And after all that…

Things got back to normal. At least, normal insofar as Tifa very hastily scheduled a check-up with her doctor and spent a few days on a herculean amount of painkillers for a woman for her size. She went about her business as usual, as normal, albeit with the addition of ignoring Yuffie even harder than ever before. Inwardly, Tifa was mortified by what she had let herself get goaded into doing. Although the brunette bitch slash brawler was far from a prude… well. 

If Tifa sat down and tried to count how many guys she had slept with prior to that wild party, she could list them all off on counted fingers. Could name them, too. After the party, she was pretty sure she’d need at least triple the number of digits she had available, and she couldn’t name a fucking one of them. The reality of what she had done, and the things she had done to Yuffie especially, simply haunted her at night, often waking her with damp bed-sheets or ruined panties. 

Worse was Tifa’s waking wonderings; she often caught herself revisiting the night in her head. What rankled her most was that she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. It’d all been so… fun, but she was a grown-ass woman who needed to focus on her business! A vague memory of someone saying Yuffie didn’t even go to the school anymore had stuck with her, but Tifa didn’t even dare try to look into it. Things were confusing enough as they were. Yuffie seemed to sense that and didn’t push too hard.

That didn’t mean she stopped teasing Tifa or groping her, but the brunette was firm in her ignoring and shut-downs. Letting things continue on as they were was just… way easier than the alternative of confronting Yuffie. And for a few weeks, Yuffie seemed content with that, too.

Then, one night Tifa walked downstairs from her apartment above Eighth Heaven, still shaking off sleep. It’d been a peaceful nap for her, without a hint of arousal to go with it. Now, Tifa always unlocked the doors a few hours prior to opening up any given night, letting her regulars wander in and get settled as they needed. Usually, there’d be at least a couple waiting for her to come and pour them their first drinks. 

Not one of them was there that night, however. Tifa blinked, taken aback at just how many people had managed to squeeze into the bar early– the faces all belonging to strangers, though most invoked a sense of deja vu from her. She didn’t know many college-aged people, though. A cheer rose across the room when the first noticed her standing there, heralded by someone announcing her arrival. “Look, everyone! It’s the pussy-ass muscle MILF!”

Yuffie, wearing nothing but a bartender’s apron and bent right over the counter, tried to pull her mouth off one end of her spitroasting to welcome Tifa, too. They didn’t let her head up. It took Tifa a moment of shocked searching to find the obvious culprit, and when she did, she went straight to her former party member, ripping the one guy off her. “Get out of my way,” she snapped at him, and then grabbed a gasping, open-mouthed Yuffie and hauled her right over the bed, depriving the guy pounding her pussy of a hole. “No customers behind the bar!” she told him.

The busy room became quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

“But I’m not a customer–” the guy started to say, grinning. The last time he saw Tifa, she was begging for him to fuck her harder while he choked her throat and slapped her face.

“MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS.” He swallowed and quickly moved his fucking ass, as told. 

“H-hey, Tifa!” Yuffie had a bit of spunk on her face and a bit of glistening that could have only been left by a girl. She grinned sloppily and licked at her lips, even while Tifa held up her slight weight easily by just her forearms. “Since you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder, I–”

Tifa didn’t give her an opportunity to finish. “OUT,” she shouted, chucking the ninja at the door. It came right off the hinges with the force of the impact, skidding across the road outside and sparing Yuffie the roughest part of her landing, eventually rolling to a stop against the wall of the building across from Eighth Heaven.

“I’m… okay,” Yuffie shouted raggedly to the few who rushed over to the door to peek their heads out, lifting a thumbs-up towards them. Everyone was greatly relieved.

“If you haven’t bought a drink in the next five minutes,” Tifa spoke up sharply at the entire room, storming her way behind the counter, “then get the fuck out. If Yuffie poured you a drink and didn’t charge you for it, then get the fuck over here and let me change that. And before any of you try,” she added firmly, “don’t even think about fooling me with a fake ID, because you can bet your collective asses I’m carding each and every single one of you.”

The busy room was quiet for a few moments longer before people started to move again. A good few left, and more followed when Tifa threw out the first twenty-year-old claiming to be twenty. Everyone that remained ponied up.

Some of them got lucky by the end of the night. Not Yuffie Kisaragi, though, who Tifa gave a long look to and pointed to the sign near the door. NO SHOES, NO SHIRT, NO SERVICE. “C’mon,” she pouted. “Tifa, we’ve been through so much–”

It didn’t matter that Tifa was skirts-off amidst several pants-off guys. She abandoned the dicks to throw Yuffie out the door once again. Within minutes, though, Yuffie was back inside, still naked, dusting herself off, certain she was doing a good thing. She could tell Tifa was happy and that all of Yuffie’s exposure therapy had cured her friend of her dreadful dry spell! 

So happy that the next morning, Yuffie woke up to find herself tucked into a sleeping bag on Eighth Heaven’s front step, belted down atop her neatly-organized luggage, which itself was belted down on a trolley, with a one-way ticket to Wutai glued to her forehead.

“… Oh. Oops.” Obviously, there was a reason why Yuffie had flunked out of her psych major. She wasn’t very good at reading people. 

But hey, in the end, if she had written a paper on exposure therapy, she would have gotten an A (and been tossed out of school for the wildly unethical nature of her case study). Tifa was never wanting for dick again, and Eighth Heaven did better than ever before.

Tifa even thanked Yuffie with a postcard, which would have been way more touching if the postman didn’t take off his disguise and immediately serve her with a restraining order.