#simply because it had happened so many times before

[edamameimei]

Perhaps, Even This —chapter 39

A year ago, you were known as your friend group’s “sunshine.” You were able to light up a whole room with your energy and everyone could rely on you for your quick wit and easy humor. You lived life simply one day at a time. However, seemingly out of nowhere, that all changes. Now a Junior in university, you find it extremely difficult to do all the things you used to do. Especially being the Resident Assistant for the Geffen Dorms. New residents begin to move in and one them is a girl you could only describe as “radiant." Her name is Megan Skiendiel, and at first, you don’t welcome the positivity but as you two continue to meet and hang out, you find yourself becoming the person you used to be. Will you be able to be that person you were a year ago? Or will everything just stay the same?

39. yn n friends

half written (wc: 867)

Jen, Soobin, and Yeonjun squeeze together sitting down on your bed. They watch as you pace the room, your head down in silence as you try to think of the words to say. Talking about your feelings was always hard, but this was a lot more to unpack than anticipated. Finally, you stop, facing your friends with a distressed look on your face. 

“I’m scared of getting hurt again.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, you begin to feel sick. Tears brim your eyes and you shake your head, willing yourself to continue, “So, I thought, if I pushed everyone away then my life would be so much easier.” You laugh, looking up at your ceiling because you can feel the tears streaming down your face. Your friends all look at you, waiting for you to finish. They sit patiently and for once, you know that they’re here because they care. You tell yourself, I’m not a burden. You convince yourself, they don’t think I’m weak. You look at them with a pained expression on your face. You whisper, “But It’s just really fucking hard right now without you guys.”

You look down at your shoes, fidgeting at the hem of your shirt at an attempt to find control over your emotions. Your voice cracks as you speak, “It’s really hard without Megan and I- I messed up so bad,” You wipe your eyes and sigh helplessly, running a hand through hair, “What do I do?” It’s almost inaudible, but they hear you loud and clear. Soobin reaches out to you first, grabbing your arm and immediately pulling you into his arms. Suddenly, you feel everyone’s arms around you as you finally allow yourself to cry freely. They rub your back, soothing you comfortingly. They allow you to cry knowing you had it pent up for months.

After a few minutes, your cries finally subside, now sniffling quietly. You pull away from your friends, your eyes swollen and red from crying for so long. Jen reaches out, her hands cupping your cheeks. She wipes the remaining tears from your eyes and looks at you, worried. She whispers the question that has been asked of you so many times before. And this time, you know you can’t turn away from it.

 “What happened last spring, Y/n?” 

Yeonjun wraps his arms around your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs quietly, “Take your time.” You nod, looking down at your lap. You take a sharp breath, bracing yourself. “Yeji… She hurt me a lot more than I led on…” You close your eyes tightly, shaking your head as if you were trying to rid yourself of the memories that swim around in your head. “She was so awful. She didn’t just hurt me emotionally… She also- She- fuck.” You choke up, covering your mouth when the words don’t seem to leave your lips. But your friends knew exactly what you were trying to say. And they were furious.  

Yeonjun’s arms tighten around you. You can feel his anger rising as you continue opening up, taking another deep breath to recollect yourself. “She was always so mean. She would say all these awful things. But she somehow convinced me it was because she loved me– I’m so fucking stupid.” Tears brim your eyes once more and you cover your face with your hands in an attempt to shield how vulnerable you are. But Jen grabs your hands, pulling them into your lap. She squeezes them tightly, tilting her head to look at you softly. She furrows her brows. “Y/n… You’re not stupid. This was never your fault–” 

You cut her off, your voice breaking as you speak loudly, “This is all my fault! I hurt everyone! I hurt Megan, I hurt you guys, and I’m the reason why Yujin is still with Wonyoung…” You look at Jen, pain in your expression as you continue, “I never told anyone that it was Wonyoung… The person Yeji cheated on me with.” Her eyes widen at your admission. You start crying again, looking down at your lap in shame. You felt terrible for never saying anything. It’s as if your friends read your thoughts because they hug you again, holding you tightly. You hear Soobin whisper, “This was never your fault.” His words sit with you as you clutch onto Jen’s shirt. You take another deep breath before shakily responding, “What do I do now?” 

There’s silence in the room. No one one knows how to respond. They all just hold you, letting your words settle amongst everyone. Yeonjun runs his hands through your hair and looks at the others with a determined look in his eyes. He looks back down at you, grabbing your shoulders to force you to look at him. He leans in close to you, his eyes staring into yours. 

“You're not gonna fix this, Y/n,” He cups your cheeks, his brows furrowing with sincerity in his eyes, “We're gonna fix this,” He continues with a small smile on his face. His next words light something in you, as if you were brought to life again.

“We’re gonna do this together.”

a/n: omg what they finna doooooo (i know exactly what happens next LMAO)

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✧.* taglist is open ✧.*

[impossiblepluto]

I went with fainting because there are so many reasons it can happen, and it can come straight out of nowhere. Like, the other person is having a normal conversation and then the whumpee just drops. And then the sudden panic as their poor friend is trying to catch them and figure out what went wrong—are they hurt? Heat exhaustion? Does anybody remember the last time they ate?

There is such a nice variety with passing out. Do they know it's coming? Does the person they're with realize what's happening? Do they wait politely for a break in the conversation before dropping that little tidbit of info?

Mac stands, not quite at attention though the instinct and muscle memory is there. Warmth heats his cheeks as Jack paces in front of him. He feels stupid, standing here in the middle of the room that’s too big. Jack’s voice echoes off the far away walls. It’s only the two of them here, but he feels exposed. The too bright lights make him squint, his vision blurs. He feels like he’s being interrogated. 

He’s not. 

Interrogation would be easier. 

He hasn’t gotten a word in. Just standing here, listening to Jack ream him out 

Or trying to listen to Jack ream him out. 

He is actually trying to listen, not simply tune Jack out and float away with his own thoughts. Or lack of, for once his mind seems strangely quiet. It’s kind of nice. It would be easy to drift away but he respects Jack and their partnership too much to ignore him. 

Despite the way he feels nauseated and exposed and vulnerable, he recognizes that Jack’s rant comes from a place of concern. Of care. 

It’s… 

It’s not something he can try to process right now. Not with the way Jack is looking at him. Mac straightens up. Pay attention. 

The room really is huge. 

Mac blinks. 

The walls are really far away. It should take Jack longer to walk the length of the room. The average stride length for a man of Jack’s height is thirty-one inches so—

So Jack has plenty of space to lay out all the ways Mac failed today. Recap the danger he put himself in. The risks he forced the rest of the team to take to rescue him. 

Humiliation makes Mac’s ears buzz. 

Jack is upset. Scolding. But he made sure that he and Mac had privacy for this conversation. Humiliation is not the point of this lecture, not like it would have been with his dad. But then, Mac spent a whole childhood learning all of that, so he does a great job on his own. Heat builds in the back of his neck, then prickles along his scalp. 

Mac’s jaw tightens, breathing in through his nose. He narrows his eyes, trying to focus. 

“–Mac?” 

And blinks in surprise when Jack’s concerned face wavers in front of him. He gives a small nod. It must be the appropriate response because Jack seems to continue. 

His feet are numb. Like his shoes are too tight. And maybe his socks too. He didn’t notice that before. Too busy thinking about how big the room seems. 

Should he tell Jack?

No. He can't interrupt for something like that. Besides, why would he tell Jack about his shoes? 

Except Jack is looking at him expectantly, tipping his head in concern and taking a step closer. 

Mac’s eyes follow the path of Jack’s hand as it rises, reaches out, and slowly lands on his shoulder. 

Mac flinches. It’s several seconds after Jack’s touch, a delayed full body kick that he would have described as a hypnic jerk if he wasn’t wide awake, standing in the middle of a room. 

Jack’s mouth is moving. The sound hits Mac’s ears a moment later. “Mac?”

“Oh.” Mac blinks. Yeah, he probably should tell Jack. “I think I’m going to pass out.” 

He watches Jack's eyes widen as his own slip closed.

[shmisky]

Analysis aside do you have any personal headcanons for the Stans/Stancest?

The way I had never stopped to think about it... But yes, I suppose I do! They just kept accumulating over the years, and many of them were “stolen” from people/posts I’ve seen. I think my headcanoning isn’t ever fully divorced from analysis, since a lot of my hcs are born out of canon observations, but there are many self-indulgent/random/funny ones as well!

I’ve included both types of hcs below! 👇

🐇 Baby Ford cried during the fifteen minutes he spent separated from Stan when he was born as the older twin. Stopped crying immediately as Stan was placed with him.

🐇 Stan was Caryn’s favorite child. She didn’t dislike Ford, Stan was just her baby and more relatable as a fellow creative liar. Ford low-key has mommy issues over this.

🐇 Stan wasn’t the only “protector” in their childhood. When it came to Filbrick, Ford attempted to defend Stan to the best of his abilities. (He would never let Stan take the blame for something he did either, as I’ve seen happening in some fics.)

🐇 Ford & Stan’s childhood dynamic was low-key like Phineas & Ferb. Ford was the one who decided what they were going to do every day and dragged Stan along for the ride.

🐇 I mostly hc Ford as the middle child, with Shermie as the eldest brother (because the math really doesn’t make sense otherwise), but sometimes I like to imagine Ford as the eldest simply because being the firstborn would make his ego go bananas.

🐇 Ford doesn’t really gaf about Shermie. He’s the forgotten sibling. Every time Ford says “my brother,” you can be sure it’s his brother Stanley. And Stan? Well, he cares about Shermie a bit more, since he’s a family man, but not nearly as much as he cares about Ford. (I don’t see this in a tragic way, more in a funny way. Shermie isn’t hurt by this obvious fact of life.)

🐇 Stan’s memories in canon are not reliable, especially when they involve women. This is how I explain away the different/earlier designs for the (baby) Stans: Stan pictured himself as the most stereotypical nerd “loser” he could think of in his memories, and the result was the look in Dreamscaperers. And I don’t think Carla was simply a bitch who left him for a hippie. Stan is just misogynistic.

🐇 Ford was indeed jealous of Carla, though. Basic one. Stan and Ford were so codependent & inseparable and Ford was so autistic & clueless that Stan once told Ford he was going out with Carla and Ford understood he was meant to go as well, not even realizing it was a date and ruining the romantic vibes with his third-wheeling.

🐇 Fiddleford was only ever Ford’s friend, and they didn’t have romantic feelings for each other. (I really like Fiddleford, but not as a romantic interest for Ford, for many reasons. Sorry, no yaoi here.) They stay really good friends after the canon ending.

🐇 Bill and Ford were indeed romantically/erotically interested in each other, but nothing like smooching or sex ever happened between them. (In Bill’s case, it was more obsession and possessiveness than love per se; not “toxic yaoi,” but abusive yaoi.) Ford post-Bill’s betrayal fucking hates Bill’s guts and would never forgive him.

🐇 We all know Fiddleford, Bill, and Dipper were all Ford’s failed attempts at rebuilding the dynamic he had with Stan, right? Before Bill and Fiddleford arriving in Gravity Falls, in a moment of intense loneliness, Ford attempted to clone himself with the photocopy machine. It went as well as you can imagine.

🐇 Sometimes college/researcher!Ford didn’t hang up the phone and just ranted about his life to the “mysterious person” (a prank caller?) who somehow knew his number. (Stan listened to everything very attentively, glad for the chance to hear his brother’s voice.)

🐇 Stan fantasized about reuniting with Ford to get through his worst moments in the streets as a young man, going so far as to mimick Ford’s voice.

🐇 Ford also mimicked Stan’s voice while on the other side of the portal to push himself into surviving when things got really tough. Picture him staring wistfully at the photo he carried in his coat pocket like a WW2 soldier staring at the photo of a pin-up-looking sweetheart in a dramatic war movie.

🐇 Both twins talked to their reflection for that same reason. They also wrote things in their “bro code” that they would never send to each other, especially on their shared birthday.

🐇 Pre-Weirdmaggedon Stan was really pissed off at Ford and he actually meant it when he said Ford wasn’t his family anymore. Ford, meanwhile, didn’t take him seriously and still considered him his family. He would be really hurt if he knew the truth, but still too proud to admit it.

🐇 Mabel didn’t know about stancest, but she shipped them up until the moment Ford went too far and tried to separate her and Dipper. After Weirdmaggedon she started shipping them again.

🐇 I really like to read and write stancest fanfic with teen/young adult/pre-Weirdmaggedon Stans and imagine them smooching but when I think of the “canon” in my head I mostly think of them getting together romantically only in their Sea Grunkles era. It’s my “standard setting” hc, if that makes sense. It’s kind of what I’m picturing unless stated otherwise.

🐇 Regarding sex, Ford is definitely the top/dom one to me, hahah. That’s another “standard setting” hc, unless stated otherwise, in a very specific situation. Ford is too bossy & controlling, so he’d have to relax and let himself trust Stan and relinquish that control. Stan, on the other hand, is mostly a teasing brat.

🐇 Ford still has nightmares about Bill post-Weirdmaggedon. Stan has nightmares as well. They cuddle in bed together, listening to each other’s heartbeats (reassuring proof they’re alive & safe) until they fall asleep.

🐇 Ford gets really protective of Stan after Weirdmaggedon. Overprotective, even. And somewhat bossy about it, because this is Ford we’re talking about. He put a tracking microchip in Stan that Stan doesn’t know about. He would put one in Dipper and one in Mabel if he had the chance.

🐇 Stan’s inferiority complex regarding Ford isn’t gone and sometimes still shows its ugly head. Once Ford pretended he was very impressed by Stan’s sailor knot (when he actually already knew how to do it himself and was just trying to make Stan feel happy and proud about it). Stan eventually discovered the truth and spent an entire week giving Ford the cold shoulder. He still allowed Ford to cuddle and spoon him every night, but Ford wasn’t forgiven till the morning he brought breakfast in bed to Stan. Not so much because of the romantic gesture but because it reminded Stan there was something he could do that Ford couldn’t (cook).

🐇 Ford once sneakily read one of Stan’s hidden Duchess Approves fanfics and realized Stan was heavily projecting onto the duchess in love with her twin brother. Stan discovered Ford had been snooping in his things because Ford couldn’t help but correct the grammar of the entire thing with a red marker. After that, Ford became his beta reader. Sometimes they even roleplay it.

🐇 Stan has Ford massage his back daily. Ford doesn’t complain. He loves a chance to worship his brother’s body.

🐇 Ford gained a bit of fat after Stan forced him to eat real food instead of his nutrition pills. He’s still slimmer than Stan, though.

🐇 Ford tried to force Stan to exercise himself. It didn’t work. Stan likes life comfy & easy and punching monsters is already enough action and pain for his back. (He’s a pillow princess.)

🐇 Ford actually does know how to cook, but the result is something only Ford himself would eat. It’s edible, he swears, and actually delicious in the Bad Food Dimension (yes, Stanley, it exists, stop laughing), but tastes terrible for everyone except for him.

🐇 Ford, ever since they were children, thought that Stan doesn’t pay attention to his nerd rants. Stan, ever since they were children, paid much more attention than Ford would ever dream of. He loves hearing Ford talk about his interests. And because he’s a dumbass, he’ll never ever tell Ford about that. He’ll just roll his eyes and call Ford a nerd.

🐇 Ford somehow discovers the truth one day. He lets Stan keep his facade. It makes him unbearably fond & all warm inside and Stan is puzzled by his sudden good mood. Nothing Stan does annoys him for at least a few days, which in turn starts annoying Stan.

There are probably more I’m forgetting, but I hope you enjoyed at least some of these. I know I have very strong opinions sometimes, hahah.

[flyinguraniumrod]

Yes, I am going to yap about it again

But I just dislike it when people throw so many basic /commonly-appearing elements from other continuities into Transformers Animated 😭 frequently replacing its original ideas.

I don't care that it's because sometimes somebody (probablt not-too-knowledgeable) is simply making an AU. The other times the reason for that is merely a lack of knowledge and I happen to feel like it would be an a-hole move to "break the fun" with explanation, to be honest, as it became really normalized and a ,,uwu owo uvu" non-negative thing to do that. I am not pointing to any exact person because 'why?', no need to, and they (plural) kinda pop out and disappear like mushrooms xd

TFA is a continuity with many original elements and slapping such stuff here is just so..... you really are unable to handle deviations from the most common form, right anon?

Primus + thirteen original primes and TFA Optimus being one of them? So many continuities have that and to me it became a bit annoying at this point. The reason why they don't actually exist here is so oofing based, I like it sm, respect, and I am not even an a(nti)theist XD. Additionally, I don't think an actual matrix of leadership even exists here, the thing OP had as a necklace(lol) quite resembles it, however, those were technically just allspark fragments, weren't they?

Another severely distinguishing part of the Transformers Animated continuity are the relations between the 'good, ol', usual' main dudes: Optimus Prime and Megatron. The latter has been around for milions of years and is very experienced (he defeated and replaced Megazarak as Decepticon leader 14 milion stellar cycles ago. Yes, he wasn't the creator of that movement, another lovely thing), whereas Optimus Prime (not Orion Pax! But I will get to that later) is a mere space bridge repair crew leader, not leader of a faction, and is definitely less than 2 milion years old, as it's established in the first episode that he has not seen the war in person.

So, what do certain people do? MINERZ- Desperately attempt to put in the unmatching puzzle, which is taken from a few other continuities, since ,,the tale of Orion Pax and Megatronus/D-16" friendos became quite a tradition. There was no Orion Pax! One could metaphorically call the OP which we see in the show like that, however, in reality there is simply no actual tfa Orion Pax, and I am of the opinion that that's amazing. I doubt that Megatron could have "been a miner before the war", since I think the more likely option is him just being a part of one of Destron groups/armadas, as they are warframes made for conquest.

By the way... oh boy the main goal of the Decepticons in tfa lore is something for another discussion-

The dynamic Optimus and Megatron have here is absolutely amazing and it highlights the way Optimus must go through in order to became a renowned hero... Optimus does NOT gain a big power up and knowledge from some silly wee artifact, he earns the Magnus hammer (also an artifact probably, but not on mAtRiX level) by himself and Megatron finally starts remembering his name, which he never did before that because OP was such a meaningless vermin in his eyes before Megan got defeated. Megatron, the severely old and great leader of quite an ancient faction almost every Autobot fears and has heard many childish scary stories about - the Decepticons.

Oh Primus and once I've seen somebody call TFA Bumblebee..... B1-27 😭😭 well, wouldn't be surprised if he went by a serial number before being given a name in the Autobot boot camp. Hmmm... which kinda seems like high school..... CHILD SOLDIERS LET'S GGOOOOOO /silly /hardJ

Time for conclusion since I think my brain juice is about to run out

I don't mean to target or hate on people who throw in that stuff, however, I am of the opinion that following the widely-praised, most common form has a stupid and quite degrading impact on originality, which I think it's what this franchise really needs. TFA may be jus' another transformers continuity, it does have a lot of things in common with other stuff, but most of its unique elements should be a bit appreciated, instead of replaced.

The Transformers franchise is in desperate need of new concepts, original ideas and greater reinventions. It's not just typical geewuuners who directly whine about even the slightest changes, but also people from the more twitter/tumblrina side who are unable to resist the urge to spill one continuity into another, despite the elements contradicting the concepts from the target continuity.

Oh no and I just got reminded of something a few people did to tfa Elita-1... I am sorry but making her look so much like the Skybound one, especially with that stupid head, face expression and shade of pink makes her so ugly XDDD. Oh primus I think her TFA colors are really nice, since a "fembot" does not need stereotypically feminine colors to be one, and how her head design also has a ponytail like G1 Ariel (the pre-Elita-1 form)... so yeah holy cheese XDD ..... I understand not liking a version of a fav character, especially when they had been done so dirty by the narrative (Cyberverse Lockdown is so eh), but maannn, that is so much

Lemme repeat it again, I understand difference of opinions, that somebody can dislike a version of a character, I don't mean to act so ,,grrrr >:c" towards those people, but I am still going to have my own thoughts, da, which can be expressed thanks to the freedom that is given, especially on the internet

[kairithemang0]

Saf swap aus and why they're the bane of my existence... or something (and what i'd do if I made one. bcs it's very very different to saf proper and that's why I wouldn't really call it one SORRY THIS IS GONNA BE LONG PLS READ IT THO I WORKED HARD)

I don't really know how to describe it. Hopefully this makes sense.

More of, I dislike swap aus because I do not think that Curt would become any time of DMA, nor would Owen leave being a spy once Curt was presumed dead

And also

OWEN WOULD NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS LEAVE CURT THE WAY CURT LEFT HIM!!

Owen would rather die than do that. Curt mattered so much to him, if Curt slipped, there's no way only one of them was making it out alive. If it was anyone, it'd be Curt, because he would sacrifice himself for Curt to live.

At one point, I believe, that Owen stopped caring about missions that had anything to do with Curt. He did not care for his government, he understood that it was bullshit. Which is very different to Curt, who very clearly cares for those he works with, despite them being awful.

Owen understands that MI6 cares for him because he is a good spy, and that if they found out that he was gay, he would not matter at all. Curt may realize this with ASS, yes, however I don't believe he fully grasps it the way Owen does, or doesn't care as much. Curt still does his job because he wants to help his country, Owen does it because he simply has to.

So, therefore, if Owen left Curt, in the 0.333% percent chance that happens, and Curt survives, I do not think he'd take it as a personal attack the way Owen does. Curt rationalized him leaving Owen because it was what he was supposed to do as a spy, he needed to leave Owen to save himself. He'd likely come to this conclusion if he was left for dead by Owen, despite it hurting.

If Curt were to then be captured by Russians (which to me is what happened to Owen), and then found and rescued by Chimera, and nursed back to health, I also do not think Curt would go along with their idea. He says that the idea of some type of archival system bores him, that he has no interest in it. I'm unsure if Chimera would know this about him and therefore give him another reason to go along with them (since I doubt they just have the archival mission, but many). Even then, I doubt he'd ever become some type of DMA figure, or that he would ever rise through the ranks the way Owen did. I doubt Curt would want to go behind the backs of his country either, and certainly not if they're working with Russians or Nazi's. He values the US too much, and especially in a cold war era, I don't think he'd be able to put his nations pride aside for something that I don't think he'd care much for.

And Owen. Well jesus Owen would never stop working after Curt possibly died. Owen would work his ass off because now that's all he has. If he was going to escape his agency, it would have been with Curt. He will never find someone like Curt and certainly couldn't run off if it wasn't with him. Owen would rather prefer to work himself to the bone than never take any breaks again, likely working until he dies. I think his performance in missions would diminish, but he'd get them done. It'd be clear that he's ruining himself, however how much would MI6 care? I'm not sure

Anywho. If there's any type of saf swap au, it would be some type of "Owen somehow for some reason leaves curt for dead, curt leaves chimera right after they heal him (whether he needs to sneak out or not), he finds Owen who's probably trying not to bash his head into a wall, punches him in the face for leaving him, before never letting him go and they go into the woods and have a gay wedding but not legally married thing" or something.

[rock-n-macabre]

Stuck in Time: A Near Dark Drabble

This little drabble derives from a discussion I had with @riskybite based off of a post they had in regards to a HC for Severen.

WARNING: This does get very dark for content. I mean, it had to scar Severen to an extent.

Hope y'all enjoy!

x

Ever the observant one - also the one who gets shit for staring a bit too long - Severen finally settled into the chair to start up a game of poker with Jesse, Diamondback, and Homer. Caleb was off to the side with Mae as the group settled in for the rest of the night in the small motel room. Same old story - different night. It was like clockwork.

Shitbug - erm, Caleb - brought up the question to Jesse, asking how old he was. This garnered a snort from Severen. That boy was oblivious. Everyone pretty much had things about them, let it be their clothing, mannerisms or way they spoke, that reflected upon what era they were from.

"What about you, Severen?"

Everyone, except him.

Yeah, sure he had his mannerisms from the old west that if you knew a thing or two about lingo, you would pick up on. But his attire? It really wasn't reflective about the time of his actual date of turning.

Yet, he was still stuck in a time of death.

The moment he felt he truly died.

He didn't lose them once....but twice.

---

1887

The first time, when he was actually turned. It was unexpected when he was turned by Jesse. He thought for certain he would be left swinging then and there at the gallows. The last thing he saw before the drop was that of his lover's gaze. He thought that was a haunting image then...he wasn't prepared for the second time. The time he truly felt himself die.

See, after Jesse granted him the gift of immortality, he had a bit to learn. He had to learn how to control the hunger to an extent before he could even think about rejoining with his beloved. The reunion between the two happened, and it was like nothing ever changed. The only thing to have changed is his life - or lack thereof - so to speak. He felt a wave of calm hit when his beloved accepted who he was as well as becoming one with the lifestyle and was turned.

Over time, the others joined along. Jesse had came across Diamondback a few decades later, and then Homer was added to the clan as well.

They were one big, dysfunctional happy family.

Jesse had always warned him to be more mindful of his actions when he was caught up in the midst of feeding. He never faced any repercussions and didn't understand what Jesse was griping about.

But with many things Jesse had taught him; this was a lesson he was soon to learn the hard way.

"Babe....honey....c'mon....this really ain't funny....stop pullin' my leg..."

But there was no response.

There was no sign of them.

They were gone for a bit too long. He knew he shouldn't have let them go for too long.

He knew they were smart and wouldn't have gotten themselves in trouble...stay out of the sun, stay-

Then the sound of a truck speeding away and something hitting against the door feebly before everything went quiet.

Too quiet.

Wrapping a blanket to shield himself from the sun, he opened the door to find them there. Or what was left.

"No...fuck no....please....darlin'...."

They were too far gone.

He clutched the blanket from the ground and brought it in. The remnants of the accessories they wore, as well.

For once, no one knew what to say.

He didn't know what to say or feel.

The year was 1954.

It was then he truly died.

Ever since that day, he refused to get close to anyone again. He was forever stuck in the time that he lost the one true thing that saw through him and accepted him for who he was and wasn't. It was then whenever he saw a pickup truck with young'uns like shitbug in it, that would make him want to get revenge on the very type that made him a prisoner of time. It was because of that time that he vowed to keep the others safe - no matter the cost.

He was just simply surviving in what felt like an eternal groundhog day. He was living purely out of spite.

His severely mended attire was a reminder of how he was stuck forever in death. In his own hell.

Yet, the warmth comforted him and reminded him of the one thing he loved and the one thing he fought for.

The one time that he was truly happy, yet....that was taken away.

---

"Hold yer tongue, boy. 'Fore I cut it out fer ya." He snarled and slapped the cards down on the table.

"I fold."

This was uncommon for him because come hell or high water, he always was determined to win, even if he had to cheat to do so.

But there was one thing he couldn't cheat or bend to his will.

And that was time.

But, he could keep holding on to it the best way he could. He could make it so that way time was on his side...

Even if he was a prisoner of it.

[vicedmuses]

a part of him was a little disappointed that he wasn't going to feed anymore. at least to the point that a full human would have satisfied him. after all, these chases happened when he was starting to get hungry again. although, with the rate he did them, he never really reached a point of starvation. he was just as sadistic as he was impulsive. not a good match for someone that hadn't been a vampire for that long. it was the reason why rhett and he always clashed heads. he would've probably rushed to mike's rescue if he knew what his brother was trying to do. the stupid fucking werewolf was always getting in the middle of his plans. that didn't matter though, at least not right now. simply because he had mike all to himself and no one was going to take him away from him. if they tried then they were going to have to deal with a really annoying vampire. the one thing he liked more than killing was getting on people's nerves.

which brought him back to the present moment with mike. "i know nothing about you. you could have the world's lowest gpa score and are just pretending like you can actually hold your own with someone like me." meanwhile, he could tell that he was hitting the nail right on the head. "fine, it wasn't my first time, but if i stopped myself now maybe i've stopped myself in the past. just because i hunt doesn't mean i kill." that would have been a sound argument if he wasn't the reason why so many people had gone missing in the town. "i think we're both thinking with our dicks and that's why we're both alive right now." no shame in calling something like that out. another laugh bursted out when he mentioned the hospital. "you know that i'm an emergency nurse? so i would be the one treating you there too." god, life was great. this was purely ironic at this point. when mike continued to ramble on and then kissed him, the vampire had to admit he was caught off guard. thankfully, his reaction time was fast. brett wasted no time in returning the kiss. he moved his left hand down so that they were both on the man's waist and then flipped them around. now he was the one that was on top. then he pressed his body down, grinding against mike so he could see just how turned on he was, as he mentioned before. no doubt being left in the air if he was attracted by the man.

Mike wondered if this was it. If he had finally lost his mind. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised. It should’ve happened long ago. Why was he feeling this—this pull toward the man who had been hunting him down not even minutes ago? One moment, he was ready to fight for his life, to kill if he had to. And now? Now, all he wanted was to stay in his arms, to let himself be touched, held. The fear that had gripped him so tightly before was gone, replaced by something else—something he couldn’t make sense of. He felt safe. Protected. Which was insane. This was the same man who had been chasing him, who had wanted him dead. And yet, somehow, it felt like if anyone tried to hurt Mike now, he would be the one to kill for him. His head felt light, dizzy. Maybe this was the other’s doing. Or maybe... maybe the other was under a spell too. It was the only thing that made sense. The only reason why he wasn’t attacking. Why his hands, instead of bringing pain, were being gentle.

Mike rolled his eyes, but it was more playful than annoyed. The tension between them only grew thicker, pressing down on him like a weight. His breathing felt uneven, the air hotter between them. “I’m insulted you think I’m that stupid,” he scoffed. “Like I can’t see through your obvious lies. The way you hunted me? Yeah, that wasn’t your first time.” He narrowed his eyes. “Lust? Please. If you were thinking with your dick, you’d know it.” It took him a second to fully register what the other was suggesting. Wait. Was he saying he was attracted to Mike? That he felt it too? Mike was safe now—that much was clear. But why? What had changed between them? “Maybe for you,” Mike grumbled. “I’m going to be sore, probably injured, and you are taking me to a hospital after this to make sure I’m okay.” The other laughed, and something about the sound sent warmth rushing through Mike’s chest. He wanted to hear it again. “I did call you a dumbass, didn’t I?” Mike smirked. “I wasn’t saying it for fun.” He had no idea where this sudden surge of confidence came from, but it felt like they were feeding off each other’s energy. “Who said I was incredibly turned on?” he challenged. “Maybe it’s just the adrenaline. You did make me run. Oh my god, you talk too much,” he muttered—then shut him up the only way he could. By pressing his lips against his.

[siristaci]

.

[batgeance]

god bruce fucking hates talking to wayne execs and financial advisors

[booasaur]

Something really amazing happened in France, and I think it'd help us in the US to learn about it. Forgive the long read, but I think this is genuinely great both because of what happened and how.

So as some of you might have seen, in a decision historians will debate for years (mostly to figure out just WTF he was thinking, even though he is alive right now and can be asked), the French president, Emmanuel Macron, currently in power and THREE YEARS before the scheduled election, seeing the far right rise in popularity decided to dissolve the assembly and hold snap elections.

577 seats were up for grabs. Remember that number. Since half of that is 288.5, 289 seats are needed for a majority.

The first round happened last week and boy, was it bad. The far right made HUGE gains. It won or was in first place in so many races. And Macron's party ended up third!

Overall, this is how things ended up after the first round:

Far right bloc: 33%

Left bloc: 28%

Macron's centrist party: 20%

Conservatives: 7%

The way the French system works is that if a candidate gets over 50% of the vote, they win outright, and some of the far right did manage that. But, many races went to a runoff.

Immediate projections after were that the far right bloc might win anywhere from 240 to 310 seats, a catastrophe.

A shameful swing to the far right leading to the first time they'll be in power since the 1940s? Yes, but maybe not??

This is where things get interesting.

Unusually, a lot of these runoffs are 3-way, instead of a simpler 2-way choice. And in pretty much every case, that helps the far right.

So on June 30th, the night of the first round, this is how things went down:

Immediately, the left parties put out the call: anywhere they were third, they withdrew and their voters would go over to whoever was running against the far right candidate. Their goal: form a "republican front" to block the far right. The far right cannot get 289 seats.

Macron's bloc was not so...motivated. Different people put out different instructions: in some places, if they were third, they should drop out, but only to help the center left, not far left, in other places, see how far you are, only then drop out, that kind of thing.

The conservative party simply said they won't drop out and won't give their voters instruction either way in races they're not involved in.

Late night developments:

More people in Macron's party are now beginning to realize the situation and starting to coalesce around whichever candidate can beat the far right one. Prime Minister Gabriel Attal, from Macron's party, says clearly the priority is to block the far right. BUT, some Macron spokespeople on TV say they'll form a coalition only with the center left and conservatives, splitting the left bloc if needed. Some individual Macronists still saying they won't drop out, even if there's no hope of winning.

Lol.

So, now July 1st:

Only half so far. In one race, where the sister of Marine Le Pen (the far right leader and the face of their movement) was leading, the third place Macronist refused to bow out.

Excellent quote from another Macronist:

Perhaps realizing the same thing, that Macronist in the race against the Le Pen sister now drops out.

In some places, third place Macronists are dropping out DESPITE Macron bewilderingly telling them NOT to?

Halfway through the day:

Of the 311 3-way or 4-way runoffs, the number is down to 135 because of these candidates dropping out: 121 Left, 56 Macronists, 1 conservative.

Oh, there was this, in case people had any doubts about how terrible the far right are:

And to show the selflessness of the left:

July 2:

The deadline to decide if they want to stay in a runoff is today.

A dozen new third place Macronists who said they'd stay in have now dropped out. One got a call from both the PM Attal AND Macron to drop out, signalling the dawning understanding of the importance of this moment.

Even some conservative party members are now backing the left candidate who faces the far right.

A Macronist who had 30.55% of the vote in the first round and came in third to the far right's 33.11% and left's 32.73% and who would have been tempted to stay has dropped out.

The deadline to stay in or not has now passed.

Look at these far right shenanigans!

Macron still being a freaking loser:

July 3rd:

In the end, of the 311 3- or 4-way run offs, only 91 left. Some polls come out that have the far right getting between 190 to 220 seats.

July 4th:

New polls say the balance of the voting itself isn't transferring between the left and center and predictions have risen for the far right, now predicted to get between 210 and 250 seats.

July 5th:

New polls again, left voters now predicted to do better transferring vote to the centrists, decreasing the far right projections again.

However, scandalous reporting emerges: while Attal was trying to fend off the far right, Macron was not only NOT taking the far right seriously, he was undermining efforts to defeat them. His team shrugged off the first round results and celebrated a BIRTHDAY as the results were still coming in?

July 6th:

A few runoffs happened yesterday, nothing much unexpected, some left and center wins.

July 7th:

The day of reckoning. At this point, the expectations are that the far right won't come close to that 289 number but could still easily have the most seats.

GUYS.

It's over and the left are in the lead!

A LOT of cases where a leftist or centrist was 2nd in the first round and now won.

Amazing:

SO many lessons to take from this.

First, you have to vote! You have to. You can't do anything without voting. The freaking French, who'll protest for anything, are showing up to vote. If you're trying to achieve any kind of result and it's not going to happen by January 2025, you have to vote now.

But just as importantly, the left and center (and even conservative) parties made very key decisions. They were all lucky that Attal, who Macron chose, saw the big picture, bigger than indeed Macron could. A stupid selfish centrist leader could have still ruined everything if it were up to him.

TL;DR: After a disastrous first round in the national French elections where the far right was on the cusp of taking power, the left and center formed a strong coalition and through the power of voting and unity, overcame the far right AND their selfish centrist president to win.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Like he means it

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Summary: You can’t take another night of hearing Bucky fuck a girl who isn’t you.

Word Count: 13.6k

Warnings: Bucky is a fuckboy (but he’s still a sweetheart); lots of talk about unrequited love (but is it?); mentions of sex; crying; lots of desperation; longing; heavy confessions; feels; happy ending

Author’s Note: This is written for the lovely cinema themed writing challenge of @elixirfromthestars ♡ I had this kind of idea for a while but when I read those lyrics it somehow immediately came back to my mind and I needed to make something out of it. This is kind of inspired by your Boulevard Confessions because I loved it so much! And damn, I've already written so much about roommate!Bucky but I can’t help myself lol, I love him. Also, this got a little long, I'm sorry. Still, I hope you enjoy! ♡

Hold My Hand "Pull me close, wrap me in your aching arms. I see that you're hurtin', why'd you take so long to tell me you need me? I see that you're bleeding, you don't need to show me again. But if you decide to, I'll ride in this life with you. I won't let go 'til the end." — Lady Gaga

Masterlist

You hear the giggling before anything else.

It’s always the giggling.

And, as always, it grates on your nerves.

It carves through the air, seeps into the walls, into the floorboards, into you. It tears its way inside and scrapes its manicured nails along the rawest and most sensitive parts of you, only to bury itself deep, where you can’t simply dig it out.

Then comes the keys.

The light, metallic jingle, so careless in its melody, but so troubling in its meaning.

Then the lock turning, the click soft and yet so irrefutable.

Then the door opening.

More giggles.

His breathy chuckles.

Then the door closing.

Shoes being kicked off, one hitting the wall.

You press the pillow harder against your ears, as if you could suffocate the sound before it reaches you, as if you could bury yourself deep enough under the covers to escape what you already know is coming. But you can’t. You never can.

Your brain usually does you the favors of drowning out the parts in the hallway, knowing it will probably make your heart stop in an instant. Today, it doesn’t do you any favors and you close your eyes, accepting the sting behind them.

And then, his bedroom door.

And if all that wasn’t torture enough, it was only the easy part.

Because now is when it really starts. It’s when your throat closes up, the breath in your lungs turns heavy, thick, impossible. Because no matter how many times this has happened, no matter how many times you laid here in your bed, still, so still, waiting for the agony to stop, pretending it doesn’t happen - it never stops hurting. It never stops breaking your heart - or whatever’s left of it.

At first, there is silence. The small period where you almost dare to believe, to hope.

But then comes the moaning.

High-pitched and breathy, hinting at a pleasure that strikes you with a hammer.

Someone else. Always someone else. Someone who is not you, someone who never had to try, someone who will never know what it means to ache for him like you do.

Then, quieter, but just as devastating, Bucky’s voice. The low sound of him unraveling. The sound of something slipping from him that you will never be able to take.

And that’s what breaks you most. That’s what turns the ache into utter misery. Madness even. It’s the inescapable proof that he has something to give - something deep, something intimate - and he is giving it away. Over and over again, but never to you.

You close your eyes, as always. It doesn’t help, as always. The sounds don’t stop anyway. The images come anyway - the touches you have imagined, the way his hands would feel against your skin, the way his mouth would shape your name if you were the one beneath him. The way he might look at you, if only he could see.

But right now, you are just the ghost in the next room, curled in on yourself, ears filled with the sound of someone else living the life you always wanted.

And in the morning, or right after, when the door will open again, when the giggling will turn to goodbyes, you will still be here, where you always are. Where you always will be. Waiting. Wanting. Breaking. Wishing you could turn it off, this feeling. This unendurable and never-ending heartbreak.

And that finally makes the tears flow.

They well up before they spill over, down the slope of your cheek, gathering in the hollow beneath your nose before falling onto the pillow and wetting it like a pool.

You squeeze your eyes shut, so tightly it should hurt, so tightly it should make them stop. But they come anyway. They come despite the barricade of your willpower, despite the way your body coils tighter in on itself. They come despite the desperate war you wage against them.

They come because you have lost. Because it’s too much.

The moaning doesn’t stop, and it’s too much. It’s the middle of the night, and it’s too much. It’s the third night in a row, and it’s too much.

Bucky’s hushed voice shatters something inside of you, you didn’t know was left intact a few seconds ago.

Your breath turns sticky, only half of it making its way up your throat. The other half stays attached to the walls of your throat like honey gone rancid. It refuses to leave completely, snagging and trapping you in the awful space between breathing and choking.

Maybe if it stopped altogether, it would be easier. Maybe suffocating would be gentler than this slow and unsparing death of heartbreak.

Your hands are shaking. You bury your face into the pillow, willing it to just take you as a whole and never let you leave again. The fabric muffles the shuddering sobs, but it cannot do anything for the way your body trembles. But you know that the sounds of pleasure in the other room will tune out the sounds of your cries. The pillow is being clutched so tightly, you might tear the fabric. But it’s your heart that’s being torn into so many pieces. So what is a pillow compared to the ruin of your heart? It’s nothing.

You are alone in your grief.

The moans stop for a second - abrupt, cut off mid-breath.

Bucky’s voice comes. He says something but you don’t catch his words.

However, you do catch the displeased groan of his girl for the night. Drawn-out and petulant. Annoyed.

Bucky speaks again. Firmer, this time. Again, it’s too quiet to catch it.

And then you hear your name. It’s muffled still, but you would hear your name coming from his lips always and forever. You know the exact cadence of it shaping his mouth.

Everything in you halts. Your breaths are suspended somewhere in your throat, caught between shock and devastation.

The girl scoffs. It’s a snappy sound. Almost whiny. You would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t so troubled.

The moaning resumes. But it is quieter this time. Controlled almost. A courtesy. A mercy. But not for you. Not in the way you wish.

And it makes you know.

He asked her to keep it down. For you. He must have told her he has a roommate - you - and that they need to be mindful, that you might be trying to sleep.

Somehow, in all the infinite ways he could have cared for you, this is the one he chose. Not to love you, not to want you, but to make sure his flings don’t disrupt your sleep. As if that’s the worst of it. As if the noise is what truly keeps you up at night, and not the agonizing truth of it all.

Harshly, your teeth sink into your lip, fighting to stifle the sob that trembles on the edge of you. But again, you are losing.

Because hearing your name in the middle of something so intimate, spoken in the same breath of his pleasure, is pure anguish.

Because your name should not exist there. Not like this. Not casually sneaking into a mind occupied with pleasuring someone else.

If he were to say your name in a moment like this, it should be a soft whisper against your skin, entangled in sheets, buried in kisses that steal the air from your lungs. It should be something private, something sacred.

Not an idle afterthought. A consideration. A passing thought before he loses himself in someone else’s body. You have never heard him say any girl’s name before when sleeping with them, but hell you also don’t try to listen too closely.

You won’t talk about this. You never talk about this. When the morning comes and you meet Bucky in the kitchen for breakfast, you will not mention it. Just like you never mention the other nights. Just like you never dwell on the soft apologies he offers when they got too loud. And just like always, you will brush it off, force a brittle smile, and tell him that it’s fine.

It’s not. It never has been. And you don’t think you ever manage to make it sound like you mean it. But you are gone before Bucky can push or apologize again. Or see how deep the knife has gone.

Because he might be careful to be quiet. But he will never be careful enough to stop breaking your heart.

So what is the point?

You don’t want to do another morning like this.

You can’t do another morning like this.

Not three times in a row.

Not when the night has already taken your soul and what was precious of it, barely sewn together by the time the sun fights its way through the window.

Not when you know how it will play out. Like it has the day before. And the day before that.

The door to his room will creak open, the girl already gone. You will hear the shuffle of his bare feet against the floor, the sigh as he stretches, and the yawn that usually makes it past his lips. He never tries to stifle it.

And then, him standing there and watching you.

Disheveled. Bed hair sticking up in a mess. You never let your mind wander to how her fingers might have something to do with that. His shirt would loosely hang over his frame, probably thrown on in a hurry, collar askew, revealing a sliver of skin you shouldn’t be looking at.

That lazy and slightly flustered smile. Sleep still in the corners of his eyes, his lips, his voice, when he greets you with a scratchy morning.

Like nothing happened. Like he didn’t shatter you into a thousand unfixable pieces last night. And the night before that. And now this night.

You will do your best to greet him back without sounding pained. Focusing on making coffee. The way the steam normally curls into the air, the warmth of the mug in your hands. You will have to focus on it as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

And despite knowing you shouldn’t - despite hating yourself for it - you will slide a cup toward him. As you always do.

His smile would shift. Settling into something fond, something warm, something that digs its claws into your ribs and refuses to let go.

Because that’s usually the worst part. He’s always so sweet with you. Thoughtful, affectionate in ways that don’t count. In the ways that make you feel like maybe if you just hold on a little longer, if you wait just a little more, he might start feeling what you do.

But you are certain, he won’t.

Because for him, everything seems fine. For him, this will be just another morning. Another easy, comfortable start to the day. With his eyes on you and sipping his coffee, exhaling like he is finally at peace, and leaning against the counter with a lightness that always has your stomach all up in shambles.

He always makes it seem so normal. Starting conversation with you, talking to you as if nothing has changed. Like you didn’t spend the night curled in on yourself, swallowing down sobs so thick they feel like razor blades. Like you didn’t spend the night choking on the sound of him with her.

He never mentions them. Never says any of the girl’s names, not that you even know what they are. He never makes plans to see them again. Just another faceless but very loud girl. One to be forgotten.

But tomorrow night, there will be another.

Tomorrow night will be the same.

And in the morning nothing will have happened.

Only him standing there with his sleep-mussed hair and that sweet, easy smile, drinking the coffee you should have stopped making for him a long, long time ago.

You rise out of bed, not even aware of it. The cold air nips at your tear-streaked cheeks, your sheets thrown back in a mass of tangled fabric still warm from the ball your body was curled in, breaking in silence. The pillow is still wet.

Your hands move on their own, tugging on slacks, yanking a hoodie over your head as though the fabric could hide you, save you from the devastation caving a hole into your chest.

You fumble for your phone before throwing open your bedroom door.

The moans are louder again. Yanking at your resolve and laughing at the way your tears keep coming.

Your feet move faster. You don’t actually run, but it feels like running. Like fleeing. Escaping a burning building before it collapses. The living room comes into view and it’s like a cruel trick, like the universe is taunting you, because all you see are phantoms.

The coffee machine on the counter. How many times have you two stood there, still tousled with sleep, you making coffee for the both of you because Bucky burns everything. How many times did he lean on the counter, watching you with that stupid little half-smirk, pretending to judge your process but always humming in satisfaction when he took the first sip.

The bookshelf in the corner - the one you swore you could build on your own. And you tried, you really did, but the second the screwdriver slipped and you gasped out loud, Bucky was there immediately. Hands on yours, worry furrowing his brows, grumbling about your stubbornness and continuing to grumble when he passive-aggressively built it himself.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, watching him, pretending to be annoyed but secretly savoring the way he kept glancing at you, again and again, to make sure you were okay and giving you instructions as to how it’s done but throwing you a glare when you insisted on trying again.

The carpet. The same one you both collapsed onto after a night out with your friends, too tipsy to move, giggling like teenagers as you pointed at the ceiling, pretending to find constellations in the uneven paint. He named one after you. You named one after him. You fell asleep there, side by side, and when you woke up he was so close. So close.

The couch. The one he practically melted into last week when he had a fever, whining dramatically until you caved and brought him soup. He kept pulling you back when you tried to leave, pouting like a child, demanding your attention because I’m sick, doll. Can’t ignore me when I’m sick. Until you sighed and sat down, letting his head rest in your lap. He fell asleep like that. Snoring. And you didn’t have the heart to move.

And now he is in his room, tangled in her, moaning into her skin, kissing her - like it doesn’t mean anything. Like none of it ever meant anything.

Your breath is uneven, your hands shaking as you grab your shoes. The laces blur, your vision fogs, but you can’t stop.

You throw open the door to your shared apartment, barely thinking, barely breathing, only moving. It swings back into the frame with a sharp sound echoing through the hallway, louder than you had intended. But it doesn’t matter now. Because you are sure that Bucky doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t notice. He is otherwise occupied and you are utterly drained of thinking about with what.

The air outside the apartment feels different. Lighter and cooler, but it doesn’t bring relief. It’s thin and hard to pull into your lungs properly.

Natasha’s place isn’t far. Fifteen minutes on foot. You tell yourself that over and over, like a mantra, like something to grasp on.

No more moans. Lost to silence, left in a place that feels little like home right now. Still, they resonate in your skull, haunting reminders of that pain you can’t dismiss, that hurt that hangs off you like a heavy burden.

You slow your steps on the staircase and inhale deeply. It trembles on its way out.

You hate how fragile you feel. How breakable. Hate how much this affects you. How much he affects you.

But you keep walking.

Just yesterday, you talked to Natasha and she offered you to stay with her for the night, looking at you all sharp and knowing, but in her own way sympathetic. You declined. Because you thought you’d be fine. Well, you were wrong.

It’s past midnight now, completely dark, but you don’t care.

You know, Natasha will let you in. And that will have to be enough for tonight.

The city is alive even at this hour. Neon lights glow in the distance, their reflection shimmering in rain-slicked puddles that dot the cracked pavement. Somewhere across the street, there is a group of people laughing, and disappearing around a corner. A car flies past, with headlights unlocking long shadows lengthening down the sidewalk.

You focus on those things. On the shoes thumping against the pavement. The way the crisp air is somehow refreshing as it weaves through the fabric of your hoodie and stings slightly at the tear-streaked skin of your cheeks, keeping you awake and propelling you forward. Not that you need any more motivation to leave.

You wind your arms around yourself like a shield, like a last-ditch effort to keep yourself from falling apart completely.

You don’t look back.

Somewhere above you, there is a creak of a window opening.

It makes you freeze for a small second, before tightening your arms around yourself and picking up your pace.

Your stomach spins violently because fuck, you know that sound. You know the groan of that window when it moves, just a little off its hinges, just enough to make a noise you’ve heard a hundred times before. Because it’s the window of your apartment. And it makes a noise that has never felt so much like a punch to the gut.

“Y/n?”

You close your eyes.

“Y/n!”

Your name spills from his lips, laced with confusion, infused with something that makes your fingers clench around your arms.

You could ignore him. You should ignore him. Just keep walking, keep moving, pretend you didn’t hear.

But you can’t. You never can.

With a slow, dragging breath, you turn around.

Bucky is leaning over the frame, his torso reaching out the window, bare from the shoulders down. He is bathed in the hazy yellow glow of the streetlights.

His hair is messed up, brown tendrils all sticking in different directions. His brows are knitted in confusion. His lips in a frown so full of worry. And it’s just too much.

Too warm. Too intimate. Too familiar.

Your chest stutters, lurches, and swirls itself into a dozen moving shapes that hurt more than they should. Because he stands there shirtless. Shirtless. And you know why.

You swallow back your hurt, but it stays stuck in your throat and crawls right up again to make you taste it on your tongue.

You force your gaze away from staring at the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his throat, the soft lines of his skin, the hard lines of his muscles that she had her hands on just minutes ago.

“Where are you going?”

The tone highlights his concern, thick with the kind of worry that would have meant everything if it weren’t coming from him like this, not now. His voice is rough, remnants of the time already spent with that girl, but all you can hear is that damn worry in it.

As if you owe him an answer. As if he isn’t the reason your chest feels like it’s been hollowed out and left to rot.

You draw in half a breath and look away - down the street, down at your shoes, the bricks of your building. Anywhere that isn’t him.

“To Nat’s.”

It’s clipped and short. You don’t want to explain, don’t want to talk, don’t want to stand here in the night air beneath the window of the apartment you share with him like some pathetic wreck while he worries about you.

“Nat’s?” You can hear the bewilderment in his voice, the way he is trying to piece it together, the way his brain is already working overtime, scrambling to make sense of this - and you can practically feel the moment he decides he won’t let it go.

“Somethin’ happen?” His voice just won’t stop to be so perplexed, so concerned. It is softer now, but you only glance up at him briefly before averting your eyes again.

Because damn Bucky, yes, something happened. Everything happened. Every night that he brings someone home, every touch that belongs to someone else, every soft moan that isn’t meant for you.

All these moments, all these memories, every feeling left unsaid that swivels and stings and grows into what it is now - a storm inside your rib cage, a hurricane of almosts and never wills and why does it have to be like this?

But of course, you can’t say that. You won’t say that.

So you just shake your head, tighten your arms around yourself, and take a step back.

“Go back to bed, Bucky.”

Because you can’t do this right now. You won’t do this right now.

Not when you are already about to break.

“I- What?”

His voice is a little raspy, puzzled, and under any other circumstance, it might have been endearing. On a normal day, if this were some cozy Sunday morning and not the breaking stretch of midnight, you might have smiled at the sight of him like this - hair in a wild mess, eyes a little heavy from the day, bare shoulders shifting in the glow of the streets.

But this is not a Sunday morning. And nothing about this feels good or cozy or right.

You are so damn exhausted. So damn drained.

“You-” he starts again, brow furrowing deeper, but before he can get another word out, hands appear - slim fingers wrapping around the thick of his bicep, tugging, pulling, trying to drag him back inside.

Bile is pooling at the base of your throat.

She’s alone with him up there, in the space that you have spent so much time making into something warm, something filled with comfort. A space where you feel home. With him. And yet, it’s that random girl in there, laying in his bed, under his covers, in his scent, in him.

“Bucky, come on.” Her voice is thin and peevish, thick with impatience. And exhaustion you believe she has no right to feel when you are the one who has spent the time suffocating under her presence.

But Bucky doesn’t move.

His hand only grips onto the windowsill tighter, muscles in his arm locking.

And his eyes stay fixed on you.

Still searching. Still confused. Still trying to understand.

And it makes your hands clammy.

The way he looks at you like he is reaching for something just beyond his grasp, something that eludes him no matter how hard he tries to hold onto it.

He huffs out a breath that just borders on frustration when her fingers won’t stop pulling at him.

“Hold on, doll-” he calls out to you and unwinds her hands from his arm, barely sparing her a glance as he leans out the window again. There is a little something in his tone when he speaks to you again. Something like exasperation. But it’s not meant for you. “What’re you doin’ at Nat’s? Tell her it’s the middle of the goddamn night. Why would she let you walk over to her? She knows it’s not safe.”

You shake your head, already half turning away again. You just cannot do this right now.

“It’s fine. Just go back to bed, Bucky.”

“Y/n - hey. What’s wrong? What’s this about?” There it is. That softness in his voice. That concern. And it hurts. Because he doesn’t get it.

“Go. Back. To bed,” you repeat, sharper now, gritting it out between clenched teeth.

But Bucky has always been stubborn. And so infuriating. It’s like he doesn’t hear you at all.

“C’mon doll, did something happen? Talk to me,” he urges, voice gentle but he doesn’t seem to like the way you look as if you would bolt around the corner any second. His tone is coaxing in a way that makes you ache because this is what he does. This is what he has always done - pulling you in, making you feel safe, making you feel cared for, making you feel like you matter. Like he means it.

And it’s cruel. So cruel.

Because you are in love with him.

And he is standing in that window, bare-chested and rumpled from a night with another woman, while you are in slacks and a simple hoodie beneath him with your heart cracked wide open, bleeding into the pavement.

“I don’t wanna do this right now, Bucky,” you snip, voice losing patience. But you are so tired.

Bucky sighs and runs a hand through his hair, frustration growing, seeping into his voice. “You’re killin’ me here, sweetheart. Just tell me what’s goin’ on. It’s cold out, doll. You’re not even wearin’ a jacket.”

You swallow down a choked breath.

Because this is making things so much worse.

That he cares. That he is looking at you like this, like you matter, like you are his.

Like you are something he wants to figure out. And he wants to take his time with. Like he wants to fix you.

But you are not broken. You are just in love.

“Bucky,” that girl calls out again, dragging his name out, voice honey-thick and pettish. “Come on babe, let it go. Just-” She tugs at his arm again, nails skimming along his forearm. “Come back to bed.”

But he doesn’t move.

Doesn’t even glance at her.

His mouth twitches, jaw ticking as he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking her off with a firm roll of his shoulder. “Would you quit it for a sec?” His voice is edged now, tinged with a kind of terse impatience he seldom ever lets out. “Jesus, m’tryin to talk here.”

The girl huffs, clearly displeased, but Bucky doesn’t spare her another second.

But the one second he threw his head around at her was your chance. Your feet move before you can think, before you can talk yourself into staying, because if you do, if you let him pull you in, let yourself hope-

“Woah, doll, hey. Wait, I-”

His voice is frantic, stammering over its own syllables and filled with too many things your mind is too jumbled to focus on.

But it makes you stop your body in the midst of a step. And you grind down on your teeth against the frustration burning inside you.

You should keep walking. Shouldn’t have stopped.

But Bucky is leaning even further out now, his knuckles bracing against the sill, the night air tousling his hair, eyes wide and concerned, searching. One of his arms is reaching out, down to you as if he could touch you like this.

“Hold up, yeah? I’m comin’ down.”

You whip halfway back to him, brows snapping together, heart slamming against your ribs.

“No, you-”

He’s already pulling himself back inside, shaking his head as if it should be obvious. “I’m coming down,” he repeats, more insistent, more sure. Leaving no room for argument.

Your fists squeeze the fabric of your hoodie. Your stomach churns. “Bucky-” you try again. But he has already made up his mind.

“Wait there, alright?” His voice dips lower, steadier but still urgent. Resolute, as if he would run after you if you bolted down the street. “Doll. Promise me you’ll wait.”

Something in his tone, the look he is giving you, like he’s begging, almost a sweet-talking declaration. It’s catching your breath somewhere in your throat.

You could run.

You should.

You should turn right back around, disappear into the night, and leave him standing there, shirtless and confused and worried.

But you hold his gaze for just one long and heavy beat, then exhale shakily, shoulders dropping slightly.

“Okay,” you say weakly.

Bucky nods determined and taps his fingers against the windowsill, before rushing away, leaving the window wide open.

And you stand there hating yourself for waiting.

Hating yourself for hoping.

Technically, you could just leave.

Take a different route to Nat’s apartment, slip into the dark veins of the city where his voice wouldn’t reach, and let him walk out onto an empty sidewalk with his hair still tousled from another woman’s fingers and the taste of someone else’s lips still lingering on his own.

You could make him feel just a fraction of what you feel, with something hollow pressing up against his ribs when he finds nothing but cold pavement where you used to stand.

But you don’t.

You know you won’t.

Because it wouldn’t just frustrate him. It would hurt him.

And that’s the one thing you could never bring yourself to do.

Not Bucky.

Never Bucky.

You know him. The way he chews at the inside of his cheek when he’s trying not to say something reckless. The way his brows pull just a little too tight when he’s agitated but trying to play it off like he is fine. The way he folds his arms over his chest, not because he’s closed off, but because he needs something to hold onto.

You know exactly how he would react if he stepped out here and you weren’t there.

How the slight crease between his brows would deepen. How his fingers would twitch, opening and closing, like he’d missed his chance to catch you. How his lips would open and he would stare helplessly around and call your name.

And god, as much as this pain is devouring you from the inside out, pushing its way into the light but leaving you sitting in the dark, as much as your heart feels like being torn apart with unsaid words and unmet confessions - you cannot stand the thought of hurting him.

So you stay.

With feet planted on the concrete, fists clenched so hard, that your fingers start to cramp. You lift your trembling hands to your aching cheeks to hastily scrub away the fresh wave of tears surging forth downwards, willing your body to erase any evidence of your devastation.

But the more you wipe, the more it hurts.

You believe your cheeks are red from the effort of wiping so much, eyes swollen and puffy, your body trying to rebel against all of your commands.

Inhaling shakily, you force the breath down, down, down where you can pretend it doesn’t hurt so much. You angle your face slightly away from the building, hoping the dim spill of moonlight won’t betray your inner struggles.

Because the moment Bucky steps out that door, it will be the same as always.

He’ll look at you like you are his best friend. Like you are his safe place. Like you are the person he can always count on.

And you will look at him like you aren’t falling apart.

Like your heart isn’t unraveling at the seams.

Like you aren’t drowning in a love that will never be returned.

The door swings open with a force that startles you, the sound of it hitting the frame a little too sharp against the night.

Bucky storms out onto the sidewalk like he’s got something urgent to say, like the world might stop spinning if he doesn’t get to you fast enough. He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t pause. Just moves straight to you, his steps quick, closing the space before you can change your mind about standing here. He has a crumpled shirt thrown on and it hangs a little off. But it makes you want to run so hard.

His fingers wrap around your arms, not hard, not forceful but firm.

Those warm hands on you make you want to crumble.

His breath is coming fast, chest rising and falling, like he ran down the staircase to get here as fast as possible.

His eyes are so deep, deep and blue, roaming your face with so much intensity, searching and scanning and pausing.

Shadows cast over his sharp cheekbones at the way his brows are furrowed, his lips slightly parted.

“What’s going on, doll? You been cryin’?” His voice comes out rough and he talks fast. Urgent, breaths spilling over themselves as he rushed through the words, almost tripping on them in his desperation to get them out. “Why’ve you been crying? What happened?”

His thumb twitches against the fabric of your hoodie.

You open your mouth, close it again. Your throat is dry from the sobs you tried to silence earlier. You shake your head, a knee-jerk reaction.

“I was just going to Nat’s, Bucky. Nothing happened.”

It’s a weak excuse, said in a weak voice.

And you hate how it makes Bucky’s expression shift. That tiny wounded something that crosses his features, something that shouldn’t be there, because you did wait for him, you didn’t leave, but it’s still not enough. You lied to him. And he knows it. And he’s hurt. And you hate yourself.

He shakes his head, his jaw going tight.

“No,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving you, voice so low. “That ain’t nothin’, doll. C’mon. You’re runnin’ off in the middle of the night, how could this be nothing?”

You look away. Because if you keep looking at him, him with his concern and confusion and hurt all interflowing in the pool of those blue eyes, you won’t be able to hold yourself together much longer.

You swallow hard and force yourself to breathe slowly.

The sting behind your eyes is never really leaving you.

Bucky leans in, just a little. His grip on your arms tightens, but it’s not harsh. Only insistent. Desperate for you to give him something here.

“Somethin’ up with Natasha?” His voice is gentle, like he knows this has nothing to do with her, but he has to ask anyway to go through all the possible options of what might be going on.

“No,” you croak, barely managing the word.

He softens at the sound of it, but that frown doesn’t ease.

“What’re you doing then, huh? Why’re you running off like that? S’ not safe, you know that.” His voice is soft. Almost like he’s trying to soothe a skittish animal. But the concern is wrapping around every word. “What’s got you so upset, sweetheart? Talk to me, yeah? Please?”

His voice takes on a desperate intensity. Like he’s begging you to just let him in. To make him understand.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, willing it not to tremble, willing your face not to crumble right in front of him, but the air is too thick for your airway, making it harder and harder to breathe.

And Bucky is looking at you, like you are breaking his goddamn heart. Like you took a shot straight for it.

He is so full of worry, it looks painful, the crease of his brow always there when he’s thinking too hard, when he’s feeling too hard. His lips are still parted, like he wants to beg for an explanation, for some string of words that will make this all click into place and turn this into something fixable.

Because Bucky Barnes fixes things.

But this might be the only thing he can’t fix.

His hands on you are a contrast to the way you feel as if you’re falling apart. You hate how much you just want to collapse into it, to let yourself lean into him, let him hold you up. Because he would. You know he would. He would pull you in without hesitation, wrap his arms around you like he has done so many times before.

But you don’t want him to hold you. Don’t want him to hold you like a friend.

You want him to hold you like he means it. Like you mean something more than the sum of all the nights you spent choking on your own silence, swallowing words you could never say.

So all you can do is stay frozen, bones locked, eyes burning, heart splitting itself open in the middle of the street where he doesn’t even know he’s killing you.

“I-”

You try. You really try.

But then the door swings open again. And the sound of it alone is enough to send a bolt of ice down your spine.

Because this time it’s her walking out.

She steps out onto the sidewalk like she has every right to be a part of this moment.

Like she hasn’t spent the first part of the night in Bucky’s bed. Like she hasn’t been touched by him, kissed by him, fucked by him, wanted by him in a way that you have only ever ached for.

Like she hasn’t taken something that was never hers to have.

But it’s not yours either.

She looks so composed, too. More put together than you would have imagined. Her hair smoothed, clothes adjusted, skin glowing in a way that tells you she wasn’t just sleeping up there - she was living in something you’ve been dying for. She probably took a moment in your bathroom to check herself, to fix her lipstick, maybe even to admire herself in the mirror while you were downstairs, breaking apart.

She had the time for that.

Meanwhile, you can barely stand.

Your body is alive with magnitudes of unspoken things, suffocating. You feel like you’ve been sanded down, like a piece of wood, leaving nothing but the ache and longing and all the words you can’t say. This destruction is slow and ruthless, it doesn’t come with an explosion, but rather a slow erasure.

Like you’re being unmade. Piece by piece.

Like you were never meant to be here in the first place.

And Bucky is still looking at you.

Not at her.

You.

And maybe that should be enough. Maybe it should mean something.

But it just puts more pressure on the knife that is already turning around in your flesh.

The girl doesn’t leave and Bucky stiffens.

“Bucky,” she drawls, almost lazy, like she’s bored with this already. “Are you coming back up, or…?”

Your stomach lurches.

You feel exposed, scraped raw, like you’ve been trampled over, flattened by something massive, left behind for everyone else to step around.

Bucky lets out a slow breath through his nose. His jaw works under pressure. And then, he huffs. Annoyed. Like she’s interrupting something important.

“Go home,” he flatly tells her, his attention still on you. Not even addressing her with a name. Perhaps he doesn’t even know it.

“Seriously?” she scoffs, crossing her arms. Her eyes flick between the two of you.

Bucky exhales another breath and drops one of his arms from you to scrub it over his face, pushing through his hair. He turns toward her just a little, stance rigid.

“Yeah, seriously,” he mutters, already turning back to you. “I’ll call you a cab if you need-”

“God, you’re such a dick,” she snaps, cutting him off, rolling her eyes with an exasperated huff. “Unbelievable.”

And then she’s gone.

But so are you.

You don’t even think about it. You just move.

Your arm slips from Bucky’s loosened grip, your body already shifting, already turning, already pulling you down the sidewalk, away from him, away from this.

It’s pathetic. You know this. But you have to get away.

Your vision is a blur, the streetlights smearing into a soft, hazy glow against the wetness welling in your eyes, and no matter how much you try to breathe through it, it’s too much. Simply too much.

You’re hurting. And you need to go. Now.

But Bucky doesn’t let you.

“Woah, whoah, hey!” His voice is quick, rushed, and then he is moving, closing the space between you. And this time, he cuts you off completely, stepping right into your path, right in front of you, blocking the way like a wall. He’s so broad in front of you, and so fucking present, making it impossible to escape.

You stop so fast it almost sends you stumbling back.

His eyes flick over you so quickly, so intensely, scanning for something he doesn’t understand but is so desperate to find.

“Alright,” he exhales, low and careful, holding his arms out as if ready to stop you again if you make a run for it.

“You want me to put you in chains to keep you still?”It’s a weak and failed attempt at humor.

And it’s not funny. Not even close.

His voice is too thin, too strained, and there is something in his eyes, something tight and aching, that makes it clear he is not even trying all that hard to make his joke work.

You don’t smile. Don’t look at him. Arms still around yourself.

Bucky’s throat bobs as he swallows, as he shifts his weight, as he lets out another slow and deliberate breath. He moves so slow. As if any tiny movement of him would make you walk away from him.

“What’s going on with you, mhm?” His voice is so soft. So concerned. Brooklyn warmth and worry combined with something gentler than you can handle right now.

“What’s this - this fight-or-flight thing you got goin’ on?” he continues, tilting his head just slightly, watching you too closely, reading too much. “You’re rushing off like the damn place is on fire. The hell is that about, doll?” Still so soft. So cautious.

His eyes are on you like you are the only thing in the world that matters, like he’s trying to solve you, like if he just looks long enough, he’ll figure it out.

But if he really understood, if he really found out, everything between you would change.

And you can’t handle that. You can’t handle anything at the moment.

“Just drop it, Bucky, alright?” It comes out sharper than you mean for it to. Harsher. A little spit of venom that you hate yourself for the second it hits the air. He doesn’t deserve your attitude. But you can’t hold it back.

You see the way it lands. The way his brows pull in tighter, the way his lips press together, the way his chest rises and falls so measured. But it’s all not out of irritation. He just tries to figure out where that came from. What is happening. What has you react the way you do.

His voice is even and calm. But oh so careful. “I don’t think I will, doll.”

You look anywhere than at him and his troubled face.

Your throat tightens so fast, you have to swallow hard against it, teeth digging into the inside of your cheek as you blink up at the sky like maybe that keeps the tears from spilling over.

And Bucky watches all of that.

His expression stays soft, but his eyes are burning with something deep, something real, something that makes you feel like you might actually drown if you keep looking at them for too long.

“Y/n,” he almost whispers, and it sounds so pained. “Why are you crying, sweetheart.” He’s so gentle, so tender, so fucking careful like he’s afraid that if he pushes too hard, you’ll just break.

You shake your head, arms around yourself tightening. “I’m fine.”

Bucky makes a quiet noise in his throat, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff, something deep and disbelieving.

“See, that’s bullshit.”

You’re about to turn again, but he anticipates and gets hold of your arms.

“Look,” he sighs, heedfully taking off a hand of you to rub it down his face. “You don’t wanna talk? Fine. You wanna bite my head off cause I’m askin’? Fine. But don’t stand here and tell me you’re okay. Because I’ve got eyes, doll, and I can see that you’re not.”

You want him to stop.

You want him to turn around.

You want him to leave you here to fall apart in peace.

But he won’t.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

And you break.

No matter how hard you bite your lip, it doesn’t matter.

The tears slip and streak down your face before there is anything you can do. A sob follows. You can’t choke it down. Your shoulders shake, your breath stutters, and your face tilts towards the ground as you bring trembling hands up to wipe at your cheeks, in a futile and desperate attempt to regain composure. It’s useless.

You feel so pathetic.

Embarrassed. Ashamed that you ran off like this. That you’re standing here, crying in the middle of the night, on a sidewalk with no explanation, making a fool of yourself in front of him.

And the second your face crumbles, his does, too.

The second your breath hitches, he is moving.

Strong arms envelope you, winding tight, pulling you straight into his chest like he doesn’t even need to think about it. Not for a single second.

You let him.

Because it’s either this, or you’ll collapse down onto the asphalt.

His grip is firm, grounding, warm in a way that makes you ache even more. His hand cradles the back of your head, tucking you against him, and you feel the press of his lips there, gentle, but somehow rough.

Like your pain is his own.

“It’s okay. Shh… it’s okay,” he breathes, pained and low, the words pressed into your hair, into your skin. Making space between your ribs. “Oh, doll.” He presses you tighter to him. His hand brushes over your hair. “It’s okay.”

There is something so deep and aching in the way he talks to you, like the sound of his own voice hurts him. Like you hurt him.

His other hand moves over your back, soothingly, trying to give you some strength.

“I gotcha,” he breathes. “M’here, doll. Okay? Just breathe. Gotta breathe for me, baby. Please.”

It’s a slip. Baby. A mistake.

And it makes you cry harder.

Because it’s so soft. Gentle. Because it falls from his lips like something that’s always been there, something that’s always belonged to you.

Except it hasn’t.

It doesn’t.

Not in the way you want.

You don’t know what he calls those girls he takes home. If they get to hear him say it. Girls who have felt his hands in places you never will. Girls who have heard his voice rasp against their skin in the dark.

But you are not one of those girls.

You never will be.

And you know you will never be able to untangle that damaging wrench in your stomach.

So hearing him call you that. Baby. Like it means something. Like it’s yours. Like it hasn’t been whispered in the dim glow of your apartment, murmured against someone else’s lips, someone else’s skin, just someone else just hours ago.

It’s too hard. too cruel.

You wish it didn’t matter. You wish it didn’t rip through you the way it does, splitting you down the center, carving you open.

But it does.

Because even if it doesn’t belong to you, you still want it.

So you cry harder.

Sobs wrack through you, your chest hitching with the force of them, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, clumping it in your fists.

Bucky feels it and he hears it and he grips you tighter, pulls you closer.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, voice just above a whisper, more desperate now. Like he’s drowning in your hurt right along with you.

“Sweetheart,” he tries again, voice strained, thick. His lips are in your hair. “Please talk to me. Make me understand, baby, please! Tell me what’s wrong.”

But you can’t.

Because what the hell would you even say?

That you’re in love with him?

That you’ve been in love with him?

That seeing him with her - hearing the sounds that bleed through the walls, the ones you’ll never be able to unhear - feels like being skinned alive?

That you want him in a way you shouldn’t?

That you want him in a way he will never want you back?

You won’t.

So instead, you just press yourself harder into his chest and squeeze your eyes shut, letting him hold you like you are something precious. Like you are his. Even if you are not.

“Help me understand here, baby. Please,” he repeats with a voice so soft, that makes him seem afraid you might break apart completely if he speaks any louder.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re already in pieces at his feet, shattered beyond repair, and he just hasn’t realized it yet.

He lets you cry when you don’t answer, hand stroking up and down your back, the other soothing over your head. He whispers into your hair, words you can’t even process, just the deep cadence of him, the low rasp of his voice against your temple.

His lips move to your forehead, brushing over it. His breath is warm against your skin. You don’t have it in you to pull away, but you wish you would.

Because none of this makes it any easier.

Because his hands feel too good, too steady, too right - and it’s a lie.

Because it’s him.

And that means it hurts.

You wish he would just go and let you have your pathetic heartbreak alone.

But Bucky Barnes has never been the kind of a guy to leave things unsolved.

He pulls back just slightly after a while, just enough to get a better look at you, and when you try to duck your head, to keep him from seeing too much, he doesn’t let you.

Strong, warm fingers cradle your face, thumbs brushing over the damp skin of your cheeks, tilting your head up and forcing your gaze to his.

He looks wrecked.

His brows are drawn, lips parted, chest rising and falling unevenly. His hands tremble just a little against your skin, but his grip stays firm. Solid.

“Don’t look away, doll. Eyes on me, yeah?”

You swallow hard, jaw tight. “You just ruined your good night,” you say, the words falling out bitter, self-deprecating, stiff with something that tastes like resentment but feels like heartbreak.

Bucky’s frown deepens, his lips pressing together, eyes scanning over your face like he’s searching for something, anything that’ll make this make sense.

“The hell I did,” he scoffs, shaking his head. Confused you even brought this up. “I don’t give a shit about her. Don’t even know her name, if I’m bein’ honest.” He lets out a huffed laugh.

But you don’t.

Because somehow this makes it worse.

And you hate it.

You hate that some part of you wanted her to mean something.

Because if she meant something, if she was special, then at least this ache in your chest would have a name. A reason. A shape you could hold in trembling hands and squeeze so hard that it stops hurting at one point.

Then, at least, you could maybe finally accept that there is no hope. No reason to hold on to those feelings.

But Bucky just shrugs.

It meant nothing. It never meant anything. Not with them.

Not with the girls that come and go, the ones who pass through his nights in the same easy way the hours do - fleeting, ephemeral, touched, and forgotten.

Not with anyone. Not even with you.

You have spent so long feeling this, holding onto it, trying to keep it hidden beneath layers of friendship and longing and careful restraint. You have spent so long pretending that it is fine, that it doesn’t matter, that you can live like this - on the sidelines, just the girl in the other room, in the shadows, in the spaces between what you want and what you’re allowed to have.

And he stands here and looks you in the eyes, telling you that it is nothing. That she is nothing. That they - all of them before her, and all of them after her - are nothing.

You can barely breathe past it.

You don’t say anything.

And Bucky freezes.

His hands, where they cup your face, stop their soft, absentminded strokes. His thumbs, which had been tracing reassuring circles along your cheekbones halt. His breath catches and his eyes shift.

There is something uncertain in there.

And then, his lips part. His brows go up ever so slightly. His pupils flare.

Something settles over his expression that you don’t recognize.

Like a switch has been flipped.

Like a puzzle piece has clicked into place.

Like suddenly he is seeing something in your eyes, something like an answer, something that has been there all along.

His fingers tighten, anchoring himself. Making it seem that if he lets go, if he moves even a fraction, something will break. In him, or you, you’re not sure.

He pulls back. Not far. Just an inch. But he needs to see you better. Just enough to search your face for something he needs to know. His gaze locks onto yours and holds you there, testing something, making sure.

His voice is hushed when he talks. Breathless.

“Is that what this is about?”

It’s quiet, the way he says it. Like he’s afraid of it. Like he’s careful with it. There is disbelief on his face. Astonishment.

You shake your head too fast, too sharp, like if you deny it hard enough, it’ll erase the way he’s looking at you right now. That it’ll undo the meaning of his words and the way they sit between you. Something fragile on the verge of breaking.

“No,” you say, but it barely comes out, barely sounds convincing. Your voice is hoarse, scraped raw form holding back everything you don’t want to say. Your lungs refuse to work in sync with the rest of you. You swallow, eyes darting away, grasping for something to latch onto.

But Bucky doesn’t let you.

“Doll…” It comes like a sigh. Weightless and soft. His hands don’t drop from your face, don’t loosen, don’t give you the space you’re so desperately trying to carve out between you. If anything, his grip grows more robust. Just enough to keep you there.

“Hey. Look at me.” His tone is low, carrying the kind of warmth you’d usually like to lean into, but now all you want is to get away from it. You don’t want to meet those stormy blues.

Bucky’s thumbs are sweeping, so feather-light, over the curve of your jaw, smoothing along the damp trail of your tears, and his voice dips even lower. Softer. He is so close.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Give me somethin’ here.”

It’s not fair that he gets to call you all those sweet names like he means them. Like you mean something. Like it’s not the same word he probably called her and all those others who got to have him, even if only for a night.

“I don’t-” you try, but your voice is trembling and thick with tears, and Bucky’s gaze shadows.

“Don’t what?” he coaxes, leaning in just a little, close enough that his breath skims your skin, warm and stable in a way you aren’t. His fingers slightly move against your cheeks, as if resisting the urge to pull you closer.

You shake your head again, your hands wrapping around his wrists - not to push him away exactly, but to have something to hold onto. You have no idea what to say.

“It’s- It’s not-” Your words trip over themselves, stuck somewhere between your throat and your ribs, tangled up in everything you’ve never let yourself say.

But Bucky just watches you, unreadable things swirling in those impossibly blue eyes. Wary things. Still so damn careful.

He exhales and his hands slide down, skimming the column of your throat, settling against the curve of your neck like he’s grounding you. Holding you both together.

“Doll,” he sighs, and it’s too much.

It’s not teasing. It’s not playful. It’s not easy. Not the charming lilt he likes to throw in his tone.

It’s vulnerable. Tender. Substantial.

“You’re breakin’ my heart here.”

And that’s what has another tear slip over your lashes.

Because you’re breaking his heart?

What does that even mean?

You were the one trying to escape the heartache he caused and now he tells you it’s his heart that hurts?

“Please,” he whispers, and his voice is wrecked, gravel thick in his throat. “Just tell me, doll. Tell me what I did. Tell me so I can fix it.”

His lips stay parted, trying to find air, trying to find some kind of solid ground. There is a sheen over his eyes.

“I can’t-” Your voice cracks, but you don’t look away this time. His hands won’t let you. He won’t let you.

His eyes are pleading.

“Can’t what, sweetheart?” he urges, dipping closer, voice just a rasp of sound between you. His thumbs wipe away the new tears and he winces while doing it as if it actually causes him pain that they fell.

The streetlight flickers above. It casts shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the tight pull of his mouth. His fingers flex against your face.

“Is it-” he starts, then stops, then starts again, throat bobbing and voice rough and hesitant. “Is it those girls?”

A shallow gasp slips from your lips. Fractured and tripping over something unseen. Your shoulders grow stiff.

You can’t answer. You only shake your head, not in denial, not in confirmation, but in something else, something tired and so fucking done with feeling like this.

You try to pull back, try to slip free from the heat of his palms, try to turn away. Another tear drops onto the back of his hand.

Your reaction must be answer enough.

Bucky’s head, Bucky’s hands, Bucky’s eyes, Bucky’s whole body - everything is moving so much, keeping you from slipping away, reaching for you, not letting you go.

A breath. A pause. Like his brain needs an extra moment to process what this all could mean. His breath catches in his throat and you can feel the exact moment he gets it.

The exact moment he realizes.

“Shit,” he breathes, so quiet you almost miss it. His grip tightens. It grows distressed. Despairing. Keeping you from leaving his hold, although you don’t stop trying.

You sob and his hands press into your cheeks, thumbs smoothing away tears like he can erase this, like maybe if he holds you tight enough, he can go back five minutes, five months, five years, to a time before he made you feel like this.

“Shit, doll, I-” His voice breaks, gravel and regret and anguish - and something so painful - landing with every syllable.

You don’t stop trying to pull back, trying to push him away. You can’t talk. You can’t stop crying. You can’t look at him.

But Bucky is devastated. And he is desperate. And he won’t let you go.

“No, no, don’t - please, Y/n, don’t.” He runs through his words, frantically getting them out, frantically trying to make you look at him.

He reaches your face again and holds on like it’s important. Your tears won’t stop falling. A whimper falls from your lips when you realize he won’t let you leave.

Bucky panics.

His swallow seems to hurt him. Everything he does seems to hurt him.

“Oh, sweetheart - fuck, fuck, I didn’t-” He lets out a rough breath, one of his hands letting go of you to scrub over his face, pushing through his hair in frustration.

Not at you.

At himself.

“Doll, I didn’t - Jesus Christ, I didn’t know.”

It comes out hoarse, scraped down to nothing but feeling. Each word drags from his throat like sandpaper against silence. Coarse and raspy.

And then he’s shaking his head, hands sliding to your shoulders, his hold firm, his eyes darting over your face like he is trying to memorize it, searching for the right words in the curve of your lips, the glisten of your tears, the way your breathing is a single shuddering mess.

“I didn’t - fuck, I didn’t mean-”

He seems to hold back a scream.

Sucking in another sharp breath, he squeezes his eyes shut like he’s in pain, angry at himself, wanting to go back and rewrite everything, tear out every page where he made you feel like you were anything but his.

You wish you could believe it.

“Bucky-” you croak out.

“No, don’t-” His head doesn’t stop shaking. His jaw is clenched tight. Hands shaking against you. “Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?” Your voice is whisper-thin.

His breath shudders out, and when his eyes meet yours again, they are so earnest. Glossy with a sheen of tears.

“Like it’s over.”

Your throat closes around your next breath, never making it reach your lungs.

Because what is he saying? Nothing ever had the chance to be anything.

“I didn’t know, doll,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I swear to God, I didn’t know. You gotta believe me, I - fuck, I never wanted to hurt you. Never wanted you to feel like- I didn’t think you’d-”

He cuts himself off, voice choking.

His hands drop suddenly, like he doesn’t even deserve to hold you anymore. Like the guilt is weighing them down.

And then, unsure and hesitantly, he lifts one of them again and pauses before cupping your face, waiting for something - permission, maybe, or just a sign that you won’t pull away this time.

When you don’t, when you just keep standing there, frozen and broken and bewildered, he lets his palm settle warm against your cheek, his thumb brushing so lightly it sends a shiver down your back.

“Tell me how to fix it. Tell me I can,” he pleads, like he means it. Like he would do anything. “Tell me what to do, baby. Anything. I’d do anything. Just gotta tell me. Please,” he chokes out.

Cars roll past you. There are voices in the distance. A neon sign flickers. But none of it touches this.

This thing between you.

Bucky’s hand shakes against your cheek. His breath stirs against your skin so ragged and he leans in. His forehead presses to yours, his body curling toward you like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, just needing to be close.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps out. “God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Never have you seen Bucky like this. He keeps things easy, keeps things light, and shrugs off pain like it never quite reaches him. But it does now.

It consumes him.

His fingers curl at the back of your neck, not pulling, just holding, grounding himself against you. And when you continue standing there, breath shaky, tears still trembling in your lashes, his whole body sags.

His chest heaves with a breath so deep it sounds like it’s costing him something.

“I never meant for this to happen. Please, believe me.”

His forehead presses harder to yours, seemingly trying to press his words straight into you, that maybe if he gets close enough you’ll feel how much he means them.

And you do. You just don’t know what the hell is going on.

He lets out a sound that resembles a sob. And then you feel the damp heat of a tear where his face brushes against yours.

Bucky is crying.

It breaks you. You don’t know what to do with all this pain. His and yours. Don’t know how to ever let it go.

You pull back. Just slightly. Just enough to breathe, to think, to process.

But Bucky’s whole body tenses, and his eyes squeeze shut as if he knew it was coming but it still pains him. Bracing himself for something he already knows is going to hurt. His hands drop to his sides.

And maybe that should give you some kind of satisfaction, a tiny sense of justice for the nights you spent lying awake, wondering if you meant anything to him while he had his hands on someone else.

But it doesn’t.

Because the way he is looking at you, when he cracks his eyes open again, when he meets your gaze with so much open ache, makes your chest hurt. It makes something inside of you quake.

“Bucky,” you start, but your own voice is so small, so lost. You shake your head, scanning his face, trying to piece it together, to make sense of something that refuses to fit. How the tables have turned. You just can’t seem to find the irony in it. “What are you even - I don’t - I don’t I understand.”

His throat bobs, thick and tight, and he pulls in a breath like it’s the last one he’s going to get.

“I love you.”

Your mind blanks. You flatline. Your knees go weak.

He says it like it’s the simplest thing to say. As if it is the most obvious thing in the world. But it isn’t.

Because if it was then why has he spent all those nights with those seemingly meaningless girls. Why has he let you ache for him while he touched someone else.

“I love you,” he says again, softer, trying to make sure you believe it.

But you don’t know how to.

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. You feel the words, heavy and warm and terrifying, but your body doesn’t know what to do with them. Your mind is screaming at you to run, to protect yourself, to build the walls back up before it’s too late, but your heart doesn’t listen.

Bucky’s hand trembles when it reaches for you, fingertips ghosting over your jaw, waiting, waiting, waiting for you to pull away.

You don’t and he steps closer again.

His whole body thrums as if he is scared to touch you but more scared not to. He looks at you with those red-rimmed and puffy eyes, so tremendously bare, holding onto your own eyes like he is drowning and you are the only thing keeping him afloat.

“Say something, doll,” he pleads, his voice so unsteady, that it guts you.

But what could you say?

Because love is not supposed to feel like this, to hurt like this. It isn’t supposed to feel like your heart has been split open and stitched back together all in the same breath.

But looking at him and at the way his eyes are just as pleading as his words, at the way he is breaking right in front of you - it makes you wonder if maybe it was hurting him all along, too.

“You-” you begin, voice barely more than a whisper. You have to stop, have to pull in a breath that doesn’t seem to want to settle, have to force your hands to stay at your sides instead of reaching for something - for him - that you don’t know if you can take. “But that-” Another inhale, sharp and broken. Your chest hurts. Your whole body hurts. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Bucky exhales, long and slow and then he drops his head. Shoulders slumping, spine curling, like something inside of him, has just given out.

Guilt.

It sits heavy in his frame, in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands jerk like he wants to touch you but knows he shouldn’t.

“Yeah,” he mutters, a humorless little laugh escaping, barely more than a breath. He drags a hand down his face, through his hair, before letting it fall uselessly at his side. His voice is lower when he speaks again, raspier, weighed down by something that feels an awful lot like regret. “I know.”

You watch him, waiting. Because he owes you this. Because he cracked open something you weren’t ready for, something you tried to bury, and now you need to understand.

And Bucky must feel that. Because after a beat, after a deep, shuddering breath, he looks at you again.

“I didn’t think I could have you,” he admits, voice quiet. Cautious. The words fragile in his mouth. “Didn’t think I was allowed to even want you. To this extent, anyway.”

Air enters you unevenly, shaking on the way in like a shiver made of sound. “Bucky-”

“You’re my best friend,” he pushes on, stepping in just a fraction, like he can’t help himself. His voice is getting rougher, rawer, like something in him is unwinding too fast for him to stop it. “I didn’t wanna mess that up, y’know? Didn’t wanna lose you over somethin’ I couldn’t control.”

Something tightens in your chest. Something shifts.

“So you-” you swallow, shaking your head, trying to put it together, trying to make sense of it. “So you just went around to go get yourself other girls you can fuck?”

Bucky flinches. Actually flinches.

Gaze dropping in shame, his features form a grimace. “I tried,” he croaks out, gesturing at his chest with one hand. “Tried to stop feeling like this. Tried to move on, tried to-” He exhales sharply, tilting his head side to side, something torn playing out with the movement. “It didn’t work. Nothin’ worked. Didn’t even make it easier. But I was afraid to face it. Really face it. So I just kept going.”

It hurts.

It hurts in a way you don’t know how to hold. Don’t know how to carry.

You thought, for so long, that the way you love him, ache for him, is a one-sided agony.

But he is confessing to you, eyes red and weary, voice splintering, telling you that he’s been afraid to speak it aloud too.

That he loves you, that he tried to kill it, that he thought losing himself in someone else would somehow erase you from his mind.

Bucky’s words are a fist curling around your ribs, squeezing the air from your lungs.

It should matter. It should mean something that he’s standing in front of you, breaking apart, pleading for you to understand. Shouldn’t it be enough that he’s telling you it was always you? That no one else ever came close?

But he still touched them.

Still chose them, even if only for a meaningless night.

While you sat in your room, staring at the ceiling, wondering if you were going insane. While you clenched your fists so tight beneath your sheets at night, biting your tongue, swallowing it down, because Bucky is your friend and friends don’t ache like this.

And yet, he is telling you, showing you, he aches too.

But instead of sitting with it, instead of letting it consume him the way it consumed you, he tried to make it disappear.

He tried to fuck it away.

And now he looks at you like you are the only thing that has ever mattered, like the ground beneath his feet, is unsteady, like he is afraid you are going to bolt at any second.

You feel like the ground beneath your feet shits a fraction of an inch, not enough to send you falling, but enough to make you question if you were ever standing solid in the first place.

“But, doll, it-” he rushes forward, watching your pain, stepping into your space until there is barely anything between you. “It never meant anything. Swear to god, none of ‘em ever meant something to me.” His hands wrap around yours, squeezing, grounding, begging. “They weren’t you. Couldn’t be you. Didn’t matter how hard I tried, how many times I told myself to stop thinking about you because you’re supposed to be my best friend, but I wanted so much more than that - it didn’t matter. Nothin’ worked.”

He is struggling to force the words out, but he does. And they leave him with a catch in his voice. Faltering.

“I thought about you, sweetheart. Every fuckin’ time.” His voice turns frantic and he leans in to make it convince you. He watches your lips tremble and shakes his head quickly. “Thought about how you’d feel. How you’d sound.”

Your breath stalls.

Bucky swallows, taking a quick pause but continuing, voice growing softer. Lower. Reverent. “Tried to picture you instead. How you’d look under me, wrapped around me. So goddamn beautiful.” His voice cracks. “But it wasn’t you. And I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t help it.”

He stumbles over his words, afraid of saying too much, of pushing too far, or admitting too much - but it doesn’t stop hurting.

Even if you know it might not be fair.

But the thought of him with them, the thought of his hands gripping someone else’s skin, his lips murmuring something soft against someone else’s throat - it makes you sick.

And he sees it.

You try to blink back another wave of tears.

His hands are on your face again, thumbs swiping furiously at your damp cheeks like he can rub the hurt away.

“Please tell me I didn’t ruin this.” His voice cracks through the words, the panic breaking through. Your silence seems to suffocate him, squeezing his ribs until there is no space left for air.

“I’m so sorry, baby! I wish I could take it all back. I would.” His bottom lip trembles and he bites down on it before continuing. “Tell me I can fix this. There’s gotta be somethin’ I can do. Anything.”

You blink rapidly, vision swimming, breath hiccuping in your throat. You don’t know if there is anything to fix, if there was ever anything there, to begin with, but he is looking at you like there was. Like there is. Like it is still hanging in the air between you, waiting to be caught, waiting to be named.

And you want to catch it. To press it to your heart and cherish it.

But the wounds are fresh. Still bleeding. Still open.

The images you conjured up in your mind, him with all those girls. The sounds of him bringing one after the other home - the routine.

The giggling. The keys. The apartment door. More giggling. His chuckles. The hallway. His bedroom door. The goodbyes. The mornings.

But worst of all is that you can’t even blame him.

Because what was he supposed to do? Wait for something that was never promised? Hold out hope for something that was never offered?

You had no claim on him.

But still, you hate how he tried to fuck you out of his system. Hate that he couldn’t, that he’s standing here now, telling you it was all for nothing, that you were always in his head, in his bones, and that that somehow is supposed to make it better.

You don’t know if it does now. But you hope - you hope so dearly - that it will get better. If he’ll stick with you.

“No more girls.” The words choke out of you, weak and broken, barely a breath. But he jolts like you have screamed them.

“Never,” he breathes immediately, shaking his head as if to get rid of his own images, gripping you tighter, his thumbs pressing into your cheeks, his eyes burning through yours. “No more, baby. No one else. Not ever.”

Your breath catches, body sways.

There is a burn behind your ribs, not quite pain, but not far from it. It is something that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Too quick. Too uneven.

“Only you,” he adds, his forehead dropping to yours, noses brushing, his breath warm against your lips, his hands trembling where they hold you. “It’s only ever been you.”

Heat rises up your throat, something between nausea and electricity, a burst of too much all at once.

“I got a lot to make up for.” His tone is unraveling at the seams. But it sounds firmer now. Convicted. “I know that. I know I- fuck, I screwed this up before I even knew I had a chance. And that’s on me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, because it’s too much - his voice, his touch, the way he is looking at you like you hung the damn moon when you’ve spent years feeling invisible to him in the way that mattered.

“I don’t wanna rush this, alright?”

You blink up at him. Your chest feels stretched too tight, as if the ribs themselves are holding onto something they shouldn’t, something too large, something too consuming.

“I don’t wanna mess this up more than I already have. I don’t wanna push or expect anythin’ from you - I just wanna do this right. For you.” His voice wavers on the last word, still scared of saying the wrong thing, scared of losing something he only just realized he had. “You understand me?”

You nod wordlessly. Almost feeling hypnotized by him. His eyes are so intense. So full.

“I’ve been waitin’ for this, hopin’ for this - Christ, I don’t even know how long.”

Your stomach flips, something curling in your stomach at the heaviness of his confession, at the realization that you weren’t alone in this. Maybe never have been.

“And now that it’s happenin’ - now that I have you, even if I don’t deserve it - I wanna take my time. I wanna make this good for you. Have to. I have to make this right,” he says, voice filled with something gravelly, rough like something barely holding together.

His fingers slide over your jaw, tracing along the column of your throat, memorizing the feel of you beneath his hands.

“And I hate-” his voice falters, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he forces himself to look at you again. “I hate that it’s happening like this. That I hurt you first. That I didn’t see this sooner.”

“Bucky-”

He cuts you off with his eyes and a shake of his head.

“Please I- I gotta do this. Gotta say this, baby.”

You nod.

He closes his eyes again for a moment like he wants to go back and shake his past self by the shoulders, tell him to wake the hell up and stop hurting the one girl he ever cared about.

He continues, voice hoarse. “I would do anything to make this different. Better. The way you deserve.”

Your breath is shallow, not quite catching, but hovering just short of where it should be, as if your body can’t decide whether to brace itself for collapse.

You’ve spent so long breaking for him, wanting him in ways he never seemed to want you back. But now he is pouring his heart out and asking for something he already has but isn’t sure he is worthy of.

“You don’t gotta say anythin’ right now, doll,” Bucky whispers. Afraid of scaring you off. “I know I shoulda told you sooner.” He grimaces, disgusted with himself. “I shoulda known sooner. I was so fuckin’ stupid. So fuckin’ blind.”

You don’t even notice you started leaning further into him.

Bucky stares at you for a moment. You look back.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly. Whispers really. He exhales shakily and you feel the breath fan along your cheeks. “But I swear to God, I will.”

You don’t weigh the hurt against the want, don’t let the war in your head talk you out of your next move.

Your hands reach up, curling into the fabric of his shirt and before he can say anything else - before he can tear himself apart further - you kiss him.

And for a split second, Bucky freezes.

Not believing this is happening, not expecting it even after everything he just told you.

But then, he exhales this soft and quivering breath against your lips, relief knocking the air out of his lungs.

One hand flies to your waist, pulling you in, the other threading into your hair. He kisses you back like he is starving, like he has been dying for this, like he can’t believe you are real and this moment is something he’s imagined a thousand times but never thought he’d get to have.

And he is so warm. So solid. His lips move against yours, soft and slow at first - savoring you, afraid to go too fast, to push too much. But when you let out a little sigh and your fingers tighten, Bucky melts, pressing in closer, enveloping you in his arms in a way that has you feeling he tries to make sure you never go anywhere else again.

He breathes you in like you are something holy, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. He is not forceful. He takes what he can get and he cherishes it. Like he said, he wants to take his time with you. It makes you fall in love with him even more.

It’s like he can’t believe you are even letting him have this. But he kisses you with a hope and a determination that this will not be the only time he gets to have this.

And when you pull back again, he rests his forehead against yours once more. You feel the way his chest rises and falls against your own, the way his breath shakes, the way his grip does not loosen at all.

“Jesus, doll,” he rasps, panting. “You tryna kill me?”

And the way he says it, the way he looks at you, so full of longing and desire and relief makes you realize that maybe he’s been suffering just as much as you have.

“I want you. It’s as simple as that. I’ve spent a great deal too much of my life already trying to convince myself that I can make do with less but I can’t. You hear me? I’m done. I’m not giving up. A life without you is not enough.”

- Beau Taplin

[waytootiredstudent]

[itsnesss]

𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you have an unexpected reunion with Jun-ho after believing he was dead

warnings | angst, unresolved love, smut, explicit content, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 1.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The road stretched endlessly in front of you. You were a police officer, but at that moment, as you drove down that lonely highway, you didn't feel the rigidity of your uniform or the weight of your job.

Your mind traveled back to the past, to moments you would rather forget. Years had passed since you lost him. Since that night when he simply disappeared and you never heard from him again.

Suddenly, the lights of a patrol car reflected in your rearview mirror. The blue glow made your heart leap in your chest. Quickly, you checked your speed, confirming that you had been speeding. You cursed under your breath.

You stopped the car and parked it by the side of the road. The blue light continued to shine behind you, but something twisted in your stomach.

You prepared for a short exchange, a speeding ticket, something routine. But when the driver's door opened and you looked up, something made you stop.

There he was. In a traffic police uniform.

Hwang Jun-ho.

You couldn't believe it. Your mind went blank for a moment, as if time itself had stopped. He was staring at you, his dark eyes reflecting something you couldn't identify. For a moment, the air between the two of you thickened, dense with the memories of a past that had never completely faded.

"Good evening" he said, his voice as deep as you remembered, but with a tone you hadn't heard before. "Did you know you were speeding?"

Your body tensed instantly, but it wasn't because of the speeding. It was because of the surprise. For the feeling that the past had returned to hit you hard. You didn't know what to say, you just looked into his eyes, searching for a sign that what you saw in front of you was nothing but an illusion.

"Jun-ho…" you whispered, the word slipping from your lips as if it weren't yours, as if you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

He nodded slowly, his expression unchanged, but there was something in his gaze, something that made you doubt everything you had believed. How was it possible that he was here?

"Didn't you expect to see me here?" he asked, his tone now softer, but with a weight of nostalgia that seemed to hang in the air. "You thought you would never see me again".

A knot formed in your throat. You had asked yourself so many times what had happened to him. If he would ever come back. But the pain of the separation, the void left by his disappearance, was still fresh in your mind. And now you had him in front of you, alive, real, and in a uniform you had never imagined.

You didn't know if you had been waiting for this moment or dreading it.

"Why... are you in transit?" the question slipped out almost unintentionally, but Jun Ho cut it off before you could finish it.

"I needed to start over. Change of scenery" His voice became softer, as if the words he was saying had too great a weight to let go.

You stared at him, unsure if you could believe his words. The situation was surreal. How had he ended up here? What had happened to him since his disappearance? The last time you heard from him, it was when they found him adrift in the ocean, almost lifeless, recovering from everything he had endured. But now he was here, in front of you, as if time hadn't passed at all.

"I thought you had... died." The phrase came out before you could stop it.

Jun Ho let out a sigh, his eyes softened for a second.

"Everyone thought the same," he said, with a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But I survived. And here I am".

The silence settled between the two of them, heavy, full of unasked questions, of unmentioned memories. And in that moment, something inside you broke. Something you had tried to contain for so long. The need to understand what had happened, to comprehend how it had all been. And more than anything, the need to feel it close again.

"I didn't think I would ever see you again," you said, almost like a whisper.

Jun-ho didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned toward the passenger seat, his face now just a few centimeters from yours. The proximity made you tremble. You couldn't deny what you felt, what you had always felt for him. The connection you shared, even after everything that happened, was undeniable.

Suddenly, he moved closer, his lips almost touching yours. A shiver ran through your body as you felt his closeness, and the air became thick. The memories, the emotions, everything you had kept inside overflowed in that moment.

Without thinking, you kissed him.

The kiss was immediate, as if time hadn't passed, as if everything were back to how it used to be. The touch of his lips on yours ignited something within you, something you had kept extinguished for years. The spark, the fire you shared, had never gone out.

Jun-ho's hands traced your face, as if he feared you would vanish at any moment. The gentleness with which he touched you contrasted with the urgency in his kiss. It didn't matter what had happened, what had occurred in the past. At that moment, only the present mattered.

The car no longer seemed like a closed space. The connection between the two of them was palpable, almost electric. You pulled away from his kiss for a moment, taking a breath, but before you could say anything, he leaned in again. This time, he was more determined, more firm.

His hands traveled down your neck, tracing the contour of your skin, and a shiver ran through your body. You felt how desire took hold of both of you, how the chemistry that had remained between you hadn't faded with time. It was as if it had never left.

"I've missed you so much," he said softly, as he kissed you again.

Jun-ho's words made your heart race even faster. You felt as if you had returned to the past, when everything was simpler, when there were no distances, when you both shared dreams and promises. But that promise was broken, and now only the shadows of what once was remained.

The tension in the air was rising, and you couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened between the two of you. But in that moment, the only thing that mattered was him. All you wanted was to feel him close again.

Jun-ho looked you in the eyes, and without a word, his hands began to unbutton your uniform. The desire grew with every second, with every caress, with every touch of his skin against yours.

You moved to the passenger side, sliding over his lap as his hands removed your uniform. You nestled against his chest, feeling his lips kiss your shoulders, while his hands brushed against your bare skin. The touch of his fingers tracing your curves made you gasp.

Jun-ho kissed you again, deepening the kiss, and his hands moved to the back of your body, towards your buttocks. The gesture made you tremble, and you felt something within you beginning to give in. The tension you had held for so long was fading away.

He leaned close to your ears and whispered something, words you couldn't quite understand, but that seemed to promise something beyond that moment. And instead of waiting, his fingers slid between your thighs, searching for the spot he knew would drive you wild.

The caress of his fingers was soft, tempting, as if they were about to make a promise. The closeness of his body, the proximity of his mouth over you, the softness of his fingers on you, it was all as if you were returning to the past. Everything was as if they had never been apart.

Your breath caught when his fingers found the spot. The desire intensified in an instant. The excitement had brought you to a point you didn't want to leave, and the touch of his hand on you was too much to resist.

You moved slowly over his lap, feeling the bulge of his pants against your thighs. The friction was inevitable, but Jun-ho didn't seem to mind. Instead, he moved with me, his fingers slowly penetrating you. The moans that escaped your throat were involuntary, and Jun Ho muffled them with a kiss. The rhythm of his fingers increased, the penetration deeper and more rhythmic. You couldn't hold out much longer.

Suddenly, Jun Ho stopped you. His fingers left you with a softness that made you gasp. But before you could protest, Jun-ho leaned closer to your ear and whispered.

"I want to feel you" His words made you lose your composure completely. The air in the car had become dense, heavy with desire.

I didn't need any more stimulation. Quickly, you took off your underwear and sat on his lap again.

You slid your hand between his pants, caressing his erection. The sensation of his skin, soft and warm under your touch, was all you needed. You slid it down, revealing his erection in all its glory. It was just as you remembered, big and thick, ready to be fucked.

You didn't take any more time to think. There was no more time for that. You moved over his erection, the position of the car forced you to be the one on top, and that was exactly what you wanted. The position of control was yours at that moment.

You sat on him, his erection brushing against the edge of your entrance, but without penetrating. The torture was as good as it was painful. The friction was all you needed to reach the climax, but it was also what made you want more.

Suddenly, his arms enveloped you, and he pulled you towards him. The movement was abrupt, and his erection sank into you in an instant. The penetration was stronger than you expected, but also more pleasurable.

The scream that escaped your lips was involuntary, but the pleasure was undeniable. Jun-ho moved beneath you, pushing his erection inside you over and over again. Each thrust made you tense a little more, made you sit a little deeper on his cock.

The position of the car made sex a bit more uncomfortable, but that was the last thing on your mind. At that moment, all that mattered was the feeling of having him inside you again, feeling his breath on you, having his body in contact with yours.

"Tell me you haven't forgotten me," you whisper in his ear.

The request was simple, but what lay behind it was much more than just words.

"I have never forgotten you," you replied sincerely, your words coming out in gasps. "I will never be able to do it".

Jun Ho smiled at you, his eyes shining in the darkness of the car. His arms tightened around you, and he pushed a little deeper inside you. Your breath caught for a moment, the pleasure rising to a new level.

"Then, tell me that you will always love me" he whispered again.

The words slipped from your lips without thinking.

"Yes, I always loved you. I always will".

Jun-ho smiled again, but this time, there was something in his eyes, an emotion that seemed to shine like fire. His arms tightened around you a little more, and he began to move beneath you again. The position was uncomfortable, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the rhythm, the feel of his cock inside you.

Their breathing became labored. The pleasure intensified with each thrust, but it wasn't just the sex that made you lose your composure. It was the closeness of having him there, of having him back in your life.

Their breathing became labored. The pleasure intensified with each thrust, but it wasn't just the sex that made you lose your composure. It was the closeness of having him there, of having him back in your life.

When you reached the climax, the scream that came out of you was not just one of pleasure. It was one of liberation, of having released everything you had been holding back for years.

Jun-ho arrived just a moment later, his body tensing beneath you as he came. The warm fluid spilled inside you, and you felt his erection pulsing within you.

Both of your breathing became gentle, and for a moment, there were no words between you. Only the sound of the air moving in the car was audible. Jun-ho gently stroked your hair as you leaned on his shoulder, feeling his skin against yours.

"You won't give me a ticket for having sex in the car, will you?" you joked a moment later.

Jun Ho laughed softly, his lips brushing against your hair.

"No" He smiled in the darkness. "I think you've already paid me in full".

You laughed softly and leaned a little more into his arms.

[muwapsturniolo]

Raw Dawg 𐂯 M. Sturniolo

"We uhh...W-we could go raw?"

⟢ NSFW CONTENT AHEAD, smut, fingering, condoms/raw sex, snowballing (or some version of it?), that's it me thinks. let me know if i missed something please!!!!

part 1 here (you don't have to read part one because it's chris. this is just the matt version!!)

Dividers are made by @bernardsbendystraws (as usual)

Needy.

That's what you and Matt were both feeling.

It had to have been something in the air. The two of you woke up that morning with an anxious feeling in the pit of your stomachs. However, it wasn't anxious in a way that made you feel sick, no, it was something good.

As the two of you went about your day, the touches lingered, and the glances lasted longer than they should have. There were a few times his words seemed to have a double meaning, and there were also a few times when you shot him your famous bedroom eyes.

The day was filled with strong sexual tension - neither of you could handle it anymore.

The door shoots open as both of you tumble into his bedroom, teeth clashing, tongues tangled, and clothes falling - you couldn't get enough of each other.

As soon as you both land on the bed, his fingers find their way to your excessively wet cunt. It's not an exaggeration, you were dripping. You could feel it all day, the slimy liquid seeping out of you, squelching softly between your folds.

"Shit-" he hisses as he pulls away from the feverish kiss, looking down between your bodies. Your inner thighs were drenched with your own mess, his middle and ring finger looking the exact same. His mind was going crazy trying to figure out if he wanted to taste you, or simply fuck you. Both seemed like wonderful options, but with the way you're looking at him, he knew which option to go with.

He shoves his soaked fingers in your mouth, letting you taste your own juices as he haphazardly reaches into the nightstand for a condom. He tears it open with ease, having done it many times before. It was second nature to him, the two of you deciding it was the best contraceptive.

He rolls the condom on quickly, your hands holding the back of your knees as he lines himself up. In one swift motion, he was inside of you, both of you moaning at the first sense of relief. He grasps your thighs, starting to give you the pleasure you both so desperately crave, however, an issue occurs.

You whimper as he slips out of you, his tip prodding at the lower entrance you two don't indulge in. "Shit- I'm sorry sweetheart!" He grabs his dick once more and slides it inside of you, but it happens again,

and again

and again

and again

"Matt," you whine, tears of frustration already building in your eyes. He was frustrated too, all he wanted to do was fuck his girlfriend for hours on end - and he couldn't.

"Fuck sweetheart, I know I know. You're too fuckin' wet, I-I can't stay in!" He rakes his brain trying to think of a way to make this work.

"Get on top."

He catches the glare you give him and he groans, "Dawg, I don't know - Did you just call me dawg?" You stare at him in disbelief, there was no way he just called you, his girlfriend, dawg.

"First you tell me to get on top, and now you're calling me dawg?"

"Ok ok I'm sorry! I don't know what you want me to do! You're too fuckin' wet for me to actually fuck you and you being on top is the best thing I can think of!"

The two of you stare at each other, breathing harshly and frustrated. Both of your minds are buzzing with ways to make this work. The tension has been building all day, and you both were determined to make this work. It was only a few seconds later when Matt got an idea, his body language becoming shy.

"We uhh...W-we could go raw?"

"Matt- I know! We never go raw, we agreed on that, but baby I don't know what else to do. I really need you." His hands rub over the back of your thighs needily. You look over his face with an unsure look. Of course you wanted to have sex with him, you've been waiting all day, but would you risk going raw?

"...Fine, we can go raw. Just make sure you pull-" You're cut off with his lips slamming against yours, your body already melting into the kiss.

"Pull out, I know."

In one swift movement, he takes the soaked condom off, throwing it to the floor with no care. He was eager, he finally gets to experience sex with you raw.

Just like the previous times, he lines himself up, slowly pushing in.

It was shocking how much of a difference condoms made. You could feel everything, his warmth, the vein running up the side of his dick. He could finally feel the real warmth of your velvety walls, the sponge-like texture.

You two felt close - Connected.

He starts off with a few slow thrusts, trials if you will. When he realized that he was finally staying inside, something in him changed.

He pushes your legs to your chest, his grip harsh as he begins slamming into you vigorously. Your eyes roll back, your jaw dropping at the new and incredible feeling. The headboard was slamming into the wall, surely leaving dents and scratches into the plaster.

His moans combine with yours, creating a pitch-perfect harmony. Your bodies are covered in a thin layer of sweat, the heat between you too making the room smell like a mixture of lust and love.

You felt good, so good to the point where you no longer cared.

You manage to push his hands away from your thighs, your legs collapsing on the bed as you pull him closer. Your eyes are half-lidded, glossy as you give him those puppy dog eyes.

"P-Please, need you to c-cum in me!" You urge, pleading for him to give you something you usually would never want - but it was a craving, you were feigning for it.

You needed it.

You miss the way his pupils dilate due to him slamming into you with newfound vigor, your eyes rolling all the way back as your body lurches with each thrust. You could feel the tip of his dick reaching your cervix, nudging the sensitive spot and making you see stars.

"Fuck- god m'so close!" He grunts, his jaw clenched as he tries to get you closer to the edge.

He doesn't have to work that hard, all it took was him moaning in your ear and you were releasing all over him. You let out a small scream as your juices splash between you both, wetting the sheets beneath you as well as both your bodies.

Your nails rake down his back, leaving deep scratch marks on his milky skin as he continues to rut into you. It was becoming too much and he knew it. He whispers sweet words into your ear as he pumps into you relentlessly

"Gonna cum soon. You want me t'fill you up? Give you my babies?"

"Gonna look so pretty preg- oh fuck!"

The idea of you being filled to the brim with his seed, and being pregnant, was enough to send him over, his body shaking as he moans and groans into your ear.

The two of you lay there, fucked out and sweaty as you try to catch your breath. He sits up and pulls out of you, pushing your legs back to watch himself drip out of you.

You were a sight for sore eyes, you looked so pretty like this.

He couldn't help himself.

Despite knowing you're sensitive, he lowers his body and attaches his mouth to your cunt. You jerk and grab at his hair, yanking harshly as you feel his fingers dipping into you. Thankfully it wasn't long, but you still had no chance to catch your breath.

It was something so new and erotic, the way his lips met yours and his tongue pushed the warm salty liquid in your mouth. You moan at the taste, swallowing each drop eagerly.

He pulls back from the sloppy and lustful kiss, staring at you with hungry eyes.

"No condoms for the rest of the night. Hands and knees, now."

[planetaryupscaled]

Sharing is Fun!

Male Reader x Yeji x Yujin x Kazuha x Karina

Tags: 12k, smut, threesome, oral, anal, creampie

I didn’t know if we had ever put any labels on our relationship, simply because Yeji was always so busy. But I always considered myself lucky when I had a chance to be around her. And after all the airports, all the hotels, and many hours on stage. The fact that she decided to spend her free time with me calmed my nerves just a bit.

It was Tuesday. We were cuddling up on the couch under the comforter, my arm wrapped around her body. Yeji was watching but I was staring down at her lovely face. Everything about her is perfect.

Yeji noticed my gaze out of the corner of her eye. She looked up at me and kissed me on the cheek. My left hand travelled from her bare shoulder to her breast.

“Babe, we just had sex” Yeji said, she adjusted her body so my hand went back to her shoulder. “You just fucked my brains out.”

“Hmm.” I shrugged. “I think it’s quite the opposite.”

Yeji slapped my chest playfully. We woke up early, and let’s say it took us a while to get out of bed. Yeji gave me a knowing smirk.

“I’m just touching.” I said.

“We’re gonna be like one of those couples that can’t take their hands off each other.” Yeji laughed.

My eyes wandered down to her silky-smooth legs. Yeji wore a plain white thin-strap tank top and grey athletic shorts.

“Someday we’re gonna have a whole day without sex.” Yeji began to giggle before she could even get half the sentence out.

“See? You know you’re lying.” I laughed with her.

“Shut up.” Yeji grabbed the side of my head and kissed me softly. I kissed her back with my hands moving towards her sides. Yeji moaned into my mouth until her phone rang.

Yeji quickly broke the kiss and nearly kicked me in the chest to reach her phone. She read the message and then stood up, giving me a little happy dance with her hips swaying.

“What happened?” I asked, a small part of me was nervous she’d just gotten a new gig. Yeji turned around with a smile.

“A very special guest.” Yeji said with a sexy purr.

“Special guest?” I asked, raising my eyes and wondering who it could be.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s a surprise.” Yeji grinned.

“C’mon…” I whined.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Yeji said and proceeded to do a little dance. “You’re gonna need a lot of energy.” She then got up and walked away towards the stairs.

“Hey, that’s barely a hint!” I jokingly shouted.

“She’ll be here in an hour. Can you cook something?” Yeji asked.

“I… Sure.” I shrugged.

“Thank you, babe.” Yeji blew a kiss and trotted upstairs.

I didn’t have the ingredients or time to make something fancy, so I just decided to make spaghetti. Yeji came downstairs with black heels clicking against the steps. My cock twitched when I saw her outfit. She wore a tight black strapless dress that showed off her long legs and pushed her breasts upwards. Her hair was styled to wavy perfection and her lips were a sexy and classy bright red.

“Wow.” I said, staring up at her phenomenal figure. Yeji smiled cutely and spun around when she reached the bottom of the steps.

“Should I get my suit?” I asked.

“If you want.” Yeji smiled. “I think you’re fine.”

“You just seem a little overdressed compared to me.”

“You want me to take it off?” Yeji asked with a fake pout.

“I mean…”

“No. Not yet,” Yeji smiled and made her way towards me, her eyes locked onto the display of food.

“Mmm… Looks good.” Yeji hugged me. She placed her face against my chest. I wanted to grab her ass, but the doorbell rang.

“She’s here!” Yeji backed off of me and pushed me towards the door.

“Coming!” I shouted. I opened the door to find Karina standing there.

“Hey! It’s good to see you!” Karina beamed. She wore a simple outfit, a pair of form-fitting blue jeans and a loose-fitting black shirt that showed off her long line of cleavage. Karina gave me a big hug before I let her in the house.

“Yeji!” Karina yelped after placing her purse on the table. Yeji wrapped Karina up in a hug. Yeji giggled coyly and broke the hug.

“Now as much as I’d love to catch up, I need to take a quick trip to the loo.” Karina gave us a polite smile and shuffled off to the bathroom upstairs.

“You didn’t tell me it was going to be Karina…” I mumbled.

“I told you it was a surprise.” Yeji shrugged.

“I mean, I’m not complaining.”

“Good.” Yeji kissed me on the cheek. Karina came back from the bathroom and let out a deep sigh.

“How was the flight?” Yeji asked.

“Argh.” Karina sighed. “Anything negatives you can think of, you know the drill.” She said as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“Well, you can finally relax. How long do you plan on staying?” I asked as Karina sat down on the couch and kicked her shoes off.

“A few days,” Karina said. “Then I have to go back to Milan.”

“That’s great.” Yeji smiled.

“I made spaghetti; do you want some?” I asked.

“Oh yes!” Karina jumped off the couch and made a beeline for the kitchen.

“This looks amazing!” Karina smiled as she grabbed a plate and walked back to the couch, holding her plate and fork.

We ate together and chatted casually about our jobs. Karina finished her meal first and kept an eye on me and Yeji as we talked. I was sitting next to Karina, with her hand on my inner thigh.

“How’s your sex life?” Karina asked casually. Yeji just finished talking about her solo comeback.

“It’s good.” I replied, clearing my throat awkwardly. Karina’s cleavage and her sexy smile were right in my peripherals.

“Just good?  I was asking you both.”

“Well, we certainly do it a lot.” Yeji laughed.

“Look. You two are cute couple,” Karina said. “But I’m nice, full and horny.” she said. Her voice was full of anticipation.

I smiled at Yeji. Yeji shrugged and smiled back. When I turned my body towards Karina, she immediately pulled me in for a kiss.

I groaned as her soft lips, and even softer, much heavier breasts pressed against my chest. Karina’s hands slid down to the waistband of my shorts, tugging hard while trying to maintain the kiss. I broke it to help her.

“Thanks.” Karina grinned as she got off the couch to move me along. Karina was on her knees in between my legs, pulling my shorts down my legs with a smile that could only be described as sophisticated sluttiness. She moved with the elegance of a woman of her status, but pulling my shorts down like a cock-hungry whore.

“Yes…” Karina groaned as my underwear came into view. She kept those gorgeous eyes of hers on mine as she kissed my shaft through the fabric. Karina placed her fingers in the waistband of my underwear as she trailed her kisses lower towards my tip. Karina purred as she yanked my underwear down my legs, freeing my rock-hard cock.

“Oh, you’re huge…” Karina bit her bottom lip in the sexiest way possible. I kicked my discarded bottoms to the side as Karina grabbed my throbbing cock with both of her tiny hands.

“You’re one lucky girl.” Karina smiled at Yeji direction.

“Oh, I know.” Yeji laughed as her hands crept under her dress. Karina swallowed my cock while keeping her eyes on me. She slowly, oh so slowly began to bob her head, her soft lips sliding up and down my cock. Karina moaned tenderly into the wet skin of my shaft, a slick trail of spit shining up my cock.

“Fuck…” I moaned as Karina went deeper. She gags a little but doesn’t even slow down as her nose met my pubic bone. Karina was smiling with her eyes as every inch of my dick was buried down her throat. I groaned and hissed in pure pleasure as my cock was trapped in the warm mouth.

“That’s so hot…” Yeji moaned, now clearly touching herself. I heard the sound of her fingers working her slick pussy over my heavy breathing. Karina held my cock for a while before pulling back and gasping for air.

Karina smiled as she stroked my spit-soaked cock with both hands. Karina kissed and licked at the tip while giggling to herself. I reached down to appreciatively rub the top of her head, running my finger trough her hair.

“Do you have any lotion?” Karina asked Yeji.

“Yeah…”

“I have an idea I think he’d love.” Karina said, her eyes shone as she continued to absentmindedly stroke me.

“On it.” Yeji quickly rolled off the couch and made her way upstairs. Karina removed her hands from my cock and grabbed the hem of her shirt, quickly pulling it over her head and leaving her in a lacy black bra.

“What’s the idea?” I huffed.

“I can’t just tell you.” Karina giggled.

“You two just love to tease…” I groaned.

Yeji came downstairs with a bottle of lotion and handed it to Karina. Karina squirted it in between her cleavage with a few pumps, creating a thick layer of lotion to cover the slopes of her big tits. Karina gently rubbed the lotion into her skin, her smile and eyes fixed on me like glue.

Yeji decided to spring into action. She kissed the tip of my cock before grabbing the base and stroking it delicately. Yeji then swallowed my cockhead, wrapping her lips just where the foreskin ended and swirling her tongue over my crown.

“Hmm…” I groaned. Yeji kept her head still, clearly fighting her urge to take me all the way in an attempt to one-up Karina. Karina, after thoroughly moisturizing her glorious breasts, gently pulled Yeji away from me and lifted her bra.

My dick tip disappeared under the cups of her bra, sliding into a prison of soft and warm of her tits. Karina giggled as she lowered her massive, glorious tits down the length of my shaft, the lotion making it so slick and smooth.

“Christ…” I groaned. My swollen, sticky cockhead poked through Karina’s mass of pale tits. Karina lowered her chin to swipe her tongue over it, getting a taste of my precum and the lotion. I let out a low moan as Karina started pumping her tits up and down my cock.

Yeji crept up behind Karina, staring at me with devilish eyes as she planted a series of passionate kisses along Karina’s shoulder and neck. Karina moaned and increased the pace and pressure of her tit job. Yeji’s kisses turned to long licks against Karina’s skin as Yeji’s hands slid around behind her.

I felt my balls churning and my stomach tightening. I rarely felt my orgasm this early, but Karina was really good. Her plump breats smacking against my pelvis and massaging my dick were borderline unbearable.

“Getting close?” Karina asked with a smile.

“Uh huh…” I mumbled.

Karina came to a complete stop as Yeji removed her bra. Karina slid her tits off of me with a slick sound before letting the straps fall down her shoulders and off her chest. Karina’s glistening tits were finally free and my mouth watered at the sight of them. Karina then turned to the side so she was facing Yeji.

“Mmm you look so nice in that dress…” Karina moaned as her fingers gripped the top of Yeji’s dress. Yeji smiled giddily at Karina’s compliment. That was one of the rare times when Yeji was speechless and silly. Yeji finally understood how her own gravitational pull worked.

“Thanks” Yeji blushed.

“But I’d like it off, He would too…” Karina said as she quickly yanked Yeji’s dress down to her stomach, freeing Yeji’s tits. Yeji’s breasts were obviously nothing to scoff at but they were small in comparison to Karina’s. Karina wrapped a hand around the back of Yeji’s head.

Yeji huffed lightly in quiet surprise. Karina smiled and pulled her in for a kiss. Yeji moaned and melted underneath Karina’s lips. Yeji’s tits were pancaked by Karina’s much, much bigger ones. Karina’s body overpowered Yeji’s as their tongues, lips, and sweet tender skin connected.

I fought the urge to start jacking off at the sight of the two gorgeous women passionately making out. Karina broke the kiss and eagerly placed her thick, plump lips back on my cock, sucking and bobbing with extra spit to make it really sloppy. Yeji giggled at the sight of Karina’s messy fellating while reaching underneath Karina to cup her swinging pendulous tits.

“You like that, babe?” Yeji purred.

I moaned and nodded, my cock once again on the edge of exploding. Karina upped her speed and loosened her lips so her endless wash of saliva coated my cock.

“Fuck…” I groaned and popped inside Karina’s mouth. Hot, thick blasts of cum battered her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Karina held my cock against her lips as I fired spurt after spurt of seed into her throat.

Karina slowly and carefully slid her lips off of my drained cock, careful not to spill a single ounce of my cum. Karina then turned to Yeji. Yeji’s eyes widened in excitement. Karina held Yeji tight and lifted herself slightly. Yeji kept her mouth wide open while running her tongue over her top lip. Karina opened her mouth and let the waterfall of thick cum fall into Yeji’s mouth.

Yeji closed her eyes and savored the flavor of my cum mixed with Karina’s spit. Karina slowly lowered her mouth down to Yeji’s, causing a small amount of cum to leak down Yeji’s chin. Yeji moaned softly as her lips finally connected with Karina’s. Both girls made out with my cum sloppily dripping down their chins, the corners of their lips, and dripping down onto their breasts.

When Karina and Yeji were done swapping my thick load, Karina got to her feet., and quickly unzipped her jeans before gripping the waistband and yanking them down with eager tugs. The way Karina’s wide, womanly hips came into view as the fabric of her jeans fell down her legs forced me to get hard again.

Karina stepped out of her jeans and I noticed the massive damp spot on her light blue panties.

“What?” Karina smiled.

“You’re so sexy…” I said as I removed my now sweat-stained shirt and made my way towards Karina’s backside. Yeji grabbed Karina’s panties, pulling them down slowly so all three of us could see the trail of wetness sticking to the fabric. Karina’s pussy was literally dripping wet.

“See what you do to me…?” Karina moaned as the air hit her soaking cunt. I dropped to my knees and placed my hands on Karina’s asscheeks, kissing the smooth skin.

“Ohh…” Karina moaned as I admired her delicious, perfect body. I spread her asscheeks, giving me a clear view of her pussy and asshole. Then I plunged my tongue, deep inside her pussy, causing her legs to shake and her breathing to speed up. Then my tongue moved upwards, so close to her asshole.

“Mmm, just do it,” Karina huffed, turning her head to look down at me. So I stuck my tongue up and slipped it into her asshole.

“Nghh fuck…” Karina wailed to the rooftop as my tongue invaded her asshole, bucked her convulsing hips, and pressed her ass into my face.

“Yes! That’s… Ugh! You’re gonna make me cum!” Karina screamed in pure pleasure, her asshole clenching my tongue.

“Anghh…!” Karina cried. She was coming, I could tell because I felt her fingers roughly digging into my scalp to pull me away. Karina shuffled away and collapsed onto the couch to ride out her orgasm. Yeji spread her legs and played with herself, with her usual ‘fuck me’ expression plastered across her face.

“Come here…” I beckoned to Yeji. She smiled and crawled towards me. I placed her on her back and started to admire her body the way I always did. Kissing and licking over her tasty breasts and moving my lips up to her collarbone.

“That’s it…” Yeji moaned as I sneakily slipped my cock inside of her tight pussy. Yeji moaned gratefully as my kisses moved to her neck. I fucked her with slow, sloppy strokes while passionately kissing her chin and finally moving to her lips. Yeji wrapped her arms around my neck as we fucked each other like there wasn’t a convulsing Karina on our couch.

“So good…” I groaned when I broke the kiss.

“I invited Karina for a reason…” Yeji laughed and kissed my nose.

“So you want me to stop?” I asked.

“Mmm, No…” Yeji moaned and returned to kissing me. At the slow and sensual pace I was stroking Yeji with, I knew I wasn’t going to cum anytime soon. I just enjoyed fucking her, how her tight walls wrap around my cock, wrapping my arms around her soft, perfect body and just giving her all. Yeji came softly, moaning as her pussy was strangling my cock.

I broke the kiss and slid my cock out of Yeji’s pussy when I heard Karina moving around on the couch. Yeji was on her back, moaning and writhing slightly.

“She made a big mess…” Karina said with a pouty expression as she got off the couch and crawled towards me. I was sitting with my legs crossed, my eyes locked onto Karina’s big, swinging and sweaty tits. She placed her head on my inner thigh, her long hair tickling my skin.

“Oh yeah…” I moaned as Karina stuck her tongue out, rolling it around the thick, creamy ring Yeji had made around my shaft. Karina teased my cock with a smile until she suddenly rolled around so she was on her knees. Karina leaned in to kiss me softly before placing her hand on my chest to push me to my back.

“I need this cock in my pussy.” Karina cooed as she raised her legs to straddle me. Yeji quickly crawled around me.

“Just gonna help you out.” Yeji said to Karina. She spat on my cock before slipping it into her mouth and sloppily blowing me. Karina was clearly getting impatient, but Yeji was trying to clean me off. After Yeji glazed my cock in spit, Karina finally lowered herself down onto me.

“Hmm…” Karina yelped as she slid all the way down my dick. Yeji’s earlier blowjob clearly helped.

“Sooo huge…!” Karina giggled as she rocked back and forth, her hands gripping her glorious breasts and squeezing them.

“It almost feels like too much.” Yeji purred.

“Never too much…” Karina grinned before removing her hands from her breasts and placing them flat on my chest. Karina’s face twisted from her gorgeous smile to a look of determination as she began to bounce herself up and down my cock.

“Ohh fuck!” Karina moaned in ecstasy as my cock was melting under the onslaught of her constantly driving, hot pussy. Her tits bounced so fast they smacked her ribs with rapid thuds. Sweat caked her skin, her breathing was at the same pace as her bouncing ass.

“Nghhh…” Karina cried as her big, jiggly tits bounced in a blur and her slick, saven pussy continued to batter my cock into dust. Yeji crawled around to kiss my chest and neck. I reached upwards to cup Karina’s breasts, stopping the hypnotizing bounce and filling my hands with the hot and doughy flesh.

“Yeeessss…” Karina moaned as her bounces shifted into a smooth, gentle grind of her hips. I squeezed her tits tight, causing her pussy to clench onto my cock with a series of wild, random pulses. Karina’s orgasm rocked her silently, causing her to fall forward, breaking my grip on her tits and letting them sandwiches against me. Karina moaned loudly as she arched her back. I raised my legs so my knees were up in the air.

“Aaahhh!” Karina moaned as her perfect breasts pressed against my face. I greedily sucked on her tits, slobbering all over her areolas and wiping my lips over the succulent skin. Karina’s pussy was gushing all over my cock as she rolled her hips on me. I saw Yeji watching us in awe out of the corner of my eye.

Karina came hard with another wave of high-pitched yelps as she smothered me in her tits. I couldn’t hold back. As Karina lifted herself slightly, I fired a shot of cum straight inside of her. Karina immediately dropped herself back down as I filled her up with ropes of cum. Her fat tits were crushing my head and I was drooling while flicking my tongue out back and forth, desperate for a taste.

“Ohhh that feels so good…” Karina huffed as her body went limp. I kept filling her up until my legs fell to the floor, causing Karina’s body to slide back so her head was on my chest. I was no longer being suffocated by her tits, my disappointment loud and clear in my groaning. Yeji crawled towards me and turned my head to pull me in for a kiss.

Karina crawled away from me when Yeji broke the kiss with a smile. We both watched a few drops of cum come out of her pussy. Karina took a deep breath and reached down to keep some of cum inside her cunt.

I didn’t give Karina time to rest as I shuffled towards her, my cock jutting forward.

“What are you…” Karina said.

“Oommff!” I cut her off by slipping my cock into her mouth, my crown sliding over her slick tongue and rubbing against the roof of her mouth. Karina opened her eyes and tightened her lips around my shaft. She smiled with her eyes as she began to slide her lips over my cock, keeping them sealed tight around the skin.

I slowly pushed my hips forward, stretching her lips. Karina rolled her eyes in ecstasy and moaned around my girth. She placed her hands on my thighs to push me back, leaving my cock dripping with spit. Karina pursed her lips and turned her head down to let a thick line of slime leak out of her mouth.

“Fuck my throat…” Karina begged, staring up at me with her beautiful brown eyes. I immediately obliged, grabbing the back of her head and cramming my cock deep inside of her mouth. I slammed my dick into her gullet, against her chin and my tip battering the back of her throat. Karina gagged hard, causing spit to trickle down her chin and my shaft.

I wrapped her hair and gripped it tightly, pulling her face deeper into my pelvis, relentlessly jackhammering my dick into her wet mouth. Karina’s hands wrapped around my back, pushing my cock deeper down her throat, just when I thought she couldn’t take it any longer.

Karina pressed her nose to pubic bone and held my back for nearly a minute. She then slowly slid my cock out of her mouth with a pop, coughing and gagging as she craned. She wiped sweat from her brow before extending her tongue and quickly rolling it over my cockhead.

“My turn…” Yeji said.

I looked over to Yeji and pushed her legs up until her knees were on either side of her head. I positioned and rubbed my cock over her slit before penetrating her. Yeji screamed as I penetrated her most sensitive area. The I began pumping in and out of her until our hips literally merged. I felt her quiver as I slid my cock in and out of her dripping-wet pussy. This quickly sent her over the edge.

“Ahh fuck…” Yeji moaned.

I kept my cock stationary inside of her gripping pussy lips before I felt my stomach tighten. Yeji’s legs shook wildly as I returned to fucking her with deep strokes.

I slipped out of Yeji’s pussy and Karina’s mouth immediately latched onto my cock. She bobbed her head quickly, cleaning off Yeji’s juices and leaving the tip dripping with spit. I angled myself to slide my cock back into Yeji. She screamed again.

Then it was back and forth. I fucked Yeji with three or four deep strokes before pulling out and letting Karina suck me. While it briefly helped me fend off my impending orgasm, Karina’s lips and tongue were like torture devices.

“Ohhh…” I popped my cock out of her mouth, planning to cum all over Karina’s face. But she quickly grabbed my base with her left hand and placed her right hand over and above my back to force me back inside Yeji’s pussy.

I groaned as I filled Yeji’s pussy with cum. My cock pulsed and stretched inside her as I took a series of deep, shaky breaths. When I finally stopped cumming, I crawled back to admire the thick glob of white oozing from Yeji’s cunt.

Karina muttered as she pushed me forward and sucked my cock. Karina sucked the mixture of Yeji’s cum and mine clean from me, leaving it slick and shiny.

“That was fun.” Karina gigled.

“Yeah, it was…” Yeji sighed.

“You two wouldn’t mind if I stayed the night?” Karina asked.

—

Later that night, we were cuddling in bed watching TV, with a naked Karina and Yeji on either side of me. Yeji’s head was on my shoulder, while Karina’s rested against my inner thigh. I felt her hot breath against my skin. She purposefully adjusted herself to place her breast against my skin. I don’t mind, they feel soft, nice and huge.

Karina kept moving, her soft and supple body rubbing against my leg. Yeji’s hand went to my chest, rubbing it slowly until she let it wander down my stomach. Yeji’s finger brushed over the waistband of my boxers. I heard her let out a quiet giggle when I froze up.

Karina moved her head from my inner thigh to my now already hard cock, her cheek resting against my shaft. She knew exactly what she was doing. Both of them did.

I grunted. “Eyes on the screen.”

“My eyes are on the screen.” Karina said, now rubbing her cheek over my erection.

“Mine too.” Yeji said, her hand still resting on my lower abdomen. I wanted to say something, but I kept quiet as Yeji’s hand moved slowly into my underwear. Karina raised her head as Yeji grabbed the base of my cock and lifted it to form a tent in my underwear.

Karina expertly reached back to pull my underwear over my throbbing cock, keeping her gaze fixed on the screen. Yeji’s hand was gently gripping my shaft, and Karina turned her chin to the side, leaving her hot breath on my swollen head.

“Keeping my eyes on the screen…” Karina said softly. It was obvious she was holding back a giggle. I turned my head to face Yeji. She briefly looked up at me as she began to stroke my cock.

“Eyes on the screen, babe…” Yeji purred with a devilish grin.

“You’re not making it easy…” I groaned. Just as I turned away from Yeji, Karina wrapped her lips against my tip. I moaned softly as she rolled her tongue over my crown, licking away at the cum that had leaked out due to Yeji’s gentle touch.

Karina kept her head and eyes fixed on the screen, expertly lowering her head up and down the first few inches of my cock. She hummed softly as she lowered her head up and down the length of my cock, my sensitive tip grazing the roof of her mouth at the perfect angle, causing a groan to escape my lips.

Thin lines of spit escaped the corners of Karina’s mouth, causing Yeji’s strokes to gain a hypnotic slick sound. Karina knew she couldn’t go any further down without taking her eyes off the screen, so she opted to continue torturing my tip with her tongue and mouth.

I could not take it anymore. I reached behind to grab the remote and turned off the TV, leaving my lamp as the only source of light in the room.

“Hey! I was watching!” Yeji said, immediately turning her head towards me. Karina pulled her mouth off my cock and shifted her body so she was facing me.

“You are mean.” Karina smiled.

“Trying to be funny, huh?” I huffed.

Yeji’s hand was still holding my wet cock, and Karina’s thick lips were barely an inch away from the tip. My cock twitched slightly as I watched her lovely, full breasts jiggle with her slight movement.

“I liked it,” Yeji said as she removed her hand from my cock and crawled forward. She had her bare ass in my face and her mouth close to my cock.

Yeji then shoved my cock into her mouth, wiggling her ass to give me a hint. I focused my attention on Yeji’s beautiful, glistening pussy and ass. I wrapped my hands around her waist and pressed my face against her backside.

“Nghh…” Yeji slipped off my cock and squealed. I felt Karina’s mouth on my cock. I worked my tongue in Yeji’s pussy at the same pace Karina’s tongue was coiling around my girth. I heard Yeji’s desperate moans as I rolled my tongue around inside her slippery folds.

Karina slid her mouth off of my cock and Yeji pounced on it again. Yeji sucked with more speed and aggression than Karina did. I squeezed Yeji’s soft, sweaty flesh as I pushed my jaw forward to force my tongue even deeper inside her pussy.

Yeji popped her mouth off my cock and Karina greedily slurped it into her own mouth. The girls went back and forth sucking me, creating a thick layer of warm spit around my shaft. Every time I came close either Karina or Yeji would pull back at just the right time. The difference in their blowjobs eased the tension.

Yeji came softly in my mouth multiple times, but when I changed my tongue movement to long, aggressive licks along the length of her cunt, she exploded.

“Mmmpphhh…” Yeji mumbled around my cock before violently spitting it out. Karina immediately placed her mouth on my cock, but this time she changed her rhythm. Her blowjob was looser and wetter as Yeji moaned loudly.

I pulled my wet lips free from Yeji’s pussy, watching her legs squirm and almost kick me. Karina’s blowjob was getting even sloppier as her hands caressed my balls. Yeji, after somewhat recovering, turned her body so she was facing me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her, giving her a taste of her pussy juices.

Karina’s blowjob was loud, over the top, and nonstop. Yeji broke the kiss and wrapped her arms around my neck. I dug my nose into her neck, taking in her scent.

“You like the way she sucks that cock, babe?” Yeji purred in my voice, that sweet honeyed accent sending electric shocks through my body. I barely mumbled a word.

“You gonna cum?” Yeji asked before biting my neck.

I nodded slowly. Karina took my cock all the way down to the base, her sloppy tongue somehow grazing my balls. I felt Karina’s hair tickling my skin as she kept my cock buried deep in her throat. Yeji planted wild kisses along the side of my face towards the corner of my lips.

Yeji then backed her head up slightly and smiled down at me. I was seconds away from bursting in Karina’s mouth. Yeji then leaned down to pull me in for a passionate kiss. My toes curled and my body shook wildly as the waves of pleasure that were inside of me all flew towards my cock. I came hard in Karina’s throat and she gagged loud enough for both of us to hear it.

I felt Karina’s lips move up until they were just at the tip. Karina pursed her lips tight around my cock, almost like she was milking every last drop. I melted in Yeji’s embrace, my body had gone numb and the only feeling was in my constantly spurting cock. After returning to the land of the living, I was greeted with Yeji’s heavenly smile.

“Woah…” Was all I could mumble. Yeji gave me a little kiss before crawling off of me and moving towards Karina.

“Awh… You swallowed it all?” Yeji moaned as she grabbed the sides of Karina’s face.

“Sorry… It’s just so exciting to drain a cock dry. Especially such a big one.” Karina giggled softly.

“Oh, believe me, I know…” Yeji purred. Then she got on all fours.

I caught a glimpse of Karina’s sopping wet pussy before I got to my knees and placed a hand on Yeji’s ass, rubbing my second favorite part of her. My favorite part of Yeji is her smile, but her ass is a close second. I tapped my cock head against her entrance before slipping it inside of her perfect pussy with ease.

“Ahh…” Yeji moaned as I spanked her ass and crammed my dick deep inside of her. She went wild, a hard dick driving into her, and a throughout spanking was all of her favorite sexual things rolled up into one.

I then reached down and pulled Yeji’s hair and pressed her back until her head touched the bed before relentlessly pounding her tight pussy with long, deep hard strokes. She let out a surprise, followed by a weak moan to end it off. Her pussy was gushing all over, staining the bed, and drilling down my shaft.

Yeji looked back at me with a surly smile on her face as she began to fuck me back. I groaned and let go of her hair. Yeji caught herself with her hands as I let her grind her ass back against my pelvis.

Then Karina made her way around Yeji. She kissed me on the cheek before standing up on the bed to smother me with her big soft tits. I slowed my thrusts to halt as Yeji took control, fucking herself on my cock. I mumbled into Karina’s massive tits, losing control while being crushed by them for the second time today.

I felt my orgasm rising with Yeji’s warm, gripping walls putting my dick in a blender, Karina’s soft tits wrapped around my head weren’t making it easier to hold back. I was close, but I couldn’t say anything. My head was filled with moans and groans, making it impossible to focus on anything other than finishing.

I let out a deep groan that alerted both of them. Karina pulled her tits from my face and Yeji crawled off of my throbbing cock. Karina crawled in front of me and got to her back, spreading her legs high up in the air. Yeji was at Karina’s side and kept her hands on Karina’s legs to keep them straight.

“Get in there…” Yeji huffed, her eyes wide and locked onto Karina’s dripping pussy. I huffed and moved forward to slide myself inside of Karina.

“Nngaaahh…” Karina moaned when I finally bottomed her out.

“I’m close…” I groaned.

“Cum inside me....” Karina whined while biting her bottom lip. I began to work my hips with short and quick thrusts, giving her just enough to make her cum before I did.

“Yess…” Karina grinned and grunted as I kept pumping my cock in and out of her, the sound of Karina’s slippery pussy the only thing keeping me going.

“Nghhfuckk!” Karina huffed, her eyes tightly shut and her back arched. Her pussy was squeezing me really tight. Then came hard, but she bit her bottom lip to keep quiet.

A minute later I came hard, flooding Karina’s pussy with the last bit of seed I could muster.  Karina sucked in air as she gazed at my cock pulsing inside her.  I kept cumming inside of her until nothing remained. Then I pulled away from her, nearly collapsing from exhaustion.

“Soo good…” Karina moaned in pleasure as my cum leaked out of her freshly fucked pussy.

I watch the clock and it’s already past midnight. I fell to my back and was just on the verge of falling asleep when Yeji moved her way up to my neck.

“Did you like the surprise?” Yeji whispered in my ear.

“I- I wouldn’t mind any other surprises.” I huffed.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Yeji grinned and kissed me on the cheek.

“Happy birthday.” She said.

It was Thursday when I awoke from what may have been the best sleep I’d had in weeks. All I remember is that last night Yeji invited some her friends to throw me a small birthday party. To be honest, I was not the type to throw a party, but since it was Yeji, I didn’t mind.

I rolled over and checked my analog clock. It’s already 10 a.m.

Crawling out of bed and cracking my back. I grabbed my phone from the dresser and saw a message from Yeji stating that says she went on with her schedules, as well as two missed calls from Kazuha.

It sent a shock through my system. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. I called her back, the excitement of hearing her voice jolting me out of my usual early morning brain fog. The phone rang and rang until I heard footsteps in the hallway.

“Good morning, birthday boy...” Yujin said with a smile as she leaned against the door. I didn’t know where to look. Her hefty, braless tits pressed against the door frame, or her gorgeous smile. She wore a plain beige shirt and nothing else. I swear I can only remember Me, Yeji, and Yujin making out, but not about fucking them.

“Did we…?” I tried to ask, almost forgetting that my phone was still ringing. I put it down, assuming Kazuha was busy.

“No, Sort of. You were drunk when you ate my pussy. Then you fell asleep.” Yujin smiled while pointed to the bed with her hand. I noticed the white pillowcase had a deep red lipstick imprint on it and a faint bite mark.

“Sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Yeji said you wouldn’t mind if I stay for a bit?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “Besides… with you, I doubt she mind with anything.”

Yujin then walked into the room until those legs of hers were against the side of my face. She ran her fingers through my hair and cupped under my chin.

“You’re really good at it even when you’re sleep deprived and three bottles deep.”

“Only three?” I cleared my throat and looked up at her.

“You’re kind of a lightweight.” Yujin said with a smile.

“Me?” I laughed. “And You aren’t?”

“Not really. I assume you don’t drink that much since you’re always working on with those JYP sluts you have over there.”

“Hey, be nice,” I said. “I’m just tired.”

“Yeah, tired fucking Yeji and Karina’s brains out.” She retorted.

“Hmm…” I hummed. I lazily kissed her inner thigh, her bare and clean-shaven pussy right in front of my face. Yujin pulled my head away from her creamy legs and bent down to kiss me on the lips.

“I thought about sucking you off in your sleep, but you definitely needed all the rest you could get.” Yujin’s beautiful eyes were wide and alluring. Her hands moved from my face down my neck and then the top of my plain white shirt. She tugged at the fabric while biting her bottom lip.

“Take your shirt off...” She cooed.

I did as I was told, quickly slipping my shirt over my head. I started to remove my boxers, but Yujin cut me off by gently grabbing my arm.

“I’ll do it.” Yujin said before grabbing the sides of my boxers, her cold hands tickling my skin. Yujin pulled my underwear down slowly, her eyes getting wider and wider with every bit of my cock that was revealed. She had my boxers down halfway before planting a tender kiss on my shaft, moaning when she pulled my cock all the way out.

“Hmm...” Yujin beamed as my underwear met my ankles and her lips met my shaft again.

“Such a nice cock.” She said.

Yujin then peppered it with timid little kisses and licks, causing me to groan and pat her head. I felt her warm tongue slowly moving up and down my veins until it reached my tip, just barely touching it. I looked down at her as her lips wrapped around my glans, her eyes big and expressive as my cock widened her lips.

Yujin used her finger to brush her hair from her face and behind her ear. She then began to bob her head up and down, sucking my cock rhythmically as her tits jiggled wildly underneath the confines of her thin top. Yujin took herself all the way to the base with every third bob of her head, sending warm spit traveling down the length of my shaft. As Yujin suck me good, Kazuha returned the call. I picked up, swallowing a groan as I covered my ear to block out Yujin sloppy blowjob.

“Hey!” Kazuha greeted me.

“Hey Kazuha,” I huffed. I knew Yujin was sucking me even better because she heard a cheerful tone over her blowjob. That sloppy wet sound went way over the phone.

“Are you getting your dick sucked right now?” Kazuha asked, clearly smiling into the phone.

“Um- yeah...” I admitted.

“How is it?”

“Ng- Pretty…” Yujin’s eyes stared at mine, a slight smirk forming around her lips with my cock deep in her mouth. “…Good.”

“Yeji?” Kazuha asked.

“Yu- jin. I’m... uh, we’re just... fuck...” I groaned as Yujin started to deepthroat my cock, impaling herself and gagging as her eyes stayed locked onto mine.

“Oh yeah... she sounds like she’s sucking your cock good.” Kazuha cooed. Her voice, especially the way she said cock, sent chills down my spine and an extra spark to Yujin’s work.

“Is she naked?” Kazuha asked. I reached down to lift Yujin’s shirt, but she pulled herself away from my cock and lifted it to her collarbone herself.

“Now she is...” I grinned as Yujin’s tits came into view. She immediately wrapped her messy mouth around my hard coke, returning to sucking me nice and deep. Yujin put her entire body into her bobbing, sending her tits flopping as her fingers crept down between her legs.

“Can I ask you something?” Kazuha said casually.

“Sure...” I groaned as bubbles formed around my base and Yujin’s lips.

“Can I come over? I just got back from Japan and I’m a little... jet lagged,” she explained. “I know you’re super busy but if you could…”

“Of course you can.” I interrupted her.

“Really?”

“Yea- I’m... Oh yeah... I’m free right now...” I explained as my toes curled against the carpet. Yujin had both hands on my shaft, working her wrists and fingers as her fellating got even sloppier. She was also undeniably loud.

“What. All week?” Kazuha asked.

“Yup...”

“Give me forty minutes,” Kazuha said.

“Sounds good... see you then...” I was close. Yujin’s eyes were closed and I could tell Kazuha was getting turned on with every second that passed.

“See you then...” Kazuha cooed before hanging up. God, Yujin had me on thin ice. Her hands, neck, mouth, tongue, and lips worked tirelessly on my cock. She then slid her lips back, leaving only the first two inches of my spit-soaked cock in her mouth. Yujin then grabbed my knees with her wet hands before opening her eyes. That’s it.

I let out an odd hissing sound as I emptied my balls into Yujin’s mouth. I came so much that it overflowed from the corner of her mouth and down her chin, a few mixed drops dribbling down her tits. I kept cumming, the force so powerful I had to lift myself a few inches off the bed. Yujin swallowed as much as she could as the rest of it peppered her neck and tits.

Yujin popped my cock out of her mouth with a huge smile and a few drops of my cum were dripping down her bottom lip. She then stood up and wordlessly pushed me to my back.

“You got more in you?” Yujin asked despite knowing the answer. My cock pulsed when she slid her shirt over her head and straddled me, her heat and wetness right on top of my shaft.

I smiled as she lowered herself down on top of me. I usually needed a short break after finishing, especially from such a good blowjob, but seeing Yujin’s firm tits bounce uncontrollably as she rode me could make any man keep going. Yujin creamed on me multiple times as her ass bounced against my pelvis. I reached up to cup her incredibly soft tits, massaging the globes as best I could despite her hyperactive bounces.

“Oh yess, I’m gonna cum on your cock!”

Yujin face curled up into a blissful smile as her first orgasm ran through her. My hands were still glued to her tits as her sweaty form convulsed on top of me. Yujin came even harder than I did, her hair falling in front of her face as she let out what sounded like cries of fear.

She fell on top of me and cupped my face before kissing me. Her hair against my skin, her tits sandwiches against my chest, her sweet kisses. Yujin was a really good fuck. Plain and simple. My hands were on her back and I moved them down to her supple ass, squeezing hard and giving her right cheek a firm smack.

“Ah!” She squealed and giggled into my face. I kissed her nose as she smiled down at me.

“God this pussy is so good...” I said with a lustful groan. Yujin smiled harder at the compliment.

“Then fuck it good...” She said through her kisses.

I flipped her over onto her back and began digging my cock deep inside of her. I grabbed her arms and pressed them against her tits, causing them to squish together and jiggle erotically. Yujin threw her head back and moaned. I leaned down, causing our foreheads to collide as we breathed heavily in each other’s faces.

I usually needed to eat breakfast and get at least a little bit of water in me before morning sex as intense as this, but this was Yujin. She needed, no, she deserved a good fucking. The time of day didn’t matter when it came to her. I was also definitely spurred on by the fact that Kazuha would be showing up today as well. I feared my cock wouldn’t be able to get up when Kazuha showed up.

Then again, it was Kazuha. If my cock couldn’t get up at the sight of her it couldn’t get up for anyone.

Yujin’s hands gripped my arms as she yelled against my collarbone, her pussy squeezing me tightly. I kept pounding until I slowed down and rolled over so we were both on our side. I slipped my cock in and out slowly, hypnotized by the sound of Yujin’s fat and creamy pussy being stretched out by me.

“Such a good fucking cock...” Yujin groaned in my face. “I can’t... Why can’t I find anyone like you?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” I smiled, still fucking her slowly.

“Sort of... You got any friends?”

“No real ones anyway... If they knew what I got up to...”

“I doubt... I doubt any of them would be as fucking good as you are...” Yujin said as her eyes rolled. My cock throbbed inside of her as I came unexpectedly, this time filling her pussy up with another round of cum.

“Auugh... yeah...” Yujin beamed breathlessly. I kissed her neck as I curled my body to really fill her up. Yujin of course took it all like a champ. I held my cock inside of her for a few more seconds until I pulled out. We both groaned, admiring the deep creampie I made leaking out of her red and messy pussy.

“I- I should really eat some breakfast...” I said, feeling slightly lightheaded.

“Let’s take a shower first.” Yujin smiled.

“I feel like you just want to go at it again in the shower.” I said smirking.

Yujin rolled out of bed with my creampie leaking down her legs as she got to her feet. “Really? What gave you that idea?” she said.

Yujin looked at me over her shoulder, an adorable smirk on her flawless face, gripping her asscheek and spreading it to spill the last bit of my creampie onto the floor. I followed her to the bathroom. Something about the double showerhead and frameless sliding shower door had a special appeal.

Yes, we fucked again in the shower. I had Yujin’s tits pressed against the glass as I fucked her standing up, the water flying off our frenzying bodies. Neither of us really focused on getting clean after the first two minutes of lazily applying body wash to ourselves. I turned Yujin around so her back was on the glass in order to see her soapy, wet tits bouncing under my onslaught. When I got close again, I pulled out and she dropped to her knees. I blew my load into her mouth until Yujin cupped her tits so I could glaze them in cum.

—

We had a big breakfast. I made eggs, bacon, toast with jam, and hashbrowns. While I was cooking, Yujin prepared a fruit platter with oranges, grapes, pineapple, and bananas. Yujin was very keen in sticking the banana down her throat while I was watching the toast cook. I made a jerking motion with the salt shaker as I put it on the eggs. We laughed as we continued to share silly sexual innuendos with our food.

It was a beautiful day, so I suggested we eat outside on the deck. Yujin quickly arranged her plate and followed me outside. Yujin wore a thin tank top and shorts that barely concealed her lower body. Yujin was admiring the view of the city, while I was admiring her backside just before She turned around and grinned when she noticed me staring at her ass.

“Round four?” Yujin giggled.

“You got anywhere to be later?” I asked with a light smirk.

“Nope.” Yujin said before grabbing an orange slice from her plate.

“Good. Let’s just wait for Kazuha.” I said.

“We’ll get to ten more rounds with her.” Yujin laughed. I chuckled lightly. Just then, the alarm system alerted me to a knock at the front door.

“I got it!” Yujin quickly skated across the deck and inside the house. I grabbed her now empty plate and followed her inside, dropping the dishes off on the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Kazuha!” I overheard Yujin. I made my way to the front door, cursing myself now for having a big house. All of this extra room kept me from seeing Kazuha, which should be considered a crime. Kazuha hugged Yujin as they stumbled backward into the house.

“Hi...” Kazuha said, her eyes effortlessly drawing me in. She looked simple yet so stunning. Yujin released the hug and went to bring Kazuha’s bag inside before closing the door.

Kazuha wore black leggings with white stripes on the sides. The leggings were tight and clearly intended for someone with a little less meat on their bones, but on Kazuha, they were fit like a second skin. Her top was a simple soft white shirt with her nipples visible through the fabric, indicating she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her shoes were a worn-down pair of all-white Nikes.

When I reached out my arms for a hug, Kazuha jumped and wrapping her arms and legs around me. She kissed my cheek and whispered something in Japanese into my ear. Her voice dripped with lust, it was something sexual, I guess.

“God, I missed you.” Kazuha purred into my ear before biting it. I kissed her lips and brushed her long hair from her face.

“Whoa…” I said. “You’re in good spirit, no more boys problem?”

“Nope,” Kazuha laugh. “Sorry I missed your birthday.” She pouted.

“Oh, don’t worry, I know you’re busy,” I waved at her. “I missed you too.”

“Say that again.” Kazuha said, she was still in my arms and I was gladly just holding her up.

“I missed you too, Kazuha,” I said, this time adding just a tiny bit more base to my voice.

“Ohh... I know you’ve been putting her through the ringer...” Kazuha grinned cutely while pointing her head in Yujin’s direction.

“She’s been putting me through the ringer. You heard the phone call.” I smiled.

“Yeah I did,” Kazuha removed her legs from my waist and I let her fall gently to the floor. Yujin was behind her, smiling brightly.

“You’ve been keeping Yeji’s man in good spirits?” Kazuha asked Yjin jokingly.

“Of course I have.” Yujin grinned as she leaned against the back of the sectional.

“Something smells good.” Kazuha’s head shot to the kitchen.

“Did you eat?” I asked, gently rubbing her shoulders.

“Nope.”

“Let’s fix that.” I guided her to the kitchen.

“Looks good.” Kazuha smiled at the large amount of food.

“It’s not too much? I know you don’t really...” Kazuha made me lose my train of thought as she walked up to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. She then leaned forward to kiss me sweetly.

She then got off me and grabbed a plate from the cabinet. I looked away from Kazuha to see Yujin making a handheart with a silly look on her face. I smiled at her and walked over to shamelessly grab her ass with my left hand and grope her tit with my right.

“What’s wrong? Trying to prove you don’t have a heart?” Yujin grinned.

“Nothing wrong with having a heart.” Kazuha mumbled as she wolfed down her breakfast next to the microwave.

“She’s right.” I added.

“I’m just saying. Cupids got you good.” Yujin teased.

“No. Yeji’s got me good.” I said as I squeezed her ass tighter before dropping my hand down from her chest and under her top to feel her warm skin.

“Speaking of Yeji, where is she? I thought Karina would be here too.” Kazuha asked.

“They have schedules.” I replied. “The life of an idol huh?”

“Aww…” Kazuha pouted, “Don’t worry, we’ll keep you company.” She smiled.

“Thanks.”

“Round four while she’s eating?” Yujin moaned.

“You two have already gone three times?” Kazuha asked as she finished off her plate.

“We were in the shower for a while.” Yujin smirked.

“And leave me out to dry?” Kazuha cooed.

I let go of Yujin immediately and made my way towards Kazuha. “I will never leave you out.” I said as I gripped her waist and kissed her.

“I mean... three times is a lot.” Kazuha teased.

I cupped her chin to turn her face and leaned down to really kiss her open mouth. My right hand roamed from her waist down to her crotch, running my fingers over her pussy. Kazuha moaned into my mouth as she pressed herself closer to me.

“I want you so bad...” Kazuha groaned in my face.

“Right here?”

“Maybe not here. Upstairs?” Kazuha said.

We rushed upstairs to the same room where I had creampied Yeji, Karina, and Yujin.  Yujin was behind us when Kazuha stood in the center of the room, and I began to take off my shirt and shorts.  Kazuha pounced on me, her tongue moving from my neck to my lips.  I enjoyed how she moaned against me with every kiss.

Kazuha’s left hand found my hard cock, gripping the base and jerking me slowly.

“Fuck zuha...” I groaned. Kazuha giggled as she sloppily kissed all around my midsection and waist until she fell to her knees. her eyes widened as my cock throbbed in front of her face, a small bit of precum leaking from the head and hitting the floor.

“I missed this so much…” Kazuha purred before licking the seed from the tip. I reached down to grip her hair into a makeshift ponytail. Kazuha smirked with her eyes as she swallowed my cock with ease, rocking herself back and forth to suck me with intensity.

“Fuck...” I groaned. I felt Yujin’s head on my shoulder. When Kazuha noticed both Yujin and I staring down at her in awe, she sucked me in even faster. Kazuha’s hands moved to my balls, gently massaging them as she pressed her tongue against the underside of my cock. Her lips were skintight around my shaft. I began to buck my hips in her throat, knowing she could take it.

Kazuha had her hands on my legs and started to push herself into my thrust so I could fuck her mouth. She kept those startling eyes on me as my tip jabbed the back of her mouth. I fucked her face for a minute straight, the sound of my thickness punching her hungry and slippery throat filling the room. Kazuha’s shirt was already ruined with multiple thick lines of spit darkening the neckline and her chest.

Kazuha had her hands behind her back as the spit from her chin battered my balls, turning them into sticky sacks.

“She’s pretty good...” Yujin whispered in my ear. Kazuha pulled off my cock with long trails of spit clinging from her mouth to my shaft.

I let go of her hair, causing it to fall against her wet lips and cheeks. Yujin backed up to lift her tank top over her head, causing her tits to bounce sexily. I turned my body slightly and groped Yujin’s tits while she forced her tongue into my mouth.

Kazuha increased her pace as Yujin and I made out. I squeezed Yujin’s soft tits as she pressed her warm and delicate body against mine. We kissed each other harder than we did this morning until I felt my balls churning. I broke the kiss and looked down to see Kazuha still staring at me, her sloppy mouth still working hard on my cock.

“I’m gonna...” I groaned as I felt my cock throb.

Kazuha pulled back and gripped the base to squeeze as much cum as possible from my cock. She hit me with her gorgeous smile as I busted all over her face, a wild line smacking her forehead and nose. Kazuha kept smiling as I slathered her in cum. A blast landed over her left eye, causing her to close it and the rest battered her forehead. Kazuha opened her mouth wide and wobbled my cock to milk me dry.

“Aahhh...” Kazuha moaned as my waterfall of cum fell onto her tongue and down her throat.

“Holy shit...” I huffed as Kazuha licked her cummy lips and wiped away the line that hit her eyelid. She giggled and licked my cock clean as Yujin slid her shorts down her legs, leaving her fully nude.

“I need to cum...” Yujin mumbled to herself.

“It’s my turn, haven’t you had enough??” Kazuha said. “You already fuck him, three times!” she giggled.

“With a cock like that? It’s never enough.” Yujin purred, her eyes fixed on my cock.

“Now, I want you on your back.” Kazuha turned to face me as she removed her black panties. We were all nude and ready to fuck each other’s brains out. Kazuha pointed to where she wanted me to be. I lay on my back, legs spread and resting against the bedframe. My cock stood straight up as Kazuha straddled me. Her face was right in front of me as she dropped herself onto my cock with no hesitation.

“Ohh...” I groaned as Kazuha buried herself on top of me. Her pussy was so tight and wet. She looked back at me and smiled, causing me to nearly fill her up with cum without a single movement. She leaned forward into the crook of my neck, pressing her tits against my body. My hand moved towards her back, holding her tight. This also gives me a clear view of Yujin playing with herself on the side of the bed; it’s hot.

“Argh, I love your pussy…” I whispered to Kazuha as I continued to pump my cock into and out of her tight walls.

“Y- Yeah? I fucking love your cock, too,” Kazuha said between moans as her breasts shook wildly on my chest. I already knew how creamy Kazuha could get and based on her moaning and whimpering, I could tell that I was hitting all her right spots. My hands roamed over Kazuha’s ass, but she started to grind her hips in a fluid motion.

“Fuck, Kazuha...” I groaned, forgetting that I wanted to feel her up. Kazuha was bouncing on my cock at high speeds, sweat coating her body. It almost send me over the edge.

Kazuha smiled sweetly at me before crunching down for a kiss. I slid my legs up, keeping my feet firmly on the ground and my knees up in the air.

“Yes... Please fuck me good...” Kazuha begged in my ear, her moans were like music to my ears. I immediately complied. There was no teasing or pause. I thrust up, driving my dick deep into her tightness.

“Anhhfuck!” Kazuha roared as my hand gripped the back of her head, pulling her closer. I wanted to feel her shudder against my skin as I pounded her into oblivion. Every forceful clap of my pelvis against her body caused shivers down her spine and squeaks from her mouth. I kept going, staring into her eyes and losing track of how many times she came.

“Anh, Nghh, Ohh, Fuck…” Kazuha kept coming. I did not stop. I rolled her over onto her back and pulled my cock out of her pussy briefly. Kazuha let out a disappointed moan until I grabbed her ankles and flipped her over onto her stomach.

Slap! Right cheek. I spanked her ass.

“Aww!” Kazuha squealed.

Slap! Left cheek.

“Ahh!”

Slap! Right cheek.

“Nghh!”

Kazuha’s entire body was shaking. What I’ve learned about Kazuha and Yeji is that they both enjoy getting spanked.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

“Auughh!” Kazuha moaned. I wasn’t hurting her, but I definitely leave bright red handprints on her ass cheeks, which I knew she love. It was the reason I had her on her stomach. Kazuha enjoyed the sensation of my pelvis slamming into her spanked booty as my cock split her open. I inserted the head of my cock deep inside and rested my hands on the floor. I then slid all the way in, putting my weight against Kazuha’s ass.

“Shit!” Kazuha wailed. We were both drenched in sweat as I pounded her into submission. Kazuha took it like a good girl that she is, shaking her body with each clap of my perlvis. She pushed her hair to one side. I closed my eyes and leaned down to gently kiss the back of her neck, still pounding my cock deep inside her pussy.

“Fuck!” I groaned as my orgasm flared up again. I felt Kazuha’s legs around my back. And I just let go, unloading my cum deep inside her. Kazuha arched her back and let out a wheeze as I flooded her tummy with my cum. I pulled out and leaned back to watch my cum overflowing out of Kazuh’s freshly fucked pussy.

“That’s amazing.” Yujin said from the bed.

“I- it was...” Kazuha said breathlessly.

I crab walked around, spreading my legs in front of Kazuha’s face, and she quickly swallowed my spend cock. She bobbed her head while sucking our mixture of cum. I bucked my hips to see her reaction. She smiled and took me all the way down until my balls hit her chin. Kazuha looked up at me with her luscious lips wrapped tightly around my shaft. I slowly pushed to get my cock out of her mouth before sliding it back up.

“Gluh...” Kazuha moaned. Or was it Yujin? My eyes were closed, so I had no idea who was making the noises. The only thing I could concentrate on were our moans. The air in the room was hot and getting hotter.

I had a little more in me before I was complety done. And I wanted to make good use of that time. I opened my eyes and gently grabbed Kazuha’s head, my fingers entwined in her hair. I pulled her head up, causing my cock to fall out of her mouth and smack me in the stomach.

“I’ll be right back.” I said as I got to my feet.

“Don’t take too long.” Kazuha said.

I smiled to myself as I hobbled to the hallway bathroom. I kept a large bottle of lube under the sink. It was a gift from Yuna. She sent it a few months ago, and I saved the naughty message on a yellow sticky note that sat on the cap.

‘Use this for the other hole.’ Written in pretty, handwriting with little hearts around the edges of the note. I smiled and gently placed the sticky note on the counter before making my way back to the room.

I walked in and saw Kazuha with her face down and her ass slightly in the air. Kazuha had her head turned towards me with a lustful look in her eyes. A look that could kill.

“What’s that?” Kazuha asked, her voice shaky.

I removed the bottle’s cap before spraying it over my hand. It smelled of vanilla. I didn’t care about the mess it would undoubtedly make.

“A little bit of help.” I explained before spraying it on Kazuha’s back. She giggled as the oil touched her skin.

“You wanna fuck my ass?” She asked casually.

“Of course I do.” I said.

“No you don’t.”

“Sure am.” I put the plug of the bottle in Kazuha’s ass and sprayed.

“Anhh…” Kazuha giggled as the oil soaked her ass. I sprayed for a few seconds before taking it out of her. I put a little more on my already-soaked cock, causing it to drip down my shaft and onto the carpet. I was ready to fuck Kazuha’s ass.

I lined up and slid my cock deep inside, my thickness splitting her open.

“Oh God!” Kazuha shrieked as her oil-coated body convulsed beneath me.

“Just slide it in...” Yujin whispered in my ear, pressing herself against me from behind. Her hands moved across my chest as she watched me fuck a gape into Kazuha’s asshole. I picked up the pace, knowing that my movements were energizing Kazuha. The red marks on her buttcheeks were stretching and dripping oil.

“It’s soo... oh!” Kazuha yelped as I dropped myself balls deep inside. I grunted low and moved my hips to keep my cock inside of her. I could feel and hear Yujin’s shallow breathing next to my ear, as well as the slick sound of her playing with herself.

“Eeuugh, Just fuck me...” Kazuha begged. I did as instructed, dropping myself up and down in her asshole. Every time her wet ass touched my pelvis, I grunted with delight. Kazuha’s lower body pressed against the carpet, making her ass look fat than it already was. A deceptive work of physics that captivated me to no end.

“So good...” She muttered, her teeth digging into the carpet. I kept fucking Kazuha’s ass at a ridiculous pace, banging her with delicious thrusts. She writhed and groaned, desperate for more. I wrapped my hands around Kazuha’s waist, digging my fingers into her slippery skin and holding on tight.

“Fuck! What a fat ass!” I grunted as I continued fucking her ass with vigor.

“Aughh…” Kazuha’s voice was hoarse and ragged from screaming and moaning. I kept going. Yujin moaned behind us, rubbing herself into a quiet orgasm. I kept going. Sweat trickled down to my left eye, blinding me. And I kept going.

My oily balls pounded her dripping pussy.  Her ass was strangling my cock while I buried myself inside of her.  She gasped each time my balls slammed into her precious slit.  Kazuha mumbled something I couldn’t quite understand because of the sound of my cock digging into her asshole.  I stopped thrusting with my cock halfway inside her.

“What’d you say?” I asked, leaning in close to her, letting myself slip all the way inside of her.

“I-  I want you to spank me more...” Kazuha let out a gasp.  I leaned back, raising my right hand into the air and let it fall with force.

Slap!

“Oh!” Yujin squeaked behind me.

Slap!

Wild drops of oil flew everywhere as Kazuha’s asshole gripped my cock so tight it almost hurt.

Slap!

“Cumming…” Kazuha roared as she used up what sounded like every last bit of energy she had. I pressed myself deeper into her asshole. Kazuha could barely breathe, pushing her head to the side in order to get some oxygen.

And I felt something spray on my legs.

“She squirted!”  Yujin let out a gasp.  Until now, I had no idea Kazuha was a squirter.

I pulled my cock out of Kazuha to give her a break, but the moment my hot tip exited her ass, Yujin jumped into action. She was on all fours, moving around me. She then placed her mouth directly on my leaking cock, sucking sloppily and staring up at me.

Her lips moved with the flow and expanded lewdly.  My oil-covered nuts wobbled, sending slippery fluid and Kazuha’s cum flying.

“Oh Yujin, that fuckin mouth...” I groaned and stopped thrusting, content to let her do her own thing.  Yujin sucked my cock and reached back to play with cunt, slobbered all over my cock, dramatically rotating her head to allow a thick line of bubbly spit to flow down her chin.

I wanted to cum inside Yujin’s mouth.  That was until she took my cock out of her mouth with a loud ‘pop’.

“Get on the bed. I want you in my asshole now.” Yujin said casually. I immediately climbed onto the bed and lay on my back. Yujin got to her feet without stumbling, oil dripping from her glistening tits and ass. Yujin stood there, eyes closed, reaching back to finger her asshole.

I stroked myself as I watched Yujin’s body jiggle, dripping wet, and shining.  She heard my stroking, opened her eyes, and extended her hand to silently tell me to stop.  Yujin then pulled her finger out of her asshole and approached me.  She climbed onto the bed and bent her knees to straddle me.

“I’m gonna fucking ride this cock...” Yujin said. I held my cock so she could drop herself down onto me. Her rosebud had wrapped around the tip of my wet shaft.

“Woah...” Yujin shuddered as she lowered herself onto my cock. Her pussy juices were leaking into my stomach. Yujin bit her bottom lip and looked at me with the most sultry expression. Almost as if she was trying to show me that she could fit all of my girth inside her asshole.

My entire body became limp when her butt was fully resting on my base.

“You’re not tired...” Yujin said as she began to bounce herself on her knees. Her hair clung to her body. Her asshole was tight and hot. Her shiny tits were bouncing in perfect rhythm. Her eyes and mouth were both open and lustful. The sound of her sticky and soft ass slamming against me filled the room.

If She said I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t tired.

Yujin was bouncing herself up and down my length all the way, her asshole somehow getting looser and tighter at the same time. She put her hands on my shoulders and laughed excitedly in my face as she sank down onto my dick with all her might.

I looked down and saw Kazuha was gone.  I assumed she went to the bathroom to recover.  That was until I felt a hot tongue against my balls.  Yujin turned her head and laughed even more.

“Oh yea, drain those fat fucking balls!”  Yujin roared, her mouth moving faster than her brain while continuing to fuck me hard.

Kazuha put her lips around my balls.  I clenched my teeth and squeezed my eyes closed.  Yujin was exhaling rapidly, her high voice echoing off the walls.  The way her pussy sprayed made me feel like she was peeing on me.  I heard Kazuha violently spit on my shaft, and Yujin’s ass absorbed it like it was nothing.  Yujin pressed her ass against me, finally slowing down.

“I- I can’t... I can’t stop cumming...” Yujin giggled. I gave her a weak smile, noticing her leaking all over me.

“What, you getting tired?” I laughed lightly.

“Fuck you...” Yujin huffed, now just rocking herself on me.

“Been doing that all day.”

“Ju- just hurry up and cum...” Yujin begged.  She took a deep breath and began to grind against me, massaging my cock with her ass and rolling her ass against my thighs. Having inside Yujin’s heaving, curvy body was simply too much.

“You gonna cum?” Yujin teased, smiling devilishly.

“Yes...”

“Go ahead and fill my ass...” she hissed.

I placed my head flat on the bed as Yujin collapsed on top of me, and… I came in her butt, my worn-down cock finally done for the day. Yujin dug her face between my neck, kissing me softly. Before she found the strength to slide off of me.

Yujin flopped to her side, her head resting against my chest. Kazuha crawled over both of us. I wrapped my arms around both of them.

“So...” Kazuha started. “You think I can stay the night? Or… maybe the next few days?

“Of course.”

“Good,” Kazuha kissed me on the cheek.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.” Yujin sighed.