a bath for you.

'please.'

beatrice steps into the bathroom. it's about as big as the whole apartment had been, back in your little mountain town, but it doesn't feel like it. there's nothing in the world but you and beatrice and the four paces that separate you; the world is closing in around you and your shoulders are shaking from holding the collapse at bay. atlas, you think, was lucky. he was all alone. but there's a girl in front of you who wants to take some of the burden off your shoulders and you want to let her, except the burden is you and you don't know how to hand it off gracefully, you don't know how to divide the weight evenly, you don' t know how to split the world into orange slices and hand her just the northern hemisphere, or just your fear and trust. you don't want to hurt her but it's crushing you.

the taps open. water spills from the spigots, steam curling up toward the ceiling. she pours something into the water—lavender? its dusty, dusky in your nose, on your tongue. white froth builds in the base of the tub and grows.

beatrice is pouring you a bubble bath. you're going to cry, definitely; it's not a matter of if but when.

you sit on the edge of the tub and start to peel off your armour. it takes time to figure out how; teeth gritted, fingers curling stiff and unhelpful into your palms, you have to ask for her help.

'does it hurt?'

'no,' you lie.

beatrice stares at you hard but pretends to believe you, which is nice of her. she opens you up, peels your armour away like the skin of an orange. maybe there's something citrus in the bubbles she poured out, maybe you're hungry, maybe you're tripping fantastic on jillian's pain medication and thinking way too much about the gold light of adriel's church and how kissing beatrice had stung, just a little.

'stand up,' she says instead, and helps with your pants too. she's touching you, so she's looking away, eyes averted. you wonder what it would feel like if she let herself look and touch, both at the same time, and then quickly stop when it makes your head spin more than it already is. 'careful getting into the tub.'

her hands are on your elbows. they always seemed like weird body parts to you, useful only for bending your arms, helping you reach out with your hands. now, when she is touching you there, you think they might be the best thing god (huge question mark) ever invented. you tuck the feeling away for later, for some fun alone time, and refocus on the way her fingers tremble and her hair isn't perfect.

'i'm okay,' you tell her, because she hasn't looked at you, and you think she might not realise—the divinium is gone, the shrapnel tugged out of your chest and belly and legs, even the little bit by your wrist. then, you step into the tub and the water is hot and you feel like it's searing away all your fear-sweat and blood and as you start to half-fall, half-sink down into it, you say, 'will you stay?' because you got exploded a little and if there's ever a time to capitalise on that, it's now.

beatrice keeps her eyes on the ceiling as she lowers you down into the water. it sloshes over the side, splashes a line at beatrice's thigh where she's leaning against the side of the tub to help you.

'you don't have to. you don't have to do anything. you don't.'

'i'll stay,' beatrice says, and now that you're covered by the water and bubbles, she looks at you. looks at your lips and lifts her hand to touch your cheek, thumb at the corner of your mouth.

you want to kiss her again. you want to fall asleep. you want to sit in this bath and cry and hold her hand. you think, wildly, with a little luck you will get to do all of those things and more.

'do you want to get in here with me?' you ask, because if you believe in anything in this world it is pushing your luck. pulling your knees up to your chest. the water is deep enough that they only barely break the surface.

beatrice smiles. 'yes.'

'holy shit.'

'but i won't.'

'totally fair.'

'but...' she strokes the corner of your mouth, and you swear you feel the water heat up another degree around you. 'i want. i want to stay.'

[the-forbidden-pookie]

Overworked

I'm late but happy bday Horropedia 🥺🫶🏻

Tw: SFW, written with a fem reader in mind, a smol amount of angst followed by much fluff.

Pairing: Horropedia (Joshua) x reader.

May this year witness the freedom of Palestine 🇵🇸🇵🇸

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Work in the Foundation was usually fine, the fact you were a Supervising Field Agent usually meant you got assigned, well, interesting field work. But sometimes the higher ups would demand evidence to backup your mission report "Claims", be it for a trial, or an open investigation, and you would need to spend all nighters sifting through both your and your subordinates' files, as well as archived news articles, archived books, archived tapes, or really anything that could be of use.

To say all that left you mentally exhausted would be an understatement.

More than anything, it makes you yearn to finish up work quickly and go home for a hot bath and indulge in your guilty pleasure: Romance Stories.

You're pretty sure anyone of your colleagues hearing about that hobby would be more likely to think they're being pranked than actually believe it.

You, who worked hard and rose quickly within the ranks of the foundation, despite your young age.

You, who thanks to your constant networking and relentless hard work, was the youngest to be awarded with the title of Field Supervisor, bar Vertin of course as she's the Timekeeper.

Exactly why, when asked, you would usually give the far more acceptable "Tennis" as an answer. Really at this point only very few people have any clue about your obsession, and only because they were your classmates back in your more innocent and naive school days. People like this fool who came unannounced, sitting uninvited on your office couch, thoroughly distracting you from your urgent task.

"And then, we're thinking the main character would be revealed to have actually been the real villain all along! Like the serial killer will still remain a separate person, but the way Blonney's thinking of doing it is making Jessica turn out to be even more terrifying!! We'll drop hints throughout the film and-"

And so he goes, on and on. He even stands up and starts pacing as he bothers you further.

You want to groan. This annoying, silly, helpless, cute, sweet, adorkable fool.

"Aren't you supposed to be grounded?" You say deadpan, "What are you even doing here?"

Horropedia stops and turns, facing you properly, "So you can talk!" He practically cries out with mock shock, his face a mask of "disbelief". "Here I thought you'd gone mute, turns out you were just ignoring me." He says as he walks over and plops down on a chair facing your desk.

You roll your eyes refusing to play along. "Some of us have work to get done, Joshua. We're not children anymore, it's high time you start acting like an adult and quit those silly, childish stories."

"Oh?" He says smugly, but you can tell you've definitely hit a nerve by calling him Joshua instead of his preferred nickname. He then proceeds to take a long look around your office, craning his neck this way and that.

You're not sure what he's planning but it can't be anything good.

"Bingo." He says just under his breath as he stands back up and heads for the cupboard you use as a make shift file cabinet. You tense slightly but remind yourself to keep a cool and aloof facade.

He places one hand against a compartment's door and asks: "So then, there isn't a hidden stash of silly, childish romance novels right in here?" He asks, tapping a finger against it.

Go big or go home. "Please, I outgrew that nonsensical hobby ages ago, do you honestly think I have the time to-"

Horropedia then grabs the door handle without permission and proceeds to yank it open-

Or he would have if the door wasn't locked shut. It doesn't even budge.

You smile smugly. "Did no one teach you going through people's belongings is bad manners?"

"Coming from the person who used to steal from my candy stash? I don't wanna hear it." He says dismissively, now focused on intently staring down your cupboard's lock.

You blush, because he's bringing back embarrassing childhood memories of your's, definitely not because he looks really hot when he stops being a lovable goof, or because of the way the light hits his side profile just right and he looks so serious in a rare picturesque way-

You snap yourself out of your reverie just as he brings something out of his utility belt, you blanch when you realize what it is.

"Seriously? Lockpicks? Who goes around carrying those?! Wait- is that how you got out of confinement?!"

Horropedia ignores you and gets immediately to work.

You spring up and rush towards him, only to arrive a second too late as he opens the cupboard with a dramatic flourish, revealing far too many books with cutesy artworks for covers, some with even more tantalizing titles. In fact, their were so many that they proceeded to slide down and out of the compartment, forming a sizeable pile on the floor.

Your stash now exposed, you do the next best thing and head straight for the open office door instead to shut it. This however is far from ideal.

You turn around slowly and as expected, the dork is giving you and adora- Infuriating smirk.

"How. How did you know they were in there-"

"Relax Short-Stuff, I just know you too well." He says, almost preening with pride at his "accomplishment".

You frown, "Don't call me that."

"Don't call me Joshua." He fires back.

You don't reply, and instead take a silent step towards him, then another.

Alarm starts bleeding into his expression, as he himself takes a step back while throwing a glance at the closed door behind you, no doubt gauging the distance in case you decide to attack.

Instead you ignore him and bend down to start gathering your precious but embarrassing treasures.

"What was that about knowing me so well?" You say offhandedly.

"Well- you used to tackle people who pissed you off so- I mean- Forget it."

Now with you both feeling defeated, he bends down to help you gather the books and says: "When do you even find time to read all of these? Everytime I see you you're either writing a report, heading to a mission or coming back from one."

"The car rides are usually pretty quiet, I can read them in peace as long as I hide the covers." You say without looking up.

After a moment of Horropedia not saying anything back or moving to help you, you look up.

"What?" You snap. You know that look, he's judging you. "If you have something to say say it."

"No, no, it's not like that I just... Do you ever get any rest? I'm pretty sure you even work weekends, and I heard you do volunteer work too. This isn't healthy is all I'm thinking."

You blink. Well yes, he does have a compassionate and sweet side too, it's usually hidden by his general tomfoolery though so you tend to forget about it. You also didn't expect him to be keeping an ear out for news about you, it's not like the two of you chat all that often either. You're caught sufficiently off guard that you now have your mouth hanging slightly open with no sounds coming out.

"Earth to (Y/N), you there?" He snaps his fingers a couple of times, and when you're still silent he sighs and continues gathering your babies- your books, and springs back up to stuff them in your cupboard, then dusts his hands off.

You're looking up at his standing form and damn, he actually looks really good from this angle, really accentuates his already impressive height-

This time he forgoes trying to talk to you and just grabs your from the waist and lifts you back to your feet, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder for good measure before letting you go.

Then he seems to think something over and places a hand on your forehead.

"You're not running a fever, but your zoning out is really out of character for ya. Good thing it's 6 already, you can clock out now." He says with a gentle smile.

The smile isn't exactly rare for him, but it also isn't something he usually gives you.

Ever since you set your sights on climbing the corporate ladder... You have been pushing everyone away, even those most precious to you. You've been taking on more and more, piling the tasks and duties up to the point where, sometimes, you just want to do something crazy and impulsive, to get the load off your shoulders even for a short while.

He's still gazing at you, but his smile is wavering. He's still waiting for an answer though.

You consider what would happen if you say yes to clocking out now, if you even gather some additional courage and ask him to hang out? As friends of course! For old times sake! But then again, if you're already that far, what if you ask him out for real? Maybe just for today, you can ignore the far too many responsibilities piled high on top of you and just-

You shake your head. "No sorry, I'm actually spending the night here, I have a lot of work to get done. I know you want to leave though, so you go on ahead, don't worry I won't rat you out so no one should come to drag you back to the school." You say with a chuckle, and wait for him to get going.

But he doesn't move. You can't read his expression, and the way the light hits his glasses isn't helping. Finally what he says is: "I guess you haven't changed that much after all."

Saying you're bewildered would be an understatement. "Huh?"

He loudly sighs, throwing his head back for added effect as he massages the bridge of his nose.

When he's looking back at you his glasses are now sitting crookedly on the space and you have to hold back the urge to reach up and fix them.

Two hands are now on your shoulders, as if to stop you from escaping the truth. "Listen." He says very seriously, all traces of his usually cheery voice gone. "I'm going to say this as plainly as possible. You're working yourself to the bone. I get it, you have some bigger picture in mind, some larger goal that I probably can't see and you're throwing everything trying to reach it but consider this. Maybe it's just not worth it. Not if you'll die long before you get to it within whatever crazy time limit you've set for yourself. Come on (Y/N), you're a field agent for God's sake, how lame would it be if you bite the dust from overworking on reports?!"

He's panting slightly, that speech was clearly coming from the heart and you really appreciate it, you really do, but ever since he first came in today you've had a nagging suspicion you've been trying to stamp down, but it was time to address the elephant in the room.

"Joshua. Why do you care so much? Because honestly the way you're talking right now..." You take a deep breath, "The way you sought me out today, the way you say all of this... I don't want to sound arrogant, but am I correct to assume that- that-"

You can't do this, if you're wrong what's left of your already dwindling friendship with him might be the price.

You back away from him. "I'm sorry never mind, forget I said anything, I'll keep your advice in mind so please just-" just go! I don't want you here when I cry!

But he must see something on your face because he's pulling you in for a hug. It feels so familiar so right that you can't help but melt into it. The exhaustion finally seems to catch up to you and you can't imagine having to trek the walk back to the dorms, much less get any more work done tonight.

You almost miss it, but you just barely make out the words "Yes, you are correct."

And that wakes you right back up.

You push back and straighten up, and he's immediately startling with you. "W-what?" He asks, looking absolutely adorable. This time, you do reach over and right his glasses.

"What did you just say? You whispered something just now, did I hear it right?" You stare at him intently, your gaze unwavering and determined.

He looks to the side, "Don't look at me like thaaaat." He quite literally whines.

"Like what?" You ask, finding yourself genuinely curious as to what he sees in your expression.

He looks back, "Like I'm one of your high priority missions. Don't give me hope if you don't mean it (Y/N)."

You're tired from a long, mentally exhausting day. Your brain to mouth filter is gone, but then again it usually is around Horropedia. You are not thinking straight but you kinda never are around this man.

You grab his necktie and snatch it down, dragging him with it. Your lips are on his in a second, he's reciprocating (thank goodness) the kiss in the next.

When the two of you break it off for air he has the widest grin he has ever given you. No not ever, but in a long time. The intense nostalgia is the last addition to the melange of feelings churning inside of you and the tears finally fall freely.

Predictably, Horropedia panics.

"I'M SO SORRY?! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT I'M SORRY?!?! WAS IT THE KISS? IT WAS THE KISS WASN'T IT-"

You quickly cover his mouth before he broadcasts any more private information to the whole office floor.

"Shhhh! Calm down! I just... I just needed a good cry I guess..." You end meekly, wiping your tears away.

Horropedia stares at you wide eyed. In another situation this would be the perfect teasing material, (Y/N) actually knows how to cry?! Or something along those lines, but evidently even he has better sense than to do that, so he instead silently hugs you again, and doesn't tighten his hold until you hug him back.

You could stay in his arms forever, which sounds cliche but isn't that amazing? That you could get to think of something so silly and cliche instead of the probability of success of your next mission strategy? You take a small step back without letting go, just to look at the wall clock and debate what to do next. You can tell Horropedia is eagerly waiting for your decision with bated breath. Finally you pull yourself out of the hug.

Only to grab your purse and keys, then quickly come back to his side.

"Alright. You win, what's the plan now?" You ask, twisting a scarf high around your neck to hide your excitement.

He frowns slightly, and hesitantly asks. "Do you still suffer from insomnia?"

Of course he remembers. "It's better now but yes." Is your answer.

"Then we go on the most anti-insomnia date to help you sleep!" He announces, opening the door for you.

You chuckle and head out, waiting for him to follow so you can lock your office.

"And where are we going?" You fiddle with your keys, slipping one in the lock.

"To your dorm room?" He asks more then answers.

You freeze. "Moving a little fast there don't you think?" You turn to face him.

He flushes bright red. "Noooo!! I knew you would misunderstand!!! I meant because your bed is there and you could go straight to sleep once you feel like it!!!"

You giggle. "Oh I know, just teasing." You say wiggling your eyebrows.

He gasps "You! I! Why you! Hmph!" He turns and walks on ahead, but there's a spring in his step and he's headed towards your dorm, so you know he's not actually mad. You jog to catch up to him.

"Geez Joshua, not all of us have long legs wait up!"

And he does slow down, but he also throws you a question. "Why do you keep calling me Joshua? At first I thought it was to annoy me, but that can't be right. So what's your reason?"

You consider this carefully. After everything that just happened, admitting this truth hardly feels like such a hard challenge. You talk as you walk.

"More than one reason I guess... For starters it's what I've always known you as... Despite what I said before, you actually have changed in a lot of ways, heck you used to be shorter than me." You laugh a bit, "The name feels like all I have left from back then." You say with a sigh.

He keeps silent, probably guessing there's more, so you continue, "Also... Well, this is a bit embarrassing but everyone calls you Horropedia... I guess I kinda felt special by being the only one calling you Joshua. It's silly I know."

Horropedia stops walking and grabs your hand, halting you too. He's silent for a moment before he croaks out, voice clearly emotional "You can call me whatever you want." Then he goes back to walking while still holding onto your hand, pulling you along. And that's that.

He walks you all the way to your dorm room then stops.

"You're not coming in? You didn't change your mind already did you?" You ask half jokingly but also kinda worried.

"Nope! I'll go bring my tv and some supplies, I'll be back in an hour or so, that way you'll have time to freshen up and maybe relax for a bit?" He says with a small smile, and ruffles your hair lightly.

You blink, then processing the first part of his sentence you ask: "Why are you bringing your TV? I have a TV."

"You do?" He sounds surprised.

"Of course, how else would I be able to play my romance film tapes?"

His mouth forms an "o" shape. "That actually makes sense, I don't know why I didn't think of that. Well there's still other stuff to be brought but this definitely helps save time, alright see you soon." He gives you a quick hug before parting ways.

Now home, you proceed to tidy up the dorm room and hop in the shower, then get dressed in a comfortable but cute outfit and style your hair into something more relaxed and comfy.

You head to your wardrobe and start opening the large bottom drawers you use to store blankets and pillows, and start constructing a pillow fort on the rug, facing the television.

It's not long until you hear a knock at your door, and with less restraint then you would usually allow, you rush towards it and swing it wide open to reveal a-

A pile of shopping bags and a plushie?

"A lil help here? Actually can you let me in?" You hear Horropedia's voice as he tries to right one of the bags sliding down with his knee.

"Ohhhh!" You intone, mesmerized, "A talking pile of bags and a plushie!"

"Haha, very funny." Horropedia's head pops up and despite his words he's definitely amused.

You quickly begin grabbing the bags closest to you and realize they're pretty much all filled with snacks and fizzy drinks... All of which you know for sure are nothing like those issued by the foundation.

"Where did you even get these?" You ask, as the both of you drag the bags inside. From the corner of your eyes you notice him taking extra care not to drop the relatively large plushie.

"Oh you know, I have my ways~" He replies, going for a mysterious tone.

Do his "ways" include Vertin's suitcase? Probably. But you don't say anything, let him have his moment.

When everything is set up nicely around your pillow fort, you turn to ask him what you're watching when you find him on one knee, dramatically presenting you with the stuffed toy.

"Will you do me the great honor, of accepting my humble offering?" He asks solemnly.

You burst out laughing "Wha- what are you doing..?" You wheeze.

You bend down to grab the plushie and admire it, it's a nice medium size, aka the perfect hugging size.

"I thought you might need a little friend to keep you company as we watch-" He takes out a film tape with a flourish "This movie!"

You blanch. "Is this one of your horror films? Are you serious? I thought we were trying to put me to sleep not keep me up all night." You say with an exasperated shake of your head.

"No no listen, you're used to romance movies, they're no good to help you sleep anymore or they would've worked by now right? Maybe what you need is something to wring out all the nervous energy from you so you can relax!"

Somehow that both makes some sense and no sense at once. But then you have a realization.

You pretend to think it over. "I don't know, even if what you say could hypothetically work, and while your gift is cute, I just don't feel like it's huggable enough, you know?"

His face falls slightly. "Oh? You don't like it do you? I knew I should've brought a bigger one-"

"No, what I'm saying is, it's not the same as cuddling with a warm human being."

You wait for the mostly genius yet sometimes dumb dumb young man in front of you to connect the dots. You can tell he did when his face is the shade of a ripe strawberry.

"OH! Ohhhh!! Oh. Yeah, yeah we can definitely uh- cuddle. As much as you want. Of course."

You laugh "Dude we were just hugging and kissing in my office! Why are you getting all shy on me now?" You tug him along by the arm to set up the film.

"I knoooow," he whines, "it's just this is a step further ok? And that was an I'm-really-worried-about-her hug, and the kiss was a very emotional moment my brain just wasn't braining!"

"Whatever you say." You reply as you poke his right cheek. "You're cute though so it's fine." You giggle.

You wait for him to berate you about calling him, the horror genre enthusiast and connoisseur "cute", but all he does is stare at you with a dopey smile, just making you melt.

"Are you sure we can't just watch a romance movie?" You ask softly.

"Nah, we're being our own romance movie right now." He says as he grabs your hand and hoists you up with him, leading you back to the pillow fort. "You'll pick the movie next time."

The screen turns on, displaying the title of the horror movie you settled on. “It’s a classic!” Horropedia says, clearly excited to share the movie with you.

As you both sink into the pillows, the opening title sequence of the film begins playing.

As the horror style music plays, you notice Horropedia lean in his body closer to yours, careful to not make it seem like he was trying to get nearer.

"You can come closer I don't bite," you say jokingly, "and if I was uncomfortable with having you here I wouldn't have mentioned cuddling in the first place."

Horropedia's face turns fully red as he realizes he was not being subtle.

"Yeah... sorry."

His body shifts, and he slides one arm around your shoulders. He then speaks, barely above a whisper, "Can I get a hug now...?"

"I didn't know you were the clingy type Joshua," you start to tease, "and before even the first jumpscare hap-" but you immediately get interrupted by a joke jumpscare, a character that is not the antagonist innocently scaring their friends as a prank, yet embarrassingly managing to startle you "Eeep-" your hands instinctively grab onto the nearest object, which of course has to be his torso.

Oh dear lord. You sigh internally.

You look up at his face, finding he at least has the decency to try and stifle his laughter, though he wasn't succeeding much. But his droopy eyes were crinkling at the sides, and his smile was just too beautiful so you couldn't get mad.

Horropedia chuckles at your expression, probably finding the irony amusing, and the fact it was a fake jumpscare that did you in.

He then quickly pulls you closer to give you that hug you were just teasing him about not a moment ago.

You feel your head lean against his shoulder as he pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you as you both settle further into your cozy pillow fort setup.

"This doesn't count you hear? I wasn't scared or anything, I'm just a bit jumpy." You say, trying to preserve your dignity. The last thing you need is the no.1 horror enthusiast to misunderstand and think you're a scaredy cat, you would never hear the end of the teasing.

You could feel his chest vibrating with laughter underneath you, and he reaches up with the opposite hand and ruffles your hair.

"Uh-huh." Is all he says.

~~~~~~

By the time the movie ends, you're already sound asleep. Horropedia carefully untangles your limbs and carries you off to bed. The day did not go as he'd expected, he'd go as far to say it went more like his fantasies then actual reality.

He tucks you in carefully, being mindful to jostle you as little as possible. He's fairly certain if you go on a second date (you probably will right? This date went great right?!?!) you won't settle for anything other than one of your romance movies.

Not that he minds, really. After today he doesn't think he'll be looking at the characters on the screen with jealousy or disgruntlement. He also thinks he'll enjoy whatever you pick.

He glances at your alarm clock. Oh it was late. He'd better get moving, while he has more freedom under Vertin's supervision now he still shouldn't push his luck. He decides he'll tell you tomorrow about his new, more flexible work arrangement.

He heads for the dorm room entrance, opening and closing the door softly behind him. His last thought before leaving is he'll have to ask what you thought of his movie pick tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the river to the sea PALESTINE WILL BE FREE ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸.

If you pray, please pray for Gaza and the Westbank 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[mrs-monaghan]

Hi, Shaz. I really love your opinions here but I have to disagree with you on the MS thing. Here is why.

For me,them enlisting together is a bit of a red flag. What I mean is it's not just brave, it's really out there. And for them to do it, there has to be more important reason than ''Oh we can't stay away from each other". They are grown ass men who's been together for a long time now so I really doubt that they are worried about not seeing each other every day. They are not teenagers. And for sure there first priority would be SAFETY. Also I think they know waaay more about situation in MS from other idols, their friends who already served, and I'm sure they heard about other idols treatment (especially from LGBTQ community) something that is not publicly known to us, but maybe some more information from people within.

So I think something made JK or Jimin so scared or so worried about possible treatment of the other (and I do think it's JK who is alwasy overprotective of JM) that they went with the nuclear option.

And I do believe that it's a nuclear option, because now they will be even under more scrutiny than if they would have gone separately. So this was a well thought out in advance decision but not just out of love, but also for security reasons.

PS let's face it, out of all the members they do tend to have the most unstable fans. And also I doubt that people who enjoy r*ping other people really care if one is a mega superstar or not. If anything, for some that might be even a bigger turn on. Sorry did not intend to make it this dark(

But this decision to me speaks volume not about how government will treat JK and JM (of course they will do everything they can so nothing went wrong)

but how JK and JM see the situation and how they think it is safer to go together rather than apart.

It's still just my opinion though. I hope I'm totally wrong.

Oh anon I agree with you. Taemin and Jimin were so close they were moving like BFFs one time. And as we've seen this year they're still pretty damn close. So I would bet everything Taemin opened up to Jimin about what happened to him in there. And as we both know these two men don't exactly scream "straight"

So I can see Jimin, his family and JK being worried about him in there. I can see it. But I can also see Jimin thinking he would be fine and JK saying; no fucking way. And now he gets to keep and eye on Jimin, protect him if need be. Not that black belt Jimin is a damsel in distress but y'all get what I mean...

Either way anon they will be there for eo and support eo. But I still stand by my... well, stand that no one will try anything.