#there are some episodes I remembered really liking but I don’t remember why

[lilmisssona]

*ੈ✩Sorry Bestie, I love you *ੈ✩

*ੈ✩Pairing - Han Jisung × Fem Reader

*ੈ✩Plot - After being stood up for the fifth time this year, you've had enough of serial date ghosting. Just when you were about to leave, your best friend Han, whom you vented to , texts back saying to wait because he's coming to meet you. But Han left for another city eight years ago and when he shows up, you're shocked to see your quirky best has turned into someone undeniably hot!

*ੈ✩Genre - Angst, comedy, fluff

*ੈ✩Warnings - Dramatic comedic duo, non idol au, best friends to lovers au, angst, hurt to comfort

*ੈ✩Word Count - 10.7 K *ੈ✩Screenshot Count - 4

*ੈ✩A/N - Episode 5 of Staymas is here! This best friends-to-lovers tale will have you laughing, crying, and dreaming. Dive into this heartwarming and classic tale, albeit a little cliché! you won’t want to miss it! ( This is just slightly proofread so apologies for any mistakes 🙂‍↕️ )

*ੈ✩ SKZ Masterlist *ੈ✩ STAYMAS Masterlist

The candle flickers, the breeze teasing its flame. You try not to look at the empty chair across from you, but it’s impossible to ignore. Five times this year. A record, really. Maybe it’s time to quit dating altogether.

You grab your bag to leave, but your phone buzzes on the table. Glancing at the screen, you see his name....

You frown at the screen. Typical Jisung...cryptic, over-the-top, dramatic. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, debating whether to humor him. But something about his insistence makes you hesitate.

After waiting 20 minutes you were about to respond when the café door swings open. The sound barely registers...it’s a busy place, after all...but then you see him.

And for a moment, your brain stalls.

There he is: Han Jisung.

But not the Jisung you remember - the nerdy kid with mismatched socks and perpetually broken earbuds. No, this version of Jisung looks… different. Sharper. His jawline catches the soft glow of the café lights, and his tailored jacket makes him look almost regal.

When his eyes meet yours, he grins, the same mischievous spark lighting his face. “Hey,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Jisung,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here? You live miles away in Busan!”

“I moved back to Seoul months ago,” he says casually, leaning back. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“No!”

“Oops,” he says unapologetically. “Anyway, I couldn’t let you sit here alone. You deserve better than some no-show loser.”

You stare at him, still trying to process. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know. That’s why you love me.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch upward despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here I am,” he replies, his tone light but his gaze warm.

“Why, Ji? You didn’t teleport just to crash my pity party.”

Jisung leans forward, a smirk playing on his lips. “When my best friend texts saying their night sucks, I can’t not show up. Besides,” he adds with a mock whisper, “it’s been too long since I’ve played knight in shining armor.”

You snort, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at his words. “If you’re the knight, I’m doomed. What’s your grand plan? Order dessert and roast my date?”

“First, dessert is mandatory. Second, roasting is a given. But I was thinking bigger.”

You arch a brow. “Bigger? Like what?”

He rubs his chin in mock contemplation. “Storm their workplace and give them a lecture on human decency? Or better yet, I’ll write a diss track. Something like, ‘Ghosted Five Times, but I’m Still Fine.’”

You burst out laughing. “Please don’t. The world doesn’t need a breakup anthem about my tragic love life.”

“Too late,” he says, pretending to take notes. “Verse one: ‘Left her at the rooftop café, but she’s too hot for your games anyway.’ Instant hit.”

“Ridiculous,” you say, still laughing.

“And yet, you’re smiling,” he points out, grinning wider.

You shake your head, but the heaviness you felt earlier is fading, replaced by Jisung’s familiar warmth.

“Okay, fine,” you say, gesturing to the menu. “If you’re the hero, you’re buying dessert.”

“Done,” he says, scanning the menu. “But we’re sharing.”

“Deal. But I’m ordering the biggest slice.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d expect less.”

As the waiter approaches, you realize something...this moment, sitting here with Jisung, feels better than any date you’ve had in years.

And that thought terrifies you.

----------------------------------------------------------

The waiter sets down the slice of tiramisu, its rich layers of cream and coffee-soaked cake practically glowing under the café lights. Jisung doesn’t even wait for the plate to settle before scooping up a massive bite.

“Hey!” you protest, swatting at his hand with your fork. “We agreed to share, not for you to inhale the whole thing!”

“Sharing is caring,” he says through a mouthful, utterly unrepentant. “Besides, you said you wanted the biggest slice, not the biggest bite. Details matter.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the laugh that escapes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’ve kept me around all these years.” He winks, his cheek now smudged with a bit of whipped cream.

“You’ve got something on your face, genius,” you say, pointing vaguely at his cheek.

“Here?” He swipes at the wrong side.

“No, the other side.”

“Here?” He misses again, managing to smear the whipped cream further.

“Give me that.” You grab a napkin and lean across the table to clean his cheek.

Jisung freezes, his playful grin fading as you get closer. Your hand pauses, and for a brief moment, you’re hyper-aware of how near you are. His gaze locks with yours, the teasing light in his eyes softening. The sounds of the café blur into a quiet hum, leaving only the weight of the moment.

Then, just as suddenly, it’s gone.

“There,” you say, sitting back and tossing the napkin onto the table. “Crisis averted.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he teases, but his voice is gentler now, his smile smaller yet no less warm.

You look away, focusing on your fork as you take a bite of the tiramisu. The sweetness melts on your tongue, but the lingering heat of his gaze lingers heavier than the dessert.

“So,” you say, eager to steer the conversation back to safer ground, “are you going to tell me why you didn’t mention moving back to Seoul? Or were you planning to keep it a secret forever?”

He shrugs, casually taking another bite. “I wanted it to be a surprise. You know me...I live for dramatic entrances.”

“Mission accomplished,” you mutter. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“Believe it,” he says, leaning back and crossing his arms. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”

His words hang in the air, heavier than you expect. You glance at him, and for a moment, you see the boy he used to be...the one who chased you through the hallways, who promised nothing would ever come between you....

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It was a rainy Monday morning. The kind that begged you to stay under the covers and forget the world existed. But skipping class wasn’t an option when you were already on the brink of being dropped for "excessive tardiness." So, there you were, sprinting through the maze of your university’s sprawling campus, clutching your bag to your chest and praying you’d slip into the lecture hall unnoticed.

As you rounded a corner, moving far too quickly for the slippery tile floor, disaster struck. You slammed straight into something— or someone. The impact sent you staggering, and before you could process what had happened, books, papers, and color-coded notes exploded into the air, raining down like confetti in a very unfortunate parade.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” you blurted, dropping to your knees to gather the mess. Your heart was pounding from the sprint...and now from the mortification. So much for keeping a low profile.

“It’s fine,” came a calm, slightly irritated voice.

Looking up, you froze. Of all people, it had to be Han Jisung, the department’s golden boy. His reputation as a straight-A student was almost mythical, the kind of person who turned in assignments early and still managed to ace everything. Even now, in the chaos, he looked annoyingly put together. His navy sweater was pristine, his hair somehow immune to the rain outside, and his expression was a mix of disbelief and mild exasperation.

“Maybe,” he said, crouching down to gather his notes, “you should slow down next time.”

“Right. Slow down. Got it,” you muttered, cheeks burning as you handed him a stack of papers. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry again.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, his gaze flicking to yours. “Thanks. Wait… do I know you?”

“You should,” you said before you could stop yourself. “I’m the one who almost blew up the chemistry lab during first-year practicals.”

Recognition flickered in his eyes, followed by amusement. “Oh. You’re that person.”

You grinned sheepishly. “The one and only. In my defense, the safety instructions were... vague.”

“That’s a generous interpretation,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he resumed organizing his notes with practiced precision.

“And you’re Han Jisung,” you added, as though it wasn’t obvious. “Everyone knows you. You’re basically the poster child for academic perfection.”

“And you’re the one who thought shaking the vending machine would make it dispense two drinks at once,” he countered, his tone dry but laced with humor.

“That worked,” you retorted, smiling. “It just wasn’t worth the bruises.”

To your surprise, he laughed, an unguarded, genuine laugh that softened his polished exterior. For a moment, the intimidating image of Han Jisung melted away, replaced by someone far more approachable.

“Here,” he said, standing and offering you his hand. His grip was steady as he pulled you to your feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just my pride’s a little bruised,” you admitted, brushing off your jeans.

“Well,” he said, smirking, “maybe next time, your pride should walk a little slower.”

You laughed, the last of your embarrassment fading. “Duly noted, Han Jisung.”

He tilted his head, his curiosity evident. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Y/N,” you said, holding out your hand, which he shook with a small, genuine smile.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you quipped, grinning as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

He shook his head, an amused glint in his eye as he collected his books and turned to leave. “See you around,” he said over his shoulder.

And as you watched him walk away - posture perfect, demeanor unshaken despite the chaos...you couldn’t help but smile. Something told you this wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

You had no idea then just how much he’d come to mean to you...or how much trouble the two of you would get into together.

----------------------------------------------------------

The first time Han Jisung saved you, you were knee-deep in a mess entirely of your own making. It had started innocently enough - just another one of your “brilliant” ideas. You’d overheard someone mention that the campus auditorium boasted the best sound system in the city, and naturally, your curiosity had gotten the better of you. The only hitch? You decided to “borrow” a key from the janitor’s office to test the claim.

Your plan seemed foolproof: sneak in, connect your playlist, and revel in the sheer glory of bass that could rattle the walls. What could possibly go wrong? Well, as it turned out, everything.

Barely ten minutes into your impromptu concert, the auditorium doors swung open, revealing a very unimpressed campus security officer.

“Who gave you permission to be here?” the officer demanded, his glare sharp enough to slice through steel.

Panic flooded your chest as you fumbled for an explanation. “I, uh… I was just...”

“Just what? Trespassing and breaking into campus property?”

The scolding was bad enough, but the real horror was the thought of being reported. With your already shaky academic record, one more misstep could mean suspension, or worse. As your mind raced for an excuse, a calm, steady voice cut through the tension.

“Actually, it was my fault,” said Han Jisung, striding into the room with a confidence you didn’t know he possessed.

You blinked at him in shock. Jisung, of all people? What was he doing here?

“And who are you?” the officer asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Han Jisung,” he said smoothly, as if his name alone carried authority. “I’m a student council representative. I was supposed to meet Y/N here to help set up the sound system for a presentation.”

Your jaw practically hit the floor. Presentation? Meeting? What on earth was Jisung talking about?

The officer frowned, unconvinced. “This doesn’t look like a presentation.”

“We were testing the system before the meeting,” Jisung explained with unnerving ease. His tone was so measured, so convincing, that even you almost believed him. “I take full responsibility for not getting prior approval from the administration. It won’t happen again.”

The officer eyed him for a moment longer, then sighed. “Fine. But if I catch either of you here without permission again, there will be consequences.”

“Yes, sir. Understood,” Jisung said, bowing slightly as the officer turned and left.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you turned to him, still reeling. “What the hell was that?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jisung retorted, arms crossed. “Breaking into the auditorium? Really?”

“I wasn’t breaking in! I just… borrowed the key,” you mumbled defensively.

“And you thought no one would notice?” He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it. He wasn’t wrong. “Fine. It was stupid. But why’d you cover for me?”

Jisung let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Because I didn’t want you to get in trouble. Again. Do you have any idea how close you are to being put on academic probation?”

Your eyes widened. “Wait! you keep track of my academic record?”

“It’s hard not to when you’re constantly finding new ways to get into trouble,” he muttered, though his tone was more exasperated than angry. “Seriously, Y/N, you need to be more careful.”

A strange mix of gratitude and embarrassment settled in your chest. “Thanks,” you said softly, looking at him with newfound appreciation.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his expression softening. “Just… maybe think things through next time?”

You grinned despite yourself. “What, and miss out on all the fun?”

Jisung groaned, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “But admit it...you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He didn’t answer right away, but the faint smile tugging at his lips said more than words ever could.

Your friendship with Han Jisung was like an unpredictable storm meeting a steady anchor. Where you brought chaos, wild and unapologetic, he brought calm and quiet resilience. Yet somehow, the two of you balanced each other, your mismatched escapades weaving an unlikely but unshakable bond.

----------------------------------------------------------

Take the time you convinced Han Jisung to sneak into the art department’s studio with you. Rumor had it that the seniors had painted a massive mural on the back wall, and you just had to see it before the official unveiling.

“This is such a bad idea,” Jisung muttered, trailing behind you through the dimly lit hallway.

“You say that every time,” you whispered back, stifling a grin as you jiggled the door handle. “And yet, here you are.”

“Only because someone has to make sure you don’t get caught,” he shot back, crossing his arms.

“Relax, it’s just a mural. No one’s going to....”

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, cutting off your reassurance. Your heart leaped into your throat as you instinctively grabbed Jisung’s arm and dragged him behind a stack of easels. The two of you crouched low, pressed shoulder to shoulder, holding your breath.

“I hate this,” he hissed, his voice barely audible.

“You love this,” you whispered, unable to suppress the mischievous smile spreading across your face.

When the footsteps finally receded, leaving the hallway silent once more, you turned toward Jisung, your faces just inches apart. For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his eyes searched yours, as if questioning what on earth he was doing here with you.

“Let’s just go,” he muttered, breaking the spell as he stood up and dusted himself off.

The mural, when you finally laid eyes on it, was breathtaking: a kaleidoscope of colors and intricate details that left you momentarily speechless. But the real highlight of the night wasn’t the art. It was Jisung’s deadpan commentary as he gestured toward the wall with exaggerated disbelief.

“You risked getting us expelled for this?” he asked, his tone dripping with mock indignation.

“It’s called appreciating art,” you replied, snapping a photo with your phone. “You should try it sometime.”

“Next time, let’s just visit a museum like normal people,” he said, shaking his head. But the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed him.

Your friendship with Han Jisung was a rollercoaster of shenanigans and shared moments that made life vibrant and unpredictable. The two of you were a duo nobody quite understood — him, the straight-laced, diligent student with his color-coded notes and perfectly maintained schedule, and you, the chaotic whirlwind who somehow managed to stumble your way through life with charm and luck.

Whether it was sneaking into the art department to see hidden murals or convincing him to ditch a study session for a midnight run to the nearest convenience store, you were always dragging Jisung into your world of playful mayhem.

And the most surprising part? He let you. He’d complain endlessly...“Y/N, this is the last time I’m letting you drag me into one of your dumb plans...,” But he’d always follow.

But your fun and games came to a crashing halt one fateful afternoon when reality smacked you in the face.

It started innocently enough. You and Jisung were sitting on the grass in the quad, eating snacks after one of your shared classes. He had a notebook balanced on his knee, going over notes while you dramatically recounted your latest “battle” with your statistics professor.

“Y/N, you can’t keep ignoring deadlines,” Jisung said, laughing as he stole one of your chips. “At some point, it’s going to catch up with you.”

“It’s fine,” you said breezily, leaning back and looking at the sky. “I always figure it out in the end.”

But you didn’t.

The next week, the results of your midterm exams came out, and the sinking feeling in your stomach as you saw your grades was undeniable. You were failing. And not just in one class;several.

You didn’t want to tell Jisung. Admitting it felt like admitting defeat, like proving to him that you were the chaotic mess everyone thought you were. But Jisung wasn’t the type to let things slide.

When he saw you sitting alone in the library, looking dejected, he plopped down across from you with his usual confident grin. “Alright, what’s up? And don’t even think about saying ‘nothing.’”

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. “I’m failing, Jisung.”

He blinked, momentarily surprised. “Failing what?”

“Exams,” you mumbled.

“Right, you're failing. I know."

"You know?" you asked, shocked.

"You bombed the last three quizzes, skipped half the study sessions, and I saw you playing games on your laptop during class last week,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “If you keep this up, you’re not going to pass the finals.”

You scoffed, running a hand through your hair. “Rubbing salt in the wound, much? Okay, I get it. I'm a horrible person… I don’t know how to fix it.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, his expression softening. “We’re going to fix this. Together.”

And just like that, he took charge. Over the next few months, Jisung practically became your shadow. He made you a study schedule, sat with you during every session, and patiently explained concepts you didn’t understand.

“Focus, Y/N,” he’d say when he caught you doodling in the margins of your notes.

“You’re like an annoying older brother,” you grumbled one evening as he forced you to redo a particularly difficult essay for the fifth time.

“Older?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I’m literally younger than you.”

“Then stop acting like my dad,” you shot back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“You’re lucky I don’t charge for all this,” he’d mutter, shaking his head but unable to hide his fond smile.

Despite the grueling sessions, you couldn’t deny that it was working. And as the exams approached, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

The day the results were posted, you practically sprinted to the bulletin board, your heart pounding in your chest. Jisung followed behind, a calm presence as always.

When you saw your grades, you let out a gasp. “I passed!”

Jisung grinned, clapping you on the back. “See? I told you you could do it.”

You turned to him, your eyes shining. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Jisung. Seriously, thank you.”

He shrugged, but the smile on his face was genuine. “What are best friends for?”

And that was the moment you realized, once again, just how much he meant to you. He wasn’t just your partner in crime or your study buddy. He was your anchor, your constant, your safe place in the chaos of life.

----------------------------------------------------------

Next semester arrived before you knew it, sweeping you into a whirlwind of assignments, deadlines, and late-night cramming sessions. Somewhere amid the chaos of library study marathons and the steady comfort of early-morning pep talks, it hit you...you were falling for Han Jisung. It wasn’t the kind of love that blindsided you in a single moment, the way romance novels and movies often describe. No, this was different. It was a quiet realization, like the way dawn gradually paints the sky with soft, golden hues. Subtle, unassuming, but impossible to ignore once you noticed it.

You found yourself searching for his laugh in crowded rooms, a sound so infectious it felt like sunlight breaking through the darkest clouds. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled became something you looked forward to, a little beacon of joy in your long, exhausting days. Then there was the way he pushed his hair back when he was concentrating, his brow furrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve the mysteries of the universe. It was such a small thing, but it made your heart skip every time.

And it wasn’t just the way he made you feel; it was the way he cared for you, in a way no one else ever had. He had this way of noticing things about you...things you didn’t even realize you were doing. Like how he’d remind you to eat when you got too caught up in your work or how he’d send you a text late at night, a simple “You’ve got this” that somehow made everything feel a little more manageable. His care wasn’t loud or overbearing; it was steady and unshakable, like a constant undercurrent that you could always count on.

You didn’t know exactly when it started...when his presence began to mean more than just friendship. Maybe it was during one of those late-night library sessions when he stayed up with you until dawn, helping you with a paper even though he didn’t have to. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, his gaze soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name. Or maybe it was simply everything...every moment, every laugh, every small, thoughtful gesture adding up until your heart couldn’t hold it all anymore.

But falling for him was as terrifying as it was beautiful. Because as much as you wanted to believe there was something more between you, you couldn’t ignore the fear—the fear that acknowledging your feelings would change everything, that crossing that line might mean losing him entirely. So you kept it to yourself, letting your feelings grow quietly in the corners of your heart, where they were safe but painfully unspoken.

Instead of confessing, you did what you thought would save you from heartbreak: burying your feelings and making a choice that felt like the only escape at the time. You started dating someone else.

At first, it seemed like a solution, a distraction from the ache that tightened your chest every time Jisung’s warm smile was directed at you. Your new relationship kept you busy, giving you something else to focus on. But it didn’t take long for cracks to appear, tiny fractures that grew wider with every passing day. Your partner turned out to be toxic: controlling, dismissive, and quick to belittle you for things you couldn’t control. Every disagreement became a battle, every moment together felt like walking on eggshells.

And, of course, Jisung noticed. He always noticed.

“Y/N,” he said softly one evening, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence of your apartment. He was sitting beside you on the couch after you’d had yet another argument with your partner, your eyes red and tired from holding back tears. “You don’t have to put up with this.”

You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on your hands. “It’s not as bad as it seems.”

His hand reached out, brushing against yours as his voice took on a firmness that was rare for him. “It is that bad. You deserve better than this. So much better.”

You looked up at him then, his expression both gentle and resolute, and something in your chest cracked open. His words felt like a lifeline, a reminder of the person you used to be....the person you wanted to be again. Still, you didn’t act immediately. Breaking up was messy, painful, and terrifying. But Jisung’s unwavering support gave you strength.

When the breakup finally happened, it unraveled everything. The aftermath was raw, leaving you emotionally drained and questioning everything. You called Jisung in the middle of the night, your voice shaking as you choked out his name. And, like always, he showed up. No questions, no hesitation. He simply came.

He didn’t try to fix you or tell you to move on. He just sat with you, his arms wrapped around you as you cried, his presence grounding you in a way no one else’s could. His quiet reassurances weren’t grand declarations, but they were exactly what you needed: I’m here. You’re not alone.

And that was when you knew. You couldn’t keep pretending anymore. You couldn’t keep denying that he wasn’t just your best friend. That every time he laughed, your heart skipped. That he wasn’t the person you wanted beside you...not just in moments of crisis, but always.

It was terrifying to think about confessing. But the thought of losing him? That was even worse. So you made up your mind. You would tell him how you felt, even if it risked everything.

But reality always has other plans....

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“Earth to Y/N,” Jisung’s voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. His hand waved in front of your face, his tone laced with gentle teasing. “Are you okay?”

You blinked, your surroundings coming back into focus. His face was mere inches from yours, his brows furrowed with concern. He looked at you the way he always did, as though he could see every unspoken thought you were too afraid to share.

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice coming out shaky. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” His curiosity was genuine, his head tilting slightly as he studied you.

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup, your heart hammering in your chest. What could you say? That you were thinking about how much you missed him? About how every moment with him only made it harder to keep your feelings hidden? About how terrifying it was to sit across from him, knowing your heart was an open wound he couldn’t see?

“Just... reminiscing,” you said finally, forcing a smile that you hoped hid the turmoil inside. “About how you’ve always had my back. You’ve saved me more times than I can count.”

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way that never failed to make your stomach flip. “What can I say? Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

You laughed, but it felt hollow, the weight of your unsaid confession pressing down on you. You couldn’t help but notice the way the evening light softened his features, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world who mattered. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say what you really wanted to.

As the conversation drifted to lighter topics, you found yourself stealing glances at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every inflection of his voice. The thought that you might never be brave enough to tell him how you felt was unbearable.

And when he walked you home that night, his presence warm and steady beside you, you almost stopped him. Almost turned to him and let the words tumble out. But fear held you back...the fear of ruining what you already had, the fear that he didn’t feel the same.

As you stood outside your apartment building, Jisung smiled softly, his hands buried in his coat pockets. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered, watching him walk away.

You stayed there long after he was gone, the city’s lights blurring in your vision as tears pricked your eyes. Because no matter how much you told yourself it was better this way, your heart knew the truth.

You closed the door behind you, the sound of it slamming shut echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. Leaning against the door, you let out a breath, one you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. Your chest still felt tight, and your heart raced uncontrollably,not from the cold night air that still clung to you, but from everything that had just transpired.

Best friends

That’s all you were to him, and that’s all you’d ever be. The bitter thought made your stomach twist as you dropped your bag carelessly onto the floor.

With each step that led you to your bedroom, the weight of it all pressed down on you. You peeled off your jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, not bothering to hang it up. The soft glow from the city lights filtered through your curtains, casting delicate, fleeting patterns on the walls. You climbed into bed, the comforter enveloping you like a fragile shield. But no amount of warmth could ease the ache that gnawed at your heart.

Your mind, however, had other plans. It dragged you back, back to that cold Valentine’s Day years ago, when you’d finally decided to take the plunge, to confess, to reveal the feelings you’d kept hidden for far too long.

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It had been one of those early February mornings, the kind where your breath hung in the air in little clouds of mist, and the campus pathways were slick from the melting frost. You’d spent weeks wrestling with the idea, turning it over in your mind like a stone you couldn’t get rid of. Every shared laugh, every teasing nudge from Jisung, every late-night text that made your heart flutter, each small moment had added weight to the growing realization that you couldn’t ignore your feelings anymore.

Today’s the day, you told yourself. The words echoed in your mind like a mantra, but they didn’t feel as comforting as they should have. You couldn’t keep pretending to be his best friend, not when your heart longed for something more.

You had prepared for this moment, rehearsing your confession in front of the mirror over and over. It wasn’t going to be grand or dramatic, just honest, just the truth of how much he meant to you. It was going to be simple: "Jisung, I need to tell you something. I think I’m in love with you."

But just as you’d gathered the courage to leave your dorm, your phone buzzed. A call from Nari, a friend of yours since freshman year.

"Hey, can we talk? Meet me at the campus café around noon. It’s important."

Your heart skipped a beat. What could Nari possibly want to talk about? You didn’t think much of it at first. Nari was the kind of person who always seemed to know when something was off, and she had a way of making you feel like everything would be okay, even when it wasn’t. Maybe she’d guessed how you felt about Jisung and wanted to give you some advice—something to help ease the burden you’d carried for so long.

You agreed to meet her, nervous energy coursing through you. You picked out a small rose for Jisung, the perfect shade of red, and made your way to the café. When you arrived, Nari was already there, absentmindedly stirring a cup of tea. She looked up when she saw you, offering a smile, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Hey," she greeted, her voice light but hesitant. "Thanks for meeting me."

"Of course," you replied, trying to sound steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. "What’s up?"

Nari hesitated, her gaze flickering to the rose in your hand before meeting your eyes again. She took a deep breath, and you could tell something was weighing heavily on her.

"I wanted to talk to you about something... something important," she said, her voice quieter now, more serious.

Your stomach tightened with unease. "Okay?"

She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, taking a moment before continuing. "I know how close you and Jisung are. And... I’ve noticed how you look at him."

Your cheeks flushed with heat, a wave of panic crashing over you. "W-What do you mean?" you stammered, unsure of what she was getting at.

"You like him, don’t you?" she asked gently, her voice almost apologetic, as if she already knew the answer.

You froze. There was no point denying it. Not when she’d already seen straight through you. The truth hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. You nodded slowly, the grip on the rose tightening as you spoke. "Yeah. I do."

Nari bit her lip, her expression softening with sympathy. "I figured. That’s why I thought I should tell you before you... before you do anything." She trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. "What about you and Jisung?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Nari shifted in her seat, her eyes avoiding yours for a moment. Then, slowly, she met your gaze again, her expression filled with something that looked like guilt.

"We’ve been seeing each other," she said, her voice small but resolute. "For a little while now."

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of you. You blinked, trying to process what she had just said. This couldn’t be real. Jisung hadn’t said anything...nothing about her, nothing about being with anyone.

"You’re... together?" you asked, barely able to form the words.

Nari nodded, her face etched with a kind of remorse. "It’s still new," she said quietly, "but I thought it was better to tell you now. I didn’t want you to find out in a way that would hurt more."

Hurt. The irony of her words felt like salt in the wound. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The rose in your hand suddenly felt like a cruel joke, its vibrant petals mocking you. The confession you’d been building up for so long, the one you’d been so certain of, had just become meaningless.

"I’m sorry," Nari said softly, her voice laced with sincerity. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. But... I really care about him."

You swallowed, forcing yourself to smile, even though it felt like it would tear you apart. "It’s fine," you said, though the words felt hollow. "Really."

But it wasn’t fine. Not at all.

The rest of the conversation blurred as she went on about how happy Jisung made her, about how she never expected this to happen, but how she had to be honest with you. Every word felt like a knife twisting deeper, but you held it together, nodding at the right times, forcing yourself to listen.

When you finally left the café, you didn’t even look back. The rose you’d clutched in your hand found its way into the nearest trash can, the delicate petals crushed under your trembling fingers, a symbol of everything you could never have.

---------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks after Valentine’s Day, life had settled into an uneasy rhythm. You buried your feelings deeper than ever, convincing yourself that it was better this way. You were still Jisung’s best friend, the one he turned to when he needed to laugh, vent, or just be himself. But each moment spent with him was a bittersweet reminder of what you could never have, an ache that lingered, stubborn and relentless.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzed with a call from him, Jisung.

“Hey, can we talk? There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach flipped, unease settling over you like a heavy weight. His tone was more serious than usual, sending a chill through your body. Was he about to bring up what you had been trying so hard to bury? You hesitated, but finally replied, your heart pounding.

“Of course. What’s up?”

“Let’s meet on the rooftop of campus. I’ll be there in 20.”

A knot tightened in your stomach as you agreed.

The rooftop -yours and his safe place. It was the space where you had shared confessions, secrets, things that shouldn’t be seen by the world. You both had always come here to escape, to be yourselves away from prying eyes.

You arrived early, anxiety crawling up your spine with every step. The campus was eerily quiet at night, and you slipped through the building’s doors, heading up to the rooftop. The familiar view of the city lights was comforting, but tonight, it couldn’t settle your nerves.

When Jisung arrived, he was different. His playful grin was absent, replaced by a serious expression. His eyes, usually filled with warmth and mischief, held a weight you hadn’t seen before. Your chest tightened at the sight.

“Hey,” you greeted, forcing a smile that felt like a mask, as you turned to face him.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice unusually soft. He didn’t meet your gaze immediately, instead fiddling nervously with the hem of his hoodie sleeves...a habit you knew well.

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light, even though your heart felt like it was going to explode.

He took a deep breath before lifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes were steady, but there was something burdened in them, something he hadn’t said yet.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and... I didn’t know how to tell you. But I have to.”

Your heart sank, the weight of his words sinking in before you could even process them. What was ge about to tell you ? That he and Nari were becoming serious? That he didn’t want to stay friends anymore?

“I’m leaving Seoul,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. “What?”

“I got accepted into a music program in Busan,” he explained, his hands clenching into fists. “It’s an incredible opportunity, like a dream come true. But it means... I have to leave.”

Your mind went blank, your body feeling like it was trapped in quicksand. Jisung had always talked about his passion for music, about creating something that meant something. You were proud of him, truly, but the thought of him leaving, of him being so far away, was unbearable.

“When?” you managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“In a week,” he said, his eyes searching yours, looking for understanding. “I didn’t want to tell you until everything was finalized. I just... I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Your chest tightened as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You looked away, staring blankly at the city below. “A week? That’s... so soon.”

“I know,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “But it’s something I have to do. You understand that, right?”

You nodded, forcing the lump in your throat down, even though your heart was breaking. “Yeah, of course. It’s your dream. You’d be crazy not to go.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Jisung talked about the program, his excitement and nervousness spilling over as he shared every detail. You listened, offered words of encouragement, even joked with him to lighten the mood. But as soon as you were alone, everything you had been holding back came crashing down.

----------------------------------------------------------

The week passed in a blur, each day bringing you closer to the inevitable. And then, it was the day of his departure.

You met him at the train station, your chest heavy with the weight of goodbye. He was standing there, his suitcases at his feet, hoodie pulled up against the chill of the early morning. The finality of the moment was suffocating, the space between you growing with each passing second.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low as you approached.

“Hey,” you replied, forcing a smile that felt like it might shatter any second.

Neither of you spoke right away, the sound of the bustling station drowning out the silence that hung between you. Neither of you could find the words that needed to be said.

“This isn’t goodbye,” he said finally, his voice resolute, though there was a tremor of uncertainty in his eyes. “I’ll text you every day. I’ll call. We’ll stay in touch, okay?”

You nodded, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally escaping. “Yeah. We will.”

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer and pulling you into a hug. His arms were warm, steady, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to forget everything else. You breathed in deeply, memorizing the way he felt, the way his heartbeat synced with yours.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his chin resting on top of your head. “I promise.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply clung to him, unwilling to let go, as though by holding on just a little longer, you could freeze this moment in time.

When the announcement for his train came over the speakers, he pulled away, his hands lingering on your shoulders. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

He gave you one last smile: a small, sincere smile, before grabbing his bags and heading toward the platform. You watched him walk away, your heart breaking with every step, every inch between you and him.

As the train began to pull away, you told yourself it wasn’t the end. That you’d see him again. That things would go back to the way they were.

But deep down, you knew better. Something had changed, something unspoken, something that couldn’t be undone. And though you didn’t know what the future held, you knew one thing for sure,it could never be the same again....

---------------------------------------------------------

The sunlight poured through your window, bright and uninvited, cutting through the darkness of the room. You groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow, desperate to escape the sharp ring of the alarm that sliced through the silence. The day ahead already felt heavy, as if the weight of the world had settled on your shoulders before it even began. The memories that had resurfaced the night before, memories you had buried for years...still clung to your mind, unrelenting and vivid. Jisung was back in your life, but the gap of eight years between you was an insurmountable distance...those unanswered questions, the unspoken truths, and the silent wishes hung between you like an invisible wall that neither of you could breach.

You dragged yourself out of bed, the grogginess still clinging to you like a second skin, your body protesting against the demands of the day. The kitchen greeted you with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the scent wrapping around you like a brief respite from the chaos swirling inside your mind. You leaned against the counter, staring blankly out the window, watching the familiar morning rush of Seoul. People hurried past, weaving in and out of the crowded streets with practiced precision, their steps as frantic as your thoughts. The city felt different now, with Jisung back in it. Or maybe it was you who felt different...changed by the weight of the years that had passed and the memories that refused to stay buried.

It had been weeks since that fateful café meeting....the first time you had seen him again after so many years of silence. Since then, you and Jisung had slipped into an almost familiar rhythm, as though time had somehow softened the sharp edges of the past. Late-night texts, spontaneous meetups, shared laughter, it all seemed to flow with ease, as though no time had passed at all. But beneath the surface of every smile, every joke, every touch, there was something deeper—a shadow of the past, a lingering ache, a question that neither of you dared to ask. The years apart, the buried feelings, and the uncertainty of where you stood now,all of it hovered between you, a constant presence neither of you could escape.

You had resolved, at least for the time being, to keep things light. To avoid venturing into territory that might reopen old wounds. After all, wasn't it better to just be his friend than risk losing him altogether? The logic made sense, the choice seemed rational. But your heart, stubborn as always, refused to follow any kind of logic. It ached for him in ways you couldn’t control, pulling you in directions you weren’t ready to go. No matter how hard you tried to push the feelings down, to suppress the memories that wanted to flood back to the surface, they remained, relentless, unyielding, impossible to ignore.

And so, you stood there, staring out at the city that felt both familiar and foreign, wondering if the past was something you could ever truly outrun...

----------------------------------------------------------

That afternoon, you found yourself standing in front of the same café where everything had started—where you’d seen Jisung for the first time in eight long years. But today, it wasn’t a chance encounter. This meeting had a purpose, planned and initiated by him.

Jisung’s call from the morning had been simple and vague, yet it had thrown you off balance:

“Let’s grab lunch? I’ve got a surprise for you.”

A surprise. With Jisung, that could mean anything...something small and silly, or something that could shift the ground beneath your feet. Either way, your heart had been racing ever since.

Pushing open the door to the café, the familiar chime of the bell above welcomed you. Your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him. He was already at your usual table by the window, waving at you with that familiar boyish grin. His hair was slightly messy, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up casually, and he looked so at ease, so natural, that it was almost enough to lull you into believing nothing had changed.

“Hey, you’re early,” you said as you slid into the seat across from him, feigning nonchalance to hide the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him.

“Rare moment of responsibility,” he quipped, setting his phone down on the table. “Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t planning to.”

As the waitress came to take your order, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him, trying to read the mood. There was a sparkle in his eyes, an almost childlike excitement, and you couldn’t help but feel curious and maybe a little nervous.

“So,” you started once the waitress left, “are you going to tell me what this surprise is, or are you just going to keep me guessing?”

Jisung leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “Patience. Let’s eat first.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but played along. Lunch passed in a blur of conversation and laughter. He told you about his time in Busan, the struggles of chasing his dreams, the doubts that crept in on sleepless nights, and the small moments of triumph that kept him going. You shared stories of Seoul, talking about everything from the daily grind to the little changes in the city he used to know so well.

There was something comforting about it all, like slipping into a well-worn rhythm. But beneath the surface of your laughter and casual conversation was the unspoken truth, the questions, the what-ifs, the emotions that threatened to rise to the surface with every shared glance.

As the meal drew to a close, your patience finally snapped.

“Alright, spill it,” you said, leaning forward, your curiosity getting the better of you. “What’s the big surprise?”

Jisung’s grin turned sheepish as he reached into his bag, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package. He held it out to you with an almost nervous energy.

“It’s nothing huge,” he said, his voice softening. “But I saw this and thought of you.”

You blinked, staring at the package in his hands. “You didn’t have to....”

“Just open it,” he interrupted, his eyes alight with anticipation.

You hesitated only for a moment before carefully peeling away the wrapping. What you revealed made your breath catch. It was a leather-bound notebook, beautifully embossed with intricate designs. But it wasn’t just the notebook that made your heart stumble.

As you opened it, the first few pages revealed doodles, small, playful sketches that were unmistakably his. Interspersed with the doodles were notes, scribbled in his familiar handwriting, filled with inside jokes and tiny fragments of your shared past. Flipping further, you found photos tucked between pages, memories you had long forgotten brought back to life in vivid detail.

“Is this…?” you murmured, your voice trailing off as your fingers skimmed over the pages, taking in every detail.

“It’s kind of like a scrapbook,” Jisung explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “I found some of our old stuff while unpacking and thought... I don’t know, you might like it. I started putting it together, and… yeah.”

Your fingers trembled slightly as you traced the edge of a photo - a candid shot of the two of you from college, your younger selves caught mid-laughter.

“Jisung, this is…” You looked up at him, your voice catching in your throat. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

He smiled, the shyness in his expression softening into something warmer. “I figured it’s about time we started filling in the gaps, you know? From all those years apart.”

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

But as you stared down at the notebook again, a bittersweet ache filled your chest. Every page, every sketch, every photo spoke of a connection you cherished. Yet they also served as a reminder of everything you couldn’t have. For all the love and care that had gone into this gift, for all the memories it brought back, there was one truth that hung in the air, unspoken and unchangeable.

Jisung didn’t feel the same way about you.

And no amount of shared nostalgia could rewrite that fact...

Later, as he walked you home, the air between you was filled with the kind of easy conversation that came naturally with him, light-hearted jokes, shared laughter, and fleeting glances that felt like secrets. It was almost as if the years apart hadn’t happened, as if the weight of the past had somehow dissolved in the rhythm of your steps. For a fleeting moment, it felt like old times.

His presence beside you was a quiet comfort, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you’d missed. The sound of his sneakers scuffing lightly against the pavement, the soft hum of the city around you, it all felt familiar, like slipping into a favorite old sweater that had been tucked away for too long.

“Thanks again for the notebook,” you said as you reached your building, clutching the gift tightly against your chest. “Seriously, it’s the best thing I’ve gotten in… well, years.”

He turned to you, his grin widening as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

There was something about the way he looked at you just then, a flicker in his eyes, warm and unguarded, that made your pulse stutter. The city lights reflected faintly in his gaze, and for one impossible second, you thought you saw something there. Something deeper. Something more.

But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual boyish charm. He smiled and took a playful step backward, rocking on his heels. “Goodnight, bestie.”

Your laugh came out soft and a little strained, the word bestie stinging in a way you hadn’t expected. It was a reminder of the line he had drawn between you, one he didn’t seem to realize you were desperate to cross.

“Goodnight, Jisung,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You stood there, watching as he walked away, his figure growing smaller with each step until he was just a shadow against the glow of the streetlights. Your chest felt heavy, the ache of unspoken words pressing against your ribs.

For a moment, the urge to stop him surged within you, stronger than ever. To call out his name, to tell him everything...

But you stopped yourself. And for the first time in years, you let yourself wonder: maybe it wasn’t about what you said or didn’t say. Maybe it was about what he felt or didn’t feel in return ?

---------------------------------------------------------

The days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, Jisung’s return to your life had started to take its toll. Spending time with him felt like walking a tightrope, balanced precariously between joy and heartache. Every laugh you shared, every inside joke that came rushing back, every moment spent together,it was everything you’d ever wanted. But it was also a cruel reminder of everything you couldn’t have.

The little things were the hardest to bear. The way his laughter still made your heart skip, the way he instinctively remembered your favorite snacks or noticed the smallest changes in your mood. The way his voice softened when he said your name, as if it was a word meant to be spoken with care. Every interaction felt like it was pulling you deeper into an emotional quicksand. No matter how much you told yourself to keep things casual, to not overthink, the feelings you’d buried years ago rose to the surface, stronger and more relentless than ever.

It was exhausting. The constant battle within yourself...the longing to be close to him and the fear of being hurt again. The more time you spent with Jisung, the clearer it became: your heart wasn’t built to endure this. Not again.

So, you did the only thing you thought might save you. You started to pull away.

At first, it was subtle. A missed text here, a vague excuse there.

When he asked to hang out, you’d claim you were busy with work or that you weren’t feeling well. You convinced yourself it was temporary, that a little distance would give you the time and space you needed to get your emotions under control.

He didn’t question it at first. When you started skipping out on coffee dates or responding to his texts hours late with apologetic emojis and half-hearted excuses, Jisung didn’t push. He let it slide, brushing it off as you being busy or caught up with work. “It happens,” he’d say with a grin, his tone light and understanding. That was just who he was, always patient, always willing to give you the space you needed.

But as the days stretched into weeks, the excuses piled up, and the distance between you became impossible to ignore. Every invitation was met with, “Maybe next time,” or, “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.” You stopped lingering over late-night texts, stopped sharing the small details of your day that you used to send him without a second thought.

And every time you turned him down, every time you chose silence over connection, you felt the guilt clawing at you. It was suffocating, that constant push and pull between wanting to protect yourself and not wanting to hurt him. But in your mind, this was the only way. Keeping your heart intact meant keeping your distance.

Except, it wasn’t working.

Avoiding Jisung didn’t dull your feelings, it only made them sharper. Every time you ignored his text, you’d find yourself staring at your phone minutes later, wondering if he was thinking of you. Every time you saw something that reminded you of him.... a song you both loved, a stupid meme he’d laugh at, you had to fight the urge to send it to him. The more you tried to pull away, the more you missed him.

And it didn’t take long for Jisung to notice.

At first, it was subtle, small, hesitant comments when you did see him. “You’ve been really busy lately, huh?” he’d say, his tone casual but his eyes searching. You’d nod and mumble something about work, trying to avoid the way his gaze lingered on you, as if he was trying to read between the lines.

But Jisung wasn’t the type to let things go for long. One day, after you’d bailed on plans for the third time that week, he called and said something that stopped you in your tracks....

“Did I do something wrong?”

You stared at the screen, your chest tightening. The words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything you’d been trying to avoid.

“If I messed up, just tell me. I don’t want things to get weird between us.”

Weird. That’s what he thought this was, a misunderstanding, a bump in the road. He didn’t know how hard you were trying to keep your feelings buried, how every moment with him felt like walking a tightrope between happiness and heartbreak.

Your fingers hovered over the mute button, a dozen responses swirling in your mind. You wanted to tell him the truth, to spill everything you’d been holding back. But the thought of losing him, of ruining what you still had, froze you in place.

Finally, you answered back “It’s not you. I’ve just been overwhelmed with work. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

He replied almost instantly.

“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything, yeah? I’m here.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but the relief was short-lived. Because as much as you wanted to believe that he’d buy your excuse, you could feel the doubt in his words.

And you knew, deep down, that you couldn’t keep this up forever....

----------------------------------------------------------

It had been over a month since you’d last seen him when Jisung finally confronted you. The day had been long, and you were heading home, headphones on, the city noise muffled by a soothing playlist. The sun was setting, painting the sky in soft hues of gold and pink, and you were thankful for the solitude. That was until your name cut through the air, sharp and unmistakable.

“Y/N!”

You froze, your heart sinking as you recognized his voice. Turning, you saw Jisung jogging toward you, his expression a mix of determination and something you couldn’t quite place,anger, maybe? Concern?

“Jisung,” you said, pulling out your headphones, your voice tinged with guilt.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, his tone firm but not unkind.

“What do you mean?” you replied, feigning confusion as you shifted your weight nervously.

“Don’t do that,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze piercing. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. For weeks. And I want to know why."

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lied weakly, looking anywhere but at him.

“Really?” he said, crossing his arms. “Because it feels like I’ve been chasing a ghost. You barely respond to my texts, you cancel plans left and right and when I try to call, it goes straight to voicemail. So, tell me....what’s really going on?”

Your chest tightened, and you could feel your carefully constructed walls cracking. “I’ve been busy,” you mumbled, knowing how hollow the excuse sounded.

“Busy?” he repeated, his frustration evident. “Too busy to even say hi? Too busy to talk to someone you called your best friend?”

The word “best friend” stung, and you flinched visibly.

Jisung noticed. “What is it?” he asked, his tone softening. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you said quickly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “It’s not you. It’s...”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t say it’s you, because we both know that’s not true.”

You sighed deeply, your shoulders slumping. “Can we not do this here?”

He hesitated, then gestured toward a nearby bench under a line of cherry blossom trees that had already begun to bloom, their petals swirling gently in the breeze. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

The walk to the bench felt like an eternity, and when you finally sat down, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said at last, your voice trembling.

“Do what?” he asked, leaning closer, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Pretend,” you whispered. “Pretend like I’m okay just being your friend when I’m not.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “I’m saying I’ve been in love with you for years, Jisung. Since college. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. But then Nari...”

“Nari?” he interrupted, his confusion stark.

“Yeah, Nari,” you said, bitterness creeping into your voice. “The girl you were dating. The one who told me you weren’t interested in me, that you only saw me as a friend.”

His face shifted from confusion to disbelief. “Y/N, I don’t know who Nari is.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean you don’t know her? She told me...”

“I don’t care what she told you,” he said, his voice firm. “It wasn’t true. I never said that. And for the record, I’ve never dated anyone named Nari.”

You stared at him, the ground beneath you seeming to shift. “But she…”

“Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but resolute, “if you’re talking about that random girl who used to hang out at our college meetups, she wasn’t even my type. She was just… there.”

Your mind reeled, the memory of Nari’s smug smile flashing in your mind. “She lied?”

“Looks like it,” he said, his tone laced with frustration. “But that’s not what matters right now.”

“What does?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“You,” he said simply. “And the fact that I’ve been in love with you since college, too.”

Your eyes widened, and you felt your heart stop. “What?”

“I’m serious,” he said, leaning closer. “I thought I was being obvious back then. I always made excuses to be around you, to make you laugh, to sit next to you in every class. But you never seemed interested, so I… I let it go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the weight of years of misunderstandings crashing down on you. “I thought you didn’t care,” you said, your voice breaking.

And I thought you didn’t,” he replied, his hand reaching out to cover yours. “But I’m done assuming.”

He leaned closer, his gaze searching yours. “Tell me I’m not too late.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over as a laugh bubbled out of you. “You’re not too late.”

His smile was soft, tentative, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. And then, slowly, he leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips met yours.

The world seemed to still, the noise of the city fading into nothing. His kiss was gentle but sure, as though he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping him like he might disappear if you let go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a shaky breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You laughed softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “Maybe I do.”

A loud meow broke the moment, and both of you turned to see a stray cat sitting by Jisung’s feet, its wide eyes fixed on him as if demanding attention.

Jisung groaned, though his smile never wavered. “Even the cats can’t leave me alone.”

You laughed, wiping at your tears. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign of what?” he asked, his grin turning playful.

“That you’re stuck with me now,” you teased, squeezing his hand.

“Good,” he said, his voice warm and certain. “Because I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

As the two of you walked home hand in hand, the stray cat trailing behind like a self-appointed chaperone companion, you couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right....

*ੈ✩Tags - @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @yangbbokari @theo4eve   @livelovelaughmiko @silverstarburst @galaxycatdrawz @skzoologist @shua-f4lmings @iknowyouknowminho @krisstheidiot @hyunjinhoexxx @gho-ster @ezlynkisses @elmoslungcancer @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @seungseung-minmin @cuddlylonelyperson @jeonginsleftcheek @oreoqueen @freekyfangirl

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*ੈ✩ENDNOTE - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Butterflies! Kate Is Alive AU Part Two!

Butterflies!

Riley sat there, rather stunned. Despite everything Kate knew, it did not do more than confirm what Riley had already suspected. The information was interesting, for sure, but it didn’t lead them any closer to their goal. Then again, if it would then Kate wouldn’t have given up. I suppose. Riley thought to themself.

“Look, there are some tapes scattered around this room if you want to watch them…” Kate sighed.

“Are you going to stick around to watch them with me?” 

“No… I’ve already watched them all… over and over… you know that, I gave you my notes. But I suppose two eyes are better than one. Let me know if you catch something I guess…” she turned to leave. Riley had never heard her sound so drained before. “Wait! Amanda has been talking about you! She says she misses you, and wants to talk to you again! Please, just this once, will you watch a tape with me?” 

“Fine. But afterwards I really do have to go.” She pulled a tape out of a bug catching net and handed it to Riley, who put it in the VCR. 

The tape begins with Amanda coming out of a store, silently staring at an at-home butterfly habitat for kids. She seems content. There are little caterpillars crawling around inside.

“Don’t worry little guys… you’re safe. I’m going to take care of you…” She says gently in a soft, caring tone. The tape changes to Amanda’s living room, where she carefully carries the habitat into the room and places it on the couch. Wooly is already there.

“Whatcha got there Amanda?” he asks. 

“For today’s episode, we’re raising butterflies, remember?” 

“I think we did that in elementary school a long time ago…” Wooly remincises, “It was fun! Until all the butterflies… died for some reason. Hmm…”

“Well there is absolutely no way these ones are dying on my watch!” Amanda announces. She realizes that the episode has started already. “Oh, hi there! Didn’t notice you for a second, sorry. I’m Amanda!” she beams. There is an awkward pause, like Amanda is waiting for something, but Wooly seems to be staring into the distance, deep in thought. “I’m Amanda.” she repeats, but gets no response. “Whatever.” She scoffs and looks around for somewhere to put the habitat. She sees the lamp on the table and a devilish grin forms on her face. 

“Gee, I wish we had a TABLE to put this habitat on!” she says, looking at the screen smugly. Riley taps on the lamp. She grins mischievously, and walks over to the lamp. She shoves it off the table causing it to break and make a super loud crashing sound on the floor.

“Huh?! What are you doing?!” Wooly gasps. “You’re going to scare the caterpillars!” Amanda panics and looks at her caterpillars. 

“Shh… shh… it’s okay little fellas you’re absolutely safe here.” Amanda says softly. Wooly rolls his eyes, then he glances at the screen. He seems surprised, then a little annoyed. 

“Oh… the episode has started already?” 

“Yeah Wooly.” Amanda scoffs. She looks at the screen again and does a double take. Her eyes widen and tears start to form “No… no way… it can’t be…” her voice cracks, “Ka-” 

“Don’t say my name! They’ll hear you!” Kate snaps. Amanda flinches a bit, Riley does too. It is very unlike Kate to speak in such a harsh tone. She seems… scared. 

“You’re alive…” Amanda cries, “I can’t believe you’re alive.” 

“Yeah Amanda… I’m alive…” Kate sighed, sounding completely exhausted. Amanda’s smile fades a bit. 

“Today we’re raising caterpillars into butterflies! These ones are called Monarchs!” Amanda beams, “Oh… but I guess you already know that huh? Heh heh.” She laughs nervously. 

“Say, why don’t you help us!” Wooly suggests.  

“Yeah! See…” Amanda pulls out a diagram, “Butterflies start out as eggs… then they become caterpillars… then they turn into a chrysalis and then into a butterfly!” 

“Ooh! Ooh! What do they turn into after that?” Wooly asks eagerly. Amanda gives him a weird look, as this is a very strange question. 

“They die, Wooly. You know that.” 

���O-Oh… that’s… really sad.” 

“Not really, that’s just the cycle of life isn’t it? Honestly I think they’re kind of lucky, they get to fly south for the winter. I bet they see all kinds of different places.” 

“Mmm… I don’t know… I feel like there could be dangers along the way. I mean, not every butterfly makes it right?” Wooly says. Amanda ignores him.

“We have to help these caterpillars grow into butterflies! Do you remember the cycle I showed you before?” She asks. “I'll start us off, the eggs have already hatched into caterpillars, so what comes next?” A voice prompt shows up on the screen. 

“Shoe.” Riley replied. Amanda giggles a little bit.

“What the?” Wooly mumbles looking completely confused. “That's not right.”

“Yeah I know Wooly.” Amanda grumbles. “Come on, try again.” the voice prompt appears again.

“Grasshopper.” Riley said with a mischievous grin. Amanda looks kind of mad now. 

“Come on, didn't you learn this in grade school?!” Amanda snaps.

“Maybe they failed grade school…” Wooly comments. Wow Wooly, rude. Kate paused the tape.

“Riley what are you doing?!” She hissed.

“Pissing them off on purpose.” Riley shrugged. 

“Why?!”

“Dunno, they reveal more information when you do that I guess.”

“Really…” Kate sounded intrigued. She walked over and unpaused the tv. 

“Alright.” Amanda takes a deep breath, “let's try this again. After the egg hatches into the caterpillar, what happens?” the voice prompt appears once more.

“Frog.” Kate answered. Riley started cracking up. Amanda's jaw drops. 

“Riley! You are SUCH a bad influence!” Wooly groans in frustration. Now everyone is staring at him with surprise. “Wh-whoa… what'd I do?”

“I've never heard Wooly… ever refer to a viewer by name before.” Kate mumbled, tapping her chin with interest. 

“Me neither.” Riley said.

“Wooly… you just called Riley by their name.” Amanda points out. He immediately covers his mouth, looking incredibly freaked out for some reason. “Frog… Grasshopper… SHOE what kind of answers even ARE those?!” Amanda shouts in annoyance, “The answer is-”

“Chrysalis!” Wooly shouts out suddenly. 

“That's right. Chrysalis.” Amanda says, unenthusiastically. The caterpillars crawl up and begin to weave their chrysalises. 

“Ha! Yessss!” Wooly appears quite proud of himself. Amanda rolls her eyes. 

“Alright and out form the chrysalis emerges a…” the voice prompt appears again. 

“Dragonfly!” Riley calls out. This time Amanda is not amused.

“Do you think this is funny?” Amanda says, her right eye twitching a bit. 

“You seemed to think it was before.” Wooly points out.

“It's not funny anymore! It hasn't been for a long time!” she shouts, stamping her foot. Red glitches cover the screen. “I'm so sick of all of this!”

“Amanda, don't say that!” Wooly says worriedly looking at the screen.

“DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” Amanda screams in his face, Wooly puts his hands up defensively, “I hate this place! I hate you!” Wooly suddenly looks very hurt. The tape glitches red again. Amanda starts to morph into her demon form. Wooly backs away slowly. This time it feels a lot more eerie. Like Amanda is completely in control, she almost seems calm. Too calm. “What are you so afraid of, huh?!” She says calmly, almost too calmly.  

“I- um… I… I…Whoa!” Wooly trips onto his butt and freezes up. “I'm no-not afraid!” he says defensively, Amanda looms over him. “Yo-you don't know anything!” tears start welling up in his eyes. Amanda looks disappointed, she returns back to normal and turns back to the screen with a fake smile on her face. 

“When the caterpillar emerges from the chrysalis what does it become?” She asks with an eerie cheerfulness. The voice prompt appears once more. 

“Butterfly.” Kate said quickly. There is a long pause before Amanda says anything. She just stares at them for a long time with a creepy smile. 

“Amanda?” Wooly mumbles.

“That's right!” She beams, “A butterfly!” The tape glitches and they hear the brief sound of Amanda screaming but it's glitched out. She returns to a smiling state once again. Wooly looks seriously disturbed. 

“Amanda, are you feeling okay?”

“Never--- better Wooly, why?” Amanda smiles. Wooly looks unconvinced. The tape glitches again, Wooly looks startled.

“That's right!” Amanda beams, “A butterfly!” Just then, the butterflies all came out of their chrysalises. “Look! Our butterflies are all grown up now!” 

“Oooooh… they're so pretty.” Wooly grins, he leans on the couch's arm, watching them happily. Amanda sits on the floor and watches them as well.

“Now that they're all grown up, we get to do my favorite part!” Amanda says excitedly. 

“Hm? And what's that?” Wooly asks, also getting a little excited. Amanda picks up the habitat. The tape glitches and suddenly they are in the backyard. Now Wooly looks nervous. “So… what are we doing Amanda?” 

“Letting them go!” Amanda cheers. 

“What?! NO!!!” Wooly shouts, the tape glitches. He snatches the habitat from her and hugs it protectively. “These are our friends! We didn't even get to have them that long!” 

“But they deserve to be free!” Amanda argues. Wooly looks like he's about to argue back but then the tape glitches. He looks down at the habitat sadly. The sparkle in his eyes goes dim. 

“I… guess you're right…” he sighs, handing the habitat gently to Amanda, who looks at him with confusion and a bit of concern. Just then, the opossum shows up. 

“Oh um, hi there opossum!” Amanda says awkwardly. “Look at these butterflies we raised, pretty right?” The opossum runs up to her and starts trying to grab at the habitat. “Wha? No! You can't have this!” She snaps, pulling it away from him. He snatches it from her. 

“He's gonna hurt the butterflies! Do something!” Wooly shouts.

“What do we do?” Kate asked. Riley taps their finger on the VCR screen. The opossum clearly notices them, he stops for a moment, then glares at Riley directly in the eye and drops the habitat on the ground.

“No!” Amanda and Wooly shout. They wait a moment, the opossum does nothing.

“Wait… they look… fine…” Amanda says, sounding relieved. 

“Now we just need to carefully take them back inside where they’re safe…” Wooly whispers. The opossum glares at them and opens the door to the habitat. All the butterflies fly out of it.  

“No! No! NO! Come back!” Wooly cries out, trying to reach for them, but Amanda watches in awe.

“Isn't it beautiful?” Amanda smiles. 

“Beautiful?!” Wooly says angrily, “th-they’re gone! We lost them!”

“Wooly… they can’t stay with us forever…” Amanda says gently. Wooly looks at her sadly. 

“I know…” Wooly sighs sadly, flopping down onto the grass, “But I'm going to miss them.”

“Me too…”

“But you wanted to let them go!” 

“I wanted to set them free.” Amanda explains, “Look at them, they’re right where they belong. Aren’t you happy for them?” 

“They would've been safer with us…” Wooly grumbles. 

“But now they’re happy… now they’re free.” Amanda says longingly, “I wish I was a butterfly.” 

“Why’s that?” Wooly asks. 

“So I can fly far far away.” Amanda stretches her arms out, feeling the sunshine and the breeze. Her eyes seem to sparkle. She lays down in the grass and watches the butterflies fly around above her. 

“Butterflies don’t live that long, you know.” Wooly pouts. Amanda rolls her eyes. 

“Better a short and happy life than a long and miserable one.” She grumbles.

“You think so?”

“Yeah…” Amanda sighs, sounding a bit more at peace. Wooly stares at her for a bit, looking like he wants to say something. Then he looks away and stands up. 

“There are other kinds of butterflies right? Don't you have any books on them?” Wooly asks. 

“Mmm yeah I think so.” Amanda replies nonchalantly, without even glancing up at him. 

“Don't moths also come from caterpillars?”

“Sure they do… why?” Amanda answers, looking suspicious of Wooly. 

“Just curious… I kinda forgot… it's uh… been awhile…” Wooly laughs sadly. Amanda looks sad for a moment then shakes it off.

“AN-Y-WAY!” She shouts jumping up off the lawn, “That's how caterpillars become butterflies!” The credit music begins to play. “WAIT- WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT!!!!” Amanda calls out frantically. “Before you go I- I need to ask you something. K-" she freezes, remembering Kate's words from before. “Fr-friend…” she says awkwardly, “Are you bored of me?” The voice prompt appears. 

“NO!! NEVER!” Kate shouted. Amanda's eyes widen. 

“But… you left… and you started making other people watch the tapes for you… I mean don't get me wrong I like them both but… I missed you…” Amanda whimpers. “I missed talking to you… and I finally remembered who you were but you disappeared and I had so much I wanted to talk to you about…”  Amanda cries softly. The voice prompt hasn’t disappeared yet. 

“Well… we can talk now.” Kate says softly. 

“Okay… um… Di-did you get the cookies? Did you like them?” 

“Cookies? What cookies?” Kate asks Riley, sounding extremely confused.

“We… got you some cookies… and sent them to you.”

“Oh… I'm sorry I never got any cookies… but I wasn't home so I wouldn't know.” 

“I see…” Amanda says sadly. 

“Um… well it's good to see you're back and okay!” Wooly says nervously. Amanda looks surprised at this.

“You didn't like K- her…” Amanda points out. 

“Well unlike a certain someone I know I don't wish the people I don't like would DIE.”

“Well maybe you should, Wooly.” Amanda mumbles. “Maybe we should want them dead…” wait… she's not talking about us. Who is she referring to? Probably the people at Hameln, right? Riley theorised.

“Look if this is about Hameln I'm sure they had a good reason-”

“Good reason?! Are you out of your MIND?!” Amanda snaps. Wooly falls silent. “You don't really still believe that nonsense do you?!”

“I don't know…” Wooly pouts. Amanda shakes her head with an annoyed expression.

“I’m not completely sure what's going on but… don't be a stranger… okay Kate?” Amanda smiles sadly. The tape ended and fell out of the machine. Kate slowly begins to break down in tears. 

“I'm sorry Rebecca… I'm sorry… I can't save you… I know I can't save you…” Kate sobbed.

“What do you mean, save?” Riley questions.

“I mean… getting her out… bringing her back…” 

“I don't think we can do that… but… I think we can set her free… her and all the kids…” Riley explained. “I mean… she will never be able to return to how she was… but I think she would rather be free than trapped in these tapes like this…”

“I can't do it… I can't let her go… I promised Sam… I promised…” 

“Sam would want her to be at peace too…” Riley sighed.

“I know… I know…” 

“So will you help me? Can we stop Hameln? Together?”

“You don't know what you're up against!” Kate argued. 

“Maybe…” Riley mumbled, “But I want to try!” Just then there is a knock on the door.

“Kate… it's me.” an unfamiliar voice says. Kate immediately stands up and opens the door. 

“Wait here, I'll introduce you… in a bit. You can handle the puzzle till then right?” She asked. Riley looked behind them. A children's butterfly puzzle is now on the table. They looked back at Kate and nodded. Kate nodded back and left. Riley heard some muffled conversation on the other side of the door. They looked at the puzzle. The pieces are gone. They looked around the room and found a piece with butterfly eggs on it. They placed it into the puzzle. Maybe I need to rewatch the tape to solve this one. Riley thought.

“You did WHAT?! Have you LOST your MIND?!” Kate shouted. What's going on? They wondered. Well hopefully she'll fill me in later. They take the tape and put it back into the VCR. 

The episode begins with Amanda and Wooly sitting on the couch watching some caterpillars in a butterfly habitat. She notices us.

“Oh hi again! I'm Amanda!” She beams. She waits again for Wooly, who is still watching the caterpillars, kicking his feet in the air happily. “He's in his own little world, huh?” Amanda grumbles. She elbows him sharply in the arm. 

“Ow! What is it?!” Wooly snaps, sounding really annoyed then he notices us..”Oh… um… and I'm Wooly!”

“So she isn't here this time?” Amanda questions. The voice prompt appears.

“She's talking to someone outside.”

“Oh, probably our other friend!” Amanda smiles. “Today we're raising caterpillars!” 

“Say, why don’t you help us?” Wooly points out. Amanda pulls out the diagram, she looks at it for a bit with disinterest. “Amanda?” 

“You remember the life cycle right?” she asks. The voice prompt appears.

“Yeah.” Riley replied. 

“And you’re not going to mess with us again right?” 

“Maybe.” Riley shrugged. Amanda and Wooly look annoyed. “Okay fine, I won’t.” Gotta speedrun this anyway.

“I’ll start us off… the eggs have already turned into caterpillars, so what comes next?”

“Chrysalis.”

“Correct!” Amanda grins, snapping her fingers. The caterpillars crawl up and start to form their chrysalises. Riley paused the tape and looked around for the chrysalis piece. Once they found it, they put it in the puzzle. They turn back to the TV and find the chrysalises fully-formed much faster than before. They walked back to the TV and hit play. 

“Whoooaaa…” Wooly marvels.  

“When the caterpillar emerges from the chrysalis what does it become?” 

“Butterfly.” Riley answers. 

“That’s right! A butterfly!” she grins. Just then, the butterflies come out of their chrysalises. Riley paused the tape and looked for the butterfly puzzle piece and added it to the puzzle. When they returned to the tv the butterflies had already emerged. 

“Look! Our butterflies are all grown up now!” Amanda beams. Wooly looks around awkwardly, like he wants to say something. Amanda sits on the couch watching the butterflies happily. “You’re right Wooly, they are really pretty.” Wooly doesn’t come and watch them this time. He looks uncomfortable and unsure, like there’s something on his mind. “You’re not going to watch them?”

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!” Wooly shouts, then he panics a bit like he didn’t mean to say that.

“What are you talking about?” Amanda says, confused and kind of offended. 

“YOU! You were acting… strange earlier!” 

“Earlier? What do you mean earlier?” Amanda asks mockingly. Wooly scowls at her. 

“Nevermind.” he sighs, “it’s nothing.” Amanda shrugs. 

“Are you ready for my favorite part?” Amanda grins. 

“How did you do that?” 

“Do what?!” Amanda snaps. 

“La-last time they watched the tape! You turned into your demon form and nothing bad happened!” 

“Yeah so?” 

“What do you mean yeah, so?!” Wooly shouts. “No no… that’s not what I meant to ask atl all… ugh forget it!” 

“Really? Because it seems like you have something to say…”

“I uh… um… hmm….” Wooly thinks really hard for a couple seconds, “uuuuh ugh… no… I… mmm… You-” his voice gets really quiet… he sounds almost… small all of the sudden, “You don’t really hate me do you?” 

“What was that?” Amanda asks, looking confused. She didn’t hear him.

“Nothing. I forgot.” 

“Okay then… So can we let the butterflies go now?” “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” he groans. The tape fast-forwards on its own and ends. That was weird. Riley thought. They turn around and the next tape is behind them.

Authors Note: Experimenting with some new fic stuff to make it feel more like the games! Also did a lot more research this time to keep everything in character. Obviously though, this is a direct continuation of the second game... and I don't know what will happen then. So some stuff is kind of just made up on the fly. I have no idea if Amanda is actually able to control her demon form or not, but I thought it was a cool idea so I tried it.

Constructive criticism is totally welcome btw, if I didn't say so before! I'm writing fics to improve my writing skills, so seriously, any feedback is welcome (as long as it's not like... straight up rude. If you say "this sucks" with no elaboration that's not constructive criticism).

[poppyseed799]

Confession that will get me cancelled: I will sometimes reference super mario logan videos cuz I used to watch some. and they were honestly really funny if you ignored the problematic bits.

[sesamestreep]

“requiem for methuselah” crazy ass episode for many reasons. Kirk is being fully insane, like I don’t actually think, even controlling for how quickly and easily and readily he seems to fall in love with anybody at the slightest encouragement, that he’d go that bonkers for that android woman he just met while everyone on the ship was this close to dying, but that’s neither here nor there, because in the background you’ve got an equally but much more subtly insane episode for Spock, who extremely uncharacteristically admits to experiencing an emotion (or nearly experiencing, whatever) and that emotion is ENVY of all things. And then spends the rest of the episode warning Kirk away from this new love interest (something that doesn’t usually happen, even when Kirk has very inadvisable love interests) and is, in the end, the person who accurately identifies that Rayna’s competing love for Kirk and Flint is ultimately what overwhelms and destroys her with the most killer line in maybe history???

And then to wrap it up we get an equally uncharacteristic sort of denouement scene (TOS loooves to cut an episode off right after the actual climax, leaving little time for falling action or character reflection, or to stick a sitcom-y button on the end where the gang all smiles and laughs at their misadventures and everything resets to zero, which is not a criticism, it’s just the style of that era of tv, honestly) where Kirk is literally miserable over Rayna’s death (again, kind of unusual for a lot of his love interests, he tends to be able to move on pretty quickly) and Spock goes to see him and he falls asleep right in front of Spock (also odd) and then when Bones comes in to give the final word on Flint, Spock waves him off from waking the Captain (tender) and Bones gives him that awful speech about how it’s sadder that Spock can’t even imagine the love Kirk felt for this random android woman than it is that Kirk lost her in the first place (debatable but also rude) and how his great tragedy is that he can’t love at all like they can and how all he wishes is that Kirk could forget about all of this and move on. AND THEN, to have Bones leave and Spock go over to Kirk and very gently, tenderly, reluctantly touch him and put his hand to his forehead and tell him to forget and HAVE THAT BE THE END OF THE EPISODE??? What am I supposed to do with that??

[ducks-and-teapots]

So I was looking at the Wakfu comics…

For those who don’t know, apart from the manga and the webtoon, Wakfu has three comics(two of them divided in two parts) that you are supposed to read in the middle of season one(in the case of Shak Shaka) or in the middle of season two(in the case of The Kamas of the Thirst and The Cursed Theater)

I only found Shak Shaka and The Kamas of the Thirst translated, but I read a summary of The Cursed Theater, and something odd that happens in all of them is that Amalia is always kidnapped, or separated from the brotherhood, which is really weird, why do they only capture her and not Eva, for example? I don’t know, I think it’s strange that it happens in all of them

[gobbluthbutagirl]

something sitting on my shoulder whispering in my ear that i should rewatch arrested development. but as for whether it’s an angel or a devil, who can never really know

[desirableendings]

The X-Files’ Pilot has everything. Alien abductions. Scary woods. The pinnacle of nineties fashion. Rainy sexual tension. David Duchovny looking like that. Family drama. A tragic backstory. Graveyard digging? And the most interesting choices for practical effects.

[holydramon]

finished magia record and it sure was. an anime.

[cleo-fox]

Overtime

Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).

A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.

Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.

You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.

“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“You’re still doing it.”

Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.

And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”

Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”

But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.

Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.

Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.

“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”

“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”

You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”

“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”

Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.

“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.

Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”

You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.

“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”

The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.

This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.

You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.

The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.

Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.

“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.

Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.

And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.

It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.

You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.

Also not a great sign.

Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”

“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”

“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.

“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.

This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.

You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”

“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”

Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.

“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder

You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.

There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.

“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.

“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

*

Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.

You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.

You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.

Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.

You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”

Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”

You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.

But you’re also not about to say no, either.

“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”

The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.

“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.

You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”

“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”

“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”

You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.

“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?”  he says.

You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”

He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”

“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.

Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”

“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”

He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going out for dinner.”

*

He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.

“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.

“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”

He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”

“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”

“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”

“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”

“Technically.”

“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”

You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”

“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”

Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”

You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”

“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.

“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.

“Liar,” you say promptly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”

“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.

“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”

“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”

“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”

“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”

“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”

“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”

“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”

He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”

You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”

That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.

“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”

You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”

Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.

“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.

You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”

“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“It’s not a lie—”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.

“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”

There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.

“It does.”

There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”

He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”

It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”

He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”

He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”

You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”

Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”

Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”

“I think I have that memorized at this point.”

“‘The perfect choice for families.’”

“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”

“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”

“‘You can’t say no to that.’”

You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.

The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.

“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.

His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”

You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.

Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation. 

Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.

“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”

Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.

“I��ve invented a new game,” he says some time later. 

“What’s that?”

“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”

You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”

He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”

“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.

You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”

“What are body shots?”

For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.

He’s teasing you.

“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.

He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”

You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”

He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”

You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.

But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.

“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.

“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”

“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”

He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says

“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.

“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”

Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together. 

“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”

“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”

“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”

He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”

“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”

“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”

“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”

You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

*

The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.

“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.

Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”

“You do. It’s Mobius.”

“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”

“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”

He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”

You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”

He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”

“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”

Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”

You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.

The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.

“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”

“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”

“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”

He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it. 

You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.

“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.

“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”

“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”

“Darling. You have a TemPad.”

“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”

You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”

“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”

He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”

“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”

He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”

“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”

It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”

He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.

The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.

There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.

You touch his hand. “This way.”

You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.

“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”

He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“What is it?”

They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”

The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”

“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”

This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”

You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”

“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”

“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases “throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”

“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”

“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”

He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”

You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”

He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”

“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”

Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”

“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”

You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.

You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”

He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.

There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For showing me that.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”

He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.

For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.

The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.

Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”

There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.

You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.

But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.

*

You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.

But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.

“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.

It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.

Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”

You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”

Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.

“There’s still so much left.”

“There’s still tomorrow.”

You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”

He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”

He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.

You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.

You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.

You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.

As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.

“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh. 

This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.

“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.

“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”

Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.

And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit. 

“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.

She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”

With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.

“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.

Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.

Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.

But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.

You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—

“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”

“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.

His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”

Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”

You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.

“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.

You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.

You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.

You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”

“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”

You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”

“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.

You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”

He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”

You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”

“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”

“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.

He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.

Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.

“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.

“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”

He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”

“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.

“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.

“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”

With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.

“Hey!” you shout in protest.

“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.

This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.

Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.

You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.

He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.

“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”

That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.

He grins. “Not a chance.”

You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.

It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.

Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.

“Yield,” he says.

You shake your head. “Never.”

His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”

“No.”

Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net. 

But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.

“Yield.”

You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”

Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?

“Yield.”

God, he’s so close and you want him so badly. 

“No.”

He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.

They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.

“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.

“No,” you say.

He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.

He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.

“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar. 

“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.

You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.

“No,” you say.

“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.

His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.

“Cheater,” you say. 

“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”

You shiver. “Your prize?”

“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”

“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”

“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants. 

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“You have not,” you say.

“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.

You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”

You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.

He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.

You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.

His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.

Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.

“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.

“What is it, my love?”

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”

You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. 

You believe him.

His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.

“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.

You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.

“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”

You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”

His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”

For who?”

“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”

“You’re not,” you say.

“Some would disagree.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”

There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.

“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”

“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”

You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”

“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”

The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”

“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”

“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”

“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.

“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”

That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.

“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”

This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.

“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”

Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.

You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.

“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.

He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.

Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.

You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.

You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.

This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.

Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.

It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.

“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”

“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.

“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.

“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”

His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?

“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”

You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.

You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.

You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.

“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.

“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”

You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine. 

“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.

“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”

You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.

He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”

You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”

He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.

Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.

He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He rolls on top of you  and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.

He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.

But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.

You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.

He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.

He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”

He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”

His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.

He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.

He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.

You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”

“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”

With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.

He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”

He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.

He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.

You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.

“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.

He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”

You whimper. “Loki—”

“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”

Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.

You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.

As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.

It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.

After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.

You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.

You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.

You don’t know it then, but you’re right.

*

Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.

Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.

“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.

“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.

“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”

Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”

But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.

“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”

“A confession,” says Mobius.

“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”

Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee. 

Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”

“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”

“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”

“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.

Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”

You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.

“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”

Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”

“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”

Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”

Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”

“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”

Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.

“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”

“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”

“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.

Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”

“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”

Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”

Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”

“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.

It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.

“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.

“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.

“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.

He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”

Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”

He grins and tugs you through the time door.

-------

But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.

[hearts4hughes]

tied up - rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: master manipulator!rafe ; mentions of violence ; sexual innuendos towards the end

a/n: the second i saw rafe tied up and sweaty in this episode, i KNEW i had to write about it. this is probably the first of many writings relating to this scene.

the ship rocks gently beneath you, creaking in time with the water lapping against its sides. you step carefully, feeling the weight of the metal plate in your hands, warm against your fingertips. the scent of food mixes with the salt air, thick and lingering, though you’re sure he won’t touch it. rafe sits a few feet away, hands bound to a pipe in front of him, his head drooped forward. he doesn’t look up as you approach, but you can feel his awareness.

you pause, just out of reach, and the light catches his profile—a bruise blooming darkly his eye, his lip split and red, dried blood marking his mouth like some careless stain from when jj knocked him out. he lifts his head slowly, almost deliberately, and his gaze finds yours. his eyes are sharp, narrowed, an intense blue like broken glass in sunlight, calculating and unreadable.

the plate feels heavier in your hands, like it’s suddenly full of something fragile. you set it down, the scrape of metal on wood cutting through the silence like a match. he doesn’t move, just watches you with that unblinking look, like he’s trying to measure how much of you he could break if his hands were free. the thought chills you, but you don’t step back.

“eat,” you say, trying to sound calm, detached, but your voice feels too loud in the confined space. his mouth twitches, a hint of something that might be a smile, but it’s too cold, too hollow. you can see the strain in his shoulders, the pure anger in the way he holds himself, but underneath it—something else. a flicker of vulnerability he’s trying hard to hide.

“so, they send you down to try to convince me to eat? think it would soften me up or something?” his voice is rough as it echos through the confined room. “i already told sarah that i’m not eating until they untie me.” he says with pure defiance. his eyes bore into you as if he’s trying to study you.

you turn your head, your gaze diverting to the dusty floor. “actually, no one sent me down here. they could give a shit if you starved or not. it would be doing everyone a favor.” you avoid his eyes, afraid that your confidence would melt if you met them.

for a second, you wonder if he’s about to say something, something meant only for you, and the realization tightens in your chest like a warning.

“then, why are you here?” he asks harshly. you look up to meet his haunted eyes, a chill runs down your spine and butterflies settle in your stomach. “what happened to never wanting to see me again, huh? what happened to ‘i love you forever’ ?”

his words command a flood of memories to rush through your head. your breathing becomes heavier as you remember it all; the lingering gazes, the sweet nothings, and finally, the way the absence in his eyes as he shot sherif peterkin.

“you know what happened, rafe,” you warn, your voice cracking slightly. he smirked, almost as if he could sense your anxiety. “you know why i left you.”

rafe’s smirk deepens, twisted and bitter, and he leans forward as much as the bindings allow him. “left me?” his voice is low, mocking, but there’s something raw in it too. “come on. we both know you didn’t leave me—you never really left me.”

the words cut through you, sharper than you expect, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. he watches you, waiting for a reaction, relishing it, and maybe even needing it. his gaze is relentless, pining you there like you were the one in restraints.

you force yourself to meet his eyes, even as every instinct screams to look away, to leave the room, and to escape. “i did, though. i left you because you weren’t the man i started dating. you were this,” you gesture to his bruises, his dried blood, and his hostility shimmering in his expression; the man who seems like a stranger and yet is all too familiar.

“you’ve always been mine.” he mutters more to himself than to you. “and i’m- i’m trying to change, y/n. i’ve been trying to change.” he says sternly, almost as if it was obvious, but it wasn’t. “y-you people don’t understand that i can change. i can change just as easily as you and sarah did when you started hanging around those goddamn pogues!” he raises his voice, jolting forward, and causing you to jump back.

when he notices you flinch, his gaze softens. he take a deep breath and sits back. you swallow harshly as he shifts from 0 to 100 in mere seconds.

“i’m just trying to change for the better; for you.” his voice is soft, not like what it was before. you can hear the sadness and the desperation dripping from his mouth.

it’s a trap. it’s all a trap. you’ve known rafe long enough to sense when he’s being manipulative, and he’s at his peak right now. you don’t respond, shaking your head, and going to grab the plate of food. as you grab the mental dish, his hands clasp around your wrist. the plate drops to the floor with a clatter.

“don’t- don’t go.” he whispers softly. his eyes search your face for even an ounce of reciprocated feelings. you bite the inside of your cheek as you ponder the possibilities. “stay here with me… please.” he isn’t speaking anymore, no, he’s begging.

your guard completely falls, leaving yourself vulnerable, and raw to his manipulations. when he senses the sudden shift, it’s as if he latches onto you, stringing his webs tighter around you.

you relax your shoulders with a sigh, not saying yes, but not leaving. he smiles and his eyes fall to your plump lips. his grip tightens around your wrist, fingers wrapping around your pulse. his breath is shallow and ragged, as if he’s afraid you’ll drift away.

your pulse quickens, a silent thrum that feels too loud, too obvious. his thumb moves softly, tracing small circles against your skin, a touch that’s barely there but enough to send a rush of warmth up your arm. you could pull away, break the moment before it goes any further, but you stay still.

rafe’s eyes drop to your lips, his jaw clenching as he takes a steadying breath. he’s drawing you closer, erasing the distance you swore to keep. “you don’t have to stay,” he murmurs, but his fingers tighten, betraying his words. “but… I don’t want you to leave.”

he inches closer, his face barely a breath away as his scent fills your senses. you can feel him hesitating, struggling against something, something that holds him back as much as it pulls him forward.

thousands of thoughts, warnings, and memories flash through your mind like blinding headlights, but they quiet under the intensity of his stare. then, he leans forward, closing the final sliver of space between you. his lips press softly against yours, and as if surrendering, you begin to kiss him back. the kiss begins gentle and sweet, but quickly turns into something desperate and fiery.

his tongue teases your mouth, slipping against your bottom lip. he’s frantic, raw, almost as if he’s afraid of losing you again, like he’s trying to make up for everything that happened. your lips slot against his like a puzzle piece.

you pull away breathlessly and stare at him. he lifts his arms that are bound by rope just enough for you to slip under them, now straddling his lap. you settle on his lap, something hard presses against your ass.

he smirks, “feel what you do to me, baby? i’ve missed you so much.”

the way he stares at you then and there tells you that you’ll be his forever. that there is no escape from him, even if you allow yourself to believe so. you’ll eternally be stuck in his web as he dances around you, only adding more silk to restrain you.

“calm down and untie me.” he says with a twisted grin. “let me take care of you, sweet girl.”

[ifwebefriends]

My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

[covenofagatha]

Could you write Agatha/reader where the reader discovers they have a nursing kink 🫠 The ending of chp2 of sugar&spice was so so comforting

I don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind for this request, but hopefully you still like it! Thank you to everyone who voted for this, here you go!!

Nurtured Desires

When your mom's best friend who just had a baby gets caught without a pump, you take matters into your own hands to help her out.

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: nursing kink, lactation, fingering

You’ve always found your mom’s best friend, Agatha Harkness, incredibly attractive. 

But ever since she gave birth three months ago, there’s been something even hotter about her. 

Maybe it’s the way she’s always exhausted but still finds time to smile at you when she sees you. 

Maybe it’s her nurturing side on display that’s tapping into some unresolved mommy issues you have. 

Or maybe it’s the way her breasts are huge and full and she makes no effort to hide her cleavage. 

You feel like a gross guy every time you find your eyes drifting down, but who can blame you? 

You’re pretty sure Agatha has seen you staring a few times, too. But every time, she just gives you a smirk with an imperceptible shake of her head, like she’s scolding you because she knows that she should, not that she wants to.

Her kid, Nicholas, is cute enough. You don’t really know enough about babies to have an opinion, but he gurgles and giggles when he sees you sometimes. When you hold out your finger to him, he’ll grab it with his entire fist and it makes you smile. 

Your mom had been named Nicky’s godmother and you had tagged along with her to the baptism. You can still remember how it felt when Agatha had hugged you, pressing her breasts against your chest. You had been able to think of very little else during the ceremony. 

Agatha had the two of you over to her house a lot after her son was born. Your mom was all too happy to help out, as Nicky’s father was barely ever home and Agatha was exhausted. You kept the older woman company while doing homework for your college classes in the kitchen while she prepared a light snack or in the living room while she caught up on the newest episode of the show she was watching. 

But it was inevitable that Nicky would start crying and Agatha would have to take him into her bedroom to feed him. 

Is it weird that you wanted to know what it was like?

Never before had you been so transfixed by the thought of that, and you had been around several of your mom’s and older sister’s friends who had given birth. 

But everytime, when Agatha could come back out of the room, holding Nicky with her shirt unbuttoned more than it had been, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. 

There is something especially different about today. 

It’s Thanksgiving, and every year Agatha has a lunch where she invites people from the neighborhood over. Her husband has taken Nicky to his parents’ house to give her a break and it seems like she is back to her normal self.

But Agatha has decided to wear a short, tight, navy dress with a very low cut, reminding you that something was still not normal. 

You’re practically drooling over her. There are several times that someone says something to you that you don’t even hear because you’re too busy staring. 

Is she wearing a push-up bra? How are they that perky? You’ve never wanted to suck on something more. 

You physically shake your head to get rid of those thoughts. 

She is your best friend’s mom. She just had a baby. She is married. 

You repeat those sentences like a mantra as you finish helping cook the food. You’ve been tasked with making mashed potatoes, which is a pretty easy job. 

Finally the meal is ready, and while you’re setting the table with your mom and another friend of hers, you notice that Agatha is nowhere to be found. You frown and check back in the kitchen. She’s not there. 

“Mom, did Agatha go to the bathroom?” You ask, hoping she doesn't ask why you care so much. Your mom shrugs absentmindedly, too focused on balancing the plate of cranberry sauce with the bowl of casserole so she doesn’t drop either. 

You glance at the hall bathroom to find the door open. Spurred on by something, you head up the stairs, just to make sure Agatha’s alright. It’s not like her to just disappear. 

“Agatha?” You call out and you hear a muffled sound coming from her bedroom. You can hear the front door open downstairs and you assume more guests are arriving. You tentatively walk into her room, the floor creaking. 

And that’s where you find her sitting on the bed, her back to you. 

“You okay?” You ask, not really sure what’s going on or how to explain what you’re doing. 

She sniffs and turns around and your jaw falls open. 

There’s two damp spots on her chest, visible on the navy material. 

“Uh–” You have no idea what to say. 

“I’m such an idiot, I had all the nursing stuff in Nicky’s bag and it’s with my husband, and I thought I would be okay,” she mutters angrily and you walk over to where she’s sitting, as if in a trance. You think you can smell it. 

“Is there anything I can do?” You ask breathily, falling to your knees in front of her. It sounds like you’re on something and she looks at you with surprise and maybe a little of something else. 

“You want to help me?” Her eyebrow raises like she’s daring you, but you don’t back down. You nod and her lips part. You think her pupils are dilating. “I see you staring, you know. You’re not subtle.” 

You shrug shamelessly, hands coming up to rest on her bare thighs. She gasps as the touch. You think she must be so sensitive. “Let me help, please,” you beg, staring up at her. 

She holds your gaze for a second and then obliges, reaching behind her to drag the dress zipper down. Your heart stutters in your chest when the front of the dress loosens and more and more of her pale skin is revealed. She’s wearing what looks like a special kind of bra and you move to touch without even realizing. 

You cup her swollen breast and run your thumb over her nipple through the fabric. Agatha’s breath hitches and she bites her lip, eyes watching you through hooded lashes. 

“Baby,” Agatha says, silently communicating what she needs, and you pull her right breast out over the bra, sit up on your knees, and take her leaking nipple into your mouth. 

Her head falls back and you moan at the taste. It’s so warm and rich and you start suckling, just wanting to bring her some relief. 

“Fuck,” she says sharply and you feel a spark of heat grow inside you. You keep drawing out the milk and her hand comes down to grab your left one and bring it to her other breast. You scrabble with her bra and she eventually gets fed up and reaches behind her to take it off. You have to take your mouth off of her for a second and she whines at the loss of the stimulation, but you quickly make up for it by sucking her other nipple into your mouth. 

The spark has become an ache, but you’re too caught up in the taste of the older woman to care. 

You use your teeth and tug and her fingers bury into your hair, holding you close. You can hear her making small noises and you switch your mindless lapping to a slow, steady rhythm of deep sucks. She brushes your hair out of your face so she can see you better and is perfectly content to watch you like that. 

You move back to the right nipple, but play with the left with your free fingers. She whimpers when you’re particularly rough with a suck and her hips jerk. 

You freeze around her breast and meet her eyes, which are completely glazed over with lust and desire. 

“Please touch me,” she whispers, hands moving down to hike up her dress. “I need it so bad.” 

Who are you to say no? You reach up under her skirt and feel her underwear and you gasp, her nipple dropping out of your mouth. 

She is soaked. Her underwear is dripping. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was a puddle on the bed under her. You almost cum on the spot. 

You slide them to the side and push two fingers in easily, eyes widening at the feeling of her warm and wet walls clenching around you. Agatha inhales above you and drags your mouth back to her nipple. You latch on, resuming your sucking, and you start moving your fingers. You curl with every thrust, teething harder on her nipples and drinking her milk, and she bucks her hips up every time. You rub her clit with your thumb and her moans are getting louder with all the stimulation. 

“Fuck, baby, so good, so close,” she pants. You can feel her getting tighter around you and you increase the pace of your fingers, sucking rougher. 

She cums and it’s explosive. There’s a gush of milk into your mouth and the hand on her other nipple gets drenched. You fuck her through her orgasm, still sucking the remaining milk out of her, until it gets too much and she pushes you off. 

You’re both breathing hard. You can feel how sticky and wet you’ve become between your legs, but you know better than to ask Agatha for help with that now. You're not sure what this even was.

“Feel better?” You joke and she chuckles, ruffling her hair. 

“Yes, thank you, dear. You seemed like you enjoyed that.” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t really know I was into that. Anytime Nicky isn’t around, just call me up.” It’s meant to be a jestful quip, but her eyes darken. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She muses and the blush on your face gives you away. “Okay, go back downstairs now and rejoin the party. We’ve both been gone long enough. I need to change clothes.” You start to move but she stops you. “Oh–and sweetheart?” 

You pause and look back at her. Agatha swipes her thumb across your chin and holds it up, milk droplets coating it. Before thinking, you take it into your mouth and suck, much like you had just been doing to her nipples. Her low groan excites you, but she’s right. At the very least, your mom is wondering where you were. 

“Thank you,” she says with genuine gratitude in her voice and you smile. “Now, go.” She playfully swats your shoulder to shoo you away and you bite back the urge to ask if it’ll happen again. 

You glance back when you get to the door just in time to catch a hint of her naked body and you have to force yourself out of the room so you don’t accidentally go back in for more. 

When you go downstairs, your mom immediately finds you. 

“Where have you been?” She asks. “The food is all ready, we’ve already started eating.” 

“Oh, I had to help Agatha with something.” Technically not a lie. 

She purses her lips but can’t complain. “Well, come get some food before it’s all gone.” 

There’s footsteps on the stairs and you look up to find Agatha walking down in a maroon suit and your mouth runs dry. She sees you staring – like always – and gives you a wink. 

“You know, I’m not really hungry,” you say to your mom, completely distracted by the older woman and the taste of her milk that’s still on your tongue. 

[oimitocat]

STRAY KIDS REACTION….

… to boyfriend!reader being angry and they find it hot (nsfw warning) (hyung line!)

ᡴꪫ CHAN… was extremely similar to you. you’re a lay-backed person, sure sometimes you have episodes where you’re not exactly in the mood to socialize but still, you’re charismatic and let things slide more than he does. you always say it’s because you don’t have energy to entertain that stuff.

yet, seeing you angry — TRULY angry, was something he’d never think he’d get to see. so color him surprised when he hears you shout and pace. the furrow of your brows, your darkened eyes. you looked… good. that tone, he’d never heard it and… it stirred something in the pit of his stomach.

“something wrong?” he asks after a while of eye fucking you.

“company said i need to go on a damn hiatus because some shitheads are spreading a rumor. i could care less, why do they have to make it seem like i’m anxious or whatever?”

chan blinks. “rumor?”

“yeah, super stupid. all i did was call them to say i wasn’t happy with how our last show ended. dude, they literally couldn’t get my headset to work, i had to wing the timing and stuff. their lack of work effort pisses me off.” you groan.

“i know but…” chan pauses when you glare at him. he swallows, “hey, i mean a hiatus is good. you get to rest.”

“i don’t want to rest-“

“i get to have you all to myself without worrying about you missing out on your schedule.”

“if you’re bored, play with me. if you’re angry, take it out on me. you’ll have all the time to do so.” he grins.

you blink, “i- what?” and you can’t even be angry anymore… just frustrated. but chan will also take that.

ᡴꪫ MINHO… had the habit of annoying you and frustrating you sometimes, but never actually making you angry. as idol’s there is a lot of things that can drive you mad. minho for example hates wardrobe malfunctions. fans went crazy over some clips of him angry and upset over a few outfits and so have you.

you never really cared for much, at the end of the day you get a nice paycheck and you’re good to go. still, that doesn’t mean you don’t care about your job. so when he sees that your mic isn’t working and you’re more than upset at the lack of resolve from the sound techs…. he simply cannot look away.

even when you get off the stage, you’re glaring and absolutely not in the mood. everything you do is with anger— ripping off your headset, wiping off your sweat, loosening your outfit. goodness, you look delectable.

“you mad?” he asks teasingly, of course he has to tease.

“i’m not in the mood minho.”

oh! that anger had a pretty tone. “fuck,” he breathes out, pressing himself closer to you, “you gonna take it out on me?” and your eyes bored into him.

he definitely didn’t regret it later.

ᡴꪫ CHANGBIN…. didn’t know you could get angry. he’s only seen you be all soft and gushy. he’s seen you be defensive and stern but never angry. he’s literally making his way to the studio when he hears your voice boom outside the door. worried, he walks in and sees how your standing and yelling at the other producer.

“what’s-?”

“-how long it’s taken us to keep these files and you forget to save them?!”

the producer fidgets, “doesn’t change have a copy? he always has a copy-“

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN THE COPY IS THE SAME AS WHAT WE WERE ADDING TO IT YESTERDAY! you can’t recreate something that was authentic!” you pace, pulling at your hair, “shit man, i worked so hard on that!”

“y/n calm down,” he tries, “what file is it-?”

“changbin, i literally cannot right now.” and you leave.

in the end the file wasn’t deleted, just misplaced in the wrong folder to which it was saved. still, the lack of clarity pissed you off. you didn’t want to work that day and changbin was trying so hard to coax you. yet, seeing you mad was so good for some reason. changbin knew he could make you feel better (totally not feeling you with his hands? and you being angry was making things fun.

ᡴꪫ HYUNJIN…. doesn’t remember a time where you’ve been angry. he’s also never even wanted to. he doesn’t like noise and he remembers how you always say you blow up when angry. hence, when he hears you slam your fist on the desk, he jumps. you’re dramatic like him, so he tried not to think much of it except…

“are you kidding me?” he hear you say with an ominous tone. low and sultry, makes him pause. “so you’re saying that you’re wasting my damn time.”

he peeks over at, seeing you frown and glare at the wall while on the phone. he doesn’t think he’s ever seen that look on you… his mind starts to wander…. would that expression look at him? you’re talking, angry, clearly. and it’s so…

“why are you angry?” he asks when you hang up with an insult and throw your phone of the desk.

“cus apparently i have to do everything myself. why the hell would you-“ and he zones out, watching your angrily rant.

you plop down on the chair, angry. he stands and walks over to you, desire in his gut. “baby don’t be mad…” “well i wouldn’t if they did what i was paying them to do.” “-let’s get your mind off that, yeah?”

and boy did he.

[messyoungie]

SELF CARE DAY FOR LOW ENERGY DAYS

it’s important to have different routines ready to match your mood and energy level. which is why I believe preparing for self care days for when you’re just not feeling your best is essential and a great way to look out for yourself. here’s my guide to self care days for low energy.

✧ 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

despite your low energy, it’s important you still get your daily movement. however, exercise doesn’t always have to be intense.

try doing one of these

— 2 minutes of touching/trying to touch your toes

— 5-7 minutes of full body stretching

— 10 minutes of yoga

or maybe just stretch your neck, roll your shoulders, and take a few deep breaths. whatever you’re ready to do :)

links to short low energy workouts:

5 minute morning yoga

11 minute stress relief yoga

10 minute lazy girl workout

8 minute good morning pilates

✧𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃

do something for your mind. journal, get your thoughts out, meditate, read five pages of an inspiring book. do something that you will love and that your mind will thank you for. whether it’s sitting in silence for a few minutes or playing a game that’ll challenge your brain.

journaling prompts <3

++ what’s been draining your energy recently?

++ what’s been giving you positive energy recently?

++ what’s your focus been on lately?

++ what are three things you’re happy are in your life?

++ how is my environment impacting my energy?

if your energy is low I really recommend writing about it. what’s making you tired? reflect on it and go easy on yourself.

✧𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

the last thing you want to do is give your mind the responsibility of remembering your tasks. i don’t care how little you have on your schedule, write a to do list. on a low energy day, it’s important we’re easy on ourselves. getting everything out of our head and onto a piece of paper will not only make tasks seem more manageable but will also make our minds feel a bit lighter.

write everything. I mean it. even the small and seemingly insignificant tasks. even the parts of your routine that you do everyday anyways, write it all down.

✧𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

even though we’re a little bit down, that doesn’t mean we can cheat on the promises and boundaries we made with ourselves.

a low energy day doesn’t mean you can jump right back into your old habits. you’ll only feel worse if you do. it can be comforting to spend the whole day in bed, liking relatable TikToks and having a 7 hour screen time. but that’s not real rest. do something that’ll nourish you while also making you feel relaxed and comfortable. whether that’s watching an episode of your comfort show, rereading a chapter of your favorite book, or listening to your all time favorite songs while you just relax.

low energy is not a reason to practice unhealthy bad habits.

✧𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘

how do we enjoy a low energy self care day besides the usual rest and relaxation? by doing some activities!!

things you can do on a low energy self care day:

++paint

++do your own nails

++movie marathon of your fave genre

++install and try out different cute & cozy games on your device

++bubble bath

++make a Pinterest board or Moodboard that will inspire you to be the best version of yourself

thank you for reading, take care!! ♡

— messyoungie

[authorhjk1]

SNSD Village

Season 1 Episode 2 : A busy Sunday

(Tiffany X Yoona X Eunha X Minju X Male Reader)

You check your phone as you walk out of your room. After waking up, your throat is feeling kinda dry, so you’re on your way to the kitchen. It seems like Tiffany sent you a message an hour ago. You smile when you read what it says. She wants to make another video. She uploaded the other two yesterday. 

“I got some positive feedback, so why not go for another round?”

“I’m down, but I was gonna head to the gym later.”

You remember that you also have to work on your homework with Minju and Eunha separately today. Your Sunday is already packed.

You sigh as you walk down the stairs. Maybe you shouldn’t have slept this long.

“No problem. Meet me there.”

Raising an eyebrow at Tiffany’s message, you reach the end of the stairs. What is she up to? Does she expect you to sleep with her at the gym? You have to admit, you’ve never really had sex in public. But maybe, if no one is there…

You get yourself a much needed glass of water, before leaning against the fridge in the kitchen. While you drink, you quickly respond to Tiffany.

“Would you mind putting some clothes on?”

Your mom is now coming down the stairs. She told you last night that she has an important meeting at another company on Tuesday, which means she will be out of the house until then. 

“I just woke up.”

You see that Eunha sent you a message too. Probably about the homework she has to do.

“That doesn’t mean you can just walk around in your underwear.”

Lifting your head, you earn a disapproving look from your mom.

“Especially when my assistant is here.”

Your heartbeat stops for a second, before you turn towards the living room. There she is. Chou Tzuyu gives you a slim, but visibly amused smile. Now you’re very aware of the fact that you really are almost completely naked. But you try to play it off. In your eyes, you’ve worked out more than enough recently, to feel comfortable in your own skin.

“Good morning, Miss Chou.”

“Good morning, Mr. Seo.”

You smile at her, hoping you don’t look awkward.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

Now she looks around you, focusing on your mom.

“Ms. Seo? We need to leave now, if we want to catch the plane.”

“Right, Right. Give me one more minute, Tzuyu. Why don’t you start the car? I will be there in a moment.”

Chou Tzuyu slightly bows in your direction, before heading towards the door.

“Behave yourself.”

You turn around, your mom now grabbing a cup of coffee Tzuyu probably bought her on her way.

“Mom, you don’t have to tell me that, everytime you’re gone for a couple of days.”

“Oh, really? Do you want to go over this again?”

You roll your eyes.

“Good. Now, Jisoo will be staying with you two, while I’m gone. And I will ask her what you’ve been up to, once I’m back, got it?”

“Yes, mom.”

You finish the water and place the glass on the counter.

“She will be here in two hours. So please stay here with Seri until then.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

Your mother grabs her purse and walks past you.

“Give me a kiss.”

She smiles at you, before presenting you her cheek.

“Mom. I’m not a child.”

A glare from her makes you shut up and place a kiss on her cheek.

“Have a safe flight.”

You mumble, before you watch her heading out.

“I’m struggling with homework. Could you maybe come over and we can do it together?”

You read Eunha’s message as you walk back upstairs. You already planned on doing homework with Minju today and now you are determined to not miss out on going to the gym. So you first think about saying no. But maybe the three of you could work together?

“I have a lot of stuff to do today. But I was going to do the homework with Minju anyway. I’m gonna ask her if it’s okay if you join us.”

“Thanks, oppa. I appreciate it.”

You send Minju a message, before taking a shower and getting dressed.

“Oppa, I’m hungry.”

“I know. You already told me that.”

You reach for a drawer and take out Seri’s favorite snack. Cookies. 

“But only two. Jisoo will be here later and she will make you lunch.”

You hand Seri the cookies. You watch her as she starts to munch on them. They aren’t big, at least for you, but Seri is holding one with both hands.

“You’re cute.”

You pat her head, before opening the fridge.

“Thanks, oppa. I get that a lot.”

“Really?”

You barely suppress a laugh as you fix her a glass of milk.

“Yes. Mom says it everyday.”

“She is not wrong.”

You slide the glass over the table.

“But she never says it to you.”

“Yeah, because I'm not as small as you, shorty.”

After taking your mom’s leftovers from last night out of the fridge, you put them in the microwave.

“I think you’re cute, oppa.”

“Well, thank you, Seri.”

You lean against the fridge as you watch her take on the second cookie. She threw a fit, when your mom bought a different kind than usual a week ago. But it seems like Seri has forgotten all about that already. Actually, she even declared that these are now her favorite. 

The sound of the front door opening makes you look up from your phone. Minju just texted you that she is fine with Eunha being there too. But since her sister has a friend over, the three of you can’t work at her house. After informing Eunha, she happily invited the two of you to come over to her place.

“Oh god, yes! Make them watch!”

Tiffany cries out as you keep up the pace. She is bent over the big, silver stability ball. Only her hands and feet are touching the ground.

After you’re little roleplay a couple of minutes ago, you are now fucking her from behind, while filming her with one of her cameras. Tiffany made you pretend to walk in on her pilates class and then accused you of staring at her inappropriately. After some back and forth, she then acted surprised by your visibly hard cock in your shorts, completely forgetting about the imaginary people who are attending her class. She said something about adding some chatter and gasps here and there during editing, to really make it seem like there are more people in the room.

But right now, it’s only the two of you.The second camera is placed between you and Tiffany and the other people, filming her from the front, while you capture the view of her ass from behind. She is still wearing her white sports bra, but the sweater she tied around her waist is already lying in some corner of the pilates room. Her white leggings are only pulled down to her knees, so her ass and thighs are exposed.

Being stuck in this compromising position means for her, that she can’t do anything, but take your pounding like a good pilates instructor.

You hear her nails scratch on the wooden floor as you tighten your grip on her waist. Pushing her forward a little, you make sure that her cleavage is perfectly captured by the other camera. You put the camera you were holding down on the floor to your left, making sure it films the both of you. Now that you have two free hands, you hold her waist with both of them, squeezing her skin, as you fuck her as hard as you can. The sounds of your hips meeting her nice, tight ass echo through the room, accompanied by her moans. 

“You like being watched, huh?”

You give her right cheek a slap.

“Yes, make me your bitch.”

Tiffany whines as you give her another spank.

You lean over her a little more, pressing her body further into the plastic ball. Tiffany lets out a deep breath as the air gets forced out of her body. Another spank makes Tiffany’s head drop. Her weak body is getting thrown around by your thrusts, her face now covered by her hair.

“Don’t hide.”

You reach down, pulling her head up by her hair. Tiffany groans in pain and pleasure as she feels her scalp burning and your cock sending spikes of ecstasy through her body.

“Let them watch.”

Another hard and deep thrust from you makes Tiffany’s whole body sink further into the ball. It enables you to reach forward with your other hand as well. Now, one is holding her hair in a fist, while the other is rudely holding onto her chin.

“Let them see what a whore you are for my cock.”

You are speaking through your teeth by now. Tiffany’s pussy is slowly becoming too much for you to handle. Her wet slick is making it so easy for you to fuck her hard, so now you’re in way too deep.

This wasn’t your idea to begin with. This over the top degrading and manhandling her. That was all Tiffany. To use her words:

“Use me like a toy. I want this to look really dirty.”

And now you’re holding her hair and jaw, while fucking her from behind, making her groan and moan into the camera in front of her.

“Yes! Fuck me deeper, please!”

It’s hard for Tiffany to talk with your hand on her chin, but she still manages to do so, earning a couple of particularly deep thrusts from you.

“Tell them how much you love it. Beg for it.”

You pull her hair a little harder, making Tiffany yelp in response.

“I need it! I love your cock!”

You take a step closer, so you’re now almost standing above her ass, instead of behind her.

“I can’t live without it anymore! Please! Give it to me!”

When she first explained how nasty this was gonna get, you wondered why she would do something like this. But now, her way too exaggerated words even turn you on. They make you treat her even rougher.

“I’m gonna cum so deep inside of you.”

“Oh, gosh! Please breed me! I want to show how well I can take your cum!”

You untangle your hand from her hair and place it on her chin as well. Now, you’re holding her jaw with both hands as you fuck her from behind, arching her back like a bow. Her cleavage is on display for the camera once more. But the only thing you care about right now is to finally cum inside of her. 

Tiffany’s cries and whines have been reduced to weak moans, because she can’t open her mouth properly. You fuck her as hard as you can, feeling how her pussy is squeezing your cock. How her walls are trying to coax you into breeding her.

And finally, you do exactly that. You paint Tiffany’s pink walls with your sticky cum. A comfortable warmth spreads through her body as it welcomes your seed. You thrust as quickly into her as before, but with much less power. You’re falling off your high, your thrusts chasing after every tiny bit of pleasure you can get from Tiffany’s cum filled pussy.

“Oh wow.”

Tiffany laughs, back to her old self.

“Seems like you got really into it at the end there. Nice touch with holding my jaw. I liked it.”

You feel a weird sense of pride as Tiffany compliments you.

“Thank you.”

You look down as you slowly start to pull out of her. Yeji’s mom doesn’t move, even when your cum starts to run down her thighs. Only a weak moan escapes her lips.

“Do you need a hand?”

A proud smile is playing around your lips.

“Don’t act all cocky. “

Tiffany is still facing away from you, but she probably heard it in your voice.

“Just give me a moment.”

Once she gets off the ball, you hand her the pack of tissues that she brought in her bag. You watch her clean herself. Even after just fucking her, you can’t help but admire her body. You wonder if you will ever get tired of it. 

“Let me change into something else and then we can go again?”

“Again?”

You didn’t expect her to be this into it. But then again, it is basically how she makes a living. So it does make sense that she wants to shoot as much content as possible in one go.

“What? You can’t keep up?”

Tiffany’s teasing smile makes you shake your head.

“I can go for another round right now.”

You step closer again.

“I see.”

With the same smile, Tiffany reaches down and wraps a hand around your cock.

“Fucking a younger guy really has it’s benefits.”

You feel her stroking you and you reach down to let a finger glide along her labia.

“Damn.”

She sighs, her voice already shaking a little, her pussy still sensitive from the rough pounding she just took.

“Just let me get changed.”

Tiffany shoots a more seductive smile your way.

“Trust me, you’ll love it.”

You already thought that Tiffany looked amazing in the outfit she wore for the first video. But you feel yourself getting fully hard as soon as you see her standing in the door again. The white sports bra doesn’t just show off her nicely shaped bust, but also her tight midriff. You have to admit that, despite her age, Tiffany really has an amazing body. Her legs are clad in black leggings, which are mostly hidden by the black and yellow jacket she tied around her waist.

“Alright, young man. You up for round two?”

“Yeah.”

You try to sound relaxed, but you’re sure Tiffany heard that your voice was an octave higher than usual.

“Now, this will be the second part of the video we did yesterday. ‘My daughter’s classmate is back to work me out again’”

“Well, that’s a catchy title.”

It does sound a little over the top. But you do have to admit, if you saw that title on some porn site with Tiffany on the thumbnail, you’d click on it without another thought.

“Don’t get cheeky with me.”

Tiffany raised an eyebrow at your comment and is now reaching for her water bottle.

“Just because you’re dicking me down doesn’t mean you can come up with some snappy replies here and there.”

“What do you mean ‘here and there’? That’s just me.”

“Really? And where is the boy, who almost begged me to have sex with him yesterday?”

“I didn’t beg for anything. I was just hoping you would see this as an opportunity for you.”

Tiffany chuckles.

“For me? I have a feeling that you might be getting more out of this than I am.”

Her slightly raised eyebrows and her mocking tone seem to insinuate something.

“You mean the sex? I could call a girl in my class right now and she would be down for some fun.”

You try to sound relaxed, despite knowing that that’s not entirely true. She might. But you aren’t certain. 

Despite always being more comfortable with skinship than others, Eunha has become more handsy recently. At least it seems like that to you. Her sitting on your lap in school did happen before, but the fact that she let your hand rest on her thigh… Interesting, to say the least.

But all of your thoughts on Eunha are quickly thrown to the side, when Tiffany steps in front of you.

“Although I don’t believe you, I think we should start with round number two.”

You nod, waiting for her lead. It still feels odd to you that this feels way more like work or a transactional relationship than it should be. But then again, you’re getting to have sex with Tiffany, so who are you to complain?

After she told you what to do, you sit on a bench nearby. Tiffany makes sure the camera is facing you, but not showing your face.

“Okay then.”

She nods at you, which is the signal for you to pretend as if you’re drinking.

As you do so, Tiffany starts the recording. She waits a moment, before walking into the frame. 

“Oh, how are you doing?”

Her sudden cheerful attitude almost surprises you. She is able to switch so quickly. You wonder if Tiffany ever thought about being an actress.

“I’m good, thanks. I’m surprised to see you here, Ms. Hwang.”

“Why would you say that? Do you think all of this comes from nothing?”

She gestures down on herself. The camera, focused on her face, captures her satisfied smirk, when you look her up and down.

“No, I just-”

Tiffany puts a finger on your lips to shut you up.

“Listen. The gym is empty. We’re alone here. And I still remember what you did to me that night.”

“What are you trying to say, Ms. Hwang?”

“I want you to properly stretch me out again. Right here.”

She straddles your lap and you can feel her tight ass rubbing against your clothed cock. The second camera films the two of you from the side.

“R-Right here? But what if someone-”

Tiffany shuts you up once more, but with her lips this time. She makes sure to slowly grind herself on your cock, while the two of you deepen the kiss.

“I can’t wait to ride you again. I already started to miss your dick inside me.”

She speaks into your mouth, her words making you even harder than before.

You feel her tugging at the waistband of your shorts. Reaching around her, you grab two handfuls of her cheeks. Tiffany quickly pulls your shorts off your cock. Just enough, so she can wrap her hand around it. The other reaches for her bra, squeezing her own tits. You quickly undo the knot that holds up the light jacket around her waist. After throwing it away, you hook your fingers between her waist and her leggings.

“Don’t bother. Just rip ‘em.”

You look up at her with genuine surprise. You’ve never tried this before. But Tiffany’s lust filled eyes make you act quickly. You grab the black fabric right above her pussy. It’s already damp. Digging your fingers into the soft material, you pull at it. Tiffany gasps in arousal as she hears how you rip open her pants. You reveal her cleanly shaven pussy, her lips and the skin around it visibly wet. You’d have loved to give it another taste, but Tiffany has other things in mind. She spits into her hand, before wrapping it around your cock once more. Her wet hand now stroking your cock has you thrust up towards her.

“I can’t believe you’re this hard for me.”

Tiffany lifts herself off your lap and aligns your tip with her brown folds.

You watch how your length slowly disappears inside her already familiar pussy. Her eyes close quickly after. Your hands on Tiffany’s waist start to move her up and down. Her thighs flex on top of your lap as she follows your lead. Her own hands sneak around your neck, which pushes her chest further in your direction.

Tiffany’s moans become louder as the two of you pick up the pace. You thrust upwards, whenever you pull her down on you. You hit the deepest spots inside of her, which makes her hold onto your neck even harder. Her nails slightly dig into your skin.

“Really make me bounce on it, baby. I need it so bad.”

Her sigh makes you reach around her and grab her cheeks once more. The thin material almost makes it seem like she isn’t wearing pants at all. Having more leverage now, you lift Tiffany higher every time, before letting her fall onto your cock.

“Gosh, yes!”

Her cry tells you, you’re doing it right. Tiffany feels how you part her walls, how you stretch her out, with every bounce you make her do. Her eyes have been shut tightly this entire time. The pleasure overwhelms her as she completely forgets about the cameras surrounding the two of you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Her lewd words are timed with every bounce, with every spike of pleasure you send up her spine. By now, her head is buried in your shoulder. Her hands have fallen down onto your back, her body slowly getting drained of its energy. That energy gets replaced by ecstasy. You can feel it too. How Tiffany keeps tightening around you. How her ripped open pants get wetter. She isn’t moving at all anymore. You’re doing all the work, lifting her up and down.

While you do so, the growing urge to just ruin her entire being becomes unbearable. Making her bounce on your length is nice and all. But you need to be more active. You really need to rail her, like you did before. Tiffany has awakened something in you. Something primal. Something that needs to use her body for its own pleasure.

You stop lifting her up. Tiffany lets out a cute whine of disappointment. If only you knew how close she was to-

You stand up, still buried deep inside of her.

“What are you doing?”

Her weak sigh leaves her lips, her mouth right next to your ear.

“I need to fuck you so bad.”

You speak through your teeth as you walk towards the pilates cadillac. Only glancing behind you once, you make sure the two of you are still getting filmed. Once you reach it, you do your best to let Tiffany down gracefully and turn her around. The feeling of her pussy doing this circular motion around your cock almost makes you creampie her right then and there. But you hold it together. Grabbing one of her legs, you lift it over one of the bars. Her ass looks even better from behind now. You make her take a step to the right, making sure the camera captures such a beautiful view.

Except for a moan here and there, Tiffany has kept quiet so far. But now that you’re thrusting into her again, her lips become busy once more.

“Fuck yes, harder!”

One of your hands is still holding onto her waist, while the other now reaches around her. You can’t help but give her tits some nice squeezes through her top. Tiffany’s moans become louder as she feels your hand groping her mounds, occasionally pinching her nipples on accident, due to the thin material. 

“Shit, you’re good.”

Your hips smack against her thinly covered ass from behind, while you keep holding onto her waist and tits. But you can feel how Tiffany tightens around you once more. You feel her juices dripping down your cock. 

“Your young cock feels so fucking good!”

Tiffany becomes louder and her words dirtier. It gets worse the harder and faster you fuck her. You catch a patch of red skin underneath your hand and you feel how she pushes your other hand further down. Your hand wanders over that tight midriff of hers. You still can’t believe you are able to touch it right now. So often did you stare at it, when you saw her around the neighborhood or at a school event. You always wondered how sexy she would look, with your cum all over her toned tummy. 

“Right there, yes.” Tiffany mewls, your hand now reaching the torn part of her leggings. 

You keep your pace steady, making sure your cock thrusts into her tight snatch as deep as it can go. At the same time, you now let your fingers touch her clit, turning her into a begging mess.

“Rub it harder, yes. Give it to me. Use me.”

“Fuck.”

You groan, feeling how Tiffany’s tight pussy slowly pushes you towards your orgasm. But you do your best to hang on. You can’t stop now. The feeling of her juices on your cock, how her walls give you these tight squeezes at random intervals….It just feels too good to stop.

Your fingers on her clit keep rubbing it, forcing Tiffany to shut her eyes once more, her mouth spewing more and more curse words. But soon, you can feel a new level of tightness. Her walls squeeze you harder, her body seems to have become warmer. Her moans are more frequent. And then, it happens.

“Oh! What the fuck?!”

You almost lose it as well. The both of you are surprised. But Tiffany is cuming on your cock. You feel her pussy tightening around you. Her walls massage your cock, her cute moans are higher than her usual ones. Unable to see it, you can only feel how her juices make your cock dripping wet. Some of her liquid spills out of the connection between the two of you, leaving a long trail on her skin, before it disappears underneath her pants

“Oh my god.”

Tiffany has calmed down and you think you’re ready to keep going again. It was almost too close for you. But you can’t help but smile, knowing you just made her cum. 

“That was actually amazing.”

She is still breathing heavily. You’re not quite sure what did it for her. The position? The fact that you’re filming? The way you fucked her? Or the way you played with her clit? Maybe a mixture of some of them.

When she turns her head to look over her shoulder at you, you see a tired, out of breath Tiffany. But her eyes tell you to do it again. Make her cum around your cock, until she loses control.

You move her again, this time laying her down on the pilates cadillac. The black fabric feels cold against her bare back, but Tiffany is only distracted for a second. A moment later, she feels you entering her once more. You kneel on the bench she is lying on, now holding onto both her thighs.

“That’s it. Right there.”

She moans, her pussy stretching around your cock easier now. Both, her hole and your dick, are wet with her juices, which ensures a smoother fucking.

“Lift my hips.”

Her moan, or rather order, makes you hold onto her waist. You lift her up, but not without a little bit of embarrassment. You would like to think that you are fine with learning more from her, but at the same time, you already want to be the best. You want to turn her into a mumbling mess, without her needing to tell you what feels best for her.

You raise her ass off the fabric, wanting to prove how well you can do. Soon, Tiffany’s hands land on her white top once more. You watch her groping and massaging her own tits through the thin material.

“That’s it, baby. You stretch me out so good.”

Your fingers dig further into the skin on her waist. One side is already red from the previous position you put her in. This way, you can drive yourself even deeper inside of her. The angle makes it possible. Gliding along her smooth walls, you suddenly hit a slightly rougher spot. The touch makes Tiffany’s back arch as she throws her head back.

“Fuck, yes! That’s the spot! Right there!”

She sounds almost desperate. As if she is afraid you wouldn’t be able to hit it again. But your next thrust lands on the same spot. You tip grazes along its small length, sending jolts of pleasure through Tiffany’s system. As you feel your own orgasm starting to approach, you pick up the pace a little, hoping you don’t cum too early.

Soon, the both of you are almost there. You can feel the familiar signs around your cock. Tiffany’s tight walls, her juices, her lips, which stick to your length whenever you move. And Tiffany can feel your cock throbbing, how you get thrown off your rhythm. Your thrusts become irregular, which surprisingly turns her on even more. The fact that she is about to make you cum again. That you can’t fight her pussy.

One last, deep trust is all it takes for the both of you to groan in union. You shoot your cum deep inside Yeji’s mom once more, while Tiffany milks your cock with her tight snatch. Her pink walls squeeze every drop out of your cock, until you’re completely spent.

After the two of you have recovered, you scoot back a little. You watch how your cum leaves her freshly fucked pussy. When you look behind her, you realize that this last part was barely filmed. Tiffany’s head was definitely in the way. But you don’t really care right now. You are still catching your breath, while one last jolt rushes through Tiffany’s body. You feel proud of yourself, knowing you made her cum. Twice. This feels even better than just fucking her, or getting to cum inside of her. The fact that you were able to make her orgasm and it even got captured on camera, places a dumb smile on your face.

You empty your bottle after your third rep of squats. While sweat drips from your soaked hair, you walk towards the water dispenser in the corner of the large room. Tiffany left barely fifteen minutes ago. After she looked presentable again, you accompanied her outside and waited for her to drive off, before you started your workout. The loud sound of the water hitting the insides of your bottle echoes through the otherwise silent building. That’s why you’re more than just surprised, when you hear a door open on your right. It’s the women’s locker room. The men’s is on the left. Turning towards the door, you are greeted by a gorgeous and welcoming smile.

“Hello, Ms. Im.”

“You’re Minju’s friend, right?”

Im Yoona doesn’t stop smiling at you as she walks out of the locker room. 

“Yes. We have most of our classes together.”

“Of course I know you. My daughter talks a lot about you. Plus, I’m your mother’s friend, remember?”

That’s true. Ms. Im and your mom are more than just business partners. But lately, you barely do anything but focus on school and working out, so you don’t see Ms. Im often.

She leans forward a little, before putting her hand next to her mouth as if she doesn’t want anyone to read her lips. The gym is completely empty, but she only whispers.

“One might think she wants to be more than just friends.”

You’re not sure what to say. Minju is a pretty girl. But just a friend.

“I got you there, didn’t I?”

Ms. Im lets out a satisfied laugh, visibly amused by your flustered reaction. While she collects herself again, you finish filling up your bottle.

“You should come over more often though. Minju mentioned the two of you are doing your homework together today?”

You nod. Since your place is closer to school than Minju’s, the two of you usually hang out at yours after school.

“In the afternoon, yes. Ms. Kim told us to write an essay.”

“Ah, history. That’s why Minju asked you to work together.”

You’re surprised that Ms. Im knows that that’s your strong suit.

The two of you walk towards the other side of the gym, where you left your towel.

“Are you going to continue?”

You look up at Ms. Im’s question, after sitting down on the floor.

“Uhm, yes I am.”

You use the towel to clean the sweat off your face.

“Well, you’re totally wet. I don’t know if sweating this much is healthy.”

“I’m sorry.”

You feel a little embarrassed, remembering that you’re a soaked mess. You probably don’t smell so great either right now.

"No, it's fine. I just don’t want you to do too much. You look like you’ve already been working out a lot recently.”

“Thank you, Ms. Im. I’m just… You know, trying to get a little more physical.”

“Oh, I can see that.”

You feel an embarrassed flush on your cheeks. You’re not used to getting compliments. Especially not from a gorgeous woman like Ms. Im. Now that you’ve calmed down a little, you’re finally able to take in her outfit. She is wearing tight black yoga pants and a gray sweatshirt. But the sweatshirt is only covering the upper half of her upper body. You marvel at Ms. Im’s toned midriff for just a moment.

“Thank you, Ms. Im. You look very…”

You search for the right words to describe Minju’s mother. After getting drained by Tiffany twice in a row, your dirty mind is still active. Sexy or fit don’t really seem appropriate.

“Very much in shape too. But I usually don’t see you often here.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I do a lot of my workouts and stretches at home. Privacy and all that, you know?”

When she mentions that she stretches, your dirty mind is working overtime once more. It almost feels like Tiffany has corrupted you. Now, you just want to place your hands on her thighs, run them over her leggings, feel her ass, touch that midriff and-

You stop yourself. She is still Minju’s mother. This isn’t right.

“I get it.”

You smile at her, before taking a gulp of your water.

“But what are you doing here then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Ms. Im lets out a melodic chuckle at your curiosity.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

With a teasing wink, Ms. Im disappears into the room you and Tiffany defiled earlier. You just hope you cleaned up everything.

You continue on with your workout. You and the two girls decided on 4 pm, which is in two hours. So you still have about an hour before you have to head home. After taking another sip of water, you pick up two dumbbells and continue with your routine. Watching yourself in the mirror, you catch how sweaty you are yet again. Ms. Im probably didn’t mean anything by it, but her comment made you a little self conscious now. You finish the first set with ease. The second one is a struggle towards the end. And the third makes your arms burn. Your sweat is dripping off your brows now, you can taste it on your lips. Just when you’re about to start set number four, you see the door to the pilates room open behind you through the mirror.

Ms. Im walks out of the room. You can’t help but stare, especially since she opened her sweater while she was gone. She is now showing off her black sports bra, which is matching her pants.

You only realize she is walking towards you when your eyes meet through the mirror. Putting the dumbbells back on the rack, you reach for your towel. Turning around, you wipe your face, just when she comes to a hold right in front of you.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your workout, but would you mind lending me a hand?”

Once more, your dirty mind goes into overdrive. It wouldn’t have been a problem anywhere else. But her choice of words, the empty gym… You can’t help but fantasize just a little.

“Of course, Ms. Im. How can I help you?”

“Well, I play a dance teacher in an upcoming drama.”

Minju’s mom is a famous actress. She is in a lot of good movies and dramas. So you’re actually excited to hear that she is working on something new.

“And so I’m working on my flexibility and learning a couple of dance moves. But I’m still having some trouble with specific positions. Since no one else is here”

She gestures around the empty gym.

“I had hoped you could spare me a couple of minutes.”

“I’d love to.”

“Great.”

Ms. Im beams up at you, before taking your hand and leading you inside the pilates room.

“By the way, do you know who’s bottle this is? I found it here.”

She points at the blue bottle, which is standing on the dresser to your right.

"Ah, yes. That’s Ms. Hwang’s. We worked out together earlier today.”

“Really?”

Ms. Im turns around to look at you. Her expression looks a little weird to you. Her brows are furrowed, her lips pressed together. Does she know that Tiffany…You hope not. You don’t want her to think you slept with Yeji’s mom.

“Yes, since she is a fitness coach and all that, she gave me some pointers. We ran into each other outside.”

You’re surprised to see her scoff. She mumbles something under her breath, before she leads you past the mats and the pilates cadillac.

You could’ve sworn you heard her say:

“Sons too now? Slut.”

But why would Ms. Im assume you slept with Tiffany, just because you two worked out? Weird. Maybe you heard wrong. Or did she catch her sleeping with someone else and now thinks you slept with her too because of that?

Your thoughts come to a halt, when you see Ms. Im choosing a song on her phone. She presses the plus button on her speaker a couple of times and the room starts to fill with music.

“I’m sorry Ms. Im, but I’m not really a good dancer.”

“Did you never learn how to dance?”

“Just a little. With my…ex.”

She definitely caught your pause. Because her face changes a little.

“Oh no. The two of you broke up?”

Ms. Im’s voice is full of empathy. She strokes your arm, looking at you with pity. 

“Yeah. Couple weeks back.”

“I’m sorry, dear. I know how much that sucks.”

While it is nice to get comforted, you also feel a little off. You don’t need anyone's pity. You’re not five anymore. You can deal with this on your own.

“It’s alright. We didn’t have a big fight or something.”

“Is that the reason why you’re working out so much recently? Trying to get over your breakup?”

“I think I’m over her already. But thank you for caring.”

Ms. Im looks like she is about to say something, but decides to stay silent.

“If you show me what you need me to do, I will try my best.”

“That’s sweet of you, honey.”

You can still see the sympathy in her eyes, but she starts to explain what she needs you to do.

After the fourth song you feel like you’re already an expert. Ms. Im really is a good teacher. You can now move to the rhythm easier, while focusing on actually helping her practice. Your hands are connected, while her other one is resting on your shoulder and yours is placed right on her waist. You’d usually wear something more formal like a dress and a suit for this kind of dance, but it’s nice nonetheless.

Being aware that your hand is occasionally grazing her naked waist makes you a little nervous. This is Minju’s mother after all. Your mind keeps going places it shouldn’t. If you would just pull her a little closer, so her body is flush against yours…Or lean down a little, admiring her gorgeous eyes… Let your hand move further up, so it’s fully placed on her naked skin…

So many inappropriate thoughts are running through your head, that you couldn't hear what she just said.

“I think I got a hang of this. It feels natural now.”

“Oh, sure.”

The two of you come to a hold. Ms. Im turns off the music, before walking up to the ballet bar close to the wall where the mirrors are.

“I hope you still have some time to spare? There are one or two positions I’m still struggling with.”

“No problem. I have more than enough time.”

You smile at her as you step closer.

“Great. So, there is a scene in the drama , where I teach a ballet class and I need to show off my flexibility…”

Ms. Im takes a hold of the bar on her left side and raises her right leg. You watch in awe as it goes higher and higher, until her foot is almost the same height as her chest.

“Wow, that’s pretty impressive.”

“But I need to get my foot on the same height as my head. So if you wouldn’t mind lifting it for me further, I would really appreciate it.”

“Sure.”

You hesitate for a second, not exactly sure on where to grab her. But you eventually decide on her thigh and her calf, pushing her leg upwards.You don’t stop, until you see her furrow her brows and hiss in pain.

“Sorry.”

You mumble, about to lower her leg again.

“No, it’s fine. Give me a second.”

The two of you don’t move for a couple of seconds, until Ms. Im nods.

“Okay, keep going.”

The determination on her face makes you lift her leg further. You’re almost there, but she shakes her head, obviously in pain again.

“You almost got it.”

You try to encourage her and Ms. Im gives you the signal to keep going. You feel yourself leaning against her a little as you push her leg up to her limit. Eventually, her foot does reach her ear. You see her other leg shake slightly, but she doesn’t say anything. Looking down, you lock eyes with her. When you catch her stealing a glance of your lips, you realize how close the two of you are. You back away a little and lower her leg. Ms. Im sighs in relief.

“Thank you. Can we try again?”

You help her out five more times. When she lifts her leg for attempt number six, you watch her foot finally reach her head on its own. Ms. Im lifts her head to look at the ceiling, doing her best to copy the exact stance. You only last a second. You can’t help but give her center a quick glance. Since her leg is raised high, you have a perfect view of the outlines of her lips. Barely visible, but they are definitely there.

“Alright.” 

You immediately focus back on her face as she slowly puts her leg down again.

“I think this was enough for today. Thank you for helping me.”

“It was my pleasure, Ms. Im.”

You see her putting on her thinking face, her elbow resting on her other arm, her chin placed in her hand.

“I feel like I should help you out too. And I think I know just the thing.”

Your eyes widen, when hers focus on your shorts. 

“Ms. Im?”

“Well, you say you’re over your ex, but you’re clearly not. So why don’t I help you see clearly again, hmm?”

You’re surprised when she suddenly steps forward and reaches for your crotch. Her hand cups your length through the thin material of your shorts.

“I don’t know-”

“It’s okay, honey.”

Ms. Im smiles up at you. 

“I can see, you still like her. But trust me, it’s not healthy for you to keep thinking about her this way.”

You swallow hard, fully aware that your friend’s mother is gently stroking your cock through your shorts.

“Ms. Im, I don’t know if this is really appro-”

“Come on, honey.”

She whispers, her hands already pulling down your elastic waistband.

“Let me give you a treat.”

Her eyes focus on your crotch again, when your shorts drop to the floor, your boxers with them.You see her smirk as she wraps a hand around your shaft.

“Looks like I’m in for a treat too.”

You can’t believe this is actually happening. Ms. Im, Minju’s mother, squats down in front of you, her hand still around your cock. She looks up at you with a caring smile, before slowly opening her mouth and guiding you inside. You hold your breath, feeling hers on your skin. But before she closes her lips around your shaft, she pulls back.

“Just teasing you a little.”

Her mischievous smile makes you bite your lip. Suddenly Ms. Im places her lips on your naked thigh. She gives you a kiss and then sticks out her tongue. You let out a deep breath as you feel her licking up your thigh, towards your crotch. You can see how your sweat leaves your skin and finds itself on her tongue. 

Still too stunned to do anything, you watch her do the same to your other thigh.

“Delicious.”

She kisses your abdomen, right above your cock.

You can’t believe that this is actually happening. This is way different from what you have with Tiffany. For some reason, this feels more intimate. Her smile tells you how much she likes the taste of your sweat as she licks her lips. You never expected Minju’s mother to act like this.

Her hand is still giving your cock long, slow strokes, while she peppers the skin around it with small kisses. She gives you an occasional lick, which sends goosebumps up your spine every time.You never had anyone do this to you before. But it looks like Ms. Im is thoroughly enjoying it. She gives your inner thighs a long, slow lick on either side. You hear her humming with satisfaction, before she backs away again.

“Your body tastes so good. I could do this for hours.”

Pictures of Ms. Im, cleaning your whole body, flash through your head. You feel yourself getting harder at the thought. This feels dirty to you. Too dirty for Minju’s mother to do it. Or even consider doing it. But there she is, squatting in front of you, with your dick in her hand.

“You can relax, honey. I can feel how tense you are.”

Ms. Im gives you another loving smile as she gives your thighs gentle squeezes.

“Let me take care of you. And enjoy yourself.”

She places both hands right next to your cock, her palms pressed flat against your skin. You hold your breath as she leans forward yet again, mouth open to welcome your cock. You feel her warm breath, You see how your cock disappears inside her mouth. And finally, Ms. Im wraps her lips around you.

With her eyes closed, she stays in place, her tongue swirling around your tip. Your dick is getting wetter by the second as she warms it with her mouth. Her tongue keeps dancing along on your skin, until it finds the underside of your shaft. She presses it flat against your cock from beneath. And then Ms. Im starts to move her head. Lips still wrapped around you in a tight seal, she begins to slowly fuck her mouth with your cock. You can’t help but thrust forward a little, whenever she moves further towards you. Your hands hang loose on either side of you, your fingers scratching the empty air. Reaching forward, you place your hands on her head. Ms. Im moves a little faster, but you make sure that she is the one who is controlling the pace.

When she moves back far enough to let your cock fall out of her mouth, she looks up at you with a satisfied smile playing around her lips.

“I can’t tell what it is. But your cock…”

She doesn’t continue. Instead, she gives your tip a kiss, her eyes closed as she seems to be enjoying the taste.

It’s not like you’re complaining. Actually, it’s kinda hot to hear Ms. Im say how much she loves your taste. But you never had the same reaction with your ex or Tiffany. The thought of Tiffany reminds you of your earlier session with her. Is that it? Does Ms. Im like how Tiffany’s pussy tastes on your cock? Who could blame her? Tiffany tastes amazing. You can vouch for that.

“I haven’t had such a delicious dick in ages.”

Ms. Im continues to swoon over your cock. You still vividly remember how Tiffany orgasmed around your cock. How she drenched you in her juices. 

“I really can’t get enough of it.”

Ms. Im takes you into her mouth once more. Her eyes closed, enjoying the taste. You feel her tongue roaming all over your cock, making sure she is giving attention to even the smallest of places. Right underneath your tip, circling around it. And then moving along your length, letting you feel her tongue almost slip out between her lips. As Ms. Im increases her pace further, you occasionally feel yourself hitting the wall in the back of her mouth. It almost seems like she is teasing you, by only giving you an idea what her throat might feel like. She becomes sloppier as well, the result of sucking you off too quickly. You see a strand of spit escape the corners of her mouth here and there. Your whole cock is glistening with her saliva by now and yet she won’t take you deeper. 

Which you are actually thankful for. Because you doubt you would last much longer, if Ms. Im would start to deepthroat you now. Tiffany’s throat game is deadly, and Ms. Im seems skilled enough to make you cum immediately too.

But to your surprise, she moves her head back, until your cock falls out of her mouth. You let out an involuntary sigh of disappointment, when you leave her warmth.

“You’re doing great, honey.”

Her teasing smile shows that she knows that you won’t be able to take her blowjob much longer. You feel her hands, which have moved to your cock, stroking your length once more.

“Tell me. Is there a place you ex wouldn’t let you cum, after a blowjob?”

You slowly nod.

Ms. Im hums in understanding as she places your length right over her lips.

“Poor boy.”

Her sympathetic tone and eyes, which are looking up at you, are making you shudder.

“I promise you can do whatever you want. Let me help you to forget her.”

“I…”

You take a deep breath. You’re reminded of the fact that this is Minju’s mother. Your friend’s mother. She knew you since you were little. The two of you shouldn’t be doing this. But your lips move, before your brain can take control.

“I’d like to cum on your face.”

You hold your breath, afraid you asked for too much. But Ms. Im’s reassuring smile makes you sigh in relief and anticipation.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Her lips move against your cock as she speaks.

For a moment, you feel like Ms. Im is very similar to Tiffany. How she acts, how she uses this seductive tone, the way she smiles at you as if she knows exactly what you need, even if you don’t know that yourself.

You watch her open her mouth, taking your cock back inside. Your ex honestly can’t really compare, you realize. Ms. Im was right. She does help you to forget about her. Her and Tiffany, to be precise. You wonder if it’s because of their age? Their experience? Maybe. It just feels different with the two of them. Better. More natural.

The sound of Ms. Im, fucking her face on your cock yet again, brings you back to reality. This time, her hands aren’t placed on your hips, but wrapped around your base. She doesn’t use them though. Only her lips and tongue work to make you cum eventually.

Now that you’ve realized how similar Ms. Im and Tiffany are, you also catch some differences. Ms. Im’s lips are wrapped around your cock in a tighter manner. Tiffany likes to take more of you in one go. The younger of the two uses her tongue more, while Tiffany likes to use her throat.

But Ms. Im doesn’t take all of your cock. Just enough to make you hit the wall. She could probably take all of you, if she wanted, but it really does seem like she is playing with you. Just thinking about how she is toying with you turns you on even more. Her blowjob shows that she isn’t just doing it to make you cum. She likes it too, she plays with you, giving you what you need, but not enough of it. Until there is no return. 

Ms. Im lures you in, making your own orgasm sneak up on you. It builds slowly, then it drops again, but then she picks it back up again. And suddenly, you feel the inevitable urge to cum. Your fingers dig into her scalp a little, your hips bucking forward. Within a matter of seconds, Ms. Im has pushed you to the edge. The edge, which you’re now about to fall from. 

“I-”

You can’t warn her. Can’t hold back. The last part of her blowjob defeats you within seconds. 

But Ms. Im feels how your cock suddenly becomes harder. How it pulsates inside her mouth. How you thrust into her, ready to finally cum.

But she isn’t quick enough for the first hit. Or maybe she did it on purpose?

A long streak of your cum hits the back of her mouth. Before you can release more, Ms. Im opens her mouth wide, pulls your cock out and aims it at her face. You try your best to watch as your orgasm overwhelms you. You see how you paint most of her face. Her nose, her left cheek, her lips. Your cum stains her beautiful face. But instead of complaining like your ex would’ve done, Ms. Im smiles up at you, letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Your cum tastes just as good as your sweat. Warm. And salty.”

She licks her lips and you can only marvel at how beautiful she looks with your cum all over her face.

You never thought about someone being into sweat. Specifically yours. But Ms. Im returns her attention to the rest of your body now. With a cum covered face, she licks along your thighs once more. Her eyes closed as she enjoys the taste.

You feel completely drained. The combination of your prior workout and Ms. Im’s blowjob proves too much for your body. Your legs slightly buckle as her tongue swipes over the skin right above your cock. Trying to recover your strength, you stand in place for a while, watching how she licks more sweat off your body. But when you feel Ms. Im’s tongue dip lower, giving your balls a drawn out lick, you feel your cock slowly hardening again. You wonder if she would give you another blowjob, if you asked her for it. The thought of her sucking your dick again, almost makes you fully hard once more. Just when Ms. Im wraps her lips around one of your balls, you hear chatter outside.

Fuck, someone is coming. By the sounds of it, a group of women. Which usually means they’re heading right for this room. The room you’re in. The room in which Ms. Im is still sucking the sweat off your balls.

“Ms. Im, someone is coming.”

She doesn't respond, her eyes closed, while yours scan the room for something to wipe her face with. 

“Ms. Im, we need to hurry.”

“Hm? Right.”

She almost looks like she woke up from a trance. She gives your cock one last long lick, which sends sparks up your spine, before she gets back to her feet. You quickly rush over to get her the small box of tissues, which is standing next to Tiffany’s forgotten bottle.

“Here.”

You watch her clean her face for a second, before you pull your boxers and shorts back up, which you almost tripped over on your way to get her the small green box.

“Oppa!”

Kim Minju waves at you as she sees you crossing the road, on your way to Eunha’s place. As she walks closer, she notices how your hair is still wet. You probably took a shower before you left the house.

“Hey, Minju!”

She can’t help, but send a smile your way. Momentarily forgetting that she is kinda angry at you. She asked you to come over to her place, so the two of you can work together. She doesn’t need a third wheel. Especially not someone like Eunha. The other girl always does what she wants. She gets away with almost everything with her stupid aegyo and the boys in class always have red faces, whenever Eunha decides to wear one of those ridiculously short skirts.

It’s not like Minju hates her. That’s not it. And she isn’t jealous either. Eunha isn’t a ten out of ten. And there are worse girls than her in your and Minju’s class. But she was hoping for a quiet and relaxed Sunday afternoon with you, before Eunha’s party starts. And Eunha will probably get a little too comfortable with you again. Like touching your shoulder or arm or thigh, or even sitting in your lap again. Minju shakes her head. She should try to stay positive. Afterall, this is mainly Eunha’s personality. Most of the time, that's just who she is.

The two of you finally meet in front of the driveway. You give Minju a quick hug, before you walk towards the front door. Minju trails after you, taking a glance at the cars parked nearby. She saw Eunha drive the white Mercedes once. That was the only time Minju was ever really jealous of her. Because she doesn’t have her drivers license yet. Minju has always been more focused on studying for school. She can always get it later anyways.

“Hi, guys!”

You must have rung the doorbell without Minju noticing, because Eunha has opened the door already and is giving you a hug. Minju escapes a scoff, when she sees what Eunha is wearing. Relaxing afternoon, goodbye. Luckily, she is standing too far away, so the both of you didn’t hear her. 

Minju takes another look at Eunha’s outfit as she walks up to her. She is wearing a skimpy pink top with a white bra underneath, the edges peeking out from under the pink fabric. Her whole midriff is exposed. And her skirt is way too short. Minju can even see a hint of Eunha’s white panties, because the hem of her skirt is almost at the same height as her center.

The two girls exchange a quick hug, before Eunha invites you and Minju inside.

“You guys want anything to drink?”

“Maybe some of the stuff you have for the party?”

Your joke earns you an elbow to the ribs by Minju.

“You’re not drinking now, oppa.”

“Then a coke, if you have some.”

“Make it two. But zero please.”

“Sure. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Eunha gestures at the dinner table. If only you had known how often you’d sit at that table in the future.

You and Minju take your places next to each other. While Minju is already taking her stuff out of her bag, you quickly check your phone. While you reply to a message in your class's group chat, you get a notification. A picture sent by Tiffany. You open it. Your eyes grow wide, focused on the picture. But when you hear Minju rustle around next to you, you quickly glance at her. She is busy with herself. Thank god. You tilt your phone a little away from her, hoping she won’t be able to see what you’re looking at.

The picture is a full body shot of Tiffany in a mirror. She is clearly showing off her ass, while she is standing sideways. It’s clad in tight white lace panties, which show off every curve of her peach. Now, you see the text that was sent with it. 

“A gift from one of my subscribers. They want you to fuck your friend’s mom again.”

You swallow hard as you feel yourself getting hard once more. How is that even possible? You came three times already today. The words friend’s mom make you realize what you just did in the gym. Minju’s mother gave you a blowjob. Your friend’s mother. You came on her face even. A cold shudder runs down your spine just thinking about what would happen if Minju finds out. 

“Would you mind putting your phone away?”

You almost fall off your seat at Minju’s words. 

“Yeah, sorry.”

You say unnecessarily loud. 

Eunha has just reached the table, placing two cans of coke zero in front of you and Minju, while also holding a glass of apple juice for herself. She takes her seat on your right and you take your tablet out of your bag. Minju has already started working a little it seems. Her own tablet already shows off a couple of notes.

“Alright then.”

Minju looks at the two of you.

“Ms. Kim said that our essay has to be about the Roman gods. So do we just name them and say what they stood for? Maybe add a legend or two?”

You have to admit you haven’t really thought about the task, until now. But Ms. Kim often gives the class only vague tasks for homework, because she likes to see how everyone interprets her words. You like it. It gives you freedom. And while she is usually quite strict, especially if you did nothing at all, the bar isn’t very high.

“I think everyone would do that though. It can’t be that easy.”

“Well, her last topic was the birth of Rome. And now gods…”

Minju gets lost in her train of thought, while you are searching for an answer as well.

“What do you think?”

You turn to Eunha.

“Well, didn’t she say something about the birth of Rome having two versions? A historical one and a fictional one?”

“True. Romulus and Remus. But apart from their father supposedly being Mars, I don’t know how the gods tie into this.”

“Oh.”

Eunha’s pen hits the floor underneath the table. It slipped out of her hand. But instead of getting up and crawling under the table, Eunha leans in your direction and downwards. Suddenly, her head is resting in your lap, her cheek pressed flat against your thigh. You hold your breath as she blindly searches with her fingers for the pen. Once she gets it, Eunha gets back up.While she does so, she places her hand on your thigh as well. Her pinky dangerously close to your crotch.

“Sorry, my bad.”

She gives you a cute smile. If you would’ve turned around, you would have seen Minju, rolling her eyes.

Now you need a moment to collect yourself, before you’re finally able to come up with an idea.

“Maybe it’s not just about Roman gods. I mean, there are similarities between Greek, Roman and Egyptian gods. Ms. Kim could’ve thought about that.”

“But then, she would’ve said that.”

 You nod at Minju’s comment, but Eunha shakes her head.

“I think you’re right. It makes sense. Since the Romans did kinda copy the Greek gods, right?”

“They did. You think that’s what she was talking about?”

“You’re the best at history.”

Eunha pats your thigh, giving you a cute smile.

“I trust you.”

“Fine. Let’s go with that then. Minju?”

You turn towards her, trying to ignore Eunha’s hand, which is still lying on your thigh.

“Sure. Where do you want to start?”

The three of you get to work. While Eunha makes a list of the most important gods, you and Minju search for their Greek and Egyptian equivalents. Minju is very aware of what is going on in the shadows though. Eunha’s hand, which sometimes lingers on your thigh too long. Her naked leg touching yours, when she scoots a little closer. And especially how Eunha occasionally fixes her top, while you talk to her. It’s not jealousy that is fueling Minju’s growing anger. It’s the fact that Eunha even dares to do all of it right in front of her. And that you don’t even seem to notice. Minju expected you to tell Eunha to stop. Or at least acknowledge it in some way. But to her, it looks like you’re completely oblivious.

Which is definitely not true. Because from the moment Eunha placed her head on your thigh, you keep trying to focus on your homework. Eunha is cute. And hot. There is no doubt about it. And if Minju wasn’t here, maybe you’d fool around with her a little. But Minju is here. And you don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

“The next one is Venus. I forgot what she stands for?”

Minju rolls her eyes once more. But instead of saying anything, she takes a big sip of her coke, trying to drown her anger.

“It’s the goddess of love and sex.”

“Kinky.”

Eunha wiggles her eyebrows at you. You clear your throat, trying to prevent any escalation.

“Yeah. Her Greek equivalent is Aphrodite and her Egyptian one is Hathor.”

“That’s the goddess with the cow head, right?”

“Yes.”

Minju writes it down after getting your confirmation.

“What do you think the sex goddess looks like?”

Eunha’s question makes you silently dig your fingers into your own thigh. She couldn’t be more obvious. And if Minju didn’t notice yet, she now must know for sure.

“I’m not sure. I mean, she isn’t real, right?”

“Well, if she would be. What do you think she’d look like?”

Minju hesitates for a moment. She can sense how you’re trying to avoid the question. But she's had enough of this. She can’t let Eunha toy with you the whole afternoon and she can’t stand the fact you only seem to notice now what’s actually going on.

“There are a lot of different statues of all three of them. You can just check them out and-”

“Oh come on, oppa. Tell us. What do you think she would look like?”

Minju places her hand on your shoulder. Her question makes your heart drop. You swear you heard a slight hint of anger in her voice. And while the two of you annoy each other from time to time, you’re still great friends. You don’t want to hurt her. You think about it for a while, trying to come up with an answer, which would get you out of this once and for all.

“Like my ideal woman. My type.”

“Yes, but what is that?”

You focus on your can of coke, which means you miss the anger filled eye contact the two girls share. Minju is annoyed by Eunha and by you. And Eunha can’t believe Minju is now trying to compete with her for your attention. This was her idea after all. It’s not like she always had a crush on you. But Eunha did notice how you grew up over the last couple years. You work out more and take care of yourself better. But when she sat in your lap a couple of days ago, she could feel that you were more than happy to have her sit on you. Eunha couldn’t help but slightly grind on it for a second, hoping you wouldn’t notice. She got curious how big you actually are. That’s why she planned on seducing you today. Minju coming along completely ruined this day for her.

“I don’t know. A beautiful face? A fit body?”

“That’s all?”

Eunha places her hand on your thigh once more.

“There must be some other features on a girl’s body you find attractive, right?”

“Come on, oppa.”

Minju makes you focus back on her.

“Tell us. We don’t bite.”

Minju’s smile does seem genuine, but you are not one to take these kinds of risks. 

“Sorry ladies, need to head to the bathroom real quick.”

You quickly get off your chair.

“Down the hall, on your left.”

“Thanks, Eunha.”

You leave the two girls alone. Once you reach the bathroom, you sigh in relief. That was close. 

“What the hell, Minju?”

“What?”

Minju plays innocent. 

“Oh, please. Keep it in your pants.”

“Excuse me? You are the one who is barely wearing anything to begin with.”

“This is my house. I can wear whatever I want.”

Eunha gets off her chair to put away her empty glass.

“Why are you suddenly trying to get in my way anyway? The two of you have been just friends for years. You suddenly got the hots for him, or what?”

“Eww, no.”

Minju makes a disgusted face, but even she can’t fool herself anymore. The stupid, dumb, childish boy she once knew is already mostly gone.

“But I don’t want my friend to start seeing a slut like you.”

“What did you just call me?”

Even when she is angry, her hands at her waist, her brows furrowed, Eunha is still hella cute.

“Have you even looked at yourself?”

Minju, who is still sitting, gestures at Eunha, who is standing in front of the table.

“I can see your panties from here.”

“That’s the point. Do you think he saw them too?”

Eunha wiggles her eyebrows and gives Minju a satisfied smile.

“Trust me, Minju. I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but you don’t have much going for you, that you could show off anyway.”

Minjus scoffs in disbelief, rolling her eyes.

“Who says I want to show off anything to begin with? And I do have enough to show off.”

Eunha shakes her head. 

“You don’t have big tits. Or ass. Not even thighs.”

She lifts her leg, placing her foot on a chair.

“Look at mine. Do you know how many guys stare at my thighs at school?”

Eunha places her foot back on the ground with a victorious smile playing around her lips.

“All of them.”

“Oh, really? If I wanted to, I could make every guy fall for me. But I’m just not a slut like you are.”

“Prove it then.”

Eunha crosses her arms in front of her chest.

The two of them stare at each other for a while, without saying a word. Eunha doesn’t want to back down. She knows that she has bigger thighs and a great butt. On the other hand, Minju isn’t sure what she should do next. But when she hears the bathroom door open, she acts quickly.

Eunha raises an eyebrow as Minju reaches for the zipper on her top. She starts to pull it down. The two girls keep eye contact, right until you walk back into the dining room.

“There you are.”

Eunha reacts first, giving you a cute smile, while Minju lets go of her zipper. She quickly glances down, to see how far she pulled it down. She sighs in relief. Not too far, but enough for you to notice the top of her black bra. Now Minju regrets not putting on the one with the lace on it, when she was deciding on what to wear earlier.

“How do you guys feel about snacks? I’m starving.”

“Sure, thanks Eunha.”

You reciprocate her smile, before sitting down.

Minju pulls her collar a little to the sides, making sure you have a better view of her cleavage. But her jaw almost drops, when she sees what Eunha is now doing.

The older girl reaches up to grab a box of sweets, which were placed inside one of the higher drawers. But she is way too small, so she has to get on her tiptoes. Your eyes are focused on her as well now. Because as Eunha stretches upwards to get the colorful box, her skirt raises as well. You get a very good view of her thighs, then a hint of her white panties. And eventually, Eunha basically shows off her whole ass. If you weren’t hard before, then you are definitely hard now.

Minju’s body heats up in anger. No way that wasn’t intentional.

“Oppa.”

You quickly turn around to look at Minju. She didn’t catch you staring, did she? As you look at her face, you notice how her top is now more open than before. 

“So for the second part…”

She is focused on her tablet while she speaks, but you can’t focus properly. You’re busy with giving her cleavage a glance, and another one, and another one, and-

You shake your head. What is the problem with you today? How is it possible you’re still this horny after going two rounds with Tiffany and receiving a blowjob from Ms. Im?

“Here you go.”

Eunha places the box of sweets in front of you as she sits back down. But instead of sitting normal, she puts one leg up, her foot resting on the chair. She reaches for a chocolate bar and starts to eat it with her chin on her knee. 

You’re almost too scared to look down. At this point it feels like the two of them are doing this on purpose. But that sounds ridiculous. Minju has been your friend for years. Why would she suddenly try to make a move on you? And Eunha? Well, she is always a little handsy, but today it’s a little much. Or is this your dirty mind speaking again? Are you trying to make more out of this than it actually is?

You pick a chocolate bar as well and start to eat it to calm your nerves, as the three of you get back to it. But your situation doesn’t improve much. Now Minju is the one who places her hand on your arm more often than you can count. She touched your hand as well, while she was reaching for the small box. And at the same time, she leaned over, giving you a proper look down her top. You’ve never seen this much of her. And only now do you realize how pretty Minju really is. Not just her chest, but her face as well. Her big eyes seem to constantly look at you with affection, her brows furrow, whenever she concentrates on the task at hand. And her lips look better than you remember.

Meanwhile, Eunha has unbuttoned two more buttons on her top, saying it’s way too warm for her. She is basically giving you a full view of her clothed pussy and her thighs look better than ever. 

But Eunha notices how your attention slowly drifts more and more towards Minju. And you can’t deny it either. While Eunha is beautiful and all, it’s Minju with whom you share a deeper connection with. Your eyes keep wandering between her tablet and her chest, while the two of you start to finish the assignment. Eunha gets annoyed by your lack of attention. After all, this is her house. And she is the one who planned on having fun with you. Not Minju. You and her are turned towards her tablet, your backs almost facing Eunha by now. To be fair, Eunha isn’t really working anyways.

“Fine then.”

She thinks to herself, ready to finish this once and for all.

Eunha lifts herself off her own chair and gets closer to you. In one swift motion, she lands on your lap, pretending nothing is happening, while looking at Minju’s tablet as well.

“Eunha…”

You try to protest, but you know it’s already too late. She must feel how hard you are. How your clothed cock is slightly rubbing against her panties as she gets comfortable on top of you. And Minju is starting to scream on the inside. How can Eunha be this daring? This slutty? Right in front of her? And why aren’t you stopping her?

Minju tries to suppress her emotions to the best of her abilities. You aren’t her boyfriend. So technically, it’s not her place to say anything. But still…. She can’t just sit here and watch.

As subtle as possible, Eunha takes your left hand and places it on her naked thigh. She smells like vanilla, her scent almost making you forget about Minju. But when she lets your fingertips slip in between her thighs, you quickly look at your friend. Minju has slightly turned away, so you can’t read her face. Unbeknownst to you, she is pretending to get a text from Yeji, just to get her out of here.

“Sorry, guys. Yeji just sent me a message. She needs my help, so I better get going now.”

Your hand escapes Eunha’s dangerous trap to hold Minju’s shoulder.

“You’re leaving already? We’re almost done.”

“I think it’s an emergency.”

“Okay, Minju. It was fun to work with you today.”

Minju can tell Eunha’s smile is fake from a mile away.

Once the front door closes behind her, Minju hangs her head. What is she doing? Why is she getting so worked up about this? She clears her throat and zips up her top again. Minju shakes her head, her cheeks still slightly red from her anger. No. You can do whatever you want. You aren’t her boyfriend. And she doesn’t like you like that anyway. It’s more like Minju is almost envious of Eunha. She doesn’t want to walk around with a skirt that shows off her panties. No, that’s not it. But Minju wants to have the same confidence as Eunha. She’s always been a little more introverted and she definitely missed out on stuff because of that. But it always seems like Eunha is always just doing what she wants. That’s what Minju is really bothered by.

You try your best not to stare, but it’s in vain. Who could resist? Your eyes are focused on Eunha’s panties, which are only partially hidden by her skirt as she closes the front door. When she turns around, you quickly look at her face instead.

“Do you want to finish this?”

Eunha’s sweet smile makes you nod.

You watch her walk over to the table. But instead of sitting down in her own chair, she straddles you once more. But this time, she is facing you.

“Eunha, what-”

“You said you want to finish what we started.”

Her smile turns into a mischievous grin, before she leans forward to press her lips against yours.

“This is too fast!” Screams the voice inside the back of your head, but your hands have already taken a hold of Eunha’s full thighs and your lips are already inviting her tongue inside.

“Wait…”

You finally push her back a little.

“What? Don’t you think I’m sexy? You kept looking at me this whole time.”

Her lips land on yours once more. And you have to admit, you don’t know how to respond. You did imagine how it would feel like to have those thighs wrapped around your head. Or how cute Eunha’s moans would sound like. But that was just imagination. Because you didn’t think she actually wanted you.

“Fuck.”

You break the kiss, your head falling back as Eunha grinds herself against your hard dick. She uses this opportunity to tilt her head and attack your neck. Determined to mark you, wanting to show Minju that she got you, she sucks and bites your skin. Her own hands roam your back, keeping you close and pressing your chest against hers. You feel the heat inside her body, especially at her center.

Your fingers dig further into her thighs, making a moan escape her lips, before you start to actually move her back and forth in your lap. Her clothed pussy rubs against your pants and you can’t wait any longer. You need to feel her. Now.

You stand up slowly, Eunha instinctively wrapping her legs around your hips. The two of you quickly reach the sofa in her living room. You sit down on it with Eunha still in your arms. The whole time she kept on kissing your neck and cheek and is now backing away.

“I can feel how hard you are. Let me help you out.”

Her cute wink makes you let out a deep breath, before you watch her climb off of you. But instead of getting onto the carpet, she makes you move over, so that you’re lying down. The sofa is big enough for her to kneel next to you and it only takes you a moment to realize why she did that. While Eunha starts to take your pants off, you reach behind her, her skirt barely covering her ass. You give her right cheek a hard squeeze, making Eunha gasp. 

“You can play with my body all you want, oppa.”

You slightly raise your hips, making it easier for her to finally pull your pants off. At the same time, you feel the fabric of her panties against your fingers. You hook one finger underneath it, right when Eunha wraps a hand around your cock.

“I knew it.”

Her eyes, which were focused on your cock now look at yours.

“You have a really nice dick.”

Before you can reply, you see her opening her mouth and leaning down. A low groan escapes your mouth as you feel Eunha’s lips wrap around your tip. Even if you see Tiffany’s blowjobs just as foreplay, this would already be your second of the day. First Ms. Im and now Eunha. Unconsciously, you dig your fingers into her full cheek, right next to her pussy. It makes Eunha lean forward a little further, taking your dick deeper into her mouth.

“God, Eunha…”

You feel her smile around your length. Wanting to repay her, you reach for her panties and pull them slowly to the side. They’re slightly damp already. You let one finger glide around her labia, collecting a little bit of her juices. But you come to a hold, when Eunha starts to properly suck you off, her tongue dancing around your tip. For a small while you’re unable to do anything but watch. Eunha looks so hot in this position. Bent over on your side, her mouth around your dick, her cute face showing signs of pleasure and her ass completely visible, due to her skirt, which has fallen down around her hips by now.

Eventually you do pick up where you left off. Reaching a little lower, you let your fingers glide over her clit, which is partially covered by her lips. Eunha moans around your cock, making your head roll back in response. Soon after, you let a finger slip into her pussy. A lustful hum sends vibration into your cock and all the way up your spine. Once you’ve established a proper rhythm, you and Eunha pleasure each other at the same time.

While she sucks you off, you finger her. You can feel how Eunha’s pussy becomes wetter, how it occasionally clenches around your first and now your second finger as well. At the same time, Eunha can feel your hard shaft inside her mouth. It does take her some effort to properly suck you off. She did feel you before through your clothes, but you’re slightly bigger than she anticipated. Not that she is complaining. Not at all. Eunha is already thinking about her next move. As she lets her lips glide along your shaft, she is already planning on taking you inside of her properly. Does she want to do it right here? In the living room? The thought alone gets her going as the pace of your fingers quickens. She imagines herself bent over the backrest, your cock being the thing that moves in and out of her and not your fingers.

Eunha’s eyes close, her body slightly sways back and forth, her lips still sealed tightly around your shaft. You do your best to satisfy her, not wanting to disappoint. After all, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Your classmate giving you head. 

You need to take a deep breath when Eunha decides to go even deeper. You feel the back of her mouth hitting your tip. She gags once, twice. Her spit coats your shaft. Your head rolls back and your eyes stop at a picture of her. Of Eunha and her sister. The two of them on holiday, at a visibly hot place. Her crop top and skirt are almost as short as the ones she is wearing right now. You can’t help but glance at her sister. You haven’t seen Wonyoung in almost a year, but she is as sexy as Eunha is. For a moment, you imagine how hot it would be to have both their mouths around your cock. You doubt you would last long with the Jung sisters. Especially if they would start doing more than just giving you head.

You let out a deep groan as you think about the two of them a little too long. Eunha can feel your hips bucking upwards as you almost start to fuck her mouth. Your fingers inside of her move faster now, fueled by the images inside your head. The teasing from earlier and now this… You know you won’t last much longer.

Eunha’s eyes roll to the back of her head as she feels your thumb circling her clit, while your other two fingers keep pumping in and out of her. Her body becomes weak due to the pleasure that is rushing through her system now. She slumps down a little, almost impaling her mouth on your cock. Her warmth around almost your entire length makes you almost cum right there.

And then the phone rings. Your eyes grow wide and Eunha quickly lifts her head off your cock.The two of you look at each other. You catch a thin strand of her saliva sticking to her chin.

“Yours or mine?”

“Mine.”

Eunha quickly gets off of you and heads for the table. As you watch her, reality seems to finally hit you. This actually just happened. You got a blowjob from Eunha. And you had your fingers inside of her. You can’t help but smile. After getting the opportunity to sleep with Tiffany and receive head from Ms. Im, one would think you’d be used to it, but who could get used to that? You feel like the luckiest person on earth. How did you manage to pull this off?

Eunha quickly glances at the caller’s ID, before picking up.

“Yes, Zuha?”

“Hi, unnie. Just wanted to let you know we are done with buying the stuff for the party. Do you want anything else?”

“Uh…No I’m good.”

Eunha suddenly remembers that you’re still here. Half naked.

“A-Are you already on your way back?”

“Yes. I’ll be at your place in around five minutes. The party is starting soon.”

“Okay, thanks Zuha.”

Eunha hangs up and turns around. She knows it’s dangerous to continue. But her eyes automatically focus on your cock. Just a little longer…She feels her core still tingling. She has five more minutes anyway.

“We have five minutes.”

The determination in Eunha’s eyes puts a little bit of pressure on you. Does she expect you to make her cum right now? You watch as she steps closer. But this time, instead of kneeling next to you, Eunha straddles your face, placing both her thighs on either side of your head. Before you can react, Eunha is already pressing her pussy against your mouth as she leans down to swallow your cock once more. As her taste takes over your mouth, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her even closer. The two of you focus on pleasuring each other once more. You feel Eunha slightly grinding against you, while she feels how you slightly thrust upwards whenever she takes you in deep. 

You both know you have only limited time. And eventually, Eunha is the first to lose it. You feel her tremble on top of you. Her moan around your dick sends you right to the edge as well. You place your hands on her ass, making sure she stays in place as her thighs shake. But the feeling of her soft cheeks and the way her mouth coats your cock with her saliva finally prove too much for you.

You join Eunha in her orgasm. For a couple of moments, the two of you are just a shaking mess, until you both calm down. Only as you lap up Eunha’s juices, which are glistening on the skin around her lips, do you realize that you just came inside her mouth.

Eunha climbs off of you and then turns around. Her cheeks are a little red from her orgasm. And when she opens her mouth, you see your cum inside of her. She closes her mouth and gives you a sexy smirk. You can tell she is playing around with it with her tongue. By the way her right cheek bulges, it seems like she pushed all of your cum into that one cheek.

“If only we had enough time…My pussy is just so wet right now.”

She lifts her skirt and your eyes dart back and forth between her wet pussy and her cum filled mouth. You can’t decide on what’s hotter. But Eunha quickly helps you decide by opening her mouth once more, pushing your cum around with her tongue again.

“You should give me more of this later. It tastes very good.”

“Fuck, Eunha.”

You get up as well and take a step closer.

“Stay here after the party. I need you to use my body to make yourself cum.”

She closes her mouth once more and your eyes widen when you watch her throat bulge slightly. Eunha gulps down your cum with a satisfied smile on her face. She opens her mouth again, showing off that she swallowed the whole load.

You’re about to say something, when you see a car pull onto the driveway through the window behind her. The two of you quickly try to look normal. You put your pants back on, while Eunha pulls down her skirt a little further. Just when you finish packing your things, you hear the doorbell ring. 

“Hi, Zuha.”

The two girls share a quick hug, while you down the rest of the Coke Eunha gave you earlier. Kazua seems to have noticed you, because she calls your name.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

You haven’t seen her for a couple of days. The only class the two of you share is Ms. Kang’s PE class.

“I’m great. Are you going to help us set everything up?”

Before you can answer, Eunha shakes her head.

“He was just here because we did our homework together. He was just about to leave.”

She turns around to face you.

“You’re coming back later, right?”

Eunha gives you a seductive wink.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna change and be right back.”

You feel a little awkward talking to Zuha after cuming inside Eunha’s mouth mere moments ago. But Eunha seems to be unbothered as she helps the younger girl get all the booze out of her trunk, while you head back home.

“Yes!”

You laugh triumphantly, raising your arms. The ping pong ball just landed inside the red plastic cup across the table from you. You ignore Yeji’s glare with practiced ease as you give Eunha a high five. Your teammate changed her clothes as well. Instead of wearing a pink top and a black skirt, she is now wearing a pink top with a white skirt. They are both bigger now, which means no one can see her panties while she just stands around. But her skirt is still short enough to show off her thighs. And by the looks of it, you aren’t the only guy at the party who appreciates Eunha’s outfit choice.

“Eunha unnie!”

One of her friends calls her and a moment later, Eunha disappears inside the small crowd in her living room. You head for the kitchen to get yourself another drink. While reaching for the bottle of whiskey, someone bumps into you from behind, before she takes her place next to you and holds out her cup.

“Pour me one, loser.”

You roll your eyes as you open the bottle.

“Suck a bag of dicks.”

Someone just turned off the lights, so you can’t see her face, but you know it’s not Yeji. She would never talk to you voluntarily. 

“Right back at ya.”

You fill your cup, before you let the bottle hover over hers.

“Changed my mind.”

You hear her scoff as you put the whiskey back down and put the lid on.

“You suck.”

She reaches for the bottle.

“Says the cheerleader who has the flexibility of my great grandfather.”

The two of you would have continued your daily amount of banter, if it wasn’t for Minju, who suddenly appears on your other side.

“Oppa, wanna dance?”

“Not really, no.”

Minju ignores you and takes your hand. You’re reminded of her mother from earlier today. Another wave of guilt washes over you. You quickly drown your feelings with the whiskey in your hand as she drags you towards the middle of the living room.

It seems like the music becomes louder as you watch Minju starting to dance. Her body moving to its rhythm. 

“Come on.”

Her smile warms your heart as she sees you just standing there. You take her hand and Minju playfully lifts it over her head and twirls around underneath it.

Soon after, the two of you are surrounded by only lights. Only the two of you exist. And the music. The music makes Minju move. Move against you. Her back presses against your front. Her head just right where your heart is. Her arms are raised as she lets the feeling of ecstasy rush through her body. You look down on her with a smile on your face. Minju’s happiness captivates you too. You reach down, placing your hands loosely on her wide hips. You feel the black denim on your skin. Minju keeps on moving her body to the music as you hear her laugh. You move closer, pressing yourself flush against her from behind. The two of you were never this close. But now, Minju is dancing in your arms.

After a while, you feel her ass brush against your crotch once. And then again. And again. You can feel how Minju almost grinds herself back against you as she dances in the middle of the room. In the middle of the crowd. You don’t know if it’s intentional or not, but Minju starts to make you hard. Your hands on her hips were already a start, but her ass against your clothed cock quickens the process.

A moan almost escapes her lips as Minju feels your length between her cheeks. Up until this day, there was never any sexual tension between the two of you. You were always friends. Nothing more. And yet, Minju can feel how right this is. How good it is. It’s the first time she is even thinking about your cock. Even during the competition earlier, she didn’t really think about sleeping with you. It was just to prove to Eunha that Minju can be as sexy as she is, if she wants to be. But now, your length makes her let out another moan. The loud music stops it, before it reaches your ear. Minju closes her eyes as she keeps dancing. As she keeps grinding against you. 

Minju’s warm body against yours almost makes you forget what you planned on doing today. But when your eyes fall on Yeji, who is talking to Kazuha, you remember vividly. For some reason it almost turns you on even more. That Yeji will be seeing a video of you fucking her mother.

Minju makes you focus on her once more, when she reaches for your neck. Your eyes leave Yeji and you look down on the girl in front of you. She slightly pulls your head down while she keeps her eyes closed. You wouldn’t dare to kiss her right now. Not even on her forehead. But you can smell her shampoo as you get close enough. You close your eyes as well, inhaling Minju’s scent. You wonder what could’ve happened next. But the music stops. Everyone around you stops dancing. Minju turns around to look at you. Before she can say something, you take your phone out of your pocket.

“I gotta show you something, Minju. It’s important.”

She nods and you take her hand and lead her outside the living room. Once the two of you reach a quieter place, you take a deep breath. The dancing just now makes you see Minju in a different light, but you have to focus. 

“Here. Someone sent it to me.”

You click on the video and let it play. You see Minju narrowing her eyes as she takes a closer look.

“T-This is…They are…”

Her eyes are now wide open as she realizes it’s a video of two people having sex. It looks like the guy is holding the camera.

“I wanted to show it to you first.”

You try to sound as concerned as possible. You hate to lie to Minju, but if this is the way to finally make Yeji pay, so be it.

“Why?”

“You see the woman? Isn’t that Yeji’s…”

You don’t finish the sentence, but Minju surely understands what you are hinting at.

She leans in closer, wanting to make sure you are wrong. But when the camera zooms in on the woman’s face, Minju lets out a gasp. She looks up at you with shock in her eyes.

“Who sent this to you?”

“That’s not the worst part, Minju.”

You point at the lower right corner of the video. The hallway is almost completely dark, but your phone is bright enough for Minju to read the watermark.

onlyfans.com/tiffany

“Oppa…”

Minju’s worried face almost makes you confess, but you stay strong.

“I-I have to tell her.”

Minju has already walked past you, but she stops and turns around.

“Can you send it to me? She won’t believe me otherwise.”

“Sure.”

You see the disgust on her face. She doesn’t want that video to be on her phone. The video of her best friend's mother having sex. But she has to tell Yeji.

“Thank you.”

Minju disappears inside the living room and you lean against the wall behind you. You sigh, shaking your head. Now that you did it, you wonder if this was too hard. What if it destroys Yeji? Will she confront her mother?

While you’re having second thoughts, Minju has already reached Yeji.

“Come with me.”

Another shot of whiskey burns your throat. You just saw Minju and Yeji disappear upstairs and you know there isn’t a way to undo this. And now that you did it, you feel horrible. But then again, Yeji has tormented you since you can remember. You are just the first person to strike. You’re sure that Yeji has something up her sleeve as well.

“Slow down, oppa.”

Eunha appears next to you and grabs your cup, before you’re able to drink more.

“You don’t look so great.”

“I’m fine.”

You reach for the bottle, but Eunha slaps your hand away and shakes her head. 

“No more drinking, oppa.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you. You look down. But that's okay. There are other ways to lift your mood. Better ways.”

Her last words make you look at her and her smirk tells you what she has in mind.

“Eunha-”

“Shhh.”

Eunha places a finger on your lips, while her other hand reaches for one of yours.

“I’ve been so fucking wet since you made me cum.”

She kisses your cheek as you feel your fingers brush against the hem of her skirt.

“Do it again.”

“There are people here.”

“So? No one is watching. And because of the counter, no one can see my lower half.”

You know it’s true. And the idea of being able to have your fingers inside of her again makes you hard. You know you shouldn’t. It’s too risky. And yet you don’t fight it, when Eunha guides your hand along her thigh.

You aren’t surprised by her lack of panties. She already told you what she planned on doing with you later on. Her hand rests on your arm as you insert two fingers inside her snatch once more. Eunha is facing the crowded living room and you stand behind her. She is forced to look at all the people here, trying to pretend like nothing is happening. Eunha can almost feel like somebody's watching her. In the far right corner of the living room. But she doesn’t dare look up. Her eyes close as you put your thumb on her clit.

You can tell that Eunha is still wet from earlier. Her breathing is already getting faster. She begins to lean back against you as the pleasure turns her legs into a shaking mess. She reaches forward with one hand, supporting herself on the counter in front of her. The other hand is still holding onto your arm, her nails slowly starting to dig into your skin. Eunha tries to stand straight, but she falters as your thumb begins to circle around her clit.This got her going before, so why not do it again?

Soon, Eunha’s full body weight is on you and her ass is pressed against your clothed cock. Her breathing is shallow and quick as if she just went for a run. You’re actually impressed by how quiet she is, but then again, the music is quite loud. You see that her eyes are closed, before she buries her face in your shoulder. It sounds like she lets out a cry. A second later, her whole body shakes. Her pussy contracts around your fingers and you almost feel how her clit is pulsating against your thumb.

“Oppa…”

She sighs into your shoulder, visibly satisfied after her orgasm. But now you are hard. And you can’t help but let your, with slick covered, hand run over her naked thigh. Eunha notices how your dick pushes against her ass from behind. With a cute smirk on her lips, she reaches behind herself.

“Let me help you too, oppa.”

It takes her a while, because she can’t see what she is doing and because she only uses one hand, but eventually, Eunha has unzipped your zipper and fished out your cock. Your pants stay on and so does Eunha’s skirt. You lean forward a little, sliding your cock between her thick thighs.

Another sigh leaves her lips and you try to act normal by not looking down on what you’re doing. That’s why you’re now able to see Minju and Yeji walk through the living room. They are heading to the front door. Yeji’s head hangs low, her face covered by her hair. Minju seems to be comforting her as her hand rests on her friend’s back. You feel a sting of regret in your chest, but Eunha quickly makes you focus back on her.

“Fuck my thighs, oppa.”

You plant a kiss on the back of Eunha’s head and start to thrust in and out of the gap between her thighs. The thought of Minju and Yeji is soon gone as you take your pleasure from Eunha. You’re careful to not go too fast or hard, afraid someone would notice. Instead, you enjoy Eunha’s softness with slow and long strokes. Both your hands hold her waist, keeping her in place.

“You feel so big…”

Eunha’s eyes are closed once more, her head slowly sinking back against your shoulder again. You’re tempted to give this beautiful face a kiss, but now you feel it too. The same thing Eunha felt earlier. The feeling of someone watching you. Your heart pounds faster and you slow down your thrusts. You look around, trying to make out the person who is looking at you two amongst the crowd. When you don’t find anyone suspicious, you shrug off the feeling. Maybe you’re just nervous. Or it’s the alcohol in your system.

Another sip of vodka burns Kazuha’s throat. Her eyes are fixated on what’s going on in the kitchen. You’re still standing behind Eunha. Earlier, it seemed like you had a hand under her skirt, almost as if you were fingering her. But now, Kazuha is sure that you’re actually fucking Eunha. Slow and careful, but not unnoticeable for anyone who looks at you more carefully. The older girl’s head has dropped back against your shoulder and Kazuha can see her pleasure wrecked face. Eyes closed, nose slightly scrunched, lips twitching. She can’t believe the two of you would do something this daring. She already suspected you, when she saw the two of you earlier. The way Eunha was dressed only meant one thing. And now she got proof. After another gulp of the burning clear liquid, Kazuha can’t help but place a hand loosely over her shorts.

Her fingers just slightly press against her core. She’d never do anything intimate in such a public and crowded place. But the sight of you fucking Eunha only a few meters away from the crowd turns her on. Kazuha bites her lip as she presses down on her core a little harder. Very very slowly, she moves her hand up and down. The alcohol and the increasing need slowly makes her body burn up. If only she could… 

Her fingers linger on her belt. In that moment she sees someone walking towards you and Eunha. She sighs in disappointment. Kazuha watches how you quickly step back and reach towards your pants, while Eunha, still a little out of it, straightens her hair and her skirt. The two of you pretend like nothing happened. And after a couple of words, Eunha and her friend exit the kitchen.

“Goodbye! Get home safe!”

As soon as the door closes, you press Eunha flat against it. The two of you quickly lose yourselves in a heated make out session. After getting interrupted earlier, the both of you are too horny to even wait a second. Eunha’s house is now empty. Everyone is gone. Only the two of you are here. And you make use of that.

Because you are still hard from earlier, Eunha doesn’t bother with giving you another blowjob. As soon as your pants are off, she spits into her hand and reaches for your shaft. The two of you look into each other’s eyes as she strokes you, coating your cock with her spit.

“I need you so bad. Fuck me hard.”

Her words make you kiss her once more, your hands roam her body. You enjoy the feeling of her curves under your palms. Eventually, you push her towards the couch. Eunha quickly throws away a jacket someone left there and puts an empty bottle on the table next to it. Now that you have enough space, you bend Eunha over the armrest. You are doing this quickly. You can’t wait any longer to finally feel Eunha’s pussy properly.

“Fill me, oppa.”

She sighs as you lift up her skirt, exposing her ass and her pussy as well. Your hand slides over her wet labia, making sure she is wet enough, before you align yourself with her core. Slowly pushing inside of her, you press Eunha further into the soft armrest. The two of you take deep breaths as each of you try to get accustomed to this new feeling. Your length makes Eunha feel full. She can tell how you’re stretching her out. At the same time, you can’t help but compare Eunha’s pussy with Tiffany’s. She is tighter. That much is clear. But Tiffany is also a little smoother than Eunha on the inside. Maybe that’s because Tiffany is just wetter than Eunha. Either way, both of them feel amazing. And now, Eunha’s snatch lures you further inside. Her body wants to feel more of you.

You place your hands on her back, leaning over her. Now she can’t escape, fully trapped in between you and the armrest. After pulling out almost entirely, you thrust back inside. 

“Holy fuck…”

Eunha’s lust filled sigh makes you smirk as her body gets rocked forward. 

“How was I able to wait this long? It feels so good…”

You’re not sure if she is talking to herself, but you lean down further and kiss her neck. 

“You’re so hot, Eunha.”

Another thrust makes her move once more. Her face is now on the same height as the small coffee table next to the sofa. Eunha can’t help but stare at the picture that is standing on it as you give her another thrust. Her and her sister on vacation. The one you saw earlier.

“I’m such a slut. Fuck me hard.”

She whines, turned on by the thought of having her sister in the picture watch her getting fucked.

You notice how her eyes are glued to the photo. You hesitate as you keep fucking her, but eventually you decide to speak your mind.

“Wonyoung is so hot, Eunha.”

“You really think so?”

Her breath quickens, but she almost sounds disappointed. You can feel how tight her pussy is around your cock. How it holds onto you, whenever you retreat.

“Of course. I bet she is the thightest.”

“Oh, fuck!”

Eunha didn’t think this would turn her on so much. She bites into the leather armrest, trying to prevent another yelp.

“And her face…I just want to ruin it. This little brat.”

Eunha’s eyes roll to the back of her head as your cock reaches her deepest depths. She cant’ belive she is getting fucked in her parent’s living room. Right in front of a picture of herself and her sister. 

“Yes, ruin her. Make her cheat on her stupid boyfriend. I bet your cock is way bigger than his.”

Her whines make you kiss her neck again, before whispering into her ear.

“Do you like it when I talk about fucking your sister, while I use you as a fleshlight?”

Another whine. Eunha nods weakly, your cock seems to push all of her energy out of her with every thrust.

“Yes, I like it. I like it when you use me like a slut.”

You fuck her harder, too turned on by her words to hold yourself back.

“That’s what you are, Eunha. A slut.”

The word rings in her ears as you pound her from behind. She can almost feel how it invades her mind, how it makes her feel good.

“Yes, I’m a slut. Your little slut, oppa.”

Her cries have you press down on her back further. You can feel how her body tenses under your weight. How her pussy clenches around your length.

“That’s why you always wear these short skirts. You love it when everyone can see your thighs and ass.”

“That’s true. I love to feel like a slut.”

You push Eunha’s body further over the armrest, until she almost falls over. Your thrusts now reaching even deeper inside of her. Her ass is now at the perfect angle for you to give it a nice slap.

"Harder, oppa!”

Eunha cries out, when you hit her cheek. The flesh ripples even more, because you keep fucking her. Her walls tighten around you with every following thrust.

“Damn, Eunha. You’d do anything for my cock, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would. Anything.”

Another slap almost makes her sob. 

“You’re such a pathetic slut, Eunha. I’d rather fuck your little sister.”

The volume of her whines increase with two more slaps on each of her cheeks. Her head is hanging so low by now that Eunha has to look up to see the picture of her sister.

"Do it, oppa! Please! I’m just a worthless slut.”

Her cry almost makes you feel pity. Her pussy still has a tight grip on your cock and her walls massage you during every thrust. How could you ever think about someone else while you fuck her?

“No you aren’t, Eunha.”

Your kiss on her lower back is more affectionate this time. More loving.

“You are a good girl. And so fucking hot.”

Instead of spanking her, you now squeeze her cheeks softly, soothing the pain from earlier just a little.

“I’m not. You are right, oppa. I’m a huge slut.”

Her whine makes you fuck her harder. Your hands are both now holding onto her waist. You rock her body back and forth. Every thrust makes Eunha lose control further. Her legs can’t support her anymore. They are too weak by now. She is just hanging off the armrest, while you fuck her from behind.

“Don’t put yourself down like that. You’re beautiful, Eunha. I’m in love with your body.”

You hear her gasp and moan at your words. Eunha’s body is all warm and light. Her pussy is taking your cock so well, her walls stretching around it to take in as much as possible.

“Thank you, oppa. I really want to be a good girl for you.”

“Then ride me.”

You peel her off the armrest and lift her up. She’s lighter than you expected. As you move her around to sit on your lap, her foot hits a bottle on the coffee table in front of you. She knocks it over and it falls to the floor.

“I’m sorry, oppa.”

Eunha whines, but her pussy tingles as she looks down to see your cock lying against it.

“I changed my mind. You really are a bad girl. A slut.”

Eunah whimpers as you lift her and ease yourself inside her once more.

“I-I’m not a slut. You said-”

“I lied. You’re nothing but a set of holes.”

A moan leaves her lips as she glides along your length.

“Oppa…”

Her disappointed sigh makes you lift her up and drop her again.

“Shut it.”

You wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her close.

“I wish you were Wonyoung. She is way prettier than you. And tighter.”

Eunha whines as you make her ride your cock. You lift her up far enough, so her feet are planted on your thighs, while her pussy moves up and down on your cock.

“But I’m doing my best. Isn’t my pussy tight enough for you?”

“You mean this pathetic little cunt?”

You give her clit a light slap.

Eunha gasps and moans. Her body shakes. You feel bad for a moment. Was that too much? Did you hurt her?

“I’m sorry, oppa. You’re right. Wonyoungs pussy is better than mine.”

Her sobs tell you that it did hurt. At least a little. You kiss her neck, wanting to ease the pain.

“But please use me, while she isn’t here. I’ll do my best for you.”

“I don’t know if that’s gonna be enough, slut.”

Throughout the next couple of hours, Eunha proves what a good slut she can be time and time again. By now, the two of you made it to her room. You don’t remember how many times you’ve already filled her pussy up, but Eunha seems as hungry for your cum as before. Now she is riding you again. You lie flat on her bed, while she keeps bouncing on your cock. Her clothes are all gone by now. Her naked body captivates you, your eyes currently focused on her tits. You reach up to them. You play with them, squeeze them, pinch her nipples. It all makes Eunha ride you faster.

“Am I a good slut for you, oppa?”

You were able to taste the alcohol on her lips during your kiss at her front door. But now it seems to be completely gone as she leans down to give you another kiss.

“Yes, you are. Such a tight, good little slut.”

Her proud smile turns into an O as your tip grazes her deepest spot. Her tight pussy squeezes you hard. Her hands on your chest  make her nails dig into your skin.

“Oppa…!”

Her cry rings in your ears as Eunha almost collapses on top of you. But you hold her in place. Her limb body too weak to move. You start to thrust into her from underneath. A couple of weak moans leave her lips. You’re close as well. You can feel it. Her small orgasm has pushed you towards the edge. Her walls still give you irregular squeezes. Her cute face wordlessly begs you for another load.

You tighten your grip on her hips. A couple of more ups and downs, until you finally hold her in place. Eunha’s ass is pressed against your lap as you shoot your cum deep inside of her. Your classmate moans, feeling your seed invade her pussy.

“Oppa…”

You let go of her waist and she sinks onto your chest.The two of you stay in place after a long night of partying and sex. You feel her chest heave and her face on your chest. You listen to Eunha’s breaths. They become slower and slower. And eventually, she falls asleep.

You wake up alone. It’s a slow process. But eventually you are able to realize where you are. Still at Eunha’s. You hear her rummaging around downstairs. After a couple of minutes, you finally reach the foot of the stairs. You’re worn out and still tired. But since today is a holiday, you don’t have to go to school.

It seems like Eunha has already cleaned up most of the party from yesterday. You spot her standing in the kitchen. She is wearing nothing but a black bra and matching panties. You can already feel how the sight of her makes you hard again. Why are you so horny lately?

“Hello, there.”

Eunha gives you a bright smile. Walking up to her, you watch what she is doing. Breakfast.

"Morning."

You walk up behind her and wrap your arms around her waist.

“Is that oatmeal?”

Eunha definitely caught your lack of excitement.

“It is. But only for me. Your breakfast is over there.”

She points at the bag of cereal on the edge of the counter. A bowl and milk next to it.

“Great.”

You start to make your own breakfast.

“Is this Wonyoung’s?”

You catch her hesitating, before she nods.

“It is.”

“Hey,...”

You reach out for her arm.

“Sorry about last night. I got carried away a little.”

Eunah smiles at you.

“It’s fine. It was kinda…hot.”

You smile back at her and pour the milk into the bowl with the cereal.

“But just to make things clear: This was just pure sex. Nothing more.”

You look at her and nod. 

“No problem."

You walk up behind her again. You just can’t help it. She just looks so good when she wears only underwear. Eunha bites her lip when she feels your cock press against her cheeks.

“But I hope we can have some more fun now?”

“I’d love to.”

Eunha leans back and captures your lips with hers. You let your hands wander over her chest, giving her tits a couple of squeezes.

“But I’m sure my mom is coming home soon. We will have to be quick.”

“Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”

Eunha chuckles as she feels you pulling her panties off her hips. Your boxers lie on the floor a second later.

“Oh, yes.”

Eunha sighs, her hands pressed flat against the surface of the counter in front of her as you push inside. Her pussy feels familiar to you by now. Warm and tight. Just wet enough for you to fuck her properly after a couple of slow thrusts.

“We definitely need to do this again sometime.”

She sighs dreamily, eyes only half open as she feels you slowly pushing in and out of her. The two of you are still sleepy, so you don’t go too hard. Another moan leaves Eunha’s lips as you push a little deeper. Her head falls back. You kiss her upper back, her shoulders, her neck. Her skin feels smooth under your lips. You close your eyes as the two of you get lost in the pleasure that both your bodies provide for one another.

Suddenly, the two of you freeze.

“Was that a car?”

“Shit, shit, shit! My mom!”

You can see the fear in Eunha’s eyes. It was already dangerous enough to throw a party at her house, without permission. But if her mother catches her while she gets plowed in her kitchen…

[neiptune]

this town is fake but you're the real thing

cw: 11k wc, female reader, social media relationship, suna downloads an app that randomly matches anonymous users with each other because osamu thinks it'll help him open up more, strangers to lovers, romance, pining, so much texting, suna is as emotionally constipated as it gets

Against all expectations, it’s Osamu who managed to get under his skin.

An innocent night out to celebrate the new Onigiri Miya branch in Shizuoka, a few beers shared on a bench by the port, what started as innocent conversation about each other’s dating life soon turning into a painfully precise evaluation of why he can’t seem to find someone worth keeping around.

“You don’t really open up to them”, his friend shrugged.

“I open up to them plenty. I’ve been with Yuki for three months”, Suna refuted such harsh remark with a scowl.

“Yeah”, Samu mused, “have you ever shared anything about your friends and family? What’s the most vulnerable thought or feeling you discussed?”.

Rintaro took a moment to reflect, begrudging silence weighing more each second spent quiet.

“She met Motoya”.

Osamu rolled his eyes, “Shit, you’re right— can’t believe ya didn’t propose. Meeting Komori’s the real deal”.

“You know, if I wanted to hang out with the twin who’d be a pain in my ass, I would’ve called your brother”.

With a snort and a handsome grin, Osamu lightly bumped his shoulder against Suna’s. “Ya love us”, then his gaze softened as he took a swig from the bottle, “I’m just sayin’. Maybe a relationship is not what you need right now”.

“Then what do I need?”, despite a fiery remonstrance, Rintaro found himself leaning onto Osamu’s judgement. He’d always been very good at reading people, much like his brother, but Samu’s approach was always balanced and, most importantly, sincere. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was something he’s missing about himself, something that shined bright for his best friend to catch instead.

“A connection, dumbass”, Osamu lightly pat his shoulder, “it doesn’t have to be romantic. It definitely doesn’t have to be sexual. You need to find someone you can talk to”.

“I talk—”

“Someone who isn’t us. Not me, not ‘Tsumu”, he ignored Rintaro’s indignant scoff, “not Shinsuke, not Aran. You need to get out of your comfort zone with someone new. A stranger!”.

“A stranger? You want me to stop someone on the street and casually ask them to listen to whatever trauma is tied to my fear of flying?”.

“Start small”, Osamu’s eyes glinted with the excitement that a good idea usually brings, “try that app Bokuto was trying so hard to get Sakusa to download. Matchpal, was it?”.

“Sounds like a great way to have a fifty year old creep flash me with a dick pic. No, thank you”.

“I’d think about it. Ya know, we’re not getting any younger. Like ‘Tsumu said, you—”

“I should hurry up before I grow old with only my emotional unavailability to keep me company, I remember”, Rintaro finished his beer with a grimace. Osamu chuckled, eventually dropped the topic, but the suggestion remained unpleasantly hanging over his head both like a succulent fruit and a risky presage.

So now he’s slumped in the living room of the spacious apartment the EJP provides, a quiet Friday evening spent cooking some stew for dinner and facetiming his family. The tv is on as a distraction and an easy way out should things get uncomfortable. Surely Dwight will keep him grounded.

Suna’s already downloaded the app but it takes one episode and a half to muster the courage to actually tap on it. 

The interface is pretty easy to navigate. It seems he’s supposed to create a minimalist profile first and then he’d be free to start a new, random chat. Users can opt out anytime or, if they wish to keep a specific person as their anonymous match, add them as a friend and pin the conversation within their personal directory. Nothing too complicated.

Suna’s patience wears thin easily and after a few attempts at picking unavailable usernames, he settles for crysnoopy. Finally, original enough at last.

Since not revealing one’s identity seems to be the point of the entire thing, he can’t upload a profile picture and instead has to select one random avatar from the default library. He picks a cartoon frog with big eyes and no mouth on a light green background.

There he is, an anonymous online presence on a stupid app. His profile only contains a nickname, he/him pronouns, age and a cute icon. No interests listed, no boundaries, not a single space where he could leave a polite note— please don’t send unsolicited dick pics. Not that he ever plans on requesting one.

Suna starts a few new chats, faceless identities either ending the conversation right away upon his dry and unoriginal hey or being as odd as one would imagine strangers in an anonymous community could be.

Lavenderhaze

-> Hi.

Lavenderhaze

-> How are you?

He sinks deeper into the nice couch pillows Atsumu forced him to get.

crysnoopy

-> hey. all good, wbu?

Lavenderhaze

-> Good, bored.

Lavenderhaze

-> Should we exchange nudes or something?

Rintaro sighs. Hesitation is laced into the delay of his thumb but eventually he taps the skip option, Osamu’s ominous words still ringing loud and clear in his head. It’s not what he downloaded the dumb app for, it’s not what he needs right now. Fuck, maybe he really should’ve called Atsumu instead.

A new chat opens after a short loading time and his nose wrinkles when he realizes that he’ll probably have to send the first message this time. The username staring back at him is original enough to make Suna take a few seconds to think of something equally entertaining to say. The whole thing is never going to work if he doesn’t take it seriously and actually puts some effort in it, right?

He looks up from his phone for a second. Then, a loud ping makes him jump.

Unfinishedusernam

-> When you shower, do you actively wash your legs or just let soapy water rinse down on them?

Rintaro almost huffs out a laugh. Original username and approach? A good enough start to ignite the hope of finally be talking to someone sane.

crysnoopy

-> I don’t shower.

A beat passes, then the small animation of a hand idly scribbling with a pencil indicates that you’re typing something back.

Unfinishedusernam

-> That’s hot.

-> Why the username?

Suna’s lips twitch, not a smile but almost. He wants to type an equally sarcastic reply, brush the question off and maybe ask something more interesting instead. But then he remembers what he’s doing and forces an honest reply out of his fingers.

crysnoopy

-> my little sister used to scream like an eagle when she cried, the one thing that always shut her up was a snoopy plush I won at the arcade.

Suna barely registers that his leg starts bouncing lightly as he watches the little hand appear on the screen once more.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I’m glad it’s something cute :)

-> Lowkey thought you were an incel

This time he really does snort out half a laugh.

crysnoopy

-> if I was I would’ve asked why your username is edging me.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fair. So… you do shower, right?

crysnoopy

-> I promise I do.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Damn, my incel detector has truly failed me.

-> You seem suspiciously normal btw, I feel like we could have a conversation that doesn't involve dicks

Suna’s hand blindly reaches for the remote to lower the volume of the show he currently doesn’t seem to need as additional emotional support.

crysnoopy

-> likewise. wanna make it official?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Jeez, at least buy me dinner first

Rintaro’s beat to it, before he can even click on the option there’s already a colorful notification popping up on his screen, informing that he has a new friend request.

He accepts it.

It took some convincing for Samu to agree but, eventually, the spot on the pull-out couch became his. Between Hyogo and Shizuoka, with imminent plans of further expanding in Tokyo, he’s always travelling to make sure the shops are keeping their top quality standard high. The Shizuoka branch is still too recent for him to retreat back to his hometown for good, so he’s there most of the time. Suna had to call him an idiot a million times before Osamu accepted his hospitality, never one to ask for anything, always first in line to help others instead. Suna thinks he still didn’t call him an idiot enough times.

They’re both gone most of the day anyway, between the restaurant and training. The season is about to start and the trip to Osaka feels more imminent than ever, Suna knows he has to be at the top of his game to perform exactly how he’s expected to. Which means, no distractions. He does a good job at avoiding those, dating apps left unopened and the way home now shorter than usual, to circumvent his favorite bakery. Those blueberry muffins will have to wait. Samu’s healthier alternative with gram oats and bananas is one hell of a substitute anyway.

Suna loves his friend, he really does. The house feels less empty when he’s around and there’s always a homemade meal tucked somewhere in the fridge. They share breakfast when they get up at the same time and night conversations at the kitchen table if Rintaro manages to stay awake late enough to wait for Osamu to be back.

But sometimes, being alone is easier. No explanations owed for the one distraction he seems unable to give up, no curious raise of the eyebrows he’d have to confront when the familiar ping from his phone prompts an immediate reaction the wrong twin would tease him endlessly for.

He’s always been a dry texter or so his friends, teammates and relatives have always told him. Suna didn’t ever think he was supposed to make an effort to become better at written communication, or communication in general. But now, there’s you. A faceless, perhaps not entirely sane someone who makes him check his notifications way too often, insides spasming when the message doesn’t come from one of his groupchats and the Matchpal icon flashes across the screen instead.

Suna likes talking to you, so much that he often finds himself being the one to text first. It’s okay if you’ll take hours to get back to him sometimes, he knows for certain that the message is eventually going to light up his screen and that’s enough to make him smile. Sometimes you text first, at either ungodly hours in the middle of the night or during the day, if you’re bored at work. He doesn’t know what your job is, you don’t know precisely what Suna does either because, again, anonymity. The only detail he’s familiar with is that you’re often around “wearing but rewarding humans”, as you’d once put it. The one thing you know about him is that he’s an athlete, something you had briefly teased him for.

When he’s not talking to you, when parts or even the entirety of days that used to belong to him and his routine alone are devoid of your messages, Suna finds himself thinking. Or rather, imagining. There’s a lot he doesn’t know and he refuses to overwhelm you with questions, therefore his mind desperately tries to fill in the gaps to no avail. Are you spending the evening reading a book, watching a tv show? Did you cook dinner or order takeout? How happy are you that it’s been raining for three days straight on a scale of ‘I can only function if it’s sunny and bright’ to ‘leave me in a storm and watch me flourish’ ?

Most times, Suna simply plugs the charging cable into is phone, switches off the bedside light and hopes to wake up to one of your texts. They seem to be making an increasingly dangerous difference between a good day and a bad one. He’s not entirely sure it’s ideal.

Unfinishedusernam

-> The humans are testing me today. Whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re having fun!

-> Ah, look what my mom baked yesterday. Told her I have a friend who’d love these :)

-> [IMG_65209]

Rintaro, elbows resting on his knees and towel haphazardly thrown around the neck, smiles at the screen. God, he hasn’t had a blueberry muffin in over a month, but what he’s really focusing on is that you’ve mentioned him. To your mom. There’s a low, static buzz in his ears now, punctuated by the thumps of his heart growing louder. It makes you feel more real, it also makes something simmer in his stomach.

crysnoopy

-> I’m at training.

-> They look really good. Send me one immediately. How was family dinner?

He’s enabled auto-capitalization for the first time in his life, for god’s sake. The Inarizaki groupchat was so disturbed Atsumu decided to apply the same additional authenticator method used by his online banking and forced Suna to reply to a secret question. One only the real Suna would know the answer to.

He successfully demonstrated the needed personal knowledge concerning the color of Aran’s lucky underwear in high school and thus confirmed his identity.

Unfinishedusernam

-> It was nice! I love spending time with them

-> How’s training?

Rintaro finds himself wanting to give his identity shape too. It’s the first time he’s seen your hand, holding that tupperware underneath the dim light of your mom’s kitchen. He wants to feel more real for you, too.

He snaps a picture of his hand holding a half-empty water bottle, careful to hide his shoes. Not that you’d be able to immediately tell he plays volleyball from those, but just in case. You do get to see part of his legs though, shorts and their very recognizable colors kept out of frame.

crysnoopy

-> [IMG_65209]

-> Almost done, very tired

He watches as the little hand scribbles, then stops. It resumes the writing, then stops once more. His leg is bouncing again, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He straight up jumps when, suddenly, someone loudly falls on the empty spot next to him and the bench creaks.

“We’re on a roll today, my blocks are almost as good as yours”, Washio grins, temples shining with sweat. He briefly glances down at the phone Suna almost drops when it vibrates against his palm.

“You okay?”.

“Yes”, Rintaro clears his throat, makes a show of shoving the phone right back into his bag, “you’re in shape today. Motoya too”.

“Ready for Osaka!”, Komori fist-bumps Tatsuki right before sitting next to him with an exaggerated groan, “hey, is your friend still in town? The Miya twin. We could go out tonight, get some drinks”.

“We literally leave in three days”, Suna’s fist lightly lands on his teammate’s head.

“Mocktails”, Motoya sticks his tongue out.

“I feel like I already see your faces enough. And I’m about to see them even more”.

“Rintaro don’t be a grumpy asshole, challenge once again failed”, Tatsuki rolls his eyes, “you’re always glued to that damn phone when you’re not playin’. Let’s go out, have fun, possibly get laid?”.

Suna sighs heavily. “Fine. I wanted to visit Samu’s new shop anyway, we can have dinner and take him with us afterwards”. He should get Osamu a gift, a nice plant or a maneki-neko. He’ll stop by a few shops on the way home, he decides.

“Now you’re talking!”, Washio smacks his shoulder with way too much energy, “let’s ask Nagito too, he’s gonna love some free onigiri!”.

“Hey, we’re payin’ for those”.

“Sure we are!”.

“I’m serious, you ass—”

“That’s enough gossiping, boys. Get back to work!”, by muscle memory, their legs react to coach’s boisterous voice and all three men jump up from their seats. Suna spends the rest of the late afternoon training thinking about the text message hidden in his gym bag.

It’s way past 6PM when training ends, the last half an hour was spent studying opponent videos and then simulating different match scenarios. Suna’s brain feels fried and on any other day he’d be so ready to get a massage, eat a well-balanced dinner and melt on his couch in front of a good tv show until his eyelids would grow heavy.

Instead, he takes the long way home, legs heavy as he explores different shops in search for the perfect gift. He settles for a very beautiful, handmade, porcelain maneki-neko, left paw raised instead of the right one because Suna knows Osamu will always care about having more customers who trust his restaurant rather than having more money.

The shop owner puts the gift in an elegant box and seals the bag with a delicate ribbon, he thanks the old lady with a deep bow and despite his limbs feeling heavy with fatigue, as he breathes in the cool air of the evening, Suna is content. He thinks of the message sitting pretty in his pocket as he heads home.

Unfinishedusernam

-> You have really nice hands

He didn’t open it, not yet. It’s reassuring to have the notification sitting there, untouched and polished against his lockscreen.

It shouldn’t matter that a stranger on an app is complimenting his hands, it really shouldn’t. Then why does it, somehow? Suna is happy you find his hands nice, which feels like a recipe for disaster. As he walks past his favorite bakery, he remembers you mentioning how you enjoy grabbing croissants for breakfast at times. When he told you that he was about to leave for a retreat with his team, after asking if their destination was one among Tokyo, Osaka and Yokohama, you proceeded to list all your favorite cafes, bakeries and restaurants for each of them. Just in case he had the time and wanted to check them out. As much as he tries to keep his distance, something as trivial as mentioning the correct city possibly resulting too risky, you always seem to go out of your way to reach closer. Taking the time to prepare three separate lists of suggestions while simultaneously respecting his boundaries is an effort he deems… unexpected. It feels weird in the best way. He almost wants to tell you it’s Osaka after all, give you something real, something new to hold on to. Maybe he’ll even tell you it’s volleyball.

“Coming home from another bad date?”, the unexpected quip startles Suna as he looks up from the sidewalk to find his not so friendly neighbor directing a saccharine smile at him, trash bags in hand. Not too long ago, he would’ve asked if she needed help with those.

“At least I still go on dates”, he purposefully eyes her attire, hoodie and sweatpants. Suna knows she’s just trying to annoy him, she can see the gym bag.

“With women who are blind, deaf, mute and desperate?”, she offers a sly smile and he rolls his eyes.

“That’s not a very flattering description of yourself, now”.

She huffs out a sarcastic laugh but Suna can see right through it: the irritation and the embarrassment.

“Always a pleasure running into you, Suna”.

“Likewise”, he smirks, “careful with those bags”.

Suna says goodbye with an unbothered wave of the hand despite her giving him the finger, positively happy that for a good while the chances of running into his neighbor will be reduced to zero. Osaka can’t come fast enough.

The thing is, he was surprised she lived so close when they first started chatting on a regular dating app. When Suna confirmed they were essentially in the same neighborhood, she was the one to propose a dinner right away.

Truthfully, it had been a bad day for him, for a number of reasons. Training was terrible, he was worried sick about his little sister’s sprained ankle, his own tendinitis was giving him hell and Atsumu had decided to call him to talk his ear off for an entire hour about the surprise party they were supposed to throw for Kita’s birthday. Yet, he didn’t feel like bailing on his date, so he forced himself out of the house with the worst mood.

Dinner was terrible. Awkward, tense, her growing increasingly impatient about his lack of responsiveness, him snapping at the tiniest, dumbest inputs. The entire night ended up being such a disaster she left halfway through her creamy salmon pasta, a few banknotes tucked underneath a glass of water, enough to pay half the bill. He remembers deflating in his seat, feeling terrible for five minutes, finishing his own dinner and then leaving as if nothing happened.

Suna thought about texting, maybe even apologizing, but he just never found it in himself to actually do it. It was just a bad date, bad dates happen. He’d never seen her before, or maybe simply didn’t pay enough attention to notice her presence, so there was no way he could’ve anticipated just how fucking often he’d run into her from that day onwards. She never failed to remind him of her resentment and, frankly, that ended up igniting his.

Of course Osamu’s leftovers are on his kitchen counter, neatly wrapped in tin foil. He remembers how hungry he’d feel after training, so when he knows Suna’s going to be busy until the late afternoon, he always makes sure to cook an extra portion.

Rintaro lets the gym bag fall onto the floor, right next to the couch he drops on with a groan. He’s already showered, he simply needs to change clothes and head out once more. When he checks the latest messages, his brows furrow in confusion.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Still at training?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fuck, sorry, that was probably weird.  

Unfinishedusernam

-> I really didn’t mean to sound like a creep

Suna really, actually smiles at his screen. You’re insecure about complimenting him, which is sweet. He should’ve complimented you first.

crysnoopy

-> Just got home

-> You didn’t sound like a creep, I like your hands too :)

His heartbeat picks up in pace when the hand starts scribbling shortly after, indicating that you’re online and were probably waiting for his reply.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Ugh, see? Now you feel like you’re forced to compliment me

crysnoopy

-> No I don’t?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Liar. Here, if you’re sincere, compliment these.

-> [IMG_98279]

A laugh bubbles from his throat when he opens the picture of your feet in a pair of fuzzy fox slippers.

crysnoopy

-> They’re beautiful. I’d kill to have an identical pair

-> So you have nice hands and cool slippers, good to know.

Unfinishedusernam

-> You’re a flirt in your everyday life, aren’t you?

Once again, Suna hesitates. He is, clearly he is. In all likelihood, if he knew you in real life, he would be. You’re nice, intelligent, funny, someone he can easily see himself being interested in. But it’s not what he downloaded the app for, he shouldn’t wander in flirty territory, he really shouldn’t.

crysnoopy

-> Only if they own a pretty set of slippers

When has he ever been good at following judicious advice?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Knew it. Flirt.

-> Can I ask you something?

crysnoopy

-> Ask away

Unfinishedusernam

-> Why are you on this app?

He sighs. Flirty territory is easier than honesty territory. A quick glance at the clock on his kitchen wall instills a sense of urgency as he types a reply, as raw and sincere as it gets.

crysnoopy

-> I wanted to find out if I could open up to strangers more than I do with people I actually know

He really fucking hopes Osamu is proud. Let it be known that he’s trying.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Do you think you could open up to me?

Suna exhales from his nose. This is definitely not the type of conversation he wanted to have while on a rush.

crysnoopy

-> Maybe

-> I’d like that.

He waits for a few seconds, chat gone silent. Maybe you logged off, maybe you don’t know how to reply, either way Suna feels a weight lifting from his chest. It’s true, he thinks he might have a deeper conversation with you of all people. A faceless someone who sends him pictures of stray cats and nice sunsets, who makes him smile at silly jokes. He shortly wonders if you’d like to open up to him in the same way, if being vulnerable will ever be on the table. For now, he’s okay with simply letting you know.

Osaka ends up being extra motivating.

The EJP Raijin players have been training hard, religiously respecting their schedules: there’s no time for slacking off, days punctuated by a disciplined sleep routine, physical and tactical training, cool-down exercises, refuelling afternoons and evenings spent cross-training. The synergy within the team is off the charts, they have won every single practice match played so far and the excitement is palpable as the game with the Black Jackals approaches.

Their training sessions are usually shorter. Atsumu insists it’s because they’re in better shape, Suna’s almost punched him in the face over dinner.

When he’s not too exhausted, against all odds, he enjoys spending some time with old friends and acquaintances. He knows it’s going to be a difficult game, Sakusa is a pain in the ass to block and Inunaki, their libero, is very talented. But he thinks he’s ready.

As they stroll through the city when their free days or breaks coincide, Suna is sometimes hit with pangs of a sentiment not entirely foreign. Nostalgia, regret? He can never tell for certain. He misses having his friends around, being in the same place at all times, travelling less. As he thinks of Osamu currently being the only occupant of his large, painfully empty apartment, while he shares a portion of takoyaki with an ever annoyingly loud Atsumu, when he listens to Bokuto enthusiastically detail his relationship with Keiji, he thinks he’s missing out on too many things and he’s past feeling unperturbed about it.

“Shoyo says he’s very happy in Brazil, asked us to visit soon. Ya should come”, Atsumu lightly bumps Suna’s shoulder with his as they walk by the river, in search of a good viewing spot. The colorful procession carrying portable shrines is quickly filling up the boats to be paraded up and down the Okawa river. While it’s still early for fireworks, oh and bunraku performances are about to begin on different stage boats, and the air is filled with fragrances coming from the endless rows of festival food stalls. What an unexpected fortune, to be in town for the Tenjin Matsuri.

“Not gonna crash on your friend’s couch”, Suna’s peremptory tone makes Atsumu roll his eyes.

“Why are you being so pissy today? What’s up, scared you’re gonna lose?”.

Rintaro searches for something in his friend’s annoyingly familiar, limpid gaze as Bokuto snickers next to him. He finds his own affection, honed by years of joint quarrels, reflected in it.

“Rin?”, Atsumu’s worried now, head slightly tilted to the side. Suna offers a tiny smile.

“Do you ever miss Hyogo?”.

“No”, the answer comes quick, “I miss my family, I miss my friends. Yer ugly face especially. Places are just places”, he shrugs and Suna feels his shoulders relax.

“We’re lucky, we still get to catch up”, Bokuto smiles, “it’s okay to feel sad sometimes though”.

“I’m not sad”, Suna grimaces, “t’was just a question. Shut up”.

“Aw, don’t be shy! Keiji always says owning how we really feel is important”, Bokuto offers him one of his dangos and he begrudgingly takes it.

“I feel like… you should shut up”, he gruffs out. Atsumu snickers at that and Bokuto pouts. Suna doesn’t pay attention to any of them, too preoccupied with taking a decent picture of the boats. He wonders if he’ll be able to make the fireworks look as pretty as they’re in real life, to show them to you.

He doesn’t care that you’ll know where he is, it isn’t but a small part of himself he wishes to unravel for you. It’s what you two have been doing, no? Occasionally sending each other messages that go beyond jokes and memes. You now know he has twins as friends, just how much he loves his little sister, his favorite dish. Suna knows you live close to your family and visit them as often as possible, that you always bring a can of tuna in your bag should you come across stray cats on the way to work. He knows you’re scared of the dark and can’t look at blood without feeling dizzy. You’re trusting, extremely indecisive, a fierce procrastinator, you spend too much time on tiktok and are scared to death you’re not going to be able to keep those who are important to you in your life, forever. Suna gets it, really.

He hasn’t been able to say much, you opened up to him as if it was nothing and he still can’t bring himself to share much more than comforting words and feeble details. Who cares if he likes yakisoba? He hates how detached he feels from everyone else. He feels lonely. He wishes he still lived in the same town as his friends. Sometimes he goes to sleep with the tv left on, to simulate someone else’s presence in a cold, empty apartment. He misses his family, like, all the time. The thought of getting on a plane paralizes him. He doesn’t think he’s good enough at volleyball, his team may lose and it would be his fault. He doesn’t think he’s good enough.

“Taking cute pics for your mystery girl?”, Atsumu grins widely. Suna keeps a composed facade, calmly snaps a few additional shots, but internally he’s screaming. It’s his fault for expecting a twin to keep a secret, really.

“How d’you know they’re not for my instagram?”.

“You haven’t updated your feed in a year”, Bokuto points at his phone screen, sunarin profile open to prove a point. Rintaro almost snatches it from his hand to throw it into the river below.

“She’s not my girl”, he grumbles instead, “just a random person I talk to. It was Osamu’s idea”.

“It was a good idea. I’ve been trying to get Kiyoomi on that app too, you’re both so closed off”.

On any other occasion, Suna would’ve denied that and retorted with an abrasive remark. Not this time, though.

“Yeah. Trying to improve there”, he huffs, to which Atsumu’s ready-to-take-the-piss expression softens.

“Right. So how is she? Can’t remember the last time you texted with a stranger for more than a week before they were either ghosted or became your girlfriend”.

“She’s okay. I don’t know much”.

“Everyone on Matchpal is anonymous”, Kotaro fills in Atsumu’s knowledge gaps.

“She has to be more than okay if you’ve been talking for over a month”, the older Miya insists, prodding mercilessly at Suna’s discretion.

“She’s funny”, he finally concedes, “and smart. Makes opening up to a stranger look too easy”.

“Smart? Okay, ya definitely wouldn’t be her type then”, part of the tightness in Suna’s chest dissipates as his fist collides with Atsumu’s arm.

“I think that’s the point, though. You don’t know each other and will never meet, so you can admit things you wouldn’t normally mention. Be vulnerable”, Bokuto finishes his dangos and crumples up the small disposable cardboard box they came with.

“Yes but at this point she doesn’t really feel like a stranger anymore”, Suna pauses after saying that out loud, surprised by his own words. When has he stopped considering you a faceless someone on a random app, exactly? He realizes he’s given you a voice in his head. A smile he imagines reacting to his lame jokes, when he deflects tentative personal questions. He’s given you a routine, shared most of his. You don’t feel like a stranger anymore but you’re not exactly a friend. What are you, then?

“Uh-oh”, it takes a moment to realize that the teasing sound comes from Bokuto. Crap.

“And we could meet”, Suna pushes, “Shizuoka is not that big”.

“She’s from Shizuoka? Christ”, Atsumu lets out a low whistle, “does she know you live in the same city?”.

“She never asked”, if the justification sounds odd, his friends are kind enough not to point it out. He doubts Osamu would be as lenient. Truth is, he didn’t ask either: after some time, you had just randomly disclosed the information, probably because you perceived him as a very discrete person. Which, for the record, he is.

“I’m going to ask you this question just once. Do ya like this girl?”.

“No”, obviously not, “I don’t even know her”.

“Oh? But you just said she doesn’t feel like a stranger?”, Bokuto’s eyebrows shoot up.

Suna sighs. His limbs feel heavy but it’s a different feeling than the one he gets after practice, more draining.

“He’ll figure it out”, the weight of Atsumu’s hand on his shoulder feels weirdly comforting.

I don’t know what she feels like, Suna wants to say. He settles for saying nothing, as the hold on his shoulder grows tighter for a split second.

Coach is going to have an earful ready for Motoya if he doesn’t show up on time at practice, in the morning. He’s still out celebrating-drinking with other teammates, their first Tenjin Matsuri an excuse good enough to be late. Suna doesn’t mind having the hotel room to himself for the evening, a welcome novelty: he just hopes he won’t have to drag his friend out of bed the following day.

His hair is still wet, the bed way too comfortable to consider getting dressed. You, a distraction that fills his stomach with fuzzy warmth, something that for a second makes him forget why his phone has been exploding with notifications.

It’s that stupid instagram post he decided to share after a year of semi hiatus, online presence proven only by the occasional story he’d upload. Suna feels particularly caught in his feelings today, so why not post the selfie Atsumu took by the river? His comment is pinned at the top of the section, with over 8k likes.

miyatsumu brothers ❤️

Bokuto left a heart too, Samu and Kita some of their usual simple but genuine comments. Love you guys. Miss you :). It’s easy for them, a skill he wants to master as well. It’s not enough for the people in his life to simply know that he loves them, Suna wants tell them more.

He takes a look at other comments, smiling faces with heart-eyes emojis and inappropriate compliments from strangers that make him laugh. He shortly wonders what your instagram looks like. Filled with pictures of you with your friends and family, no doubt. A feed that showcases your favorite food and places, creative outfits, witty captions and sometimes no captions at all. It’d fit you.

His phone pings again.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Osaka!!!!

-> Fuck I’m so jealous, I never got to see the festival :( did you have fun?

crysnoopy

-> I did. Some old friends are in town too, we’re playing against each other soon

Unfinishedusernam

-> Your friends are also athletes???

-> Now I feel bad, this is literally how I’m spending the evening

-> [IMG_62371]

Suna smiles upon opening the picture. You’re sitting on your couch and the hand not holding the phone is doing a V sign, a lidded tray balanced on your legs, tv channel set on a show he’s never been interested in. The lights are dim, the room doesn’t seem too big but it feels so cozy. The way a home should feel. He sees a coffee table and some lit candles by the tv unit.

crysnoopy

-> Looks like a perfect evening to me

Unfinishedusernam

-> I only walked 200 steps today.

crysnoopy

-> I’m like trying really hard to find something nice to say

-> Every morning is an opportunity to create a masterpiece called life?

-> Stop surviving, start thriving?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fuck you for making me laugh, I almost dropped my dinner

He laughs as well, out loud, then double taps your message to like it so that you know he’s still acknowledging it, despite something more urgent suddenly prompting the quick movement of his fingers.

crysnoopy

-> Hey, remember when we talked about how you’re really scared of losing the people you love?

Suna can almost sense your surprise, it’s evident in the way the little scribbling hand appears and disappears repeatedly as you probably try to think of something appropriate to say.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Yeah?

crysnoopy

-> I feel that too

-> Most days I wake up thinking I’m a bad person

Another pause. This must be the most exposed he’s ever felt and Suna is grateful your replies are not as fast as they usually are because his hands are suddenly cold, palms clammy and disgusting.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Why do you think that?

crysnoopy

-> I don’t do enough to show how I feel and one day that could make them leave

-> Maybe stability isn’t for me and that scares me

-> I get bored easily, I don't want to commit. What if what’s regular, easy for everyone else will never be my thing?

Well, that’s a whole lot of fucking baggage he just dropped on you. His first instinct is to apologize, to ask you to just forget it, deflect with some joke about having had too much to drink and being in his feels. But he doesn’t do that. Why? What makes him want to trust you with all that? Perhaps it’s just curiosity, wanting to find out what a complete stranger would think of the thoughts that eat him alive at night. Maybe he’s hoping for some miraculous solution offered on a silver plate. Or he just wants to check if he’s able to even do the whole being vulnerable thing in the first place.

Your response comes after a couple minutes and Suna doesn’t remember the last time he felt so nervous.

Unfinishedusernam

-> How did you meet your current friends?

He furrows his brows.

crysnoopy

-> Most of them I met in school

Unfinishedusernam

-> So they made the conscious decision of being your friends every single day, all this time

-> Btw getting bored easily is okay. A bad person wouldn’t be asking those questions about himself :)

-> You can always work on what you want to improve

crysnoopy

-> You make it sound too easy

Unfinishedusernam

-> Sometimes it really is tho

-> You’re not too late, you know. Tell your friends that you love them, tell your family that you miss them

Unfinishedusernam

-> It doesn’t have to be easy right away

-> You get to make your own regular. Create your new normal

Suna exhales, reads your messages over and over again. It’s oddly comforting realizing that he is, in fact, not too late yet. Why does he always think that he is?

His phone pings again.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I think you’ll find a person you’ll want to commit to

-> That’s what I tell myself after all my failed dates anyway lol

-> Remember, be the change that you wish to see on tinder

Suna snorts, heart lighter in the hotel room he sits alone in. He could get drunk on the relief suddenly filling his chest, it feels like the touch of a cool hand over a feverish forehead.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Still there?

crysnoopy

-> I’m here

How could he not be?

crysnoopy

-> Thank you

Unfinishedusernam

-> How’s opening up to a stranger feel? :)

Good, if the stranger is you. Apparently.

crysnoopy

-> Mysteriously comforting

-> How are you failing those dates? Do I have to beat anyone up?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Nah

-> It just seems the guys I’m into are never into me

crysnoopy

-> That sucks for them

It really, truly, actually does. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt as comfortable sharing something so personal over text, it’s all so natural Suna is convinced he’d be able to do that in person as well. How would it feel to meet you? Would the magic wear out, is this so easy only because an anonymous profile on a silly app?

Sure, Suna doesn’t know your name or what you look like, but that doesn’t make you a stranger. He knows you enough for the words to almost spill out of his hands, words that press threateningly against the pads of his fingers.

He’d be into you. He’d date you. That’s what he wants to say: there’s no need to know how you look or the name printed on some documents, he knows enough. It’s a weird feeling that scares him and clouds his mind for a brief moment, as he waits for your reply.

Unfinishedusernam

-> That’s sweet of you to say!

-> Last time I went out with a guy I really liked it was a disaster

-> He also lived pretty close to me, thank god he moved now

crysnoopy

-> Well, joke’s on him. He’s missing out big time

Unfinishedusernam

-> Stop being cute, I’ll fall for you

Suna takes a sharp breath. Reading the words does something funny to his stomach, something Atsumu would tease him for.

Shit, Atsumu. The game is so close. When’s the last time volleyball disappeared from his brain like that, with the snap of invisible fingers? Can he afford being this distracted?

Unfinishedusernam

-> This dinner fucking slaps btw

-> They opened a new place in my city, add that to the list of spots you have to visit if you swing by shizuoka

-> It’s called onigiri miya

Suna chokes on his own spit so badly he thinks he’s gonna die as he abruptly sits up, coughing fit that brings tears to his eyes. He stares at his screen in disbelief, sudden reminder of how tangible and close you actually are burning like a slap in the face.

Samu picks up after a few rings, it’s late enough for him to be either still in the shop or getting out of the shower.

“Hey, what’s up? Saw your pic with that scrub—”

“Did a girl come to the shop today?”, the question is uttered with so much urgency the line goes silent for a few seconds.

“My day was great, thanks for asking! I’m okay, eating dinner on your couch right now”, the fake singsong tone makes him roll his eyes.

“I’m sorry, this is an emergency. She just told me she was at your shop today”.

“Really? Did she like it?”.

“Osamu”.

He chuckles lightly.

“Okay. First, please tell me why we care so much that she came to the shop today?”.

Suna loves his friend, he really does. Sometimes he wishes he was close enough to be punched in the face. “Stop being a dick”.

“Fine. A girl did come to the shop today”, Suna’s heart almost stops, “… along with a million others”, he deflates against the pillow once again, defeated. He knows it’s something he really shouldn’t do but he still sends the picture to Osamu, slightly cropped to leave out everything that’s not useful to the investigation. The two things his friend gets to see are your dinner and a V sign.

There’s a pause, one Rintaro swears is filled by the loud pounding of his restless heart.

“I know who she is”, Osamu speaks quietly, in a tone that leaves no room for sarcasm.

“What?”, Suna’s voice comes out thin, incredulous.

“I remember her. Came in as I was about to close the shop, bowed and begged for whatever leftovers I might’ve had. She looked like she had a horrible day, so I just…”.

“Put something together for her”, as you always do.

“Yeah! I usually don’t use those trays but I didn’t have any of the regular ones left”.

“Well, how is she?”, Suna cringes at the impatience vibrating in his voice, it makes him sound desperate. Osamu hums, it’s a voluntarily prolonged sound that makes him scoff.

“She’s really sweet. Apologized a million times, left a generous tip. I think you’d like her”.

“Yeah?”.

“Yeah, Rin”, he’s smiling, “I also think you should tell her”.

“Tell her what?”.

“That you want to meet her, dumbass”.

Suna runs a hand through his now dried hair, lightly ruffles it. This feels dangerously real now, something he could grasp if he so much as decided to hold out a hand. You’re so close. There’s something else simmering underneath the fear and Rintaro recognizes it easily. It’s an almost forgotten eagerness that he’s not entirely stranger to.

“Samu”.

“Hmm?”, he’s smiling again. The asshole.

“I think I like her”.

“No shit”, Osamu full on laughs now, jovial and relieved. Despite the annoyance, Suna feels the exact same way.

Shizuoka seemed different upon his return, an endless pool of possibilities where something would inevitably remind Suna of you. He’d made peace with the fact that he had a crush on someone he’s never met and with that truth also came an endless list of associations his brain couldn’t help but make.

Texting you first, whenever he wanted, became natural. What’s more, it was almost as if you were encouraged by his newly loosened state, that one evening in Osaka opening the floodgates of something else, something different. You trusted him with your most intimate thoughts and so did he. There was no more wondering if you were bothering each other or texting at an unconvenient time. You’d once told him you felt self-conscious about that specifically.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Sometimes I feel like I’m too much

-> Would you tell me if I was too much?

crysnoopy

-> What do you mean?

Unfinishedusernam

-> You know, if I was pestering you

crysnoopy

-> You’re not too much

-> And even if you were, I could handle you :)

You were the happiest when he had told you they’d won the game in Osaka. Heck, you baked blueberry muffins (“to celebrate!”) and asked him to go get himself one so you could pretend he was there to eat yours. And Suna did: he got up from his bed, grabbed a jacket, put on some running shoes and made his way to his favorite bakery with a dopey smile on his face. He then suggested a toast and, what a coincidence, you happened to have a bottle of white wine left unopened for the longest time. The occasion seemed worthy.

And so you both ate and drank and celebrated until his cheeks felt hot and your texts started lacking proper grammar. Suna remembers how it felt, slumped on his couch, lights low and mind dizzy as his eyes blinked and blinked and then blinked again while the message sat on his screen, black against white. He just stared at it, not entirely able to discern reality from fictitious.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I wish you were here

-> I’d probly just kiss you

Suna remembers staring at his screen as a wild joy exploded in his heart and took over his entire chest, scorching and vibrant like festival fireworks. He stared at it for so long he still doesn’t quite recall if he wrote the reply or if the reply wrote itself, because the only other solid memory in relation to that moment is drifting off with an empty bottle of wine precariously balanced on his lap.

He woke up the next morning with a sour taste in his mouth, a throbbing headache and sore neck. His phone had fallen to the floor and when he picked it up, it was with a heavy heart that he noticed you hadn’t replied.

crysnoopy

-> I want nothing more

-> I’m from shizuoka too. let’s make it happen?

It wasn’t unusual for one of you to leave the other on read and it wasn’t like Suna to hyperfixate on not receiving a reply but this time, for some reason, it felt different.

As he got up with a groan and shuffled to his bathroom to take a shower, a strange feeling of dread strangled his body from the inside, his mind running a million miles a minute. Were you disgusted? Mad, that he had kept his location a secret? That would’ve been unfair, though, and you had always proved to respect his boundaries. Maybe it was all a joke, then. You thought of all that flirting as nothing short of a game, something stupid to pass the time with a stranger online. Something that wasn’t real. Worse, something you’d never want to be real, especially if given the chance to make that happen. Fuck.

Suna succeeded in keeping himself fairly busy for a few hours that day: he cleaned his whole apartment, did some meal prep, called his mom, called his sister, even called Atsumu. Your silence kept throbbing at the edges of each minute, it became so unbearable he ended up sending you a picture of an aspirin package with a funny caption, to test the waters.

You never replied. Not that day, not the following day, a week later your chat is still painfully empty. Or rather, filled with all the messages he’s sent before giving up.

crysnoopy

-> Killer headache town, population: me

crysnoopy

-> How are you feeling?

crysnoopy

-> Hey, everything ok?

crysnoopy

-> I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable.

-> I was really tipsy, I didn’t mean it

crysnoopy

-> Or at least I didn’t mean to sound so pushy.

-> I’d never pressure you into doing anything, let alone meet me

crysnoopy

-> I’ll give you space if you need it, can you just please tell me that you’re okay? It’s been three days

crysnoopy

-> Okay. I’ll be here if you ever come back.

He’s so mad at you. Weren’t you the first one coming forward with all that stuff about wanting to kiss him? Why would you disappear? He’s apologized, what else can he do? Was it all seriously worth so little to you?

Suna feels as if the days are longer now, training unbearable. Instead of keeping his mind occupied, all it does is remind him of how badly his blocks suck lately. He doesn’t pick up when Osamu calls, he’d read everything there’s to read in his seemingly inexpressive tone. He’s mad at himself, for not noticing how stupidly attached he’d become. Is it normal to miss you so badly? He doesn’t remember the last time he missed someone just as much. The world is cruel in relentlessly reminding him of you: an advert you’d find funny, that movie you’d recently discussed making a comeback in cinemas, sunsets painting the sky in orange and lilacs so similar to the ones you’d send him, a pair of fuzzy fox slippers on display in a shop window on the way to the gym.

The toxic part of his brain is ruthless in reminding him that this is why he refuses to open up to new people. That this is why he never lets himself be actually vulnerable and simply plays along: it’s because he’d be left with nothing but mockery, humiliation and loneliness.

But Rintaro doesn’t want to give that part of his brain any more solidity. What he wants, is to be proud of himself. Relieved, even. He wants to feel happy for having been brave enough to take a risk, to trust, to open up. He wants to relish in the joy that the brief encounter with you, anonymous and all, gave him. So what if you never come back or talk to him again? That’s on you. He’ll miss you for a good while, will probably always wonder what you’re up to from time to time, but he’ll be okay. You gave him much more than what you’re probably aware of and truth is, he’s grateful. He just hopes you’ll always be okay too, he hopes life will treat you well. He hopes you don’t regret trusting him with your most intimate thoughts, ever.

It’s not like he doesn’t reread some of your messages, to keep himself company. The most recent ones still have the not entirely pleasant effect of twisting his insides. He’ll have to delete that folder of screenshots eventually.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I’m so glad I stumbled over you on this stupid app btw

Unfinishedusernam

-> You’re sweet, snoopy :)

Unfinishedusernam

-> Today was shit

-> Sometimes I think about how it’d be to have you here, at the end of shitty days

Unfinishedusernam

-> Stop flirting with me, it’s working

Unfinishedusernam

-> I feel so slilly

-> can you evne like someone you nevee met?

Turns out, you really can. He just never fully got around to telling you properly.

And then, one day, Suna’s blocks don’t suck anymore. In fact, they’re just as good as they’ve always been. He speaks with Osamu on the phone, a little bummed that his friend doesn’t have another trip to Shizuoka planned anytime soon: the shop is doing great, his presence is no longer required as often.

“I’ll miss you”, Rintaro still remembers the stunned silence following his words, “come back soon, shop or not”.

The younger Miya twin paused his ministrations, hands sticky with rice, and offered a surprised chuckle, “I’ll be back. Ya can also take a train every now and then, ya know?”.

“Maybe I will. Hey, next time you plan a trip to Osaka, can I come too?”.

“Hell yeah. I wouldn’t have to endure that dickhead alone”.

He talks to Kita and Aran way more these days: when he thinks of one of his friends, he simply grabs the phone and reaches out with a text, a meme or a funny reel. It seems to make them happy.

When his mom tells him that Kaori has been relentlessly asking about visiting her older brother, Suna assures her that he isn’t too busy to accomodate her for a week or for however long she wants to stay. Even if he was, he’d make it work. His mom clicks her tongue, gives her approval for a weekend only, less her daughter falls behind her homework even more. He grins when he hears Kaori scream MAKE IT TWO WEEKENDS in the distance.

Suna hasn’t seen his little sister in months and despite their relationship being exhaustingly conflictual (they are way too similar to each other and she gets a kick out of pissing him off), he loves her deeply and she trusts him just as much. Sometimes being home without him can become a lot and it’s not like she ever directly admits it but he’s pretty sure Kaori misses him, the little gremlin.

He was already 14 when she was born and little Rintaro had faced the news of a new addition to the family (a female, no less!) with infinite crankiness. He huffed and puffed and complained about having to share a room and a bathroom throughout his mom’s entire pregnancy, then a pink little bundle of dark hair and eardrum demolishing shrieks held his pointer finger in her tiny fist for the first time and he swore to guard her with his life, forever.

Suna wakes up extra early to clean the bathroom and his room, which he’s going to give to his sister, and make it girl-appropriate. He always goes on a tiny shopping spree before she visits: kitchen cabinets are now filled with her favorite snacks, there’s a colorful set of strawberry handcream, lotion and lip balm on his nightstand, a sweatsuit set neatly folded on his bed, the expensive vanilla body scrub their mom wouldn’t get her sits pretty in the shower.

He texts her before heading out for practice, demands she keeps him updated about her position. Kaori send a thumbs up and the picture of the blurred view outside the train window.

Unfortunately, as it often happens, coach announces the team is required to stay longer than he had anticipated and Suna doesn’t dare explain that he’s actually in a terrible rush because Motoya has been playing like shit and, of course, that becomes everyone’s problem.

“Get it together, man”, he hisses, way less patient than usual. Komori pouts.

“I’m trying”.

“Try harder!”, Washio snickers from the other side of the court.

It’s not until an hour later that Suna can dash through the gym doors, already forty minutes late to the appointment his sister had agreed on in the morning. When he notified her about the extra training, she didn’t falter.

-> No worries, I’ll find the house.

The train station isn’t at all far from his apartment, a mere 15-minute walk, but Kaori hasn’t visited in a few months and she’s not exactly known for her acute sense of direction. She’d get lost in her own house if it wasn’t impossible to achieve that in a small two bedroom apartment.

“Why is your damn phone going to voicemail?”, Suna grumbles to himself in the middle of the street, torn between running to the station or straight home. It’s not dark yet but the sun has set and Kaori knows very well the one thing she’s never allowed to do is turn her phone off, especially if him or their mom are not aware of where she is.

Right as he decides to head to the train station first, he hears her voice. There’s someone taller with her, which makes the hairs behind his neck stand up right away.

“Kaori!”, he damn nearly trips over his own feet as he rushes towards his sister in the opposite direction, gym bag almost falling off his shoulder while she chats with god knows who without a care in the world.

“Rin”, she stops right in her tracks, “sorry, kinda got los—”

“Why the hell is your phone turned off?”, as if to underline his point, he impatiently taps on his phone screen a few times, another call interrupted by immediately going straight to voicemail. He only now realizes how breathless he sounds.

“Battery died, I forgot my charger at home”, Kaori juts her bottom lip out. She’s the spitting image of her brother. “I was lucky to meet your friend right outside the station”, she looks up and so does he, features morphing into a horrified expression. Out of all people.

“You… what?”, Suna doesn’t know what to say. Was his neighbor even capable of smiling like that?

“It was nothing! We had fun, didn’t we?”.

Kaori nods. “We fed some stray cats on the way here. It’s so weird that you had canned fish in your bag, though”.

“I always carry some! Didn’t you see how hungry Mochi was?”.

For the following seconds, Suna is incapable of uttering another word. It becomes weird enough for his neighbor to wave a hand in front of his face, brows furrowed.

“Suna?”.

“Yeah”, he replies on autopilot, “Yes. I mean, thank you. Kaori, let’s go”, he eyes his sister’s large, pink, glittery backpack. Hanging from his neighbor’s shoulder.

“Uh, actually”, his sister coughs.

“What now?”.

“I kinda need to use the bathroom”.

“You can use it at home? It’s a ten minute walk from here, let’s get going”.

“I kinda need to use it now”.

“Kaori”, he sighs, “it’s ten minutes”.

“I live right here”, the woman from his nightmares indicates the house behind her, “wanna make a pit stop?”.

“Absolutely not”, Suna clears his throat, “she can hold it”.

“She can’t”, Kaori shrinks in herself a little, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Fine, I guess we are making a pit stop”, he mutters and his sister exhales in relief, grabs his neighbor by the sleeve and urges her to open the door, quick quick quick please.

Suna watches his sister dash upstairs with a snort as he takes her backpack. It’s heavy as a rock. The hell did she put in there?

“You’re not gonna catch fire if you come in, you know”, his neighbor fixes him with a sarcastic glare as she takes off her shoes, letting her own bag fall to the floor.

“Sorry for the trouble”, he steps in at last, with a low grumble that allows a chuckle to surprise him.

“Don’t be too hard on her. She was panicking, I offered my phone but she didn’t remember your number. I asked where she was supposed to go and when she mentioned the neighborhood, I inquired about her brother’s name. Pretty lucky, huh?”, she’s not looking at him, busy taking off her jacket as well. Suna’s gaze softens.

“Yeah, really lucky. Thank you for taking care of her”.

“I also have a younger brother, I know what it feels like”, she smiles, looking at him at last, “one time we went to a festival without our parents, he thought it’d be funny to play hide and seek without telling me. I think I aged ten years that night”.

“She also used to run away so much as a kid. It’s in our blood, I was the exact same”.

“Doesn’t surprise me for some reason”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”.

“I’m done, we can go now”, Kaori hops down the stairs, two steps at a time, then glares at her brother. Golden, foxy eyes narrowed. “You’re not being rude, are you?”.

He rolls his eyes but, before he can reply, someone beats him to it.

“He’s never rude to me. We’re friends, remember?”, Suna watches her wink with a smile so warm. Is that really the same person he runs into almost on a daily basis?

Astonished, he witnesses that little, usually quiet, reserved gremlin smile back at his neighbor. Then, remembering how important formalities are in their family, she thanks her with a deep bow. It’s only then that he notices them: fox slippers. Cute, pointed ears, bushy tales and everything.

They both jump when the steel water bottle hits the parquet flooring, Kaori dramatically clutching her chest. “Can you not be a weirdo for five seconds?”.

His neighbor (could it be…???) furrows her brows in genuine confusion. “I think volleyball finally started affecting his brain. Better take him home”.

“Yeah. Let’s go, loser”.

“Shut up, be thankful mom’s not here”, he fires back, fake annoyance to cover the fright that gnome’s actually caused. Suna’s heart is racing for an entirely different reason as he takes another furtive look at those slippers while pushing Kaori out the door, mind racing.

He is completely, absolutely unable to focus. Over dinner, he distractedly listens while his sister paints vivid pictures of boring classes, the art course their mom wants her to give a chance to, the latest fight she had with her best friend. He asks questions and fails to register the answers he gets, over and over again. It’s a relief when Kaori sprints to the bathroom, calling the shots for who gets to shower first. Suna is left rinsing the plates, with a brain that can’t think.

Would it be possible? You’re from Shizuoka. You have those exact slippers. You always feed stray cats. God, the fucking slippers. What are the chances?

He could call Osamu, ask a few questions. Instead, his sister’s voice keeps chipping away at what’s left of his sanity.

Your friend’s cool. I wish my teacher was that nice.

A teacher. Could kids be the wearing but rewarding humans you often mentioned?

He goes back to that disastrous dinner, desperately trying to recall how the conversation felt. What did they even text about prior to that evening? Was that woman as charming as you are? Fuck, he doesn’t remember a single word exchanged that evening. He just remembers being an asshole.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes”, from her comfortable spot on the couch, Kaori watches her brother march to the front door, then bend down to put on the same shoes he wore a few hours before, “lock the door, don’t burn the house down”.

“Where are you going?”, her brows are knit in confusion, never in worry.

“None of your business. Lock the door”.

“Sure, sure, bye”.

“Right now, Kaori”, something in his weirdly brisk tone makes the fourteen year old pause the show she’s watching, not without a dragged groan, and get up from underneath the blanket she had stolen from her brother’s room.

You’re so ready to go to bed early and declare the day officially concluded.

Work was tough, managing a new classroom of overexcited kids had proven to be particularly difficult. Between the increasing pressure from school administrators and the daunting task of creating engaging lesson plans for the new semester, you felt a heavy weariness threatening to swallow you whole.

As you brush your teeth, tired reflection staring back at you, he worms his way back into your thoughts once more. Saying that hearing his name and then seeing him again was unexpected would be an understatement: you were absolutely convinved (and thankful) he had moved. Where the hell did he disappear for over a month? Just to come back and show up like the annoying, irritating nuisance he is. One you can’t seem to whisk away.

Your date was one of the most disappointing nights of your life. Suna, the guy you had talked with for days, the same Suna who was so witty, intelligent and nice, was also just so blatantly uninterested. Bored. He didn’t even make the effort to ask about your day, eyes distant whenever you tried to initiate a conversation. And of course, because life hates you, you have to be reminded of that night every single day because you now see him every single day.

What’s more, you had failed the one person you’ve been able to feel interested in after that big, fat disappointment. Someone who just found himself trapped in the crossfire of your thoughts and stupid, stupid fears. Someone you were selfishly not ready to have so close. Someone wonderful who didn’t deserve your self-serving worries.

You’re already in your pjs when the doorbell rings multiple times, so insistent you almost trip down the stairs as you hurry, terrified that you’re gonna have to face an emergency with pandas printed on your pants.

“What the hell?!”, you instinctively step back as he leans forward, his entire weight resting against the doorframe.

“Sorry, I know it’s late”, Suna takes a deep breath but it’s not really needed. Prior warmup or not, he isn’t at all affected by the sprint through which he covered the distance between his house and yours. “I just had to… hey, can I come in? I’m probably gonna have a heart attack if I don’t sit down”.

You’re staring at him wide-eyed, completely startled.

“Yeah? Sure, come in! Is your sister okay? Did something happen?”, you’re quick to push the door closed as he heavily flops on your couch.

“No, no…”, Suna seems distracted for a moment, eyes scanning the room and zeroing on your tv, which is currently turned off. He stares at it for a while, then lets out a small laugh. “Actually, maybe it’s better if I stand up”.

“Suna, are you on drugs right now?”, the question is serious but his eyes, now fixed on you, don’t reveal any particular emotion besides genuine… amusement?

“I need to tell you something”.

The odd idea that he might be hiding a knife somewhere underneath that leather jacket crosses your mind for a split second.

“Sure…?”.

“When my sister was a baby, she’d cry a lot. I legit thought my ears would explode at some point”, he weighs the words carefully as he approaches you and, for some odd reason, you don’t take a step back. “She’d cry so much, all the time. And then, one day, I brought home a snoopy plush I won at the arcade. It became the one thing that would always shut her up”.

It feels like someone’s toppled a bucket of ice cold water over your head. Suna is standing so close while looking at you in a way you’ve never witnessed, a way so uncommon for him. You can’t focus on the desperation in his eyes and you’d never guess the hopefulness simmering behind a gaze that seems to be discovering you for the first time.

“It’s you”, barely a whisper, but it’s all the confirmation he needs. The relief in Suna’s exhale is intense as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in. Thank god he does, because your knees feel so wobbly.

It’s a weird sensation, being pressed against him, hanging onto his shoulders for support. He’s warm and smells so good, of bergamot and musk. Your brain can’t quite comprehend that he’s the person you’ve been talking to for the past months.

“I missed you. I’m sorry”, he confesses in the curve of your neck and the words dissolve underneath the thin fabric of your pjs, slowly sink into your skin and bones. “I’m so sorry”, he says again, carefully pulls back to look at you, eyes searching for any sign of discomfort. Mirth flashes across his features for a moment. “Hey, are you about to throw up?”.

“No, of course not!”, you take a tentative step back but he doesn’t trust your stability and keeps a gentle hold on your arms, “why are you apologizing? I disappeared. I should be the one… I should be…”, Suna’s gaze softens, one hand rising up to touch your face but then freezing mid-air, deciding against the risk of freaking you out even more.

“Please don’t cry”.

“What?”, you retort, “I’m not crying. Ew”, but when you touch your cheek, it’s shocking to find it wet. What the fuck.

“Oh, god. Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me”, a dry chuckle bubbles up from your throat, “listen, there’s no pressure on you. I’m sure this is a real disappointment so, like, we can pretend it never happened and just go on with our lives. I won’t—”

“Are you sure it’s you? The person I’m looking for is pretty clever”, he attempts a smile when you frown, familiar at last. “You think I’d leave my sister alone and race all the way here for a real disappointment?”.

“I think you just wanted to corroborate”.

Suna rolls his eyes, incredulous. “Well, I corroborated. I’m only gonna pretend it never happened if that’s what you want, because it sure as hell isn’t what I want. If you even care about that”.

You angrily wipe your tears, cheeks burning scorching hot with embarrassment. “I didn’t expect you to be so close. I freaked out. I’m freaking out right now because you’re even closer, apparently”.

“Are you disappointed?”.

You look at him, really look at him. His dishevelled hair, naturally narrowed eyes, the bridge of a perfect nose, full lips forced in a severe line. He’s searching for something in your gaze, with fierce determination. How can one person’s eyes be so penetrating? You feel naked, exposed. Vulnerable.

“No”, you reply, sincere, “no, I’m not”. If only you could feel the relief taking over his chest. “But… what now?”.

Suna feels as if he’s seeing you for the first time and, at the same time, it’s like he’s recovering something important, something precious. He’s already trusted you with some of the most important, hidden parts of himself. He hasn’t liked someone that way in such a long time and he’ll be damned if he lets this chance pass by. Again.

He’s not too late. Why does he always think he is?

You curiously watch as Suna takes his phone out and spends a few seconds tapping on it with a smile he can barely hide.

The familiar ping of a notification you haven't heard in weeks makes you stutter.

crysnoopy

-> Now we do this right.