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worldsover · 4 months

Text

Completeness ft. Yeseo, Mashiro

length ✦ 13.7k

genres ✧ gf!Mashiro, virgin!Yeseo

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There is exactly one axiom that matters. Mashiro is your loving girlfriend. All other truths are auxiliary. Yet, postulates exist that can carry weight to them and affect the system upon which this first and only truth is built. An example: Yeseo, Shiro's best friend, is something of a little sister to you both, and thus you make love to your girlfriend, and care for your girlfriend's friend as much as any guy should. For some reason, this unbreakable and absolute edict has been revised, softened, changed, and now truth itself is something that the two of them are… considering.

"Hey, what do you think of Yeseo?"

It's a Thursday night, and Mashiro's on top of you, her hand stroking your cock as she asks. It's not the kind of distraction you want while you're about to get off, but here you are.

"She's cute. Um, can be a bit of a handful sometimes."

"That's it?" Mashiro gives you a wry smile.

"What's with you? Why are you asking about her now of all times?"

Mashiro shrugs, but you don't believe it. She tugs down the neckline of her cropped top, showing off more of her breasts as they threaten to spill out of her bra. Between the sheen of sweat on her cleavage and the toned shape of her abs, that's a lot of skin and sexiness to swallow. Her fingers don't have to work long before you're fully erect.

"I mean, I'm just saying, she's gotten pretty hot lately."

You raise an eyebrow at her. "Hot? Since when?"

"Well, obviously now that she's an adult. And what, you think she's not hot, babe?"

You look away and groan. "I dunno, it's a bit weird." You're not even being political about your answer. That's just the truth.

Mashiro peels your eyes back to her when she takes your hand and brings it under her shirt. She's smiling like she's got a joke only she's privy to, even when you start pinching her nipples. At this point, she would usually start melting, and all clothes would be forgotten for at least another half-hour.

She doesn't.

Not that this is anywhere near Shiro's first time taking control of a situation, but the motive was always self-fulfillment, fucking out your orgasms to chase her own. Therefore, when Mashiro slaps your cock against her abs, you tense up in surprise and anticipation. She leans over to capture your shaft between her tits, inside the tight confines of her top. You thought that she thought that this shirt was too cute to ruin with stains of cum, but it seems like she's willing to sacrifice some clothes for whatever greater good. Her breasts are just big enough to make this possible, and while her skin is plenty soft and warm, she adds spit to the mix to make the passage nice and slippery.

"Ah, Shiro," you say.

Each time your tip pokes out of her shirt, Mashiro gives it extra attention—kissing, licking, suckling. The only reason you're not thrusting into her mouth is because she has your hips pinned to the bed.

"So," she says, "Yeseo. Imagine her here."

"Wha..." You're dumbfounded, and it's not just by how Mashiro's mouth wraps around the head of your cock. That's nice though, and you could probably cum on her lips like this—you've done it before—but you're apparently in the middle of a conversation and it's very hard to reply when she's working you like this.

"Mm, tell me what you think of her. Be honest this time." Sure, Mashiro talks about her best friend a lot, but you never imagined that she'd be so cavalier about bringing any other person up while in bed. At the very least, you'd think she would broach this topic with a bit more tact, and a bit less tit-fucking.

Where to start is a dilemma, what with your brain functioning at half speed. "Uhhh. Purple hair." Gotta start somewhere. "She's… smart?" You're pretty sure that's it, right? That's everything there is to know about Yeseo. "She's like a sister."

Mashiro pulls back, relaxing the pressure on your dick, and you're both disappointed and relieved. "What if she were a little less like a sister?"

"Shiro, what do you want me to say?" You don't get to see her smile, since she's back to sucking on your tip, but you feel it.

"That you would dick down my bestie if that's what she needed?"

You open your mouth to deny it. "Well, I—" The next word should be a word, not a squeak. But that's what happens when she sucks on your dick while its length is stuffed into her tits. Her lips fit around your girth tight and they leave you with a parting lick. Makes your breath catch. You think about what she said. The fact that you're still hard says it all.

"It's okay, you can admit it. Yeseo's got such a pretty ass now, doesn't she?"

Your first thought is comparison: you want to believe that your girlfriend beats Yeseo in every department, and that's certainly true with the heft of her breasts as Yeseo's petite frame has a way to go before being able to swathe your member how Shiro currently is. Yet, you think about yesterday, how your eyes kept traveling to Yeseo's ass in her leggings and how that butt could be softer to the touch than your girlfriend's. Could be. Could be fluffier like a cloud, fuller like ripe fruit, rounder than a bubble ready to pop, and you don't want to admit you would pop it. Not really, so you're silent and tense, so what could be, isn't.

Mashiro notices, and pulls away from your cock. "Hah, thought so."

Shaking your head, clenching your jaw, you ask, "Why does it matter? Are you gonna be jealous?"

"Jealous? Of what, you ogling Yeseo? God no," Mashiro says, laughing, "she's so cute and tiny, I wouldn't blame you." She pauses, giving your length a few languid strokes up and down her tits. "If anything, I'm the opposite of jealous. Curious."

"Is that what opposite—"

She squeezes her tits together with an arm around her chest, your shaft in the most loving stranglehold. "I'm being serious. Just think about it. Okay?"

You sigh. "Fine, fine."

The conversation dies and gives way to the sound of wet slurps, soft moans, and the squelches of Mashiro's spit lubricating her titjob. Your toes curl as the pressure builds, and it's not long before you're close. And since her understanding of what close means to you is atomic-clock precise, she unsheathes your dick in the annoying nick of time. You can only laugh after all that—for all the times she's edged you, at least they were premeditated, or for a cause like a sudden visit from her parents.

"Fuck, babe, really?" You've had an infinite amount of patience for your lovely girl, so you're surprised at your own exasperation. You sit up, but then she pushes you back down to the bed with a hand to the chest. You take a deep breath, now grasping that this is all part of her plan, and that you should know better than to mistrust Mashiro for a second.

Mashiro leans over, your cock in her grip, the other hand slipping aside the wet white panties under her skirt. She doesn't bother getting them off properly, adjusting them to the side to reveal her trimmed mound and the swollen button peeking between pink lips. She lets your shaft rest against her pussy, then strokes the two together. Each pass of your cock along the underside of her clit has Mashiro breathing heavier, until she's panting like she's just finished a good work out. The wetness of her juices spreads on your shaft and her chest heaves in her cropped top while you need prison-grade handcuffs to keep from thrusting into her.

When the pressure's built enough, when your cock's about to burst, you're forced to watch your girlfriend rub herself to completion, your cock still in her grip. She cums before you, like an angel crying out for salvation, her blonde bangs sticking to the sweat of her forehead, though none of that stops Mashiro from jerking you off through your own orgasm. You moan her name as your hips buck and her thighs clench and her hand works in a blur.

The moments like this are where you realize your notions of Mashiro have been challenged, over and over. Loving is not so singular in meaning as you had thought, because when you first started having sex with your girlfriend, maybe a month after the first date, you honestly were making love. When you'd cum inside the condom while hugging her tight, that's when you two were done for the night.

But now loving means that you paint her abs in milky white, cum pooling into her belly button, spurts dribbling over her fingers, and then coat her pussy with the thick river flowing down her stomach. Plus, since you're still hard, might as well use that as lube for the ride of her life. You're not sure how you manage to keep up with Mashiro. Obviously, how she eats your cum from her fingers like it's candy, how her tits bounce now freed from her shirt and bra, and how her cum-creamed labia grips around your cock are all great incentive to push through your exhaustion. But in the recesses of your mind, the one part of your brain that isn't fixated on her, there is a small question.

Small indeed. The same brand of small as your girlfriend. Five years younger.

Mashiro has gone and done it now. You're seeing the other girl in her face, the supposition, the thesis, your eyes blurring as Mashiro fucks down on you harder. Oh, damn, Yeseo really knows how to ride you well—wait, no. Your girlfriend's riding you well, her pussy milking your cock just right. Fuck. What the hell is wrong with you?

You groan, and you're not sure whether it's a cry of frustration or pleasure. Mashiro's face, Mashiro's tits, Mashiro's hips, Mashiro's tightening pussy, all of them are so nice and so warm and so tight and so wet and so every good that good can be. As if in that cute package of her body, your girlfriend has molded herself to be everything you need in a lover. She repeats the words for good measure: "I love you, I love you, oh, fuck, I love you!"

The same way loving used to mean something classic and rigid, taking her out to dinner or watching movies, loving now means that rigid takes on a different, more literal definition. That's Mashiro, growing as you grow, and in that way, you shouldn't be surprised that the topic of Yeseo—sweet, innocent Yeseo—isn't the end of it. Not even close.

Speaking of growing, the tension in your loins. Lewd, sloppy sounds intermix with a mess of Mashiro's cries while your hands squeeze too tightly the flesh of her breasts.

You gasp and mindlessly call out "Shiro, Shiro, Yeseo, wait, I—" but you're cut off by Mashiro's tongue wrestling yours. Unbridled want, unmitigated desperation, she kisses you like a girl possessed, and there's no room to protest and figure out what the hell's happening.

With no condom—it's been a long while since that—your load spills into Mashiro like she's an unwitting, impure bride, and by god, there's such a hellfire in your ears from her scream when the sin soaks through to her sinner womb. The pleasure blurs your minds, or more, her cunt does, and with the cum your dick oozes, the most you can offer when Shiro topples over you and collapses is a "Ah, mmh."

As your breathing calms, she lifts up her skirt and spreads her pussy, letting you see your second load ooze from her insides.

"God, I needed that so bad," she says. Her voice is breathy, but there's a smile in it, and she crawls over to you and kisses you on the lips. Between the two of your bodies is a whole lot of sticky. You groan into her mouth, and then when she breaks off, she starts to pepper your lips and jaw with more kisses. "You wanted that too, huh?"

You wipe away a bead of sweat on her forehead. "Yeah. Of course. You're so fucking perfect, Mashiro." You run a hand through your hair. "Oh, fuck. Right, I'm... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said..."

"Shh. I think I've made it pretty clear that I don't mind, right? I love you, it's okay."

You nod, laughing to yourself in disbelief is not some fancy dream. "I love you too. I just wish I, I dunno, didn't call her name right then, you know?"

She grins as you begin your cuddle. "No, no. That was fucking hot, actually."

"It was?"

"Yes!"

"No, really that wasn't right, I'm..."

Mashiro insists. You deny. It's a circuitous route that continues onward from outside of this bedroom—at dinner, walking down the street, at a sweet little shopping date where you and Mashiro were buying decorations for the home and she just had to get this puppy plushie for her best friend—really any time that Yeseo is mentioned, this conversation bubbles up from the depths.

It's one of those oddities, those quirks, the little humps in a relationship that eventually dies off and...

No, whiplash fucking snaps your neck in half.

So now you're here, in a room with your girlfriend and your truth-breaker. Mashiro sits on your lap, her breath so close to yours that you can smell the strawberry lip balm. Pliant, warm, she straddles your thigh while her hand travels down your chest, to your crotch. You groan into her mouth when she squeezes your hardening member through the fabric of your slacks. All the while, Yeseo watches, hands also down her pants. Too embarrassed despite the unspoken permission—goading, really—Yeseo keeps her fingers pressed against her clit, not quite daring to move.

It was supposed to be a normal day. Yeseo wasn't even supposed to be here. But Mashiro invited her, and she didn't kick Yeseo out, (which you would've done yourself, but it's hard doing anything when Mashiro has her nails on your skin like claws), and Yeseo didn't leave, and now you're stuck here, having your girlfriend dry-hump you and make out with you while another girl's watching.

It's like this for a while, a holding pattern, a cold war. Days. The first shot across the bow is when Yeseo leaves, flushed, and you rail your pretty girlfriend into the sheets so that the girl can't escape the sounds outside the room. If later, you somehow find out she was slouched against your bedroom, fingering herself to completion, then you wouldn't be surprised. Here comes the next battle in the next day, where Yeseo steels herself to watch Mashiro ride you, your back to the headboard. Then she sends the follow-up, bombarding you with her every fantasy while you know that acting upon it is this landmine, or now it's a minefield, or now the trenches are dug and all that's left is to wait.

Mashiro shoots the farmer's pig when she speaks up over dinner.

"It's just a handjob."

You choke on your half-swallowed piece of meat and end up coughing.

Yeseo looks up from her phone, then freezes. "W-what."

Mashiro gives Yeseo a wry smile as she gets up, massaging her shoulder. "You want to, right? So you should. It's okay, Yeseo." Mashiro's voice is gentle, and Yeseo nods slowly. Mashiro presses a kiss to Yeseo's cheek before walking over to you. She doesn't have to ask if this is what you want.

This is what you want.

Mashiro takes Yeseo to the bedroom, and you finish dinner before tidying up. You wash the dishes, wipe the table. Put away the leftovers. Count down from twenty until you tell yourself there are no logical reasons to delay the inevitable further, not with the way your pulse is racing, not with the way you've tasted anticipation in the air.

Once you open your door, you find your girlfriend holding the shirt collar of a willing Yeseo who has already crawled into your bed. The two are kissing—this isn't the first time you've seen, though it's the first time you've seen them hold it longer than a cute peck. First time you've seen tongue. First time you've seen hands under clothes and on bare skin. Never seen Mashiro grabby with her spit-covered lips.

You are quiet on your feet. Any sound you make, the creaking of the door, or the harshness of your breath, it drowns in Mashiro and Yeseo's obscene make-out. Delicious wet sounds burrow into your ears, the two girls slicking over and around and with each other, Mashiro in an exploratory mood while Yeseo lets herself get familiar. She looks flushed, content. Happy.

Mashiro acknowledges you by the doorway with a coo. "Just giving a little lesson." She pats the space on the bed next to her, where she strips off your shorts, your semi-erection right there for Yeseo to behold.

Yeseo wipes her lips with her shirt. You see her white bra. You think you can feel heat coming off the bridge of her nose. She stares like your dick's looking back, like this is the first time she's seen a penis that wasn't in a textbook diagram. Mashiro pulls Yeseo closer, bringing her between your legs; the furtive girl reaches for your member, then stops before touching, eyes back-and-forth between your dick and her arm. Even half-hard, you're about as thick as Yeseo's slender wrist, nearly the length of her forearm. She mouths "how" as her fingers hover a centimeter, this warmth a ghost over your cock.

"Here," Mashiro says, kneeling beside Yeseo. Holding her hand over Yeseo's, she guides the girl to wrap those fingers around your shaft and stroke it up and down. In your life, you've had lots of handjobs—mainly either self-administered or Mashiro-administered—but nothing quite matches Mashiro having her fingers tangled with Yeseo's, the touch soft with a little squeeze from one of them, not quite meeting any spots that'll make you squirm. You think Mashiro wants it this way, wants Yeseo to get a feel for it, find out the heft and warmth of a man's cock. It is, however, enough to get you stiff and plumb and twitch-happy, which is where Mashiro lets go.

When Mashiro gives Yeseo a quick kiss, you swear Yeseo tries to chase her when Mashiro pulls away. Then, you receive Shiro's next kiss. "I wanna see my boyfriend and best friend enjoy themselves," she whispers, before sitting aside.

You look back down at Yeseo, and you've never had such a carte-blanche view of the girl's face. Her eyes are big, round, chocolate-brown, the same as your girlfriend, but in them, Yeseo has this super-cute, really obvious, nervous lust that keeps sending a twitch in your hips. Her cheeks are soft and flushed red as you stroke them, squeeze them, press your fingertips in just to see how fluffy she is. She has a bunny's teeth when she gasps and her thin lips part.

"Hi. Hi… hi, hi." She's caught in the headlights.

You say "Stroke," and her pupils shift down to your crotch, the word a command that's clearly Yeseo's first. This exhalation out of her mouth would be fog in the winter. "Like this," you tell her, gentler, as you start to stroke yourself with one hand. Yeseo bites her lip and reaches toward you again. Your precum oiling the way, Yeseo's digits meet yours. At first, you only hold hands and smile at each other and feel out the moment before starting tender, guiding strokes. You have a way of measuring one's nervousness by cupping her hand in yours and feeling how she touches back: the sweat of your palms, her pulse through yours, this heat that seeps through the cracks in her fingers as she trembles.

When she becomes less tense, you let Yeseo try on her own. She looks down, head full of those breaths and some little noises she doesn't know she's making. Yeseo wraps her tiny hand around the base of your cock. She stares at it, at her fingers that don't cover your girth, and you wonder how long it will take for her to get used to it. When you think about Mashiro, you realize the awe never quite goes away.

With one hand in a jerking motion, the other palm wrapping around your base to act as an extension of the first, you like what she's trying—go wild, cute thing. A low growl in your throat lets her know that you find some enjoyment in the attempt. You lean back, spreading your legs apart to give her more room, and you close your eyes to savor the moment. With your eyes closed, you're certain you could tell the two girls apart, your girlfriend naturally more experienced, less afraid of your cock.

"Am I doing good? Yeseo mutters.

You nod, eyes still tight.

"You're so big, Oppa," she says, voice filled with wonder. "It's so warm. And the veins, and the way it pulses… is this really happening?"

"Yeah, it's real." Your breath catches when Yeseo runs a finger along the underside of your cockhead.

Her breath warms your cock, and you can't help but open your eyes. Yeseo is concentrating on your dick like the test's answers are on it, and the only way to get them is to wring them out. Sure, you've given yourself much better handjobs too, but there's something about her furrowed brows, her lip giving way to her teeth, that makes it all worth it.

"Yeseo-yah, try using your other hand to twist around the tip," Mashiro says, and you hear a slick noise coming from outside your vision.

There's an eep as Yeseo uses a second tiny fist around your tip to do just that.

You moan softly, weighing into the mattress; it's a good thing you're already lying down, because the newfound intensity makes your toes curl, and you find yourself thrusting up into her hips.

"Wow, it's so big," Yeseo says. "How do you fit it in Shiro-unnie?"

You draw in a hiss. "Hah, takes some work."

Yeseo giggles. "I can imagine."

You groan as Yeseo strokes and jerks and twists faster. Pressure builds up in your balls, and when you turn your head to the sight of your girlfriend dipping fingers between her thighs, you're certain you'll cum in time to Mashiro. Diligent, your girlfriend sidles on closer, adding some spit to Yeseo's hands, to which Yeseo responds by stroking you even faster. Mashiro pours more and more saliva onto your member, insistent on looking you in the eyes, while Yeseo's strokes get wetter, slipperier. Your grunts and the wet sounds of impromptu lubricant mix with and Yeseo's quickened breaths and Mashiro's self induced moans, a filthy choir of angels. Your balls tighten; the edge tempting to knock you off-balance.

But before you can finish, Yeseo abruptly stops. You clench and whip your head toward her, and you realize instantly by the look on her face that she does not know how to handle this climax part. Thankfully, just in time, your girlfriend has her mouth ready, lips around the head of your cock, and the vibrations of her moans tips forth the chain reaction of bliss. In awe, Yeseo stares as you and Mashiro unravel, your balls pumping semen into your girlfriend's mouth, your hips bucking upward as her pussy pulsates, a thin river of lust pouring out of her.

Even with every line in the sand kicked away, you haven't put much of an effort into convincing yourself of the reality of the situation. You've known Yeseo too long, too well to conceive of anything further happening. This was an aberration, puppy's love, a one-time folly, or you might excuse it as such if there weren't more mistakes—well, calling them mistakes implies a lack of agency.

"Just a handjob," you murmur to yourself, and if they're mere mistakes, then there would no point in time in which you could stop Yeseo from jumping on you and making out with you; and you're helpless when Mashiro brings your face between the young woman's ample thighs; and Yeseo kneels over you like a dutiful maid, mouth ready, hands working, and this is the result of a long-standing debt that your family's been paying—nothing, nothing to do with you being unable to say no anymore.

Looking up from the wet, messy patchwork of muted purple and blonde hair, of thighs squishing together as they kneel and lick in tandem underneath you, you realize that Yeseo has mastered her oral techniques in addition to the manual under Mashiro's tutelage, which has shattered your final understanding of Yeseo. This picture of innocence is much like the other picture of innocence in your life, and thus you should've expected as much. When you and Mashiro first started having sex, it truly was love-making, slow, sweet, vanilla, candle-lit, adoration-for-adoration's sake sex, something you started out of gratitude for each other, and continued because every time was an affirmation of the beautiful relationship you cultivated. Over time, you learned two key things: all her dirty secrets, and the fact that she only took your cock that slow because it was too big for her to be able to do otherwise.

("No, babe, I swear, I meant the love stuff too," she said.

You replied, "Okay, fine.")

The difference here is the speed with which Mashiro—and you, admit it; you are no fucking saint—have corrupted Yeseo. You estimate it'll be a matter of weeks before Yeseo's ready to match your girlfriend's skills.

Yeseo is trying to prove as much. While Mashiro licks your shaft, she leaves Yeseo your balls; while Mashiro is busy letting your dick knock against the back of her throat, Yeseo makes sure your sack receives enough tender sucking. When they swap places, you feel a pulse through your cock, Yeseo's mouth being impressively warm and wet. The only place this tongue of Yeseo's has been wetter than the inside of her mouth must have been the insides of Mashiro's pussy—and you've watched the damnable act, how your girlfriend arches back, eyes shut in pleasure, as the eager teen tongues her dripping slit.

That's the same tongue Yeseo uses now to stroke alongside the bottom of your shaft, your cock in her mouth, nose inches from your pubis. Yeseo isn't quite as capable of taking to the root as her unnie is, but you have no complaints about watching her struggle to swallow you, and you figure she'll catch up soon enough. She hums on your cock, swirling around the tip before bobbing back down again, happy to gag and make a mess.

And the slope is slippery down from her throat to her tongue, making saliva strands from the corner of her lip down the veins of your shaft, onto the floor where your filthy fucking girlfriend—lord, when did she get this nasty, this depraved—licks it up clean for Yeseo. You watch, mind blank, as Mashiro's tongue goes from the floor up to Yeseo's hard nipples. Then she continues along her breasts, till it's Mashiro's lips meeting Yeseo's again, and your shaft is jammed between their mouths for good measure. When Yeseo takes surprising control of your dick, your eyes focus on the sweet face that's learned to hollow her cheeks and flicker her tongue over the soft ridge beneath your shaft head, one hand working on the inch she can't reach. The only thing stopping Yeseo from gulping down your seed is the very girl who's kissing your shaft where it's free, taking your cock when Yeseo leaves for a quick breath. With the competitive swallow-duel going back and forth, it's inevitable that your girlfriend wins.

"Ah, thanks for the lunch," Mashiro says.

"One day I'll win." Yeseo huffs, but you can tell she is not mad. For as much as she pretends, her thighs are wiggling in Mashiro's face moments later, and she can't hide her smile so wide whenever your girlfriend's nose brushes against her swollen clit. She smiles even wider when you invite her onto your thigh, pressing that needy pussy down and leaving a trail for Mashiro to lick up.

But for all you've done in the past few weeks, one topic has never been brought up: Yeseo's virginity. Well, never explicitly—Mashiro has asked teasingly about it before, and all Yeseo says is "a guy in school" while her body language reveals that's the lie that it sounded like. Plus, whenever she watches the two of you bang, it's as though she's putting a puzzle together—how excited she gets during afterglows or those pillow talk sessions when you explain something or other.

As you gain a better understanding of Yeseo's every mechanism, you realize it's the framing of the situation. Act in the frivolities for the appetizers all you want, but don't underestimate what makes sex a nutritious meal.

"Seriously," Mashiro says, "if you've had sex before, you wouldn't be this much of a blushing mess. What are you getting embarrassed about?"

How cruel of your girlfriend to tease. Because as Yeseo says "sorry," Mashiro pushes her finger all the way into Yeseo's core, causing her to cry out. "Ahh! It, it's just that, I've had the plug, inside, since yesterday night! God, it's b-been, too, too much… mmnh."

"You're so cute," you say, spanking the girl on all fours. The plug is simple, black, silicone, and a hell of a lot bigger than her dainty fingers that you've seen toy with her anal ring before. You had taken care to see to it that Yeseo was neither in pain nor undue stress when it came to accommodating it, with plenty of lubricant, though you warned her that she couldn't remove the anal plug until Mashiro or you came to retrieve it.

Now that you've come to collect, you bend to kiss the cheeks of the girl's small, round butt, which jiggles as it twitches. Your tongue reaches, swirls around the ring of the plug, while your hand traces between her thighs to bring forth her slick. All this while, Mashiro's finger buries between Yeseo's folds, her cunt squeezes greedily against it, and her body pushes down on the object buried in her ass.

"D-don't stare. It's, um, dirty."

"Oh? Is it?" you ask while your thumb strokes Yeseo's anal ring around the plug. You pull on it, a hair's length, playing with her, and the wetter she gets, the more Yeseo trembles—the more she tries to hide her face and her screams into a pillow—the more she inadvertently thrusts her ass back into you. Inching further until the plug is out, you lean forward and bring your tongue closer to her tightest hole. "Then why does it look so tasty?"

"I dunno! God, this is so, so embarra—"

Yeseo collects the air in front of her in a single harsh breath, your lips sealing against her back passage, which tightens considerably from your tongue's foray. Then, when Mashiro supplies the same treatment to her friend's pink folds, you feel your tongue may be trapped in her hole. Fine by you. Your hands cover Yeseo's asscheeks as you slobber with licks and kisses, tasting her asshole like it's a last request, until her whines devolve into long, indecisive moans of wanting more and asking to slow down. Yet, her hips move as if to beg for more themselves, how greedy the woman. You laugh before you let up, squeezing cool lube onto the black buttplug.

"Ahh, ahh, ahh," Yeseo pants, "I need, I need more."

You are happy to provide. In another hand, you hold a small buzzing device. You trace it along Yeseo's pussy lips, weakening her elbows and knees—jolting when the vibe makes contact with her firm nub—damn near collapsing her as Mashiro seals her lips to the toy, ensuring none of its strength escapes. You know, from experience, a combination like that is bound to make a girl pass out, so once her hips slow down their staccato jerking, you steal your girlfriend's lips for a kiss.

Though every man who's made it this far in life knows well that every hole is good to eat, every hole's different flavors are treasures and miracles unto themselves. The flavor on your girlfriend's tongue is Yeseo at her very core, salty, musky, addicting to you; when you sample Yeseo's ass once again, popping the plug back out, you get a metallic tang mixed with the sweetness of the lube; lower you return, and Yeseo's cunt is spongey and soaked and hot, slick and oozing and a veritable delight to munch on, as the taste from the source is second to none.

It's an all-out sensory assault as you pull the plug some, enough so that its widest girth is right at the clinging ring, only for you to push back inside with a pop and a delightful mewl. Fingers and toys and tongues and lips alike massage Yeseo everywhere and overwhelm all her senses, her nerves tensing into spams and jerks of utter ecstasy. She doesn't even get the courtesy of oneness in her condition: each time you work her up to the peak, Mashiro is hungry for the next, pulling out all the stops to keep Yeseo climbing higher. Mashiro and you kiss, lick, push, pinch, fondle, stimulate, and the best Yeseo can do is squirm pathetically around the devices in her holes, her mind fucked straight out of her body.

Yeseo slumps down, shaking as if her bones were wrung out. After four or five or however many consecutive orgasms, and each attempt to catch her breath ending in her wailing, her crotch is so wet that you and Mashiro might as well be making out with a pond.

"Plth, pleath, please, mnh. Th-that was, was a little, little much."

Mashiro pulls her sticky face back to pepper Yeseo's lower half with little kisses, while you lick the remainder of Yeseo's juice from your lips. Cleanup takes a while, especially as Yeseo is too much a drooling, weak mess to help out—you don't mind, knowing this is all for her. Mashiro grabs a spare towel and wipes Yeseo down; once she's stable enough, you give her a gallon jug of water from the bedside stand and instruct her to drink up.

In the throes of this arousal, still breathing like air has never quite reached her lungs properly, Yeseo lays back and fights against the delirium. You and Mashiro cuddle her sides, squishing her between, and plant kisses all over her face and neck. Yeseo embarks on the road back to normalcy, thanks to the warmth of the two bodies, the careful embrace of loving hands, and your soothing words. When she's returned in totality, Yeseo locks eyes with you, her gaze serious like you've never seen on such a delicate, pretty face.

"So," Yeseo whispers, tensing up. "I know you've been waiting. You know. For me to bring it up."

"Hmm?" You grin. "What's that?"

Mashiro grumbles and reaches over to tap your shoulder. "Hey, this isn't the time to play coy."

"Alright." You face Yeseo. "Hey. It's okay." Sincerity in your voice, you bring yourself so close that Yeseo can't possibly miss your eyes and the warmth in them, you hope. "Whatever you're comfortable with, Yeseo. I mean it."

"Yeseo-yah," Mashiro says, her arms wrapping tighter. "You don't have to rush into anything. Whatever feels right to you, okay?" She glides forward until their kindred faces are so close they might as well be kissing.

A giggle permeates through the cracks in the wall of tension she's built. "I had no idea you two were such softies. Is this what happens when you date for so long?"

"Us? Softies?" You chuckle and cup her cheek, making the skin soft and pink. You brush her hair behind her ear. "Did cumming make you forget the past hour or—"

Mashiro throws a pillow at you. "Don't talk like that to our baby!"

That only makes you laugh even more, and as Yeseo joins in the laughter, so too does Mashiro. It's a while before Yeseo sits up, takes a deep breath, slaps her thighs. "I'm fine. Seriously, I'm ready now." She looks at you, dead in the eyes. "Oppa. I… I have wanted to fuck you ever since… since…" Her voice gets lower. "A couple months ago."

You try not to choke on your own spit. "Yeseo, you just turned eighteen then."

"So?"

"Yeseo." Your voice is calm yet stern.

"Besides, lots of other girls in school already lost their virginity!"

"And so you haven't, I knew it!" Mashiro laughs from the sideline.

Yeseo sticks out her tongue, and then her face turns serious again. She holds her hands on top of yours, as though drawing the answers from her fingertips as she thumbs them. After a slight pause, you give her an encouraging rub on her shoulder. "I just don't, didn't want to disappoint you guys. And I know we've done so much together, but sex… it's different. Means more. Like, look at you two. You're such a sweet couple, and I feel like I'm just budging between—"

"Absolutely not!" Mashiro exclaims as she joins in massaging the flesh of Yeseo's shoulders.

"I swear to god," you say, "you're all that matters in the world to us, right, Shiro?"

She nods forcefully.

"If we didn't care about you, we would have never taken you here, would have never let you in on our lives and intimacy. You could never budge between me and Shiro. In fact, I think you've made us better as a couple in ways you couldn't imagine, like how much happier Shiro and I are now."

Mashiro turns to kiss your cheek before addressing Yeseo herself. "We love you so much. And the most important thing to us, the thing that makes me the happiest, is when you feel good. So please, whatever you're worried about, we can work it out, baby."

It's all the truth, new axioms being built from a foundation of old, with your affection for the other girl unquestionable—enough for a lifetime, you think, that every day the three of you spend time cuddling or watching a movie is a day in paradise. Yet when you ask about the color of your world with this new addition, it becomes obvious how incomplete that thought is, to what degree you were underestimating the effect of the past few weeks. Here was this naive girl, this sweet doll, to whom the world was a painting of only shades of soft vanilla white. Now, it is pink, candy sweet. Now, it is red, a fiery thing. Now it is the burning color of sunrise, on her cheeks, from her ears, in between her thighs, and shall the colors subside, you gladly will rise up tomorrow to bring more.

Here comes the clouds, their tears on Yeseo's face, but they're joy-filled, like rain while the sun shines hot on a summer day. As Yeseo rests on her knees, back against your chest, Mashiro draws upon Yeseo's face with a kiss.

"How about this," Mashiro says. She steals the girl from your lap, pulling her into her own lap and embracing her from behind. "You should go on a date with him. Remember where we went the first time?"

With Shiro gazing expectantly at you, you reply, "Yeah, the aquarium? I even got you a stuffed shark there, right? Then we ate crab and—"

"Yeah! Take Yeseo there, go on a cute date and make her melt. You two can make it official. And while you're out, I can work myself into a mess and we can have the best possible first time. How does that sound, Yeseo?"

The toothy smile says it all.

The night falls, then another, as time slows. Gravity has changed. The anticipation for that Friday drags on, and the days are slow, sweet, long, tortuous. The three of you aren't even fooling around anymore; hell, you and Mashiro haven't... well, you still fucked three times last week, and nothing rough, but that's easily half of the usual, if not less.

But this new dynamic is not unwelcome. It's reminiscent of when you first started dating, before things became intense and adventurous. You cuddle in your bed under blankets and the moonlight and start to touch, caress, and feel each other's warmth. Mashiro whispers sweet things to you like "I love you, you're the best boyfriend in the world, you're so good to me." You run your fingers through her hair and over her neck.

Naked bodies pressed together, skin-to-skin, you can feel the warmth emanating from each other. She grinds against your leg, her wetness leaving a slick trail on your skin, and you grip her ass as she thrusts against you. Your shaft is hard and heavy on her stomach as you roll over her, Mashiro on her back and you on top of her. With the blanket covering you two, it's like the space is a tent and you're intrepid explorers discovering new continents, remapping unknown boddies. Your gazes become those of lovers finding hidden moons and suns in each other's eyes.

Mashiro grabs your face and kisses you, hard, and you return the gesture with passion. She lets out a small squeak, and it's a tiny noise in the still room under the cramped covers. You suck her bottom lip, nipping on it, before your tongues intertwine, causing her to moan softly into your mouth.

You break the kiss, and Mashiro whimpers, "Don't stop, don't stop kissing me."

You lean back and say, "Shh, baby, I got you." Your finger goes to her mouth and you pull on her bottom lip, drawing it down. Then you take that finger and run it down her body, from her mouth to her neck, then down to her breasts. Mashiro has a beautiful set of tits, and you love to see them bounce, jiggle, and move, and you circle her breasts with your finger, drawing lazy circles around them, but the way you love and touch her now is more than arousing; it's intimate as you treat her body like an adoration to praise, worship, and cherish her.

She deserves you telling her as much, in as many words: "You are the most perfect, beautiful girl in the world. Your body, your love, you, your everything."

Mashiro blushes at your words and closes her eyes, arching into you as your lips trail down to her chest. Soft, wet kisses leave trails along her skin, causing her to whimper and writhe beneath your touch. As your lips continue their journey downward, so too does your hand. Her legs spread willingly for you as your fingers hover over her folds, teasing and tracing circles around her dripping pink pussy. Your thumb rubs against the thin skin of her inner thigh before playfully dipping towards her entrance.

She's soaking already, the sweet smell of her arousal filling your senses, and your pecks if like a map of the world plot a course down her body, her ribs and her hip bones like signposts. When your girlfriend squeals and tries to push your face away as you lower your head to its final destination, you grin—it's like old times when she used to get shy and flustered in your presence. Using one hand to keep her pink labia spread and the other to hold her thighs in place, you finally lower your head to its final destination. Your tongue darts in her, kissing, lapping, probing, and, most of all, worshipping the insides of the cunt.

And the noises she makes are the sweetest little things in the world, little breaths and hums and keens and croaks that are only audible under the soft cocoon of blankets surrounding the two of you. Even though you're alone in the room, she's hesitant to be too loud; it doesn't stop her from expressing her satisfaction. With one hand on her clit and the other gently caressing her backside, you delve deeper between her folds with your tongue, eliciting coos and sighs from Mashiro. You want every moment to be this moment—your woman lost in the isolated woods of her pleasure, no one else to hear the tree fall but you.

You yearn to look up at your lovely Shiro, to watch her unravel in bliss, but the blanket obstructs your view. Thankfully, she notices and removes it herself, possibly feeling overheated from being enclosed in such a small space. You're grateful, because now the view of your beloved girlfriend is even better: her hair tousled from squirming around in bed and covering herself with the blanket, her face flushed, mouth open in a small "o." Her hands roam over her breasts, alternating between gentle cupping them and rough pinching of her nipples. Your gaze settles on the aspect of the scene you most enjoy: the small bead of saliva escaping from the corner of her mouth, the shimmering trail it leaves as it rolls down her cheek.

Her eyes, how they sparkle in ecstasy from the love and affection you give her, filling your heart with a warmth that borders on painful. As much as you could stay here all night, then all day, until the moon rose again, Mashiro's eyes connect with yours, quietly and meekly pleading, and you know it is your duty to proceed, before she crumbles on her own.

Your tongue retracts and you leave a soft kiss on her mound. You scoop her body into your strong arms, positioning yourself above her with your cock pressing against her stomach. Her face is so close to yours that you can feel every breath she takes. She wraps an arm around your back and draws you closer with a tug, hooking a leg around your torso.

This is the closest two people can get without actually being inside each other, yet your lips remain just out of reach. Mashiro's gaze captures you, as it has since you first fell in love with her in college. There's a brief moment where something unspoken passes between you both, and then her eyes close and your noses brush against each other. In the darkness of the night, with only the light of the stars shining through the window, the crescent moon appears in her smile.

"Hello there, dear," Mashiro whispers.

Your heart is caught in your throat.

"I love you," she says.

"I love you too, babe."For a few moments, your noses are the only points of contact, stretching into what feels like eternity. Then you realize she's waiting for you.

"Kiss me," she whispers, repeating the words over and over again, and you give in. Then you two kiss—it's with an odd, powerful feeling, like you're trying to stuff the world into each other's mouths, breathing each other's air, and the timing is right and perfect and good for the next stuffing of your length into her welcoming heat. Her lips and her legs tighten around you as you ease yourself in inch-by-inch.

Doesn't take you long before you bottom out, her grippy thing sealed around the base. You wait a while before you begin moving, your hands beneath her head, on the nape of her neck. Watch how her face twists from pleasure, to frustration, to a longing. As though you're both star-crossed lovers meeting at night and on the fly, she mounts you in a rush of anticipation and love and heat and she clings onto your shoulders like a lifeline. Your girlfriend's more excited than she ever was, and her breath runs ragged, as though the weight of the world is upon her—or you upon her, pressing her into the bed.

You drink in her every little moan and squeal while she clenches your bicep in a firm grip and you're on top of her and her legs split open to frame your hips. Thrusts into her like pistons in a steam engine, driving with force and energy, and so much power that the entire bed shakes around you two. All the while, you're kissing everywhere your face can reach: neck, breasts, nipples, all over her flushed skin, all over her skin getting redder still—and Mashiro loves it all, from the deep passionate kisses to the gentle tickles that make her giggle uncontrollably.

It's all so clumsy, like you don't have the years between you to know how to work together; maybe it's the nerves—like you're teenagers in the back of your first car, almost getting caught; like you're in your dirty college dorm, finding where the screw in your frame breaks and the mattress falls and you're so horny you can't find enough grip on the uneven sheets to get a proper grip. Or maybe it's because it really is just like your first time: not the location, or the rhythm, or the surroundings, or even the way her breasts jiggle when you thrust with abandon, but the all-in desperation, of thanking the past for catching up, or thanking the future for promising to get even better.

Back then, the first time you slept with her, it was like learning an entirely new language—like you had to keep looking around as she pulled you in deeper, the walls of her snatch tugging on your cock, an alien sensation like a vacuum, her sex threatening to suck out your very soul despite the awkward inexperience.

Now, despite the awkward rhythm and the need to touch and kiss every which where, the way your bodies connect is smoother. More meaningful. Hotter.

She kisses your face and cups your cheeks and makes quiet promises under her breath, "I'm yours, I'm yours, oh, god, you're fucking me, you're—ahh—so good, so big," over and over. You love it, how much she tells you, her voice strained and high and keening and on the verge of tears. Your nails drag up the sides of her thighs and bring her into another embrace, arms around each other, tongues weaving. The more it goes, the less graceful you become, and the less coordinated you are, and the more you forget the sensations and rhythms, and your animal instincts go back to clawing and prodding and exploring and mating.

How many times have you done this? You've counted them at least, the things they do to your mind, the way your girlfriend looks at you in bed. Hundreds? Perhaps a little under a thousand, almost halfway through the past three years, each time more intimate and delicious than the last. You look into her dark- yes and become stunned in love, overcome with adoration, unable to bear it as her sweet pussy contracts on your throbbing length and you push her into the bed as you both slip over the edge of sweet release—you cum together, spurting into her wet embrace, gripping her closer than ever before, and still you hold her and hug her. She's yours, and she will forever be yours, and that is why you and she still make love three times a week like newlyweds, content with the lazy nature of time.

And just like that, maybe, you can pretend like what's coming up with Yeseo is a first encounter, an exploration in the same manner that sex with her unnie was, from some corner of her heart calling out desperately to be loved the same way as Mashiro had, to that young heart you both did your best to nurture and coax into blooming.

You're standing in front of fish, alive and vibrant. Yeseo's standing next to you, not even up to your shoulders, beaming up at you in a hoodie a bit too baggy for her small frame—it's yours—actually, it's Mashiro's now that you think of it, so long ago when your girlfriend pulled it from your closet and decided she was keeping it. It used to make her small figure positively miniscule, same way Yeseo makes it swim on her. Her short shorts, however, are all hers, all that asscheek squishing out from under it, and you want to make it the floor's instead.

Cute date. Cute date. You turn your attention back to fish, all these shimmering sea creatures swimming around in their tanks, the smell of saltwater pervasive. Lots and lots of little rainbow-colored fish behind big panes of glass and the vivid blue. You watch, and they don't glance in your direction, which is probably a good thing because they'd see how embarrassingly nervous you are for a date; you're certain you can't handle this mix of sexual anticipation and cuteness overload for another minute. The air is dense, so sticky that you're practically underwater yourself. You can tell Yeseo is thirsty, a touch uncomfortable, and so are you. Despite the wet air, your throat's dry, all your senses tingling, every nerve electrified like sharp edges of lightning arcing through the thick atmosphere.

After buying her a bottle of soda (as she says thank you in the smallest voice), you take a sip, and it's funny thinking that this is the closest you've been to kissing in a while. You sip, she sips, and this repeats back and forth until the bottle's spent. It's like you're making out, in public, no less. You want to take your hand but she's off to look at jellyfish.

This little nerd goes around oohing and ahhing at at every new species while you wonder when did she get this geeky, overtaking Mashiro of all people. You go into the penguin exhibit, and watching her shiver, you grab her slender hand and intertwine your fingers with hers before placing your two hands in your pocket for safe keeping. Yeseo tiptoes and presses her nose into your shoulder, sniffling.

"Are you cold?" you ask.

"No. Smells bad."

"Oh." You ruffle her hair with your free hand. The dye's losing its saturation, though her still a brilliant tinted gray. "Good point. Say, aren't you feeling hungry?"

Here's the answer.

You're sitting in front of fish. These ones are dead, and delicious. Yeseo's sitting in front of you, eating guilt-free, committing grand larceny from your hand, all with a big smile. Unable to prosecute and in fact a perpetrator yourself (one count of corruption), you feed her, leave fingerprints of some red sauce on the corner of her mouth, and you wouldn't mind licking her clean if there weren't so many people around. She tongues at it herself, and visions of her licking other things pop into your head.

The visions disappear when she grins once again, wide, flashing her teeth. This isn't the Yeseo you've built up to break down; this is the Yeseo you started with, a postulate, the unbendably true and innocent one, a girl who likes hugging you and her best friend, and nothing more, least of all getting involved with the filthy sex you two have.

The pendulum swings.

"You know you don't have to use condoms, by the way. I know you bought a whole bunch, but… I wouldn't mind raw… you know, I trust you." All that is said without missing a beat, and you miss a few: blinks, breaths, words, choking on some oyster, and as she kindly hands you a napkin, she turns her head bashfully like nothing happened. "Tonight's gonna be so special, I know it. I'm so glad we did this, Oppa, thank you."

You smile, as warm as you can while your lungs are recovering.

In a park nearby, she's the one who takes your hand, swinging it back and forth as the day's bleeding amber into her skin, as her sweater becomes a blanket for her and her happiness. The dark thoughts push against the bright light of the girl, still fighting as you carry your Yeseo up a hill to catch the day fading away. On top of that hill, you kiss Yeseo like it's the first time and tell her you love her, and you hope that's enough because she deserves every part of the world below this hill, and so above.

As above, so below. The night falls. If the nights then slowed, this one has halted completely. The stopped night falls and the curse of darkness is a biblical thing because it will return you to dust from which you were made, back to where you started. These are the end times.

You're making out with Mashiro in your lap, and she has indeed worked herself into an apocalyptic mess for you. Her legs are wrapped around you, between her thighs as a wet spot like the flood, her hands squeeze your nape where your hairs raise, and god, you missed her kissing like her next breath must be in your lungs.

Yeseo, judge of the soul, eyes you down in the periphery of your vision—back to where you started.

The night falls, and it's a biblical curse of darkness upon the land because no good can come of it. There is an unshakable heaviness in the bedroom, like gravity has suddenly intensified. You're sitting on the bed with Mashiro in your lap and Yeseo nearby, her posture a mix of alertness and contemplation. You kiss Mashiro passionately, caress her body, run your fingers through her hair, and grasp her hips tightly to make her feel desired and needed.

Then Yeseo slinks over and wraps her arms around you from behind, pressing her cheek against yours and biting her lip while emitting a small moan. It's clear that she's uncertain about how to act in this situation. She hesitates before leaning forward and gently kissing your neck, causing your whole body to shiver.

What a stark contrast—the intentions and their effects. Your body acts on its own accord while your mind struggles to make sense of the conflicting emotions. But your arm instinctively wraps around Yeseo, as if it knows what to do.

Mashiro finally pulls away, understanding the situation, and there's a diamond in her eyes. "Go for it," she whispers.

Yeseo and you are two parts of an incomplete whole, and you sum with your lips, and multiply in moans. The bed squeaks, the sheets shift, and that which does not move becomes stiller than ever. Yeseo starts to grind against you, matching your movements. From the corner of your eye, you see her squeezing her eyes shut, drooling slightly onto your shoulder. When she opens them, they flash between desire, fear, longing, and confusion as she looks to Mashiro for guidance.

Your hand gently strokes her hair to soothe her, while Mashiro leans closer and tenderly kisses Yeseo's forehead. "What do you want to do next, Yeseo-yah?" Mashiro asks.

"I... I don't know what I want. I just want him inside me."

You smile adoringly at Yeseo and brush her hair away from her face. "I can make that happen for you."

"R-really? Aren't we supposed to do more...things first? Like...you know..." Yeseo stammers. "I can suck you clean again, or we can…"

"I think you've waited long enough, princess," you say.

Yeseo shudders. "Oh. God... just fuck me."

Mashiro's lips brush against Yeseo's forehead with tender affection, the warmth of their embrace palpable. As she moves down to her lips, their kiss deepens and they both lose themselves in the moment. You move behind the pair, pulling Yeseo's jeans down; she squirms in your forceful grasp. Mashiro moves to the side of the bed as you lay Yeseo on her back. As you throw her pants to the corner of the room, you spread kisses where they must go—along the inside of her thigh to her knee, back to the joint of her torso and her hip, your tongue grazing the skin above her panties. She does nothing to hide her arousal, vocal, flushed, all-in-all unrefined perfection.

Your teeth clasp on the fabric of her soaked panties, and you pull the clothes down, her hips bucking in hurry. Without breaking eye contact, you discard her last items of clothing, and rest your face atop her dripping pussy. Yeseo cries out, arching up in the instant your mouth meets her pussy, bucking against you to bring you closer.

At first, you take it slow and gentle, savoring every delicate motion that sets Yeseo off into a frenzy. But as her begging becomes more urgent, you give into her desires and increase the intensity of your ministrations. Kang Yeseo is like a leaking faucet, spilling out her lust onto your tongue and down her thighs until even the sheets beneath them are moist.

With practiced ease, you add a few fingers into the mix, skillfully bringing Yeseo closer and closer to climax with each thrust. And when she finally reaches the peak of pleasure—marked by a simple count to ten and a swipe of the letter Y—she lets out a primal scream of pure bliss. Her body writhes against yours, her fingers clutching the pillow beneath her head as she surrenders fully to the overwhelming pleasure.

"O-oh, oh god... yes," she chokes out. "Oh god. Fuck, fuck."

Mashiro has gotten naked during this, has started fondling herself, excited at her friend's exhibition. Yeseo only has eyes for you, though, and takes your head between her hands to bring you over and mash your faces together again. She tastes her own lust on your lips, her own pussy juices evidence of your hard work, kissing you and begging you to make love to her.

Mashiro approaches, drawn to the scene before her. Is she motivated by genuine concern for Yeseo's well-being or is it a voyeuristic desire to witness your lovemaking? As she presses up against you, her delicate hands reaching for your throbbing shaft, it becomes evident that it is the latter.

With a flick of a switch in her mind, Mashiro sheds all inhibitions and eagerly guides your member inside Yeseo's waiting heat. Slip into Yeseo's tightness, every centimeter a kilometer. Her small but eager pussy lips tightly compress around your tip, sending shivers down your spine. You close your eyes and can almost feel Yeseo's own eyes shut in bliss, while you can only imagine the hungry gaze of Mashiro fixed upon you both.

Her weight barely registering on your body, Yeseo digs her fingertips into your shoulders as she pleads, "Please… be gentle." It takes you back to when you first started dating Mashiro, and you reward Yeseo's trust with long, slow strokes that gradually stretch her open. She lets out encouraging mewls mixed with a single tear rolling down her flushed cheek. With each thrust, her pain gives way to gratitude and pleasure. From behind you, Mashiro's eyes lock onto yours with a mischievous glint.

As expected, she revels in Yeseo's discomfort—perhaps with a touch of wicked empathy or even a hint of jealousy at not being able to experience this first time herself. It's clear that with Mashiro's provocations, this will be anything but romantic and sweet. Your lips meet hers in a heated kiss as you pull back slightly before thrusting into Yeseo again. "You're doing so good, Daddy," Mashiro whispers breathlessly. It's not often she calls you that, but right now it feels fitting. "How does she feel?"

You respond with another searing kiss before murmuring, "Just like you did. Maybe even wetter."

"Oh yeah? You should fuck her harder to prove it then." Mashiro's full lips curve upwards into a satisfied smile as she watches you, her focus shifting to the girl writhing beneath you. You can feel the change in Yeseo, her body language shifting and telling you that she is reaching her threshold for pain. But her desire for that elusive orgasm is still strong.

As your hips continue to thrust into her, filling her holes with your thick cock, you sense the pain radiating from her body. But Yeseo is too caught up in the pleasure to call it off or complain. Each time your hips collide against hers, she breathes out "oh fuck" in ragged gasps.

The pace quickens, the intensity of your movements increasing with each passing second. The bed creaks and groans under the weight of your bodies as you both crave more and more. Your grip tightens on Yeseo's hips as you lift her ass into the air, pushing her body to its limits.

In an instant, everything changes. Yeseo's screams now come not from pain, but from overwhelming pleasure as you reach deeper inside her. Tears cloud her eyes and she cries out for "Daddy," shocking even herself with the pet name that escapes her lips. But hearing her say it only adds to your arousal.

You feel Mashiro's hand move down to Yeseo's clit, aggressively rubbing and stimulating her even further. Her words only add fuel to the fire, driving you both towards pure ecstasy. "You like that," Mashiro taunts, "You like Daddy's cock? Like how his giant fucking cock feels buried so deep in your virgin pussy?"

Yeseo grits her teeth and nods, barely able to form words through her pleasure-filled haze. "I do… please."

"You're a slut for my man's cock," Mashiro continues, causing a primal growl to escape your own throat in response. Your body moves on instinct, driven by a primal desire for pleasure and dominance."Such a slut for Daddy's cock, aren't you?"

"Yeeees..."

"You're gonna get addicted to this, hooked on cock, fucking you, and you're going to wanna cum all the time, Daddy's naughty princess, aren't you?"

"Aaah, ahh... fuck, yes, I love your cock, love Daddy's fat cock, aahn, aaah, don't stop, fuck me, fucking fuck me, fuck me like you fuck Unnie."

You love watching Yeseo's face as she gets pounded. The way her mouth hangs open, tongue hanging out, panting like a dog, eyes rolling back, lids fluttering, all in such a adorable package. However, you've been craving something else: that pert ass of hers. You unsheathe Yeseo's pussy to a line of girl cum, then flip her and scoot her towards you until her round rear is against your pelvis, and resume fucking her pronebone.

Yeseo screams into the sheets, Mashiro's fingers buried in her mouth to show her the taste of her lust.

"You gonna be a good girl, aren't you?" Mashiro asks, earning Yeseo's moan in approval on her digits. "Good. That's my cock, mine, and the only way you're getting to feel it is by being a good girl and letting him cum inside you, let him coat your pussy with Daddy's cum. Make Daddy proud, you hear me?"

When Mashiro pulls back, Yeseo speaks: "Yes, yes, breed me, cum in my pussy, make me a woman, I wanna be a woman, a woman who cums on Daddy's cock, a woman who cums from getting fucked."

Her ass jiggles in the prettiest way. Whether through the excitement or fear of having a pregnant belly at only eighteen, her thighs are shaking. Her entrance clenches tightly around your girth and milks your orgasm from you, and it's like you've become her baby maker and nothing more.

You wrap your arms around her. "You sure you wanna get bred, princess? You want my seed, every drop, to make you mine? You want to be an adult, that what you want?"

She struggles under you, her wet pussy giving way to your penis. "Yes. Yes! Fuck me, please, Daddy. Please."

Those are your last words for a while, that plea. Her asscheeks give way to your fingers, slipping to the puckered hole of her anus. You know she's been practicing with that hole, plunging dildos up her butt, training for Daddy's cock. Mashiro takes your hand, offering to lubricate, and before you know it her saliva seeps through your digits. With that, a pointer finger hooks inside Yeseo easily, earning a happy squeak, a bit of cock-drunk laughter at being doubly penetrated.

Anal wasn't something you and Mashiro tried during your first encounter, but you very well are familiar with the act, an intrinsic fact about Mashiro that few others know. Her ass has come to be both of your preferred mode of orgasmic expression, your cum leaving a filthy pool in her asshole. Now Yeseo's about to find out why. Her anus offers the final tightest barrier for your probing finger, slipping inside the dirty hole. In and out a half dozen times, Yeseo soon adapts, and Mashiro—being on the other side of Yeseo and facing you—makes a show of kissing her neck and palming her small breasts. Yeseo bucks back on your digit and cock, the clench of her two insides holding you tight and in love.

You're so lucky that your girlfriend holds no jealousy to speak of—at least not in her sex life—as Yeseo cums hard around your invading cock. Her body clenches at the multiple parts of her that you've stuffed, keeping you held firmly inside. Like a chain reaction, your orgasm is triggered, pulled in forcefully. One two pumps is all it takes, her virgin pussy a divine void, and after that first one you lose count of your inseminating shots. Her womb is full of you, thickened, and your finger pumps with equal force in her ass. Yeseo is mumbling into the mattress, a long nonsensical string of begging and pleading that only end once you're out of her, she can feel your seed inside of her, once the bliss of the last few minutes leave.

Yeseo is your fucking whore.

After cumming her brains out, the tired slut in her sleepily tumbles off. You're not done. Seeing that creampie leak out of her well-fucked cunt, nope, you're not nearly finished. Right now there's a much sluttier hole available to you.

Yeseo rests her head against Mashiro's soft chest, passing out as her friend embraces her.

"Shiro. Marshmellow. I'm really going to ask this with all my self-control, but is it okay if I fuck her ass. She's very tempting."

Your precious petal gives the brightest smile, you know, when she's so uninhibited like this, free to her own wicked whims. Mashiro kisses Yeseo's sleeping forehead, before looking back to you. "Aww, baby, but she looks so adorable sleeping yeah fucking do it. Fuck the shit out of her."

With a peck, you accept her permission. You spread the winking hole open with two fingers, then collect some of the leaking seed from Yeseo's pussy and wipe it on the entrance. Then, the lube: Mashiro with a diligent mouth, and soon a dew of her spit onto your cock for Yeseo's ass.

As you rest your wettened cockhead against Yeseo's anus, it spasms slightly, involuntarily, puckering further against your assault. Suddenly her eyes shoot open, her back arching.

"Good dream," she moans, and as you've learned, it is possible to fuck cutely. Because that's the Yeseo on Mashiro's chest now: cute. "I was... a bad girl, I let Daddy use all my holes, aahn."

"He's ready for more of you, Yeseo-yah." Mashiro whispers.

"Wha..." Yeseo is still in a stupor from her slumber, and so the shock is clearly visceral and uncomfortable as you enter her ass. Even lubed up it takes more effort to break her innermost seal as it stretches around your tip and clings to the millimeter she lets you go in. As she gets filled with your cock again, it doesn't matter how she had previously reacted to the rough pounding you gave her pussy. Your hand grabs her arm and keeps it in place as the half inch meets an end in the resistance of her anus' unwilling submission to your fucking. But she begins to thrust herself back on you slightly, and that helps, relaxing the walls that inveighed against your penetration. Soon you make another centimeter of progress, a centimeter closer to fully lodging your cock inside her.

The penetration is slow as time itself, but for a curious reason: in this single instance, both you and Yeseo want the process to take as long as possible, for this moment to stretch even beyond how fucking long you're taking to actually penetrating her. The lewdness is so beyond what the both of you are familiar with, your plunging cock filling her most intimate spot is perhaps the dirtiest deed imaginable, filthy and nasty and deliciously so.

Yet, she's still fucking cute—cutely fucking, when she looks back to you, meets your loving gaze, a pout on her lips, and a fluttering opening of her mouth. She eyes you with an innocence that has long since left her presence here and now. Of all the girls you've fucked before and this night, none have the spark of natural sexual goodness that Yeseo possesses. Before it was pretty fucking adorable, the eager virgin desperate for attention, desperate for an anal orgasm. Now it's not just arousing, it's something deeper: beautiful. And she wants you to share in her beauty.

"M-more." It's a scant whisper, her throat dry with anticipation. More than enough. You pull on Yeseo's hair and throw her head back, exposing more of her slim neck, to drive your cock with more force into her unbroken depths. Harder now, in: two more inches penetrate her, yet no outward journey is permitted, something else which you've prevented as you continue your rhythm. Your other hand trails down from her back to her ass, where your fingers lay, kneading the cheeks apart to admire your conquest. Yeseo is being taken, wholly owned. She's yours, belonging only to your pleasure and only to your pleasure alone, to feel the pleasure of this moment together.

You pull a fistful of her hair now, drawing her ear close enough to your mouth to bite gently on the lobe, to send a shock of exhilaration through her skinny frame. "You're a filthy fucking anal whore, Yeseo. I'm going to fuck the creampie out of this asshole. Just know I own you, and you need a real man inside of you. Say it."

Yeseo purrs. "Nnn, nngh. Nn, yesss, Daddy, you own my hole, you own all my holes, your slut, just want your cock always in me, fuck my fuck, oh, ohyes, godd, do it, please!"

Again you claim this sweet sin, and push on through to the end of her depths, till you're bottomed out in her ass. Yeseo wiggles ineffectively, fruitlessly, letting you work her anus on your girth.

"How does it feel, baby girl?" Mashiro asks, and you begin to draw your cock slowly. Yeseo howls and squeezes your member, her anus unable to take the stretch any more, yet unwilling to let it go. It takes the weight of a greater instinct for her to move her hips away from you. You help pull back, but it's equally mind-agonizing, mind-numbing, but eventually you come out cleanly.

Through gasping breaths, Yeseo says, "C-can I ride it instead? That, that was too much."

Mashiro giggles, nods. "Daddy can lie down for you, sweetie. Lay him out and sit your pretty little butt on him."

You lean against the headrest and spread out your legs, giving Yeseo free range to work your cock. Much quicker now she takes your cock inside, sinking down on the cock to an easy half. Then, Yeseo relaxes and soon her ass claps against your pelvis, earning a moan from you both.

"Wow, you're a natural." Mashiro says.

"Yeah, oh, fuck, I practiced, this position, oh, mmhm. On, haaa, on a toy. Wow."

"But, the real thing's better." When Mashiro starts touching Yeseo's clit, even more globs of semen leave her cunt.

Yeseo just nods to that, her eyes meeting the lord in her head, her mouth dangling open. "Mhmm, so big, s-so hard, and, umph, and, haahh."

You quickly ascertain that while Yeseo is certainly practiced in her riding, she is no match for Mashiro's experience. Here, you don't mind—the grip of her warm and willing walls wrapping around your cock, her pussy clamping at air in response. Your mouth, open and hungry, is captured by Mashiro, french-kissing you. She's a warm, comfortable presence beside you, watching you watch the pornographic scene of the inexperienced girl fucking herself like a needy anal whore. Yeseo, from her expression, is obviously getting the hang of it: her fucking is getting faster, the cock that enters her quickly leaving in rapid pace, her pleasure quickening in its growth. Yeseo bucks up, slips down, trying to give you as much pleasure as possible

Insofar as Yeseo can find purchase in her brain-melting daze, she's cumming so very quickly and so damn hard. Yeseo is so tightly gripped at your cock you can only imagine the spasms she must be going through. For your troubles, she sprays juice all over your abdomen. As if from the deepest part of her orgasm, her last shreds of coherence, an almost non-fathomable concept, give way to a smile, to a laugh. She collapses on top of you, her cheek against your chest.

"I'm... Daddy's..."

"Cum dump." You sit up, wrapping your arm around her back. "I'm not done with you, not until I've left my cum in your asshole."

She nods. "I'm your slut, Daddy."

You take Yeseo from the bed, and carry her over to the side, bending her over the nightstand, holding her neck and keeping her pressed against the wood. Her small hands reach behind her, taking hold of your shaft and guiding you into her anus. A single thrust is enough to seat her all the way to the hilt, and it doesn't take long before you're pistoning into her, her ass jiggling.

Mashiro's got her hand buried in Yeseo's hair, pushing her down harder against the wooden surface. She's a beautiful girl, your girlfriend, her pussy soaked from watching you use this other girl. "Make a mess for Daddy," she says. "Cum around his cock, milk that cum out like you deserve."

With Yeseo bent over like this, it's a tight fit for the both of you. But you rail the woman. No mercy. All the restraint you had when taking the virginity of either hole is gone now, nothing but raw need and animal instinct driving the motion. The wet smack of your balls against her pussy, the squeaks of her own need, the sounds of the room fill you, fill her, fill Mashiro, and there's no stopping you from taking Yeseo's ass like you mean it.

It's all Yeseo can do to hold onto the edge of the nightstand for dear life. For good measure, Mashiro spanks the slut. The slut loves it. She's basically humping the furniture now, trying to get any kind of friction on her clit, any kind of sensation to heighten her pleasure.

In this moment, the world could be falling apart around you, but you wouldn't care. You just want to keep pounding away at this beautiful woman's ass. Your hands grip her hips, and you thrust inside as far as you can.

Yeseo's breath catches as she feels her ass clench around the base of your cock. Her face is one of pure ecstasy, her mouth forming a perfect O shape.

"Oh fuck, oh god, aaaah," Yeseo cries out. "I'm gonna cum, fuck, Daddy, I'm cumming!"

You don't announce it as loudly, just a sharp groan, solid grip of her hips, pulling her down onto your cock where balls-deep you unload into her. Your second climax is no less powerful than the first, shooting rope after thick rope of hot cum into Yeseo's asshole. You can feel it twitching around you, like Yeseo's trying to milk every last drop out of your cock. She's gasping for air, her body shaking. Mashiro kisses her neck and shoulder to soothe her.

You pull out slowly, letting her feel the loss of your cock. A glob of semen slips out of her gaping asshole, a strand of cream down her lithe legs.

Finally, you're spent, the well of your lust and energy dry, the strength of your legs gone, the strength of your arms gone, the strength of your mind gone. The energy to do anything more than lay in bed is beyond you now.

Yeseo can't even do much of that, and you have to help carry her to the bed, where the three of you lie.

"Fuck. Is it... usually that much?" Yeseo asks, her fingers sliding between her thighs, feeling her sticky hole and slit.

Mashiro giggles. "No. Not by a long shot."

"You're so fucking tight Yeseo-yah, of course you'd get filled up so much."

"But, is this, like, how it is? Like, I'm gonna feel it for days?"

"It's not too bad, after a while. But yeah, you'll definitely be sore. I think I still am."

"Okay, Daddy." Yeseo leans into you, resting her head on your chest. On your other side, Mashiro joins in too. Yeseo sighs."It was really, really good. I... I knew it would be, but I had no idea. You were so gentle at first, and then so rough, like I needed it."

"Well, I'm glad," Mashiro says. "And don't worry. It gets better every time."

"Really?"

"Mhm. You've got a long way to go, Yeseo-yah, if you wanna get as good as Unnie."

"You're a good fuck," you tell Yeseo. "You've got talent, Yeseo-yah."

She giggles. "Thanks, Daddy."

Mashiro looks at you, smiling, and kisses your cheek. "So what do you think, Daddy? You okay with this being a regular thing?"

"I... yeah. I can deal."

"Good. Because next time, you're fucking us both. Together."

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AO3, AFF

#kpop smut #kep1er smut #reader insert #male reader

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nonstoplover · 8 months

Text

sleep without you ~ charles leclerc (cl16)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

song inspiration: sleep without you ~ brett young

summary: charles struggles to function properly without her by his side, or a story of a night without his girlfriend.

words: 2.1K

warnings: nothing, just fluff and a slightly clingy charles baby <3

a/n: idk why but this song honestly screams charles to me whenever i hear it, so i just had to make it happen. also this was supposed to be posted on my one year f1-aversary as celebration (well technically it should be more if counting my childhood f1 years but anyway), but i was so caught up in another wip that i couldn't do it. so happy anniversary to me and f1 (two weeks late) with this lil ficlet <3 thankful for all that f1 gave me.

big thanks to the amazing lovely silverstonesainz for helping me make this better and to the equally awesome monzabee for making me much less anxious with her words. love you sm queens!!

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Charles spends a whole afternoon trying to convince her to have a night out with her friends. Just because they're in a relationship doesn't mean they can't have fun without the other as well from time to time. There are still a couple of weeks left of winter break, plenty of opportunity to spend time just the two of them before the season starts again. So the usual point of view, the usual reasoning doesn't stand a chance – that they should spend as much time together as they can, before he's back to travelling all around the world.

"Go to a club, grab some drinks, dance and laugh the night away", he tells her. The usual bestie coffee dates or walks in the park that she usually raises as argument are not the same as a night out, and she hasn't done that for so long now. Definitely not since he's been back home, and he knows just how much she enjoys dancing her heart out.

(y/n) agrees after a short while, accepting his reasons, knowing full well that he's right, and after a few phone calls she starts getting ready, soon walking out the front door, dressed all pretty and dolled up.

Doesn't take long before Charles realises what he's done. A feeling tingles in his chest, one he recognises swiftly. He's miserable. Solely because she's not there by his side, as he makes dinner, eats it – all by himself –, before settling on the couch to occupy himself with a movie. It doesn't matter though, he doesn't pay any attention to it. He doesn't even know what's going on, he hasn't heard a single line, too busy thinking about her.

When the credits start to roll, he switches the TV off with a surprised look in his eyes – how did it already end? He doesn't even remember the first scene ending. Then he moves into the bathroom to do his night routine, from taking a shower to putting on some skincare products, all the while wondering how long she will be out for? Will she come home soon? Hope tingles in his chest that the answer to his question is yes.

Having finished with everything, Charles lies down in bed, trying to read a book, then scrolling on social media, doing anything to keep his mind from straying over and over again back to her. He knows this is stupid, he was the one telling her to go out, why is he like this now? Lying awake on his side of the bed, the fingers on his right hand tracing figures onto the sheet where her body usually rests.

This is pathetic, Charles thinks. He never thought he would be like this, so miserable and impatient just because she's not at home, with him. He's tossing around, unable to find a comfortable position for himself – it seems like he forgot how to sleep without her. No matter how many times he's had to do just that, in hotel rooms all around the world. The past few weeks erased all those nights from his mind.

The delicious scent of her shampoo fills his lungs when his face lands just a bit too close to her pillow, and all of a sudden it's like he's burying his nose in her hair. It only makes him miss her more. Sleeping is impossible, he knows it now. He's only daydreaming, not actually dreaming, of her arriving home and being in his arms again.

Charles imagines the way she dances in the middle of the floor, her hands in the air, shouting the lyrics loudly to the song currently playing – most probably something she knows and loves –, and he can't help but smile fondly. Just the thought of her having fun is enough to make him happier, even in his misery.

He pictures a scene where a random guy tries to get too close to her, as it has happened so many times, whenever he leaves her alone for a few minutes at any club they've been to. It doesn't matter where they are, doesn't matter if they spent the night so far together, all over each other, someone comes into the picture immediately when he leaves, either to grab a drink for the two of them, or to go to the restrooms.

It's not like he doesn't understand those guys. She's simply gorgeous, and radiates such a vibrant aura that everyone is drawn to her. He honestly just finds it funny at this point. Nothing makes these men back off more effectively than her. Oh, the amount of times he bit back laughter watching the scene unfold from a distance. Seeing men crumble and disappear looking all ashamed, what a sight that is. And he doesn't have to do anything.

He wonders how many times she's had to fight off guys so far tonight, with him not even in the club, and he finds he can't wait to hear all her stories of the newest victims. Pierre never understood why Charles found it so amusing, he didn't seem to get it. The trust they have in each other. Knowing that it's him she'll come home to at the end of the night is enough to make him only feel entertained by each instance, and not irritated at the slightest bit.

But thinking about (y/n) fighting off men is only good enough entertainment for a limited amount of time, and soon the smile fades back into a miserable pout on his lips, as his thoughts turn back into ones of impatience, trying to make time move faster with short little prayers falling as mumbles from his lips.

With a sigh, he eventually sits up, looking around to find something he can do. At last he decides on grabbing a drink himself, maybe it will help stop the flow of thoughts racing in his head. A little welcomed dullness.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, sipping on the liquid in his glass, enjoying the feeling of the light alcohol gently burning his throat on the way down, numbing his tongue along the way. His fingers stay restless, now drumming on the wooden surface. A few minutes later he realises they play a song, soundless except the soft thud of his fingertips with the occasional louder tap or little scratch of his nails when a finger finds a different angle to hit the table with.

A melody appears in his mind as he watches his fingers move, imagining how it would sound if it was his piano instead of the kitchen table. He would go sit at the beautiful, white instrument and try it, but he doesn't want to be so loud at such a late hour. And anyway, he's way too comfortable sitting where he is to stand up and go somewhere else.

He looks out the window, catching sight of the moon – almost full, just a tiny bit of it missing, and Charles examines the craters that are visible to the naked eye, though only as spots of a darker shade on the round shape.

Maybe he'll name this new musical piece that's being born in his head right now after her – well, if he ever finishes it. He'll keep the usual format, three letters of a city name and a date, only this time putting the time and place of when they first met. Or should it be the time and place of when he first asked her out? Or their first date? Or when she agreed to move in with him? God, there are way too many options to choose from. He decides to put this problem aside for now, he's not in a rush to name a song not even written yet.

As the clock on the oven changes all four numbers to display 2am, the action rouses his attention and makes him tear his eyes away from the moon and look at the numbers instead.

He would've never ever thought that he'd be like this.

Raising his glass he notices that there's only a small sip left in it, which he downs in a short moment. His tongue darts out to gather all the minuscule drops that might rest on his lips still, not wanting to waste even that much of the delicious drink. Then he stands up, placing the glass down into the sink, making a mental note to clean it in the morning before (y/n) wakes up.

Just as he ponders putting another movie on, maybe only as background noise if nothing else, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his pants. Taking his time, Charles pulls the device out, expecting nothing more than a useless notification from a social media app he shouldn't spend so much time on anyway.

Instead what he finds is a text. From her.

in a cab, be home soon <3

Charles lets out a relieved sigh, his lips involuntarily curving into a smile, one that you could almost call giddy. It's not just the thought that she's going to be here soon, but the fact that she remembered to text him to let him know. He's in her mind, just like she's in his, even though she's been out with friends, having fun, drinking, while he's only been at home, all alone with his misery.

Now he can move back to bed happily, knowing that shortly she will join him.

It truly doesn't take long until Charles hears the front door creak as it opens, then the familiar jingle of her keys hitting the drawer in the hall, and his heart flutters with happiness. Finally. The high heels she chose to wear hit the floor with a soft thud as she presumably removes them, and the growing anticipation in his body seems to eat him whole.

Her steps grow louder and louder as she moves closer to the bedroom, and time slows for Charles. He watches in slow motion as she appears in the doorframe, being propped up on his elbows to have a better view, a lazy smile curling onto his face, and his eyes lidded with drowsiness.

"You're still awake?" (y/n) giggles, pausing in her steps for a second as her eyes take in the view he provides lying there. His lack of reply to her text made her think he's already fallen asleep.

"Of course," he mumbles. "Come to bed."

His voice is whiny and he behaves like an actual child, he knows, but he can't help it. He wants to sleep, and he wants to sleep beside her, feeling her warmth against his skin. That's the only way he can.

"Let me get changed first," she starts towards the closet, when a grunt of pure displeasure sounds from him along with the thump of his back as he falls into a lying position once more, making her glance back at her boyfriend. "What, can't wait a single minute?"

"No," he protests, pouting . "I've been waiting for hours."

His accent comes forth stronger when he's sleepy, and she can't help but smile adoringly upon hearing it. He's just so cute.

"Okay, fine, you'll get one kiss," she gives in. Charles resembles a lost puppy and she's sure he knows that's her weakness. She can't ever say no to anything when he looks like that.

So that's how she finds herself crawling into bed, trying to get as close as possible to the boy without causing damage to her dress. He grins, as much as his tired facial muscles allow, awaiting her lips touching his own. His pout becomes even more apparent, right until the moment he finally gets what he wants. His goodnight kiss. It's soft, slow and just so full of love it makes both their hearts flutter.

Then she caresses his cheek gently, whispering a barely audible good night, sleep tight to him, before moving back off the bed to disappear in the closet, leaving Charles to think about how he'd happily convince her again of going out if it means she'll come home to him, looking so radiant, properly buzzing with energy, eyes shining, hair messy but still looking so breathtaking. It's obvious how much it meant to her that she had this night out. He made her happy with telling her to go out with her friends, and he didn't regret it, despite all the miserable hours.

By the time she finishes her night routine and walks back into the bedroom once more, he's fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the room. She bites into her bottom lip to keep in the giggle threatening to burst out, and with a heart full of adoration and a head slightly dizzy from the drinks she's had, she gets in bed beside him, snuggling up close to him, revelling in the feeling of his arms instinctively finding their way around her body even when he's sleeping.

He truly only waited for her to come home and give him a goodnight kiss to finally be able to fall asleep.

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youneedsomeprompts · 3 months

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how do you make a couple fight without completely cementing the relationship as toxic? what do 'healthy' couples even fight about???

as someone with zero experience regarding arguing with someone whom i didn't immediately cut off afterward because of how it was handled, i've struggled with writing this concept forever 😭

send help pls :')

Every couple fights. Fights and disagreements are a part of a relationship just as much harmony and agreement. It's highly unlikely that there is a person with whom you always agree on every aspect. So, sooner or later you'll reach a point of disagreement and that can be about anything really.

A lot of couple fights are about the most trite things. Who does the dishes? Why doesn't the other want to do me that favour? No, I never said that. You must remember it wrong.

We are the most honest and blunt but also the most vulnerable with the people closest to us. That makes siblings fight a lot and it often makes couples fight more than good friends. Paired with love, these fights don't have to make a relationship toxic. Partners fight about whose turn it is to do the dishes. One ends up having to do it, and the other thanks them for it, promising to do it the next time. I think what is important when writing a 'healthy' fight is to show that even when they fight they still care a lot about the other. If it's a bigger fight, they're thinking about the other a lot afterwards. They feel bad about it afterwards, they're thinking about how the other feels now, they don't like making the other feel bad, they're crushed to find out that they're causing the other's misery. Their heart can't be at peace until they've apologised and made up.

Another sign of a healthy relationship is that minor fights aren't a rarity but are handled well. They can fight about the TV remote and it's not giving their relationship a crack or making them doubt their partner's love. Communication that is well-balanced between two partners and supports a symmetrical relationship doesn't exclude arguments but makes them a means to a functioning life together.

I made a few prompt lists about couples fighting and they are all meant to apply to healthy relationships. Here is an excerpt from a prompt list about minor fights to give you an example.

1. A: "I wanted this cookie!" B: "But there is another one." A: "That's not the one I want." 2. A: "Stop looking at me so weird!" B: "That's just how I look!" 3. A: "That's nonsense! I didn't hug you less than usual!" B: "Yes, you did! Don't try to trick me! I know exactly how long you're hugging me usually and this hug wasn't the same. So I don't approve of it as a real hug. Again!" 4. A: "Get me the remote, please." B: "Why don't you get it?" A: "I asked you a favour!" 5. A: "But it's my turn!" B: "No, it was your turn last time!" A: "That's not true! I remember it clearly!" the full prompt list: ~ FIGHTING OVER SILLY STUFF ~ OTP PROMPTS

other prompt lists about a couple arguing:

~ ARGUING LIKE AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE ~ DIALOGUE PROMPTS

~ FIGHTS OVER A GIFT ~ DIALOGUE PROMPTS

~ JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY ~ PROMPTS (this could turn toxic but you can use most of these for healthy couples)

I hope this helps you. I realised I just rambled a lot; hopefully, it makes sense :)

#how to write healthy arguments #writing advice #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writers on tumblr #writeblr #otp arguing prompts #arguing prompts #argument prompts #fighting prompts #writing prompts

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moonsgemini · 7 months

Text

don’t delete the kisses - college!rafe

summary: Rafe loses all his confidence when it comes to the girl he’s been pining after for years but maybe her plan to be alone with him will help give him the push he needs. Or maybe the guy that flirts with her and doesn’t take no will be his final straw.

warnings: MUTUAL PINING, fluff, self doubt, alcohol, friends to lovers kinda, college au, semi creepy guy, fem reader, she/her

wc: 4.3k

an: HI FRIENDS!!! guess who’s back fr this fine. I started a very new chapter of my life recently & kinda went through a little depression but I’m doing much better now & much more adjusted. I missed writing sm but I’m a little rusty so uh sorry if it's bad LOL

p.s I turned 23 last week. ik my bio already says 23 but I lied & was 22 but now I’m 23. LOL. also I’m not a gemini but I have a gemini moon.

Rafe was confident. Some would say he was a little cocky, but he never saw it that way. He saw it as knowing what he wanted and never stopping until he got it. Whether it be being the best at soccer, taking out the hottest girl, or getting a 4.2 gpa. Rafe’s charming personality always got him far in every aspect in life. Parents loved him, teachers admired him, girls practically threw themselves at him. Of course he had no problem talking to girls, it was almost what he was best at.

Except when it came to her. She made his words get stuck in his throat, all his thoughts leaving his head when his eyes would meet hers. Whenever she was in the room he couldn’t function, something their friends had started to notice. Rafe’s sophomore year y/n started coming around with one of his friend’s Wren. She inevitably integrated with the group. Y/n would go to the frat parties at the boys frat and Rafe couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Yet never once did he attempt to flirt with her.

Ever since Wren had introduced her to them he was gone. Her shy smile and wide excited eyes had reeled him in. She was sweet and a constant ray of sunshine. Which makes it an even bigger mystery as to why he can’t talk to her. It’s not like she’d be mean or reject him, but somehow he can never get any words out. Always turning into a clammy, awkward, stuttering mess.

Now that it was his senior year attending frat parties became less frequent and going to bars was more common for them. This just made his problem worse. Because now at bars guys would hit on her and he couldn’t do anything. He’d watch with a glare as some guy clearly not good enough for her tried to get her number. She’d always say no, he wasn’t sure why but he was definitely glad she never gave anyone the time of day.

Y/n was sick and tired of never having Rafe’s attention. She’d see him effortlessly talk to Wren and the other girls they were friends with but when it came to her it seemed like he tried to avoid conversation. He would make up an excuse to leave the conversation or would only give short answers. She figured it was to get her to stop talking to him, but she was not giving up that easily.

She wanted his attention because he was just so Rafe. He was smart, athletic, kind, and funny. Maybe he didn’t talk to her but she was always listening to him. When they went on a road trip last summer she sat in the back seat happily in silence because Rafe was talking to Mason almost the whole ride. Plus he is so handsome she swears he could be a disney prince. Y/n had a plan to get to spend some time with him. She wanted him to like her so desperately it was starting to hurt.

It was a Friday night and they were all going out to the bars and she had so graciously offered to host the pregame at her apartment. Everything was going according to plan as her friends all said they’d be there and said what alcohol they were bringing. Even Rafe had sent a text in the group saying he’d be there and that got her stomach fluttering with butterflies. Of course she had the perfect outfit to hopefully impress him and get his attention.

She was setting out shot glasses and solo cups when the first guests knocked on the door. With a giddy smile on her lips she walked over and opened the door. Of course Wren was a part of the group to first arrive.

“Y/n! I’m so happy you’re hosting!” Wren exclaimed as she hugged her. The other three behind Wren took their turn greeting her with a hug as well.

“What you don’t like our place?” Tyler, one of the guys she came with, asked.

Wren gave him a sour look, “Not really into houses with four boys who don’t clean after themselves.”

Kelce gave her an offended look, “Hey we do clean before you guys come over.” They all gathered in the kitchen around the breakfast bar starting to look at the different alcohol options.

“I wouldn’t call wiping down the counters with baby wipes cleaning,” Mariah rolled her eyes at the pair of boys. Just then another knock came from the door.

Kelce who was closest to the door went over to open it. Topper walked in first dapping (an: I cringed too) up Kelce. Behind him followed Mason and Jasmine who all took their turns greeting everyone. Then last but certainly not least Rafe’s tall frame walked through the door way. He smiled brightly as he greeted Kelce and moved on to everyone else. Once he got to y/n who was the last one left his wide smile turned into a closed lip grin. Instead of giving her a side hug the way that all the guys did and the way he did to the other girls he just gave her a small wave. She couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt her but it wasn’t going to deter her from her plan.

Rafe had been a nervous wreck ever since that text she sent inviting them over. Kelce had turned to him knowing his best friend would be looking as pale as a ghost. Rafe didn’t know if he was excited or mortified. The hours before the pregame he had been trying on different outfits and making sure his hair looked okay. Why do I even care so much? is all he kept thinking as he finished spraying on cologne.

He cared so much because he was going to y/n’s. Every time he went in with the mentality that it would be different. He would be his usual self and be able to talk to her. But then when he’d see her all his confidence would disappear and he’d be trying to get away from her as soon as possible. He hated the effect she had on him, he hated feeling so defenseless.

After he chickened out of giving her a hug when he came over he lost complete hope for the rest of the night.

They were going to be leaving for the bar soon and all he had been doing was stealing glances at her every five seconds. She was sitting on her couch with a couple of the girls talking about who knows what. He knows that whatever it was it was making her smile big. She was glowing and radiating so much light he almost couldn’t look away. He loved how she blushed whenever talking about something she was passionate about, something he noticed she did. He also noticed how she constantly touched her hair when she was nervous.

His grip on his cup tightened as he thought about her. He wished he could be the one to brush her hair away or hold her hands when she felt nervous. He sighed and looked away, trying to pay attention to whatever story Topper was telling.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully while smiling, “It’s a good plan guys! I’ll ask if he can stay behind to help me clean so then we can finally be alone together. God I hope he doesn’t say he’ll leave.”

Wren looked at her friend with sympathetic eyes, “This man has no idea what he’s missing out on.”

“You’re going through all this effort for the biggest player at this school,” Jasmine reminded her.

Y/n shrugged a shy smile on her lips, “But it’s Rafe. We know him, he’s-he’s a good guy.”

“She’s not wrong. He is a good guy,” Wren agreed.

Jasmine laughed, “Well let’s hope he actually tries to pull a move tonight. I’m tired of seeing you reject every guy for him.”

Y/n sighed, “If nothing happens tonight then I’ll give up and it means he really hates me.”

Wren put her hand over hers, “He doesn’t hate you babe. I promise you he doesn’t.”

“Ladies I think it’s tiiiime to head out,” Mason said as he walked over. The buzz he had clearly showing.

The three girls looking at each other before standing up. Y/n cleared her throat, “I-I think I’m gonna stay behind a bit.”

“Dude what? No you’re coming out tonight,” Topper said as they all walked into the kitchen.

“I’m coming out tonight Top. I just wanna stay back and clean a bit,” she gathered all the courage she could, “Uh Rafe could you stay back and help me?”

Rafe turned to look at her with furrowed brows. His kind was racing with reasons as to why she would want him to help. He was also fighting with himself to say no.

He looked over at his friends who were all smirking at him. He huffed a dry laugh, “uh yeah yeah sure.” He gave her a tight lipped smile. As soon as he saw her play with her hair and that smile form on her lips he knew she deserved a million yes’.

After everyone left Rafe and y/n started silently cleaning the kitchen and living room. Rafe glanced up at her every so often, catching her eyes a few times. A subtle heat would creep up on her cheeks when his blue eyes met hers.

She brought over a few beer bottles to the kitchen to recycle as she cleared her throat, “so Rafe how is uh soccer?” She needed something to talk to him about, the silence was killing her.

He looked up at her from where he was wiping the counter. The light buzz he had was making him feel a bit more like himself, “It’s good, season finally starts next week.”

She leaned against the end of the counter, “That’s good. I expect big things from you Rafe, you won the championship last year.”

He chuckled nervously, “Now I really have motivation to do good.”

She smirked, “well you’re like insanely talented so I regardless you’re going to kill it.”

“I will if you come to some games,” The words left his mouth faster than he could stop them. But he was glad he couldn’t stop himself. The blush on her cheeks and the way she looked down fighting a smile made any embarrassment he felt worth it.

“Of course I’ll be there,” She smiled at him, “thanks for helping me clean Rafe. I really didn’t want to come home to a messy apartment.”

“Anything for you,” He shrugged with a small smile.

Her heart was pounding in chest as she spoke, “One more shot before we go?”

He chuckled, “let’s do it.”

She looked around for shot glasses, “Uh I think we used all the shot glasses.” Her suspicions were correct when she opened the dishwasher seeing them in there.

Rafe’s stomach twisted at the idea that popped into his brain. He rubbed his hands on his pants anxiously as he spoke, “I can just pour it in your mouth like a couple of freshman.” He tried to joke hoping he didn’t make her uncomfortable with his suggestion.

Her eyes lit up mischievously feeling like a genius as her plan was going better than expected, “Only if you let me doing it you.”

He nodded laughing, “Fair enough, so what’s your alcohol of choice?”

“hmmm tequila,” She smiled.

He picked a bottle from the counter opening it and looking over at her with a smirk, “Ready?”

She chuckled nervously, “uhhh you first.” He handed her the bottle.

She looked up at him, his tall frame towering over her, “Okay you’re gonna have to lean down or something Rafe you’re too tall.”

He walked around to sit at one of the stools. His knees pointed to her, long legs spread. Without thinking she stepped towards him. Practically standing between his legs, “Get ready Cameron.” She smirked hoping to hide just how dizzy he was making her feel. She’d never been this close to him and it was overwhelming.

He tilted his head back opening his mouth. Her face felt hot as she started pouring the liquid in his mouth. She shouldn’t have been as attracted to it as she was. She pulled away after a few seconds. When Rafe was done drinking he looked at her with a smirk, “That was more than a shot.”

She shrugged feigning innocence, “Oops.”

He let a breathy sigh, a smile still on his lips. He couldn’t find any words to say because when he looked at her for too long he got nervous.

“uh it’s your turn,” He stood up taking the bottle from her hands. It was then he realized how close she was. She smelled so good he wanted to lean into her. He wanted to push her hair back and tuck his face into her neck, kiss her pulse as he breathed in her perfume.

Y/n opened her mouth and tilted her head back a bit. Rafe’s hands moved before he could think. He placed his hand on the side of her face, his thumb going under her chin tilting it up gently. Her mouth opened wider on it’s own accord, something in her wanting to do exactly whatever he wanted. Rafe noticed it too and his jaw clenched as he thought about her in ways that aren’t very gentlemanly.

She couldn’t even taste or feel the alcohol starting to go down her throat as she stared at him. Rafe looked incredibly hot as he stood over her. His lip tucked between his teeth as he concentrated not spilling all over her. The few seconds felt like minutes when he was this close. Rafe pulled the bottle away. As she closed her mouth swallowing the remaining liquid Rafe’s thumb wiped away a drop from the corner of her lip before pulling away. She quickly took a drink from the soda she had opened, trying to get the tequila taste out of her mouth.

He cleared his throat as the tension in the room was palpable, “So uh we should um catch up with everyone?” He said as a question because he didn’t know what to do from here. He wanted to do whatever she did.

Y/n wanted him to bend her over the kitchen counter. But she kept her composure nodding her head, “Uh yeah yeah.”

She stepped away from him instantly missing the closeness as she grabbed her purse. He waited by the door as she walked over. His eyes watched her every move. He held the door open for her as she walked out. He never once looked away as she turned her back to him to lock her door, he enjoyed this view of her. The skirt she had on could barely be considered a skirt, it made his pants suddenly get tighter.

He shifted between his feet as she turned around, a tight lip smile aimed towards her. Of course she returned a toothy grin with a short laugh, he was so cute she couldn’t get enough.

Y/n thought her plan was working, she felt like she was really getting him to open up to her and like her. But whenever she felt like she was getting somewhere his awkwardness would return and that feeling in her gut started blooming. The one that made her doubt herself, what if she had come on too strong back inside and that’s why he was being awkward?

Rafe watched her from where he stood by the pool table. She was waiting for the bartender to finish making someone their drink before ordering her second round when some random guy went up to her. From what Rafe could see it seemed like she wasn’t really enjoying the guy’s company.

He gripped his beer bottle in his hands as the guy stepped closer to y/n. She was giving him polite smiles and nods as he went on about who knows what.

The walk to the bar was mostly quiet between the two. A somewhat comfortable silence that was filled with small talk. Even after the moments they had pouring liquor into each other’s mouths they couldn’t be normal around each other. Especially Rafe. Anytime his shoulder would brush against hers he’d step over a little not wanting to make her uncomfortable. When in reality she wanted him to wrap his arm around her because she was cold and because he smelled good. The tequila hadn’t had much of an affect on him anymore so any confidence he had with her was diminished.

“Dude it’s your turn,” Topper nudged him trying to get his attention.

Rafe turned to him trying to act as if he’d been watching him try to get the ball in the pocket. He rolled his eyes, “Eager to lose Top.” Topped chuckled shaking his head not wanting to call out his best friend on his staring problem.

He set his beer down and slightly leaned over the pool table as he aligned the stick with the ball. He still had a clear view of y/n, of course he was still looking up at her every second as he adjusted his position. He pulled the stick back as before pushing it forward between his fingers he looked up and his heart rate picked up.

The guy that has been bothering her had put his hand on his girl. He had put his hand on the small of her back, his body pressing against her side as she uncomfortably shifted away from him. It was clear she didn’t want him near her and he wasn’t getting the hint. What made if even clearer was when y/n’s eyes met his from across the room, a desperate look in her eyes.

Rafe could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he grew more angry. He dropped the stick onto the table not bothering to say anything to Topper or anyone else. He took long strides over to them not wanting her to be in that situation any longer. He bumped into a few people on the way but he didn’t care enough to apologize, his eyes zeroed in on her.

Once he was standing behind her Rafe shoved himself between her and the creep. At first y/n was worried it was another creepy guy but as soon as she smelt the familiar dior cologne she knew it was Rafe. The whole time this guy James was talking to her she had been hoping Rafe could read her mind of her pleading him to help her. She had seen him watching them and for a second she felt a sense of pride as she saw a hint of jealousy in his eyes. She hoped she wasn’t wrong about that.

Then the guy noticed that she wasn’t too into whatever he was talking about and decided to touch her to get her attention. Y/n had been leaning on the bar watching the bartender make her drink not full turned to him to hint that she wasn’t interested. When she felt the hand on her lower back she tried leaning away, him thinking that means he should get closer. Panic filled her eyes as she felt helpless, usually ignoring them or politely turning them down would turn guys away but not this one.

Before he could get even closer is when she smelt that amazing dior cologne. Rafe gave the guy a shove, not too hard to where he’d draw attention. He didn’t want to make y/n more uncomfortable by getting the whole bar’s attention by starting a fight.

“Hands off my girlfriend,” Rafe said his voice laced with venom. She stepped to the side but still behind Rafe to look at the scene in front of her. Her eyes widened at his words, cheeks beginning to feel hot like she just took another shot of tequila.

James scoffed putting his hands up in defense, “Dude she was the one coming on to me.” Y/n scoffed glaring at him in disgust.

She was opening her mouth to say something when Rafe laughed mockingly, “Yeah I doubt she’d give you the time of day even if she was single. Go the fuck away now.”

Rafe turned around to her, barely any space between them. His brows furrowed in concern as he took in her glassy eyes and pink cheeks, “Are you okay?”

He looked even more handsome when he was worried about her. She wasn’t even thinking about the situation she was just in all she could think about was Rafe. Maybe her plan had worked.

She cleared her throat trying to find her voice, “uh yeah. yes. Can we actually go outside?” The room had started to feel too hot and stuffy, or maybe her body was just over heating from their closeness.

He nodded, “Come on, follow me.” He grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd. His much taller and wider frame creating a path for her.

Once outside she felt like she could breathe again until Rafe turned to her again and her eyes met his. He was so beautiful it hurt her to think about how maybe he just said what he said to help her. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. She wished he would just talk to her like he talked to everyone else and flirt with her like he did with every girl or like he did a couple hours ago in her kitchen.

“Y/n are you okay,” He asked her again letting go of her hand not wanting to make her uncomfortable. He immediately regretted it and wanted to reach for her again. Rafe wanted to move her hair out of her face and stroke her cheek.

She gave him her best smile even though he could see a sadness behind her eyes, “I’m fine Rafe, I could have taken that guy. It was just hot in there.” She tried to play off.

“You’re lying,” He said softly, “why do you seem sad? I can go back in there and punch the guy.”

She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “I’m not sad about that.”

“Then what is it? I can help.”

She huffed not really wanting to tell him but knowing she had to rip the bandaid off at some point, “Rafe why don’t you like me? Well I think you like me now. But before why was it only me you never talked to or even any ounce of attention to? But then you like step in and save me from a weirdo and act all concerned so I’m just confused.” She felt like a weight lifted off of her shoulders finally getting what’s been bothering her off her chest.

Rafe stood dumbfounded and feeling the world’s biggest dick. He didn’t think that she had noticed how weird he was around her and now he’s finding out she thinks he hates her. He should be punching himself. It takes him a few seconds to find the right words to say.

“Y/n you’ve always had all of my attention. I-I am always looking at you, in the least creepy way possible,” He sighed finally confessing, “Whenever I’m around you I-I can’t be that Rafe everyone expects of me because you make me nervous. You’re perfect. You’re so nice, funny, beautiful, the smartest person I know, and gorgeous. I was afraid I’d do something stupid or mess up and you’d think I was just some dumb jock.”

She stepped closer to him leaving no distance between them. She put her hands on his chest and looked up at him, “Rafe I’ve liked you since I met you. I-I have been dying for you to do something for so long now, please don’t keep me waiting any longer.”

How could Rafe say no? Her big eyes staring up at him with her warm palms on his chest that were now sliding up his shoulders to wrap around his neck. He grabbed her waist firmly bringing her impossibly closer. That nerve racked Rafe was gone as soon as he heard her say she liked him. He felt like himself now, moving with confidence as he walked backwards pressing her against the side of the bar.

At the same time that her back hit the wall he leaned down and connected his lips with her soft plump ones. She let out and soft moan at the feeling she had been craving since she saw him for the first time. Y/n didn’t even care that her back and hair were pressed agains the dirty wall because one of Rafe Cameron’s hands were sliding up her body and wrapping around her throat gently.

He kissed her with fervor trying to make up for lost time. And oh boy was Rafe already planning on just how he was going go make up for it. After a few minutes they pulled away breaths mixing together as they stayed close to each other.

“Wow,” She whispered before a giggle slipped past her lips. She had finally kissed him.

He laughed with her feeling the same giddiness she did. He reached up brushing some strands of her eyes, “I’m sorry I’ve been an idiot. Let me take you home and make it up to you.”

She nodded shyly. Suddenly not knowing how to act around the Rafe she had been praying to see, “Yes please.”

He smirked leaning forward and pressing a kiss below her ear. He nudged his nose against her ear before softly saying, “Please? Well aren’t you a good girl.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x female reader

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balloonboyismyson · 2 months

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I have been thinking a lot about RUIN lately and the reasons for why some things are true. The biggest thing that has been bugging my mind is how are Freddy and Monty still active? All of the animatronics are messed up, but the two are special cases.

Yes- they are both extremely wrecked, however, I am focused on 2 major issues: Freddy, his head, and Monty, his legs. Or, well, their lack-there-of. Both of them are missing key components to operate.

Talking about Freddy first, in Security Breach we see in both the Princess Quest Ending as well as immediately before to the initial Parts 'n' Service repair minigame that he is fully functional as just a head.

This tells us that his AI, battery [as seen in the Van Ending], voice box and all other essential parts of him are located there. Because of this, we can make the assumption that Prototype Freddy has none of these. Without his head, Freddy should be completely out of order.

Moving onto Monty, we see in his Decommissioning Scene that he gets broken in half, losing his legs. Since he is still able to move around at first glance, he seems more-or-less functionable.

However, we know that the animatronics charge via the Charging Stations located around the Pizzaplex. From what we see, it appears they charge through their soles.

Without his legs, it is quite literally almost impossible for him to charge. Freddy can at least charge through his ears, but Monty has no appendages showing from his head. His hair is not metal [like Roxy's], and unfortunately, it can be assumed it is nonconductive. Without a charging source, he will eventually lose power and stop working.

From looking at the damage, abandoned construction and graffiti, my guess is that RUIN comes out at least one year after Security Breach. By this time, there is no doubt that the animatronics have needed to charge. Since there is running water, it can be assumed that there is also electricity.

So, since it is completely improbable that Freddy and Monty could still be active, why are they? My conclusion is that the Virus is stored in their mechanisms, not their internal systems. Freddy states in the True Ending of Security Breach that he is able to hear his friends in turmoil, meaning their AIs are not affected by the Virus.

This is why I believe Monty is so rabid in RUIN. His AI is most likely hibernating from lack of charge, so right now his body only has the Virus moving him around. This is why he only growls and never speaks, as well as why he has no self-preservation and will slam into walls left and right- he has no AI active to articulate sentences or to alert him to things outside of his directive.

#Security Breach RUIN #RUIN DLC #RUIN DLC Spoilers #Montgomery Gator #Glamrock Freddy #Prototype Freddy #Ruined Monty #Ruined Freddy #Theory #Security Breach RUIN Spoilers #Clownie honks #//I AM SORRY IF THIS IS COMMON KNOWLEDGE I JUST LIKE SHARING MY THOUGHTS #//I already spoke about this in an ask but I keep thinking about it :o)#//I did not reread this I probably will in the morning <3

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lingering-42-long · 2 months

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König as a Dad Dabble

König x female reader

Just a little dabble nothing much. Who should I do next?

Warnings: none

-Finding out you were pregnant-

You knew König and you wanted kids, but not this early. You two had just gotten home from your honeymoon, now you were standing in the bathroom, holding 2 pregnancy tests, both reading the +…positive. You didn’t know how to feel, if you should be crying from panic or overjoyed. You thought the birth control would be effective enough, that and you didn’t think your body could be able to produce a baby, you had Polycystic disease, it greatly reduced your chances of having a child. You had this talk with him, König knew, he loved you with or without a functioning uterus.

Now here you are in your shared bathroom holding the tests. A huge blessing, your mom would say, but right now you were scared. Not at König’s reaction, but leaving the freedom that you once had… You shook your head, this baby is a blessing, to beat the odds, you weren’t going to walk alone in this journey. You had an amazing husband, friends, and loving family on both sides to help and you and your husband on this journey. It was going to be tough but life was never meant to be easy.

“Min Engel! I’m back” You could hear the door shut followed by the heavy footsteps and the bags of groceries being placed on what you presumed to be the kitchen counter. Your mind raced as you were trying to figure out what or how you should address this. With a heavy sigh, you just simply grabbed the pregnancy tests and place the mayonnaise Ziploc bag. You wanted to tell him now, you need to know how he felt you needed comfort because you weren’t even sure what emotion to play or to feel.

Carefully making your way downstairs and placed the two tests in your back pocket as you walked over to give your husband a hug. König had really mellowed out for the three years he knew you. Everybody knew him as standoffish, quiet, sociably awkward. His team knew him for being aggressive, demanding, proud, and bold. But slowly they started to see the change, And soon he had completely been mellowed out. He was still as demanding and aggressive on the battlefield by those urges, to prove that he was better than the best pet seem to dwindle to mirror, shrugs of the shoulder and more compliments on those who beat him. In the civilian lifestyle, he was a lot more calm, less jumpy, and 1000 times more sweet.

When he saw you, he couldn’t help but smile you pulled him out of a dark moment in his life, and he cannot be more happier. That is why he called you his angel because he swore you came from heaven just to bless him with your presence. “ Ah how are you?” He drew you into a big bear hug and kissed you tenderly. He blue-grey eyes sparkled as he stroked the side of your cheek. “Um well.” You sighed, now nervous. “Ummm here” you handed him the pregnancy tests. He took them and frowned a little in concentration. Then his widened and shot his head up to look at you “Is this for real?!?” He was breathing heavily looking back at you then at the tests “Please don’t joke.”

“I’m not” you shook your head, “we are going to be parents.” König grinned like a mad man as he scooped you up into his arms and laughed as he held you tight. “Ah min Engel! This is the best news I could ever ask for!” He was swinging you around and kissing all over your face. “You’re beautiful, stunning, just…. Min scatz.” He cooed as he sat you down back on the ground, then he noticed the uncertainty in your eyes. “Whats wrong? Dont you want a baby with me?” He asked. His question made you break down crying. “I-I don’t know what I want! I want one but not this early! I love you but I don’t feel fit to be a mom. I’m selfish! I just want my freedom!” König, without second thought, brought you into another hug, this one being gentle and comforting. “Oh my beautiful. Your not selfish, your right it is too early but we can make do. I promise you can do whatever you need to do and I’ll look after the baby. I never want you to be tied down.” He stroked your head as he picked you up and carried you to the couch, right now u needed to cuddle and be reassured that everything was going to be ok.

After 20 minutes of solid crying, you finally calmed down. “Fell better?” He asked soothingly. You just nodded and kissed him. “I’m sorry-“

“don’t be, there is nothing for you to apologize for.” König smiled at you.

“You promise not to leave me?”

“Never in a million years.”

-Finding out the gender-

“Ok miss the gel is going to be a bit cold.” The doctor informed as the blue goo was placed over your four month belly. König never left your side. He had become more protective of you and baby proofed the house well before they arrived, this in turn meant you were not allowed to do much. After an argument with him, he realized he was suffocating you and did back down quite enough, but he still hung around just close enough to be there for you.

Right now he was hunched over in the seating chair next to your bed as you both watched the screen. The doctor was showing you all the signs that it was a healthy pregnancy, and the baby was…. Wait… the doctor paused and looked at the screen again before chuckling “You two are having twins!”

T-Twins?!? Your mind went blank, you had two babies in you, made by the love of you and your husband… and the 8 rounds of beer… but that was beside the point. Two beautiful babies that would look like a perfect mix between you and König. A small smile spread. “What gender are they.” You felt your husband’s hands clasp your own as he waited to know the results. “You got… 2 girls.” The doctor smiled at the happy couple. “Girls?! Min gött. Now I have to boyfriend proof the house.” You laughed at his dismay, you knew König would love his babies no matter what gender they were. He was very happy that his two beautiful girls were healthy. He reached over and gave you a big kiss. “Thank you. Thank you for making my life better.”

-König Bulking up-

As you were nearing your due date König that surprisingly gained weight as well. Apparently this was normal and very common in dad’s as their bodies were also preparing for their children. a trait that many had as the mothers near the end of their term men prepare their bodies to deal with the long nights and short amount of sleep. Their bodies naturally start bulking up on fat. by all means not fat, but you could definitely tell that he was a lot more squishier to sleep at night than he previously was. He was still as strong as a bull though.

Because he had bulked up quite a bit a lot of times while you were struggling in your sleep at night he would turn himself into your personal body pillow and reposition himself so that you would be a little bit more comfortable. A lot of times he would even hold your belly for you, whether you were sitting down and reading or watching TV or cooking in the kitchen, he would come up behind you and gently lift your belly up, which always made you feel instant relief.

He knew the pregnancy was tough on you, emotionally and physically. He was willing to put overtime to make sure that you were as comfortable as could be. In his eyes, this was the least that he could do. You weren’t ready to have a kid, but he kind of was. So he saw as his responsibility to make sure that you had the easiest pregnancy.

Right now you were snuggling with him on the couch as he was gently massaging your belly. He could feel the little girls kicking around in your stomach. He smiled and gave your head a Gentle kiss as he continued on massaging your belly. He was proud that he was able to provide for you. He was proud to know that he was the one that you chose to marry, he was proud to be the one that could give you children. This pride made him extremely happy. He couldn’t wait to share this life with you.

-After the birth-

König and you were staying in the hospital for a few days as your body was recovering from the C-section. Because of how big your babies were, they had to be removed by C-section in order to be a safe delivery. König hold onto your hand. Just the doctors opened you up and had your kids come out of the skylight. The healing was quite painful, but thankfully you had amazing family and friends to come and help with the preparations. Königs mom and dad made food to store in the freezer so all you had to do was just pull it out reheat it and eat. Both you and your husband’s friends had all brought gifts to your baby shower that you had a few weeks prior, some of them also brought food to be stored.

Right now you and König we’re both together as you were feeding your daughters. It was hard to accept the fact that these two beautiful angels came from you and your husband. They look so much like him. They had the same crinkle around their eyes, the same tuft of blonde hair, those beautiful eyes that reflected in the same way his did.

As you were feeding one, König was holding the other and gently rubbing her little head and giving her forehead gentle kisses. He was talking to her in German. Smiling and giving her more little kisses.

Once you were done you handed off the fed baby to get the other one from his arms. A very careful swap. Soon you have the other one in your arms as she quickly latched onto your breast and began sucking away. “They suck harder than you do” you teased at your husband as he turned the bright red in the face. “ not in front of them!”

“ oh, please! They’re not gonna remember this”

“ they might!”

“ ever since you saw that one episode from Sheldon your paranoid about the kids knowing their life at an early age”

You couldn’t help yourself but smile at him. During this time he had really dug in deep. he made sure that you and the girls were comfortable and taken care of. No matter what he would always watch over his family. Give them everything that he could offer. And strive to be the best husband and father in the world. He didn’t need much all he needed. Was you and his little girls.

-König and the Crotch Goblins-

“Min shatz! meine kleinen Käfer! I’m home!” he called from the door as he took his boots off. The next thing he knew he was being tackled by two three-year-old girls, who decided to sneak around the corner to bring attack him. “Ahhh nooo!!!! The evil goblins got me!!! Ahhhh! If only there was an angel to save me~” he called loud enough for you to hear, but of course you had to laugh, “This time you’re gonna have to save yourself. Your angel is busy.”

“What?! Nooo!!” he let himself fall to the ground as the girls began to climb all over him. They were very active they were always causing mischief.

You walked over to see all three of them on the floor in the living room as the kids began to pin him down as best as they could. You rubbed your now three month belly. Pregnant again with your third child.

“If the little goblins let me up I can watch a tv show with you.” he bribed the girls as they quickly got off of him, eager to please, and more eager to watch their favorite shows with him.

Before they join them in their activities, he got himself off the floor and kissed you gently. “how are you and the baby?” he asked always attentive to your needs.

“ we’re doing good” you smiled as you felt his hand lower down to your slightly bulging stomach. it was still relatively flat but he could feel a difference.

” I don’t know how you do it but you become more beautiful as each day passes.” he gave you a gentle kiss. “ let me finish dinner for you. I want you off your feet. You’ve been on it all day I’ve got it.”

You obliged. Your feet were hurting and you honestly did want to rest. So you took the place of your husband watched a TV show with the girls as König went into the kitchen to finish what was left for dinner prep. This was the life that he wanted, and he would never trade it for anything in the world.

#cod x reader #cod x you #x reader #cod #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig x y/n #könig headcanons #könig x you #könig

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proxythe · 9 months

Text

i haven’t played p5/r in a while so forgive me that this entire thing is mostly off dome.

what i mean when i say “ryuji is the heart of the phantom thieves” is that i do genuinely believe that he is the glue that holds them together. without him, the group inarguably loses its charm, and would simply not function without him there. he’s outspoken, protective, and might be the only one who i feel has a genuine love toward every member of the group.

i need to replay to do a whole thinkpiece, but for now i do want to share the ryuji moments i remember the most, and why they are part of the concrete evidence that shows ryuji is the most important piece of the phantom thieves.

first of all:

such a casual dialogue that is amplified by a thousand simply because of ryuji’s unadulterated love for his friend… i am moved to tears by this interaction. i love him very much, and he is near and dear to the deepest parts of my heart.

secondly:

i admit im not in the know about a lot of persona fandom stuff, but i personally don’t see a lot of people talk about this? ignore joker on the right this ain’t about him. this is, i think, the first of many instances in which u notice how quickly ryuji jumps to defend his friends, namely his female friends, and it’s a huge part of him that draws me to his character.

since it’s atlus, it’s not hard to miss that ryuji is definitely victim to their “perverted male character” trope, but for me, the moments where ryuji is having genuine thought put behind his character, are the moments when he so intensely - and is usually the first to - defend the other phantom thieves.

another example:

the phantom thieves are each others biggest support system, as they’re a team, but ryuji is definitely the one we see show that off the most. i will not be going into details as this is all off the top of my head, but trust me i am thinking about his confidant and backstory as i write all of this out.

this has always been on my mind as well, because not a day goes by where i don’t think about how quickly ryuji reassures his friends, since they r the most important people to him in his life.

more and more:

a less serious one, but i do genuinely enjoy the thought of ryuji just bragging about his friends because of how cool he thinks they are. when i say ryuji is the most obvious about how much he loves them, i am deathly serious. that is his family.

was excited to include this as well, as it goes to show even people ryuji has only known for a month are still worth going to war for. ryuji holds such an affection for his friends that it’s like i don’t even have to say more. he is literally speaking for himself here. i will never understand how anyone could dislike someone so passionate for the happiness of their own friends?

lastly:

i am personally not a huge fan of the negative dynamic atlus likes to portray between ryuji and morgana a lot of the time, so this is why this frenzy(?) is one of my favorites in p5d. morgana is the character ryuji fights with the most, and yet when morgana is feeling dejected, ryuji is there to pick him back up. obviously i know this is how the dance works and whatnot, but u cannot lie and tell me ryuji making him happy again didn’t make u almost cry a bit… it’s okay, i did too…

conclusion:

this ryuji shit gets serious, be prepared to die behind it.

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #ryuji sakamoto #can u tell i love ryuji #he is a mamas boy of course he respects women

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ghcstao3 · 4 months

Note

Cat!Soap and Dog!Ghost?

i will be honest i wasn’t sure how to interpret this for the longest time so um! reincarnation time. cw for MCD for obvious reasons

For them, with their whole lives having become the military, it was only inevitable that Ghost and Soap would die in the field.

It isn’t a pretty or graceful death. It’s sudden, like the sharp cut of lightning through a dark sky; a flash, a crack, then silence. They hadn’t shipped out that day knowing it’d be their last, but nobody could come away surprised it had been, either.

People will mourn, nonetheless. Funerals and burials will be held—the first time for Soap, the second for Ghost.

There’s less paperwork than Price had anticipated. There aren’t many personal effects for Gaz to sort through.

And less than a week later, they’re back to work. To full functionality. Shipped out with heavy hearts on another mission knowing it could be their last, just like their colleagues.

Thankfully, it isn’t. Had it been, they’d have never discovered the cat and dog that had apparently found their way into the base.

No one knows where the two came from, nor who they belong to—but no one particularly minds the new company, either, so rules are broken to let the creatures stay, at least for now.

Even as peculiar as they sometimes are. As… intelligent, as they sometimes are.

The German Shepherd isn’t unfriendly, though neither is he social. He never barks, only huffs and occasionally whines, and more than once Price swears he’s seen the dog rolls his eyes.

The Siamese likes to make trouble as much as he likes to make friends. He’s incredibly vocal, as opposed to his counterpart, and Gaz muses that the cat has a tuft of fur constantly sticking up along his head, almost like a mohawk.

Both animals are hardly ever seen apart. They’re constantly found napping together or stalking the halls side by side. The Siamese seems to dictate what they get up to, while the German Shepherd seems to set limits.

It’s cute.

It’s horribly reminiscent of a certain sergeant and lieutenant.

They’re affectionately named Ghost and Soap respective to their personalities. It helps, just a bit, having them around.

And if it seems like they respond better to those names once they’re decided—then Price and Gaz will be chalking that up to a figment of their imaginations. Of their grief.

Because surely reincarnation wouldn’t be so kind.

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing

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felikatze · 5 months

Text

i've had these thoughts before with sasasap, but now having played isat for basically 5 hours straight i am once again astounded by how just. perfect. siffrin's personality is to allow the game's premise, and it starts with his damn dnd class.

siffrin isn't the hero, they're the rogue. this alone allows them several personality trappings that help the story structure

their position as rogue means it's only natural for them to investigate the traps first - making him most likely to die from them in stupid ways.

he's very quiet and rarely speaks up, which means it's much less noticable when he's not listening, explaining how everyone proceeds as normal even when using the "zone out" function - he just didn't speak up in conversation in the first place

people are less likely to notice siffrin behaving weirdly because they struggle to socialize. odd mannerisms get waved off as "siffrin being siffrin"

siffrin has an intense desire to make their friends happy, which gives them incentive to change and keep loops the same - he fine tunes his deliveries for the best results, and then sticks by the successful script every loop thereafter.

(it's also just very cute how siffrin will make the pun every single time and nothing can stop them)

(honestly wanting to make others happy is for sure why he has the funnyguy persona in the first place)

just!! they're a combination of the silent loner rogue AND the laidback funnyguy assassin, baked into one by a connecting thread of social awkwardness. you can just TELL siffrin isn't used to having company, to having friends, and it's so cleae how much he loves the party just from how hard he tries.

.....also their struggle to talk and interact with others "properly" reminds me a lot of myself.... when siffrin says they just like to listen to everybody talk, without contributing because they have nothing to say... just being there and being included....

yeah dude i get it

#feli speaks #sasasap #isat #in stars and time #you should play in stars and time NOW out on PC nintendo switch and playstation!!!

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demonicbaby666 · 9 months

Note

Can i pls request, Reader and JJ are arguing, Reader confesses her feelings in the heat of the moment, and JJ kisses her. (Jennifer Jareau x reader)

Flirt

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff and bit of angst

Words: 4k+

Warnings: swearing and that’s about it

Summary: You and Emily flirt. It’s never amounted to anything and you’re more than happy about that because it’s all fun and games. Though everyone on the team seems to enjoy the laughs that come from all the interactions the two of you share, one person has never seemed that amused. JJ.

A/n: I’m not sure if this is the vibe you wanted but I hope you enjoy nevertheless! <3

It’s standard, expected even. Friends flirt, and it’s an unspoken agreement, but very much known, it’s all fun and games. The fact that Morgan and Garcia had subjected the whole department to a workplace seminar on appropriate work etiquette - chocolate thunder is not nearly heard as much these days - made you feel a hell of a lot better about the one-liners you and Emily throw at each other on a daily/hourly basis.

The work-wives dynamic you have going isn’t just fun. In truth, it makes workdays easier. The heavy loads brought on by cases take their toll on everyone, and, it’s fair to say, a laugh never hurts. No one on the team minds, well, almost everyone. Hotch, Morgan, Rossi and even Spencer all laugh along, encouraging nicknames, adopting them at times, but not JJ.

She’s never outwardly said anything. Then again, she never needs to. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she never laughs, smiles, or gets involved in the flirtatious banter you and Emily have. At first, it was easy to push aside and ignore, but after around four months of cheeky remarks from Emily and yourself and six months of working with the team, it’s hard not to pick up on the less-than-subtle eye rolls and disdain.

When the two of you are alone, it’s okay. It’s nice. You’ll joke, and now and then, she’ll throw around a particular comment that’ll make you blush, and it’s something you do in return. It remains a rarity, though. And you’re glad for it. Not because you don’t like JJ in that way. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. When JJ compliments you, you feel it all over your body, and you’re sure she sees it. It’s not nothing, and that’s dangerous in a place where workplace relationships are more of a no-no than a yes-yes.

In the office, no matter how hard you try to avoid her, you always bump into her, sometimes quite literally. The coffee you spilt on her white shirt you can still smell. It’s a fond memory, which is unexpected, but that’s only because the moment JJ looked at you, her lips curled up at the sides, and you’d both burst into fits of laughter before she asked to borrow a top from your go bag, a top you’d yet to get back, you never ask though.

JJ mainly keeps to her office, buried in mountains of paperwork. The few times she ventures out to talk to Hotch or visit Garcia, and you happen to run into her, it usually results in you stammering and sounding like a complete idiot, your words running away from you. It’s astonishing how easy it comes to you with Emily and with JJ, nothing. How it is you have blossoming feelings for JJ and can barely function and would sooner hit Emily over the head with a frying pan than kiss her - though you know she certainly wouldn’t disappoint - and can charm her to your wit's end, you don’t know. You know for sure that it’s inconceivably and utterly torturous.

“Hey, short stack,” Emily calls out when you're in her eye line. She’s carrying what is probably, her third coffee of the morning, if not her fourth or fifth, judging by the pep in her step at 9 am. She drifts towards your desk, wafting memories of laughter through rising steam.

“Where’s mine?” You nod to the mug in her hand and try to avoid yawning.

It’s a joke, and maybe it’s the early morning, or the caffeine has fried her brain, but Emily doesn't register that. She looks down at her coffee, back at you, repeats the process another two times, and then unceremoniously shoves the piping hot brown beverage at you. It spills over the rim, she hisses, and you chuckle. Compassion doesn’t come easy when you’re uncaffeinated and sleep deprived.

“Nuh-uh. That has enough sweetener in it to kill a small child.”

“Good thing you only act like a child then,” she playfully jabs, still holding out the coffee. It’s a generous offer, spur of the moment offer, but generous nonetheless.

Alas, you decline. Dropping your bags and shaking your head from side to side, you let out an amused sigh, “I’ll make my own love.”

The coffee machine isn’t far, and it’s non-negligible that you’re in dire need of caffeine, so you start walking over, assuming Emily is following close behind as usual. “Do we have a case?” you don’t bother turning, knowing she’ll be craning over your shoulder any second.

“Yup.” It’s not Emily, though, “I’ll be coming with you guys on this one.”

Turning slowly, you smile at JJ. With her sudden presence still registering, you don’t even want to think about how forced your smile may appear, even if it is genuine, “It’ll be good to have you around.”

She steps closer to grab a stirrer, and you ignore the tension working its way down your spine.

“It'll be nice to be around.” she smiles, and your knees go weak. There's something about her smile. Big, small, soft, forced, it’s never mattered. Every time your legs become jelly, and your heart beats faster.

It's a mystery how she has this much effect on you after six months. It's like the whole world goes hazy. All that matters is JJ, then before you know it, words aren't wording, and you're not, well, you-ing.

You’re saved by Hotch catching your eye as he darts from his office to the briefing room. He waves a file, and the team makes their way over. You try not to stare at JJ walking in front of you. Her hair’s swaying, and if you don't avert your gaze, she's sure to turn around and catch you. There's a little voice inside you. It's telling you not to look away because if she does turn around, you'll see those eyes again, and your tummy will do that weird flippy thing that you'd only ever admit to yourself you've grown to love.

Pull yourself together! You scream to the insipid voice in your head.

You manage to look away. Appreciate the clarity of not being lovesick for two seconds before Emily swoops in, loops her arm through yours and forcibly skips you both into the room. It gets a chuckle from the team, and you glance at JJ to see she’s already got her head down, looking through the case file. She shuffles in her chair, you can only assume sensing your leering eyes, and without raising her head, she looks at you through her lashes.

There's nothing remarkable about how she looks at you; it’s rather ordinary, which motivates you to sigh and slump down on the nearest seat available. Everyone grabs a case file, and you spend that time contemplating who’s feeling more deflated, you or the indented cushion beneath you that is teetering on the brink of death.

It takes a particular type of subtly and poise to mask your rising self-pity, the likes of which you can only hope you possess. Around the table, everyone is listening to JJ, and you ought to do the same. It’s choosing the lesser of two evils, you either focus on what JJ is saying and risk looking like you’ve just been gut punched, or stare blankly into the space between JJ and the projector and come off as a well-rounded put together human.

The latter worms its way on top, the main victory point being that it’ll result in fewer questions asked. Through the garbling, a few words make sense, it’s enough to piece together, and you’re sure time on the jet will equip you with all you need to know.

“Wheels up in twenty.” That, you register.

You’re standing, then you’re walking, then you’re in an SUV, and someone’s talking next to you or, rather, at you. It’s hard to mind, though. Emily makes good background noise, and she seems to drown out the looming thoughts, leaving you to the blur of people and buildings passing by.

Footsteps soon reach your ears. Rossi’s perfectly polished shoes smack against concrete, then metal, as he ascends the stairs to the jet. You know you should get out; your legs, however, ignore this. Emily pulls the keys out and opens her door. Any second, she’ll pick up on your hesitance, and it’s game over. For the duration of the next two days, knowing her, she’ll be on the lookout for any suspicious activity regarding your behaviour if you don’t start moving.

So you move.

Following Emily, the hairs on your neck tingle, and a shiver runs down your spine, despite the warm spring breeze. The signs point to someone looking at you. Turning, you see JJ and Reid walking behind you, neither looking anywhere in your vicinity. JJ seems suspiciously interested in the jet's exterior. Nothing to call home about, though. In her defence, whenever anyone speaks to Reid, they find it hard not to let their mind wander, no matter how hard they are listening.

Nothing outside of the usual occurs when you get on the jet. You sit across from Emily as she slumps down on the first seat available by the front of the plane. It's not that you don't contemplate sitting anywhere else. Who are you kidding? It's not like you don't consider sitting next to JJ, but with all the awkwardness - self-perceived or very much real - you can't stomach the thought of infringing on her and precipitating another chance for you to make an idiot of yourself.

Chancing a look back at JJ, there's the faintest slither of disappointment that comes with watching her haphazardly throw her bag on the chair next to her. It’s unlike JJ to be so indirectly direct in deterring physical closeness.

It’s twenty minutes into the flight, and you and Emily are at it again. In both of your defences’, it wasn’t unsolicited. On the stand, you’d confidently plead you were rabbit holed into discussing how many times you’d had to pretend to act like a couple to deter leering men away, and on top of that, describe, in detail, how you’d mastered the fine art of always getting away with it. Apparently, small talk isn't a thing anymore.

It's been ten minutes of this, and you need to relieve yourself before the next onslaught of laughter results in a change of trousers. You nudge Emily, let her know you'll be right back and turn to head to the back of the jet.

It seems the new norm; whenever an opportunity to glance at JJ’s appears, you take it. Maybe it’s that you’re only just picking up on the habit, something to think about for the duration of the flight, perhaps.

JJ has scarcely moved, one knee up, head turned, eyes out the window. The bag remains unscathed, sitting idly and just as lonesome as the blonde. It's out of respect, for the booming thoughts going through JJ’s head and the physical presence of an ‘I don’t want company’ sign, you stay on your path. However, when you return, her bag is gone, her knee is down, and her attention draws to the direction of the toilet door closing.

The empty seat is beckoning you, calling to you, and though you have enough willpower to return to your own and pretend you haven’t seen anything, laugh about stupid late drunken nights, you choose to save the willpower for a rainy day and sit next to JJ instead.

“Hey,” it’s light, friendly and casual. Smashed it.

Blonde hair, partially bathed in unfiltered sunlight, glides over toned shoulders, and your stomach lurches. “Hey there,” she says. There’s a smile present that’s timid and, for some reason, making you feel a little uneasy because usually, JJ’s smile reaches her eyes, and this one doesn't. The blue orbs are illuminated only by the balmy glow slithering in through the window, and though they’re still as breathtaking as ever, there’s a sadness in acknowledging what’s not there that you can’t seem to shake. “You okay?”

A few seconds, a full minute? You don’t know how long you’ve been staring.

“Uhhh… ya, sorry,” you stammer over your words. There’s a curious look in her eyes, and her eyebrows knit together, “Tired, that’s all. I must have zoned out a little.”

The fingers lying over her knee twitch, and she inches forwards. There’s a split-second thought that maybe she’ll let them run their wanted course, seeking to provide some comfort by brushing over your arm or leg. They remain in her lap.

She’s touring your face, and it's hard to stay impassive when you’re starting to feel more self-conscious than a preschooler entering the lunch hall for the first time. There may as well be turbulence because your body is acting accordingly. You fidget. The paws of your fingers rub over the lines of your palms.

“Are you sleeping?” She’s settled on staring into the dark expanse of your under-eye circles that are half-hidden under shitty concealer.

The worry in her eyes that continuously search your face for an answer to her question is starting to drive you mad. You shrug and turn, relieved that the sinking in your stomach is less vomit-inducing, “Not really, but I manage,” you mutter, eyes wandering over the coffee pot and idle mug.

Whether she believes you is up for debate. A cold chill runs down your arms, and you can tell she’s still staring. A weight suddenly falls on your thigh. With enough speed to snap your neck, you turn.

It’s on fire. You’re sure that your thigh is about to burst into flames, along with your scorching cheeks. No. Your whole body is on fire because JJ’s smiling at you again, and her eyes have stopped searching for evidence of lack of sleep, and they are brighter, gentler and more compassionate.

“This is prime napping time,” she says suggestively.

“Tempting.” you chuckle, or more accurately choke out, shaking your head and paying attention to her hand now moving in circles. Yes. You’re sure. You are on fire. Scorching burning molten lava is slowly replacing the blood coursing through your veins, and you’re going to die on this plane.

Your eyes aren’t the only pair on JJ’s hand placement. As you lift your gaze, JJ’s flickers up too a moment later. Her smile hasn’t faltered. In fact, it may have even grown wider. But you aren’t sure because, at this point, you’re convinced this is all a hallucination.

Finally, she removes her hand to tap her shoulder, “I’m pretty comfy, you know.”

It’s baiting a child with candy, and it’s working. “Well…” you lower your head to the side, and you rest it on JJ’s shoulder, smiling at how easily and perfectly you fit together, “I’ll test that theory out and get back to you.” The end of the sentence is partially yawned out, sleep already weighing heavy on your eyelids.

Sleep hasn't come easy to you over the last week, and it’s a curious thing to ponder upon that JJ is the answer, yet, also part of the problem. Plaguing your mind with her incomparable beauty and so forth. For now, you were too delirious from waking up from the best nap you’d had in… forever…

It isn't hard to admit that JJ was right, she’s inexplicably comfy, more comfortable than your bed, but the brain fog that accompanies your light sensitivity, forcing your eyes closed again, has rendered you incapable of communicating that intelligently.

“I wish I could sleep on you every night.” you sleepily slur, nodding right back off to sleep.

It’s two seconds for you and twenty-three minutes for everyone else. You wake up, jolting your body upright. The words you’d said are still fresh on your lips.

“I-” turning to JJ, dread starts to set in. She’s got the most shit-eating grin on her face that she’s trying to cover with the palm of her hand, and if you weren’t morbidly embarrassed, you might have considered punching her.

She’s snickering now, her hands thrown up in mock surrender. “Theory proven.”

If looks could kill, she’d be stone-cold by now. The worst part is none of this is necessarily her fault, and you know it. She only tugged at a loose string you easily guided her to. Yes, it was pointed out to her in a state of delirium, but that is on your head.

“Bedhead,” JJ coughs, the sun hitting the side of her face angelically.

Pursing your lips and keeping your accusatory gaze fixated on her, you comb your finger through your hair. “Now you're just trying to get a rise out of me,” you grumble.

“Pfff,” she rolls her eyes, smirks, then looks at the papers scattered across the table, “You’re cute when you’re sleeping. Drool and all.”

She’s so fucking smug that part of you dies as a wicked, treacherous girly smile forces the sides of your lips to twitch. “I'm leaving now.”

You drop down across from Emily. She looks at you with an eyebrow raised, then at Reid and Morgan, thinking they might have some insight.

“I need a new mattress,” you huff before looking out the window for the rest of the fight, leaving Emily more confused than when you’d first sat down.

~~~

“Emily, you already know who you’re with,” Hotch smirks, “You both head to the crime scene.”

“God forbid they’re separated,” Rossi lightheartedly quips.

“Oh god,” Morgan sighs, a second too late to warn you.

Emily’s behind you. Her fingers come to your shoulder and dig in almost painfully, “My precious,” she says with her best Gollum impression, then hisses because you’ve delivered a swift elbow to her rips.

She relaxes her grip on you, and while everyone laughs at the idiocy displayed, you mockingly pout at her, “Want me to kiss it better?”

She smirks, “Save it for later,” she slaps your arm and starts walking towards the car, “Come on, let’s get going.”

From the passenger seat window, you see the team, and it’s the same old. Everyone’s dispersing, still smiling and relishing in the small break they got from the morbidity of the job, even if it was only for a minute, except, of course, one person. She’s looking off distantly again, fingers thrumming against her thigh, bottom lip between her teeth, and mindlessly nodding at something Hotch says.

Emily hits the gas, JJ becomes a moving blur, and then she’s gone.

About an hour later, you and Emily are walking into the precinct. Everyone’s heads turn as you both walk in, bickering.

“What's happened now?” Reid asks.

You shove your finger in Emily's direction, “She wouldn't let me drive.”

“Because you're a maniac behind the wheel,” Emily tries to reason.

“And you’re a spoilsport,” you grumble, sitting on a free seat between JJ and Morgan.

“I swear, sometimes you're like an old married couple, the two of you,” Garcia remarks over the phone and nods scatter around the room.

“Excuse me,” JJ stands up and leaves abruptly.

There’s a split-second choice to make, compliantly sit back, as you’ve been doing for weeks, or get up and find out what’s going on with JJ.

It takes looking at the team's faces to realise that if you don’t go, someone else will. Maybe it’s selfish. You know you’re probably not the person she wants to see, and deep down, you know she’s angry, and she’ll lash out. But maybe she’ll reveal the truth despite her rage, and that’s motivation enough to get up and chase after her.

“JJ! Wait up!” You call after her, picking up a light jog, your laden footsteps echoing in the small corridor.

She turns a corner and slips out a side door, likely under the assumption you don’t see her. When you open the door, a small side alley comes into view, and then you notice JJ with her back resting against a wall. She looks utterly defeated, but there’s a resting fire there that you see when she looks up at you.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You walk towards her.

Wearing that distant look again, she says, “It’s the case,” it’s so painfully obvious it’s a lie you can’t stop your brow from rising. She notices and rolls her eyes, “What?”

“Oh, come on, JJ. We both know it’s not the case,” you lean against the wall, turning to the side to look at her. She peers out into the alleyway, “You’ve been acting off all week.”

“We don’t have time for this,” she huffs, pushing herself off the wall. She’s probably right, but there’s no point in either of you going back inside when there’s a big chance your minds will dwell on this interaction.

You reach out and wrap your hand around her wrist, “JJ, talk to me.”

“Will you just drop it!” She yells, yanking her arm away.

“What's your problem?!” you’re sure people can hear you from inside, but the heat is rising within you, and JJ’s bringing it out more and more with her pointed glare.

“What the hell is your problem?!” She sneers.

“Really, JJ?”

“Yes.” she crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows expectantly, enough to push you over the tipping point.

“You know what,” you start, stepping forward, “You are! You’re my problem, JJ.”

“Oh.” She drops her arms down, and there’s a flash of hurt flickering over her features that’s not quite settling but not entirely leaving either.

You let out a heavy breath, “That’s not-”

“Forget it.” she steps away, and it’s infuriating because you’re being stripped of the opportunity to explain, and even if you don’t know what you’re going to say, she’s not giving a chance to think.

And now It’s late to stop yourself, the words are coming out without your consent, and there’s nothing left for you to do, “I like you!” you blurt out.

JJ turns on her heels. Her mouth is hanging open, “What?”

“I like you,” you say, this time a little quieter.

It’s a shock that she’s surprised, given that you have been under the impression you’ve been indisputably evident with your affections towards her.

“Honestly, I thought it was obvious.” You channel your inner voice, it’s small and meek, and you’re not pleased with the fragility of your voice, so you lower your gaze to your feet. A small rock takes your interest whilst you wait for the inevitable sound of JJ’s footsteps fading away.

Instead, they grow louder until the small rock is joined by a pair of black boots and a finger presses to your chin, forcing your head up. Then she kisses you.

It’s light, her lips brushing languishingly against yours, willing you to match their slow rhythm. It takes a few seconds, and you’re back in your body. You part your lips, letting the warmth of JJ engulf you. The kiss is slow and passionate. JJ moves her hands to your waist, pulling you closer against her and a sudden hunger grows low in your stomach, promoting you to nibble at her lower lip.

Your hands are on her shoulders, and she’s moving forward where there’s nowhere to go. You’re only aware you’re moving when you feel the cold surface of brick hitting your back.

A groan tumbles from your mouth, and JJ takes the opportunity to plunge her tongue in. It’s all teeth and tongues from there. You’re both panting and taking in gulps of air where you can, yet still refusing to unfurl yourselves from one another.

Eventually, the need for oxygen mounts to an all-time high, and you pull back, resting your head against the wall as JJ peppers kisses along your jawline.

“How did you not see?” you say between soft moans.

“I’m not a profiler,” JJ mumbles into your neck. She lifts her head, and you see her eyes are shimmering with humour.

“You’re also not blind.” you smugly point out.

“Neither are you.” She smirks.

A few seconds are spent simply smiling sweetly and dotingly at one another, eyes darting to and from eyes to lips. Then you’re kissing again, and the alleyway and the world seem to fade away, leaving only you and JJ.

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