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capslocked · 9 months ago

Text

PARITY

male reader x sana & miyeon

21k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's really fucking uncanny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pretty," you say out loud.

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

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

"Lose it," you request, quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So then, what could it possibly be?”

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

Sana sits up a little in her chair.

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

You and Sana almost snort in unison.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two tops.

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

Her eyelids flicker once.

Then close.

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

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

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

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

And then her lips tighten and she just-

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

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

She just-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"-and when he has to pull out-"

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

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

"-maybe-"

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

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

The answer’s a two-part chorus. Yes.

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

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

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

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

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

"Miyeonie," Sana says.

"Sana," Miyeon returns, flat.

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

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

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

"You know the one."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve noticed.”

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

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

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

Sana shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh, birds of a feather.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On your phone, there are some choice text messages:

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > jesus

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

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > PLEASE

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > fuck any quieter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come here."

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

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

It's really always about the two of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"N-need," Miyeon chokes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miyeon cries out.

“I'm going to cum-"

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

"I-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now's no different, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not meaning to, or maybe too eager.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shall we?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It goes without saying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Direct.

To the point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"-yeah," she huffs, panting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is not much talking from then on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"-please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, it's just like this:

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

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

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

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

The smallest, lightest grind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gives you two so much to talk about."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So: "I need the both of you."

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

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

You just groan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They're fucking-

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

- identical.

"Look, I didn't mean-"

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

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

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

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

"She isn't?" you ask.

Sana sighs. "Um. Not even close."

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

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

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

-gorgeous, lewd, completely fucking filthy.

"I got a lot, babe."

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

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

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

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

#sana smut #miyeon smut #twice smut #gidle smut #male reader smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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suugarbabe · 12 days ago

Text

Origin Stories

(part 2)

summary: baby first year matty arrives at hogwarts and the first person he interacts with seems to not know him at all. matty is unsure how to feel when someone treats him like just another person instead of the dark lords son

warnings: fluff, angst, baby matty, draco being an asshole even at 11

an: thank you @musingsofahufflepuff for reviewing and editing with me. lysm <3

Sleep did not come in the form of rest for Mattheo that night. Every time he closed his eyes he saw your face twisted in disgust, a variation of the same sentence leaving your mouth, “They told me the truth about you. You’re going to be just like your father. Nothing but a murderer. Don’t ever talk to me again Mattheo.” He woke up in a sheen of sweat, panting and trying to catch his breath.

Each intake of air felt like his lungs were shrinking; he grasped at his sleep shirt trying to feel if his heart was truly beating as quickly as it felt in his throat. The clock on his bedside table read 3:45am. Throwing back his duvet he slipped on his house loafers, glad that Feindre convinced him to take them to school. He made his way from his dorm and across the metal bridge that led to the common room.

He looked around the expansive common room, deciding on a lounge chair in front of the fire. Mattheo curled in on himself, sitting sideways in the chair and pulling his knees up. He laid his head against the back of the chair, doing his best to breathe deeply and focus on the crackling of the fire. What finally let him fall asleep was thinking about the train ride with you.

A shaking of his shoulders jolted him awake, “Andiamo, amico.” (C’mon, mate) He snapped his head up, seeing Theo Nott and Enzo Berkshire standing behind the chair. Enzo wore a toothy grin, his ears slightly peeking out from his hair; Theo almost looked concerned. Mattheo pulled the blanket tighter to his chin, though he didn’t remember having it when he fell asleep.

Theo must’ve seen his confused look, speaking up again, “I noticed you weren’t in bed when I woke up to use the bathroom last night so I brought you down your covers.” Enzo nodded like he was involved with the interaction, “You should probably go get dressed, we’re going to go to breakfast and then explore the castle to see where our lessons are.”

Mattheo still didn’t speak, instead looking briefly between the two boys. “We’ll wait for you compagno,” Theo sat down on the sofa next to Mattheo’s chair. Enzo nodded enthusiastically, following suit and sitting beside the taller boy. Mattheo silently gathered his blanket, making his way to his dorm.

He threw his blanket back on his bed before heading to his trunk, digging for a pair of trousers and casual shirt. Students had two free days to roam the castle and the grounds before classes were to begin and Mattheo decided he was going to take full advantage of not having to wear a uniform.

The door to the bathroom opened, Draco walking out and fixing his dress shirt in his trousers. He glanced at Mattheo as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, running both hands through his curls to fluff them slightly. Mattheo could hear the sneer in Draco’s tone as he spoke, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Mattheo didn’t even give him a glance, “Do you have a problem with what I’m wearing, cousin?” Draco let out an annoyed sigh, “Auntie Bella would kill you if she saw you in that.” Mattheo grabbed his wand from his night stand, grip knuckle white but avoiding actually pointing it at his family member, “Well my mother isn’t here, is she.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Whatever, let’s just go to breakfast. Theo and Enzo are already there.” Mattheo didn’t bother to tell him they were waiting downstairs. He personally wasn’t sure if they were doing it to be nice or if they were just trying to stay on Mattheo’s good side.

It was hard for him to assess who was being genuine with him versus who was trying to placate him due to his “title”. He didn’t get that feeling with you.

Mattheo followed Draco toward the common room, Theo and Enzo still sitting on the sofa where Mattheo left them. “Thought you two were headed to breakfast,” Draco questioned the soon to be dynamic duo on the sofa. “Waitin’ for Matt,” Theo nodded briefly towards Mattheo who couldn’t explain why his cheeks were warming slightly. “Yeah, Blaisey boy is saving us a spot,” Enzo gave a boyish grin.

“You know he’d curse you if he heard you call him that,” Theo fixed the strings on his tracksuit as they started towards the great hall. Enzo shrugged his shoulders, “That’s what his mum called him on the platform. And he can’t curse me, he doesn’t know any yet.”

Mattheo never knew how to interact with the back and forth. Never quite felt comfortable with joking with the rest of the boys growing up because his mother always told him that they were not his friends, they were his future followers.

“Yeah but you’re not his mother, Enzo. And we all know a few curses, you know that. Our parents made sure of it,” Theo was giving a playful tone but his words held true. They all knew it.

Entering the large doorway to the hall Draco spotted Blaise first. The latter boy had chosen a spot in damn near the middle of the table and Mattheo felt his stomach knotting again. He knew people were already going to stare at him, but this table placement felt like he was on display.

He would’ve much rather eaten at the far end of the table, where no one would likely notice him. He’d rather eat in the kitchens with the elves. He follows the others anyway, sitting on the farthest end so there’s plenty of bench on his left. That’s something he learned very early; always know where your escape route is.

Mattheo was too busy pushing the food around on his plate to notice you approaching. Your touch on his arm as you went to sit down was the first alert of your presence and, again, he flinched away. “M’sorr-” he starts to apologize but you’ve already cut him off, “S’okay, Matty, it’s my fault. I forgot.”

You turn to the rest of the boys around him, “Morning! So exciting we get to explore the castle today isn’t it?” Mattheo isn’t sure if you’re ignoring it, or you just are too blissed out on magic thoughts to notice the rest of his group looking at you nearly dumbfounded. Everyone else at the table knew the rule: never touch Mattheo. Yet here you were, still unharmed at that.

Draco’s platinum brow was raised, glancing between you and Mattheo, “I mean this in the rudest way possible…who are you?” You hum in acknowledgement, “Of course, m’so sorry I did the same thing to Mattheo on the train,” rubbing your toast hands on your jeans before holding it out to Draco and introducing yourself, punctuating your name with another bright smile.

He stares at your hand before glancing towards Mattheo. Enzo grabbed your hand instead, shaking it enthusiastically, “Lorenzo Berkshire, but call me Enzo, and this is Theodore Nott and that’s Blaise Zabini.” He nodded to the two boys on his and Mattheo’s other side.

“Just Theo is fine,” Theo corrected, “Can I ask…what’s a badger like you doing wandering into the snake den. Didn’t you hear? We Slytherins are dangerous.” All of a sudden it feels like Mattheo’s body is not his own, like he’s shrinking smaller and smaller inside himself and what’s sitting next to you on the bench is just a shell.

The back of his neck starts to feel damp and it's reminiscent of when he hears his mother call his name from across the manor. He’s terrified. So fearful that you’ll see the people around him as cruel and immediately associate that with him without questions. Then he’s alone again.

“You know a badgers bite actually has a BFQ of 109,” your response to Theo’s quip is quick and easy, not a hint of defensiveness in your tone. It’s simply…informative. Your response clearly confused most of the others as well, sweet and naive Enzo the only one open enough to ask for clarification, “What the hell is a BFQ?”

Between sips of his pumpkin juice Blaise speaks for the first time since you sat down, “Bite force quotient.” Theo rolls his eyes, “Yeah, okay but what does that even mean?” You stab a sausage with your fork and set it on your plate, knife in hand as you begin to cut it into smaller pieces, “It means that a badger bite has enough force to crush bone like I’m cutting this sausage.”

You take a bite from your fork before dancing it around in the air as you spoke, “Mmm, guess I’m just saying to mind your tone because,” you took another bite, “yeah snakes are all in your face, hissing and what not, venom blah blah…but badgers are unassuming. People see them as dumb little furry rodents so no one is quite ready when they BAM!” You stabbed a piece of cut sausage with enough force to rattle your plate and cause all the boys, including Mattheo, to flinch, “they come in for the kill.”

“Anyway, heard we’re going to actually get to learn how to fly?!” You continued with your meal like nothing was the matter, “Personally I’m quite chuffed about it, you lot already know how I’m assuming?”

Enzo laughed nervously, scratching lightly at the base of his neck, “Yeah we kinda all already know how mostly. But ehm, where’d, erm, where’d you learn that badger thing? You read a lot?” You shrugged, continuing to eat as normal, “I mean, I do like to read. But I did a project on badgers in primary, ironic huh?” You went to nudge Mattheo with your elbow before stopping halfway, seemingly remembering his issue.

His stomach dropped, fearing you’d never want to get close to him again. Theo spoke up, clearly still confused, “Is no one going to explain primary to us now?” Blaised sighed, though eleven he seemed to have the patience for his peers as that of a seventh year, “It’s muggle school, they start young, like six or seven years old.”

“Muggle school?” Draco looks at you like you’re covered in filth and his voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Mattheo, “Cousin…you let a muggle sit with you on the train? With us here? At breakfast?”

There it was again, that sinking, shell like feeling, only now any emptiness was being filled with anger. Without Mattheo’s help you were quick to quip back, “Technically my parents are muggles, I got my letter the same way all of you did. That’s why I’m sitting here.”

Your obliviousness to the wizarding world and what each of their families and their titles held around you made you unlike any person Mattheo had ever met. He wasn’t quite sure yet if that made him scared or enamored.

“Watch out for the badger bite, Malfoy,” Theo teased the blond and everyone laughs. Mattheo laughs too, glancing in his peripheral to see your smile reaching your eyes and that his cousins words haven’t offended or have you wanting to run.

You take a sip of your pumpkin juice before wiping your lips with your napkin and starting to stand up. There it is, Mattheo thought, finally running. “You ready, Matty?” you’re fully standing now, hand across your middle holding your other arm. “W-what?” it was the first Mattheo had spoken since his interrupted apology.

“To see where our lessons are going to be? We should have most of them together I would assume, unless they separate the houses for most classes, but surely not right?” Mattheo stood up quickly, his heart dropping to his stomach and he scrambled to take out the course list that he had haphazardly shoved in his jeans pocket.

He smoothed it out on the table before holding it up next to yours, “Oh see, no worries then, we’ve got most of them together.” Theo asked to see your list, comparing it to his, Enzo’s and Blaise’s. You all had a mix of courses together, you and Mattheo seeming to have the most in similarity.

You asked the other’s to join you both in your exploration. Theo and Enzo agreed, Blaise said he was going to find the library. Draco said he would “find things on his own”, stalking off ahead of the rest of you, keeping a pace that would ensure he was no where near the rest of you.

“Is he always like that?” You were asking Mattheo, but Enzo answered, “Don’t worry about him, it’s not you. Well, erm…it might be you. But Malfoy doesn’t seem to like anyone really.”

Mattheo huffed a non-committal laugh, “Yeah, including himself.” The other two Slytherins laughed in agreement. You simply looked concerned, “I wonder where that comes from.”

You’re too kind for your own good, Mattheo thought to himself. Per usual, Enzo is eager to answer, “Oh his father is a nightmare. Real piece of work.” Theo snorted, “He’s not the only one, aye boys. Kind of a requirement with our group.”

Enzo barked out a laugh, Mattheo gave a half-hearted grunt. He glanced over at you, trying to gauge your thoughts. You were the hardest person he’s ever tried to read. Your face just held the same look, slight concern and something else Mattheo couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he hoped to Merlin it wasn’t pity.

All of the lessons seemed easy enough to find. Whether that was due to magic or not Mattheo wasn’t sure and he never truly had the desire or care to find out. Mattheo was just glad you were in nearly all of his courses.

The only ones the two of you didn’t share were potions and herbology. For some terribly bloody reason potions were split by houses, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs together and Gryffindors with Slytherins. Mattheo was going to Avada himself if he had to hear his cousin and his idiot lap dogs try to get a rise out of Potter and his ginger friend all term.

Enzo somehow lucked out and got Herbology with you, whereas Mattheo was stuck with Theo and the others. Mattheo couldn’t help the jealousy that seemed to creep into his stomach each time you complimented something Enzo did during that lesson.

Even though you sat by him in every class, Mattheo craved your presence. He wasn’t able to describe exactly why he craved it, though. Maybe it was because you were kind. Or maybe because you were so smart and able to pick up on things easier than everyone else. Or maybe it was because you were the only person who didn’t give a rats ass who his father was.

The conversation, or more so argument, he overheard last week, confirmed it. He was going to meet you in one of the empty classrooms to work on transfiguration spells. For someone with founder’s blood in his veins he couldn’t transform a goblet to save his life.

“Why do you hang around him?” Mattheo heard someone ask, a Ravenclaw who he was pretty sure sat behind the two of you in charms. “Because he’s my friend?” Mattheo stopped in his tracks at the sound of your voice, clearly laced with a bit of annoyance he’s never heard from you before.

“But you know who his father is, don’t you? Haven’t you heard what he’s done?” The Ravenclaw girl was getting on Mattheo’s last nerve. He was ready to turn that corner, tell her to shut her prat mouth when you started speaking again.

“Mattheo is not his father, gods, why does it feel like I’m repeating that to everyone these days. People need to stop trying to warn me about him and maybe try to actually get to know him. He’s a really nice boy. And very funny. You’re being kind of a bitch, Padma.”

Padma scoffed, clearly deciding to walk another way to wherever she was headed as you turned the corner alone, nearly running into Mattheo, “Oh, wow, sorry Matty.”

So people were talking to you about him. They were trying to convince you to stop hanging around him, not to be friends with him. But you’re not listening, his internal thoughts rang as a reminder.

Your hand moving back and forth in front of his face brought him back to the present, “Where’d you go? Was like you were looking into another realm, is that a thing here? Can you guys, er, can we do that?” Mattheo completely ignored your inquiry and instead answered your question with another question, “Did you just call someone a bitch?”

The bridge of your nose seemed to display a light shade of pink and Mattheo couldn’t recall ever seeing you flustered before, “They were being mean.” He couldn’t help himself, a desperate need deep inside had to see if you would admit it, “What were they being mean about that warranted that response?”

You started walking towards your shared destination, but Mattheo couldn’t let it die. “C’monn,” he dragged the word out slightly, “we tell each other everything.” And that was mostly true on Mattheo’s part. He wasn’t so sure talking about watching his mother use unforgiveables on guests was something you needed to know; or even something you’d understand.

“Ehm, it was you,” your voice was small, nearly a whisper that Mattheo didn’t catch. “What? What’d you say?” You huffed, stopping in front of the door to the classroom you were meant to practice in, “They were being mean about you, Mattheo. Okay? I know I shouldn’t have called her that but…ugh, I am so sick and tired of people trying to convince me that you’re a bad person.”

That last part came out in a huff of frustration as you opened the door and walked inside. Mattheo couldn’t move. He was stuck in the doorway. You turned when you couldn’t hear his footsteps following you, “Are we still practicing?”

“How many people have tried to convince you I’m a bad person?” He truly didn’t want to know the answer. Just asking the question made him feel like his insides were boiling. You shook your head slightly, “I dunno, Matty. I’m not exactly keeping track of every miserable git telling me my best friend is terrible.”

Mattheo started walking towards you now, “You think I’m your best friend?” He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach seemingly in his throat and he sort of felt like he might throw up. The sound of your laugh soothed all of that out.

“Well, yeah ya knob. Am I not yours? Don’t tell me you picked Nott over me.” Mattheo stammered for a moment, “Wha- ehm, Why did you…huh? Theo?” You laughed a little harder now, “You guys are close too, aren’t you?”

Mattheo’s head hurt a little, “I, uh, I mean…yeah I guess. But not like you and me. I mean…fucking Salazar.” Mattheo ran his hands through his curls, tugging at the sides slightly. You held your hand up as if to calm his stammering, “It’s okay, Matty. I know I’m your best friend too.”

He grinned at that, your reassurance. It still felt new every time you did it; he’s never gotten it as much as he has with you. “Ready to finally learn how to change a toad into a goblet?” You reached in your pocket and pulled out the amphibian. Mattheo grinned, nodding and setting up beside you.

The next several months seemed to fly by in lessons. Mattheo never realized how much practical magic he never really learned at home.

Feindre did all his washings and cooking, he lived in a manor that was centuries old and protected by magic so he never needed to know any repair or fixing spells, and the doors being locked or not were irrelevant as his mother just apparated to where he was if she were to punish him; she also never locked a door if she were torturing. “You need to see the weakness that leaks from those beneath us Mattheo.”

He shuddered at the thought. He was well aware of what was going to be expected of him. He was half sure his mother only let him attend Hogwarts as a means of gaining more respect and more followers. “You want them to fear you, you’re not looking for friends, you’re looking for followers.”

He didn’t like that either. Draco was a follower. Draco was afraid. He didn’t want that to be the only type of people around him.

For someone who didn’t know magic was real until five months ago, you were exceptional in all your classes. You were always trying to study, always trying to soak in more information.

The last day before Christmas holiday was no exception. You had asked Mattheo, Theo and Enzo if they wanted to start on course work for next term. They had all said no.

Well…Enzo had looked at you like you’d grown an extra head, whereas Theo and Mattheo declined politely. Mattheo would’ve have went with you in a heartbeat, but he hadn’t packed a single item in his trunk.

His original school of thought was that if he didn’t pack then he’d have to stay at school for the holidays. The thought of seeing his mother again made him short of breath from anxiety.

But Draco reminded him that the Malfoy Christmas ball was happening (as it did every year) and Mattheo actually loved his Aunt Cissy. She was the only person in his father’s circle that treated him like any other boy his age.

You didn’t mind going to the library alone. You often did when the Slytherins wanted to play quidditch. You were not quite as good at flying as they were yet, so you’d go to the library to make revisions instead.

The content for next term actually seemed exciting to you. But everything about Hogwarts excited you. In History of Magic next term you were going to learn about the origins of wizards sports, quidditch the primary subject.

I have to tell Mattheo, he’ll be so excited, was your only thought and you rushed out of the library, not quite paying attention to your surroundings as you crashed into someone; dropping your texts in the process.

You heard Draco’s scoff of disgust before you heard his annoying voice, “Out of my way mudblood.” You let out an annoyed huff, bending down to pick up your books from the floor.

“I don’t even know what that means, Malfoy. But I know you’re trying to insult me,” you held your books flush to your chest, “your insults don’t mean anything to me you know.”

Draco laughed out loud, taking a look at each one of his chubby minions beside him, “Do you want me to explain it to you?”

You adjusted the strap on your shoulder bag, “Not really but I’m sure you’re going to.” The malicious glint in Draco’s eye should’ve warned you of the delight he was about to get from this. You should’ve ignored him and walked away but there were three of them and only one of you.

“You’re a filthy, little, mudblood,” Draco emphasized each work with hatred and disgust, “Your blood is dirty, you come from nothing. Fucking Salazar, you are nothing. I honestly don’t get how the others are so blind to it.”

You opened your mouth to respond, make any kind of retort but Draco kept going, “I’m what you call pureblood. The blood that runs in my veins has centuries of magic in it and Mattheo is the same. Enzo, Theo, Blaise, all of our blood is pure. I don’t know what little spell you put on my cousin, but it’s going to fade.

“It may not be tomorrow, it may not even be a year from now, but he’s going to realize your worthlessness. Fuck and when he does…I want you to remember this moment. I want you to hear my voice in the back of that empty fucking head of yours telling you I told you so.”

The tears brimming your eyes were uncontrollable. You didn’t want to believe anything he was saying, you knew Mattheo didn’t think of you like that. But there was a small part of you that couldn’t help but agree.

“Don’t go running to cousin with your tears either, he’s the Dark Lord’s heir after all. He doesn’t need to deal with whiny babies.” Draco had to deliver one more blow for his satisfaction, him and his friends laughing in your face.

“You’re a prick, Malfoy. No wonder everyone can’t stand you,” you wiped your eyes with the heel of your palm as you pushed passed them.

You could still hear them laughing, mocking you all down the corridor until you turned the corner. You were supposed to meet up with Mattheo before dinner, but now you just wanted to be left alone.

♡♡♡

When you didn’t meet him at the common room entrance for dinner, Mattheo was a little worried. Theo tried to calm him down, telling him they were running late and you probably just went to the hall already.

But that made Mattheo more distraught, since houses don’t mix at dinner time. He was quieter than usual once they sat down, far more focus on searching the faces and backs of heads at the Hufflepuff table.

When he didn’t recognize any student to be you, he turned to the group, “You guys didn’t happen to see y/n on the way to dinner did you? I don’t see ‘em here.”

Enzo and Theo looked over at your house table, shaking their heads. Blaise looked a little guilty, “I wasn’t going to say anything…honestly Matt I thought maybe you had a fight or something.”

Mattheo turned towards him, “Say anything about what?” Blaise shrugged his shoulders, a slight apologetic look in his eyes, “I saw them crying earlier, I think they were going towards the astronomy tower.”

Instant panic spread over him, “Crying? Were they hurt? Could you tell?” Blaise shook his head. “Why do you even care?” Draco sounded annoyed, Mattheo got angry. “That's my friend, did you do something to them?”

Draco rolled his eyes, flipping Mattheo the bird, “Wouldn’t waste my breath on a mudblood.” Mattheo slammed him open palms on the table as he stood up from the bench.

Everyone in a ten foot radius was staring now. Draco looked terrified, rightfully so. While he only just learned reparo, Mattheo learned crucio at age 5 and he was pretty confident he could cast it on his cousin this very moment.

Instead, Mattheo stormed off, heading straight to where he hoped was the astronomy tower. After only two wrong turns he started up the mountain of stairs.

After only two flights he spotted you, curled in on yourself on one of the large steps with your back to the wall. Your face was hidden in your knees but the gold from the hood of your robes gave you away.

You were crying, muffled and trying to be silent but Mattheo recognized the posture. The shaking shoulders, the small sniffles. He’d done it a dozen times himself this last summer.

“There’s my badger…what’re you doing up here?” Mattheo’s voice was soft, gentle. It’s what he always hoped was used when he felt this way so he could only assume it’d be comforting to you too.

You lifted your head just enough to rest your chin on your knees, “I got tired,” you sniffed again, “too many stairs.”

Mattheo nodded, small smile on his face, “S’that why you’re crying and missed dinner? Too many stairs? Couldn’t get back down?”

You knew he was trying to make a joke, a weak smile was all you could manage before frowning once more, “Wasn’t the stairs…”

Mattheo moved to sit in front of you, barging into your eye line, “Then what was it?” Your face scrunched and you shook your head.

Mattheo placed his hands on your ankles, the action was so out of character for him, the physical touch. But it make you lock eyes nonetheless, “If I tell you, you have to just let it go.”

The tilt in his head was slight but you noticed it, “I mean it Matty.” Mattheo nodded, not speaking in hopes you’d continue.

“It was your cousin. He just…ugh,” you hid your face in your knees again, taking a deep shuttered breath. Mattheo gave your ankles a small squeeze as if to encourage you to keep explaining.

You turned your head to the side, not wanting to look Mattheo in the eyes when you said it, “He called me a…mudblood.”

Mattheo’s hands disappeared from your legs and it made you look at him. People had told you Mattheo could probably get angry. That his father was considered the darkest wizard of our time.

You never really saw any of that before, but you saw a glint of it in his eyes now, “Is that all he said?” You shook your head, sinking back into the wall slightly.

“I told him I didn’t know what that meant…then he told me I had dirty blood. Said his was pure. That all of you Slytherins had pure blood and that no matter how hard I tried…I would never amount to the same as you guys.”

Mattheo frowned. You had started crying again and he felt like someone had just punched a hole in his gut. “He’s wrong,” Mattheo was shaking his head, “Some of the biggest sodding cowards I’ve ever seen are from pureblood families.”

“Just made me feel really cruddy,” you snuffled, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your robe. Mattheo could feel a fire kindling inside his chest, “I’ll kill him.”

You reached out, grabbing Mattheo’s forearm; he didn’t flinch away this time. “Don’t,” you pleaded, “you promised you wouldn’t do anything.”

Mattheo chewed on the inside of his cheek, “Well I have to do something..”

“Will you just sit with me for a little bit…please?” You pleaded, your hand was cool against his heated skin.

“Yeah, erm, I can do that.” So that’s what he did. Mattheo found solace on the step one above yours. He sat as you did, pulling his knees to his chest.

He sat with you until you felt better, calmer. Then he walked you to your common room, popping into the kitchens with you to grab a small bite since you both missed dinner.

When he got back to his own common room he grabbed his duvet from his dorm and then back to the communal space and picked the largest couch to lay on.

He couldn’t sleep in his dorm tonight. Draco was in there. And if he saw Draco, he knew he’d hurt him right now. And if there were two things Mattheo knew he would never do: (1) become his father, (2) break a promise to you.

#yes yes i promise there's more #don't worry you guys #little asshole draco gets his day in mattheo court #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x gn!reader #slytherin boys #origin stories series

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from-izzy · 2 months ago

Text

[21:15] | nct huang renjun

“Don’t listen to society. Don’t look at their views. You're beautiful and I love you as you are. I promise.”

pairing » nct huang renjun x gn!reader (fast proofread once - lmk if i missed anything!)

trope/au » established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » hurt/comfort, fluff and angst (pretty balanced imo), renjun is concerned for your wellbeing, but he loves you and is willing to show that anytime!, renjun is comforting and patient, best boyfriend huang renjun, renjun letting you steal his clothes instead of buying new ones

word count, estimated reading time » 772, ~3 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » reader has trouble with body image, reader struggles with body changes in gaining and losing weight, mentions of being stuck between two clothing sizes, weighing body in the first few parts of the story, reader implied medium to long length hair, renjun is taller and physically bigger than the reader

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...'

to the you who has doubted the image that any reflective mirror has shown you. surround yourself with people who love you as you are and love yourself as you are. you don't need to change and you don't need to force yourself to change.

if you stay true to yourself, treat your body with kindness, you will be able to see yourself in a healthier light.

it's not easy and it never was. the journey to be able to fully smile at yourself when you've been drowned in doubt is hard but i will pray that day for you will come.

It stares you dead in the eyes.

The meeting of the double arrow-like lines would only appear when you put a considerable amount of yourself with the help of gravity. Then when you do, it blinks alive, calculating the shift of your body and the amount of pressure you would willingly give them. You passed the single-digit stage a long time ago, the same time that you overgrew your baby crib. As you age and mature, you watch the first number change and morph, the next number coming along as it accommodates the changes in your body.

It doesn’t help that the scale is reflective, the fear in your eyes clear and the gulp of your throat resonated deeply in your head as you thought of the amount of food that you digested along with the lack of movement that spreads the entire week.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gone shopping today.

Or maybe, you should’ve never gone clothes shopping at all.

Your mind goes back to the image reflected on the shiny surface of the changing room. It tells you that even though you have made progress, the outfit that wraps around your skin isn't as pretty as you depicted on the mannequin by the big shop window.

Hypnotised to see the truth, your other foot raises, leaving condensation on the marbled floor due to stress. But before it could form a footprint on the glass, a pair of arms lifted you, kicking the machine to the best he could given the non-slip stickers on its bottom for user safety.

“You’ve just weighed yourself ten minutes ago,” the fact whispered in your ear directly. Renjun tightens his hold around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Talk to me, bubs.”

The worried gaze falls upon you as soon as you turn your head sideways. Tears well up in your eyes when Renjun gives a half smile, eyes tender and fingers reaching to swipe the loose strands of hair that tickle your vision.

“I just feel stuck,” you confessed, hitching rapid breaths with the way your boyfriend turns you to face him, lower body slightly bent to face you head-on. “I tried a bunch of clothes today and I feel like I'm stuck between the two sizes—it just feels like,” your eyes wander around the place, the room seemingly spinning and the tears clouding your view.

Renjun’s hands envelop your shaking ones, pulling them closer to the beating of his chest, in an attempt to ground you back to the present. His heartbeat runs through your fingertips, slowly matching his calming ones and eventually syncing when he instructs you to breathe in the cooler air through your nose and exhale the carbon dioxide through your mouth.

“Those clothes aren't good enough for you then,” Renjun’s brown orbs intently focus on your tear-stricken ones. Without another notice, he cups your cheek, his thumb giving reassuring swipes to your itchy and sticky skin from the salt water. “They don't deserve to be put on your beautiful body.”

It sends chills down your system, closing your eyes to further focus on the tapping of his pointer on the back of your palm. Renjun nods, humming to the count of his fingers on your skin, seeing how your throat stops constricting by your cries, hushing you and pressing delicate kisses on your spent eyelids.

“Don’t listen to society. Don’t look at their views. You're beautiful and I love you as you are. I promise,” Renjun’s sincerity hits your body in a warm wave and your eyes are now crying for a different reason. “Oh?” He exclaims amusedly, the hand on your cheek still holds yours to guide your now relaxed face into the broadness and safety of his chest.

Renjun sways his body, alternating his body weight between his legs. A hand is wrapped securely around your waist, the other crossing diagonally across the back of your head. The fingers on top found a home in your scalp, massaging your negative thoughts away.

“I love you too, Junnie.”

The nickname that sounds even lovelier gives his heart life, chuckling and hugging you tighter as he lets out a prolonged squeal, commenting on how adorable you are to him.

Renjun pulls you away momentarily, swooping in for his lips to meet yours, calmly and sweetly, caring and patient. It flows through his gesture and he’s glad you know how much he loves you with the way the corners of your lips could reach your ears.

“Besides,” he starts between the medley of pecks on your face, “why are you shopping for clothes when you're always stealing mine?”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...'

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet

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mxdimitrescu · 7 months ago

Text

Green-Eyed Monster

Synopsis: Kendall being the jealous girlfriend stakes her claim.

Genre: Fluff/Smut

Pairing: Kendall Jenner x GP!Kai Daniels

(Masterlist)

Kendall

I growled as I eyed Kai who was at the bar getting drinks and chatting with other girls. She was laughing and threw her head back as if like one of those hoes said something funny. I groaned as I looked at the time and it's been 10 minutes since she left to the bar.

It was supposed to be our vacation, just me and her and well the family too. And the skanky hoes should know that Kai is mine.

I was knocked out of my thoughts when Kylie sat down besides me, holding True in her arms.

"So, you look like you're about to murder those girls," Kylie teased.

"I should. Those hoes are all over my girlfriend," I fumed.

"Then claim her," Kylie bluntly stated which made me whip my head to look at her in confusion.

Kylie noticed my expression and sighed while rolling her eyes and said, "Mark her. Go up there and show them that she's yours."

I smirked at the idea and stood up while leaning down to kiss True on the head, "Hi, baby girl, and thanks for the idea, Ky."

I soothed out my dark blue bathing suit and fixed my black cap and strutted toward to Kai and the hoes. In mid way, Kai turned and noticed me causing her jaw to drop at the sight of me, making me smirk. The other girls turned to see what Kai was looking at and glared at me.

I reached to Kai and put on a pout, "I've been waiting for you babe."

Kai sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck and said, "Sorry, Kenny. I was caught up in a conversation."

I smiled at her and moved to sit on her lap sideways with my arms wrapped around her neck.

I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, "No worries, babe."

One of the hoes cleared her throat and glared at me, "Uh, who are you?"

I turned to look at her and gave her one of my fakest smile and asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Ana Winters," She smirked at me while laying her hand on Kai's bicep, making me narrow my eyes at her hand.

"Well, I'm Kendall Jenner and keep your grubby paws off her now," I growled out.

"Why? She doesn't mind it," She shrugged like it was nothing.

"Well, she's my girlfriend so fuck off," I huffed.

"Yeah right," Ana scoffed and rolled her eyes while crossing her arms.

I smirked when an idea popped into my head and went into plan. I turned my position where I was now straddling Kai's waist and my arms were around her neck. I was taller than her in this position so I grabbed her face and pulled it upwards and leaned down to kiss her passionately.

I heard whistles and cheering Kylie who was shouting, "Yes! You go girl!" from couple feet away.

I smiled into the kiss as Kai moved her hands to palm my ass and gripped it tight as her tongue swiped my bottom lip to gain access. I granted her and her tongue immediately slithered inside my mouth and I moaned at the feeling of her. I heard a huff behind me but I couldn't be bothered to check to see if Ana was still there.

Soon, we broke the kiss to breath again and I leaned my forehead against hers with my eyes closed and a smile playing on my lips.

I felt Kai breathed on my lip and whispered, "So, what was that? Not that I don't mind it."

I opened my eyes to meet hers and growled slightly, "Well, you're mine and mine only. No girl should be talking to you."

Kai gave me one of her adorable crooked grin, "Don't worry, babe. I'm yours no matter what."

I grinned and started moving my hips against her causing her eyes to flutter and put her hands on my waist.

"Babygirl, what are you doing?" She husked out.

I leaned in and took her earlobe in my mouth and bit on it slightly, "Well, I'm horny, babe, and I want you to do something about it."

I felt Kai's member in her shorts started to harden making me grin and grind on her harder. She moaned and her eyes darkened with lust.

"Let's go, babygirl. I want to fuck you long and hard in our room," She huskily whispered into my ear causing me to whimper and nodded shakily.

I got off her lap while Kai stood up and adjusted her shorts to make sure her hard member was hidden. She grabbed my hand and we started walking toward to the hotel.

Along the way, I noticed that the rest of the family were with Kylie and True and we both waved at them.

"Where are you guys going?" Kris asked as she moved her sunglasses to the top of her head.

"I'm tired so me and Kai are going back to our room," I lied and she nodded.

"Well, remember that we're having dinner at 8 tonight," Kris said.

"Alright, bye Kris, bye guys," Kai spoke out as we walked to the hotel.

As we walked, I looked back to see Kylie smirking and mouthed, 'Have fun.'

I shook my head at her while grinning as we entered the hotel and got onto an available elevator. When the elevator doors closed, Kai suddenly pushed me into the wall and attacked my neck and collarbone with her lips causing me release a loud moan.

I can feel the developing of hickies on my neck as I tangled my hands in her hair and pulled slightly causing her to groan into my neck.

"God babygirl, I just want to stretch you out and fuck you nice and long and choke you hard baby," She growled into my ear which made me to moan at her statement as wetness began to pool in my bottom bathing suit.

The elevator dinged signaling us that we were on our floor so we got off and went straight for our room. Kai pushed me against our door and began kissing my neck while I fumbled the key to open the door. I finally managed to get the key inside while Kai tapped my thighs for me to wrap around her waist.

She wrapped her hand around my thighs as I opened the door behind me. She grinned at me, "Let's have fun."

I nodded at her with a smile on my face as we entered the room while kissing her and slammed the door behind her.

Soon, our bathing suits were strewn all over the room as we entered the bedroom where she laid me on the bed and she crawled in between my legs. I was impatient so I grabbed her member and placed it at my entrance.

"No foreplay. Just fuck me. Hard," I ordered her.

She just smirked at me and snapped her hips, effectively burrowing her member deep inside me. I shrieked then moaned at the feeling of her inside me. She began thrusting in and out while she placed her hand on my throat and closed slightly. I moaned at the feeling and dug my nails on her arm that held my neck.

I shrieked when Kai's member hit the spongy spot that doubled the pleasure. I started feeling my walls began to flutter around her member and began to whimper slightly.

"K-Kai, I'm almost close," I moaned quietly.

"Mmh baby, I'm close too," She whispered back while began rubbing my clit in a slow tight circle.

I can feel her member twitching, letting me know that she was close to release and my walls began to tighten. She increased the pace and with that and the clit simulation and hit my g-spot, it was enough for me to cum hard on her member.

"KAIII I shrieked as my back arched up as she grunted and filled me up with her jets of white cum.

She slowed the pace until she emptied everything inside me and fully stopped and laid herself on top of me which I don't mind. We stayed in that position until we felt like moving. I ran my hand through her hair as she nuzzled her face into my neck, giving pecks time from time.

After a while, she rolled off me onto her back which I moved to lay my head on her chest while she stroke my hair. I traced my finger against her abs, drawing different designs and I spoke quietly, "D-do you love me?"

She stopped stroking my hair for a moment and moved to on her side to face me. She moved her hand to trace my jaw, "Babe, I'm in love with you. With your smile, your eyes, your personality, and most definitely your hot amazing body."

I rolled my eyes while smiling and pushed her affectionately causing her to chuckle and wrapped her arm around my waist to pull me in closer.

"Besides, I should be the one worried about you loving me. I mean, you're a model while I'm just an artist."

I soften at her admission and put my hand on her jaw and leaned in to peck her lips.

"Kai, you are an amazing artist. Your creativity is what drawn me to you plus it helped that your body is amazing," I teased causing Kai to laugh and pulled me close against her.

We stayed in bed, occasionally talking, giving kisses, and just staring in each other's eyes until it was 7pm and we have dinner at 8. So we got showered and dressed for the dinner with the family. We had fun with the family and soon time passed and it was 10pm.

We went to bed without our clothes on due to our laziness and tiredness. I cuddled into her and fell asleep to her loud snoring with a smile on my face.

#kendall jenner #kendall x reader #the kardashians #gxg #gxg smut #gxg imagine #wlw #gip!reader #gp!reader

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celestial--sapphic · 5 months ago

Text

5th January, 1892

"I think that would be cheating, Pops. If I am honest.” Evelyn has to admit, giving a sideways look to her girlfriend who is half-stooping next to her in front of Professor Ronen's elaborate collection of butterflies.

The Hufflepuff's gaze is focused specifically on one of the winged insects in the tallest glass chamber which sports a mix of vivid colours; rusted red hues on the main part of its delicate, paperthin wings, with black, soft daffodil yellow and an iridescent blue tingeing the edges with spots like blurred ink on wet parchment. Evelyn was never quite sure if the butterflies in question were still alive and enchanted to live inside the glass chambers indefinitely or if they are taxidermy charmed to flutter their wings at regular intervals through some exceptional reanimation spell. The Slytherin is equally never sure which version she prefers.

"Cheating?" Poppy asks curiously, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and tilting her head up slightly to look up at Evelyn from underneath those thick, long lashes that Evelyn never fails to find impossibly attractive.

"Yes, well doesn't the book expect you to find them out and about in the real world?" Evelyn replies, gesturing absently in the direction of the butterflies and beyond.

The book, in question, is a one of a set of three spotter guides she bought from Tomes and Scrolls for Poppy as a Christmas present; The Observer’s Guide to British Butterflies, The Observer’s Guide to British Flowers and Observer’s Guide to British Birds. The Hufflepuff absolutely loved them (nearly knocking Evelyn’s glass of mulled cider out of her hand when she pulled her into a hug after unwrapping them) and immediately got to work excitedly filling them in. It was less than three weeks since Christmas and she had already cheerfully ticked off a number of native Scottish birds and hardy flora that can survive the weather, like snowdrops and hellebores. However, given the unforgiving, biting winter weather in the Highlands Poppy had made limited (see: non-existent) progress on the butterflies edition, to her disappointment.

Poppy hums. “I suppose you are right, it wouldn’t be completely honest. Truly, I would prefer to see the peacock butterfly in real life anyway. They must look so beautiful when they fly freely, imagine the colours…” She trails off, her gaze drifting back to the glass chambers and the regular beating of coloured wings.

“I would hazard there are a fair few people who get frustrated with the rare ones and just end up going to the Natural History Museum to tick them off,” Evelyn muses, stepping closer into Poppy’s bubble of space, to look closer herself at the butterfly which had Poppy so enraptured.

"The what?"

“Natural History Museum.” Evelyn repeats, assuming Poppy hadn’t heard her.

“The what, sorry?” Poppy asks again.

“The Natural History Museum, in Kensington, in London?”

Poppy turns her attention back to the taller girl and gives Evelyn a completely blank look and a small shake of her head.

“Is that… muggle?” The Hufflepuff asks curiously. Poppy having grown up completely in the wizarding world and Evelyn in the muggle world they had found plenty of things in the course of their relationship that one or the other didn’t know about. Poppy telling Evelyn she had never used the London Underground being one example that always springs to mind.

“You've... you've never been to the Natural History Museum?" Evelyn couldn’t believe it. How had Poppy Sweeting not been to the Natural History Museum? Regardless if it was a muggle institution, she would have bet a Galleon the Hufflepuff's gran would have taken the her at some point, given their joint love of the natural world, magical and otherwise.

Evelyn knew, at that moment, exactly what they were doing for Poppy’s 17th birthday next month.

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drvirgus · 10 months ago

Note

Can you make oneshot story for minji? when it’s raining and there’s a loud thunderstorm, y/n has an astraphobia and minji comforting her until y/n was sleeping on her chest. Thank you so much!

I‘m so sorry for the angst at the end. It just happened automatically 🫣🫣 hope you still like it 😬😬

Rainy Days

Warnings: Angst

Wordcount: 1,4k

Minji X Reader

One Shot

————————————————————————————————-

The rain. For some people, it was soothing, almost melancholic. For others, it was just annoying and disruptive. For me, it was neither. It was cold, frightening, and... dark.

The loud sound of thunder reverberated in my ears, making my body tremble even more. Tears threatened to roll down my cheeks. My hands clutched my blanket, but the shaking didn't stop.

The rain pounded wildly against my windows. The loud thunder kept echoing, and the flash of lightning illuminated my dark room for a few seconds.

"Minji," I whispered, my head hidden under the blanket as my body curled up even more. I exhaled through my open mouth, making it difficult to breathe under the cover.

With shaky hands, I grabbed my phone, squinting as the brightness of the screen blinded me. With a trembling thumb, I typed a message.

Me (20:17): Call me. Please 🥺

My eyes closed in exhaustion. I lifted my blanket a bit to catch some fresh air, but it was a mistake. A small scream escaped my throat as I saw my room light up, followed by the thunder after a short while.

I could feel my bed shaking, unsure if it was due to the thunder or my trembling body.

I sensed a tear slowly rolling down my temple and landing on the mattress. My mouth still open.

My phone vibrated, and the screen lit up. I immediately recognized the beautiful picture Minji and I took on a sunny day. Both of us looking into the camera, laughing from ear to ear. Our eyes sparkling with joy.

"Hello?" I asked softly into the phone as I held it to my ear. My eyes tightly closed.

"Y/n? Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yes... everything's okay," I answered, nervously starting to laugh. "Just hearing your voice... is enough for me," I added shortly after. My body sideways on the bed, legs tightly wrapped around me.

"Hanni played quite a prank on me yesterday."

I hummed with interest. My eyes closed as I felt myself slowly relaxing.

"She crawled under my bed, can you believe that? Anyway, she really waited until I finished washing up and sat on my bed. Eventually, I feel a hand on my ankle. Her hand was pretty cold, which startled me even more."

I heard Minji starting to laugh during her story. This also got me chuckling lightly. Slowly but surely, I pulled the blanket up to my chin. My eyes were still closed, but it felt good.

I couldn't hear the rain anymore. My left ear pressed against the pillow, and in my right ear, I could only perceive Minji's sweet voice.

My heartbeat automatically quickened as I heard her laughter.

"I jumped up, but apparently, I stepped on Hanni's hand in the process. I hadn't screamed like that in a long time. But I immediately knew it was Hanni because she started crying."

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. Hanni had really cried?

My breath caught as I experienced the thunder once again. I could feel my breathing accelerate, and my body started trembling again.

Had the rain become louder?

"Do you know what she said?"

Swallowing my nervousness, I focused solely on Minji's loving voice in my ear. That was the only thing that mattered. "What?" I asked, my voice breaking slightly.

"Open the door."

Confused, my forehead immediately furrowed. I could hear Minji chuckling amusedly. "Open the door, Y/n."

My eyes widened, and almost instantly, I threw the blanket off and rushed to my front door. I flung it open.

"Hey," I heard Minji say, grinning broadly. My eyes widened as I saw the taller woman standing in front of me with a wet jacket. Her phone in her hand as she just grinned at me.

"Are you crazy?" I asked as I quickly let the younger one into my apartment. I could hear that her hair was soaked, and a few drops fell onto the floor.

"Undress. I'll prepare a bath for you right away," I blurted out somewhat panicky, earning a smirk from Minji. She took off her jacket and immediately hung it on the empty coat stand. She also took off her shoes.

She followed me into the bathroom as I started to fill the bathtub with hot water. "Undress. I'll get you some spare clothes," I said, and Minji simply nodded in response.

How crazy was she? Did she really drive in this weather?

My body flinched as I saw the flash of lightning, but... somehow, Minji was more important right now. With a furrowed brow, I quickly retrieved the clothes from my closet and returned to the bathroom.

My mouth opened as I saw the younger one already in the bathtub, a smile on her face. "Come," she said, her hand emerging from the water, gesturing for me to join her.

My cheeks warmed. I licked my lips nervously as I looked at the clothes in my hand. I placed them on the washing machine.

"Come on, Unnie," Minji urged, her lips pouting. "Keep me company, okay?" the younger one requested, looking at me with her beautiful eyes, pleading.

I sighed. I bit my lip as I slowly and nervously peeled the clothes off my body. I could sense Minji following every movement with her eyes.

Minji parted her legs as she saw me approaching the bathtub. She smiled as innocently as ever, gesturing for me to take a seat. Once again, I found myself between her legs.

Her arms wrapped around my waist as her chin rested on my shoulder. The younger one sighed in relief behind me, "Are you feeling a bit better?" she asked, and my eyebrows lifted.

Surprised, I glanced at my hands. They had stopped shaking. Only now did I notice that Minji was playing some music from her phone, probably to drown out the sound of the rain. The bathroom light was, of course, on.

I could feel Minji placing her lips on my shoulder and gently kissing along my shoulder. I closed my eyes in enjoyment, letting out a small sigh.

"Yes. Thank you, Minji-ah."

I could feel Minji's hands gliding along my arms, and her lips now busy on my neck. "Good. It's even very good," she whispered softly against my now heated skin.

I swallowed. "Did you really drive in the rain?" I asked, automatically tilting my head to the side to give the black-haired girl more room.

Minji chuckled amusedly. "For you," she breathed, "I started driving when it began to rain," she answered, surprising me enough to glance back.

I managed to turn toward her somehow. The water swayed, and some of it spilled onto the bathtub and splashed on the floor, but we both seemed indifferent.

"That's dangerous. You shouldn't drive in such weather, Minji," I said now a bit more serious. My eyes locked with hers. "What if something happens to you?" I asked, and just the thought brought tears back to my eyes.

Minji smirked, her hand resting on my cheek. "Nothing will happen to me, Y/n. I'm here," the black-haired girl replied as her hand gently ran through my hair.

"Promise?" I asked, making Minji smile even wider. "Promise," she replied, lightly laughing. This made me laugh too, and I finally let myself fall into her embrace.

After bathing and now quite warmed up, we lay in my bed. My head rested on her chest, while her arms soothingly stroked my back.

I heard Minji softly humming a melody that slowly rocked me into a peaceful slumber. "I love you," the younger one whispered softly as her lips pressed against my forehead.

My hand automatically clung to her shirt. "I love you, Minji," I whispered back, a smile on my lips as I closed my eyes.

"I'm here. Sleep peacefully."

———————————————————————————

Tragic Accident on Rainy Day Claims Life of a 19-year old Student: A Devastating Loss

Me (20:17): Call me. Please 🥺

Me (20:17): I miss you

Me (20:17): you know I’m afraid of the rain…

Me (20:18): Minji… I love you

Me (20:18): please… come back to me

Minji ❤️ (20:19): Miss…. I told you… this isn’t the number of your girlfriend anymore

Minji ❤️ (20:19): She‘s dead…. I‘m sorry

My eyes widened as I heard the thunder resonate in my ears once again. Tears streamed down like a storm as I simply began to cry.

"Minji."

Breathing became a struggle for my lungs. My smartphone fell to the floor as my hand now rested on my chest. Tears scattered across my entire face.

"Minji... come back."

A sniffle interrupted my sentence. My throat hurt as much as my head throbbed. My body trembled.

"I told you... it's too dangerous..."

#newjeans minji #newjeans #minji x reader #newjeans x reader

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zaceouiswriting · 1 year ago

Text

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.15

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

I walk through the crowd with my chest swollen with endless pride. Even if they don't like me alone, my presence forced them to make room for me, most likely so that none of them would have to touch such a despicable person as me.

Saladin watches all this with a horrified expression. However, before things got too bad, he hit his staff on the ground. The magical wave that courses through everyone draws everyone's attention to him. It quickly relieves me of the feeling that I've done something despicable when I was only trying to enter my new school.

Just as the elderly headmaster of the Red Fountain Academy began his speech, something else caught my attention. From the side of my field of vision, the building suddenly attracts my interest like a magnet.

The building is made of red brick and yellowish sandstone, with small and large windows that reveal the dark brown interior. The entire house is trembling with anticipation. It's been a long time since anyone has been here: the old academy building, which looks like a small castle. Like everything else my family built, this building was made with our magic, through which it has a mind of its own. Inside is a magical core that beats as if it has a heart that keeps it alive. There is not a single crack visible on the entire exterior of the building, even though no one has taken care of it for so long.

My gaze slowly wanders up to the second and third floors. There in a window stands a man in an old suit. A monocle hangs from his left eye, and his right ear is covered with a bandage.

But soon, the man moves away. As soon as he is gone, my gaze goes further up the building to the bright blue roof. Furthermore, I could see two towers, one behind the building on the left and the other in front on the right. While the tower on the back is much taller than the one on the front, the smaller one strikes a feeling of terror in my veins.

Cory's tight grip on my shoulder draws my attention back to him. This time, I even turn slightly to look into his disapproving eyes.

“They’re trying to get in,” he whispers to me.

Shocked and annoyed, my mouth opens without me doing anything. Not to say anything. It just happened. Sometimes, I wish people would stop trying to invade our territory. There is no magic in the universe - except perhaps the Empresses or Emperors - that makes our magic listen to anyone else.

Taking a step forward, the hand on my shoulder slowly falls off. Even though I could still feel him walking behind me, he gives me enough space to do whatever I want.

“Have you ever tried knocking?” I know the sarcastic tone in my voice is audible because almost everyone groans in disapproval. The same woman who called the specialists on me gives me a sideways glance so full of venom that I only want to slap it off her face. Instead, I push past these moral hypocrites and straight to the door.

As I suggested, I knock on the door quite forcefully. But even after a few minutes, nothing happens. I could hear people whispering, calling me “disgusting” and “disgraceful.” They laugh at me everywhere and surely think that I am not only a creep but also stupid. I completely ignore the two principals who couldn't open the door themselves. I could force the doors open if I wanted to, but it would damage the already troubled house. The spells haven't been renewed for a while.

Out of nowhere, the large double doors open. Honestly, it wasn't all that sudden because the door squeaked loudly as someone opened it from the inside. But it’s obvious that the door is difficult to open. When the doors were finally opened, the same elegantly dressed man I had previously seen in the window stood before me.

"Welcome, ho-" I could barely shake my head before he would say anymore. The man seems to understand immediately. He clears his throat, puts a hand over his mouth, and looks down for a second. When he looks up again, he shows a small smile. “Welcome, guests! Please state your intentions.”

One of the specialists suddenly pushes me aside. I immediately lost my balance and couldn't avoid falling into a group of girls. They scream and call me a pervert once again. The group even went so far as to walk away from me and let me fall to the ground. As the dirt covers my clothes, many people stand around me and laugh loudly at me.

Anger slowly grows inside me. I have never been treated so disrespectfully! I had to use all my energy to keep my temper under control so as not to explode. Just then, someone extends their hand to me. As I follow the long arm with my eyes, I immediately look into the smiling eyes of the only one of these disgusting people who treats me like a normal being.

Without hesitation, I take his hand and stand back on my feet in one swift move.

“You are not welcome here!” The same voice of the older man who opened the door from the inside echoes across the castle's forecourt. As I look around, all eyes were on me. Most of them look very happy. Because, of course, everyone believes that the man means me. Who else could he be referring to?

But I only grin back at the people. I know these words are not meant for me.

I ignore the other people and wander over to the guy who pushed me to the ground. The butler-looking man stands before him and does not allow him to enter the building.

"You have no right to keep me out! I am Artheon Papalgio, and I'm-"

“Unimportant,” the man replies before the young man can finish his sentence. Shocked, the dirty blonde stares at the man as if he had seen a ghost. “The House of Papalgio, a minor noble house of Eraklyon, known for their loyalty and skill in administration. Notable Members-"

“Stop,” the young man whimpers. He seems ashamed of his family, which he shouldn't do since most specialists don't come from aristocratic families.

Saladin desperately tries to get Artheon into the old academy building. But the other man didn't let a word get to him. Looking straight forward, without looking at anyone, the man speaks again.

“It's not me who has to let him in. He did not insult me, but another student,” he told Saladin in a hard and cold voice.

“I forgive him this time,” I say slowly, as I can feel everyone’s eyes on me again. I look sharply at the guy. Who still seems to think he is better than me.

The smartly dressed man nods at him and opens his arm to let the first person in. But when Artheon tries to be that first person, he gets pushed back.

“You will be the last one,” said the man, still standing in the doorway, harshly. Only to open his arm again so I can walk through. After me, the man lets in all the others. Even the teachers had to enter before Artheon was allowed to enter. I silently thank the man again and again.

Neither headmaster even waited for Artheon to be let in before walking further into the building. Saladin, in particular, mutters something under his breath about the size of the building, as he remembers it being much larger.

He tries again every spell he knows to make the building the way he remembers it, but nothing works.

Cory's hand grabs my shoulder again.

“What is it today with you touching me?” I ask him quietly, hissing. He doesn't back down. He only gives me a knowing look. With both arms in front of me, I finally give in after he stared at me for about a minute.

But before I do anything, I snatch his hand from my shoulder and walk away from him, leaning casually against one of the walls, mostly away from anyone's attention. The inside of my hand pressed against the cold stone of the house.

I close my eyes and let my magic flow into the house, searching for its core because the building didn't respond to my call immediately.

“Master,” an indescribable voice calls to me.

A smile even grows on my face. The voice sounds just like the one that echoes through the palace at home, which I listened to on silent nights. It has helped me a lot, from helping me out while playing hide-and-seek to giving me tips while studying.

“Can you expand?” I ask the house happily.

But the magic didn't answer me. It just left me feeling empty. Unwilling to let the house slowly die, I pump magic into it. Luckily, since I've been full of magic for so long, the reproduction happens quickly as it needs to return to a normal flow.

Soon, I could hear the interior space expanding, feel rooms being added, and even hear water splashing in a distant corner of the building.

When I open my eyes again, smiling even wider after the magic thanks me, I glance over to Cory. When our eyes meet, my body shakes before I can understand what is happening. I stumble to the side. Cory catches me barely in time, his face full of panic, so worried I could almost believe it.

But I remember he's just my grandfather's lap dog, so I push him away as soon as I'm calm enough. For a second, I even imagined I could see a hurt glint in his eyes.

I quickly turn away from him. But I still can't concentrate on what Saladin is rambling about. His voice to me is like a Toggo - a small round animal, unable to move in warmth - that my old teacher hit on the head to bring my attention back to him or to torment me.

With my mind blank, I stare at the old man, trying to find anything special about him besides his staff in the shape of a snake, even with a snake's eyes as the centerpiece.

“Are you ready to go to your room?” A sudden voice robs me of my inner silence. It even startles me a little. When I turn to the person, I see the same woman who called the specialists on me, speaking to me again like some vile creature. Her voice is so fake-sweet that I want to hit her.

With a sweet smile as fake as her voice, I look her disgustingly up and down and say, "No."

"What? How dare you talk to me like that?"

“I'm waiting at the training field to the right of the building. You have to go past some trees as the place is overgrown because no one cared about it for so long,” I tell the old headmaster, ignoring the woman's outburst.

My voice comes out in the same sweet tone, only with an underlining accusatory tone.

Before any of the teachers could answer, I walk past everyone. On the way out, I meet Cory again. As soon as I'm next to him, I suddenly stop. I look into his eyes intently. He holds my gaze and doesn't even flinch.

“Who broke the spell?” I ask him, whispering in his ear. He remains silent, his gaze never wandering anywhere else. “It was Saladin, wasn’t it?” Suddenly, he swallows hard and answers my question with it. But instead of getting angry, I smile. “The old man is more powerful than I thought.”

Now that I know what happened to my silencing spell, I walk past Cory. To the front door. The elegantly dressed man is still standing at the door, watching me with a longing in his eyes. When no one was looking, I winked at him with a half-smile. He looks at me slightly questioningly, almost sadly. I'm sure that if I had stopped right before him, it would have been a happy reaction because he and the other servants seemed to have been waiting for a long time.

But I don't want to blow my cover just yet. I'm waiting for the perfect moment to do it, and when it happens, I will apologize to the servants for my behavior.

[Masterlist]

#x male reader #male reader #winx club #winx saga #winx saga x male reader #brandon x male reader #winx club x male reader #brandon #sky #sky x male reader #riven #riven x male reader #series #fairy prince

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gallifreyshawkeye · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 2 of my GO WIP, no, it doesn't end any better than the first, no I'm not sorry 😂

Summary:

Satan lays his claim on Crowley and reveals what seems to be only the start of Heaven's treachery. But Hell does not take treachery lightly, and the Metatron has kicked off a chain of events that might be a bit more than he can chew.

Excerpt:

Crowley locked eyes with Aziraphale, his own suddenly blown wide and his breathing erratic with panic. “Angel, please! No!” he begged, his voice strangled, “You can’t! You can’t let him take me! Please !” His whole body was shaking and his vision swam, “Don’t let them give me to him! Please!” His voice broke as he heard the footsteps stop directly behind him and felt the familiar touch of Satan’s hand on the back of his neck. He mouthed a final plea, “Please…”

Aziraphale had never heard Crowley beg before. This wasn’t how the universe was supposed to function. Everything felt knocked sideways and off-kilter, like he’d been dropped into a parallel world. He had seen Crowley as what he had thought was terrified once before - at the Tadfield Air Base - the other time they’d faced down Satan. But that was Crowley being merely scared compared to how he was now. His chest rose and fell as rapidly and shallowly as a small prey-animal and there was true terror in Crowley’s eyes and face. Aziraphale also noted with more dread and disquiet than he knew what to do with, what he could only call a petrified subservience come over Crowley’s whole demeanor as the normally prickly, hissy, sarcastic demon gave instant, stilled acquiescence to whatever personal space Satan walked into and took from him. Granted, this was Satan , but Aziraphale was so used to seeing the exact opposite from Crowley in every situation, including the handful of times the two of them had run across other demons, that he had taken Crowley’s perpetual bravado for granted. This, however, was the body language of someone who had brutally learned their place within a harsh hierarchy. Aziraphale suddenly realized Crowley’s bravado was just a different manifestation of the same environment and he could not wrap his head around the sudden flood of implications and how much Crowley had hidden from him. Or how much he had been blind to. Or both.

The Devil, no need for supernatural intimidation, this time appeared as his normal corporation - only slightly taller than Crowley with a broad, laborer’s build and impeccably textured dark brown hair that was just long enough to be called shaggy and from under which, bright green eyes shone. He stepped in close enough so that his lips nearly brushed Crowley’s ear when he spoke, and his breath was warm on Crowley’s neck as he made the chains that held the demon’s torso to the post simply vanish. He never let go of his grip on the back of Crowley’s neck with his right hand while he gently laid his left on Crowley’s side.

“My, my, what have they done to you already?” he breathed, his voice low and almost amused into Crowley’s ear. Almost. Seeing blatant displays of how Heaven and Hell were truly just different levels of the same institution never ceased being a source of genuine entertainment to Satan. However, Heaven frequently overstepped its bounds thinking it had absolute rights and moral authority, and the instant Satan appeared in the barn and laid eyes on Crowley, he knew Heaven had overplayed its hand again. The more he assessed the situation in front of him, the more he realized just how far Heaven had broken its contract with him. A growing anger rose in him.

For his part, Crowley had been dealing with Satan, and more importantly, surviving him, for over 6,000 years, and he immediately picked up on the subtlety in the Devil’s voice. There was an edged, paternal quality to it (that Crowley knew was really just a petulant possessive streak) and knew immediately that the condition he was being handed over in was entirely unexpected and very unappreciated. It was, however, a matter of contracts and semantics and who belonged to whom, not that Crowley wasn’t going to get literally torn apart by Satan himself the instant they got back to Hell. Crowley still belonged to Satan, who had expected him to be delivered under specific circumstances and obviously not in this condition. To Crowley’s infinite non-surprise, Hell had once again kept their word better than Heaven. The phrase should be, “Angels lie”, Crowley thought before any other thoughts were driven from his brain as the hand on his neck clamped down so viciously he nearly passed out.

#crowley #aziraphale #my fic #good omens #aziracrow #good omens fic #my writing

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rjalker · 11 months ago

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Made with speech to text. If there's giant massive typos please let me know lol.

If you can crochet or knit a rectangle you can make a cat-ear hat!

[Image description start. A photo of two crochet rectangles sitting on top of my box on a sofa. One is solid royal purple, The other is striped in brown and black. Image description end.]

The purple one I made a few months ago and made taller so that it could be folded up or down by the wear.

[Image description start. A photo of a non-binary person wearing the purple hat above, which seems to form two pointed cat ears at the top corners. The person's eyes have been censored with a black bar that reads it / its. The edge of the hat has been folded up slightly to form a brim. Image description end.]

The brown one I started last night then just finished today. I was originally going to add an orange eye on the front to make it seemed after one of my original characters but I like it just as it is.

[Image description start. The same non-binary person now wearing the brown and black hat with the same censor bar with its pronouns listed. Image description end.]

These are made with double crochet, but you can use any stitch you want.

To make this, figure out how tall and wide you have want your hat to be, and which way you want the stitches to face then make a rectangle that when folded in half matches that, and close the openings except for one.

The purple one was made so that when I finished it I turned the whole thing at the 90° angle, so that what had been the side of the crochet became the opening, and what had been the top and bottom were sealed shut.

The brown one I just closed the ends of the rectangle and the top.

[Image description start. Two simple digital diagrams showing how to make the hats above. The first shows the brown and black hat, first shown as a flat rectangle, with instructions to fold it sideways upon itself. Then you seal the top and the side, and your hat is ready.

The second shows the purple hat, instructing you to flip the flat rectangle at a 90°, then fold it down, and it's seal both sides.

Best versions have a drawing showing that the hat is ready of a simple smiling stick figure wearing the hat surrounded by lines as though the person is glowing.]

You can flip your rectangle anyway you want to get the pattern you want.

I don't remember what I used as a base for the purple hat but for the brown and black one I did a chain of 65 to start. Just measure around whoever's head is supposed to be wearing the hat to make sure it will be wide enough.

You can also probably definitely make one that has handles so that it can be either hat or a bag.

#Rjalker does crochet #described images #crochet #cat ear hat #hat #cat hat #idk lol #nyanbinary #ehehehe #crochet cat hat

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duckingwriting · 2 years ago

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Writing to some smutty prompts by @jasminesfury

I'm going with is "A getting B a mug/something that says “5/5, would fuck again”"

Pairing - (all OCs, 1 mine 2 belonging to @sapphicwitchstudio ) Xen "Halo" Nivvan/Nicolas "Fang" Barlow/Kaden "Anvil" Minett

Warnings - Sex referenced , alien sex refrenced,

"Shut up." Halo huffed a breath and turned away from Fang, crossing his arms over his chest, pretending he wasn't blushing.

"I didn't say anything." Fang's grin widened further. He leaned sideways to bump against the much taller man. "I just think-"

"I thought you weren't gonna say anything?" Halo turned into a shop hoping to escape his human lover's grin and all too knowing teasing.

"I never said I wasn't gonna say anything only that I hadn't yet." Fang's grin never wavered as he reached out to touch one of the strange collectables sending a small tinkling sound spinning through the air.

"I'd rather you kept it that way." Halo started browsing the coffee cups. Most were cartoonish pictures with the occasional motivational quote.

"You love my mouth and all the sounds it makes." Fang shot back. He leaned backwards against the four armed alien with a grin. Fang tangled his fingers in the long green hair and gave it a small tug.

Halo looked over his shoulder and glared at the small human. "Not all."

"You liked the sounds you got Anvil making last night?" Fangs grin brightened when Halo blushed again and looked away.

"You're going to get us all in trouble with your giant fucking mouth." Halo huffed.

Fang slid around Halo's side and forced the other to look at him. "Curious minds want to know..."

"Curious minds can fuck off." Halo huffed walking to the register to purchase one of the mugs he had been looking at.

Fang laughed and followed Halo out of the shop as he started back down the street. "Come on, he tops me, I'm curious what it's like topping him?"

Halo grunted when Fang dug his elbow into his side. "I'm sure he'd let you if you asked."

Fang snorted and waved his hand. "Sure but I want to know anyways. I suppose I can just watch next time?"

Halo slammed the car door instead of answering. Fang was laughing when he got into the passenger side. Halo slapped his hand away when he reached for the bag from the shop. Fang raised an eyebrow but chose to leave the mysterious purchase alone and instead tried to weedle more information about the night before.

"Why're we here?" Fang stopped his invasive questioning when they pulled up in front of a familiar assignment.

Halo slid out of the car, leaning in with his own grin as he grabbed the bag. "You said you wanted to watch didn't you?"

Fang stared at his lover for a moment before opening the door and rushing out, racing him to the door. Anvil was opening the door when Halo came sauntering up behind Fang. Anvil's ears twitched slightly and he tipped his head slightly his eyes reflecting his confusion.

"You're back?" Anvil glanced at the other two men as they entered his home. He was not sure what was to become of their relationship from here. He half expected Halo would finally manage to convince Fang to stay away, he sure didn't expect to see either man so soon.

"Yes." Halo pushed the bag into Anvil's hands then went and sat on the couch.

Anvil frowned closing the door after Fang walked in. He opened the bag and pulled out a black mug with lime green writing '5/5 would fuck again'. Anvil jerked his head up and looked at Halo. Halo sat with his legs slightly spread, one set of hands on his thighs and his upper set of hands across the back of the couch while staring at Anvil expectantly.

Anvil turned his head to look at Fang, sitting backwards on the kitchen chair he had dragged into the living room, his arms folded on the back rest and a wide grin.

"I'm here for the show." Fang's grin widened and Halo beckoned Anvil towards him with one hand.

Anvil sat the bag and mug on one of the tables before falling to his knees between Halo's legs.

"So good." Halo praised reaching for the bands holding his mask in place. "Such an obedient little prince aren't you? You're gonna be good for me today too aren't you?"

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dirtwatchman · 1 year ago

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TIMING: Around September 8th or 9th LOCATION: Amity Road PARTIES: @dirtwatchman and @lithium-argon-wo-l-f SUMMARY: Caleb is being a creep on Amity Road and staring at the passersby, Gael sees him and gets curious. A conversation is had but neither of them get anywhere before Caleb spots someone from his past and scurries off. CONTENT WARNINGS: Slight mentions of abuse

Eye contact. He needed that so that he didn’t look so fidgety as he stood there assessing the people walking by. It probably didn’t help him look any less suspicious though. A grown man standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the downtown area with no clear destination in mind as he watched people very closely looked pretty conspicuous but for some reason Caleb couldn’t bring himself to sit down on the bench that sat two feet away from him. The nervous energy coursing through him might have been a clue. It would have caused him to shake like a leaf in another life but luckily his stance stood strong even while his hands were balled into fists inside of his jacket pockets. It was his eyes, those were the problem as they continued to dart every which way in search of…well, that he wasn’t quite sure of.

The zombie had come to Amity Road because it was full of tourists and sketchy people alike. He’d wanted so badly to get over himself and choose someone to help restock his supplies but he seemed to make an excuse for every single person he set his sights on so there he stood, awkward and looking sketchy himself. How people weren’t crossing the street to get away from Caleb was a question in itself but he was too busy staring at a lone man walking across the street to care. Was this the right target? Was this person someone that nobody would miss? Was he someone that would leave the world a better place if wiped off of it completely?

Alone with an air of superiority, yes, but he had a wedding ring on his left ring finger which instantly made Caleb shake his head and move on to another target. He would be missed. It wouldn’t be fair if he had a family. More excuses to add to the list. The zombie sighed as he began his search again, his eyes flitting over every single person but it was half hearted at best. His nerve was dwindling by the second and he feared that today, just like the previous two days he’d tried to do this, he would come up empty handed.

Amity Road felt a little young for him sometimes, but Gael was a go-getter and once he ignored the existential dread of Regan leaving, whatever weird things would happen on the upcoming full moons with the medical examiner and Alex (and the underlying responsibility he naturally had for her even though what the hell was he going to do if she was a werewolf??) and the tinnitus that affronted his ear on occasion as the lasting remnant of Siobhan’s visit, he was doing great. He needed to get back to what he was doing before, when he would just… go out for walks. Go exploring, meet new people. Take in the sights, the sounds, the smells, learn to filter those from each other and not to get overwhelmed, which strangely he never did (which he still attributed to his previous lifestyle). That’s what he was doing at the moment. That was to say, taking in the sights, sounds and smells, not whatever he did in his previous lifestyle. He walked down Amity Road, popping into the Siren’s Song briefly to say hello to Fluffy Joe as well as another few buildings that he’d been to once or twice. Gael wasn’t sure how far down the line he got when his dark, sunken brown eyes fell upon the visage of a man standing in the middle of the sidewalk, hands in his pockets and… very still. The professor’s eyebrows raised slightly with curiosity and he carefully approached the man, placing one of his hands in his pocket while the other rested on his messenger bag lightly and he stood next to the stranger for a moment. “So… what are we looking at?” He asked casually, glancing sideways at the taller man.

His head turned towards the voice and the man it belonged to, Caleb’s defenses immediately going up even if he was completely caught off guard. Who did that? Who just stood next to somebody and interrupted their search for a kill? He didn’t look like he was accusing Caleb of anything, he looked normal, but the zombie knew better than anyone that normal was a different thing entirely around this place. “Uh...” What did he say here? What was he looking at? What was he doing? Well, he was panicking obviously but what was a good excuse for a weird man to stand in the middle of a busy street staring at people? “People...watching. I'm people watching.“ That sounded plausible, right? Man, he wasn't subtle was he? The good news was his nerves could be considered a reaction to another equally strange man standing next to him for no good reason...unless.

Was there a reason? Who was this guy and why did he want to know what Caleb was looking at so badly? Reaching back into his memory, Caleb tried to compare this man to the faces of those cops that had questioned him about the blood in the cemetery but he couldn't place him in any of those encounters. Still, it didn't seem like they had been willing to let him go as a suspect so maybe they'd sent someone to check in on him. 'You're assuming, Caleb, stop.'

”I'm sorry...do I know you?“ That's it...stay polite, turn the questions on him, and Caleb would be just fine. As long as he kept his face neutral through this interaction there would be no reason to suspect he was up to no good. His heart couldn't race, he couldn't sweat, and there was no way for his cheeks to flush to give away his uneasiness; all things that had gotten him in trouble when he was human. Sometimes, very rarely, it was good to be a zombie. ”If I do, I apologize. I just don't recognize you.“

People watching in the middle of the sidewalk. A little bit unconventional, to say the least but Gael wasn’t one to judge; he’d done equally as strange things in his youth, which… the man standing before him (and indeed, in the middle of the sidewalk) seemed younger than him by at least six years. In any case, Gael had been there, done that - especially, embarrassingly, nowadays when he woke up in the forest buck-naked, sporting bruises and covered in blood that wasn’t his. Animal blood. That’s all it was. That’s all he could tell himself it was. Why was he thinking about that? Gael inhaled softly through his nose and gave the tall stranger a brief shake of his head. “Nah, we’ve never met. At least… I don’t think we have.” The professor said before holding his hand out. “So no apologies are necessary! I’m Gael.” He gave the stranger a gentle smile that easily reached his eyes. This was good, just focus on the other man. Don’t think about how he couldn’t hear the heartbeat in the chest of the taller man.

Caleb's eyes traveled down to the man's outstretched hand and he almost panicked again. It was something he hated doing these days, his skin was always so cold without the circulation of his blood, and he always feared whether or not it would give him away. He'd come up with a few excuses over the years but that didn't mean someone more aware of the...creatures of Wicked's Rest wouldn't catch on one day. He was already suspicious of this guy. ”I'm sorry, I would shake your hand but I've been a little sick lately and I wouldn't want to pass on my germs or anything.“ Lame excuse but it could also try to explain why the zombie was so pale and maybe why he had been staring. Damn, he'd just stumbled onto what he thought was a great explanation. ”I'm Caleb. It's nice to meet you, Gael.”

Was it though? The guy seemed friendly enough but he was a little too willing to stop and talk to a random weirdo staring people down for Caleb's liking, even if he was that weirdo. There had to be a catch here. “Uh, not that I'm not appreciative of you...you know, breaking me out of my stupor there but is there a reason? Am I in your way or something?” He probably should move to the bench anyway. Someone was bound to run into him full on if he continued to stand there.

It wasn't like Caleb to be rude to anyone, much less someone who had every reason to question him and his motives, but his mind was stuck on cop for some reason. He wasn't used to strangers going out of their way to talk unless they needed something, mostly information. It only made him more cautious than usual. “Did you need to ask me something?”

For a moment, thoughts raced through Gael’s mind about what was so offensive about his hand that would make someone not want to shake it. Those thoughts were gone as soon as they appeared, however, as they tended to do in the professor’s mind. There were many reasons why someone would’ve denied a handshake, up to and including the reason that the stranger had said. Gael was prompted into nodding understandably, deciding to keep the little tidbit of knowledge that he apparently had a godlike immune system to himself; he didn’t want to stress the poor man out, especially if he was recovering from an illness. “I totally get that. Nice to meet you, Caleb.” He smiled before shaking his head this time, inhaling through his mouth in an exaggerated enough way that moved his entire chest. He placed a hand on his hip, the other one wrapping around the strap on his messenger bag as he glanced around at their surroundings. Then he looked back to the newly-dubbed Caleb and gave him a look of assurance. “Hmm? No, I was just being nosey.” He said lightly, honestly. “You just looked… pensive. Like there was something on your mind.” Gael then leaned slightly. “And I know you didn’t ask but I know a couple of good spots to people-watch that are a little less… in the middle of the walkway.” He suggested, regarding Caleb earnestly.

Caleb gave the other man a small smile, grateful that he seemed to accept the excuse that the zombie gave and didn't want to question him. People around here weren't always so willing to let things drop without giving a third degree, something he'd noticed quite often throughout his life. This had made things particularly difficult for him when growing up as well, others always questioning his home situation when he didn't want to talk about it. Then again, it was how he ended up with Erin's family so he couldn't fully condemn the concern others were willing to show.

“Oh, uh, not used to people admitting to that.” Hmm, at least Gael was willing to be forthcoming with certain information. A cop wouldn't have said as much, right? With the man's word, Caleb nodded, hesitating before he almost gave in to the need to talk about something. It had been lonely since he'd turned, not willing to tell anyone what he was or how he was coping with his undead status and the idea of telling someone exactly what was on his mind was tempting even if he knew he couldn't possibly give that information to someone he didn't know or trust. “I might have some things on my mind ,yea.” Like killing a random man walking down the street. “But it's nothing I can't handle.” More lies.

He closed his eyes at the mention of better places for his activities, embarrassed for some reason. He'd been thinking it himself, he knew that he was in the way, but to be called out on it was worse than pointing it out to yourself. “You're right, I'm sorry, I am clogging up a space that's already overtaken with tourists.” Caleb looked over at Gael, looking sheepish. “Maybe I have more brain fog than I thought. I can move to the bench.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Gael said, glancing up at Caleb earnestly though his face adjusted slightly to better reflect a familiar tone, a friendly tone; as the taller man mentioned, he obviously had something on his mind and though Gael didn’t really believe him when he said it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, he also knew better than to pry information out of other people. “You aren’t clogging up space.” He made a small movement between a step and a tilt, not looking unlike a penguin for a moment. “I just figured maybe you’d feel better about sitting down. Standing isn’t great for brain fog and you might end up like one of those guys at a wedding who locks their legs and passes out.” He laughed, gesturing for Caleb to follow him, at least so that they were standing out of the middle of the sidewalk and road. He sat down himself, stretching his arms in front of him like a cat basking in the sun and to the point where his elbows popped audibly. “You picked a good day to zone out, I gotta say.” He looked up with dark eyes. “It’s not too hot, not too cold. Got a gentle breeze.” Gael paused for a moment. “And I know… it’s none of my business but if there was something on your mind that you were like “y’know, maybe I should tell someone else”, then I’m your guy.” He offered, still keeping his tone approachable; as he spoke, he thought of Ren and her little bug body, he thought of Van with her literal meltdowns, of Alex and Alan and he wondered if his not being able to hear Caleb’s heartbeat was indicative of one of those… ‘issues’.

“Right...” He cleared his throat, the embarrassment only rising within himself when he'd realized he'd made an assumption, one that indicated the other man was judging him. 'Other people aren't Gary, Caleb. Calm down.' A mantra that had started a few months ago, the zombie had to remind himself that his foster dad was his own person and his opinions didn't reflect everyone else's. It was hard to keep those thoughts away without it. Luckily there was something else to focus on. ”That's a real thing? You just lock your legs and go down like a falling tree?“ Could that even happen to him?

Watching Gael walk towards the bench, Caleb once again hesitated. He still wasn't sure about this man but it was probably best to stop drawing attention to himself when he was trying to figure out if he could get away with killing someone. Hands still balled into his jacket pockets, he followed Gael and took a seat next to him, only glancing at him for a second before he trained his eyes back onto the crowd.

Caleb was completely torn as he listened. On one hand, why was Gael so interested in the inner workings of his mind? Why did he want to know what was bothering a complete stranger? It felt so foreign to wonder if the man actually cared and wasn't digging for some sort of information to hold against him but he wanted so desperately to believe that. He couldn't though. He wasn't naïve enough to think he could. ”As appreciated as that is, it's really nothing major. Like I said, brain fog from a recent illness is just mixing with a challenge that I'm facing. Just trying to figure out how to fix it but it's...personal.“

Gael kept his eyes with the dark circles on the younger man keenly, but not harshly as the latter hesitated before answering. When he did, and with the lingering feeling that once again it didn’t reflect what the man was thinking, the professor gave a small nod. “I getcha. Sorry to be nosey.” He looked back out ahead, out at the brightly-lit street as people passed by absently, engaged in their conversations, listening to music. One man hurried by as he seemed late to his destination. A woman was speaking in quick, enthusiastic French to her friend. He heard his own heart beating. He heard the absence in Caleb’s chest, which was at odds with the latter’s evident anxiety regarding the situation, subtle though it was. He smelled four different things at once, heard ten different things at once. A while ago, he found it uncharacteristically overwhelming at the worst of times - Gael was used to busy environments but nothing like what he experienced after the animal attack. The words kept tugging at his mind, the things that Alex and Alan had said. What Emilio said. And still, none of it felt right. “I feel ya.” He replied, leaning forward and propping himself on his knees with his elbows, his hands lacing their fingers together. “I’ve got some shit of my own that I’m trying to fix, too.” He admitted. “And asking for help is… really hard.” So hard, in fact, that he hadn’t asked anyone. “But I guess I’m one of those people where helping other people is a lot easier than trying to solve my own problems.” He scoffed, shaking his head lightly. “You know?”

He'd been watching a lone teenager walking down the street with a shopping bag swinging by her side but he wasn't paying her much attention. His focus was, instead, on Gael's words. The similarities between the two men were becoming painfully obvious and now Caleb wanted to believe that this was genuine concern that much more. It was like he was saying exactly what Caleb was thinking and able to put those thoughts into words that he'd never been able to grasp. Blue eyes slowly went from the teenager to linger on Gael, his heart suddenly aching for him. God, he knew that feeling well.

“Yea...yea, I know.” His words had become soft, almost as if he didn't want Gael to hear them. “I've known that feeling all of my life.” He kept his eyes on the other man, wondering if he was crying out for something Caleb was trying to push away. Maybe the reason he was so into asking Caleb to open up was because he wanted to open up himself. “Um...are you okay? Because you know, the offer you were giving me, I'd like to extend that to you as well. I can try to help if you need it. Kind of makes me a hypocrite, but if you want to talk...“

The relatability was forming, the attempt at connection seeming to be reached as whether Caleb wanted Gael to hear it or not, he had. Then when, in a surprising twist, the younger man had asked him if he was okay, the professor fell silent for a moment. When he had brought up his own feelings, he hadn’t intended for them to fish attention, pity or concern. It was times like this that he realized that sometimes he said things in attempts to find similarities with other people without thinking about how they might’ve impacted someone else. However, he recovered easily enough and a smile that creased the corners of his eyes found its way onto his face. “You’re very kind for asking,” he began. “But I’m good! I’m great, actually; it’s a nice afternoon, I’m sitting on a bench, shooting the breeze with a stranger who asked me if I’m okay?” Gael leaned back now, placing one of his hands on his lower back as he stretched it. More pops crackled from his spine with a quiet grunt; leaning forward really wasn’t great form nowadays, was it. “I’d argue that I’m doing even better than before we started talking!” The man glanced over at Caleb again, two pairs of exhausted eyes exchanging glances. “I don’t know what you’re going through. All I can do is say ‘I know how you feel’, even if our respective battles aren’t exactly the same.”

—

He should have expected that Gael would do the same thing he had prior, especially since the man had said exactly how Caleb had felt. Two people in situations that called for help but neither willing to accept it, it was almost poetic...almost. It certainly had the tragedy part down. But at least Gael could hide whatever he was going through with a smile and bright words even if Caleb had the feeling they weren't quite the truth. ”You know, when I was a teenager I had someone like you approach me like this and I was too tired to lie anymore.“ His mind went to Jack, the night in the cemetery when he'd basically saved Caleb's life by taking him under his wing. His life would have been much different had he not given in to the need to talk to someone that night. ”I almost wish I'd been too tired today.“

But it was time to plaster on his own smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. He didn't have it in him to be as positive as Gael but he appreciated the other man doing so and it helped him lower his guard a little bit. He still had to be cautious, yes, as he knew nothing about this man other than his ability to relate well to sad people staring at others on the street but he wanted to trust him, even if just a little bit.

”You sure you're okay?“ His eyes went to Gael's hand resting on his back before meeting the other's again, lips quirked even more to show his amusement. Maybe if they got off the depressing subject it would be easier. It didn't appear that either of them were willing to discuss what was going on and Caleb was more than ready to give up on his 'people watching' for the day.

It wasn’t an answer, not directly, but there was a semblance of something there as Caleb opened up just enough of himself for Gael to be able to peek through. And he understood what he saw. He understood how there were certain prerequisites required for opening up, whether or not it was voluntary. Gael never needed help, not really. It was appreciated sometimes, in small, inconsequential ways such as holding the door open when his hands were full but on a grand scale, it wasn’t in the professor’s nature to think or assume that he was someone who needed help. Everyone did, of course but he’d spent so many years being exempt from the rule that he’d long since figured that it didn’t apply to him. And it wasn’t that he was too proud to ask, nor was it a sense of self-loathing that kept him from opening up. If he had to guess, it was that he didn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t okay. Speaking of, he heard Caleb’s question and he gave a small nod. “Yeah! I’m great.” He huffed out an exhale. “I’m just old, you know how it goes. The ol’ back isn’t what it used to be.” That was how he dealt with it. Just pave over it with something less serious. Caleb didn’t want to talk about whatever was pressing on his mind, and Gael wasn’t about to push. Wallowing in self-pity was something else the older man didn’t know how to do properly, so he just opted out altogether. “It’s pretty noisy right now, though. Must be the change in the weather.” And just like that, the attempt to shift the conversation was made. Caleb didn’t want to talk about serious things, which was completely fair, so Gael had a wealth of other conversational topics they could discuss instead.

That was just it, he didn’t know how it went. That was what he wanted to say. Dying at the age of thirty-seven meant he kind of understood in a sense but Caleb could barely remember the aches and pains that came with getting older after working in a job that required a lot of physical labor. He remembered long days and some nights ending in the need for TLC but that was about all he could remember. This was where the similarities between the two ended. Caleb nodded though as if he knew exactly what Gael was saying though, wanting to give off the impression.

“Fall brings out the autumn tourists in droves, that’s for sure.” As the words left his lips, Caleb caught sight of something over Gael’s shoulder. A man he hadn’t seen in years, someone that caused such a visceral reaction in him that he shrunk into himself to try and somehow become invisible. Gary always preferred invisible. Looking down at the sidewalk, the zombie tried to think fast. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, a solution to Caleb’s main problem. He had been looking for a murder victim, hadn’t he? Someone who wouldn’t be missed, someone who was a burden to society. Gary was the biggest burden he knew.

His eyes lifted to fall on his foster father. Gary had stopped in front of one of the stores but he wasn't window shopping, he was currently yelling at some poor soul that had walked into his path bringing him back to the nights he couldn’t escape his home. Nights when he’d turn up the music on his walkman so loud that he could be transported to a different world if he tried hard enough, nights that made him flinch at the sound of Gary’s voice, even to this day. It only solidified the decision that Caleb had been coming to.

“Um, Gael, it was really nice to meet you but I need to get going. I didn’t realize what time it was.” Never mind the fact that he didn’t even look at his phone or a watch for that matter. When he looked away from Gary towards the man sitting next to him, Caleb finally removed a hand from his jacket to grab a business card for the funeral home, flipping it over to write his number down. “Call me if you ever want to talk, okay? You never know…you might want to one day.” He held the card out and stood once it was taken, nodding to Gael before he started to walk in Gary’s direction to follow someone who had no guarantees of still being able to breathe later on that night. Well, the wealth of conversations wouldn’t need to be drawn from that day, evidently, as Caleb turned and hastily started to move as though he had missed his bus. Gael glanced over at the younger man as the latter apologized, looking over his shoulder, then mentioned something about how didn’t realize what time it was - well, of course he didn’t, he hadn’t looked at a watch or anything. However, Gael wasn’t naïve; Caleb had to disengage for whatever reason. It made sense, after all, especially given how Gael had just descended upon the poor guy and started making awkward small talk. So instead of getting tense to match the energy of the other man, he simply kept his dark eyes on Caleb, almost as if watching to see if he’d drop something or need help standing up. Obviously, he didn’t and instead, the other man pulled out a business card, jotting down a number before offering it to the professor. At the offer for him to talk, Gael smiled. “For sure. I appreciate it. And hey, once I send you a message, you know that offer’s good for you too, right?” He asked. Caleb gave him a nod before hurrying off, leaving the professor sitting on the bench, turning the card back over idly. A funeral home? No wonder Caleb looked so haunted.

#Threads #Thread: Gael #Would I Lie to You?

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