#send an ask if you need something added

[shiftythrifting]

Are you ever going to bring back the "I refuse to tolerate gluten" shirts? I recently discovered something about myself and now I need one.

Just added it back to the store! Here is my favorite gf bread recipe.

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[orbitganymede]

18+, MDNI

having a one night stand with simon and thinking you’d never see him again, he was a good lay, giving you orgasm after orgasm and speaking absolute filth into your ear when he was deep inside your cunt. you’d say maybe the best you’ve ever had, but that didn’t stop you from leaving early in the morning from his sparsely decorated flat, a note left on his side table that simply said you’d had a good night and you hoped he did too, you even added a cute little smiley to the end. then you’d gone on with your day, with your life.

until, about 2 weeks after, there was a knock at your door, it’s late, already having put on your pjs and started searching your pantry for something to make for dinner. and when you open the door, your surprise is palpable, there simon stood, long, strong legs covered in cargo pants, pretty brown eyes locked on you, a black surgical mask covering the lower part of his face, hiding the long scar that you remember feeling rub against your thigh. he holds a bag of takeout and then proceeds to shoulder his way in, leaving a small kiss on your cheek through the mask before making his way to your couch.

you want to ask how he found your place, how he knew you were home, and why the hell he’s here. you actually do ask the third one, which he answers with a simple, gruff “dinner”. you nod slowly, finding your way to the other end of the couch, but are met with a huff and a large hand pulling you closer to him, making sure your leg is pressed right up against his. he plates your food, then starts eating his own, makes small comments about the taste and asks questions about your day. the night seems almost normal, like something you’ve done before with him, disregarding the fact that you’d only been around each other for 2 hours tops and almost all of that time was spent by you trying to do something other than moan his name.

when you’re done you expect him to leave, to go on with his night, or maybe you to wake up from a dream. instead he makes his way to your bedroom, sits down on the bed and tells you how he can’t stop thinking about your lips around his cock. and yeah, you fold.

that’s how you end up learning that his stamina is insane, especially for an older guy, and he likes to see your face, makes sure to face you towards a mirror in full nelson or holds you in mating press with his pink (scarred) lips against yours. maybe you also learn that his phone lock screen is a color scarily similar to your irises and you see a file with your full name (one you hadn’t given him) front and center when he rolls over to unlock his phone, he says something about how he needs to send a message to ‘his team’ about dinner this weekend to meet his new bird, you wonder what kind of sports team he’s on, gotta be rugby with a build like his, but your thoughts don’t stray too far before he’s ready to go again, something about three being his lucky number, that this time it will take.

[unintentionalseductress]

Telling The LADS Men to Ditch The Condom

Them reacting to you saying you want them to fuck you raw. Warnings : MDNI, sex, oral, handjob, and general smut These banners are mine, please do not reuse them.

Zayne, as a doctor, preached safe sex. He appreciates the responsibility and nothing is more attractive to him than a woman who is aware of her birth control options and doesn’t mind communicating openly with him about these decisions. After all, having sex was such an intimate act for him that he wouldn’t even think about it until you’d been dating for at least a month. He likes the exclusivity and the closeness of sex, and that includes being held accountable for the choices both of you made in the bedroom. So when you tell him to lose the condom, he blinks, making sure he hasn’t misheard you.

“You…want to do it without a condom?��

His head is between your thighs, kissing and nibbling the soft flesh as he edges his way towards the moist and sensitive folds, and he raises up on his elbows to ensure his ears aren’t being obstructed by your legs.

You nod slowly, blushing as his dark eyes fixated on yours, the flecks of amber in them lightening at the idea. His pupils dilate at your affirmation, and he hoists himself up a little higher, resting on your belly, gently stroking your flanks. “You’re sure about this? There’s no pressure you know.”

“I know. But I feel like we’ve been together long enough to allow ourselves to go one step further. And I’m on the pill. We can monitor the situation later if you want to but honestly Zayne, I think any step I take with you isn’t going to be something I regret.” You say the words candidly, reaching down to stroke his black, silky, locks of hair, heart skipping a beat as he plays with the squish of your belly, nuzzling his face into the softness. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

His eyes flutter closed for a second, the ebony eyelashes resting like fans on his cheekbones before he sighs, the little puff of air sending a shiver across your middle. He crawls up towards your face, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss, tongue sliding across the slit of your lips before entering inside. You cup his face and deepen the kiss, heat gathering in your body. Zayne pulls away only to come to your ear, hot breath tickling you as he speaks.

“I don’t think I’ll regret this either.” He licks the shell of your ear, making you twitch. “But remember, if you change your mind, I’ll stop. No questions asked.”

His words are so sincere and spoken with love, adding fuel to the fire. Zayne, patient and considerate, is looking at you with those sharp eyes as if you’re his last meal on earth. He kisses his way down, pausing briefly to shower some attention over your perked nipples, giving them soft licks and kisses that make you mewl and whine with need. Once he’s back at his original spot between your legs, your arousal has increased a hundredfold, your sex soft and swollen, leaking fluid as he parts your folds.

His tongue darts out, tasting you, licking slow lines from cunt to clit, before slurping the swollen pearl into his mouth, suctioning it with his lips. His middle finger flirts with your entrance, teasing it until it starts sucking in his fingertip, drawing a moan from you as he strokes it along your upper wall.

Zayne knew his anatomy and he never wasted a second in touching you exactly in the spot that made you feel like you were turning into a pile of goo. Never in a hurry, always taking his time, coaxing orgasms from you like a hobby, the breath tearing from your throat, your core spasming from the pleasurable waves that radiate throughout your body. Zayne nudges you through the final vestiges of your orgasm before stroking himself, readying his hardened cock.

He’s done this before but what gets to him as he aligns his tip with your hot entrance is how heightened the sensation is, the absence of latex allowing him to profoundly feel every muscle contract and fully experience how wet and welcoming your body truly was. He grits his teeth, his balls throbbing, desire surging through his veins, almost snapping his self-control.

He inches in slowly, splitting you apart, marveling at how you stretch to fit him, the little noises that leave your throat music to his ears. Once fully sheathed, he looks at you, hair tousled and splayed across the pillow, a flush across your face. He thrusts with care, drawing a moan of longing from you and softly rolls his hips, adjusting himself at an angle he knew you liked.

Every movement brushed his mushroomhead against your gspot, soft sighs filling the air, his lips descending onto yours, his thumb working your clit, gradually bringing up your pleasure to another peak.

“You feel so good darling,” he pants, his thrusts becoming steadily faster, his willpower fading away to primal need. “Taking me so well,” he whispers, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss.

Your body is reeling from the stimulation and with Zayne’s gentle ministrations on your clit you cum with a cry, his hips stuttering as he feels the orgasmic spasms of your core around his cock. He tries to hold on, but it’s too much, his head growing sensitive as your second orgasm sucks him in deeper into your warmth, his balls tightening up and the coil in his belly compressed to a limit until it snaps, and with a grunt, he spills himself into your body.

Afterwards, he holds you tenderly, gently easing out, and cleaning up your messy slit with a warm washcloth, playing with your hair until the both of you fall asleep.

This is a man who’s been taught condoms are the best way to avoid complications. It’s a golden rule that he will not have unprotected sex for both health reasons and to avoid making the person he’s with uncomfortable. You don’t have condoms? He’s running to the pharmacy to get some. He takes these things seriously and understands that it’s simply gentlemanly to be the one to buy condoms. Xavier wants to feel like he can be relied on in situations like this and that you should never feel awkward asking him to make a condom run or any kind of run.

He’s reaching for the box to roll one onto himself when you hold his wrist. Curiously, he looks at you, a sight to behold, a heavenly sight laying on his bed, lips plump and swollen from his kisses, body glistening with sweat from your recent orgasm.

“Ditch the condom Xav,” you murmur, tracing his arm with your fingers, causing goosebumps to bloom on his skin, his usually slow heartbeat picking up a few paces.

“Are you sure angel?” He lays down gathering you in his arms, his erection tickling your belly as he breathes in the perfume of your hair.

“Positive.” You stroke his cheek reassuringly, feeling like you could drown in the depths of his blue eyes, unable to control the little giggle that leaves your throat as he blushes at your confirmation.

“Xavier.” You grasp his chin, forcing him to look at you. “I’ve never been more sure. I know I can trust you, rely on you. And right now, I can’t think of anything I want more than to feel you inside me, no barriers.”

He’s shy, his smile so awkward and his face so pink. This was new to him, and the fact that you’re asking so sweetly is pulling at his heartstrings. After hesitating for another moment he places the condom back on the nightstand.

“All right angel. Since you're sure. But tell me if you feel uncomfortable at all ok?” Xavier rubs his thumbs over your cheekbones in circles, a sweet and tender gesture, carefully laying over you, his chest coming into contact with yours as he tips your face up for a kiss, his hands slipping under you and clasping your shoulder blades to bring your body as close to his as he could.

While his tongue explored your mouth, he raises slightly on his knees and effortlessly finds your moist entrance with his tip savoring each tiny inch that envelopes his cock with aching warmth. He's unable to control the sigh that escapes his lips, lost in your mouth as he feels the wet muscles contract around him, pulling him in. The feeling is inexplicable, the intimacy of skin on skin making him feel heady and light, heart racing in his chest.

His brilliant blue eyes begin to darken at the edges, turning into a darker shade of midnight as he bottoms out, little noises of contentment resounding in your throat as you feel the hot velvet column of his cock fill you, feel the way it pulses as he occupies your pussy.

“Xav… You feel amazing,” you gasp as you pull away from his mouth, his hips coming to lay flush against yours as he thrusts into you, stroking your inner walls and teasing all the right spots inside you. He's hot and flushed, watching your face as it contorts in pleasure, his blush settling across his cheeks and nose like adorable pink freckles. You smile hazily as him and his head dips down to suckle as nipple, his tongue caressing the little bud, turning your moans into sighs of longing.

When his thumb starts to circle your clit you almost cry out from the pleasure of it all, every sensitive spot being hit at the same time with aching perfection. His breath mingles with yours, sweat forming on both your bodies as you rock against each other, creating delicious friction, matching the other rhythm for rhythm, strike against long stroke.

The edges of your vision blur as your climax grows nearer and Xavier’s jaw grows tight, a moan escaping his lips as he tries to hang on, determined not to climaxes before you. His thumb picks up its pace and with a shaky gasp, your orgasm hits, the sweetness of it making you sob as it grips you, feeling your core spasm, and with a final push of triumph, he allows himself to succumb to his own desires, cock twitching and spasming along with your pussy as he cums, coating your walls with his seed.

Tired, he collapses on top of you as gracefully as he can, your hands and soothingly rubbing over his back, kissing his hair, murmuring praise to him as he floats down from his high.

“Angel…you're so wonderful. The best.” his head is on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as he tries to grasp into reality. You can't help but laugh lightly. Xavier always gets pussy drunk and now without the condom it appeared to accelerate to an entirely fucked out state.

His eyes gleam like sapphires as his breathing returns to normal. “Well how am I supposed to be the guy making the condom run now after knowing what it feels like without one?”

You roll your eyes affectionately at him and flick his forehead.

Rafayel isn't unfamiliar with sex and intimate relationships but he doesn't often engage in them. He's quite shy and doesn't tell you what he's thinking. With patience and a little experimentation, Rafayel slowly came out of his shell and learned to feel comfortable enough with you to express his desires and wants. However, he's nervous about how you'll react to him admitting he's been wondering how it would be without a condom so he clams up.

His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are half lidded, whining as he rests between your legs, his back against your chest as you pump his erection with aching perfection.

“Feeling good baby?” You coo at him as he writhes under yourself ministrations at your mercy.

“Yeah… So close… Don't stop… “ he pants, hips desperately thrusting up to meet your strokes, feeling his thigh muscles quiver and his abs growing tighter with each passing second.

“Talk to me Raffy… how good am I making you feel?”

“So good…” His eyes, a lovely shade of lavender gray are starting to turn into smoke as his impending climax builds and rises. His cheeks are flushed and there's sweat on his forehead and chest from the exertion, the gentle crescendo of pleasure building to a steady peak.

He gazes up at you in a haze, those adorably plump lips parted as he gasps for air.

“You're so pretty when you pout you know?” you ask teasingly and as predicted his brow furrows, displeased at your amusement.

“Don't… say things like… that!” the color in his cheeks rises and your own control slips slightly as you lean down to give an admonishing nibble on his lower lip. The extra stimulation is enough to push him over the edge and with a groan he pulses, his cock warm and needy in your palm, spilling his cum into your hand.

Your clean hand plays with his pretty hair as you continue to pump him with care ensuring he rides out every drop of his orgasm, a few more more spurts of viscous fluid leaking from his tip before stopping.

Rafayel relaxes on your lap as you reach over to grab a tissue and wipe off your hand. His eyes linger on your messy hand, sticky with his arousal and he feels his cock twitch despite having just cum.

“I wonder what it would look like slipping out of your pussy instead of your hand,” he says in a quiet pondering voice that has you pausing, a wicked grin forming on your face.

“Raffy… Did you just say you wanted to fuck me without a condom?” You emphasize the word ‘fuck’ on purpose because of how flustered he gets when he hears it and sure enough, he pouts, a noise of embarrassment escaping his lips, rolling onto his side to hide his face.

You quickly discard the used tissue and lay down to face him, pulling his struggling hands away from his face which looks like a setting sun now, adorably flushed, eyes bright and averted.

“Raffy tell me what you want.” You reassuringly pull closer to him, nuzzling his warm neck.

His cheek rests on the top of your head and with a sigh he admits with a hint of bashfulness, “I fantasize about it sometimes. But we don't have to,” he adds quickly.

Your laughter is muffled by his neck as you lean back to look at him. “I think we've been together long enough to discuss doing it raw.” You look at him imploringly.

“Cmon baby. We can ditch the condom today. I kinda want to know what it feels like too.”

His smokey lavender roam over your face, still carrying hints of hesitation in them. “You're sure? You're not just doing this because I want to right?”

“Oh Raffy. There's never been a day where you've made me feel forced to do anything. I'm very sure.” You cup his face between both your hands and gaze at him lovingly.

He laughs awkwardly, smiling shyly and you feel his erection press against your thigh as the both of you draw in for a kiss, Rafayel pulls your knee over his hip, stroking your moist folds with his cock. You whine in pleasure as he holds his cockhead up to your clit and you slide along his length, both of you sighing passionately at the intimate touch. His engorged tip cups the base of your clit so perfectly and you feel your core clench in anticipation.

Rafayel drags his length between your folds one more time before sliding down to your needy hole, groaning as your wet heat circles his tip. You push down on him, feeling the heat of his member, enjoying the way he fills you so wonderfully, his head sitting snug against your gspot.

The thrusts were shallow in this position but it allows you to snuggle into his chest, look deeply into his eyes and kiss him at leisure, each stroke hitting that sweet spot inside you with aching precision. He toys with your clit , pinching and rolling it for your pleasure.

He's amazed at how good you feel, how tight you are around his length, how wet you really are. The condom almost dulled this sensation and it feels like he's woken from a dream and experiencing reality for the first time.

Your orgasm hits sharply, making you cry out and cling to him the combined fondling of your clit and gspot too much for handle. As it starts to settle down you moan in his ear.

“Baby… Give it to me. I want to know what your cum slipping out of my pussy feels like too. Please… Cum for me… Like how I came for you…”

Your voice is whiny and pleading and Rafayel's hips stutter as he reaches his peak, letting out noises of his pleasure into your ear as he cums, and you feel his hot seed fill your eager pussy. As the both of you catch your breath, kissing each other in the afterglow, everything feels right.

Rafayel's erection softens and as it happens you feel the unmistakable feeling of your combined cum sliding out of your pussy, pooling at the crevice of your thigh.

“That's so hot,” you murmur and from Rafayel's expression he's thinking the same thing. He gathers a little bit of your mixed fluids on his finger, fascinatedly tasting it, his eyes intoxicated at the flavor.

“See what happens when you tell me what you want?” you strokes his arm. He nods then gets close to your ear.

“I don't think I want to use a condom ever again.”

Sylus is that guy who loves going in raw but only if he's sure you're into him. And despite the talk of him being the ruthless leader of Onychinus, he's a true gentleman and would never bring the topic of having unprotected sex unless you initiate it. He prides himself on being someone you look to for security amidst the chaos in the N109 zone.

His fingers are knuckle deep into your pussy, wet squelching noises filling the air as his long fingers expertly tease that bundle of nerves inside you while his thumb rubs circles on your clit drawing out a moan of longing from you, your walls clenching around his thick fingers.

“That's it good girl… Give it to me,” his deep voice rumbles in approval as you writhe desperately on his fingers feeling your body tense in anticipation at what was to come.

His lips hover over your collarbone nibbling leisurely and you roll your hips, moaning as your climax washes over you, pussy spasming from the gratification.

He licks his fingers clean, savoring the tang of your arousal before pulling you in for a deep kiss, pulling you snugly against his chest, and pressing kisses to your hair. You taste the musky flavor of your orgasm, transferred from his tongue to yours.

Your hands are already busy with his cock, tickling his thighs and cupping his balls drawing a chuckle from him.

“Easy kitten. We have all night.” His tongue slips between your lips again and gives you a sloppy kiss, a noise of delight leaving you as you stroke the hot velvet of his cock.

“Sylus?” you stroke him in a steady rhythm that has him humming, the noise sounding like a cat purring, his abs contracting in response to your touch.

“Yes doll?” he licks and nibbles down the side of your neck making you shiver. His crimson eyes fixate on you as you hesitate to speak.

“What is it? You know I'll do anything for you right?” He grasps your chin firmly and makes eye contact, feeling flattered when you blush, your nipples perked from your recent orgasm, skin covered in a sheen of sweat, looking divine.

“I was thinking…”

“Yes?”

“Um… How would you feel if… we didn't… Useprotection?” the last few words are said in a rush, and your cheeks grow hot as you make your request. It's not normal for you to feel so shy, after all Sylus was incredibly open to experimentation and exploring kinks with you. But there was something so personal about asking this of him, letting a part of him sit within you so intimately and the vulnerability made you feel exposed.

Sylus rises a contemplative eyebrow, his lips curling into an indulgent smile as he sees how flustered you're getting.

“The kitten has gotten bold,” he says approvingly. “You wish to have all of me? Feel my cock in all it's exposed glory inside your wet little cunt?”

The crudeness of his words sends a rush of arousal straight into your already dripping core. Heat fills your cheeks and you slap his shoulder.

“Don't say it like that!”

“isn't it the truth though?” Sylus rolls you on top of him as he lays back against the pillows, enjoying the view of your soft body. “Don't you want to feel every inch of my veiny cock fill you, rub your sensitive walls and fuck you senseless? All the while your tight little pussy keeps getting wetter for me and you can't do anything except helplessly moan and let me stuff you with my seed?”

His ruby eyes glitter sinfully as he watches you squirm under his gaze. How cute. His fingers idly stroke your sides, your hands full of his cock but momentarily frozen from his teasing.

“Don't feel like you have to stop on account of me sweetie,” he prompts, then can't stop himself from laughing as you hasten to continue with your strokes. “You fluster so easily.”

“Anyone would if spoken to that way!”

“Oh no sweetie. I doubt anyone else would have such an adorable reaction. Why can't you just admit that you want me in you, no barriers, just raw and primal like animals?”

Your nails scratch over his abs, feeling them quiver. “If you don't want to just say so.”

“Don't be that way.” His red eyes narrow, hands tightening around your waist. “You know I want to.” His large hands cup your breasts and squeeze.

“Then why do you keep laughing like it's funny?” you whine as he twists your nipples, and grind his upper thigh.

Sylus's eyes soften slightly before he leans up to kiss a nipple and pull it softly with his lips. “Mhm… Sy…” your nails scratch his scalp as you cradle his head.

He lets go and blows a puff of air over the hardened peak, causing it to perk up more before circling it with his thumb. “I adore you doll. It’s not that I find it funny. I'm very flattered that you want me that way. But if I let my desire for you consume me, you may find yourself pushed to a limit.”

He traces a finger from between your breasts down to your navel. “You may find me… being rough. More than you're used to. Because kitten…” he leans up with you balanced on his body and with a soft tickle of hot breath on your ear that has you jerking slightly in surprise, he says in a feral whisper, “the thought of burying myself in your cunt with no condom on, feeling how you clench and get turned on for me makes me want to eat you alive.”

Blood rushes to your face and Sylus watches with satisfaction. He caresses your cheek. “Ride me kitten.”

His eyes darken as you glance at him under lowered lashes. You crawl over his body on your hands and knees hovering your slick core over his hard length. He sucks in a breath as you lower your hips, teasingly brushing his tip against your wet hole, the sensation of so inviting it takes all his willpower not to slam into you mercilessly. He knew he wouldn't be able to control himself if he was on top, wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking. Putting you in control was the wise choice here.

“Fuck kitten,” he growls, his fingers digging into your hips. “You feel so good. So wet for me.”

Sylus's cock stretches you deliciously as you take him in, feeling his veins and heat pulsate achingly inside you. You whine as you fit him in, you whine each time because he's just so big, and it takes a while to adjust and take him. It never fails to make him smirk but today he's watching intently wondering how he's supposed to last with your pussy gripping him like a glove and enveloping him with your needy heat.

When you finally bottom out, both of you take a collective breath and feeling so full, feeling how he fits inside you. Resting your palms on his chest you start to move, lifting your body up feeling him stroke your inner walls and start to ride him.

You start slow, setting a pace that has him groaning, holding your hips so tightly it hurt but you continue, angling your body until you feel his engorged head brush your gspot. His teeth are gritted as he slips a finger between your legs and finds your hardened clit, stroking it to match your movements.

The texture of his cock has you moaning, his gentle movements on your clit pushing you closer to him edge. Sylus lets out a hiss of air, trying not to disturb your pace but his will is being ripped to shreds.

You were so warm. So tight and wet. And claiming you without a condom in his opinion only solidified further that you were his. Marked, claimed, and rightfully his in the most biblical sense.

Your pace picks up as you ride him, needing more friction pathetic noises leaving your throat as you chase your orgasm. Your thighs quiver and burn from the effort but you're so close that you push through the pain, gasping as Sylus firmly presses into the little bud.

“You're so cute like this, struggling on my cock. Let go for me sweetie… Make a mess all over me.”

His words are a sinful request mingling with the sounds of slapping skin and lewd noises of need. With a loud breath of desire, you cum all over him, eyes squeezing shut at the pleasurable spasms that rock your body.

It's too much for Sylus to handle, and taking advantage of your momentary lack of movements, he thrusts upwards into you, fucking you through your orgasm desperate to cum with you.

The absence of the condom aids him and with a loud bark he feels his balls tightening and his orgasm hits him like a train, holding you tightly as pleasure flows through him, his seed filling into your needy pussy.

Fuck he was addicted. He rolls you onto the bed and holds you close to him.

“You're going to be the death of me kitten.”

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[plaid-maniac]

If you ever get the urge to make a game or a mod of a game: DON’T

[humanjarvis]

lonely millionaire

synopsis: sylus likes when you spend his money.

tags: suggestive (mdni), sylus sits you on his lap while you drain his bank account, it's for a cute reason though, dry humping, size difference, teasing, sylus is a scoundrel, use of "kitten" and "sweetie" cause we stick to the canon over here pairing: sylus x reader, reader is mc word count: 640

a/n: i don't really have anything to sa—omg this is my first non-caleb post! but yeah i've been thinking of this for a while. this is the most explicitly sexual thing i've written with worse to come

“Why don’t you get that one, too?” Sylus rumbles into your neck, pointing to a luxurious dress on your screen.

You’re seated on his lap in the bed you share, his legs caging your smaller frame while he peeks over your shoulder at the laptop in front of you. For the last 40 minutes, you’d been browsing the website of the most exclusive boutique in Linkon. It’d been Sylus’s idea—To get you something nice for being such a good hunter, he’d said—but as he urges you to keep adding opulent pieces to your cart—dresses, skirts, shoes, you name it—you start to suspect an ulterior motive. 

Restless, you turn around to face him. But before you can speak, he steals your lips in a lewd, wet kiss, his thumb holding your chin in place while he swipes his tongue through your mouth. 

“Hmm?” he hums when he releases you, expectantly peering into your eyes. 

Dumbfounded, you stare up at him before his slow smirk jolts you back into your right state of mind. “Sylus! Stop distracting me. You’re enjoying this, aren't you?” you accuse with a glare. 

“I don’t particularly enjoy being your distraction, kitten. I’d rather have all your attention in the first place,” he replies, wearing an infuriating look of triumph. 

“You know what I mean,” you whine, thwacking his shoulder in exasperation. “You have me in your lap while I spend enough to buy a house on things I don’t need. I don’t get it—are you enjoying this?” 

Sylus blinks lazily. Slowly, he chuckles before rolling his hips into the plush of your backside. “You’re well aware of how much I'm enjoying it, sweetie.” 

Startled, you jerk your hands to his thighs, the laptop landing onto the bed with a soft thud. “Sylus,” you breathe, a whimper escaping you as he grinds upwards again. “I-Is this really okay? You’ve been so tired lately, you can’t hide it from me. What if I spend too much and you have to work harder?”

Sighing, Sylus snakes one thick arm around your waist, pulling you further back into his chest. As he splays his large hand across your belly, you feel his body warming yours, making your core clench with need.

“Kitten,” he drawls, nuzzling your shoulder. “When I’m out there making Onychinus deals, putting my life on the line just to come home coated in someone else’s blood—it gets…tedious, sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if I should give it all up so we can start fresh somewhere new,” he confesses, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. “But having you here with me, knowing I'm putting my life on the line for you? So you can spend what I earn for you, so I can give you all the pretty little things you could possibly ask for? It makes it worth it, kitten. It brings me…peace. Satisfaction.” 

Throughout his musings, he’s been rubbing you harder and harder against his rigid length. Feeling it pulse beneath you, you moan softly and reach your arm back, threading your fingers in his hair. “As long as…as long as you like it,” you pant. “Want you to be happy.”  

His deep chuckle hits your neck, sending shockwaves down your spine. “Won’t you help me relax, then? After all, I've been so tired lately,” he mocks, nipping your ear. 

“Now,” he starts again. “How about you look at the accessories page next, hmm? Let’s see the handbags.”

It’s an hour later when Sylus is finally satisfied with the subtotal of your shopping cart. 

He holds his card out in front of you while you type in the information, and once the order goes through, he captures your lips in a kiss, tender but claiming. 

“What’s your schedule for tomorrow look like, sweetie?” he rumbles, pressing you close. “I think I’d like to look at some jewelry.”

[greengoblinswifey]

The Offer—Salesman x Fem!Reader

summary— After an encounter with the mysterious and dangerously charming salesman, you find yourself drawn to him and what begins as a simple game quickly escalates when he offers you a deal outside the Squid Game. based on this request.

warnings— sugar baby undertones, praise kink, fingering, oral(f!receiving), body worship, ass slapping, choking, unprotected sex, creampie.

The subway station felt like a dull hum in the background as you sat on a hard bench, looking at your phone. The notification from your bank app stared back at you, a harsh reminder of your poor spending choices. Shopping sprees, credit card bills, and an insurmountable amount of student loan debt weighed on you. You sighed, barely noticing the man who had taken a seat next to you until he cleared his throat.

“Rough day?” a deep, smooth voice said.

You glanced up, and your breath caught in your throat. The man was striking, his tailored suit fit perfectly, his features sharp and symmetrical, with a mischievous glint in his eyes that sent a spark of unease and intrigue down your spine.

“Uh, yeah, you could say that,” you muttered, looking away as you grew flustered.

He chuckled softly. “Well, I can help,” he said, pulling out a neat red envelope from his briefcase. “How about a game?”

“A game?” You frowned, wary but unable to deny the curiosity bubbling inside you.

He opened the envelope, revealing a stack of blue and red tiles. “Ddakji,” he explained, holding up one of the tiles. “We take turns throwing the tile to flip the other. You win, you get 100,000 won each time. You lose,” his smile widened. “I get to slap you.”

Your stomach churned at the proposal, but the thought of cash was too enticing to ignore. “Whatever,” you said, your voice shaky but firm.

The first few rounds were a blur. He was calm, composed, and terrifyingly skilled. You, on the other hand, had no idea what you were doing, your tile landing uselessly each time.

“Not your game, is it?” he teased after you failed again.

“Nah,” you replied.

He leaned closer, and you smelled his cologne, subtle but intoxicating. Instead of raising his hand to deliver the promised slap, he surprised you by tucking the envelope into your hands.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Take my card instead.”

You blinked, staring at the card he offered. It was embossed with a phone number and a strange symbol. “What’s this?”

“For something bigger than a subway game,” he replied. His hand lingered for a moment on yours as he added, “How about I come over, and we talk a bit more? About the game, the prize, and— possibilities.”

Your heart raced as you nodded.

You led him to your apartment, your nerves heightened by his presence. He seemed so calm and confident, while you felt like a mess. Inside, he leaned against your kitchen counter, his jacket now draped over the back of a chair.

“You’re nervous,” he said, his lips curving into a small smile.

“Not nervous,” you lied, but your trembling hands gave you away.

He chuckled, taking a step closer. “You’re interesting. Most people I approach don’t look at me the way you do.”

“And how’s that?” you asked, swallowing hard.

“Like you’re trying to figure me out,” he said, his voice sending a shiver through you.

“Maybe I am,” you admitted, clutching the card tightly.

“Good,” he murmured. “Keep that curiosity. It might take you further than you think.”

You weren’t sure if it was a warning or what, but you couldn’t deny the way his presence filled the room, leaving you breathless and wanting to know more.

“You’ve got a fire in you. I like that.” His voice softened as he added, “But you don’t need to play any games to fix your problems.”

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I could take care of you,” he said simply. He stepped even closer, the space between you closing to almost nothing. “You wouldn’t have to worry about loans, bills—anything. We could come to an arrangement.”

You blinked up at him, your heart racing. “An arrangement?”

“You’d be surprised what I’m capable of.” He reached out, brushing a stray hair from your face, his fingers lingering near your jaw. “I can take care of you in more ways than one.”

The way he said it sent heat through you. His gaze dipped to your lips again, and you found yourself leaning into his presence without even realizing it. “I’m down for that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. He tilted his head, his face now inches from yours. “Because I think you’ve needed someone to take care of you for a long time.”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours, unhurried, testing the waters. The kiss deepened quickly, fueled by what had been building between you since he first approached you.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue teased yours, earning a soft gasp. He took the opportunity to lift you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, his hands warm and steady against your ass.

“You’re something else,” he said against your lips, his breath hot as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His thumb brushed over your cheek, and for a moment, the intensity softened into something almost tender.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, his forehead resting against yours. “This could be the start of something very interesting.”

And boy, you couldn’t help but agree. The kiss reignited, deeper and hotter than before. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him on the counter. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of something warm and spicy made your head swim.

“You smell incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. He pressed his nose to the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply as his lips ghosted over your skin. “Too good, really. Makes me wonder if you’re even real.”

Heat spread through your cheeks, but his words lit something inside you. “I think you’re the one who’s too good to be real,” you teased back.

“Flattery, huh? I like that. But don’t think for a second I don’t see through you.” His hand slid up your thigh, his touch warm. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he silenced you with another kiss, his teeth gently tugging at your bottom lip before pulling back to study your reaction. “No need to lie, sweetheart. I know.”

His hand ventured lower, fingers brushing over the fabric of your skirt, and he hesitated, his eyes meeting yours. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, his tone serious, despite the fire burning in his gaze.

Instead of answering, you bucked your hips into his touch instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips. The corner of his mouth lifted in approval. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered.

His fingers worked, finding your dripping pussy and working their magic, skilled and precise. You couldn’t help but arch into him, your head falling back against the cabinet. “Look at me,” he commanded gently, one hand cupping your jaw to bring your gaze back to his. “I want to see those pretty eyes.”

You obeyed, locking eyes with him as his fingers thrusting inside you intensified, his thumb brushing over your cheek when you whimpered softly. “That’s it,” he said, “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t form words, only nodding as waves of pleasure rolled through you. His digits curled expertly inside you, thrusting against that spongy spot that made your breath catch and your pussy throb. You thrashed and moaned, feeling practically possessed by pleasure. God, you really did need this. He probably thought you were a desperate slut. His thumb tilted your chin up slightly. “Say it,” he murmured, his tone coaxing. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” you managed, your voice shaky. “Yes, I’m—I’m your good girl.”

His grin widened. “That’s my girl.”

Your hand gripped his muscular bicep as he stared down at you, the moment so intimate. Eyes locked on yours, two finger buried inside your pussy and a thumb rubbing your clit, giving you more pleasure your little fingers could ever manage to. Saving money had prevented you from even thinking of buying a vibrator. Soft moans left your lips as he rubbed rough circles on your bundle of nerves, your pussy clenching around nothing before he plunged his fingers back inside you. He thrusted roughly and you couldn’t help but clamp around him.

When the tension inside you reached its peak, he leaned closer, his lips grazing your ear. “Cum for me. Right here, right now. I want to see you fucking cum.”

And you did, trembling against him as his fingers pushed you over the edge, your breaths coming out in stuttering gasps. His praises washed over you as he held you steady, his grip comforting.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You stayed like that for a moment, letting the quiet hum of the room wrap around you as you caught your breath.

The heat between you both heightened as his lips trailed down your neck softly. His hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you closer on the counter. He paused, meeting your gaze with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re addictive,” he murmured, voice rich and low. “I want to taste every part of you.”

Your breath hitched as he dropped to his knees, his hands steady on your thighs. “Can I taste you?” he asked, his tone sincere despite the hunger in his eyes.

You nodded, words escaping you entirely. His smirk deepened as he guided your legs apart, his lips brushing your inner thigh. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his voice soft. “And all mine.”

His tongue explored every inch of you, licking from your pelvis, then down to your clit. His focus on your clit, slurping and flicking it made your toes curl and your legs clamp around his head. He chuckled deeply, the sound sending vibrations through your body and he pried your legs open, continuing his feast.

“I’ve never seen anyone as stunning as you,” he said. “Let me take care of you.”

Each kiss on your clit and touch over your thighs sent sparks through you, and you couldn’t help the soft moans escaping your lips. He looked up, his eyes dark. “I want to hear you,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear how good it feels.”

You moaned loudly, your voice trembling with emotion. “That’s my good girl,” he said. “So beautiful, my perfect girl.”

As he continued to worship you, every lick and word worked together, unraveling you completely. When you finally came, trembling with his mouth on your pussy, he held your gaze, his expression softening as he spoke.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your clit. “Don’t forget that.”

When you came down from your high, he stood, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re everything I need,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours.

His hands gripped your hips as he lifted you slightly, settling you more securely on the counter. The warmth of his hard cock pressed against your pussy sent shivers down your spine, but his lips found yours again, slow and tender.

“Relax,” he murmured, “I’ve got you, baby.”

You exhaled shakily as he freed his hard cock moving closer. He dragged the thick, leaking tip along your folds before slowly inching inside your tight pussy. His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment, giving you time to adjust to his size. His hands were steady on your waist, his thrusts careful and slow. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours.

“Yes,” you whispered, and he smiled.

“Good,” he said, his lips capturing yours again, deeper this time. “I’ll take care of you, always.”

The praise flowed from him effortlessly as he began pounding into you. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured against your neck, his lips trailing kisses along your skin. “So good for me. Taking my cock so well.”

Your hands tangled in his dark hair as you tilted your head back. His pace shifted, repeatedly slamming against the sweet spot inside you and his lips found yours once more. “Cum on my cock,” he said, his forehead pressed to yours. “I’ve got you. Just cum for me.”

You gripped his bicep, your pussy responding to his words as your juices soaked his cock inside you. He held you steady, his praises unrelenting. “That’s it,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your temple. “You’re incredible, such a good girl for me.”

The moment lingered, but you didn’t let it fade completely. Instead, your shaky hands found his, as he helped you off the counter and his lips captured yours again. You guided him toward your bedroom, the two of you stumbling slightly as you moved.

“You’re mine,” he murmured between kisses, his words muffled but filled with conviction. “No one else gets you like this.”

The bedroom door swung open, and he didn’t hesitate, his hands finding your waist again as he backed you toward the bed. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he muttered in awe.

You moved onto your hands and knees, adjusting until your back arched perfectly, drawing a low hum of approval from him.

“There we go,” he said, his hand smoothing over the curve of your spine before resting on your hip. “Just like that, absolutely perfect.”

A sharp, playful slap landed on your ass, making you jolt slightly, and he chuckled. “Couldn’t resist,” he teased, his hand soothing over the spot. “You look too good like this.”

He held onto your waist as his cock rested against your pussy. “You’ve got such a gorgeous body,” he murmured, his voice dropping as his hands roamed gently over your ass. “You don’t even realize how stunning you are, do you?”

You felt his gaze on you lingering, as you wiggled onto his cock, “That’s it, bring that ass back just like that for me. You’re so perfect.”

You met his thrusts as he rolled his hips, his cock disappearing inside your pussy. Each time he bottomed out, his cock was covered in your cream.

“Fuck, you’re really enjoying this baby,” he hummed, staring at how wet you got his shaft.

He held you steady, his hands molding to your curves, his cock brushing against your cervix with each thrust, his voice warm as he leaned closer. “You’re incredible,” he said, his breath brushing against your ear. “Every single part of you fucking especially this.” He squeezed your ass gently, his admiration clear.

He placed a soft kiss on the back of your shoulder before wrapping his hand around your neck to bring you closer so you were arching off him. His pace quickened, each thrust deep, as he held you by your neck securely in place. You arched deeper instinctively, your back pressing against his chest, and his breath warmed your ear.

“Let me hear you,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “Cum for me.”

Your breaths quickened, and you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped you just as he requested. His grip was firm and his words spilled effortlessly, “That’s my good girl. You’re incredible.”

As everything built to a crescendo, you felt yourself shudder. His hand on your throat tightened slightly, steadying you through the moment. The world around you faded, leaving only his cock moving inside you, anchoring you. You were still squirting as he pounded into you and soon, you felt his sticky cum coat your walls.

When it was over, he pulled you close, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re breathtaking,” he said softly before retreating, leaving you to catch your breath.

Moments later, he appeared with a damp cloth, cleaning you up with a care that seemed to contradict his character. He set it aside, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk that was entirely too charming.

“So,” he said casually, folding his arms, “about those bank account details.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. He grinned, the shine in his eyes unmistakable.

“Relax,” he added with a soft chuckle, leaning down to brush a lock of hair from your face. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

[ghostly-whiskey]

simon riley who you "meet" through a program where you can send care packages to soldiers. you don't think much of it at first, just a simple package with a few necessities and treats. and along with that, a short, but genuine and handwritten letter thanking the unknown soldier to you for their service.

and when you go to retrieve your mail a few weeks later after getting home from work, brows furrowing together as you shuffle through the stack of envelopes.

bill. another bill. advertisement. paycheck. handwritten addressed envelope from 'ghost'.

your brain doesn't even connect the dots until you are inside, fingers gently picking at the envelope until your able to drag a finger through the seal to open it. a simple piece of what looks like notebook paper is pulled from inside. unfolding it, eyes quickly scan the letter to get an idea what it's about.

you've done plenty of care packages before. never did you get a personalized thank you letter back, so, this was a first. the letter starting off by thank you for the package and that he enjoyed the items, especially the "sweet treats". the two words put in quotations as he referred to what you referred to them as in your own letter. your own brain cringing slightly as you remember what you wrote.

again, thank you for all that you do and enjoy the sweet treats!

and while you expected the letter to end after thanking you, it didn't. additional lines asking about you. the sets of questions ranging from asking how long have you been doing the care packages to general questions about yourself. then, at the very end, after signing off as 'ghost', you couldn't help but notice the chicken scratch of handwriting that added:

p.s. you don't need to respond back if you don't want to, just figured it be nice to get something back in return. thanks again.

[grughoul]

Can you do that for me?

Pairings: ruined!Jayce x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

Wordcount: 4.2 k

Warnings: Some canon stuff (beware spoilers), pinv sex, angst, fluff, fingering, slight handjob, choking, biting, creampie, doggy, missionary, cowgirl (a lot of positions), sub/dom/switch!Jayce, power struggle, fight for dominance, praise (f and m recieving), spanking, overstimulation, "I love you", difficult feelings, hot depraved Jayce.

AN: Not proofread, I intend to make a few changes to it later but wanted to get it out. Might be spelling mistakes. I tried to fit a bit of everything into this. ENJOY GIRLIES🎀

Having pulled the curtains aside, a vigilant man inspects the dark streets below. "He's almost here, ma'am," the man says, eyes following the subject. There's a slight stiffnes to his stance, as if he's readying himself for a fight. "What do you want us to do?"

"Let him in," she smiles at him faintly, attempting to reassure the large man before returning to her paperwork. "Dont give him trouble, there's nothing to fear."

The guard nods slowly and crosses the room to leave, he knows she's right. Yet, he stays in the doorway, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.

Warm light creeps in through the entryway, contrasting the faint light that Zauns streetlights provide for her otherwise gloomy office.

Noticing how the strong wash of light remains, she looks up at her guard to find another question lingering on his lips. "I've know you long enough to tell when something ails you." She leans back in her chair.

He catches her gaze reluctantly, facing away before he speaks. The man clears his throat, he knows he's crossing a line. "He's trouble, if you ask me. The boys and I-"

The woman pulls her glasses of and sighs, done with her work for the evening. "Im a big girl, I can handle myself."

The guard leans against the doorway and shrugs in reluctant recognition. "We're worried for you, ma'am-" but catching himself on his words, his hands gesture to remedy his meaning. "Respectfully, of course," he ads quickly, aversed to insult his employer.

The woman stands slowly, walking around her crammed desk to casually prop herself next to him. "I know," she reassures, placing a soft hand on his chest. "But I'll be fine, send him in."

The large man huffs. "We'll be outside then," he begins, but as the next words begin to form on his tongue, he decides against it, solely out of trust for his employer. If he could, he would've added 'when you need us'.

She doesnt doubt it, nor does she take offence. They're a tight knit family down here, she cares for them as much as they do her. But this would be an interaction no family member should hear. "That won't be necessary, keep to the foyer . . . Now go," she hurries him, careful to keep an understanding smile on her lips lest he changes his mind.

With a heavy breath and one last glance, the guard reluctantly closes the door and heavy footsteps recede.

She sighs, moving to brace her hands against the desktop and preparing herself for whats to come, for what she suspects.

She lights the lantern on her desk and waits. Only a moment later the same warm light creeps into the room. She twitches, unprepared for his arrival inspite of her efforts as the squeaking door slices through the eerily silent space.

In her peripheral, a fallen man stands. He's tired and dirty. Cut up and run down. There's a moment of contemplation between her and the newcomer, she does not move and neither does he. It's been a long time.

Squeak, thump, click . . . Pause. He's locked the door. A heavy thud between metal and wood sounds next, there's a faint sound of coarse skin sliding along fine metal before the familiar vibrations of hextech dies out.

All that exists between them now is heavy breathing in two parts, laboring against their own minds and bodies.

The floorboards begin to creek, irregularly, as if the weight placed upon them has not yet decided it's course of action. She grips the desktop harder, fingernails burrying into fine wood. She can only guess why he has come. "It's Viktor, isn't it?" She breathes, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

She gets no response, the only answer she recieves is the creeking of floorboards as the uncertain weight shifts back and forth. But that is all the answer she needs.

Having seamingly made up his mind, determined footsteps approach her in a sudden haste. Srong arms wrap around her body, pulling her toward a hard chest in a tight, tight embrace. His head collides with her shoulderblade as he burries his face in her scent. Muffled by her body, strained breaths blow welcome warmth onto her skin.

"What's happened?" She whispers, not entirely sure she wants the answer for she can smell him now. Metal and gunpowder. But it's not the type raw metal used for smithing or creating, it's not the metal she's used to. No, this is pungent, corporeal. It's blood. "Jayce, please . . . " She begins, 'talk to me' her lips shape, but no sound comes out. Unable to muster the strength.

"Cant- I cant . . . talk about it. Not now, not yet," he manages, voice rough as if he has fought and damp breath raising goosebumps on her neck. "I just . . . Needed you. I need you."

A strong hand slides higher, knuckles intently brushing the underside of her breast. "Can't think anymore."

And inspite of her better judgement. "Ok," she agrees, whispering, as if her consience wouldnt be able to hear. She's missed him, worried for him. So, her body betrays her.

Laying her hand on top of his, she guides him over the hill of her breast.

His breath hitches while his other hand move downward, tracing her ribs, down her waist, stopping on her thigh and squeezing tenderly. Soft flesh dimpling beneath the force of strong fingers. "I've been lost, " his voice breaks. "Missed you." His hands slide further down to slither under the slit in her dress.

"No feelings right now, Jayce . . . Please, just-"

Two fingers slip inside of her and she gasps. "No feelings," he assures, placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

"Good, good . . . " she moans.

While massaging her breast his thumb finds her clit and tongue her neck, gently nipping and sucking on the crook of her neck. Her body grows to weak to hold itself upright so she puts her weight on her arms. Noticing, he holds her tighter and pushes her weight against the desk. "Already?" He whispers, dragging his teeth along the shell of her ear as his fingers steadily thrusts in and out of her. "You're making it too easy for me."

A breathless chuckle leaves her, crammed between heavy groans. "You work with your hands . . . Mmmh, unfair advantage."

He bites her earlobe, tugging, teasing. "So do you, if I remember correctly." A grin twists her lips as her hand reaches between them and palms his enlarged bulge. He hisses as she begins to stroke it, heat immedietly surfacing as the friction between fabric and skin grows. "Mhhg, that's what I thought," he groans. "Good girl."

He pushes a third finger inside off her, curling them at just the right angle.

"Fuck!" Her free hand curls into a fist, joints having nothing better to do than occupy themselves in anyway they can. He puts more focus on her clit, rubbing dutyful circles into and and finally pushes her over the edge. "Mhh, shit-"

His fingers slow down as she hits her high, gently leading her through it as he supports her weight. "Just breathe, that's right . . . "

Her breathing has become a mixture of moans and wheezes, the pleasure stimulating every nerve in her body. "Did you . . . ?" She asks, suddenly remember her hand on his clothed member.

"No," he whispers and kisses her temple. "Theres time." He tries to turn her around. But fear grips her. "No-" she stops him, gripping the edge of the desk to keep herself in place. Seeing the changes up close would make them real, would make whatever he has come from, real. "I can't look at you . . . not yet." She reaches over her shoulder to cup his jaw, and just like that, their bubble of reminiscence bursts. They arent colleagues anymore and havent been for a long time. Nor is their third party longer there to rationalise with them. A shrap jab strikes her heart. "Give me time, and just," her other hand reaches behind her, grabbing the fabric on his hip to pull him closer, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass. "Like this for now, Jayce. Please . . ."

His head lulls against her back, pushing his forehead firmly into her spine whilst releasing a big, shaky breath. She can feel him bare his teeth, silently working through the consequences of his actions.

He doesn't answer, he only obeys.

It goes silent for a short moment, until the warmth on her hips disappear and the metal clanging of a belt buckle sounds behind her.

Quickly, one hand returns to her thigh to pull her dress over her ass.

"Dont hold back," she says.

There's a pause in his movements. "Are you certain?"

She nods and he wastes no time. Pushing himself against her, his knees spread her legs efficiently, just liked they've practiced many times before. With no further warning, he sinks into her. One hand crossing over her waist as the other grabs her shoulder, then sets a ruthless pace.

Somehow she knows he needs to get this out of him, the pent of fury and need. But she doesnt complain, he always knew what he was doing.

The sound of slapping fills her office, while the lewd squelching from her previous orgasm further spurs them on. He bends over her, changing his grip. Fingers snaking around her throat as his knee and free hand work together to fish one of her legs onto the desk, hitting her deeper, harder. His thrusts are no longer about speed, but of that one special little spot.

He puts pressure on her throat, almost painstakingly so. But it feels heavenly and she wouldn't have it any other way.

With each rut, his members perfectly fills her. His face is next to hers and he kisses had bites around her neck and ear, making sure she knows how good he makes her fell by grunting and moaning right into her ear. It makes that pulsing in her core worse, and he seems to notice.

"Yeah, you like that?" He groans, kissing her soft skin right behind the ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, voice vibrating with the bumping of their bodies. Doing her best to keep silent, afraid that one of her guards suddenly decides to check up on her.

"Let me hear you, use your words," he breathes, flexing the fingers around her throat and biting her shoulder.

"Fuck-" her knuckles and nails take turns in destroying her desk, scratching and denting the expensive wood grain. "I like making you, mmh . . . feel good." She manages, words stuttering between thrusts.

He gently pulls on her ear with his teeth. "Good," he whispers, then releases her throat and places his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her against the desktop.

Slap. His hands comes down on her ass, then gripping the plump flesh hard to lessen some of the stinging. A jolt of electricity shoots through her and her insides clench arouns him.

Jayce whimpers from the sudden, godlike pleasure. "Wanna hear you, honey, don't be shy." His hand comes down again, harder this time.

She squeezes around him, nerves on fire as she feels her second climax building up inside her. She moans as tears run down her face, happy pleasurable tears only Jayce has been able to produce.

"That's it . . ." He slaps her ass a third time, and the wall inside her core crumbles. With a whimper, she comes. "You did so good, lovely, im almost there," he assures her. Tears stream down her face as his thrusts grow irregular, but continues to pleasure her body. "Fuck," she cries, squirming from the drawn out orgasm. One hand holds her steady at the hip while the other slides up her back, rubbing her tender body until he brushes away stray hair from her profile.

"Hold on a little longer, just breathe, baby," he comforts her, such a stark contrast to the rough thrusts he's been dealing her body. Her fingers are jittery from the overstimulation, they ached to touch him, pull his hair, anything. But she can not reach, so she presses her palms against the table to keep them occupied.

As he sees her tear streaked face, one last blow lands on her ass and he too, comes. He collapses on top of her, they attempt to regain their strength as their sweaty bodies lie flush against eachother.

After a few moments of breathing heavily together, Jayce wraps an arm around her torso and splays his hand over her rips, pulling her with him as he straightens out.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and turns around. Hands finding his face, guiding her lips to his.

"Please look at me, my beautiful girl. Look at me," he pleads, murmuring the words against her lips.

She opens her eyes and his breath hitches. Yellow, brown irises meet her won. They're the exact same ones she knew not too long ago. Except . . . Haunted.

His fingers brush along her cheek, jaw and down her throat. She winces at the soft touch and his brows furrow in confusion.

Capturing her chin, he tilts her head back.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she whispers, assuring him as she sees his expression. Pure shock animates them.

"I don't-" his fingers trace the red marks running around her throat and tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. "Im so sorry." He falls to his knees, hands resting against her chins as he hides his face between them. "I don't know-" he chokes and kisses her legs with remorse. He pecks her delicately, trailing his lips over her knees and up her thighs, hands following behind, tracing the outside of her legs until they reach her waist and encircle her. He hugs her tightly, knees sore against the hard wood. "Im not right," he breathes, head lulling into her lap. She can feel wetness coating her skin, running between her thighs.

She exhales heavily and slides down the desk until the hard wooden floor welcomes her thighs.

They stay like this for a good long while, she's in no rush and neither is he. Over and over again, her fingers comb through his overgrown and unpreened hair while the sensation of his seed drips out of her. Sharp nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck, they trace his bonestructure and play with its halls and valleys. The back of her fingers caress the length of his nose and sharpness of his cheekbone.

All the while Jayce lays wordless, occasionally squeezing her thighs, her hips. Occasionally trailing featherlight touches along her legs, watching with wonder how goosebumps rise and fall.

She chuckles beneath her breath. It's the same expression he used to get when making progress in the lap, just like when they first cracked the hextech runes. "Jayce," she says, attempting to grab his attention.

Crouching beneath her, he looks up from her lap, chin resting on the softness of her flesh. His face glistens and eyes plead. He looks at her with fatigue, wordlessly asking for her forgiveness.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice soft but words demanding. She's not getting dersuled this time, she needs answers.

He shakes his head, reluctantly drawing his lips into a thin line as he breaks away from her gaze.

Her eyebrows twist together. "What have you done?" She asks, anger laces her tone now. But he closes his eyes, the corners of his eyes gleaming again. The fingers burried in his hair curl into a fist and she pulls his head back, forcing him look at her. "What. Have. You. Done?"

His eyes shift between hers, uncertain, unwilling. "He's gone . . . " He begins. "I had to, I had to–the hexcore, it was poisoning him, spreading like a disease." His voice is coarse. "I had to stop him, there was no other choice."

Her eyes grow. Viktor . . . Gone? She could only assume when Jayce suddenly pays her a visit, but never dared believe.

"I never ment to leave you," he says, hand reaching out to grab her waist. "You have to believe me." He rouches the fabric at the waist, white knuckling it out of desperation for an ounce of u derstanding. "Hextech isnt what we thought it was, not anymore. Viktor couldnt see it, he was infecting the undercity, it would've spread to Piltover, the rest of the world if I didn't stop him."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "But he was saving them, freeing them of shimmer."

"No . . . they weren't themselves anymore. I've been away, lost. I've seen–" She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. "The hexcore mutates them, changes them. I had to stop him. It, the core."

Her eyes drift the Jayce's hammer posted by the door. "Like your hammer?" She studies the now misshapen weapon, once crafted with obsessive precision. Her eyes drift lower along the neck and over its face, blood splatter.

She looks away, closing her eyes to recollect herself. Remembering to strongly the smell of blood Jayce had arrived with.

"Yes," he says. "Like I did." His hand reaches up to loosely cup her face. She notices how the crystal from his old bracelet has fused with his skin. Her fingers run along his arm and slides along the crystal, feeling it, inspecting it. "I didn't chose this," he murmurs. "I didn't chose to leave you . . . I love you." His hand falls back to his side.

She's taken aback. Its not something they've said before, not while still partners, not before all of, this . . . But despite herself, she believes him. They were colleagues for a long time and affection had always kept them together. He wouldn't hurt Viktor without reason.

With hooded eyes and parted lips, he studies her, waiting for her judgement.

"You had to," she nods, seamingly decided.

Relief and disappointment floods his face all at once. He'd expected an 'I love you' back.

She leans in, kissing him for the first time since he disappeared. Finally reunited. "We'll get through this, ok?" her voice is uncertain, what's happened has not been fully processed.

"Ok," he agrees and straightens his back, carefully placing small kisses along her abdomen as he does so, afraid he'll scare her away. "I've missed you so damn much." He levels his head with hers, meeting her gaze head on.

"I've missed you too," she responds. "But I need you now, Jayce. Can you do that for me?" She places a soft kiss on his lips.

"Certainly," he murmurs against them.

She stands, slinding his hand into hers and leads him to the bed. With his back to the bed, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him into sitting at the edge of the bed.

One leg over the other, she straddles him, standing on her knees so he has to look up at her. His she brushes the hair away from his eyes and lowers her lips to ghost over his. Their scared and quivering, needy to be on hers.

His hands slide up her sides and curves around her back, coming to rest in the arch above her ass. Gently, he massages circles into her skin, tickling her intentionaly.

She squirms beneath his touch, luring a satisfied grin from him. "You look good like this." Her fingers run through his beard, tracing his new scars. "Dangerous." Reaching down between them and into his pants, she pulls Jayce's member free and lowers herself just enough to tease his tip.

With a hiss, he locks his thumb over her hipbones and wanting to guide her onto him.

She shakes her head, a smirk playing in the corner of her lips. "My turn," she whispers and pull the straps of her dress down, letting it gather at her hips. Jayce's eyes immeidetly fall as his hands slide up her ribs with a specific destination in mind. "Dont touch," she warns. "Now look at me, Jayce." Her chest is inches from his face, but unallowed to look and unable to touch, his eyes appear like that of a wounded stag.

Her nimble fingers work on the buttons of his shirt and quickly slides it off of his shoulders. "Ive missed this," she purs, dragging a finger down his torso, her nail leaving a white scratched up mark behind it. "But this is new," she refers to the chest hair she's never seen before. "I like that, too." Her lips meet his jaw as she leaves kisses all the way down to his collarbone and shoulder. Her continues down his abdomen and below his v-line, then there's a sharp intake of breath as she stokes his member, circling the leaking pre-cum around his tip.

"Devil woman," he groans, but there's a twisted smile to his lips.

She returns it and takes a step back, letting the dress fall completely as if wanting to prove his point and oh, how she revels in the desperation on his face.

Her gaze fixes on his hands, clenching and unclencing in his lap, knuckles white from the strain. She bites her lip. "You look good like this," she repeats. "All, fallen apart . . . " She steps closer, placing herself between his legs. "Bloody and broken."

Never has he taken his eyes off of hers, and as she lowers herself onto his lap once more, she finds his member and lines him up. And finally, she sinks onto his thick inches. Still, he does not touch her. There is only a desperate whimper leaving his lips at the much needed pressure. Obedient, or respcetful? Either way, he deserves his praise. "Good boy. Now, touch me," she whispers and topple them over.

He twitches inside her at the words, but before she can react he's upon her. Fitting one breast into his mouth and the other in his hand, he licks and spits and squeezes. Sucking the entierty of her tender, plush flesh into his mouth.

"Ooh," she braces herself, strings of pleasure and heavy breaths return to them. "You liked that didn't you, pretty boy?" All she gets in response is humming between the lewd, obscene slurping.

Alright, then. Putting a hand on his chest for support, she begins to move, rocking back and forth just watching his expression of pleased torture.

Moving his hands to her hips, lips tear free from her breast for some much needed air, only to replace them upon her lips and kiss her with fervour.

She sits up, getting a better vantage and he follows not long thereafter. Unable to sit by and let her do the work. Leaning back on one hand and wrapping the other around her back, he helps her rut against him while he can't softly thrust up to meet her. "Fuck me- Jayce . . . " She gasps, hardly able to get enough air to moan.

He grins against her lips, sharing their breaths. "You liked that didn't you, pretty girl?" He mocks her.

She laughs breathlessly and digs her nails into his biceps. "Naughty," she murmurs and bites his lip, drawing blood. Again, she feels his member twitch amidst all the rocking between them. Their eyes meet and share a knowing glance. She cocks an eyebrow, he blushes. "That's what I thought," she smirks. It's her win, for now.

Unable to let it slide, Jayce takes the reigns. Flipping them over, he pins her beneath him without missing a single thrust. Amidst the confusion, he interlocks their fingers and pulls her arms above her head, stretching her out and limiting her movement.

She squirms against his restrains, testing the limits but he's rock solid. With her legs around his waist, he thrust perfectly into her and she cant help but roll her hips. She can feel the knot tightening in her core and she furrows her brows with displeasure. Missionary always did her in, he'll win. "Unfair," she moans, throwing her head back as waves of pleasure wash over her with every movement of his hips.

He moves one pair of their locked hands down so ha can stroke her throat with his thumb, placing soft kisses on the damage he caused.

His tenderness alone could cause her to crumble. "Put your back into it at least," she whines, realising she only had her pettiness left. Being beneath him, in his control feels way better than any win she could earn.

A breathless chuckle leaves him. "Yes, ma'am," he grunts, releases her and pulls out before he hooks her legs over his shoulders and thrusts back in. Hands finally free, she cups his face and pulls him in for a kiss concealing the cries bubbling up in her throat. For as it stands, he moves expertly and he's deeper–better than any man ever has been. "Fuck me-"

He smirks. "Tell me I'm good, again . . . " Shes uncertain if this is his ego talking or- "Please, please tell me im good," he whimpers, kissing her inbetween every word.

Without warning her third orgasm washes over her, back arching and nails digging into Jayce's cheeks. "You're so good to me," she sobs. "Such a good boy."

His thrusts falter and then he too, comes. Filling her with his seed, once again.

With shaking limbs he falls to her side, one arm draped over her chest. Both breathing heavily as they regain their senses.

"You win," ge admits and kisses her temple.

Yes she does. "I love you, too," she smiles, heart and teeth achingly sweet.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—your boyfriend does not appreciate you, but his uncle toji does.

pairing: toji x fem! reader

content: smut, cheating, unprotected sex, choking, petnames, praise, a little degradation, toji’s hot ass has tattoos, belly bulge, cumming inside you

You couldn’t really pinpoint when things went wrong. When your boyfriend just lost interest in you. You couldn’t even date back the last time you had been fucked. Simply turning his body when you tried to start something, or using the excuse that he wasn’t in his mood and that you needed to stop being so needy.

But how could you? You just needed to feel something. Anything. You were so tired of using your fingers when he left for work. Or the shower head on your clit when you showered alone, which was now always.

Your relationship was failing, but you couldn’t find it in you to break up with him.

You were quite confused when your boyfriend invited you over for a dinner at his parents. Getting to meet all his family as he introduced you with a wide smile, hands on the small of your back to guide you from person to person.

There was somebody who stuck out like a sore thumb. And you couldn’t take your eyes off of the man was probably twice your age and most definitely twice your size. Tall, broad and muscular with tattoos of all shapes and sizes trailing down his neck and onto his toned arms.

You swallowed hard, ignoring the heat you felt in between your legs as you ogled the greek god infront of you. With his messy black hair and dark eyes, a smirk spread across his handsome face as he tilted his head to stare you down. Hands in his pockets as he strolled towards you, your hand gripping your boyfriend’s shirt as you felt yourself getting smaller and smaller under his gaze.

“Now who’s this pretty thing?” The deep voice questioned, looking down at you with the subtle bite of his lip as he let his gaze run over your figure. “You’re not gonna introduce your lil ole uncle to your girlfriend?”

Your boyfriend scoffed, rolling his eyes and pulling you closer into him. “I have no need to. Now beat it.”

You frowned at his harsh tone. Toji’s hands raising in defense as he chuckled. “Just trynna be nice.” His smirk widening when he turned to face you fully. “Now, what’s your name doll?”

Your knees grew weak at the deep rasp of his voice, avoiding eye contact when you felt yourself face getting hot. “uh.. y/n, my name’s y/n.”

Toji hummed, grabbing hold of your hand and bending down to place a kiss to the back of it. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He winked.

“Okay that’s enough. You can go now.” Your boyfriend fumed, your eyes never leaving the older man’s as he took his leave, leaving you with a short. “Nice to meet ya, doll” before he walked away.

“We’re leaving.”

Your eyes widened at your boyfriend’s words. “What? Baby why? Your family seems so nice we can’t just leave.” You tried to convince him.

“We can when you’re looking at my fucking uncle like he’s a five course meal.”

You resisted the urge to scoff, maybe you wouldn’t have to if he did what he was supposed to. “I promise you, i wasn’t. Now let’s at least enjoy an hour for dinner before we leave. Okay?”

Your boyfriend only scoffing before shrugging your arm off of him and walking away into the kitchen.

Great. This was just what you needed.

The dinner was awkward for you. Your boyfriend wouldn’t talk to you and kept glaring at his uncle. Who only added fuel to the fire by sending short smirks your way, his muscles flexing as he ate.

You couldn’t help the way your face flushed, fidgeting with the food in your plate as you bit down on your lip.

“Y/n, dear? Are you okay?” your boyfriend’s mother asked in genuine concern. “You have barely touched your food honey.”

You gave her a smile. “Sorry, i’m just feeling a little sick right now.”

“Oh dear, would you like to go to the bathroom? Darling, show her the way.” his mom insisted. Your boyfriend not even sparing you a glance when he spoke, “I’m sure she knows the way, mom.”

You sighed, a piece of you missing the relationship you once had. Giving a tight lipped smile and assuring her that you knew the way before getting out of your seat and heading to the nearest bathroom.

You stood staring at yourself in the mirror, rubbing at the bridge of your nose while telling yourself to get your act together. You gasped when the door swung open. A smirking Toji closing the door behind him and leaning onto it, his hands crossed over his chest as he looked you in the eyes.

“You know, for a girl pretty like you, you sure are stupid.” He laughed, “Don’t you see you deserve better than my scumbag of a nephew?” Closing the gap between you two until you were backed up against the sink’s counter.

Toji’s hand reached up to stroke gently under your cheek, trailing his finger across your lip as he bent his neck to look down at you. In turn looking up at him through your lashes when his other hand held onto your waist.

“You gotta know how a real man treats a lady. How a real man fucks. You want that doll?” Waiting for your shy nod of approval before sitting you on the cool marble top. Your legs hooked around his waist and your hands gripping the counter’s edge when his rough lips met yours. Kissing you hard before trailing soft bites down your neck, careful enough to not leave any marks.

You let out a moan, Toji’s hands moving to peel off his shirt so his rock hard abs were on display. Grinding lightly onto the hard surface with a whimper at the full sight of black ink spread across his pale skin. A grin on his face when he went back to attacking your neck, hand slipping under your dress and pressing against the heat of your panties.

“This wet for me already? I’m flattered.” His fingers making their way to rub between your folds through the side of the fabric. Collecting your wetness before dipping a finger into you. “Think you can take it doll? You’re so fucking tight. Practically a virgin again, how long’s it been since you were given a good fuck?”

You truly didn’t know the answer for yourself. Only moaning as Toji pulled off the lace material, spreading your legs wider and pulling his thick cock out the confinements of his jeans. You whimpered when Toji stroked his length, the size being bigger than anything you’d seen before. “‘S alright, ‘m gonna mold her round my cock.” he groaned, lining up with your sopping hole before slowly thrusting into you.

“Nnhg— so big, T-Tojii— can’t take it.” you mewled, Toji’s hand latching over your mouth to muffle your pleas as he forced himself deep into you. “Gonna make it fit doll, just sit real pretty for me and take it yeah?”

You nodded with a shaky moan, your pussy stretching to accommodate his thick girth as he bottomed out inside you. Grunting heavily at how tight you were around him, his cock so deep that he could see himself bulging in your stomach through the thin fabric of your dress.

Toji started off slowly. Your moans increasing in volume as he sped up. The burning sensation turning into nothing but pleasure as he fucked into you, ricking your body back and forth with each thrust.

Toji’s hand fell from your lips, the tattooed skin finding itself wrapped snugly around your neck instead. His cock grazing your gummy spot as he leaned into your ear. “This is exactly what you need doll. Need me to fuck that pretty little pussy so good.” he grunted. “Exactly what your dumb boyfriend failed to do.”

You could only let out a cry, your smaller hands holding tightly onto the arm around your throat. Digging your nails into his flesh as you moaned out into the air. Your lips parted in a string of mewls as the older man’s cock pierced deep into the depths of your insides. Fucking perfectly into your g spot before bullying its way to the entrance of your cervix.

The unfamiliar sensation making you cry out even louder as your head fell back. “T-toji- ahh— so good Toji, feels s’ good.” you cried, your legs trembling around him with curled toes.

“Careful now doll, as much as i would love for him to hear me fucking you right, there’s other people out there.” he teased, your pussy clenching when your eyes met his. Your eyes glassy and your head fuzzy as you were fucked into oblivion.

Letting out a whimper when his grip tightened unintentionally on your throat. Drool falling past the sides of your lips as your eyes fixed on his v line, up to his abs then further until you reached his face. Finding his dark irises staring back down at you hungrily before pulling you closer to him.

His large body swallowing yours when he pressed you up against him. Your moans and cries getting noisy again as you felt yourself getting close. “Tojiii— nnh, ‘m so c-close, ahh— gonna cum.”

“Yeah doll? Close f’ me? Gonna make a mess on this old man’s cock?” he rasped, broad hips still rolling hard into yours as he watched your mouth hang open slightly, your eyes rolling back before closing completely as you reached your high.

Body shaking and pussy spasming around him as your pussy held onto his cock like a vice, letting out a choked scream muffled by Toji’s knowing kiss as you came. Squirting messily onto his cock with the quiver of your hips.

“So fucking hot.” Toji groaned as he pulled away from you. Your breathing noticeably heavy as he fucked you through the aftermath of your orgasm. “Fuck, gonna cum. Where’d you want it?” he breathed.

And you let out a mewl as his thrusts grew sloppy, veiny cock twitching against your walls as he got ready to release. “Fuck, gotta hurry up and tell me doll.”

“Nnhg— inside, want you inside.” you moaned, “C-cum inside me.. please.”

Toji’s pupils dilated and his grin grew wide. “You’re a slutty one in disguise aren’t ya? ‘S my pleasure baby.” His thrusts becoming merciless as he slammed into you. Using your pussy to stroke his cock as you choked out little cries at the fast pace.

“Fuck, gon’ fill you up so good.” he panted, “Gon’ stuff you so full that you’ll be begging to be my good girl again.” his cock throbbed, “Shit— there we go, that’s it doll.” Spilling spurts of his hot cum into your cunt. Making you moan at how easily he filled you up.

Toji gave his final slow thrusts before he was pulling out of you, letting his cum seep out as he helped you put back on your panties. Trapping his seed deep inside you with a hum. “Feel better doll?” he smirked, giving you a short kiss to your lips and laughing as you tried to not let him go.

“Come back to me when you gain some sense and drop that asshole, okay? I’ll be waiting.” Pulling his shirt back on and tucking himself into his boxers, giving you a wink before trying to fix his hair. Your eyes glued onto his back as he walked out the bathroom door.

Leaving you touching your lips that just felt his tongue. Your heart beating faster before you were startled by hard knocking on the door followed by your boyfriend’s voice. “Can you hurry up in there? You’re making my mother think you’re dying or something.”

You closed your eyes and let out a breath, thoughts of Toji plaguing your mind and keeping you calm. “Coming!”

[rachealsaccount]

if my mom is gonna force/guilt trip me into being her work assistant could I at least get paid for it

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

[thrashkink-coven]

Super easy and cheap devotional acts for beginners.

A nice cup and some clean, fresh, water on the altar can often be all you need for daily offerings

Grow a plant on your altar, use your weekly watering as a devotional act. Hermes is currently helping my peace lily grow :)

Draw their sigil on your nails and then paint over them with nail polish that matches their color correspondences.

If you can’t acquire alcohol for your deities (wine, vodka etc) because you’re too young, white vinegar also works. The quality we’re looking for is the purification aspect. White vinegar is natural, antibacterial and never goes bad. You can leave it on your altar until it evaporates if you want.

If you work with a deity involved with self love like Aphrodite, investing a little more time into your skin care and scent can be very rewarding. Nothing super boujie, it can be as simple as getting some nice smelling lotion at the dollar store.

Food and water offerings don’t have to be external, especially if you’re in the broom closet and don’t have an altar. Reserve the first bite of your meal for your deity. Savour its taste while you think about them. Pour yourself a crisp glass of cold water and guzzle it as a devotional act.

Use a washable or dry erase marker to draw sigils on your shower wall for bath rituals. It’ll come right off when you’re done.

Tea bags are just bags of dried herbs. You can use these as offerings or draw sigils on them and burn them for witchcraft. No one is ever suspicious about a little tea. Adding a tea bag to your water offerings also gives them an extra kick.

A couple dollars at the thrift store will take you a long way. I love thrifting items because they’re usually well loved. I especially like thrifting spirituality books that past practitioners have written in. Sometimes my deities communicate with me through the books that are available on any given day. If I was just talking to Leviathan about the power of water and I see a book about Hydromancy, I know that he’s sending me a sign. Like, 90% of the books Lucifer has sent me popped up at the thrift store. Most expensive one was $7.99. (and I tag swapped it for 2.99 😊 thanks, Hermes-

and on this note, literally steal. Not from small local thrift stores, but I mean this with my whole chest, steal from Value Village. If you can sneakily swap a tag and get something for cheaper literally do it. Value Village gets all their inventory for free I literally do not care. Corporate thrift stores don’t deserve rights. I steal from Value Village as a devotional act to Hermes 😊 lmao )

If you don’t have money to spend on really nice paintings and posters of your deities for your altar, start buying books about them. It’s a double win. A book about Greek religion will certainly have multiple beautiful sculptures and paintings of Aphrodite that I can cut out and put on my wall. A book about angels might have a cool painting of Lucifer. Books about Goddesses, ancient religions, anthropology, astrology etc. You get the opportunity to learn, and if it’s a book you don’t particularly care too much for, you can take it apart for imagery. People ask me all the time where I got all of my paintings and pictures from. BOOKS.

Does your deity have a kind of complicated sigil that you love but you also kinda hate redrawing every other day? Sorry Cerberus (Naberius) I love you but that sigil is so complicated babe.

Learn how to block print! It’s very simple. You get a block of linoleum (usually pretty cheap, I think mine were like $5) , some ink (~$10), and a carving tool (varies depending), and make a sigil stamp! All you gotta do is draw your sigil and carve it out nicely one time. You can still bless it and imbue it with your energy, and you can easily put it on prayers, talismans etc.

Chalk is your best friend. Use it to draw sigils on the floor or wall that can easily be wiped away. You can imbue special chalk and use it for casting circles if you don’t like the mess of salt.

[makingqueerhistory]

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.

[jupiterpilgrim]

Adding up

Nakamura Kazuha x Huh Yunjin x Male Reader

word count: 20K

commissioned fic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now, at least, everything feels okay.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” you ask, your voice soft.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

She giggles, soft and lazy. “Yeah.”

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

Then Kazuha’s phone vibrates against the mattress.

She groans. “Ugh. No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brows lift. “Wait, really?”

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

You blink. “Like… here?”

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

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

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

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

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

You pause. “She okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod slowly.

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

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

And for a while, you do.

—

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

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

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

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

“She will,” you reassure her.

Right on cue, the doorbell rings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kazuha grins. “Only the best.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You and Kazuha exchange a look.

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

Kazuha frowns. “Did he—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

Then, a week later, everything shifts.

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

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

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

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

Not fixed, not completely okay, but lighter.

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

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

You blink. “Wait, really?”

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

You grin. “That’s awesome.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

But then another thought crosses your mind—Yunjin.

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

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

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

“Wait… for me?” she asks, sitting up.

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

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

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

Her brows shoot up. “For me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smirk. “Drinks it is.”

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

Kazuha grins. “Too late.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yunjin squints. “What?”

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

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

“There. Happy?”

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

Yunjin blinks. “A real one?”

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

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

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

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

Yunjin raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

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

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

Kazuha giggles, eyes sparkling. “I promise.”

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

“There. Satisfied?” she mutters.

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

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

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

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

“You should get one too,” she announces.

You blink. “Wait—what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kazuha just winks. “Go on.”

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

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

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

You chuckle. “Zuha, you’re so drunk.”

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

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

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

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

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

—

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

The three of you find a rhythm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And just like that, the night begins.

—

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

"What?" you ask.

She grins. "Let’s play a game."

You groan. "Zuha—"

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

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

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

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

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

Yunjin raises an eyebrow. "Lies."

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

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

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

Yunjin snorts. "Obviously. Next."

You chuckle. "That was weak."

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

"Truth," you say, leaning back.

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

Kazuha cackles, her cheeks already flushing pink.

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

Yunjin shrugs. "I’m curious."

Kazuha looks at you expectantly, biting back a giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kazuha gasps again, this time more amused than scandalized.

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

Your brows raise. "Really?"

Kazuha squints. "Wait—when?"

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

Kazuha groans. "Oh my God."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one says it, but it’s there.

The tension. The curiosity.

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

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

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

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

Kazuha hums, smirking. "Maybe."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yunjin tilts her head. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yunjin barely manages a breathless “yes.”

She smirks. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tilt your head, amused. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the fun? That can wait. For now.

—

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

This… isn’t her room.

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

It’s your room.

Panic creeps up her spine.

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

The drinking. The truth or dare game.

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

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

Fuck.

She groans softly, covering her face with her hands.

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

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

Panic level: maximum.

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

Then she freezes.

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

From the kitchen.

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

Talking about how this was a mistake.

About how to let her down easy.

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

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

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

She needs to go. Now.

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

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

“Wait—where are you going?”

She jumps.

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What—? Kazuha—”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

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

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

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

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

Kazuha gestures to the chair. “Sit.”

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

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

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

A beat of silence.

Then Kazuha bursts out laughing.

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

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

Yunjin blinks. “Excuse me?”

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

She stares. “But—I heard you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she doesn’t have to wait long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods. “Yeah.”

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

Yunjin hesitates. “Wait—you liked it?”

Kazuha chuckles. “Well, yeah.”

You shrug, smirking slightly. “A lot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kazuha shrugs, grinning. “Basically.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And just like that, something new begins.

—

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

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

She’s part of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It didn’t take long to notice the differences.

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

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

It changed everything.

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

And then there was Yunjin with Kazuha.

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

She was hooked.

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

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

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

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

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

And after? The after was always soft.

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

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

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

And yeah. It really, really was.

—

Yunjin’s birthday.

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

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

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

Then the front door unlocks.

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

And then she flicks on the light.

“SURPRISE!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kazuha tilts her head. “What?”

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

You don’t even hesitate. “Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s the point.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah. Not yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yunjin nods frantically. “More—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yunjin sobs. “Please—please—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it’s time for the vows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then comes the final rite of the ceremony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And just like that, you’re married.

—

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

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

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

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

Jesus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The poor hotel staff must have heard everything.

And speaking of the staff—

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

Pure comedy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yeah. You love them too.

So why not start something new?

[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x farmer reader: John gets dishonorably discharged, and finds a new purpose in accepting your farm job advertisement, and the rest of the taskforce task force slowly mould themselves into your life

This was inspired by @devil-in-hiding’s wonderful, amazing On the Run series! Make sure to send her and the fic so, so much love! 💕💞💕 truthfully, this isn’t much and it definitely didn’t turn out the way I hoped it would, but I still hope it’ll be enjoyable <33)

The creak of old wood and the faint hum of bees in the garden welcomed John as he stepped onto the porch of the small farmhouse. His boots, scuffed and caked with dried mud, felt heavier than ever, broad shoulders sagging under the invisible weight he carried. The sharp scent of freshly tilled earth and blooming wildflowers should have been a comfort, but John barely noticed it among all the thoughts swirling within his head.

It had been weeks since the dishonorable discharge (as if he’d ever leave his own men behind. As if.) , weeks of wandering aimlessly, a hollow shell of himself. The military had been his life, his purpose, and to be stripped of it so publicly left him untethered. The scars he’d accumulated over decades of service seemed trivial compared to this- the one wound he couldn’t bandage, couldn't let heal so it could turn to a forgotten scab.

The farm job advertisement he’d found on the bulletin board of a dingy diner while aimlessly driving had been a last-ditch effort. He needed something- anything- to keep his hands busy and his mind from spiraling.

And now here he was, standing at your door.

When you answered, he was struck silent for a moment. You weren’t what he had expected. A soft curve of a smile greeted him, paired with eyes that seemed to hold the warmth of the sun itself. Your frame was wrapped in a well-worn but clean dress, your body curvy and full in a way that instantly set you apart from the wiry, hardened edges of his old world. There was something disarming about the way you stood there, your hands dusted with flour, your hair slightly mussed from whatever you’d been working on before he arrived.

You were what he’d worked so hard to protect. To keep from seeing the horrors that were kept hidden from the larger public.

“You must be John Price,” you said, your voice soft but firm, like the lull of rain against a tin roof. You offered him a hand, strong but gentle, calloused with years of hardwork. “I’m glad you came. I’ve been needing some help around here.”

John nodded stiffly, his voice rasping from disuse. “Happy to help.” He said simply, though the words felt foreign in his mouth.

You studied him for a moment, taking in the set of his jaw and the way his blue eyes seemed darker than they should have been. You didn’t press, didn’t ask why he was here or what had brought him to your quiet corner of the world. Instead, you gestured for him to follow you as you began pointing out the work that needed doing.

The farm was modest but well-kept, with rolling fields of golden wheat and neat rows of vegetables that hinted at how hard you worked to keep everything running. Your tone shifted as you explained things, clear and confident as you outlined his responsibilities- though you had those written in the ad as well, and so he knew what to expect. There was no hesitation in the way you moved, and John found himself admiring the way your body seemed made for this life- strong and soft, with a natural grace that made him feel clumsy in comparison. A foreign feeling to him.

The work was grueling, but John threw himself into it with a determination that surprised even him. Fences were mended, fields were tilled, and hay was hauled, the strain in his muscles a welcome distraction from the heaviness in his chest, the daily routine providing a purpose he’d been searching for. You worked alongside him every day, your hands as dirty as his by the end of it. You didn’t shy away from the harder tasks, your body bending and lifting with an ease that left him stealing glances when you weren’t looking.

It didn’t take long for you to notice the cracks in him, though. The way his eyes seemed haunted in the quieter moments, or how he would pause, his hands clenching into fists as if fighting off a memory. He wasn’t sleeping well- you could tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the way he moved in the mornings, sluggish and stiff, gratefully accepting the tea you’d make. He wouldn’t talk about it, but you saw the weight he carried, and it broke something in you.

You began helping him in your own quiet way. A warm, full plate of food at the end of a long day, a soft blanket folded neatly on the porch swing when you knew he’d sit there at night. You didn’t pry, but you’d offer him small comforts, like the way you’d linger for a moment longer when handing him a glass of water, letting your fingers brush his.

“You’re doing good work here, John,” you told him one evening as you set a plate of stew in front of him. Your voice was gentle, though it left no room for argument. “Thank you. I’m glad it was you who came by.”

He grunted in response, but the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He appreciated your kindness, though he didn’t know how to express it. He couldn’t shake the way you made him feel- not just useful, but seen.

The first visitor arrived a few weeks later, just as you were finishing up the morning chores. Simon- whom John introduced as Ghost, military callsigns were strange to you- was as imposing as his name suggested, his tall frame and masked face almost startling you when you turned the corner of the barn.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, low and gravelly. His dark eyes studied you carefully, as if trying to assess whether you were friend or foe. “Heard John was here. Wanted to check on him.”

Simon stayed, though he didn’t say why and you didn’t ask. At first, it seemed like he was just there to make sure John was alright, but soon enough, he was pitching in, fixing broken tools and hauling heavy loads with an ease that belied his quiet nature. He was efficient and methodical, and your german shepherd dog, Riley, adored him from the get-go.

You noticed the way he watched you, his gaze lingering when you didn’t think he’d notice. Simon had a way of positioning himself near you, as if he could ward off any harm just by being close. He’d take over heavy tasks without you asking, broad shoulders and strong hands making easy work of things that left you breathless when John was busy doing something else.

The rain brought Kyle “Gaz” Garrick to your doorstep after Simon, his clothes soaked through and his face muted with exhaustion. He knocked once, and when you opened the door, his lopsided grin and the sparkle in his brown eyes immediately disarmed you.

“You must be the saint putting up with Price,” he’d joked, though his voice was warm as you fluttered and flitted about to bring him some towels, warm food and a chance to warm up. “Mind if I dry off before I drown?”

Kyle brought a lightness to the farm that you hadn’t even known had been missing, his laughter and teasing filling the air like birdsong. He quickly took to the work, his lean frame surprisingly strong as he helped with everything from repairing the chicken coop to plowing the fields. But you caught the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you, his smile lingering when you were near, and especially bright whenever you’d poke back at him.

“You sure you’re not too soft for this kind of work, Garrick?” you teased after he groaned about the weight of a hay bale, hands on your hips.

“Soft?” he shot back, flexing an arm, and then he winked at you. “These are prime muscles, love. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you keep sneakin’ looks.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed at the accusation, and Kyle smirked.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish arrived with the same energy as a summer storm, his laughter echoing through the fields before you even saw him. “Hope you’ve got room for one more!” he declared, his broad grin making you smile despite yourself.

Johnny was impossible to ignore, his enthusiasm infectious. He worked tirelessly, his hands calloused but gentle as he helped. He had a way of making you laugh, his jokes and compliments leaving your cheeks warm more often than not.

He immediately took to helping you with the animals especially, affectionately naming every goat and chicken, and teasing you about how they seemed to follow you everywhere.

“It’s because they know a good soul when they see one.” he said one evening, brushing hay from your hair. His fingers lingered a second too long before he pulled back, and you pretended your smile wasn’t bashful and your heart wasn’t thudding faster than baby goats running to drink their milk bottles.

The four of them fell into an easy rhythm just like that, their camaraderie seamless, and you truly understood just how close of a unit they must have been.

But what you didn’t notice was the way they watched over you. Whether it was John stepping in to take a heavy load from your hands or Simon silently following you to make sure you were safe, they all seemed to share an unspoken agreement to protect you.

And then there was the way they looked at you- not just with admiration, but with something deeper. John admired the way you carried yourself, your curves soft yet strong, a quiet confidence in every step. Simon found himself drawn to your steadiness, your calm presence soothing the chaos in his mind. Kyle loved your kindness, the way you always seemed to know what they needed without asking. And Johnny? Johnny adored everything about you, from your laugh to the way your body moved with an effortless grace.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you all sat on the porch, the scent of freshly cut hay hanging in the air.

“You’ve all been such a big help,” you said, your voice soft and happy as you looked at them, Riley curled near your feet. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

John’s eyes met Simon’s, and Kyle and Johnny exchanged a glance.

“We’re not going anywhere,” John said finally, his voice steady. “Not if you’ll have us.”

You smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest as you looked out at the fields.

You had… truly never expected your precious little farm to become such a sanctuary for others as it was for you, but you were glad. It meant you were doing something right.

Something very right, going by the way you caught them looking at you.

At first, you hadn’t thought much of it. You were used to glances- it came with being a little softer, a little curvier than most women. People always seemed to look a little longer than they needed to, whether out of judgment or admiration, though you’d long since stopped trying to figure out which.

But this? This was different.

John’s gaze lingered when he thought you wouldn’t notice, sharp blue eyes tracing the curve of your hips and the swell of your thighs as you bent to collect eggs or reached up to pull a stubborn weed. When your skirts brushed your legs in the breeze, you swore you saw his jaw tighten, the flicker of something restrained in his expression before he turned back to whatever task he’d assigned himself for the day.

Simon was harder to read, but not impossible. He was quiet, his eyes shadowed under the brim of his cap or the mask he still occasionally wore out of habit, but there was a weight to the way he watched you. He never let you out of his sight if he could help it, always a step behind you when you carried something too heavy, his broad frame so steady and reliable it made your breath catch sometimes. When your hands brushed- accidentally, at first- he didn’t pull away quickly like most men would. Instead, he lingered just long enough for you to notice, just long enough to make you wonder how it would feel to have his fingers dig into your softness.

Kyle was far less subtle. He flirted openly, grinning whenever he managed to make you blush, which was often. He’d find any excuse to compliment you- how strong you were, how beautiful your smile was, how lovely your hair looked in the sunlight. It was playful at first, but then came the moments when his teasing turned quiet, almost tender, like when he brushed dirt off your cheek or tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His hands always hovered, careful but close enough to leave you wondering if he’d reach for you properly if you just gave him the smallest sign.

And Johnny? Johnny was a walking storm of affection. He wasn’t shy about how much he adored you. From the way he complimented your cooking- “I swear, love, you’re a magician in that kitchen”- to how he always seemed to find a reason to be near you, even when he wasn’t working. He’d lean against the doorframe, arms crossed and a crooked grin on his face as he watched you knead dough or arrange flowers in a vase. And then there were the touches- small, fleeting things, like his hand on the small of your back as he passed by or the way his fingers grazed yours when he handed you tools.

You’d been blind to it at first, convincing yourself it was just gratitude for the work, for the meals, for the home you’d offered them. But as the days stretched into weeks and their gazes grew heavier, their presence closer, it became harder and harder to ignore the truth.

They admired you.

Not just as a caretaker or a friend, but as something more- something deeper.

It was there in the way John’s voice softened when he spoke to you, the way Simon’s posture shifted when anyone unfamiliar stepped onto the property, putting himself between you and whatever potential threat he saw. It was in the way Kyle’s jokes always seemed to circle back to how lovely you looked doing even the simplest things, and the way Johnny’s laughter died in his throat whenever you smiled at him just a little too long.

And the realization left you flustered- unsure of what to do with the warmth that bloomed in your chest whenever they lingered too close or brushed against you without meaning to.

They all cared for you, and in a way that went far beyond just gratitude.

The knowledge sent your heart racing whenever one of them looked at you like that- like you were something precious, something worth protecting. Like you were worth staying for.

And maybe- just maybe- you were ready to let them.