#i don't know. i don't know if you think this needs anything else please tell me

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fourteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from Soldier Boy's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

********************************************

Previously:

"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.

*******************************************

Present Day

*Soldier Boy POV*

The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.

When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.

Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.

He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.

"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"

Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.

It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.

When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.

You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.

The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.

And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.

Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.

Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.

And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.

Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.

When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.

But the thought of you loving him scared him.

As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.

You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.

So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.

The psychotic bitch that sold me out. 

It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.

"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.

He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.

"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"

"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"

"Her daughter." Hughie answers.

Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.

Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said? 

"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."

"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.

But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.

His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.

"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.

"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.

"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.

Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"

"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.

Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.

"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.

"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.

Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.

Of course she was upset.

He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.

Because you were his.

He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.

Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.

Could she still be alive?

Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.

The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.

He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.

Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.

Purposeless.

He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.

She was just so damn stubborn all the time.

"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."

Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."

"But-" Hughie interjects.

"Oi Hughie. Calm down."

"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."

"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.

***************************************************

"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.

Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.

Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.

A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with  enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.

"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.

"What floor?"

"8th." Butcher says.

When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?

The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.

If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.

The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.

"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.

As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses. 

And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.

Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.

He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.

That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.

He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.

The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.

Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it,  but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.

The apartment felt like you.

And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.

You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.

He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.

"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.

Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.

Where was she going?

Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking  and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.

He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.

She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-

The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.

But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.

He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.

He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.

Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.

The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.

The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."

When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.

"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.

"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.

But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.

"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again

"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.

"What?" Hughie asks.

"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“

Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game,  before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.

Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.

Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.

Maybe she should have.

He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.

He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't.  It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.

Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.

He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.

But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.

He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you.  He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him.  Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.

Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.

He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-

“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.

Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?

Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?

Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-

Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.

He remembers again what it was like to be with you in  bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.

You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-

Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-

He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.

He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.

Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.

The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.

He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.

Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-

His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.

But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.

I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-

Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.

Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.

***************************************

A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂

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[cripplecharacters]

Salutations! I’m in the process of creating a story wherein both characters are missing an eye. One has a prosthetic, but is presently isolating themself in the woods, and wears an eyepatch to protect the eye while alone; the other’s socket is either empty, or they have a glass eye with no actual details (iris, pupil, etc.). I’ve struggled to find references for the latter, and fear it may come off as unrealistic. I understand prosthetic eyes keep the eyelid from collapsing, but aside from that could a person just not wear one? If these options are unrealistic, please let me know. I can supply you with concept art if need be.

The story itself centers around these characters after one of them finds the other by accident. They’re painted as foils—the one hiding out in the cabin adhering to a self-made sense of logic that centers on cycles and confirmation bias, while the only who takes refuge there after running away is deeply paranoid and prone to hallucinations. The first character is missing their left eye; the other their right. I don’t want to make a symbol of their disabilities, but I feel their designs simultaneously stress their opposing perspectives, as well as the fact they paradoxically still manage to see “eye-to-eye.” Their visual impairment is just one of many ways they’re able to connect across the story, as they also bond over their obscure passions and delusions, and respect each other’s warped worldview to such an extent said worldviews start to blur together. In addition to this, the story places an emphasis upon an entity known as the “ocellus,” which is basically the “false eye” you see on moth wings. In my outline so far, it’s the name of a mysterious band which the pair discover in a record collection, and resolve to solve the mystery of (regarding the members, music, etc.) One of the characters also sleeps with an eye mask with the pattern of moth wings and their respective ocelli overlaying their own eyes; their paranoid counterpart also sees eyes in the trees and wood of the cabin.

Absolutely none of this is set in stone; before it is, I just want to know how much of it is fine, which parts “moralize” or make a symbol of a disability, and what is straight-up ableist. Please let me know if you need more details.

Hi!

The prosthetic eye has two main functions: 1) to keep the eye area stay in shape, 2) to protect the socket. Both of these can be achieved by conformers (it's like a big contact, except it goes into the socket and not on the eye) which I talked about here!

A blank prosthetic eye would probably be fine. The process of getting it custom painted is expensive from what I know, and IRL a lot of people will decide on the generic kind rather than a custom. If in your world the generic happens to be a blank, there's no problems I can think of? Potentially, you could explicitly say that it's not how most prosthetic eyes look like (maybe someone else knows a person with an eye prosthetic and they comment that it's unusual?). You mentioned that the character doesn't have it in all the time, so I don't think the trope of "blind character has blank/white/milky eyes" applies here because it's clear that it's a prosthetic.

A person could decide to go bare, but the sensation of blinking could be uncomfortable, and they would need to clean their socket more to get rid of anything that could get inside. Normal saline could be used for that.

I don't think there's an issue in them missing different eyes at all. If you want to make sure it's not giving "Just Magic Symbolism" energy then you could incorporate some boring everyday things that would make sense. If they go somewhere together, they could decide to walk missing eye-to-missing eye, so that they see what's going on the sides rather than in the middle, things like that. It could make it feel more grounded, so to speak.

I don't see any issues with the moth fake-eyes symbolism either, I think it makes sense for the story you're trying to tell.

If you want to be very safe, I would have a character (can be minor, or background) that's also missing eye(s) that's not connected to any of the potential symbolism and is more of an average Joe of Not Having an Eye.

In case you decide to get into that, it would be nice for them to have different causes of why they don't have eyes. It feels like in fiction it's always physical trauma, but there's a whole more that could cause someone to not have an eye;

anophthalmia,

retinoblastoma,

severe eye infection,

elective enucleation (removal) of an already blind/painful eye,

just to give you a few ideas! Giving them "boring" everyday reasons of eye loss will also make it feel less symbolic and more like a regular disability. Think "dramatic swordfight with Huge Meaning" vs "yeah I had cancer in my eye when I was 2".

I hope that this helps; if you have any further details you'd like to ask about feel free to send another ask!

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #anonymous #face difference #eye prosthetics

[rougecreator1]

Hiiiiiiiiiii can I please request an imagine where yn is taking Gretchen out on a first date to the fair. It’s right after her and Jason broke up and Gretchen is assuming(worried) yn may be similar to how he treated her but after a bit she realizes Yn is the total opposite (winning her a prize and buying her treats) and they end up talking and having a sweet time at the fair.

Thank you!! Have a great day!

Miss Smooth Talker//

|| Gretchen Wieners x fem!reader

|| Warnings: underage drinking mention, hookup mention, swearing, Regina being Regina, Gretchen struggling with insecurities

|| Summary: first date, where Gretchen's worried that reader will be like Jason. But reader surprises her and they have a great time at a fair. Mostly fluff.

Requests open!

Started: April 23rd

Finished: April 26th

~~~

When Jason and Gretchen broke up you'd been there to comfort the girl. She told you all about it one night at one of Shane's house parties. You hated seeing her like that, she deserved better. So much better than a guy who only thinks of her when he's looking at her. She was your best friend and long time crush, so obviously you couldn't stand seeing her that upset.

One drink led to another and soon enough the two of you were wasted. Gretchen, in her very drunken state, had babbled on about how much she loved you and was grateful for a friend like you. You, without thinking twice (mainly because you couldn't think at all), kissed her. To your surprise she kissed back.

That's how you and Gretchen ended up having a one night stand.

It's been three weeks since then and Gretchen hasn't said a word to you, you could tell she was avoiding you you just didn't know why.

It was killing you not having your best friend.

Today you decided you would break the silence. Today would be the day you asked her out, because surely she wouldn't have kissed you if she didn't feel something too. Right?

Why else would she be avoiding you?

That lunch, you tracked her down and found her outside with her usual group. Karen, Regina and Cady. When Regina saw you she gave you an intense glare that sent shivers down your spine. You forced yourself to keep walking to Gretchen; having two cups of coffee in your hand. One was your favourite and the other was the order you knew was Gretchen's go to.

"Uh, no. Fuck off." Regina narrows her eyes at you once you stood next to Gretchen, you could see Gretchen tense up and you sighed. Crouching down to sit with her, catching Regina off guard because she wasn't used to people ignoring her. She tried saying more but you cut her off.

"Gretchen. Can we talk?" You looked at the girl, you looked away from Karen to look at you.

"We don't have anything to talk about, Y/N." You notice the slight tremble in her tone.

"Yes, we do. I know you've been avoiding me which if fine if you need the space but... a warning would have been nice at least." You ramble, wanting to get all your thoughts out before Gretchen could avoid you again. You quickly handed her her coffee," I.. um, got you this when I went out today. Maybe you could- I dunno, join me next time?"

Her eyes widened a little but she took the coffee, raising an eyebrow at you." Um... next time?"

"Like- a date- or not- we could just hang out-" Damn it. You had been so prepared for this. Here you were stuttering like an idiot.

Gretchen blushed when you said date and glanced at Regina, who scoffed and rolled her eyes. She looked back at you and smiled," a date?"

"I really like you, Gretchen. Sure we were both drunk but to me it was more than a hook up. Consider it at least?" You hoped she would hear you out at the very least, she nodded. You felt you could breathe a little easier now, you weren't as anxious as you had been.

"Oh! If you're going on a date there's a fall fair this weekend!" Karen piped up, you looked at Karen and smiled. A fair sounded perfect.

You looked back at Gretchen," Well. Wanna go to the fair with me?"

"Yes! I'd love to!" Gretchen grinned, feeling much more relaxed than she had been. She wanted her best friend back as much as you did, she was just scared of having a Jason repeat. In the back of her mind she knew you weren't like that. She knew you well enough to know that. But she couldn't help thinking it.

"Really?" You were almost surprised she'd agreed, especially with how much she had been avoiding you. You sighed quietly to yourself in relief and made a mental note to thank Karen later for the date suggestion." Alright! I'll pick you up at five on Saturday and we can head down?"

"Sounds perfect!"

And that's how you got a date with Gretchen Wieners.

The days leading up to Saturday were some of the happiest you've had in a while. You had your best friend back, if you could even call her that now. You were definitely more than friends, you just didn't know if you were girlfriend level or not.

You talked any chance you had, hanging out throughout the day (which unintentionally made you a plastic, Gretchen informed you of all their rules), at night you'd go over to each other's houses and on the nights where you couldn't you face timed. Just as you always had. Only, there was more. Holding hands as you walked through the halls, cuddling as you laid in bed together, doing each other's makeup in a more... well, it felt much more intimate now. Having her that close and seated in your lap...

Finally, it was Saturday. The two of you had been face timing each other all morning. Helping each other get ready from your own respective homes. You'd picked out a nice comfortable fall outfit, you can decide what it is. Gretchen wore an orange long sleeve with black jeans, she'd done her hair up in a ponytail and all that was left was the makeup.

(fall outfit I was thinking for Gretchen)

"Hey, Y/N?" She said suddenly, getting your attention as you were fixing up your own hair.

"Yeah, Gren?" You looked at your phone, which you had propped up next to you.

"I know you'd said you were going to pick me up at five but um could I come over now? And we do each other's makeup?" Gretchen rambled out, you could tell she was a little nervous asking.

"Absolutely!" You smiled at the thought, Gretchen doing your makeup was definitely one of your favourite little things in your guy's relationship.

You could see her smile and her shoulders relax as she grabbed her phone and started getting whatever she needed to come to yours.

"Alright, I'll be there soon!" She tells you.

Soon enough, Gretchen was now in your room. You sat at your makeup station with Gretchen sitting in your lap, working on your makeup. You could see the concentration on her face and you couldn't help but grin, your hands wrapped around her lower waist to keep her steady in your lap.

"Close your eyes for me." Gretchen said, her voice nearly a whisper. You did as told.

She worked on your makeup for a solid ten minutes, making sure everything was perfect and to the way you liked it. She'd come up with the idea of matching fall makeup, which you thought sounded adorable so you agreed to it.

Once she was satisfied with her work, she looked at you and smiled before giving your cheek a soft kiss.

"You're gorgeous." She whispered, earning a faint blush from you.

"If I'm gorgeous, then that must make you angelic." You replied, a bit of a flirty tone in your voice. Gretchen blushed deeper than you did and giggled, you were pretty damn proud of getting that reaction out of her.

"Yeah well if I'm angelic that makes you a Goddess." Gretchen one upped you, making your blush deepen. Your hand rested to the back of her neck as you pulled her closer to you, lips just inches apart.

Your eyes locked on hers.

"Okay Miss Smooth Talker." You teased her, she laughed a little and kissed you deeply. You kisses her back, getting lost in the moment with each other.

This had been the first time since the party you had properly kissed each other. Was that even a proper kiss? You both were drunk, so you weren't sure if it counted. Sober kisses were so much better than drunk kisses.

As the kiss broke, your eyes remained on each other. Both grinning like love sick idiots.

When you finally snapped out of it a minute later, the two of you finished getting ready. You helping Gretchen with her makeup.

Once all that was settled, you took a photo for instagram. Arm draped around Gretchen's shoulders as you kissed her cheek.

The caption reading:

First date ready! 🍁🍂🫶

You weren't insta famous by any means, so your post only got a few likes from your friends and mutuals. Though you noticed a like and comment from Karen.

@ karenshetty EEEE U GUYS R CUTETS! 💕

You laughed a little and showed the comment to Gretchen, who smiled and looked up at you.

"She meant cuties." Gretchen translated for you, noticing you were a little confused by the spelling. You nodded in understanding and looked at the time on your phone.

4:42pm.

"Well, shall we head down?" You looked at Gretchen, who smiled and took your hand in hers.

"Let's go!"

~~~

At the fair, you and Gretchen are having an absolute blast. Or at least, you were. Gretchen was overthinking and worried that you might be like Jason; but every time she thought that way you would instantly prove her wrong without her even having to ask. You were perfect to her.

"Gren! Let's go over here!" You grabbed her hand, pulling her through a crowd.

"Woah, Y/N/N slow down!" Gretchen laughed as you pulled her along, the amount of energy you had always surprised her. She wondered how you could be that energetic all the time.

"I'm gonna win you the best fucking prize!" You exclaimed, throwing your free hand into the air with excitement. You were ready to kill it at these games.

Gretchen laughed and smiled as she watched you, finding it absolutely adorable. She took a small video of you being all bouncy.

Your eyes landed on the balloon dart game and smirked, seeing all the different prizes around it. You were going to win the biggest one for Gretchen. Pulling her along with you, you stepped up to the stand and the stand host explained the game to you.

You were only partly paying attention. You knew how to play; three darts for three chances to hit the balloons. The top corner balloons were worth the most points. So you aimed for those as Gretchen cheered you on.

Your first shot; you missed the corner one you had been aiming for but you hit the one two balloons below it. Earning you 30 points.

There's five rows of balloons, the bottom being worth 10 points, second row 20, middle 30, fourth 40, and top 50. The top corners were 60.

"30 points!" The stand host announced as you hit the balloon, you rolled your eyes and huffed.

You were determined to get that 60.

You tilted your wrist a little more and tossed the next dart, eyes narrowed at the 60 balloon.

The dart landed right above it.

"Come on!" You groaned, having missed the balloons entirely. This game was so much easier than it looked.

Gretchen rested her hand to your shoulder and smiled at you, giving your cheek a kiss which made you blush as you looked at her.

"A good luck kiss." She explained, her blush matching yours. God, she was adorable.

You shot your finale dart, hitting the 60. You immediately threw your hands into the air and smiled wide, looking at Gretchen. Good luck kisses for the win.

"60 points! That will bring your total up to 90, dear! Pick a prize!" The stand host said in that over exaggerated carnival voice. Y'all know the one.

You kept your eyes focused on Gretchen and bent slightly, gesturing to the prizes in a dramatic way." Well, m'lady. Pick a prize, any prize!" You mocked the carnival voice, earning a laugh from Gretchen an annoyed stare from the stand host.

Gretchen kissed your cheek in thanks and picked out a prize, going with a decently sized teddy.

"Adorable choice!" You kept up the voice, she looked at you and smiled. Her hand draped around your waist as you stared into each other's eyes.

"I'm really enjoying today." She told you as you both walked away from the stand.

"Yeah?" You smiled at her, a faint blush on your cheeks.

"Yeah. I was... worried this would end up like my last relationship- I know you and Jason are nothing at all alike, I know that- it's just-" She rambled out, trying to explain. You sighed, knowing exactly what she meant. You didn't fault her for it.

"What he did stuck with you, it's only natural to be scared. I'll never treat you the way he did." You assured her, seeing her relax as she kept her eyes locked with yours.

You had an idea.

Looking away from Gretchen, you laughed a little at what you were about to say," See! I'm still thinking about you even while I'm not looking at you."

This earned a laugh from Gretchen as she jokingly shoved you, she knew exactly what you were referencing. She had told you about when Jason said he only thought of her when he looked at her.

"You're such an idiot." She teased you, though she meant none of what she said.

You looked at her and brought her close to your side," Mm, maybe. But I'm your idiot, aren't I?"

She blushed and nodded," Yeah... yeah you are."

The rest of the day went really well, you and Gretchen decided to do the ferris wheel as your last activity for the night.

You sat in the booth as it went to the top at a slow motion, arms wrapped around each other as you laughed and talked about anything and everything.

You'd been mid complaining about an upcoming test, that Gretchen had totally forgotten about so she was complaining right along with you, when the ferris wheel stopped as the two of you were at the top. You glanced behind Gretchen and admired the finale parts of the sunset, looking at Gretchen you saw how it almost made her glow with how she was positioned in front of it.

God, she was gorgeous.

"Hey, I wanna get a picture of us up here. Scoot closer." You told her, she blushed and did as you asked. You held her close to her side and took a photo of the two of you, sunset in the background and set it as your new lock screen.

Gretchen smiled and looked at you.

"If I'm already your lock screen, does that mean I'm getting a second date with you?" She asked.

"A second and then some." You assure her, your eyes went to her lips and hers went to yours.

You kissed her, deeply and passionately. She kissed you back with a similar energy.

You couldn't wait to spend more time with Gretchen.

#x reader #fem reader #canon x reader #fanfic #wlw fiction #mean girls x reader #mean girls #gretchen x reader #gretchen wieners #gretchen x fem!reader

[jonjaydami]

So I need to know what animal they think is the batfamilies special interest.

Like we all know they are on the spectrum like look at Bruce. He's a 30 year old man that dresses as a bat and don't get me wrong there are several reasons he dresses as one but it always has something to do with the animal itself and I always think that's funny how it's even used as a joke in several comics, and animated movies/ shows.

So Bruce knows everything about bat's, shape color, species, what food they eat and how they live and even the different culture views on bat's. He could talk all day about it if asked and he always does it with the utmost care. Like he was giving a speech at a gala or speaking to the league.

I think we all know Dicks is obviously Robin's. Cause why else would he choose to be a brightly colored vigilante that's after a bird from the north? I feel like after moving in with Bruce he took a quiz on what bird he would be cause he was studying birds in school and got a Robin and took that to heart as a passion and not only learned everything about a Robin's but that had just become his identity for awhile and he loved it. Bruce when he heard it at first had thought it wouldn't work but after making him his own costume and even watching several videos on the birds he thought it fit his son nicely.

Jason didn't break away from the Robin role and embraces it actually. But he was always way more shy when it came to discussing his favorite. I think he would have a fascination with bugs and snakes and would absolutely be the kid with a spider or a beardy. He once convinced Bruce to get him a baby beardy and then it became an obsession. He had a sweatshirt that even had a cartoonish looking beardy printed on it and he proudly talks about it to any one who asked. Bruce would silently close his eyes and soak in all the information about them he could.

I totally think Tim loves frogs and even sea creatures. He has a tank with shrimp in it and his boyfriend makes fun of him and calls him a shrimp farmer but he also has a tank that has glass frogs in it. It's a huge tank that takes up over half his room and he loves just watching them sleep and even makes cute little tiktoks with them. He always is getting cute things for the habitat and going shopping. He also takes Damian on these trips. Because they both enjoy walking around and even stopping to pet or talk to the people who bring in their dogs. Bruce also enjoys walking into Tim's room and seeing the frogs and shrimp and even says hello to them before leaving again.

Damian is no stranger to having a soft spot for animals but I know he loves cats and dogs. He is definitely a cat person. Alfred the cat is his prized possession and he will proudly take pictures and then draw them. He loves using his animals as drawing references and has multiple books filled to the brim of just them. Sometimes if they are really good he goes to Bruce and asks them to be laminated so he can hang them up in his room because they deserve to be celebrated and respected. He also tells Bruce odd facts about his animals. How Alfred (the cat) specifically likes to sleep on his left side and enjoys being scratched behind his ears the most.

Bruce loves his weird sons because he is weird and for Christmas he always gets them something related to their animals because it's like a bonding experience for them. Some days they don't even talk about anything but their animals but I can imagine them all settling on a couch and out of pure bordem putting on documentaries and spending time just listening and learning. Of course this could also lead into some heated debates about who's animals is the best.

Jason: no you don't understand

Damian: *scoffs* actually Todd you never understood anything

Dick: ok well I set the whole thing for Robin soooo

Tim: oh please you were eight!!

Bruce: I think we are forgetting how bats-

Kids: *groan because they have been hearing about bat's for over half their lives and are tired*

Alfred just walks in and smiles as he sets a pitcher down.

Alfred: actually you are forgetting how important bee's are to the environment. Which is why I plant only the best pollinator friendly flowers

Cue to everyone rioting cause after all this time Alfred has never talked about the fact he is in fact a bee guy. Ever since he started working for the Wayne's they let him have full control of the gardens and he always loved that in the bleak of Gotham he had his own personal eden with the flowers. Bruce's parents also appreciated him for this and would let Alfred do as he pleased when he would passionately talk to them about the bees. Even when they passed away Bruce had always assumed Alfred just did it because he didn't trust anyone else.

Which was part way true but he loves watching them bumble around and bump into each other as he works.

If anyone knows what Duke, steph, and Cass would like please comment or feel free to debate!! Just please remember to be nice and save the bees 🐝

#batman #they are so silly #batfam #dc comics #damain wayne #jason todd #tim x conner #tim drake #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #i live for this #i love them #headcanon #animals #debatable #go ahead and try man #your honor they are autism and adhd coded #special interest #no objecting in the court of krypton #teach me how to dougie #once again the chat is tweakin #dc incorrect quotes #dc universe #incorrect dc quotes #dcu #justice league #dinosaurs #i love dinos at least #this is what i get for being a hippie

[burning-academia-if]

I'm so sorry for all the notifications lmao I'm going around liking every ask because i haven't been on the page for a bit. And why the fuck is all the asks making me like Lars. I don't want to like Lara because Lara doesn't want to like my MC.. i already have enough problems with Rook 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I need to stay away from these problematic ROs. 😭

Oh quessssstiiioooon someone's probably asked this before but I've seen it on a few blogs. But since magic is obvs a thing. If someone cursed MC or gave them something that could only be broken by true love's kiss (especially since mc doesn't really have the healthiest relationship with those they are close to so who would think they could break a spell like that)

and it's after they've confessed to the ROs. How would they react to MC not waking up at first after they kissed them... but waking up after they've started having a major meltdown after all?

If you have gotten this ask could i please have a link because finding anything on tumblr is... 😒

And i literally fall in love with this goddamn IF every time i read anything on this page. It's a curse in itself... I hope you have a lovely weekend 🤣😇💜

Omg never apologize for mass liking, that's literally anyone on Tumblr's lifeblood lol

Also you know, I feel like Lars, despite being the biggest asshole of the ROs, is still less of a handful then Rook lmfaO good luck with dealing with them!

Also I have not been asked this one before! Felt very inspired it with, so I turned it into a prompt!

Rook:

            You’re so still against the touch of his lips. You’re still even after he pulls away. His chest buzzes so loud it echoes in his ears. You don’t move, not even the flutter of your lashes and he should have known. How can he be your true love, when he spent so many years running away?

            Whoever it is, would look you in the eyes when you said you loved them. They’re someone who would have taken you in their arms instead of turning away again and again. He sinks to his knees, hands clutching at the side of the bed where you lay. Tears burn at his eyes, but not a single one falls.

            Even before he made this foolish decision, he knew. All that’s left is to find the one could wake up. If you’re life lays in the hands of someone else, a fact he always knew, then so be it.

            He’ll let you go, like he should have so long ago. He will. He just needs another moment here with you before he turns away. He needs to hear your heartbeat and the cadence of your breathing for one last time.

            Time passes as slow as honey, thick and opaque. His body is listless. In the silence, your breath catches and he blinks. Turns. You take another shaky breath, and when your eyes open, he’s on his feet.

            “MC!” He gathers you in his arms, holding on tight. “Oh, thank god. I thought I lost you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

            His forehead falls against your shoulder, and the tears finally fall. Your awake, your body is warm. And maybe, just maybe, he really does have a chance to make things right.

Beck:

            When you don’t move after he pulls away, he doesn’t waver. Magic is strange, it can effect everyone differently, and with how much magic has affected you, he isn’t concerned that there isn’t an immediate response.

            Instead, he takes a seat next to where you lay. He brings his knees up to his chest and tells you about all the things you’ve missed. The first flowers of spring, the new used bookstore that opened up on the corner, school events, and class drama.

            The time ticks down, and it pricks at his heart. He keeps talking. About himself, about his life, about how he first fell for you, about how you are the warmth of the fire on a winter day, and if even if he isn’t your true love, then that’s ok. He’s just so glad he was able to have any time with you at all.

            At some point, his throat is dry and he’s run out of words. What can he say, as the sky turns a dusty orange. He swallows, eyes fluttering closed and feel the first of the tears fall. If it isn’t him to wake you up, then who will it be? And how long will you be cursed to sleep until they find you?

            A world without your laugh is far worse than a world where the two of you aren’t meant to be.

            Then.

            You shift beside him, and he goes still. When he looks, he sees your eyes flutter open, eyebrows furrowing as you look at him.

            “…You’re awake.” He says, voice barely above a whisper. He brushes his fingers against your cheek, so impossibly gently. “You’re awake.”

            He laughs, a watery, trembly sort of laugh, as he runs a thumb against your cheek. You’ll still be with him.

Rhea:

            “Please wake up.” She whispers, kneeling next to you. There is no sign the kiss did anything. It’s fine, this isn’t the end of the world. She has had the logic of magic seared into her brain, and she knows how it works. She’ll wait. She can wait.

            But still, you remain still. She gets up and moves around, to give her body something to do as she waits. She’s not good at that, waiting. She always needs to be in the midst of doing something. Making progress. When something’s out of her hands like this, she feels like she’s in freefall.

            There might be a chance, she thinks as time ticks by, that you and her aren’t the ones for each other. Somehow, it makes the anxious energy in her gut easier to deal with. As long as she doesn’t think of the heartbreak that will hit the moment she leaves your side, it gives her a plan. Something to work towards. Steps to map out to figure out where to go from here and how to wake you up. The process of even finding the one who could do so.

            She’s on step four when your fingers twitch. She goes still in response. All her thoughts scatter. Like a deer in headlights she watches you, wondering if it was just her imagination. But then your body shifts and she’s next to you again, softly calling your name.

            “MC? Can you…can you hear me darling?” When you blink away, she feels a smile bloom despite herself. You’re awake and well and still hers.

Zoe:

            There’s doubt in their chest even before they press a kiss against your lips. For it to be them? They’re not the kind of person who makes it into fairytales. They know this. Stories are the sort of thing they’ve studied their entire life. They exist on the other side of the glass, able to peer in but never able to be.

            As you remain still, they stand and lean back on their heel. Whoever your true love is, it isn’t them. It isn’t that they doubt your love, but it’s hard to imagine that kind of forever for them. If this was the fate they were dealt, then so be it. And even so, you were their first love, and that’s a kind of special whatever comes next can’t take away. Even on different paths, even living different lives, you can both still be a fond memory for the other.

            But god, they’ve never experience heartbreak either or the way it collides into their body and leaves them breathless. They wanted this. Every moment with you was a dream they never thought they’d get a chance to see. They were awkward and clumsy, and they were the luckiest person alive to have been able to met you.

            They press a hand against their mouth, to stop the sob that’s trying to break through them. The image of you blurs as tears collect in their eyes and stream down their cheeks. They squeeze their eyes shut, trying to collect themselves.

            It’s why it startles them, when they feel a hand reaching out, “…Zoe?”

            They choke on a gasp, eyes flying open to see you awake. You’ve pulled yourself up, and your eyes are open. It strikes them so suddenly, they all but throw themselves against you. Any embarrassment they used to feel is gone. They’ll never let themselves hesitate again.

Lars:

            “You would get yourself cursed.” He whispered against your lips as he pulls away. He doesn’t believe in true love or soulmates. For a curse to be based on the concept, it must make it the flimsiest curse to have been made. All it really needs is love and faith and stubbornness. Maybe his faith is lacking, but he sure as hell can make up for it with stubbornness.

            So he waits. He leans his head back, closes his eyes, and wonders how long it will take. His hand toys with your fingers absently. With you asleep, you won’t be able to comment on the display. He still remembers when you said you loved him, the look in your eyes that left no room for doubt. He thought you were making a terrible decision, but he wasn’t one to complain. Your terrible decision, just lead to his great decision to go along with it.

            The time passes slow, but the anxiety never comes. That isn’t who he is. Not when he’s sure about this, or at least more sure about it then whatever magic was used on you. And even if the kiss doesn’t wake you up, he’ll just find whoever cursed you in the first place and make them reap the consequences.

            When he feels your hand move, slipping your fingers between his, he sighs, “About time you got up.”

            “Lars? My hand—”

            “Don’t get used to it.” You laugh, the sound scratchy from sleep, and he feels his body relax. It was nice to have you back.

???:

            They know your souls are too entwined to have a doubt. That doesn’t not mean there won’t be blood on their hands for what was done to you. How dare someone curse the one they love. How dare someone put their hands on you.

            They’re kiss is so painfully soft despite the violent rage in their chest. It’s been so long since they’ve felt this burning under their skin. Did the Curse Giver think you were alone and unloved? Did they not realize you had someone who was entwined with you in every way, down to the way you take a breath.

            The wraiths flicker around them, agitated by the tremble in their body. They keep close to you, body curved as a way to shield you from the rest of the earth. If you don’t wake soon, they’re hands will find a blade, and that blade will find a body. The wraiths whisper amongst each other, as though capable of soothing them.

            “But you were cursed even before this, weren’t you?” They breathe, pressing another kiss to your forehead. You shift beneath them, and when they pull away you open your eyes.

            You say their name, and the sound of it wraps around them. They have a Curse Giver to kill, but for now, they only lay down beside you, and ask if you’re ok. You’ve been asleep for so long, and it took too long to get to you. They’ll never be late again.

#em answers #ch: rook #ch: beck #ch: rhea #ch: zoe #ch: lars #ch: ??? #true loves kiss in the world of fairytales? more likely then you think #also got to write angry ??? for the first time let's goooo

[minkyungseokie]

第二章 | Moving and Meeting the Boss

warnings; age gap love(R: 23, S:39, T: 50), gxg, throuple, controversial age gaps, random German and Scottish pet names, topics of eating that aren't ED related, but might be triggering to some, DeepL translated languages. Untranslated Chinese, French, and other languages

note; okay! second chapter is now ready. I might start another series based on driver x reader x wag. I sort of rushed through this. I also changed a couple of things

She now contracted meningitis during her F2 days and that was the reason for her leaving, but she told people it was the lack of funds

There has something to do with eating, but it's not an ED

The eating thing is based off of a very adorable mukbang YouTuber named Tzuyang. I also never been to Monaco, so Idk how everything works

Realized she should have a last name since she's Felix's sister

note2; please give me requests for moodboards, blurbs, smaus, or anything else you want for this series. Or just request anything as long as you read my rules and how to request thing

fc; imleslie(Y/n), xavier serrano(Aaron Antognelli), blanca soler(Chiara Lorenzi)

Come Talk to Me | Driven by Destiny Masterlist

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Toto Masterlist

I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

DO NOT ask me to update this story. I'll update when I can.

Anyway, only accepting 10 more people to be tagged

Buckle up! This is a long one!!!!!!!!

(My god, Susie is so fucking pretty that I might actually cry)

In the now packed-up house, Y/n gazed around. "Are you all packed up?" Her brother asked as he crossed his arms next to her. Chan sighed, "I'm going to miss coming over to your house and hanging out," he said, looking around the house. With a soft smile that showed off her sharp teeth, Y/n looked at her brother, "He'll miss popping by my house during random times when the homeless orphans don't have work to do and mooching off me until he needs to go home to Korea." Y/n teased, pinching his freckled cheeks.

Chan giggled at Felix's expression and looked away, clearing his throat when Felix's glare turned to him. The long-haired male slapped his sister's hand away gently and tried to keep his scowl before giving up and breaking out into smiles as laughs filled the room. "For real though, I am going to miss you." Felix said, opening his arms for Y/n to enter, "Aw, I'm going to miss you too, but you can come visit me anytime you want in Monaco." Y/n offered, pulling back.

"You too, Channie. You and the rest of the derelict unparented are free to come visit me in Monaco when you want." Y/n said, opening her arms up to the shorter male. "Why does this feel like I'm sending my little sister off?" Chan asked, gladly accepting the hug that was offered, "You are basically family, mate." Felix assured, wrapping his arms around both his sister and his best friend. The group continued to hug until there was a loud honk heard in front of the house, "Well, I guess we should get this stuff into the truck." Y/n said, letting go of the two singers to grab one of the nearest boxes.

Y/n lugged the box to the truck where a mover stood, ready to grab the box from her hands and put it in the truck, "I'll take that, sir." The worker offered. Y/n froze and stared at the mover, "Excuse me?" Y/n asked, "Oh? Did I say something wrong?" The worker questioned, looking at Y/n with a raised eyebrow, "I am not a man. Please don't assume because I have masculine features." Y/n said, steeling her nerves. Y/n wasn't a confrontational person, but over the years, resentment had built up enough for her to tell someone off when they called her a man.

Her boobs were prominent enough for people to know that she wasn't a man and she was wearing a sports bra with flannel, how the hell did the man assume she was one as well? "I'm sorry, I didn't know--" "I think you did know, but it's whatever. Don't do it again." Y/n huffed, turning around and walking away.

Y/n entered the home again and grabbed a box aggressively, huffing dramatically. Felix and Chan shared looks before putting the boxes they had in their possession down, "Hey, what's wrong?" Chan questioned.

Y/n shook her head, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. She sometimes felt like it was irrational of her to get so upset by someone assuming she was a man, but at the same time, anyone would get upset by being called the wrong gender.

Y/n squared her shoulders and picked up another box before turning to look at the two with a smile, "It's nothing, mate. Just a bit of an annoyance." Y/n then turned and walked out with the box in her hands.

The trio made their way back and forth until all the boxes were in the truck. Now, they stood on the lawn watching as the movers grabbed the furniture and loaded it onto the truck, "Y'know, we're actually going to miss you." Chan spoke up, continuing to watch the movers work. "I know. That's why I said you're free to visit me in Monaco. I'll also try to visit you and in Seoul whenever I can." Y/n assured, throwing her arms around each of the boy's shoulders and giving them an awkward side hug.

"We know. We'll try to visit when we can too." Felix said, laying his head on her arm with Changbin following suit, "We're done, ma'am. We'll be taking this to the sea freight now unless there is something else you need." The mover looked at the tall half-Asian with a pointed look, asking if there was anything she needed or if were they good.

"You're good to go. Thank you." Y/n said, nodding at the mover. The trio watched as the movers packed up and drove away, "What time do you leave?" Felix asked after a few moments of silence, "Three o'clock in the morning. Seeing as my insomnia is so bad that I can't fall asleep, I'll probably be up and out by two. Do you mind dropping my keys off at the realtor office safe drop box? I won't be able to do it since I leave at three." Y/n said.

"Yeah, we can do that. We'll be dropping you off anyway." Chan nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

"Yah, wake up. It's two." Felix hissed as if there were others in the house.

Y/n groaned and swatted Felix's hands away before turning onto her side and snuggling into the blankets, "Y/n, it's time to wake up." Chan said, joining Felix at the side of the hotel bed Y/n was sleeping in. The two put their hands on her and looked at each other, nodding before violently shaking Y/n back and forth.

"搞什么鬼?!" Y/n yelled in Chinese after being woken up so violently, turning to stare at her brothers with wide eyes, "Sorry, you wouldn't wake up, so we decided to shake you until you woke up." Chan snickered, signing as he spoke, looking away as Y/n glared at him and Felix. 

Y/n sighed and threw the blankets off of her body, "Jesus, dude. You could've kept trying to wake me up gently." The dark-haired woman scowled, reaching over to grab the external part of her cochlear implant and the hearing aid for her other ear. Felix grabbed the hearing aid and helped her put it into her ear, "When are you getting your other cochlear?" Felix questioned, making sure the volume was on the level Y/n always kept it on.

"I get the second implant after I start my new job. I'll have to tell the boss about it as soon I do the interview. Especially since I forgot to tell her about my lack of hearing." Y/n mumbled, looking at Chan and Felix from the side since she knew that they would be giving her judgy looks.

Y/n turned to see that they were indeed giving her disappointed looks as if she wasn't taller than Chan, older than Felix, and more intimidating than the both of them combined. "Stop looking at me like that! I was trying to get the application in as fast as I could. I simply just...forgot to put it on my application." Y/n explained, looking down and scratching her cheek. When she looked back up, they were still looking at her with disappointment, "Stop looking at me like you're my parents and I just got caught smoking a fat one....or something cause I wouldn't know how they would look at me." Y/n quickly added the second part and gave the two boys a awkward smile.

Felix and Chan sighed in unison, "Okay, well, I guess we can't really be that upset with you since you'll be telling her face-to-face. Get up and get ready. Felix picked out some clothes for you to wear." Chan said, pointing to the end of the bed where some clothes were laid out for her, Y/n sighed, running a hand through her thick hair, "Okay, whatever. Please move out of the way." 

Chan stepped back as Y/n swung her long legs over the side of the bed and planted her feet onto the floor, grabbing the clothes and studying them before going to the bathroom to get changed while Felix and Chan checked to make sure that everything was properly packed. Y/n exited the bathroom wearing a pair of high waisted brown trousers, a white collared button down with a brown, beige and white sweater vest one top.

Y/n sat down on the bed and picked up the socks that were sitting on the bed, putting them on while Felix and Chan continued to talk, "Y/n, do you want to get some McDonald's on the way or something?" Felix asked.

"I just want a coffee and a bagel honestly. We can get something from the bagel shop nearby. I heard they have some good bagels and coffee." Y/n suggested, putting on her boots and grabbing the glasses that were on the nightstand next to the bed. "I'm down." Chan said, looking to Felix, "I'm okay with that." The blonde shrugged, grabbing Y/n's suitcase and pulling it out into the hallway.

Y/n stood up and looked around, making sure that she had left nothing on the ground

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Y/n turned and looked at her brother as she got ready to board the plane, "Okay, so you'll call when you've landed in Monaco, right?" Felix inquired, holding her wrists lightly. Y/n rolled her eyes and chuckled, "I promise that I'll call you as soon as I get to my new home in Monaco. Don't worry about me. Just make sure that you take care of yourself. All of you." Y/n gave a pointed look at Chan.

"What? Why'd you look at me like that?" Chan chuckled nervously, "I'm telling you to take care of yourself. You tend not to do that." Y/n joked, looking him in the side. Chan jumped away as if he was shocked and held his side, "No promises, but I'll try."

"Flight 35 A is now boarding."

Y/n looked over at where people were beginning to line up, "Alright, it seems I've got to go." The girl pointed behind her with a thumb. Felix pulled his sister into a hug and laid his head on her shoulder, "You better call me when you land. I'll fly to Monaco myself if you don't." He said voice muffled into her sweater vest.

"Okay, let go. I have to board." Y/n groaned, pushing the blonde away from her playfully, "See you, Y/n." Chan said, giving the girl a quick hug. Y/n grabbed her carry-on and boarded the plane, "Make sure the other Stray Animals are around when I call. I want to talk to all of you." Y/n spoke.

After a long flight, of which she slept through most, she hopped off the flight feeling groggy and completely disoriented. To be quite honest, she just wanted to go to sleep in a bed with thick blankets and the fan blasting on her face so she didn't overheat while sleeping. The thing was, she wouldn't be able to meet up with the person who sold her the house until the next day because the offices were closed and her stuff wouldn't arrive until the next day either, so she had to get a hotel for the night.

Y/n groaned as she rolled her neck, attempting to massage the stiffness out of her shoulder and neck as she entered the Uber, "Uh, Hôtel Fairmont Monte Carlo, s'il vous plaît." Y/n spoke in a tired and dull tone.

The driver nodded and pulled off. Y/n pulled out her phone and pressed on the contact of the one person she knew would be up. It was 9:41 PM in Monaco, which meant it was 4:41 AM in Seoul currently and there was one person she could guarantee would be up at that time.

Chan.

Y/n pulled out a pair of headphones with a large-diameter ear cup that completely encloses her ear and audio processor and put them on. Y/n looked out the window while the phone rang, "Hey! You're in Monaco, I'm guessing." Chan said as his face popped up on the screen. "Yeah, I'm in an Uber right now. I'm heading to the hotel." Y/n mumbled, mouth stretching into a little yawn.

"Oh, yeah. Your stuff isn't there yet, is it?" Chan asked, looking at something off to the side, "No, it'll be arriving tomorrow afternoon. I'll be contacting Mrs. Wolff tomorrow as well to schedule the interview. The jet lag was going to be a bitch." Y/n sighed, leaning against the window. "Yeah, it is. What time is it there?" Chan questioned, "It's, uh, 9:43 PM." Y/n answered, dragging her eyes away from the fogged-up window to the face on her phone.

"Have you eaten?" Chan questioned, "No, not yet. Have you?" Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I ate some ramen earlier. I'm just snacking on some honey butter chips right now." Chan responded, lifting the yellow bag to the screen.

Y/n opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by the driver, "Madame, nous sommes arrivés à votre destination."

Y/n looked out the window and saw they were indeed in front of the luxury hotel, "D'accord, merci, monsieur. Je vous souhaite une excellente soirée. Sorry, Chan. I have to go. Tell Lixie and the others to text me when they can." Y/n said, exiting the car.

"Okay, I will. Have a good night." Chan said, "Have a good day, mate." Y/n said before hanging up. Y/n pocketed her phone and grabbed her items from the trunk. She waved at the driver in thanks and made her way into the hotel. It was a random one that she picked out and it was probably way too luxurious for a one-night stay, but it was the closest to where her new home would be and she was way too tired to find an even cheaper hotel.

She checked in and paid for the room, trudging up the stairs in a slumped-over position. As soon as she found her room, she stood up and unlocked it as if she was being followed by someone and had to enter quickly. Y/n threw the door open and closed, dropping her bags where she stood before making her way to the bed and getting in

Y/n woke up the next day and immediately ordered an Uber. Her items would be arriving today and she already slept in pretty late. Y/n's dark brown eyes swept the room until they landed on the digital clock on the dresser. It was 2:52 PM. The truck with her stuff would be there around four and the realtor would be there around 3:00, so she had to get going pretty quickly. Luckily, her Uber was on its way and she would be at her new address in no time.

Honk!

Y/n's head snapped up once she had heard the honking of the horn. She could only assume that they were there for her and the chime from her phone telling her that her ride has arrived only confirmed her suspicion. Y/n quickly gathered her items and sped and walked out of the front of the building with her hand up in a wave to show that it was her who had ordered the Uber. Y/n pulled up the trunk after the driver had opened it from the inside of the car.

Y/n put her suitcase and carry-on bag into the trunk and closed it, rushing to get to the backseat and get into the car. "Bonjour, Monsieur. Monaco, La Condamine, 98000 Monaco, s'il vous plaît." Y/n said breathily, pulling her phone out of the bag she had and opening the notes app. Seeing as she would have to move all of her stuff in, of course with the help of the moving pros, and there were some other things she needed to do through the day, she decided that it would be a good idea to make a to-do list.

To do for today and tomorrow

Move my stuff into the house

Rearrange everything to my liking

Unpack everything

Go grocery shopping

Call Mrs. Wolff back

Y/n reread the list over and over to see if anything else came to mind, but when nothing did, she pocketed her phone again and stared out the window. Monaco was a truly gorgeous place and she could see herself living out the rest of her life in this beautiful country.

She could definitely see herself finding a man or woman, who would most definitely be an F1 fan seeing as the country basically lived and breathed F1, finding a much better home, settling down, and having a family.

It wasn't something she wanted anytime soon since she was still pretty young, but it was something she could see happening when she was ready.

Actually, now that Y/n thought about it, and as the car passed by the water, she doesn't think any house, which was actually one of those apartments where you have a whole floor to yourself, would be better than the one she got. It cost an arm and a leg to get and she would be able to afford it after she finally started the PA position.

The flat included three bedrooms, one bathroom, two shower rooms, one separate toilet and a kitchen. In total, it has four rooms. Two underground parking spaces provide space for any vehicles and a balcony that overlooked the water. It that high street, city center, bus station, and shopping center all within 500 m, so it was well situated.

Y/n sighed and closed her eyes. This was the start of her new life. While she was is Monaco, she was going to be a different person then what she was in Australia. Gone is the shy, antisocial, introverted girl that lived in Sydney and in is the girl who is still the same thing, but trying to be more confident.

"Pardonnez-moi, madame. Nous sommes arrivés." The driver announced, "Hm? Oh, merci beaucoup." Y/n thanked as she exited the car. She waited until the driver popped the trunk and then grabbed her things, "Merci encore, madame. J'espère que vous passerez une excellente soirée."

The driver gave Y/n a smile, "C'est très gentil de votre part. J'espère que vous passerez également une excellente soirée." She responded before driving off, giving Y/n a wave as she drove off.

"Miss Lee?" A voice with a thick accent called out from behind her. Y/n whirled around to face a tall man with dark, curly hair, a chisled jaw, and broad shoulders. It was the realtor, "Ah, Mr. Tomatis. How are you doing today?" Y/n greeted, looking to the side so she didn't make eye contact. "I am well. Listen, I would love to stay and talk with you, but I have an important showing to do, so here's your keys. Enjoy your new home." Mr. Tomatis gently place the keys into her hands before walking off.

"Oh-kay. Guess it's time to check out the new place in person." Y/n took a deep breath, trilling as she exhaled. The girl made her way into the building until she reached her floor. Y/n put the key into the door and unlocked it, "Home sweet home, I guess. Once I step through this door, my new life officially starts." Y/n mumbled, resting her forehead against the cool wood. Y/n opened the door and wheeled her suitcase in behind her, "Woah, this is sick!" Y/n awed, looking around her home.

She left the suitcase and carry-on near the entrance and walked around, looking through each room and mentally mapping what went into each room and how she would lay everything out.

Once she was done with her mental mapping, her hands fell to her sides and she looked around with a flat face and eyes dulled due to boredom.

She didn't know what to do now.

The truck wouldn't be there until four and it was only... Y/n looked down at the screen of her phone, which displayed the time in a large blue font...3:12.

Suddenly, an idea popped into Y/n's head. She had to schedule the interview and was advised to do so once she was settled down enough, but since she had time to waste, why not do it now? Y/n opened her contacts and pressed on Susie's, making sure it was on speaker, "Hello?" The sweet Irish voice that Y/n had heard last time, answered the phone.

"Uh, yes. It's Y/n Lee. I'm calling to set up my interview for the PA position." Y/n stammered, "Oh, Ms. Lee! I've been expecting your call back. I assume that means you're in Monaco?" Susie asked, "Yeah, uh, yes...ma'am." Y/n confirmed, nodding as of the woman on the other line could see her.

"Great, I know that you're going to need some time to settle down completely, so the interview will not be taking place any time this week. How about the next week around 10:00 AM? What day works for you?" Susie questioned, "I can do next week. How about Wednesday?" Y/n pulled out a pen and pad of paper to write down the date and time. "Wednesday works perfectly. Alright, I will e you then." Susie said.

"See you then." Y/n confirmed before pressing the 'end call' button. Just as Y/n put her phone on the counter, she got another call but this time from the company that had her stuff, telling her that they had arrived early and were ready to move her stuff in.

Y/n ran out the front door and down the stairs to see that they had indeed arrived earlier than planned and were already beginning to unload the lighter stuff, "Hey, I didn't expect you to be so early. Please, follow me and I'll show you where my apartment is." Y/n said, grabbing a box and leading the way to her floor.

After showing the movers where she was, Y/n went back down to grab another, but before she could make it too far, someone stopped her. "Hey, I couldn't help but notice you're moving in. Do you want some help?" A tall slender man with dark hair and dark eyes. The man in front of her was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome and Y/n was the definition of awkward around pretty people.

Y/n opened her mouth to decline, probably stutter through the sentence before falling too embarrassed to continue speaking, when another voice spoke up. "Babe, what are you doing? Who's this?" A woman who absolutely gorgeous saddeled herself next to the man, looking up at Y/n with a raised, perfectly sculpted, eyebrow. "I-uh..." Y/n's eyes darted around frantically, trying to find any way out of the situation.

She knew she said she was going to be a totally different person than she was in Australia, but she had the worst night of sleep where her body got too hot with the blankets, too cold with the fan, and still too hot with both. She also kept waking up randomly during the night, feeling dizzy and disoriented. She also may be up and doing things, but she was severely jet lagged and wanted to do nothing, but drop dead on the floor and sleep until she could physically no longer sleep.

Y/n was going to be quite honest, she could use the help and it would make things go a lot faster, but how was she, a socially awkward person, to talk to two very pretty people? 

Answer; she didn't.

She walked past them with a quick 'excuse me' pretending like she didn't hear them. If they got upset with her, she'll just say her hearing aids weren't on or turned up enough for her to hear that they were speaking to her. "Wait! Ma'am, hold on." The man called out, following Y/n outside and grabbing her wrist gently, stopping her in her tracks. Y/n steeled herself and whirled around with a fake smile, "Oh, sorry. Can I, uh, can I help you?" Y/n asked, eyes darting between the man, who was giving her a smile, and the woman, who was scowling at her with her arms crossed.

"Yes, you can help us. My boyfriend asked you a question and you just walked past us as if you didn't hear. Are you deaf or something?" The girl sneered.

"Yes."

"Pa-pardon?" The girl asked, dropping her arms, Y/n turned her head to the side, showing the couple her cochlear and the the hearing aid, "I-I am in fact...deaf." Y/n muttered, turning to go get more boxes. Behind her she could hear the flustered man scolding his girlfriend while she stammered out flustered responses, 

"How could you-?!"

 "I..I didn't know, okay? Hop off my balls."

"Woman, what balls would I be hopping off of?"

"I... You... Just shut up! We should be helping anyway."

The two stopped their flustered play fighting as Y/n walked past. They both grabbed boxes and followed her, "Hey, we are so sorry." The man spoke up, speed walking so he was next to Y/n, "Especially me. I didn't know you were actually deaf and even if you weren't, I wasn't being the nicest. It's just, and this isn't an excuse, there have been some... how do I say this?" The girl asked, looking up.

"Issues." The man supplied, the woman snapped her fingers and pointed at her boyfriend before quickly putting her hand back under the box as it began to tip over in her hands, "Issues. We have had some issues with our last neighbours and it made me sort of defensive. Sorry about that. My name Chiara Lorenzi and this is my boyfriend..." Chiara trailed off so that he could speak for himself.

"Aaron Antognelli. And you are?" Aaron asked, depositing the box on the floor of Y/n's apartment, "Y/n Lee." Y/n answered. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I hope we get to become very good friends in the near future." Chiara said, nudging the taller girl as she and Aaron walked out to grab more boxes.

With the extra two sets of hands, Y/n and the movers were able to get everything inside quickly and it was a good thing too since the sky began to dark with thick rain clouds. "Um, thank you for your help." Y/n muttered, going into her house and beginning to close the door when a hand appeared between the door and the frame, keeping her from closing it fully, "Hold on there, kangaroo. Don't you want help unpacking?" Aaron asked.

"Oh, no. I couldn't ask for that. You have done quite a bit a-and I don't know you well enough." Y/n frantically shook her head. The couple shared a look before turning back to Y/n, "Please, we... I insist. We want to make up for the rocky way we greeted you. Of course, we won't force you to and if you don't want us to help you, we'll leave." Chiara said.

Y/n sighed and nodded, opening the door fully to let the couple in. She didn't know them or trust them, but she also needed all the help she could get. That, and she was shit at decorating, so it would be nice to enlist the help of someone else.

Chiara and Aaron looked around, "Why does your apartment look so much better than ours?" Aaron asked, "I thought they were all the same." Y/n said, looking at her spacious place. "Nah, yours has much more space, but it could be the fact that you're living alone that makes it seem that way." Aaron shrugged.

Chiara whirled around and clapped her hands together, "Alright, let's get this done."

With a yelp, Y/n fell out of her bed as the alarm she had set on her phone blared in her ear that contained the hearing aid. She had so much fun with Aaron and Chiara the previous night that she ended up going to be later than she usually liked to whenever she had something important to do the next day. After the day they helped her unpack, the two quickly became friends Y/n and they had been hanging out with each other ever since.

Y/n groaned and hobbled over to a cabinet near her bed where she kept her medicine, "Shit, getting drunk the day before my interview was not smart." Y/n grumbled, opening a bottle of pills and a bottle of water from her mini fridge.

Y/n gathered her clothing and put it on the end of the bed then went and took a scalding hot shower that helped her sober up. Y/n gave a quiet groan as she messaged her shoulders, "Man, my shoulders are stiff." She complained.

Stepping out of the shower, Y/n put on her outfit, which consisted of wool wide-leg pants, a skims t-shirt bodysuit, a nocturne cropped jacket, and a pair of heeled patchwork boots. Looking in the mirror, Y/n narrowed her eyes, "Hmm, wait." Y/n looked around to the clothes she had thrown everywhere when looking for a good outfit.

Her room was covered in an explosion of beige, brown, white, and black. There was not a lick of color in any of her wardrobe, save for her shoes, which were still not brightly colored, so they still fit her aesthetic. "I need to add some color to my wardrobe." Y/n muttered, before grabbing her things and making her way down to where the Uber was waiting for her.

She gave the driver the address of a café that Susie had suggested, Café de Paris, and  off they went. Y/n's heart thudded so hard in her chest that she was pretty sure that the beat was coming from her stomach rather than her chest. Y/n ran a hand through her long, messy hair and tried to calm the nervous feeling in her stomach.

The driver looked at Y/n through the rear mirror and cleared his throat, "Nerveux? Vous avez un rendez-vous ou une raison de vous énerver?" He asked, causing Y/n to jump from the sudden addressing. "Euh, oui. J'ai un entretien très important. J'ai déjà obtenu le poste, mais je suis encore nerveux." Y/n answered shakily, wringing her hands together nervously.

The driver studied Y/n through the mirror before turning his eyes back to the road, "Eh, don't be nervous. It must be just a 'get to know you' interview." The driver said, switching to English and waving a hand to the side as if he was brushing Y/n's nervousness away.

"You're right. Merci, Monsieur." Y/n sighed, leaning back against the headrest. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Susie sat at a table in Café de Paris, occasionally looking at her watch as she waited for Y/n to arrive. Admittedly, she had arrived a bit too early, but she was excited. She had been looking forward to finally starting the F1 academy and with Y/n working by her side, she'd make these girls into Formula One champions.

Susie continued looking out the window for Y/n, even though she has no idea what Y/n looked like at all. Y/n walked through the door and approached Susie from behind, "Mrs. Wolff?" Y/n spoke up, causing the blonde woman to jump up. As soon as they were face-to-face, both women froze.

Now, Y/n was open about her sexuality and what she liked, but Susie wasn't. Susie had never been interested in women and she wasn't one who would ever fall in love when she already had a husband and a beautiful son, but Susie's heart raced looking at the younger woman and she couldn't understand why. Susie had no problem admitting when another woman is beautiful and the one in front of her? Well, she was drop dead gorgeous in Susie's eyes.

"Ah, Ms. Lee. You startled me." Susie chuckled, putting a hand on her chest to calm her racing heart. Whether it was racing because of Y/n's beauty or because she genuinely got startled, she didn't know. Either way, the woman in front of her made her heart race. "My apologies, Mrs. Wolff. I didn't mean to scare you." Y/n apologized, giving the older woman a shallow bow instinctively.

"Shall we sit and begin?" Susie asked, gesturing to the chair. Y/n nodded and sat down across from the older woman. "Okay, remember that you already have the job. This is just to get to know you a bit more. Do you want to order something or do you just want to start?" Susie questioned.

"I would like to order something." Y/n muttered, Susie gestured to someone and a waiter came over, "Are you ladies ready to order?" The waiter asked politely. "Yes, I would like a chocolate chaud and panna cotta parfumeé au citron." Susie told the waiter who wrote it down before turning to Y/n, "I would like Le Chou Profiterole and the Irish coffee. Please." Y/n said.

Once the waiter finished writing down their orders and left, Susie turned back to Y/n with a smile that made Y/n want to throw herself off a cliff. She was so pretty and Y/n didn't think Susie knew just how gorgeous she was.

"Okay, let's start while we're waiting for our orders. Can you tell me about yourself?" Susie questioned, "Oh okay, um... I'm Y/n Lee, I am half Chinese and Half Australian, I am 23 years old, I want to do modeling in my spare time, I like surfing and skiing, and I used to be a Formula Two driver before I contracted meningitis and had to stop." Y/n replied.

"You contracted meningitis?" Susie asked, "I did. I lost hearing in my right ear," Y/n turned her head and moved her hair, showing her cochlear, "I had to get a cochlear for my right ear and I have a hearing aid in my left because I'm losing my hearing in that ear. After I got my surgery, I just decided not to continue driving even though I would love to continue." Y/n shrugged.

Susie nodded, "If you had the chance, would you try and continue to drive in F2?" Susie questioned. Y/n sighed and looked around the café, "I honestly never thought about it. I wanted to but I didn't have enough money to continue, so I thought that my chances were over. If I had the chance to do it again, I don't know if I would take it. I'm turning 23 soon and I fell like I'm getting too old." Y/n said, looking up as the waiter arrived with their stuff.

"Thank you/Merci." Susie and Y/n said simultaneously. Y/n brought the glass mug up to her lips and took a sip of the drink. Y/n put the mug down and looked at Susie again, "What are your goals for the next five years?" Susie asked.

"Hmm, I think I still see myself working in the motorsports world or perhaps attempting to further my modeling career. Or both." Y/n answered, picking up one of the cream puff and taking a bite, refraining from making any sort of noise. 

"Do you consider yourself a passionate person when it comes to this sport?" Susie inquired, Y/n nodded as she swallowed the pastry in her mouth, "I was..am...Before I got meningitis, I was obsessed with being a Formula One driver. I was about as passionate about it like most of the guys on the grid. It was my passion." Y/n explained.

Susie nodded and sat back in her chair, "That'll be all." She said, picking up her spoon and eating some of her panna cotta parfumeé au citron. Y/n paused halfway from the plate where she was reaching for another mini creampuff, "That's all?" She asked, "That's all." Susie reiterated 

"Okay." Y/n nodded. She was honestly so unsure as to why she needed to do the interview when she was only going to be asked about four questions, "Now, let's get to know each other since we're going to be working closely together. My name is Suzanne Wolff, but you can call me Susie. I am Scottish, 39 years old, I have a wonderful husband who is the team principal of Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS Formula One team, and I have a gorgeous fiver-year-old son named Jack." Susie introduced herself.

The woman held out a hand for Y/n to shake, "It's wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Wolff. I look forward to working with you." Y/n said, grabbing the older woman's hand and shaking it firmly. Susie waved off her formalities, "Oh, please. Call me Susie. We'll be working close together, so we might as well drop the formalities." She chuckled.

The two women continued to talk about random topics, getting to know each other more and more. The two became quick friends and even made plans to hang outside of work sometime in the future and even talked about Y/n meeting her son and husband since she would have to meet them eventually.

By the time Y/n was in her Uber and on her way home, it was well into the afternoon and Y/n had a small permanent smile on her face as she thought about the older woman.

Y/n hated to admit it, but she tended to catch feelings for people quite easily. She didn't and never would believe in love at first sight, but she did believe that one can get to know someone well enough to gain some sort of feelings for someone. 

And Y/n could tell that the bubbling feeling in her stomach was her feeling giddy and anxious. She was beginning to feel something for the older married woman, but she brushed it off. It was just a small puppy crush, and even if it wasn't, nothing would ever come of it. Susie was a heterosexual married woman with a family and if there was one thing Y/n could never be, it was a homewrecker.

 Susie entered her home happily. Her husband and son greeting her at the entrance, "Hello, liebling. How was the interview? I can assume it went well since you're smiling from ear to ear." Toto said, kissing his wife on the forehead. "She's perfect, Toto. She is everything I wanted and more in a personal assistant. Not to mention she's absolutely gorgeous. If she were to go to a GP, people would assume she is some sort of supermodel WAG." Susie said absentmindedly.

Toto gave his wife an odd look as she bent down to greet their five-year-old. His wife was what some people would call a girl's girl and she definitely has complimented other women before, but the way she had talked about the woman she had met with made him feel curious. She had never sounded so infatuated with anyone other than him and Jack.

Of course, Toto knew that his wife was not going to cheat on him and especially not with another woman, but there was just a feeling in his gut that said there was something more than just a regular excitement to be getting the F1 Academy project off the ground. 

"Yeah? Is that right?" Toto asked, "Yes. She used to be a F2 driver too, so she is the most perfect candidate for the job. I think you and Jackie would lover her." Susie said, kissing the top of Jack's head and carrying him into the kitchen.

Toto shook his head as he chuckled. He didn't know what the woman was like, but she must have been super amazing because she left such an impression on his wife that she was positively gushing about the new PA.

By the time Susie stopped talking about the new PA, Toto himself couldn't wait to meet her and he was now sharing the excitement that she was practically projecting off her in waves.

This was the start of something new and both Wolff's could tell.

↳ ❝ [Taglist] ¡!❞

@exotic-iris13 @alliwantisadonut @evie-119 @xoscar03 @cheyxfu @laur2608 @sunnylikesfrogs @goldenmoonbeam @victorharrington @only-nope

Unable to tag all of you

This one was over 6k words. I felt like I needed to give you guys this since I had been away for so long.

DO NOT ask me to update this story. I'll update when I can.

Anyway, only accepting 9 more people to be tagged

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula one fanfiction #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fics #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one imagines #formula one fic #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 x female reader #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff smut #susie wolff x reader #toto x reader x susie #x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x poc!reader #driven by destiny series

[the-adventures-of-dave]

What's your opinion on barn cats/mousers? Are they an acceptable subset of "outdoor cat"?

Certainly barn cats pose the same problem as pets that live in more urban environments. They still hunt birds, spread disease, out-compete native wildlife— all that bad stuff. In an ideal world barn cats wouldn't exist so those things would all stop happening. I don't think harmful, invasive species are in any way "acceptable" and I definitely wouldn't encourage it.

At the same time though I do think sometimes the barn cat solutions proposed on tumblr (hiring ratting terriers among some other ideas) also seem a little... unrealistic. At least given my personal experience with farms and farmers, particularly in places far less populated and more remote than the USA. Asking people to get rid of their barn cats cold-turkey is an approach I think would see more pushback than progress.

Working towards better welfare for barn cats and restricting their impact on the environment through education, low cost spay/neuter/vaccine programs and limiting cats' range to the barn buildings only seem like more attainable goals right now. Barn cats are not good for the environment or the cat, but I think we need to take a more gradual approach to the issue than a rip-off-the-bandaid solution in order to make progress. As animal welfare laws continue to develop and indoor cats become the norm in urban areas I think that will also encourage the transition from rural outdoor cats to indoor ones as well.

#if you tell a farmer in the middle of nowhere saskatchewan to give up their free self-sustaining barn cat #and instead insist hire an expensive ratting terrier service that doesn't exist (or purchase and train their own ratting terrier) #they're gonna laugh in your face and not listen to anything else you have to say #a more gradual and collaborative approach might attain more results #i know a lot of my friends and followers are gonna disagree with me on this #but i think this is a situation where you need to meet in the middle #if anyone disagrees with me that's ok #this is just my opinion based on my experiences #turning off reblogs for this bc i know how tumblr loves a nuanced conversation #please don't read this as me supporting outdoor cats bc i really don't #watercr3ss #ask #outdoor cats

[zemnarihah]

my best friend has been very distant w me lately and i asked today if she wanted to hang out and she said she probably couldn't bc it's her brothers birthday but she would let me know if she could and i have her location and i just looked and she's at her boyfriends house rn....

#we have it bc we're roomates so we started sharing locations when we first moved in like in case someone doesn't come home at night or smth #she recently told me that she wants to move out bc she has always wanted to live alone and she can finally afford it. and i asked her #directly like is there an issue because she is so non confrontational so she has never ever mentioned me doing anything that bothers her #and i said please tell me if there's something wrong because it would really suck if there was and i never got a chance to fix it because #you never told me. and she said no it has nothing to do with that i really just feel like it's time for me to live on my own. and a couple #days ago she was like okay i'm next in line for my apartment i'll probably move out in april. and i try to get her to hang out still and #she always has something else going on and i swear every night this week she's been at her boyfriends. #and if i see her around our apartment and try to make conversation at all she's so like short about it and barely responds like will only #give one word answers. i feel like it kind of started when i started dating e but i realized that i was spending less time with her and i #didn't want to be the girl that loses all my friends bc of a boyfriend so i started specifically reaching out to hang out with her and she #says no most of the time and never asks me. like i don't know what else i can do. #i'm like maybe it's bc of her boyfriend? bc they've been on again off again for a long time and previously when they were together it was #really distant with her like i barely saw her EVER. and they were mostly broken up for the past couple years and have been together i think #for a while again... but she knows i don't approve of that relationship and so she would like not say when they were talking again. so maybe #since lately they've been hanging out or dating or WHATEVER she doesn't fucking tell me what's going on with him. maybe that's why. #i literally like try to think of ways it could be my fault and maybe i'm being crazy but i cannot even think to blame myself for more than a #fleeting second bc i'm like. i have ASKED HER directly if there is an issue or something i do that bothers her and she says no. so even if #i'm somehow pissing her off would i ever know to change anything?? i just feel so frustrated bc it's like she's an entirely different person #to me. like this is not the person i know. and i don't know what else i could possibly do like i feel like we need to sit down and have a #conversation about it but what good does that do if she just acts like nothing is wrong. but i don't want to lose my friend i have such a #hard time making friends. i've known her since i was 14 like i can't imagine my life without her. we were the only two in our whole friend #group in high school to get out of the church i still love those other girls but we have so little in common now.

[imwritesometimes]

ok. Just to show I'm not a complete asshole all the time. I am gonna fill out a polite little ~feedback~ form but. you all have got to understand. I've been dealing with agencies and companies and state departments almost my entire goddamn life. you almost never ever ever get anywhere when you go through the polite and established channels. but the second you get even a little upset in public down at the welfare office, well, they sure can find paperwork and documents and are able to remember rules a lot better.....

#just sayin........ #I'm not against proper forms and open discussion cause I'm a massive asshole bitch #it's that it rarely if ever fuckin works #do you know how many times I've had to get a little heated in say a rite aid just to get my mom the meds she needs to be alive #you know how many times I've had to get a little rough down at the benefits office and then suddenly OH! YES! THIS PAPERWORK! WE FOUND IT! #I think the staff on this site could receive 800 feedback messages an hour telling them how shitty every decision they've made #for the last 6 months is #and they would not fuckin care #idk what the solution is. can't ever get a majority of ppl on this website to agree on ANYTHING so like a mass log out day or protest #or anything like it isn't gonna work #but I 100000% believe just sending feeback forms is not gonna get us shit either #there has to be something else to do. cause it's not like this whole ignoring the userbase is a NEW thing #just the last couple months have been nothing but users complaining. and rightfully so. but we have been ignored. #so yeah. I'm tired of ~fill out the feedback forms~ cause it feels a lot like #please sit patiently and wait for your mom's meds we don't care if she's having severe seizures we have to call her dr #and make sure the RX is current but we can't find the Dr's phoke number no you may not give it to us #like I'll come over the counter bitch #erin explains it all

[fairuzfan]

Is there anything I can do to help Palestinians besides call my representatives and beg them to stop killing people?

This is a great question. There are a few things you can do—just off the top of my head:

BDS (Boycott, Divest, Sanction) https://bdsmovement.net/

Direct Action https://www.palestineaction.org/

Urge your University/School/Organization to put out a statement denouncing Israel

Organize a Protest/Participate in a local one

You might already be doing this but while calling your reps, tell them that as a voter, you're unwilling to support them in the upcoming election unless they urge the White House to take a stand against Israel and stop funding them

Share art/writing/films around Palestinian culture

If you're part of a union, ask them what they're doing to urge their industry leaders to take a stand against Israel + pressure the White House OR urge them to start a strike/walkout/etc if they're not doing anything already

Talk with your friends IRL about Palestine, whether in an activist capacity or watching a movie or literally anything

Reach out to a mosque to see if you can help them with anything

See if your city/state council has put out a statement in support of Gazans. If not, try to push them to do so.

Donate to Palestine Legal or Direct Action if you have some money to spare

KEEP TALKING ON SOCIAL MEDIA!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know some of these don't feel like they have as big of an impact on helping Palestinians, but we do need to make an effort not to forget their humanity in the face of continued erasure and the media's sensationalist rhetoric.

Talking on social media and posting—while not seeming like a lot—does SO much. I know in USAmerica, it's like yelling into a void, but political analysts are saying that most of the "Global South" has completely lost any amount of goodwill it may have had the past few years. Hopefully, countries will start to put sanctions and embargoes en masse on the US and Israel soon.

Our goals here are BOTH short-term and long-term. We hope for the life and liberation of the Palestinian people, so anything that you can think of might help at some point in the future is encouraged to at least try.

If anyone else has any more ideas, feel free to reblog and add on. Thank you for asking, and here is to a liberated Palestine where Palestinians can live and thrive without fear.

#palestine #gaza

[bi-writes]

thinking about being the new addition to tf141. you are an asset given to laswell by the CIA, a timid little thing but your aim is always on target, and you are quiet, tech savvy, and you do as you're told. (18+, dark)

just how lieutenant riley prefers. he dwarfs you. the first time you meet, your eyes nearly come out of your head from how wide they go. he's so large, and you feel so tiny compared to him, and even though he does nothing but a disinterested once over, it is obvious to the rest of the team that you might just be his favorite.

it's most obvious in the subtle touches. when you're getting ready to jump, ghost comes up from behind and tugs on your parachute, nearly topping you over making sure it's secure. when you're getting ready in the back of the humvee, he reaches over and buckles your thigh holster for you when he notices the strap is coming loose. you nearly choke when you feel his big hand between your thighs, and you stare up at him with wide eyes when his pinkie moves up the seam of your zipper when he tugs his hand away.

and then the way he's on your six is unlike anything else. like glue, chest pressed to your back, his gloved hand squeezing your waist as he moves you every which way he pleases because you're so small to him, so easy, and he growls under his breath when he touches the curve of your hips or the fat of your ass.

maybe you might enjoy it if he wasn't so fucking awkward about it. if he didn't stare at you without blinking. if he didn't adjust his cock in his jeans right in front of you. if he didn't grip you by the back of your head, tugging you any way he wanted as if scolding a kitten using the scruff of their neck.

you think the team would notice by now--that they would step in, tell ghost to back off, but they turn a blind eye. they tolerate this behavior, and you don't know if it's because ghost is so good at his job, they don't want to, or that they are so afraid of him, they refuse to say anything.

or maybe they approve. maybe it keeps ghost at bay. maybe it keeps a lion in his den. a spider in its nest. maybe indulging ghost in his fucked form of flirting and socialization is what keeps the foundations of this team right where it needs to be--and you realize, slowly, that maybe that is why you're here.

because ghost likes them soft, and they need to put a muzzle on their dog.

so when you feel him in the dark, slipping a gloved hand under the blanket that keeps you warm at night, he is pleasantly surprised to find you awake. and even more surprised to feel your hand slipping the soft lace of your panties right into his fucking pocket.

"they teach y'that 'n basic training? how ta give y'r knickers to y'r lieutenant, eh?"

"no," you whisper, and when you meet his eyes in the dark, he looks so hungry. he's untamed, no training, he's used to getting what he wants with no resistance. you turn over in bed, and you don't get to see the way he sucks on his teeth when you let your knees fall, revealing the pretty place between your thighs, soft and puffy and wet, just waiting for a good mutt to eat her up. "but i learned other things."

"tha' right?"

"yeah," you say softly, and you turn over onto your stomach, pushing back onto your knees right in front of him. he bends, leaning over until he's pushing his masked face right into the seam of your cunt, and you grip the sheets tight when he inhales deeply, a rumble following as both of his hands grip either side of your ass and spread you open for him. you're drooling, wetting the nylon fabric, and you gasp when you feel the wet, warm muscle of his tongue suck on your folds through the mask. it's lewd, and you're wetting the material so much it sticks to the strong lines of his face, but he continues, tilting his head to the side as he laps at the pretty slick that dampens your thighs.

"what'd y'learn then, swee'eart?"

not how to fuck your lieutenant. but...you did learn to keep them happy.

"h-how to be a good girl."

and you think you feel him smile.

#mmmmm #i like them big and awkward and mean #and i like controlling big dogs with pussy 😃 #makes me feel powerful ok #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts #dark!simon

[sugume]

LESSONS IN CORRUPTION w/Gojo Satoru

IN WHICH: Your teacher finally has his way with you at the end of senior year

( TW ): fem!Reader, dark & explicit content, mean and manipulative teacher!Gojo, Porn w/ no plot, corruption kink, power dynamics, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, cream pie, size difference, breeding kink, blood, fingering, age gap (reader is 19, Gojo late 20's), Gojo secretly records, half edited

Word count - › 1.6K

“You know I love you right?” Satoru asks, cupping your face. 

“I love you too.” You smile up at him as he fingers your pussy. 

“Loved you ever since I laid eyes on you—ever since you walked in my class with that short skirt and those white knee-high socks. My innocent schoolgirl.” He leans down to kiss you on the rose-covered hotel bed.  

It was your graduation party last week, but he said couldn’t make it to your party at your parent’s house, said he had an important meeting, and RSVP no to your parents’ invitation but when you asked them, they looked at you incredulously and asked why they’d send invitations to your teachers. When you went to school for your last week and told this to Gojo he said he did get an invitation and your parents told you that so you wouldn’t get upset that he couldn’t make it. 

—

“Gotta surprise for you though.” Gojo smiles up at you from his chair. You’re sitting on his desk, feet resting on the armrest of your teacher’s chair. Gojo can see your panty-clad pussy from his position under you, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows you’d be embarrassed if you knew he could see your Hello Kitty panties.  

“Really? What is it is!” You set your salad down so he could have your full attention, you know he doesn’t like it when you focus on anything else--even if it’s something as simple as food. You think it’s romantic how much he needs your full attention. 

“Well since I couldn’t come to your party, I figured I should throw you another party, this time just us. It could be our special party.” 

“Oh my god, really?” You throw yourself in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. His cologne engulfs you. 

“Mhm, and guess what? It’s gonna be a sleepover party at that new fancy hotel that just opened downtown. You excited Princess?” Gojo wraps his arms around your waist, discreetly rubbing his semi on your pussy. 

“Super-duper excited! When is it? Please say soon!” You cheer, innocently bouncing in his lap. Your pussy clenching when you feel his cock rub down the length of your damped cunt. You hope he doesn’t notice. 

“This weekend schoolgirl, your parents approved n’ everything.” He informs you, holding you down on his now rock-solid cock.  

He couldn’t wait for this weekend.  

“Really?” 

“Really, but they told me they want you to tell them you’re staying at your best friend’s house,” you open your mouth to question why but his grip on your waist tightens and he looks down at you angrily. “Don’t question us y/n, you know your parents and I know what we’re doing. Were the adults, you’re just a child, understand?” 

“Yes, Sir.” You nod, not wanting to upset him when he’s always so good to you.  

“Good girl, now finish your lunch sweetheart—no stay on my lap I make sure you eat it right.” 

—

Gojo glances at the nightstand, ensuring his phone is set up before he looks back at you. Rose petals underneath, nipples puckered, and eyes crossed you look like an angel. His angel. 

“Sir! I-it feels weird down there—I think I gotta pee.” Your pussy clenches around his fingers. 

“Just let it happen, princess,” He curls his fingers into your g-spot, his other hand going to rub your clit. Your legs start to shake, and you try to clamp them shut but Satoru’s thighs keep them in place. “Don't—That’s it, let go, let it happen.” 

You never knew what it was like to orgasm, Satoru has only told you what it would be like, but this—this—you could get used to the way your pussy contracts on your teacher’s fingers and your mind goes blank. 

Your hands fly down to his wrists once it’s over, suddenly overwhelmed. 

“S’too much ‘Toru, please no more!” You cry out, another mini orgasm washing over you.  

“Gotta prep you—get you wet enough for my cock sweet girl,” he takes his fingers out of your cunt, and your juices following in suit. “Think you’re ready?” 

“Mhm.” You look up at him like he hung the moon and stars. Right now, if he told you he did—you’d believe him. 

He brings his wet fingers to your mouth, and instinctively you open your mouth. He shoves them in. 

“Can’t wait to see this small pussy take a dick too big, too old for ‘er.” He groans at the thought, pulling his now clean fingers out of your mouth to pull his boxers off.  

You gasp when you see it jump out. It’s huge, the tip is an angry shade of red, and his balls look ready to explode any second. You don’t think with all the prep in the world you could take it. 

“It’s too big, Sir.” you whimper, shyly backing away from him.  

“Don’t run away from me y/n, how many lessons does it take for you to get ‘Don’t question your elders’ through that little brain of yours,” he pulls you back, slapping your pussy. “C’mon now, didn’t you say you loved me?” He pouts, looking down at you with puppy eyes. Your heart clenches. 

“Course I love you—I can take it. I promise.” You grab his face, the one you’ve spent the last semester admiring from afar, and kiss him the way he taught you. 

“Yea?” 

“Mhm.” You lay back down and wrap your legs around his hips. 

He grabs his cock, the head soaked with your juices, and slowly pushes it in. You gasp from the sudden intrusion. His fingers did nothing to prepare you for his girthy cock. He pulls out again before pushing in, this time a few more inches. He repeats this movement until you're filled to the brim. He looks down and chuckles. Only two-thirds of his cock is in your too-small pussy. Blood trickles out the side of your pussy. 

“Hurts.” You cry. He looks up to see thick tears flowing down your cheeks. 

He thinks about comforting you, but he can’t get his mind off your tight pussy. He’s too worried about not cumming prematurely than comforting you.  

“Shh, it’ll feel better soon honey, just lay there and take it.” He starts to move in and out of your cunt. Using your blood as extra lube. 

You claw at his back from the overwhelming feeling of your pussy being stretched. Satoru grunts above you, sucking hickeys all over your breast. After the ninth thrust, you start to moan, the pain quickly turning into pleasure. 

“Sir! Feels s’good.” You moan.  

“Your cunt feels surreal princess, never felt anything like this, think I might need to fuck my students more.” He says into your neck, speeding up when his balls start to clench and ache with the need to release. 

Suddenly, you’re overcome with a surge of jealousy, the thought of him fucking the other girls when you leave for college, teaching them how to kiss, and letting them sit on his lap and eat lunch every day makes you want to cry and scream and the same time. He’s yours! He doesn’t get to fuck anyone else, nobody else should be bleeding on his cock and cumming on his fingers.  

“S’not fair! You’re mine, only mine!” You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him impossibly closer to you, in you. 

“Then prove it little girl, show me that I belong to you.” He shoves his lips on your pouting ones. 

You throw your arms around his neck and buck into his hips, determined to show him that he only needs you. That you’re enough to satisfy all his needs. 

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum deep in this cunny. Gonna fill you up—watch you get full with my baby and have to drop out of college before you even finish the first semester!” His thrusts turn sloppy, bruising your swollen cunt. 

“Yes, give me your baby Sir, please!” You moan, suddenly thinking about a life with him and a baby you two 've created. You’ve never felt so empty. 

“Please, please, need ‘ur baby s’bad!” You slur, legs tightening around his waist. 

“‘M cummin’ schoolgirl, ‘m fucking my baby into your too-small cunt.” Satoru groans, his balls contracting as he shoots his load into your womb. 

The sensation of being filled causes you to orgasm again, the world going blank for a few seconds.  

“Shit!” Satoru lays over top of you, the weight of him making you wheeze. You lay there silently for a few minutes, unable to form a coherent thought. 

“W-was that good?” you question when your mind clears, thinking back to what he said about fucking other girls. 

“Of course it was princess, best I’ve ever had.” He reassures all the while his mind is racing, thinking ‘bout the new girl that just transferred to your school. He kisses you as he places a bet with himself ‘How long would it take to get her breed full of his child too.’ 

#𐙚 ࣪ ˖ sugume writes #𐙚 ࣪ ˖ smut journal #gojo x reader #x reader #smut #jjk #anime #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #suguru #satoru gojo #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji smut #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut #choso x y/n #choso x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #jjk geto

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 (𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬?) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  various  dialogue  prompts  to  send  to  your  worst  enemy  (affectionate).  feel  free  to  change  how  you  seem  fit.  )

❛ oh great, it's you again. ❜

❛ you? kill me? that's funny. ❜

❛ for being someone you hate, i'm sure on your mind a lot. ❜

❛ you're the last person i wanted to see, actually. ❜

❛ do us both a favor. stay away from me. ❜

❛ you really are an asshole, you know that? ❜

❛ i'm the asshole? what does that make you then? ❜

❛ sometimes i think you must hate me. ❜

❛ i thought you said you never wanted to see me again. ❜

❛ if you want me to go, then you have to tell me to leave. ❜

❛ well, someone's cranky today. ❜

❛ well, someone needs to shut the fuck up. ❜

❛ just stay out of my way. ❜

❛ of all the idiots in the world, i'm stuck with you. ❜

❛ what is it you want this time? ❜

❛ sometimes i wonder if you're in love with me. ❜

❛ do you honestly think this is easy for me? ❜

❛ why would i ever want to be friends with you? ❜

❛ can we please just talk? ❜

❛ there is nothing for us to talk about. ❜

❛ you can yell at me later. just let me help you. ❜

❛ touch me, and you're dead. ❜

❛ oh, so now you care? ❜

❛ there is something deeply wrong with you. ❜

❛ i know i'm the last person you probably want to see, but... ❜

❛ you don't think we could be friends, do you? ❜

❛ i'm tired of fighting against you. ❜

❛ don't pretend you give a shit about me. ❜

❛ you're an idiot, but... i trust you. ❜

❛ oh, don't be cute. ❜

❛ wait, did you just say that i'm cute? ❜

❛ we're not good for each other. ❜

❛ if i say yes, will you shut up? ❜

❛ don't you have to be stupid somewhere else? ❜

❛ maybe we should kiss just to break the tension. ❜

❛ i'm sorry i can't turn off my feelings as easily as you. ❜

❛ maybe there's a universe out there where we're friends. ❜

❛ how can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time? ❜

❛ don't think this changes anything between us. ❜

❛ you look ridiculous in that outfit, by the way. ❜

❛ if you die, i'll kill you. ❜

❛ is that a challenge? ❜

❛ ah, so you're not heartless after all. ❜

❛ i don't think i've ever seen you smile. ❜

❛ you never cared about me, so why now? ❜

❛ why didn't you kill me when you had the chance? ❜

❛ i don't even remember why we started fighting. ❜

❛ i don't have time for distractions right now. ❜

❛ you're not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜

❛ enemies make the best lovers, you know. ❜

#rivals #enemies to lovers #sentence starters #dialogue prompts #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #rp memes #inbox memes #ask memes #ship sentence starters #ship prompts #random dialogue

[luveline]

hiiii jade!!!! could i please request something with peter with reader who’s maybe put on some weight recently and is insecure about it?? (totally not self indulgent at all) i totally get it if you’re not comfortable writing that stuff though so no pressure

hi lovely! ty for requesting. fem, 1k

cw for negative weight talk/ weight gain

Everybody gains weight during the holidays, you think, tracing your figure in the mirror. Though it's not strictly holiday season yet, it's edging toward the end of the year. Maybe my new year's resolution should be losing a few pounds. 

There's a thunk of the bedroom window being yanked open and footsteps across the floor. You tense until your hear Peter panting for breath, likely having swung to you at high speed, or fresh from a fight with an usurped criminal. 

You rush back into your t-shirt, knowing exactly what path he'll walk. He barrels into the bathroom, sees you at the mirror and smiles so wide his cheeks look fit to burst. "Hey," he says, peeling the suit off and exposing his boxers to you without shame, "hey hey hey. Can I persuade you in with me?" He nods toward the shower. 

"Not this time, Pete." 

"Too bad," he laments. 

You look away as he strips out of his underwear. The shower turns on and he takes you by the hips to move you out of his way with a murmured apology, near lost to the drum of the spray. Peter has moments where he doesn't know his own strength, but the majority of the time he treats you like you're something precious. 

"Stay in here!" he demands as he pulls the curtain shut. 

"I'm not going anywhere." You close the toilet and sit on the lid. "Tough day protecting the people?" 

"Apart from tripping into a deceptively large pothole, it was fine. Why won't you come in here with me? I wanna rub your shoulders." 

"You want me to wash your hair." 

"Exactly. So get naked and get in here. Don't make me beg." 

You really don't want to, and you're not going to, but it's not a big problem. Peter doesn't truly mind, he just loves you. "What do you mean, deceptively big? Like, knee height? Higher?" 

"Mid thigh, I'd say. The people of New York are never gonna let me live it down. One guy was recording me and said he was gonna put it on YouTube for the ad money." 

"Anything else?" 

He gives you the rundown, describing what perps he faced and an older man he helped use an ATM machine. You hum distractedly, pinching at the fat where it spreads on your thigh, sitting down as you are. 

He sticks his face through the curtain gap, hair slicked to his cheeks. "What're you doing?" 

"You told me to stay, so I'm staying." 

He's nervous for a split second, glancing back into the shower as though there's an answer there waiting for him before angling himself toward you fully, his naked chest dripping and shining in the bathroom light. "Okay, fine, we need to talk about something. But I want you to know that you forced my hand here. Okay?" 

"Okay." You nibble the inside of your lip, used to his theatrics. "What have I done?" 

"It's not something you've done. It's something you are. I can't even say it. I," —he pulls the curtain in front of his face, moves it aside again– "just need to tell you. Lately it's like you don't even realise how beautiful you are and I'm tired of it. You're radiant. Like, glowing." 

Your recent internal debate must show on your face, that doubt, because he gives you a steadying smile. "Really, really beautiful," he says more seriously.

It's easy to smile at him. "Thank you, Pete." You scoop his suit off of the floor. "I'll go scrub the tetanus out of this in the kitchen sink." 

"Wait–" 

He can't just get out with suds in his hair, giving you the perfect escape plan. You have ten minutes to yourself filling the sink with soapy water and steeping the fabric before he's out of the bedroom in pyjamas, trousers tucked into his socks and hair damp from ferocious towel scrubbing. "You're such a– such a– thing," he decides. "I'm telling you you're beautiful and you walk off so you don't have to hear it? What's wrong with you?" His voice slips into a kinder register. "You do know you're pretty, right? I'm not just saying it to say it." 

"I'm just feeling icky," you confide. 

"About what?" 

You want to tell him, you find. "You know how I've gained weight?" 

He doesn't need any more explanation. Peter knows you've gained weight, you've mentioned it to him, and it's visual, and he can likely tell whenever he decides to flex his strength. "What, and you think that makes you less pretty?" He puts a damp hand behind your neck to bring you forward. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, a little." 

He kisses you. His nose bumps your nose, his lips crushed to your as he holds you in place. Despite this, it isn't an overly rough connection. It's definitely not shy. "You're beautiful," he says in the space between your lips. 

"It doesn't suit me–" 

"It does. It really fucking suits you. Have you seen yourself? You couldn't look better." 

"Even when I was thinner?" 

"You look just as perfect then as you did now." His intensity fades and he encourages you back enough to see your face, his thumb rubbing a short line into your neck. His brows are furrowed, dark eyes darker for it. "Weight isn't a factor." 

"No, but you have to say that." 

"I don't. Not really. I'm sure there are a thousand shitty guys who'd tell you something different, but I'm not– I love you, the whole you. I like you like this." He grins. "Which should be obvious." 

You tsk at him, to his delight, his laughter boyish as he buries his face in your neck with a hug, kissing a messy circle up and into the soft line of your jaw. You trap him there without thinking, chin hooked down, squirming as he blows hot air into your skin. 

"I've been putting it on too," he says. "It's happy weight." 

"It's not happy weight for you, Pete, it's just more muscle." 

"It makes you happy, doesn't it?" he jokes, smiling and kissing and hugging you all at once. "Just like it does on you for me."

#tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker blurb #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman fanfiction

[word-wytch]

I think there's something that needs to be said about encouraging readers to leave feedback.

For me it's not about "tell me my writing is amazing and stroke my ego"

It's more about "please engage with me so that I can experience your joy secondhand and foster a connection with you"

I understand that not everyone wants this in their reading experience, some people are shy and a million other reasons why maybe someone wouldn't want to engage and that's perfectly fine!

But what I'm trying to steer away from is being a passive content creator with passive consumers. What I want to steer toward is fostering a community that is essential to fandom. I want to see your reactions because it makes me feel like I'm a part of something.

On encouraging reblogs —

I understand that not everyone is comfortable reblogging, especially explicit content. This is ok!

But just consider that the only reason you were able to enjoy a fic or fanart is because someone else shared it, and by not sharing it yourself you are potentially robbing someone else of the opportunity to enjoy it as much as you did.

As OPs our reach only goes so far and this website relies on reblogs in order for anything to truly get seen by a wider audience.

So that's really it! That's why I encourage these two things at the end of every story I post. Not because I'm trying to be demanding and "make people feel bad" if they don't do it.

I know most other social media sites encourage mindless content consumption and that's just the way of the world nowadays, but I am from a time when community was at the heart of fandom and I just don't want to lose that.

#fandom #that anon ask really got me thinking yesterday #but honestly my readers have been so amazing about feedback!! tysm

[capslocked]

PARITY

male reader x sana & miyeon

21k words

Within some reasonable tolerance, the two are carbon copies. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

Doppelganger, twin, deadringer - they always tell you, they don’t see it.

But when they stand together it always comes across like two shadows stitched into one silhouette; the slope of their noses, their mouths; the way their hair cascades down past their shoulders.

You’ve learned to recognize the twitch at the corner of their lips before a laugh - how they speak in the same inflection and pitch and tempo, the same cadence coloring all their syllables. Even in their figures there is something uncannily familiar: that petite stature, that grace; they both have perfect posture, an ingrained elegance, like something handed down generation to generation. And of course - the height. The hair. The eyes. The same-damned-smirk.

Here's a hypothetical: if Sana's DNA, then Miyeon's RNA. They're both two separate ways of reading the same thing, and they both have it in them to transcribe the same hot load of proteins over all their pretty faces.

"Oh, that's like a sex joke," Miyeon says to Sana, frowning slightly, "right?"

"I don't know." Sana hums. "Protein... like sperm?"

You sigh, rub your thumb at your temple. This is why, normally, you wouldn't take ditzy to bed, but there's all this history between you and Sana that proves otherwise. The dirty truth is: you’ve been taking ditzy to bed for years. And Miyeon’s right there. She’s all bright eyes, blonde hair, tiny little waist, the perfect height to get two fingers in her cunt and the rest of her in your lap without you even needing to shift your arm into something more uncomfortable. God forbid.

She pulls back the curtain of silk-glossed-hair spilling over her cheek and tucks it neatly behind her ear. Okay, fine. So maybe you really do have a type.

"Yeah," Miyeon decides. "I think that's a good pun. Cute."

She glances sideways at Sana; something flashes between them, imperceptible. They've been doing this sorta thing for a long time - long before they ended up in their current living arrangement. This machine of synchronized, unvoiced communication.

"Cute," echoes Sana, delighted, and she lets her eyes flick back to yours. "Baby, are you, like, gonna give us lots of protein?"

"First of all, we’re fast approaching the point of diminishing returns on the whole protein spermaestria," you muse, wryly. Sana beams. "And again, the point I’m trying to make, Sana: you two are identical."

"Not in spirit," says Miyeon, automatically. "Or intellect. Or appearance, either."

"You can't just claim that," says Sana, matter of fact. "He means physically. I have bigger tits and a better ass.”

There's no argument from your end. And not only because the cab driver hits a speed bump or a pothole or perhaps a small child way too quickly that sends you all lurching together into the seatbelts.

Miyeon finds a good hold in the handle over the door - it saves her - and you wind up steadying Sana. For a split second, it's both their shoulders leaning on yours: Sana, then Miyeon, then Sana. Back and forth. Back and forth. The three of you still end up sprawled halfway out of the seats and onto each other in the cramped cab, tangled all together.

"Please, explain it then," implores Sana, hushed slightly. "Go ahead, I'm sure Miyeon's dying to hear it."

"Look, it's not a perfect one to one mapping," you say, running your hand through your hair and putting on your patient professor-in-front-of-the-class face. "For example: Miyeon's cuter-"

"Thank you," chirps Miyeon, sweetly sardonic, before you can even append anything else to the statement. Sana’s already there with a noise of mild protest.

"I mean, I'm a full inch and a half taller than you."

"So?"

"That’s an unfair advantage. You've gotta be the dumbest person I know."

"Funny," chides Miyeon, swiveling her gaze onto Sana. "You could barely talk when we were fucking your brains out on your birthday. He's dating you, not me, remember? If anything, you're the one sporting an unfair advantage."

"Okay, well," Sana counters, reasonably, "when you can barely get a sentence out from choking on my boyfriend's cock, who the hell is supposed to call it?"

You ignore that. Miyeon is having more difficulty; her face has flushed cherry red and her hand's white-knuckle-gripping the side of the cab's passenger door. 

"For what it’s worth," you cut in, placidly, "I don’t think there’s any clear answer."

"Nonsense," they both reply, simultaneously and satisfied - like wind up toys. And that's the way the conversation tends to go when you get them alone like this. Identical, you pause to think again after spilling out from the back of the car and onto the curb outside the girls’ apartment.

All the things they say are word-for-word - they walk the same, eat the same, smile the same, tilt their heads the same. In those moments where you don't speak, it feels like watching some two-headed monster, an entity constructed from equal parts of both. And it isn't just the physicality at play. They've got that eerie ability to read each other, speak for each other. It's strange: their habits, the way their eyebrows arch, the set of their shoulders. It all syncs right up, matches seamlessly.

It's really fucking uncanny.

"Um." Sana twists one slim wrist back and forth until the key turns in the lock. "So, is it, like, wrong of me that I kinda just wanna skip the dinner part of this and watch my roommate get wrecked in the middle of our living room?"

"Depends," you answer, before you can let yourself dwell too much.

“Just a complete and utter carpet dive,” Sana says, shouldering the door open and flipping on the lights. “It’d serve her right. She’s being annoying.”

Miyeon scoffs, sticks out a bare, pale leg - it ends in a nail polished fire engine red, the strap of a stiletto sandal - and blocks your way inside. "Hey," she protests, lightly. You are not the only object in the equation - you are merely an item to be held against them; it's not about you, not in its most abstract shape. Miyeon and Sana are competing - vaguely for your affection, but more so just for affection in general. It's an ego thing, if nothing else.

"I'm an angel. I'm precious."

"Get your pretty feet out of his face," warns Sana.

"Ugh," says Miyeon. And then, "so short-tempered when you're not getting away with everything."

"Whatever, princess." Sana gestures, airy and flippant. "In any case: fuck off, or go get fucked."

This has become some kind of weird custom, admittedly. Miyeon does exactly as her best friend requests. She floats down the hallway and toward her room.

"Can't get good service around here anymore anyway," is what she tosses over her shoulder. Her fingers run up the door frame to her room and hang there, briefly, before she glances sideways back. You and Sana, now giving her your deservedly undivided attention. There is no split focus, no point of overlap. Her hair falls loose past her shoulders; her shirt clings a little to the muscles of her arms, her ribs. The point of contact between her skirt and her upper thighs. Those impossibly big eyes. She's gorgeous. You rarely ever let yourself forget that. There's something devastating about the set of her face, about how her body is absolutely fucking perfect, all curving lines and smooth planes - tits that fit right in your palm, the dip of her stomach, the pretty shape of her ass - she’s tiny, and in a way, that means you can do anything to her and manage to get away with it. She’ll let you. She’ll ask you to do it all again. 

"You two are more than welcome to follow along, if you feel so inclined,” Miyeon adds before she opens the door to her room, steps through, and lets it shut behind her.

"Yeah." Sana runs her tongue over her top lip, staring you straight in the eye. Her smile is slightly predatory, all sharp teeth. "If you’re so inclined."

-

(For anyone wondering about things like premise or backstory, here’s a useful memory:

Sana has a new roommate. They've been living together for two, three months. She's still not over the fact you didn’t ask her to move in, and you're still not ready for it. Your answer hasn’t changed. You like your apartment the way it is; the two of you need space; it's what the kids call cohabital parity and no, the ring's not in your wallet and it's not even bought yet; stop nagging me. It'll happen when it happens. 

Anyway,

It's one of those plainly beautiful evenings in early July or August - a weekend probably: the living room is bathed in the sort of low, radiant sunset that can go on forever, all of summer stretched out, leisure and sunshine. Sana had talked her way into getting you to take her somewhere highbrow and a little out of your budget. She can talk her way into just about anything; that's her brand, her bad habit, her good fortune.

"We're not going to be able to get our tickets," you're explaining into the loud blare of a hair dryer. And to paraphrase, "what the fuck is the point of making reservations if we’re going to be so reprehensively late?"

Sana's juggling the curling iron while fumbling with an eyelash curler and applying mascara and rearranging earrings all at the same time, and you think about reminding her, again, that it doesn't matter what she looks like if you never actually, you know, leave - but then the hair dryer switches off.

“Hey.” Sana ignores the concern and swivels to ask which earrings match which necklace - two pairs are laid across the countertop; they look exactly the same; you love her, desperately, but for the record, you've never been any good at telling jewelry apart. Neither the knowledge-set nor the motivation; she looks fucking gorgeous in everything regardless-

The front door clicks then, and Miyeon bursts through with the force of an entire hurricane - and promptly stops, dead. You forget what the hell she said, but the story was: she'd just gotten back from the worst date in her life. She's in tears, sobbing. It's a mess. She's a mess. You can't leave.

She falls right into Sana's arms. Then Sana throws a pointed, triumphant grin your way, and says to Miyeon - and you remember this, word for word, verbatim - "Aw, baby. Don't worry. Let us take care of you. We'll make you forget all about him, okay?"

This is the long and short of it: Miyeon arrives, in tears. You never make it to dinner and a show. And the night ends more or less how it started - with Miyeon still pretty much crying, but only because you two won't stop. With your fingers, your mouths. Sana knows what her tongue's doing; Miyeon is loud - and responsive. She's gorgeous too. She's so into it. She needs someone who is genuinely in love with her, who isn't going to try and push her around. You slip your cock into her and that's pretty much it, a different kind of curtain call; Miyeon gets Sana's thumb rolling at her clit and, yeah - she's fucking gone. She cums on your cock like she’s dying, like you’re killing her. It's as simple as that.

Now, there are several instances of which this is the case, in chronological order:

a.) The first time, in Sana's bed.

b.) The second time is in the back of Miyeon's hatchback. Tight fit for three people. It's a do-not-recommend.

c.) The third time, when they want to try blindfolding Miyeon while she rides your cock in the living room. The girl can't see shit, you break some IKEA furniture you can’t pronounce the name of, and the condom comes off during the whole process. There’s this unsettling, world-rocking possibility in which you get Miyeon fucking legitimately pregnant via oopsie-daisy. So, you and Sana wind up spooned up with Miyeon between you two and discuss the eventuality, should it arise - what you will all do in the future, the consequences, what Miyeon and Sana will say to Miyeon's and Sana's families - what the fuck you'll tell the rest of your friends, let alone the press - and then, deciding together: hey, well maybe this is actually a really bad idea.

d.) The fourth, fifth, sixth and every time after that where you realize that you're just gonna roll it all back and pretend like this is completely normal. Two's company, three's kind of a fever dream - but this is the platonic ideal of groupthink. It works. It just does; you know how to fit the pieces together now. How to read her body language: the one-two-one rhythm, Sana and Miyeon and then Miyeon-and-Sana; where their hands are, where they're moving; Miyeon's choked little sobs and the breathless gasps when your cock is deep inside her; all the unintelligible murmurs passing between the two of them that you can't understand - but none of them ever really matter. The important thing is that she's put her two front teeth in your left collarbone while you fuck into her slow and deliberate, in a way she can really feel. You cover Sana's mouth with your palm, your fingers pressed against the pulsing heat in her pussy, and you make them both cum over and over until they’re eyes are screwed shut and they’re counting stars.

That's about it. That's all the things.)

-

"I call it being spoiled for choice," Sana says, pausing only momentarily to decide in the mirror of Miyeon's makeup vanity whether or not to take off the bracelet on her wrist. 

The glint that strikes off the metal is gold in the bedroom lights, all warm yellow and sparkling silver. Sana narrows her fingers, pulls it off, on - like you've caught her trying on clothes, the latest fashion in a store front window. A stylistic consideration. It matches the rings on her third and fourth fingers. She decides that it suits her. 

"Lo and behold," Sana continues, "we have a real situation on our hands. In your hands. Whatever, you get my drift."

"Your cock," adds Miyeon, smiling like sunshine. She’s tracing you over your pants with her thumb, and she’s got her doe-eyed grin on, the one that promises something sugar-sweet, kneeling between your thighs at the edge of her bed - the slightest dishevel of her hair, kiss-swollen lips. God, what a picture. Her pupils flare when her fingers reach the top button of your pants. "And what's worse? I'm going to die if I can't have at least, you know. A couple minutes alone with it."

"You'd figure out a way to die either way," Sana muses. She leans backwards in Miyeon's desk chair, tugging idly at the hem of her skirt.

They're not usually dressed alike, and that's the weirdest part - Sana's never had Miyeon's particular taste for the tiny gauche dresses and white converse shoes and glossy nails, not unless it’s some matching outfit that she's being bullied into. Today's no different: the soft fabric of Miyeon's slip of dress barely stretches down to the line of her thigh. The hem starts just below the boundary of innocuous and everything else. She’d been hiking it up all evening. And the straps lay so thin across her shoulders that one little tug in the wrong spot would probably send it skidding all the way down to the floor.

That's the main thing on your mind when you get one in between your fingers.

Miyeon simply shoulders the other, rolling it down to hang loose, leaving the dress hanging off the gentle slope of her chest.

"Pretty," you say out loud.

"I know," she says, holding the grin.

She can make the world smile, it's infectious - and your gaze follows the path: from the blonde-shiny hair spilling over a collarbone, to the peeking line of her bra, to the flutter of the bottom of her dress at her hip. You catch the subtle lace trim, the little patterns embroidered into the waist, and decide her body's a gift - and wrapping it is something divine, something meant to be ripped right to shreds. If no one else is willing to volunteer, then it'll fall on you. Sure, sure, sure. You can be thanked later.

"Lose it," you request, quietly.

"Mr. Impatient," is what Sana sniffs out, scoffing. She's lounged back on the other side of Miyeon's makeup counter. Her heel taps away at empty air, bouncing off the end of her foot, that hot little fucking rhythm she's had going since her partner in crime got in your lap and kissed you right down into oblivion. "You want to get her naked and get inside of her, huh?"

"Is that not why you dragged me here?" you counter.

"Oh, don't put this on me." Her expression slides right into the mischievous smirk you're familiar with. Miyeon’s often sporting the same one.

"He wants to bend you over, princess," she tells Miyeon, and you hear the wistful sigh through her parted lips come out like permission. "Not that I can say I'd blame him. When's the last time you've taken cock again?"

"With him last week." She throws the response to Sana. They look, more than anyone, to be in sync in their one-upmanship.

"Hmm," says Sana, and she’s looking right at you. "Check how tight that dress fits over her hips, don't you just want to tear it right off of her?"

"He's not doing that," says Miyeon, but there's the lilting tease in her voice that signals precisely the opposite. She wants it: wants it like sugar and soda, salt water taffy; wants to be stripped like skin, bared to the bone. Her knees spread, just a little. "Not yet, anyway. Right now," she adds, hand fluttering towards the inside of her thigh, supplying touches right over the lace, "I want to suck his cock."

"Such a slut," Sana teases, tilting her head.

"You'll get yours," Miyeon insists, before pulling your cock out of your boxers with a small smile, curling her fingers around it, leaning forward. "God, this thing." She has the head under the palm of her other hand, and a wet-tipped promise on her lower lip.

You thread your hand into the hair aside Miyeon's temple, gentle and what will seem in a moment: paradoxically-tender. 

"Imagine what it'll do to your mascara when I fuck your mouth."

Miyeon licks her lips. You reckon she’s completely aware how it comes across - the wicked fantasy she is.

"I'm imagining what it'll do to you when she chokes," Sana retorts. 

“When he fills up my throat,” Miyeon says, hungry.

Sana sighs, sounding utterly wistful, and she fixes the same unrepentant look on you. "Poor Miyeon is just starved for cum tonight. Aww," she remarks, sweetly, "The poor thing. Do me a favor won't you? Fuck my pretty little friend in the face."

"Well," is all you get out before you look up at Sana. "Yours too, honey."

"Hardly, the same," Miyeon cuts in primly, glancing sideways at Sana. There is some snobbishness implied; there are ways Sana and Miyeon have always found to subtly measure themselves against one another, to best each other - all of these ridiculous acts and anecdotes. Like their voices aren’t replicas of one another - and in constant disagreement over whoever is currently claiming to be the original.

Miyeon prissily tilts her jaw up. "Your ego might actually be the worst part about you, Sana. That and your tits."

"Guess he just loves all the worst parts," Sana quips, rolling her eyes, "and every time you call it into question I fall in love with him a little more."

She's got one foot up now on the seat of the chair and she's running her fingers, delicate and teasing, around the press of her panties. It's not a voyeuristic thing, she's told you, it's less about watching Miyeon get fucked than it is about knowing exactly what it looks like when she herself gets spread out beneath you. She watches you and Miyeon, she watches her best friend and you, and she touches herself and it's perfect. There's a few seconds, long and warm, before she lifts her fingers away, then sucks them into her mouth with a grin. Just the slightest taste.

"But seriously," she says to Miyeon. "If you're gonna do something - then do it. Don't be a tease. We both know the answer, anyway."

Miyeon swallows. You hear her. You watch her lips wrap around the head of your cock and pop off, wet and shining, and her head rests in the curve of your palm.

"I’m working on it," Miyeon allows, lowly - she pumps her fist again around you, careful with the motion; this little twisting tug. "Fuck, it's not even the fact that it's fucking huge, or. Like, it’s not because I’m dying to get stuffed by this, or because I’m sitting here thinking: oh my fuck, I’m gonna feel so full with this thing inside me."

You have her hand under her chin, thumb stroking gently against her cheek. Her eyes return to yours when you put a little more pressure in your grip. She’s fantastically pretty, and the gleam of lust and want in her irises has you probably too eager to play along. 

“So then, what could it possibly be?”

"It's-" Her cheeks darken pink beneath her blush, stumbling through a mouthful of ums and uhs as her eyes make tiny departures back to your waist until she finally gives up and just stares again.

Sana sits up a little in her chair.

"Look, this is the prettiest cock I've ever seen.” 

You and Sana almost snort in unison.

“I’m serious.” Miyeon rubs a semi-circle over the head with her thumb, glancing up at you beneath her mascara, and then to the base, back up. It jerks, almost like reflex, in her grasp; she huffs in delight. "It’s, like, perfect in every way. And, god, everytime- I’d just about do anything to feel it inside me."

“You’d beg?” Sana asks, eyebrow raised.

“I’m about to get down on my knees and grovel, honey.”

"Should've just said," Sana laughs - Miyeon chews her lip, half-exasperated, and drops a kiss to the tip that makes Sana's expression simper - "you’re halfway there. Want him to cum in that sweet mouth?"

"Want him to tell me what he's going to do," says Miyeon, frilly. "Every last detail."

Lips stretching open, fingers splaying, curling around the weight - she dips her head to rest her cheek on your thigh and kisses the underside of your shaft. She’s practically like liquid. Flowing and easy and gorgeous, always gorgeous, too far gone to form a full thought. That much is obvious. And why shouldn't it be - your hand's already snagged up, your thumb's already wiping the hair out of her eyes. She turns to let it sit against the edge of her cheekbone. "You really need an incentive? Want you to fill me up so I can-"

"Swallow," you supply, simply. “Swallow everything.”

"Yeah," Miyeon presses into the curve of your cock. She doesn't wink, not really; she doesn’t need to. "I like you. You always know exactly what to say."

Her hair brushes a feather-light caress up the skin of your thigh, mouth a vision of sin and pretty red lipstick. "Open," you command, quietly, and she follows your orders exactly - mouth dropping, head tilting, eyes drifting closed - her lips glisten with saliva and you could shove your cock into that mouth, easy. Just push in and wreck the inside of her - spit on her chin, feel her throat clench up as she gags and struggles around your cock. God, if that isn't a thought that can do a number on the base of your spine.

"Easy," Sana supplies, like she can read your mind. That wouldn’t really surprise you. “Leave some of her make-up for me.”

There's the quick hiss of an inhale, Miyeon's mouth stretching open. Her jaw going slack. You feel the long, wet suck of skin and spit, and her eyelids flutter as she settles in. She slides her tongue and adjusts, makes soft, raspy, throaty noises while her lips slide down the first few inches of your cock. It’s funny - Sana had made the same sound earlier in the day - and it's really not like it's an awful comparison. They both let on gorgeous little noises when they're sucking cock and it makes sense because it's the same cock. Same skin. Same person.

You're not, however, about to do something so pedestrian as compare notes. Not on them. Not in the fucking slightest.

And Sana, god - Sana doesn't just watch. She knows better. She's not even the one taking your cock in her mouth but there's the insistent presence of her: a fingertip diving down past the crotch of her skirt, a quiet moan, her wrist jolting in a repetition of short, sharp strokes, the kind she likes to use on herself: precise. Deliberate.

"Miyeon," you whisper. "God, just - it's your fucking mouth, you-"

The hand on her face strokes the side of her head - a push-pull. A chance to break off - she doesn't - so she ends up with a rougher grip tangling through her hair and you guiding her head further down the length of your shaft.

Miyeon loves the pressure on her throat. You know that. And, yeah, she fucking hates choking on it but somehow in her mind, they're different. Opposites. Because with the way she's going, a little cough will burst free in a few seconds time. That’s your signal, you’ve learned, that she'll let you slide yourself to the hilt. Just keep the wet tip lodged there until she starts gasping around it. It'd only take a minute.

Two tops.

And well, that's the compromise: your patience for a throat fuck is infinite. She's staring up at you with upturned brows and that pretty-please pout on her slick-wet lips. She's making her best effort but, christ. Fuck.

Her eyelids flicker once.

Then close.

"There," you breathe down to her, your knuckles finding her cheek, smoothing over the sharp curve of bone there. Your cock is slotted right in her hot little mouth and you're starting to feel like maybe you really did hang the moon and stars in the sky after all. Her lips press around you. Sink, up, down. "Such a good girl, sucking my cock, looking up at me- god, all dolled up, it's not even fair, Miyeon."

Miyeon can be many things, and presently among them: a filthy, obedient angel.

She pulls up. "I try," Miyeon breathes right at the tip. Her tongue darts out. She swirls, and swirls, until it’s back under the tip of your cock again, soft.

You're too predictable, or you're too forthcoming, or here’s the thing about a woman's intuition; Miyeon wants to tell you something more, she wants to let you know how fucking unbelievably hard you are in her hands right now; she wants to laugh at you for getting caught up and dumb but she's not letting your cock slide free. This suckle of her lips, right at the crest where you're most sensitive and leaking precum right into her mouth - this press and pull is as close to conversation as she can get. So what. You love it. She loves it: the reward is in the ricochet. You look at her and her cheeks hollow and the flash of her pink tongue gets wet and warm under your head, the slit of her mouth stretching to take every ‘totally fucking perfect’ inch of your cock.

And then her lips tighten and she just-

"Christ, Miyeon-" You whimper it right down to her, your voice lost in the shiver of her throat, all tight and wet around your cock. It's like your vocal cords have been stolen right along with the air in your lungs and everything feels floaty, warped and red and blanketing you with Miyeon's hard-worked rhythm:

The scissoring flick of her tongue as she strokes the base with a firm fist. The other hand resting on your hip, feeling your hips jerk. She wants this, the part where you let go and stop thinking. The part where she opens her throat, lets her saliva flood to pool against her palm, and wet the tip of your cockhead before letting it slide right back in her throat. Your shaft flexing into her heat, the sound of those gags.

She just-

She just goes on like that, sucking your cock while the flat of her palm skates a little tighter. Up, up, down - up-

"Miyeon," Sana says, now on her feet and shadowing in closer, leaning. And that's it. Sana knows too. She kneels down next to her, gets a finger under her chin, and delivers in a uniquely cold tone: "hands behind your back, sweetheart. I want him to cum in your gorgeous little mouth."

You nearly choke, ironically. You're already grabbing so much of her hair: all those smooth silky strands threaded through your fingers.

You thrust and pull. She gags. She fucking chokes.

Spit collects, rolls down the corners of her mouth and gathers on her chin. You can see the mascara threaten to run tracks along her pretty cheeks, the way the makeup smudges so dangerously close to her bottom lid. "Yeah?" you say, so softly, but you can't - can't seem to look anywhere else, or take anything back - so, what, her jaw's just gonna go on being that perfect little shape, and she's gonna be a brat for it. Okay. That works. She looks good choking. You can see the slick glint of her pink mouth stretching taut on your cock, your cock jerking and bobbing on the pad of her tongue; it's not real - no, this is completely real. The ball of your foot slips along the floor.

It's instinct. You can't help yourself; a groan spills out of you, half-sighed

Sana's whispering right in her ear; not that you can make anything out of it over the noises from her mouth, her fist all wet, pumping. The tick-tock bob of her hair. Sana's hand is on the back of her head and then - pushing the last inch down, and down, her nose buries right into your skin.

“Mnnph.” Miyeon, gurgling: your cock pressed all the way down the line.

"Fuck," you spit, holding her jaw in place. "Fuck, Miyeon-"

She looks up at you, her eyebrows cinched, the graceful lines in her picture-perfect-face pulling around you - blissed out. She stutters in place while you dump a hot load of cum into her mouth.

And she adds a cough as you pump everything directly onto her fucking tongue. It’s more than she anticipated, judging by the leak. How your cum rolls down from the corner of her mouth.

Sana drops a kiss onto her temple as she takes you in and out of her mouth again, until she presses her lips firm and hollows her cheeks. Miyeon's fingers caress your balls like there's some part of you that isn't giving her fucking everything already.

"Come on, princess," says Sana, kissing her way along Miyeon's neck, the tops of her shoulders. There is not an angle to Miyeon's elegant features that she could take that could possibly be anything short of priceless. "Show him how you swallow."

The image is obscene, for one thing. The utter filth in that satiated hum; there’s another. 

It's your white-hot cum dribbling past her swollen, fucked mouth. Miyeon swallows like the good girl she is - takes a breath, stares, and then finishes, a gulp, an extra breath, her whole face now a shade more flushed. Sana kisses her on the cheek and suddenly it's perfect: they're both staring right at you. Your throat has to unclench, reboot and the air in the room just tastes so good and your chest is heaving; you just- fuck, you can't breathe-

"Shit," you exhale. It comes out like a small explosion. "Uh-"

The side of Sana's mouth slants and then Miyeon grins: it's her cheek, dimple; that crescent moon thing and oh, this is the point. Sana slides a hand over the gentle curve of her stomach, then sets her open mouth over Miyeon's still-lips, slipping in close and - kissing. Their mouths melt together like it's the most practiced thing, tongues a second later, and Sana is stroking your cock in her fingers; the expectations clear in every little coaxing flick of her slim wrist.

"Do you have any idea," Sana sighs against her lips. The two of them, blinking up at you, like good little things - sweet enough. "How fucking wet you both have me?"

And Miyeon, shameless as she is disastrously pretty, reads right between the lines. "Where do you want it?" Her mouth tilts up to the side. A wicked smile. "He can cum all over us, no? And I have this skirt with an awfully short, pretty lace. We don't even have to take our clothes off, really, I can just-"

Sana gets an eyeful - Miyeon - before cutting her off, silencing with the wet press of her mouth, and suddenly their kiss goes frantic and quick. They're rolling apart: hands tearing up their clothes. Off. Off. Off.

Your cock stirs. It throbs. Fuck. Sana’s barely intelligible in the space between their tongues. "I could lay flat,” she’s saying, “with my legs open, and-"

"-with him on top of you, pressing inside you - so he could hold me down, and then pull all the way back out, to leave a thick load on your clit-"

"-and when he has to pull out-"

"-probably cum all over you too, the best view-"

"-or all over the rest of me, while I touch myself-"

"-maybe-"

"-and you just have to imagine how good that'll feel, while my thighs shake and we ride it out, you and I-"

Their faces - both flushed and dampened with the strain, both breathtaking. Their eyes are hooded, lashes a-flutter. They'd made their own decision, didn't even bother with yours. A mutual vote of two-to-one: you're going to fuck them in turns. You’re going to fuck them together. You're going to edge yourself in one cunt and fill the other. They're both going to take it, and wear it, and then use each other to make you cum again. Good. Okay, any questions - and they want it rough? 

The answer’s a two-part chorus. Yes.

-

Not even an hour later, Miyeon is playing, of all fucking things, Candy Crush, legs draped lazily across Sana's lap, both of them kicked back on the couch, dressed again like the best girls you've ever seen. "The amount of money they make on this app-" Miyeon complains, waving a lazy hand. A long strand of blonde brushes against the corner of her mouth before she swipes it away again with an irritated sigh. She's just sitting there, knees folded, blithely bitching about a game of match three on her phone. "And they send these fucking blocks just to mess with me," - another swipe. Her hair sticks against the fresh gloss coating her lips. "It's literally just a waste of human-fucking-potential."

"It's a game for children," you offer.

"Then why is it marketed at adults, hm?" She's absolutely serious. "Sana plays it too."

"Mhmm," Sana agrees, not really agreeing at all. Her eyes are closed; you're sitting next to her, and she's taken up your leg as a makeshift pillow, lying down with her arm resting on her forehead, so casually disinterested in anything other than the quiet thrumming of your presence by her side.

It's insane that they're like this: like they're not constantly checking their phones for texts, like you don't all have lives. You're almost - dare you think - having a semi-regular conversation. Now If for a moment you could ignore how they both look like the human embodiment of sin-

"Miyeonie," Sana says.

"Sana," Miyeon returns, flat.

There's not even a movie playing on the living room TV - just the netflix menu; it's volume is at a sort of white noise. A subtle buzz clicks on in the air conditioner.

"You know how you're supposed to go out with that guy next weekend."

"You mean the date you set me up with." Miyeon pauses, tongue caught between her teeth. "Where I have to put on a pretty little dress. And smile. And laugh at all his jokes."

"You know the one."

Miyeon jumps on Sana's train of thought. "You want me to send you some pictures when it's over."

Sana turns it over in her head a few times. “Maybe,” she says, finally.

A genuine exchange perhaps. No fighting, no bullshit, no riptide of pure unbridled sexual frustration.

"Or," Sana adds, simply, "you skip the part where you sabotage the small talk and come back to our apartment." She blinks. "End up getting us both."

“You’re suggesting I’ve been ruining dates on purpose?” Miyeon, incredulous, runs her fingers through the hair at the top of her head, gentle, almost like an admission of guilt. "You're out of your mind. Why would I do that?"

The fragile peace never does last long. Sana looks at you again. Holds onto the eye roll. "Why, indeed."

"I don't follow," Miyeon says; something, a tic, a tell, causes the muscle in her brow to stutter.

"She's suggesting that you'd rather be in bed between us than on a date with some guy whose face we've only seen once," you cut in. Sana looks over. "It's come up a few times."

"Okay, so what?" Miyeon takes a breath. Her mouth a rictus twist. "You're trying to get me to admit it out loud? That I like to get fucked by my gorgeous bestfriend and her pinterest-board-of-a-boyfriend more than I'd like going to a mediocre concert downtown with some dipshit who just wants to see if I'll stick out this 'goddess' routine for a month or two and then bounce for someone else. Wow. Sherlock and Watson, coming through for the killshot. Take me straight to jail."

"We never got around to those cuffs," is what you make mention of. It's not particularly helpful.

"Don't pretend," Sana says instead, "you don’t like to play both sides. Or that the trad-wife fantasy of yours is somehow subtle."

“There's nothing shameful about knowing exactly who you are, or wanting something," Miyeon insists. She tilts her head towards the two of you. A different angle. Her words come out sharp and hot: "some of us have the decency to let our friends know exactly what they want."

“Okay.” You laugh out loud, half out of nervous habit. "Well obviously there’s some sort of rhythm here - I’m just not dumb enough to think I can put a finger on the pulse."

"Then this is, what, some sort of elaborate plot for my heart?" Miyeon's chuckling to herself, but in the space of a blink her voice is more tender. Her arms folding in close. "Is that the plan, finally catching me-"

"Next week." Sana sits up. "There's a trip coming up, something kind of international." She picks at the hem of her sweater, and looks at you.

“What the hell, exactly” - you card your hand through Sana’s hair - “does ‘kind of’ international entail?”

"Ms. Prada has a modeling campaign to attend," Miyeon intones. "She also needs someone to take care of the jetlag, is what I assume this is about."

Sana waves her hand in the air. "I'm saying we book you an extra ticket. Rent a room at a nice hotel. No work. No phones. Just us three, and the best sex you've ever had."

“I wasn’t even aware I was going to that,” you say - almost as an aside.

“You weren’t.” Sana leans more of herself into you. "You are now."

"Is this how you're going to woo me? The grand design?" Miyeon's hands are fiddling in her lap. Sana’s pressing in. Closer. "All the sex and leisure I could ever ask for?"

“It sounds ridiculous when you say out loud,” Sana answers, curling into her. “But, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

Miyeon laughs like it’s a lost cause. Genuine, throaty - like music.

“Simplicity doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Miyeon.” Sana kisses her, slow. Quietly, "you could even pack a swimsuit," and there's this beat, the rise and fall of Miyeon's breathing that might lead anywhere: "though I doubt we touch the beach at all."

“You’re pulling on all my heartstrings, Sana.”

And there you are - etching your names onto the calendar. Reservations and bookings and promises of everything and anything and exactly where you all want to be.

It's Miyeon that finally admits, "you know part of me can’t resist the idea."

"Then, this weekend." Sana's fingertips trace circles on your hip, the tensing pull of muscle. You're aching and exhausted and content: drifting in the tide, a catch of the day, some soft, dreamy wave of consciousness, nothing specific, just the moment passing through all three of you.

But you do get it. There's this obvious snag in your heartbeat, too.

Because Sana is grinning; her fingertips, tapping. Your stomach's fluttering too. A little ghostly clutch of hope in your chest and it's such an embarrassing notion. You're getting swept away - pulled under - and it's Miyeon, splaying out beside Sana, her hand reaching out to you with her palm turned up. It's a promise, and the force of her can - and has - moved mountains.

"I pick the hotel," Miyeon's voice is deeply firm and sure. She’s got a fistful of Sana’s pajamas. "You two can sort out the lingerie."

Sana's mouth curves a perfect grin. She's kissing her again: wet. Heavy. It's not a no, if she was ever expecting one.

-

So that's your reality: what used to be two dalliances - separate but not distinct - now share one headspace, and there's enough rapport just in the group chat alone. You've all been messaging back-and-forth for weeks; Miyeon playing the game where she's the steady one in your life, the knot you're going to tie down when you can finally afford it (and in every way she can imagine). You find it entertaining. Sana seems mildly amused. And Miyeon will call you on the phone, sometimes. A chat-off. About nothing and everything. What you should bring on the trip. Where she's going to eat dinner before you meet her at the airport. Et cetera. Et cetera.

// Miyeon 1:21 AM > hey. I'm all finished packing. how's the bedroom looking?

// 1:26 AM > absolutely wrecked. no survivors

// Sana 1:27 AM > It’s fine. We stripped the sheets, got the box from the closet. Have the video you wanted as well. Call the laundry service in the morning and get the floor washed too. You know. So, nothing comes out of the security deposit.

// Miyeon 1:29 AM > a threesome that destroyed an apartment? say it isn't so

// Sana 1:34 AM > didn't hear you complain during.

// 1:38 AM > strict instructions, right?

And then sometimes, during those conversations, Miyeon will send an aside just for you:

// Miyeon 1:40 AM > strict? please. do whatever. I'm like so good at following instructions

That's Miyeon. The paradox of being submissive - you never, ever treat her gently. She never really wants you to. Sana's mid-reach over your chest to turn off the lights when she glances down at Miyeon's text, then promptly scoffs. The two of them don't always have the most conventional dialogue.

"She's one hundred percent serious by the way." Sana rolls on her side, away, but the nightlight beside the bed just manages to illuminate the slope of her ass - curved in the silk nightie she'd thrown on before bed. You want to crawl between the fabric.

"I never really doubted that. She's got a very specific... demeanor.”

“You’ve noticed.”

“Um,” you say. Sana’s turned over her shoulder to blink at you. “Kind of a dark streak. Like something in her is craving-"

"To be broken to pieces? Oh, it's fucking bliss for her when she's vulnerable and the tension cracks." 

“I was going to phrase it a little more indirectly than that, but yes, I suppose that’s the gist of it.”

Sana shrugs. 

"The girl lives to be chased is what it is.

It's just Sana and her perfect legs and smooth, creamy thighs right there, ready for you to touch, ready for you to fall apart over. They brush your calf, your thigh - so you are kind of distracted. 

“And she feels most wanted when she's choking, getting used, right at the point she can't decide if another inch is gonna kill her or drive her up the wall. No air in her lungs, nothing under her own control." Sana flops, presses against your side, one leg tossed on top, arms curled around your neck. "Pretty obvious, all things considered."

"Sounds a bit familiar, no?" you tease, and reach back to draw her against the front of your body. 

She curves, twists into your embrace. Her hair is half up, half down - wide eyed like a fantasy made manifest. You're always gonna give in, even when Sana doesn't deserve it. 

"You get me. It’s the best. Please, go nuts with the idea."

“Huh, birds of a feather.”

“Sure, whatever,” Sana brushes a kiss against your cheek, presses back into your hips to feel your hard length strain between your boxers and her ass, softening only because, god, she's a real human fucking treasure, "so maybe Miyeon and I have a certain… similar temperment to us, maybe that's true."

"Yeah," you breathe. Your arms wrap around her, the heat in her core now evident from the outside. "That's what I've been saying."

Sana doesn't respond to that, not directly; her palms drag, smooth, over your fingers. "Fuck me to sleep," she suggests instead. "We've got an early flight."

And so you do. You'd pulled your cock from your shorts the second she pressed her ass into your waist and claimed her place as your other half, the little spoon. There's a few beats, a few breaths, where you'd rocked against her clumsily, lining yourself up, and she'd braced the two of you:

She'd arched her back, got an arm over her head to tangle a hand into your hair and keep you right where you were - your lips against her neck. Until it's just this soft-rhythm, all easy thrusts; one arm underneath her, the other around her hip, finding and spreading and - easily - gliding into her cunt.

Sana sighs a lovely sound right next to your ear: your name, some hushed curse. Her hand is wrenched back into whatever group of muscles she can find. And you listen to the gorgeous little tritone of oh shit, oh god, oh fuck when you make her cum. The displays of indulgent affection in her throat, then the ruddy mess of you working her to a wreck of pleasured exhaustion until she collapses into a hot-faced, sleepy daze. All cozy between the sheets, the duvet - you’d fucked her from the outside in; made her relieved and relaxed, all loose and calm. Sana curls into you with her moans still staining the cool side of her pillow and the snugness of her cunt wrapped around your cock.

You drift off just like that, snug inside her. Sana is, as always, impossibly warm.

-

On your phone, there are some choice text messages:

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > jesus

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > can you guys like please

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > PLEASE

// Miyeon 2:18 AM > fuck any quieter

Okay, so it's not perfect. But you're about ninety-percent sure Miyeon had used every fiber of her willpower not to float across the hall and take her spot between the both of you. And it's probably for the best. You feel pretty rough when the alarm starts blaring as it is.

-

The room Miyeon picks out isn’t exactly small, nor was she minding the purse strings. There's a wide expanse of living area, a massive bed in the back; the ensuite and bath beyond that has a walk-in shower large enough for all three of you and room left over. On the walls is gentrification-colored paint, a gray laminate flooring to match; there is not one speck of dust. It feels every bit the palace it is on the outside - the gables and mansard roofs and the Juliette balconies - gothic, or neoclassical. Something vaguely European, with all its rich furnishings and pristine fixtures to boot.

Sana and Miyeon step into the space with all the familiarity of royalty.

"Warm in here," says Sana, appraising; her black chiffon, nearly translucent, fans about her hips with each tiny sway. In her white pumps, she's already a perfect tease and she hasn't even touched herself yet. "Smells good, though."

Miyeon's heels echo behind her like gunshots against the floor, and it's really not ever fair the way a skirt wears her. "The listing said something about a hospitality kit, and essential oils - there should be a basket of things. Do you want me to start the water?"

"Let's settle in a little first," Sana suggests, and without any fanfare, the first thing she does is draw the gauzy curtain closed.

There's an itinerary; it's an ongoing event. Technically it all started in the airport terminal when Sana slung her arm around Miyeon's waist and her hand went straight down to her ass. She just gave it a little squeeze. In the moment, nothing terribly remarkable, but then again, Miyeon didn't tell her not to. They walked through security like that and picked out drinks together from a terminal cafe before doing a circuit, fingers linked. The way Sana looks at her now - Miyeon sees - is how she's always looked at her. That is maybe, the whole point.

"Come here."

Sana's tone is smooth as silk, her mouth an inviting pucker, gloss-dewy and delicious. The bow is even tied at the back: Sana's collar is fitted snug. It sits tight at the base of her neck with the silvery cord loose across her shoulder, knotted down near the apex of her spine. It's simple, classic. All soft fabric and no frill, with an absence that invites eyes and wandering fingertips: she hasn't worn a bra. No strap lines. Her body has the sweetest outline and the warmest curves and god, the skin she's not showing is as good as what she is.

"So," you say out loud. It hits you: there's no cameras, no urgency. No obligations. "We came all the way here just so Sana could have sex, huh."

It's really always about the two of them.

"Good sex," Sana corrects. The table next to her catches the flat of her palm as she settles herself against the surface, one leg crossing in front. The slit in her dress rises in the movement: enough of a hint at the soft thigh underneath. You see her do this every once in a while and her body doesn't lie; this is an implicit act of seduction. But when she looks back up, her smile goes shy and her voice follows suit: "I promised our princess that we'd spoil her a little."

You say, "she's right there," at the same time Sana adds- "which is kind of impossible when she's still wearing her clothes."

Miyeon makes a big, showy production of crossing her arms in a huff. You could do anything; flip a switch; knock her flat against the wall, and Sana would hold her down with a hand at her throat and a kiss her like fire and gasoline on her tongue and no one would have a single word to say to complain.

You could have. Would have. But Miyeon finds her fingertips on the ridge of her clavicle, the barest swipe. She pulls at the top button of her shirt and the seam unlatches: a single reveal, a gradual, fluid movement in the dip and fall of a one inch gap. Just enough skin to make you and Sana swallow.

"Oh?" Miyeon grins. She stares at you with that coy smirk, biting her lip; an invitation for a kiss. For a fuck. You cross the gap, with every intention of making good on it; only, Sana slips in behind her - stops her midway in undoing the next button - and places a hand on the nape of Miyeon's neck, cool.

"She really can be a brat, can't she."

"Only because she gets rewarded for it," you admit, and as soon as Sana touches her, Miyeon is looking up with that same face she gives you when she gets on her knees, ready to be just your little pet, your desperate, whimpering thing.

Sana leans into her ear: "maybe because she knows she can't stop thinking about you bending her over, every chance she gets. Isn’t that right, pretty girl?"

They've always been like this, you think. Growing up with money and cars and ski vacations in the Alps: that sort of thing. It's been a long, slow, build-up and this was always the payoff. It is, without a doubt, just the slightest taste of luxury. Sana pushes, and Miyeon turns up to her mouth with a slow, dangerous whisper. "Isn't it kinder to say it as it is, instead of dancing around it for weeks-"

"For months," corrects Sana, and then sliding into a far more generous tone, "mouths, fingers- or his cock?"

"Maybe," Miyeon lifts her chin like she's readying to kiss, "all three."

Her voice drips - purses her lips, and you're there again: at that fateful exchange. Everything about Miyeon has the power to sink its claws deep. Those heels on her dainty little feet, the stockings climbing along her thighs. Everything.

"Miyeon." That comes out harsher than you'd have thought.

"What can I say? I'm not a patient person." She's got that wild, starry-eyed look to her. You could tame her. You could dominate her - your throat is so dry. The room has the faint scent of citrus, like lemon rind and verbena - a kind of lightheadedness settling over you all. "So, why don't you..." She's blushing, holding her arm up as she skims a finger down this slow path along your torso, finally hooking it into the top of your pants. And now, it's very, very clear she isn't wearing a bra either. "Make things a bit easier."

There's an entire lexicon of everything you'd like to do, so it's best, maybe, that you settle for: "Sana, be a doll."

"Anything," she says; she doesn't hesitate. You like the easy give.

And it's kind of amazing. All three of you together and, sure, the way her fingertips tighten, sliding under the curve of Miyeon's chin and then pulling the linen shirt down from the backs of her shoulders - this is a choice you can all agree on. One that pulls on the elastic band hugging the cut of Miyeon's waist, makes the material drag and ride up the front of her legs. Her belly. Sana has the gift of being able to kiss so perfectly on the back of someone's neck that you could easily forget she can get a little mean, too.

"What is it, baby." Sana asks; a challenge, not a question. "Come on, love. You know it's true. Why don't you let me show him how sweetly you moan with just a pair of fingers in your cunt."

"Please do."

"You're practically wet just saying it. You want it that much." Her voice goes thin, then deep again: a stark contrast. "Show him the mess you've made."

Miyeon's hand is in all the way in your pants; you feel hot. Like the room's air conditioning should've kicked on a lifetime ago - you're trying not to think too much on the way her slender fingers start to wrap themselves around the shape of your cock and your mouth falls open, because she can just - fuck - do that-

They turn to each other like mirror images over the slope of Miyeon’s shoulder, exchanging some secretive wordlessness in the privacy of their smiles and soft, muted laughter. Miyeon's on the toes of those pretty pumps to lean in, closer, further, and Sana lets her.

Which is exactly how it happens: Miyeon kissing you. And she really kisses you, sweet, delicate - and somehow all-consuming. It sets off this chain reaction, a wildfire of unbridled desire: that thread in Sana that can be almost violent, and one that Miyeon always manages to bring to the surface of her skin. Because now Miyeon's gripped and pinned, and Sana, bless her, pulls the fabric of her own dress up over her head until she's naked alongside her. Working towards a common goal. Here's two hands. Here's two more. They're helping you out of your shirt. It's pretty easy from there. You're all unraveling together, just falling apart - Sana and you, working in tandem to unclasp the pearl snap buttons trailing up and down the sides of Miyeon's sinfully short skirt, peeling back the cotton. Miyeon holds the swell of your cock tight in one hand, pumping, while Sana rakes her nails over Miyeon's breasts; both girls taking off the final scraps until every article of clothing is tossed to the floor.

And Miyeon here is simply unbelievable. Your hands are all over her. Her razor-fine waist, her thighs. Her lips. Those soft tits, and that cute mole above her nipple. Because even her imperfections deserve the same lavish attention.

You kiss her, and kiss her, and you can't help thinking how filthy it feels. This wet mouth and tongue, everything you could want in the slide of her mouth - just, messy-perfect and a bit sloppy; how her whimpers leak out in soft, a tight inhale. You cup the side of her jaw as your hips grind into her and a low, uneven sound escapes you. Sana's small fingers wrap her ribs to grip a breast, knead the supple curve and supply her thumb to the indent. It's really, so soft, and warm, and then wet: your precum dribbling over her knuckles, rolling down. Miyeon has her head tilted to let her jaw lean into your palm - she smiles, and laughs like it's nothing - like you're not there, towering over her lithe little frame. Like the head of your cock isn't brushing into her bottom rib under all the twists and jerks of her wrist.

"Your cock is so hard," Miyeon threads into a sigh, in that throaty, almost melodic voice. And then she laughs because she knows exactly what it’ll fucking do to her. "And fucking heavy. I thought I was going to get a real good look earlier in the airport," she confesses.

"Let me guess." Sana presses a kiss to her temple from behind; a lull in the scene. You fuck yourself gently into the curl of her fist. "You've been thinking about it this whole time. About getting him inside you. With that naughty little mind of yours running at a million miles an hour. God, that must've been such a tease, getting stuck with just the thought while we sat through lunch, and the flight-"

"Don’t forget right now-" Miyeon presses in. Her breath is hot against your neck. "While we're talking."

"Princess," Sana says into her ear, and it makes her tip her head - until she’s revealing the pale skin of her neck. God, yeah; maybe she really is nobility. "I'd be hard-pressed to leave you wanting. Your body's all wound up for us."

"She's fucking soaked," you confirm, like you aren't pointing out the most obvious thing in the room.

Miyeon bites her lip; you're gripping your shaft, urging her wrist to go faster. "This is the part where you turn me inside-out, no?" Miyeon is a walking fucking cliche and she knows it, smiling all slyly with her teeth. She says it so damn casually: "so why isn’t my pussy getting any attention, really. I wonder, I wonder-"

"Trust me, neither of us are interested in teasing," Sana assures her. "We're going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name. And then we'll fuck you some more."

You push down hard on her collarbone, and in that same instant Sana drops her free hand below and runs the flats of her fingertips along the plane of Miyeon’s tummy - until Miyeon tilts her hips - everything else still, almost lazy. Her feet leave the floor and then come back down again. The momentum of the fall ends up being enough to jostle the three of you towards the nearest wall where Sana's back is kissing the cold drywall. And you're already there - pressed into both: Miyeon's palms flat against your chest as you haul her thighs around your waist.

Hoisted, lifted, cradled between you and your girlfriend - who by the way is inching two fingertips under the top of a lacy-banded thong, slipping beneath the white trim, to finally (oh, god) pull her hand away and slip it into Miyeon's parted mouth. "Look at you." A hum in her chest. "The most beautiful, perfect-"

(You push your cock into her, and hand to god, you swear Miyeon's voice breaks like a bottle over pavement.)

"And all for us- your slutty little pussy is already so wet- Miyeonie, we've barely even started.”

Just think. The code word system you've been employing for months - "We were actually thinking... if you're not doing anything else... what's the harm in the two of us getting more familiar with you." - has proved exceptionally reliable in getting Miyeon out of her clothes and into your lap, but here's where it all vanishes into thin air. Sana's mouth is hovering over Miyeon's shoulder; her body, caught between the two of you. And she's trading in on the implied permission to tell you more directly:

"She needs to cum all over that cock, babe. Fuck her pussy until she’s creaming, won't you."

"Right." You groan in tacit approval, hands holding firm onto the firm swell of her hips - that round little ass, the dimples you can feel the dip of, just under your thumbs. She's already thrown her arms up around the back of your neck when your cock slips inside her, to tug you in; this wordless begging: need, need, need.

It's not even a totally new sensation. Nor is it even the first you've ever been inside her, but god - Miyeon takes one deep breath, and on the second inhale, you sink another thick inch of your cock into her slippery slit: she's completely, gloriously bare, just this slick heat that only opens more and more and more. You draw back, thrust in, and there's this sopping sound, all wet press, into the soft muscle - you don't even remember pulling her panties to the side. But they're bunched into the crease of her thigh and that's rather convenient.

Her breath hitches as she slots down onto your shaft, again - in rhythm - like a total dream. "Fuck, that's so tight," she grates, her voice rough and gutted; something like, 'I cannot believe you feel this good.'

-and they groan in unison when you pick up speed. All of it. Together.

Because it's not just Miyeon's perfect cunt wrapping you up tight, squeezing and pulsing, even better on the backstroke - but it's the way Sana is catching your lips in the space over Miyeon’s shoulder. That you three can play each other with the promise that every last moan or gasp or the single, resounding thrill of pleasure will find a perfect partner: one for your mouth and one for Sana's fingers at Miyeon's collar bone, a tickle along her hip, pressing an insistent fingertip around and around in small circles, dipping into the give.

Her body's shaking so much through every push and pull. Fuck. She's so small - and you're the one filling her. Fucking her. Breaking her. Pressing two girls into the wall like you've earned the right. You're splitting Miyeon apart so that Sana can fill the spaces you leave empty and vice versa: and she's so, so desperate, the little noises she's making, "Please," like it hurts. "Fuck," like it's the best feeling. "Keep going, please, fuck- don't stop."

"See, baby? It feels better when you just give up, doesn't it?" Sana's got her fingers down further between Miyeon's thighs; you can see her swipe upwards. Hear the wet sound. She says, "there," into her ear. "Nice and slow, while he fucks that cunt, and I rub you like this, we want to keep making you feel good. So take what you need, hm. I don't hear you-"

"Oh my god," Miyeon moans. And she means it - feels herself dripping all over you. "I need it. I need it, I-"

"Come on, darling," Sana chuckles, soft and low in her ear.

"N-need," Miyeon chokes.

And what kind of idiot wouldn't take their palm off her breast, or undig their fingers from the round of her ass for even a second. It's having her in the palm of your hand. With one foot dangling against your thigh and the other tangled up above you, the stretch in Miyeon's body is entirely for the convenience of letting you fuck her to pieces.

"There it is," Sana is murmuring into your mouth again, and that’s a reward of its own, her wet, full kiss at the junction between Miyeon’s neck and shoulder as her thumb digs deeper into the curve of the girl’s thigh. You listen to Miyeon moan your own name, uttered like it was written by god and meant to form on her lips as it tumbles down through the ragged mess of pants and gasps.

“Fuck, baby-” You press harder. “Your pussy feels incredible- how you suck me right up like you're the good girl you love to pretend you are- like a perfect toy," you breathe, "-all nice and hot. Licking, swallowing around my cock, getting dicked out for my enjoyment-"

"Yeah, yes," she pants out, the total capitulation. "It feels so fucking good."

You feel the mindless, blissful roll. A rhythm in the give of her thighs as you slide home again and again. There's a clink from the bracelets on her wrists; her hair falling into her eyes; there's the sheer ecstasy written all over her pretty face when Sana reaches one hand to start drawing slow circles on her clit. 

"You're just fucking me so god-damn-good." She’s breathless; you’re taking everything from her. The poise, the finesse, the dignity.

"Of course we are," Sana supplies, and it's fitting. You're both holding her up. You'll be the ones tearing her down.

Miyeon's arms tighten around the back of your head, arching, squeezing, and there's that feeling that always accompanies Miyeon: like she's completely melting you to her core and turning your brains into fucking mush. Everything from her tight little pussy to her breathtakingly pretty eyes to the way her spine flexes to meet the pitch of her voice - it's fucking ridiculous, that she's even real in the first place - let alone that your cock is buried so deep in her cunt you think you can hear her sob. Or that all five-foot-two of her is making these tiny desperate noises as you use the width of her hips to bounce her harder onto your cock. 

Sana's long fingers slip and press - they're not touching anything except the swell of her pussy, just this ghostly brush of a light, almost chaste graze. It's enough: a touch like that, and fuck, another-

Miyeon cries out.

“I'm going to cum-"

"Say it again," Sana's whispering, "tell us what you need," and in a sort of coup-de-grace-style-of-climax, she bites at the skin over the top of Miyeon's jaw and slips a fingertip right onto her aching clit. Presses down. "You're such a fucking slut, Miyeon, such a gorgeous cocksleeve-"

"I-"

She's actually whimpering, the poor thing. Eyes squeezed shut, toes clenching; everything is trembling, tense with release. You’re fucking her into a puddle of a person, and she’s holding her lip between her teeth like it might do a goddamn thing. It makes sense; the tightness, and wet and heat is what she knows.

"Go on," Sana answers her, and it's like her words slice the voice in Miyeon’s throat to shreds, "cum all over his cock. So. Fucking. Good, baby," a hard push through every syllable as her teeth snag into the shell of her ear. She rides the boundary of degradation and downright debasement because she knows that’s how Miyeon will absolutely cum for her. For you, for both of you. "Do what you're fucking made for, and just take it, pretty, lovely, you can’t live a second without having his fat cock and my fingers in you, can you? You look like a filthy little angel like this, I swear."

You’re both on the same page, telling her over and over - shh, shh, you take that cock so well, feel that cock fuck you apart, baby, and all you have to do is cum - only, you’re paying homage to the title: you call her princess. Sana takes the opposite approach. Tells her, "you want everyone to know, don't you, what a goddamn fucking slut you are. You filthy, dirty little thing-"

It works. They both work, and so does everything else.

Your blood has gone totally hot. Like molten lava. Boiling over and about to spill.

The last thing Miyeon says: "Oh god - I'll be good, I'll do anything, I'll be your slut - Sana - anything-"

And it's one of the best lines to ever leave her mouth.

"-for this beautiful cock and these fucking perfect fingers, shit - fuck! Right there, right there, right-fucking-there-"

You fuck deeper, harder. The orgasm ripping through her muscles lets you leave marks and bruises you’ll be coming back to all weekend. Miyeon's face falls against the crook of your neck, mouth pressed there - you can feel every gasping inhale, the open-mouthed warmth of her body. It's you that whispers a shudder, half-voweled - "Miyeon," and she’s already there, so ready - it's kind of crazy how everything about this girl works so intricately and precise, like her very design was to take you to the hilt and melt all over your cock, because Miyeon's response comes as a mind-blanking:

"You can," a muffled whine in her throat. "Do it. Cum inside me. I want to-"

Sana’s eyes flare like she can feel that cable snapping, too. How your mind is all white noise. The torque of blood rushing through your head. You're thrusting deep into her well-fucked cunt with all the strength you can muster, your hips stuttering in the follow-through. When you catch the smile in her lips - the curl in her lips like she knows you’re about to spill everything, like the perfect siren’s call- you hear Sana over her shoulder: "fuck her. Use her. I think she wants to feel it in her fucking stomach - you know, the whole reason we’re here-"

You cum inside her - there’s no question - filling her tight hole up. Shit. You actually cum all over her too.

In fact, you manage to drag yourself all the way out from Miyeon, the wet quivers and hot aftershocks, all so Sana can get a good visual of how you’re fucking ruining her: the loose rope of white that streaks up her tummy, splaying out beneath her breasts. The absolute debauchery; it’s even more pornographic when your fist pumps another splatter of cum right onto the swollen lips of her pussy. Miyeon moaning on impact.

Sana supplies her own soft gasp, scraping the air past her teeth, tension hanging in the silence - and then you bury the rest of your load back inside her cunt.

And here's a feeling that's going to stick with you for a while. Beyond the fireworks in your pulse - the shake-ripple that leaves you with nothing, no muscles, no brain matter - you slide your cock through her cunt again, and again - just to feel how your cum pushes back out. And she's watching, she’s letting you watch: how messy she's become. Her tits. Her sweat-dewed thighs. How every second seems to bring its own unique ache. 

Really, you’re left only with a near mental blank. “God, Miyeon-”

You have just the barest capacity to consider the way Miyeon's trembling frame clings hard - pulling her ass cheeks down flush against your hips - your thick cock completely seated, stuffing her fucking cunt as she goes weak and submissive. You hold her there, suspended as your orgasm softens inside her and Sana hums along your lips, the soft coos spilling into Miyeon's ear: "what a messy, nasty girl. Princess needs to be full and leaking everywhere, doesn't she. How many creampies do you think you're going to ask for?” Sana laughs. “How many will ever be enough? I hope he gave you something worth begging for."

It's not really surprising how a feeling can hook its teeth into you when you're cumming like that. Subjugating the deepest reach of her sopping cunt to fulfill your own filthy fantasy. 

And look: Miyeon is soaked - soaked and wrecked and pliant. You kiss her and kiss her, and Sana kisses you, kisses her too, all of it muddled up - and your mouths are a mess. Your hands go into her hair, onto her ass; there's cum down her thighs and all over the floor. The smell of you three: her slicked arousal and your sweat and Sana's expensive perfume. 

Here, come come - Sana is a flurry of activity; she's helping Miyeon out of her second heel after you'd fucked the first one off her foot without bothering to get the strap unhooked. There's her careful proclamation of, "thank god the walls aren't paper," as you practically carry Miyeon to the edge of the sofa, this dreamy vision of messy hair and a royally-befit-blush. In the whole world, not once has Miyeon looked like anything less than nobility.

And now's no different, really.

You sink down onto the plush, tufted fabric - a chair whose shape might confuse you if Sana hadn’t told you earlier it was explicitly built for fucking, or whatever it is you're doing. She's smiling at you, settling her face right onto your shoulder and peering up.

"Sana," she says wistfully, but looks right at you. "My legs are still a noodly-mess. Could you turn on the jets in the tub?"

"And leave the two of you unsupervised?" She jokes. "Never."

Miyeon sticks out her lip. Pouts, almost: "it'd just be a second."

"She's only asking for a minute," you add in.

Sana rolls her eyes. "And since you've suddenly turned into two hopeless idiots, it can't be trusted. If I'm drawing a bath," a flick of the gaze, "the least you can do is join me. A chance to recover if nothing else."

Miyeon, being Miyeon, has already dropped her face down to your lap, curling up with your cock at her lips. When she gets her first, tantalizing, almost chaste little swipe at the tip, she smiles all impressed with herself. With those big brown eyes, her fingertips skating delicately along your stomach, and her dark lashes beating slow - all of Miyeon, right now, is on purpose, calculated. Precise. 

Her voice is even worse: "she wants her own go first, don't you think?"

Sana watches where your fingers thread into the ends of Miyeon's silky hair, just the gentlest twist and tug. How you have her mouth ready and open, waiting; how Miyeon glances over for approval.

"Well," Sana turns a cheek, "he's already so worked up." Her dark eyes look towards you - a mock frown. "I don't know if we can convince him otherwise."

Miyeon's throat clicks - she's not choking yet, but left to her own devices, she will be. Her expression melts into an almost-gasp as your cock fills the empty space in her mouth. There's that plush little gag as she opens, lips wet. You rock your hips, and then you get to watch her nose kiss the trail leading up the smooth plane of your belly.

"I could go for a soak," you admit, with Miyeon drooling on your cock.

Because Sana's doing that thing where she turns around, has the smug look over her shoulder. Makes a slow, teasing movement that leads your eyes from her pretty face all the way down the cut of her back, until finally she's pushing the soft waves of her hair into one hand so that her ass is perfectly presented-

And jesus, sure: the sloping hips, the inviting lines - the sharp points and soft edges, where she is and isn't; her cupped fingers come up to her own chest, just to show off the heft of her tits, hanging heavy. Everything is sensually posed. You're only a little bit mesmerized. Her figure has always had the cut of a pinup model. Curves like a siren. Her waist to hip ratio is - oh-fucking-kay, maybe you could do it right now - bend her in half - get her fucking sobbing until you kiss her quiet and cum so deep in her cunt it's all she can think about for days-

You realize then you're pulling too hard on Miyeon’s hair.

Not meaning to, or maybe too eager.

Hey, you have a pretty girl sucking life back into your cock and one more giving you bedroom eyes from across the room all ready to sit on it; you never said you weren't trying your best.

"Careful, honey. I'm getting impatient." Sana's hand traces the wallpaper trim in the hall, a sweeping path; a vague reminder as she disappears down and around the corner. You hear the squeak of the faucet and then the sound of her light footsteps. And then it's just an echoey and unapologetic, "one day I might not let you have all the fun," followed by, "my goodness-"

Sana, appraising her reflection in all likelihood. All bright smiles

You turn back to find a second set of eyes staring back, full of hunger, as a wet, messy heat wraps around the base of your shaft and follows to the top with the flutter of her tongue - and then all the way to the back of that tempting throat. Miyeon's moving at the tempo you'd put her at. You appreciate that. But you lift her jaw and hold the side of her face so she's looking straight at you - and as soon as you pop yourself out from between her lips, you say, "you'll let me taste Sana, too, won't you, baby?"

(Miyeon's never been good at saying no - to anything. That doesn't change here in the slightest.)

The way you laugh is easy and sweet. You kiss the space over her temple. "We've always been in this together, Miyeon," a soft tease. "Go ask her nicely, and I bet she lets you clean me up," before adding, "maybe, after you lick all the cum out of my girlfriend's tight ass."

And Miyeon simply grins. The promise of that sloppy fucking mess. She's ruined herself time and time again over far less.

"Oh," she says, "you know how good I look with cum dripping down my chin.”

It's kind of impressive how shameless she can be. So fucking blase - what are friends for, anyway.

“Shall we?"

You scoop Miyeon right up into your arms and, upon standing, swing her little body around in front of you. And she knows that's the sort of thing she shouldn't enjoy: being manhandled, told what to do, having someone lift the choice off her shoulders like that - but that doesn't stop her from tangling herself up around your neck and tilting her hips back into you in that playful-fake, overly innocent-cute mien - where she says in this tiny whisper, "are we, you think?"

Your mouth lands on her ear, nips the softness there, "behave yourself, sweetheart."

And then a low, breathless laugh escapes her: "when's the last time that was even an option."

-

(For the record, the answer is never, and you're probably actually so fucked - it's kind of hilarious to look back at it, and think, because how could any two people who have spent as many weeks (months) as you, putting all the right pieces into the right places, get all the stars align at once? The idea that the three of you are hooking up and nobody's getting hurt, murdered or hung out to dry is statistically improbable; and the likelihood that anyone in this presidential suite will survive the weekend without breaking at least four limbs in various places is rapidly dropping with each passing hour. You've been taking the old adage and clutching it against your chest - 

It can't be a sin, if it makes you happy.)

-

Past the door, the first thing you notice is that Sana's hair is all pinned up. Always pretty like that.

However it doesn't change the picture a whole lot. A few inches more bare skin isn't exactly a big difference when there's the whole, naked, porcelain expanse that spans the soft length of her shoulders, along her hips and waist, and runs to her feet. It's still kind of incredible. The hourglass shaped silhouette. All the natural curves finding relief in the right places. Model-esque, that sort of thing. And, yes: her tits, the absolute heaven-sent frame of her ass and those amazing legs.

It goes without saying.

She's there with her back arched, an arm perched on the granite of the counter. So relaxed. An elegance only afforded to the very lucky or the very rich. She lets her head fall back, the fine curve of her chin canting above a neck that you would've been biting kisses into just moments ago if she hadn't put herself in full profile to take your breath away.

"Show off," Miyeon mumbles, and then whispers to you, "sorry. My body can't do that, like-" she indicates - with a weird wobbly hand gesture, about the height of Sana's pelvis. "Whatever that is."

Sana tilts her head forward and meets the glance you give her reflection.

"Hmm," is her eloquent contribution to the airy room, woven into the pitter-patter of bathwater, lapping at the surface. "Now why am I left to wonder why there's no one making good on my requests, huh."

You cross the space; get close. And Miyeon stays curled up against you, doesn't let you slip away as you walk over, doesn't let go. She kisses the front of your shoulder, hums softly.

"My bad," You say. It's very believable. You sound a bit winded; kind of a wreck, but your sincerity shines through in that sort of 'I'll fuck it better' kind of way.

"Excuses, excuses." A dismissive shrug. "The water's perfect. But if you insist," and the sultry drop of Sana's eyelashes is deliberate, an invitation. Her breath is caught as your mouth finds the space between her neck and shoulder blade - the place where she's gone all pink, "I'd hardly pass up the chance for you both to eat my pussy first."

And look: it's not a lie, per se, but the natural instinct for Miyeon-logic is just to provide the justification, "the faster we get you a cumming, squirming, desperate mess-" her hand slips to cup the junction of her jaw and the crook of her throat. "-the sooner it'll be 'til he fucks me senseless again."

"We have a long way to go to get even, sweetie," argues Sana. "Last time, you were both pretty self-absorbed."

"We'd never ignore you on purpose," you whisper into the crook of her neck, and Sana turns to let you follow that deep, velvety mouth as the kiss flows across her lips. "You're absolutely necessary."

"Only by accident, then. That's a little bit worse," snarks Sana. The reprimand dies down into something soft as Miyeon lets her tongue trail flat over a nipple. She shudders.

"If I keep going, maybe you can forgive us?" You watch her eyelids flutter open, a haze of ecstasy passing behind her eyes. You keep an arm at her hip, wrap around and press flat until her whole flat tummy is pinned against your cock.

"Mmm," Sana hums. It's that sultry note she likes to let trail from the very end of her throat. "Ask me again after you get me off. But slowly: I want to savor every detail."

Miyeon traces kisses across Sana's rib until your girlfriend presses two wet fingers to her mouth. Easy.

"Then you should probably do something about her," you say, and - as if in agreement - Sana twists her hand into the cascades of her Miyeon's hair. You lean into her shoulder. She sighs; exhales, deeply, while her back is shimmying further backwards into the countertop.

"And you should help her make it up to me," Sana chimes, her voice clear and melodic, every inflection playing right at home in her vocal cords. "Two mouths are better than one, and I have so many other places you should be kissing."

Sana has a verifiable gravitas, for one, and when she's not hiding in plain sight behind the bubbly-bright act she likes to put on, it's nearly impossible not to fall in line behind her. This isn't to say you couldn't win her over either; it's a pretty small crowd here. But you choose one direction and watch her skin pink up and turn to red; you grab a wrist and it goes cold and white. Every last part of her is so damn expressive. The point is that she doesn't need you to make a fool out of yourself to know you're into her - or vice versa.

(Or. You're such a goddamn sucker, as Miyeon likes to remind you with a scoff, a little eye-roll, and then her hands on your belt. At least, before everything else: the knowing smirk, the dangerous suggestion).

You let your fingers find the backs of Sana's thighs as she spreads her knees apart, and there, you're reminded of the one thing. That of all the ways these two girls are identical, you've never found a comparison that really works. Not by any useful measure.

Miyeon has all the softer features: a bit dainty, the doe eyes and the lone dimple, like a doll with an aw-so-cute factor, whereas Sana is all sharp, clean angles; the sculpted muscle in her calves and thighs, the firmness and muscle underneath - which, yeah, definitely not the worst trade off. Don't get it confused, both girls crave your approval; both prefer when things get rough and sloppy. Describing either as anything but the most submissive holy-shit-take-me-now-I-need-you type, when put under the slightest pressure is laughable.

Not when Miyeon lets you use her like a toy. Or when Sana tells you exactly what you need to do to fuck a baby into her (hypothetically speaking; she gets a little silly and dumb around the edges whenever she's about to cum and her brain starts tripping over her tongue). Neither will hesitate when given the option of having your hand on the side of their throat, pinning their wrists to the headboard or the shower wall, fucking them until they go liquid and collapse in your arms, shivering, whimpering and begging, their pussies pulsing around your cock. In fact, there's really no hard or fast rule at all. But here, you recognize, is a great point of difference -

"Baby," you murmur into the inside of Sana's thigh. You leave a mark with your lips that you’ll come back to. "So. Fucking. Gorgeous-" right as Miyeon starts pressing her mouth against her cunt. "Aren't you, baby? The most beautiful girl. And all of this is just mine?"

Listen - the praise kink your girl has is actually pretty textbook: Sana wants to be called sweet, she wants to be complimented, rewarded, and all that good stuff; she wants you to talk to her the way everyone who sees a flash of her skin or a sway of her hips wants to - the best parts of adulation, arousal, love, without any of the side-eye of it being totally obscured in a crowded venue.

Direct.

To the point. 

She wants to hear each and every you're sexy, you look hot, your ass drives me crazy. She wants it on the gruff in your voice, how it gets a little rough at the edges. Tell me you're mine. You make me so hard. This is just the very essence of who Sana is, and you have learned that you need to give as well as take: feed her a tiny ego boosting here and there, and she will completely throw herself at you in return.

Miyeon watches you run your tongue over her cunt like she’s taking notes, and it’s clear you’re more than prepared to give it all up to her. There's always been this veneration, this reverence for every inch of her, a pull towards her - her eyes, her mouth, her wrists, her long beautiful legs, the place where the skin of her thighs meets - you've always had this insane fascination with Sana, this need to know what she'd taste like or sound like. At any given moment.

"Oh," Sana pushes Miyeon closer, moaning. "Yours. So yours, baby."

The moment you both have your tongues working at her - tasting, the sweetness of her dripping down onto both of your faces, making you lick your lips and kiss each other so Sana gets to watch - Miyeon hums approvingly. Lets out this very performative, "isn't she just the best?"

And it isn’t that you can't find the right word - divine, wonderful, heaven, incredible, without any flaw - there just isn't much room to read into the fact that you and Miyeon are both sunk to your knees on the bathmat, kneeling in worship, in adoration - sucking on Sana's clit. The imagery sells itself.

"We'd never forget the important things," Miyeon continues, dreamily.

She's trading with you the folds of Sana's dripping pussy and the outline of her lips for her thigh. You pick up where she leaves off, and that earns you Sana's hand raking through the back of your hair, pressing you so close you can hear her heartbeat in her pulse; her blood burning through the very spot.

“That's how you make me feel, baby: so fucking good. Amazing." You taste it. You chase it. There is nothing like her cum filling your mouth. "Pretty. Mine. All mine."

“Yeah, okay - sure - that feels really fucking good.” 

Sana's orgasms always start slow; a slight adjustment of her hips, the rub of one calf against the other, she's never been the quiet type but there's not quite the screaming or yelling just yet. Her jaw is set.

"You're, uh-," she adds, failing at anything else.

Miyeon tries for it. That edge of danger; not in pain or frustration, but, "there you go, sweetie: you sound so fucking pretty when you're worked up. Just tell us - the words, we need the words to make it good, baby."

"Fine," says Sana, tilting her head down, breathing deeply, and she makes a sound that's neither a whimper nor a laugh, but a crossroads of both. "Right there, oh my god, you are so fucking dangerous, holy shit. Oh, please. Please. You two- just, please, don't you dare- just a little bit - mmm. Why do you have to be so good at that?"

"Right?" Miyeon laughs out loud - like you're the one missing a vital point, like it's your fault your face is buried in her folds. “I used to think guys just didn’t like doing it. And then, well-"

And you drag your tongue flat and up over her pussy, right through that whole slicked up slit, your fingers still pumping in and out, and then you flick it just hard enough to-

"-yeah," she huffs, panting.

Miyeon presses her thumb into the mess of Sana's cunt, and it causes Sana's whole body to shudder apart - you lift your face to breathe, or to promise, "we can go for hours if you want, taking turns making you cum," before pressing into her again, and Sana's only got so much patience and stamina when you're two steps ahead of the curve, because her legs are practically going to wobble off her body.

"Poor, pretty baby," Miyeon murmurs against her, and she's talking like she’s taken all the control now. Operating in that cycle of push and pull.

And to her point: Sana is whining, gasping - every bit as hot and bothered and needy. She's whispering please and not giving up her requests.

"Fuck. Okay, sorry-” she apologizes. For some reason.

Your nose keeps getting bumped, her cunt is grinding down into your chin. That is fine. If it keeps on like this, your whole face will be soaking wet.

"I'm going to just- going to go ahead and cum, I think- so fucking. Yeah, keep on going just like, shit, please: my pussy is fucking throbbing."

This is the easy part, if you've read the rest right. If the hours and the minutes, and all the passing days: you know which direction the pieces are about to fall.

Sana arches her spine, rolls her hips into your face, and when you swirl your tongue all over the wet heat at her core, the sound she makes is music: low, throaty and delicate. Your mouth is attached to her clit still when you look up over the hand you have steadying each tremble in her diaphragm. And possibly as a sort of vengeful maneuver, Miyeon is shoving two fingers under your jaw and far enough into Sana's pussy that each curl of a knuckle is all that’s left to find Sana cumming right onto your mouth, your chin. 

She wants to scream, to cry out, but her mouth joins her face, in that frozen expression of anguish, of an absolute that perfect pleasure.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," Miyeon consoles, standing up, leaning in - close, really, impossibly close; she presses their foreheads together, murmuring against Sana's ear, whispering what-do-you-need, there you go. Baby, that was perfect. They each know the song and dance. They can shamelessly recite each other's lines. Miyeon slides an arm to the small of Sana's back, one across her shoulders, and Sana leans against her with this gorgeous look of a perfect, mind-numbing orgasm on her face, her eyes bright, her lashes fluttering - a sheen of sweat across her forehead; your stomach falls and bottoms out; you can't not be fucking attracted to these two. Miyeon smooths down her hair, reassuring her. Her hand reaches lower, wraps around her, pulls.

The bath is well filled at this point, water near overflowing, and Sana is equally fucking soaked. This storm of wet and hot beneath your lips. You clean her off with the broad stroke of your tongue and don't spill a drop, because the noise she's making - it sounds like rapture, ecstasy. She's half-delirious, panting, with her hands gripping the sides of your head.

"Where," she gasps, trying her damnedest. You have the best girls in the world, you really fucking do. Miyeon rubs the heel of her palm against the soaked, red hood of her cunt. Sana lets out a sound halfway between a gasp and a groan; the arch of her hips chasing Miyeon's touch; "you, are you two - god damn, if I hadn't already-"

"Shhh. My poor girl. You're not thinking about his cock just yet," and those are Miyeon's slender fingers coaxing your jaw free from Sana's cunt, prying her free from you so she can sit alone at her throne. "They always keep lube in these kind of places," Miyeon reaches into a drawer, fumbling about. It takes a moment for it to register that she's actually talking to you. "It usually looks like some body oil, you know the nice massage kind, in these tiny bottles. Help me look, will you?"

It does not take long - hotel management understands what these rooms are for. The scandal and the romance and everything in between. Because Miyeon finds what she’s looking for in the next drawer down: a sample-sized container of massage oil, something slippery and organic. It smells vaguely of lavender.

"Look at me," Miyeon tells you, and Sana is absolutely listening along too. It's all very seamless: Sana and then Miyeon. All the synchronized parts. Their signals have some sort of feedback even if you're not always actively aware of the things they pass back and forth.

Miyeon guides Sana onto her shaky legs, turns her toward you - So you swallow, hard, and run your thumbs into the crease of her ass - you're kneeling, still, still totally naked and wet all around the jaw. "Eat her ass, and I'll keep her cumming until she can't feel anything else."

You shift your weight and run a kiss along the tender skin at the back of Sana’s thigh. The contact has her bracing a hand on the counter for support.

“And then-” Miyeon says, with a gleam in her eyes like she knows what the fuck she wants. She slides back down to the floor until Sana is pinned between a rock and a hard place. Her two favorite people in the world: namely, your hands gripping Sana's hips, and Miyeon's tongue all over the aching little clit you'd just had your mouth wrapped around moments ago.

"And then?" you provide, hovering a kiss onto the beautiful round of Sana's ass. Her fucking cheek. You have to slap it. Just a little. And when you watch it ripple back and forth with your handprint there, a spot of pink already blooming, well, she has to be giving you a sultry look that demands to know when it is exactly that you are going to stick your cock inside of her, and it is absolutely just impossible to look anywhere else.

"And then," Miyeon supplies, "we're going get that beautiful cock in her ass so you can fuck her brains to mush."

"Thanks I guess, for the explicit permission," you scoff, and here you drop your lips, trail them into the crack of Sana's ass, up and down, teasing the taut stretch of her hole with the tip of your tongue.

"Someone has to take responsibility for-," she pulls on Sana's leg and stretches it forward, repositions her ever so slightly. She sucks Sana's clit into her mouth with an exaggerated sort of satisfaction.

You wait for Miyeon to continue, and then realize with the unshakeable notion: she isn't going to, because it's too damn much trouble. There is no reason to pull apart the premise and not the girl straddled between your faces. The only option is to follow her lead, and to worship Sana. To trace every crevice of her, lick between her ass and the sensitive, clenching heat of her pussy.

"Can we, like, take a timeout-" Sana's mouth is slurring into the skin of her forearm. Her upper thighs are quaking, quivering as you sink your teeth in. Her head's gone all heavy as a slutty little moan rings out and straight down her lungs.

And maybe the realization is setting in. You and Miyeon are going to fuck her until you all can't think - until you're nothing but primal urges, nothing but bodies with beating, pounding hearts; and every thought in Sana's head will be to the two of you; to Miyeon, whose hand finds the front of Sana's stomach and guides her pelvis into rolling forward and grinding into her mouth, to you, with your tongue lathering and lapping at her asshole, and running your hands around her hips until her whole body's shaking, "oh fuck, my god-" 

(The writing is on the wall. You and Miyeon are going to fuck her until none of you know where you end, where the other begins.)

Sana tries again, and the question ends in a deep, rumbling, "don't you want, Miyeon, wouldn't you rather just really, fucking love, having his thick cock stretch you apart," - she swallows - and when she glances behind her back and finds you watching her, there is just pure, unadulterated arousal burning through her eyelashes, over the flare of her ass.

You catch the fucking bow of her lower lip wobbling as she adds, a little more pointed and a lot more determined, "when you're, fuck, begging and screaming for his load? To be his cumdump, his little bitch," it's like she's got her heart set, and her mouth can't stop moving fast enough, and "to do whatever he wants just because it makes you look and feel so damn hot?"

You can hear Miyeon's mouth smacking with the way it works, the way she is swallowing, gasping. You can hear the sound she makes when her mouth goes loose, and says, agreeing, "you're going to love it Sana, every god-damn-inch, you always do" and Sana is falling apart again into your grip, moaning, and then "it's so much better. All the stretch, that tightness. But she needs your fingers first.

You can hear Sana gasping too, dripping a mess into the place where her pussy and ass meet. Miyeon licks a wide strip from her core all the way up and kisses it. Lick. Kiss, lick - her hands pulling Sana closer by the hip - kiss, kiss, lick - pulling her mouth around your girl's clit. So close to the place in Sana's bubbly cheeks, where your mouth supplies long sucks and soft kisses - so close you can practically taste the scented flavor in Miyeon's lip gloss.

"I can't- shit. Hold on, guys," Sana whispers. It's her nails scraping against the granite. "You need to-" and then the loud, dull thwap of her knee knocking into the cabinet. 

She's cumming again - this time, loud and guttural, but another really beautiful sound - her cunt pulsing hard into nothing while the air hangs in limbo, Miyeon's tongue circling her clit, your palms around Sana's beautiful, round ass. You're half convinced they'd be fine with being locked away in some tower. Forget the world and its obligations. Or, rather: let the world stop spinning; leave only this.

There is not much talking from then on. 

Mostly whining, whimpers and pleas to: not stop, yes, there, yes, please, fuck, and Miyeon wraps her fingers around you - almost the same thing she did when you were pumping your cum into her quivering cunt earlier, asking, please, may I-?

Sana bends herself over the counter, like something instinctual. The perfect bend and arch in her spine, the bow of her knees and the press of her thighs. Inviting, pleading. You can feel the tingle, the stiff tension in the muscles, when you reach out and lift her ass; it gives so easily to your touch. Your palm, her cheeks. There's a beautiful flush as the pink starts to run, fade, and reappear along her back, and - fuck, okay, seriously-

Miyeon's there, kneeling next to you: stroking her fingers up your length. She’s kissing you too. It’s hard to think.

But the sound of the cap coming off the bottle comes like an alarm clock, pulling you out of a dream.

Miyeon sits on her heels, smiling into the press of your lips as the bottle she procured tips out. Clear, viscous and smooth into her palm. When it becomes a lot of dripping; she swirls it against your cock - her knuckles wrapped around you, running and twisting into every curve, sliding her whole grip with long, calculated strokes.

"I don't think she's in any condition to keep a tally," Miyeon announces, "so, why don't you decide?"

"Meaning?" you're panting; your brain keeps working to formulate complete thoughts.

"Meaning," she slips her tongue against yours, slides her teeth and draws into your lower lip, "you should totally pound her gorgeously tight little ass" - another kiss, mostly on your lower lip; almost a bite - "and then you should dump that massive load of yours" - a shudder rolls through her shoulder and leaves a whisper in her wake - "right inside mine."

There are about eight thousand words in the English language but what you say is, "fuck."

Because she's right: Sana is blathering the moment you stand up and let your hands reach around, grab hold of her full, rounded hips. She’s not in any state to protest or complain about matters of equality or correspondence. Her lips and tongue are barely even fit to say anything but yes-yes-please-anything, oh god.

Which, okay, whatever: of course, whatever the fuck she needs - whatever they need - you pull at her hips until it's there, your cock sandwiched between those full, warm ass-cheeks, the perfect amount of pressure to get you so fucking hot, and Sana's not shy about rolling her hips to keep you pressed to the surface, rocking into your balls until her cunt's making slick, wet, hungry noises and she's just one endless, groaning moan.

"Love feeling your cock," Sana mutters; and there is a, "please, fuck me, baby- please?" thrown in for good measure.

"Please do, you're like - you're like ridiculously gifted," Miyeon adds, always the right touch of caustic.

"-please."

Sana's eloquence is short lived, because the second you give her ass a squeeze and Miyeon presses her thumb against Sana's cunt, her voice catches on her throat.

She sounds perfectly winded, completely out of breath, a tiny, sexed-up growl running through the notes as she speaks to her reflection in the mirror. Miyeon laughs. She can hardly get her own shit together when you lean up and grab a breast in hand, or start leaving slow-but-steady bite marks along the back of her shoulder blades; like it's all-too funny when you pin Sana to the counter until she starts to beg in that please, please, please tone: when every syllable and gasp is hitched and short.

"She doesn't want gentle," Miyeon tuts, finding her place next to Sana, holding her chin in her hands and catching the expression on her face. She presses a thumb into Sana's mouth for no reason other than: they're so soft. Wet. Pink and full, parted around her fingertip. "Isn't that right, baby?"

Your gaze follows their hips, swaying. And from this angle: identical. The hair, the jawline, the arch of the throat and shoulders, the elegant twist and fold of their limbs, the eyes, the blush, the smile, and the legs. They don't have to look exactly the same: their presence is near identical - Miyeon's the cuter one, sure. It's been established, but fuck, the look on Sana's face as you spread her asshole with just a finger is fucking dangerous. You're going to lose your mind. Both the flat tummies and the beautiful breasts and their matching hard nipples - and the fucking two best asses the world has ever seen. A line up over the counter: Miyeon and Sana, side by side; their reflections looking at you in tandem, wearing these same expressions. The eyes begging, asking and insisting, the pouting lower-lip and the glassy sheen of their eyelashes.

You tell them: "how am I supposed to" - you run the thick-glistening head of your cock along the pucker of Sana’s tight ass, grind your hips into the friction - "focus when you two look at me like that?”

"Um, just give up," says Miyeon, grinning; and then, when your jaw snaps closed and there's the obvious shift of your hips as your length strains through your body's need and pulls you closer to that incredible, tight, dark hole: "god, there you go. That is so fucking hot."

So, it's just like this:

They watch each other. The mirror is right there; every want, every motion. 

And then, yeah, a low and throaty, "is that it?" - Sana nods into Miyeon's hand and smiles, with just the slightest hint of something that could resemble a blush - "why we always come back to him? Because, really-"

"Mmm." Sana hums agreement, dazed and drunk in her words, the slow breath of air you push out of her chest as your cock starts to sink in; the deeper the intrusion, the lower your names become - just murmurs and sighs and sounds: "god, yes, god-"

Her pussy starts to drip onto the tiles, her slick collecting at Miyeon's knees as Sana takes you all the way: and you hold, once you're all the way in; once that gorgeous little puckered rim has stretched around your entire width; there's just the smell of the room; lavender and rose and citrus - Sana's endless arousal - and you hold, and hold on tight - and your muscles shiver as Sana draws the first rocking motion of her hips.

The smallest, lightest grind.

"Jesus fucking christ," you curse, because the heat around your cock is excruciatingly tight. A slow-burning, tingling-aching pleasure as the flesh inside Sana's ass moves up and down the length, drawing out inch by inch of skin - until your entire cock is nearly pulled out.

You're the one that drives all the way back in.

Sana gasps. She runs her hand through her hair. She tries her damndest to remember what words are, clearly coming up empty.

"Baby." Miyeon is kissing her forehead, her nose, her lips, and coos praises in her ear. She sinks her fingers into the curve of Sana's immaculate ass, pulling on the soft cheek, showing-

You are speechless. It's just: that next stroke. And another. Your cock slipping in and out with each pass, so easy once Sana sighs, licks her lips and leans into your rhythm, there, all at once and then faster. And she looks in the mirror, because of course; of course she watches Miyeon run her hand all over her front, the perfect tits and a pretty stomach - your thrusting keeps up until every thrust has her hips rolling forward and snapping back, chasing her own momentum; chasing that thick, hard, stretch of cock and that beautiful pleasure-pain as the force and pace rocks her, pounds her so her entire body has to curl against Miyeon's chest for support, so that she's going a little weak in the knees.

"How is he?" Miyeon's tone gets wicked in these situations, a lot less innocent. She gets excited, giddy. "Pretty, handsome, stupidly attractive," her voice picks up a playful lilt, and she gets you grinning - it's only the start. "And he's all yours. But how's the cock, huh? He's gaping your ass so pretty. Your hole is so fucking open around him. It looks incredible, doesn't it?"

Sana reaches for the side of her ass, presses her fingertips to her skin: pulls and splits a fingernail into the tender flesh where her ass and thigh meet - right above her cunt. You snap your hips into hers and watch your cock disappear. Every motion gives, slurps and sucks until you're hilted inside her.

"Feels, mmmm - fuck." Her chest is fluttering, every part of her so fucking flushed, her blood running beneath the surface so every single inch of her skin is saturated with her own need, her want.

"Feels so good," you growl, your vision gone dark around the edges. Miyeon's there, vaguely, smirking into Sana's jaw, licking at the sweat, scraping her teeth along the skin to bite down, pull- "she's so fucking tight. Gripping the hell out of my cock. Like, it feels unbelievable, you know."

"Babe," she cries, though you give her no respite - you use that little sliver of slack and pull out far enough that she'll know it when your cock is hammering into her ass, a little more aggressive, and you start with quick, hard pumps that echo throughout the room - not for your pleasure or hers: just to hear it, listen, you're driving up so far into that perfect, gorgeous ass that it sends her tits rocking and rolling with every bounce of her chest; her moans, her babbling incoherence, are, again - it's like a drug - and Miyeon's smiling. And also, getting herself off.

"So pretty," Miyeon says into her temple, "with his cock fucking open your ass." And she has her fingers swirling, swirling, in little patterns around her cunt, grazing over a wet clit, like the way you're pounding Sana's ass and dismantling her whole consciousness is absolutely the most arousing thing ever, like Miyeon could stay and watch forever, like Sana's the most beautiful person in the world, and Miyeon would be right here with her every second - whispering praise in her ears - "god, babe, if I could, I would never pull his cock out. You take him so well, don't you? You're just made for it. He could stretch you out over and over and we could, you know - be fucked silly - no thinking - for, like, forever. All day long."

Sana's fingers claw, gripping at the bowl of the sink, while Miyeon has her hand glued to her clit, playing herself.

Miyeon doesn't wait - but she asks anyway - and of course: she's leaning up, in, nuzzling Sana and saying: "yes?"

"So," is all Sana gets out before gasping, because the sight, it's too much to not let yourself feel a little power drunk, and there is a sudden thrust that practically turns the poor girl's voice into a croak. "Yes. Fuck - fuck-"

You don't really have any clue where this is coming from but: "Miyeon, here, take this cock. Come get what's yours you fucking cocktease," and, whatever - who needs thoughts? Your girlfriend's already bent over the bathroom counter, your fingers holding the smooth curves of her ass apart, her beautiful body opened all up and pink.

Miyeon ruffles her hair as she finds the perfect angle, knees knocked up against the drawers, and she's got more oil spread onto her own puckered rim.

You know your girls: Sana is desperate for your cock, Miyeon lives to be used.

"I love how fucking cock-drunk she gets," Miyeon laughs, and then - the moment you've shifted from one gorgeous hole to the other - her mouth slackens, her eyelashes flutter: "shit. Holy - didn't really realize- oh wow."

"Kinda distracting?" you tease, knowing full well you're just going to lose your own words; watching a gorgeous ass swallow your cock; being told to keep giving and take, just as much: the warmth in your own core, your cunt, clenching hard - an aching pulse - the excitement coursing through your veins and this, this whole sensation of being connected: your bodies, all-encompassing and present, three whole units, joining at the hips, being forced back together-

"-you feel fucking, so tight. That's how the fucking joke goes, right?" Miyeon manages: to talk, still, even with a cock in her ass and your teeth and tongue painting pretty marks up the ridges of her spine.

Sana is catching her breath, brushing her fingers through her hair staring wistfully.

"Gives you two so much to talk about."

"Now don't even start- I really like it, alright."

Sana gives her ass the worst slap but your balls hit her cunt on the following thrust. Miyeon's so fucking tight you can barely breath. And her laughter tinkers off into a very pretty string of obscene moans from the way your cock spears into her, all at once: the flat, wet, throbbing sounds of a tight ass taking a thick cock without stopping, stretching and sliding with an increasing ease the longer it goes on for, until you're snapping your hips so far forward they're slapping Miyeon's ass and gripping, squeezing the round shape of her waist; until the movements are just you, the heavy weight of your balls against the hot wet skin between her legs.

And god damn it, she's got to start with:

"Forgot how much you stretch me, Jesus - baby, it is a really gorgeous cock you've got," - and that is when it hits, and her hands fist up, trying to grab at something, anything: "oh my god."

"You are such a whore," Sana laughs, but not unkind, because Miyeon can only grin in response, with your cock pounding out into the red-hot, clenched walls of her asshole. And then: a nice, hearty sigh.

You find yourself asking, almost by impulse, "isn't she, uh, tight. God."

And, fuck: you were thinking how insane it is you two ever managed without the third party. How now, not fucking Sana and Miyeon's glorious, matching asses side-by-side would drive you fucking crazy, and maybe that's why it's really the best news. How when your cock slips out of one ass, and slowly nuzzles into the other - how when you all three watch the pretty faces in the mirror twist and turn into a look of such pure fucking bliss - you just sort of-

"Oh."

That's Sana: with Miyeon pressed chest-first over the marble counter, Miyeon's cheek and nose flush against her face, their arms twisted, bodies crossed at the wrist and wrist - their skin shiny-red with exertion. They're the closest possible position: mirror images of the other, and - with the slightest push -

And it's pretty. It's fucking, you know.

"Perfect," you groan. "This is it. Look at you, the both of you - god - it's like. It's not normal to be as beautiful as the two of you are. Right. So, you know-"

"Hey," Sana is a little faster on the uptake when you're fucking Miyeon and her ass within an inch of dying, "your face. You look like you're close, are you close baby?"

The blood's starting to sing in your ears. Miyeon's forehead keeps bouncing into Sana's - their sweat, mixing, her skin peppered and blotchy pink from where she's gotten a little bit lost in her own head, her hips moving of their own accord, her body tensing, relaxing. You can read all of her movements, recognize her signals: the way she moans louder than usual, the way her cunt trembles against you, the way her ass squeezes, holds, lets go-

You pull out. Just to keep yourself from blowing, just to pull on your balls, to look and watch the perfect view. And Sana reaches back - a warm hand wrapped around you.

You feel her palm wrap around your cock, coaxing another serving of oil - like she knows just how rough it's going to be to start again.

"Just," she pants, leaning into Miyeon so you have to rut around to find your way back, "until the end."

There's something so pleasantly mind-numbing about the moment when you ease your cock into the sweet-soft ring of muscles again and she's just stretching and pulsing and grabbing all around you. The way you keep going: she's holding herself, giving her asshole a squeeze, a stretch - her lips kiss a sound onto the side of Miyeon's shoulder and she nods, gasps, breathes out heavy and pained, like the rest: a total fucking rush.

You watch Miyeon lean further, a beautiful shift of balance between the two. Her hands clamp around the sides of Sana's thighs for support, and the longer you pound into her, the deeper your cock sinks, the closer the pressure becomes as their heads turn in, looking to the same place, their foreheads knocking, and-

"Knees," you growl. You're holding your cock in your first - demanding: "Get on your fucking knees."

Sana smiles first. Then Miyeon. And when the lipstick smears against their cheeks, you don't have it in you anymore to think clearly. The line between your imagination and your fantasy is so blurred: you want their mouths moaning into eachother. You want Miyeon to clean the taste from Sana's lips. You want those cunts grinding, their clits making contact, and for one of them - fuck-

So: "I need the both of you."

And it's your name falling off of Sana's tongue when the tops of her shins hit the tile floor - she's kneeling, she's pulling Miyeon by her waist until the three of you have converged into this beautiful, glistening, open-mouthed trio. Sana kisses Miyeon hard while you cum all over the image: the contrast of their soft, wet, hot tongues against one another while your harsh grip pumps along your slick, throbbing length. It feels like a knot unraveling, a tension snapping loose, your cum landing on their cheekbones, their temples, between their lips - It's a long, slow roll through the valley of your abs - Miyeon licking into Sana's panting mouth and swiping through the streak of white you just pumped out into her fucking hair; the messy collision of lips, swallows, tongues; the faint, slow sounds, the slickness-

"Look," she breathes. You can hear the way their words hitch when their fingers hook eachother, guiding through the mess across their skin, dipping through the sticky cum, circling the plush pout of their bottom lips; and it's Sana that grabs Miyeon by the wrist, bringing her hand forward; sucking, running her mouth in a lazy path all across the width, "that's all, fuck, I need to. Wanna taste all of it."

You just groan.

Miyeon is slumped into the lacework of Sana's limbs, swapping the tastes between her tongue and the space of their breath; while her own thumb caresses the raw, stretched opening of her ass. Sana whispers things, incoherencies, into Miyeon's hair: kisses at her temple, strokes the muscles of Miyeon's back. Feeling how they shiver, they heave, they fall - exhausted and flushed in the heat of one-another's embrace. She licks the words across Miyeon's cheek and follows with her nose trailing Miyeon's jaw, and your cum's smearing a streak onto Miyeon's bottom lip, before their tongues have tangled themselves into another messy, well-fucked kind of collision.

"Good girls," you mumble, kissing Miyeon's knuckles, and helping Sana to her feet.

Your legs are a lot less shaky than either the two of theirs, but it's okay, you pick Miyeon up and set her on the sink; and then turn on the tap for the both of them, since they'd need a wash and some salve.

"Now, what?" says Sana. She's smiling; a washcloth at the ready; some dribble of soap from the bottle.

Miyeon gives her a smirk from over her shoulder, turning away just enough to flip her hair; the ends brush across her jaw. It's a cute little quirk of the eyebrow; the upward twinge to the corner of the lip; it's a motion that knows every muscle, every detail.

"Depends," says Miyeon, sharpening up her tone just the littlest bit, "the bath looks like a tight fit for all three of us but," and there it is - the mischievous glint; the curve in her hips, her mouth, and, of course - you notice the way her eyes drop to the stiffness of your cock. The way her voice purrs, all light, but a lot more intent: "Did you see the shower? It's absolutely gigantic."

"I saw the detachable head," Sana throws out. A teasing little comment, one you remember - that sends a pretty deep shudder down your stomach and thighs. Your cock twitches, hard and - okay, good thing Miyeon booked the room for a week and then some. The view is pretty great: watching your cock get rock-solid in under five seconds. Watching them kiss the same knowing look, sharing the private joke. Watching their hips swing, watching them slide the glass door: Miyeon in front and Sana from behind.

It's in unison that they both turn over their shoulder and ask, "won't you help us test it out?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be right there." You shake your head, "so thirsty," even though, you know you're equally to blame.

-

It's that tiny whisper of "don't look at me like you don't have cum in weird places either, hm?" that Sana gives you, while Miyeon is washing her hair, rubbing and sliding along the locks. "I'll help you with the spots that are hard to reach, come here."

It's that little, meaningful, mischievous curl in Miyeon's lip when the water's pouring, and your breath falls across her skin. The way her hands reach out for you, even when Sana takes her chin and plants a firm, messy kiss across her mouth. It's the same gesture Miyeon's making, using Sana's forearm for support. How she runs the palm of her other hand along the back of Sana's thighs, slipping and pressing forward to guide, nudge. She pulls Sana onto her toes, aligning their bodies. It's in the little laughs they share, the wet smacks of lips, the soft little hums they make when tongues slip over, into the open.

It's here too, that you first ever get them confused, just a momentary slip up of "Sana, could you grab the towel-" or some equivalent, when you glance away at the perfect wrong moment and you're left just a little puzzled, still mostly entranced by the sight of the steam on the glass and their fingertips drawing patterns into it as they lean in for another kiss, or a moan-

"Oh," Miyeon says, delighted, "I'm supposed to be her, right?"

They're fucking-

Sana is less enthused. "Stop. I do not. Am not."

- identical.

"Look, I didn't mean-"

Miyeon laughs to cut you off and skips the argument. She winks, and somehow that makes it worse.

It's there too, the look of regret when your fingertips curl into the skin of her breast, your thumbs a tease against the rigid nubs of her nipples and the texture of her pretty stomach. They don't realize how much you really love their matching expressions. So, they don't mind the mixup, and besides: you just follow Sana's guiding hands and let your lips ghost-kiss, so gently across Miyeon's thigh. It's impossible to imagine a version that isn't one and the other, the two of them, here, with you: sharing kisses, offering the gentlest, slowest exploration, teasing and tugging a gasp of a response.

"Hey," Miyeon muses, "does that mean you'll keep your cock warm in me once we go to bed and feed me a steady stream of ice cubes between all the sessions, mm?"

Sana raises her head in faux offense and drops back into the comfort of Miyeon's thighs. "Jeez-us christ," Sana huffs; "one day with him and she thinks she's me. Have mercy."

"She isn't?" you ask.

Sana sighs. "Um. Not even close."

Miyeon beams at the both of you. She even runs her fingers through Sana's hair, doting - affectionate. "She'll come around to the idea eventually, don't worry. Until then I'm more than happy to take on the role. It can't be that hard, yeah? Just to be all - naughty-sexy-sweet-oh, look, a surprise, i’m actually ready to get fucked six ways to sunday-"

-you get an eyeful of whatever they are doing, this time just, fucking-

Sana only says, "it'll have to take an exceptional amount of patience on both your parts."

-gorgeous, lewd, completely fucking filthy.

"I got a lot, babe."

The second Sana opens her mouth, it's followed with: "pfffht."

It's just, who wouldn't give them whatever they want? Whatever they ask? There's a list out there: no doubt the both of them, gagging. Throat-deep. In their little skirts. Panties. Naked and straddled, just, across their hands. One, maybe. Or both all the same, or still a different preference. One behind the other and taking turns. Something - and this is important, here:

"Look," they say, eyes wide up at you and blinking - on the same fucking beat no less, "you can trust us, okay?"

(Gentleman and distinguished scholars: the list, by the way, only ever gets longer.)

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