Just messing with the idea of Error and Fell slowly and accidentally becoming friends, and Error’s awkward crashing dilemma.
I present to you, my completely optional yapping:
.
.
.
So, why is Error trying so hard to not crash? I would imagine that Error would be incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of Fell knowing about his crashes. Just the idea of Underfell Sans, who Error considers an asshole, knowing how easily it was to knock Error unconscious for an uncertain amount of time… Error would not like that at all, especially since he has no reason to trust Fell. (........for now teehee)
Fell, on the other hand, would simply be clueless. But slowly, he might start to notice the way Error shifts away from him when he stands close. Fell might barely raise a hand toward Error, and just like that, Error would automatically step back.
Maybe even, as time goes on, Fell might start to push things. Of course, he would be careful at first; he didn’t want to give Error a reason to destroy his universe. Although sometimes he would wonder why Error hadn't destroyed Underfell in the first place… but, he preferred to be silently grateful than dead.
One day, he'll hold out a chocolate bar, “c'mon, take it.” Error would simply glare at the bar, then at him, then back the bar. And then, when he tries to take it, Fell might try to brush his fingers against Error’s cautious hand, and instantly, Error’s hand would dart to his chest as he holds the chocolate bar close with a startled look.
But to avoid too much suspicion, Error would say nothing. Not a word about any weakness that Fell could possibly exploit. And with each attempt Fell made at touching him, the more nervously Error would let him get away with it.
Fell might sneak up behind Error, and wrap his arm around the other's shoulder, and just like that, Error was frozen, not crashed, but close… he would simply just be too afraid to move in fear of starting a crash.
Like a deer in the headlights.
Error will try his best to hide it, hopefully for as long as possible, but someday… The second Fell pushes just hard enough…
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a/n: i was going to post this after the part 4 of promised 9, but it might take a while so i decided to post this one first instead.
The coffee table was already a battlefield of indulgence—half-eaten strawberries bled onto napkins, the rim of a cake sagged from being sliced unevenly, and the growing graveyard of empty bottles clinked whenever someone shifted. Warm, golden light from a lone floor lamp softened the chaos, casting shadows that swayed gently across the walls.
You were sunk deep into the couch, the alcohol dulling your senses into something languid and warm. Liz, draped against your side like a sleepy cat, had long stopped sipping her wine and started murmuring nonsense into your shoulder. Her fingers loosely hooked around your arm, her hair tickling your jaw with her every breath.
On the floor, back resting against the couch, Yeji nursed the last of her only bottle for the night, as she stared at the flickering candlelight.
“Shall we call it a night?” you asked low.
Yeji looked up at you, then sideways at Liz nestled against you. A short scoff escaped her lips, sharp but not exactly hostile.
You shifted carefully, slowly prying your arm free from Liz’s hold. She mumbles a trifling protest in her sleep but doesn't wake as you lay her down gently across the couch, sliding a pillow to rest her head.
“She didn’t last,” she muttered, with just enough bite for her meaning to latch.
You smirked despite yourself. The tension between them was unspoken but undeniable—at least on Yeji’s part. Liz floated through the days with effortless charm, never rising to Yeji’s jabs, while Yeji simmered, her competitive nature flaring in little comments, lingering glances, subtle one-ups.
“She had more than you,” you said, lightly teasing. “You were sneaking her your shots.”
Yeji raised her chin defiantly. “Not my fault she’s that susceptible.”
“She’s gonna be hungover and dramatic tomorrow.”
“She’s always dramatic.”
Chuckling for a moment, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just… quiet. Safe. The night had dulled at the edges, the candle’s aroma roamed the space, soft and warm, the alcohol warming your veins. But Yeji’s gaze lingered now—longer, steadier. You noticed.
“So…” you started, tilting your head toward her. “You really don’t like losing to her, huh?”
Yeji didn’t answer immediately. She stepped closer. Then another step. Before you realized it, she was standing directly in front of you, her expression unreadable, but her eyes holding yours without flinching.
“You’re always trying to one-up her,” you said, gentler this time. “Like you’re in some kind of race.”
“I’m not competing,” she shot back, voice tight.
You didn’t push. Just looked at her.
Her glare wavered, and something behind it faltered.
A sigh, then she dropped down to sit in front of you, settling between your legs, her arms resting casually across your knees. “I just… this was different to what I expected when I signed up for the program.”
“How different?”
“I’m not gonna tell you—” She hesitated, then smirked faintly. “How about you go first?”
“Oh wow,” you said, grinning. “Curling it back to me. Real smooth.”
You leaned back into the couch.
“Where do I start? Shitty life, barely surviving, scraping by. Then I heard about the program—matchmaking, state incentives, guaranteed housing, government support if you start a family. Sounded like a dream. A new life handed to you on a silver platter.”
Yeji listened quietly, eyes on your face.
“I didn’t have the luxury to dream about love or family,” you went on. “But if some algorithm could give me a guaranteed match? Sure. Seemed easier to believe in data than in people.”
“The Red String Algorithm,” Yeji said, her voice quiet but undeniably proud. “It extracts every meaningful signal from your history—psych profiles, communication patterns, even the way you process conflict—and uses it to find a true match. Ninety-nine point six percent success rate.”
You snorted. “Right, sorry—Miss Researcher.”
She shot you a look. “You’re living with one of its core developers. You should at least remember the name.”
There was a pause. Her tone softened.
“I always knew the algorithm could work. I just didn’t expect it would… work on me.”
You glanced at her. “It saved my ass, I’ll admit that. But if I’d known back then we’d be matched as a trio instead of a pair…”
You trailed off.
“Then…?” Yeji prompted, cautious.
“Are you saying you regret it?”
“No.” You answered quickly. “Definitely not. Just… it caught me off guard. That’s all. But one thing’s for sure—I’d never go back to before this.”
A silence settled. Not heavy. Just thoughtful.
“…Well,” you said, nudging her lightly. “Your turn. Remember?”
“Same as you.”
“Wow, I feel cheated.”
“Okay, not exactly the same,” she relented. “But I also joined because it made sense. When I applied, they told me my research would get priority status—more funding, less red tape. I didn’t have time to date. The idea of some system finding me a perfect match felt like… a neat solution. Just another algorithm doing its job.”
She gave a short, dry laugh. “And the benefits weren’t bad either.”
You didn’t interrupt. Just waited.
“I thought I knew exactly what I was signing up for,” she said, voice softer now. “I prepared for everything—sharing space, building habits, managing intimacy like a checklist. But the system knew better.”
Her gaze flicked up to you.
“I didn’t expect… you. Her. Us.”
Your breath caught slightly. There was something flickering in her eyes—uncertainty dressed in composure, like she wasn’t quite sure how much to reveal.
You were about to respond when a soft groan broke the moment.
Liz.
She stirred beside you, shifting slightly, her arm flopping over the couch’s edge.
Both you and Yeji turned to look.
“She’s gonna whine tomorrow,” you said, chuckling under your breath.
Yeji tilted her head. “Assuming she waits till morning.”
a small chuckle.
You smiled, the last threads of laughter still lingering in your chest, and without thinking, you leaned forward—closer to Yeji, who was still sitting on the floor between your knees.
Your arm brushed against her shoulder.
She didn't flinch. If anything, she tilted her head slightly, as if encouraging the contact.
Your laughter faded, leaving behind a sudden, charged silence.
Yeji shifted, angling her body to face you more fully. Her hands came up, resting lightly on your thighs—steadier than her breathing.
Her voice dropped, low and coaxing.
“We still have tonight.”
The weight of her words sank deep into you.
Your breath hitched.
The distance between you was barely anything now, measured only in heartbeats. Her thumbs brushed slow, thoughtless circles against your legs, a touch so featherlight it made you hyper aware of every nerve ending.
“Yeji—” you began, but it came out rough, unsteady.
She smiled—small, almost mischievous—and leaned in.
Close enough that her breath fanned against your mouth.
Close enough that you could count the tiny flecks of gold in her dark eyes.
“You’re drunk,” you whispered.
“Weak excuse,” she murmured, brushing her lips against yours. “You know I’m not.”
Her lips brushed yours, soft, almost there, a ghost of a kiss that left you aching for more.
“We can’t do this.”
“We’re married—on paper,” she replied between kisses. “This is exactly what we’re supposed to do.”
“I mean not now—not here.”
A soft groan broke the moment—Liz, stirring restlessly on the couch.
You both turned to look at her, your hearts tripping over themselves.
But when you looked back, Yeji was already watching you again, emboldened by the interrupted moment.
“Liz is here—”
“You're picking favorites?” with her voice low, almost a warning.
“What? No—”
She kissed you again, firmer this time, her hands sliding a little higher along your thighs, anchoring herself to you.
You should stop this. You knew you should.
But when her tongue teased at your bottom lip, asking—no, daring—you to let her in, your resistance cracked completely.
You kissed her back.
Yeji shifted—settling back down to her knees, now between your legs. Her palms slid smoothly over your thighs, grounding you in the moment as her eyes locked with yours.
The warmth of her hands seemingly seeping through the fabric. Her thumbs brushed a small, absent circle through the fabric. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but words dissolved in your throat when her fingers moved to your waistband. Slow. Testing.
“Yeji…” a futile warning, knowing it's not you who’s in control.
She glanced up, lips parted, eyes locked. “If you want me to stop, say it.”
Your silence was her permission.
A slow, satisfied smile curved her lips as her fingers undid the button, then the zipper—slow, methodical—and peeled your pants away with a patience that only made it worse.
And better.
Your breath caught in your throat as the cool air hit you, the warmth of her hand came after—then the heat of her mouth.
She widened her mouth, opening to welcome you deeper, her head bobbing with growing urgency. Wet sounds filled the room—the slick slide of her lips, the soft, breathy gags as you hit the back of her throat, the faint brush of her hair against your stomach as she leaned in harder, more desperate.
It was overwhelming—too much, too good.
And maybe that was why, somewhere in the fog of pleasure, a sharp thread of worry slipped through.
Your chest tightened. You turned instinctively to your side, the sudden need to check, to make sure—
“Fuck. Yeji!” You shoved her mouth off your cock, not far, not harsh, just enough to break the seal of her lips—just enough to expose her slick grin and the spit-slick strand still connecting her tongue to your tip.
Liz.
She was awake.
Hands covered her face like she was trying to deny what she was seeing—yet her fingers parted just enough for you to catch her eyes, wide and shimmering, veiling its shame. Caught between wanting to watch and wanting to flee, flushed.
“Liz, it’s not—” you stammered, cock still wet, still hard, still twitching under the ghost of Yeji’s mouth.
“For someone touchy, you’re surprisingly shy.” Yeji cuts in before you could reason.
“It’s normal to be shy in situations like this!” Liz croaked, voice cracking mid-protest, eyes locked on you as if she was calling for you to be on her side.
Yeji only laughed softly, the sound dripping with knowing amusement. “Is it also normal to be shy when it’s just you two, too?”
Your mouth opened—but nothing came out. Words tangled in your throat, hot and useless.
“How—”
“The walls are thin, you know,” Yeji said, voice lazy, almost indulgent. Then she glanced at Liz—deliberate, slow. “Plus, you’re awfully loud.”
A tiny sound escaped Liz behind her hands—a muffled whimper, not fear, not disgust. Something else.
Excitement, tangled with shame, twisting hot and helpless in her gut.
Yeji stretched her arms languidly behind her, a cat waking from a satisfied nap, then leaned in, voice sultry and slow. “Well,” she said, her gaze locking onto Liz’s, “are you just going to stare?”
“Yeji—” you warned, already knowing it was too late.
She tossed her hair over her shoulder, all liquid confidence, and purred, “Maybe you should head back to your room, little voyeur.”
The words wrapped around Liz like smoke—seductive, heavy, inescapable.
But Liz didn’t move.
“I—I’m not going to leave,” Liz stammered, voice so small it barely reached across the couch. But it did. Every syllable landed like a drop of oil on fire.
Her eyes narrowed, gleamed like a predator’s in low light—sharp, cutting, approving. She sat back on her heels, head tilting slightly as if appraising Liz under new light. Her hand didn’t leave your cock. She held it steady, fingers curled at the base, glistening with spit, the exposed length twitching under her grip.
“Cute,” she finally said, slow and velvety. “Come here, then.”
Liz hesitated only a heartbeat before leaving her hoodie on the couch. Shoulders bare. Tank top clinging to soft curves. No bra. Her nipples pressed like little beads against the fabric, hard from watching. From wanting. From finally deciding.
.Yeji watched her approach without blinking.
You sat frozen between them—cock soaked, heart pounding, thighs trembling from restraint.
Liz knelt beside Yeji, movements quiet, cautious, like she was stepping into a hot bath—both terrified and aching to be swallowed.
“Ever done this?” Yeji asked, without malice, just curiosity sharpened by thrill.
Liz shook her head, biting her lip, cheeks blooming red. “No… not like this.”
“Oh princess.” Yeji’s smirk deepened. “Follow my lead.”
And just like that, Liz lowered herself.
Her hand reached first—tentative, warm fingers brushing your shaft like you might disappear. Her touch was featherlight, reverent, like she was holding something sacred. Yeji guided her, sliding her hand on top of Liz’s, the contrast striking—Yeji’s grip firm, Liz’s trembling.
You groaned.
Yeji started stroking again, this time with Liz’s hand moving under hers, both palms working you together, one bold and commanding, the other shy and curious. Flesh slid slick and smooth under their hands, your hips twitching against the sensation of two women touching you at once.
“Go on,” Yeji said, voice a breath against your thigh now. “Try it.”
Liz leaned in.
Her lips parted just slightly, tongue flicking out like she was testing temperature. She kissed your tip, soft, barely there, then pulled back with wide eyes.
Yeji’s hand never stopped moving.
“Again,” Yeji coaxed. “Open wider. No teeth.”
Liz nodded. Obedient. Blushing.
She leaned in again and wrapped her lips around your head, warm and wet and cautious. She sucked gently, cheeks hollowing slightly, dimple flashing as she bobbed forward—then pulled back, letting your cock pop wetly from her mouth.
You gasped.
Yeji growled, something primal. “Not bad.”
Then she dove in again.
Her mouth engulfed your length beside Liz’s, taking more, taking deeper, her tongue a skilled, relentless force. Liz followed with wide eyes, licking the side of your shaft Yeji wasn’t occupying, kissing the base, moaning softly every time she tasted you.
Their mouths moved in tandem. Yeji’s deep and possessive, Liz’s light and fluttering.
You were being devoured.
“Fuck—shit, girls—ah—” Your voice shattered, your thighs spread wider, hips rolling into their mouths, body caught between Yeji’s dominance and Liz’s eager submission.
Yeji sucked harder. Her eyes snapped up, locking with yours. Commanding.
Liz’s tongue curled around your base, her hand cupping your balls, soft fingers trembling with effort and excitement. Her lips were pink and swollen now, a line of drool running down her chin as she moaned against your skin.
Yeji pulled back and let a long string of spit fall from her tongue to your cock, coating it more. “Good girl,” she muttered to Liz, then slapped her ass gently. “But don’t just play. Take him. Like this.”
She shoved her mouth down again—deeper, fiercer, throat clenching around you as she gagged slightly, then pulled back with a slurp, gasping. “That’s how you suck cock.”
Liz’s eyes sparkled, wet and wide. She swallowed nervously. Then she tried again, this time deeper, more committed.
You could barely hold on.
“God, you’re both—fuck—” you groaned, voice barely there, one hand buried in Yeji’s hair, the other tangled in Liz’s.
They licked you like it was a competition. A dance. Heat and wetness and rhythm. Yeji guiding Liz, licking the underside while Liz took your tip, her lips wrapped around it so gently you thought you might lose it. Then they’d trade—Yeji taking you all the way, Liz licking what she couldn’t reach. Spit soaked your thighs. Their mouths met at your base, licking each other’s tongues, sharing the taste of you.
You were shaking.
Yeji grinned against your cock. “Cum for us,” she whispered.
Liz whimpered. “Please…”
Your breath caught—lungs seized like a misfiring engine, every nerve in your body tightening to a razor’s edge. Their mouths moved in perfect sync now, wet, rhythmic, obscene. Yeji’s tongue flicked just beneath the head as Liz suckled the tip, cheeks drawn in with hunger and awe. You could barely tell whose hand was whose—soft skin wrapped around your shaft, stroking in tandem, squeezing you up toward the inevitable.
“F-Fuck, I’m—” The words barely left your lips before your hips bucked, spine arching off the couch.
Yeji pulled Liz back at the last moment, hand gripping the base tight, lips parting as your cock erupted.
Hot, thick spurts of cum painted Yeji’s tongue, her mouth, her throat. She moaned, her eyes rolling slightly, lashes fluttering, her throat working as she swallowed it down. But not all of it.
She didn’t swallow it all.
She held some—warm, white, thick—pooling on her tongue like a decadent gift.
“Ahhn…” she exhaled, eyes flicking to Liz. Still kneeling. Still flushed. Still trembling from watching you explode.
Yeji grabbed her by the jaw.
Firm but not cruel. Her fingers pressed into Liz’s cheeks, and Liz gasped as Yeji leaned in—mouth open, cum heavy inside—and kissed her.
No time for hesitation.
Their lips met in a sticky, messy, desperate kiss. Yeji pushed it into her. Tongue sliding in, sharing the load. The mix of slick spit and seed spilling from one mouth to the other in thick, slow dribbles.
Liz’s eyes went wide—but she didn’t pull away.
She moaned.
Yeji groaned back, fingers now buried in Liz’s hair as she deepened the kiss, mouths locked, tongues swirling, swapping the taste of you like something sacred and filthy all at once.
You watched, dazed, cock twitching even in its aftershock.
Yeji pulled away finally, a thin strand of cum still stretching between their lips, shining in the low light.
Liz swallowed.
Hard.
She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, then smiled at you—shy, glowing, a little breathless, dimple showing even now.
Yeji licked her lips. “Now that,” she said, voice hoarse with triumph, “is how you share.”
Liz giggled—sweet, almost innocent—but her thighs were pressed tight together, her chest rising fast.
Yeji turned to you again, stroking your thigh lazily. “Bedroom?” she whispered, licking the last drop off her thumb.
Your cock twitched.
You weren’t done. Neither were they.
They stood, both of them still licking their lips—one smug, the other dazed—while you slumped back against the couch, cock twitching from oversensitivity, slick with their spit, your legs weak with afterglow. But for Yeji, for them it had just started.
She grabbed your hand. “Come. Now.”
Yeji stood first. Confident. Graceful. She rose like sin personified, the wet gleam on her lips catching the low light. Then she turned, reached out, and grabbed your wrist. “Bedroom,” she said, no room for argument in her tone. She was already moving, pulling you off the couch with Liz scrambling up after, nervous but burning with adrenaline, her thighs rubbing as she followed you both down the dim hallway.
Your room was barely lit—warm shadows, rumpled sheets, faint perfume in the air—but it didn’t matter.
Yeji pushed the door shut behind you with her foot and turned to Liz.
“Well?” she asked, voice low, like a dare wrapped in silk. “You’ve been watching. Want to feel it now?”
Liz hesitated, biting her lip again. Then, slowly, she nodded.
Yeji smirked. “Clothes off. On the bed.”
Liz obeyed. Her tank top peeled up over her head, revealing soft, pale skin and pert breasts tipped with flushed pink. She shimmied her shorts and panties down together, stepping out with one leg at a time, her movements hesitant but fluid, like a dream she wasn’t sure she was awake for.
She lay back, legs closing instinctively. Yeji clicked her tongue.
“Open,” she said, climbing onto the bed beside her. “Don’t hide now.”
Liz parted her legs, slowly, her pussy glistening already, folds pink and puffy with anticipation. She covered her face for a second with one hand, but peeked through her fingers just like before—watching you.
You were already hard again.
Yeji crooked her finger at you. “Come here,” she said. “She’s ready.”
You crawled up between Liz’s spread legs, your cock bobbing, already aching again from the scene you’d just watched unfold. Yeji knelt beside her, hand sliding up Liz’s inner thigh, spreading her gently, two fingers brushing over her slick entrance.
“She’s soaked,” she said, glancing at you with heat. “Give it to her slow.”
You nodded, guiding yourself to Liz’s entrance, the heat of her making you groan before you even pushed in. The first inch was heaven. Wet, tight, squeezing you like she’d been made for it.
Liz gasped, her back arching, hand flying to your arm. “Oh my god…”
You went deeper, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around you. She was snug, fluttering around your cock like her body was shocked by how full she felt. Her eyes fluttered, mouth parting in a moan she tried to swallow.
Yeji leaned in, kissed her neck. “Breathe. Let him in.”
You bottomed out with a grunt, hips pressing flush against her, Liz’s breath catching in her throat as her nails dug into your shoulder. You held still, letting her adjust, your cock twitching inside her walls.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” you whispered.
Liz whimpered.
Yeji’s hand slid over her breast, pinching a nipple, making her buck slightly beneath you.
“Move,” Yeji ordered you. “Let her feel it.”
You started to thrust—slow, deliberate strokes, dragging along her slick walls. Liz moaned louder now, hips rising to meet yours, the tension melting from her limbs as pleasure took its place.
Yeji watched you both, her hand dipping between Liz’s thighs, fingers finding the little pearl at the top of her slit. She rubbed it in slow circles, matching your thrusts.
Liz cried out—short, breathless sounds that only made you pound harder.
“You like that?” Yeji purred into Liz’s ear. “You like being fucked while I touch you?”
Liz nodded frantically, eyes glassy, mouth falling open in a silent moan as her legs locked tighter around your waist.
Yeji leaned in, kissed her—slow and deep—her fingers still working between Liz’s thighs, circling faster now. Then she pulled back, lips slick, eyes glowing, and turned her gaze on you.
There was a glint in them—mischievous, luring. She leaned closer to you, a breath’s warmth brushing your lips just before she claimed them in a kiss.
It was deep. Hungry. Her mouth molded to yours, tongue sliding against yours with deliberate control, a slow burn of desire made real. Her fingers curled into your shoulder to steady herself as her body pressed against yours.
Your hand, once gripping her thigh, faltered—drifting upward instead to cup her jaw. You kissed her harder, pulling her in, drowning yourself in the heat of her mouth.
Everything else blurred—until Liz moved beneath you.
A soft whimper broke through, her hips rolling upward again, slick heat clenching around you, desperate for motion. She hadn’t stopped.
Your eyes cracked open as Yeji pulled back just enough to see.
She followed your glance. Saw Liz writhing below, breathless, impatient.
A smirk bloomed across her face.
“Faster,” Yeji murmured, voice like silk catching flame. “She can take it.”
You obeyed. Your hips slapped against her thighs, your cock plunging deeper with every thrust. Liz was gasping, writhing, caught between your rhythm and Yeji’s touch. Her body trembled under the intensity, and her eyes locked with yours—wide, pleading, filled with wild pleasure.
“Y-Yes, fuck—ahh, please—” Liz sobbed, her back arching, body clenching around you so tight it stole your breath.
“She’s close,” Yeji said, licking her fingers before sliding them back down. “Don’t pull out.”
“I wasn’t going to,” you growled.
You drove into her harder, faster, relentless now. Her wet heat clung to you with every stroke, and the sound of skin slapping, Liz’s cries, and Yeji’s breathy moans filled the room like music.
Liz shook, her thighs trembling, hands clawing at the sheets. Her pussy squeezed around your cock like a vice, milking you as her orgasm crested.
“Cumming—oh god—fucking—!” she screamed, her whole body snapping taut beneath you as she came, walls fluttering and pulsing.
Yeji didn’t stop touching her. She kept rubbing, helping her ride the wave while watching your face.
You weren’t going to last.
Not with Liz gripping you like this, still spasming, not with Yeji’s eyes on you like she owned you.
You buried yourself as deep as you could, every muscle tensing, balls drawing up.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—!”
And then you were spilling inside her.
Thick, hot pulses of cum shot into her womb, and she gasped as she felt it, body still twitching around you, milking every last drop. Your hips jerked with each burst, and Yeji moaned softly, her hand slipping down to press lightly against Liz’s belly as if she could feel your cum filling her from the outside.
“Good boy,” she whispered, eyes dark and satisfied. “Fucking bred her good, didn’t you?”
You collapsed forward, panting, still buried in Liz’s quivering body, her pussy sucking on your softening cock like it didn’t want to let go.
And Yeji?
She wasn’t done.
Yeji shifted atop you, still catching her breath, your cum dripping from her slowly with every subtle movement of her hips. Her fingers pressed into your chest as she sat upright again, grinding once more just to feel it—feel you still inside her, thick and twitching, softening slightly but not quite done.
She clenched.
Hard.
Your body jolted under her.
“Still got more in you,” she whispered, her voice low, husky, coaxing. “I want mine.”
She leaned forward, bracing herself on your chest, rolling her hips with practiced control. Slow, deliberate circles that pulled sounds from you like wringing a soaked cloth. Your hands gripped her thighs, slick with sweat, watching her move like liquid heat above you—hair plastered to her face, eyes locked on yours with fire and intent.
Liz stirred beside you, still flushed, her fingers resting at her slick entrance, too tender to touch but too affected to stop watching. Her gaze flicked between your face and the way Yeji rode you, her lips parted in silent awe.
Yeji slammed down again. And again.
You choked on a breath, overstimulated but captivated, your cock responding to her no matter how raw you felt. She twisted her hips on each downward thrust, her pussy still impossibly tight, her insides sucking you deeper, using your last reserves.
She moaned—deep and feral, each sound dragging from her throat like a battle cry and a prayer at once.
“I want it,” she said again, breathless. “All of it.”
You couldn’t stop if you tried.
Your nails dug into her ass as you started thrusting up into her, meeting her pace, driving harder, faster, the slap of skin echoing through the room. Yeji's back arched, hands splayed against your chest as her body began to quake. She was close—so close you could feel it in the way her walls fluttered, clamped.
“Right there,” she hissed. “Fucking—yes—don’t stop—”
You slammed into her.
Once. Twice. Deep.
And you broke.
Hot cum burst inside her again, thicker this time, pressure building in a final desperate wave. Yeji screamed—actual screamed—her orgasm snapping through her like a whip, her body locking up as her pussy milked your cock for everything. Her head tossed back, spine a perfect bow, mouth open wide as she came hard, spilling over you.
You pulsed inside her, filling her again, until she collapsed forward, full, dripping, her breath hot against your throat.
“Fuck…” she whispered, barely audible.
Your arms wrapped around her without thinking. Liz curled tighter into your side, her fingers lacing with yours. Yeji lay across your chest, one hand resting on Liz’s hip, all three of you tangled, sweating, sticky and still twitching from the echoes.
The room smelled of sex—thick, raw, heady.
None of you moved.
Yeji shifted once, just enough to sigh, cum seeping from her slowly, spreading warmth between your thighs.
Liz murmured something soft, a barely-there breath of contentment, her head tucked into the crook of your neck.
You could feel the last of your strength ebbing away, your muscles too relaxed to hold anything but this—this perfect, fucked-out stillness. A puddle of limbs, moans fading, breath evening out.
Ever hear your grandma say “tfu tfu tfu”? Or see someone wearing a red string around their wrist?
From the Evil Eye to knocking on wood, Jewish superstitions have been passed down for generations—not as laws, but as protective customs full of meaning and memory.
They're little rituals that connect us to our ancestors, our fears, our hopes—and sometimes, even to a bit of magic.
Which of these do you still do without even thinking?
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