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#Thank god they're not identical

capslocked · 2 months

Text

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.)

#sana smut #miyeon smut #twice smut #gidle smut #male reader smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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llycaons · 1 year

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this wwx is also so off. so unremarkable! I’ve posted before about how much I dislike how he’s feminized, but one of the most important things about canon wwx is how he changed the world - how he was brilliant and bold and singular and defied convention, and lost everything for what he knew was right, and invented groundbreaking techniques used for decades, and how he died hated and alone and how he was a legend for years and years. and this guy had some rough stuff in his past and wants to have a home and belong somewhere, but these are common enough desires that this character just doesn’t stand out. I don’t recognize him. you could change the names on any of these characters and I couldn’t tell it was supposed to be cql/mdzs. except maybe jc, but the author erased his greatest failures and the worst things he does to wwx and just makes him the most supportive brother who cut ties with his mother, so is it even jc?

once wwx comes back to life, I can understand him wanting a quiet and domestic life, and I think that’s what this fic is going for (and honestly, it rather succeeded, that last sex scene was genuinely very emotional and compelling). but since we didn’t see wwx go through all the hardship, and since he’s not really a well-known figure and we never see his actual impact, he just comes off a generic, if talented, 20something who smiles nice and has residual trauma from a childhood of uncertainty and a young adult life of poverty. and wwx in canon does have those traits, but he’s so much more than that! he’s a genius! he’s passionate! he gets into fights! he causes problems! he’s clever and proud and principled and he was always, always working towards something, keeping his mind busy, creating and inventing and improvising and solving problems and adapting and making a mark on the world, not always out of necessity but because his mind just didn’t stop. and I don’t see it for this guy! he is skilled and talented and hardworking, but the extent of his ambition is limited to the setting, which is a shame because I firmly believe that wwx should be able to break the pre-established genre conventions in every universe he exists in. that’s who wwx is, to me.

#of course wanting a home you can belong in and to freely express your identity are noble and worthwhile goals but it’s just...not unique to #to him. and this fic gets so caught up in its domesticity that I get sick of it. there's a world outside too #and god dammit wwx SHOULD break a story. that's his power. that's why people are terrified of him #so my final verdict: this lwj is a weak-willed and bland shadow of hanguang-jun #and this wwx is a dull pedestrian and less remarkable imitation of the yiling laozu #I literally think that therapy ruined them it made them SO annoying and their conversations were so boring #where's the fucking drama baby. where's the nonverbal communication. where's the heartache #yeah yeah I get where they're going I just think it sucks #in fact its turned me against therapy fic for them entirely #I think they should carry on being repressed and only communicating in outbursts and vague one-liners and yearning glances #except for jc. he really does need it #thank god I wrote for long enough #I realized what I was trying to say #ficblogging

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luveline · 8 months

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how about spencer x badass reader and they are wearing couple or similar clothes intentionally or unintentionally?? I think that would be cutee

tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks, sounding like a kid in a candy store, a crisp twenty in his back pocket.

Emily follows his line of sight and feels her cheeks apple unbidden, a delighted smile on her painted lips. "Oh, my god."

"Yeah, Garcia?" Derek asks, phone to his ear, Penelope first on his speed dial. "You need to come and see this. Like, right now. Don't worry, baby, just come and see it for yourself."

"I don't even know what to say." Emily stares at you.

You usually dress in line with the other women in this profession: pants that aren't too tight so you can run in if needed, a simple blouse, and a blazer if you're feeling formal.

Today, you've opted for something softer. It was a slow change, one day you were wearing a cashmere sweater, thin and fitted to your form. Another day, you chose to layer your shirt with a cardigan of a similar colour.

Right now? You're all Spencer. Your slacks remain unchanged but your blouse has been swapped for a shirt with a stiff starched collar and layered under what can only be described as a grandpa sweater. It's not quite ugly, but it's almost identical to Spencer's.

What's more, you've swapped your boots for converse.

Spencer holds the door for you. He's chosen to wear a tie at least, clinging to that last strand of professional business attire. He has two coffees, one in each hand, while you carry a box. He's all elbows as he talks to you, and you, ever his fan, follow every word with a fond smile.

"Hey, are you guys sharing a wardrobe now?" Derek asks, absolutely unwilling to hold back.

Emily piles on, "It's cute! You're totally an old married couple, you look like my grandparents."

"What happened to your boots, lovergirl?" Derek asks, nodding at your cons, arms crossed over the back of his chair casually. "Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the sneakers."

"You guys totally match," Emily coos. "You could be on a Christmas card."

You smile —you smile, Emily might just call the news— and walk past them to your desk. Hotch has moved you away from Spencer knowing you'll encourage his endless chattering, which places you on a different island of desks next to Anderson and Agent Camille.

Spencer put his coffee down on his desk, taking off his messenger bag. "Nice going, guys. She brought you donuts. You know, to apologise for calling you both antagonistic losers yesterday," he says, smiling at the mutual horror that crops up on their faces. "The fancy kind, too. She knew your favourite flavours without asking."

From her desk, Emily can see you've opened the box and offered them to your desk mates, your expression unperturbed. "Just don't touch the chocolate sprinkle ones, they're for Spencer," you say.

No matter what they say, how sorry they sound, you give out the donuts to anyone who'll take one until they're all gone. When Garcia arrives, she finds you sitting in your desk chair with your head leaning against Spencer's stomach, taking alternate bites of the same sprinkle-covered donut like it isn't the most domestic, coupley thing you could be doing.

Unlike Emily and Derek, Penelope genuinely thinks you look cute. "You guys are like Brangelina," she breathes, eyes wide, her smile infectious.

Spencer fails to hide a grin, his hand on your shoulder. You're better at controlling your emotion, sliding a small parcelled package across the desk toward her.

"Thank you, Pen," you say. "I like the shoes. They're comfy. And the sweater was a gift." Spencer nods enthusiastically.

That explains why you'd taken such an offence. Anything to do with Spencer raises your hackles. If you felt someone was making fun of his present to you, you'd defend him with your last dying breath, or, in this instance, punish your coworkers in his honour.

"I'm sorry," Derek apologises again, "I was kidding! What do you want me to do, you want me to wear a sweater vest too? I can do that."

You reach back to touch Spencer's side, levelling Derek with an impartial look. Not mad, not sad. Totally indifferent. "That could be a good start."

Spencer hums. "I think so. You wanna borrow one of mine?"

The barest hint of a smile plays on your lips. "That's generous, Spence. You're a philanthropist."

"I am." He strokes the slope of your sweater-clad shoulder proudly. "You know me, I love sharing my wardrobe."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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marvelouslizzie · 7 months

Text

Like Someone I Know

summary: You decide to take a break from studying and go to a masked party but your casual hookup turns out to be your biggest rival, Bucky Barnes.

pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

warnings: 18+, academic rivals, alcohol consumption, hidden identities, hookup, boob worship, semi-public sex, pet names, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, praise kink, no mention of y/n.

word count: 2.4K

A/N: @notafunkiller gave me "I don't care if they're gonna see it. I'm not giving them back." and academic rivals as prompt and now here we are… I hope you enjoy this random story. Thanking Andreea also for the editing and for the name suggestion. She’s the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Keep reading tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

This isn’t like you. You don’t find people attractive this easily, let alone hook up with them at a party, right after meeting them. It feels surreal… like you are having some kind of a fever dream. Maybe it’s because of the alcohol you consumed, but you don’t feel tipsy. So maybe not.

His hands roam on your body, hungrily discovering every inch. His lips are relentless, sucking and licking. It feels so damn good and it’s just so hard to resist. You deserve to let go sometimes. You work so hard, right? It’s okay to hook up with a handsome stranger. Well, you aren’t sure about the handsome part. Not when half of his face is covered by some kind of mask, but his piercing blue eyes tell you he might be the most handsome man you have ever seen. They also seem familiar somehow and you don’t know how that’s possible.

He stops kissing you, while his hands are still on your hips. He looks you in the eye, and it makes you shiver. You finally realize why he feels so familiar and it makes you uncomfortable. Those blue eyes… They remind you of Bucky Barnes. Why on earth would you find someone attractive because they look like him?

“Is everything alright?”

Even his voice… It sounds kinda like him. Not completely though. Bucky’s voice is usually harsher. He sounds like he’s trying to poison you with words. Especially when he makes fun of you after getting a better grade. God, you hate him so much.

“Yeah, yeah.” Your answer sounds so absent and not convincing at all.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I just realized you look like someone I know.”

“Oh, darling…” God, the way he smiles! There’s no way this man can be ugly. That smile punches you in your stomach. “There’s no way you know me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I would remember a beauty like you.”

That makes you laugh. It sounds so cheesy. Plus he can’t even see half of your face. How could he even remember you?

“I mean it.”

“I’m sure you used that line on girls before.”

“I can’t say…” He stops for a second, trying to find the right words. “I do this often.”

“You mean hooking up with strangers at a party?”

“No.” His answer confuses you for a second. “Hooking up at all.”

Oh, that can’t be true. Those blue eyes can convince anyone to do anything. Maybe he’s just trying to make you feel special, and truth be told, it doesn’t matter. You don’t know him.

“Why is that?”

His hands caress your hips gently. “Usually… I don’t let myself get distracted.”

“Sorry for distracting you, then.”

Your playful answer makes him smile. He starts kissing your neck. His hands move on your ass, kneading while he keeps on kissing you. His lips move closer and closer to your cleavage. You know this is your last chance to say anything if you don’t wanna go further, but you can’t find the strength in yourself to stop him. His lips are soft and wet on your skin. Every kiss he lays on your skin makes you want more. You don’t know if you can stop him.

Suddenly he grabs your tits, pushing them together while he buries his head between them. It makes you gasp, and he inhales your scent like he can’t get enough of it.

“I want them in my mouth.”

He looks up, his eyes pleading for your consent.

“Can I?”

“Someone might come in any time.” You don’t wanna get caught like that. “They might see us.”

"I don't care if they're gonna see it. I'm not giving them back." His response makes you smile. He sounds so desperate while still holding your tits. And like it isn’t enough, he starts to beg. “Please… Can I?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You sound breathy, just because of the anticipation. You just want to enjoy this moment, not thinking about anything else.

He pushes down the straps. He doesn’t even bother unclasping your bra. He just frees your tits and starts sucking on your nipple. Your head is thrown back with sudden pleasure. His tongue dances around your nipple, making you squirm.

“God, you are so delicious.”

He switches to your other nipple. He licks, bites, and sucks while you try to keep your voice down. It’s not easy. A couple of moans slip away. You are just glad this is a party and the music is loud enough to conceal any sound you make.

Suddenly he lets go of your nipple. The wet pop makes you bite your lip.

“I really need to taste you.” You give him a confused look. Isn’t he already doing that? “Down there.” He quickly adds.

You don’t know what to say. You expected a quick fuck at best, that’s what the girls told you. Don’t have high expectations for hookups. They end pretty quickly and you might end up unsatisfied. But he’s proving you wrong every step of the way.

He keeps looking at you with a glow. God, his eyes are so freaking beautiful! Even if you didn’t want that, it would be so hard to say no. You finally nod, giving him permission.

“Thank you.” He quickly gets on his knees and hikes up your dress.

He starts to kiss your thighs, then he brings his nose onto your clothed pussy and just inhales.

“You smell so freaking good, d-darling.”

The praise makes you shiver. Not just because you aren’t used to it, but he also sounds so much like Bucky when he says darling. He calls you doll in a way that makes you feel degraded. Like you’re nothing more than a beautiful doll. No brains. No talent. Just there to look pretty. But this time… It doesn’t make you feel small. It makes you feel like a goddess.

Your shivering doesn’t go unnoticed, though. He smiles like a devil, looking into your eyes. Then he grabs your underwear and just pushes it down. You feel unbelievably exposed. Your breasts are sticking out of your dress while your pussy is right in front of him. But the hunger on his face makes you feel better.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He licks his lips before diving in. He grabs one of your legs and hikes it up on his shoulder, creating more space for himself to work.

He starts you eat you eagerly. His tongue moves smoothly between your folds and he sets a pace that makes it harder to shut your mouth. His tongue discovers every inch of you. Then suddenly he switches on sucking your clit, making you moan loudly.

“Jesus fucking christ!”

You feel him smile as he stops sucking for a second. His hands reach for your hips, steadying you while he goes back to sucking your clit. Once again your head is thrown back. You try to steady your breathing, but it doesn’t work. Your orgasm comes crashing in.

“Fuckk! I’m coming!” You don’t realize how loud you say it. You don’t realize how harshly you grab his hair and make him moan against your clit. Yet he doesn’t stop. Not until your shaking calms down.

The moment he’s sure you rode out every last bit of your orgasm, he moves away from you. When he looks up, he realizes your mask moved a little bit. Just enough to make him recognize who you are. His eyes are wide open, but you don’t notice any of it. You are still breathing heavily, trying to collect yourself.

He suddenly stands up and places his hands on the wall, caging you in. He looks like he wants to say something, but he can’t find the words. You assume it’s because of his unmet needs. So instead of questioning him, you move your hands to his pants. He watches you unbuckling and unzipping him. Then you look back at his face, silently asking for permission, and he nods.

You get rid of his pants and boxers with his help before he grabs his cock like he’s getting ready. Your words, though, stop him.

“We are not doing this without a condom.”

You don’t know what you expected, but you didn’t expect him to smile.

“Smart girl.”

The way he says that turns you on even more. The only problem is that he starts to sound more and more like Bucky. While you are trying to push away the thought of your biggest rival, he takes his wallet out and finds a condom.

“You don’t do this often, but you have a condom in your wallet.” You can’t help but point out.

“Every guy has one in their wallet. Just in case…” He responds while putting on the condom. “Doesn’t mean we think we’ll get lucky.”

“Well, you are certainly getting lucky tonight.”

“Oh, don’t I know it?”

He suddenly lifts you up against the wall. It’s so unexpected, yet it makes your blood rush. His lips find yours once again, but this time, it feels different. You don’t know what changed. You can’t put your finger on it. It was already passionate, hungry, and curious before, but this time… It’s just on another level.

“Ready?” You know what he’s asking about.

“Yeah.” You find yourself nodding and he smiles.

“That eager, huh?” His voice is deep and full of impatience, but also some kind of belittlement. God, that Bucky really messed up with your head.

He doesn’t wait for your answer. He gently pushes himself inside you, and you can’t help but moan out loud. A part of you feels embarrassed that you can’t seem to shut your mouth. You’re not used to this. It makes you feel exposed.

“Yes!” He sounds like he accomplished the most important thing in the world. “Don’t hold back those pretty sounds.”

You don’t know what to say, all you can focus on is the way his words make you wetter and wetter. You feel like you are discovering a part of you that you didn’t know existed. Maybe all you need is to hear how good you are doing. Is it why you are working this hard to get the best grades possible?

He doesn’t let you question more about yourself when he finally starts to move. It feels so overwhelming that you forget about anything else.

“Oh god…” He moans right next to your ear as his fingers are gripping on your skin. “You are so wet, doll.” You freeze. What did he just say?

“Bucky?”

Your heart starts to race faster than before. You don’t know what you are feeling. Shock, fear, excitement… This might be your worst nightmare. Or your biggest dream.

“I swear to god,” he starts to talk with haste, trying to explain himself before you get the wrong idea. “I didn’t know it was you. You have to believe me.” The fear in his voice is so audible. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him fearing something like this before. “After your first orgasm,your mask slipped a little.”

You suddenly feel relief washing over you. You felt so dumb for a second, thinking he might have tricked you. Knowing he’s afraid just like you helps a lot. He didn’t plan this. Maybe it's just a twist of fate. You reach for his mask and take it off without saying anything. There’s no need for it anymore. He smiles in response. You can see he wants to do the same, but he’s still carrying you, so you take off your own mask, too

He looks into your eyes, trying to see if you are still okay with this.

“Come on, big guy, move!”

His devilish grin returns. He bounces you on his arms, securing your position, and then starts to move again. His lips find yours, and you moan into his mouth. You can’t believe you are actually having sex with Bucky Barnes. You have had a couple of wet dreams about him, but you never thought it would turn into reality. You never thought he would be into you. He starts to lose control and move faster than before.

“Oh shit!” You feel like you might come soon. “Faster. Please!”

“So needy.” He grips on your ass. You don’t know why but his words rub you the wrong way.

“Don’t belittle me.” You snap back, and it makes him stop. You frown, thinking he’s gonna get you off and leave you unsatisfied.

“I never belittle you.” He’s looking into your eyes. “I never meant to belittle you.”

“You are not?” You always thought he was. You thought he was trying to put you down, demotivate you. Even if he was saying something nice.

“Never, doll. You are the smartest person I have ever met.”

You never heard him say this before. Maybe he just didn’t want to admit it back then.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“And the prettiest girl.”

You crash your lips onto his, kissing him like you can’t survive without it. You had no idea how much you wanted to hear something like this coming from him. He moans into your mouth while he starts to move again.

“I don’t think-” He sounds so pained. “I can- hold back any longer.”

You’re not so far away from reaching your climax. All you need is him moving just a bit harder, then you might be able to come with him.

“Please, come with me!” You don’t care how desperate it sounds. “I just need it a little harder.”

That breaks his defense. He starts to move so fast that it takes your breath away. After a couple of thrusts, your body starts to shake uncontrollably.

“Bucky!” You can’t stay silent. “I’m- coming.”

“Come for me, doll. Make a mess.” His thrusts grow sloppier. You can see he’s losing control because of you. “So fucking pretty. Can’t believe I get to see you like this.” You are sure his grip on your ass will leave some bruises, but you don’t care. It feels so good. He makes you feel so good. “Oh fuck!”

He looks so pretty while he’s coming. The way he moans… The way his eyes flutter with each thrust… You watch every detail while coming yourself, wanting to memorize it.

Then he opens his eyes. His pretty blue eyes shine in a way that feels warm, cozy, and downright giddy.

“I can’t believe we really did that.” He’s still holding you. You wonder how that is even possible. You always thought he looked strong, but this is on another level.

“Now tell me,” You sound confident and satisfied. “For how long did you want to do that?”

He chuckles in a way that makes you feel needy all over again.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

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hana-no-seiiki · 2 months

Note

Interested in seeing Yun's A/B/O arc. I am very picky about my omegaverse content BUT. Idea: Alpha/Omega Batfam desperately wanting reader who is a beta, unbothered by their nonsense. They're gnawing on their enclosure as reader says, "The fuck is their problem???"

@sophiethewitch1 just to inflict more damage to your psyche 🩵

like it when you guys use my name so much huhu

YANDERE! A/B/O! BATFAM x BETA! READER

Beta Reader who is just unbothered and unwilling to care about the whole second gender hierarchy and just wants to get a normal job at Wayne Industries

But it’s literally impossible when they have Alpha! Dick as their childhood friend.

You should thank him really, he gave you a spot at your dream (totally) job. You should thank him for many things actually. You’re the only beta he ever told his hero identity to. He gave his whole heart and trust towards your irrelevant beta self. As such, you should be grateful that he asked you out right? Wrong.

Unfortunately, you were already in a relationship with Omega! Tim. Who you met after the death of your partner Beta! Jason. His omega tendencies and the fact that you were unable to fully take care of him as a mate saddened you, but sacrifices must be made for love right?

Omega! Tim who’s just so fucking obnoxious about bagging you. He leaves his scent all over your items. Warding off Alpha! Damian who had been crushing on you since forever.

Alpha! Damian who kept bullying you for being a Beta up until that fateful day Batman suddenly died(disappeared), and you were the only one that stepped up to comfort him. Sure, you didn’t know he was your tormentor (God was he thankful you couldn’t smell his arousal and pheromones going haywire when you hugged him) but you were the only person he felt safe being so vulnerable with. So un-alpha like with. You knew who Nightwing was right? You must know who he was and cared for him eitherway.

Beta! Jason who comes back with a vengeance. Cursing Joker for separating you two. Who hated you for being a beta even though he was one himself, but learnt to love you and eventually his second gender. Whose first coherent thought was to return to his mate, but is heartbroken upon the sight of his replacement.

Alpha! Batman who lurks within the shadows. He knows of his children’s obsessions, he knows you’re the final piece needed for his gamble to succeed.

You who’s unknowingly walking into the jaws of the most unhinged men on Gotham.

….

… Captured! Beta Reader who wakes up to the leering eyes of the Dark Knight. Scalpel in hand.

“It’s time to fix you.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere core #yandere batfam #batfam #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #damian wayne x reader #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dc x reader #abo #omegaverse

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chiyoso · 3 months

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you can't get enough of choso

j. kaisen : kamo choso ··→ brainrot.

i need to get this out desperately before i comatose all day, but choso is the most babygirl of babygirls i've witnessed and dealt with throughout my life as an anime/manga fan.

fuck, just imagine choso overhearing you gush about him to someone, close to you or not, he'd have the unluckiest luckiest times to encounter you as you speak about him, it would range from the most cutest shit ever, to the absolute filthy, oh-my-god-please-do-that-to-me-right-now, i have a boner from just you talking about me so lovingly with carnal desire type shit.

he thrives in your indirect praises about him, more so when you compliment his academic prowess besides his physical appearances.

he finds himself thinking about how, when and just fucking why you think he's so lovable in such a way. like what is he doing so special to be someone so high up to the stars for someone else? what is he doing for you to be so enamoured by him? he doesn't understand, but he wants to, he really does, he's just sooo puppy-like excited just at the thought of you continuing your shinanigans about him to anyone, up until the point where they're annoyed.

and he just especially loves the way your tone gets so low, just the right amount of breathlessness and excitement everytime his name comes out with endearment from your mouth. god, you sound so fucking hot like that.

“please please PLEASE, itadori, link me up with choso, yeah, that kamo choso, please holy FUCK, i know you know him, aren't you related to him too? no? what do you mean you can't? yes you fucking can, i've seen him talk and talk and just talk about you.” shit, if only he can hear you desperately beg for him like that whenever he is around you, but you're just such a two-faced person, skillfully so, being and doing the opposite of what you normally are without his presence.

you'd interact with him normal, just like others, but since that day where he caught you the first time, talking about him in a way where your fondness for him is through the roofs, he'd notice you often lean in against him, following up with a simple “come again?” “i can't hear you.” “louder.” even if the place had little to no people. peculiar.

there would also be times where you would just tease him that causes him to have an existential, identity crisis. “fucking finally,” you groan begrudgingly, stretching your limbs, cursing under your breath about how hard and fucked up the assignment was. of course biology wasn't your strong suit, but it was also a great, valid reason to ask the kamo choso to have a study sesh with you.

“high five, kamo-san.” huh? he glances up from his work, seeing a hand reached out near him. you were idled, lazily leaned back with your other hand acting as the pillar for your weight behind, legs up and obnoxious, knees against the rim of the low table you two studied on. thank god you weren't wearing a skirt, why the fuck are your legs parted.

“i mean,” he pauses, hesitant, glancing between your weirdly nonchalant expression and attitude and your hand. “i don't see why n—” “sorry,”

now how did he find himself in the same sitting position you were in, but with a hand behind his back on the floor, and you now on top of him.

“i have a big fat fucking crush on you,” you took his stretched out hand, basically handholding him now, the other cupping his cheeks. “you're so pretty, you know that right?” he'd see your eyes grow distant, the situation now processed, resulting in him have this pathetic blush all over his face, undecided if it was from your sudden closeness, or the fact that you just straight up confessed to him just now.

were you eye fucking him? what was going through inside your head? and the fact that he wasn't moving an inch, unopposed to whatever this was right now, maybe because he had someone so fucking hot and as ‘pretty’ as him just hovered on top of him.

maybe because its the accumulation of overhearing you on certain times that he'd allow this, or the fact that itadori has talked warned him about you, or also maybe because no one has ever held him in such high regards its just insanity.

you know what you want. so who is he to stop you from achieving your goal?

“earth to kamo-san?” oh.

what do you mean he was daydreaming? what do you mean he was zoning out for awhile? you mean you didn't just confess right now on top of him? you weren't about to fuck his mouth with yours? maybe fuck the shit out of something else too?

yeah, he's okay, even if his cheeks roused such a pretty, healthy color all over, even if his eyes couldn't keep still all over the room but yours, even if his breathing became irregular suddenly just now, and even if he has this overwhelming hotness that throbbed continuously between his thighs right now. yeah.

yeah, he's okay.

of course he's okay.

⚝ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐒𝐎 | remember!!! reblogs are waaayyy sexier!!!

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hayaku14 · 12 days

Text

thinking about this kaishin magazine cover like

kaishin dressing up together. kaishin naked together. (they could've dressed up in different rooms tho? IDC THEY DRESSED UP TOGETHER)

kaito in the kid suit but without the hat and monocle like that's really all just kaito there and similarly shinichi putting on the bowtie reminiscent of conan but it's all just shinichi there. then again it could also mean kid and conan will always be part of who they are

KAITO WITH NO GLOVES OH GOD OH FUCK

KAITO LEANING ON SHINICHI??? WHAT THE FUCK

KAITO LEANING ON SHINICHI WITH NO GLOVES????? OH FUCK WHAT THE GOD OH FUCK

that shinichi fit, the toned down blue and red from his originally bright colored suit and bowtie......😳

kaito with his hip jutted out like that??? SIR.

shinichi's background are books and kaito's is what seems to be a jewelry box oooohh the big brainery happening behind them

me seeing their reflection on the mirror thinking about how easy it would be for kaito to just slip his hand around shinichi's waist and tuck his chin on shinichi's shoulder, watch shinichi attempt to fix his bow on the mirror and kaito inevitably fixing it for him, looking up at shinichi with the biggest grin and shinichi pressing his lips against his as a thank you

me seeing the inside of kaito's suit thinking how easy it would be for shinichi to let his hand slip and explore around kaito's body, trying to avoid activating his little gadgets like it's a game, holding kaito's gaze with a smirk on his face, moving forward to carefully remove kaito's suit jacket off, his neck right in front of kaito who licks and leaves a mark on his bare skin just cause he can

also maybe the mirror symbolizes that they're mirror images of each other?????

KAITO AND SHINICHI. IN ONE FRAME. TOGETHER. RAAAAHHHHHH

implied, they've seen each other's face. implied, they're not hostile therefore they must have talked and have come to an understanding. implied, they know each other's identity. implied, inevitably they will be making out after this i don't make the rules they just will.

#kaishin #kuroba kaito #kudou shinichi #dcmk #detective conan #dc prattles #I KEEP STARING AT THIS #LIKE THEY'RE REALLY TOGETHER. KAITO AND SHINICHI. NOT KID AND CONAN. IN ONE FRAME.#I LOOK AND DIE A THOUSAND DEATHS #I LOOK AGAIN AND THEY RESURRECT ME FOR ANOTHER THOUSAND LIVES #RAAAAAAAHHHHHH #god i love kaishin in formal attire #theyre so stupid sexy handsome #i need them to kiss each other silly and make each other laugh so bad uggggh i love them ;-;#thank you anan mag 🙏

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kairiscorner · 8 months

Note

Okay okay, hear me out. Miguel trying to figure out your secret identity because you're the only spider person who hasn't shared their backstory and Lyla can't find anything about you besides your spidersona, so he breaks his own rule and sneaks into your dimension in disguise, searches the city for you and is ready to go home with a failed personal mission, till (thanks to his super hearing) he hears you singing in your apartment and sees your open window with all your plants and a stray happily sunning itself while you tend to them all, and he's just mesmerized on the street cause like, woah. 🌷🌷🌷

oH MY GOD–I LOVE THIS !!! bc i recently also watched rocketman, i'm making y/n sing an elton john song favorite of mine 💖

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

hold me closer, tiny dancer. – miguel o'hara x reader

as night fell in the city, cicadas and crickets hummed their songs in the bright, moonlit evening of tonight in the humble boulevard of the dimension you belonged to. you didn't live in the most well-off or best town in the city, but it was your home; your home that nobody else in HQ ever knew was even yours. you were a complete enigma to the rest of the multiverse, and you preferred to stay that way. it didn't bother you one bit that you only had your little rooftop garden to tend to and greet when you get home from a long mission. you made yourself a warm cup of tea and sat down by your little wooden table by your rooftop, your outdoor plants hung up by the macrame hangers you made for them all. you looked off at the yellow and white studded distance beyond your balcony and smiled slightly to yourself, enjoying the silence and solace of being alone, in your own home, in your own space. though little did you know... someone was searching for you, trying to figure out just who you were; it was no adoring fan of yours from this dimension, it was instead a coworker, your colleague back in earth-928: miguel o'hara.

"this is hypo and critical, mig." lyla warned miguel as he lifted up his gray jacket's hoodie up on his head as he scanned his surroundings. "would you kindly shut up and let me do my job?" he snapped at the AI assistant as she raised an eyebrow at him, shrugging. "one, i do all the scanning and difficult processing stuff for you in the nanoseconds, stand back and let me do my job. two, not my fault my servers don't have anything on them. just turn back now, miguel, it isn't worth finding out who they are—these are your principles, by the way." she reminded miguel as he sighed and covered the watch she was being projected from with his hand as he hid behind an apartment building. the surroundings were pretty clear, nobody else roamed these streets at night, except for a few night crawling critters that sung about in the night. though these creatures weren't the only singers of the night, for as miguel was about to head off in the opposite direction to begin searching for the person behind the spider person mask he had been so used to seeing—yearning to see the lovely face hidden underneath it—he had heard the opening notes of a classic melody being played on a piano. the melody sounded as though it were recorded, its sound was being carried out from a couple of speakers that didn't sound modern in the slightest.

"what is that?" miguel asked aloud to nobody in particular. "they're the opening notes to the elton john song, 'tiny dancer'. it's cute as hell." lyla said with a grin as miguel stepped out of the shadow of the big building and followed the sounds. the song reverberating from the speakers was fainter, but a new symphonic sound rang in his ears. a voice? a voice rang out in the depths of the otherwise silent, unbothered evening in this quiet, ordinary boulevard in your quiet, ordinary dimension—for the most part. as the song progressed, miguel had finally pulled himself out of the shadows and seen the lit up home you had. he took in the full view of the balcony of yours that was adorned with macrame hangers, potted plants of all different sizes and colors, and... you, there, looking off into the distance, smiling as that sonorous voice came from you.

"pretty-eyed... pirate smile... you'll marry a music man." you sang along as the song went on, taking a spray bottle from near the railing and humming the rest of the song's lyrics, spraying water on the plants' leaves all carefully and gently murmuring to the plants how big and healthy they've gotten. you smiled and continued singing the song as it got closer and closer to your favorite part of the song. "looking on... she sings the songs... the words she knows, the tune she hums..." you continued as you set the spray bottle down finally and sat down on your chair by the balcony, with miguel peering his head up ever so slightly to catch a better glimpse of you. "i know that voice..." he muttered as he almost accidentally slipped and landed in the light emitting from your home. "but, oh, how it feels so real—lying here, with no one near; only you, and you can hear me. when i say softly... slowly..." you sang in a gentle voice as you got up slowly and put one foot over the other, as if in a ballerina position and raised your arms slightly, not caring who would see... not knowing miguel was watching you perform for yourself in full view. "hold me closer, tiny dancer... count the headlights on the highway..." you sang as you twirled yourself around gracefully, with the skills of a poised ballet dancer. your gentle, elegant movements made miguel pause and open his mouth slightly ajar in amazement. "they're... wow." he whispered to himself as you put your arms down and sighed, re-entering your home and sliding the windows closed, disappearing into your home for the night. miguel had known you were a sophisticated fighter that always carried honor in their hearts and poise in their movements—but he never witnessed you perform, let alone so freely, happily and... alive.

"y'done?" lyla asked miguel, snapping him out of his trance. "a-ah, right, um... okay. we... can go home now." "something tells me you don't wanna just yet." lyla pointed out as miguel darted his eyes back up to your unit and quickly tore his gaze away with a sigh as he put in the coordinates back to HQ, opening a portal and stepping foot in it, casting one last glance back up at your humble little apartment, the apartment where the tiny dancer who has his heart performed for the very first evening when his life felt like it really started now. "...it doesn't matter what i want. i got what i came here for, let's go." he whispered as he moved his gaze away from your home and wordlessly bid your dimension a goodbye, or rather... a see-you soon.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @ophanimgold @fictarian @yuridopted0 @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

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cheezbites · 8 months

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Dating König

✎: My third blog already!!! (Thank you all so much for the previous notes on my Chris McLean blog LMAO)

♡Summary: Wholesome head cannons of dating König💕!!!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Bf!König dreaded shopping; but when it came to shopping with you? He’s down. He'd show he valued spending time together - being with you felt like a melody of heartbeats, each beat echoing his love. And since taking your sweet time, inspecting every cute item you saw, König would be exhausted after hours of consecutive shopping.

And still, he would do it all with a smile to make you smile. The worth-it part of it all to him was the astonishing Haul's he received after. From you trying on short skin-tight dresses, to matching onesies... He truly enjoyed it all, mostly for you. Aside from his complete oblivion to fashion or anything of that sort - he'd pretend for you.

Bf!König would reserve a table for you both at a nostalgic fast-food joint. When your meals were served to you - You could distinctly remember him asking for no pickles on his burger, yet they ended up being there.

"It's fine, I'll just take them out." He tried to reason with you because he knew how far you were willing to go over this for him; even if it was as minor as being over a pickle. You were a

"Excuse me, he asked for no pickles." Girlfriend, he was the reserved boyfriend who would awkwardly watch. At least you got a refund and a newly made burger for him. (He low-key loves it when you stand up for him, though).

Bf!König adored it when you cooked for him, he loved your meals and appreciated the time you spent making them. They were his happy place, he was a 'love goes through the stomach' kind of guy. "Danke, meine Liebe, du behandelst mich so gut." (Thank you, my love, you treat me so well.)

So you often teach König how to bake, cook, stir fry... all the basics. Most of your inside jokes were born from your failures, especially baking. You guys baked cookies this one time, they had increased in size tenfold. It was a giant cookie circle to put it simply. Every time you baked cookies, the 'Cookie Monster' joke would be repeated countless times.

Bf!König couldn't stand long separations, so you swapped pieces of clothing to keep each other's scents close. You wore his shirt (which looked like a baggy short dress on your figure), and you gave him a custom-made black bracelet and hair ties. As well as an oversized hoodie that looked normal on him.

Bf!König wasn't a morning person, at all. He would still routinely send you good morning texts that made you smile from ear to ear every time you received them.

"Guten Morgen, mein Liebling. Hope you slept well and dreamt of us. Sending u hugs and kisses"

"Guten Morgen, Liebling. Sending u extra ❤️ and virtual hugs to start your day off right. Ich vermisse dich"

Bf!König dealt with the spiders around the house for you, whenever he heard you unexpectedly screech, gasp, or gush "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." He knew what he had to do.

"See? They're harmless." He quipped as he guided them outside with the plate and glass combo.

"No, it was about to kill me! What if it bit me," you mindlessly blurted whilst rushing back and forth.

"Then you'd be Spider Woman, no? You'd fit perfectly being a badass superhero."

Bf!König shared a secret stash of snacks that you hide from everyone else and enjoy together during movie nights. When you fell asleep mid-movie, he carried you back to your room bridal style without disturbing you.

"Good night, meine Leibe." He silently muttered before gently planting a kiss on your head.

Bf!König Was perplexed whenever you held up two obscurely different eye shadows up to him, and asked him which one he preferred. To him, they appeared identical. But for you, one was a vibrant lavender, a touch too saturated, while the other, was a soft violet, more versatile for various outfits.

"Aren't they ... the same colour?"

"Excuse moi?!"

Bf!König Let you do his skincare. Though skincare was another thing he was completely oblivious to, he mildly enjoyed it. All he did was rinse his face with tap water, apply lotion and called it a night. On the other hand, your routine was the definition of intricate. And so before movie night, you used cleanser, face masks, serums, moisturisers and all that good stuff on him.

PART TWO IS OUT !!

Enjoyed this blog? Then…

Read the Ghost version here!

(Or the Price version <3)

Soap Version

Gaz Version

Masterlist

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mnemosyne-nyx · 10 months

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✨ Bruce Wayne Headcanons that haunt me but I refuse to elaborate on even if they're utterly wrong ✨

1. Bruce can cook, but only when he's 100% focused. If there is anything going on around him like a feral child or he's going over some case in his head then something's catching fire.

2. He definitely was a theatre kid for the shortest span when a teenager. Have you met this man? Are you telling me he's never engaged in a single drama piece in his life? He was raised by literal-Shakespeare-actor Alfred pennyworth? My man Bruce can ACT. All his personas rely on it. So does his undercover work. I like to think he was in a amateur Shakespeare production one time just to surprise and make Alfred happy.

3. Tying in with the acting - Bruce is a master of disguise. With all the languages he speaks, identity shenanigans, cases that need inside info. Bruce can just morph into another person. But his abilities in disguise also means he can mimic people's mannerisms and accents easily. The idea of Bruce confusing the shit out of Clark by just perfectly emulating his country accent and then pretending nothing happened tickles me very much.

4. This idiot tilts his head ever so slightly like a confused dog when being bamboozled. Only People who know him closely recognise this but it's such a minute movement it's easy to miss. Any confusing story, perplexing stupidity or a little sprinkle of disbelief - boom head tilt. God help you if you get the head tilt and batglare combined. You've said the most ungodly, sinful, idiotic, offensive, seizure-inducing idea known to man.

5. He and Diana 100% gossip in other languages when on the watchtower . Both are polylinguals. It's also a learning space. Diana 100% teaches him Ancient Greek, Latin and forgotten languages while Bruce 100% teaches her alien dialects he's mastered.

6. My guy can sing. Ever since that silly lil' justice league episode I can't get this silly lil' headcanon out my head and it makes my lil' toesies curl. Gotham, though a hell scape, is a melting pot of culture and music. Opera, jazz, blues but also a strong underground Punk and techno scene. You'd be hard pressed to avoid music in Gotham. My guy just learned to sing through osmosis. Only a small handful of people know he can sing, though none have admitted that to Bruce.

7. Since this man is a sponge of knowledge, he just drops some of the most jaw-dropping, disturbing and unprompted facts then refuses to elaborate. Oliver Queen is just enjoying his ham sandwich only for "You know studies about cannibals say that human meat tastes very similar to pork." and Oliver is just !?!?!?!!?. The batfam are watching The Matrix and Bruce suddenly "The codes in this film are actually just Sushi recipes." and everyone does a perfect slow swivel to face this engima of a man.

Thank you for attending my tedtalk :)

#batfam #bruce wayne #batman #jla #justice league #dc trinity #worlds finest #brucie wayne #headcanon #dc comics #dc headcanon #I AM GOING MAD WITH POWER #Pov: I'm force feeding you factually wrong dc content and maniacally laughing in the face of God

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millytherat · 2 months

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Reading through @badaziraphaletakes inspired me to make a post about reasons:

Why people tend to choose Crowley of Aziraphale, and, consequently, think Aziraphale is bad

This might be a long post, i'll cover some topics and i might get all over the place at some point! But please be patient! Can i get into it?

Inversion of values

When first watching Good Omens, you might expect a strong inversion of values, that Heaven is bad and Hell is good, angels are the oppresors and demons the victims

It is mostly religiously (religious trauma) motivated, aka "christianity is a fucking bullshit" motivated, to expect seeing the ones who calls themselfs good (Heaven, who we interpret as Christian religious figures) be actually bad (wich, in real life, they tend to be) and, the ones they cast out as evil and sinful (Hell, wich we interpret in this case as anyone the church calls sinful, like the queer comunity) to be good and innocent and just different, it makes us feel emphatic for them, even seeing that they are, indeed, bad

I believe some people just dont want to accept it, they want to believe the angels are inherently bad and the demons just questioned their bad ways

But they arent, if anything ALL angels and demons are naturally good and innocent, "oh but Gabriel!" He was naturally good, we saw it, the same with Michael and Uriel too, they're all just tainted by the strong grip Heaven demands for them to have; in episode 1 season 2, we see both Crowley (as starmaker) and Aziraphale being totally innocent and adorable, they're good by nature, no one in the story is actually evil

When this inversion of values we wish for isnt fulfilled, it might cause an annoyance, i know a lot of people who dont accept it, and just make it up because... well is expected!

Queerness

This was originally taken from a post of "Bad Aziraphale Takes"

Crowley is "more queer" than Aziraphale, at least thats how people see it as, in fics too, how many times Crowley gender is explored, with pronouns and labels and identities? While the more i saw for Aziraphale was a vulva or they/them pronouns, and never in a human au! Aziraphale is depicted and seem as a cisgender male

I have seem even people saying Aziraphale have internalized homophobia! I- how??

Found them! @theelastword made an ask on the "bad Aziraphale takes" blog that inspired this bit <3 thank you love

Need for a villain and favorites

As we saw, people that hate Aziraphale choose to see Heaven as evil, as the villain, and that is also followed by many people who dont hate Aziraphale! Well, might i say that... we dont have a real villain in Good Omens? The angels arent evil for wishing to follow what they believe to be God's plan, nor for deminishing humanity- but i'm getting ahead of myself here!

The need to see Heaven as inhetently bad, the big bad villain, makes people see Aziraphale, going back there "freely", hurting Crowley's feelings, saying Hell/demons are the bad guys (wich they ARE?? There is not an inversion of values!) As him being evil, as him going to the side of the villain instesd of choosing Crowley, going back to CROWLEY'S abusers, not his, not theirs, Crowley

I do believe humans have a natural need to have favorites, when you're a kid is always "wich caracther of this cartoon am i?" and later is always "wich do i relate to more? Wich do i like more?", and people choose Crowley for all those reasons above and probally some personal ones too

So! As a small conclusion:

People choose to prefer Crowley, they choose to see Crowley as better because he's a "good demon", he's the victim that fell from Heaven and hates Hell, he's the queer caracther, he's kind and genuine and helps Aziraphale and have a car he loves

Because of the idea that Aziraphale is: A) opposite to Crowley; B) an Angel! (The abusers! The bad guys! The evil!); C) a BAD angel for that matter, he's selfish and mundane and comes across as rude to Crowley (because he acts so fucking autistic too!); people tend to DISLIKE Aziraphale, small simple minded people, but people nonetheless

I know the whole post is a bit over the place, it might sound confusing here and there, but i really wanted to put all this together to try and understand why people hate Aziraphale

I though maybe this can give a small input on why people think like that, it sures helps me to understand how they think that and what they mean by their terrible takes! I guess is mostly them being naive

Oh! You know how in the 2000's the media was demonizing femininity by having blond, pink, feminine villains in their high school romances? How we, to this day, tend to see feminine girls as fake, vulgar, naive, etc? How most teen girls go through a "not like other girls phase" because of that?

Same principle! Is the same reason for why they see Heaven and Aziraphale as evil

I hope someone can appreciate this lil silly thoughs put together <3

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #innefable husbands #good omens 2 #badaziraphaletakes #good aziraphale takes #for once

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tonyspank · 7 months

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“CURIOUS WHO’S BEHIND THE MASK, TARA?”

Summary: Tara finds out who's behind her school's mascot, and finds herself getting closer to them. But Ghostface has other plans for the two.

Warnings: Ghostface, angst, character death.

A/N: no pt.2 sorry & old draft that i shall post because i love u guys

"Woooo!" Mindy yells, clapping and cheering for her brother. It was a rare occasion to see everyone in the Core Four present at a football game.

But this was the championship game, and Chad was the star wide receiver. Sam smiles along with Tara, watching Chad celebrate at the end of the game, securing Blackmore the state title.

The team mascot, a fierce brown cougar, joins in the celebration by doing flips and cartwheels on the sidelines. Tara leans into Mindy's ear. "You ever wonder who's under the mask?"

"Curious who's behind the mask, Tara?" Mindy wiggles her eyebrows before chucking, adding, "Chad knows! Just ask him."

Quinn joins in, "They're hot too! Chad showed me a photo of them." Mindy thins out her lips, nodding in agreement.

Tara raises an eyebrow maybe she will.

Chad laughs, now at Tara, Sam, and Quinn's apartment, along with Mindy, Ethan, and Anika. "Why are you so curious about our mascot?" Mindy sets down her drink, cutting Tara off.

"Quinn and I were kind of hyping them up." Tara nods, confirming Mindy's words. "The seasons over with! Why are you still keeping it a secret?" Chad shrugs, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "It's just more fun this way. Keeps everyone guessing."

Anika tilts her head, intrigued. "But don't you think it's time to reveal the mascot? I mean, the suspense is killing me!" Chad chuckles and takes a sip of his drink. "I don't know, guys..."

Ethan watches Tara and Anika throw their heads back, sighing and letting out a small laugh. "Maybe you should just tell them before jump them and rip off the mascot costume." He jokes, earning a playful punch from Anika.

Chad looks around the group before pulling out his phone. "I guess you're right," Chad says, scrolling through his phone. He stares at his screen a bit before a voice is heard from his phone. "Hello?"

Chad's face lights up. "Everyone wants to see you without the mask. They've been asking about you all day." The group looks at Chad with anticipation, eager to hear who Chad has on the phone.

"Oh...uh, sure." You let out a laugh, placing your phone on your desk, ready to reveal your identity to the curious group. Chad flips the phone off his face, revealing the screen to everyone. Tara and Anika's jaws drop, their eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh my god." Anika mumbles, covering her mouth in disbelief. Tara, on the other hand, lets out a small laugh. "I didn't expect that."

You wave at everyone. "I hope I lived up to your expectations!" you say with a smile. Chad, still grinning, introduces you to the group. "Everyone, this is Y/N. Our school's mascot."

"Mind refilling my cup?" you ask, pointing to your empty cup. Tara chuckles. "Can't you just use the force and make it fill itself?" She teases, mocking your Anakin Skywalker costume. You playfully roll your eyes, knowing that Tara always has a quick comeback.

"You will refill my cup." You say, waving two fingers in a playful Jedi mind trick gesture. Tara laughs and obliges, taking your cup before making her way to the keg. A brown-haired boy places his own cup upside down on the pump.

"You're kidding me, right?" Tara asks the boy, raising an eyebrow. He grins, "Nah, last one's kicked. We got hard stuff in the kitchen though." The boy extends his hand, "Frankie."

Tara smiles, shaking his hand. "Tara. Lead the way." Frankie leads Tara towards the kitchen, and you watch with a slight frown. "Looks like you have a sith to deal with." Mindy says, nodding towards Frankie and Tara.

You light up your prop lightsaber, and Anika adds, "May the force be with you." You chuckle and reply, "Thanks, I might need it."

You walk to Tara and Frankie, ignoring the boy as you smile at Tara. "Is that mine?" You ask, pointing at the red solo cup. Tara nods. "It's tequila, so proceed with caution."

You raise an eyebrow and take a cautious sip. The strong taste burns your throat, but you manage to hide your discomfort. As you hand the cup back to Tara, you notice Frankie smirking at your reaction. "Not a fan of tequila?" Frankie asks teasingly. You playfully roll your eyes and reply, "Let's just say we have a complicated relationship."

Frankie chuckles and turns to Tara. "Hey, I have a bottle of Fireball in my room." You narrow your eyes at Frankie's suggestion, could he be any more obvious?

Tara shakes her head. "I'm good. Thank you, though." You smile, silently grateful for Tara's refusal. It had only been a couple of months, but you found yourself grown to Tara completely.

"Do you wanna go somewhere more silent?" she asks you, turning her back to Frankie. You nod eagerly, relieved to escape Frankie's presence.

"Ghostface chasing us...Sam being Billy Loomis's daughter...is just mind-blowing." You say to Tara, leaning your back against the snack bar. Tara looks down at her shoes, a pensive expression crossing her face. "Yeah, it's definitely a lot to process," she replies softly.

You lift yourself off the snack bar and take a deep breath. "But regardless. I'm happy that I'm with you. You've truly made a mark on my life, Tara. I don't think I've felt so strongly for someone, you know? I'm willing to do some crazy shit for you, if it means keeping you in my life."

Tara's eyes meet yours, her eyes darting around your face. She takes a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking. "I feel the same way... It's scary sometimes, but in the best possible way. I can't imagine my life without you either."

You smile, leaning down and capturing Tara's lips with yours in a passionate kiss. You slightly pull away, bringing your forehead to rest against hers. "I never thought I would find someone who makes me feel this way. It's like you've awakened a part of me that I didn't even know existed."

Just as Tara leans in again, she feels a sharp pain in her back.

"Tara!" You shout, holding on to her before she falls to the ground. Ghostface turns towards you, attempting to slash at you with his knife. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you quickly dodge his attacks and push him into a movie poster.

You manage to knock Ghostface off balance, causing him to stumble and drop his knife. Taking advantage of the moment, you grab Tara's hand and pull her towards the exit, determined to get both of you to safety.

Just on time, Sam and Chad open the door, and all of you gasp in surprise. "C'mon!" Sam shouts urgently, gesturing for you and Tara to hurry. Without hesitation, you sprint towards the open door, looking for an exit. But it's not long before you're back where you started—the four of you fighting off Ghostface.

You all manage to knock Ghostface to the ground, and you grab a gumball machine, urging everyone to keep moving. You lift the machine above your head, ready to smash it onto Ghostface, but before you can make your move, another masked killer stabs you in the side.

You gasp in pain as the sharp blade pierces your flesh, causing you to drop the gumball machine. "No!" Tara shouts, rushing to your side, but gets held back by Chad and Sam. You fall to the ground, two Ghostface's tower over you. The pain intensifies as you struggle to catch your breath, realizing that this might be the end of the line for you.

"Y/N!!" She screams again, watching them stab you repeatedly with a sickening frenzy. Your vision blurs and darkness starts to creep in, but you summon every ounce of strength, mumbling. "Run! Go!"

The Ghostface's turn to the three, wiping off their knives in unison.

"Great job. All of you." Detective Bailey says to the three Ghostface's. Sam and Tara's eyes widen when realization hits them. "You?"

"Yeah, of course, me." He chuckles before continuing. "Frankly, I expected more from the two of you after what you did to us."

"Us?" The Ghostface on Bailey's left removes his mask, revealing Ethan. "Mindy was right, it was easy to juke the roommate lottery. All I had to do was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad! Fuck, it felt good to kill him!"

Sam and Tara exchange shocked glances, their minds racing to process the revelation. Ethan's words hang in the air, leaving them speechless as they struggle to comprehend the extent of his twisted motives.

Tara's eyes then fill with rage, thinking back on you and Chad, and they mercilessly killed you both. Ethan grins and holds up his mask. "This one was your grandmother's, Sam. Nancy Loomis? It really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? Speaking of family, "

Bailey buts in, "Wait for it!"

"My names not Ethan Landry, is it Dad?" Bailey laughs, smiling proudly at his son. "Dad?" Tara questions, even more confused.

"Wait, then who else does that leave?" Sam asks, her mind racing to piece together the puzzle. "I don't know?...Mindy?" The Ghostface on Bailey's right takes off their mask, revealing a familiar face.

"Hey, roomies." Quinn says, smiling. "You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

Tara's eyes widen in shock. "Yeah, cause you died!" Quinn chuckles. "Kind of didn't, though. It was a good way to get off the suspect list. Stab Mindy on the train. That sort of thing."

"I just had to make sure I was the first one on the scene so I could switch her out with a fresh body. You'd be surprised at what a grieving father can get away with." Quinn smiles, "I got Stu Machers mask. He was my favorite."

Everyone turns to the last Ghostface, who had been standing silently beside Ethan. The last Ghostface slowly removes their mask, revealing a face that no one expected. It was you, alive and unharmed.

"Still curious who's behind the mask, Tara?" You ask with a smile.

Tara's eyes widen in disbelief as she struggles to grasp what she is seeing. "But... how? How are you standing here right now?" she stammers, her voice filled with confusion and shock.

"I watched you get stabbed!"

The room falls into a heavy silence as everyone waits for an explanation.

"And Sidney supposedly saw Billy get stabbed," you continue, addressing the lingering doubt in the room. "He used pig blood, but that's out of date. Modern special effects have come a long way since then. It's all about creating the perfect illusion, and that's what I did." You explain, revealing the truth behind the seemingly impossible situation.

"I got Amber's mask." You say, looking at it before making eye contact with Tara. "See, I miss my sister dearly. You know Tara, she would call me and tell me how much she cared about her best friend, and not even two months later, you shoot her dead."

"She was trying to kill me!" Tara shouts. You clench your jaw, your own voice raising. "She loved you!"

Tara's face contorts with anger as she retorts, "She may have loved me, but she was also willing to take my life. I had no choice but to defend myself."

"...How are you, Amber's sister? Why weren't you in Woodsboro?" Sam asks.

You take a step closer to the sisters. "Me and Amber weren't biological siblings, but we were raised together since we were young. As for why I wasn't in Woodsboro, I stayed with my aunt... I never was a Cali person, you know?"

Tara glares at you, her anger still evident in her eyes. "Well, it's not like you would understand. You weren't there when it happened. You didn't see what she did."

"I may not have, but I know how she felt, and I saw what you did. I came here to get revenge for my sister and I will finish the movie she started with Richie, believe me."

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midnightlizard · 20 days

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Christmas help

Kate Bishop x gn!reader

Summary: basically the plot of Hawkeye, but with reader as Kate's partner

Warnings: Hawkeye spoilers, angst with a happy ending, some curse words

Word count: 5256

"okay I know it may sound crazy, but you have to believe me"

"why wouldn't I believe you?"

"well, because this is really crazy"

"Kate honey, we've been together for a while, I think I’m used to your level of craziness." You shrugged your shoulders.

"no-ugh" She removed one hand from her pocket to grab your wrist and pull you into a less crowded street, which was hard considering it was Christmas time. "this time, it was crazy for me too. I met...an avenger"

At this you widened your eyes. A thing that not many people knew, your girlfriend being one of them, is that you were the newest avenger, fighting crimes for almost five years now, but the other avengers agreed that with you still being a student it was safer to hide your identity. You trusted them not to tell random people who you were, but the thought did cross your mind.

"excuse me, you met who? Who did you meet?" You might already knew the answer by the excitement on her face, but you still wanted a confirmation.

"I met Hawkeye" she whisper-yelled "you could say we're partners now"

"partners...with Clint?"

"yea I figured he's not the most social person in the world but we, wait" she suddenly stops, confusion on her face "how do you know his name?"

...

Shit

"you remember the whole ultron thing? all the avengers' informations got leaked, i read his name" You shrugged. Thank god for those drama classes and quick thinking. "how did you meet him?" you changed the subject, and she seemed to fall into your trap.

"do you remember that charity thing my mom hosted right? turns out there was a big illegal auction and, you know Ronin? yea his suit was there and the tracksuit mafia wanted to buy it but I stole it before they could, I didn't want it I didn't know it was there, I was there just because my mom forced me to go, you know I don't like the parties my mom throws-"

"Kate" you stopped her messy rant, repeating your question. "how did you meet Clint?"

She nodded, collecting her thoughts before speaking again. "Clint knows Ronin wants his suit back, but we first have to take down these people, and it's better if we do it before Christmas because he made a promise to his family to be celebrate it with them."

You sighed, that was typical of Clint, he wouldn't leave if he knew a civilian was in danger. You never heard of this tracksuit mafia, but if it wanted Ronin, it's not something to joke about.

"that's why you have those cuts on you face?"

"yea we got into -a kind of- a fight, after we...got kidnapped, well he did. I just followed him." she responded hesitantly.

"Kate!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I had to help him. And yes I should have told you but that's why I called you. I wanted to spend a little time with you while I grabbed something to eat." she raised the bag she was holding.

"let's go home, you need to take care of those wounds" you said, knowing she doesn't know how to do that.

"wait let's go to my aunt's place, I told Clint I would bring some food."

- - - -

"Clint? I'm back!" Kate called, closing the door after letting you in "oh right he can't hear" she continued once she didn't get a response.

Said man raised his head from the newspaper he was holding when he saw movement. Once your eyes locked, his seemed to widen. With you being behind Kate, you were able to shake your hand and put a finger on your lips, hoping he would catch the signal.

"Kate why did you bring a friend? You know this is dangerous, they need to go home." Thank god he caught it.

"no no listen, I mean-" she took a notebook from the table and started writing on it 'they're my partner, (Y/N), I trust them completely and they can handle themselves'

Clint stared at the words for a moment, before rolling his eyes while nodding.

"woah..okay thanks, I thought it would have taken more convincing..." The brunette muttered under her breath. Well...he's better at doing his job than being an actor.

While she went to put the groceries in the kitchen, you signed to Clint 'I'll explain later'

He didn't have time to reply when his phone started ringing. Kate re-entered the room to help him, but you were already by the man's side, signing what Nathaniel was saying.

"uh yeah it's...tonight is movie marathon night, that's right, um I really wish I could be there with you" You and Kate exchanged looks, you could see a glimpse of guilt and worry in her eyes before he continued.

"I think I'll be back in the next day or so in time for our ugly Christmas sweater party. I'll be there buddy"

There was silence on both ends after that, before Nathaniel spoke again, "I love you dad"

You started signing but Clint beat you to it and responded with 'I love you more'.

When the call ended he nodded as a thanks and went into another room. Kate turned to look at you "I didn't know you knew sign language"

You put your hands in your pockets, a light nervousness clear in your voice "well, yeah because I never told you, I was mute for almost five years when I was a kid. Selective mutism to be exact."

She forrowed her eyebrows "I didn't know that either- why didn't I know that?"

You sighed, shaking your head "it's just a small part of my past, one I would prefer not to remember, that's all" before she could respond, you interrupted. "let me mend those wounds."

- - - -

"you want to go to your mother's house? And you want me to come along?" after taking care of kate, you repaired Clint's hearing device, Tony taught you how to, since you and him often had missions together. And now the adult archer was able to listen to your conversation.

"yes, (Y/N). Clint knows what we're looking for and I know all the passwords, we need you to alert us if my mom comes back before the time, entertain her until we are done."

"I don't know Kate...your mom doesn't like me. With what excuse am I into her house? 'oh hi miss Bishop I was just waiting for your daughter and instead of knocking I decided to just break into your house, but oh! would you like a cup of tea? a long cup of tea?' you don't even live there" you tried to explain your point, hoping she would see it.

"they're right Kate, we can't bring them into our mess, it's already bad enough that you are. I can't protect both of you." she was about to rebut but eventually closed her mouth, nodding her head.

"I'll let you two to your mission then." you announced, rising from your spot on the couch. Kate raised too, accompanying you to the door.

Once you arrived, you took her hands in yours, raising you voice just a bit so that clint could hear what you were about to say but not enough to let the girl in front of you notice "call me if you need anything, okay? I'll be ready"

"God I hope I won't need any more help" she mutterd making the both of you chuckle.

"I'll se you soon. Don't be too reckless, follow Clint's orders, please" and to prevent one of her stubborn comebacks, you put your lips on hers, kissing her softly.

"bye kid." shouted the man from the other room after a few minutes, effectively scaring the two of you.

"uh yea, bye Mr. Clint! bye Kate" you got out of the apartment. "I'll text you later, promise" she made a kissy face before shutting the door.

- - - -

You don't know how much time has passed since you last saw your girlfriend, trusting Clint to take care of her you decided to catch up on sleep all day. But it was now nighttime and you were doing a report of your last mission to give Fury as soon as it was completed.

Truth be told, it was more of a distraction, you were worried for the two of them but at the same time you knew how distracting and dangerous a sudden phone call could be. So you just had to wait and hope for the best.

A few minutes later you finished your report, your phone started ringing, '<my archer3' on the screen. Needless to say, you instantly responded. "Kate? oh my God, are you okay? Clint-"

"(Y/N)-" a word was all that it took to make you stop. Her voice...cracked. Her voice never cracks, always so confident and steady. "can I, can I come over? Please" if you weren't so on alert you wouldn't have heard her last word.

"of course you can baby, where are you? You want me to pick you up?"

"no, there's no need, I'm almost there" you internally took note of her now slightly relaxed tone.

"okay, I'll wait for you"

- - - -

As soon as you opened the door she entered the house, throwing the bow on the couch. While she was pacing around, fidgeting with her hands you took in her appearance. Her clothes were dirty and she looked sweaty, but most of all exhausted.

You stepped in her personal space, taking her cheeks in your hands to make her look at you. "Kate, how about you take a shower, there are some clothes on the sink, and then you can tell me what's going on, how does that sound?"

Her gaze shifted between your eyes, before sniffing and softly nodding her head.

- - - -

Once she got out of the bathroom, wearing her pants and your sweater, she found you sitting on the couch and her now clean bow was on the armchair. Sensing her presence you raised your head from your phone, smiling.

"Hey, take a slice of pizza, I ordered it today, I can heat it up if you want"

The archer ignored the food on the coffee table, instead taking the phone from your hands, putting it in her pocket. She sat beside you on the couch, putting one of your arms around her shoulder, while she laid her head in the crook of you neck, sighing.

Combining your free hand through her damp hair, you remained quiet, waiting for her to talk.

"me and Clint fought, well kind of-" she took a deep breath before recollecting her thoughts. She told you everything that happened, from the fight on the roof to the meeting with the masked assassin in her apartment.

"wait, Natasha's sister? are you sure?" she took her head off her shoulder to look at you, nodding. Natasha rarely talked about Yelena and they were mostly just little comments, but still, a desire to kill her sister's best friend was not something you expected from the blonde.

"I tried to contact Clint multiple times to inform him but he never answered, I guess we really are not partners anymore" she began looking at her hands, but she raised her head again once she felt a kiss to her forehead.

"it's okay, we'll figure something out, he may look like a grumpy man tired of his job, but he wouldn't let a teenager in danger, knowing he could be of help."

You tried to reassure her, and it seemed like it worked, judging by the chuckle that escaped her mouth. "when you talk like that it seems like you personally know him."

"I'm...good at reading people, I guess" after a few seconds of silence you focused on her breathing, noticing how regular it was, lowering you head you confirmed your suspicions, she fell asleep.

Being as careful as possible you picked her up bridal style and brought her to you bedroom. When you laid her on the bed she unconsciously wrapped her arms around your neck, as to keep you there.

"I wasn't planning on leaving you here, anyway" you laid next to her, taking her back in your hold, now with her head on your chest. "goodnight, love" you softly kissed her hair and waited for an eventual sign. Receiving back none, you cautiously took you phone from her back pocket to contact the blonde avenger.

'I'm not takings sides'

'but you saw how helpful she can be'

'I can look after her while you do your thing'

You thought for a few seconds about your next words.

'just tell me if you need my help, please'

You sighed, putting your phone on the nightstand you closed your eyes, and thanks to Kate's light snores you were soon able to fall asleep.

- - - -

The next morning Kate decided to go to her mom's house to reassure her, and you were still in your house, since you didn't have any information on the situation there wasn't really much you could do, you found yourself waiting for your girlfriend's messages.

From Clint, nothing. But recently he read the texts you sent him, that'll do for now.

- - - -

It's been two days now and you were once again sitting on the couch watching a movie in complete silence. That was until someone knocked, no, literally broke into your apartment.

You jumped from your spot ready to attack the intruder but your favorite scent and two arms around your shoulders stopped you.

"I talked to him! I talked to him! We're good"

You grabbed her waist to tear yourself away from the jumping girl in front of you, bright smile on her lips.

"Kate, oh my- how-what- it's been two days, mind texting me sometimes?" she opened and closed her mouth before pouting.

"I texted you, they were just a random letter, but-but I did" she tried, ending the hug with her hands on you shoulders.

- - - -

"So, what's the next step?" the dark haired girl shook her head, putting her glass on the coffee table, picking up a slice of pizza instead.

"I can't tell you that, it's reserved." she responded with a professional exterior. You open your mouth in amusement and unbelief which made her throw her head back laughing. "I admit I shouldn't have told you anything at all, but you're my partner and I always want to tell you what happens in my life" she ended on a shy note, looking at the food.

You took a bite from her pizza before she could "come on, what could I do? call the bad guys and tell them your plan?"

"(Y/N) stop, I can't tell you, Clint told me not not to"

You furrowed your brows "he did?"

"...yea"

She surrendered with just a look.

"okay he didn't exactly say not to tell you, but it's better if you don't know. I want to keep you safe and- and stop eating my pizza" she put the palm of her hand on your forehead, pushing you away with a fake annoyed face.

Once she finished eating she rose from her seat. "I'll take a shower and we'll go to bed?"

"yes please, you really stink" you got a punch on the arm as a response.

"shut up, says the one who hugged me all night" she grabbed your cheeks, kissing you quickly, before exiting the room.

While you were putting away the pizza box you heard the ring coming from your phone. You took it from your pocket to read the message.

'eventually, are you free tomorrow night?'

You smirked.

'hello to you too, Barton'

'eventually yes, I am free tomorrow night'

- - - -

"Clint the tracksuit are here" Kate stated through her earpiece. She just got down the building thanks to the rope, trying to chase Yelena.

The avenger exposed himself to the window, looking around and muttered angrily "(Y/N) where the fuck are you?-"

"right here, what do I do?" you responded energetically, barely missing the arrow that was aimed at your face.

"woah! you should really recognize the voice, before randomly shooting, you know?" you took the arrow stuck on the wall, handing it to the man.

"you're late."

"technically you didn't give me a time so I can't be late, you just said tonight"

"(Y/N)." and his stern tone made you drop the jokes.

"right, okay. What do I do?" you repeated your question.

"I need you to help Kate, and if you take down the enemies on your way it would be appreciated." he didn't wait for an answer and marched out of the room.

You shook your head, making little jumps to accommodate the adrenaline in your body. You got down from the window, landing without a problem thanks to your powers.

You scanned the area, finding your girlfriend talking to Jack. Running towards her you landed a flying kick in the ribs to a man behind Kate, probably planning on hitting her with his metal bat.

You suddenly kneeled on the ground to avoid the bow, once again, aimed at your face. "I'm on your side, not need to attack me" you pointed a finger to her face. There was no need to change your voice, since the mask already did it for you.

"what are you doing here?"

You tried making up an excuse "uh well, Hawkeye called, said he needed my help."

She furrowed her brows, probably because he didn't tell her anything. "is that guy on our side? I saw you talking to him" you pointed in Jack's gerenal direction, even tho he was not there anymore.

"it's hard to explain, but yea he's with us" she got the words out after a short minute. You both got into action.

- - - -

After half an hour of fighting you find yourself on the ground, a man's hands on your neck, making it impossible for you to breathe.

You used you knee to hit him in the stomach, causing him to growl out in pain, giving you the opportunity to throw him on his back.

As you straddled him and gave him a punch to the side of his head, you heard Kate screaming, and instantly after, you felt a metal bat colliding with your head.

"oh my God!" the archer exclaimed running to you, after defeating your aggressor. The blow only brought you a sense of disorientation thanks to the mask's protection, but what you didn't know was that the voice changer mechanism was now broken.

"are you, are you okay?" she kneeled beside you, using one of her hands to support your shoulders.

"yeah, go back to the fight, I'll be fine in less than a minute." Kate's concern stopped for a second to let confusion settle in upon hearing your voice.

"your voice" even tho it was just a whisper, you were able to hear her, making you jump on your feet and far from the girl.

"see? All better now, let's go back" you said in an horrible fake voice, turning your back to distance yourself.

But Kate obviously didn't fall for your trick. So she called after you. "(Y/N)? Come back here, (Y/N)."

You slowly did as she said, suddenly hoping for a group of enemies to find you, but it seemed like they were on a coffee break.

The brunette took a few steps forward, until your bodies were only centimeters apart. Knowing it was useless to try and defend yourself, you let her put her hand on the base of your neck, to pull your mask off, revealing your face.

“You’re a superhero?”

"well, 'superhero' is a term used in comic books or movies, we don't really use that word in real life" seeing the roll of her eyes and her clenched jaw made you stop. You sighed. "yes."

"why didn't you tell me? You don't trust me enough?" you immediately shook your head, putting your hands in front of you. "of course not, love. It's not a matter of trust-"

"then what is it?" she looked away and sniffed, like she was about to cry. "and don't tell me it's because you wanted to protect me, or maybe it is? Maybe you think I'm so weak that I can't even protect myself?"

You closed your eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of your nose. She was just putting words in your mouth, making you snap.

“Here? You want to do this here?” you opened your arms wide as if to remind her of the situation you both were in.

She sniffed again, soflty nodding her head. "yeah, you're right, let's not talk about it anymore mh? Let's not talk about anything, anymore."

"come on, Kate you know that's not-" you tried grabbing her arm but she was already out of reach. You let out a loud puff, throwing your mask on the ground in frustration.

After a couple of minutes you hear steps behind you and you quickly grabbed your mask from the floor putting it back on, only to realize that the steps belonged to Clint.

"how is it going here, why is not Kate with you?" he was trying to avoid showing it but the worry on his voice was evident.

As much evident as your own trembling voice when you turned to look at him. "I don't know, she left. She found out and she just left. I couldn't get her to calm down and let me explain."

The man put a hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you down. "(Y/N) stop. You're an avenger. You must put the safety of the civilians before your personal business." it was a stern thing to say, but he knew you needed an emotional slap to get back on track. He continued after seeing you nod. "when did she separate?"

You shrugged your shoulders "three to four minutes ago. Three minutes and twenty-five seconds." Clint smiled lightly seeing your somewhat normal behavior.

"Go help her kid. I'm rooting for you." you raised your eyebrows with a smile, even though he couldn't see your face.

"you are rooting for me? I'm must be fucked then." he jokingly pushed your shoulder with a muttered 'shut up'

- - - -

As you left Clint on his own, not knowing that soon after he met Yelena, you went to look for your girlfriend and heard her screaming from the other side of the road.

She was standing on the ground, with a really big man in front of her. He was leaning to give her another punch but your voice stopped him. "hey. You want to fight someone so bad? Fight me you coward"

Your courage flew out the window when he turned around, showing you his face. Kingpin. Clint told you something about him but seeing him in front of you was even worse.

"oh? Look who we have here to join us." he started with a smile full of malice "Listen kid, I'm not interested in you-" he stopped again, felling something touching his back.

What touched him was actually one of Kate's arrows.

She suddenly looked at you, with both fear and determination strong in her gaze. With a quick look at the arrows lying around in the shop, you knew her plan.

As soon as Kingpin turned to face the girl you jumped on his back, with your arms around his neck and your hands covering his eyes, Kate sprung into action and put the arrows down following her scheme.

Kingpin though, had no problem in grabbing you by the jacked and throwing you across the room, your back hit the wall and then your face met the floor making you growl out in pain.

This continued for some time, with you taking his hits, and Kate arranging her arrows on the floor. Running to hide behind some boxes, she called after you. "watch out!"

With the last breath of air you had left, you gave him a punch under his jaw, effectively causing him to release your neck. You used the time he spent looking at all the arrows laying around to get out of the building, but close enough to be able to look after Kate.

Then, there was a big glowy blue light and the man was the center of it. After a few minutes of silence you thought it was over, Kate thought it too, but you suddenly saw him coming at you.

You gulped, preparing to use your powers but before you could, a car hit Kingpin against the wall of the shop. You relaxed your arms, seeing Kate's mother exiting the vehicle.

You stayed on the side while they talked but you could hear what they were saying.

"is that what heros do? Arrest their mother on chirstmas." Those were the last words Eleanor spoke before a police agent took her away.

You looked to your side, suddenly noticing that kingpin was not there anymore. You wanted to go look for him but you averted your gaze when the archer marched towards you.

"go back to your house and mend those cuts I know you rarely do...god I should have known" she closed her eyes in realization "and all the little information you let slip out about Clint, you even repaired his hearing device for fuck's sake" she threw her hands in the air, shaking her head.

"Kate, I'm sorry. I-" you stopped when she held one finger up. "stop, I don't wanna hear it, I don't want to hear anything from you, I can't even look at you anymore."

She turned her head but you noticed the tears that begged to be let out, and you felt even worse than you already did. You tried to grab her arm but she took a step back.

" don't. I've had enough of being betrayed." that's all she said, before going away a second time, probably to look for Clint.

You sighed taking your phone and opened the chat with the avenger.

'she's coming to you'

'take care of her cuts please'

'merry Christmas'

You shook your head, blinking away the tears, going back to your house.

- - - -

It was now 4 a.m. in the morning and you didn't sleep, too busy replaying the events of the night in your head. You should have told her sooner, you trust her with you whole heart and you know she can protect herself, the worry just seemed to always win.

Suddenly you hear three knocks on your door.

"it's becoming a habit" you murmured as you went to see who it was.

"hi" there she stood with a timid smile on her lips.

"hey, come in" you closed the door after letting her in.

You were not going to lie, the other side of you was kinda angry at the archer, you just wanted her to let you explain. You crossed your arms.

She took a deep breath "okay. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted that way, it's just been a stressful week, you didn't tell me about you being mute and-"

"I said it's something I don't want to talk about."

"I know I know, and I completely understand, I'm just saying that so many things came together and-"

You sighed, you both said sorry and you both explained yourselves so there was no need to keep going. "I forgive you"

"Clint told me how important it is for some heros to keep their identity secret"

"Kate I said it's okay"

"and normally I wouldn't mind because I understand but-"

With her hands in yours you shut her up, with the help of a kiss "I said I forgive you". You pull away from her, chuckling. "God it is so hard to get you to listen."

“I still hate you, ya know?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. "and for what?" you knew from the look in her eyes it was not going to be anything serious, and you almost wanted to laugh at her attempt to keep her frown. "well you are an avenger, every time I talked about Clint or about a theory you always listened to me without saying anything."

You burst out laughing and it only got worse when your girlfriend slapped your chest, keeping her hand there as a barrier when you brought you lips centimeters away from hers.

"don't, don't kiss me you don't deserve it" she whispered with her eyes almost closed.

But once you put your mouth on hers she couldn't help but smile, humming. One of her hands cupped your cheek, the other on the back of your neck, while your hands held her waist. She detached when she needed to breathe. The pout now was completely gone as she looked in your eyes.

"am I forgiven now?"

"mh, almost" she teased, brushing her lips with yours, hinting at another kiss.

But you were planning something else. "I got a proposition for you then" she furrowed her brows in response, slightly upset you didn't give her what she wanted.

“Wanna help me make a new super suit?”

This was even better then a kiss, she put her hands on your shoulders, squeezing them, clearly excited. "wait, really? Can I really do it? Oh I have a lot of ideas if I can"

You looked between her eyes, smiling. "of course you do, you make sure to share every possible design you can think of"

"and now you can use them!" she said matter-of-factly. "but we better get to sleep now, we have places to be."

"where do we have to go?" instead of answering, she kissed you again, pulling you to your bed.

- - - -

"dad! dad you're here!" an excited Nathaniel screamed, running to jump into his father's arms, followed by Lila and Cooper. Laura was a few feet away, enjoying the scene with her arms crossed.

"merry Christmas buddy, all of you" he whispered, kissing every kid's head. Then he raised his own to look at his wife.

"I hope you don't mind, I brought three strays." "uhm, excuse me" you entered the house with a fake hurt, and loud, tone. "I am not a-"

"(Y/N)!" Nathaniel interrupted you, moving away from the avenger only to hug you. You picked him up, and he wrapped his legs and arms around you. "hey little boy, merry Christmas" he chuckled in response "merry Christmas (Y/N)" depositing a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

A bark distracted the happy scenario, making everyone but you and Clint turn to the door. "sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, I guess pizza dog is hungry." she stood still with a shy smile. You playfully rolled your eyes, taking her hand with your free one.

"come in, you idiot, only you are missing"

- - - -

After that rather clumsy and shy enter, she met everyone, already seeming to get along with Lila. You played some family games, with joyful bickering between the different teams. Once it was time to prepare lunch, Laura instantly scolded you when you went into the kitchen to help, playfully shoving you away and demanding that you needed to rest.

So you were now in the living room while the baby of the house slept on your lap. You felt the couch dip and a little weight on your shoulder. "how are you feeling?" you asked, seeing her yawning and nuzzling her head deeper into your neck.

"mh, tired" she murmured.

Your lips turned into a smile, leaving a kiss to her temple "merry Christmas, my love"

Kate Bishop Masterlist - MCU Masterlist

General Masterlist

#mcu x reader #mcu #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye #x reader #marvel x reader

97 notes · View notes

oneatlatime · 18 days

Text

Sokka's Master

pleasebegoodpleasebegoodpleasebegoodpleasebegoodpleasebegood

Strange choice of master but we'll see where this goes.

The meteor shower animation is quite meditative. I wouldn't mind it as a screensaver.

How to describe something exceptional to your blind friend: "You've never not seen anything like this." It's amazing the quality put into even the tiniest of throwaway jokes.

Are meteor strikes flammable?

I love how whenever Sokka's disappointed he gets noodle arms. A surprisingly consistent characterisation.

Momo butt skate.

Iroh. The fuck?

ok. So he's playing a part for the guards. Why?

Pretty.

Funny to think about, but as a former WWE character, Toph's probably had more hero worship than the Avatar.

Lots to say about this! First, I stand corrected! i honestly thought that Sokka would be immune to this specific insecurity by virtue of him not being a bender. I was wrong! Second, I love how, as soon as Sokka expresses that he feels that he isn't as talented as the rest of them, the others respond by listing his actual, invaluable talents, without which the group would be completely at sea. They don't respond with "no you're perfect!" they respond with "no one can read a map like you can" and how he keeps their spirits up with jokes. They're not using false praise. They are using specific facts. I love that an episode that looks like it's going to deal with a character feeling down on themselves establishes from the get go that the character is invaluable, actually. So often, the 'low self esteem stock episode' puts the affirmation of the character's value at the end. Which means the viewer spends the whole episode being convinced that the character in question might actually be useless. Here, we're told from the start that the character is invaluable - the problem is that they do not perceive themselves to be so. Quite on the nose for a show that deals so much with identity.

OMIGOD IT GETS BETTER!!!!!!!!!!

Validating Katara sweeps in and a) validates his feelings, while b) clearly explaining that his self-perception is not in line with how the others see him, which c) doesn't invalidate a) !!!!

Katara has such emotional intelligence when she chooses to use it.

Nuanced intelligent discussion of the complexities of emotions and self-perception in a Sokka episode I am so happy I am blessed the gods are shining on me today I'm sitting here twirling my hair and swinging my feet and doodling hearts on the corner of my journal

SHOPPING!!!!!

btw that's the same face he makes when he says SUKI!!!

"Reinvigorate my battling" this boy. just. this boy.

He lasted a lot longer than I would have with nun chucks.

Aang the Happy Meal toy.

Some say that Halberd is still spinning today.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present: the 45 degree Sokka.

Some Foley artist had the time of their life with this weapons sequence.

Why thank you for that exposition, Mr. Exposition. Now walk away and we'll never see you again.

Toph does NOT move ONCE this whole scene and it's ever so slightly freaking me out.

Toph tells you she learned from Badgermoles and no one wants to discuss this further?!? We're going to gloss over that?

So this episode has a training montage theme.

Sokka goes freestyle on those door knockers.

That's one hell of a castle. Must be dark in there though. Tiny windows.

Which explains the several hundred candles. This show. Set up with one hand; slam dunk with the other.

This guy's reciting Sokka's s1 introduction on Kyoshi Island.

Sokka: Actually. I am a dumb. The Master: Sold.

The face of someone who is definitely picking up what you're putting down.

It's been ages since I watched the episode, but is some of what the Master saying here about swords an echo of what Zuko says to the kid in Zuko Alone when he's decapitating sunflowers?

A Sokka-less Gaang. Depressing and they know it.

The way Katara's voice actor says "oh everyone's a critic" is gold.

Multidisciplinary education vs. kid who's never been within a mile of the box he's being told to think outside of. Fight!

Yikes that was a meaty hit. Does Sokka have a nose left?

They're wearing beehives on their heads.

Was Sokka always this short?

The greens in this episode are such a delight.

The way he says "I'm finished!" Sounds like "Am finished" and you can actually hear the smiley emoji he throws in.

He's good.

What do they FEED him?

Sokka's voice actor had a great time this episode. All the voice actors had a great time actually.

Sokka invents the La Z Boy

Katara inadvertently invents a fandom war by attempting a joke.

They're all so useless and it's wonderful.

That was all only one day? That's a lot of outfit changes for one day.

"You mess things up in a very special way." Compliment? Let's go with compliment.

Sokka is so very Sokka this episode.

A reason to live is coming!

*thundering herds of shippers in the distance*

That's clever. The inciting incident gets smelted. Haven't seen that before.

This whole Iroh gets buff montage has been completely dialogue free on Iroh's part. Crazy levels of inner peace, that he'd doesn't need to snark back at the guard.

Seriously. What are they FEEDING these children. Also how is that door that shiny.

Sokka really has it in for those door knockers.

Apropos of nothing, the clouds in this episode are all so yummy. All these soft slate colours and misty layers.

Meteoric iron is actually a thing, right?

Ok but aren't mold made swords crappy?

HI YUE

I love how they managed to made a crafting montage where the character who does the least work is the one who looks like he's working the hardest.

"I saw a heart as strong as my garden decor"

"No it certainly wasn't your skills. You had none."

Creativity, versatility, intelligence, meat, sarcasm.

You've known him like two days and you can already tell he's more worthy than any man you've ever trained? Sounds like you had poor taste in students.

"No. This is my fight. Alone." Bro you are going to DIE. The first time you held a sword was two days ago. You might need the avatar on this one.

Guard who never shuts up actually kind of has a point here. He's a dick about as usual, but it's entirely possible that the rank and file of the Fire Nation army view Iroh's actions as a betrayal. Does anyone remember in Star Wars movie number 7, or maybe 8, when that Trooper sees Finn after he's switched sides and yells "traitor!" and it's the best part of the movie? Yeah, like that.

This episode throws the concept of linear time out the window. In two days, Iroh gets swole and Sokka masters sword fighting.

Do you think Sokka's realised yet that this is his final exam?

Yummy yummy clouds.

One in a million pocket sand shot.

One in a million stick placement.

So this master is like a sword spirit or something. He can't be human. There's no way he could get the scabbard to fly on perfectly without seeing.

"Try Lee, There's a million Lees. There's a tea shop in Ba Sing Se that has a super cranky waiter called Lee."

This guy's just this side of committing treason and I love it.

I see this Master is a devotee of the 'Hakoda school of shoving outrageously over the top compliments into Sokka's thick skull in the hopes that 1% of them will stick.' I approve.

This last scene has gorgeous hills and skies but you'll have to take my word for it because I've hit the image limit.

Sokka's been inducted into the super secret boy band!!!

He saved space earth for Toph! He's so considerate! He's fuelling the ships!

Let's compromise and call it space dirt instead.

Final Thoughts

This episode every two minutes: Sokka, you are currently flawless and you're about to get better. Me: Yes. Yep. Yeah. Seconded. I concur.

I like it! It's great! It's 24 minutes of the writers and characters fangirling over Sokka! Of course I like it! It made me criminally overuse exclamation marks! What else can I say?

Hands down my favourite episode is Bato of the Water Tribe. For Sokka's story, this episode is Bato of the Water Tribe part 2. Of course I'm going to love it. This episode was lab grown specifically for me.

Now let's see if I can say something about this episode that isn't poorly disguised squealing.

I love how the characters respond to Sokka saying he's not special with an evidence-based refutation rather than blanket reassurance.

I love how shopping cheers up Sokka. I love how Katara knows that shopping will cheer him up. This must be something she's learned since the show started. I don't think there were malls in the South Pole. So Katara was paying attention when Sokka and Momo went through the bag saga.

I love how much the master is baffled yet impressed by Sokka. He seems almost charmed by this breath of fresh air. I think it's hilarious that, when Sokka first approaches him, he's expecting early season 1 Sokka. He'd better send Suki a thank you card.

I also really like "The way of the sword doesn't belong to any one nation." It seems obvious to us, but in a world where there are weaponisable skills that are quite literally inseparable from the nations their wielders inhabit, it's probably something no one in the Gaang has ever heard before.

Obviously the episode is a little rushed - half hour kid's show and all that - but it's still pretty crazy that you can apparently impart a solid basic knowledge of swordplay in two days.

Toph going all tsundere is funny, and makes Aang and Katara unapologetically desperate for Sokka's company twice as funny as it already is. Toph's like "whatever" and the other two spent the day making a welcome home banner.

I love how Sokka's happiness is always so loud and shameless. It makes it contagious.

This episode highlights what Sokka's actual strengths are, by instructing him in what he thinks his strengths are. If that makes sense? Sokka is brain, which he's finally starting to realise by attending brawn lessons.

He's also heart, and I'll die on that hill.

Iroh getting swole was honestly just a thing that happened. No comment really, except it was interesting to have a reminder from the guard that a character we perceive as the good guy is currently perceived as the bad guy by everyone but us. When the Fire Nation does inevitably get defeated, a whole nation is going to have to reset their worldview and that will not be an easy process.