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#and its not like i could commission someone to as much as i want to

dexaroth · 2 years

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i know its unrealistic and nonsense to feel bad bc im not as good as i could be within a hobby bc a hobby is supposed to be fun and occupy your time but i cant for the life of me not feel guilty about not drawing and not improving

like.. i have most of the resources. i often have the time. i have almost a thousand pictures in my reference folder to be used to practice and learn. i have an internet connection to be inspired and learn from those better than me and yet... i just don't feel like drawing. and i mean drawing something grand.. not just the dozens of doodles and oc refsheets i keep churning.. i want to do standalone pieces like i used to and look at them fondly and feel proud of something. but i just dont have the flame to do it for months and months on end

i mean obviously this is much more likely to happen when it has been your primary hobby for over like 7 years contrary to, say, webpage coding which i just started to learn like a year ago. what's keeping me from wanting to draw though? its so frustrating to know you Have the Potential to be a good artist and knowing How you could become more but just.. not feeling like it. and telling urself im gonna draw tomorrow and tomorrow comes and its one of those days you'd rather stare at a wall the whole afternoon and it just keeps going and going and you stay stumped

#yes i have the potential to do so much better than what i can show you right now dude trust me #not only for personal reasons but i also want to start looking into doing commissions for real and like.#thats insane #idk what to draw > set up comms so someone gives me smn to draw > they dont know what i can draw > idk what to draw > repeat #im also like the guy that loves giving gift art but ive had so many cases where i drew for a rando and they just. treated it like a product #sold along the character like cool! so glad i spent my time into a drawing for you to throw it into your garage sale like everything else!#and that looming fucking awful sense of 'originality' like boohoo someone drew this already waaaa i dont believe in originality why do i >#> care so much. Why. its like knowing there isnt a monster under ur bed and still suffocating yourself inside the bedsheets. nonsense...#this is so tiring. not drawing to me feels like neglecting a dear friend #even though i dont feel bad at not practicing at a game. at not knowing how to code everything in 2 days #at not knowing the best clays to sculpt or the best knitting tricks.#bc its a fucking hobby. i should feel obligated to do it i should have fun when i want to and yet i chain myself to it #i shouldn't fell obligated* oop #could you imagine how crazy stupid it'd be that a construction worker felt bad for not building some lately #WHY AM I LIKE THIS!!! I DONT GET IT!!!#dextxt #<its always funny to end a post with a cry and then have it followed by lowercase txt tag like teehee just another white guy moment #but i do mean im tired and frustrated and miserable for nothing.. war and hate on planet earth or whatever. *explodes*

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jonnywaistcoat · 3 months

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Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

#writing advice #rambling #first drafts #gotta say not mad on being called a horrormaster #feel like ive a ways to go yet #horror journeyman maybe

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iznsfw · 9 months

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Senior Year Isn’t the Only Thing That’s Hard

Momoland's Nancy McDonie x Jeon Somi x Male Reader Smut

20,859 words

Categories | popular!Nancy and Somi, threesome, blowjob, titjob, anal, spanking, fluff, also if you get the reference(s) I love you

Thank you for commissioning! Was tough to find time to write during exam season but fuck it we ball.

Stars in the sky, stars in their eyes—they’re truly something else. Shouldn’t they be up there themselves? They glimmer too bright to be left here on earth, with a guy like you who can’t hold a flame to them.

But maybe you’re one yourself. Stars only ever mingle with their own kind. So there's the possibility that the three of you are stardust, simmered onto this world to shine in other places where they need it. It’s a laughable way to put it, almost cliche. But when you look at them, you realize you’re not far off.

See here: you're young. It's too early to worry about reputation—(oh, what a word, by the way, with its promise of faint or fail)—but a great, great place to start.

You didn't know about that second part until you met Somi and Nancy.

First, picture this: your story is a movie, the rare one where the male character is the lead of the story although—let's face it—it's them everyone's reading this for. Not you, not your style, not nada and zip. Everyone is and always will be here for them:

Jeon Somi and Nancy McDonie. They're teen royalty. Only a few students ever get to say they held that title. Not that it's of any importance later in life but what matters more than the present? The juniors look at them green with envy, and with the seniors, the ones who are all proud in their recent age of adulthood, either like them but hate to say it and "hate" them but like them too much to say it. It's that simple. It’s that complicated, too, at the same time.

And, admittedly, it’s… a lot to take in.

Strangely, you're not in either of those categories despite being a senior yourself. The difference is that you like them, and aren't afraid to say it. After all, you owe them a lot for helping you get out of your shell.

Well, not at first. But that’s how it works, right? You, Somi, and Nancy don’t immediately become friends right from the get-go. There has to be some kind of story behind it, and you’re willing to tell yours.

It all started… well, like this:

You enrolled into a new school sometime after your eighteenth or nineteenth birthday. Yep, you really couldn’t remember. It’s all been in a flash with them, makes you feel a little dumb. All you know was it was the worst present to have: being required to join an institution that was as unfamiliar as it was unwanted. Like, fucking hell—this early? You were just a kid! Well, not anymore, but there had to be some kind of consideration for this, right? An exception that could be made?

Unfortunately, signing up for a new school was not a subject up for debate. It wasn’t something you could bargain yourself out of. No promises to be good, no extra chores, nothing. Your parents were firm on deciding that you were in need of a fresh new start.

And it just sort of happened that this clean slate you had? You ruined it completely.

Oh, it was classic teenage rebellion. You did almost everything you could to buy your way out of circumstances that didn't go how you wanted them to. You wouldn't say it was totally uncalled for. You had friends at your old school you thought you'd forever be with—the way you saw it, no one could just pull that away from you.

Alas, here you were. You'd been in this classroom more times than you could remember. Neither you nor the presidents spoke. No one was willing to break the ice.

Finally, sun melted the cold and replaced the winter with a fiery, hot summer. "You again?" Nancy McDonie leaned on the edge of the teacher's desk. Her expression was that of someone who's going through a cruel cycle of same-shit-different-day. You knew what that's all about. "I swear, we see you here every Tuesday."

And what a privilege that was. Sarcasm? A little.

"Oh?" you said. You did your own leaning on the backrest of the chair and put your arms behind your head. "Well, it's not like I enjoy it here."

Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. To be truthful, you didn’t know either at the time, so… well—you’re left involved in another banter with the two leaders of the student government. You didn’t see why you had to be sent to them every time you did something even just the littlest bit of wrong, but here you were. This was routine already. As everyday and usual as brushing your teeth and showering.

Nancy squinted her eyes at you, and you stared right back unnervingly. Neither of you were going to give up a silent fight like that.

"If you did," Jeon Somi quipped, beside her best friend with her hands on her own hips, "we'd understand. I mean, look at us."

She didn't have to remind you. Both girls were prettier than they should be. ‘Cause look here for a minute: Nancy's got this long caramel hair going on for her, and it extends long beyond her shoulder blades, framing her amazing curves and slim arms. She's the push to Somi's pull—Nancy is the calmer one, the girl who takes things more seriously.

To be fair, Somi does her own taking, too. Just not in the same way. She's blonder, bustier, more extroverted. She walks life with an unrestrained laugh unfit for such a gorgeous girl and feet clad with platform school shoes that always carry her in paces around the classroom. She's kind enough to cast a blind eye on some of your offenses, but too princess-y to keep her words about herself humble.

You say these in present tense because later on, when the circumstances change and so do the seasons, you'd find out that's truly who they are. Your relationship would change but they wouldn't. They're still the same Somi and Nancy who are always glued to each other, always giggling, always the it girls, always the most popular girls in school.

One day, the punishment for your routine offenses would be death caused by them, and even that you'd welcome. Oh, just imagine…

"Let me guess." The brunette girl tapped her finger on the desk surface. Lucky piece of wood. "You didn't pay the treasurer again?"

You sighed and fiddled with your pencil. Scratches from the pointed led were imprinted on the olden table attached to the seat. You bit back a remark about how the class treasurer was as corrupt as a politician withering away with the hope the graft charges would, too. "Wrong," you said, steadily. "I accidentally spray-painted miss Seo during arts.”

Your truth was met with silence.

“She looked like she came out of a unicorn's asshole," you helpfully added.

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Ah, well, of course you did—it was impossible to forget when it happened fifty fucking minutes ago. Yes, you counted down, because the surprise that took over you when you squeezed the nozzle of the can on a teacher you didn’t even know was behind you was everything to remember. Every color of the rainbow was soaking her dress pants and blouse, making her become the personification of a lively Pride parade.

(You didn’t leave that detail out for your poor victim not to hear, when you said: “Gay rights, anybody?”

Looking back, that was prooobably what got you into another meeting with the girls. The teachers had some real strange beliefs.)

Somi snorted, then started to laugh boisterously, so much that her body rocked downwards. To be fair, it started out as a small chuckle. Things went from this to that and suddenly it worked itself into a full cackle.

She slapped Nancy on the shoulder and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she apologized; (it was useless), “but that shit’s so… fffucking—”

"It's not funny, Somi," Nancy said with a more solid voice than that of her friend’s. "Hey. Hey, it's not funny!"

“Just think about it, babe.” Somi, still snickering, tried to put some sense in her, tried to make her see what made it so funny. “Think of the gay flag. Now—listen—imagine it as mean old miss Seo. You see where I’m going?”

“Still not funny.”

"C'mon, prez," you told the unconvinced girl. You flung your hands in the air nonchalantly. "Live a little."

"Yeah, Nance," echoed Somi cheerfully, poking her best friend’s cheek. She was the only one who could ever do that to her. Any other person and they’d be found dead in a ditch alongside their reputation. And god, did it matter a lot to young’uns like you. "Live a little."

"Don't call me that.”

Somi shut her mouth. From what you noticed, she was the lesser contained of the two of them. She spoke with a sailor’s mouth that had the accent and vocabulary of a valley girl. Kind of true—she was filthy rich. You saw her parents during the senior acquaintance party and it wasn’t that hard to figure out she was wealthy when you saw her father slip her her allowance. Also, her mother was dressed in the best and latest trends, looking younger than she really was with how she held herself. Only rich people and really exemplary actresses could pull that off.

"And what was your offense the previous week?" Nancy went on. She was leaning forward now, unintentionally offering you the best view a horny senior could wish for: her bust struggling to be held inside her uniform blouse.

A distraction, that's what it was. Oh, fuck, now Somi was doing it, too. Both girls are busty, full breasts begging to be freed from fabric. You should have really requested undressing them as your punishment, but it was clear that it was probably what they wanted and this was simply to coerce answers from you, unintentional or not.

They still held their dynamics, even when they’re forcing words out of you. They went hand in hand, pairing up together like they were born to be friends: the angel that was Nancy, and the little devil Somi was; good cop (in a way) Somi, and bad cop Nancy.

You weren’t gonna say their methods didn’t work. You gulped. Since when did you sound like a shitty literotica author with two sales? "I started a food fight in the cafeteria."

"And the previous week?"

"I tripped mister Brown in the hallway because he failed me."

"And the week before that?"

"I started a campaign that Photoshopped Shrek onto teachers' faces."

Silence, as if all the world were a show that liked to take several beats.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” asked Nancy finally.

“You do,” you said. “You don’t think I can see you smiling?” There was something in her face that told you that hatred for you was not all there was to it. Something about the uplifted motion at the left end of her lips. Somi was barely hiding it with the giggles she was making.

“Don’t flatter yourself, dickhead.”

“Oooh, nice one for a first swear word.” You threw the pencil away and folded your hands together. Leaned forward, too, because if they were showing off their cleavages like that, you might as well do the same. “Got anything else for me?”

You promised you weren’t always this petty. These weekly meetings with the presidents just tired you out. It wasn’t your fault you were like this. It could all be traced back to your parents’ nth mistake: sending you off to this shithole of a school. For fuck’s sake, this wasn’t even where you envisioned yourself to be five years ago, when your teachers made you draw a visionary of yourself on white bond paper. Far from it, if you looked past your shitty skills at sketching.

“Detention, maybe,” Somi said helpfully after swallowing the last pieces of her laughs. “And a suspension.”

“Oh god.” You rolled your eyes. “Please, not you, too.”

“Yep. Real scary stuff, huh?” She smiled, raising her hands in claws before firing you a wink. Your breath shortened just for a while. Only just. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to go through all that if you behave.”

You smiled back. “Like a good boy?”

But there was your heart slipping into a knot as you said it. Joke-filled lines you exchanged with the girls were difficult not to stay upon when your hormonal brain kept each one dirty.

The two girls looked at each other for a moment. Then, they smiled. That was a rare one from Nancy. Somi, however, boasted her shining simper as she took a few steps forward to pat you on the shoulder.

"You're alright, newbie," was all she said. "You're alright."

A few months—

(Well, you could say it took fewer than that. Within a timespan of what seemed like seconds, Somi had you wrapped around the long hem of her ballroom gown. But she didn’t drag you around for long; she treated you like a fellow royal, helping you out with math though she had little time and greeting you in the hallways and therefore drawing looks, because why was the Jeon Somi talking to some random new kid? But attention was what came with being Somi and slash or being part of her life. It’s time you got used to it.)

—and a lot of bickering later—

(“You are the biggest dumbass I’ve ever met,” said Somi, fingers massaging her temple. “Who in goddess’ name doesn’t know dodos are extinct?”

You flipped the teacher’s copy shut. “Normal people,” was your answer to her, as you brooded over social studies homework at the library.

“Shhhh!” the librarian, with her stereotypical glasses and graying hair, hissed at you from her desk. After a hateful glare, she was returning to her telenovela, which you argued was louder than your hushed conversation with your new friend.

Friend? What could you call this thing you had with Somi? She liked you, but that didn’t mean she was your friend or you were hers. You could like a modern abstract painting at the gallery and still not buy it. Maybe that was how she looked at you.

“The dodo is dead-o,” Somi said seriously. She looked at you with an equally resolute glare.

“The dodo is dead-o,” you repeated. You could remember that.

“You’re so lying, did they never teach you that at your old school? Like at all?”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t spend time thinking if a stupid bird is alive or not.”

“See?” She raised her voice so that the poor juniors in the cluster behind you had to hear. “This, my friends, is what’s wrong in our society! Eighteen-year-olds in this prominent day and age are all like ‘I dunno what a dodo is!’!”

“For fuck’s sake, they’re all dead!” you yelled before the librarian could scold you again. “They won’t fucking care!”)

—things began to change.

She did say you were alright. You still had discourse over birds but in her eyes, you convinced yourself eventually you were alright.

It wasn’t the case for Nancy. That smile she made back in that classroom apparently meant nothing. You were amusing to her, but that’s everything to it. Nothing more, nothing less. You were entertaining in a way a clown at a children’s party was: no one particularly cared about it days after.

“He’s tagging along?” she said. She looked you up and down suspiciously, as a guard would at an airport, then turned to Somi. “Somi, I thought we agreed on no boys on trips.”

And it—

… hurt you?

Not only that made you feel out of place, but the visible fact that both girls were dressed like they were about to go to a gala. They were both in skirts, wearing layers that vested upon expensive blouses and coats that even from miles away would look good. You, of course, were excluded in your simple tee and shorts. It was as if you didn’t even try to look presentable.

“Consider me one of the girls,” you said. You hoped that quick reply was witty enough, because if not, you were doomed. You already had a bad enough poor position to deal with. See? You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t want it.

And it wasn’t like going to the mall with them was something you wanted either. Somi texted you one day, having found your number through means that were probably illegal but were given a blind eye because oh look she’s Jeon Somi, and asked, hey, wanna come to the mall w me?

Looking back, that message had a lot of undertones.

You didn’t know Nancy was coming along, but you should have known that when the two girls were always together. Hoping that she would come along was what you did, and perhaps one of the reasons why you wanted to go (wait, you wanted to go? But didn’t you— never mind). Now that she had expressed clear distaste for your presence, you felt like an outcast again.

You didn’t want to go back to those days.

Somi nodded enthusiastically. Well, at least someone was happy to have you around. She was the first one to warm up to you, and you could say that you were friends with her now. Something told you she was okay with that. “Yeah, Nance! I promise he’s gonna be good, like super duper good. Just think that he’s Mina.”

“Don’t call me that. Oh, and remember what we did to Mina?”

Everybody knew Kang Mina although she graduated a long time ago. She was a loner at first, but pretty. She didn’t know that she was beautiful, of course, not until she became friends with Somi and Nancy and suddenly—

“Oh no,” you said. You put up your hands. “No, no, no, no, no. You are not—”

“Giving you a makeover?” Nancy smirked, that being the first time of the day that she gave signs of a living smile. “Yeah, we are.”

The salon was right up ahead after the pavilion. You took a single look at it and saw its pink, glamoring state along with the hairdos it advertised, and knew that you were wholly, indefinitely, and irreparably fucked.

“God, what’re you gonna do to me?” you groaned as you were shoved into a disgustingly pink seat, accompanied by strange looks from strangers whose strangeness in their colored hairs and phrases shouldn’t give them any right to look at you like that. Masculinity this, masculinity that—but come on. It was… what year was it again?

“Hey, Jessa!” Somi called out loudly. Jessa was a plump, sweet woman with bayonetta glasses that made her slits for eyes look even smaller. “Make him look like everything.”

“Yeah!” Nancy actually looked enthusiastic. You tried not to curl up into a snail-like position when she brushed her fingers through your hair. “Like a dreamboat, that kind.”

Jessa smiled. “You two are always in some sort of BS, aren’t you?” Fondness graced her elderly tone. It was clear the two girls were frequent visitors.

She swiftly curled the chair into the vanity table’s direction. Your reflection in the star-studded mirror made you wince. You had cysts in all the inconvenient places, a bread crumb at the side of your mouth from the breakfast you had at that niche cafe, everything. Even Jessa looked like royalty compared to you. What more next to Somi and Nancy, whose skirted long legs towered over you and reminded you that they always held the better deck, the better position?

“Call us the Bullshitter Bitches, then!” Somi began to tap dance on her heels. It was her hidden talent. Well, it wasn’t really hard to tap dance when she had those long legs. “‘We’re the Bullshitter Bitches / We shit on snitch—”

“Somi, that’s disgusting,” Nancy snapped sourly. She clicked a haircut apron around your neck. Great. Now you looked like a goddamned infant who’s growing up with a princess complex.

“Sorry.”

“Just so you know,” you said, as Jessa snipped away at your head, “I’m not paying for this. I don’t need a makeover.”

“‘Course you aren’t. It’s all on the house.”

Brushes swished on your face, hiding the beginning foundations of new hormonal pimples and blackheads. They hid away your imperfections with just one slide. You never saw them as such, not until you got into senior high and therefore compared yourself to the bigger guys, the cooler guys. The ones whose sweat wrung from their hair but still looked attractive enough to get the girls. Maybe this was what you needed. You were gonna have to think twice about the whole operation.

“Makeup?” you asked warily. Not that you were against it. but you never really tried it on before.

Somi’s hand made an L-shaped gesture and branded itself in front of her forehead. “Boo, come on, it’s the big year of”—redacted, with an exclamation at the end. Nobody needed to know when this happened. The time will come when everything will reveal itself. She painted powder that almost matched the shade of your skin and hued it on your cheeks and neck. “Who said guys can’t wear makeup?”

“Makeup is for everybody,” chirped Jessa in agreement. “And that’s right, sweetie, you don’t need a makeover. Just a touch up. And everyone gets them, even handsome guys like you.”

Nobody had ever called you handsome. The last time it ever happened was when your mother buttoned your polo for preschool. It’s flattery, you knew, but your chest still felt as if it were knotted.

“Ain’t that right,” Nancy stooped to your level and brushed your nose with the tip of her finger—her soft smile was gripping, “new boy.”

Another one, and a roundness at the edge(?) of your throat you couldn’t swallow. Your Adam’s apple bobbed yet it was useless at downing it.

You had to look away. Did she just agree that you were good-looking? You knew Somi thought that, too, but this was Nancy. Nancy McDonie, the girl who didn’t care for you much and didn’t want you here.

She still didn’t like you. But maybe that would change.

(Spoiler alert: it did. That’s how the story went.)

You wondered how rich they actually were to pay Jessa to be so committed to making you look your best. Your hair was purple for a few minutes (“Fuck no!” you shouted) and was easily returned to the black with a quick dye. Then she gelled it in so many directions that you’d think your blunt mane was a car being controlled by an overexcited student driver. That was already thousands of won by itself. But it went on without stopping, and Somi and Nancy still weren’t satisfied.

“I’m telling you, Somi,” said the brunette girl, twirling your chair to the mirror again, “he looks good with that slicked back do!”

“Be serious with me.” Somi blew-dried your hair and ran her hand along your whiffed locks. “Grody as hell. Doesn’t he look like 90s’ Brendan Fraser?”

“He does,” Jessa said. She returned with tools that looked so unfamiliar to you that they might as well be surgeon’s supplies. Fuck, were they gonna take out your liver after all that trouble?

“Ha! See?”

“He has some nice eyebrows. Just needs a little trimming and he’s good to go.”

“Thank god,” you said. They all looked at you as if surprised to remember you weren’t a doll to practice hairstyling on. Your scalp already ached royally. “I need to get out of here.”

Nancy shook her head. “Nuh-uh. You’re not going anywhere, new boy. You’re ours for today.”

You gulped. God, okay. You were good with that.

A light edged metal ran along the ends of your brows. You were afraid they were going to make you look like Megan Fox in Jennifer’s Body, but it actually turned out alright.

After all the ruckus, you were there, staring at your reflection.You could pass for a guy richer than you actually were, cooler than you actually were. Your eyebrows were cleanly trimmed, in a steady and one-way direction, and your hair was cut yet splayed in a way that made you actually look flattering. Then you had your cheeks to look at, which were clear of any of your open pores and pimples. You looked like what they told you would: everything.

“I… I’m one of the girls now,” you said out of the blue. It was like a moment of truth for you.

“Yes you are,” Somi said proudly. “Now can we go get some ice cream?”

Nancy glanced at the clothing shop a few blocks down the tiled path and shook her head. Nope. Not a chance in any galaxy.

It was also later on, when you saw yourself in clothes from brands you never dreamed of buying, you knew that this thing you had with the presidents would go on forever, an eternity that would last long after—

Senior year, your golden age.

"Hey, hotshot," a clear voice says into your ear. She's on the phone with you yet her voice is loud enough for it to be easily assumed that she's physically present. "Up to see me after class?"

That's Somi, by the way. Yep, the leader of the student body who sanctioned you years ago. She's a real life Korean-Canadian doll. She'd be the stereotypical one, the face and brand—she's tall and slender, owning the hallways like she was the first step to ever be made in them. Blonde, too. You've met her years before and not once have you seen her natural color replace her dyed yellow.

The thing about her is that she's always just that shameless and energetic. She has one default personality and that is extroverted.

She's also naturally flirtatious, and you know it doesn't mean anything else when she calls you derogatory names in sweet tones but you remain attached to her. We’ll just keep it at that.

"Aren't we meeting in social studies?" you chuckle. This girl can't get enough of being around people. Around you, to be more specific. But that's what friends do.

"Not enough, obvi.”

“Right.”

“Is Nancy coming, too?"

"I think so."

"Darn it. I was hoping to…."

You raise your brows in suspicion. "What?"

"Nothing. I said we're meeting up."

Let out a soft chuckle. "I didn't say yes," you inform her, just in case she forgot.

"And I didn't say that what you think about it matters, butthead. You know you want to see me. Tata!"

And it ends off with that. Click.

Your smile is wide. That's Somi for you: a brat at heart, always getting what she wants one way or another, with a vocabulary that matches that of a spoiled heiress. Maybe she is one? You don't know but the branded clothes she often wears to school are getting a little suspicious. Among other things.

The locker space is packed with students, both juniors and seniors, male and female. They see you and start whispering among themselves. Some even make way. That wouldn't have been possible in your first year, but then Somi and Nancy happened. They made you the way you were. They made you a centerpiece. Do you like it? Admittedly, it strokes your ego well on some days.

Where's your locker key again? There it is. Click it into the padlock and swing the door open. Notes and trinkets from your two best friends are stuck to its walls. They said it was "for motivation." You let them believe that because it's true. Seeing Somi's wild happy calligraphy on the sticky note “Yep :) totally got it - Jeon <3”, compared to Nancy's more contained handwriting “Let’s get going!!!” always brightens your day.

Collect your social studies book as well as the mathematics one for the next period. Shut it, and a figure suddenly appears next to you.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nancy!"

Oh yeah, that's how the scene opens to introduce the present Nancy McDonie. She's the brunette and calmer duplicate of Somi, but with an equally amazing body—

You won't go there.

She has one arm pinned to the neighboring locker door and a small smile. "Language, handsome," she chides, patting your shoulder. "It's just me."

Oh, and the less sarcastic counterpart as well. Nancy calls you sweet pet names and means them.

She’s grown fonder of you over the years. Nancy hates hard, but when she loves, she loves just as much. You’ve become so much better as a person and a newfound friend that she’s got no other choice but to keep you under her wing.

So, it could be argued that she loves you.

Never the same way you do, like you started to right from the very beginning, when unfamiliarity stepped between you and kept your hearts away from each other.

"Hey there," you say, clutching your chest. It’s just Nancy, your other half. You've been friends with her a little after your makeover. Quite a long time, if you do say so yourself; it seems to have happened so long ago. Long enough to have you become one of the girls.

It's not derogatory, like other boys would think. Being friends with the girls is more fun than hanging out with the vulgar rebels from your old school. For what it's worth, being one of Somi's and Nancy's is a huge compliment. Not everybody could say they were friends with the popular kids.

Gulp. It’s so hard to act normal in front of her when she’s naturally charming, and her uniform’s made to hug every bit of her curves, including her exceptional ass. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re strongly and sexually attracted to her a long time ago, but it still proves to be a challenge not to stare.

Besides, she trusts you. You’re her best friend. If you make a move on her, everybody would know and ruin your life for it, even if you’re fairly popular yourself. You’d be surprised by how quick people turn against others.

You’re not going to lie: she’s gorgeous, and the last thing that would be able to scare you is her beautiful face, but she can’t just show up like that out of the blue. That little pet name gets your gears going though. Your spirits are already afloat.

"Hey." She pats you on the head and peeks at the schedule taped to your locker. "Oh, you got social studies, too?"

"Y-you got that right."

"With Somi?"

"Yeah, sure. So?"

Nancy, sweet as a lollipop, shakes her head cheerfully. "Nothing," she says. "I guess I'll see you there."

"See ya there."

Offer her a two-finger salute and walk as quickly as you could although you're leaving with her. It's strange how she has your heart all bunched up when she shows up. She's pretty, yeah, but there's a certain aura about her calm demeanor that captures your stomach and keeps it tight. You hope no one gets you wrong—you like Somi, too, but Nancy has you wrapped around her little finger. She could tell you to jump off a cliff and you’d rush to buy out parachute stores.

And you’re staring at her as you switch classrooms. Your eyes are locked to her smile, her every move, her charm. Nancy was the last person you thought you’d ever be in love with—after all, she was the one who gave you sanction after sanction whenever you showed up at her classroom. Somi’s the one who went gentle with you, right?

But things happen. Plus, in a way, she’s changed you for the better.

Your style wasn’t the only thing they made over. They helped you with your studies, your personal problems, and everything they could. Your grades went up, much to the surprise of your teachers, and you stopped your troublemaking. That was also to the surprise of your educators, but also relief. You couldn’t be more grateful. It was comforting to find new friends in a place so new. And from the girls you least expected, too.

Nancy looks at you twice, then laughs. “Why are you looking at me like you’re in love with me or something?” she says, slapping the back of your head.

Well, what do you know? She’s not far off. You could say that you’re in love.

Just the tiniest, most speckling bit in love.

“Maybe I am.”

“Stud,” Nancy says under her breath.

She wouldn’t have dared say that in a nicer tone years ago.

The roll of her gorgeous eyes has you thinking of a scenario where it’s caused by something other than your flirtatious remarks. It would start with a flirtatious remark, then evolve into something more. Something beyond that.

Abstain from that thought. Instead, you gasp as if you belonged to the theater club with Jiwoo. “Did you just call me a slut?” you ask her. Raise your voice higher. You really hang out with Somi too much. “Everyone! Nancy McDonie just slutshamed me! I repeat, president Nancy McDonie just slut—”

A rough shove to your shoulder that neither you or Nancy expected blocks your words before they create controversy. Blonde fills your eyes as its Rapunzel owner says, “Get out of my way, creep.”

It’s such a low snarl that it alarms you. What made you a creep? Do you have to fight?

When you look up, you see that it’s no other girl than Somi. Despite what she said, she wears a cheeky, large smile. Return the grin and make it as Somi-like as possible; right, how could you forget the thing you and she have going on?

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” you say, crossing your arms in faux annoyance. Yeah, you really should have tried out for that play. You could make it big as an actor.

“Oh yeah?” Somi looks you up and down. Is that bite on her lip also part of the act? “Why should I? I don’t even know your name.”

“I don’t know yours either. Is it ‘bottle blonde’?”

“Shut the fuck up. 2008 called and said they wanted their My Chemical Romance hairdo back.”

Nancy covers her face embarrassedly. She’s too proud to join the joke you and Somi have, so she’s left having to deal with the unnecessary attention your fake fights warrant. It happens almost twice every other day and people still look on to find out what’s happening. It’s what amuses you and her blonde counterpart. She and Somi are alike in many ways, all except the latter’s thirst for childish fun.

“Madams. Sir,” the teacher says. She’s miss Kim Sejeong, your social studies teacher whom you swear has been here before you were even born. The university students and graduates who’ve found their tune visit often and talk about her fondly, yet despite their ages ranging, she looks like she isn’t more than twenty-three years old. Her gaze is stern yet amused. “Do you plan on getting in? The air-conditioner’s expensive.”

While Nancy blushes in humiliation, the class erupts into giggles, and you and Somi can’t help but do the same. Each repetition of your rivalry routine is funnier than the previous one. It might be corny, especially to the other students who despise you for no reason, but it keeps your friendship solid. And what’s a better friendship than one with a few inside jokes? A strange routine?

It’s an unspoken and universal law in every classroom that even if there isn’t any official seating arrangement as to who’s sitting next to who, you still choose the ones you first sat at the beginning of the year. You’re a proud follower of that rule, and that’s why you’ve been sitting here in the front of the class with Somi and Nancy for ages. You have a secret stenciled artwork under this specific chair with an equation of your trio’s initials. It would mark long after you’ve graduated and went to pass on that you three were once best friends, and nothing could change that.

Somi leans against your arm before turning her head to glare at you. “‘Bottle Blonde,’ huh?” she says spitefully.

“Not as bad as ‘My Chemical Romance,’” you reply. That one stung a little. Does your hair really need a cut?

“Fuck you. I don’t fucking care what you say, I’ll be a blondie as much as I want.”

“And I suppose I’m emo now.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Her brows curl together at the sight of Nancy looking sour in the seat to your left. “You aight, Nancy?”

The girl nods. There’s red coloring her cheeks and ears. Kind of cute, actually. “Still alive,” she says, “after the shit you pulled there. Surprisingly.”

You and Somi bump fists. This is how it is with her. Opposed to you and Nancy acting like best friends just two steps away from being a couple, you’re more of a teasing older friend to her. You act like brother and sister, though your bond is much deeper than that. There’s something lingering in the air between you, and Somi seems to have caught it. What could it be?

You don’t have to think about that for now, not when your arms are around your two best friends in the world and now keenly listening to Kim Sejeong. That wouldn’t have been possible in your first year of high school, when things were completely different.

But, like you said, things happen. Things change. It’s just how they work, and it’s about time you get used to it being like that. You wouldn’t have had it any other way with your two friends, though.

Sejeong waits for the three of you to get settled, then smiles welcomingly. “Now that we all have ourselves safely in our seats,” a stress there as she looks at you pointedly, “I suppose we should get on with your missed activities.”

Wince. You’re crossing your fingers, praying and begging that one particular girl doesn’t—

“What about the declamation?” Nancy asks innocently. “I thought it was due a month ago.”

A collective groan. You’ve gathered the class before to develop a plan to stall the feared exercise. Popularity, you believe, ought to be used correctly and for the common good. Keeping that declamation away is for the benefit of all. Not only is it an individual performance, but it makes up forty percent of your grade. It takes a hell of an effort to do it instantly.

No effort, so it seems, to Nancy McDonie. She’s the gooder girl of the duo, the perfect angel in all the right ways. She’s still right for this one—a lot of you just don’t like that truth.

“I thought we all agreed—”

“Somi!” you cut in, but she goes on shamelessly.

Somi stands up and looks at the class with genuine disappointment in her eyes. “—not to remind miss Kim about it. My god, you guys are, like, absolutely two-faced.”

It doesn’t take a while for the realization to set in with your teacher. Her stare is, as always, something that cuts straight to the soul. It sheds your dignity and leaves you bare for the eagle to eat of you. To be clear, there’s a reason why she was one of the teachers you never dared mess with. She was quiet but stern—a deadly combination.

"Oh. You kids are too smart for me, huh?" Sejeong laughs sarcastically. Her smile strips you of any attempt to wash her scolding off with a laugh. Can’t resort to that. Again, Kim Sejeong isn’t one to mess with. “That was more disappointing than anything the other classes have done. Do you think that just because you’re popular you can suddenly hold it against me?”

She uses the same lines you’ve heard back in your troublemaker days. Each word untaps a memory.

You all stay silent. Somi doesn’t for long, when she’s called up to go first with the declamation since “you thought of the plan, miss Jeon,” according to Sejeong.

“But, but, but it wasn’t even—” the girl protests. Her pupils are wide with rage. She’s so used to saying anything and getting away with it. She can’t believe it won’t work out like that for her today.

“Now.”

She groans dramatically, and rises with slumped shoulders so odd to be seen on such a duchess-like, pampered girl like her. After all, she’s the stereotypical rich, blonde teen with impeccable fashion and manners that range from the sweetest to the meanest. Right now, she’s veering in the middle of the scale as she gets to the front center.

You mouth her a deserved, and she says I’m sooo gonna punch you in the balls later.

“Now, miss Jeon,” says Sejeong, arms furled in front of her chest. Yep, she isn’t backing down. “What is your solution to poverty here in this country?”

Nancy raises her hand. “May I go first instead?” she offers in hopes to save her friend.

“You may not. Miss Jeon, please be brief. Start.”

Somi pouts, but faces the class with steady eyes. She’s ready for this. Mostly. Wringing out a pink bubble gum from her pink lips with pink-polished nails, she begins.

“So, you know how there are a lot of poor people. A lot. I know because I see a whole bunch outside the clubhouse and middle classers are always like, ‘Oh nooo, don’t give money to them, they’re gonna use it for drugs!’. And I’m just there going, ‘Gag me with a friggin’ spoon, Becky. Where the hell can you find drugs for a dime? Where?’.” She pauses for dramatic effect, then nods smugly. “Yep, that’s what I thought.”

Nancy brings her palm to her face. You’re giggling in your seat, muffling it with a few fingers. Sejeong’s eyes are wide and appalled.

“Okay,” the confident Somi continues, “for example, there’re a lot of poor people somewhere. Let’s say fifty. Oh, maybe ninety! That's super many, right?”

You and your classmates look at each other. You’re not certain where she’s going with this.

“You can’t have too many people at the same place, like that time I had all of my geometrics class for my nineteenth and it was a total flop. You have to keep them fed, y’know. So I had to walk my pretty self to the bakers which is like ten minutes away then ask them for more chocolate cake. My daddy was super mad at me for maxing out his credit card, but by the end of the day, we had more cake! More cake equals less hunger equals more dessert equals less poor people.”

The jocks at the back nod in agreement, cheering her on. She acknowledges their reassurances with a flirty wave.

"So, if the government just maxed out their credit cards and let poor people eat cake,” she says, with real conviction for someone who’s dragging her chewed gum out of her mouth coyly, “I believe with all my heart that there will be no poverty in America. Who’s with me?”

The modern Marie Antoinette. You raise your hand proudly. Try to get Nancy to raise hers as well but she’s red in the face again.

“And to conclude,” Somi adds finally, “it should be everyone’s knowledge that there's no law in this beautiful country that says ‘Republic Act Anti-Poor People and Rich People Eating Cake Together Bunch of Numbers.’ I offer dessert for all to help eradicate poor people– I mean, poverty, led by our government and me, Jeon Somi. That will be all, thank you.”

The whole class gets up on their feet and applauds her. Like the princess she is, your blonde friend waves and bows, even blowing kisses. Meanwhile, Sejeong contemplates retirement and realizes she’s actually considering it, salary and all.

"You killed it, Somi. You fucking killed it."

That's what you say to your friend after leaving the classroom with her and Nancy. You mean it—you've never had a belly laugh that rocked your body that hard before. She deserved an A instead of that disappointing C-.

Sejeong’s sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. Somi’s speech was impactful, it seems. So impactful that it has her fingers jotting down a lengthy text message to… the principal? What’s that for? The speech was great!

Your classmates have filed out to go to computer shops or study. They tell Somi she did great with her declamation, which you’re pretty sure is intended to humiliate her, but Jeon Somi only ever thinks of anything said to her as a compliment. That’s why she blows them kisses and flirtatiously cocks her brows. Yep, that’s her. Nancy’s a different story—always quiet and reserved, but daring enough to hold Somi back before she causes more chaos. But the lid of Pandora’s box has already been lifted.

You three are already far behind your classmates when they go out, but you don’t mind. You like it when it’s just you. No computer shop or mall could compare to being in the hallways with your best friends, trading jokes and stories.

"Killed what? Poverty?" Nancy asks, still in a dilemma over the drama in the social studies classroom. "Somi, you really have to start minding your words."

Somi blows a satiric raspberry. She raises her hands in dismissal as she walks faster then turns around anyway to face her. "Blah blah, who cares? It was an awesome declamation."

Chuckle. "I feel like that's up for debate," you say. "Did you see miss Kim's face?"

It was a look of judgment and disappointment. While everyone cheered and whistled for the other half of the McDonie-Jeon duo, your teacher had a look on her face that could be likened to the one you make after smelling something bad. Laughs were passed around the classroom but her eyebrows and squinted eyes etched an expression of real concern.

"What if someone recorded that?" Nancy says. She has a hand on her shoulder to try and make her see the darker but truthful side. "You could ruin your chances of getting to a good college forever."

In these four walls of the corridor, your heart twists. Right—you only have a few months until you’re done with senior year. That means having to choose a course and college to go to. You didn’t think time would pass by that fast. By then, would you still be friends with Somi and Nancy?

You hope so. You look at their pretty faces and their hands in yours and wish high school would just last forever. You’d choose them over your standing, your popularity, everything. Sure, being friends with them brings inescapable attention, but you’d be fine without it if it means you could still be with them.

You sit down at the bottom step of the staircase. They follow, too. Open your textbook to skim through it, hoping that your stock knowledge for science would suffice.

“Ugh, college schmollege,” Somi says, crossing her legs and throwing her head back. When her pretty face comes back to view it’s mocking your other friend already. "Have you seen student debt? College just makes people poor. How’ll that help with poverty?”

You wonder how Jeon Somi could sound so knowledgeable yet so insensitive at the same time. It’s a feat that couldn’t be done by others. It’s like it’s her trademark: to be the wealthy girl who always says the wrong and right things that therefore blends into one, confusing mixture. Should you be offended? Happy? Anything?

Nancy leans on your shoulder with a sigh that blows the runaway strands on her face back with their kind. Sometimes Somi could be too much for her. It’s like she trades places with you and realizes how a beautiful girl could be a handful. That’s why you two are particularly close: you understand each other. You’re close with Somi, too, but you just have a deeper bond with the calmer girl. You still don’t know how it happened when she hated you at the start for filling her schedule because of your troubles. Some things just change as time goes on.

“You just can’t be fixed, Somi,” you tell her. “You’re always going to be insane.”

You know you’re right. She knows it, too. It would take years and years of maturity for Somi to grow out of her flirtatious personality. She’d be the girl in college whose laughable questions somehow also awaken strange inquiries of your own. She’s a little weird, to be honest, but she’s pretty and confident. Smart, too—she just has her own way of showing it.

“I’m a simple gal, what can I say?” She stops before she could go on, as if she’s just caught a memory in the slip of her hands. “Oh, and I forgot to do something.”

“And that is?”

Somi lifts a fist and heavily plows it into your crotch. You yowl in pain as opposed to her grin that could reach the ends of the earth. Where did she learn that? That hurt like hell!

Nancy’s jaw drops to the floor. “Somi!” she says, genuinely shocked.

“What the fuck was that for!” you screech in the midst of your laughs, clutching your core and glaring at the convict of the crime which is assaulting your balls.

The fact that the criminal’s too pretty is an unfair advantage. “I did say I was gonna punch your balls earlier.”

“You owe me one, Jeon Somi!”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have had to do it if McDonie here wasn’t a grody teacher’s pet.”

Nancy blushes. She's forgotten she's involved in the mess, too. “I’m sorry,” she says in a small voice.

“I bet you are.” Somi shoves her shoulder playfully. “Cause and effect, Nance. C’mon, if you didn’t want to be a good girl so bad, I wouldn’t have declaimed or anything. Not that it wasn’t amazing.”

What a ridiculous conversation to have. You place your arms around both girls and pull them close. “Alright,” you declare, still wincing, “fuck, you’re both at fault. Nancy made a butterfly effect that ended up getting my balls aching. I’m the poor girls’ guy that got pulled into everything. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Somi floats her fingers on her cheek, thinking a little. It’s like a bulb lit above her head when her eyes suddenly brighten. You hope that it’s a good idea this time because when she makes that look, it isn’t for any good at all.

“Nancy and I will discuss this, if you don’t mind,” she says, rising to her feet and tugging Nancy up, too.

“Me?”

“Yep!”

She pauses. “Jeon Somi,” the latter sighs halfheartedly, “what are you planning now?”

Yeah, what is she planning? You have no idea and honestly, it scares you. Somi can be unpredictable with her quick wit and schemes, but with Nancy’s added ideas? Whatever she’s dreaming up, it can’t be anything you’d expect.

“The perfect apology. Meet us at my house after school. See you later, cutie.”

Your classes are filled with sprites of anxiety that are unusual when compared to your daily jokes and butt-ins. Your head’s filled with plenty of questions, and you try to answer them as you go about the rest of the school day:

First of all, why did the apology have to take place at Somi’s house?

Maybe they’ll buy a cake for you from the bakery she cited in her speech. She has plenty of money to go around so a cake might actually be possible. If it weren’t a cake, maybe an apology combined with balloons and confetti that you’d laugh about years from now. All these possibilities you sift through and yet they don’t seem to be what’s in store for you.

Second, why did the planning that had to occur without you?

They might be planning a big surprise. Perhaps that’s it. But then—

Why such a big surprise for an apology that could’ve been done simply?

That’s where your mind goes blank. You don’t know. You have no idea, not even the tiniest bit. You’ve been friends with Nancy and Somi for years but they still have that mystery around them. You know everything about them, from their interests to what makes the three of you click, but never what they plan to do. That always remains shrouded.

So, when Nancy texts your group chat the plan’s done!!! ♥ ️ be ready & meet us where youre supposed to :), you move like a snail. You take your time playing and talking to other students, buying food from the cafeteria, everything. When you get on the bus to commute from your school to Somi’s home, you’re wrecked by hesitation. All this anxiety and nervousness for a damned apology.

Maybe it’s because you’ve never had friends like them before, especially that pretty.

You would never intend to act on your feelings for them if they don’t want you to, even if you’re hormonal as fuck, but what if that’s what they’re planning? To have an intimate night with them, just like in the movies?

Or, hopefully, finally let you have something deeper: a love that fits three?

Nope, two wishes that’ll never come true, whatever star you make them upon.

Drag your heavy feet down the road. Sounds like Somi’s rich-ass neighbors are partying again. Take your precious time leering at them, noticing the manner they hold their wine glasses and the music only being stolen off Spotify’s Most Popular Songs playlist. It’s all a headache, honestly. You’ve never connected well with rich people, not until you met the girls. That’s where it all starts and ends, right? Them: Somi and Nancy, the yin and yang?

“You’re here!” shouts Somi gleefully, throwing her arms around you. She’s dressed in this tiny shirt that looks cute and simple but you’re sure costs more than a few thousand won. It also shouldn’t be worth that much when it’s too little for her anyway. “Why did you take so long?”

Nancy goes in for the kill. She comes in with only a camisole and the undershorts of her uniform plaid skirt, and it hugs right where it maims and shoots you. No, keep your mind holy. She’s your best friend. Also your crush but that doesn't matter here. “Bet he was scared to come.”

“Was not,” you reply too quickly. Tighten your jaw. “I—I got held up by traffic.”

“It’s a Wednesday.”

“Yes, but—” Pause. You realize you don’t have a proper justification. “Just get to it, will you? The apology?”

“‘Kay ‘kay,” says Somi, wrapping an arm around your waist, literally keeping you at arm’s length just in case you try to scamper away, “the apology is a girls and boy’s night. Here. Just to get away from everything. We all need it.”

“Who’s ordering the soju?”

“Soju?” Nancy asks indignantly, eyes all round and wide like she was a deer caught in headlights. You and Somi are like that to her: flashing lights, crashing into an unsuspecting her with a brightness a notch too much. No apologies when you don’t plan to change. This is what makes you young.

“What’re you, a nun? We’re adults, Nance!” Somi says. Her thumbs tap away at her phone screen, the familiar pink lights flashing back at her indicating she’s already ordering. “It’s on me.”

Of course. Who other than Jeon Somi? Of course, you can’t let that moment slip away without a snarky remark from your end.

“Must be nice having access to your billionaire dad’s bank account.”

Somi twirls her fingers in her hair and squints her eyes at you spitefully. “I’m using my mom’s, poophead.”

“Oh wow,” you reply, your statement blank of any emotion.

“Guys,” cuts in Nancy. Her voice is strained. She feels like a mother trying to contain two kids who just know how to push her buttons. “We can’t have soju delivery. Or beer. Or whatever alcoholic drinks there are. We can get in trouble. Think about our grades. The suspensions!”

Ah, sweet Nancy, always the one to pull you back down to sense. But when has that ever worked?

“Alright.” Somi clicks her device shut and throws it on the sofa space you’ve left empty beside her. “Fine.”

Wait—what?

Her best friend twists her head in shock. “Really?”

Nancy simply can’t believe that this girl, whose whole trademark is being a spoiled brat, actually follows sensible orders. You're surprised yourself; you can’t believe it more than she does. Is it finally time for Somi to perform her arc of being the mature, behaved girl she simply isn’t?

“Yep. You won.” Somi rises and waltzes her way to the exit of her mansion. “I’m just gonna buy some myself from the convenience store.”

“Somi!”

“Hey, you only said no delivery! You didn’t say I can’t buy some face-to-face!”

“Well, now I’m making it official. No—”

“See you later, alligators!”

The door slams shut.

Nancy groans loudly. Of course, the little brat.

She lets herself fall to the floor in defeat. The massaging of her fingers on the sides of her head doesn’t do enough to cast away the stress. How in the world is she going to control Somi? She knows the two of you are practically twins, the same in every way when planning schemes to make her freak out. She has to play babysitter again. How many nights has it been since the start of her unpaid duty?

On your end, you're thinking. You’ve been friends with her for longer than you think yet you don’t know how to say the right thing in situations like these. Maybe with Somi it would have been easier to say the comforting words. After all, she’s the most extroverted and blunt person you know. But with Nancy, it’s different. Nancy McDonie is never blue. At least, not to the point where she’s on the floor and moping.

It’s always different between the two of them and you still remain unable to pick who you love more.

It takes a while to get the words out, but better late than never. God, you’re such a bad friend. Do you even deserve her? “It’s fine, Nancy,” you say, sitting down beside her. You rub her knee. “Like she said, we’re adults.”

“I know, but…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out another groan that twists as it reaches your eardrums. “It’s just so scary.”

“Tell me.”

“What if someone posted photos of us drinking? You know the school handbook, right? All that talk about maintaining a good and clean self inside and outside the school. If someone finds out—”

"Yeah? Well, nobody will."

"Yeah, but there's always the possibility…"

You sometimes pray that Nancy's allowed a day without worry, that she doesn't stress over things for once. She's precious—you don't want her to feel bad about anything. This strange protectiveness always takes you when you're with her.

“Hey.” You massage her shoulder. She whines, and it’s so cute hearing her unusual sulking that you just want to wrap a blanket around her and kiss her on the forehead. Again, urges. Simply urges. Don’t mind those. “There’s only three of us here. As long as we don’t post pics online or boast about it, we’re safe. So don’t worry about it.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Not when you’re with a dreamboat like me.”

You just humiliated yourself with that. Hell, you probably gave everyone who knows and will know this story of yours secondhand embarrassment. It’s worth it all, however, when Nancy smiles. And oh, could you get lost in it. Her eyes curl up at the corners and emit all this gorgeous, positive brightness that you think everyone should get a chance to see. She’s so serious and reserved in school that a smile from her is closer to impossible than thunder coming before lightning.

“God, you’re such a gigantic ass sometimes,” she mutters, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“Did you just say I had a huge ass?”

“Keep your mouth shut.” She pushes you, joining you in your laughs, then opens her arms invitingly anyway. “Oh, forget it. Come here, you.”

You can’t even pretend to not want a hug when it’s all you’ve ever fantasized about: being in the warm, filled embrace of Nancy McDonie. You’ve fantasized about things that extend deeper than that, but you could settle for this. There’s Nancy burying her head in your neck and her hold being a little too tight for it to be a casual touch between friends. You’re delusional, but who wouldn’t be when you had a best friend this pretty? This… curvaceous?

God, you don’t know how to say that you like this girl without sounding like another one of the weirdos who stalk her at school. Are you just like them? No, you can’t be. You’ve liked Nancy and known her more than they could. It’s what you tell yourself to keep your sanity.

“You know,” she says, still rocking the two of you side to side, “they did say not to trust first impressions. ‘You better take advice. Never trust first impressions.’”

“Didn’t Michael Jordan say that?”

“Did he?” She looks up curiously.

“Never mind,” you say, waving it off. You pull away. Lean against the curve of Somi’s sofa so that your ass doesn’t slide like a mop on her floor. "What’s with first impressions? What was your first impression of me?”

“You really want to know?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for the first reason…” Nancy hugs her knees and looks at you pointedly. “Not a lot of people would love to know that they were a real fucking pain in the ass.”

You burst out laughing. There’s chances as slim as a ballerina that Nancy curses, but when she does, she sounds hilarious. She doesn’t even say them a certain way; it’s just the instance by itself of her daring to use words deemed as bad that gets your tears of laughter flowing.

To add to that, there’s that matter-of-fact statement she made that’s as honest as Somi’s everyday talk that makes you think they switched souls for a second. You laugh harder with that in mind. The next thing you know, you’re curled up on the floor busting out cackles that reach pitches you can’t even shout in.

“Seriously!” she says. She’s laughing as well as she shakes her head in disbelief. “I was always trying to keep the seniors in place, you know, being president and everything. And then I found out this new kid just spammed middle finger emojis to sir Fernandez in the Zoom chat after he made him answer a question. And I was like, ‘Hooo boy.’”

“Well, he shouldn’t have called on me while I was playing a game!”

“You’re so immature, he’s a teacher and you’re in class! He’s supposed to do that!” Nancy squeals, a hand on her mouth to muffle her rambunctious cackles.

“Fine, fair point.” You somehow manage to make a successful attempt to halt your laughs. “And then what happened?”

There's a lot of secret lore between you and her. You want to uncover all of them, especially knowing that Somi's gonna tease you to hell about if she heard. Her getting soju was a blessing underneath another blessing—you got alone time with your crush and some nice alcohol to ignite your system.

Nancy looks around at her friend's house. She admires every perfect painting bought for millions, every chandelier that mistletoes whoever stands beneath all its glory. They help her form her next statement.

"To be honest," she says, choosing her words carefully, "I thought you were in it to blackmail money out of Somi. To manipulate her. I love the girl, you know. She acts like she's all that, and she is, but she's… fragile. So I never let her be alone with you."

"Damn.” You admit that your heart sank a little, like a ship doomed by the ocean. “Am I really an ugly creep?"

"No, it wasn't that. I was just afraid you were a player. Like one of the jocks who bully Somi but don't ever get to her because she's too naïve to see that they're doing it. And you're not ugly, you know. You're…"

She's looking at you strangely, in that strategic little way she locks on artwork flashed in a Powerpoint from a projector in school. She's looking at you as if you were a complex, layered painting she couldn't wrap her head around. But being unable to pick you apart thrills her; there's a smile on her face.

"I'm what?" you ask, ever the dumbass. Or poophead—you take whatever.

"Don't make me say it. You're so full of yourself already."

"Respectfully, Nancy,” you declare, “I have no idea what you're saying. How can I when I didn't even know what a dodo was before eleventh grade?"

"You're handsome, okay?" Her cheeks get into this furious red color that she tries miserably to hide with her palms, hide with a dismissive laugh. "Good-looking. Attractive. Whatever."

Chew at the end of your lip to fight back a giddy grin. Did she really say that? A star out there in the looming night just granted your wish. "Well, you gave me the makeover back at Jessa's."

"Look at you being the patron saint of humility."

"I'm serious. I looked like a loser before you came in like a storm and rained that magic in my life."

“And now you’re Shakespeare.”

“When a girl like you comes into a guy’s life,” you say, leaning forward, “who wouldn’t be?”

"Well." Nancy huddles her chin into her palm. Her voice is as soft as cotton. "With a guy like you, you could say I never looked back."

But her voice dips, and there's a hidden subliminal message in it that causes you to look up. You could read it clear off her face there, off Nancy, off her soul that's never looked more clear.

Nancy, with her chestnut brown hair, ever the princess of autumn.

Nancy, with her comforting eyes full of resoluteness, as if she's wanted this to happen.

Nancy, with her lips barely a breath away from—

“Who the freak locked the door?” shrieks a familiar voice from outside. Well, not too outside when its volume closes in on the interior vicinity of the large mansion. “This is my house! Let me in or else I’ll call the cops—”

Sigh. Fucking cockblocker brat. You rise from the floor and approach the doorway. This time, you spare no time—you don’t want to look back and identify the look in Nancy’s eyes as you walk away.

“Calm down, the neighbors could hear you,” you laugh as you let the blonde girl in. You’re a little disappointed that she interrupted what was beginning to happen, but there’s time for that later. Can’t spare her an annoyed look, though. It melts when you see the cans of beer in plastic bags.

Nancy takes a bag from her sullenly. “No drinking past twelve.”

“No promises.” Empty a can into your open mouth. Somi claps her hands happily and almost drops all the alcohol she bought.

You help the girls stock the cans and bottles into the fridge. It’s the large, two-door one that could fit an entire person. Wait, it can contain all of you three? You’ve been to Somi’s so many times and only noticed it now.

But that’s the last thing you take note of, for here's what's new: ice cream overflows Somi’s freezer, yet a lot of them haven’t even had a crumb consumed from them. Somi says it’s because she keeps them for cheat days.

“Is today considered a cheat day?” you wonder out loud.

“Go crazy.” Indifferent, Somi gives you a tub each. Chocolate. Vanilla. Double dutch for her. “It’s not like Walmart’s gonna disappear unless the aliens come to Earth and have the bright idea to go wacka over there. Nope, Walmart’s always gonna have some more.”

“Aren’t you the best, Somi.” Ruffle her hair fondly while you scoop a humongous chunk of ice cream into your mouth. Alcohol and ice cream are delicious together, but your stomach turns around. It strangely stays intact, as if preparing for what might happen later tonight.

“Of course I am, are you buggin' or what?”

Somi licks the spoon of its sweetness, staring right at you. You don’t know how to react—her tongue’s gliding all over the utensil perfectly, collecting the studded white with nothing but clean performance. Her eyes don’t let up in their strong, connected gaze. Your breath gets lost somewhere in your airway.

Nancy watches amusedly. Okay, so maybe she does smile more than you think—it’s unlike any other one though. This one of hers is lined to the edges with smugness. “There’s our princess,” she remarks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The spoon catches somewhere sandwiched between Somi’s words.

Nancy shrugs with a serene calmness. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

She walks away without another word or gesture. Suddenly tense in the bones, you and Somi close up together for reasons unknown.

“Is that just me being majorly freaky,” says Somi, eyes following her best friend with a new, imminent gaze, “or was that kinda hot?”

You don’t answer, but you think she knows. The two of you bond over shared experiences, and this one is about finding out how hot Nancy McDonie truly is. It’s not an unknown fact, but it’s the way her pupils settle over someone and linger just long enough to have them wondering; the way she commands a classroom; the way she rarely is vulnerable—it’s all that which leads to the very moment she leaned against the fridge door and watched silently, attracting the two of you even without the need for many words.

You’re droning again. Drowning, too, in her. In both of them—as you walk behind Somi, you can see that there isn’t a bra strap lining an imprint on her shirt and her ass is sticking out under her shorts. You barely could get yourself out of the waves as you wade your way to the stairs.

At least that’s a familiar high place you could seek refuge from: the loft. It’s kind of like an attic, but you don’t really care. It’s where you hang out and watch all the movies with them from a crappy projector. You don’t care about the films due to your conversations with them eventually proving to be more interesting.

“Roof?” Somi asks. She peeks out of the triangular window pane. “The stars are pretty tonight.”

Never been there before. Not that you aren’t willing to try. “Just don’t fall off,” you warn, though you’re nervous yourself to get there.

She slides a chair to you and then you’re climbing through a square-shaped gap at the low ceiling. You help the girls up onto the roof and become literally starstruck because—

Whoa.

Feels like a different world. The night is as vast as it is beautiful. Shining lights are embedded into the sky, the gray clouds barely visible with how they blend in with the color of the atmosphere. Each star has their own glimmer, but all of which share a common brightness—when partnered up with that large, pot-bellied moon, they become more perfect. The soft yet distinct sounds of the cicadas echo in your ears.

“Will anyone see us up here?” asks Nancy. Her vision is filled with shining galaxies, and her tone sounds dreamy. She says it in a way that isn’t out of concern for possible consequent trouble, but an appreciative one, as if she were wondering if anybody else could see how pretty it is up here.

“No one.” You shut the trapdoor and sit upon the curved edges of the roof. “It’s just us.”

“It’s just us,” she repeats this thoughtfully. You think that she’s smiling again, but you can’t be too sure.

Yes, it’s just you three. This intimate moment includes only you and the girls who turned your life around. Nobody else could get to bask in the simple happiness of hanging out all the way up here. This is for you, and no one else. Nobody could ever be friends with the girls the way you are.

You three take in the beauty of the night. All the way up here, the hills look higher than they already are. The sound of partying neighbors becomes static in the background. It becomes like foreign words in an uninteresting song—it’s nothing in comparison to the view of sloping roads, tall homes, and the trees swaying to the beat of the night wind. It can try its best to break your immersion and every attempt would be fruitless.

“Care for some double dutch?” Somi asks you. She juts out her tub of half-eaten chunks of ice cream. Appealing.

“As long as you don’t use the spoon you gave a blowjob to.”

Nancy snickers. She shoves your knee in reprimand, taking care not to put in so much force so you don’t topple down the roof and onto the main road.

“I’ll give BJs to any spoon I want, thank you very much, but alright. Do what you want. No ice cream for you, more for me.”

“I could go for some.” Nancy parts her lips.

“Glad to see we still have someone with a brain around here.” Somi shakes her head at you disapprovingly.

You squint your eyes while she feeds Nancy some double dutch. Note dutifully that she uses the same spoon she violated. Well, that’s one thing you didn’t expect. But they’re best friends—they’ve been there for each other through thick and thin, bad and good. Sometimes simple gestures like that show that there’s something in the midst of them that beats mere friendship.

But then you see the way they look at you, and you’re briefly toying with the idea that whatever they have, they got it with you, too.

“I still remember the first time we brought you here,” Somi says, leaning in front of you so she can get to wiping some cream from Nancy’s lips. “You tried to act cool, but you were really starstruck. Like the house was Zendaya’s or something.”

“I guess so.” You freeze up when she holds your hand. “I mean, I’m not exactly the richest.”

You think of your own house—sweet little place with a tall tree and a low gate, nothing special—then compare it to hers: a mansion with six floors and rooms that could substitute for hotel clients. Nancy’s is amazing, too. But you don’t really care about that. It’s a whole other thing that bothers you about it.

Nancy shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re our friend. We’ll share it with you as much as you want.”

You’re finally able to name the thing. For months you’ve thought about it, but you never realized until this moment that it’s exactly what keeps you insecure about your friendship with them. That’s another thing they make you find out, besides style and bond.

“Yeah, I get it. But, but I’m a loser. I was a punk who made school life hell for you. I’m broke. Stupid. I don’t get what made you want to be friends with me.”

Maybe you're like Somi, too. You act like a king in school with a red carpet draped down on the floor for you, but you fear that your crown is undeserved. Sometimes you feel like you're a peasant deluded by dreams of status and strength.

“Besides you being stupidly hot,” Somi says, albeit sincerely—there’s no sarcasm or flirtatiousness in her pitch, “you’re not in it for the cash. You’re not in it just to say you’re besties with us.”

“And trust me,” adds Nancy, “that makes you a prodigy among others.”

They're right. You aren't in it for the popularity, the fame, not even the everyday free treats and outings you get. You just… like them. Somi's bright confidence inspires you; you've never seen a girl more self-aware than her. And Nancy's someone who takes her studies seriously, an example you should follow, while still maintaining a social life.

"What makes you so sure?" you say teasingly. They might've had some doubts along the way.

"I dunno," Somi says with a shrug. Her eyes curve north. "We just are."

They just are. Short and simple, but it somehow explains everything.

"And I guess we know a lot more about you than we think." Nancy twirls her fingertips along your thigh. "Because we want to show we're grateful. And, y'know, sorry for the ruckus we caused back there."

"You already have. The soju, the ice cream… I'm already good."

She smiles. "You really don't get it, do you?"

Your mind can't keep up. What don't you get here?

Somi leans forward and flashes you a smile that raises your suspicions. "You're completely clueless. Like, if it danced in front of you in a housewife apron, you would still order your dumb poophead ass some chicken wings."

"What? Why the hell would a hint be wearing an apro—"

You don't know why or how, but she's kissing you like you got the point she's been pushing across.

Now you do.

"Call this… a friend's sincere apology."

Somi's pushed you down on the old mattress of the loft, with a new look on her face that tells you tonight would be everything you expected and didn't.

"Two friends' sincere apology," adds Nancy. Her shorts are off? You didn't notice in the dark, but you can make out the supple shape of her hips and thighs, full and meaty in all the right ways. "Question is: would you let us do it?"

Your answer is locked and loaded in your throat. Can't pull the trigger when her ass muffles your face.

Alright, perhaps—just perhaps, you aren't saying it's real—you've devoted a few seconds of your time appreciating when the wind picks up her skirt at school. You tried not to be perverted because, of course, she's your friend. Your best friend.

A best friend doesn't push hers down a mattress with the weight of her core on his face. She doesn't let him feel her full cheeks suffocate him, or start to move like she would please a lover.

So what are you and Nancy when she's doing each of those things?

Definitely not just friends.

"Fuck." The word leaves Nancy's mouth like a prayer. She doesn't pray often, but she religiously grinds her hips to and fro on top of you. The flat of your tongue massages her labia and tickles her prone clit. She's so wet that your lips quickly become coated. She looks back and moves her ass with stressed slides. "Your mouth is so good. So fucking good."

"Already?" Somi chuckles. She's not just your best friend either; her thighs hug one of yours and, like the girl she's always seen giggling and whispering with, she's grinding. Her movements are admittedly more fluid, but who's keeping note? "You talk real dirty for a prude."

Your pants slide off your legs as she finds the bare skin more appealing than denim. You flex and send a moan from her so carnal it might have literally clawed its way out of her throat. It's sharp. Needy. Wanton. Somi doesn’t speak like the rich princess she is when she moans for cock.

"I'm not a prude," Nancy says. Her breath is tinged to the tone with air. She's gasping as you tongue her and lick at her lips. "I just like being chaste."

"Please, sweetheart, you're aaanything but chaste."

"S-says the one who's sucking him off."

Both girls have mouths on them. Somi in particular. It's word-for-word how her lips trap your cock and start off with a strong suction. You moan right into Nancy's pussy. Said girl cries out when your lips strengthen their merciless suction on her pearl.

If you were to consider everything like a butterfly effect, you'd say Somi started it all: the sucking and moans. She's the one who's massaging your cock with those pink lips, effectively causing you to lose control and take it all out on Nancy. Poor Nancy, always the one to take it all. Now it's for good; she's squeezing her breasts and riding your mouth like a saddle.

"Blowjobs don't count!" Somi quips. You moan again; the tip of her tongue toys with your balls. It's like she lit a fire there no wetness can put out. (Well, you still have to see about that.) "We'll show him how real good girls say sorry later. You know what I mean, right, babe?"

That fucked nickname does things to you, even if it's not meant for you, because it foretells the sight you have to fight to see with Nancy's back blocking it: Somi placing her hands on her best friend's hips and guiding her movements on your mouth.

"Y-yes." You're surprised at how submissive Nancy sounds. So different from the commanding tone she assumes in morning assemblies.

You didn’t expect you’d be in this position. Another thing you didn’t expect was how wet Nancy is, and how she tastes. She’s tangy yet sweet, filling your mouth like a new favorite flavor. She also moans a lot, which is strange when she doesn’t really talk much outside of this setting. You’ve changed her, too. Just not in the way like she did taking you to Jessa’s. No, this is your way: keeping her drenched little pussy filled with a soft muscle that’s hard enough to have her legs shaking.

"That's right. Move that fat ass for him." Somi sits on the side with one hand on one side of Nancy's waist and another on your cock. She jerks you off hard, with a grip that's both too tight and too good. "Your nipples are sooo hard, Nancy. Just a hunch of mine, but I think you want me to suck on them. Make you cum on his handsome face."

Precum dribbles from your cockhead. How could Somi, the girl who speaks in coy accents, talk so filthy? She knows the time and place for that mouth, and it's right now and on Nancy's waiting breast.

Your length goes through bouts of impossible tightness induced by Somi's fist while your mouth (gladly) suffers another burden, which is Nancy's pussy and ass gyrating down on you. Your tongue doesn't know where to go so it goes everywhere: licking a wet line on her slit, diving into her drenched hole, teasing her clit. Nancy's thighs slam with your head in between.

"Fuck!" Her moans are straight up pornographic. "Oh, oh, it feels so good, don't stop!"

Somi runs a teasing finger on your slit, keeping the heat in one place before resuming having her palm wrap your dick. "Who says we're stopping? Yep, nobody. Just keep moving those hips, lovie. We still got so much to give him."

You didn't think it was possible, but yes. Nancy does sprawl out more, her outed pussy lips all puffy and sore from your doings. You’re ruining her with how you lick and let her push down. Her core must be strong for her to keep a good stance in the midst of it all.

It’s not like you’re left out. Somi’s to thank for that, with her hand not stopping as it pumps and pumps and pumps. The pace is dangerous like a feared waterfall that’s got signs telling travelers to be wary around it. She pulled you into it. It isn’t that you wanted to suffer under the rapidity when you feel comfortable with the descent and rise.

"Ah. Ahhh, please!"

Nancy never begs. She's above that, just like she is with everything else. But listen to her pleas and begs for more, for you to keep licking and sucking at the right places, for your hands not to pause in their journeys roaming the land of her perfect, curvy body.

Somi spanks her, and you quite literally feel her cheeks bounce in your face. You'd actually be okay with going out this way. Heaven could be found in Nancy's full ass.

Oh, right, and Somi’s hand. You’ve never taken Somi as the kind to get around a lot even when she acts overly sexual sometimes, but she must have learned those skills somewhere. Her hand is neither too tight nor too loose—it’s just the perfect grip for you to almost cum into her fingers. She’s determined to wring a climax out of you, too, with how harsh she slams her hand down on your core.

It’s a cycle of pleasure that has no means of ending. With Somi fingering herself, you getting the best handjob you’ve ever had, and Nancy having her pussy eaten out, none of you are left to waste away. It’s sin, that’s what it is. It’s an act that, if anyone had caught sight of, would have guaranteed a swift suspension—maybe even the chance of getting expelled.

But in this warm moment, all of you forget about that. Even Nancy has that off her mind when all she’s thinking about is your tongue delightfully fucking her wet hole.

“I’m… I’m cumming!” she wails. Her riding on your face spirals out of control, and again and again you’re blessed with her ass suffocating you.

It’s too much for one girl to take: a mouth going crazy on her pussy and another doing the same, if not crazier, on her tit. Your sucks and Somi’s own increasing when she announces her imminent bliss doesn’t help her case either. But maybe it does—she’s never felt this good. Whenever she secretly, scandalously toyed with her pussy under the covers at night, none of those porn videos and literotica made her cum as hard as you and Somi have. It feels like a large bubble has burst inside her when she finally releases, tensing up and freezing similar to if a frostbitten cold finally took its last toll on her.

She sighs heavily while she comes down. Her thighs shake and you have to pin them down the creaky mattress to keep eating of her. She shudders and pushes you down. You stop, like she hinted.

“You alright, Nancy?” You remember Somi asking a similar question earlier, in a situation that’s nothing compared to this. Yep, far from it. A continent away. You weren’t eating her out like a last meal in the classroom, were you?

Well, you would have wanted to if you’d discovered prior that her ass is really as nice as it looks.

“Yes,” she replies weakly.

You’re glad.

“I might have to try and get you to eat me out, too,” Somi says to you. She helps Nancy to get off your face after you got her off. “She was screaming, did you hear? You’d think somebody was like getting killed and– oh, wait, of course you couldn’t hear. Her thighs are just the perfect things to have wrapped around your head, right?”

Nancy blushes and looks away..

“But I think we should take the lead." Somi stops jerking you off. What quickly washes away your disappointment is when she takes her shirt off. "We’re the ones giving back.”

The recoil of her large chest is amazing; it rises as it’s hindered by the tight hem of her clothing, and settles back into its natural position after she rids herself of the fabric. Her rosy nipples are things work gawking at; they’re as stiff and hard as diamonds, telling you of how much she wants this. And you think you’ve seen a few of Somi’s diamonds she could purchase a whole mine of, but you’d still have a desire similar to the blonde’s: you want her more.

“I’ve seen you looking at them. Don’t pretend and go all ‘oh nooo, that’s not true.’” She gives her own gifted bosom a firm grope. Her head throws back due to the pleasure. “You stare all the time. It makes me kinda assume that you want me to do something with them.”

“And what could that be?” you ask in a futile attempt to match her cockiness. Should’ve known that it’s a losing game trying to beat Jeon Somi in being a brat. It’s a god-given gift, a skill that needs no honing. She’s just like that.

“Duh. Like I said, I’ll show, not tell. This isn’t primary school.”

She shows a hefty amount, you’ll tell her that. Your mouth falls out at what happens. She takes her tits into her hands and leans down to envelope your cock in them. She seals it tight around your girth.

Fuck.

She then starts to move. Up and down she goes, toying with her nipples on the way. It makes her core more drenched than it already is.

She’s the master of eye contact. She picked it up with her natural confidence. Why do you think she walks the hallways with a gaze that’s only directed straight ahead? Talks to new kids like she already knows them? She’s never seen weak, and tonight is no exception. Her fierce eyes speak of lust and strength of knowing she’s having her way.

Jeon Somi always gets what she wants.

Again, this time is no exception.

“Fuck, Somi…” you say in quiet groans.

Someone needs to pinch you. This can’t be real. Never did you think what you’ve been dreaming would actually come true. The nights you touch yourself to the frequent sight of her tits practically bursting out of her uniform, you think of this same exact thing. You think of using her breasts like a toy, and now you’re experiencing it for real.

Perhaps one of the stars out there really took one for the team and granted two of your wishes at the same time.

Are you in wonderland? The movement of her tits provide a solid pace that’s hard to keep up with. Its warm, slick embrace has you on the edge of the mattress. You don’t ever want to run away from this feeling. It’s slick and tight yet rough, giving you a pleasure that’s confusing just as it is enjoyable.

“How’re you doing there?”

“I like it. More than like,” you breathe. Swallow what’s already been said.

Somi’s tits are a dream. They might as well have been made out of clouds with how soft they are, even when hugging your dick. You see yourself disappear between them and moan. Look up at Somi and see her seductively bite her lip; moan harder. Who knew all that barky flirtatiousness had a bite to them?

“Really?” she asks. She stops for a regretful moment to slap your cock against the side of her boob. The curve of your length heats up. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

She resumes, and you couldn’t be more thankful. The friction is everything to live for, and you’re a man who’s had no wish to die. Somi’s pale chest, guided by her hands trapping your cock between the massiveness in front of you, propels you to a close orgasm.

You switch your focus briefly to Nancy. She hums from afar. You notice that her fingers are in between her legs. She’s enjoying it as much as you are. “Could you stop being a brat for like, one second?” she chuckles, though it twists between her moans.

She’s sitting on the floor with her well-eaten pussy splayed to welcome her digits, and they definitely are welcome visitors. Her mouth is open though no more words come out.

“What? He likes it.” Somi jumps the pace to a rapidity you cry out for, and smiles that smile. The smile she only does when she’s doing or will be doing something she shouldn’t be. Explains a lot—if you two were just best friends, she wouldn’t be titfucking you. “And this is an apology, right? I’m saying sorry for punching him in the balls.”

“God,” you laugh out loud in spite of it all. “If this is the way you apologize, I’d have you punch my balls everyday.”

“I could do that. Say your apologies, too, Nancy. The way you’ll know he likes it.”

It’s as if she made your wet dream and worst nightmare come true. Can you even take more? It’s a question that apparently is disregarded of its answer; Nancy crawls over to the edge of the old, discarded mattress to suck on your swollen balls whenever Somi’s tits rise.

They’re arsonists, and your whole body is the unfortunate victim. Although they attend only to your crotch except for the here-and-there brushes on your stomach and legs, your toes and arms burn. Somi and Nancy are sending heat waves everywhere. You twist and turn and propel and cry—none of those banish it. And it’s for the better because you’ve never felt closer to paradise.

You have to groan loudly. It can’t be muffled when the sensations are coming at you all at the same time. You can feel Nancy’s tongue dragging its edge along your sensitive flesh and her friend’s tits bouncing around you; see the two students’ sultry looks never breaking; hear one girl’s grunts as she fucks you with her bosom and the other’s moans; touch the mane of Nancy’s autumn hair to pull her deeper into your crotch; taste an orgasm that couldn’t really just come now when it’s this close—

“Oh shit, fuck!” The most senseless of curses come out of you after Somi’s titjob provokes a messy, violent orgasm. You’d be more coherent than that if she were letting up. Not possible when she doesn’t; she keeps bouncing up and down to jerk your cock off with her deep cleavage.

Somi hums delightfully at the never ending spray of cum on her tits. Nancy stops suckling harshly at your left testicle in order for her to be able to do it instead to the rod beside it.

“Nancy, fuck, so good—” you say, hissing as your hips rise up.

You’re inadvertently facefucking her like this. Your hips move with their own will. They push up hard into Nancy’s beautiful lips. She in turn reacts with spontaneous downward drives of her head, welcoming you into her tight throat and letting you savor her mouth.

Somi fixes the girl’s hair into a ponytail of brown. She could see the bulge you’re making on her throat. She nods her on whenever Nancy looks at her with hesitation, and rubs your thigh to get your sensitivity levels to an all-time peak. She certainly got what she wanted and expected, as per usual, for you’re moaning with the tone of someone who gets paid to do it; shivering though it’s anything but cold here in this loft that’s gotten warm for other reasons besides the fireplace.

Nancy gags as she pulls away. Now she’s poured on by the white rain, too; some get into her hair while the others find a landing place on her shirt. God, that must have been expensive. You’re not here to make reparations, just to remind yourself; this is for you. They gave you this opportunity.

However, your heart pumps with anxiety hearing Nancy hack and cough. You quickly get to the floor, knees shaking on the way. “Hey,” you start, with a thumb on her chin, “you want to keep going?”

It doesn’t look like it for a second, but then those beautiful dark eyes connect with yours and suddenly all the discomfort is away. She smiles.“Y-yeah!” she says with a half-giggle. “All okay here.”

“Awesome.” Somi pats her back repeatedly and strokes her hair. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t get you to suck on my tits.”

You look at said tits and gulp. Yeah, that beautiful chest covered with your release is tempting to be gawked at. But still, time and place even for jokes. Nancy’s about to have a goddamned asthma attack.

“You are so out of line sometimes,” you say to Somi disapprovingly.

“It’s alright.” Nancy grins. Wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Nobody said apologies weren’t hard to do.”

The look of defiance and mischief softens on Somi’s face. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m sure he won’t mind, right, oppa?”

“Yeah,” you butt in, something you would have done even without Somi’s jab at your shin. Dear god, is the girl a bodybuilder in disguise or something? That hurt almost as much as the punch to your balls. “Nancy, I appreciate it and everything, but if you want to back out—”

Look, this is everything you wished for. You wanted to have intimate moments with them probably since just a few months before the friendship was sealed. They’re beautiful girls, and you love Nancy especially closely. However, if they want to stop, you have to. Not to become a white knight or anything, but that’s natural law. You don’t force anybody into it.

“It’s okay, seriously.” Nancy’s relieving words now pass more smoothly through her lips. “Are you liking it so far?”

Alright, another thing to analyze. What else is there to answer? “Yes” is a painfully obvious reply to her question. You’ve had her ass on your face and Somi’s tits screwing an orgasm out of you. This is what wet dreams are made of, except that the white leak doesn’t end up on the fabric of your sheets anymore.

It ends up on Somi’s amazing chest. Any man would die to catch sight of them. They’re round and full, settling at the perfect position whenever she breathes while covered from areola to nipple with your sticky load. Your semen even slides down to her midriff. You’re more convinced that she’s a bodybuilder—for this, it’s more obvious: her abs are hard and firm. You’ve worked out a lot and have not once gotten to that point of solidness.

Your cock can’t say the same.

“I loved it. You?”

“I liked it, and, and I—”

“You want to answer him, brunette-ie?” Somi asks mockingly, swirling white on her collarbone. Yet another wonder to gawk at.

“That doesn’t work for other hair colors,” points out Nancy with a giggle.

“It does when I say so.”

Nancy tilts her head. Her smile suddenly doesn’t look too playful anymore. “Not everything’s gonna go your way tonight, blondie.”

“Is that so?” Somi curls her hair from her shoulders and tilts that pretty little head they hold. “Because if I have to say it again, McDonie, it’s—”

Nancy knows there’s no point arguing with her. It’s not the right occasion today. Fortunately, she has better ways of making Somi shut up.

It’s not completely shutting her up when all it does is make her create more noises. These are more pleasant to the ears in comparison. When Nancy attaches her pretty lips to her best friend’s tit, Somi’s words freeze in midair. You could see all her brattiness melt drop by drop. Her eyes are wide and she lets out a whimper.

If your cock was flaccid already from the raunchy sex (because you started it all off with a bang, literally,) it isn’t now. It perks up hard upon seeing the most beautiful girls you know engaging in such obscene acts. Nancy’s already shown you how talented her mouth is, but she’s only hanging the knowledge out for everyone to see with how she cleans Somi’s right breast of your cum. The nipple she performs on is stiff, and she takes special care in gently guiding her teeth along it.

“Fuck,” Somi says, voice breathy. All those little signs—her breathing shortening whenever Nancy dares to suckle a little bit harsher, bite a little harder; her legs suddenly shaking and weakening—lead you to a conclusion: they’ve done this before. Whether for rehearsal for this moment or for just mere curiosity, it’s hot nevertheless.

“Now will you shut that dirty mouth up?” Nancy uses that exact voice in the classroom, and hearing her use it in this moment makes her sound so much sexier. Gone is the passive prude that she is (or is pretending to be? That voice can’t be birthed from just leadership skills)—she knows how to put a brat in her place.

“If you think,” says Somi, with a laugh that’s too pitchy to be genuine in its sarcasm, “that sucking my boobs’ll make me a good little bitch, then you’re wrong.”

Is Nancy wrong? Probably. Somi’s the most defiant, outspoken girl you know. Nothing has stopped her from getting her way. You bet if Armageddon came into reality and all the world went to shit, Somi would be commanding the demons to get her a pumpkin spice latte and the angels to call her a limo.

“So you don’t want to be good and get on his cock?”

Nancy stands up. You’re once again reminded of the eternally truthful fact that her ass is amazing. She shimmies it on your cock, slipping it between her cheeks but never really allowing penetration, and afterwards starts to bounce her butt beautifully for you.

You can’t help but run your hands all over the perfect fat thing. You lift the cheeks to let them ripple photogenically as they settle down, going as far as well to give her a few spanks. You’re lost in this sex-filled dream. You’re in a coma seeing the too-good-to-be-true ass of Nancy McDonie.

Somi twitches her mouth to one side. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t want to feel his big fat cock inside you,” and Nancy’s more dangerous than you think—she takes your cock and starts to tease its head on her lips and asshole, “and really get a taste of how he stretches you out?”

You bite your lip, enjoying what she’s doing to you and Somi. Your other friend has never looked more needy—large, rabbit eyes peer jealously at Nancy getting to have you for herself. Or is it the other way around? The looks she gives Nancy’s drenched pussy and your solid cock are equally full of hunger.

“You want to answer, blondie?” An echoed statement, but it doesn’t lose its effect on Somi.

Nancy smirks. She’s a natural-born leader, often managing to fight her way to be in charge. It isn’t the same for the other, who’s been raised to have everything her heart desires. Right now, seeing you hint to fucking her best friend is making her needy. Really needy. She wants you for herself, too.

Nancy shrugs at Somi’s continued refusal to answer. “Suit yourself,” she says. She twists around to face you and commands, in a loud whisper, “I want it in my ass, oppa.”

“No!” Somi finally breaks. Her cheeks are pink. “I mean, like, not yet. Fine. Whatever, f-fine, I’ll be good. Just let me have him, too.”

“That’s more like it.” Nancy kisses her, a feat that has you blushing regardless of you not being the recipient of that gesture. “He and I can do that later.”

Somi scrambles to her feet the second Nancy leaves your lap. With no hesitation whatsoever, she plops herself down on you, filling herself to the hilt all at once. Her toned back is turned, but you can paint a picture of her face as she moans. Her mouth parts widely to cry out, and you could imagine her staring at the black insides of her eyelids as the wonderful filling results in getting her to see stars.

“Ohhh my god,” she drawls out. Her legs shake. “You were gonna fill your ass with something this big?”

You reach up from behind her to squeeze her tits. You can’t believe your dick had the chance to feel them before you did—they could do a role as stress balls; they’re soft, large, and you’d love to squeeze them any time of the day. Yep, also on the times you aren’t stressed in the first place. That’s how perfect Somi’s alluring breasts are.

Her pussy is the main attraction to all of this, however. She’s obviously so turned on—her wetness is like an avalanche of need on your cock for it floods your shaft without the need for an orgasm. Not that you aren’t gonna give it to her. When her pussy’s this snug and warm, this wet and tight, how are you going to do anything but make her cum?

You start to hump her rabidly. Your hips send her bouncing up and down on your lap, making it so that whatever happens, her starting point and ending point is always your cock. Somi’s moans cut and break into emphasized cries. In your hands, her tits make gravity look so appealing; they bob high in the air and rest heavily into your palms. There’s always a sharp rebound, a sharp cry from her. Her moans just make fucking your school’s signature brat a five-star experience.

“What did I tell you? I’m not a prude,” Nancy replies smugly. She spreads Somi’s legs to the point that she’s technically doing a split on your dick. “I also know how to suck on this little nub right here. Like I did to your big tits, remember?”

At first, Somi doesn’t get what she means. But then Nancy licks quickly at her vulnerable clit, and she understands it fully. “F-fuck, Nancy unnie!” she cries out.

She tenses up in your lap. As an effect, she gets impossibly tighter. You fight it with sharp thrusts, but she always ends up closing around you. You pierce her tightening walls and find that no amount of wetness and slick could get her to part her walls.

“‘Unnie’?” Nancy licks up and down. In the face of it all the run of her voice remains gentle. You splay Somi’s pussy lips to help her out. “You never call me that. Do I have to suck your clit everyday to get you to have some manners?”

Oh, but Somi can’t be taught manners. Just a few licks around and on her bundle of nerves has her forgetting to use a proper inside voice. It’s hopeless when she’s screaming and writhing all over the place. That’s what the combination of your thrusts and her fellow council president’s tongue does to her: it turns her into this crazed nympho just begging to be touched and used.

She’s lucky to have friends like you and Nancy who are willing to be patient in teaching her. Your methods aren’t the most orthodox, you’ll admit—what kind of friend would team up with another in ruining her cunt?

“The princess here needs to learn a lesson, after all,” you whisper in her ear. Your hands on Somi’s wide hips, your fire pumps harshly into her without daring to slip out. Nope, you’re staying inside her forever. “You’re gonna be a good girl, aren’t you, Somi? You’re gonna let us fuck you into being a good girl?”

“You sound so stupid, you know that? Like you came from friggin’ Fifty Shades of Gray or something.” Somi sticks her tongue out at you, then it idly hangs from her lips after you reprimand her with a few scolding thrusts. She begins to whimper, eyes filling with tears of need.

“Tell us to stop then.” You aren’t fazed. You know what that face she makes means too well.

You propel up into her with the force of one who almost hates her to be fucking her like that. You spread her legs wider. Bury your face into her hair because she’s your blondie.

She says nothing.

You toy with her nipples, flicking and pinching them.

She utters not a single word.

Nancy slips her tongue inside for a brief moment, joining you, then places kisses on her inner thighs.

She finally makes a noise, and it’s a couple sounds stringed into whines.

It’s not the childish one she makes whenever she’s refused something as miniscule as a bite of a doughnut, but one of real weakness. She just showed the two of you where her Achilles spots lay. She’s a sucker for this, and all the same, you’re a sucker for her neck and shoulders that always smell of lilies. Take it all in before leaving love bites all over the pale, prone skin.

She takes deep breaths.

Nancy asks her if she’s cumming, and she screams—

“Yes yes yes! Just keep eating me out, Nancy unnie, keep fucking me, oppa! I’m gonna cum so hard!”

Nancy makes a show of licking the underside of your entering and exiting cock all the way up to Somi’s pussy lips. The two of you groan ecstatically. This she repeats until your precum starts to wet Somi’s walls and Somi’s clit is practically quivering from the abuse. It doesn’t stop there. She grabs Somi’s tiny waist and pushes the girl’s core into her mouth.

“Shit, Nancy!” Somi gasps lewdly. The new position gives you ample space to take time in withdrawing then slamming every inch into her aching body. “I’m gonna cum, gonna c-c-cum, please—fuck!”

There she goes. She falters heavily into you as her orgasm takes over.

You caress her rising and falling midriff, suddenly wrapped into the need to help her come down. You kiss the back of her ear and her neck. Whisper sweet everythings there (because you mean each one: you’ll take care of her all the way). Nancy stops eating her and rubs her thigh comfortingly.

Through it all, Somi’s still your baby. The girl you tend to because you know she loses herself sometimes.

This is the calm after the storm. For a moment, it’s all soft. Somi may remain with her pussy filled with your length, but it doesn’t change the tenderness you have for her. For Nancy. For the relationship the three of you have.

“Are you all bright and happy there?”

“Fuck you, of course I am.” That tells you she’s not tapering off lust-induced insanity that much. If she were, though, she’d still maintain that feistiness. “I can’t believe we did that. And I can’t believe you didn’t cum inside me.”

“Safe sex, princess.” Nancy’s back to her serious yet half-joking self. She brushes Somi’s nose playfully. “Didn’t you listen to sir Lars?”

“I’m safe today, though…”

“Hmm. Next time?”

“Next time,” replies Somi with a bit more satisfaction. “For now, I want to see you get your ass fucked.”

Maybe it’s going too fast, like an amateur author’s prodded pacing with a debut novel, but in the flash of the moment you find that you don’t care. You and Nancy share one look and just know tonight is going to be different than all the other ones with hookups, exes, everything. This one runs deeper—it’ll define who you are for the rest of the evening.

Somi sits down at what used to be the headboard of the mattress. She’s good with just watching after the violent orgasm she had. Nancy really went all-out. Must have still been thinking about that speech she made.

Your mind stalls on Nancy right now. She’s on her hands and knees, and she’s looking back at you with this nervous yet crazed desire. It’s written clear on her face. Then there’s the rest of her beautiful body—that back, her full thighs, that ass. You knew she was beautiful with a great body to go with it, but you didn’t really figure it was an unfiltered truth until now.

“I—I brought lube,” she says timidly. She looks away, and it’s so unlike her to be this meek that your instinctive reply is a laugh.

“You came prepared.”

Somi throws you the bottle, and while you lather some of its content on Nancy’s asshole, you’re faced with millions of questions. “I assume you planned this? Or do you just bring lube whenever I’m around?”

Nancy rolls her eyes. God, do you love to make them do that. You were born to. You were made to make her roll her eyes at you between her laughs. “Stud,” she whispers.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She still hasn’t figured out it isn’t derogatory with you. Or with any guy for that matter. You chuckle softly. Love how her hole closes tighter the second you wipe some of the handy liquid on it. “Ready?”

She nods. There’s hesitation, but the upward perk of her ass can’t mean anything else than transparent want.

“Boooring!” Somi yells out, arms in an “X”-sign in front of her. You’re the actors, and she’s the disapproving film critic. And god knows how insufferable film critics are. “Ever heard of porn without plot, you absolute doodooheads?”

“Porn without plot? You read way too much fanfiction, Somi. Like, way too much.”

“Hello? Peepee in the poopoo hole now, if you please.”

You give her a tired look in spite of your small laughs. “Can you make it sound any less sexy?”

“She’s right,” Nancy says in a tiny voice. “I want you now.”

There’s the (with a trademark after that) look again, somber and wide. She needs you. You need her. So why are you stalling? Idiot. You need to put yourself together.

Slip past the defiance of Nancy’s asshole, and curse immediately. It isn’t even halfway in and you’re already close. She’s too tight that it almost beats the tightness of Somi’s pussy. You’re not sure you’re ready for this. Run your hand along Nancy's back and feel the sweat stick to your hand. She’s nervous. In pain. At least, you assume so.

“Need to breathe?”

Nancy winces and nods. “A few seconds.”

It’s hell itself trying not to give in to your instincts and pound away into her ass. It’s just so perfect, the way it trembles and shakes and unintentionally sends vibrations your way. Sends those full cheeks bouncing.

Even in a state of need-to-get-it-together, Nancy still looks her prime. Her hair, all those chestnut locks, sticks to her back as she pants. Her face has never looked prettier. She’s gorgeous as could be, and you realize that it’s these moments—not her beauty pageants where she’s all dolled up by attending stylists, not when she manages a glow-up (when she already is the most beautiful woman you know) weeks before class pictures are taken—that take your breath away. She’s just there, just existing, and you maintain your preposition: down bad.

“Tell me if you lovebirds need to stop,” says Somi. “Because what I’m seeing here is– oh my.”

Nancy starts to fuck herself on you. She wants to do this—Somi’s words are her motivation. Her ass constricts tighter and tighter as you penetrate her, but you make it work. Make it fit. She’s so stretched out but she doesn’t stop. It makes you temporarily heed the idea that a glitching robot is controlling her. The recoil and push of her ass are too rough.

“Fuck,” she whispers, eyes squeezed shut firmly. “Feels so fucking good.”

If you’re making Nancy curse, it’s either really good or really bad. You’re betting on the former. Her ass rotates and circles before you, welcoming her into its depths, and you can’t find your breath again. You must have lost it, lost it somewhere in the atmosphere that smells of sex and sweat.

There isn’t even any foreplay to go by. She simply pushes back and takes every inch of your dick. While you lost hold of your breath, Nancy’s found hers, and puts it to good use with her moans.

“You’re… opening me up so much,” gasps Nancy. She looks back to see that you’re forming a steady reciprocal rhythm that’s starting to gape her hole.

“Should I go slower?” you ask hesitantly. You slip a hand to her mound then settle a thumb over her clit. It throbs, still sensitive from the sucking.

“No, god, no. Go faster. Please.” Her words are broken off like blunt phrases, but you catch on to her meaning. She wants it fast even for the first time.

It’s lucky you took your time rubbing lube on your shaft and her hole. As time goes by, Nancy’s ass only grows tighter. It clings to you, afraid to let go. Her legs shake yet they’re strong enough to push and pull, receiving you into her backside.

The mattress starts to creak. Its old springs are resurrected and the first thing they do is make squeaking sounds. It’s drowned out by the sound of Somi touching herself. Her wet pussy is slick as her finger rubs firmly on her own clit and her mind runs with the idea of her being in Nancy’s place. Her toes are already curled tightly.

Nancy’s words don’t lose their eccentric tone even if she’s being plowed from behind. The broken mirror discarded to the corner reflects her expressions. One minute she’s smiling drunkenly, and the second minute her eyes are dazed, as if she were taken straight out of an 18+ anime magazine. The next minute she’s suddenly gasping for air. No, air isn’t what she needs. Everything that’s essential is hidden right inside your cock, and she’s going to get it.

“Need it, need it, need it.”

She squeezes tighter, and you wince. It feels good. Too good, in fact, that you chase after the feeling with quick pumps.

“H-hah, I know you want to do it,” she says, turning to you. She kisses you and smiles weakly. “So cum in me. Cum in my ass, I need it so fucking bad—”

She interrupts herself with a sharp draw of breath. Your fingers have entered her and are frantically moving, filling her over and over and jabbing at her walls. You take advantage of her sensitivity more than you should, and she loves it.

Nancy cries out. She folds herself over the mattress more, muffling her face in its olden softness. She feels so full. With your cock stuffing her sweaty ass and your fingers wiggling around inside her, there’s only one path this is destined for. But she wants to make the journey last. She doesn’t want it to end too soon.

“P-please, I can’t take it,” she whines. She muffles a scream. It doesn’t help; her next words are shouty. They don’t sound so intimidating when they come out pitchy and needy. “I’m going to cum all over you, for you, just please do the same. Please. Please, oh—”

Perhaps it’s your natural way of catering to whatever Nancy requires, which is to mean what you do everyday, but you end up exploding inside her. She moans happily, and you feel her drip a little as she comes to her climax as well. The little leak grows stronger as you firmly rub her clit. Your thighs soon suffer the damages of her flood.

Whimpering and overstimulated, Nancy’s screams almost make the windows shatter. Through all this, she pounds herself back into you, and you do the same. None of you want this to end.

Be that as it may, nothing lasts forever. It could be that it’s a gift, for when you pull out of your crush and spray the remaining shots of cum onto her beautiful back, you realize you’re stark exhausted.

“Cinnamon rolls, anybody?”

Here’s how it goes after that: the three of you showered and are ready to go rest. You couldn’t try for shower sex, not when all of you are spent. You’ve sprayed and fucked and came too many times to count that it’s for the common good that you take a break.

Bruises litter your jaw but it’s alright. Nothing a little makeover can’t fix. Nancy still worriedly brushes it with a tender finger.

“I swear, Nancy,” you laugh, “I’m fine. You should be worried about yourself.”

Nancy nods obediently, but her eyes still linger on the purple spot.

“God, get a room,” says Somi with a groan, handing you your dessert. Is this her way of aftercare? “Oops, you already did. Silly me.”

You’re all wrapped in comfortable bathrobes. They’re the ones with the really silky fabric, the kind that feels like clouds dropped from heaven and onto you. They settle comfortably on your sore bodies. You go to the roof even with only those “clothes” on. Not one of you cares for decency; considering what you did earlier, it’d be hypocritical to try and salvage some self-respect.

Oh, who minds anyway? Not you three. All you want is some rest.

“Not funny,” Nancy says. She takes a careful bite of her roll, licking her lips with a glare.

“My bad. Should try again the next time we stop fucking.”

You stop chewing. “Wait… so you’re saying we’re doing that again?” you ask, suddenly flustered.

You’re not complaining. It only took a few minutes for you to discover that sex with the duo is the perfect mix of soft and rough. Exactly your kind. Okay, so maybe the rough part outweighs the other, but you aren’t turning back. Your concern is your friendship—would you still see each other as reliable people, or would that be warped by lust?

You’re young. Nothing is permanent—that’s what you’re taught. What if that counts for the relationship you have, too?

“You don’t want to do it?” Somi asks in a voice so small you barely could make out the words.

“No, no, I do.” Scratch the back of your neck. How do you say this without sounding super attached? (You are.) “But… are we still friends? Are we still good with each other?”

Nancy gives you an amused look. “Why wouldn’t we be?” she inquires, genuinely curious.

“I—I thought—”

“Look, we all know what we feel.” Somi takes your hand and presses it to her thigh. Her face portrays a solemn yet caring look. It feels foreign seeing such a serious face on such a spunky girl. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends along the way. You’re still our Frankenstein. We made you.”

“Is the alcohol plus hot choco combo doing something to you or what? Frankenstein is the name of the crea—”

Somi groans and mashes you in the face with her cinnamon roll. “Get outta here with your nerd BS,” she says. She’s smiling, though.

“Get out of here with your own dodo BS, bottle blonde.”

“Dodos are essential knowledge, not some facts about a stupid ass mon—”

“If you two don’t stop,” says Nancy, knowing when a playful fight starts and how to stop it before it does, “you’re both getting out.”

Are these the girls you fucked in that small loft just a few hours prior? They don’t ever change, do they? They might be hot as hell, but they’re still Jeon and McDonie, the girls you’re friends with. Your hearts remain in the places they were before.

But maybe deeper, delving into the core of your chests.

Somi directs her eyes up at the moon floating in the night sky and smiles. You’ve always loved it when she smiles, menacing as it could be sometimes. She looks like a giddy girl who was just taken to a candy store. There’s this pure, sweet grace to it that infectiously makes you grin, too.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” she says dreamily.

“It is,” Nancy agrees. She’s looking cute herself; her cheeks are stuffed with cinnamon rolls.

You look up as well. They’re right. The moon does look prettier tonight. You’re no selenophile, but you swear the large spots of gray and black on its rounded curves make it look more serene. It feels like a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

“Well,” you say, smiling, “I can die happy.”

It was supposed to end like that. You all know what you meant. This was supposed to be a memory you’d keep stowed in the drawers of your minds to look fondly at later in life. But you just had to ruin the moment by suddenly sitting up straight and staring with wide eyes at your hands. What have you done? You can’t believe you could do such a thing.

“H-hey, Nancy…”

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asks.

“You know that quote you said earlier about first impressions?”

“Yeah?”

“And how I said Michael Jordan was smart for saying it?”

“What are you getting at here?”

“I remembered it wrong.” You gulp. “Michael Jackson said it, not Michael Jordan.”

“Are you in your right mind? How could you even think that?” asks Somi, cackling. She almost topples down the roof. “Like, seriously, oppa, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, opp—”

“For fuck’s sake—”

2K notes · View notes

phyrestartr · 21 days

Text

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader | Teaser!

#NSFW in full, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is a performer, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), teaser not edited lmao

Note: This is just going to be a one-shot since it's already pretty much completed, just need to finish off the tail end and then go back and edit. Wanted a break from writing the other stories for a bit, so I hope you'll enjoy the full story when it's out

tags: @better-imagination-9 @better-imagination-9

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?”

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle.

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold.

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him.

“...No proof.”

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you.

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige.

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational.

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair.

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you.

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the beat up, rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard.

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?”

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought.

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.”

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.”

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless.

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.”

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed Words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly.

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly.

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?”

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.”

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. Thw fuck did they want?”

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.”

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?”

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you.

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest.

“For a kid,” you chastised With a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.”

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.”

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.”

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.”

Man. Man.

“A statement.”

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.”

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up.

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.”

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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darantha · 1 year

Text

How to Spot AI images (Hopefully)

So, I did see GailyNovelry's excellent post on this (Link here), but saw that there also were some confusion and they were using a environment image as their example, so I thought I'd do a breakdown that was more character centric.

The key thing with AI images is that the program does not know what it is making. And, arguably, they thrive on that we are currently conditioned to not really look at things for too long before we hit that engagement button and/or just scroll onwards to whatever next the algorithm feeds us.

It's hard to fight that urge, I know, but if you just pause and look, you'll soon start spotting things that just do not make sense, and I don't just mean that the pretty booby elven fighter is sporting seven fingers on one hand. Those are the obvious things. I'll try to cover the general sort of artefacts that tend to tip me off to the fact that a image is generated rather than actually hand-made by someone making informed design decisions as opposed to trust what amounts to RNG. I think this is important as there's those who do not tag their images as AI generated, and try to scam people with commissions.

And, as the saying goes... The devil is in the details.

To start with I picked this image from deviantuser CeiEllem. At first glance, it looks... very impressive. Sharp looking elf lady with killer hair. 10/10 wish I could rock that haircolour.

But, it is AI generated. Aside from the general tell that is this hyper rendered, near photorealistic style that AI images often have, there's a lot of details that tips it off to just not having been made by a human who actually made the decisions.

Since AI is just working off patterns and not actual decisions, things like hair is a immediate giveaway that you're looking at a AI image.

(Deviantart users: daralyth, DavidZarn and lunayokai)

In all these three images you can see just how hair whisps off into weird nonsense shapes or even meld into the background or clothing. Because, again, the AI doesn't know what its doing, just working with shapes. Similarly, background elements that just stop and start randomly is a dead giveaway, like the tail in the first image.

As I've said, details is the key to spotting these images, and another giveaway is the sheer density of details that is just noise.

This is from users Rigtorok7, and the details are so noisy, absolutely miniscule in scale, and hypersharp, yet have no actual design to them. Artists imply details all the time. We don't render out every single nook and crevice, and since we actually know what we want the viewer to look at, we'll pull back and simplify things so you don't want to look at the big chunk of very noisy hair ornament or necklace instead of the face of the character.

For comparison, this is how it looks when I, personally, indulge in doing 'overdetailing' of something (because I am forever weak for painting jewelry).

BUT I want to stress that the key here isn't that detailing equals AI generated. The key is the lack of design choices IN the details. There's a lot of artists out there, and someone painting out all those nooks and crannies in something doesn't mean they are a AI user. This painting by Leighton is super detailed but you see the intent with all the details. You have a focus with the people in the boat and secondary read of the figure in the door, where the details are a lot more implied and less sharp.

AI can't do that, because AI isn't making any decisions.

I couldn't find any good example once I went looking, but if you're into fantasy art: look for people just holding weird 'swords'.

AI is rapidly evolving, so who knows how much this'll help in 3 months, but for now, this is how I spot things.

But, in the end, the biggest giveaway that someone is using an AI generator is that they've filled up page after page on deviantart/artstation/wherever in the past like... six to nine months, and often swing between wildly different styles. If you're unsure, look up the source of a image. Another clue can be generic 'untitled' or just 'elf lady' sort of titles, since someone uploading 30 images a week isn't going to make unique titles for each image.

Also, commissioners. ... you should ALWAYS get a sketch and progress image from a artist that you hire. My art directors would have my head on a plate if I didn't send them a rough sketch and progress shot before finalising the image.

#go forth #be free PSA post

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uplatterme · 1 year

Text

Honorary Maid, Aether!

a/n: im not even gonna say anything, i just wanna fuck aether in a maid outfit. there’s plot i suppose but y’know. also ended up longer than it should have been…

cw: sub!aether/dom!amab!reader, top!reader/bottom!aether | aether wears a maid outfit, blowjob(chara!receiving), aether calls reader “master”, his eyes get covered for a bit, mirror sex, slight cockwarming

————

The traveler has been faced with different types of commissions. So he’s not really one to complain no matter its difficulty or strangeness. After all, he’s been often tasked to jump on mushrooms back in Sumeru and nothing can get weirder than that…he supposed. He’ll take anything, since this is what keeps his mora pouch full.

Unfortunately for him, today was looking a little scarce.

“I’d like to apologize, but we have run out of commissions for the day. You may come find us tomorrow.”

Aether clicks his tongue. He needs to save up if he’s planning to travel to Fontaine anytime soon.

“None at all?” He asks again.

“I’d like to apologize, but we have run out of commissions for the day. You may come find us tomorrow.” Katheryne repeats word for word.

That’s troublesome. He’s a few mora short of what he usually earns.

He’s already done his share of bounties and requests for the week. He doubts that they’ll let him take another in fear of both exhausting him and taking opportunities from other adventurers.

And almost as if Katheryne could read his thoughts, she speaks up.

“There is a commission. Although, we have declined it for being too suspicious. Would you like to take a look, traveler?”

He nods, and she hands him a flier.

With one look, he understands why exactly it would be described that way. The details are vague and the mora that is being offered is far too much considering it’s only asking for housework.

“I’d advise against it but if you are going to take it, it is good to be careful.” She says.

That would be the most reasonable idea.

Aether, however, takes the flier and puts it away in his bag.

He did not think it would be that difficult. Perhaps the mora was reasonable after all.

The directions written on the flier weren't helpful at all. He’s been in circles, has been ambushed by three groups of hydro slimes and his clothes are a mess to look at.

It is his fault, he deems. He underestimated it, but who could blame him when he’s saved four nations from being ruined? A simple commission should have been easy. Exactly that, it should’ve.

Aether icks at how sticky he is. He tried to get off as much goo as he can, but some of it just spread to his skin and to his clothes.

He sighs, wondering if he should turn back.

That is, until he finally sees the mansion mentioned on the map.

It would be rude to show up in such a state, but going back empty-handed after going through so much trouble…

The money, Aether. The money. He thinks to himself.

He fixes his hair at least, making sure his braid is clean and neat.

The mansion is big, perhaps even bigger than the Dawn Winery. He wonders what kind of person would live like this and this far away from others. He grits his teeth. His opinions when it comes to rich people aren’t that great, he has met his fair share of aristocrats without manners.

He knocks on the door, waiting patiently, although a bit anxious at how they’d react.

The door finally opens.

Oh.

He did not expect that.

What opens the door is clearly someone who gives off elegance. You wear a silky robe, a wine glass in your hand as you lay on the door frame.

Aether gets eyed up and down.

“May I help you? You may wash yourself if you want, I see you’ve been attacked by slimes.” You hum.

“I—Yes. Thank you.” He stutters out, not expecting such kindness. He follows you inside and then remembers what he’s here for. Right, no time to get distracted.

“I’m actually here…because of a commission you sent? I believe you need some help with housework.”

He watches as your mouth gapes open. “Of course. I didn’t expect anyone to be coming truthfully, with how late it is already.”

Aether winces at the indirect insult. Maybe, if you actually drew the map better—

“I got a bit lost.” He says.

“Yeah, I can see that.” You say, alluding to the slime that remains on his body.

Aether flushes, not expecting that. He coughs it away.

“As I was saying, you could take a shower first. I only need the house to be lightly dusted and cleaned. If you have time to cook, that would be fine too.” You inform the traveler.

“That’s it?” He asks. Surely, there was something else. No way you were paying him such a high price for just sweeping and cooking.

“Oh. If you finish early, you can come by my office and see if you can help me out with things.”

Is this really it?

“You didn’t add a few extra zeroes for the reward right? It’s 100,000 for this?”

You stare at him confused. He concludes that he was right that you had sent the wrong price.

“That’s fine. I’ll still do it for 10,000.” Aether replies with a reassuring smile.

“No, no. I clearly wrote a million.”

Did he hear you right?

“I’m pretty sure I wrote a million when I sent the letter…” You mumble, trying to remember what you had written.

Meanwhile, Aether is stunned.

Even he wasn’t paid that much when getting compensation from the Qixing.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. I’ll have to work now, if you’ll excuse me. Your uniform is in the bathroom closest to my office!” You rush out before he can even deny the high price of such a reward.

…

Wait, what uniform?

Aether doesn’t see you for a while after that. He focuses on keeping every surface clean due to what he's being given. He sweeps and dusts what he can, only being limited by the locked doors you told him not to bother with.

The blond does all that while wearing this ridiculously fluffy outfit.

He shouldn’t be this flustered. He’s seen Adelinde wearing these kinds of outfits.

It’s in no way revealing, the socks he’s wearing even reaching up to his thigh. Yet, he still stumbles whenever he passes by a mirror.

He takes a deep breath, flattens out his skirt, and checks his braid before knocking on your office’s door. You tell him to come in and you don’t even spare him a glance, too busy with whatever it was that you are currently working on.

You still wear the same silken robe and he smells the alcohol mixing in the air with each deep breath.

“I’m done with everything.” He says.

“That’s good. You may rest now, I’ll give you the payment after I’m done.” Is all you reply to him, eyes not leaving your desk.

Your cheeks are tinted a bit red due to the wine so he assumes you’re a bit tipsy. It doesn’t do well talking to drunk people, he knows that much thanks to a certain archon.

“M-May I help you with anything else?” He interrupts.

That’s when you finally stop and glance at him. He’s red, embarrassed that he sounded like a squeaking animal. You place your head on your hand, tapping the pencil as you gaze upon him.

A smile lingers on your face. “Just sit next to me, if you really want to do something.”

“Sit?”

“Yes, It would be nice to work next to a pretty maid, no?”

Aether flinches at how you described him. He walks to the chair in front of your desk, staggering his steps.

He watches you work and realizes that you being this near is not good for his heart. He notices it from before, that you weren’t exactly wearing anything under the robe, showing more skin than necessary. He doesn’t want to look down—He’s not going to—but if he was to look under…

Archons.

“Is there something wrong, dear?” You ask.

Aether quickly shakes his head. “No! Not at all!”

He swallows the feeling of embarrassment. He shouldn’t have these kinds of thoughts, you are his employer, and he should treat you with proper respect.

Unfortunately, he can’t ignore the tired grunts you make, the way your robe seems to lower even more, and at this point, he’s not sure if he’s hallucinating.

The skirt is getting uncomfortable to wear, and a certain problem emerging. In fact, the whole outfit has started to do so. He fixes the collar, sweat starting to drip down despite the coolness of the temperature.

He places his palms on his cheeks, staring down, trying to calm himself.

He wonders how it would be if instead of the wine glass, you were to place that hand on his neck instead, to have you cup up his chin as you’re behind him with his back against your chest.

Aether continues daydreaming, not noticing that you’re calling up to him until he feels his wrist being taken away.

You pull him towards you and finds that you’re really warm.

“Traveler? Are you sick? Shall I send you home right now?” Your worry outstands him.

“N-No. I’m fine,” He glances down and tries to hide the growing tent with his apron. “I can wait. I’m good.”

You sigh.

If Aether was standing right now, he’d be down on his knees.

“No, I refuse to have you here any longer. You are clearly not well, I’ll compensate for it.”

Compensate? Does that mean you’ll be adding more to that ridiculously high payment?

He can’t have that.

“It is alright! I just uh—” What? Is he just supposed to admit that he was eyefucking you in his head?

He closes his mouth, scared that he’ll say something just as embarrassing.

“Don’t you have another task that I can do?” Aether asks.

“You can go home, I won’t take it against you—”

“Are you sure, Master—”

And Aether immediately wants to bury himself underneath. He didn’t mean to, he just didn’t want to go yet. Oh, when did he become this stupid? He’s always been rational when it comes to most things.

He hears you chuckle softly, which then turns into a burst of hard laughter.

He’s embarrassed himself and now you’re laughing. You’re laughing so hard that you start tearing up.

“W-Why did the Adventurer’s Guild send me such an adorable maid?” You say.

Aether thinks he’s far from adorable. In fact, he’d consider himself to be scary. He’s defeated three harbingers, fought a dragon, and gone through multiple battles. He is not…adorable. Not in the least.

He can’t find it in himself to argue with you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Don’t want Master to send you out?”

“I—You’re mocking my words! It just slipped out! I have a friend and I also call him by that title sometimes!” He frustratingly yells. Right, because of Diluc, that’s it.

“So you’re saying you…just have a habit of calling people your Master?”

Aether tries to stammer out a response. “W-Would you stop with all the teasing?”

“Oh, I’m the one teasing? Not the one who’s been so quiet as a mouse his whole stay, but all of the sudden drools as I innocently do my work?”

“You noticed…?”

“Of course, I noticed. You aren’t exactly sneaky when you stare at me as if you can see through my robe.”

Aether covers his face and crouches on his knees. Yes, he won’t argue that he does want your attention. However, he didn’t expect to get everything thrown at him all at the same time.

“Don’t worry, I think it’s cute.” You reassure him, helping him stand up.

“Sorry…I know you employed me for cleaning and all I’ve been doing is bothering you with your work—and you’re paying me too much already, I’ll just leave—”

Ah, Aether did not expect that.

He did not expect to be cut off from his mumbling with a kiss. Your lips were calming, soft and gentle. He feels you try to pull away.

He doesn’t want you to.

He pulls you closer to him, compared to you, he’s messy and in need. In need of your touch, in need of your attention. It’s a bit fast, he thinks. He’s only met you today, after all.

Aether doesn’t mind.

You separate from him, out of breath. “You know I’ll be holding that against you, right?”

“Yes…and no compensation needed. Please.” He stresses out. He doesn’t want this to come off as you are paying for his body. He wants this, it’s dizzying but relaxing. He’s been needing this kind of break, especially as of recently.

“Alright.”

It’s a shame that his black stockings are ripped this much, he thought they were rather cute. The desk is a bit uncomfortable on his back but he’s too distracted by your mouth on his cock, mouth gasping out pleasantly as you hold him still.

“S-Shit—” He curses out.

You apparently take that as a sign to go even deeper and multitask with your hands at the other end of his cock. You grumble something incoherent, and the vibrations send pulses to his nerves.

“W-What?” He asks, and then regrets it since you answer him again with him still inside your mouth. He tilts his head back, squirming on the hard desk.

You remove your mouth before he can even climax, just edging him to the point of him shuddering. His legs are so sticky, he can’t see it due to the skirt, but he feels it, the way his thighs slide against each other.

“Such pretty noises…I might just get tempted to keep you here if you keep doing that.” You state.

“I can’t.” He breathes out.

“Really? You’re sure I can’t convince you?”

“You can try.” Aether smirks.

You sneer at his confidence.

“Come here.” You direct.

“Stand?”

“Mhm, I’m sure laying like that can’t be good for you. Unless, of course. You already can’t stand up?”

Aether rolls his eyes at you. His legs shake with each step but he manages to position himself well, his back against your chest.

He hears the sound of the robe hitting the ground and he’s tempted to see. No, he wants to see.

He turns his head but his eyes are covered with your hand.

“Ah, no looking. Not yet.”

He can feel his entrance being stretched out, your fingers clearly taking their time. His heart thumps as his vision remains in darkness. Noises of satisfaction sounded from his throat.

He’s starting to get impatient with it, if he’s being honest. He remains still, however, he trusts that you know whatever’s best for him.

You hum and the tone of your voice seems satisfied.

After a few seconds of emptiness and silence, he finally takes you in. The urge to bend down right there was uncontrollable, but you hold his shoulders up. He’s this close to having a misstep and falling down.

His legs quiver, struggling to stand on their own.

You push further in and a silent cry comes out of him. He hopes that’s the last of it.

It isn’t, but he doesn’t have to know that.

God, he feels so full. He curses your hand, he wants to see it. See how filled he is, see how your length bulges from his stomach.

“P-Please, move your hand.”

“In a bit, dear.”

It doesn’t take much for his body to succumb with a few thrusts. Each breath seems as if you’re somehow getting even deeper. He seethes at the pleasure, close to spilling.

“Hngh—” Aether grunts out.

It’s intoxicating how you hold him by his waist, rubbing his stomach. And with each pump to his body, his mouth releases a satisfied sound.

He swears in his head. Close! He’s so close!

He taps your hand on his eyes repeatedly, wanting you to take it off now. But you ignore it, pounding deeper instead as a response.

His body shrivels, and the next thing he knows, he’s screaming because of how good it is.

He’s blinded by the light when you finally allow him to see, his vision taking a while to adjust. The first thing he sees is how much he spills on the floor and how there’s still some coming out, dripping on his thighs.

“Would you look at that? My maid, creating a mess. Aren’t you supposed to be doing the opposite?”

He tries to turn around and almost slips, if not for your arms.

“Want to see, my baby?”

“Yes.” He answers.

Right after he says that, he feels himself getting lifted up, you still inside of him. A soft moan quickly escapes his lips.

“W-Wait!” He complains, confused at what you’re doing.

That’s when he notices the mirror across the room. “No, you’re not actually thinking of—ah!”

You walk towards it all the while his legs are lifted and spread out. The movement has him bouncing on your cock despite still being sensitive from his first orgasm. It’s only a few steps. He can count how many you took with his fingers.

So, why is it that his body is responding too well to the point that he gets hard again?

“You alright there?” You ask him, his head still overwhelmed that he can’t hear you.

You blow on his ear and he looks at you annoyed.

“Why don’t you look in front of you before you pout at me?”

He stares at himself and looks away, having trouble maintaining eye contact with his own. The scene is so…passionate.

The way his skirt is lifted up to show his waist, his ripped stocking, and his flushed face. All the while you’re carrying him so lightly, your cock only halfway inside of him, wet from all the juices he’s leaking out.

Halfway? He questions himself. There’s no way you weren’t fully inside him earlier, right?

“What are you thinking?” You ask.

“N-Nothing!”

“Is that so?”

He whines at how you push further in, stretching his walls out fully. It’s way too big for him and he has no idea how he’s being able to take you so well. He watches the reflection as much as he could, despite his vision being blurry at most.

His body writhes at each slight movement that he makes, making him be reminded of the fact that he’s still being lifted up. He wants to say something, to speak about how you’re so mean to him for placing him in this position that you know will ruin him and his vocal cords. Yet, he doesn’t, knowing that’ll push you even further.

He’s so drunk and breathless, which doesn’t make sense considering you’re the one who’s been drinking the whole day.

You slowly pull yourself out to make space and Aether sobs. He sobs at how his walls clench onto you as if it depended on it, he sobs at how much pleasure this is giving him than what he expected.

He’s scared of what might happen after this. Of how his body will be affected by how much affection you’re giving it.

And then you thrust in.

A loud whimper breaks out of him, and as the noises of skin slapping together get louder, so does he.

Aether sings out pleas and how much you’re ruining his body, that he’ll never be able to take anybody else after this.

“You shouldn’t even be considering that, to begin with. You’re mine now, yes?”

And he hastily nods. Yours, of course.

He struggles to breathe, not knowing where to focus on when you’re pounding ruthlessly into him. His body feels so heavy and so brittle at the same time, You’re—

Aether’s thoughts get interrupted when you empty inside of him, filling him up. Warm, you’re so warm.

He throws his head back as he reaches his second climax, everything draining out of him.

“Hah—give me—a sec…” He stutters out.

“Of course, should I pull out?”

“No, keep…keep it in.”

It took a while for Aether to recover. You suggested that you two should sit down but he immediately shuts that off once he remembered that warranted more movement. So, he stays there slightly lifted up, bearing the slight twitches of your cock.

You waited patiently, having a sight to look at just like this wasn’t exactly a complaint of yours.

He grabs your arms, lowering himself to the ground.

His legs aren’t exactly what you would call stable.

He moves on his own, pushing his body in and out. It’s slow, but it’s also gratifying at the same time. Some of your cum slips out with each push, being used as lubrication by your maid.

“You’re doing so well, keep it up.”

“‘Love your cock.” He says.

“Hmm…I see that. Need some help?”

He nods embarrassingly.

You position him to face you instead, making it a lot easier for him to work his way through.

It’s adorable how he hard he tries, his fingers are barely grabbing themselves onto you, in fact, you’re the one that’s the cause of Aether being to at least be on his feet.

He cries out loud as he hits that sweet spot of his, tongue lolling out from the pleasure. He’s tight and the movement is riling up the fire inside of you to use his body to your own accord. You fight against it, admiring at how much he’s trying to get that satisfaction without overwhelming himself from being too sensitive.

“That’s right, baby. Keep going. You’re so close aren’t you?”

“Mhm.”

He shudders at it, his core boiling to its brim.

“Please don’t let me fall.”

“I would never.” You promise.

Aether goes at a quicker pace, from what strength he has still, and lets his lower half do all the work until he spills out again, breathless but finally satisfied.

Aether knocks on the door again, waiting for you to open it.

As usual, you carry a glass of alcohol in your hand. Although more clothed, ever since he got possessive that someone else might see you like this.

You smile, and he braces for the teasing.

“My, at this point I really have to ask. Do you enjoy getting ambushed by hydro slimes or is your memory that bad?”

Aether rolls his eyes. He needs to persuade you from having a proper path made to get here. “I need a shower.”

“Ah, I’ve set up a bath.” You offered.

“And I assume you’re coming with?” The blond snickers.

“Of course, I am. Like you even have to ask.”

#sub genshin #sub genshin impact #sub aether #plattered writings #dom!reader #dom reader #sub!aether #aether x reader #genshin impact x reader

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honeykaes · 11 months

Text

not a fairytale

pairing: ayato x femme!reader II 3.1k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, hurt/comfort, angst, arranged-marriage au, based on queen charlotte, reader is from fontaine, fingering, cunnilingus, virginity loss, creampies, unedited

synopsis: to improve relations between inazuma and fontaine, focolors and raiden shogun arrange you and ayato to get married much to your dismay. As you try to be hopeful about the situation, you find yourself getting angrier and lonelier as ayato completely distances himself from your life.

A small lit candle on your vanity illuminated the dark room as wax soon dropped along its golden holder. Your obi, decorated in navy and sewn with silver cranes was thrown to the ground, leaving your robe barely covering your chest and stomach.

Your eyes gazed at your reflection in the mirror, darkened eyes watching you back. You looked completely different than you did in Fontaine three months ago before you had sailed across the lands for weeks to reach Inazuma where you would reside for the rest of your days with a man you had never met before.

It had been three months since you had married Ayato Kamisato, the head of the Yashiro Commission in Inazuma.

The archons, Focolars and the Raiden Shogun had chosen your families to wed as to improve relations between the two nations—your family, hailed for its international politics and diplomacy matched with his family’s managing shrines, festivals, and other cultural events. You had traded your bodices, frills, and corsets for robes, obis, and haoris.

You hated being a pawn in a game you weren’t even playing, but how could you fight against two all-powerful archons? When you first met your husband, he had seemed kind as you battled with yourself whether you could run away without your family being tried by Focolars for “breach of contract”. Ayato offered reassurances, that you wouldn’t be forced to do anything you didn’t please, that you’d be free how to go about life in the estate.

It comforted your heart and made you hopeful that you had an ally, someone to rely on, someone to eventually trust and love. Yet, after you said your vows in front of the people of Inazuma adorned in a white shiromuku kimono you didn’t get to choose, he distance himself from you and ushered off to attend to whatever with his retainers flashing a sad look to you.

The two of you haven’t even consummated the wedding. How utterly embarrassing. The man had not provided a shared bedroom with him. It was separate rooms, separate lives, separate people.

You hardly saw him at all.

You gripped your fists tight, nails digging in the flesh of your palms. Tears pricked at your eyes watching your hardened eyes fill with them.

“It’s not fair. I didn’t want this. I never wanted a marriage like this…” you muttered out loud. You heard a timid knock on the door as one of your personal retainers, Ayato seemed to assign her to, peaked her head out of the door.

“My l-lady? Are you crying?” she stammered out. You narrowed your eyes at her, quickly wiping your cheeks to hide any stains or residue your tears could leave behind. Shifting under the weight of your cold gaze, her eyes leered away momentarily before gazing back at you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “He missed my dinner invitation again despite the numerous attempts to get his attention. I’m not going to try anymore. I’m tired of feeling like this.”

The retainer hesitantly leered behind her again before letting out a soft sigh.

“I see, my lady. But, my lord is actually here at the door with me wishing to speak with you,” she answered, opening the door further to reveal Ayato’s somber form peering over at you. He was dressed casually in a pale blue yukata, purple heko obi wrapped around his waist. His lips pulled themselves in a frown.

The sight of his eyes gazing at you pitifully caused bubbles of anger to rile deep in your chest. You turned your head around glaring at the pair through the reflection of the mirror.

“I don’t care. Va-t’en!” you barked. The retainer shrunk as you yelled, looking up to Ayato as he silently lifted a hand up signaling she could leave. The retainer rushed out as Ayato walked fully into your private chamber, closing the shoji behind him. You hear his heavy footstep creep closer to you as you shut your eyes, knowing he was now right behind you.

“(Name), I believe I owe you a long-deserved apology,” he murmured. You napped your eyes open, whipping your head around, and scoffed, seeing his frown deepen.

“Oh? What makes you say that?” you sarcastically ask. You rose from your seat, jamming a finger into his chest. Ayato could feel the daggers digging into his eyes from your gaze.

“You said we were in this together. That’s what you told me on our wedding day! That’s what you even said in your vows to me,” you barked. Tears were beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes once more, as Ayato’s eyes softened.

“You made me believe that this shitty situation would be hopeful! That I’d be happy despite being a sacrificial pawn to my nation,” you yelled out. Ayato briefly closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh from his chest.

“...It seems my own judgment about you was incorrect,” he replied, reaching out and placing his hand on your shoulder. A fire lit under you as the rage that developed for months finally reached its boiling point. You shrugged away his hand, Ayato’s mouth opening in surprise.

“Don’t act like my husband now, my lord,” you cooly reply. Ayato closed his mouth, taking a sigh once more to collect himself and retreating his hand back to his sigh.

“When we first met, and I saw you at the docks strategizing with yourself on how you could wiggle yourself out of this situation, I couldn’t help but smile. It comforted me that I was also not alone in feeling like a pawn to the archons, to the nation,” he confessed. You sniffled, crossing your arms tight. He thought you would interrupt him, curse at him, beat on his chest but you stood there, silent tears streaming down your face, and simply glared at him.

“You told me your wish for independence. I knew that you did not want this, so I did not want to force you into a role you had no choice to do. I wanted you to be able to do as you pleased and work on your efforts of diplomacy and international cultural teachings Inazuma needs after the Sakoku Decree lifted—”

“No, Ayato! I WANTED LOVE!”

Your eyes widened surprised by your own outrage before drifting your arms to hug yourself. Your blurry vision darted to the floor, shame bubbling inside of you as you finally admitted the core issue of your frustration. Ayato’s lilac eyes widened, taking a step back surprised at your outburst too.

You turned your body around, trying to escape his eyes peering into your own. The two of you briefly sat in silence, the candle still burning briefly alerting you that Ayato still remained there, paused as his shadow did not move.

You wiped your eyes once more, sniffing loudly to prevent any snot threatening to peak from your nose, and took a shaky sigh before turning around to face your husband. His eyes had narrowed, not from anger or disappointment, but from thought.

“...As a child, my favorite story was Cendrillon. Although I did not have an evil stepmother or step-siblings, I related to that poor girl so much,” you confessed. Ayato took a silent step forever, getting closer to you.

“Yes, I wanted my independence and freedom but I also wanted to share that with someone that I loved,” you uttered, voice beginning to get shaky. Ayato still had not said a word, same expression outlined on his face.

“...I…” Ayato trailed off before, closing his mouth once again. He took a deep breath, an attempt to reassure himself against your own watchful eyes.

“When my parents passed when I was a child, the stories that I loved…I began to hate them. How could these fairytales, love like that even exist even when I would never be granted those privileges? I couldn’t shrink my responsibility, I had to take care of my little sister and the clan my father had left for me,” Ayato recalled, closing his eyes.

“I didn't understand because I had the legacy of my bloodline, my family on my shoulders; however…” he trailed off, reaching his hand for your palm. He lifted the appendage up, pressing his lips against your palm.

“...I need to at least be willing to learn with you. I cannot promise I will be a prince from those stories, but, as I said in our vows, I will open myself to you, in my heart…if you’ll still let me.”

You froze as Ayato gave you a soft smile, letting your hand go and placing his large palm against your cheek. It was warm, his touch gentle as if he was handling cracked glass. As more tears cascaded down your cheek, he wiped them away with his thumb slowly leaning him and placing his lips on top of your own.

And to both of your surprise, your eyes fluttered close—pressing your lips back with the same fervor.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss and closing an inch of space between you two—lips desperate and clinging on to the hope of reassurance of the future of your marriage. A low moan reverberated from Ayato’s lips, drifting his hands to your waist, and pulling you closer. You gasped feeling something hard beginning to nudge your upper thighs, before he gripped your robe—already exposing much of your body to him—and took it off, leaving you bare to him

Embarrassment fills your form remembering the little clothes you did have on when you confronted Ayato, but it didn’t matter at this moment; his hands gently brought your body down against the large plush futon on the ground. He laid on top of you, breaking the kiss momentarily to let his eyes wander across your form before claiming them once more. Ayato’s hand brushed against your thighs, pinching the plush skin of your upper thighs.

Ayato breaks the kiss once more, grunting in brief frustration, at the lack of contact his skin was having yours. With his obi and yukata joining your attire, your eyes fell to his hardened cock before he laid on top of you once more, pressing his lips against the shell of your ear. His hand snaked itself between your thighs, cupping your slit as a soft sigh escaped your lips.

“Ayato, please,” you begged. He sucked a breath in and felt his cock throb at the low seductive nature of your voice. Two fingers brushed themselves along your fold, gathering up the slick drooling out of you You gasped as they sank themselves inside, inching deeper into your core. Ayato struggled pumping his fingers inside of you from how tight you were, walls clinging against him as if they didn’t want them to leave.

“You’re beautiful and already dripping this much for me. I didn't take you for the innocent type,” he hummed in your ear. Your nails harpooned in the soft silk of your sheets, feeling hot precum smearing against your leg as Ayato absentmindedly ground himself against you.

“I see you’re feeling confident now, my lord,” you muttered in response. Ayato clicked his tongue, pressing his lips against your neck.

“I thought I told you when we got married not to call me that. I want to hear your voice, especially like this, call me by my given name,” he whispered. You choke out another moan, his fingers scissoring themselves to stretch you out further. Ayato leaned over, stealing another kiss from you, before parting his fingers. The digits were illuminating under the dim light, caked with your arousal before Ayato briskly lapped them up.

His lips moved down from your neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses along your body.

“W-What are you doing now,” you stammered out as he reached the valley of your breasts. His hands propped up, fondling the pair with a tight squeeze as you whined.

“Something you’ll enjoy, I promise,” he reassured, lips curling to a smirk. He flashed his eye up briefly at you, admiring your embarrassed expression eating up every move and tease he was showing to your body. A soft laugh escaped him before continuing to kiss down your body until he reached your naval.

“Did they not explain what consummating truly meant?” he hummed in amusement, lips moving towards your inner thighs. You ball your hands into fists, pounding them down against the futon.

“I know what it means! I’ve read books about it, Ayato! It’s not like I had anything else to do stuck inside of here all day!” you barked back. Your husband, who was nipping at your inner thighs, paused hesitantly before offering you a regretful smile.

“Hence why I want to give you the best experience possible. To help atone for my cruelty,” he replied. He set his sight on your entrance, watching your sweet hole puckering on nothing, and leaned in further. Opening his mouth, Ayato pressed his tongue along your slit, sliding the muscle up and down. You whined, pleasure shooting through you as his tongue nudged against your clit ever so often.

He slurped the abundant slick pouring from you, wrapping his lips against your swollen clit and sucking with passion. His name yelled from your lips, drifting your hands down on Ayato’s soft pale blue hair—pushing his head further against your crotch. Your ground your hips against his face desperate for more friction on the bundle of nerves.

“Heh…our retainers probably know what we are doing from how loud you are being,” he cooed, giving your clit kitten licks as your hips bucked for more. He quickly released your hands that were pressing against Ayato’s hair covering your mouth in embarrassment. He clicked his tongue, corners of his lips turned downwards before gliding two fingers back inside of your warmth, curling themselves inside of you as if they were determinately searching for something.

“That’s not to say to be quiet, love. Please…I want to hear your voice. Let me know how my actions are making you feel,” he breathlessly groaned. You shakily let your hands go, pitch rising as Ayato went back to toying with your clit as he pumped his fingers inside of you. Your stomach churned, thighs trembling as you crawled closer to your high.

“Ayato! Ayato, fuck!” you cursed out loudly, overwhelmed with the pleasure he graced you with throughout your body. As you shivered in pleasure, hips rising without control, Ayato pressed his hand down—trying to control your writhing form.

“Easy there. Shhh, I got you,” he cooed, helping you ease down from your climax. Your chest heaved, catching your breath—half-lidded, tired eyes peering up at his soft ones. You drifted your eyes away from his gaze as he leaned up, wiping his mouth of the slick that clung onto it.

Your attention was now on his cock, twitching impatiently. Although it wasn’t girthy, it was long and looked heavy as it curled up. Precum budded at his flushed tip; a few moles littering along its base.

Ayato lined himself up against your slit, the sensation feeling foreign to you as he reassuringly nudged his tip against your burning clit. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, trying to internally prepare for what was to come.

“I won’t sugarcoat it, this is going to be painful,” he murmured, offering you a kiss on your cheek. “But, just let me know when you're ready for me to start moving. Don’t worry about how long that will take. I’m a patient man.”

Ayato slowly slid his cock inside of you. You suck a sharp breath in, walls burning as you feel him slowly stretching you out overtook your senses. As he inched further, Ayato found gnawed on his bottom lip fighting the urge to immediately bottom out. Your walls were soft, tightly clenched around his length. Your nails dig into his pale. Broad shoulders as tears develop in your eyes.

As he finally bottoms out, he peppered kisses along your tear-stained face, softly moaning at your pulsating walls trying to milk him.

“You’re taking me so well. It’s hard to control myself when I have you like this,’ he confessed, drawing shapes on your hips to distract yourself from the pain. His fingers eventually move away finding themselves against your clit while it rubbed tight circles, trying to ease the torment into pleasure

Time eventually passes and you whine, offering a shaky nod. Pressing his lips on yours one more time, his hips begin to move. His pace is powerful, clearly overwhelmed by your cunt. You could hear him grunt against the shell of your ear, muttering your name repeatedly.

Your legs wrapped around his thin waist, allowing him to plunge himself deeper. Ayato’s tip brushed against the spot he had found earlier and you yelped out in response. Your head had thrown back, sliding your nails down his back as he clenched his jaw at the sharp pain. He increases his pace, as the sound of skin slapping against one another echoed throughout the room.

With his balls slapping against your ass, his eyes focused on his cock continuously disappearing inside of you, glistening in your slick. Your stomach churned, walls fluttering down as you crept closer to your high once more.

His patience had sadly thinned too much, shutting his eyes tight and grunting loudly. His hips stifled, cum shooting deep inside of you.

“I can’t stop myself, I’m sorry,” he slurred out, pressing his face tight against the nape of your neck. He continued to rut against you, thrusting his cum deeper as one hand stroked along your thigh to try to wake him up from this spell.

As his thrust slowed and then halted, sheathed completely inside of you, he lifted his face from your sweaty nape—capturing your lips once more. The two of you moaned before he leaned away again.

A blush had decorated Ayato’s face, lilac eyes darker and focused as if you were the only person on the planet. His head clung onto his forehead, his lips, glossy, as a string of saliva connected them with yours still. You let your hands fall to the futon before Ayato weaved his own with them and gave you a soft smile.

He was beautiful like this, vulnerable. It was different from his usual distant, calculating self.

“What made you come tonight,” you whispered. Ayato sighed, letting your hands go and leaning his head to rest on one of your breasts.

“My sister and one of my closest retainers, Thoma. The pair held an intervention for me and put the mirror to my face on how I was treating you. He paused briefly.

“As I said, I’m truly sorry. You won’t have to worry about me leaving you alone anymore,” he whispered. You smiled.

Although it would not make up for everything he put you through, it was at least a start.

A glimmer of hope.

You brushed his hair with your hand, closing your eyes—a peace you haven’t felt in months overtaking you.

“We’re in this together. Never forget that.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #ayato x reader #ayato smut #ayato imagines #ayato scenarios

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genshinology · 1 year

Text

(UN)PROFESSIONAL APPROACH. alhaitham

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ pairing; alhaitham x gn!reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ genre; enemies to lovers au (idiots to lovers but they really don't want to admit how whipped they are to e/o), slightly platonic relationship but make it flirty and hot.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count; 1.9k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary; when alhaitham offered you a temporary job that just might require you to be by his side all the time, and you objected him without a second thought.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ content; sumeru archon quest spoilers!! this is written before his story quest just to satiate my self-indulgence so some things are not really in line with him in-game, profanities (when i say enemies, i really mean it), it is mentioned that reader is smaller than him, maybe alhaitham is ooc in this, sexual tension (slight suggestive ig but NOT nsfw), kissing, basically he puts reader in their place *wink wonk*

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes; his title of “acting grand sage” makes me feral for real.

"the acting grand sage is asking for your presence in his office," one of the scholars, or to be exact, alhaitham's personal and unofficial right-hand man firmly bowed to you slightly, his hand on his chest as of to give respect to you.

that kind gesture, however, weirded you out. the fact that you were no more than an ordinary adventurer casually strolling around akademiya's house of daena to find one of the books the matra asked you to find, and the fact that alhaitham knew you were here made you felt somehow unpleasant. what did the man want? why did he often interrupting the little peace you had?

it wasn't a great topic for gossip when almost everyone knew how horrible your term was with the akademiya's scribe. in fact, it was an infamous one. how you bickered with him most of the times, except that one time when he was serious enough to ask for your help during sumeru's worst case of scenario; helping lesser lord kusanali from the evil deed of former grand sage.

you couldn't remember the countless times others tried to stop you from strangling alhaitham back in the days. his words always found their ways to irk you, so much to the point that you dropped your mannerism to one of the respectable figures in sumeru, just to prove your point that you hated him as mush as he did.

the fact that alhaitham was offered to become the grand sage in the first place made you almost laughed dryly. sure, he had the brightest mind, but not the brightest attitude. especially not towards you.

someone liked him, heartless to his core, not even toning down his ignorance towards you, shouldn't even be the one that hold the highest position within akademiya itself.

maybe you were too harsh, but alhaitham was never kind to you since day one.

"what is it this time?" you sighed, the book in your hand was placed abruptly back in its place. you'd already made a mental note of where was the last place you searched to find that ancient book.

"please, sir alhaitham said it is a urgent matter," the scholar bowed again, and you almost huffed annoyingly. even this poor scholar was a hard-headed man just like his upper hand.

you didn't want to spend any more time with alhaitham, especially when you were running low on time for this one commission. the thought of discussing certain things with the scribe for more than 15 minutes already made you nauseous.

so, you did what you know was the best. to quickly meet him, and then moved on.

because that was how things had always been.

"you.." your voice was trailing off, and you seemed to not find your balance despite you first barged in to his office without a cue, and shamelessly sat down on his desk that was littered with papers—much to how you wanted to show him how rude you could've been to him. "you're seriously out of your mind," you shrieked, hopping down quite aggressively from his desk as he could only leaned back on his chair and arms spreading across his chest, watching tentatively at how you were literally throwing a tantrum in his office.

"if i am out of my mind, then so be it," alhaitham's voice was booming with seriousness—fuck, you thought. he didn't lie when he said that he wanted you to become his assistant for a while.

despite how messy his desk had became from your frustrations more than 15 minutes ago, he didn't do anything to stop you.

fuck him.

"i am seriously going to leave you hanging if you still insist on me taking up your proposal and shove down my throat like you want to," you almost ripped a paper apart, until you realised how doomed you would be if you accidentally messed up his work.

"have you ever think that this may be a good chance? if you want to leave, then i am not against it," alhaitham's calm yet scary voice sounded way too hoarse. and you immediately knew, your action was slowly getting on his nerves.

"i don't even know why you chose me," your eyebrow lifted, as if trying to mock him. the audacity of this man was way too much, he even had the courage to ask you to work for him? hell, no. "i am an adventurer, sir," you almost scoffed at the title people insisted you to address him. "if you could find me a position as a matra, then i am totally okay with it."

obviously you didn't want your skills to be of no use.

"i don't even know how, or why you are even capable of this position. and now you want me by your side almost all the time? i truly apologise, and i am kindly rejecting it," you rolled your eyes instinctively, and you just could see how your words made him shuffling from his intimidating position on his chair to him standing up to show how superior he was from you.

he was fucking looking down at you, as if his eyes were mocking you back. "you hate me this much?"

sure, the tension was unparallel when he boldly moved closer to you. and sure, you might be quite scared to see him up this close since he never really acted verbally on how annoyed he was at you. always used his words instead of actions. and you were truthfully slightly alarmed at the situation.

despite how dizzy you felt at the smell of him, you snickered. "yes, and what about it?"

your bravery was something alhaitham adored. cute, he thought. it was honestly disgusting how he found you cute when you already knew how different your physique was when compared to him.

"i have told you," he was way too close, oh no. your mind went overdrive, and you thought you might have pushed his buttons a little bit too far. "you can walk out of this office if you want to," he said sternly, almost trapping you from a distance only god knows how weak you suddenly felt against his desk and the overwhelming presence of him.

"but your pretty brain decided to be foolish, or being deliberately obtuse, in my own office and messing up my paperwork," he was at the breaking point. the way you eyed up his lips made him felt the sudden urge to shut your mouth up for running wild against him.

"and now you're questioning my capabilities?" he chuckled darkly, seeing how defeated you were behind those eyes, for the first time in his entire life, he would just admit out loud that he found you more interesting as a person rather than all things he had been documenting thus far.

"as much as i despised you for dragging my years of hard work along that sharp tongue of yours," his hand was suspiciously inching closer to the back of your head, and your body shivered at the subtle contact. "you really are endearing when being lost just like this."

you were trembling, a lot more than you were used to. something about him successfully trapped you in between his big arms, with his desk behind you, and the way you unknowingly puckered your lips in annoyance—or did you really do this on purpose? to irk him this much? he would never know—made everything in him to not actually did what his mind wanted him to. to finally show you how oblivious you were at the sheer amount of attention he had given to someone else besides his work for the past months. how oblivious you were at him and his feeling.

it was just like that since forever. how true feelings were unspoken of towards one another in this whatever push-pull relationship he had with you.

yes, he was a practical man with thousands of logics that didn't give a single care towards anybody else, but god, you were so fucking cute when you tried to act brave in front of him. when he knew you were attracted to him, much like him towards you.

it was a lot to maintain eye contact and continued with this facade. not when he was getting closer and closer, not when you could feel his warm breath hitting repeatedly against your nose and lips, not when you could feel how hot your surrounding atmosphere was, and totally not when you felt so bothered by the fact that one tiny move from you and you could feel his lips on yours.

"kiss me, sir. do it," it was a miracle, honestly, how you could still muster up some courage and dignity left in you to challenge him to not succumb into the thick air of tensions. his eyes told million stories behind them, and alhaitham's one side of his mouth could only curve upwards.

fucking cute, he thought. how you were so sure of yourself that this was a challenge for him, when in fact, he didn't mind losing if this was really the opportunity for him to finally stop your mouth from hurting his ego.

his hand now was undoubtedly gripped your nape tighter, and it was a sickeningly sweet gesture of him to massage your nape momentarily, as if to tell you that he would do it and you should relax for him.

everything about this man was driving you insane. you felt the way he caved in to the temptation as the heat radiating off of his body and into yours.

he stopped in his track, teasing you slightly by brushing his perfect and beautiful lips—you might be already smitten all over him if you really thought of him that way—against your parted lips. his breath hitched when he could also feel the way your ragged breath practically telling him that you wanted more than just a mere teasing.

he was the winner, after all, wasn't he?

"i know you want to shut me up. i dare you," you whispered against his annoyingly attractive face, feeling as if you would collapse if he continued on holding you like this in such a suffocating position. "kiss me."

"gladly."

his lips were on yours the moment you wanted to come back with a snarky remark. your breath was knocked out of your body from the intensity. the way alhaitham's official name plate on the desk was knocked over by you and onto the floor made him smiled against your lips as your eyes fluttered.

he really had you smitten, there was no doubt of it.

the metallic sound came from the clashing with the floor made you flinched slightly against his hold, and alhaitham took it as a signal to pull you by the waist, other hand purchased its way to push you deeper into him. for him to feel you more, for you to know how desperate you were despite those constant bickerings you threw at him just to get his attention, and they were effective for god's sake. because now alhaitham couldn't deny how relieved he felt that he could finally get you where he wanted.

maybe you really should have accept his proposal in the first place. it was definitely his fault for making you felt butterflies in your stomach right at this moment.

#☆.works #yaepublishinghouse #twilighttheatre #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x you #alhaitham imagines #al haitham imagines #alhaitham fluff #al haitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

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mintwithchoco · 9 months

Text

[CYMX-461] "My Roommates And I Were Playing Monopoly And Suddenly, One Of Them Lets Me Fuck Her Ass To Pay The Rent! Will My Other Roommate Be Okay With Us Fucking Right In Front Of Her?"

LOOΠΔ/ARTMS/ODD EYE CIRCLE Choerry x LOOΠΔ/ARTMS/ODD EYE CIRCLE Jinsoul x Male Reader

Word Count: 5424 words

Categories: smut, anal, masturbation, oral, more anal, threesome, squirting (?), just pure anal, commission

Commission Details: a big-sized of mint choco ice cream (2k-4k words)

Trigger Warning: mentions of alcohol

aff link

"Come ooooon, oppa! It'll be quick, I promise!" Yerim said while dragging you to the photo booth.

"With this much stuff?" you said while holding up three plastic bags containing food and drinks for dinner tonight.

"Don't worry about it! Just a few pictures and then we'll be on our way home alright? Please, oppa? Pretty pleeeeease?" Yerim insisted, showing her puppy eyes while holding onto your right arm.

Goodness, she's so cute!

You sighed. "Last stop, then we're heading home."

Yerim squealed with delight. You both then entered the photo booth, her hands dragging you along by your arm. Yerim's impatience caught up with you before you could even put the plastic bags down. She quickly inserted some coins into the machine and pressed the shutter button.

"Get ready to take your photo!"

"Woah hold on—"

"Say cheese!"

◍───────

Yerim's heartful laughter resonated across the quiet street. It's been about ten minutes and still, she couldn't stop busting a gut over your face in the pictures you both took earlier at the photo booth.

"Are you done Yerim?" you asked, blatantly annoyed by her playfulness.

The dark brown-haired girl who was holding her belly began to calm down, before bursting out in another series of giggles once again.

"Sorry, sorry, I just can't get over how funny you looked in these photos oppa!" Yerim reminded you of the photos you both took just a little while ago.

They turned out great in her eyes, but not in yours. Yerim had different expressions and poses, while you looked silly in a few photos due to the sudden rush. One picture that cracks Yerim up was where you were just a blurry thing behind her.

"Well, if someone cared to wait for a little bit, then the pictures would turn out good!" you exclaimed.

"Hehehe, sorry oppa! I just wanted to make it quick. Besides, Jinsol unnie's probably waiting for us at home."

You looked at your wristwatch. "Oof, yeah, it's already ten. Let's hurry then, we don't want the tiger to show its fangs again!"

Yerim giggled. "That was unnie's fault! She didn't tell me about waking her up for class yesterday! You see, I-"

As Yerim continued defending herself about what happened the morning before, you both eventually arrived at your shared apartment after a few turns. Inside the apartment, Yerim then cheekily hopped on each staircase, leading up to the third floor. You tried catching up to her, but you're not taking the risk of potentially dropping the dinner for tonight — it was all on you as well.

The doorbell rang a couple of times, startling Jinsol who was watching a variety show on the TV. After clumsily falling off the couch because of the shock, Jinsol rushed towards the door to open it.

"Unnie!" Yerim shrieked out like she hadn't seen Jinsol for days.

“Jeez, you're so loud! You were only out for two hours!”

“And that’s enough for me to miss you!" Yerim instantly hugged Jinsol who had a mix of concerned and disgusted looks on her face.

"Bro, that's cringe," Jinsol answered, but quickly returned the hug.

You went inside the apartment quietly, unnoticed by the two lovebirds. You gave a low sigh after seeing the mess in the living room caused by the woman who was still stuck in Yerim's embrace. Jinsol loves building and playing around with Gundam figurines, but you're not a big fan of how many of the small parts are scattered around the house after she's done with them. Even after you have countlessly stepped onto them and screamed out in pain, you never really complained about it to Jinsol since you knew that she wouldn't listen.

That is the truth of living in this apartment with these two — Choi Yerim and Jung Jinsol. One is an enthusiastic and extremely extroverted girl with no shame, and another one is a quiet, dorky, and yet chaotic girl who was possibly a man in her past life. At the very least, your apartment doesn't feel too quiet with these two hanging around.

After cleaning a bit of Jinsol's work on the table, you put down the plastic bags and got out the four boxes of food, three canned beer, and a box of two strawberry cake slices.

"Stop getting onto my back, you're heavy!" Jinsol exclaimed.

Yerim whined, "Ah, you're so mean unnie!"

Both of them made their way to the living room with Yerim clinging onto Jinsol like glue, hugging her by the waist. Once you opened a box with tteokbokki inside, the smell disseminated into the air, making everyone in the living room drool. Jinsol didn’t waste anymore time as she jumped over the couch and sat down on the floor. Yerim joined in soon after, sitting beside Jinsol and grabbed a drink.

“Sheeeesh, this is a lot!” Jinsol exclaimed. “Can we even finish this? And cakes? Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with them, unnie?” Yerim asked. “I’ve been craving a cake for days! They’re also perfect for desserts!”

“Well, you better finish it! The fridge is already full from your yogurts and jellies. Can’t even store that beef tripe that I got from my mom yesterday.” Jinsol complained.

“You could just have a few to make more space, I don't mind! I can buy more!”

“I could, if the yogurts weren’t coconut flavor-”

You stopped the argument by letting Jinsol smell the box that you held in front of her face, the smell that she knew all too well — chicken feet. “Will this shut you up?”

Jinsol gasped and grabbed the box off of your hand. “For me?! You actually got it?!”

“As a thank you for helping me with my thesis the other day.”

"Bro, I said it was nothing, really. Thanks anyways!"

As everybody has their own set of meals, the three of you — mainly Yerim and Jinsol, enjoy the late dinner. It doesn't hurt to treat them once in a while, so you feel just as happy as they are. Not to mention, it's been a while too since all of you spent some time together in the house. Balancing work and study is already hard enough, and as cold as you were, you definitely don't want to add social life to the list.

"Oh yeah, can I borrow your notes from account class oppa? I forgot to jot down a few things." Yerim said in a muffled voice — her mouth was filled with food inside.

"Later, I haven't finished filtering it."

Jinsol looked confused. "The fuck? You filter your notes?" she asked, emphasizing the word 'filter' with her fingers.

"It means making the notes more readable for me."

"Mhm, that's why I like borrowing his notes! It's soooo much easier to read than Professor Haseul's slides!" Yerim butted in the conversation, her mouth still full with food.

"Wow, dude. I really gotta learn some stuff from you. Can I have a bit of yours?" Jinsol points to your food with her chopsticks.

"Help yourself, noona. I already ate a bit before this." Jinsol already took half of your kimbap before you even finished talking.

"With a certain… professor perhaps?" Yerim teased you and took a sip of her drink, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, I thought we were done with that!" you groaned.

"Doesn't help when you're the only male student that has ever been asked out by the hot and gorgeous Ms. Saerom herself!"

Jinsol was baffled once again with Yerim's statement, clearly showing her boomer attitude. She then asked, "How come that I don't know about this?"

"What the— you didn't know unnie?! It was hot shit in our class! It's like this…" Yerim then continued to ramble all about the embarrassing incident you had with the aforementioned professor with Jinsol who was weirdly interested.

Please, just end me now.

An hour has passed. Your ears were traumatized with Yerim's story and Jinsol laughter. What an eventful dinner, you thought to yourself. The three of you were finishing up on your dinner, mainly Yerim having to finish her cakes.

"Ooh ooh, do you both have anything to do after this?" Yerim excitedly asked.

You and Jinsol looked at each other before answering, "No, not really. Jinx!"

Yerim's eyes brightened up. "How about we do something together tonight? It's been a while you know!"

"What do you have in mind?" you asked.

Yerim thought to herself for a while, before her ears perked. She then quickly ran to her room.

"I still can't believe you rejected Ms. Saerom." Jinsol said, giggling quietly right after. You just shook your head in response.

Not long after, Yerim jumped out of her room and hopped towards the living room with a box in hand. "How about a game… of Monopoly?!"

You and Jinsol stared blankly at the box that Yerim held up in the air.

"I've got notes to filter." you said, and at the same time, Jinsol answered, "I gotta clean the toilet."

"Hey! You guys are no fun!" Yerim pouted, making both of you laugh out loud. "Come on now, both of you! Do you guys wanna play or not?"

You patted on the floor, signaling Yerim to sit down. "Alright alright, let's play. Sorry about that."

Yerim smiled and sat down beside you. You cleaned up the table, threw away all the food packages and cans while Yerim and Jinsol prepared the board game. Once you got back to the living room, Yerim and Jinsol were already counting the game's money.

"Oppa, which one do you want?" Yerim asked you to choose between the five tokens. With no thought in mind, you just picked one that resembles a hat. Jinsol then gave you the money for the game.

"Let's do rock paper scissors to decide our turn!" Yerim suggested.

"No no no, let's go by age." Jinsol declined Yerim's suggestion, in which she replied back with a head shake.

"Not fair, because you get to go first!"

"It doesn't change how the game plays!"

"The first player usually has a higher advantage to win!"

"And the first few Monopoly players went by age to play!"

"So then what? I'm not falling for your tricks again, unnie!" Before Yerim could press Jinsol further, your expression caught her eyes. The "I'm so done" expression on your face said it all — it's the girl's battleground and you have no right to speak. She immediately ended the argument as she doesn't want you to feel left out. "Y-You know what, oppa, you go first."

"Eh? So suddenly?" Yerim nods her head.

"Well, if you say so. I'm still gonna win though!" Jinsol surrendered as well. A bit odd this time since it usually ended up with either one of them winning, but you couldn't care any less. You started off the game as Yerim gave you the two dices, and it marked the starting point to an endless night.

─◍──────

Yerim was sweating. Not because it was hot, and not because of the beer she drank. It's because of her current situation. Two hours have passed, and her roommate has been on the road to taking the win for the game. Almost all the entire property on the board was owned by him, and it is clearly shown by how much money he has on hand.

"It's your turn noona." he said after buying a hotel on one of his properties.

"Man, this sucks." Jinsol whined and rolled the dice. Both of the dice showed a three — she landed on her own property! A silent "Yes!" was heard from her lips before she made her move on the board.

"That won't last for long." he teased Jinsol who just gave a sigh out of relief.

"You mean my luck? The one that won't last that long is your money! Your turn Yerim!" Jinsol fought back and took a sip of her can of beer, her words are as striking as an anime protagonist.

Throughout all of this, Yerim was lost in thought. Two things were running around her mind — her game and her crush. On the board, she was at the worst place, where any move she made was guaranteed to land on his property. Unless she rolls an exact number of 11 on the dice, she would have to pull a Chance Card. Her money was also running out, so if she got unlucky, the only option for her was to declare bankruptcy and lose, or plan B.

"Yah, what's taking you so long?" Jinsol snapped Yerim out of her trance. She was shaking up the dice inside her hands for almost a minute.

"Oh, sorry! H-Here goes nothing!" Yerim released the dice and it rolled to a number of five—

Come on, come on, come onnnn!

—and a four, totalling up for a nine.

Yerim was stunned. Amidst the laughter from Jinsol, she needed to think and act quickly. Is she about to lose to this board game that gives her no benefit, or take a chance that she'll probably regret in a long time if it goes wrong?

Fuck it, it's plan B!

───◍────

"Come on Yerimie, make your move~" you teased Yerim. Finally, this game is gonna end soon. I really need to sleep.

You noticed that Yerim's eyes were calm and her lips had a bittersweet smile — an expression that you knew very well. You and Jinsol call it the "I accept my fate" look and because of its rarity, you were a bit weirded out by her behavior. Especially that she had a bit of alcohol too. Typically at this point, she would whine about going to lose.

Yerim moved her token while counting down, "One, two, three, four,-" she stopped for a while, and continued, "-five, six, seven, eight, and nine."

"Well, well, well, looks like it's gonna be between the two of us now, noon—"

"Hold on!" Yerim cuts you off, the loudness of it shocked Jinsol.

"Ow, my goddamn ear— you've lost Yerim! What else can you do?" Jinsol groaned.

"There's… something that I can do."

"Like what, taking a loan—" Jinsol's eyes widened at the scene unfolding in front of her.

Without any hesitation, Yerim placed a hand on your shoulder, got closer to your face and connected both of your lips together. Jinsol's "Ehh?!'' was useless to Yerim's ear as she deepened the kiss. Meanwhile, you just eased into the kiss, instead of freaking out. Possibly because the beer has seeped into your brain, immobilizing you from denying her sudden action.

"Fuck my ass."

“Wha—“

The simple kiss then elevated to a make out, with Yerim acting as the guide to both of your tongues, twirling against one another. Your consciousness returns after a few seconds, realizing the state that you were in. As Yerim was pulling you in by the waist, sliding her hands under your shirt and feeling your body with her fingers, you begin to resist the fall into temptation— she's your roommate for heaven's sake!

Curse you, alcohol!

Yerim noticed how you were flinching around, obviously denying her actions. Putting a halt to the slightly forced make out, she smirked and whispered softly into your ear, "Don't worry oppa, I'm not drunk. I just wanna pay my rent."

"B-But Yerim, don't you think we should uhh…" Look beside you, and Jinsol was still there, with an annoyi— Wait, she's smiling?

"Don't mind me, just go on ahead." Jinsol said while getting up. "Don't go too rough on my Yerim, you hear me?" You nod slightly in response.

Jinsol then quickly made her way to the toilet, leaving both you and Yerim alone in the living room with your mouths open.

────◍───

Jinsol closed the toilet door behind her and leaned against it. She bit her lips desperately — it has been a while since she'd seen a view so hot, especially when it's her two hot roommates.

Jinsol once mentioned that she doesn't like both of her roommates in a romantic manner. In fact, she has taken an interest in someone else and made a lot of progress with them. However, when it comes to her sexual desires, no one truly knows how much Jinsol craves to get a good fucking, and she's not really picky about the details.

Fuck, how she just pulled him into it is so hot! Where did Yerim learn how to do that?

Jinsol lets her intrusive thoughts win as her hands slipped under her shorts and underwear, reaching towards her already warm pussy. A gulp down her throat, and she was half naked in an instant.

This is so wrong. What if they found out that I'm touching myself to them fucking?

Her denial was thrown out of the window as Jinsol's ear caught Yerim's low moans, letting her imagination run wild. It can't be helped that she has seen both her roommates in only their underwear once, so she only has to fill in the missing details. Hesitation was evident in her eyes but as Yerim’s moans become more vocal, it breaks her out of the shell of anxiety.

A quick one wouldn't hurt.

─────◍──

"I'm paying with my ass, oppa. Fuck my ass until you're satisfied."

Once the toilet door was heard closing, you both wasted no time making out once again. Being the fuel of this fire, Yerim tugged onto your shirt and moved herself to sit on your lap. You didn't back down however, as lust has taken over you, by grabbing her plump ass. The shorts that she's wearing were tantalizing at best. Her milky thighs were wrapped around your waist, evidently driving you nuts with a tent already forming in your pants.

"I've been waiting for this moment, oppa. You don't know how many times I've touched myself to you." Yerim words sent shivers down your spine, and more of it came right after as she pressed her lower body onto yours, letting you feel the warmth of her core. It seemed that Yerim did her research properly beforehand as she got out a small bottle of lube from the pocket of her shorts and placed it aside.

"Holy fuck, Yerim." Your head fell onto Yerim's right shoulder, enjoying the constant dopamine. You guide her hips by her ass, creating delicious frictions on each other's crotch. Whimpers and moans filled the room quickly, body temperatures were rising rapidly, and your undergarments were getting wet.

Yerim bit her lips, and with it came her anticipation. “Mmm, I knew that you were big after all oppa.”

Your hands did a quick work of taking away Yerim's shorts. Her moans grew louder as you were now free to fondle her bare ass. Your fingers slipped under her thin panties and were met with heat and slick, which further enthralled Yerim. The tip of your middle finger trailed down in between her ass and grazed over her pussy.

"Mmfh, that's it oppa! Touch me more!"

While Yerim undid your pants and underwear, you rubbed her vagina in circles, making sure she stayed wet and warm. Your cock plopped out, and throbbed with each sway of Yerim's hips. She then squeezed some lube on her hands and spread it all along your length to prepare you. Yerim begged and whimpered for you to put it in her ass as soon as you guided the tip of your cock so she could feel you fully.

“Please oppa, put that big fucking cock inside me! Please please please please ple— Ngh!" Yerim yelped as you smacked her butt hard.

"Shut up."

You rubbed your cock on her dripping pussy for a while, making sure that it was fully lubed up before penetrating the tight hole. Only the tip was inside her, but it gave such an intense reaction that both of your bodies jerked. Your hips lifted itself upwards slowly, and with it came a loud groan and your shaft getting deeper into Yerim.

When you successfully conquered her asshole’s resistance, Yerim wailed, immediately pulling you in for a hug with her face buried into the crook of your neck. Worriness seeped in as you felt a sudden wetness on your neck and Yerim breathing in and out profusely.

"You okay?"

“Sorry… this is… my first time.” Yerim said in between breaths.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Uhh, okay, I’ll pull out—”

Yerim suddenly sank her hips deeper into you, making you both moan and jerk once again. “Oppa, please… I’m okay. I like it.” She bit her lips again, her body reacting to each throb of you inside her, before reassuring you, “I’m yours for the— mmh! For the night. Treat me however you— fuuuuck~! Treat me however you want, please!”

Though you were hesitant, your body said the exact opposite as your hips began thrusting upwards. Both of your hands were on Yerim's sinful waist to guide the rhythm of your thrusts. There's too much for you to focus on — Yerim's lustful sounds, the tightness of her asshole, the delicious jiggles of her thighs, the alluring scent of her soothing fragrance, the way her frame perfectly fits with yours — it was all too perfect.

"Oh, fuck, Yerim-ah, Yerim-ah!"

"Ahhh, oppa! You like my ass oppa? You like fucking this tight little hole?"

Never have you nodded so quickly to a statement so true. The pressure that has been boiling up inside you was too much for you to handle already. But it looks like your playmate is already close to her peak, given by the mix of extreme pleasure that you're giving her.

Her body began trembling violently, followed by some incoherent curse words from her mouth and the spreading wetness on both of your crotches. Not caring how she is still induced in her orgasm, you pulled Yerim closer to your embrace as you chased your own as well. Enhanced by the feeling of her ample breasts covered by only her shirt on your chest, it was easier said than done.

"Fuck! Fuck! Yerim-ah! Yerim-ah!"

Yerim gained a sense of herself and screamed,"Yes! Yes! Cum inside me! Drain your balls inside this fucking ass oppa!"

The thrusting stopped after a while. One last scream of Yerim's name triggers the first burst of semen inside her. The second one fired deep inside her and it went along with her own orgasm once again. When the third and final shot was done, your cum seeped out of the tight hole, showing you how much you have filled your renter.

As your cock softened and freed itself, both of your bodies fell to the ground, drained by how intense you were. Together panting heavily and catching your breath, you both giggled after finally waking up to the euphoric high.

"Sooo, did I pay my rent oppa?" Yerim asked with an endearing smile.

You chuckled, swooning on the inside because of how cute she is, even in a messy state. "Yes, yes you did."

"Hehe, great! Oh yeah, Jinsol unnie is still in the toil— " Yerim was then interrupted by a loud scream coming from the bathroom.

You both got up quickly and looked at each other, confused by the sudden noise. Upon closer inspection with your ears, the scream turned itself into a desperate moan.

A devious smirk was painted on Yerim's face. "Oppa, you're thinking what I'm thinking?"

You nodded. Yerim stood up and handed out her hand to help you get up on your foot. Now in front of the door to the toilet, Yerim slowly opened it a little until a view was clear to her eyes.

"Ahh, fuck! Oh my god! I'm 'bout to cum! Ahh!"

Sitting inside the spacious bathtub was none other than Jinsol — bottomless, moaning away without a care to the world and furiously fingering herself to climax. Her eyes were closed as well, so it gave you and Yerim the advantage to sneak inside without her noticing. The mischievous girl then carefully stepped inside the bathtub and sat on the other end. Simultaneously, you were getting hard again by the sight of Jinsol masturbating and Yerim taking off her clothes.

Yerim began drawing near towards the opposite end, fully naked and ready to surprise her horny unnie. She bit her lips and grabbed onto Jinsol’s hand, “Aww, poor Jinsol unnie, touching herself alone in the washroom.”

Jinsol’s eyes were wide open in an instant. Her face flushed with embarrassment, froze upon seeing Yerim in front of her and you who was casually stroking your cock. “Y-Yerim?! It’s not what it looks lik—”

Yerim shuts Jinsol up with a forceful deep kiss. The forced one was resisting at first, but eventually fell into this trap of temptation laid down by Yerim. As they got up on their knees, Yerim removed Jinsol’s top, revealing her slim yet toned figure. Your excess cum from earlier begins collecting itself on your tip as you witness the two girls desperately touching each other while locking their lips together.

A gulp down your throat and soon enough, you took off your own shirt and left it on the tile floor. Yerim noticed how entranced you were and suddenly thought of an idea to spark things up. “Don’t just stand there, oppa. Join us."

It needed only two steps for you to be right in front of your two roommates, your cock flaunting itself hard and proud, close to Jinsol’s face. After exchanging a few more kisses, Yerim switched her focus towards you by stroking you gently, making Jinsol watch in awe as you throbbed under her touch. She then brought the tip close to Jinsol’s lips, letting your cum stain them.

“Go on, noona. Seems like he’s begging for you to suck it.” Yerim took the words right out of your mouth.

Before you know it, Jinsol’s tongue swirled around your shaft, gathering the sweet nectar flowing out of your slit. You threw your head back as she then engulfed your cockhead, sucking on it to taste more. At the same time, Yerim continued her gentle handjob and started to fondle your balls as well, stimulating it once again close to orgasm.

“Deeper, unnie. Yes, that’s it.” Yerim praised and patted Jinsol on the head.

You can feel Jinsol getting further down as her tongue slides against the underside of your cock, until the tip of it reaches your balls. Both of you moan audibly with both desires finally being fulfilled. You summarized that Jinsol definitely had some experience, judging by how steady and rhythmic her blowjob is. Her cheeks then hollowed, giving your cock a powerful vacuum suck.

After a few more bobs, Jinsol took her time to breathe and jerked you off. Yerim also gave some support to Jinsol’s handiwork by spitting some saliva onto your shaft, letting it spread all over. She gave quick licks on your slit and beamed over the taste of you. Meanwhile, on your side, your eyes were just glued to the two working for your pleasure. To this day, you never even foresaw this sight to ever happen in real life.

Jinsol then spoke out of the blue. “Get inside. I.. I need you.”

So fucking needy.

At last, the bathtub was filled as you positioned yourself behind Jinsol, making sure your shaft was almost in between her thighs. Jinsol moaned into Yerim’s mouth as you fondled her cute tits and tweaked her erect nipples.

“You’re so cute, noona. Whimper for us more.” you whispered into her ear and planted a few kisses on her shoulders.

Jinsol was pinned by the two of you playing around with her body, diffusing pheromones all over. Her hips squirmed as Yerim picked up where she left off earlier, teasing her wet pussy and you rubbing your tip on her asshole.

"Put it inside, oppa. Unnie must be dying to feel you."

With Yerim's guidance, you break Jinsol even more, entering her back door. Thankfully, the lube on your cock hasn't dried up too much, so it wasn't really painful, given by how tight Jinsol was. She was on par with Yerim in terms of tightness, but hers felt more warmer.

"Ahh! Yerim, he's so big!" Jinsol exclaimed, holding onto Yerim in desperation. She basically melted in Yerim's arms when you began thrusting from tip to hilt, which made Yerim smile. She loved seeing her unnie in full ecstasy as it turned her on a lot.

"Take it all in unnie. Don't resist." Yerim whispered into Jinsol's ear. She then grabbed the back of Jinsol's head and slowly guided it down her crotch while she laid down on the bathtub. Jinsol knew immediately what to do after seeing Yerim's glistening pussy.

A few licks in, and Yerim began squirming already. Her sensitivity heightened by the clear sight in front of her — her two older roommates having sex. Jinsol moved on to finger Yerim after having a taste of her core to release her expression being fucked.

"Fuck fuck fuck, harder!"

You obliged, increasing the pace of your thrusts into Jinsol. Her body wobbles deliciously when your crotch hits hers, signifying how hard you're messing her up. It gets even more intense when you're witnessing the two pretty girls making out and pleasuring one another right in front of you.

The three of you were full of sweat, exhaustion finally seeped into your bodies. A game night that turned into a wild sex night surely wasn't in your agenda, but you were glad now that it was.

"Ahh, ahh, ahh, fuuuuuck!!!!"

Jinsol let out a loud scream, her back arched and her legs trembled violently. The oldest one in the room orgasms before the two of you could even reach your own, given by how she's receiving double the pleasure. Her slick leaked out of her empty pussy, staining your crotch and Yerim's midriff.

Not long after, the knot inside your stomach grew tighter, your balls pressuring itself to release the tension. You then release yourself from Jinsol's confines and stroke yourself into your climax. A loud groan left your mouth, and alongside it came spurts after spurts of your semen. Two shots landed onto Jinsol's ass, while the last three covered Yerim's vagina.

Yerim was the only one who had yet to reach her own peak. As the first person who noticed it, you grab onto Yerim's waist and plunge yourself deep into her slit while your cock is still hard. Under Jinsol's body who was calming down after her high, Yerim replied to your action with a deafening scream and continued to do so as you thrust deep into her womb.

"Fuuuuuuuck oppa! I'm cumming! I'm fucking cumming!"

The first thrust. Yerim's body shook violently. The second thrust. Her legs gave out. The final thrust. Yerim's eyes rolled back. The plugged hole was leaking out with Yerim's juices and eventually, squirting so hard that it pushed your cock out by itself. A series of pleasure cries left Yerim's lips, not caring how she's deafening Jinsol who was still on top of her.

You laid your back on the other side of the bathtub, gasping for air due to the lack of breath. Tonight's events were exhausting to the body, yet pleasuring at the same time. You then got out of the bathtub slowly and sat on the tile floor, close to the two girls who were basically cuddling each other, not caring how sweaty they were.

"You both okay?" you asked. Jinsol then gets off of Yerim and rests her arms by the edge of the bathtub, facing towards you. Putting her hand on your shoulder, she replied with a thumbs up.

"I'm fucking drained bro. Thanks for that." Jinsol said, and both of you giggled.

"T-Thanks oppa. It was amazing." Yerim said weakly.

"Can you get up?" you asked Yerim. Meanwhile, Jinsol was already out of the bathtub and finding her pile of clothes.

"No. I just wanna.. lay down here… just for a while…"

"Alright. I'll be here until you're okay."

"Okay, thanks oppa…" Yerim then drifts off to sleep almost instantly.

Both you and Jinsol smiled, looking at how cute Yerim was sleeping in the bathtub. Jinsol then left the toilet to sleep in her own room after wearing her clothes and wishing you a good night. You can't stand looking at poor Yerim sleeping uncomfortably inside the cold bathtub, so you carried her all the way to her own room and let her rest on her bed. After covering her with a blanket, you left the room silently.

"Nighty night, Yerim."

===========================================

note; thank you so much for the commission fellow anon! i spent waaaaay too long on this (seriously, it took almost a whole goddamn year 💀💀) so again, i would like to apologize for that. and because of that, i decided to make the fic a little longer than what they have requested as a lil bonus for the wait. oh, i also hopped onto the jav title trend with this but honestly, i think i failed LMAO

it was a rough process due to my hectic schedule, but i'm glad that i made it through. after all, this is my first commission so i'm still learning as i go through. i just really hope that you're satisfied with the end product as i have poured a lot of time and effort into writing this to make it worth your money. :)

talking about commissions, i will be opening them again soon once i'm ready so be sure to be on the lookout! as always, big thanks to my bros Byakko and @sinswithpleasure for the beta read help!

thank you for reading and have a good nu- i mean day! ♥

you're still here?

alright, come here, i'll fill you in on a lil secret.

ep 7 is petplay :)

#loona smut #artms smut #odd eye circle smut #choerry smut #jinsoul smut #loona #artms #odd eye circle #choerry #jinsoul #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #reader insert #male reader #commission

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myfandomrealitea · 5 months

Text

The day that you understand that fanfiction has no literary/value difference to published literature and writing is the day you will understand exactly why readers and authors need a symbiotic relationship in fanfiction media just as much as the published author and their reader.

Right now, you have unlimited access to free literature.

I don't think a lot of you fully grasp the actual, true meaning of that. You are accessing literally as much content as you want, that you have had to do absolutely nothing for, for free. And often on a single website that you are also accessing for free, and don't need a hundred and one different kinds of log-ins or passwords or paid subscriptions to access.

If I want to read a specific type of story, I don't have to spend gas money to go to the bookstore that might not have the story I want, or funnel money into a blood corporation like Amazon to access it. I don't even have to pay someone for the time and effort and skill it took for them to write it.

I can go to my search bar. I can type in 'AO3' and I can access 141 variants of the same story for free and all in less time than it takes for my morning coffee to brew.

I am accessing content that cost these authors literal hours of their lives. Their time, their skills, their research, all for free, and I have to do absolutely nothing in return for it.

We take this kind of freedom and resource for granted, and even more so the people who actually enable us to have it in the first place.

Writers who talk about wanting engagement aren't being greedy, needy or selfish. They're not writing just for the 'clout' or whatever kind of half-cocked accusation you want to make. They're asking because engagement is what fuels more content. More community fulfilment. More productivity.

A lot of writers write for themselves, but they also write because its something they want to share with other people. Its a contribution to a shared interest. Its longevity to the enjoyment you experience within that space. Its a continuity of a limited source.

So many people sneer at fanfiction authors who offer commissions and it genuinely makes me want to rattle them all like a marble in a bean can.

Because you pay for books. Because someone took the time to write it. You don't sneer at the rows and rows of books in stores. You don't demean the authors who spent literal hours, sometimes even decades of their lives writing them.

People who write fanfiction are still authors.

Fanfiction is still literature.

Fanfiction's existence depends entirely on the authors.

Appreciate what you have. Understand the value in what you are being given.

Basic gratitude and respect is by far the absolutely minimum you should be giving in exchange for quite literally all the free literature you could ever want, on demand.

#myfandomrealitea #sephiroth speaks #fandom #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #fics #authors #writing #literature #fanfiction discourse #ao3 fanfiction #pro ao3

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jonnywaistcoat · 9 months

Note

Hi Jonny, if you don't mind I have a question about the TMA TTRPG! So I noticed that on the player's guide there's this guy, who my friends and I assumed is probably Jon. If it is him, is this a canon design, or more like some of the non-canon stuff that's in the merch?

So, I hope you don't mind if i use this ask to go a bit off on one. I'm not specifically dragging you (I'm actualy glad you asked, as I've thinking about posting on the topic), but all the discussion around the RPG art and how "official" or "canon" it might be is, to my mind, slightly silly.

First up, is it "official" art? I mean, yeah, its art for the officially licenced Magnus Archives RPG. This means Monte Cook Games have commissioned someone to do a beatiful illustration broadly based on some aspect, episode or character from the podcast and it goes in the book. But that's kinda all it means. "Official" is a legal distinction, not an artistic one. The fact that it's in an official product doesn't make it any less one artist's cool interpretation of a character that has only been vaguely described in audio.

Second, is it Jonathan Sims the Archivist? I mean, it's probably based on the idea of him, but it's certainly not set in stone. When we were first discussing art with MCG, we advised that character pictures be more vibes-based and not explicitly tied to specific people (ie. a portrait inspired by Tim wouldn't be captioned "This is Tim" and wouldn't be placed opposite a profile for Tim Stoker, archival assistant.) This was mainly because we wanted the artists to have plenty of freedom to interpret and not feel too tied down by the need to know everything about the podcast. But, to be frank, it was also because we know that there are a few fans out there that are kinda Not Chill about what they've personally decided these characters look like and can get a bit defensive over depictions that differ.

It strikes me as particularly strange to be having this discussion about art that's for a roleplying game book. Something that's explicitly and solely designed to give you the ability to play in your version of the Magnus universe. The idea that this is the thing where we'd for some reason try to immutably establish unchangable appearances for these characters would be pretty funny if some folks weren't taking it so seriously. Similarly ridiculous is the idea we could reasonably have said to MCG "We'd love for you to make a huge beautiful RPG book of our setting... Just make sure you don't depict any of the iconic characters or events from it!"

But... is it "canon"? Now, to my mind, this highlights a real weakness in a lot of fandom thinking around "canon", which is that it generally has no idea what to do with adaptations. All adaptation is interpretation, and relies on taking a work and letting new creatives (and sometimes the same ones) have a different take on it. Are the appearances of the Fellowship of the Ring in the LOTR movies "canon"? How much, if at all, does that matter? Neil Gaiman's book Neverwhere was originaly a 90s BBC series made with a budget of 50 pence; is anyone who makes fanart of Mr Croup that doesn't look like the actor Hywel Bennet breaking canon? What about the novel that describes the character differently? Or the officially licenced Neverwhere comic where he looks like neither of them? Which is his "canon appearance"?

Canon is an inherently messy concept, and while it is useful for a creative team trying to keep continuity and consistency within a creative work, for thinking about anything beyond that it tends to be more hinderance than help.

Anyway, all this is to say that the above picture and all the others in the RPG are exactly as canon as every other picture you've ever seen of the Archivist.

#sorry for the huge answer #been thinking about it a lot recently #and wanted to get my thoughts down

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