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#but if she doesn't start throwing up again there's no reason to bring her in

akookminsupporter · 3 days

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I'm a diff anon, but:

"Okay, but I don't understand why this ended up with BTS being dragged into a mess that has nothing to do with them in the first place? This started with the lady from the coup, right?"

Yes. In short, HYBE ordered an audit on ADOR because they found proof that MHJ and a man planned to make ADOR a separate company, Mhj and the man talked with shareholders to try to get them to back them(ador) up so they can leave hybe. This is how it started and then later on a bunch of other stuff came out.. Reddit has master posts of this, you can find them if you want to read more about it

So after the news came out about the audit, she started responding to it, she claimed hybe copied newjeans to make Illit, she claimed that she was promised to debut hybe's first gg but they debuted le sserafim first instead, she implied that she was in a slave contract. So she namedropped 2 groups first. And then somehow some article reported that she went to a shaman to discuss BTS' enlistment and when they would go and so the shaman could make sure they really go? The last part is a bit confusing because idk how a shaman could make them go but yeah. And that's how BTS got into the picture. She later basically admitted this by rambling about how this shaman is just a friend of hers who just happens to be a shaman.

"Why did BTS end up being the bad guys again?"

Because nothing unites kpop fans more than hating on bts. BTS genuinely didn't do anything, kpop fans just started hating on them for no reason and they kept making tweets about "xy group disbanded because of hybe"

"It makes sense that BigHit decided to hire an external legal team instead of using HYBE's or even their own agency's."

In my understanding, they hired this external legal team or set up this law firm to deal with the hate campaign against Bts. There are a lot of conspiracy theories going around rn, about BTS/hybe being in a cult and K-pop fans being kpop fans and bringing up everything they can about bts' past. So I think this second legal team is just for the BTS issue so that the hybe legal team can fully focus on bringing mhj to court. Again, this is just how I interpreted it.

Hello, anon. Thanks you as well for providing a bit more context on everything that's going on. If you don't mind, I have a few things to comment on regarding what you said, and also, I have a couple of questions that I hope won't offend anyone:

1. Regarding the accusations made by that woman about copying NJ: why did she say that? I don't know much about that group, but a girl group in K-pop isn't something new, right? The concept isn’t that… new, I think? And their sound isn't so... unique? From what little I've heard and some comparisons I've seen. Is the new group exactly the same, or what? Does NJ have something unique that can be easily identifiable if someone copies it? And that’s why she said that?

2. She was promised that she would debut the company's first girl group: okay, they didn't do it, and? From what little or much I've read about what this woman has said, I've concluded that she's a tantrum-throwing and pretentious person who cries when she doesn't get what she wants. You know who she reminds me of? Veruca, the character from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

3. The shaman thing is complete madness and it’s probably the comedic contribution to all of this😭.

4. The obsession of Kpoppies with BTS should be studied. I can bet that not even the biggest stan in the fandom is as obsessed with them as Kpoppies are. If only they put as much effort into supporting their favorites as they do into hating BTS, they would help them rise above the mediocrity that many are in. At least in terms of sales, streaming, charts, etc., with the quality of content they put out, there's not much they can do.

5. Ahhhh, your explanation about the external legal team makes sense, but at the same time, I wonder if BigHit does have its own legal team, and if it doesn't, I wonder why.

#ask #anon #bts #bts fan opinions #Preg 197 #Kpoppies

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gemini-sensei · 6 months

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Thinking about bimbo!Reader who is everyone's stress relief toy again. (Includes girlcock!Tory and girlcock!Sam)

Everyone at the dojo just uses her to blow off steam at one point or another. She's there for that reason alone because she's crap at karate. She doesn't mind though, she's helping her friends after all. So what if Tory is a little rough with her? She loves it! So what if her jaw is sore after Demetri accidentally gags her on his cock? She loves it! So what if her ass is raw after Miguel is done after she's already gone limp and tired? Still she loves it!

Eventually it evolves into everyone having fun with her because Reader knows how to have a good time. Sure, she's still hanging around for that stress relief, but she's also picked up on what everyone likes 😏 so she makes sure everyone is satisfied too. Sam comes to her often because she's "always tense" an excuse Reader catches onto knowing she just wants to get her dick wet. Robby enjoys the gentler side of things and is always in need of attention, fucking and cuddling afterwards always makes him happy. Hawk comes around all the time because he loves hitting it from behind or having sloppy make out sessions with Reader, when he gets to grope and squeeze all her pudgy curves.

But one day she doesn't come to the dojo. And the next day she isn't there either. And the next day she doesn't show up.

By then everyone is worried, so the gang of friends go to check on her. Only to find her apartment is kind of a mess, which is usually isn't. Reader does pretty well at keeping her place clean. She's the only one living there after all.

They find her in her bedroom, curled up with a bucket. She's obviously not feeling well and when they ask her what's up she tells them that she's sick, probably with a stomach bug or something. Thinking that, she doesn't want them around in case she gets them sick. However, Sam and Robby want to help her feel better so they decide to make her some soup. Miguel helps by tidying up her apartment and giving it a nice sweeping. Hawk doesn't care if he gets sick, so he's right there with her helping her get some fresh clothes on and getting her a new bucket to puke in.

However, Demetri and Tory aren't so sure that it's just a stomach bug. So they make up an excuse to go to the store, saying they're gonna go get some over the counter meds for Reader. They are going to the store but not for meds.

They come back with five pregnancy tests, thanks to Demetri and his constant worrying. He wants to make sure that it's 100% accurate.

Reader has no idea why they would bring her pregnancy tests. She's not so sure of they're thinking. She just shrugs it off but everyone is telling her to take them.

So she does.

And one comes back positive. So she takes another one.

And it's positive.

And so is the next one.

And the next one.

And the next one...

She can't deny it and she starts crying. She doesn't understand how this happened, she's been on the pill. In tears, she makes herself throw up again and Sam helps her get cleaned up. They all try to calm her down but it doesn't work.

She doesn't calm down until Hawk has her in a big hug on her bed, sitting against the headboard with her laying back against his chest. He's so affectionate toward her, so is Miguel and Sam, so they're all over her. Meanwhile, Tory, Robby and Demetri are kind of awkwardly standing aside unsure of what to do. The three of them are also the ones freaking out on the inside the most, but they're trying not to let it show in front of Reader.

She starts getting worried because the baby could literally be any of theirs. She has no way of knows. There have been days she's fucked two of them, so it's literally a toss up as to who the baby's other parent could be.

However, none of them care about that. They only vare about Reader and how she's feeling about all of this, so they try to calm her down and stop thinking about frivolous stuff like who's baby it is. That isn't something they can work out right now, so they're not even worried about it. She's their #1 priority now, after all she's done for them - beyond the sex, she's been their friend and confidant, their rock, their biggest supporter. It's time they take care of her.

Sam is cuddled up to Reader, her head resting on her thighs as she holds her. Miguel is on her other side, head beside her belly that isn't showing yet. It's still soft and chubby, perfect to cuddle up to. Hawk is still holding her, one hand on her belly while his head rests on her shoulder. The three of them ensure she knows she's okay and don't let her talk badly about herself for not knowing who the other parent is. Hawk keeps kissing her cheek or neck, enough to tickle and it makes her laugh. Sam and Miguel give words of encouragement. It's way more than friendly that's for sure.

Meanwhile, in the background, Demetri and Troy are being more logical about it. They're kind of already getting into the money and doctors suddenly of things. Demetri is just drawn to researching everything he needs to know for all of this while Tory has pretty much already been a parent to her younger brother, so doctors don't worry her. It's money that worries her. And Robby. Poor Robby. They're also trying to calm his nerves. He's so worried.

None of them know what they're going to do but they're certain they're gonna figure it out. After all, they all love Reader, so why wouldn't they?

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praeluxius · 4 months

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coup de théâtre - IVE Jang Wonyoung (Ft. An Yujin, Naoi Rei, Kim Gaeul)

Part 2 of folie à deux.

IVE Jang Wonyoung x Male reader smut.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 11,849

coup de théâtre - a sudden and surprising event

"You're just not getting it." Wonyoung stresses as her hands settle on Rei's hips. "If we get too close here, it's going to ruin everything."

"So you don't want me right here?" Rei's shoulders slouch and she pouts in confusion.

"Watch. Yujin, you know what you’re doing." Wonyoung signals the other girl over. "Gaeul, ready?"

She gives a confident nod and readies her posture.

"Alright, music, cue.” That is your signal. See, that's the only reason you're here. Wonyoung insisted you help them out during their dance practice. With the speaker at your feet, you slouch against the mirrored back wall. You can see yourself, shorts and tee loosely hung from your body, in the mirror across the room. Between you and it, the four girls are ready to spring to life. They swear they'll make it big, maybe they will, but they're not there yet.

You hit play on your phone. “Five, six, seven, eight,” and three of the girls dance. Wonyoung watches as the girls inevitably get in each other's way. Rei goes to cross between Gaeul and Yujin and the gap is so small that she almost takes a fist to the face. The mistake brings them to a halt.

"See? We need better spacing." Wonyoung demands the point again and stands between the three, explaining how things will have to line up. The four of them flail arms, pointing at their feet, imitating footwork and readjusting as needed.

You'd argue she isn't even the best dancer among them, not that there's much disparity between them. But she's the one who insists they have to be critical or they will never get better. The girls take this school dance club more seriously than anything else in this place. They start from the top again with another countdown and another play from you. It doesn't take long for everyone to get back into the motion. Gaeul turns, Yujin shifts, and Rei steps. This time it all goes buttery smooth.

Hips sway and asses shake. Bodies glimmer with sweat under the studio lights. All their slender figures move with equal parts energy and sensuality. The original choreographer wouldn’t say it, but to say it's seductive wouldn't be wholly incorrect. From the powerful steps to the flowing graceful movements, the whole thing is a pleasure to watch. Every little flourish is alluring and equally mesmerising.

This continues, round and round, over and over and over. Slowly, they iron the kinks. Work out the errors. Find the minor adjustments. All until they're dancing with all the confidence they need to own the stage when the time comes.

The sweat on their bodies soaks in to the tops of their practice outfits. Each movement has their loose strands of hair cling to their faces, necks, shoulders. They're drenched, exhausted, but they keep pushing through the final attempt. The music fades out; they finish. Rei throws herself on the floor. Laying, legs extended and arms resting beside her, she stares at the ceiling for a while with a soft groan.

The other three head toward you (more accurately; their drinks). You lift yourself up onto the bench, taking a seat at the end and handing the bottles to the girls. Wonyoung sits right beside you and leans back against the wall mirror.

“Good job. That looked great."

"Yeah." Wonyoung barely manages that as her heavy, laboured breath requires most of her focus. She grasps her bottle with trembling fingers.

"That was good," Gaeul confirms as she takes a seat next to Wonyoung.

After handing a bottle to Rei, Yujin stands right in front of you. Drink in one hand and the other resting on her hip, at the waistband of her skin-tight leggings. "What about me? Did I look good? I think I nailed it." Yujin breathes as the words escape her lips. Her heavy lashes lower and gaze at you. A bright smile spread across her pink-tinged, sweat-slicked cheeks.

You reply honestly. "Yeah, you did. Perfect."

Rei lets out a couple of forced coughs to mockingly comment between them; get a room.

Wonyoung snickers at Rei's joke. Her breathing steady and her gaze on Yujin. "Looks like she wants to, don't you, Yujin?"

"You think?" Rei chimes in again.

“I think so," Wonyoung chuckles and swipes a strand of her hair behind her ear. "The changing room is free, but I can't promise I won't walk in."

It's like she insists on making it as awkward as possible. But there's no way she can know about you and Yujin. No. That's impossible. This must just be a coincidence—a light-hearted tease.

"So when's next practice?" Gaeul interrupts, saving you both your blushes. "I can't do any weekend practices, I'm going on a trip."

"Oh right, the fiancé," Wonyoung begins, and you brace yourself, because you know the kinds of things she usually says here. "why him? Isn't he kind of… beneath you?"

Wonyoung is every bit as blunt and harsh as usual. There's no ambiguity there—no double-meaning or clever innuendo. It's a comment born out of her own distorted view that everyone is beneath her.

Yujin turns round, glaring with her brows raised and silently mouths the words: 'are you serious?'

"I like him," Gaeul answers simply. You'd never met her fiancé but if there's one thing you'd learned about Gaeul in your limited interactions is that she didn't act on whims. If she said yes, it's because she really likes him.

"It's his huge cock, right?" Wonyoung is as brash as ever and Yujin almost chokes on her sip of water. Rei’s head snaps up, and she's staring from her laying position. You open your mouth to speak, but it’s caught in your throat.

"Maybe," Gaeul cuts through the awkwardness. Everyone pauses. The attention in the room rests on Gaeul, each of them not so subtlely urging her to keep talking. Yujin takes a seat on the ground at your feet, cross-legged, and ready for a story.

Gaeul has one hand scratching at her arm and the other gripping at the bottle in her lap. She hesitates a moment. Maybe she’s busy wondering if she should (or if she dare) say any more. And then she erupts in to a story that pulls no punches. "This one time, me and him got into it pretty heavy and I was deep-throating his—sorry, too graphic?"

There's a collective shake of heads. Even Rei has sat up to listen intently now. Gaeul gives the faintest smile in recognition and she continues.

"So there we were. I'm lying down and deep-throating his cock. I've got him all the way in my throat, and there was still more to go. I just couldn't. As much as I wanted his whole cock in me, it just wouldn't go." Gaeul gives a pout, lamenting her failure. "I tried so hard, I felt like I couldn't do it. Couldn't breathe. I didn't know how, not with that length buried in me. I felt so small, and... I loved it."

Her face is turning a deep shade of vermilion as she relives the memory. Still, her hand squeezes tight around her water bottle and all the others wait for Gaeul to continue. Yujin is leaning forward, hands on her knees, eyes wide and listening closely. Wonyoung looks rather relaxed on her stretch of wall with her head laid against the cool surface. The sweat from her cheeks and brow slowly trickling down. But she's rapt, fixated, awaiting the story.

"The tip hit the back of my throat. I just didn't want it to stop."

As she describes it, her candid description, with no holds barred, the vision her story creates does something to you. Your mind races at the thought that it might have been any woman in Gaeul's position. Yujin. Wonyoung.

Wonyoung.

Her hand is halfway up your thigh, clearly excited at the image Gaeul is painting. You appreciate the gesture, don't misunderstand that, but there's enough sensory overload without having the weight of her fingers pressing into the firm muscle of your thigh. It isn't doing you any favours as the tiny beads of perspiration at Wonyoung's temple burn on her skin and her flush skin glows. There’s no blaming you for the fantasies that form in your mind. Each as naughty as the last.

Yujin.

She's staring out of the corner of her eye, eyes locked with you and a blank expression on her face. And you just wonder, what it would be like to have her mouth wrapped around your cock. It's difficult, staring down the girl you like while the girl you like (and regularly fucking) has a hand on your leg.

And you just want them both. Right here, right now.

Gaeul continues, "and he's just grabbing at me, palm on my face, gripping my head and he's just fucking my face." You can barely hear her over the beating of your own heart in your eardrum—drumming loudly.

"I must've been choking, and he thought that was hot. He couldn’t stop and I didn’t want him to. He had me pinned, pressing his fingertips into my skin."

Speaking of fingertips, Wonyoung's trace your crotch, blindly roaming and teasing.

"Fuck." Wonyoung's only word—just a whisper from her lips.

Gaeul continues, "I was in heaven." Her eyes are sparkling. They’re glazed over and far-away, lost in the vivid memory.

"Wow," Rei stares in awe.

Gaeul shuffles around in her seat. First running her hand over her legs, pressed together at the knees, before moving a hand over her waist and pulling at the clingy material of her black yoga pants, that stretch tight across her hips. "So... Um... Yeah I guess you could say I like his huge cock."

Yujin speaks now and her voice cuts straight to your core. "He must love that you're, like, a total submissive slut in bed."

"Sometimes," Gaeul is almost back in the room, no longer enraptured by the memories of being used.

"You must blow him any chance you get," Rei pushes.

"Of course." Gaeul nods. She seems pleased as punch, her mouth spreading into a wide grin.

The words spill from your lips, "what about in public places?" And well, fuck, you meant for it to sound a lot more coy.

"A time or two..." she pauses, puckering her lips as her brows lift together, her head tilts slightly, and her gaze lifts upwards as she wracks her mind. "Well, a few times, if that’s interesting to you."

"Very.” Fuck. “I mean. I'm just curious." Stop talking, idiot.

"Well, the details are a secret for now," she grins toward Wonyoung and Yujin, who share a smile and a look.

"How come I haven't heard about this?" Rei chimes in. "You've got a new story every other week, but not even a whisper of this?"

"Because this is naughty and embarrassing." Gaeul covers her face. She's clearly a confused mixture of turned-on and shy right now. She might be a bit hesitant to share her wilder adventures, but the others aren't at all apprehensive about listening to the dirty details.

"One more," Wonyoung requests. She sits at the edge of her seat with a hand planted on your crotch and the other resting on her knee.

"Another?" Gaeul inquires. "I think it's someone else's turn now."

"Gaeul is right. Yujin, ever done anything naughty in public?" Wonyoung asks, drawing in and passing on the attention.

"Not in public, but..." Yujin stares at you for a moment too long. Clearly, the whole not telling anyone thing doesn’t apply to the girls in this room. It’s all far too obvious. "But I did have some fun recently." She grins like the cat that caught the canary.

"How recently?" Wonyoung cocks her head and a few loose locks fall over her shoulder. "What kind of fun? Who with?"

"Just... some guy. He was a total sub, did everything I told him to." She drags her teeth across the plump swell of her bottom lip.

Some guy? Sometimes it feels like all you will ever be.

"Did what you told him?" Gaeul sounds intrigued. "What did you ask him to do?"

"Don't know," Yujin answers quickly. Too quickly. "Nothing much. Just something special for me." Her teeth are back against her lower lip, chewing on it before continuing. "Thing is, he’s a cute guy, and he was a real natural.”

"Did you cum?" Rei jumps in again, straight to the point.

"More than once." Yujin's face lit up. “I didn't let him fuck me, though. You should have seen the desperate look on his face.”

“Did you even let him cum? Poor guy.” Gaeul sympathises unnecessarily, and unknowingly, with you.

“I did, made him blow a load right on me.”

“Oh fuck, I love that.” Rei chimes in with an approving nod. “On my body makes me feel so hot.”

“I'm a face girl myself.” Gaeul admits before bursting out into embarrassed laughter.

Wonyoung stays noticeably quiet on this one. Of course, you know why. ‘Too messy’, she always told you.

“Yeah, we know all about that,” laughs Rei at Gaeul.

God only knows how you ended up in this situation. Sitting between four women, all gorgeous in their own way, each getting equally aroused by the topic of conversation. The atmosphere in the room, so humid and hot already, has seemed to intensify tenfold in the moments since Gaeul began her sordid tale. Now, with each question and subsequent answer, it was building steadily, the sexual tension increasing in magnitude with each word. The heat of their sweat-soaked bodies permeates the air with the burn of the midday sun.

"You didn’t even get fucked? You're no fun, Yujin. I need detail." Wonyoung is feeding off the stories and expelling the energy through her touch into your cock. You pull your knees up now, to try to hide what Wonyoung is doing to you. "Rei. Save us. Please give us something juicy."

"I uh, well..." The nerves in her face are clear. Rei is more than happy to press details from others, but now she's in the spotlight. "There was this guy I met online. I don't even know his name. He just went by an emoji."

"An emoji?" the other three girls say in unison.

"Yeah. An orange. Anyway, not important. So, we met up." Her hands run along her bare thighs, feeling the sticky heat of her palms and the cool beads of sweat along her smooth legs. "I kinda asked him to... I mean, it wasn't explicitly—" She begins her excuses as though her asking this anonymous man to come meet her was shameful. Her fumbling words get a giggle out of Yujin.

"Calm down, Rei, no-one is judging." Gaeul gives her friend an easy smile.

"This was just to hook up and no strings. He had a hotel room." Rei rubs at her neck. Blush overcomes her face.

"Love that vibe." Gaeul holds up a lazy thumb of approval. "The no-strings thing."

"So this wasn't a vanilla fucking, I bet. Did things get wild?" Wonyoung asks as she squeezes her grip on your cock in excitement. "Were there handcuffs or leashes involved? What was it, a spanking? Maybe even gotten yourself a strap, Rei?"

"Oh my god," the embarrassment hits Rei even stronger, even more colour blossoming into her skin, "you're unbelievable," she manages. "So, uh. Not that exactly."

"Yeah? Well, do tell," Gaeul smiles politely. "Might pick up some ideas for my fiancé."

"So there were handcuffs," Rei mutters, then shrugs in an almost nonchalant gesture.

"Yes!" Wonyoung whisper-shouts. "Nice. Let me guess, tied up and whipped." Her hand is the most motionless it has been on your clothed cock the entire time. As if it's frozen in anticipation.

"He restrained me. Cuffed me to the bed. Had his way with me," Rei reveals. It's obvious now she was looking anywhere but in your direction. "The guy was packing too. And knew what he was doing. My whole body was shaking, legs like jelly," she continued, eyes glassy, dreamy even, a thin film covering their beauty, staring ahead without focus. Her nails tap idly at her neck, like she is recalling the memory.

"Fuuuck," Wonyoung swears loudly. "That’s good." She can only speak in hushed tones now, the heat having sapped her strength and turned her speech breathy.

Wonyoung rolls her hips back. Just the slightest bit. But enough for you to feel it, a soft brush across the side of your leg. A brief acknowledgement of contact. An assurance, to you, that Wonyoung hadn't forgotten you or the movements of her hands.

"Shut up," Rei blushes at her friend.

"Look, you're squeezing your thighs together now. Just thinking about this mysterious Mr Orange is turning you on. You sure you're not dripping now?"

"Alright Wony, you're making it weird now." Yujin laughs at her, breaking some of the tension. "Sounds like you need to get laid. Still not doing anything with that boyfriend of yours?" The whole question rolls of her tongue while she’s staring at you. You’re caught in some unspoken, twisted game.

"Nope. Never will. You know I don't like him." Wonyoung’s words are ice cold. You never pushed for details on it, but you have picked up on bits and pieces of this before. As best you understand, her family pushed the relationship on her. He's some wealthy heir from another chaebol family. They never loved each other, or even knew each other properly. The relationship was purely political. Strategic.

"I have to go," Gaeul speaks while frantically tapping away on her phone. It's painfully obvious to everyone in the room what’s happening and where she's going. Her fiance is probably already getting the cuffs ready. But she doesn't seem to care to hide it and, to be frank, she cannot be the only person excited about the prospect of sex right now.

"You two girls should probably go too. I'm going to stay and work on my form a little." Wonyoung turns to face you. "And you're going to help me, right?"

"Of course, whatever you need." You respond automatically, feeling almost obligated at this point. Yujin chuckles at you. Probably internally mocking just how easy you really are. Just like how she described you earlier. Total sub.

"Okay, see you." Gaeul stands abruptly. “I need to—”

“We know.” The rest of you say together. She nods her head and then is heading for the door in a rush, collecting her stuff messily under her arm. She drops her hat at the door and stops to pick it up. While bending down, she looks back at the four of you.

“Have fun!” Rei calls out with genuine excitement.

Gaeul nods again and spins, rushing out the door.

Rei moves slower to leave, reluctant, almost. But once Yujin stands and is gathering her things, Rei follows suit.

“Aren't you supposed to be taking us home?” Yujin looks at you. She already knows how this will play out, but she wants to make her point.

“You could always wait outside for him.” Wonyoung responds for you with a cocky smile. There's no way she is letting you go.

“Why do you need him, anyway?” Rei asks.

“Rei, sweetie, look at her hand.” Yujin turns to her but gestures her hand out towards you—towards your lap.

“Oh. OH!” You can see in her face that she has so many questions, but the stare from Wonyoung makes her keep her mouth shut.

“Let's go,” Yujin places a hand on Rei's shoulder.

The two girls are walking away from you, and all you can do is watch their asses leave. Leggings hug one, the other in shorts, both thick. Plump asses, firm thighs, wide hips. The stretchy material of their clothing barely constrains them.

"Alright, now let's get down to business." Wonyoung immediately shifts to sit astride your thigh. It's not that she doesn't know that Rei and Yujin will spend their whole journey home talking about you two. It's just that she doesn't care.

She's straddling you. Her own leg pinning against your hard bulge. Wonyoung rolls herself along you, sending pleasure radiating in ripples throughout your body. Wonyoung smiles mischievously. "We've got half an hour, maybe."

Her hot breath hitting your face. It's hard to be sure how much of it is from her arousal and how much from the intense dancing not ten minutes ago.

"Fuck, that was so hot. The idea of Gaeul getting her pretty mouth fucked." Wonyoung lets out a satisfied sigh as she sinks her hips against your clothed leg. "Did you see her face? I bet she was creaming at just the memory."

Wonyoung's fingers slip under your waistband, then her hand follows them, wrapping around you and pumping. "You liked it." The confirmation is in her hand, but the grin on her face grows, evidently pleased to find your arousal. She licks her lip hungrily and gives a slow pump of her hand. "That's perfect. I really need a cock right now. In my throat."

As she says it, she backs off your lap, stands and steps away. Just a slight separation, but the difference is enormous: the absence of her hot, wet centre creates a vacuum—impossible to ignore.

She's already twisting around on her heels. Then she pulls her tight, tiny shorts down and takes her thong with them, squatting slightly to pass the clothes over her legs, leaving her bare ass in front of your face. She turns back to you, wearing only her skin tight tank top. Her sodden cunt is now right there, bare and as pretty as ever. "Clothes off."

Obedient and efficient, you pull at the bottom of your shirt to lift it over your head. There's no slow tease, just business: you lift your hips and pull off your shorts and underwear together, while kicking off your shoes.

"Get up," is her instruction, the stern bite on her voice only seeming to harden her demeanour. Wonyoung takes your place on the bench, sitting delicately, like an idol would. Cross-legged and her hands atop her knee. Her top still hugging her frame. She raises one hand and angles a single finger towards you, her wrist pointing to the ceiling. She beckons you, parting her plump lips and resting her head against the mirror behind her.

Mouth, Wonyoung signals again and, with that, you're moving towards her.

Wonyoung demands your attention. Everything about her is inviting: the playful half-lidded gaze as her tongue swirls in her mouth and she lets it roll slowly along her lip. Even just the sharp cut of her jaw and long strands that frame it are striking and you'll be the last one to object to giving her what she asks for.

“Wony—”

"Shh." A sharp sound. Her lips purse. Inviting. "come here."

Without a sound, your stiff cock presses toward Wonyoung's silky-smooth face. Though her lips are glistening and begging for you to glide in, they rest unmoving, arrogantly waiting for you to do the work. It is only for a brief moment, but it's infuriatingly unhelpful. The silence breaks though, and she groans in a mix of anticipation and irritation and tilts her face up, angling her hips against the edge of the bench as a soft hiss escaped her lips. "Now."

Your hand tangles into her hair as she wraps her mouth around you—wet, warm and oh-so very inviting. And she wastes no time in pushing forward and dragging your head in deeper, enveloping you, with her tongue sliding on the underside of your length. And she hums gently, the vibrations reaching you and rippling through the depths of your groin. She is eager for your cock, her hands reaching and clawing. A controlling grasp on your hips.

Your hands remain firmly wound into the strands of her hair, gripping as if you are afraid of floating away, all the blood in your system rushing to your centre, dizzying your brain. She began pulling your hips against her, directing the movements and ensuring each pump brought another inch into her mouth. She continues eagerly. Wonyoung's technique was a blend of savouring and indulgence, an incarnation of sheer passion.

Even from beneath you, Wonyoung maintains all power. She guides you without the slightest hint of effort. The flex of her shoulder, the flow of her arm. She pulls you in.

Deeper.

Every pump bringing your hips closer and closer to her face. Every move is for her, from the angle of her head to the arch of her spine and even the hollowing of her cheeks. She owns the power in your body—and she wants it that way too, drawing you ever deeper, encouraging more movement, silently coaxing and promising a glorious reward at the end.

Keep going. Words unspoken but never more clearly conveyed. The flutter of her eyelids and the fire they temporarily conceal. Her throat contracting against the tip of your cock every time she guides you in. The warm comfort of the excess saliva running from her lower lip.

Eyes fixed on her pretty face and innocent gaze through the not-so-innocent act. Everything around you in a haze.

Deeper.

Captivating. Her movements never waiver and her determination is infallible as your mind clouds and you feel that coil in your belly tighten and constrict and burn through. You know this can't last forever. No matter how much you wish it could, but you're lost in the trance and there's nothing that could break you out of it—except maybe Yuj—fuck, not now.

Wonyoung stops, throwing you a look as if she knows. As if she felt the doubt inside you. She parts her lips and draws her head back.

In a move that washes away all those doubts, Wonyoung brings right leg over left and follows through the movement, lifting her legs onto the bench, feet flat and knees in the air. Back flat against the bench. Head suspended from the end of it.

You're on autopilot, following her face down, your soaked cock leading the way. You shift, putting your knees on the hardwood floor.

She puckers her lips, closing her eyes and arching her back. Wonyoung lures you in. Her tongue curls and reels you inside her mouth. Just an inch and then two, then three, then four. Your eyes revel at the sight. The mirror to your side only elevates the experience as you watch your cock disappear in her. Two Wonyoungs laid side by side, taking two cocks.

Wonyoung continues arching as you push on. Further and further and further.

Deeper.

Until... no more.

Until her eyes squeeze shut and the walls of her throat clenches, seizing down on you.

A strangled moan rasps in your throat as you lunge forward, trying desperately, selfishly, to press beyond the possible. You could lose to her right here and now.

Not now, no, not yet, not without fucking that tight little throat first.

Her throat bulging with the girth of your cock, her muscles desperately attempting to repel the foreign invasion.

Air is at a premium for the petite girl strewn out on the end of your cock. And yet, she settles, relaxes. She feels at home with a throat full of cock. Her long, slender legs remain folded together, yet while you were caught up in the intensity of entering her mouth, Wonyoung found the time to bury a hand between her thighs.

She's fucking her own hand. Rotating her hips and squeezing her thighs.

You draw out of her mouth, only for a second, just to give her the gasp of air she so desperately needs before you fuck into her throat again. Her legs clench as you thrust. Every little bit of pleasure that Wonyoung desires, she gets—as always.

There it is again, the vibrations against your tip as she moans.

Your fists full of hair and now, you pound into her pretty little mouth without pause. Creating the lewdest of sights. Wonyoung on the verge of orgasm, her face filled with you.

She's only becoming more of a mess as you fuck it, the saliva pouring from her mouth running over her. You keep going for so long that she’s spluttering. She’s choking now between the brief moments you give her, just like Gaeul was in her story. This is what Wonyoung wants, exactly how she wanted it.

It’s funny that for a girl so intent on you not making a mess of her, this is what she has become. She just has to really want it. Duly noted.

And god, is she fucking loving it. The pleasure washes over her as her body wriggles, and you continue your thrusting. She continues her own. Together, you take her to her peak. And you don't stop. Her hand doesn't stop—pushing past it, forcing herself into a state of bliss.

It's messier still. It's so fucking messy when she cums. Tears streaming. Saliva drooling. Sticky cum enveloping her hand.

And it's good. It's so fucking good when she moans on your cock. It's soft. It's tight. It vibrates, sucks—holds you and stimulates you. Her throat is—if only for a moment—the best sex toy that money can’t buy.

You have to give it to her, she’s playing the role of toy perfectly.

This toy? It plays with you.

She pushes her hand against the base of your cock. No more fucking. No more exploring the depth of her delicate throat. She had just came, after all.

That’s what matters to her.

You—you're on the edge and hanging on for dear life. The knot is twisted so tight that it hurts. And holding you on that edge is Wonyoung, holding you by the cock. An unmoving hand. If you weren't already on your knees, you would fall to them.

"Fuck, that was good." Wonyoung peeks around the cock she holds above her face, a wry smile painting her lips.

You want to reply, but your need to cum is clouding your mind like the most powerful of drugs. Words are just letters floating around your mind. Intoxicated by a woman, as you have been so many times. She's not just any woman.

"What's wrong? Aww, do you want to cum?" She playfully, with no real grip, twists and pulls her hand on your cock. It's not enough.

You let out a huff and nod.

She flashes an evil grin. "How about on my face?"

It's not something she's ever offered before. As much as you thought, so many times, about covering her pretty face in your cum, you never expected her to offer it. Perhaps that alone should serve as a warning. Too good to be true.

But at this point, you don't give a fuck. In her throat, on her face, you just need her to give you a sweet release. You chase it, pushing your hips towards her hands, desperately searching for friction. Blinded by lust, as dumb as a dog.

"First, tell me something." It says a lot about her. How she can be mostly naked, on her back underneath you, freshly fucked throat and all. And somehow she holds all the cards in this situation. "Did you fuck Yujin?"

"No..." It's not strictly a lie. You never put your cock inside her.

"I saw your dirty faces, the way you look at each other. And the way she told that story, about you, with you right there."

"Wonyoung. We didn't fuck. But even if we did, would that be so bad?"

"But she let you cum on her?” Wonyoung laughs aloud and starts playfully stroking your cock again. "You should have fucked her."

The action of her hand is torture, keeping you dangling and off balance. You were so close to the release and now she is holding you over the precipice, with no warning of a fall either way. You're as lost for words as you are for action. But truthfully, is it even a surprise that Wonyoung doesn't care if you do fuck her friend? She is the one cheating on her boyfriend, after all. Your only crime may be not telling her first.

"Now, will you cum on my face already? I know Yujin will never let you do this." And that’s it. The crux of it all. It all makes sense, doesn’t it? The reason this is happening, any of this here in this room, is because she refuses to be outshone. She intends to match act for act with all her friends, except Yujin. Yujin, she wants to beat—and the game is you.

And the irony is, she would never let her boyfriend do any of this.

"Fuck, Wony, you're insane," you grit, nearly delirious. This couldn't get any better. Two identical hot girls, mirrored and now they're getting even more adventurous. And Wonyoung finally ready to give you the satisfaction of blowing a load on her face? You couldn’t care less why it was happening, only that it was.

You fucking into her grip. In some metaphor for the whole relationship, your hips do work while her hand guides, keeping you aimed at her innocent face. She softly closes her eyes, slightly parting her lips. Waiting. She looks so beautiful, relaxed and comfortable, despite knowing what was coming. Despite the saliva still running from her mouth. Despite the post orgasm glow on her face.

"Anytime now." Wonyoung opened one eye, her face still pointing directly upwards. "Don’t make me ask again."

The feeling takes over, starting at the root of your spine, in the base of your gut, and bubbling like a cauldron ready to explode. Her soft hand strokes harder, working you the last few paces as her tongue slips past her pink lips, flicking over them gently.

The sensations erupt. That familiar hot-cold tingle. Those electrifying nerves firing off. You buck wildly, firing off ribbons of cum across Wonyoung's flawless, innocent face. Her lips spread apart in a wide open-mouthed gasp and then shut immediately afterwards.

And, amidst the spurting of cum and the euphoric high, Wonyoung deviously began licking, slurping, sucking. Swiping the fluid off her lips, catching every shot. Her face is the image of debauchery. You're fixated—stretching out the few remaining seconds of orgasm as your cock twitches in her hand and on her face. She's draining you dry with her naughty smirk.

Even when it’s over and done, she maintains that same confident look on her face. Her nose and lips are shiny and dripping with cum. But she never hesitates; her mouth parts and her tongue juts out, curling up to you. Your cock disappears inside, a wet-hot paradise. She's cleaning you. Swirling her tongue and sliding up the length, pulling off the mess. Sucking on the tip to coax the last remnants to pool inside her waiting mouth.

Your body burns. Satisfaction seeping out your limbs and leaving your body weightless, barely holding yourself over her on the wooden bench.

She draws you out. Dripping with her spit. Hanging heavy. Sensitive as her mouth lets go and pulls back, the suction releasing. Then, lips tight, mouth closing, her neck moving as she swallows.

Wonyoung twists and rises, sitting again the bench, in your kneeled position this leaves you eye to eye.

Pain. Stinging.

So much of it on your left cheek.

She just slapped you. She fucking slapped you. You're bigger than her, stronger than her, and yet you feel so small.

"Next time you fool around with another girl, you get my permission first."

Her voice is icy. You shake your head, holding your face. Staring at your reflection in the mirror; you're flush but one cheek is redder than the other. And you can see her too. She’s pulling up part of her top, wiping away most of your cum—the bits that didn’t already fall onto her body or into her hair, anyway. Her face looks like an angel's, but her actions betraying the illusion.

"Now make it up to me." She's looking at you through the reflection. Then, turning and facing you directly, she reaches out to hold you by the jaw, pulling your focus back to her. It’s hard to believe that she’s the one cheating here.

She slaps you again.

You're locked in a cold and silent stare. Tied together by tension.

You're stunned. Left at her mercy. Wonyoung dips her head forward, going in for a kiss, her heart-shaped lips plant directly on your own and before you know it, you're returning the kiss.

It's rough, and it's messy. She bites at you—hard—while her fingers claw your skin, running along your muscles. All until suddenly she pulls you, guides you. Not physically, but that's certainly what it feels like. Such is your response. You take her place on the bench, sitting while she leans over you.

Wonyoung breaks the kiss and leaves you to watch the scene unfold and admire her perfect form, lithe and slender but not without toned definition, which is exactly why she could pull off outfits that would send men insane, simply based on how she looks underneath.

Her hands splay across her flawless flesh. Deliberately. Slowly.

Never a movement out of place and ensuring her head is held high and regal—a queen's demeanour.

Standing over you. Looking down upon you, no less arrogant than before. It’s her natural position. Her default state. To have power over man.

If she didn't look so angelic, you'd swear she's a devil.

Starting at her shoulders, fingertips slipping over the porcelain skin of her arms until they reach the elbows and hop over to her waist, gripping the hem of her tank top. It doesn't sit as tight as it did before—bunched up, a little twisted, and dashed in cum. It doesn't sit in any fashion for much longer as she pulls it overhead in a single motion. The top lands discarded and forgotten. Her hair, damp and ruffled, now cascades over her petite shoulders in thick strands.

She's bare now. Head to toe. Your eyes dart all over, drinking her beauty like a tall glass of water. Taking in all her stunning details—she is a perfect portrait of a perfect woman, a fantasy even.

This image has been burned into your mind many times over. Yet somehow, each and every time feels new. Awestruck, you admire her petite body, the lean and firm muscles, and just enough of a pair of breasts that gravity calls their name.

"Wony. You're so—"

"I know." She cocks an arrogant smirk.

"I think—"

"I know." She stalks slowly closer. Like a predator over its prey.

"I want to—"

"Oh. I know." She's so damn cute when she giggles. It almost feels inappropriate for what's going down. And then the little devil rears within her again, manifesting in her expression. Darker than it was before.

Her fingers trace her flat stomach, rising and falling in time with her breaths. A cadence to them which tells a story of excitement, no less excited than the first time she teased you in your car. Now here, and over a month later, you still haven't gotten your fill. Even this—maybe especially this—could never be enough. The slightest and subtlest hints of arousal are beautiful on her. She's practically purring when she perches on top of you and pins you back against the mirror by the shoulders.

"Who does your big dick belong to?" She poses the question while delicately lowering herself onto you, staring into your eyes. You hesitate to answer, too stricken by the image of Wonyoung finding a comfortable seat on you.

"You." No matter what your relationship might be or who else was involved, in this moment, like so many before it, you are hers and no other. "Fuck me, Wonyoung, please."

"So very needy." The words roll off her tongue as the heat of her cunt skates up toward your middle. So close against your skin, you can feel her pulse throb against your stomach. Her petite ass pressing down onto your stiff cock. Her hands spread wide and palms flat on your chest, steadying her, giving her strength. Her hips roll, coating you with the wetness between her thighs. Back arched, neck strained, head tilting upwards. Every muscle flexes in her exposed form.

She is unadulterated eroticism, every grind of her hips and caress of her hands. An utter marvel.

"Don't. Move." Every word has her breath caught in her throat.

Been through this so many times before that there's an unspoken understanding. Wonyoung scoots her body over you. Hand reaching for your cock. Delicate fingers. Dainty, as she grips it, guiding, angling it against her. Lower, lower until—she finds the entrance and presses it against herself. A sharp intake of air. Her eyes squeezed closed. She holds there for a second until gravity takes control, hips dropping to impale her onto your length.

Your eyes roll back and so does your mind, back to the view of Wonyoung's body moving during the dance. Does she know she's mirroring those mesmerising hip movements on you? Maybe not. But it doesn't change anything. Not to Wonyoung. She does it so naturally—the consummate performer, who knows what works.

You're looking down. Down. Down to where she's perched on your dick. Admiring her tight cunt, working so hard to take you in. Muscles gripping. Walls clenching. Stretching to fit. Working her body downward.

Her ass never rests on you. This is all her work. Perpetual motion. Constant and consistent. Down and then up and then down and back up. Gradual. Calculated and controlled. Fingers raking at your chest as the motion of her body doubles as the dance, sending that intoxicating swaying motion through her and into you.

Eyes travel up. How her toned abs flex. Trim and petite. It all only serves to highlight just how pretty a figure she cuts. Elegant and alluring. Sinking down, squeezing you into her.

Higher. Her perky little tits in front of your face. Smooth, perfect, porcelain.

Higher. Her sharp collarbone, all the little contours, carved for her as though by the most brilliant artisan.

Higher. Neck curved, shifting from her swallow and gasp.

To her blood-red lips. They part and between them her tongue flicks, hitting her front teeth before she bites down on her lower lip. It stifles a soft moan until it's barely a whisper.

And her eyes. Sheer focus. Not on you. But on the mirror behind you.

On her own reflection.

All the time you spend to admire her, she is doing the same thing. Staring herself up and down. It is selfish and greedy. An egotistical desire. An intimate moment—with the person she truly loves most.

It's narcissism taken to a degree you've never seen before. An addictive kind of worship. For both of you.

"Wony..." holding your eyes up to hers, watching her as she's watching herself. She looks like a goddess. "Does it feel good? I love the feeling of my cock inside you," you say in an attempt to gain her focus. "Fuck. You're perfect."

A soft exhale as her eyes lock onto yours for just a moment, then her lashes flutter closed.

She takes a hand from your chest and plants it over your mouth. Her eyes flicker back to life and she's got them on the mirror again.

She's aggressive now. The girl in the mirror is hitting her hips harder than before onto the cock beneath her. Her crotch hitting against your own. You can't help but steer into the skid, being the silent participant she desires. You're pawing your hands at her cunt now. Figuring out then matching her rhythm and pushing your finger against her clit. It's obscene, hearing her wet cunt smacking against your legs.

Her almost silent focus breaks. She's not stifling her moans anymore.

And fuck you for saying this: but watching her watch herself makes the moment fucking magical.

Her eyebrows knitting as the tides of pleasure crash over her. Her lower lip quivering. The wrinkles on her nose. Her chest fluttering. A struggle to maintain her posture.

She's shaking. From her arms to her knees and through to the tips of her fingers.

She throws herself forward against you.

Head on your shoulder. Her forehead against the glass.

Wonyoung's entire body is convulsing on you. A string of incomprehensible cries echoing against the empty walls. You grab at the flesh of her ass with your hands, clamping her tight, encouraging her to keep pushing back into you and ride out the orgasm. She is shaking violently in your embrace. She is grinding, squeezing, tightening, and quaking all at once.

You run a hand up her moist back, along her spine. Meeting many moistened locks of hair, sticking to her skin. You hold your hand at the top of her back, supporting her limp frame against you.

Her mouth is right by your ear. You listen to the final quiet noises of bliss escaping her. Washing out of her. She lets you know just how good it was, if not from those satisfied groans and the shuddering of her body, then from the deluge of her arousal pooling around your cock and her cunt. She is dripping cum. Hot and sticky, in more than one spot. It was messy. Messy, but it was unbridled fun.

"What the fuck was that?" you whisper. She raises her head off your shoulder and leans back, sitting tall on top of you. Still, your cock is inside, throbbing and ready for its turn. Her hands snake to your jaw and hold it tightly.

"Exactly what I needed."

"And the mirror thing?"

"What can I say? I look pretty when I'm fucking." Wonyoung laughs, soft and breathy, an intimate moment shared only by you two. Now it’s not like you should be surprised by any of it. On a scale of one to ten, Wonyoung is an eleven, though you imagine you asked her. She would give herself a twelve.

The hands leave your jaw, only to be replaced with the pressure of Wonyoung pressing forward again to kiss you. More? Finally.

"You wanna cum again?" she asks, words separated by kisses before moving to your neck.

"Mmmm..." is all the answer you can give, distracted by the feeling of her body shifting against yours.

Wonyoung pulls back from your neck to look at you, burrowing her hand into the hair at the back of your head. She squeezes into a fist, forcing a grimace of pain from you, which brings a grin to her lips.

"Is that a yes?" Her voice a blade edge against your ears.

"Fuck. Yes. Of course."

"That's what I thought." The sly girl, hiding the self-assured vixen underneath her exquisite exterior. "Stand. I want you to fuck me against the mirror."

Still planted to the hilt inside her, you begin to stand.

You're unable to pull out of the tight wet warmth that is Jang Wonyoung. Her grip tight on you—coiling around your cock—effectively pinning you in her. Her body melts against you like candle wax. Warm and lax.

She's weightless as you stand, her slender frame clasped around your body. It's easy to manhandle a girl this small—one of your hands, pressed firmly to her back, can encompass her tiny waist. Your other arm hooks under her ass, holding her suspended. And, for the time being, all of her is draped over and around you.

You press her to the cold mirror, and she shudders, arching her back. Her entire body stretches as if trying to get further from it—leaving a smear of sweat on it. Legs lock around your hips. Folded tight. Locking in the key. Caging you between her thighs. You hold her with a single hand now—curling it under her tiny ass. Fingertips gripping, digging into flesh. The other against the mirror—for balance.

You bend your knees, taking position, gaining posture. The slightest movement it causes inside her brings a gasp. She's clinging tighter to you. Her arms coil around your shoulders, her ankles crossed around the small of your back, her core tightening and squeezing her pelvis forward—grinding herself into you. The squeeze on your cock exhilarates. The pressure is immense—inside and outside. You've never had her this tight.

A rumble rasps through your vocal chords as a growl escapes your mouth. It vibrates against the warmth of her neck and into her small frame.

"Come on, give it to me, don’t hold back" her lips barely move as they whisper against you.

"Is that what you want, Wonyoung? You want me to fuck you as hard as I can against the mirror?" Your hips press firmly against hers. Her tight cunt does its best to embrace you.

"Fuck. Yes."

That was all the cue you needed, drawing back and then slamming yourself deep in her—and back again—forming the thrust into a series of unforgiving blows.

She bounces between your pelvis and the cool glass, rattling as her naked form is hit against the mirror. Small, supple and yielding, taking your full force, each movement amplified and exaggerated in her tiny frame. Her cries—from shock, surprise, pleasure, and delight—they echo. The lewd smacks of flesh hitting, the loud moans and the heat. It all collides right here on the wall of the studio.

It's frantic. It's furious. It's fucking euphoric. You're locked inside a beauty who is getting filled to the absolute brim by your cock. It's a power rush—Wonyoung's eternal play on control and dominance being robbed from her and your ability to just keep pounding into her tight, wet cunt.

"Ah!" Wonyoung winces. You pause for a brief second. Did she really mean stop? But a moment later, her lips curl into a grin, "Yes! Harder! Don't hold back. I need you to wreck my fucking pussy!"

And it begins anew—all the noise. The bouncing, slamming and swearing. And despite the fire and the fury, you can sense a strange calm. Like this is exactly where the two of you are supposed to be. This is exactly where the both of you always needed to be. Right here. In the moment. Because Wonyoung doesn't need a man and she didn't need someone who would fall at her feet and treat her like royalty—she has enough of those. No, all she ever needed was a dick who could fuck her within an inch of her life.

A hard slam sends Wonyoung crashing back to the mirror with a shrill yelp and a wide grin. "Yes! Exactly like that!"

Firm fingers twist into your flesh, her hands clawing, desperately grasping at anything she could find to ground her, all while your brutal assault continues unabated, sending waves of ecstasy cascading through both bodies. Her wails rise and break—crescendos interrupted—but never stopped. Both of you are a complete mess as the furious fuck brings out everything each of you are. The deep animalistic desires. And when you hear her scream, it is a different kind of high.

"Don't stop! Don't you dare fucking stop! Don't fucking sto—mm!" she struggles and gasps for breath, struggling to keep track of her words, the raging bonfire between her legs clouding her mind. "F-fuck..."

"Cumming? Cum." The only words you could manage. You could feel it too, the rising tide. A mountain climber, clinging to the peak, each and every muscle engaged in the fight.

"Yes—" her breath is snatched before another animalistic moan. "Don't stop." She pulls at your hair, claws at your back, a fierce warning. "Don't fucking cum yet."

She holds, gripping onto the ridge, the muscles in her arms, in her legs, her hands tense. The world turns, spinning, and spiralling—the two of you holding tight to one another, both grunting with the strain. She is cumming now, you know it. She spasms against you, against the mirror, and she’s becoming ever more difficult to hold.

Your feet are failing you, threating to give way. In a desperate act, you spin from the wall, drop to your knees, taking Wonyoung with you. There's no stopping you now. Feral. Bestial. Both of your bodies crashing together. She's arching, clawing, and pulling and urging you forward. On the hardwood floors, you fuck like animals. Your legs may have given way, but your hips don't surrender. Don't succumb to the exertion. You're fucking her in to the floor. Her tiny ass pressed against it.

The thundering smack of flesh.

Tumultuous breathing and roaring, unbroken moans.

Arching, bending.

Heating and rising.

You're right on the edge.

She never lets you finish inside.

"Wonyoung, I..."

"Don't fucking dare." Her voice sharp. You hold on to the feeling for dear life. "On me."

It's enough. You accept that it’s never in her. Never before on her, but now twice in a day. It’s enough. She can't possibly mean it...

"I'm—Fuck, I'm..."

"On me. Yes. Cum allover me." She releases you from her grasp and you pull back to your knees. She spreads herself for you. Arms out to her side, palms flat on the hardwood floors, legs pulled apart with her knees resting on your hips. Presenting for you.

Your hand wraps around your shaft, throbbing and hot to touch. You beat your cock for a few quick seconds, with balls tight, with Wonyoung laid prone for you, watching you stroke your cock.

Watching her. She arches, presses herself upwards, offering her breasts, her stomach... her face.

You don't have any time to think. It is happening.

You unload on her with a sharp grunt, met with a shocked gasp. Coating her petite form. The white stuff gliding across her porcelain skin, decorating the gorgeous girl beneath you. The lean cut of a dancer, now adorned in your cum. You shoot ropes of it across her perky little tits and narrow stomach and her pretty face. A sticky sheen glazes her and drips down. Her tongue flickers, collecting what she can and her mouth hungrily welcomes each droplet.

What's this, you wonder? Is this to be her addiction?

Every motion of her body screams need, sexual need. She wants it all, greedily licking and lapping it up as you drop the final rivulets of cum onto her tummy.

You're captivated as you watch Wonyoung, laying patiently under a sputtering of cum, a thin layer glossing parts her body. She didn't bother to wipe it or scoop it up, instead; it ran down her, following the channels carved out by her subtle contours. A work of art in your eyes—this pretty face, contorted in twisted lust—at the feeling of hot, sticky fluid painting her perfect body.

In all these moments you two have shared, this truly is a first. A messy, debauched cum covered Wonyoung.

"Does it feel good to cover me with your cum?"

You nod.

"Say it. Out loud, I can see it in your eyes. You like seeing your cum on my pretty little face? On my body?"

"I fucking love it, Wony," you mutter and she laughs, a laugh somewhere between playful and impish.

"I feel filthy," Wonyoung confesses with a devilish smirk. "I bet you love to hear that?"

"Yes. Yes," you breathe the words out as you desperately try to catch your breath. Her leg comes up, sliding her toes along the underside of your sensitive cock. Too sensitive.

"Agh," you flinch. "Fuck."

She pushes the tip of your cock against your stomach, rubbing her toes on it and you start to pull away, the friction causing pain.

"Stay." Her tone is a firm demand, in control of the situation—despite her current state. Your body obeys the instruction. Her toes start to roam across your softening cock again. Slick with her fluids. She twists, rubbing the shaft. Pinches, rubbing the head. Pulls, tugging down. The intensity of stimulation is mind numbing. A sick mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Who's the best?" Wonyoung asks. It takes a few seconds to process, a delay, and longer than normal. Your brain fogged. Too much to even formulate words.

"Who's the best, hm? Answer me." Her demand is no louder but feels heavier. Her foot slides down your cock, pushing at the base, pushing at your balls.

Your words are slow to follow.

"Wonyo—" she presses more, and a shock runs up the base of your spine. "Agh...you. Wonyoung, you." Your words choke up. "You're the best."

"Thought so."

Another moment of silent pause. She puckers her lips, sucking up and swallowing a patch of your cum that found it’s way to her hand. It draws your eyes to her, a silent spectacle. She locks on you, her gaze so steady and so piercing.

"And, who's going to clean this mess up so we don't get caught?"

"Me." The words tumble out, falling off your lips.

"Good. Your bathroom is down the hall. Don't get caught, and don't leave a trace." She recoils her foot and then climbs out of the mess the two of you left on the floor. Her step is awkward. Your load is now starting to harden on her. Her calves slick from her own cum. The gloss of it shining on her skin.

All the time, her face beaming. Satisfied and glowing. Wonyoung is relishing her depraved state. She doesn't wait for you to follow. Not even a look as she collects her clothes. Her shorts with the thong. Her completely ruined tank top. Both shoes. She starts to walk, again with that awkward gait.

After only a couple of steps she looks over her shoulder, back at you, still subdued on the floor. "By the way. That was your best yet. That… was amazing." She smiles softly and heads to the changing room. She disappears. Leaving your mind and your imagination to swirl as you stare at her spot on the floor long after she was gone.

The cum, her sweat, the stickiness—all the marks that prove she was there, the evidence that paints a picture of what went on in this dance studio.

You never see her leave. She must have slipped out between trips to and from the bathroom, and then the janitor's closet, which you eventually found. You thank the stars for Wonyoung's privilege—that meant no staff are needed on the evenings she is here.

What a strange silence it was as you cleaned—nothing but the rain outside. An unsettling contrast between what went on before. Almost tranquil—like that weird place just before waking, before reality has time to assert itself and erase the dream of the night before.

***

"It's dance practice tonight. I take it you'll be there again, following Wonyoung as usual?" Yujin mocks you playfully while playing with her straw between her delicate fingers. Her glass half-full of milkshake which she lazily stirs and drinks. Drinks loudly with a slurp on the straw.

"Don't you want me there?" you reply after swallowing the last bite of your meal and setting down your cutlery. The cafeteria is as lively as ever. Aside from this particular table, where it's only the two of you. It's not the type of table just anyone can take a seat at—Wonyoung wouldn't allow it.

"Doesn't matter. Wony's the one that invited you."

"She just wants me to—"

"Wants you to fuck her. Yeah, we all know." Yujin lets go of her straw, and it settles into the milkshake. You both lean back in the plastic cafeteria seats. She crosses her arms. "And no, it's not that I'm jealous. Don't even try it."

"I didn't say anything." You show her the palms of your hands. Not guilty is your plea.

"At least if I hang around, I can take you guys home, right? No need for your father to send a car." Always the people pleaser, you are.

"And did that happen last week? No, it didn't." Yujin picks up her drink and takes a slurp from the straw while staring at you. It's hard to tell if she's actually annoyed at you. Her words would say so, but her tones remain calm and soft when she speaks.

Besides, she knows that she could just as easily make the same demands Wonyoung does, and you'd be on your knees for her in a second.

But it's been 8 whole days since that night at Yujin's house. And she's yet to even hint that she wants it to happen again. The more you think about it, the more confused you get.

"Not interrupting am I? I can give you some alone time if you like?" Gaeul places her hand on your shoulder, looking down at you and grinning.

"Not funny Gaeul. And no. Sit." Unusually cold from Yujin, she avoids your eye and gives Gaeul a short-tempered response.

Gaeul walks around behind Yujin, giving you a wide-eyed glare as she goes. As if to say 'what did you do?' It's impossible to answer with words. It's all too much, too tangled.

She takes a seat next to Yujin, placing her iced coffee on the table along with her protein bar. It's typical Gaeul. She's always on the move, living life at an aggressive pace, constantly busy. Even now she's on her phone, scrolling through something. You can't see what from this angle, and you've barely got the chance to catch her eyes and smile at her. But her face lights up, the brightness mirrored as you smile back.

"They're announcing the casts tonight for the graduation performances." Yujin nods as her finger points toward Gaeul's phone.

"We already know how it's going to go down. They’re not going to deny the money and status of a Jang. And we’ll be there to back her up." Gaeul pauses and takes a sip of her drink. "For us anyway. That's all that matters."

Gaeul slips the phone back into her bag and then scoops up the protein bar, starting to unwrap it. Before she takes a bite she asks you, "what about you? Why didn't you ever sign up to anything?"

"Because he's too busy sitting in the back of dance classes staring at our asses," Yujin answers for you.

"Actually, I'm still new here, remember? I just haven't got around to it yet."

"Yeah, because you're too busy staring at our asses," Yujin persists with a coy smile.

"Sure. Let's call it that. So I've been too busy staring at your asses to sign up for any classes."

"Alright, not too loud." Gaeul laughs. How did the conversation always end up going the same way? And how are you always in the middle of it? Thankfully, Gaeul decides to bail you out. "So, bro, any plans to go to the party tomorrow night?"

"You mean the one I didn't get an invitation to?" you're quick to ask back.

"You can be my plus one."

"Boyfriend not in town?" Yujin is quick to ask before you can reply to Gaeul.

"Nope. But I can't let that spoil my fun, plus it means I can bring a friend." Her eyes flutter back across to you. "Unless you've already got a plan for tomorrow night?"

"Sure, why not? Not like I've got much else going on. Are you going to be there, Yujin?"

Yujin swallows the last slurp of her milkshake, the loud straw sucking noise filling the void of the pause. "I'll be there. Actually, I need you tomorrow, before the party."

"Before?"

"Yes. You're going to help me pick a dress." It's not exactly the exciting rendezvous that sprung to mind. You weren't even sure exactly why you had to go. Why Yujin would need your opinion?

You open your mouth to speak but before even a syllable comes out, you spot Wonyoung across the room, heading towards the three of you. Yujin catches on and follows your gaze, not long before Gaeul follows suit, twisting in her chair. For a moment, the three of you are watching Wonyoung stride over the tiled floor. Each footstep seems to make the world grow quieter. People all around seem to part for her. It's not even conscious on their part.

It's hypnotising. It's captivating. It's utterly spellbinding the way she moves.

She has a sense of dignity, class, and poise. There's an elegance to her, and just a hint of sway in her hips. At the same time, Wonyoung's every movement also screams of a fierce strength. An undercurrent of steel. Not intimidating—not intentionally at least. Maybe simply the natural impression of a strong young woman, fearlessly unapologetic.

She reaches the three of you, greeting with a grin. "Did I miss much?"

Gaeul is the first to reply. "Just talking about the party."

"Oh exciting. I've seen the guest list. I can't wait." Wonyoung slides gracefully into the seat by your side, carefully placing her designer bag on the table. No need for her to say any more, Wonyoung and high-brow parties go hand-in-hand.

The room around you is slowly, subtly coming back to life. Sounds from everywhere start, one by one, to creep back in. The conversations return. The low hubbub. The clattering of trays. It's getting loud again.

Wonyoung continues, "and I do need to get out of the house. Father is away again and mother drives me insane."

"He's away again?" Yujin asks, shuffling in her seat and then leaning forward. She brings her palm to her chin and her elbow onto the table.

"New York this time. Something like that. Company business." Wonyoung dismisses. You are well aware that they've never been close. He's worked from the earliest day she can remember up until now—that’s the life of the head of a chaebol. She told you before about how he's rarely home. And even when his body is, his mind is still half-way around the globe. His wife probably suffers for it, too. She raises the kids alone.

And look, you were never one to pry, so the details aren't all there, but Wonyoung seemed confident that her father wasn't exactly faithful. The kind of stories you'd normally imagine just being made up by rich housewives who had too much time on their hands—but she told you he had quite the appetite for the kind of services the elite always seemed to appreciate.

"New York?" Yujin thinks for a moment, living in her own head. "I could do New York. Me and you? A girl’s trip. That sounds..."

"But what about the guy?" Gaeul points at you.

Wonyoung puts her hand on your leg, sliding down and rubbing your knee. "You'll stay here and wait for us, won't you?"

"Well, I was thinking that, you know, you could take him with you?" You never saw this coming. Maybe you should, but it caught you off guard. The three of you in the Big Apple for a week? Sign you the fuck up, and then some.

Not that you'd have a chance in hell of affording such a trip. The reality is often harsher than the dream.

"We could, but I don't think it would be fair on Yujin. Unless we..." It takes the others a moment to figure out exactly what Wonyoung is implying.

"No way, don't bring me into this. You already said that it would be weird. We’re too competitive."

They're speaking in tongues now and Gaeul's face full of confusion likely mirrors your own.

"What are you two talking about?" Gaeul questions, for her sake and yours. But before she get's an answer, she's looking out of the corner of her eye. She freezes for a minute and then turns to face the vice principal. She's headed right for your table and the four of you succumb to silence.

There's not many reasons a staff member would visit a group of students while they're eating at lunch. None of you are late with an assignment nor have you failed any tests. Not even a recent school event gone wrong. It must be something worse.

"Am I interrupting?" The Vice Principal stands over your table, looking over the four of you.

You all shake your head in unison, a lock of hair falling over Yujin's face, which she quickly sweeps back behind her ear.

The vice principal points in your direction, pointing right between your eyes. "You. Principal's office. Now."

The eyes of the girls fall on you. All of them shocked by the statement.

It's unheard of to be dragged into the Principal's office on a random Friday for seemingly no reason.

What's your first reaction? A chill in your stomach. Butterflies in flight, soaring. Fingers gripping tight to the fabric of your pants. Heart racing in your chest. Feeling dizzy. Lightheaded.

"Ummm. Can you tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

"You can ask the principal. Move."

***

"Take a seat." The principal gestures with an open hand at the two chairs across the desk from her. She's staring right at you through the reading glasses hanging on her face. Her perfectly pressed suit makes her look powerful—imposing.

And this room? This tiny room, with its uncomfortable hard-backed chairs in front of the big imposing mahogany desk? That's as much of a psychological tactic as it is functional. Because you know this; everyone knows this: the people who sit in these chairs are invariably there to get told off.

This room is designed with a sole purpose; to cause you discomfort and make you feel small. Make you regret your actions. Remind you that this isn't a friend's house, and you don't get to act up here.

"Sit." She insists. The tone of voice is harsh, but you're certain there's an undertow of regret there too. You sit, almost falling into the chair in the most awkward and graceless way. It squeaks under the pressure, but thankfully, no sound comes out of your mouth. Not a peep.

"Effective today. You are expelled from the institution."

What the fuck?

"What the fuck?"

"You will be escorted off the premises immediately. Your bags, belongings and text books will all be packed and returned to you at your registered address."

"You can't do this!" Can they? How is this fair? What went wrong?

"You will not be able to return to campus, as the academic board has taken into consideration the severity and inappropriate nature of the events that occurred on the grounds."

The severity and inappropriate nature...

Her words—they hit hard. Suck the air out of the room, leave your lips dry, and a strange emptiness in your belly. Your fingers grip tight to the armrests of the chair, fighting for a grasp on any emotion—any hope or words to grasp onto.

Nothing.

There is nothing you can say. No reason or explanation you could offer. Nothing.

The walls around the both of you stand, large, impenetrable and collapsing on you.

"The evidence produced to myself was conclusive. You and an unknown partner committed obscene acts last week in the school library. That is grounds for expulsion without appeal."

Unknown partner? Of course.

Now what?

coup de théâtre

Next part

#wonyoung smut #wonyoung x reader #ive smut #ive x reader #male reader smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #Yujin smut #Gaeul smut #Rei smut

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fallingdownhell · 11 months

Note

Genshin men when you bring them home to meet the parents and they find out that your sister is the favored child of the family and she now has her eyes set on them.

Uhhh, I really like that idea.. It has so much angst potential... but am I gonna do it...?

Characters Included: Heizou; Thoma; Alhaitham

Content: gender neutral reader; reader has a sister; slight cursing; some jealousy themes; nothing else besides that

Word count: 2k words

Have fun reading!<3

Heizou

He is so fucking nervous!

He is good at hiding it, but you know him by now, you know how he gets and how he acts when he doesn't want others to know his true feelings, so you know and are aware of it

Heizou knows about your strained relationship with your family. Your parents having favoured your sister over you, no matter the circumstances

you did have contact with your family, but it was on a very low, unregular basis. Not that he minded that, though. It was your life, your decision. He's sure you wouldn't do that without having a good reason for it.

You had agreed on a nice, easy dinner at your parents house where they would get the chance to meet your boyfriend for the first time

upon arriving at the house where you spent your childhood, Heizou got more and more nervous. Somewhere along the way, he grabbed one of your hands, holding it tightly in his own.

you tried reassuring him, giving him a small smile as you held his hand, and it did help him a bit

soon, your mother answered the front door, followed by your father and introductions were made

Heizou held your hand throughout the entire thing, not daring to let go of you, but he seemed to relax more and more as the seconds went by

your parents noticed this as well, looking briefly at your joined hands, but chose not to say anything about it

you sat down on the table and a few minutes later, your sister arrived

she was acting entirely over the top with you, throwing herself at you and acting far too friendly. It made you somewhat uncomfortable, but you didn't say anything, not wanting to ruin the good mood that everyone has

for the first few minutes of dinner, everything seemed fine. Conversations were held, your parents asked Heizou some questions, nothing too bad

but then, your mom made some comment about you again, and it all went downhill from there for you

"You know, you're exactly the type of man we always wanted for our daughter. Are you sure you want to settle with (name)?"

then, your mother proceeded on to tell him every little thing about your sister. How she was working a much better job than you with better hours and more pay. How she was more beautiful than you. How she was just in general the better choice between the two of you

Heizou was dumbfounded by this behaviour and he now understood entirely why you had almost no contact with your family. This has been your entire life? Archons, he wanted to rip them a new one, for your own sake..

your mother was still rambling on, your sister just sitting there, smiling at Heizou, thinking that he was considering his options

everyone, including you, was surprised when he suddenly slammed his hands on the table, making all eyes fall on him

"With all due respect, Ma'am. I would rather die than do something so horrible to (Name). They are a wonderful partner, the best I could ever wish for. So, pardon us, but we are going to take our leave now."

with that, he grabbed your hand and you both walked out of the house, ignoring the calls of your family for you to come back and that they didn't mean it like that

secretly though, you were so glad and relieved. When your mother started saying stuff like that again, you just mentally accepted that this was it, yet again.

But Heizou surprised you and stood up for you against your own family. It made you feel so incredibly loved and cared for

that night, he hugged you closer to him than ever before, now reassuring you that you were his number one, that he loved you only and would do everything in this world, just to see you smile again...

Thoma

He's such a sweet partner, always caring about you and making sure that you're comfortable with him

Thoma likes to be a provider in a relationship. In the sense that he likes to cook for you, help you clean up, doing little things for you around the house. It's his way of saying "I love you"

Thoma will never push you into doing anything you don't want to, or making you open up to him

he's more than happy to take things slowly, earning your trust

and when you finally open up to him about whatever things you want to talk about, he's there for you, listening to everything you have to say without interrupting you

he also knows about the strained relationship with your family. He might not know all the details, but he knows enough to trust you in your decisions regarding the matter

he would never comment on it or make you do anything since it's not his place to judge or intrude on

with that being said, it just so happened that one day, while out shopping for ingredients, he ran into a certain someone

well, more like, a certain someone that ran into him. She profusely apologized for running into him and somehow got him tangled up into conversation

Thoma, being the nice person that he is, tried finding a way out of the conversation without coming across as rude. But, honestly, he just wanted to get home to you as soon as possible

Somehow, the conversation shifted and the topic of partners came up. Thoma said that he was happily taken right now, but she just kept pressing with her questions until your name slipped out his mouth

Thoma could clearly see how her eyes lit up at the mention of your name and he had a feeling that she would just bombard him with thousands more questions

so, he quickly made up an excuse and got out of there, walking home at a fast pace

once he arrived, he told you about the encounter he just had, which made you think. It all sounded strangely familiar to you, even his description of the person rang a bell somewhere in your mind

however, you didn't have much more time to dwell on those thoughts as a knock could be heard from the front door

exchainging glances, you went to answer the door, only to find your sister standing in front of you

eyes wide, you wondered how she found you here, but that question was quickly answered

"Oh, so you ARE his lover! God, now I'm so glad I followed him all the way back here!"

She threw herself in your arms, then quickly abandoned you and went inside your home. You were still so shocked and didn't realize this but when you came back to your senses, you quickly went inside again to the kitchen were you heard her voice from

Thoma was looking at you confused as well, but she just continued talking to him like nothing had happened and they were still out in the city where she ran into him

"...I mean, I'm so glad it was you! You're so handsome, and strong apparently for carrying all those bags back here! Say, why are you with (Name) anyway? Like, they have no redeeming qualities. You should look for more suitable partners, like me! I could give you so much more!"

She smiled at him like her little speech would be all it takes for Thoma to change his mind. The sad part was, you were expecting it to work as well, having dealt with exactly that your entire life, she always got what she wanted

"...Out.", Thoma said. It was the only thing he said, but his tone was so unusal from his normal self. It was cold and demanding, making your sister shiver in her place.

She quickly grabbed her stuff and left your home again, not saying another word

You looked after her for a second, but then in the next you felt two strong arms wrap around you from behind, his face burrying itself in the crock of your neck

for a long time, he remained silent, before he spoke again. "Sorry. I'm so sorry you had to deal with that for so long."

you were perplexed at his words, but quickly hugged him back, silently thanking him for staying by your side

Alhaitham

To most people, Alhaitham comes off as a cold and calculated person without any emotions

most people will be surprised when they find out that he was indeed in a committed relationship

and they were even more surprised when they find out how sweet, loving and expressive you are

most would think that he would want a partner similar to him, closed off and not all that social. But you are the exact opposite to that

Not that Alhaitham was paying any mind to the opinions of others about him and his love life in the first place

To you, Alhaitham was the most ideal partner you could have hoped for

he was caring, attentive towards you, listened to you even if he didn't give that impression

his attention was always on you, you were in his thoughts when not with him. Just completely head over heels for you

However, he would not know about the strained relationship with your parents. He knew you weren't in much contact with them, and that's all he really needed or wanted to know. He never bothered you about it

But then, one day, you asked him if he wanted to meet your parents. You seemed unsure about the proposal, but in the end, he agreed to it nevertheless

the days before the event, you became a nervous mess. Alhaitham had no idea what was going on, but he tried to be there for you and support you

he did ask if you wanted to talk to him about anything, but you declined and he didn't push you anymore after that

then, the evening finally arrived where you were meeting up with your family at a local restaurant

when you arrived, your partents and sister were already there, waiting on the two of you. your mother spotted you first, waving to grab your attention

you then went over to sit with them

Introductions were a bit awkward at first, but after a few minutes, things seemed to settle down a bit as your parents engaged in conversation with you, trying to catch up on things

However, it quickly became clear to Alhaitham that your sister was always trying to upstage you with absolutely anything. You got a good job? Well, she got an even better one. You got paid so and so much? Well, wouldn't you look at that, her numbers were even higher than yours

at first, you tried to ignore it, but as always, your parents quickly began ignoring you again, instead congratulating your sister on how good she was doing for herself. It dampened your mood quite a bit, but you still wanted to give this a chance

that was, until your sister said something very specific. "Yeah. The only thing missing to top it all of would be an amazing boyfriend now. Say, Alhaitham. Why don't you dump my sibling and get with me instead?" She even winked at him after saying this

Immediately, your parents agreed to her proposal, looking expectantly at Alhaitham

said man only took a quick glance at everyone at the table, before throwing some money on the table, grabbing your hand and standing up, heading for the exit

"I listened to you disrespecting my partner for long enough. And you wonder why they hold no contact with you anymore. Really, I'm glad they got out of your grasp."

With that, you both left the restaurant. None of you spoke a word until you got to Alhaitham's house again, where he immediately pulled you into his arms as soon as you were inside

so for a while, you just stood there in his embrace while he silently reassured you that you had nothing to worry about

you were the only one to him and he would spend his entire life proving this to you if necessary..

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capslocked · 6 months

Text

PART & PARCEL

male reader x sana && tzuyu

18k words

“Is it too late?” Sana asks, and here’s how it always starts with her.

Nevermind that it’s not a question in search of an answer. A normal person could, should, text you. Hey, what’s up? or something equally inconspicuous before turning up the dial, are you busy? can I, like, come over?

Instead, she’s at your doorstep again, twirling a bundle of honey-blonde between her fingertips as if she doesn't know what all that does to people. Some people say, incorrectly, that these are the hours of the night shared with ghosts. And to that you say: No, these hours belong to Sana, clearly, and apparently nobody fucking else.

Now in a way, you do get it. It’d be easier to turn back over in your bed and ignore the elegant simplicity of a text message, or one step beyond that, do the unthinkable and finally tell her no, but when she’s standing there - there with that face, like a thousand different excuses or a million little reasons why she needs something from you, right now - and all she has to do is push her lips together, eyebrows going high -

It is a bit like magic, after all, this feeling when she comes around.

Everything that happened before - her visits, the first one and then the next - no matter how impossible, gets washed away, and suddenly all you have is her. Her voice, her hair, and a sneaking suspicion that the time apart really isn’t such a bad thing, because you don't always have a guess as to what comes next.

Of course, you were always going to let her in.

“I saw the lights were on,” she adds, starting to shrug off her coat like she knows you will.

“I mean, I’m here,” you say, non-committal.

“Yeah. I can see that.”

The door's half open and the only substantial hesitation you have is when you peer over her shoulder. There’s another girl, propping herself up against the doorframe, with a pretty head of glossy, sable hair falling gracefully down her shoulders, and she looks at least a few years younger than Sana. You smile cautiously at her before giving Sana another, much longer glance. In response, you receive a wink that's as subtle as a brick through a glass window (which only raises more questions). You ask the one that seems most important.

What else would Sana, of all people, possibly want to bring you if not some plaything or another. You've seen it all: girls who liked her money, girls who liked her body, girls who just flat-out liked girls, whatever. The dynamic always seemed to be, as long as everyone is having a good time, nothing to get hung up about - because at the end of the night, everyone comes around to Sana again.

And she comes around to you.

Why question it.

“This is a little… irregular,” you say with a nod of your chin, as you step back from the door. "Who's the plus one?"

Sana motions the girl in with a sweep of her hand and throws you another disarmingly flirtatious smile - the same one that'd first left you utterly hooked by this strange person, who had, when you first met, walked into your life for five minutes, then fucked your lights out the way she wanted. She goes further with this, of course, teasing a warm smile and slanting an eyebrow.

"I figured I'd bring you a gift," she coos, in this sultry, dusky sing-song of a voice that really needs no followup whatsoever, other than maybe take my clothes off right now, as she makes a show of how she's pushing her shoulders back, like there's an audience to be impressed with the curve of her bust. "Since we were celebrating."

"Uh-huh. What's the occasion?"

"Whatever the hell you'd like," Sana chirps.

With that, she takes you by the collar. And even though the girl she brought is in the middle of, like, peering around curiously in your foyer, Sana leans up on the balls of her feet and kisses you hard. It's a real kiss - no preamble - which is sort of funny, given you would have been more than okay with some. So, naturally, you're caught entirely off-guard. It takes a full ten, fifteen seconds of feeling her hot little mouth pressed insistently up against yours, your mind gone blank with the suddenness of the moment. Your body taking it for granted.

Meanwhile, the other girl blinks - long, dark lashes batting the curve of her cheekbones slowly until Sana has moved to stand in front of her with the full, earnest intention to cup her jaw, tilt her head down a smidge, and kiss her too (very thoroughly, also, in her own way).

Sana lets the girl go with a sharp draw of air and a peck. Then she looks at you, just this side of playful. The way her teeth flash over her bottom lip suggests how she's enjoying, to her bones, this state of affairs: a dalliance with control, with desire, where she can flaunt it.

She tells you to relax, unwind, which you suppose is code for taking another of Sana's friends and bending her over every horizontal surface in your flat and fucking someone the way you've wanted for the last however-long it's been since Sana dropped back into your life. You've done as much. Some rotating cast of characters: Mina, Chaeyoung, Nayeon, the raven haired girl with the perfect tits; some names and faces starting to run together the more Sana pops up at your place with a girl under one arm, usually looking half bored and half shy - or at least putting up some pretense that might justify Sana telling them to strip down while she's already eyeing you with this look like she's wondering which article of clothing you'll be ripping off her first.

"Does she have a name?" you ask, with a nod vaguely in her direction. Of course it's a loaded question. What's her name doesn't matter. You don't know most of their names.

But when you do a double-take, remembering to steal a good look, you're not sure you've ever seen anyone pull off that perfect little white dress quite the way she does - the kind that goes right up the back, tucked under the neck, sleeves coming to a neat point across her fingers. Sana may or may not have a thing for pretty girls in cute dresses, but this is, without question, the most obvious bribe you've ever witnessed in your life.

Sana's still smirking - so much for being considerate, you think for a second, until you’ve got a dainty hand stretched into yours like you’re brushing up with royalty. And well, maybe you’re getting a better look now that she isn’t bathed in the calm, assured wickedness that two A.M. might only ever know - the dark curling like wind around her fingers and down the lines of her spine, cajoling.

She is gorgeous.

And she says -

“Chou Tzuyu,” in this charming little voice that’s even more mesmerizing than you anticipated, this taut thread winding itself up between the two of you. She says her name with a gentle sigh, a light in her eyes that you know, intimately, not to trust, but you get the sense that she'd rather you make an exception for her - or at least for the night. “Everyone calls me Tzuyu.”

You feel a squeeze at your fingers, an anxious reminder from Sana's thumb, as if she feels the reverie in which you've lapsed. It draws you back, just slightly so.

"Tzuyu," you say, taking mental note of the faint smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth when you do. "How much do you know?"

She twists in Sana's direction, and oh, look how eager and innocent and coquettish Tzuyu's making herself in front of her, smiling. What do I say, the gesture is asking. You can see her effort to hold back a giggle or two as she bites her lip, trying, as all the pretty girls who come through these doors often try, to come up with something cute and modest and small that'll allow you and Sana to picture exactly the right thing. You can tell when a person is not used to having an audience.

"I know Sana..." Tzuyu's voice trails as she gives Sana a furtive glance. "She talks about you a lot. And I figured, you know."

"What? That we were good friends?"

"Sure," Tzuyu laughs to herself lightly again. "Whatever makes it easier."

Sana has her fingers threaded beneath Tzuyu’s chin, studying her like she’s an artifact that belongs behind glass. Expensive. One of a kind. And oh-so-excessively fragile.

The way Sana touches her, she may be trying to prove the point, guiding her body's angles and edges towards whatever form she sees fit, with just fingertips and the slightest tug, showing you exactly how malleable the girl can be. The look on Tzuyu's face is hardly discomfited when her dress slides past the dips of her shoulders or the slope of her waist, when the fabric gets crumpled in Sana's hand like the most expensive balled-up tissues in the universe. You can't decide what animal comes to mind: perhaps a deer, some cute, unknowingly doomed elk.

"No underwear," you note, watching.

Sana draws herself a little closer to Tzuyu with an appreciative gaze, lips gently landing at her shoulders, neck.

"Why bother?" Tzuyu muses. "What were we going to use them for?"

A pull here, a tug there, and the dress puddles around Tzuyu's feet, silk shimmering like the inky dark of a starless sky. And just shy of a pedestal and perhaps a fucking moonbeam, she's the spitting image of perfection: porcelain skin stretching out over a masterwork of curves and bone and muscle. A sculpture, a study in the form that so frequently leaves people just absolutely dumbstruck and thirsty in their wake.

Sana trails her hand around the width of her hip - drawing your eye along the skin of her leg, up and around the perfectly curved thigh - stopping to splay her fingers just so at the base of her spine, as if in demonstration of ownership. Like this: mine.

"Don't get it confused," Sana tells you. "The whole naive innocence thing is a total fucking misdirection."

"Tzuyu," you say again, this time noticing the way it feels in your mouth, syllables sweet and sticking to its roof like honey - maybe something more of an excuse to move forward and touch her yourself, palm her face, brush your thumb over her bottom lip. A taste, something subtle but intense, spreads to the back of your throat, the moment her teeth graze gently over its pad. "Is that true?"

"Are you asking me what kind of girl I am?"

"I didn't put it exactly like that."

"Just answer, sweetheart," Sana says, brow quirked in a faux-display of nonchalance, fingers still pressed, spreading gently at her neck. She's enjoying this a little too much. Though, you're enjoying this too. It doesn't have to be an either-or kind of scenario.

"It's better if you say it," she adds after a second of consideration, and even though it's obvious by now she's only prodding and that this is a foregone conclusion, Tzuyu puts an emphatic twitch in her lips - red, wet, a vision in crimson - like the thought is deeply troubling and will likely require lots and lots of thorough explanation later.

"Fine, okay, in that case," Tzuyu starts with a weary sigh, and then with a blink-and-you've-missed-it flash of a smirk, there's no way anyone's buying any of this, "I’ll say: I'm whatever kind of girl you want me to be."

Sana was right, and she didn’t even need to go so far as to say it. It’s clear - you want her.

But it's half as easy to pinpoint where it all starts: there's the way Tzuyu melts, sinking just that much further when you guide your hands around the curve of her ribs, fingers following the flow of her soft edges, the slopes and valleys of her breasts, and she parts her lips even before yours touch the seam of her mouth, her breath warm, heavy, the kind of anticipation that sends jolts down her neck, her spine, the body electric - a real live wire.

Or, it's because of the way she likes it - like, really likes it. There's something exceptional in a girl who will wrap her legs around your waist and suck your tongue and whimper just by a feather's touch around her hips or between her thighs, where it's damp and hot and holy shit, this is unreal in a very tactile, visceral way. There's no mistaking the noise for anything but genuine pleasure when Tzuyu's trying, unsuccessfully, to bite down the whine sneaking up her throat and into your mouth - where you're kissing her, still - the kind that presses heavy at the bottom of your stomach.

Or, there's Sana yet, pulling her clothes off, and instead of leaving a trail in her wake, folds each piece neatly until she's bared down to this fine little number of lace and cream-colored silk that'd make your head spin if you weren't, y'know, pretty busy, mouth occupied by Tzuyu's pliant moans, both of your tongues colliding.

"God," Tzuyu groans out quietly as you pin her to the wall, and again after another string of kisses, sucking your lip.

There are fleeting moments that slip through like sunlight that have you thinking: Right, this was a good idea, nothing other than a sweet girl like this all messed up and squirming with the shallow dig of your nails. But only close to perfect.

Sana will explain it.

"Mm. Not god." Sana is grinning when she leans up for the same kiss, but she takes her time with it: mouth slotted tight against Tzuyu's as her long fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of Tzuyu's neck, working her grip up slowly so that the strain gets more noticeable until the girl is a gasp on a choke of breath. The curve of her back is drawn out by that same hand and her ribs pressed, pert and rosy, into the cool air.

"Sir, and please," Sana then instructs, voice just harsh enough for Tzuyu to understand.

You might imagine she's also drawing in with her nails, teeth, a full-body drag up her exposed front, like some kind of prize, marking and tasting and fucking every inch. There's a whimper, desperate sound of, yes, right, fuck, please, and sir slipping like a sigh off the edge of Tzuyu's tongue.

"Or better yet," Sana adds, with another searing press into the junction of her collarbone, "say daddy, please," then follows through on the plea with another slow-pull.

You try not to roll your eyes. It's Sana's kink, not yours. It's a whole thing. And with Sana, like most things, you find it best when you simply play along.

More than that, you indulge her. You both do.

"Okay, daddy." Tzuyu's teeth catch the corner of her mouth in a self-amused bite. Twisting and twisting the swell of her lip further until it snaps forward. "I want you to tell me something," she says, which, for the way this typically goes, is a little more self-assured and pressing than the usual fare. Even Mina, who was perhaps less than enthusiastic about the - uh - title in question, came around eventually when she had Sana's fingers, your cock, all sunk so deep inside her she forgot what any fucking words were anyway.

So maybe Sana does know what she's doing with this one. Maybe you oughta thank her.

Tzuyu just lifts her chin, says, "this isn't what I expected when I showed up here."

"Obviously, it's not," Sana says.

"What I mean is, this is all good fun, of course," Tzuyu explains. A charming indignance that slips past, like the fingers down her belly. She swallows hard, muscles clenching as your palm runs slow over a hip, squeezing. "Though I guessed when we left Sana's, I would've been bouncing on his cock five minutes ago."

Sana's lithe little frame ends up closer - nearly naked in lace and wholly difficult to miss. She's a half head shorter than the girl in front of you, but with a tilt of her chin and a beckon of her hand, it's a powerful look about the lines of her face: eyes slightly hooded, mouth curved and devastating. It's as if, at every hour of the night, the simplest glance will have the fabric of someone's clothing coming undone, regardless.

Tzuyu is just slowly trading looks between the two of you. So curious. "So what then, do I have to do," her words curl like smoke up her throat, "to get fucked by both of you, hm? In, like, the next five or ten more minutes, preferably."

"He's not going to fuck your brains out simply because you ask." Which by the way, is the first real lie Sana tells tonight.

Tzuyu is unimpressed, or maybe she's a stoic. "Clearly," she deadpans.

Whatever the expression is that is fluttering those gorgeous lashes, eyebrows pulled down, adds a faint mark of distrust across her brow. The prettiest scoffs you've ever heard. "Isn't the point to get me spread out on your sheets so you can use me like a little fucktoy?"

A sigh from Sana: heavy, calculated. She does not reply in any obvious way to that, no flimsy assurances that it would be whatever the hell Tzuyu likes (though you think maybe Sana might want to take this whole fucking opportunity, all this thinly veiled begging for it, for the first taste of what will probably be the main thing that'll hold her over the edge of an orgasm or two).

So, instinctually, Tzuyu pushes it, just enough - she tilts her head, and the motion is followed by a wide sashay of her hips as she gently presses a fingertip to your chest, encouraging a step back to better your balance, like the pull between you has a little more gravity.

"Don't go quiet on me." Another sultry note pulls from her mouth when she guides you another foot - or however many, until the foyer opens up into your living room. The chair, the sofa, a table, you watch her eyes wander like she's mapping the territory. And then finally she drops her hands from your shoulders, reaching instead for Sana, taking her waist in her palms.

Holding her. Kissing her.

There's a delicateness about both of them, clearly, and not only how Tzuyu angles their lips, as if she doesn't fully intend for the two to merge but instead taste the line, test the edges, or something; but Sana doesn't fight this. In fact, when Sana's being drawn gently, but confidently into a deeper, harder press, a very eager give, her eyes slip closed. There's a war, and Sana - though she'd be the last to admit it - is losing.

Tzuyu, at the end of a particularly sharp draw of air, simply turns to you, eyes peeking over the tousle of copper hair atop Sana’s head, and asks: "How does daddy want to play with his toys?"

It clicks in your head immediately: she's a natural, could be an actress, maybe a pro - you have no idea where Sana found her - even if that doesn't exactly match with the diction; daddy, and sir, and the baby-girl pout. There are the things she does to Sana, this slipstream of control passed back and forth and back and forth again - a fevered tugging, the give of one or the other. An entirely different dance. Beautiful, fluid, intense.

Eventually, it lands in your lap. Literally and metaphorically. Tzuyu looks up from where she's kneeling between your legs and with a little pinch of your hips, tells you with that intoxicately sweet, melodic voice of hers, that you seem like the sort who wants someone who just takes initiative.

And she's right.

"May I?" she asks, breathlessly, fingers at the zip.

"Of course,” Sana answers for you, settling into her side like you both belong to her. Like she’s about to enjoy this just as much as you are.

What does the room sound like, the darkness giving away? Everything. The hum of the appliances, the purr of the heat, something in the walls is settling into its final position for the night as the floorboards sigh. Breathing. Listening.

What you don't hear:

Chou Tzuyu moving - whether she shifts onto her knees, or adjusts how her slender fingers fall from the waist of your pants, doesn't matter - no crunch, no shuffle. She doesn't swipe away the hair from her eyes or drag the pad of a thumb over her swollen, bottom lip. All she does is pull, just a bit, and the zipper breaks the silence, comes apart down the way.

Sana clears her throat gently, hoping, possibly, that Tzuyu might be the kind of girl who just loses herself to the moment, caught in the headlights. The way every delicate, doe-eyed girl is supposed to do. Sana likes them a little helpless like that - makes her feel big.

It's too bad really, because Tzuyu doesn’t appear like she's awash with anything in particular. Or at the very least, she's done a fairly convincing imitation of not being the slightest bit off-put, completely disarmed or whatever Sana had been looking to see.

She does look up though. Long, pretty face still managing a bit of devastation from this angle. Those full lips slightly pouted and slick in red: such an inviting color against her pale skin.

"Sana," she coos, eyes wide and brilliant - innocent, yet taunting all at once - and she's deliberate in what she says next, flitting her tongue across her canines to punctuate every sound: "Isn’t daddy going to use me now?"

"Oh." Sana leans in, eyes flicking up at you, Tzuyu's hands, her body, and starts slowly, like she's exacting a punishment, "Tzuyu, baby," her own anticipation beaming off the surface of her thousand-kilowatt grin, "you're going to take that perfect cock," the words dripping off Sana's tongue, heavy, sweet, "you're going to take it, get your pretty little lips all over it sweetie, you're going to show him just how good you can use that filthy fucking hole of a mouth for him. You're going to take him until he cums in your throat, and then you're going to beg him for more. And if you can do that, well. Then we’ll fuck you exactly how you wanted."

Tzuyu blinks - doting and innocent like the angel everyone probably thinks she is.

But then what you've learned about the angels that Sana brings you: they're devils in disguise, well familiar with the sin and lust that resides in these places; sunk into the cushions of the couch, pressed against the cold pane glass of a window, wound tight in the springs of a mattress. You had long thought - and think, you do, particularly when doing the unthinkable - it's easier that way, to leave aside thoughts of right and wrong and ask: Just how far can an angel fall?

"Ah. Perfect," Tzuyu says, sounding like an answer, and her eyes widen as she peels past that band of elastic.

Your cock springs forward and bumps into the pad of her finger, which traces the length of it like it's hers to own, to pleasure.

"God," she hums with satisfaction, and even without looking up, or even before you say a damn word, she draws her tongue up along the underside in one swift, wet lick. "Sana you weren’t exaggerating: daddy's cock is fucking gorgeous."

There is that tiny whine, or more precisely a tiny, oh fuck when Tzuyu curls her hand around your shaft. Sana gives her a push. "Say it, Tzuyu," she all but growls at her.

"Daddy," she says, always pausing on the word. Testing it further. "Please."

"Please," Sana mimics in faux-sweetness, repeating it again once you start to nod.

Not that it changes much - the stare that Tzuyu fixes you is charmingly determined, like a challenge. Then, she inhales.

Deep.

That slide into her mouth is smoother than anything, hot and slippery and oh, right - you remember faintly with a shudder: those pretty teeth hidden away behind a perfectly lascivious mouth, so much that a couple sharp, expert brushes are enough to send lightning dancing along your spine. Sana moves her hands across your hips, to the buttons on your night shirt, working her way up until the fabric has fallen to the side and she can open your chest up to the air, let Tzuyu swallow the rest.

This, Tzuyu likes. "Ah," she gasps around you, or she tries to, your cock propped up on her soft little tongue.

She likes the way that feels. The way you fit in her hands, her mouth. And it shows. Her posture curls deliciously, under the satisfaction of her lips wrapping finally having something to wrap around tight, tight, tighter - under Sana's roaming touches, the skirting of her nails down Tzuyu's chest, reaching with slow deliberation across her stomach until there's a whisper of skin across sensitive flesh.

“She’s so fucking wet,” Sana tells you, smiling at Tzuyu from above and fitting a fingernail between her teeth. "Good fucking girl, aren't you Tzuyu?"

The moan that leaks out around the weight of your cock is pure. Pure lust, pure pleasure. Pure perfection. Her tongue flattens beneath you and finds you surging even deeper, a firmer slide of Tzuyu's wet lips that brings you right into the roof of her mouth - as she twists her face around you, a soft scrape against the inside of her cheek.

You sigh.

And Sana sighs back.

"Of course. Always such a hidden talent," she notes, as Tzuyu's perfect mouth moves and plucks and teases your nerves, twirling her tongue around your tip. Again as she swallows you down, slow, savoring.

“Tell me,” you say, because the heat of Tzuyu’s mouth is starting to remind you of a daydream, “how exactly do you know each other?”

"Work," Sana answers, flatly.

"Like-"

"Yup."

"She sings?"

"She does - rather, she will." Sana glances sidelong with a bit of a grin. "You have no idea what that tongue can do to people when it's got some good backing tracks, when it knows a goddamn fucking thing about rhythm. Speaking of," Sana looks down at where Tzuyu has her silky brown head of hair bobbing between your legs.

And then it's clear what she means, Tzuyu humming and rolling your shaft through the flat of her tongue. It's all slick, soaking heat and the tension building and building in your balls, aching, just absolutely desperate for more friction, to be taken and used and stuffed in her throat - or just more of this.

"Here," Sana's fingers are hooked in your pants, helping them off your legs, your ankles, pulling you further to the edge of the sofa. Let me, she's telling Tzuyu, this slight murmur of want she just can't wait on.

"Wait, I'm -" Tzuyu attempts, pulling her lips off the curve of your cock, to where pre-cum is weeping out of its tip, and she kisses it so very tenderly, going back for round two. Round three. She floats her fingers up over her eyebrows, into her fringe, all to tuck some dark, wispy hair gently behind her ear when she starts to hollow her cheeks and again suck your cock in earnest.

Until -

"Tzuyu," Sana reprimands her, "don't play, daddy's got his work cut out for him tonight. So be a good girl, and let me show you what he likes."

It takes a second, maybe three. It might take longer if Sana didn't have her fingernails digging into her thighs, sliding further to grab hold of Tzuyu by the hair and pull her lips off your shaft. There's a thin trail of spit coming off her mouth and stringing across you. Sana closes her fist in the back of Tzuyu’s hair and doesn't so much as blink while studying the look on her face: lips glistening, just absolutely needy, like she can't help the whimper in her throat.

"Hm?" Sana cocks her head to the side.

"But... sir."

"You are his toy," Sana explains, flashing her eyebrows because apparently it needs to be said, "not the other way around."

And it may be the first time you've seen it happen since Sana walked in with Tzuyu and declared her intentions: the fluster, the pink spread across Tzuyu's features like some scarlet-lettered stain. Defenses dropped like a draw-bridge. She's not quite every bit as cool and composed as she wants the two of you to think she is. (They never are.)

But the fact that Tzuyu's coy little smile returns into her lips - how she's wiping the spit off her mouth with the sharp edge of her hand and pointing your cock in Sana's direction with a delicate, arched brow, how she then moves on, untangling herself from Sana's grasp, eyes heavy, but on her - is a marvel in and of itself.

It’s an amusing surprise, a welcome one, for the simple reason that Tzuyu keeps showing both of you that she can have anything she wants exactly like this: wrapped around a slender fingertip, flushed and helpless, and without breaking a sweat.

"Have you considered daddy wants both our mouths on his cock and maybe a few less words?" Tzuyu scoffs. And even though Sana does scoff right back in retort, that's exactly how it plays out.

(And you may, upon occasion, reflect: you're a real lucky bastard.)

Sana always puts on this act. One that you’ve learned to see right through.

Like she isn't too eager to follow the momentum, that she hadn't just been just as impatient to touch you - to be on her knees with Tzuyu, all aside this beautiful girl who gives you a pretty smile when her tongue finds the base of your cock. Who likes being bossed around but can just as easily turn her face towards yours - in what seems almost like a taunt - as if saying: You know what else I like? to be challenged, and sometimes when the mood’s right, pushed and punished.

But Sana doesn't let you see what kind of resolve she has until she's gone another minute, licking, lapping her tongue around your cock - this is her idea, after all. The little white dress in a heap, the adoration and worship that comes with fucking girls she knows are the prettiest things to see ruined.

Listen - even if Sana’s veneer is as blatantly obvious as it is shatterably thin, she’s no less dangerous.

When she first pushes the very head of your cock inside her mouth, and just that - because why rush it, she's so fucking perfect with those pretty lips - the rest of your brain is shouting something to the tune of fuck me sideways because she knows you better than anyone, knows what really gets your blood burning.

A few slow brushes, one kiss, this lick that goes bottom to top and over and around. It’s like she's testing the surface, dragging her lips across your aching cock as she settles on a rhythm, a tempo that starts to mirror the movements of Tzuyu's hand.

Tzuyu lets you see: this slow twist, this slide of skin up and down the length of your shaft, her soft fingers rubbing tight circles up and down the path of her palm until it meets Sana’s mouth. And like it’s the most simple thing in the world, she dips down, finds a place at the base of your cock, where Sana’s lips can’t quite reach, and drops a hot, messy kiss right across the spot.

Fuck.

She kisses you everywhere.

"Sana," you start to say, and she looks up through the strands of blonde fallen slightly in front of her face. Her lips sink further down the length of your cock - until she hears your breath catch in the bottom of your throat. Until she’s pulling you up and out, again, just barely past her teeth.

Fuck.

"Mm." She hums it right into your skin, and her eyes are hooded, dipping right down with another pull of spit, and then another, before her lips are at the tip once more, flicking across the slit with her tongue - wet and rough.

"Sana," you try again, biting into your lip as you reach a hand into the gold locks of hair framing her deceptive, pretty little face, and tug, a warning, a reminder. You need. It's too early for you to be repeating yourself, and Sana knows that.

A pop, the release of her mouth slipping off the top of your cock, and Tzuyu moves - wrapping her lips tight and silken around the sides, the rest. It all happens in an instant. You're being taken with the sudden, harsh suction of one mouth, the other, fluid and slipping back and forth again and again.

Sana's nodding along, impressed, as she watches Tzuyu take you - completely, nose to your hip - and has a glint of pure hunger shining through her eyes when you hiss, when she kisses along the lines of Tzuyu's stretched lips. There's another flick of a tongue, and you can feel Tzuyu moan something muffled and choked, a frantic pulse at the base of your spine - pressure gathering like a fucking flood.

"Just how you like it, hmm?" Sana says, her breath warm on your balls as she seals her own mouth right over the base of your shaft. And you swear there's something about this: the drag and suck of both their lips as your hips stutter forward, the feeling of them pressed together in a perfect line, heads tilted and mouths fucking dripping with saliva and sin - your hands, resting on the backs of their heads as they're returning you these greedy little moans that vibrate off the top of your cock and nearly kill you in the process.

“Tell me,” Sana adds, dragging a hot, hazy kiss over the sensitive skin up your shaft. "How's daddy feeling? Hmm? Feels nice and perfect, doesn't it. Feels like you could just let go and release, a hot, sticky load of cum, right down her fucking throat. I know she’ll swallow every drop."

"Fucking hell, Sana-"

Sana doesn't exactly answer to your begging, only hikes Tzuyu a fraction higher over your body to gain better control of the rhythm, and a better view: the hollowed out cheeks, her watery, half-shut eyes, tears welling in her lashes - because the prettiest girls always come apart in the most perfect ways.

You grip into all that silky brown hair, thumb running gently up and over the soft skin behind her ear as she finds an exacting little movement with her lips that will have your spine twitching uncontrollably as you fuck deeper down the perfect arch of her throat, Sana keeping rhythm, guiding you all the way in - a searing heat, and then a new rush of saliva dripping off Tzuyu's chin and back down into the tangle of tongues, fingers, throats, mouths.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The pair of them. The things they're doing.

"Or maybe," Sana muses, tilting her head on an angle that suggests she's weighing her options, and then, massaging a quick, firm twist into the very base of your cock she finally lets spill: "You could make a mess of that perfect face," Tzuyu's faint whimper hardly slips out unnoticed, "I'd hold her hair for you while you cum all over her - how about that baby, should we make a big mess of your pretty face?"

The whimper grows louder - Tzuyu moans long and low, right up against the tightening tension gathering between your hips, right as your balls pull, that familiar coil about to break - and, god, if there's some part of you committed to holding the moment, waiting and wanting to stay in the vision of these two perfect mouths pressed together, it's a fleeting and useless notion - but, as usual, Sana already knows.

The way they're blowing you in perfect tandem, their mouths locked together, kissing around your shaft as they continue to pleasure you, filthy and open - a little more, the thought percolates, a little longer, to let the pressure swell.

"Sir," Tzuyu says, swallowing her next breath, and that's the first you've heard her sound like that: whining, pleading.

She slaps your cock against her lips, her tongue - it's all so wet with spit and precum and slick that her chin is coated, her fingers. A demonstration of what you should have already known: Sana's girls aren't just straight down the line. They want the messy, roughness that comes with the sin; the split in the seam, the wail, the raw, uncut want.

You watch Tzuyu’s lips curl, this quiet smile pressed against your cock, and after a slow draw of air, they fall open again. Asking, "aren't you going to fuck your toy's slutty little mouth?"

The silence of the night swallows up the sounds of Sana's low chuckle and the responding squelch of her fingers tearing free, her hand trailing after. Here’s three bodies in the otherwise ordinary emptiness of your living room, on the edges of the leather sofa, so completely drenched in anticipation and hunger.

There’s a flash across Sana's rounded cheeks, hot, like she's just this small space shy of smirking, or giving into something, you don't know. Tzuyu, however, you've got a fairly clear view of - how her eyes glaze, pupils going wide and dark, staring up at you as she places the shape of your cock so acutely up the length of her perfect features: chin supporting its base, the cute, button-like tip of her nose teasing the soft underbelly of skin pulled taut - a fucked up preamble to whatever the hell it is going to feel like, once she's ready for more.

"Say please, sweetie," Sana says, fluttering her fingers over Tzuyu's neck. And then to you, as an aside: "If there isn't a better way to break in a toy."

When Tzuyu doesn't immediately reply, Sana leans over her, with a fingertip under her chin, guiding her hot, wet lips to the edge of your cock.

"Ask daddy to fuck his filthy little whore."

"Ah," Tzuyu lets out an awkward exhale. "Daddy?" she pauses to swallow, licking her lips, then, with just the slightest inflection, this tight line, right at the border, somehow managing to hit both notes of I'm going to make you beg for it and is it okay for me to be begging you for more: "Please, daddy. Fuck my face."

But then the way she fucking looks - petulant, needy, like if you don't shove your cock down her throat in seconds it could kill her - that's the realest thing you've seen from her since she shuffled through your front door wearing a dress that belongs in someone's heaving, pent up fantasy and left it in a careless pile in the middle of your foyer, tits bouncing on her way into the living room. And somehow, that's a lot to take in: to think this whole debacle has led up to her, this girl you're probably never gonna see again, pressing the pucker of her perfect, pretty lips to the underside of your cock, and -

"Open," Sana cuts in, "your fucking mouth."

Tzuyu gulps thickly and stretches her jaw, blinking expectantly as her pink, slender tongue sticks out the faintest, most insinuating inch.

You lift your hips with one good thrust, the plushness of her mouth becoming soft and velvet as she opens wider, and wider still, and you're balls deep, hilt hitting her lips as she opens her eyes, taking you down her throat, slick and slow.

"Good girl," Sana grins, watching Tzuyu swallow around you.

You may be buried into her throat but the sound of Sana's encouragement has Tzuyu keening, this wrench in her brow like she wants to focus so fucking badly. Only made worse when Sana bundles a handful of Tzuyu's long, glossy hair into a fist and gets her voice into the shell of her ear.

"I know you love it, Tzuyu, how he's fucking taking you, huh? That's it. Show daddy how good of a toy you can be."

And oh, the reaction - the very clear one, no less. Tzuyu grips onto the cushion of the couch, a full set of fingers curling around Sana's forearm, any part of you - the one closest and she's digging her sharp nails into your skin and whimpering for Sana to keep talking like her life depends on it.

"Let me see if you can be as good as you think you are," Sana murmurs, and you shift forward again, bucking your hips just barely but getting there, and then there's more, fuck - getting closer to a good steady pace. Slow, forceful. Hitting the very back of her throat, the bottom of her lips.

Tzuyu can only respond by taking you impossibly deep.

"Remember what you told me?" Sana's biting her lip, finding as much satisfaction out of the mere display.

"Mnnph," Tzuyu chokes out before slipping off your cock, only long enough to gasp for another breath, "I said, I said - all the things I would let him do to me." Her voice sounds so wrecked. Broken. Desperate. Filthy, the kind that needs to be fucked. "Please, please," she says again.

"Tzuyu." Sana's fist tightens in Tzuyu's hair, and down Tzuyu goes. "You sounded so sure, baby - when you said you'd making him fucking cum so easy, how you'd make him bust over and over with this mouth, so -"

You're getting too close. It's really not your fault, it's the two of them. Every wince on your face a result of Tzuyu's swollen, shiny lips wrapped tightly around your cock, cheeks flush and hollow with every move of her mouth. She keeps doing this little flick of her tongue as her lips slide around you - even while Sana lifts her jaw up, down, up down, fucking her mouth onto your aching cock with a sort of callous disregard for how it's fucking her up - how it's fucking you up.

"-the prettiest girls make the best fucking cumrags, you know. Really - makes your toes curl," Sana finishes, giving one particularly pointed tilt of her head at the sight of how bad your knees are shaking.

And then, out the corner of her mouth, teeth locked over her lip, because you're so caught up in how good it feels fucking your length through the vice of Tzuyu's mouth, sliding across her wet tongue - "she's not lying baby, is she? Fuck, I bet she feels so fucking good on you doesn't she" - her voice hoarse and desperate, a hint of something caught at the back of her throat like she can almost taste what it's like. What it must feel like.

Sana pushes, and even she can probably feel you pulsing at the way Tzuyu chokes when the tip meets the drain of her throat.

It gets... it ends up too much, too fast. Borderline abusive - and not just the speed, or the sheer roughness - Nayeon was here on her knees, like this, in the middle of the night not too long ago, and deepthroating you is far from the unusual or accomplished, at this point. But, fuck if that isn't something you build up to.

The slight curve of Tzuyu's arms, rising as they tremble with the effort, the little tears that slip down her cheeks, and those lovely sounds she makes. It's not at all intentional - and you're so stupidly certain Sana didn't think you'd be this riled so quickly, like there's not an ounce of willpower in the world that could save you at this point.

And while that's not too surprising on its own - Sana knows you well, this is what she agreed to - Tzuyu must have understood (it was part of the plan, in fact) what she was walking into, what she was signing up for. But fuck it: she was still pretty new, an amateur. And an amateur just wouldn't be capable of doing the things she does, and looking the way she looks, not to the same extent as this.

"Can you cum from nothing but the feeling of daddy's dick hitting your throat? I'll have him sit back and relax while we work," Sana tells her.

It'd make two of you.

"Would you like that?" she's asking you, tilting her head when you've gathered yourself long enough. "No touching, just take my orders while we pleasure you. How does that sound, daddy?"

"Sana, easy," you practically growl, biting down on the inside of your cheek because the twitch in Tzuyu's pulse has you coming far too undone, her chest hitching and lungs heaving and face wet with spit and tears and cum as it's spilling down her chin. You're seconds from telling Sana to dial it back when a low, guttural sound, sputtering, leaves Tzuyu's throat.

The grip in Tzuyu's hair goes loose enough that she pulls herself up, swallowing up as much air as she can.

And fuck, look at the damage: that swollen mess of her red, glistening mouth; the dark runs of mascara and drying tracks that make a ruin of her face, her neck; a heart-stopping shine of white drool. She blinks the tears off her lashes in a moment.

Sana’s eyeing her over the same way a surgeon might approach a task with a scalpel and a careful hand, or perhaps a fisherman surveying the quality of a catch - before tossing it to the back of a truck to be hauled back home. Like the kind of sight she gets just a little too much satisfaction at. And it's the eyebrow she shoots up into her mess of toffee-blonde hair that asks, quietly, too much?

Fuck. Maybe.

But Tzuyu's eyes shift toward Sana's, and without even an ounce of hesitation - without anything more than a heavy exhale - she opens her mouth again so you can see her tongue run across her top teeth, incensed in her lust. More, fuck me, have me, use me she's saying, telling with you the slight indignance in her eyes that Sana finds perfectly irresistible.

Then, as if unbothered by how far your cock had been slotted in her throat, she swallows. Says, "is that all, sir?"

And the sound that follows it, that shuddering sigh - breaking, cracking, shattering into the calm quiet of your apartment - Tzuyu takes you like it's more than enough. She's swallowing it all back down again.

“Fuck, Tzuyu, you’re-” you try, only to have her moan loud, so loud, when she drags her tongue down your cock and swallows around the whole thing in a way that has you gasping. Your hands end up wound tightly in her hair, weaving through the smooth waves, knuckles straining when it really sinks in. Just how deep down her throat you go, so perfectly deep, the stretch of her lips holding on the side of a grimace because she needs it that way. She can't have it any other.

"Go on," Sana murmurs into the side of your face, drawing closer so she's got her nails curled down into your thighs, leaning in to place a wet, hot kiss into your cheek. "C'mon baby, she'd told me she'd let you do anything - said she'd swallow everything, like the fucking cockslut she is."

Sana's chin digs against the bone in your shoulder, eyes unwavering on where you disappear over and over inside Tzuyu's throat. And it's not just that - Tzuyu's hair clenched tight in Sana’s one hand, the other curled hard into a fist around the base of your cock, her harsh breaths washing over the bare skin of your neck. It's fucking indecent, how needy she's gotten. How needy she always gets. You can feel her greedy little lips finding your ear and biting just shy of savage enough to break skin, and licking - flicking across the vein beating down in your throat, and then -

"That's right," Sana says with a low growl when you look at her. "Cum."

An impoverished sound rips right through your chest. Spreads through you like wildfire.

And just like that, you're spilling inside her, thrusts growing unsteady and lost in the wet, searing heat of Tzuyu's perfect, wet lips, slapping and sliding into her throat, spilling on her tongue with every surge of pleasure drumming in your blood.

Tzuyu sinks down further. So deep that the brush of the back of her throat feels like a hand on the hilt of a knife, tearing into the ends of your nerves, where they’ve come alight and been set ablaze.

Sana picks up again whispering into the cuff of your ear. It makes your head feel like it might explode. And you're almost entirely certain that's what will actually happen, when the combined pressure between your ears and that of your cock becoming so desperately spent builds and builds and doesn't stop, as though waiting.

Biding time for some perfect snap.

Only, a tickle at the back of Tzuyu's throat has her choking out. The same uncontrolled way your hips start to falter - shaky, jerky motions instead of any precision or rhythm - and you're tilting and winding your head in circles, jaw tensed, squeezing her scalp and oh, oh fuck. Tzuyu's mouth slides itself all the way off you in one hurried gasp, then two and three, just barely giving her a chance to steady herself, all while you're still leaking thick, white cum all over the slick swell of her bottom lip, up over the ridges of her elegant features, the curves of her cheeks, the high arches of her brows.

Look - you're cumming all over Tzuyu's face. You’re cumming all over her pretty face and she just takes it.

She's, fuck - she's so, so good. And not just because her mouth is fucking perfection, or her eyes are all at once bleary but wide open, watching you twitch, her own cheeks flushing as she stares up at you - trying desperately to breathe, taking a quick lick off the end of your cock, flitting her tongue between her knuckles, because apparently another taste can't hurt.

"Ugh," Sana hushes, right into your neck, "would you just fucking look, see that - god, Tzuyu, how does it feel, does he taste as good as you hoped he would?"

There's a subtle, unmistakable bob in Tzuyu's throat as she's swallowing everything down, the evidence, and a small flash of her tongue. "Good, mmn-" and you can see how she struggles in her restraint to simply say so, to let her hand drift to the 'V' between her thighs and sate that ache.

But even if her body seems ready for more, Sana's finger finds its way underneath Tzuyu's chin to prompt, with one, simple command, "let's get you cleaned up before we give you what you came for. Go on, get our little girl up to the shower, won't you daddy?"

It's a minor miracle the three of you make it upstairs and down the hall without so much as a trip or stumble, the girls with their fingers woven together and hips swaying as you all stagger up. It's a minor miracle you don't pin either of them against drywall or up against a doorway or do any of the number of filthy things on the mind of a man just fucked, still coming down, with two gorgeous, perfect faces - two perfectly sculpted asses - all in arms' reach.

The bath mat is still bunched at the back of your bathroom door. Still damp from the last shower - Sana's last morning here - which you have to pry apart just a little so the two of them can file in.

And well - it does happen. Eventually.

At the sink.

Just inside the en suite of your bedroom.

With Sana, being the way she is.

While the faucet in the shower starts up a shallow stream of water - tap running warm, steaming the length of the mirror and condensing the glass that Sana will soon have Tzuyu's face up against if she has any say in the matter.

"Tzu," Sana says, carding a hand through her hair and bringing a damp washcloth up to the bend of her jaw. There's a slow trace of fingertips across the lines of her neck. "Keep your eyes right on his while I clean you up, ok?"

And then there's the mirror in the center. The three of you arranged - a sort of hierarchy - with Sana stepping forward and adjusting her stance in order to survey, and clean the mess she's made. (What you've made.)

In profile, you can't exactly make out a distinct detail about Tzuyu's face in the reflective surface, only the silvery blur that is the curve of her neck, and the silhouette of the small frame that her long, slim legs form against the cabinet. But the idea's always the same - she's being used like a perfect canvas. Like an empty, ready-to-use doll that you can twist and turn in the ways you want until all your control breaks and you're just fucking into her, or having her lick and suck all over Sana's gorgeous fucking tits while she's bouncing in your lap.

Whichever happens to come first.

"You missed a spot," Tzuyu tells Sana, as though she hadn't missed several - her head tilts in your direction, eyes wide still, endless in depth. Her mouth gives away what's already burning its way through her blood. "Maybe another pair of hands will help?"

"Mine are a little rough around the edges," you explain, coming in close. The bathroom is this tight, congested space, but at the right angle there's plenty of room, even if your hips knock slightly into Sana's body. Tzuyu's delicate body already has her back flush against the sink basin. "You want to feel them?"

She shakes her head, and even though the hunger on her tongue hasn't been satisfied, even after having a good fill, there's something else she'd rather have now.

"I think," she starts, her words cut off by a hitch of breath when Sana's lips travel to the very tips of her hair and work their way up to the soft skin behind her ear. "Rough is good, when... when I'm being," Tzuyu's closing her eyes - partly so that she doesn't fall off the edge so easily, partly to lean into the sensations of two warm bodies, all attention placed solely on her.

"When you're being worked over?" Sana offers.

"Ngh," she responds - with an attempt, as best as she can, at a smile. And then there's one, light, teasing stroke across her jaw, her mouth. Sana's thumb pressed gently into the crease. "When the fucking gets..." and you'll have to fill the gap - finishing her thought with your hands slotting themselves onto the gentle arch of her hips, pressing a kiss that doesn't even come close to satisfaction on the supple dip of collarbone.

She lets out this pretty sound at the feel of your lips, Sana's, all ghosting down her throat.

"Hard and deep?" you say. Sana smirks at this - continues the effort, "A little fucking nasty, huh, sweetheart?"

"Mhm." Tzuyu is, above all else, a little helpless. “Because - you know me so well.”

But make no mistake: Tzuyu is exactly where she wants to be. With the heat radiating off her bare body, she leans into it all, only flinching when your teeth catch her nipple - when Sana's tongue laps a rough circle over the other. The scene, the feelings, all of it orchestrated precisely - these are the things she likes, maybe loves even.

And after the soft sounds slip through her lips, a moan and another hum, she finds her words and voice, "hard and deep and, rough and, ff-"

"And?"

The quick brush of your tongue flickers across the hard tip. The sensation draws from Tzuyu this very faint cry and the exhale of a word: "Fast."

"Naughty little thing," Sana presses into her jaw, pulling back to regard you both. To lift a finger, wet the pad with her tongue - and reach down, down, down until her fingertips brush the very line of her thigh, into the slick between her legs. "I love it when girls get all messy."

"Please," is all Tzuyu has to say, barely anything but, as Sana's finger drags slowly inside her folds.

"Patience baby," she murmurs into Tzuyu's open mouth. The exchange is swift but thorough; you watch, all tongue and spit, and your fingers twitch with a sense of loss. "Why don't you remind me how this went last time?"

"Mm, listen here," Tzuyu says in an astute breath, the sound of it like tables turning. There's a firm pull on your wrist - the grip on it guiding you, encouraging you, just where she wants them, into the band of lace around Sana's impossibly narrow waist. You feel Sana sigh in relief, shiver at the touch of a warm palm up against her thighs, and into a pulse-wet cunt, as though the slightest touch will kill her. "I think you might be remembering wrong, Sana."

"And why might that be?"

"Weren't you the one begging me? When I had two fingers up your cunt in your apartment," Tzuyu presses forward, voice lilt and darkening like ink, and Sana whines and crumbles in her palms, knees buckling when there's one sudden and rough slide of fingers right on the base of her spine.

"Yeah?" Sana asks with a rising blush, already knowing the answer - it's her fatal flaw: she's all sharp edges and pointed teeth, right up to the point there's a finger at her own throat, a cock in her hands and a girl working at her clit until she's drooling. "Are you suggesting I'm easy? Is that where you're heading with this?"

Tzuyu's leaned up against the counter, turning Sana's slender frame around in her hands, until she has her fingers up on the over the wire of Sana's bra, palms hot beneath the thin cups, feeling for her nipples, and the change in dynamic is as palpable as the steam rising in the room.

"Let’s not put words in my mouth," she responds simply, dropping another kiss into the back of Sana’s hair. There's another one laid along the sweep of her neck, like a careful bite, and with a lift of a brow, a look that tells you what you've always known, "but if you’re asking, then sure, the sluttiest of all sluts. Easy," she pulls the cups down Sana’s chest, "as fuck."

It gets to her, clearly, as if that moan falling out of Sana's parted lips could mean anything else.

"Daddy?" Tzuyu asks, because apparently she's enjoying the bit, easing into all parts of the character. She can't seem to contain her grin.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask, dipping your finger down into Sana's cunt, and fuck - the girl is so, so slick for it. She needs to be taken and torn, that much is clear. Her whimpers don't get softer as your hips drive into her stomach, pinning her between the two of you.

"Is she always this much of a bratty tease? Or is that just how she gets when she gets all worked up over your perfect cock. I know she's aching to feel it stretch out that tight little cunt of hers-

"It's never been all that clear," you answer, before Tzuyu can start to say anything further. A moment of composure, in case Sana wants you to step in.

Except that, she doesn't exactly interrupt the play you and Tzuyu are setting up: "So," Tzuyu remarks instead. "Just for me then."

"It's possible."

The room suddenly feels very full, very small.

"Right. Okay. Well then," you say - watching carefully, when Tzuyu gives you an appraising glance. Sana squirms again beneath the pressure of all these fingers printing over her sensitive skin - she'd love to fuck this. Or be fucked.

"That means you'll have to take good care of your needy little princess, won't you daddy?"

It's surprisingly fitting.

Though it hasn’t been that long, all things considered.

Not since Sana effortlessly waltzed her way into your life. And slightly less-than-that, the time it took her thereafter to find herself bouncing in your lap and tugging at your hair while you struggled for breath between her tits. This perfect storm, caught somewhere between laughing and choking and definitely, definitely falling.

It's been a year, maybe. If that. But that's plenty to know.

Know every tilt of her mouth, every sly grin. The different moans that shake loose from the curve of her lips.

Know what it means when Sana's palms hit the tiles of the shower wall, fingers splaying as she goes quiet and submissive, letting out the barest noise of frustration as Tzuyu spreads her tongue over the pucker of her ass - know that the knuckle you curl up in her cunt has her that much closer to unraveling in a stream of whimpers, needy fucking pants and a hoarse sound of gratitude.

Ostensibly for getting her so perfectly, perfectly raw.

"Fuck, yes, that," Sana barely manages, between the messy swipe Tzuyu's tongue makes over her hole. Just this thorough lick, drawing tight, swirling circles around her, lapping at the wetness before making a hot and steady pass over the sensitive stretch of skin, drenching it in spit until Sana's scrambling against the hard surface.

She's not close to going quiet: her cheeks look rounder, like she can hardly keep her noises under control as Tzuyu eases a single fingertip inside the tense muscle of her rim and uses the stretch and warmth of the water raining down her spine, to slip in deeper. Sana's sighing as Tzuyu eats her like an act, an invitation.

You push your fingers deep, deeper, slick, pulling, rubbing, coaxing Sana's mouth apart even as your lips press wet into her cheek. She groans louder, needier, with your hand flexing up a three-finger graze over that bundle of nerves. The kind that makes her back fucking arch.

"You," Sana sputters open like a struck match, burning bright in the steam-cloaked shower, "you, you, you," and it’s not really clear who she’s cursing, "going to - you're going to - you're going to make me-"

"Oh no," Tzuyu sings, starting to straighten herself out - until she’s reminding Sana that she’s the smallest of the three of you and in a possible sort of danger.

She reaches an open palm into the stream of water and splashes off the slick running down her mouth, her chin, her neck - gaze anchored to Sana's trembling figure. It's just one, heavy exhale into the hot, hazy air: "You've got it all wrong.”

Sana twists her head around, face still so wildly attractive amidst the look of worry and that flush of pink taking over from the bottom half. The tiny, imperceptible dip in her brows.

But before she can give voice to a complaint, Tzuyu has her spun by a rough grip around her waist, pinning her back to the tile - water beating down the rise of her breasts and the tops of her shoulders.

"If you're going to cum baby, it'll be all over his thick cock, getting your whole cunt so stretched and stuffed full it'll feel like he's cumming up inside your guts."

You and Sana share this wistful groan of a sigh after Tzuyu wraps her long fingers around your cock, aims you true, and brings you close. Closer. Until you can feel Sana's pulse at her cunt, lips wet and slippery and dripping, just a few inches from where the tip of your cockhead nudges the insides of her thighs. Sana's stomach is seizing in a fluttering of heat and -

"Do you like hearing her beg? That's good. Because this girl's gonna do everything she can to make sure you fuck her raw before you even let her come," Tzuyu's voice lowers, a deep register. "How long can you last, Sana?"

Sana gives you this look, all anticipation and pleasure, holding it for longer than is strictly necessary - and then, her pert little mouth falls open, keening, hissing out a shallow, almost painful, "fuck" the moment you bend at the knees and slip inside.

The feeling that washes over you is a beautiful elixir of relief, an indomitable kind of want, tinged with something heavier, and with just the tiniest hint of longing in the sense that this is not enough, nowhere near enough. It never is.

"God, Sana," is all you manage. All you want to.

Sana doesn't wait around any longer before giving you an impatient shimmy of her hips, fucking herself further down the length of your cock, like she wants to choke on it. And the feeling of it, well, she does it well - the tight warmth swallowing you to the base, her cunt squeezing you all at once, slick and smothering. Fuck, it's all in her eyes. How badly she wants to be held down, split apart. How tightly your fist finds itself locked around Sana's long, wet strands of golden hair as Tzuyu closes any semblance of distance - brushing her lips over where she can tease Sana's open and slack mouth, licking down inside, panting.

"Baby, you are so close, I can feel you trembling," Tzuyu teases, running her fingers up Sana's stomach, cupping steady the breast she can fit in her palm. She drops another messy kiss on Sana’s throat and hums: "Go ahead, cum. I'm sure he doesn't mind.”

"You're such a prissy fucking- nnh-" Sana's words skirt right over Tzuyu's fingertips before they're shoved roughly across the swell of her lower lip and into the back of her mouth. If Tzuyu's intent was to prove a point, she's about as successful as can be - Sana can only gag quietly around her digits, working her jaw over them.

"Sana, shh-shh-shh, baby, don’t fight it; just cum around around his cock, don't put yourself in a corner and try to play games - he'll fuck you right, until you scream, I promise, and-"

It hardly ever takes much. That's something you've come to appreciate: Sana can't ever help it. With the way it actually feels, you pressing right up against where the rest of her cinches so impossibly tight. She was practically teetering on the edge, on the very cliff and within reach of falling right off of it the instant you fit the very hilt of your cock up the molten-hot stretch of her perfect cunt, sliding, fucking into her while water sprays all over her quivering body, so soft beneath the wash of rain.

One of Sana’s long legs gets wrapped around your waist and you can feel her nails start to dig through the muscles in your shoulders.

Tzuyu smirks right into Sana's temple, biting at the slickness of her skin, running the curve of her thumb around the length of Sana's jugular, and sucking with her teeth when Sana cries out. "How does our girl feel wrapped around you? Wet, huh? Needy?"

"Unbelievable," you answer honestly - and maybe that's the point; Sana's pussy is incredible. Hot and silky and absolutely unreal. There’s no question, whether she's a work of art, or if she'll fuck you up, but you love that part.

“Ruin her for me, won’t you?” Tzuyu prompts, with that twinkle of mischief you're rapidly becoming accustomed to. "She looks even prettier when she's fucked out. I know you know that."

She does, she does, she does.

Your hips snap, up, fuck in - Sana mewling around the shape of Tzuyu's first two fingers - then back, drawing the motion slow, long, full - until you’re crashing forward and sinking up into that warmth you know is spreading across every inch of Sana’s body, swallowing her up inside-out as her legs start to shake and give and her tongue laps recklessly along the outline of Tzuyu's knuckles.

Sana knows she likes to play at coy and control, but this is never part of the act - your cock fucking her submissive pussy apart - it’s hard to argue she doesn’t love how you can come to own her: hot and fast and filthy, leaving her breathless and desperate, every thrust into her tight cunt punctuated with some pretty whimper. And here, she just… there isn't the luxury, there's nowhere to hide.

Nowhere to run or shy or look away.

Tzuyu curses when finally Sana bites down, part of a long sequence of reflexes that bloom from the depth you fuck up into her cunt. And with her voice back in her throat (Tzuyu's fingers shaking out the sharp pain) she fucking whines into it, unable to stop the steady line of nonsense tumbling past her lips, incoherent except for the single-minded purpose of her own release.

"Fuck, daddy, fuck," Sana repeats in the same way she always does, getting fucked, the letters collapsing into each other. "I'm cumming, fuck, fuck, so fucking wet. God, you're, fuck, right there, oh - I'm cumming, daddy, I’m fucking cumming," is the all further she gets, muddied with the sound of your slicked-up thighs moving in quick rhythm with the beat of your heart, slapping loudly against her skin - loud enough so that the neighbors can probably listen in through paper thin walls.

Then she goes silent, face painted with it all. She isn't crying, the tears won't come, but she's gone this quiet sort of wide-eyed that matches the way she's mouthing, cumming, over and over, you’re pulling me a-fucking-part.

And you believe her. You have to.

Just look at the way her legs are doing all the wrong things. Thighs tensing taut, muscles giving out - she’s slipping down the tiles, back bending and flexing and going limp all at once. Tzuyu's already moving, scooping her up like it's something rehearsed, before you even have to ask, "Tzu, help me hold her up, won't you?"

“Tzu, huh?”

It's not much, but it is worth noting: how Tzuyu, her fingers curling and interlacing between Sana's, holds the girl like she's breakable. Tenderly, cradling Sana's small body against her chest.

"Do you slip into pet names and all that with every girl Sana brings around? Or am I," and when Tzuyu tilts her head, her smile has this very palpable bite, "the exception?"

"Every pretty girl thinks they're special, sweetheart."

Tzuyu just glimpses one downward look into Sana, shivering, riding her orgasm down into nothing, and drops a kiss into her hair. A gentle chuckle: "And when have I ever given you a reason to doubt it?"

"Shameless," is all Sana offers up, beyond exhausted, trying and failing to take more than a passing, somewhat disgruntled interest in the scene unfolding around her, while she clings to the strength Tzuyu and the tile and your hands are putting into her body.

Meanwhile Tzuyu, this devil of a daydream - this tall, skinny thing of long hair and smirking lips and cheekbones as sharp as her wit, has her gaze locked. Still curious, and all but relentless - there's more she's dying to say. It seems almost impracticable that such a lovely woman would really be this way, weapons concealed under all that good-girl charm. And in its most uncomplicated form, that's what it is: an open invitation.

You've only managed the vaguest outlines, after all. "Do you mind?" you ask again.

The next movements feel more elegant than they probably are. Cradling Sana's limp body between you, finding a steady hold.

There’s a slight shuffle to discover a proper balance, a hand slapping the glass of the shower door, and yeah, Sana's fucked out. Slurring out sounds that might resemble the shape of words if she had the presence of mind. The rest are whines and whimpers, obscene in all ways.

“Baby,” Tzuyu tells Sana in a growling kiss to the back of her ear. "Keep your fucking legs up."

(That’s a cue if you were looking for one, to get your arms fastened around Sana's small waist as she leans heavy into your chest.)

"More," The girl in your arms starts to complain, when you truly start fucking her.

"Hurt - hnn, please, more - fuck - harder," and all those sharp edges, that arrogance and conceit, it's all gone. Her pupils are blown out, an animal-like-desire set in its place - these are your invitations to wreck her, you realize, pushing so deep into her well-fucked cunt that she arches, and that her head knocks against Tzuyu's, that the small room is entirely empty save for these movements under the metal cloud of shower water, falling like rain.

This is all there is.

Tzuyu, smirking like she herself might get off on this.

Sana, begging.

And when Tzuyu buries a hot smile at her throat, nibbling at the skin - urging her, urging you, this sharp, "now give her the fucking dicking of a lifetime, will you?"

When Sana’s reduced down to her pleas of, please, harder daddy, and deeper, god, I can feel you so deep -

Well,

You’re all instinct. You sink your fingers into the firm skin of her ass, grab at the soft, slippery flesh around her hips. You sink your cock into her hole again and again.

The stretch is obvious and absolutely devastating, making Sana cry out and muffle her face in your shoulder. She makes a weak sort of sound around your neck - it could be anything, maybe please don't stop, or maybe please do - it doesn't matter.

"You look incredible like this baby, does he fuck you well?" Tzuyu croons, curling around her so her head rests on her shoulder - eyes watching Sana, meeting yours. "Oh, come on, aren't you always telling me about how it makes you feel - all this, full and hot and better than anyone? Now's your chance, no hiding from him. Or me."

"It's so, god it's - I -"

"Come on," Tzuyu squeezes out one long, eager moan with her hand dropped onto Sana's breasts, pulling and kneading like she owns it. "Tell him to cum in you baby, like the good fucktoy you are, let him cum up into that creaming pussy until you’re all sticky and leaking cum all over, just the biggest fucking mess."

There is measurable irony, you suppose, in how Sana brings these friends of hers back with the clear expectation to be fucked and torn apart, how they each want the same, all wanting to get her unraveling and her knees buckling. Only Tzuyu manages, more efficiently than anyone you've ever seen, to leave her all wanton and squirming against your hard, relentless thrusts into her needy cunt.

It's easy: this isn't difficult, there is nothing hard about falling for each and every promise her face has to offer - knowing her body's secrets and drawing the story out, line by line, so you can fall in love with it over and over, all while Sana starts to go helpless at the shape of your cock filling up that tiny, wanting cunt.

So you cum. Inside her. In one final push, filling her completely.

Sana opens her mouth like she's trying to say something - say yes - say daddy, say fuck yes daddy.

"That's it," Tzuyu strokes down Sana's belly. "I knew it - now keep your pretty thighs shut. Can't let even a drop out, understand?"

"Yes, fuck. It's - fuck - good, he feels," Sana finally sobs, chest heaving as you grind the last little bits of cum deep, so far and hot as it can get. All the way in. Where it's hot and wet and throbbing and slick.

Where it should stay, because you never pull out. You savor the last bit of your pulse, sporadic and lethargic. Because in truth - your mind is made and your mouth won't say it because you don’t need to.

Tzuyu's wringing the water out of Sana's hair, picking the strands into careful folds. "Alright then," and her grin is positively lecherous.

There's a bench in the corner of the shower where you eventually arrive, panting now that you realize it, and Sana makes herself at home right in your lap, face buried in your shoulder. Grinding her hips down in this almost imperceptible circle, circling back and feeling. Holding you inside and murmuring into your collarbone.

(Fucked, Sana is simply and unfairly beautiful.)

It’s all in that exhale of a moment, when Tzuyu catches water in cupped palms from the shower-head, wiping away what stray tracks of soapiness left on Sana's shoulder-blades and breasts and thighs. Her hands all up and down her body, sudsing the crease between leg and torso, down lower still, around her sensitive pussy and her folds.

You wonder if she can hear you swallow.

"Maybe we should actually wash up before we go again?"

The first thing Sana's free hand goes for when she stumbles through the threshold of your bedroom is a hair band you didn’t know she was storing in the top drawer of your dresser. She fidgets around keeping her towel wrapped tightly around her chest as though modesty were an option at this point.

"What?" she asks, fixing you with a slightly-irritated, slightly-teasing smirk. "You look like you have something you want to say."

"Nothing." You laugh out loud. "It's nothing. I'm just waiting."

She makes this face at you, guilty - so sorry about the contraband - as she twists her wrists and pulls the hair band round her middle-finger, wrapping her palms around her knot of wet blonde and bundling it into a half-assembled ponytail. It leaves the length of her nape exposed and vulnerable, neck flushed pink-from-showering in all the most wonderful of places.

"Waiting," is what she hones in on.

Tzuyu is pulling out of the bathroom. Her hands, washed clean and dried off with a fluffy, off-white towel. When she sets it down, she steps back, leaning on the frame. "He's waiting, for what I wonder?"

She's made of all things smooth-and-sharply-cut. Even from here, even through the sleep-haze fog, the silhouette of her nude figure gives itself to a small sense of anticipation. The long and smooth sweep of her chest, from breast, up and out, and then tapering along down to where her hips flare. She takes a step and then another and lets her fingers ride her side, from the very top of the shallow indentation in the dip of her waist, up. Then the tautness of her abdomen and further still, running slow and over the breast, coming to cup its full weight, pushing the bottom of the curve outwards.

"Waiting to," and she wets her lips in something akin to expectation. "Pound me into the fucking bed?"

You’re smiling when you explain, "I was going to say a request…"

Tzuyu’s dimples deepen. "You mean, like, we can tell you what to do?”

You sit on the bed, which is actually more of a proposition than you realize. "I suppose."

"Sana, sweetie, is there something I should be doing for him," Tzuyu looks up, wearing that trademark kind of playful expression that is definitely deliberate and not at all a tell. "Or maybe I've got this all wrong and you know exactly what you want."

"Well," you manage in reply, sounding surprisingly sane. "Don't both start coming forward with any ideas you have no intention of following through."

"And what if I have no ideas at all? What would you tell me then," is the challenge you find hanging around the slender outline of Tzuyu's wrists, and then at the back of her fingers, as she cards her hands through her hair and pulls it prettily over rise-and-falls of her collarbones, until it's barely curtaining her breasts.

(Barely.)

She crosses over to the bed - to you and Sana - and without much other movement than that, finds a knee on either side of you to let a lone fingertip skirt the tops of your hips. Flirting with the towel around your waist.

"For the record," Tzuyu says, flicking a glance at Sana and leaning down into your jawline. The palm she slides over your thigh is so warm, so promising of its heat and pressure you'd swear you can almost taste the touch of her. "I never, ever go back on my word."

"Try me," you tell her.

"I do have some, ideas." Every time her fingernail ends up between her teeth, it’s another drop in a well that runs god knows how deep. "Though very few of them involve this towel."

“And about the ones that do?”

"Well," Tzuyu starts to purr - reaching a hand down and spreading the flat of her palm on your chest, "I figured if I ever wanted something to bite down on, well, you know."

It's just a subtle little rock - and the perfect view: she starts like this, her hair all tucked behind one shoulder, the arch of her back lifting. Slow at first, Tzuyu only pausing after every other short breath to lick and kiss your lips with hers, and the edges of her teeth, all soft and insistent. You are sure - that with a subtle twitch, a minor jerk of the knee or hip - she is almost right over the perfect place, and when her hips grind in these micro-friction little motions that have her sighing and pushing herself flush, it's clear that all she's looking to do is rub her cunt down all over the erection you've been holding in since the last time your towel was hanging somewhere above your waist.

"Hold, please," Sana interrupts, when she leans over and plucks something out of the messy contents of the nightstand - a few hair clips, and, more importantly, a condom. She swears aloud when the package tears the wrong way, but she's quick to apply a lip balm-slick finger-tip on the inside of the ring, and hands the thing to Tzuyu by way of a passing roll, "so, I assume you've got this under control."

"Give me that."

"Mm. Have at it."

There is an intrusive thought that finds its place, wedged somewhere at the base of your skull when Tzuyu starts the careful act of lowering herself down your shaft - like this, it has an inevitability - a forward momentum, the familiar sense of excitement building a force in your heartstrings. Sana must have a similar sensation, as she scoots her ass and slides one hand over the same place you feel that force thrumming, her palm reaching right for Tzuyu's ass, while Tzuyu hisses out a tiny sound at the added stretch.

"Careful," Sana says, fingers drawn back from the cleft of Tzuyu's beautiful ass with a string of slick that's unmistakably arousal. "You try going back after having his cock. And trust me, there's nothing to go back to. Like, ever."

"That must be why you're always like this," is Tzuyu's cock-sure comeback, finding herself flush with your hips.

You're biting down. You're holding back. You're probably digging nails into your palms hard enough to break skin, because you could be double, triple wrapped, latex running up your length like a goddamn balloon and you'd still feel the hot, melting perfection of Tzuyu's pussy swallowing your cock in one, slick, seamless motion. There isn't any sound either more pleasing than that hitch-groan-slip you hear as Sana helps guide Tzuyu's hips back, forth, back again and to a steady beginning of this proper pace: smooth and full.

You both need a second, because, fuck - and she's biting into a grin. Eyes already half lidded as the speed builds. As Tzuyu starts really enjoying the drag of it, the feeling. The god-damn-fucking-stretch.

"Oh? Like what?" Sana asks, smirk filling out her lips to bridge the silence you're both groaning into. "Like what?"

"Greedy," Tzuyu says. The only part that really needs to get filled in. "Because he fucks the self-control right out of you."

Now Sana lets that settle, and it's not like she doesn't know. Or doesn't understand. And still, "Mm. That does sound like me, doesn't it, daddy?"

(Yeah, well- you- )

Tzuyu watches you watch what happens next: Sana peeling out the cotton slip of her bath towel - sizing up just how good Sana looks. Fuck-me-raw.

And then she laughs, deep and gorgeous. "Didn't he just do a number on you - hn, god. Can you hear him all up inside me? Fucking, splitting me apart."

It's true.

All of it.

The way Tzuyu rides your cock. Faster, faster, rolling her body and drawing her hands together behind the length of her hair and neck until the point of her chin is upturned, showing off the hollow of her throat. A tension that glitters with sweat.

The tightening in the space between the bottom of her ass and your cock - all of it is heaven. This slow-and-rough, rough-and-fast. Tzuyu picks the tempo of it to fuck out a particular pleasure that has you catching her and pulling her closer to your body, holding her through the upward grind, where your cock meets the heat of her cunt - pressing her closer.

That's it.

Possessive. That's what both girls have the good grace to read.

Sana's hands come up Tzuyu's ribs, fingertips skirting the muscle-taut-surface of her stomach, the bumps and grooves of her ribs, and up further still, riding the path of her breasts as they're bobbing-jostled and going full-on heavy - her thumbs go at her nipples. Rolling around the hardened tips - the faintest tug at them, enough to start to pull - then just teasing them between thumb and forefinger and loving the sight of you wincing. Loving that you love that.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Sana laughs.

"It's a real show," you bite the compliment out. The very least you can get to.

(You'll be fucked if you can hide how much you want to stay buried in this girl and cum a fucking waterfall between those perfect, creamy thighs. Oh, she knows. The dirty little smile, the filthy laugh, you're holding tight - even if the act is useless.)

"Like how she clamps down," she hums. "That's the part I've always loved, you know. She just does everything so slow, so fucking good, so... deliberate."

There's a fist in Tzuyu's hair and no trace of sympathy or self restraint in her friend when Sana tells her, "Baby, ride him slow for me, can you do that?"

When Tzuyu sucks a hiss through her teeth, mouth caught around the sharp intake, Sana just licks a slow line along the curve of her lower lip - as though saying, baby, like the slut you are, remember who asked nicely?

And it turns out: slow is worse. You can feel every tiny tremor of friction, every little shift of Tzuyu's cunt squeezing you. Clinging tightly. Your fingers wrap around her rib cage and hold her right as her ass hits your lap, while her head rolls back into her own hair. It is enough, finally, to draw an out-of-breath little pant out of her, making a beautiful blush crawl and spread across her cheeks - there.

(Oh, fuck, your brain echoes. So, you want slow, that's what the noise from your throat says as she eases back, rising up. So slow, you-can-feel-all-of-me. She makes the effort so flawlessly, it's fucking you both over, because she's looking at Sana with this flutter-beat look, eyes wide, wet and round and pleading.)

It gets that much worse the minute Sana pushes her down by the shoulders. Giving her some resistance. Showing you both she can take you inch by slow goddamned inch.

"Harder. Deeper, sweetie."

Tzuyu does everything Sana says she'll do, loving her fingers in her hair, pulling tight. Control given as easily as that. Because she looks just how she feels: utterly surrendered. A helpless kind of want, like there's something broken in her chest when the head of your cock pushes her deep, deep. To the point she feels something more than an ache.

"Want it," Tzuyu whispers out against Sana's smile. "From the back, like you promised," she says, and takes the shudder out of your breathing.

Sana cups her jaw, laughing. She puts one arm around Tzuyu's throat and bites at her chin, at her ear. "I bet he'd do just about anything to give you what you want, baby."

Tzuyu’s hips snap down onto yours again. Melting your cock in this thick, molten heat.

And again, faster. Needier.

The kind of movements across your lap that make everything louder - a beautiful chorus of small-sounds. Slaps and squelching. Wet and gasping and begging and skin-on-skin. You'd never, ever considered the act a competition before, not with Sana. But when Tzuyu seems to be seeing who can pull the most erotic of noises out from underneath your ribcage - or the highest pitched sigh - the wetter and louder it all gets -

"Sana."

"Tzu."

Tzuyu rides the pressure and finds her voice, head thrown back, jaw slack. "Sana - tell him to, I'm gonna, soon. Tell him what to do."

"Beg for him," and Sana gives her the fakest-of-all-pouts when she slips her hand along Tzuyu's inner thigh, nearing her where the two of you meet, then slowing her pace, bringing you both to an immediate stand-still, while her fingertips continue, ghosting across the shape of your stomach. "He doesn't need anything less than the truth."

Tzuyu's face. It's the most gorgeous thing you've seen. Her hips are winding slow against you when you hit a spot you're not entirely sure either of you can recreate at your own whim: deep inside. Her eyes as wide as they can be. All of her sharp edges now just these subtle things - the very shape of the shadow beneath her clavicle, the tensing of her thighs at your sides, the gentle lines that curl up from the wide bottoms of her hips when your fingers thread up her belly, palm open flat.

"I want," is where Tzuyu starts, not hiding it any part. "I want you to bend me over the bed."

And in a breathless voice:

"Please, please let me have what I want. Just bend me over the bed, shove my legs apart and take me. Hold me down. Fuck me and fill me and don't let me move or say a thing. Until we're both fucking finished."

You swallow. Hard.

Because here's what Sana's brought you: this tall brunette with an impossibly beautiful ass and thighs to die for, a sin-full mouth. The curves in her waist and back and tits a distraction, that you might try to map out until you're so lost you forget how to leave, how to ever take your cock out of this tight cunt.

"Is that a thing you can do?" Tzuyu practically purrs in one long tone, pushing herself up your waist, until your cock falls out and hangs there. Until you can only see all of this clear, gorgeous skin in front of you and hear her pretty little moan. "God, please, daddy, I’m begging you."

(She says this last part in a way that lets you know this isn't something either of you will get over easily, the kind of pleasure, the feeling and the flash. She's unreadable - almost, not quite- just too honest, there's nothing else for you to believe. Maybe that's where the shiver comes from, or your palms itching, or the sounds of your bedding ruffling as you spin her onto her back, her tummy - pull up on her hips until they're sky high and you can palm her breasts, let her press her knees up and apart on the duvet. Until you get that first look down the column of her spine and the sudden, stunning shape of her ass in a view you never want to say goodbye to.)

Tzuyu slides her hands across your sheets, all this stretch. A flex of muscle. When she opens her hips and you push two fingers deep, inside, easy - then back out -

"How much of that," Tzuyu interrupts, blushing furiously, "do I have left to beg with? Please."

- because she's been soaked and aching all day just thinking about it. Just begging for a good fucking - or so she told Sana, who now giggles and leaves small kisses up the ridge of her spine, crawls alongside the dip-line of the mattress, and after curling her fingers around the column of Tzuyu's throat - smooths a single fingernail up and down and presses, tracing, the groove of her jaw as you nudge your cock against her.

It’s not on purpose, this needlessly drawn-out moment - simple brush of latex against her slick, dripping folds, the tightening in her core and how it matches the tension in Sana's wrist and the coarseness of the bed-linens and the hardness of you - but everything eventually folds, into her.

And you're not helping, the way you're fastened to the narrow point of her waist like it's a handle. Your thumbs riding the arch of her hips, taking every opportunity to sink your fingers hard into the flesh, grip tighter and push, pulling Tzuyu, if only to really work that friction between your hips.

"Fuck, it's all in. Finally." Sana gasps like she's the one being bent, arched, fucked from behind, then lays herself down against the length of Tzuyu's shoulder, chin bumping her cheek. Watching Tzuyu. Taking it all in.

You have a hard time making it out, but Tzuyu starts this half-whimpered litany about how she needs to be fucked (that is, roughly - deep and long, or maybe rough and short and deep, or whatever, as long as it makes her lose composure), followed with some shoddy mix of cursing and your name and Sana's - the things all three of you might consider for another chance meeting.

And as you're following up the suggestion with a low groan, that's exactly how you notice that grind in her hips - a jerk back, a twist, bucking against you. She feels so, so incredibly tight when she writhes onto you, squeezes. Like she wants to tear her heart out her chest, she's so overwhelmed. So thoroughly and totally taken by this fuck. By you. "Harder," is all she says.

This one line does it, then two more. All in-and-out thrusts from behind, fuller the second time, then the third.

Only when you find Tzuyu peering back over her shoulder with a pair of eyes that say, please, pretty-please, all liquid and warm and wanting. "Fucking ruin that cunt, I want - god. Do you have the slightest idea how much," and that is where the words disappear into a slow and sticky whine.

"Yeah baby," Sana whispers.

She knows what it is. Tzuyu wants so much more, so you give it. Give her the just-this-side-of-ruthless fucking and the slow-pace grind you know can push her right over the edge. Give her more, all of you, and get her hands twisting in the pillow and grabbing fistfuls of sheets, burying her face into the space above her wrists and nearly choking on her hair with how she moans and yelps - loud.

Her whole body jolts forward the next time. The arch to her back deepening. Body drawing in on a flawless line.

Tzuyu does cum. Eventually.

She keens and rolls and begs you not to pull out or slow, just stay put and fill her with your cum - keep fucking going, please. The only thing keeping her from landing flat on your mattress as she practically unravels around your cock are fingers you have under her hips, tightening. Bruising.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me, you’re,” you’re railing out of her lungs, where the words hang on sex-stale air.

First with Sana whispering promises into her ears and letting Tzuyu swallow, and suck around the length of her index, then two, fingers. Then licking a kiss into her mouth, tongue tangling up hers and finishing up the act with, "cum for us, Tzu, like the sweet girl you are - you take him so well."

Then, with your hand held over her ass-

(She could cry from it. From how everything pulls you in, like a riptide, and, really, with no regard for things like safety or drowning.)

-the utterance off her lips has your stomach twisting into knots:

"Keep," you hear her ask Sana. Barely getting the words out as you ride, fast. "Please, keep, telling him that I - god."

It gets worse before it gets better.

"I can't - I need; fuck, I can’t, with the rubber, I want him," and Sana smirks like she knew all along. "Sana, please-"

"You want the real thing, sweetie. Isn't that right, baby? Hm. Of course it's okay," and Sana soothes a hand through her friend's fringe, pushes it away from her eyes and over her ears, making something that sounds like an adoring laugh slip out. "You want him to fuck his cum so deep in that pussy, I know you do, don't worry."

When you slow down the grinding, wipe the sweat from your face, Sana gets your attention and nods to the very place your cock is disappearing between the cheeks of Tzuyu's ass, "go ahead. If you want the mess-up, sweetie - let's make sure that's exactly what he'll give you."

Who exactly wants what most is hard to say. Sana's the one pulling off the condom, the rubber stretching to an obscene limit that has you fearing for your life should it snap back before it breaks. Tzuyu is already a sort of gaping mess with it all, her own fingers snuck under to rub harsh circles in the absence of cock and something firm and heavy to fill her. To feel full.

And there's you, asking, or maybe, double-checking: "Tzuyu, you're saying you want me to-"

"She doesn't care," is what you're interrupted with, courtesy of Sana. "Fuck a baby into her cunt, that's what she wants."

(Like you wouldn't fucking love it too. Or have the frame of mind to even begin to unpack all of that.)

It’s a lot, admittedly.

And not just because Tzuyu has never looked better: on all fours, pressed, and presented. Legs all the way apart and ass and thighs in your grip, with that smile all pointedly certain and wild-eyed, like, she knows, that you know exactly what to give her - what she really wants - filling her so full and marking your claim by fucking your cum right to her very core.

Tzuyu drags her head back, so she can peek over her shoulder and meet your eyes.

She does things. Like sighing this small sound and laughing and - she has this thing for noises, for things breaking under the strain, where she won't say a word, except to murmur some part of your name into your jawline, a raggedness in her breathing. Sheer hunger.

"I want - want you to, fuck me."

You will. Or you are. Or you're going to, only - Sana's lips are fast around your cock, fingers fluttering delicately between your thighs and drawing these stuttering sounds in your breath, "I will. I will. I'm - I will."

Sana just hums, copper hair bobbing in place. Her hot mouth and wet fingers pulling and sliding and pulling and sliding. Tongue moving in all the ways she knows you like.

Which, here’s a fact: Sana can be mean. No one would believe it.

But sometimes this is the price of admission. You have to be honest about what it takes, how, exactly, you intend to break this beautiful brunette whose ass is swaying back and forth in this mesmerizing little waggle of the hips. It's hard not to marvel, not to ask questions and not wonder at what a pair of friends so similar and so opposite do to each other and other people and to themselves in those small, private hours and space no one else shares, that has you panting and burning and her clasping the hollow of your neck and asking with her body if this is okay, because sometimes, in moments of absolute need, just a glance can mean your end.

So, there's no tease; Sana is well aware of what it feels like when you're throbbing and ready to burst - she's working you up and over and right to that point of no return-

"Can I? Fucking-"

"Fine," she replies, maybe having now considered every other way you might spill a hot load out and make a mess of the sheets. "Have at her," and a flick of tongue catches around the tip of your cock - the final tease, the best punishment.

And the promise of how Tzuyu makes that perfect whimpering cry. Something entirely wounded. Because as soon as it begins - your cock in the shallow depth of her creaming cunt - you're both made aware how she's wetter than she was an hour ago and clenching at nothing, hands balling themselves in frustration, palms bunched white-knuckled up in fists. She needs something, anything. Something for her to squeeze against. For her to bear down on and bounce her cunt off-

The sound all three of you make when you grit your teeth and bury yourself deep into her pussy is a guttural, aching thing, with you biting a lip and gasping. Tzuyu half-growling-half-sobbing into the sheets.

It doesn't matter that she lets Sana cover her open and slack mouth in an attempt to quiet it.

It doesn't matter because in a blink, the exact point in which you sink completely inside - where it's the first, the best, feeling of Tzuyu’s hot pussy taking your cock.

(Mind-numbing, is the word that doesn't come to you.)

Under you, Tzuyu is writhing and hot and tight into the mattress - and so desperate.

"Please," is about all that gets away from her. Which is just too cute to ignore: she's been dying to be fucked, ever since stepped into your foyer and was introduced by the softest, most deliberate of gestures that wound up being all-too intimate. "Please- I need - harder, fucking-"

Sana takes to touching you, her own little form of enjoyment that ends with her fingertips mapping the shape of your jaw. Pupils blown, "Isn't she amazing?" Sana laughs into your neck.

"Fucking," is what your first real stroke back into Tzuyu pulls out, “unreal."

The friction has you both grinding your bodies together at the base, and she arches, this throaty moan, before looking back up at you and letting her mouth fall open - this wordless sentence of plea, over and over again. She's shaking. Body-full. It's almost something painful to see, that she's so undone - and what if you were the only person who'd ever fucked her like this: into ruin.

Tzuyu clenches around the next thrust - begging, so-sore-and-begging to cum.

The demand is practically written in her muscles, and all you want is for her to let go for the second, third, last time - until she loses track of the count. To get there before you have the time to register that she is actually doing it. She's already half-way gone and at your mercy - her only choices now, being: cum, or let you chase the orgasm you're currently rubbing all around the curve of her cunt.

Sana swallows her scream when the first little cry comes, that you've edged out of her. And it gets worse and better the second time her ass meets your thighs, where she's making a real mess on your hips and all but yelling out her orgasm in her state of such incoherent stutter and disarray. The arch to her back is this thing out of your best imagination, which has you - pounding out all her noises - gripping and curving over the plane of her stomach. Until Tzuyu's beginning to make these different cries, somewhere new, somewhere you're finding a whole lot deeper.

"Hold her ass up and fuck her 'til she's full of cum," is the advice you get from Sana in the end, as you fuck her and fuck her through the tumultuous rise and fall of orgasm after orgasm, "oh baby, does it hurt so good? Do you feel that heat spreading down your thighs and getting you all slick? You always knew the best toys are the ones that get bred, sweetheart."

And from her, barely, "fuck, yes."

That's what does it: the desperation just that tangible in all your voices.

Sana manages to get her lips on yours. A kiss that could knock the wind out of your sails under normal circumstances, one that curls a fist and tugs around a familiar part of you. But Tzuyu's eyes roll and drop low, fluttering shut, while your hips crash in quickening succession:

"Fuck-you're so-perfect, cum in me again, daddy - make me," and, "please, so fucking full, just give me more. Want more of you, until it's-"

Tzuyu gets you. Just there. Just the way you needed it. Just like that.

There's something addictive in how her muscles clench and grab around the head of your cock - drawing everything you'd been holding back to a painful front, and - Sana's taste in your mouth still so sweet, mixed with salt and sweat, while you fuck and pound, with absolutely zero respite. Cum buried deeper and deeper until it's spilling and Tzuyu whines for the filthy feeling. Until you're fucked through, emptying every single drop into her open cunt. Until your legs feel sore, a slight shake all through the muscle and the tension in your neck and shoulders, and you're growling this thing that might be her name, and "Tzu, my god, baby, you feel, so amazing," in between thrusts.

It earns you an appreciative whimper.

Something breathy and not-at-all restrained. She doubles down on it when your cock slides out of her swollen, well-fucked cunt.

At first, she only hums a sleepy smile and turns her face in toward the touch, eyes closed and unresponsive. A long exhale. Even like this - especially, perhaps - Tzuyu is lovely.

Either out of exhaustion or overbearing satisfaction, you collapse into her - bodies folding up like that old-cliche about a stack of cards or dominoes - with your cheek to her back and your arms wrapping around her chest, tight, trying to squeeze. Like you're hugging someone from behind. Which isn't too far off. Because for the next five or ten or fifteen minutes or a half-hour, you lie there, pressing your face in against the side of her neck, smelling her hair - how sweet the strands are - then down along her shoulders, and under, listening to the soft way Tzuyu falls into her breaths.

In, out. In, out.

Sana follows all the while with, "should we not have let her ride, first?"

To which, Tzuyu says, "fuck off."

Sana brushes it off, crawls around your shoulders and slips two, three, five kisses into your forehead. That's when you know to shuffle over, dragging and tugging limbs and muscles and bone in the same direction - careful not to let the sticky sensation linger anywhere it shouldn't. Not even for an instant.

The three of you are laying in a total fucking mess. But it's your mess, and that's beautiful in a sort of thought-provoking poetic way.

You turn your head. Tzuyu's there, still, blinking slowly.

"Hello again, hi," you say and the smile comes up all sorts of natural. "Okay?"

Her gaze shifts into something vague, so much quieter, but she nods. So it must be. Okay.

“Is it too early?” Tzuyu asks two weeks later, and nothing has ever, ever started like that.

She’s at your doorstep, a little too dressed up for the middle of the afternoon, hair pulled away from her face in two loose braids, bright eyes, lip-gloss that shimmers just enough. Something innocent in the whole way she looks and stands and smiles. Nothing, on the surface, that gives the truth away.

You lift an eyebrow, skeptical. Always. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Yes you were," and she dangles a set of keys.

"I'm sorry, did you steal those?"

The laughter from her chest is as surprising as it is gorgeous, rich and thick like molasses, rolling over the shape of her tongue. It hits you hard that two weeks - really, any amount of time - it’s not nearly long enough.

And before Tzuyu can admit as much out loud, Sana chirps from her spot aside the door, knee bent and grinning, "maybe I did."

"Well," you say, hands on your hips, "this is all a little..."

"Irregular, I know." Sana's giving her best impression of you: so exasperated.

"Which is, honestly," she continues to explain, pushing away from her perch and approaching in these small, gentle steps. "We need, that thing you promised you'd do," she trails a finger up the buttons of your shirt, under your jaw. You're already drowning. "Whenever" - is her very worst torture - "we called."

(Might just be a little bit of trouble, is the one honest answer, to whatever you were trying to start when you saw their faces and recognized their bodies and said: yes, come inside and meet me and fuck my brains out, all that.

What a way to begin. What a story it'll be.)

a/n: these two are fucking adorable.

#twice smut #sana smut #tzuyu smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #twice sana smut #twice tzuyu smut

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tojipure · 4 months

Text

snow on the beach.

This was a short drabble, super sorry if it's bad. I've been sick and I wanted to write something!

+ angst

"It's snowing!" Utahime runs outside, her long hair jumping with every pounce. "Wait for me." Shoko walks with hands in her pockets making sure she follows closely behind Utahime.

You turn around to see Suguru walk out of the boys dorm. Haibara running out excitedly with Kento following behind. "Morning y/n!" Haibara waves before throwing himself in the snow. It was a morning to remember.

But all you could do was watch. Today was a morning to remember, but the night before was a nightmare. "He went on a run this morning." Suguru stood next to you interrupting yourself from thinking about last night. "...good for him." You look up at Suguru and awkwardly smile.

"Maybe it's best if we see other people?" Satoru says watching every muscle on your face soften as your eyes got watery. You loved him and he loved you, but never were you expecting him to say those words. But everything happens for a reason?

"If that's what you want..."

"Shoko told me that you think he has another chick?" You sigh and sit on the front step of the girls dorm, Suguru taking a seat right next to you. "A man only says that if he already has another women Sugu..." You fidget with your gloves, the cold wind caused the tip of your nose to get red. "You are both very important to me, but I have no clue of Satoru being with another-"

The nerve, Satoru Gojo had to break up with you the night after and bring the women he left you for back to the campus. His bright smile shining as he throws snowballs at the brunette. She was gorgeous, her laugh, her smile, her looks. Straight off the cover of vogue.

"Hey guys, this is my friend...Miyu." He introduces her to the group playing in the snow. Not bothering to come near you or Suguru. You scoffed looking over at Suguru who was just as shocked as you. "Y/n I'm sorry I really don't know why he'd-" Your eyes getting all watery again, God you hated being such a cry baby. "Don't apologize for him Sugu." You get up walking back to your room.

Satoru spots Suguru sitting, quickly making his way towards him. "Hey why aren't you playing in the snow with the rest?" Satoru takes a seat right next to Suguru. Did anyone think this would happen? Knowing Satoru it was a slim chance but he loved you. Everyone saw it? So why was he already introducing all his friends to another women. "What's the purpose of this...of her?" Suguru points at the brunette who was laughing with Haibara.

"She has a name...listen people move on and they-" Satoru starts giving some lame ass excuse. "Save it for someone more gullible." Suguru scoffed walking in to check on you. Not caring if he'd get punished for walking into the girls dorm.

Your blankets wrapping around your body, the tiny window cracked open letting the cold air enter the room, the vanilla scented candle burning. Lastly, the small sniffles coming out of you. "Y/n...?" It was Suguru, how could you not give in to Suguru. Engulfing him in a huge hug as soon as you feel his weight on the feet of your bed.

The painful cries get louder and each filled with hurt and betrayal. You really loved Satoru, if he'd hurt you this much. Then again it's only been a day since you two have officially ended. Your crying slowed down as you laid with Suguru in the bed. His hand softly petting your head as your arms tightly wrapped around him. "I told you." You mumbled, finally gathering the courage to speak again.

But Suguru didn't even know what to say. Still shocked as to why Satoru would even leave you. Suguru watched you softly drift back to sleep before leaving your room. Everyone was now sitting in the snow sipping on some hot chocolate. "Why hasn't y/n come out!" Utahime asked, watching Suguru leaving the girls dorm. "She doesn't feel good."

How pathetic. Not even bothering to check on you knowing how heartbroken you were and still are. What kind of friends were they? Watching them all sit and laugh as if you weren't hurting.

Hours passed, "Want to come get hotpot with us?"

No, Suguru didn't. He hated hotpot, only because you hated it. He loved hotpot. "I'm gonna pass." Satoru sighed before attempting to close the door to Suguru's room..."You got what you wanted, stop moping around."

"I wanted her happy." Suguru sighed looking up at his blue eyed friend. "...And she was the happiest with you." Suguru scrolls on his phone again waiting for Satoru to close the door. Which he thankfully did, not picking a fight.

The door slightly creaked to your room, not a word was said nor could you hear footsteps. Just a sigh and the door closing again. Maybe Sugu checking on you.

"Where did everyone go?" You asked walking into Suguru's room. Sitting on the rolling chair to his desk. "Hotpot." He turned his phone off taking all his attention to you. "You didn't go?" Why would he? Why would he leave you here all alone?

"No, wanna go grab something else to eat?" He suggested seeing the soft smile on your face, food never disappointed you. "Let me go bundle up." You rush back to your room.

"You look...warm." Suguru fought the urge to say beautiful. It felt wrong to go after you in the state you were in. He didn't want to feel like he was taking advantage of you. "I am." You smile.

"I would 10/10 go back." You give Suguru a thumbs up while rubbing your belly. Your eyes trail off to the side to see the beach. This was a new sight, Snow on the beach? "Can we go down?" You tap Suguru and point. "It's dangerous don't you thin-" before he could even finish his sentence you grabbed his hand and dragged him to the set of stairs. You knew he'd say something like that. So you wasted no time.

Reaching the bottom step, you slip. Your butt hitting the fluffy snow while Suguru fell right on top. You couldn't help but laugh. "What did I-" You threw a snowball at his face to escape from him. running along the snowy white shore. "I'm gonna get you for that!" Suguru giggled running toward you, which he failed due to tripping over his own foot.

You sigh taking a seat next to Suguru. Watching the steady water. "Sugu...Do you like me?" You look at him, waiting for an answer. Embarrassing if he'd say no....

"If I said yes?"

"Look how cute they look! I want to do that too, imagine me and you just sitting on the snowy beach?" The brunette clutched onto Satoru's arm. When all Satoru could think about Suguru's words..."She was the happiest with you."

The awful imagine in his head of you wrapped around in your blanket, the same candle Suguru saw was now dead when Satoru walked in. It was something Satoru never imagine. But Miyu made him happy, you made him happy too but he just had more stuff in common with Miyu.

"Miyu, Do you think when two people are too different, it would be hard to work the relationship?" Miyu looked away from the two on the beach. "No...I think if you truly love them, difference is what makes the bond stronger. You learn new stuff about them and they learn new stuff about you." Miyu smiled leaning her head into Satoru's chest.

ouch.

"If you said yes...I don't know actually." You lean your head onto Suguru's shoulder. "I love you Suguru don't get me wrong, and I appreciate everything you've been doing for me ever since...you know."

"But..." Suguru looked up at the stars getting ready for you reject him. He couldn't possibly hate you if you rejected him though. No matter what he'd still love you. Like always...."I'm not ready, but you know that."

"Give me a couple weeks, or months..." You grab his hand. "I'd wait for eternity for you y/n....I promise." He squeezes your hand, securing his promise.

You two are now making your way back to the dorms. It was darker and quieter. More peaceful. Satoru was sitting out in the front of the girls dorm as if he were waiting. "Clear things up with him..." Suguru whispers. How could you? He hurt you...

You walk towards the dorms, watching Satoru lift his head up at the sound of the snow crunching. "Y/n...." You stop and sat right next to him. "She's beautiful." You look up at the sky, the cold crispy wind hitting your face. "I'm just surprised that..."

"I still love you y/n...and you just won't leave my head. I think and you just keep coming in my head. Seeing you with Suguru drives me crazy and I can't see you just drift away so easily from me."

You look over to see the blue teary eyed, "You should've thought about that before you decided to end things with me Satoru." You were right. You were always right. That's what Satoru loved about you the most. The words you would mutter out would always have a strong righteous meaning.

"And you look happier with her." You wipe the tear from your face. It was true he looked happier, he felt happier too. But seeing you slip so easily ruined the happiness for him. "Maybe next time introduce me, I want to meet her." You smile getting up. Satoru also stood up hovering over you, swallowing you up in a big up. Which surprised you...by a lot.

"I'm so fucking sorry..."

"A wedding on the beach...not a fan of the beach but this is too cute." Shoko drops the dead cigarette on the sand, Utahime following her behind amazed at the decor. "They outdid it. I love it!" Utahime jumps up and grabs Shoko's arm.

"This was definitely all planned by y/n." Kento picks up the littered trash from Shoko and throws it in the nearest trash. "No, Suguru would never overbear her with all this work." Satoru sighed.

Much older now...Satoru understands how it felt to lose such a prized possession. The way you read your vows to Suguru and how much love and time you took with yours. He knew Suguru's had to be longer and just as beautifully written as yours. "So she was your ex?" Megumi whispered. That's the only label he had to you. "No wonder she left you for Suguru, you're so weird." Megumi disses the white haired man in the bind fold.

He sighed, "I left her...rookie mistake."

#drabble #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #angst #jjk angst #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #rosipuree

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luveline · 2 years

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Jade, my beloved!! <3

What about reader going over to Eddie's trailer and Roan starts clinging to reader, and Eddie tries to apologize but reader absolutely does not mind at all and happily carries Roan around? (The way you write kiddos is so sweet😭)

omg YES thank you . girl dad Eddie forever <3 | fem!reader

You and Eddie (and Roan, his mirror image daughter) have been on one date.

It's not easy getting to know someone when they bring their baby but you'd figured it was the only reasonable option. He's gonna have her for the rest of his life and you wouldn't have it any other way besides, so you'd told him to bring her and you'd stuffed her full of chocolate cake. You'd wanted her to like you.

You might've done too good a job.

Eddie called you after the date — the next morning, to your delighted surprise — and told you how much fun he had. How he'd love to see you again. You'd enough butterflies to lose your mind and told him absolutely, yes, but what day's good for you?

So your next date is a week away. You're eager to see him again. You're excited to see his daughter, too, because she'd been lovely and sweet, quiet though she'd certainly known how to throw a tantrum.

Eddie calls you two days after the first phone call and says, "Listen, do you want to come over for dinner?"

"Now?"

"If you're not busy."

So here you are. Standing outside of his trailer home in Forest Hills Trailer Park with a teddy bear in one hand and a bottle of sparkling cider in the other, nervously shifting from foot to foot and wondering if maybe you should've brought wine. Or beer. But no, right? He has a baby. Kind of.

You knock and wait. There's scrambling feet, obviously smaller footsteps pittering over the floor and then a bang against the door. You flinch and wait.

"Hello?" you call.

"Oh, shit," someone says from further away. "I'm coming!"

"Shit," a little voice echoes.

"No!" Eddie calls, horrified.

Quick footsteps. The deadbolt slides free and the door opens.

Eddie's shepherded Roan behind him just enough to let you in. "You can't say that, babe. It's a bad word," he tells her, face hidden behind a sheet of messy curls.

Roan doesn't take any notice of him. She's stopped dead behind him in an actual princess dress. Tiny clip on earrings hang from her small earlobes and her dark curls are pulled up into dainty pig tails. Her lips part and expose the pink of tongue and all her pearly baby teeth, and then she screams.

"Yes!" she says, and throws herself at you.

Her arms wrap around your legs and her face rubs into your thighs. When you don't hug back she looks up at you with wide brown eyes, all her dad's, and blinks.

"Baby, you can't-" Eddie sighs and scrubs a hand across his jaw. "I'm sorry," he apologises.

You hold out the teddy bear and the cider and he takes both on instinct. Hands free, you lean down to give Roan a tentative hug.

"Hi, princess. I'm happy to see you too, and in your lovely dress! You look so pretty," you baby-talk, bubbly and light and very, very enamoured by the warmth of her small body clutching your thighs.

"She- I said you were coming and she told me she had to wear the princess dress," Eddie explains.

You turn your attention from your cuddle and find him as handsome as you'd left him last Thursday. He's dressed not nearly as fancy as he had been, though this feels more him. A band t-shirt, a pair of black jeans. His tattoos play stark over the length of his arms.

This is more like it.

"Yeah? Good, she should wear it. She's pretty as any princess I've seen."

Eddie tries to separate your clinger so he can shut the door but Roan adamantly refuses it.

"Up," she says, hands grabbing.

"Roan, Y/N doesn't want to-"

"Up please!"

You don't have a clue how to pick up a toddler so you squat down. Roan wraps her arms around your neck and squeals with happiness as you stand. The tulle of her skirt is scratchy under your palms.

"You really don't have to," Eddie says. He sounds worried.

You meet his eyes and try to adjust your hold until she's comfortable as you say, "Hey, it's okay. If it's okay with you?"

He's still for a moment.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's okay," he says softly.

You smile until he smiles back.

Roan pulls away from your neck to touch your neck. You shiver at her cold hands and rub up the length of her back. "Are you cold?" you fret.

"She just had an ice pop."

You raise your eyebrows at him. Dipping your head toward your shoulder, you fix your knowing gaze on Roan. "Is that so? What flavour do you like? No, let me guess..." You take in the purple at the corner of her mouth and beam. "Grape yeah? I like grape too. You have good taste."

"Can I get you a drink?" Eddie asks, wielding the apple cider.

Talking to Roan is a piece of cake. Talking to her dad is nowhere near as easy. You feel like you're in school again as he watches you, your lips curving into a funny excuse for a smile.

"Please."

He disappears to the kitchenette. You press Roan's chest to yours and search their living room for details, curious and hungry to know more about them. They've got a thousand things, not a lick of space between toys, so many toys, pinks and purples like a wave carpeting the floor.

There's a small square table painted pink outfitted by saucers and teacups. There are three chairs, two pink and plastic and one a wooden drum stool, and at each sits a teddy bear.

"Having a party?" you ask.

Roan nods at you. "A tea party."

"A tea party!" you echo, impressed by her neat pronunciation. She's precious when she isn't on her knees screaming.

"For Teddy," she says.

"Yeah? Which one's Teddy?"

She turns to the table and points at the pink bear with a missing ear.

"Why don't you finish your tea party, Roan?" Eddie asks, then says to you, quieter, "You can put her down if you want to."

You take that as a You should put her down now and start to bend. Roan wraps her arms around your neck and clings, knees digging into your sides.

"No," she moans miserably.

"Baby," Eddie starts.

"No," she says again, meaner. You swoop her back up toward your chest, worried she'll start crying.

You feel awkward because it's obvious Eddie is embarrassed by her showing off. She starts to whine loudly and he gets worse, sending you an apologetic look as he approaches.

You can hear the apple cider sparkling away in the glasses in his hands, he talks to her that gently. "Roan, Y/N can't hold you all night, baby. She wants a drink. You don't like carrying Teddy all day, do you?"

Roan cries.

"It's really okay. I don't mind, I promise," you say.

The 'I promise,' comes out ridiculous. Too warm. Too genuine.

Eddie beams at you, almost haphazard. "Okay, awesome, because she's about to go nuclear and I don't think we'll survive it."

"Does she scream?"

"Full nine yards, slaps her hands on the floor, rolls around."

You gasp. "No! No way, do you really show off like that?" you ask her sympathetically. "I can't believe you'd ever do something like that, you're such a sweetheart. Is your daddy telling me lies?" You stroke down her cheek until she laughs, tickled. "He's lying, isn't he?"

"If you stick around long enough you'll see."

You don't flinch. "I can't wait."

Roan giggles wildly as you tickle down into the crease of her neck. You laugh in response, completely infected by her joy.

"She has a really lovely laugh," you praise.

"She's not the only one," Eddie says seriously.

You meet his gaze over her bunches and wrinkle your nose at him when he winks.

He's a real charmer when he wants to be. You're just dying to be charmed.

more eddie and roan

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie and roan

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fieldofdaisiies · 6 months

Text

Power Over Me

ship: Nyx x Reader type: I don't know, a bit angsty, a bit fluffy word count: 2k words warnings: none request: Hiii i just finished reading ur Nyx fic on wattpad now I have an obsession with the young lordling. I was wondering if you can make an angsty fic of him and reader where they had a fight and she doesn't talk to him and makes him grovel??

He is a fool. A big, big fool. Nyx knows this. He knows this so well.

He sits on the railing of the balcony, wings spread wide behind his back as he balances, pondering over the biggest mistake he has ever made in his life — letting you go.

A cool breeze blows through his hair and he brings a hand up to brush back his silken strands, before grabbing a hair tie and fixating them at the nape of his neck. You look more and more like Cassian, he can hear his mother's voice and a low, cold chuckle slips through his lips.

Maybe he does, but Cassian wouldn't have messed up like this.

This stupid fight — it was so useless, over something so stupid. His thoughts were a little too loud, and he started to worry that you can't stand the pressure of dating the High Lord's heir. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not even listen to you, did not even give you a chance to explain to him that it doesn't matter to you. And then you laughed and chatted with his best friend, Ran, and jealousy flooded the young heir. He thought you would like Ran more and that you would be so much better off with him. Everything, every stupid thought filled his brain, and he saw red and simply ended things with you.

And well, now he has to pay the price.

After your fight, you told him you don't ever want to have anything to do with him. The hurt just ran so deep, your emotions got the best of you and made you say this.

You did not mean it, not really at least, but obviously Nyx now thinks he lost you forever.

A groan parts his lips when the young lordling throws his head back, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Let me guess, a girl is the reason behind your misery?"

Nyx whips his head to the side, eyes wide open.

He didn't hear his father enter, nor did he hear him approach. But suddenly Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, stands next to him, hands braced on the railing onto which Nyx sits.

Nyx closes his eyes and groans again. "So obvious?"

Rhysand chuckles lowly, then he clicks his tongue. "Very much, son." The High Lord turns his head, giving him son a sidelong glance. He just looks so much like Rhysand, the same eyes, the same colour of hair, the same stature, he only has Feyre's eyes, and her nose. And apparently he is trying to get the same hairstyle as his uncle. "This is about Y/N, I assume?" Rhysand asks when Nyx provides no further information.

"You know about us?"

For a moment Nyx worries his mental shields have been lowered too often and he has given everything he ever thought away. But his father's answer brings at least some comfort in this case.

"The amount of times she has been here, how you looked at her and the way you talked about definitely gave you away." Rhysand chuckles again and finally Nyx turns to him as well, sadness glistening in his eyes when he searches his father's gaze.

"She is amazing," Nyx mumbles.

"She is." The High Lord nods, sympathy passing over his face. "And now I wonder what happened."

"I am a fool and I messed up?"

Rhysand raises a questioning brow. "Enlighten me, son."

"I let her go?" Nyx says, his voice rising at the end, almost like he is posing a question.

Confusion passes over Rhysand's face and he watches his son closely. "Why?" he asks. "Did you do something to hurt her? Or did she do something to hurt you?"

"Yes." Nyx presses his lips in a thin line and lowers his chin to his chest, letting his head hang.

"Yes, what?"

Another groan leaves the lordling, and he once again throws his head back in a dramatic manner. "I fucked up."

"Wording," Rhysand reprimands and gives his head a little shake.

Nyx turns to him once again and rolls back his shoulder. "Sorry, father. I messed up. I broke up with her. I got jealous and I then I thought I was not good enough for her and I broke up with Y/N, not even listening to what she has to says and she…" His voice starts to quaver, but Nyx quickly bites down on the inside of his cheek — he won't cry now.

"She said she never wanted to see me again."

"And you just gave up?" Rhysand leans forward a little, holding his son' gaze. He can see the young boy behind his grown-up demeanour. Deep inside, Nyx is still so very young, his little boy, and he will forever stay that. Rhysand brings his arm up to clasp Nyx's shoulder. "Your mother called me terrible names back then, threw a shoe at me—" "Y/N tossed pillow at me," Nyx says with a cold chuckle. "And then told me to get lost, but not in the nice wording I just used." A sad smile appears on his lips, and Rhysand squeezes his shoulder again.

"You are going to fix this, Nyx. I know this. But you need to put some effort in it. Buy her something nice, show her that it was a mistake. Tell her—" "I tried!" Nyx blurts out and throws his hands up in despair. "I tried everything. I brought her flowers. I brought her chocolate. I knocked at her window at three in the morning. I told her she is amazing and I tried to make it up with her. But she does not even want to see me. She—" "Did you apologise?" Rhysand raises a brow. "Did you tell her that you are a massive fool for letting her go?"

Nyx doesn't answer, does not deny it either, which tells Rhys he hasn't. The young lordling only turns his head to side and stares straight forward at the Sidra river, his lips pressed in a thin line, eyes downcast, gaze empty.

The High Lord tilts his head in a reproachful manner, and gives his son's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Well, I guess you now know what you have to do?"

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

And Nyx does know what he has to do. The moment the sun rises the next moment, he is one his feet, gathering the large bouquet of flowers his aunt Elain made for him, a box of little chocolate hearts in his other hand. He sets out, his wings carrying him over Velaris to the small house where you live with your family.

Today he won't give up. Today he will make up with you. He is Nyx Archeron, first born son of Rhysand and Feyre, High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, and he won't give up.

He will get you back and he will never let you go.

Determination is etched upon his features when he Nyx slowly descends. His grips the bouquet and the box of chocolates in his hands, his heart beating so rapidly he can feel it in his throat, hammering against his ribcage. But it won't make him give up.

This is a mission, a mission he will return from successful. With confident struts he nears your entrance door, shifts the bouquet and knocks.

And then he waits, feeling how his hands turns clammy, how his heart beats even faster, his breathing quickens until—

The door opens slowly, and your beautiful eyes are the first thing he sees.

"Y/N, I—" You slam the door in his face. Or rather you try to, but he is faster. He places his foot in the doorframe, stopping the door. "No, Y/N, you need to listen to me. You need to let me explain. Please, hear me out."

"Just like you listened to me?" With anger in your voice, you raise your brow at him, fingers curled around the door. "What do you want, Nyx? Ask me again if I am banging Ran behind your back? Tell me again that I am not good enough for the High Lord's son and should rather be with someone like Ran?"

"I never meant it like that. You are good enough for me. I am not good enough for you and I am huge fool."

You snort. "That is true. You are a big idiot." Slowly you grip on the door loosens, but you stand your ground, nothing kind or warm in your gaze. He hurt you and he should see what his words have done to you.

"I know this, I am the biggest idiot ever for letting you go. I love you and I am sorry - for what I said, for what I assumed, for how I behaved."

"And you think a simple sorry is enough?" You raise your brow, hoping your discussion at the door does not draw your family's attention to you. They are all still asleep and really don't want them to wake up because you are fighting with the High Lord's son at the entrance door. So, you decide to step outside, closing the door behind you.

A glimmer of relief passes over Nyx's face, over you at least wanting to talk to him, being ready to listen to him. It is what he should have done.

"No, I don't think so," he says, voice tinged with shame. He gives his head a little shake. "I know I have to fight hard to make it up to you, and I will fight hard for you. I am a born warrior and I won't give up like that."

"You are a born idiot, Nyx." You can't avoid the silly, little smile from appearing on your lips.

Nyx has to chuckle a little as well, stepping a little closer to you. "I brought you chocolate and flowers." He reaches his hands forward.

You don't accept immediately, you let him suffer for a second, and then hesitantly reach forward and take the things from his hands. Inhaling a deep breath, you lift your gaze to his. "It is a beginning and—Nyx, what are you doing?!"

The High Lord's son drops to his knees in front of you, staring up at you with a pout and pleading eyes. "I love you. I love you so much, and I am the biggest idiot Prythian has ever seen. Letting you go was the worst I could have ever done, and I hate myself every day for it."

"Nyx, Gods, get up please." You have to laugh a little as you try to urge him to get back up again.

"Not until you forgive me." He pouts even more, brows laying in furrows.

"Nyx," you say, shifting the bouquet, so you can reach a hand out and grab his arm.

But he shakes his head. "Nope. I am sorry. I never thought you would cheat on me, I just thought you being with me puts unnecessary burdens on you. Everyone in Velaris knows who I am, and they will be interested in you as well. People will question who you are, will want to know everything about you—"

"And I told you that I don't care. Or, I tried to tell you that I don't care." You now also take a step towards him. "I don't mind it. I wanted to be with you, and I don't care what other people think or want to know about me. I like you and I care about what you think, not random citizens from Velaris."

You tilt your head to the side and look at him for a long moment. "If you promise me to never question my love for you, my loyaltiy and that I would never betray you, I will forgive you."

"Sure?" Nyx raises a brow.

You nod and he finally gets back onto his feet, straightening up and rolling back his shoulders. "Also, to make it fully up to you, you are allowed to call me an idiot for the rest of our immortal life."

You grin, stepping into him so he can put his arms around you. "I would have done that anyway." You smile into his chest when a soft laugh leaves him and he embraces you tightly. "I love you so much and I missed you terribly."

#nyx x reader #nyx archeron #rhysand #acotar #acosf #nyx acotar

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carolmunson · 1 year

Text

okay, since some of you asked for it:

unpopular opinion but i don’t actually think eddie was a nice soft boy at all. dustin and mike are literally afraid to ask him to move hellfire. ‘he’s always revved up,’ implying that he’s always like this, always a little close to snapping. he’s not nice to them when he asks them to find a replacement. he also guilt trips them about 'taking them in like lost sheep' and shoves them off to find a replacement instead of keeping lucas included. which is why i don't understand the 'fierce protector of his friends' take because he's so quick to drop lucas just because he's 'moved to the dark side.' aka, throwing balls into laundry baskets.

which leads me to when he gets up on the table, people are not trying to fuck around with him. this is a common occurance, people are not surprised to see him up there and yelling. they aren't surprised that he's making a spectacle of himself. if eddie was soft and sweet, he would’ve gotten beat up. if eddie was soft and gentle, he'd probably be scared of jason. guys like jason in the 80s loved being macho and punching out losers — eddie just gave him the devil horns and called it a day. eddie’s absolutely gotten in fist fights before and won (his dad is a literal criminal!) otherwise someone would've thrown something or told him to shut the fuck up. people are scared of him, even his own friends! there’s more reasons than just playing DND and metal that make town certain that he’s a cult leader. you don't just assume someone is a murderer if they haven't shown any interest in violence before, especially considering his dad was likely a shitty dude. he even bullies erica when she first shows up to hellfire and only respects her when she bullies him back and bests him. he is someone you have to EARN respect from. he will never respect anyone outright or be understanding outright. he doesn't fully respect dustin or mike to start either, he views them as underlings.

even chrissy assumes he's going to be mean and scary, there's gotta be reason behind that. he's not nice or kind in school, which is likely a defense mechanism. he’s sweet with chrissy because he likes her, he has a crush on her. it’s very clear that he has since he was a kid, otherwise why would he bring up them hanging out in middle school? why would he even remember that if he hasn’t been pining for her this whole time? he admits too, albiet flirtily, that he thought SHE'D be mean and scary too, because he doesn't like people 'like that', people he assumes are 'on the dark side'. i’m sure he hoped they’d kiss a little when she went to his trailer. he's even a little sarcastic when she's there, again, defensive. 'the maid took the week off'. but ultimately, he's nice to her because he wants to kiss her and has a crush on her. i don't think it's because he's fully 'showing her who he really is'.

also he's a literal drug dealer????? like?????

he only becomes more gentle and open with dustin and co. when he gets pulled into the upside down/vecna stuff because he needs support. they grow a bond over shared trauma. and i do believe eddie had a big brother type relationship with dustin, but just like steve he loves him begrudgingly 'i love you, you little shit bag' kind of shit. i do believe he liked and cared for his friends but i also think he always had a big layer of mean kid armor on because he had a hard life growing up. how i percieved the character is 'mean bully whose secretly nice but is mean and boisterous and loud as a cover' trope. when he explains that his father taught him to hotwire, he seems bitter about it. of course he is, all the other kids were learning to play ball. but he obviously still retains this information and a whole bunch of other crime tricks from his dad. he's BEEN partaking in this shit. he KNOWS he's a shitty guy. you don't just get taught how to hotwire once and then suddenly know how to do it years later. he's done it before! multiple times! he has practice! he likely knows about warzone cause his daddy absoLUTELY had a gun or two. his dad probably took him there once. he was pulled left and right into bad shit growing up and that will HARDEN YOU. wayne says that murder 'ain't in his nature' and i'm sure it's not. i'm sure he's different with wayne, but idk, to me, it doesn't erase the fact that outwardly, i don't think eddie was nearly as sweet and gentle as people think he is canonically. i think he's a very hardened and tortured person and that even becomes clear with his reaction to chrissy's death and how he goes about things going forward. he was a weird kid with weird interests in a cookie cutter conservative town, had a criminal father, and an unconventional family situation in the 70s and 80s, that shit'll fuck you up and over -- look at boomers y'all! they are emotionally stunted! but, i could go on forever with this character analysis. so i'll stop here. but -- in the words of the real housewives reunion meme: that's MY OPINION!

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lanadelnegan · 8 months

Text

My Past, My Future - Part 1

Negan x Reader x Daryl (love triangle)

Part 2 here

Summary: Daryl is in love with you, but you're in love with Negan.

Warnings: 18+, smut, love triangle, p in v, romantic negan, angst, breeding

Note: this was requested from an anon (Negan saying goodbye to Lucille and confessing his love to y/n.) I decided to spice it up and throw Daryl in there. <3

"Lucille, baby. If you were here, you'd be so fuckin' disappointed in me.... But hell, if you were still here, things probably never would have made it to this point to begin with... Turned into a fuckin' monster when the world took you from me. Hope wherever the hell you are, you weren't watchin'. Truth is? I couldn't stand seeing anyone fuckin' happy because you took all my happiness with you when you left. But baby... I think I've found happiness again... "

Negan sighs heavily as he traces the wood grain of his beloved bat.

"She reminds me of you. So carefree and down-to-earth. If you met her, you'd understand... You'd want me to be happy, right? Hell, I've done enough suffering.. even though I probably deserved it. Anyways.."

Negan brings Lucille to his lips, pressing softly as his eyes squeeze shut.

"What I'm trying to say is.. you taught me how to love, Lucille. I'm forever grateful for that. And you'll always have a part of me. You're my past. But y/n... she's my future."

He tosses the bat into the fire, watching the wood burn bittersweetly as it concludes that chapter of his life.

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

"Hey, where've you been?" Carol asks, jogging up to Negan as he arrives back at Alexandria.

"Had to take care of something." Negan shrugs. "You seen y/n around?"

"On a run with Daryl.. They should be back soon... Why?" Carol scrunches her brows at Negan and his jaw twitches at the mention of Daryl's name.

Daryl has been there for y/n since the very beginning, which is partly why Negan spared Daryl and let him live. Y/n begged Negan to let Daryl come back to Alexandria after Negan took him to the sanctuary, and he allowed it because even then, he had a soft spot for her.

Negan grunts. "No reason."

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

You and Daryl have been gone for a few hours now and you managed to find some canned goods on your run, weighing down your backpack. The sun is starting to go down just as you see the gates of Alexandria in the near distance and you grunt, adjusting the heavy bag on your shoulder.

Daryl notices your struggling and doesn't hesitate to grab your bag off your shoulder, throwing it over his.

He's been there by your side since the beginning and saved your lives more times than you can count.. helped you when you needed it. Even during the smallest inconveniences, like right now.

"You don't have to carry that."

"I know." Daryl grunts, adjusting your backpack next to his own on his back.

The rest of your walk is silent as the guilt from the secret you've kept for weeks now eats at you.

You started visiting Negan a couple weeks after he got locked up in Alexandria. The first time you did it was to curse him out.. Tell him how you wish he were dead and how your friends didn't deserve what he did to them.

The second time you visited was out of pure boredom. Carol and Daryl had gone on a run without you, and you snuck in to see him out of curiosity.

The third time was because you found that he intrigued you. The conversations you had with Negan had become like no other conversations you'd ever had. You felt like he was the only person who understood you.

Monthly visits to his cell became weekly visits. And weekly visits turned into daily visits. You'd bring him books to keep him company, sneak him snacks, and eventually, one thing led to another.

And now he's your secret boyfriend. You've been sneaking around with him for weeks now, like teenagers scared to get caught by their parents. And while it's thrilling, your feelings for Negan have grown into something much bigger that you ever expected.

"Daryl.. there's something I need to get off my chest."

If there's anyone who hates Negan, it's Daryl. But he's also the one person you trust the most, and he's going to find out eventually. So you decide it might as well come from you.

"Hm?" Daryl grunts, scuffing his feet in the gravel as he walks.

"Promise it won't make anything... different between us?"

He slows down, looking at you suspiciously. "Nah, ain't promisin' nothin'. But now ya gotta tell me."

You sigh, hoping you're not about to make a terrible decision.

"There's... someone I have feelings for..."

His brows scrunch together as he glances at you. When he doesn't answer, you hesitantly continue.

"I... I think I might even love him."

Daryl looks at you again, a softer look in his eyes this time as you continue on rambling.

"I haven't told anyone else. I don't want anyone getting upset with me... Or... judging me."

"Who is it?" Daryl quickly cuts you off as the Alexandrian gates open for the two of you.

"It's.. um.." You sigh as Negan's name stops on the tip of your tongue.

"Y/n.. hey, there you are. We need to talk." Negan is already on the other side of gate as you enter. Daryl stops beside you, refusing to leave your side as he glares at Negan.

"Uh, yeah.. let's go talk over there." You say, widening your eyes at Negan, confused that he's talking to you like this in front of Daryl. You've both done a decent job of keeping your interactions with each other private, so this is out of the ordinary.

"No..." Negan cuts you off. "I'm done hiding. I'm gonna talk and you're gonna listen."

"Negan.." You warn him, noticing the death glare that Daryl is giving him.

"I love you, y/n."

Your mouth drops open slightly at his confession. You want to say it back, because... you do love him. But something stops you.

Negan brings his hand up to rest against your cheek. "That's okay, baby. You don't have to say it back right now. I've waited for you for this long, I've got all the time in the world.. I just.. I needed you to know."

He takes you in his arms, hugging you tightly and resting his chin on top of your head.

"You can't be fuckin' serious." Daryl finally interrupts. "Him?" He asks, looking at you with hurt in his eyes.

You nod, the side of your head pressing into Negan's chest as your arms wrap around his waist. "Daryl... I was gonna tell you sooner. I-"

"Doesn't matter." Daryl grunts, spitting at the ground in front of him. "Whadaya want me to say, y/n? Congrats?" Daryl glares at Negan before angrily walking off.

You glance around, noticing others watching the scene before them. "Negan.. we need to take this somewhere else."

"Okay.. yeah, I know." He drops his head. "I just - I'm so tired of hiding from everyone. I want them to know you're my girl. I fuckin' love you, y/n. More than anything... Why is that so wrong? Why should I have to hide that?"

You search his eyes as a single tear falls from yours. You know you shouldn't want him. You know all of the awful things he's done, but you've grown to know him on such a deeper level over the past few months and you can't help but feel so strongly for him.

If being with him means the rest of the world is against you, then so be it.

You wrap your arms around him and slam your lips to his, kissing him desperately. You're too caught up in the moment to notice the shock on everyone's face around you. You deepen this kiss, savoring the taste of him as your tongues mingle together.

"Negan.. I need you." You say in between breaths as he lifts you up into his arms by your thighs and your legs wrap around his waist.

You can't take your lips off of him as he leads you into your house nearby, not paying attention to the hateful glares around you.

Negan kicks your front door open with you still in his arms and you slam it shut as he presses your back into the living room wall. His lips travel from your lips to your neck as he presses his erection into you. You whine, frustrated at the material separating both of you.

"Negan.. please, I need you.. now."

He carefully lets you down as both of you tear away at each other's clothes until you're naked and he's left in just his black boxers.

He picks you back up, leading you to the couch and sitting down with you straddling his lap. You pull away from his lips long enough to look into his hazel eyes, letting your hands cup his face before running your fingers through his graying hair.

You can't deny that you're head over heels in love with this man, as wrong as it may be. He's changed so much since he was leader of the Saviors, mentally and physically. He's a perfect example that people can change, and you hope that the others and Daryl can finally see that one day too.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful, baby." His cock springs free from the hole in his boxers as he takes your hard nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly.

You hover over him, lining his tip up with your entrance. You slide down slowly, inch by inch until he fills you completely and you feel the tip of him pressing against your cervix. You moan out at the satisfying pain as his fingers dig into your hips.

"That's it, sweetheart. God you feel so fuckin' good." He praises you.

You wrap your arms around his neck to support yourself as you bounce up and down on him and he groans out, looking up at you through his lust-filled eyes. You press your forehead and nose against his own as you continue riding him slow and hard, making sure he hits as deep as possible each time you come down on him.

"I love you too, Negan. So much."

"Yeah? Fuck. Say it again." He says, his breathing unsteady.

"I love you Negan... I'm in love with you."

"Fuck, baby. I'm so fuckin' crazy about you."

You crash your lips to his again as a tear falls from your cheek.

"Baby, don't cry. It's okay, we're gonna figure this out. Fuck everyone else." He wipes your tear away with his thumb as you continue grinding on him softly.

You nod. "I know.. I just.. want them to accept you."

Negan gets up suddenly, laying you down on your back before positioning himself between your legs.

"Only one I need acceptance from is you, darlin'." He says before sliding inside you in one quick motion. He fucks you fast and deep, interchangeably moaning filthy sounds in your ear and sucking at your neck.

After moments of thrusting, he pulls back, settling on his knees as he lifts your leg, placing it on his shoulder. From this new angle, he hits your g-spot perfectly over and over.

"Negan.." You breathe heavily. "I'm -"

"I know baby. Just fuckin' let go."

You come apart at the sound of his words, moaning out his name as your juices rush out of you. Negan looks down between the two of you, watching you soak his cock.

"Goddamn baby, look at that." His voice is low and raspy when he leans over you again. "So fuckin' wet." The sound of his voice right in your ear sends a chill through your body.

"Want you to cum in me.." You breathe out.

"Yeah? You sure, baby?"

You've never let him before, but now that your relationship is public and you've both confessed your feelings to each other, you crave him on a deeper level.

You nod desperately and he kisses you hard, spilling deep inside of you as his hips stop abruptly. He groans into your mouth as his dick pulses over and over and you feel his warm liquid paint your walls.

After a few minutes of snuggling and kissing, he finally pulls out of you and the two of you get dressed.

"Did you mean it?" He asks, pulling his pants up.

"Mean what? That I love you?"

He looks to you, waiting for your answer as you pull your shirt over your head.

Your eyebrows scrunch. "Of course I meant it. Why would I say it if I didn't mean it?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. You coulda been caught up in the moment."

You laugh, walking over to him and sliding your hands around his waist, pulling him in for a long hug. You look up at him to find him grinning down at you.

"Nope... Still love you." You reassure him.

He nods towards the door. "You ready to tell the world that?"

"Fuck this world. It doesn't care about us. Why should we care about it?"

Negan chuckles, kissing your forehead.

Your face grows serious at the thought of Daryl's reaction earlier. "Actually.. I need to find Daryl. Make things right.. He seemed really upset."

Negan nods disappointedly, dropping his head.

"Oh, stop. Don't be like that... You know his opinion is important to me."

"He'll never give us his blessing if that's what you're after, y/n."

"I don't need his blessing, Negan. I just don't want him to hate me. He's been there with me since the beginning. If we want a future together, I need to make things right."

Negan's brows come together as he lets go of you. "If we want a future together? ... So, if he's not okay with us being together, that's it? You're just gonna kick me to the fuckin' curb?"

"Negan.. I didn't say that."

"... but you did." He says.

"Negan, please just.. I didn't mean it like that." You say frustrated, reaching for him again. Your heart drops when he pulls away.

He nods, sliding his hands into his pockets as he waits for your explanation.

"I care about him, too. What he thinks.. matters to me. That doesn't mean I'm going to let it dictate our future. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have worded it that way."

"Okay." He whispers, but the hurt is still clear in his voice.

"Stay here, okay? I want you to sleep here tonight. I'll talk to them.. get them to agree to it. Just give me some time and.. don't leave the house, okay?"

Negan nods as you reach to hold his hands, standing on your tip toes to kiss him. "I love you Negan. This is going to work, I promise."

Part 2 here

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ysrjune · 24 days

Text

Tell Me What You Want

paring - scott monroe, sam monroe 🍒

part 4! of tell me what you want

The next couple of weeks with Scott as your new boyfriend was great. He took you out on dates, went over to your house for a change, and sometimes he'd just walk around the neighborhood with you like always. Not a lot about him changed after you started dating him. He was still playful and little jokingly mean. You liked that. You liked that he didn't stop being playfully.

Who would have guessed you were the one who was gonna be more clingy, too. Always holding his hand everywhere you went, stealing kisses and just being super touchy in general. He never minded it, though. This was all he ever wanted.

On Wednesday night, he had invited you to go to the beach with Sam, his parents, and a few of his other family members on Friday. Of course you said yes! More time to spend with your boyfriend. So when the day rolled around, you packed all the things you needed. Sun—screen, a towel, a hairbrush, and other things you thought were necessary. All of these things were in a tote bag that your dad had bought you the last time you went to the beach.

Soon enough, you walked next door, knocking on the door. Scott's dad opened the door, greeting you with a hug, then sending you upstairs to his room. As soon as you entered, his eyes shifted from his phone to you. “Hi, angel,” He smiled and opened his arms for you to go give him a hug. You did what he wanted, smothering him in kisses as you hugged.

“Where's your bathing suit?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “Underneath my clothes, silly. I wasn't gonna walk over here with just a bathing suit on.” “Makes sense.” He chuckled and kissed your shoulder, then got up to throw a couple of things into his own bag. “You got everything you need?” Scott asked, throwing a pair of boxers into his bag. “Mhm. I doubled checked just to be safe.”

“Finally using your common sense?” He picked at you, grinning to himself as he rummaged through a couple drawers to see if there's anything else he should bring along. “Yeah, sure.” You rolled your eyes and picked up his phone, unlocking it. You scrolled through his instagram feed, chrcking his story, and even looking at who he was texting. You've done it before and he doesn't care. He has nothing to hide.

Then, a text from Sam popped up. Your heart felt like it stopped for a second. The memories of what you did with him flooded your memory, and it made you feel all that guilt again. “Scott, your brother texted you..”

“What does he want?” He asked, putting on his shoes. “I don't know, I didn't read what he said.” You turned off the phone, looking at Scott. “Read what he said to me, yeah?” That made you even more nervous than you already were. “Okay,” you turned the phone back on and clicked Sam's message. For some reason, you thought it would be about you. The worst possible texts came to your mind. ‘is your dumb girlfriend here already?’, ‘why did you invite y/n? She's so fucking annoying’, ‘you already being her over enough, why does she have to tag along on a family thing.’

You were being so dramatic. All he said was “Share your sunscreen with me, I think I lost mine from last time” You read it to Scott. Your boyfriend finished tying his shoes and looked over at you. “Say no and then okay.” That was a dumb request, but that's the way Scott usually texts back when someone asks for a favor. He did it to you for years.. and still does.

Eventually, everyone got in the car. You were nervous about sitting in the middle because if you did, you'd sit next to both boys. So you asked Scott if you could sit in the end. He didn't think anything of it, so he said yes. The whole car ride, you were kinda quiet. You only talked when you were talked to. Sam spoke to Scott a little, too. But it was so damn weird. How could he act so normal? Was he not bothered about you being there after what happened? He even said hi to you when he got into the car. Maybe you were just over thinking it.

You two shared a couple of glances, but he didn't smile or anything. He didn't even give you a nasty look either. It was just a glance. It took almost an hour to get to the beach. The boys helped their dad and uncle unload the trunk once they got there, too.

The cousins that came were one boy and one girl. Luckily for you, you had met them at the birthday party. Their names were Jerry and Cassy. Jerry helped with the other guys after saying hi to you, leaving you with Cassy and the two moms. You chatted it up with Cassy while walking to the sand to find a spot to stay for the day. “Y/n, honey, how long until your next birthday?” Mrs. Monroe asked. “In a couple of months. I'll be turning 18.”

She nodded and told her sister the information. Maybe she was telling her about how you and Scott had a 2 year age gap. Enough of those boys, though! After picking a spot to put all your stuff down, you took your clothes off, putting them in your bag and going into the water with Cassy. Both of you splashed around and had a bunch of fun for almost an hour until Sam snuck behind Cassy and pushed her underwater.

After coming back up, she started messing with Sam. It was nice to see Sam being playful. You had never seen him like this. Along came Jerry and Scott. Scott pushed you underwater like Sam did to Cassy. For some reason, everyone decided to gang up on Scott.. then Sam. Dragging them underwater, splashing, and annoying them in general.

You were having so much fun. You forgot about the awkwardness with Sam. You even talked to him and went on his shoulders while Cassy was on Scotts. What you two girls didn't know was that the twins were gonna drop you on purpose. When they did, they spun around as fast as they could in the water, and then! dropped you. The adults went in for a while, too.

All of you went for a walk on the shallow part of the ocean, leaving the adults. Scott had his arm around you, and yours was around his waist. The sun was close to setting. The only request the adults made was that you guys would return to watch the sun go down all the way. So when the sky started turning pink and orange, everyone returned.

Sam cuddled up to his mom. Another new thing you learned about him.. he was a mama's boy. Despite being 19, he still liked cuddling up to his mom while she played with his hair. Scott had his back to you, holding onto your thighs while your arms wrapped around his waist.

It was a nice place to be in right now. Everyone laughing and speaking to each other. It gave a good vibe. Once the sun went all the way down, the guys started returning things to the cars. After changing back into your clothes and brushing your hair, you said bye to Cassy and her family and returned to your spot in the car.

“So, your aunt Isabella and uncle Leonard asked us to go to dinner with them tonight.” Scott’s dad started. “And we decided to go. We're gonna shower, get ready, and leave. Don't throw any parties while we're gone.” Their mom says with a smile on her face. “Y/n, feel free to stay over as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” you said politely, then other conversations took over the car. Scott looked down at you, rubbing his thigh across your thigh. “Did you have fun?” You look at him with a small smile and nod. “Mhm, lots. Hope we can hang out with Jerry and Cassy again. They're super funny.” Scott kissed your forehead, then adjusted himself to be able to reach your shoulder so he could lay on it.

The adults decided to leave everything in the car and take it out tomorrow since they wanted to be out of the house quickly. Sam was the first to leave the car since he wanted to shower and leave the house to go out with his friends. You went to your house to shower, too.

By the time you were done, Scott's parents and brother were gone. Movies were being binged, snacks were eaten, jokes were shared—it was a sweet moment. It had been a few weeks since you had sex with Scott, and you didn't wanna wait again. Your hand traveled to his crotch, rubbing up and down.

“What are you doin’..” he mumbled, looking at your hand. “Oh, nothing..” , “doesnt feel like nothing.” He smirked, pulling his sweats down to reveal he had no boxers on. His semi-hard cock against your hand. You wrapped your hand around his dick, stroking slowly. “Fuck.” He groaned, hands gripping his sheets. “Are we really doing this? Now?” He asked with his eyes closed, hips now starting to slowly roll into your hand. “What's wrong with right now?” You ask him, speeding up a little.

“Nothing.” He whimpered, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Don't stop, angel. Your hand feels so good.” He pants, sometimes twitching at times. Your finger ran from tip to base, making him moan softly. “please, please, please suck my dick, babe. please.” He begged, now looking at you with his pretty, blue eyes. How could you say no to him? Hes asking so nicely.

You go down onto your knees and immediately take his full length, making him shudder. “Careful, baby. Don't want you to hurt yourself.” How sweet. Things sped up, making him moan louder than he ever has. Now that no one was home, he could be as loud as he wanted. Hand pulling on your hair and sometimes gagging you on him.

“Yeah, like that, bitch.” Woah? He's never said anything like that before.. it was hot, though. “Fuck—get up here and sit on my face. now.” Yeah, you're wet. You pulled off of him, and he lay back. You took your pants and underwear off and sat in the middle of his chest, un-sure about this. He could feel you pooling on his chest, and it only made him hornier. “Did you fucking hear me? Hurry up.” He smacked your thigh, making you wince. You did what he asked.

His tongue hit all the right places. It felt so good. Especially when his fingers would nosingly travel to your clit, slowly fingering it. You involuntary started to ride his face, making him moan into your pussy. This continued for a little while until he had you in missionary. He slowly thrusted into you, telling you how much he loves you and how pretty you look underneath him.

Out of nowhere, he started being rough. Degrading you, mixing a little praise into it. He even smacked you when you wouldn't respond. “Answer me, or I'll stop.” Yeah, there was no way you were gonna let him stop. When you were close to cumming, he stopped. “You're not gonna get off that easyz sweetie. Gotta work for it. Set the pace yourself and fuck me how you want.”

You whined but did what he said. What you both didn't notice was that Sam came home early. He was in his room, listening to everything going on. He was so disturbed but knew if he opened his door, it would make a noise, and you'd know he was back. He was actually really mad. How could you fuck Scott so soon after fucking him? He groaned quietly and put his headphones on.

You two went on for 30 more minutes until finishing together. Scott cleaned you up and took good care of you. But the guilt came back. The way Scott was degrading reminded you of Sam. The whole next 2 hours you spent watching movies with him, you couldn't take it anymore.

“Scott.. I need to tell you something.” He looked at you, raising his eyebrows to let you know he was listening. “This isn't easy for me to say.. uh, look.” You sighed and adjusted yourself to face him properly. He was so damn confused but didnt say a word.

“So, I had a few reasons to not date you before.. but there was one big reason. It was cause..” You paused, heart beating fast. “What?” He furrowed his eyebrows. You took a deep breath and looked at him. “Its because I liked your brother, too.” This made Scott's whole face relax. But not in a good way. It was in one of those ways that someone was putting stuff together.

Sam was in his room, no longer listening to music. Obviously, he was listening in, but once he heard his name, he knew what you were doing. “stupid fucking—” he listened in, scared.

“And the day you got high with him and Chris.. yknow, when he stayed..” That was all Scott needed to know exactly what happened. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He furrowed his eyebrows again and stood from his bed. “You fucked my brother the day after you made out with me?! Y/n, you left hickeys all over my fucking neck and then you fucked my brother?!” He yelled. Sam hissed to himself. When Scott gets mad.. he really gets mad. He starts yelling and won't stop.

“Scott, I didn’t mean—”, “No! You did mean it. You could have said no! I know my brother—we're both guys. I've talked to him about sex before, y/n. I know he'd never take advantage of someone like that. So, I know damn well if you said no, he wouldn't have fucked you.” He kept yelling.

“And you decide to tell me this just now?! After we had sex for the second time? Whats your problem!” Sam decided he needed to go in there before Scott completely lost it. When you guys heard his door open, Scott immediately opened his door. “And you! How could you do this to me? You knew I liked her!” He pushed Sam to the wall. “Scott, calm down—I can explain.”

“Nah, dont worry. Your precious princess told me everything already. Tell me, Sam. You couldn't just leave and go have sex with one of those girls you always talk to instead?” Scott yelled, eyes starting to tear up. “You selfish fuck.” He shook his head and started walking down the stairs. “Scott, where the hell are you going?!” Sam followed him, leaving you in the room.

“Dont worry about it, just leave me alone.” He got to the door, but Sam was quick to slap his hand off of the handle. “Scott, come on! Lets talk about this!”

“What are we supposed to talk about?! How you betrayed me? How she betrayed me?!” He looked Sam up and down. “You're my brother, Samuel. You're supposed to have my back.” “Scott, come on. I have your back—I just. I was high! She didn't mean anything to me! She never really has! Barley even fuckin’ know her! Did I like her a little? Yeah, but I never wanted to act on anything because you liked her first! In love with her, even. Come on, man! ” He yelled back. You heard it. And you knew it was true.

“Being high isnt an excuse, Sam. Fuck. You.” He pointed to Sam's chest and left. You cried while all of this was happening. Seriously, what was wrong with you? This is all your fault. It was obvious that neither of them wanted you anymore. That's your own fault.

Sam came into the room, looking mad. “I told you not to say anything.” His voice was serious. “Y/n, do you think this is a game? What did you think was gonna happen? That he was gonna brush it off and forgive you?”

“I don't know, Sam! I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore! I felt bad!”, “Yeah?! Yeah, you feel bad?! Imagine how I feel! I betrayed my brother all because I couldn't keep my hands to myself.” He yelled, his eyes tearing up. He took a deep breath and crossed his arms. “Y/n, this isn't your fault. It's mine.” He mumbled. “I should have just left.” He was gonna say more, but Chris came rushing into the house.

“I heard yelling. What's going on?!” He looked at you, then Sam. “Why are you yelling at my sister, huh?” He pressed Sam, looking him in the eyes. “Chris, stop—Sam didnt do anything.” You quickly went to your brother, pushing him away. He looked down at you. “Wheres scott?” He questioned, looking around.

“I'll tell you later..” You grab him by the arm and go home.

Arriving at your house, Chris left you alone. You cried into your pillow. You had no idea where Scott went. He probably hates you now—and so does Sam.

This was all your fault.

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writing-fanics · 8 months

Text

Pregnancy Scare

Jaime Reyes x F!Reader

.summary: ‘either it’s the dinner we had last night at the restaurant or im actually…’ y/n wakes up vomiting throughout the entire day and ontop of her period being late she and her boyfriend start to panic

cw: throwing up/ mentions of sex/ mentions of pregnancy/

a/n: havent seen the movie yet but will probs Saturday but this takes sometime before the movie also my first time writing a pregnancy scare story

Y/n is groaning in her sleep, with her arms wrapped around her stomach. Suddenly, she feels nauseated and experiences sharp pains. She smells the food cooking downstairs and feels her stomach grumbling. She quickly rushes to the bathroom and vomits into the toilet. She hunched over letting out the contents in her stomach, before groaning and flushing the toilet.

After vomiting, laughter was heard from the hallway. Jaime entered his girlfriend's room with coffee, thanking her mother for making breakfast. Once noticing she isn't in the bed he peeked, into the bathroom and saw her on the ground.

"Hey, are you alright?" He asked, worriedly and she looked at him for a moment her face pale. Before the urge to vomit arose again and she threw up in the toilet once again. "I guess not." He said, to himself. Placing the two mugs of coffee on the counter before kneeling down beside her and rubbing her back. As she threw up into the toilet.

She groaned as she reached towards the handle flushing the toilet. Then she leaned back against her boyfriend's chest, and he wrapped one arm around her, "That's one way to start the morning." She joked, and he looked down at her placing his hand on her forehead.

He planted a kiss on her forehead. "Maybe breakfast isn't the best thing right now," she mumbled, leaning into him. "Want me to bring you chicken broth and crackers?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yes, please."

"Okay, coming right up." He said, before picking her up bridal style and carrying her to her side of the bed. Placing her on the bed and tucking her in underneath the covers.

"I'd kiss you but I don't want to end up throwing up in your mouth." She said, and he looked at her with disgust. "Awe, you can kiss me later when your not all pukey." He said, and she chuckled. She watched, as he took the two mugs of coffee and left her room.

As she lay there in bed her mind started to wonder, about the possible reasons why she was sick. Stomach flu? Maybe but she doesn't have a fever nor does she feel warm. Food poisoning? Probably a few days ago they did go out to some sketchy restaurant. She could've sworn she saw a rat in the restaurant. Pregnant?

She laughed at the thought there was absolutely no way that she was pregnant. She and Jaime, haven't had sex in about a week so there's no possibility for her to be pregnant. Right? Well, her period is kinda late but that could be because of stress.

She wasn't ready to be a mother at all, and if she was to have kids it be while she was at least thirty. Not twenty-one, she bit her lip nervously and just then Jaime entered the room with a mug filled with chicken broth and a sleeve of saltine crackers. "You're supposed to be laying down, your mother's orders." He said, and she stared down at the ground.

"You alright?" He asked, closing the bedroom door behind her and walking towards her placing the food on her nightstand. He knelt down in front of her and took her hand, "Jaime, what if I'm pregnant?" she said, and he looked at her and she bit her lip.

"I'm not ready to be a mother." She said, nervously and started fidgeting with her fingers. Something Jaime noticed she always did whenever she was nervous. "Hey, it's going to be okay it's probably just a stomach bug or food poisoning," he said, and she looked at him.

He planted a kiss on the top of her forehead, "Um, any chance you can go buy some tests for me?" She asked, and he looked at her, "I just want to make sure." She said, and he looked at her for a bit before letting out a sigh. "Alright, I'll be right back," he said, and she smiled looking at him.

"I'll pay you back." She said, and he shook his head, "No need, I love you." He said, and she smiled planting a kiss on his cheek. "I love you too." She said and watched as he left the room.

She sat on her bedside and reached over to her nightstand grabbed the mug of chicken broth, and began to drink it slowly. "Please don't be pregnant." She mumbled, to herself nervously.

About half an hour later, Jaime returned with two pregnancy tests just to make sure. Along with some [favorite flowers] and candies. "Ah, baby." She said, wrapping her arms around him while kissing him on the cheek.

"Hey, no matter what we'll get through this," He said, and she smiled at him and looked down at the pregnancy test waiting for an answer.

the waiting game was grueling and it felt like hours, and after five minutes the results came back negative. The couple let out a sigh of relief as they stared at the pregnancy test. Jaime kissed her on the lips and she kissed him back, "If I ever end up actually getting your pregnant." he said, and she looked at him, "I'll be here for you." He said, and she smiled looking at him.

"I love you Jaime,"

"I love you too."

"I blame that sketchy resturant we ate at." She said, and he nodded his head in agreement, "That restaurant was sketchy." He said, kissing her on the lips again as she threw the test into the trash.

later that day

[Y/n] giggled, as Jaime and she sat on the couch and snuggled up to each other while watching a movie. "Well, today was an eventful day." She said, and he chuckled wrapping his arm around her, "Sure was." He said turning towards her before, kissing her on the lips.

"Y/n, why was there a pregnancy test in the trash can?" [M/n] asked, and the couple on the couch froze eyes widened as they stared at each other. [Y/n] slowly turned around and locked eyes with her mother, who held the pregnancy test in her hand and pointed at it.

"Ah, at least it's negative right Mrs. L/N?" Jaime said nervously, scratching the back of his neck as he two turned around. She craned her neck towards him and he pursed his lips and looked away.

[Y/n] chuckled nervously, "Ah, um well-I.." She started, and looked away, "I got nothing to say," She finished, and the mother pursed her lips before revealing another thing she found.

Jaime's and [Y/n]'s eyes widened in shock and horror, their mouths dropping. "I also found this care to explain?" [M/n] said, holding up a pair of fuzzy handcuffs and [Y/n] bit down on her lower lip.

#jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes x you #jaime reyes x y/n #blue beetle reader insert #jaime reyes reader insert #reader insert #blue beetle x reader #blue beetle x you #blue beetle x y/n #x reader #fanfic #angst #headcanons #fluff #pregnancy scare #decu #xolo maridueña #blue beetle

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zoe-oneesama · 1 year

Note

On a serious note, why do you not like Derision? I mean, I can guess why, but I’m genuinely curious to hear your thoughts (if you want to).

What have they done to my boy?!

I guess we'll start with the whole "trauma" thing since that's how the episode starts - with Marinette going on a date with Adrien at the pool but constantly getting heart palpitations at the very idea of it. And not good lovey-dovey crush ones like Sabine thinks. The Actual Panic Attack kind.

This just feels unnecessary AND too late. Unnecessary because there are plenty of pre-established reasons why Marinette could be hesitant to go all in with Adrien (Being Ladybug, the 354th other times going for Adrien has failed or left her humiliated, Being Ladybug). So I don't know why they invented a trauma for her in the final hour and didn't think it was worth talking about before now?

They really came up with this whole scheme to explain why Marinette does Marinette things, like learning Adrien's schedule, planning out everything before she tries to make a move, needing to know everything about him, as if the show hasn't been mocking her for these exact traits and allowing them to blow up in her face over and over again. But NOW it's due to her TRAUMA. So...retroactively when her friends laughed at her or slapped their foreheads in frustration or the show framed her failures as a joke...we know it's actually from a tragic place and can't laugh anymore.

I mean, I was never laughing, but you get what I mean. They framed it like it was part of the comedy and now they're pulling the rug out from under themselves. How are you supposed to laugh when Adrien brings Marinette constipation medicine, or when her pictures of him are blasted all over Paris Television, or the *ugh* Statue Scene plays out and now you know that this is just adding to her pre-existing trauma? They have shot the show's rewatch value.

I never thought Marinette needed a "reason" act the way she was because those were always just kinda The Things Teenage Girls Do when they have a crush. I've admitted in the past to learning my crush's class schedule just to orchestrate running into each other in the hallways more often, and if their crush had public interviews and magazine pictures, I'm pretty sure most kids would also cut out their pictures to keep and would read and remember the interviews. I never really saw her behavior as that weird for a girl her age with a crush and recognize some cartoon exaggeration.

...Stealing his phone was a little weird, though, I'll give them that though Alya is the one who suggested it first...

SO, we enter a long flashback to One Year Ago (with Marinette now on her third Almost-Akumatization, good lord) and learn what life was like for Marinette pre-Origins, and oh boy. It's hell. She's making up illnesses to avoid school, avoiding all contact with anyone in the courtyard, having cockroaches put in her locker, having the Principal catch her "late" for class (after she had to clean herself up from a water prank), gets yelled at by the teacher for being late, sits in paint, mocked in class and then yelled at again by the teacher for pointing out the person mocking her probably planted it, and gets Saturday detention. All in one day. And when anyone tries to talk to her or even glares at the person responsible, they get threatened too.

The main reason this is hell is because Marinette is being let down by every single adult in her life. Sabine just laughs and tells Marinette that she only has a few weeks left with Chloe and it's not like she'll be in the same class as her next year.🙃 Well, why don't you make SURE she doesn't?! Maybe this is just an American vs French school thing, but where I come from, it's totally within your rights to request that your child not be put in the same class as someone else, they could at least put in a throw away line about her parents TRYING to move her, but Chloe's not allowing it JUST to keep Marinette close to her. And maybe take this a little more seriously, Sabine- your daughter is faking illness to avoid One. Girl. That should be concerning, not "lol my daughter is so silly for trying to get out of class."

Damocles finds Marinette and yells at her for being "constantly late" and praising the "anonymous notes" (signed by Chloe -_-) for always alerting him when she's behind, and then later gives her Saturday detention for...someone clearly planting paint on her desk chair? He sees a victim of bullying and punishes her for it. At the end of the episode he even suspends Socqueline for something that happened outside of school, yet in "Jubilation" she's pumping him up as The Best Principal?! Does this show thinks we're stupid or something?!

Mendeleiev also yells at Marinette for being late. She allows Chloe to make fun of Marinette for looking depressed when she comes in and allows Chloe to mock Marinette for sitting in paint, but when Marinette doesn't even stand up for herself but just accuses Chloe of putting the paint there, THEN Mendeleiev has something to say, and it's to Marinette? For "groundlessly" accusing the only person in the room laughing at Marinette, the one who was just making fun of her, the one who kept her eyes on Marinette so she could watch her sit in the paint?

Marinette tells Socqueline that all the adults are scared of Chloe, but that's not what I saw. Sure, at the end of the episode Damocles is afraid when Chloe pulls a "Lady Wifi" to force him to punish Socqueline for smashing Sabrina's phone, but the sequence of events played out more like the adults participating in the bullying. It wasn't like Damocles was sympathetic to Marinette and then Chloe cleared her throat, so he straightened up nervously and started berating Marinette. It wasn't like Marinette accused Chloe and then Chloe glared at Mendeleiev, forcing her to finally intervene. All the adults see what's going on and are either completely oblivious or don't care.

Also, Chloe totally unprompted says this:

GET A LIFE, what is your PROBLEM?! Like, why have a flashback episode and not have it explain what Chloe's fixation on Marinette even is?! It doesn't have to be big or anything! Like, have Marinette trip and spill something on Chloe in art class! Just do something!

And like, I totally get that irl bullies just choose their targets for no real reason and this is just another example of that, but to this level?! Just...get a hobby!

And then there's the big thing they did in this stupid episode. The unforgivable. The reprehensible.

This fucking guy.

It's been so long since we've seen Bully Kim that I was pretty sure he was left behind entirely on the draft floor. Sure, Kim is still capable of being insensitive or not thinking long-term, but he was a good kid. He roots for his friends and wants everyone to have a good time.

Hell, I could even buy that Kim was dumb enough to believe Chloe when she claims what he did was a funny practical joke that they'd all laugh about later...until Socqueline came up and yelled at him that he should be ashamed of himself.

And Ondine yelled at him in the present that he should be ashamed of himself.

And it's a year later and he should have realized by now that he should be ashamed of himself.

Kim is dumb, that's just a fact, but the way he doubles down and is so sure of himself that NO it's everyone ELSE who has a problem because they can't take a JOKE? Like...why?! Why did they co-sign on this character assassination?!

Just make him become akumatized because he's A S H A M E D of what he did now that he's finally sitting down and thinking about it a year later! He can keep the same look and motif, just have Monarch stroke the part of him that doesn't want him to be the jerk, the old Kim! It's totally normal, especially for a kid, to want to believe that they're not the bad guy even with all the evidence pointing to it, so I could even see the akuma being exactly the same.

But naur, it's KIM who talks like a right-wing podcast douche bag, complaining that you can't just speak your mind these days and everyone needs to get a sense of humor, they just don't GET it man, this is just how he IS brah, take it or leave it! His akuma's even named "Dark Humor", like edgy losers on reddit who make racist/sexist jokes and then get mad when he's downvoted and boo'd out of a forum. God, we just CAN'T TAKE A JOKE I guess.

I'm glad this is resolved by Ladybug gluing a toilet to his head.

I just...I feel like this could've worked in Season 1, or Season 2. Like...put it before Dark Cupid or before Syren or something. That way, Kim being a total douche is the starting point of his character arc, not the Season 5 Post-Hero Run point, ugh.

It'd also make this stupid line make more sense:

I'm sorry, the girl who got you akumatized after she humiliated you in nearly the same way you humiliated Marinette? I guess that was "just a prank bro" too, right?

Establish Marinette's problems with romance early, so she can overcome them or at least give them the proper context. It'd at least make the show look better if they hadn't made fun of her for 4 Seasons only to drop this bombshell on us at the end. You know...the thing that they just did.

This episode just isn't fun. I hated "Illusion" because all you get to see is the bad guys winning and outsmarting the heroes, but "Derision" is a marathon of seeing the absolute misery Marinette was put through, just to jump forward to the present to destroy a character that I really liked.

Would a kid even like this episode?

#derision #derision salt #an essay by zoe

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fayes-fics · 10 months

Text

Moments: Like Father, Like Son

Moments Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader

Summary: One-shot set in the Moments universe. Thomas inherits a rather embarrassing trait from his father...

Artwork credit: @margowritesthings

Warnings: none... this is pure fluff and humour.

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: It's been AGES since I did anything in the Moments verse. This idea has been kicking around in my drafts for six months, maybe more. Thanks to @chaoticcalzoneranchsports, who came up with this idea with me all that time ago. This is very silly, light-hearted family nonsense. Enjoy! <3

“What the…?” Benedict’s voice fades out, standing by the window.

“What is it, my love?” you ask mildly, taking a bite of toast as you read the newspaper.

“Thomas… he is running full pelt down the lawn… absolutely nude,” he answers, perplexed, “.... and there goes Abigail…” he adds, referring to your nanny, “she can barely keep up, poor thing.”

Wiping the toast crumbs from your fingers onto a serviette, you get up, walk over to join your husband at the window, and have to stifle your giggle behind the back of your hand as you observe the tableau before you.

Out in the early morning sun is your youngest child, now four, running circles around his nanny, giggling loudly. As naked as the day he was born.

“You know you could go help her. Round up your son?” you twist your mouth into a bemused pout and look up at him, bumping him gently with your shoulder.

“She seems to have it in hand,” he responds as you both watch her change direction and fool Thomas, catching him and picking him up to bring him back indoors. “I do hope this doesn't become a habit,” Benedict comments airily as you retake your seats at the breakfast table.

“What makes you think it would?” you frown.

“No reason…” he responds, a little too hasty.

Something in his tone makes you think there may be more to that story.

_____

“Mummy, Thomas has taken all his clothes off again.”

“Amelia, what are you talking about? And what do you mean by ‘again’?” you question your daughter as she throws herself into the chair next to yours on the terrace outside your home.

“He is always doing it, Mummy. Last week he lost a game of tag and took off his clothes in protest. Nanny Abigail had to give him bonbons to put them on again before you and Daddy got back from your walk,” she breezes, pushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Hmm, I never heard about that.”

“Well, now he’s done it again,” Amelia rolls her eyes.

“Where is he?” you ask.

“He's down by the fish pond. He's upset about something,” she shrugs.

“And his answer was to take his clothes off?” you check.

“Apparently,” she says dryly, with an almost world-weary expression of someone who has seen such a thing far too many times.

“Let's go find out what is going on, shall we?” you offer your hand to your daughter and round the garden to the pond where sure enough, your son is naked—and looks absolutely furious.

“Thomas,” you call gently, “what on earth is the matter, my love? And why are you without your clothes?”

“Frogs.” He opines—as if that one word explains everything.

“Explain to me, please, and put your clothes back on.”

“Do not want to,” he pouts.

“That was not a suggestion, Thomas,” you warn firmly and raise an eyebrow. All your children know better than to argue when you use that tone.

Thomas stomps back to the pile of clothes and starts to redress with tantrum-like dramatic flair, and again, you have to stifle your giggles about his antics behind your hand.

“Now come here, my love,” you kneel now he is back in his shirt and trousers, holding your hands out wide for a hug, “and tell me what the problem is.”

“The tadpoles are not frogs yet, and Daddy said they would be soon. I want to see frogs Mummy,” he huffs into your shoulder as he accepts your embrace.

“Of course, Thomas. As soon as they are frogs, Daddy will show you. But why did you take off your clothes?”

He just shrugs as if even he doesn’t know why.

“Next time, rather than take off your clothes, please find me or Daddy, and we can talk about whatever is upsetting you,” you soothe.

“Alright,” he grumbles mutely.

_____

Later that night, as you lie in bed, you raise it with your husband.

“Thomas took off his clothes again,” you comment casually.

“Why?” Benedict puts down his book and frowns deeply as if he appears very troubled by the idea.

“He was upset about the tadpoles not being frogs,” you sigh, nonplussed.

“And his answer was to remove his clothes?”

“Yes.”

“What did you tell him?”

“To come and speak to you or me before taking off his clothes next time.”

“Let's hope that works,” Benedict hums thoughtfully. Again you get the sneaking suspicion there is something he is not telling you.

_____

You are hosting a party the following week with all the Bridgerton clan visiting your cottage when it happens again. The dinner table chat is lively and convivial as dessert is served. Suddenly the door swings open, and in runs your youngest son.

“Mummy, where is MooMoo?” Thomas calls loudly, asking about his favourite cow toy.

Everyone stops talking, their attention drawn to your child, completely unphased by his audience as he stands there. Once again, completely naked.

Hyacinth snorts so loudly that apple juice shoots out of her nose just as Benedict slumps his head into his hands, mortified. As you go to stand and move him, Abigail bursts through the doorway, out of breath.

“My sincerest apologies, my lady,” she puffs, “he managed to unlock the nursery door somehow,” she adds very contritely, curtseying and picking Thomas up, bundling him out of the room before you can reply.

“Apologies for the interruption, everyone,” you call a vaguely embarrassed smile painted on your face as you gesture for them to continue talking as they were before.

Conversation restarts, but as you take your seat at the far end from Benedict, you notice that Violet sitting next to you is trying valiantly but failing to control a bout of silent giggles. When she sees you looking at her, she attempts to school her expression and calm herself to speak.

“Oh my. I was wondering if this would ever come to haunt my darling son,” she stutters between laughs.

“What do you mean?” You ask, genuinely baffled.

She clutches her sides and dabs her eye. “Your husband was quite the nudist himself as a child,” she says drolly. “He would embarrass Edmund and me by bursting into soirées completely without his clothes. And he was so fast no one could ever catch him, the little scamp.”

Your eyes drift to Benedict at the head of the table, who looks deep in conversation with his eldest brothers, almost like he knows what his mother is saying and wants to look very much otherwise occupied to avoid the topic.

“I KNEW IT!” you exclaim quietly. “He keeps saying things like ‘Oh, I hope this doesn’t become a habit’... I just knew there was something he was not telling me,” you shake your head as Violet continues giggling in sympathy. “How on earth did you get him to stop?!” You quiz with a touch of desperation.

“He grew out of it,” she shrugs, reaching over to pat your hand, “I'm certain Thomas will too.”

“And in the meantime, I just need to accept this will happen?!” you decry.

“Or a stronger lock on the nursery door,” Violet suggests, giggling louder.

Just then, Benedict glances down the length of the table to you; you shoot him a look of daggers that makes his brow knit in confusion.

_____

“What was that look for?” Benedict asks as you guide your guests into the parlour after dinner.

“Thomas. It's all your fault, this nudity thing,” you scowl.

He has the decency to look contrite. “Mother said something?” he guesses, looking sheepish, folding his lips under his teeth and averting his eyes.

“Yes, she did,” you volley, “why did you not inform me?”

“I did not think such things would be inherited!” he argues defensively.

“Well, I need you to think back. What would have stopped you from doing this when you were a child? Your mother seems to be under the impression nothing can be done. That we should merely wait for him to grow out of such behaviour….”

“I… was three… I honestly cannot recall,” he confesses.

You sigh. “Fine, but next time this happens? It is all upon you, husband.” You raise an eyebrow indicating the finality of your opinion on this topic.

“Understood.” he nods, chastened.

_____

The following day you are all gathered around the lake, having a relaxed afternoon watching the children all playing together spiritedly - Simon and Daphne’s, Kate and Anthony's, as well as your own.

Isobel and Amelia tag out of the games and come to sit with you under a parasol with Violet.

“Hello, darlings,” you kiss them both on the head as they snuggle against you, panting a little from their gameplaying, reaching gratefully for the glasses of water laid out for them on the little table behind.

“Mummy,” Amelia begins, “why did Daddy just give Thomas bonbons and tell him he can have more if he keeps his clothes on?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can already see Violet shaking with laughter behind the back of her hand.

“He did what?!” you cannot prevent your outburst.

“It is bribery, Amelia,” Isobel pipes up, ever your family’s straight-talking lawyer.

“If I take off my clothes, do I get more bonbons, Mummy?” she asks, twisting to look up at you with fluttering eyelids.

“Most certainly not!” you scoff. “Girls, please remain with your grandmother here,” you add, brushing your dress and going to stand up.

“BENEDICT BRIDGERTON!!!” you yell sternly, striding purposefully towards him, your irritation barely contained.

As you walk through the assembled family, they all move aside, smirking, already knowing what is about to happen. If there is one thing the Brigerton men are known for, it's their spirited wives.

“Now, ladies,” Violet leans in to whisper with her granddaughters, “pay great heed to your mother. If there is one thing that a man must know, it's when he has done something unacceptable to his wife.”

“Daddy said he likes it when Mummy tells him off,” Amelia answers, between gulps of water, watching you remonstrate with Benedict as he looks suitably chastised.

“When did he say that?” Violet inquiries intrigued.

“I heard him say it once when they were in bed and wrestling noisily,” Amelia sighs, matter-of-fact.

Violet turns bright red and almost chokes on her tea.

“I had left the nursery to ask for biscuits when Nanny Abigail was sleeping, but they didn't hear me, so I just went and got some from the kitchen myself,” Amelia continues, finishing her story with a shrug.

“The lock on the nursery is broken, by the way, grandmama,” Isobel adds, as if sensing this is the right time to announce such a thing.

Just then, Thomas wanders over, fully clothed for once. “Grandmama, more bonbons, please?” he grins toothily, nodding to the glass jar next to her, his eyes so hopeful.

Some family moments are very entertaining indeed.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover@corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton #moments universe

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unicreamuwu · 9 months

Note

Some idea for the vinsmokes:

So they all had a childhood friend which they had a crush on and she was always hanging around with sanji

And since sanji left she left too (like a lost princess who they searched for forever)

Then they see her again in the germa kingdom after so many years because she is furious that they are using sanji for their advantages (and she sticks to sanjis side all the time because she also found out just now that he is still alive)

And yes i hope you like the idea! Keep going! :)

Sure. I love these types of things. I kinda got the writing idea from this lovely person @myonepiece who did the same thing as you requested.

Ichiji Vinsmoke

Ichiji has to be the nicest out of the three.

Why? Well, because he treats you with respect and doesn't push you down random steps of stairs. (Niji...)

Sometimes, he would teach her how to fight and many sorts of other techniques to help her defend herself from any sort of harm.

If his brothers teased you, he would defend you.

One day, you accidentally saw him and his brothers beating up their other brother, Sanji.

You were so shocked that your friend was actually doing this.

He told you that he had a great relationship with all of his younger brothers.

Of course, this made you angry, but for now, you didn't confront him about it.

Instead, you went to Sanji and told him to explain everything that's been going on.

When he did, you made the decision that he should run away.

However, what you didn't expect is that he wanted to run away with you.

His reasoning is that you were basically one of the few people to actually care about him and his well-being.

At first, you were a bit hesitant because you didn't want to leave Ichiji, but you learned the dark truth about him abusing his own brother.

So, you ran away with Sanji.

And it was not a good moment for Ichiji.

When he came back, he saw you gone at the spot where he would always tell you to wait.

He searched for you everywhere in the castle and the kingdom.

It was then that he noticed that you were gone.

Ever since then, he has pretty much been isolated from almost everyone around him.

After many years, Ichiji heard about the news of you returning from his sister, Reiju.

When he sees you for the first time in a long time, the first thing that happened before he tried to interact with you is a hand colliding with his.

He was slightly taken aback, but he narrowed his eyes to see Sanji standing in front of you.

"Stay away from my wife."

He tells him coldly.

Then, Sanji took you away from him and brings you somewhere.

Ichiji was a bit shaking in anger as he watches the two of them leave.

He WAS going to get you back away from that failure.

Niji Vinsmoke

Even though you were Niji's first friend, he treats you like shit.

If you ask, "Oh, well, he can't be THAT bad to us!", um, yes, he will.

When you wear something, he would make at least one critical comment about your appearance.

If you bring him some food, he would say that it tastes disgusting and throws them at you before he requested you to bring him some chocolate.

Of course, he will take any chances to push you down the stairs cause that's his habit.

There will be a VERY few moments when he's nice to you.

For example, he would give you some of his chocolate, so be thankful that he's being very nice to you.

However, what he didn't know is your crush on Sanji.

For you, you kinda hated Niji when you were around him.

He's nothing, but a bully to you.

So, when you met Sanji for the very first time as you were walking around the castle, he was nothing like your "friend".

The two of you would spend time together almost all the time whenever Niji goes out to train or do some other things with his brothers.

On the day Sanji decided to escape, he took you with him.

When Niji found out, he was not happy about it.

Ever since your disappearance, his attitude turned worse.

It was at the point where he started to physically abuse the servants.

The news of you coming back to Germa made him stop doing whatever he was doing and quickly ran to the spot you were currently standing at.

However, he notices you pushing him away which made him slightly shocked.

"Stay away from me! I don't want anything to do with you anymore!"

With that, you walked away from him.

Niji was livid.

Not because you pushed him away.

It's because of the engagement ring on your ring finger that is given by his useless brother.

Yonji Vinsmoke

Just like Niji, Yonji does tease you a lot.

After he does his daily training, he would get terrible damage to his body because he's basically a robot.

So, he would make you patch him up.

If you ask him if you could help him with training, he would just laugh at your face, saying that women can't fight.

Whenever you come over, he would request you to bring at least some food only for him because your family owns a bakery.

What he didn't know is that you also bring food, that is for him, for his brother, Sanji.

Sanji would always appreciate the treats you give him and it makes him smile.

So, when he asked you to run away with him, you accepted.

However, Yonji wasn't pleased at all when he heard the news.

From then on, he tried to move on, but he couldn't.

He couldn't stop thinking about you.

When he heard about you coming back to the kingdom, he came to see you with Sanji, holding him by the arm.

As you and Sanji were walking down the halls of the castle, Yonji came over to the two of you.

He started to make snarky remarks to his brother which he was to back off.

Then, he started to make harsh remarks to you because of you leaving him and Sanji defended you.

The words that Sanji said about you now married to him made him shake up with rage.

Yonji tells his brother that he will take you back after he takes his chance to kill him before he walks off, fuming with rage.

#yandere #yandere x reader #one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #vinsmoke family #vinsmoke brothers #yandere vinsmoke family #yandere vinsmoke brothers #ichiji vinsmoke #yandere ichiji #ichiji x reader #niji vinsmoke #yandere niji #niji x reader #yonji vinsmoke #yandere yonji #yonji x reader

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