I-dealism

Idealism is a metaphysical belief that postulates that conscious experience is the fundamental building block of the universe. Instead of assuming that qualia emerge as complex combinations of interactions between physical systems comprised of fundamental particles, which have shaky epistemic grounding at best, idealism proposes that the universe is conscious at its very core. Some branches of it argue that the universe has one consciousness and that everything shares it; others propose that there are infinitely many agents that have no way of being separated from one another. This comes with heavy implications, amongst them that consciousness is fluid and transcendental of meek concepts like "the self" and should, in theory, be transferable well-nigh on a whim.

Or whatever the fuck Miyeon explained.

So, anyway, you whip your dick out, already hard; has been since you got here a minute or two ago.

"God, I fucking hate you!" Yuqi's raw scream reverberates through the living room, the one where she and her boyfriend spend their nights, as she takes her crop top off. Her perky tits, one of them pierced, are a sight that, just like the rest of her, makes your blood boil and cock twitch.

"Feeling's fucking mutual!" And it's all a mess in your head – brain mush, vague advice from Miyeon to just lean into it taken to heart, enmity and pure sexual desire mixing together, amalgamating to one.

You take your shirt off; Yuqi doesn't even bother with that denim mini-skirt; you both know she can get her cunt fucked without the need to even bunch it up. The second the fabric passes your face, she's already kissing you hard and wrapping her legs around your waist. Your fingers dig into her soft ass, and for a second, just a tiny moment in this debauched game you two play, she almost feels yours again. However, you're not here to relive memories that technically aren't yours (or are they? Miyeon said that this whole thing is crazy; forget about it for a sec).

Without getting lost in the minutia of it all, you slam her against the wall and pull her lace panties to the side, bottom out into her hot, squelching pussy all at once, fill her up to the fucking brim and begin pounding. Tip to base, full strokes that send her body rocking and make her nails dig into your back until you're pretty sure there are streaks of blood running down your skin.

"That all you fuckin' got?" she manages between getting the wind knocked out of her and grunts of effort to keep up with your pace. It's weird, right? Deja vu, past mistakes you never made repeated, future wrongdoings moving to present moments, also bound to to reoccur. Or some other poetic bullshit; point is:

"You're already twitching, bitch; you love my cock." You don't let her respond, rather swallow her gasps; bite her lip; sense blood, nose and taste buds picking it up alike between the coconut in her perfume and the strawberry of her lip gloss. That's the whole ordeal here – bloodshed on a tropical island, red dotting her white skin, a massacre in paradise. You grab her left tit, squeeze it greedily, pinch the nipple with the little silver bar through it and revel at how her spine arches to match your thrusts.

It becomes apparent, whatever the fuck you are feeling for Song Yuqi, she feels the same for you. The way her walls tighten around you, the way her nails dig and drag with the express goal of hurting you, the way she half-moans-half-grunts, like she hates how much she's loving it all, is just her way of saying what you are also thinking: I fucking despise you to your core, never stop fucking me.

"You're gonna cum on my fucking dick already," you notice, decide to gloat. "Like a bitch in heat."

"You are so fucking - ngh - fuck -" she manages to stifle the moan, doesn't continue her insult, though. "Don't fucking stop - FUCK -" she slaps you, hard, as if trying to maim, then grabs onto your shoulder for support. Her muscles lock, eyelids shut tightly to hide how eyes roll back, jaw clenches, allows for dull grunts instead of breathy moans, cunt spasm all around your cock as you continue pounding into her.

She's squirming, whining, coming her fucking brains out, all on your dick, in the small space between your body and the wall in which she perfectly fits, pressed tightly into both until she can't move an inch without impaling herself further on your cock. Not her boyfriend's, but her ex's. This has been her whole game since day one, more or less. She loves the taboo shit, a real slut for the whole we shouldn't be doing this but aren't you curious how my pussy tastes? Past the I know you are his best friend but I just can't forget the way you filled me. And even the cum inside, I'll let him eat me out later. It's her shtick, your shtick, the story of you three; you know through divine power and/or hippy bullshit, and it turns you on to no end, apparently.

Once she's done with the swearing and spasming, she looks up at you, all fucked out and meek, dreamy the way her eyes catch yours under her heavy eyelashes, you almost can't really blame her for it. In fact, you kind of feel jealous. No, not of your best friend for cuddling up next to the snake tonight, but of Yuqi for having figured out the perfect formula to make herself achieve transcendental orgasms every time. What's breaking a few hearts along the way? When you get your bones turned to jelly, mind fried to mush, and that thoroughly fucked haze over your whole perspective of the world, it all seems well worth it.

"Aww, what happened, Yuqi?" You twist her nipple, grind your hips against her clit. "I was getting curious. What am I again?" You stop your hips for a second, let her get one good breath in, and begin thrusting again the second she opens her pretty little mouth. Sure, you're pretty rude about it, but she loves the bark-bite-fuck bullshit. You love it too; tit for tat.

"You. Are. Such - ah fuck - A FUCKING DICK." Another slap makes your ears ring. You smile into it, revel in this psychotic thing you two have going on here.

"And you're just a warm fucking cunt to me." You drop to your knees, let Yuqi lay on the floor as she looks up at you, all spiteful and messed up, and begin your thrusts anew. Her hand shoots up, fingers clench on the sides of your neck, and you respond in kind. You're tethered to her, forever bound; over each and every reiteration of this sick shit, you're pulled to kiss her.

It's this bestial thing: all teeth on lips that pretend they aren't holding back moans, that they aren't loving every second of this. Reckless thrusts, rhythm never needed, hips pounding violently because they just so will. You've never felt this before, not in your previous life, not on that weird ethereal plane with Miyeon; this desire to simultaneously fuck somebody but also turn them battered and blue along the way is completely new, eerily familiar, and wholly addictive. Every time she squeezes your cock, almost moans, tightens her fingers around your neck, you get a rush, a confirmation that this sick fucking game is mutually destructive in the best way possible.

"You're already twitching again, princess," you wheeze out, smiling at her through it, arrogant and mean about the whole situation: "Does he make you cum this quickly too or is it more of a me-thing?"

"Don't fucking bring him into this," she raps out, squeezes around you more, actually loves the implication just as much as you do.

"You aren't even willing to lie. How cute. Tell me-" you stop your thrusts, skin to skin; she's pinned, full and the bitch fucking whimpers- "do you regret it now?"

"FUCK OFF," she screams, tries to roll her hips but is stuck between you and the floor, no way to release the pressure.

"Or do you love it?" A slow drag of your cock over each and every ridge in her cunt makes her shudder. "Is this why you even fucked him in the first place?" A snap back to the base, she moans this time, losing her grip and gripping you tighter. "You're just a lowly whore-" her grip shifts from your neck to your shoulders, nails digging into your skin- "a pair of permanently open legs-" a brutal snap down, answered with a keen- "a fucking fleshlight for us to fight over-" every word punctuated with a brutal slam of your hips.

Her back arches, legs clamp around your waist, cunt pulses around you, and you halt your movements, keep her there just to see her break on your cock.

"GOD FUCKING - FUCK YOU -" another slap snaps your head to the side as she tries and fails to wriggle her hips again- "YOU FUCKING BASTARD." You love the sting, the sight; can't get enough of her.

"Tell me it's true, and you'll get what you need." You slick her short black hair back, place a hand on her cheek, almost loving, entirely debauched in the situation. You're claiming ownership, reminding her who she belonged to first, what she truly is. "You love taking dick that you shouldn't be taking; isn't that right, Yuqi?"

The nod comes first, frantic and pathetic, then the confession: "Yes, please, just... FUCK ME ALREADY."

Two drags of your hips. That's all it takes for her to lose it and slam into another toe-curling, eye-rolling, holyfuckingshitdontfuckingstopplease-inducing orgasm. There is something almost sweet in how she cums, the way her voice breaks as it struggles to reach the higher register, the pathetic attempts to ground herself by raking her nails over your chest and shoulders, leaving red streaks on the skin of your borrowed body. For a few seconds there, as she mewls and spasm against you, she almost feels tameable, something different than the mess that she actually is. You get a sliver of childlike hope here that maybe, just fucking maybe, if the universe truly is as crazy as Miyeon says it is (and evidence seems to suggest that it is), you might have a shot at Yuqi being your girl in this life or another.

It's all that Yuqi wants you to believe; makes for better sex after all. It's all just her fucking concoction of emotional aphrodisiacs that tugs at the strings. You're subservient, addicted, stripped of free will and bound to be a slave to passions, reason be secondary.

You spill inside her; no other choice when you hilt fully and her legs are still wrapped around you like a belt. You throb as you feel yourself painting her walls, shooting at her cervix, close your eyes and allow yourself to experience bliss, the one part that makes this whole twisted game worth it.

You feel incorporeal, a spirit between realms, no obligations nor rage, just pure serenity.

You open your eyes to an all-white space, bright and should-be-overwhelming but isn't. The hammering in your chest is gone, the scorching in your veins, the living room, Yuqi – everything from that life is nowhere to be seen. Instead, you're lying on a cloud with Miyeon between your legs again.

"Holy shit," you whisper, dumbfounded, "that was..."

"Fun? Crazy? Awesome? Hot?" she finishes for you, leaving kisses on the skin of your shaft with each word.

"Yeah... just–"

"Nothing like you've ever felt before but also everything you've ever known?"

You nod, revel in how soft her hair feels between your fingers, and it all seems so real.

"That's because it is. Or, well, as real as anything or everything." She's so beautiful there, all angelic despite claiming otherwise. A rouge on her cheeks, a spark on the tip of her nose, eyes bright and soft like they hold the key to the universe.

"I still don't know what you mean when you say that." She gets up, and you gawk at her flawless body while she drags her fold on the underside of your cock.

"Point is, my love-" she leans in to give you a kiss, throws a hand back to slip you inside herself- "there is so much to experience out there-" sinks fully and hugs your cock in her warmth- "so many people, living so many lives, having so much crazy, fun sex. And this consciousness thing is so easy to throw around."

Nope, you still don't get it.

"Can I at least stay with you a little longer?"

"As long as you want."