#and i could not for the life of me find a good alternative

[lindwurmkai]

I just realised something after reading the comments on this post and recalling my own feelings in 8th grade or whenever we first started doing literary analysis. The point about drugs is very important, but I want to talk about the general "what if the author didn't mean anything by it" attitude for a moment.

I think that, for a lot of people, and especially for autistic people who are of course also the most likely to struggle with literary analysis to begin with, the sometimes oddly passionate refusal to participate in analysis is actually about a fear of having their own art misunderstood. Or even just misplaced empathy for a hypothetical author whose art is being misunderstood.

I remember being absolutely crawling-out-of-my-skin offended on the behalf of some long dead author because what if they didn't mean that? How could the teacher be 100% sure? How could we be so disrespectful as to put words in their mouth? What if I wrote a story and someone did that to me??? I was going to show them! I'd write a story in which nothing symbolised anything and if anyone dared to claim it did, I'd triumphantly let them know they were wrong! THEN they'd understand they were being disrespectful and needed to stop doing that.

But these feelings came from being misunderstood in my personal life. I had no idea that most writers actually a) did put symbolism into their art on purpose, b) had no problem with alternative interpretations and c) were reasonably educated on literary traditions instead of just kinda writing off the top of their heads.

If any of my teachers had explained that, I wouldn't have been frustrated to the point of tears because HOW COULD WE POSSIBLY KNOW OMG I'D HATE IF SOMEONE DID THAT TO ME.

I also wish my teachers had explained that "literary fiction" was a whole separate category from the genre fiction I was reading in my free time, and that it was kinda known for being especially full of symbolism. That certainly would have helped.

There is at least one person in the notes complaining that they're tired of having their poetry misinterpreted - especially when people assign meaning to specific parts that they only included as "filler" or because it rhymed. Now, you might say that only an amateur poet who hasn't formally studied the craft would be concerned about that, and that a real poet would simply consider it evidence that they're not very good yet because the goal is to no longer rely on "filler" phrases one day and to be able to change the format to fit the content of the poem instead of including irrelevant details just for the rhyme. But that's not really fair. Not every artist wants to follow tradition and art that "breaks the rules" by deliberately including fluff is still worth something. It can even be good, depending on your metrics. Besides, amateurs who haven't fully grasped how the craft they're dabbling in "normally" works deserve better criticism than "you're doing this wrong."

So I don't think the "what if the curtains are just blue" attitude is all anti-intellectualism per se, although it can easily become that. If you're trying to convince someone of the value of literary analysis, consider finding out if their resistance is coming from a place of, "But I wouldn't want people to do that to my art. :(" And no, the correct response to that is not, "Well suck it up or stop making art then because people are going to read things into it that you didn't intend whether you like it or not!"

It's hard to sum up what might help because it depends on the person, their age, and which information they're missing. But the first step is to take their feelings seriously because they're probably coming from a place of having been misunderstood a lot in non-art contexts.

[arandomao3user]

Bbgrl Stephcass smut exists if you really want it leave wfa alone

XD Is... Is this my first real anon hate? My dude, this isn't about smut, also don't misgender me with that bbgrl bull, you transphobic weed killer. If you can click the ask button you can read my pronouns, but I'm sure being a transphobic piece of s#&$ is easier than reading, for you.

Anyways! This is universally about bad writers across all DC, but I can't even expect you to know anything about writing because you have the grammar skills of a two year old.

** Babygirl, Stephcass smut exists if you really want it. Leave Wayne Family Adventures alone.

OR

*Bbgrl, StephCass smut exists if you really want it. Leave WFA alone."

Alternatively, depending on your mood, you can end the sentence in either a "!" To show excitement or anger, and "?" To be like "what the f#&% is this dude on about?"

Commas are important, because what you write was that Baby girls Steph Cass smut exists if I really like it and it.. That... And. That... That confuses and concerns me??? You good??? Whatchu readin'? What's the Ao3 history lookin' like? We good?

I am sorry I was not worth the time to add a single ounce of grammar into the singular... not even a sentence, whatever you just wrote in 0.5 seconds because I triggered you and on the way to the block button you stumbled upon the ask button instead.

Common mistake, you're forgiven! Have some Tim to cope.

Anywho, I am not sure what specifically this is directed at, or why you're so pressed over the fact I'm calling out the writers on their bull of forcing Steph and Tim alongside Steph and Cass into the sibling box instead of acknowledging the romance that happened between Steph and Tim and how it affected both of them as characters, same with Stephanie and Cass. I'm not even a die hard StephCass shipper, but I can still be mad that WFA continues to fail the entire third season by mischaracterizing everyone, but especially Cass to an offensive point and calling Steph and Cass sisters despite them not sharing, being raised by, nor being adopted by the same person or people.

Stephanie is NOT her family.

I could care less if the ship becomes canon or is canon, my problem is the family dynamics that DC cannot ever acknowledge but they also wanna shove the "sibling" label onto characters who AREN'T related by law or blood. Siblings? Tim, Jason, Dick, Damian, Cass. All adopted legally by the same man at one point or another. They are siblings, Duke isn't included because he was never adopted by Bruce nor does he live with him in the main continuity. Steph and Cass? They are not siblings and it's ridiculous to consider them as such when it's acknowledged (panel above) that they AREN'T. What they are doesn't really have a name and it doesn't need one, but hey, go off and defend a comic series to ME, A CONSUMER OF SAID SERIES, WHO READS THE NEW PART EVERY THURSDAY MORNING, without realizing or acknowledging a single point I am trying to make.

Now, apologies if this was to passive aggressive or if it was to many words for you, but I have been caring for seven children and my mentally disabled Mother while my own health issues flare up as I chug down my seventh coffee in hopes of making it thirty minutes through the second season of Bluey with a toddler and another child with ADHD while cooking four different pizzas to feed a family of ten. I sat down to scarf down a meal that's gonna make me sick in less then ten minutes from now, and I find you misgendering me and insulting me in my own space because you're to hurt to find the block button, instead choosing to anonymously insult a stranger on the internet over a literal splice of life comic series about group of superheroes.

Anyways! Have a good day and may TimBern be with you :D

(Fun Tip that can help you later: Use the block button if you're triggered and unable to calmly debate or talk with someone on the internet.)

[stereopticons]

On This Day In Schitt's Creek: March 28

2019

A Dog's Life [david/patrick, T, 2,572] by @mostlyinthemorning

David rescues a stray puppy.

Rhapsody in Sand and Stone [david/patrick, T, 9,625] by Coffee_Flavored_Kisses

Patrick finds an old piano, and decides it would be the perfect addition to the store. David has a hard time agreeing with this.

Through a New Lens [david/patrick, T, 4,623] by kt_rose28

David is forced to bring his glasses out of retirement, much to his dismay. The “nerdy” look is not a part of his aesthetic.

2020

1950 [david/patrick, E, 33,619] by unkindravens

Set in 1950s New York, Patrick Brewer has a good job and loving fiancee. He meets David Rose, gallery owner, and his world changes.

A Little Bit [david/patrick, G, 3,126] by returntosaturn

The night before their flight leaves, Alexis sends an SOS text. // POSSIBLE SPOILERS for 6.12 While packing, Alexis finds the DVD copy of her limited reality series, A Little Bit Alexis. A watch party ensues.

waiting for a sleepy feeling [david/patrick, T, 4,084] by @kiranerys42

David and Patrick end up having a sleepover after all. This is exactly the same story as another fic I wrote -- my mind is set on you -- but this time, from Patrick's point of view.

2021

...If You Show Me Yours [david/patrick, M, 1,275] by @schittposting

Patrick flirts with David, then sees something in David's sweatpants that makes his imagination run wild.

A Designated Grape [johnny/moira, M, 1,005] by orphan_account

Johnny and Moira have a little innocent fun after Moira and David spend the day at the winery.

A Pleasure to Burn [david/patrick, G, 100] by @seadeepy

David leans against the counter and folds his arms, wound as tight and sharp-edged as piano wire.

A Storm Like Before [david/patrick, G, 100] by @seadeepy

David's despair tastes of macaroni salad and medium-rare hamburger.

all the beautiful parts of him [david/patrick, E, 1,995] by @blackandwhiteandrose

While on their honeymoon, Patrick discovers a side of David he's never seen before.

BDE (Big Dick Energy) [david/patrick, M, 869] by @smallumbrella369

David video calls his new business partner and the screen freezes with Patrick standing in front of his laptop. David's brain gets stuck.

Come On, Let's Sweat, Baby [david/patrick, M, 2,908] by @apothecarypants

The most unfair thing of all are the sweatpants. The cheap grey sweatpants. The goddamn cotton-blend discount store sweatpants that are gently hugging Patrick’s perfect peach while David tries to look like he’s not captivated by the view. Walking lunges! Reverse lunges! Pulsing squats! How could it possibly get any better (worse)? So it gets better (worse).

Even Better than the Real Meme [david/patrick, E, 2,561] by Elsewherefumbling

David stays at Patrick's after all following Season 4 Episode 1, Dead Guy In Room 4. Patrick said he needed to take it slower than a sleepover...tonight and David does his best to abide. But, he has a lot of trouble doing it. Not technically an alternate ending (since we don't have canon for what happens between DGIR4 and Pregnancy Test), but it sure feels like an alternate ending.

Everything's Okay [david/patrick, NR, 2,133] by McRaider

What if David had continued to ramble (as he does) talking over Marcy, and getting himself worked up over the idea of Patrick not being accepted. What if Johnny hadn’t interrupted, what if all those emotions started surfacing.

Fast in the Head but Slow in the Bed [david/patrick, E, 2,123] by reginahalliwell

Early in their relationship, David comes over to Ray's for an impromptu visit in lieu of a cancelled date. Patrick has just gotten out of the shower and is a little more underdressed than David has seen him before.

hot enough to last [alexis/twyla, E, 400] by @sarahlevys

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to come.” “I know.” Twyla kisses her again, and strips Alexis’ shirt off when Alexis nods. “So let’s just make each other feel good. And whatever happens, happens.” Alexis and Twyla learn how to make a relationship hurdle a non-issue, and to put each other first. AKA: Twyla can't always come, and Alexis makes her peace with that.

Hungary [clint/marcy, T, 300] by Rosey_Peach

I'll Show You Mine... [david & stevie, M, 1,000] by @midnightstreet

What has been seen cannot be unseen. How is David supposed to go about his life now that he knows what's in Patrick's pants?!

i've had no love like your love [david/patrick, G, 100] by @seadeepy

The word is new to both of them, in different ways.

it's a Plan [david/patrick, E, 1,566] by Amanita_Fierce

“Just...something I’ve been thinking about,” Patrick said, watching David look increasingly perplexed. “You’ve been thinking about...cheap polyester sweatpants?” David asked, voice lifting and face scrunching as he dubiously lifted the grey fabric out of the bag between thumb and forefinger. “Well, no. I’ve been thinking about you wearing them. What they were made of seemed immaterial to me. I’m still learning,” he smirked. **Patrick makes a plan to fulfill one of his pre-relationship fantasies. David is a good listener and a good sport

Jewish Channing Tatum [david/patrick, T, 896] by DawnDust

Patrick has a lot to say on the car ride after his wisdom teeth are removed.

Knockdown Pitch [david/patrick, T, 6,341] by eringiles

Knockdown Pitch (n): A slang term in baseball for the pitcher (Ronnie) hitting the batter (Patrick) with a pitched ball, either intentionally or accidentally. (It was definitely an accident...)

know something now i didn't before [alexis/twyla, T, 687] by @wafflesfriendswork

Alexis and Twyla navigate having different sexual preferences and how not liking a specific thing is totally okay. Note: No actual sex will be depicted, but they talk about it (which is why this has the rating it does).

let me see you do that yoga [alexis/twyla, M, 967] by @hullomoon

While doing yoga with Twyla, Alexis has something else in mind

Now You See It [david/patrick, M, 1,991] by @lisamc-21

Patrick cooks David a totally platonic business dinner (he's super not pining over David at all, nope), and David has a spaghetti oops on his (and Patrick's) favorite white jeans. Patrick being the absolute button he is, helps David save the jeans and gives him a pair of his grey sweats to wear in the meantime. But when those sweatpants highlight a certain attribute, well, Patrick just can't keep his attention from wandering. Rated M for Patrick's absolute thirst for David.

Patrick Brewer vs Making Love in a Canoe [david/patrick, M, 1,372] by @mostlyinthemorning

When Ray recreates the Festival du Voyageur in Schitt’s Creek, Patrick takes the opportunity to surprise David with their own private festival activities.

Say It [david/patrick, T, 1,496] by davidrosestan

If anyone asks why David’s been staring himself down in the bathroom mirror for seventeen minutes already, with no end in sight, they should know to blame Tina Turner. Which, he knows, is an affront, but it’s kinda true. Well, not really.

Shape of You [david/patrick, E, 1,845] by @dazedwriter1

10 years into their marriage, David and Patrick had fallen into a comfortable weekend pattern. This Sunday however, Patrick mixed things up, much to David's chagrin.

Sunday Morning [david/patrick, E, 2,025] by @delilah-mcmuffin

Patrick needs to run to the store after a shower and just throws on a pair of sweats that leave little to the imagination. David is indignant. Because David has just said “I love you” to the owner of that dick and he’ll be damned if anyone else gets to enjoy looking at it. Set shortly after Singles Week.

2022

always and forever, twyla sands [alexis/twyla, NR, 4,896] by @lilythesilly

Twyla hasn’t spoken to Alexis Rose in years. Not since she kissed her during a game of spin the bottle in seventh grade, effectively ruining their friendship. Since then it’s been passive aggressive comments in the hallway over her blouses and disdainful glances in between classes. Well, except for now. Because right now, Alexis is standing in front of her, with a confused wide-eyed expression that reminds Twyla of her seventh grade crush on her former best friend. And in her hands is an envelope — A soft pink envelope covered in Hello Kitty stickers with Alexis’s name written on it in glitter gel pen. Oh god. Twyla’s gonna faint. -- Or To All the Boys I've Loved Before the Twylexis Remix

canned heat in my heels tonight [alexis/twyla, T, 4,127] by @sarahlevys

@Karen666: I've been watching #DWTS for decades. It has always been family-friendly entertainment. And just like the Biden Administration has ruined everything else, now they and the liberal media have ruined #DWTS!! @BootyfulBecca: @DancingABC @LilBitAlexis @TwirlingTwyla WHAT'S THE TEAM HASHTAG OMG?? @DancingABC: @BootyfulBecca #LilBitTwylexis is what you're looking for! The internet has a lot to say about Alexis Rose and Twyla Sands, the first same-sex dance couple on Dancing With The Stars.

deliver me a pizz-a-you [david/patrick, T, 4,183] by @filet-o-feelings

Patrick Brewer moves to Schitt's Creek and gets a job delivering pizza.

got a knack for burning bridges down [stevie/alexis, T, 3,794] by @nerdframed

Stevie Budd is a private investigator and reluctant superhero. Alexis Rose is her childhood best friend and newly powered. They have their issues, but find themselves working a case together. Inspired by Marvel's Jessica Jones series.

into your heart, i'll beat again [david/patrick, M, 1,695] by @thesleepyskipper

Patrick is inspired to add a song to their wedding reception playlist without David's approval. Patrick wants to tell David all about how it makes him feel.

Stab: The Elmsboro Murders [david/patrick, M, 7,487] by @dinnfameron

Someone in Elmsboro is terrorizing teens. Finally, the story that journalist David Rose can use to get his big break. If only deputy sheriff Patrick Brewer would answer his questions instead of blocking him at every turn and distracting him with those big, dumb, earnest eyes of his.

Stardust [david/patrick, NR, 3,140] by @demora00

Patrick had just about finished packing his desk; the movers were coming in a few days to bring the contents of the apartment to the cottage. He picked up the rogue books on the bottom shelf of his nightstand then went over to David’s side to do the same, adding the small stack of personal journals David had to his pile. As he turned to the box sitting on his desk, the top journal slipped, weathered spine opening on impact. Placing the remaining tomes in the box, he reached over to retrieve it when he recognized the poem on a taped piece of paper. His fingers grazed the page, heartstrings pulling.

you light me on fire [david/patrick, E, 3,447] by orphan_account

He might explode if he doesn’t touch himself immediately. He begins to move one hand down to his cock from where he’s gripping the headboard but before he makes any progress David says, “Patrick.” or: what happens when they return home after a failed threesome with jake

you never shined so brightly [david/patrick, T, 23,226] by @rosedavid

Large, broad hands with silver-ringed fingers stroke at the keys in a blur. Patrick’s eyes trace up the hunched over curve of his spine, clad in a black suit that blends in with the dark ambiance of the room. The man’s lips are parted slightly as he plays, full body leaning into each chord progression. Patrick’s heart crescendos in his chest at the same time as the melody. OR A La La Land AU in which Patrick is the aspiring actor and David is the struggling musician.

2023

Drabble with me [david/patrick, T, 2,000] by @lizzie-bennetdarcy

A series of unrelated 100 word drabbles, based on schittscreekdrabbleblog prompts. Updated weekly, tags will update as new chapters post.

Glittery Relief [david/patrick, T, 100] by @legalgal421

A birth announcement triggers a conversation.

TITSOAK, Patrick [david/patrick, G, 100] by @demora00

For all the ratties among us

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017, 2018, or 2024 2019: 3 fics/16,820 words 2020: 3 fics/40,829 words 2021: 24 fics/36,055 words 2022: 9 fics/55,995 words 2023: 3 fics/2,200 words Total: 42 fics/151,899 words

[yvesssssssss]

Missing darling Shishiba right about now

How about a fic where a jcc student (preferably from the poison department) dare I say, fucked around and found out what it means to try and poison Shishiba (her unfinished business).

Alternatively, Shishiba hunting down the world's biggest mistake only to see the girl he gave up on (due to being a civilian) trying to screw him over for leaving her hanging, love and hate can truly blurr when you start missing their face, right?

Fucked Around and Found Out

AHHH, I hope you like it!! I tried to capture your idea the way you imagined it—hopefully, I got it right!

Shishiba had been poisoned before.

It came with the job—assassins, spies, and wannabe prodigies all tried to take him out one way or another. Most failed before they even got close.

This one? She had made it close. Too close.

He watched as the woman convulsed on the floor, her own poison ripping through her system, her breaths coming in short, pained gasps. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Not anymore.

Shishiba twirled the empty syringe between his fingers, crouching beside her. “You should’ve done your research,” he said, voice unbothered. “I don’t drink anything I haven’t tested first.”

The woman—young, cocky, and stupid in a way only poison department elites could be—tried to sneer, but her muscles were already locking up.

“…Bastard…” she wheezed.

Shishiba exhaled through his nose. “Yeah, yeah.” He tilted his head, eyes cool and unreadable. “Who sent you?”

Her gaze flickered upward. Just a second. A mistake.

But it was enough.

Shishiba didn’t need to follow her line of sight to know who he’d find.

A familiar presence. A mistake he never expected to see again.

And just like that, everything clicked into place.

Shishiba had seen a lot of ghosts in his life.

But none had ever looked him in the eye quite like she did now.

She was standing on the second-floor balcony, silhouetted by dim light, her arms crossed as she looked down at him. Not with fear. Not with regret. But with something sharper.

Something between hate and longing.

Shishiba barely reacted. Just flicked the poisoned syringe into the dead girl’s throat and stood up, brushing dust off his gloves.

His ex-lover—the woman he had left behind—leaned on the railing. “I thought it’d take longer for you to notice.”

Shishiba sighed. “You always did overestimate yourself.”

A sharp, dry chuckle. “Right. Because I’m just some civilian, huh? The girl you walked away from.”

He tilted his head slightly. “And yet, here you are. Pulling strings, trying to kill me.” His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. “Was I really that bad of a boyfriend?”

Her fingers clenched. Just barely.

But he caught it.

He had always been good at reading her.

She smiled, but it wasn’t a kind one. “You always did think too highly of yourself, Shishiba.”

“And you always liked making bad decisions,” he shot back. “Trying to poison an assassin? That’s rookie-level stupidity.”

She hummed, as if considering. “Maybe.”

Then she flicked her wrist. A soft clink.

Shishiba’s instincts screamed.

He dodged just in time to avoid the vial that shattered at his feet—acid, judging by the instant corrosion of the concrete.

His gaze snapped up, and his blood ran hot.

She wasn’t just here to taunt him.

She was here to kill him.

“...Tch.” He pulled his weapon from his coat. “Guess you really did miss me.”

She grinned, pulling out her own knife. “You have no idea.”

Shishiba exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

Love and hate blurred too easily when you missed someone long enough.

And judging by the way she was looking at him now—like she wanted to carve her name into his skin just to make sure he never forgot—she had missed him a lot.

[valeffelees]

Read this excellent post by @confused-bi-queer and couldn't help but weigh in my two cents on their third point about the Mage, because—

YEAH.

Fandom will always do as fandom does, everybody is always gonna interpret the story and its characters in different ways, but the Mage is wildly misunderstood in my opinion.

I want to highlight one point in particular from Lee's post, which is:

[...] and he cares for Simon. This is possibly what shocks me the most. He truly cares for him.

Davy Cadwallader is wrathful and passionate, he's ruthless in his determination, single-minded, vindictive, unrepentant.

When we think of morally grey characters, we usually think of good people on the wrong side of things, or no side of things, who make selfish choices and aren't always trustworthy and don't pretend to be otherwise. But what happens when you have a character like Davy who believes in goodness, who views himself as the absolute good, but has fundamentally failed to uphold it at every opportunity?

He's an extremist.

A zealot who worshipped at a shrine of sunk costs and good intentions.

But he loved Simon Snow.

That can be a hard pill to swallow. The idea that Davy could have done everything that he did, and still loved him. But love does not mean morality. Love does not mean goodness. Love is just love.

The Mage's first appearance is my favourite scene in the entire book.

We just get to see so much from him in that chapter.

We meet the Mentor.

We meet the Man.

We meet the Monster.

Chapter 7 is our butterfly—it is the wingbeat that caused a hurricane halfway around the world. Simon tells him in this chapter, "We can't just stop living because we're at war," which leads to this visceral moment:

"Can't we?" He's finally lost his temper. He jerks his hand back down to the hilt of his sword. "Look at me, Simon. Have you ever known me to indulge myself with a normal life? Where is my wife? My children? Where's my house in the country with my cosy chair and a fat cocker spaniel to bring me my slippers? When do I go on holiday? When do I take a break? When do I do anything other than prepare for the battle ahead? We don't get to ignore our responsibilities because we're bored with them."

That is Davy Cadwallader.

That is a man starving. He is a candle burned to the bottom of its wick, drowning in its own wax, but if he acknowledges his regrets for what they are—exhaustion, desperation, want—then everything was for nothing.

It's as good as giving up.

He has to be right, he has to be.

Because what's the alternative?

He spent all his life fighting for what he believed in and gave up everything else in the process. Life is war to him. Not because he wants it to be, but because nothing has ever proven to him otherwise.

So imagine you are a man (who never really knew what it meant to be a boy) (or perhaps the other way around) who is talking, and talking, and talking, but nobody is listening. So you come up with a plan.

It's the front page of the Record. The Mage's speech is printed in full, and there's a large chart with dates and boldfaced atrocities—all the attacks on magickind over a fifty-year period. OUR DOMINION IN DANGER? the headline asks.

Nobody was supposed to die, but it's just as well.

Because you look at the World and you see a trolley problem.

You see all the magicians and creatures the World of Mages leaves behind, you see the shape of the Old Families and their traditions worn into the treads of magickind's heels, you see an empty space on the tracks where you were meant to be tied down with the rest of them but weren't, because you got lucky.

And you are not sorry.

You are going to change everything.

Only now you have a new problem: she'll be back. But you're smart, so you make a plan. The Pitch boy will be out of the way. Simon will be sent off from Watford. And when the Visit happens: Natasha Grimm-Pitch will find an empty room.

Simple.

Except Simon doesn't want to go.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He's never said no to you before. But, well, fine. You don't care, you can't care. Because he can't be here and—oh, he really doesn't want to go.

He's getting upset. He's going to go off—fuck, is he okay? Is he okay? He should go see a nurse. He's upset. He should go see a nurse. He's upset. He doesn't want to go. Simon doesn't want to go. Our Simon. My Simon. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

So you let him stay.

Even though you know it's a mistake.

When I can focus again, the Mage is leaning over me, his hand on my forehead. Something is smoking—I think it's my sheets. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I didn't mean—" "I know," he says, but he still looks scared. He pushes my hair up off my forehead with one hand, then brushes his knuckles down my cheek. "Please don't make me leave," I beg. The Mage looks in my eyes, and through them. I can see him deliberating—then relenting. "I'll talk to the Coven," he says. "Perhaps we still have time..."

And the butterfly beats its wings.

Because love is not morality, and love is not goodness, and sometimes, love is not enough.

But it's still love.

[katerinaaqu]

I am reallh afraid of sounding dumb and idiot, but... Why didnt Odysseus and his crew started fishing? They were in the middle of the ocean. Surely they could fish to not starve, right? (And not end up slaying Helios' cows)

Well hahaha although I oftentimes say "whoever says that about Odysseus probably has never fished before" but I get it is hard to get it sometimes it seems obvious hahaha but it is not. So allow me to elaborate a bit on some estimations.

Sorry in advance if I blabber a lot hahaha 😆

Fishing is not a sustainable form of nutrition on the long run as an exclusive source of food. That is because even if we do have abundance of fish we still need to fish long hours to catch a fish and by n large the fish that are close to the surface or to the shore are small fish so you need to catch a large quantity of them if you wish to have a quantity enough to feed one person.

Not to mention that half the fish's weight is the guts, scales and bones. The guts are not edible on their own even if ancient Greeks and later Romans even more, created a type of fermented fish sauce from the guts (the Roman garum) but fermentation is a long process and cannot be done on a ship so if they were to catch fish then half of their quantity would be the guts and scales and that would be useless to them. Moreover it would take longer to catch the meal of the day if they did at all. Even if we do estimate seas be richer in fish back on the day it is not like video games when someone throws the bait and the fish pops up.

Large quantities per person are required. By n large if you are to survive on fish you require a decent amount of quantity per person like 200 grams to half a kilo which as I said to fish you require double at first if you remove the guts. It's good not to starve but not dense enough for the stomach to give you plenty of calories to survive on the long run either unless we speak of fatty fish like sardine and even that since it is small it requires quantities to fill a person.

To be more specific in Greece we eat a lot of fish both bigger and smaller and by n large we accompany it with other stuff such as bread or vegetables. Just fish does not keep you filled up for a long time like red meat or Fibre and it IS very nutritious but not THAT high in calories to be eaten on its own. And as I said not all fish that exist on shore and close to the surface are big. 3000 years ago the drafting method of fishing bigger fish was not really a thing haha and you needed to use baits to catch bigger fish. Denser foods could keep someone for longer and an animal could feed several people while with dish you either need multiple or bigger fish to cover the needs of multiple men.

Preparation is not practical. As I mentioned before for someone to prepare the fish means you need to remove the scales that are not chewable, cut the fish and then gut it and all the blood and guts are not only emitting a terrible smell but could be a hazard for crew. It gathers flies and birds and the rotting of blood could affect the wood of the ship. Moreover cooking the fish would be almost impossible unless someone was drying salt water for its salt and bake it in salt.

Sure the guts can be used as a bait to gather more fish but it is not practical to have that on your deck 24/7. On shore is easier to prepare and cook of course although close to the shore as I said we have the issue or smaller fish as opposed to open sea. Which is why in antiquity mollusks were more often than actual fish for they were easier to find easier to prepare and didn't require much. To the shore you should throw nets in the water. Alternatively one could look for other seafood like sea urchins or octopodes.

However I believe there is one thing that we need to consider because yes we can analyze forever as to how sustainable is or isn't in real life for people to survive exclusively on fishing on a remote island of the Mediterannean sea but one thing that we need to remember is this 😁😆

The poetic factor. Surely we must not forget the principles of the poem. The poem is not necessarily a realistic representation of everyday life in antiquity or a realistic survival mode story but is a mythical poem.

Even though Odysseus mentions the technique of fishing when he describes the gruesome scene with Skylla, Homer by n large depicts his heroes and characters dine almost exclusively on meat. Even in the case where Odysseus visits his slave and swine herder Eumaeus, he feeds him some meat cheese and bread. In most scenes of Iliad and Odyssey with some exceptions to the rule the heroes are eating meat almost exclusively

That is not realistic neither does it respond to the real dietary habits of ancient Greeks (or modern Greeks for that matter) or most ancient cultures of that time. Most of the time meat was a delicacy or something eaten at celebrations or during some sacrifice. Animals were precious and were offering much to the humans for example cows offered milk and labor for farming. People wouldn't go about slaughtering cows in the manner we see in Iliad or Odyssey otherwise we would have no animal left. Chicken lay eggs and the slaughter of one usually happened when the chicken could not lay eggs anymore. Goats and sheep gave milk and sheep gave wool which was precious for many uses. Again we wouldn't randomly see people slaughter goats and sheep the way Homer shows.

Of course in terms of traveling meat was a sustainable way to survive given how one animal could feed many individuals and the meat could be dried or salted beforehand and taken with them but even then one can expect more legumes or bread being taken with them than animals for slaughter or chicken to lay eggs instead.

But we also need to remember apart from the symbolistic diet the heroes have in the Odyssey something else;

Homer doesn't mention fishing exclusively in Helios isle not because he is stupid and cannot think of anything else that a person might realistically use to survive such as fish mollusks grass and berries or other. He creates the scene to show how men were helpless before the will of fate and of gods. We do not know if the heroes had tried to fish or not we just know it didn't work even if they tried because their fate was already written and they had nothing else to do but starve to death or slaughter the cattle of Helios.

Otherwise we could also ask why didn't they hunt? We do see them hunt wild goats before. So what was their problem? Surely any other kind of animal is expected to live there and provide nutrition. Even rats and other rodents like rabbits could do. Why not those? Homer implies that no such thing existed which again realistically speaking makes no sense that absolutely no wildlife not even wild birds or rabbits and rats didn't exist close to a cattle enclosure but he let's us assume that there wasn't because that is what the story is about

If we keep asking as to why this happened so in the Odyssey one could also ask why didn't people believe Cassandra even if she spoke the truth? Why didn't anyone believe her even if she was proven right the other times? Why didn't any of the people who went to hear Christ on the mountain had no food with them and they even thought it would be the only natural that Christ and the deciples were somehow in charge to feed them? Etc there are many parts that if one thinks of them from all sides they do not make sense through and through even if they do have logic in there

The heroes could have tried to fish and failed to catch something each and every time. They could have tried to hunt or gather and failed because for some reason only inedible grass and cattle existed on the island. No bushes with berries, no wild fruit, no roots, no rodents no mollusks or any other or even roaches or any other insect one in theory could use and get SOME nutrients in their system is not there.

Realistically speaking that is not much probable but Homer just let's us know that this was the situation. Moreover they had opposite wind consistently and couldn't sail out. None of that makes any sense realistically but this was the curse of the men

By n large the plot is such because the tradition and literature calls for it. It does not need to make sense in its totality as if it were placed in a realistic scenario even if it has logic (as I said fishing is not sustainable on the long run) but it is supposed to be the plot that brings the conditions together if that makes sense.

[just-some-guy-joust]

Noooooo no Ford :(

Ah well, silver my beloved!!

The canary one is really funny also

FORD WAS ON MY LIST I SWEAR HE WAS the bracket site I had adamantly refused to let me make a bracket with a weird number of characters so I had to cut some of my own faves just to make sure everything was still balanced :( I wanted him to be here I prommy

ALSO THANKS FOR APPRECIATING THE CANARY JOKE I THOUGHT IT WAS SO GOOD I just talked about having to make difficult cuts but i kept in the silly bird joke solely because i wanted to use the bird that carries you over a disproportionately small gap as the bracket image <3 -R

[teaboot]

Things you can do as a security guard instead of acting like a dickhead: a vent post disguised as advice

Offer alternatives: IE, “Sorry, nobody’s allowed to hang out over there, but we have seats over here you’re welcome to use”. I recommend getting familiar with local parks, public seating, free food programs, outreach, mobile aid, etc., just in case those are needed.

Be polite: IE, “Excuse me, sir”, “I beg your pardon, miss”. This should go without saying but everyone deserves dignity.

Avoid phrasing requests as orders: IE, “Don’t stand in front of that” VS “Excuse me, could you move a bit to the side?”. This works best with an explanation, like, “There’s a sign behind you”, or, “you might get clipped by someone”. This helps communicate that you are asking for a reason, not just throwing your weight around. If you don’t have a reason, rethink whether or not you need to be doing anything.

Avoid directing blame or fault. Don’t say, “The owner says you gotta go” when you could say, “I’m not supposed to let people be here for X period” or “do X thing”. Again, try to have alternatives ready so people can use other resources or do something else instead of just abruptly changing plans.

Come from a place of compassion whenever you can. People are gonna tell you to get rid of the crazy screaming guy. They say that because they’re frightened and don’t know what to do. Your best approach is, “Hello sir”, followed by, “How are you today?”, “how’s it going?”, “are you doing alright?”, etc., depending on what the person is ACTUALLY doing / saying when you get there. You can offer help from there if needed, or leave them alone if they’re not in danger or a risk to anyone.

Remember you’re not a cop. This can mean whatever you need it to mean. For me personally, that means that with incredibly rare exception (like trying to sell to kids, contaminating other’s food or drink) I won’t report you for drugs. If I find you doing drugs on my site I’ll tell you a different place where you can do them instead and ask you to do them there. I have interrupted drug deals to ask the client and the salesman to both kindly move 15 feet to the left, I’m not kidding, I do not care.

Know who you can throw under the bus. Sometimes you gotta enforce rules and be the bad guy and if that’s the fault of some dipshit in a suit 200 miles away, you can say that. Sorry man, I can’t let you park your car on the lawn. I know you’re not hurting anyone and frankly I think lawn culture is stupid but there’s other parking stalls and if my boss sees you I’ll get a write-up for not doing my job. Shit sucks sometimes but if it wasn’t me telling you it’d be the new guy, and between you and me he’s an idiot and he’ll probably just report you to bylaw.

Don’t just act like you’re their friend, genuinely try to be a good friend. If you know that someone is doing something that will only result in a bystander phoning police, don’t let them go down like that. Let them know, “hey man, you seem like you’re having a shit time and I get it, I’ll do what I can, but we gotta have this conversation somewhere else ‘cause we’re freaking out the old ladies.”

Swallow your tongue. You can’t fix the world. People are gonna bitch at you about communists and 5G and gangster rap ruining the neighbourhood, that’s just part of the deal. Nod along, remain neutral, shut down any hate speech, redirect if you can, and keep a limit in mind where you’ll have to shut things down.

Accept that sometimes there are no solutions. Yes, that angry guy who blasts music will be back tomorrow. That homeless woman who asks you to help her find her dog that she hasn’t had in 30 years will ask again, and yes, you’re still going to take a description and promise to keep an eye out. That kid who smokes crack behind the building has been clean for a few weeks and still stops by to say hi, and you hope he’ll get his life together and be happy, but he also might relapse and OD before he hits 25. Sometimes you just have to do the best you can, even if nothing is guaranteed.

Be kind to teenagers. Being a kid is hard, and everyone’s on their ass all the damn time for everything.

Remember that the vast majority of bad people aren’t bad, just unhappy. The guy who keeps showing up drunk and puking on the carpet is unhappy. The lady who bitches about the service every single time and keeps coming back anyway is unhappy. The guy who leaves trash everywhere is probably unhappy. If they were happy, maybe they’d do better, but they’re not, and that’s kinda sad. You don’t have to let them get away with their shit, but they probably aren’t actually a worthless human being either.

It doesn’t matter if 12 is true or not. You need to believe it or you will become a harsh and bitter person. Look for evidence that people are not terrible and invent it if you have to

Don’t let yourself become a bastard

[roseverdict]

it is 4 AM which means it's Desperately Claw At Hobbies In An Attempt To Make Some Form Of Money To Set Aside So I Can Go Be An Adult Instead Of The Parentals' Puppet time!

[wcnderlnds]

bad idea right? | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: what happens in the squid game bathrooms, stays in the squid game bathrooms ・❥・word count: 1.2k ・❥・warnings: 18+. smut. oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex. female reader. swearing. ・❥・ authors note: i haven't wrote smut in months so you'll have to forgive me if this is awful <3

It had started off like any normal day in the Squid Games. You’d woke up, got traumatised by the day’s game, cast your vote and then ate the meander meal they’d gave you – sandwich and a drink. Nothing out of the ordinary except today had been the day you had officially met Thanos. You had seen him around – his purple hair was hard to miss – but you’d never really spoke to him. In fact, most of the time, you kept to yourself but this game had meant that you had to pair up with people. There had been one moment where you were struggling to find a group when suddenly a flash of purple hair grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you into a room with him and a few other boys. From that moment on, he had stuck by your side during the game even kicking out one of his closer friends. Why he had latched on to you, you had no idea but you couldn’t have been more thankful. If it wasn’t for him, you’d surely have been eliminated by now.

The moment you’d got back to the main holding area, he pulled you into a giant hug. His arms engulfed your body, pressing you flush against him as he rambled about how glad he was that you were safe and how he wanted to be with you and not his friend.

Somehow that had led to where you were now — locked in a bathroom stall with your back pressed against the cool wall, the pants of your sweatsuit down your legs. You weren’t exactly sure how you’d even got into this predicament. Maybe it was the feel of Thanos’ body pressing against yours, maybe it was the attention from the most handsome guy in this place — you had no idea. All you knew was that Thanos was on his knees, his mouth between your thighs devouring you like a man possessed.

His tongue flattened, licking a long stripe up your folds. Your fingers tangled in his purple locks, tugging on them as his tongue swirled around your clit, flicking the sensitive bud. The moans falling from your lips were breathy as you tried to keep quiet. The last thing you needed was to get caught. Having sex in the bathroom was surely grounds for elimination. 

“You’re fuckin’ dripping, baby,” Thanos mumbled against you as he lapped up your juices. “You taste so good, Senorita. Could do this all day.”

His tongue alternated between teasing your clit and licking along your folds before he dove the muscle into your tight hole. A gasp emanated from your lips, your fingers tugging on his hair even tighter as he fucked you with his tongue. 

“Fuck, Thanos,” you panted. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna come.”

Suddenly, he pulled away from you, wiping your juices from his lips with the back of his hand. Damn, could this man get any hotter? He rose to his feet, hand sliding to the back of your neck as he crashed his lips against yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he shoved his into your mouth, tangling with yours. Moaning into the kiss, Thanos used his free hand to pull his own sweatpants down just enough to free his aching cock.

“Jump,” he mumbled against your lips. Instantly, you obliged. His hands caught you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His length brushed against your folds causing a shudder to run through your body. Was it just this place? Because you had never wanted someone so badly before in your life. Never had you felt so desperate. The lingering fear of death was probably a factor – making you crave as much intimacy as humanly possible. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget all about these games, senorita.”

Before you could even reply, he nudged the head of his cock at your entrance, pushing into you with one hard thrust. His hand flew up to cover your mouth, hiding the loud moan you’d let out at the feeling of him bottomed out inside you. He drew his hips back until he was almost all the way out then thrust back in, hard. He set a fast past, withdrawing his hand from your mouth so he could grab at your hips. His fingers dug into your flesh hard enough he was sure to leave bruises but you didn’t care. The feeling of him pistoning in and out of you, the draw of his cock along your walls was enough for you to feel like you were in heaven. Nothing else really mattered in that moment.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. Taking me like a champ,” he groaned, his eyes glancing down to watch his dick move in and out of you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the bathroom stall. His hands slid down your back to grab your ass, pulling your body into him as he fucked into you to take him deeper. 

“Oh, right there, right there,” you whimpered as he hit that spot inside of you that made you see stars. Thanos smirked, covering your whimpers with his mouth as he picked up his pace. He made sure to angle his hips so he hit that sweet spot over and over again to the point you were a whimpering, moaning mess babbling nonsense about how good he felt inside you.

Your hands clawed at his back, head thrown back against the wall as he pounded into you with animalistic speed. He was like a man possessed, fucking you with an inch of your life to bring you both to ecstasy. One of his hands reached up into your hair, yanking your head back roughly. “Come for me, Senorita. Show me who’s making you feel this fucking good.” 

He could feel your walls clamping down around him, bringing his own climax closer. He redoubled his efforts, covering your mouth once again sensing how close you were. His body felt like it was on fire as he thrust his hips relentlessly against yours. His forehead rested against yours as his grunts came more frequently, trying his best to keep quiet himself. Then, he felt it, his balls tightening as he toyed on the edge of ecstasy. 

“Oh fuck,” you cried out, though it was a mumbled against his hand. Your body shook as your orgasm crashed over you, hips bucking wildly against his. The feeling of you coming undone around his cock finally pushed him over the edge.

“Shit, I’m coming. Fuck,” he groaned, burying his head in your neck, his teeth biting down on your skin as he thrust into you one last time, hips stilling as he painted your insides with his release. After a few minutes, he finally caught his breath back, pulling out of you with a hiss. He tucked his softening length back into his pants, leaning back against the wall on the other side of the stall. His eyes watched you as you pulled your own clothes back on. Both of you knew this had to stay between you, if anyone found out they’d surely use it to get you eliminated from the games.

Your fingers ran through your hair trying to at least make yourself look presentable before you went back into the pits of hell. “Well…”

He held his hand up. “No worries, gorgeous. Maybe if you’re lucky, we can have a repeat of this after the next game.” He unlocked the door, his arm outstretched to let you out first. “That’s if you make it this time.”

[mononijikayu]

lovesick — ryomen sukuna.

"I'm serious about my girl." Sukuna retorted back, snickering at the white haired vice-captain. "I'm serious, if she calls me anything else, I'll be nothing. Just how it is." "I see, I see." Before Sukuna could fire back something at him, Gojo’s attention shifted to something—or someone—over Sukuna’s shoulder. Gojo started pointing at the doorway. “Oh, and here she is now, captain.” he said, smirking like a man who’d just lit a match in a fireworks factory. "Your beloved girlfriend!"

Genre: Alternate Universe — College! AU;

Warning/s: Short Fic, General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Swearing, Teasing, Volleyball, Volleyball Captain! Sukuna, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 3.8k words.

Note: i wanted to see ryomen sukuna be someone that is pathetically in love with his lover, because i needed a break from my pattern of being angsty with sukuna, so here you go. that being said, i'm sorry this is shorter than what i usually write. i'm prepping a lot of things because im going to be back in uni soon and i need to make sure i fix the queue!!! that being said, i'll post tomorrow about the valentines special!!! thank you for reading!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

lovesick masterlist

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IF THERE WAS ONE THING ABOUT HIM, ITS THE FACT THAT HE IS A STRONG PERSONALLY. He knew that too well, everyone knew that just as much. Ryomen Sukuna was just easily the most incredible force to be reckoned with. Whether that be meeting him personally or whether that be hearing baout him in passing.

Everyone would say the same thing about him — it's hard to find out what to say about him without going on a tangent for hours on end. And that was just the easiest thing to do, rather than finding anything definite to say.

The one and only captain of the top ranking college varsity volleyball team in all of Japan, Ryomen Sukuna dominated the court like it was his personal kingdom with that iron fist. He has such a stellar record of existence, that was to be sure, wearing the crown.

All his opponents could only quiver at the sight of his one of a kind powerful line spike. All the teammates he'd have since junior high could only respect and fear him with almost military reverence, like he was their general.

Of course, all his coaches over the years swore he could crush concrete if he so much as clenched his fists mid-serve. That perhaps, it would be good to gentle parent him as much as possible, knowing he's already quite the fire cracker of a man.

Or that he could end up cussing out everyone at the court as easily as one does breathing. That's of course, why the coaches would find him to be the "Cursed King." It was an intimidating title that had followed him since junior high school.

One moment he's someone that you curse because you lost a game because of him, another time you curse him because your team got fined because he ended up causing a fight. And with a name like that, Sukuna relished the air of invincibility it gave him.

Everyone had a box for Sukuna to fit in, of course. That continued over time, to be something that people couldn't avoid making for him and only him. That was just how it was, when you have someone as enigmatic as him.

To some of his teammates, he was "Cap"—the iron-willed leader who demanded nothing less than perfection. The one that would force them to run miles on end until they fell from exhaustion. The one who forced them to do hundreds of spikes until it took out the bottles he prepared on the other side of the court.

The rival schools referred to him as "Demon Spike" but this was mostly because he left a trail of destruction (and bruises) every time he stepped onto the court. One moment that's from the fact that his serves were just dangerously low and one moment it's because he heard someone bad mouth his underclassman.

To the younger underclassmen, who unfortunately still looked at him with bright eyes under those filtered glasses on — he was a mix of "Sensei of True Discipline" and "Volleyball God".

He was to them, a figure of unadulterated awe and of course, that desire to hope, that perhaps they would end up like him too. After all, he was always a star in the court. But in a different way, in the good way. That's how they think.

Of course, even his many teachers and now his college professors had their own opinions for him one at a time over the many years. One of the most known nicknames for him by the professors in the college halls is “The GPA Crusher”.

But this was because Ryomen Sukuna spent more time perfecting his jump serves against his opponent than ever having effort in writing essays for submission. Ironically, even though he was quite a smart young man. The fact that he shows up to exams more than classes and still passes with flying colors is quite certain proof.

But to you, his beloved girlfriend, Ryomen Sukuna was none of these things. He didn’t live in a box and he never wished to do so, no. Instead, he lived eternally, forever, even in the next life — in your heart.

Though he’d never say something that cheesy out loud. That part is not easy for him, but you didn't mind that. You liked to keep him to yourself most of the time. And he was satisfied with that.

The most you could hear from him about you is in passing. Sometimes practice would finish and he, still full of sweat, would immediately pack his things into his gym bag, almost suddenly becoming ignorant of everything else.

His underclassman would invite him to eat something like yakuniku and he would say with a straight face — "I can't. My girfriend wants to cook some authentic pasta for me at her place. Bye."

He would leave almost instantly, much to the shock of the underclassman each year. But most of his teammates, who were also somehow his friends, were not surprised. He and you were dating early on during junior high school. And he would be the same way.

When he wasn't looking, people could only surmise what he looked like when he towered over your giddy figure at every practice, at every game — 'Ah, I see. He's lovesick. And in a good way.'

To Sukuna, you were perhaps the only thing that could triumph against volleyball. You were his number one. And he knew that you thought of him the same way too. And everyone knew that too.

That's why you only ever called him one thing: my love. And to Sukuna, that title was worth more than any championship trophy. But of course, no one knew that. It's not like you don't call him that in public. It's just that no one asks, what that nickname is.

The look in your eyes was more than enough when he makes a wink for you at each serve was enough, the smile on your lips when he comes to greet you at the bleachers was more than enough. No one needed to hear the nickname to know that there was something loving between the two of you.

He knew this truth as well as he knew how to spike a ball with a precise edge. He knew this as much as he knew what would get him a championship. But of course, that doesn't stop curiosity at times. At times he humors them, at times he does not. It was a hit and miss.

That’s why, during a post-practice break, when the Vice Captain of the Volleyball team, Gojo Satoru, decided to start stirring the pot as usual with his antics. And somehow, today, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t mind it. There was something in the air. They could feel it.

(He won't tell anyone about this, but he has very happy about something.

He was after all happy that his girlfriend was staying at his dorm tonight to spoon on his bed after your finals kept you apart for nearly two weeks —

But no one needs to know that.

Otherwise, they'd use it against him.

And he can't have that right now.

It will spoil these bastards and make them too relaxed before championships again.)

Gojo leaned against the bleachers with that signature cocky grin. “Hey, Sukuna.” he drawled, as he watched the captain drink from his water bottle. "You’ve got about a million nicknames floating around. But what are you to your girlfriend?”

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t miss a beat.

He put down his water bottle swiftly.

He glared at Gojo Satoru with a passion.

He tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded with that calm arrogance he wore so well. “Huh? My girl can only call me my love or nothing.” he said, his voice practically dripping with pride.

"Hehhhhh, really?"

“If she calls me anything else, I’ll disappear and leave no trace. Hell, I'll jump off a cliff and make sure I drown into the ocean and never be seen again."

Gojo barked out a laugh, his hands clapping together as if Sukuna had just told the world’s funniest joke. “Wow. Our captain sure is seriously whipped. Actually, that probably doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

"I'm serious about my girl." Sukuna retorted back, snickering at the white haired vice-captain. "I'm serious, if she calls me anything else, I'll be nothing. Just how it is."

"I see, I see."

Before Sukuna could fire back something at him, Gojo’s attention shifted to something—or someone—over Sukuna’s shoulder. Gojo started pointing at the doorway.

“Oh, and here she is now, captain.” he said, smirking like a man who’d just lit a match in a fireworks factory. "Your beloved girlfriend!"

Ryomen Sukuna turned slowly, his earlier bravado evaporating the second he saw you standing at the gym door. Your arms were crossed, your eyes sharp, and your posture practically screamed, You’re in trouble.

“Sukuna.” you called out, your tone cutting through the gym like a whistle signaling the end of a game.

His entire body could only stiffen. He didn’t just flinch—he practically short-circuited. The other players and members, the entire volleyball staff, sensing the shift in the air, immediately stopped what they were doing to watch the drama unfold. All of their eyes were glued on this moment, more than anything.

“Ryomen Sukuna!” you said again, each syllable landing like the sound of a referee’s whistle before a penalty.

Sukuna’s brain scrambled for an escape route. “What the fuck?” he muttered under his breath, frozen in place.

“Ryomen Sukuna, come here.”

“No.” His voice cracked as he stood up so fast he nearly knocked over a water bottle.

His scarlet eyes were shaking as much as his body was. No one has ever seen this before. No one had ever seen the panic on his face before. Not even in a hard game to win. This was the very first time their formidable captain looked so defeated and horrified.

“No, no, my name is my love! It’s my love! What did I do?” he asked, practically sprinting toward you like a volleyball rolling out of bounds.

Gojo Satoru, thoroughly entertained, cackled so hard he nearly fell off the bleachers. “Man, even the Cursed King has a leash!” he wheezed, clutching his stomach. "This is how he is with her. That's interesting, isn't it?"

"He doesn't look like who he actually is in the moment, huh." Nanami Kento whispered under his breath, wiping the sweat with the towel over his shoulder. "We should have used this card when he refused to stop practice during last year's finals."

"Well now we can." Geto Suguru snickers, lounging on the floor as he watched the scene with mirth in his purple gaze. "Does anyone have objections?"

"None here!" The chorus of seniors and juniors retorted back at him.

"Someone save her phone number for speed dial!" Gojo said, pointing to one of the managers who nodded.

By the time Ryomen Sukuna reached you, he was a completely different man. The fearsome captain who dominated courts and crushed spirits was reduced to a panicked, apologetic mess. You continued to stand before him, rolling your eyes, his towering figure in tatters at what you called him.

“I swear I didn’t do anything! There's no girls or even guys! There isn't anything else. You can check my phone. Or you can ask everyone here too!"

"Sukuna—"

"Whatever it was, I’ll do everything fix it and make it right, babe—just don’t call me that again. Please!” he begged, his voice low enough that only you could hear the desperation in it.

"Calm down." You raised an eyebrow, letting him stew for a moment before finally speaking. “You forgot to text me that practice was running late. And I was concerned. I thought we were going to meet up at the cafe nearby so we can go to your dorm together!”

Sukuna blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” you said, though your tone suggested you might have a few more grievances stored up for later. "Well, I'm also hungry."

Sukuna exhaled so dramatically it was a wonder he didn’t collapse on the spot. “I’ll never forget again, okay?” he promised, his voice full of sincerity. “Babe, I’ll set an alarm—no, two alarms—just for you. And don't worry, we're gonna eat. Actually, take my card and buy something in the cafe while you wait for me.”

As he continued to rattle off promises, you couldn’t help but smile at him. Cursed King or not, to you, Sukuna was just your dorky loving boyfriend, forever trying to live up to his title of my love in your life. And if the rest of the gym wanted to watch him grovel? Well, that was just an added bonus. By the gods, you love him.

"I love you, my love." You whispered to him, taking his hand into yours. "I'm sorry I scared you like that."

"No, no, that was my fault." He grumbled under his breathe, taking a moment to settle in the warmth of your eyes, reserved just for him. "I should have noticed the time. I will never forget about it again, I promise."

"Hm, that's all that matters, my love."

"I'll make us dessert tonight as an apology." He says, moving closer to kiss your temple.

"That would be good, my love."

As Sukuna continued his frantic apologies, the rest of the gym erupted into poorly stifled snickers. Gojo Satoru, of course, was the loudest, slapping his knee like he’d just witnessed the greatest comedy set of the century.

“My love, huh? Big, bad Cursed King reduced to a golden retriever!” he teased, practically howling. “Hey, did you hear that, boys? If she calls him Ryomen Sukuna one more time, he might just cry.”

“Should we start calling him my love too, senpai? Y’know, in solidarity?” chimed Underclassman Itadori Yuuji, grinning as he leaned on his volleyball. The suggestion earned a chorus of laughs and a few enthusiastic nods.

“Yeah, Cap! Don’t worry, my love, we’ve got your back!” Underclassman Fushiguro Megumi deadpanned from the sidelines, his usual stoic face cracking into a rare smirk.

One of the first year underclassman, emboldened by the chaos, cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “We love you, my love! You’re our MVP for all seasons! With so much love, my love!”

Sukuna whipped his head around, his scarlet glare promising death, destruction, and possibly laps for everyone involved. “If anyone other than my girlfriend calls me that, I swear.” he growled, “I will personally make sure you regret it.”

“Sure, my love!” Gojo crowed, leaning back against the bleachers with a devilish grin. “Ooooh, should we get it printed on the back of your jersey? Cursed King on the front, My Love on the back—perfect balance, don’t you think?"

Geto laughs loudly. "You know what, I think we can make this happen. Coach! We got the budget for that, right?"

“Or maybe embroider it on the team banner!” someone else chimed in, sending the gym into another fit of laughter.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, doubling over as Sukuna turned a deeper shade of red than the volleyballs on the court. His sharp retorts and death glares only fueled the chaos, the once-commanding presence of the Cursed King now utterly eclipsed by the sheer hilarity of the moment.

Finally, Sukuna turned back to you, his expression a mix of betrayal and exasperation. “You’re supposed to defend me, babe.” he muttered, his voice low but desperate.

You reached up to pat his cheek, your grin as sweet as honey. “Oh, my love, I am defending you. I’m making sure they never forget how cute you are to me."

For the rest of practice, you sat down and watched everything unfold before you as you ate your croissant and drank your coffee from the cafe which you bought using your boyfriend's card, of course.

For a while, the gym echoed with the sound of volleyballs, laughter, and the occasional teasing chorus of “My love!” — especially when Sukuna found himself scoring a point, which of course led to him missing the next hit.

Every time someone said it later on, Ryomen Sukuna looked seconds away from snapping a net in half, but deep down, though he’d never admit it, he wouldn’t have traded his nickname or the teasing for anything in the world. Not when you were there, cheering it for him with that adorable voice of yours, loving him completely.

Maybe it wasn't so bad to be lovesick like that.

Not when it was you who loved him just like that.

That's just how he loved you too.

══════���═══════════

epilogue

After what felt like the longest practice of his life, one that was just peppered with relentless teasing from his teammates and the volleyball team staff — Ryomen Sukuna was finally free to leave with you, to enjoy the weekend together.

He barely said goodbye to the others, grumbling something about “making them run that suicidal hill again on Monday” before grabbing his bag and leading you out of the gym.

“Unbelievable.” he muttered under his breath as you walked side by side. “Gojo’s gonna be insufferable for weeks.”

You stifled a laugh. “Weeks? You mean forever.”

He shot you a look, but there was no real heat behind it. Instead, he sighed and draped an arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to his car. “You’re lucky I love you, y’know. Otherwise, I might’ve disappeared on the spot after what you pulled, babe.”

“Oh, come on, my love.” you teased, leaning into him. “It was worth it to see the great Cursed King turn into a puddle in front of everyone. Especially because he loves me.”

“You’re cruel, babe." he grumbled, but there was a small, fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can't believe I've loved you since we were in junior high."

You winked at him, smile on your lips growing wider. "And for forever too! You'll have to deal with it."

By the time you got back to Sukuna’s place, you immediately made the move to cook while he got into the shower. Soon enough, the air was thick with the scent of miso broth bubbling on the stove.

You’d planned this hotpot night earlier, since he was supposed to have gone home much earlier. But after the chaos at the gym and his long grueling practice, you just felt like it was even more well-earned.

Sukuna, finally emerging from the bedroom, rolled up his sleeves and helped you set the table, his mood softening with each step of the ritual as you hummed along the song playing on the radio.

“You got everything, babe?” he asked, peering over your shoulder as you arranged plates of thinly sliced meat, tofu, and an assortment of vegetables.

“Yup.” you replied, popping a piece of bok choy into your mouth. “And don’t even think about hogging all the meat this time.”

“Me? Hog it?” He snorted, grabbing the chopsticks and pointing them at you in mock accusation. “You’re the one who fishes out all the good stuff when I’m not looking.”

“That’s called strategy, my love.” you said, grinning as you threw his words from earlier back at him.

Sukuna groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Not you too…”

You waved your chopsticks at him. "Well, I say it more lovingly. You like it like that, you know!"

He grumbles under his breath, red appearing on his cheek. "You're lucky I love you like that."

"Hm, that's why I'm shameless!"

But any complaints were quickly forgotten as the two of you settled down around the simmering hotpot. The warmth of the broth, the crackling of the stove, and the quiet clink of chopsticks filled the room. Sukuna started to relax, his earlier frustrations melting away as he watched you happily dunk mushrooms and noodles into the pot.

“Okay, babe.” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’ve decided.”

You raised an eyebrow, chewing on a piece of tofu. “Decided what?”

“Next time Gojo calls me ‘my love’ in front of everyone, instead of just you, it’s on sight,” Sukuna said, leaning forward with a wicked grin that promised destruction.

He jabbed his chopsticks into a slice of tofu like it was Gojo’s face. “I’m spiking a volleyball straight at his stupid face.”

You burst out laughing, nearly choking on the piece of fish cake you’d been chewing. “Good luck with that. He’ll just dodge it and make fun of you even more. You know how he is—Gojo thrives on chaos. The man’s immune to consequences.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, stabbing another piece of tofu with unnecessary aggression. “Then I’ll spike two balls. One after the other. And if that doesn’t work…”

You looked at him curiously, mirth in your eyes. "What will you do?"

He paused, his brow furrowing in mock concentration. “I’ll add laps. So many laps. He’ll be running until graduation.”

You snorted, wiping a tear from your eye. “Right, because Gojo would totally listen to your orders. He’d just turn it into a race and leave everyone else in the dust.”

Sukuna grumbled under his breath, his scowl deepening—but the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. “Fine. If volleyball and laps don’t work, I’ll come up with something else. Something evil.”

“Evil?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What, like stealing his Bottega Veneta sunglasses?”

“Too easy. He’s got like fifty pairs, babe.” Sukuna muttered, resting his chin on his hand as he considered his options. “Maybe I’ll prank him during practice. Replace his water with vinegar. Or set his alarms an hour early every day.”

"I forgot he makes his password too easy for people to guess." You murmured, drinking from your cup. You sigh. "Well, I suppose that would work."

"Right? Fool-proof!"

You tilted your head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Hmm, as solid as that is, what if he gets revenge? Gojo’s the type to double down, you would know best."

He hummed. "I'm way better at being stubborn than he is."

"I know that. But he might start serenading you in the middle of practice. Like, full-on ‘My Love’ with a guitar and everything on campus like it's 10 Things I Hate About You."

Sukuna froze, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “He wouldn’t.”

“Oh, he absolutely would.” you said, grinning. “And you’d never live it down. The Cursed King getting serenaded in front of the entire team? In front of the whole university? They’d be talking about it for years.”

He groaned, dropping his chopsticks and leaning back against the chair like he’d just been defeated in battle. “Why do I even put up with him? Or any of you, for that matter.”

“Because deep down, you love us.” you said, smiling sweetly as you plopped another piece of meat into the hotpot. “Even Gojo.”

“I do not love Gojo,” Sukuna snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Sure, sure, my love!” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “But admit it—you’d miss him if he wasn’t around to drive you insane.”

Sukuna gave you a flat look, but the twitch of his lips betrayed him again. “I’d miss you more.” he said gruffly, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip.

“Aww, my love.” you cooed, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re stuck with me.”

“Good to know, babe.” he said, turning back to the hotpot with a satisfied grunt. “At least you don’t call me my love in front of the team like that.”

You smirked, swirling your chopsticks through the broth. “Not yet, anyway.”

Sukuna froze mid-bite, glaring at you with wide eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

“No promises!” you said with a mischievous grin, earning a groan from him that was half exasperation, half affection.

"You're such a menace."

"Well, that's how you know I love you, my love!" You grinned, moving forward to steal his tonkatsu.

"Babe!" He groans, as he watches you eat the tonkatsu happily.

"I love you!"

Sukuna sighs, his eyes softening, watching you happily eat. "I love you too......"

[pedgito]

𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 | Harry Castillo x reader

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summary | Five years of being his assistant and five years of failed attempts at finding love with your help, but maybe the obvious answer has been there the entire time. Alternatively, you fucked your boss? Uh-oh.

author's note | harry...randy...who knows. i'll change it if needed but given the name tag, this is what i'm sticking with for now. skip the lecture about not writing until the movie is out, this isn't hurting anyone so don't bother me about it, xo. the horny demons always win. i listened to this song i repeat while i wrote, felt fitting.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, power imbalance (boss/assistant), work wife/work husband type beat, mentions of failed dating, being superficial, mentions of sugar daddy things, expensive gifts, reader is a godly assistant with a will stronger than mine, he smokes, they drink, sex while inebriated, he's down so bad, also oral!, tense morning after, open-ended

word count — 4.5k

You knew him better than anyone.

From his breakfast order down to his specific choice of underwear, like you weren’t making the weekly purchases and filling up his rarely used fridge in the apartment that was way out your price range, arranging his schedule down to the minute, booking his flights, packing his bag.

Really, Harry should just marry you.

…it was more of a joke, but you’ve teased him about it once or twice.

He called you his work wife anyways, but in reality, you were just his assistant.

He did trust you with his life, though.

More importantly, his love life.

“Kim flaked,” he tells you over coffee, perched at his kitchen island as you typed away on your laptop, looking up briefly with eyes that begged for him to explain, he does and makes a show about, mimicking a more feminine voice as he relays the message she gave him, “same song and dance—you’re great and fun but I can’t do anything serious right now,”

“Were you nice?” you ask curiously.

Harry rolls his eyes at that, like it was a stupid question to ask. But, eventually he nods.

“Did you ask questions?” you continue, fingers folding over the screen of your laptop to close it.

“Plenty, she works in finance, loves the color blue, wants to travel,” he could go on and on, throwing his hands up in defeat before they slump to his side, “maybe I should try out a real matchmaker—not that you’re bad at it—”

“You think I’m bad at it,” you smile knowingly, “don’t you?”

“No,” you’re unconvinced, “besides—you’re my assistant, I never meant for that type of responsibility to fall on you, you know?”

“I’m doing both of us a favor,” you remind him, “I think…it just takes time.”

And fortunately, all you had was time.

It felt pointless for Harry to spend a chunk of cash to have someone pair him up with the supposed love of his life, though you knew that money wasn’t a problem, you felt a weird responsibility to protect him, unsure how quickly someone would take advantage of his kindness.

“There’s a gala,” you tell him offhandedly, “next week. I already cleared your schedule for it. I think…maybe you should just peruse this time.”

“Peruse?” he chuckles, eyes creasing in amusement, his crow’s feet deepening with the emotion, “You’re a control freak, you sure about that?”

“That’s just mean,” you retort, “you’re paying me anyways—if you didn’t like it you’d fire me.”

He knew you were right, sipping quietly at his coffee in response.

He was frustrating, predictable, and painfully superficial. 

Every date was an exercise in appearances—perfectly tailored suits, dinner at the most exclusive places, charm turned up to eleven. And yet, none of it ever stuck. He was overcompensating and you weren’t sure why.

He was a good guy, down to his core, and in the five years you had worked with him there was never a moment you thought he didn’t deserve love, he was perfect. Too perfect.

That was the problem.

“You know, you’re like prime age to be a sugar daddy,” you tease him, knowing how he felt about the topic, “there’s plenty of apps that I can—”

“You’re relentless,” he grumbles, “if you ever did that, I’m firing you on the spot.”

“You wouldn’t,” it was a gentle challenge, smirk flashing across your face as he returned it with fondness, “without me you would crash and burn, Mr. Castillo.”

And he knows it.

–

The gala is a bust.

So, as a bandaid to his wounded ego, you order takeout and keep him company in his big, lavish apartment��it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

You knew what the issue was, but there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that told you he wouldn’t receive the information well.

It was after every failed date, every expensive dinner.

They saw him at the surface, the charming man with an easy, warm smile.

You saw the man who kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his suit jacket the second he walked through the door, who couldn’t resist a late-night binge of his newest streaming obsession, someone who insisted on stirring his coffee counterclockwise because it made it taste better, a man would text you pictures of squirrels in the park that he would feed on his way home.

It wasn’t that you were pining over him. You just knew him better than anyone.

“Why are you so dead set on marriage?” you ask him over dinner, turned toward him on the couch as he reaches for the remote to pause the show on screen.

He’s had this conversation before, but he’s never asked you any questions on the matter.

“What’s your opinion on it?” he’s avoiding, clearly, but you’ll bite.

“I don’t date, I’m not interested, signing a piece of paper isn’t going to signify my feelings toward someone if it came down to that,” you admit, “I’m not cynical, marriage is fine, but this stuff takes time,”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Harry gripes, arms reaching over the back of the couch as he mirrors your position.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, “you’re forty-nine.”

“Almost fifty,” he corrects, “I’m ancient.”

“O-kay,” you sigh, “do you want honesty?”

“I’d hope you were being honest with me all the time.”

“No,” you laugh softly, “like…brutal fucking honesty?”

He’s silent, but attentive. 

“You keep choosing women who treat you like they’re next getaway vacation and you fall for it every time,” his forehead creases at the words, looking hurt by your words, “I see your bank payments every month, the activity—”

“It’s not like money is an issue,” he defends, causing you to sigh dramatically and fall back against the arm of the couch in faux distress.

“This is impossible,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling before you feel his hand circle around your wrist, tugging gently,

“Okay, I’m listening,” Harry says softly, pulling you upright, “I’m sorry—I am.”

“You want it to work so bad,” you tell him, “I see it—every time you approach someone you put on that smile and it works, but you’re giving so much and yeah, maybe some of them like that, but I’m sure a few would just enjoy a nice dinner here, or something simple. I think you forget to realize that someone can just be interested in you, for you, not for what you are or have,”

It’s profound, the way his face softens at your words, his touch still lingering around your wrist.

You’ve never even considered or entertained the idea that you might find Harry attractive or even attainable—for one, you had signed a contract that agreed to a professional work relationship, as a benefit for both of you, not that he ever had any intention to begin with.

You’ve been with him for so long, it feels, a fresh and young mind to help keep him active and busy, constantly refreshing ideas and helping him not feel like he was stuck, and you were damn good at taking care of him when he’s often tended to neglect himself.

The only thing you know is that he’s never looked at you like that.

Like you could see straight through him, all his flaws on display.

But, that was because you knew all of them.

You knew everything about him, even the worse bits.

His bad habits, his self-inflicting ones, everything that he refused to bring to the surface.

Harry’s fingers still lingered around your wrist, the weight of your words sinking in. 

But then, just like he always did, he broke the tension with a huff of laughter and frowns as he brushed you off.

“You just think I’m a sucker, don’t you?”

You shook your head with a faint smile, returning your arm to your lap.

“No—I think you like to see the good in people. So much good that you’re willing to ignore red flags.”

“Jeez,” he chuckled, clutching his stomach like you had physically wounded him, “that hurt.”

You shrugged and reached for the remote to resume the picture on screen, “You’ll survive.”

–

It was your day off—Sunday, the one day.

“Have you seen my cufflinks laying around?” he asked over the video call, “Shit—my tie, too. I can’t find it anywhere. I thought you said you laid it out for me.”

“No, I said I had it hung up and for you to lay it out before you showered,” you correct him, laying tiredly on your couch as you watched him search around frantically, hair damp and his bare shoulders on display, only catching the briefest glimpses of the towel around his waist as he turned the camera around, “Waitwait—go back!”

“There’s no fucking way you saw it,” Harry argues, “I’ve been looking for the last ten minutes—”

“In the pocket of your suit, the tie is there,” you tell him, “and given that you probably tossed the suit on the bed like you always do, the cufflinks are probably somewhere hiding under the blanket,”

He tosses you against the mattress, your screen succumbing to darkness as you wait, some shifting of the sheets before you hear him make a sound before he appears again, cufflinks pinched between his fingers and a look of defeat on his face.

“What would you do without me?” you ask with a cocky grin, finger hovering over the end call button as he shakes his head.

“What was this for again?” Harry asks curiously, laying you down upright as you caught a glimpse of his bare chest as he shrugged the crisp, white button down over his shoulders.

“It’s a charity auction, your favorite,” you chirp, “and you’re flying solo, so—don’t do anything stupid or…crass,”

“If I paid you double a day of work would you go?” Harry asks after a long pause, glancing down at the screen, “Triple?”

“Triple?!” you gawk, “see—you’re insane, this is what I’m talking about,”

He chuckles despite your response, “You’re good at keeping the sharks away,”

There were particular hawking businessmen who made it their mission to hunt Harry down at events and keep him occupied, eager to do business, whatever it may be—you were the unspoken master of redirection, as much as he refused to admit it.

“Can we grab dinner on the way?” 

“Burgers?” Harry asks, perking up slightly.

It was a constant go-to for you and him.

You nod through the screen, “Don’t even bother with the tie either, I’ll do it.”

–

“I can’t believe you roped me into this on my day off,” you whisper at his side, earning a half-smirk from him.

The charity auction was as lavish as you’d expected.

Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, and far too much champagne and hors d'oeuvres. 

Harry’s hand found the small of your back the moment you arrived, steering you through a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, feeling uncomfortable in the tight dress and stilettos that you only wore on rare occasions, biting at your heels.

“You’ll survive,” he grins, grabbing you both a glass of champagne and pressing it into your waiting fingers, “I’m gonna…peruse, alright?”

“Don’t say it—that just makes you sound like a creep,” your face scrunches up in disgust as you sip at the alcohol, “just go—go, I’ll…handle everything else.”

The evening passed in a blur of small talk and polite smiles, but somewhere between the endless speeches and bidding wars, you found yourself on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief in the stuffy ballroom.

You smell him before you see him, the thick and rich scent of his cologne so familiar you swear you could find him on that alone, turning over your shoulder to see him closing the door quietly, cigarette pack tucked in his palm as he approached with a neutral expression.

“You okay?” you ask, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and then plucking a single cigarette from the box, “Honestly? I’m just tired of it.”

“The auctions? Charity?” you inquire, a small smile tugging at your face.

“All of it.” He looked at you, his gaze lingering as he lit the tobacco, “The events, the dates, searching for—I don’t even fucking know at this point,”

“The offer stands…” you say jokingly, though he knows exactly where this is heading.

“If I wanted a sugar baby I’d find one.”

Your eyes roam over his figure as he puffs at the cigarette, pulling a deep laugh from his chest before you’re pushing him away playfully.

“Let’s go,” he tells you with a deep sigh, stubbing out the end of the cigarette and tucking it away for later, tossing his arm over your shoulder as he readied to guide you through the crowd, always protective in spaces like this, another thing that was special to him.

–

The ride home is quiet, like it always is, both of you sitting in the backseat with the partition up, watching as he looked through his phone with a scowl, occasional typing and sending a message.

Eventually, he looks at you.

“Thank you,” He says with a soft tone, “I know this isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

You tilted your head into the headrest and smiled, crossing one thigh over the other as you worked at your heels to remove them, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—the free alcohol is always a plus.”

He chuckled at that, silently helping you remove your shoes with a soft squeeze to your foot.

That was normal—but, it forces you to pause.

His natural instinct to help, to touch, to comfort you.

Your brow furrows at the gesture before you shake it away, blaming it on the buzz of alcohol in your system, watching as he continues the gesture with the other foot.

“Having you there makes it bearable, is all,” he explains, looking up at you briefly as he undid the tie around your ankle, “you…calm me, I guess.”

You swallowed. Hard.

The warmth of his words lingering in your chest, in his touch against your ankle, “You’d do the same for me.”

And he would—if you ever needed anything, anything, Harry was there.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “without question.”

The sincerity caught you off guard. 

You turned to study him, the familiar slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. There was something about the way he looked tonight—tired, maybe, but softer. 

And he keeps looking at you, checking.

The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city blurring past in streaks of gold and blues and reds. The hum of the engine was steady, the faint sound of music barely audible from the front, through the glass, the back lit up dimly by the trim of lights on the roof and door.

Harry leaned back, one hand moved against the seat, his other hand dragging slowly over his thigh—restless. 

Instinctually, without thinking, you reached for his hand.

It wasn’t purposeful. Just a simple act of absentmindedness.

You’ve done it a hundred times before. 

Tugged at his sleeves to fix his cufflinks, brushed lint from his lapel or pants, adjusted the collar of his shirts. Constantly fixed his hair, touching him wasn’t new.

His skin was warm. Not hot, not cold.

You felt the slight twitch of his hand, like he was debating whether to move. Instead, his fingers shifted, just a fraction, enough that the edge of his thumbnail brushed over the inside of your wrist.

The contact was thoughtless, nothing.

But, in the same moment, it felt like everything.

The way his eyes watched the movement, roamed your body like they had before but with a different implication, his eyes half-lidded and relaxed, wondering how much alcohol he had consumed himself—this wasn’t friendly.

And it definitely wasn’t professional.

Harry’s gaze was on you now, your face, as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand.

Then his thumb moved. 

Up. 

Barely. 

A soft drag along your pulse.

It was half a decade of avoidance, defeat in his heart and mind, and fear in your own.

Broken, by the car rolling to a stop outside of Harry’s apartment building.

“We’re here, Mr. Castillo,” the voice of the driver came from the front, a nod of acknowledgement as his hand slipped from yours.

“Oh, hold on,” you were scooting aside to let him out, readied for the next stop as he cocks his head toward the building, “I’ve got something for you—I’ll drive you home, don’t worry,”

“Harry,” you stress, looking down at his hand that waves you toward him, extending out for you to grab, insistently as his fingers wiggle in wait.

Turns out, he wasn’t totally lying.

That something was accompanied by a seven thousand dollar bottle of Leroz Aux Brulees—you knew that because you had purchased it during his trip to France, the supposed city of love.

“I’m going to murder you,” you tell him as he places the bottle on the counter and keeps the closed case of mystery at his side, “hide your body, flee country—I hate surprises, you know that.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he grins, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring two hefty glasses, eyeing the deep red as it glugged into the glass.

“You know, if you wanted company you could have just asked,” you tell him, “I get it, you’re lonely,”

He knows you’re only teasing but it stings nonetheless, both of you taking a long and heavy sip as his fingers swirl over the velvet casing before he’s pushing it over quickly, tapping it with his fingers, “Open it,” he encourages, eyeing you over the rim.

You place your glass down and pry it open slowly, carefully, like you were deconstructing a bomb, but as the piece inside comes into view you find yourself at a loss for words or thoughts.

Your eyes are wide, staring up at him with parted lips that tingled from the lingering alcohol, knowing you should have cut yourself off at one glass of champagne and refused to come inside, that you should have just went home and enjoyed what little bit of the day you had left to yourself.

Now, you were looking back at a necklace so delicate you were afraid to stare at it too long, embedded with a cluster of diamonds and nearly two years of your rent if you were doing the math correctly in your mind.

Always about the numbers, Harry constantly teased.

“I saw how you looked at it the other day,” he admits, “and I owe you a hell of a lot more, but it…I’m trying to say thank you for…being you,”

“I’m not taking that,” you refuse with a laugh of disbelief, sliding back over to him gently, downing the rest of your wine in one go to forget how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“You are,” Harry insists, “consider it a bonus—Christmas is in a couple months, too.”

“You know…this is exactly that kind of stuff a sugar da—”

Harry makes a noise, shaking his head.

You bite your lip in thought, ignoring his subtle annoyance at your comment.

It was fucking beautiful, really.

You sigh, using one finger to turn the case back toward you, examining it closely.

Quietly, Harry presses his glass into the counter and rounds the edge toward you, his chest at your shoulder as he reaches for the jewelry, working carefully at the clasp before he’s motioning for you to relax your shoulders.

It wasn’t the stillness of the moment, but his touch, again.

He’s methodical in the way he touches you, dragging his hand around your neck as he fits the necklace into place, his fingertips pressing against the column of your throat in a way that tickles slightly, shifting uncomfortably until you hear the faint click and he breathes behind you, hands resting at your shoulders.

You’re not sure why he hasn’t moved, but you find yourself turning to speak.

“I’m just going to call an uber,” you tell him, “probably shouldn’t drive since we’ve both been drinking,”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow, his eyes not following you as you move.

You hop from the chair and bend down to grab your shoes, but his hand is curling around your bicep and pulling you up and he’s staring again, the charge of his touch sending a jolt through your body as freeze,

“Come here,” he beckons, too natural.

And you listen.

He’s soft, every part of him. Skin, clothes, hair, lips.

He’s kissing you gently, like you might break, but you can tell he wants more.

Needs more.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?” you find yourself asking as he parts from you, licking at his lips as you both take a breath, letting the moment settle.

He shakes his head, “Are you?”

“Maybe,” you answer honestly, “maybe…not—fuck, I don’t know,”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he promises, but you knew that was a lie.

Still, you nod in understanding.

–

He’s so tender with his touch, slipping you out of the dress in the dim light of his room.

Even softer as he guides you to your back and spreads himself on his belly between your legs, fingers interlocked with his at your hips as he buries his nose between your folds, his tongue splitting your cunt open in a sharp gasp that has you throwing your head back. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your body, igniting sparks along every inch of your skin. 

He kissed along the curve of your thighs, teasing, tasting, until the tension was unbearable and with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, it pulled you deeper into a haze of heady desire. 

This was reckless, dangerous, but neither of you found the moment to pause and think.

You wonder if things had been building to this for a while—if it was always supposed to happen this way or if he was acting off of greed; lust and companionship, even if just for a night.

You know you can ask him to stop at any point and he would, but even as his tongue brings you to your first orgasm of the night and he’s guiding you to your stomach, reaching blindly into his bedside table for a foil wrapping the crinkles loudly in the silence, you want this.

It was embarrassing how badly you wanted this.

He fucks you slow, too. 

It was torturous, his chest flat against your back as he palms his cock and feeds it into you.

You don’t talk, neither does he.

But, his low moans and stuttering breaths speak for him.

If you could see him, you’d know how furrowed his brow would be, a hand sliding over the curve of your ass until he can reach your thigh, beckoning for you to raise it without speaking.

You oblige, the angle of his thrusts changing on a dime.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” he admits like he’s confessing a sin.

“Please,” you plead—please stop talking, please keep going, please fuck me.

You couldn’t decide.

You feel him nod where his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades as his fist curls into the sheet beside your head.

“Another, gimme another,” he pleads, the fingers on his other hand curling under your neck to life your chin, not expecting to meet his eyes as he leans over you.

The expression on his face so raw it makes you flutter around him, his lips parting in a deep, guttural groan, “I know you can,” he nods hurriedly.

And damn, does the praise work.

Your whimper breaks him, breathing out shakily as you locked eyes when he comes, slow and forceful thrusts until you’re nothing but an exhausted pile of tangled limbs.

“Greedy girl,” he comments through the haze, a weak giggle bubbling from your chest.

He pulls out slowly, a low grunt as he does so.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake to a startling amount of weight over your stomach, an arm splayed possessively, the faint outline of a ring as you drag your hand over the limb.

It’s only as your eyes pry open that reality hits you, stumbling out of bed quickly.

No…nononono, where the fuck were your clothes? Jesus.

You stumble around half awake, searching for the silk dress on the floor, feeling accomplished when you find it and hastily redressing yourself as Harry stirs in bed, encouraging you to hurry, to slip out before he can say anything.

Your shoes are already on and you’re reaching for the doorknob when the voice comes, the weight of the necklace that still remained on your neck, two empty glasses of wine on the counter, a night of hasty choices and urgency laid out like a crime scene as his voice rings out from behind you, pleading.

“Don’t—don’t go,” Harry begs, “You don’t have to go,”

So much of this was wrong—it complicated everything.

Your life, your job, your relationship with him.

He can see you slipping, fingers inching toward the knob as he approaches you in a hurry, barefoot and shirtless, the kind of scene you shouldn’t be comforted with, like this was all normal to the both of you.

You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, but not when he’s looking at you so vulnerable, heart tore open and stapled to his chest, beating against your own as his hands splayed out over your cheeks.

“I don’t regret it,” he assures you again, “so please—stay, okay?”

“What changed?” you ask, voice trembling, “Five years, Harry. Five.”

“I’ve been running in circles this entire time,” he admits, “you know it—I know it.”

You had been there the entire time, learning every part of him without judgement, cataloging his flaws and skills, learning how he ticked and what motivated him. You had never quite settled on the ideal person to fit in his life as his partner, it surely wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be you.

“Please, don’t go,” Harry echoed once more.

The sick, cruel joke of it all was that this was your job. 

You had nowhere to go. If it was any other morning, you would just be arriving, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen and starting your day.

You nod solemnly, “Of course, Mr. Castillo.”

It was painstaking, forcing the mask back on.

But, you couldn’t deal with this now.

Or ever, even.

Harry looks at you with a confused sadness, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones before his hands fall to his side.

You’d figure this out, you always did.

[fragmentedblade]

Lately I've been fantasising with a Blade alt that's 5* Yingxing following the Erudition path

[planetaryupscaled]

The Best of Three

Male Reader x Gaeul x Sakura

Tags: 9k, smut, creampie, oral, threesome, tw

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

I hated returning home to an empty apartment on a Friday night, particularly when it was dark by the time I walked through the front door.

Shutting the door behind me, I switched on the lights, throwing my keys and everything on the coffee table, laying my bag down on one of the chairs before grabbing a beer from the fridge, sitting back on the three-seater lounge.

Flicking on the television, it was the usual inane news items, sighing to myself as I sipped at my beer. Picking up my phone, there were a few messages from friends, those I’d kept close after everything that happened. Even a couple of friends I’d kept since school now distanced themselves from me. I didn’t really blame them.

Shaking my head of the memories, I flicked to one of the channels. Flicking through my phone apps, I found the number for the local pizza joint. I was a regular there, chatting away with the sweet girl on the phone. And half an hour later, my pizza arrived.

Ten minutes later, the intercom buzzed. Groaning to myself, as I wasn’t expecting any company, and all I wanted to do was spend the weekend drunk, I got up and walked to the small panel.

“Yeah?”

“Heyy!” the voices outside exclaimed in unison.

I took a moment to blink and take a couple of breaths. If there were two people on the planet who loved me unconditionally, no matter what I did, it was those two. I was going to ask ‘What are you doing here?’ but that would have been rude, and I knew they were there for me anyway. I buzzed them up, hearing both of them thank me. Opening the door, I waited for them to appear.

As they approached me, I couldn’t help smile. It was almost unfair they were so damned beautiful, kind and caring, and not the hot mess like I was.

Did I say they were beautiful, gorgeous and could have been on the cover of magazines?

“Hey!” they both exclaimed, and before I knew it, I was being cuddled by two excitable girls.

Leading them inside, I offered them a glass of wine, as I always kept a couple of bottles around considering they were frequent visitors, sitting in between them on the three-seater lounge. I offered them a slice of pizza before I sat back, muting the television, glancing to either side of me. I received a sweet smile in return from the both.

“What are you doing here?”

“Let me guess,” Sakura replied, “You’re watching, eating a pizza and drinking beer, then you’ll pass out in bed later before spending the weekend feeling sorry for yourself.”

Shrugging helplessly, as they knew me well, both of them smiled at me but there was no missing the sadness in their eyes. “It’s been one year since you moved out of our apartment, two years since you broke up, three since you date her, and four since that afternoon,” Gaeul stated, “Isn’t it time to move on?”

“I have moved on. I have a good job. Have my own apartment. A few close friends.”

“But no girl in your life,” Sakura retorted.

“I find it very difficult to trust people nowadays, particularly a girl. Pretty much you two are the only I trust in the world.”

“You date a slut,” Gaeul suggested, “That’s on her, not on you.”

“Doesn’t change what she did to me, the fact I walked in on them, the fact it went on for so long, the fact the others involved were supposed to be my friends.”

“You’re coming out with us tonight. No more moping around your apartment every weekend,” Sakura pretty much demanded.

“I do go out! And I go out with you most of the time.”

“Well, the local cafe for a few drinks is not going out when not with us. You’re coming out with your gorgeous best friends to have fun. You remember what fun is, right?”

I grunted a non-committal response, which made them giggle before they cuddled into me. Glancing either way, they looked up at me with those big doe eyes they’d perfected over the years. From the moment I met them, they had me wrapped around their fingers.  I'd have done anything for them.

Finally, I sighed as I knew I wouldn’t win. “Okay, let me have a shower and get changed.”

“Want some company?” Sakura asked.

“We could help scrub your back,” Gaeul added.

They were always teasing me like that. If it wasn’t for them, I dread to think what my life would be like nowadays. Probably far lonelier, if I’m being honest.

“Wear something nice!” Sakura called out as I was about to step into the bathroom.

“But your stubble is perfect. Makes you look handsome.” Gaeul added.

Stepping under the hot water, I couldn’t help smile for a moment.

—

As I cleaned up in the shower, I reflected on the previous few months of my life.  Instead of our friendship becoming strained, as I honestly thought they were left feeling abandoned after I found the one, or so I thought. we seemed to be closer than ever. I spoke to both of them nearly every night. We sent messages and exchanged pictures throughout the day. We spent nearly every weekend together. I still wasn’t ready for dating so having some female companionship felt good.

I also picked up that, on the rare nights out I did have with them, neither they had a problem flirting with me. And I wasn’t your typical oblivious person. I knew when a girl was giving me the eyes but I guess I simply hadn’t looked at them like that.

They clearly loved me, as I do to them, and that left me questioning certain things. I barely heard about any boyfriends. They’d claimed they were not virgins but I also knew they were not the type of girls to go out on a night, pick up a guy, fuck them and then not speak to them again.

���

They’d organized to meet a few of their good friends. The bar we met them was trendy enough. Not really the place I’d head to by myself considering the price of a beer was eye-watering. I did the gentlemanly thing and offered to buy the first round. They told me my money was worthless, I was their guest and all they wanted was my company.

Conversation flowed and I was center of attention. After an hour, I found myself relaxing and enjoying the evening. I realized that the one topic not to be touched was that of my ex-girlfriend, but anything else was fair game. But we generally avoided anything that would bring down the mood. Sakura sat to my left, Gaeul to my right, and they didn’t move, ordering their rounds via their phones so they could be delivered to our table.

After a few drinks, the girls wanted to dance. They knew I never went to nightclubs. But what they wanted, they got. A pout, doe eyes and pleading with me, feeling their fingers running up and down my arms and chest, and I was putty in their paws. Their friends giggled but I also saw looks that suggested they knew too. I thought they’d be weirded out the obvious affection the two had for me.

Once inside, we avoided the over-priced drinks, sticking to water or soft drink, and headed to the dancefloor. Despite my aversion to the music, I could still move to the beat. No other girl got a look in the entire time was there, they both draped over me the entire time. It wasn’t the first time, but I was now paying more attention. Even their friends barely got my attention. If we’d been in the sort of place that had slow music, I had little doubt two bodies would be molded into mine.

No idea what time we rolled out of the club. I was a gentleman again, making sure all our friends were off safely first. That earned me a kiss on the cheek from each of them but a certain look I tried hard to read, almost as if they understood. The three of us shared a taxi again, this time I was in the middle of the back seat, Sakura and Gaeul to either side. The taxi driver met my eyes in the rearview mirror and grinned at me.

Arriving at my place, Sakura let me out, Gaeul got out on her side. Before I could say a word, Gaeul paid the driver while Sakura took my hand, leading me to the door leading into the building. Taking the elevator up to the floor of my apartment, I opened the door and stood aside, letting them in first. When they headed straight for my bedroom, I followed them slowly, walking in to find them stripping down to their lingerie. Against their pale skin, Sakura in black, Gaeul in red, they turned and smiled at me. They were absolute visions.

Walking towards me, I’m fairly sure I stood there slack-jawed. They ran a hand up an arm each before meeting at the buttons of my shirt, helping undo that and take it off. Their fingers continued to move across my chest down to the belt of my jeans. They undid that but then moved down to my feet, helping take off my shoes and socks, both of them on their knees as they undid the button then lowered the zip of my jeans.

That left me in my bedroom in only my underwear with my two goddess best friend in their lingerie. And there was no missing the tent in my underwear. Both rose slowly, raking their nails over my skin, both making sure they trailed lightly over my erection.

“What are we doing here?” I had to ask softly.

“Going to bed,” Sakura replied.

“We’re going to keep you company,” Gaeul added.

“How do we look?” Sakura wondered.

“Are we pretty?” Gaeul asked.

I took half a step back and looked them up and down. I felt my cock throb from the excitement. They were my best friends and I probably shouldn’t see them in such a situation. Huh, that word again. Situation. Both stepped forward and pressed their warm bodies into mine, a hand each moving up my back to the top of my head. Sakura was the first to kiss me, a soft meeting of our lips. It wasn’t a chaste kiss but wasn’t quite that of lovers. Gaeul then kissed me in a similar manner. My fingers were caressing each back on offer at the same time. When I moved further down, they both smiled at me.

“You can touch us anywhere you want,” Sakura breathed.

“We’re here for you, to make you happy. Tonight, we’re going to share your bed to sleep.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure how easy sleep will be,” I muttered.

“Hey?” I met Sakura’s eyes. “You realize now how we feel?” I searched her eyes before doing the same with Gaeul. “We love you.”

“Like, totally,” Gaeul added, both of them giggling at the phrase.

“You mean ‘love’ love, like the love I shared with...”

“No!” Sakura shouted, Gaeul shouting the same word in unison. “We love you so much more than that slut!”

“Sorry, I didn’t...”

Before I could finish, Sakura kissed me. Within a few seconds, it was the sort of kiss lovers would share. Without thinking, I slid my tongue into her mouth and she whimpered within a few seconds. Breaking the kiss, her eyes were already glistening before I turned and kissed Gaeul exactly the same way. When she whimpered, I pulled back and noticed the same look.

“Kissing is one thing, but... Anything else... we shouldn’t even be doing this.”

“So we take it as slow as you want,” Gaeul replied, “But do you love us?”

“Of course, I do.”

“But can you love us like you now know how we want you to?” Sakura asked, and I heard a hint of desperation. I’m not sure why they were doing it tonight, but I think they’d been waiting and they were laying their hearts out on the line.

It was time to make the confession. “I already do love you like that, it’s why I had to move out.” For a brief moment, the smiles faltered as I knew they were still hurt, but I think they now understood. “But there's a line in the friendship that should not be crossed.  Once we have crossed that line...”

“We’ll cross it when you’re ready,” Gaeul stated.

Turning them both around, we hopped into bed, me in the middle Sakura to my left, Gaeul to my right. One of their legs was lifted onto my body, one of their hands relaxing on my chest, running up and down through the faint covering of hair. My arms were wrapped around them. When their hands moved further down my body, I gave each of them a glance, noticing the smirk on their faces.

Feeling them reach the band of my underwear, I sucked in a breath when they didn’t delay in sliding under and I felt two smaller hands caress my cock. “Fuck,” I muttered.

“We want to look after our best friend,” Sakura whispered into my ear.

“In every single way,” Gaeul whispered into my other one.

“We’re yours forever.”

“Do you need to cum?”

I managed to nod my head, considering I’d been turned on since my earlier shower when I’d been thinking of our recent times together. The fact they were always dressed to impress whenever we went out. The constant flirting and flagrantly trying to turn me on. The constant innuendo. Those looks they’d give that suggested they wanted nothing more than their best friend to bend them over the table and do many naughty things to them both.

“Do you need us to take care of this hard thing in your underwear?”

There it was from Sakura. The moment of truth. The line in the sand. Pandora’s Box about to be opened. Once it happened, it couldn’t be undone. Can’t unring a bell. “Are you sure?” I had to ask.

“We always love you,” Gaeul whispered, and I heard the shudder of breath.

“We always have been,” Sakura added, hearing the emotion in hers too. “And now you’re ours.”

I gave it all of three seconds thought before I nodded. Gaeul giggled and rolled away, returning with the lube I used for my private moments. Both sat up and eagerly helped lower my underwear. They both grinned when my cock came into view. Minji had never complained about it, but she’d also cheated on me. That sort of things does impact your ego and leaves you questioning plenty of things about yourself.

“Bigger than your ex.”

“And yours.” Sakura giggled. “God, that sounds even worse when we’re in here. We only saw it by accident!”

I blushed and chuckled. “Um, one other thing,” Gaeul stated, “We’ve never been with a guy before.”

“What?” I asked, my voice deadpan. I didn’t expect that.

They both smiled at me. “Technically, we’re not virgins but we had to learn about a few things, obviously, but we’ve only ever wanted you. Why do you think we were so upset when you told us you were going to that that slut?” Sakura retorted.

Sitting up, I immediately pulled them into my body and hugged them. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I had no idea you felt like that at the time.”

“It’s okay,” they both assured me, kissing me on each cheek.

“We’re here now,” Sakura stated in the sort of tone that suggested no argument.

“Now lie back as we want to play with your cock!” Gaeul stated excitedly.

Lying back, I couldn’t help smile as their eyes were still full of their love for me, but added to that was a healthy dose of lust. When I suggested that they might as get naked as well, they glanced each other, changed a smile, and suggested I help them. Sitting back on my knees, I kissed Sakura as I helped take off her bra, before I lowered her panties, pulling her into my body and making her whimper again as my cock pressed into her. Doing the same to Gaeul, I squeezed her cheeks at the same time. When I broke the kiss, her eyes were hooded in that manner where I could have probably thrown her back and just had my way with her.

On my back, Gaeul applied lube and I soon had the joy of four hands caressing my cock. How I didn’t cum in two minutes, I don’t know. As I looked down to see my two best friends playing with me, giggling away.

“I love you both,” I whispered.

They both smiled as they quickly figured out what felt really good. “This is just to get you to sleep tonight,” Sakura explained, “But we know taking it slow is best.”

“But we’re hoping we’ll make love sooner rather than later. We’ve been waiting a while.”

“I agree, Gaeul. Agree on the sooner thing,” I grunted as they were now working my shaft with a hand each.

I watched enraptured as they stroked me off. I was almost wanting to ask if they’d blow me. I swear they were mind readers as they assured me that, next time, they’d both be sucking me off to an orgasm, and they both giggled by promising they’d swallow. And they’d want to try a facial. And cum on their tits too. Basically, I could cum anywhere I wanted on them. But was that after fucking their pussy or ass? When they mentioned anal, I damn near exploded.

“That’s one cherry neither of us has given up,” Sakura added, “That’s yours and yours alone, whenever you want it. Well, not before we’ve made love a few times anyway.”

When I told them I was close, they smiled and turned around so they were facing away from me, but I got a perfect look at two pert little butts, and they purposely spread their legs so I got a fantastic view of their bald little pussies. My mouth watered as they were both clearly turned, almost dripping wet with excitement. Reaching out with just a finger from each hand, I delicately ran a finger up each slit on offer. They made a sound between a gasp and a choked sob, then a plea for me to just touch them ever so lightly.

That helped me orgasm as I blasted within a couple of minutes. No idea where half my cum went, Gaeul quickly disappearing into the bathroom to retrieve a wet washcloth, wiping down my cock, and around my lower abdomen. Feeling a little light-headed, as that was one hell of an orgasm, they both turned around and cuddled into me.

“What about you?”

“Want to see us play with ourselves?” Sakura asked, “It’s late, we’re horny, but we want a whole night of your pleasuring us when it’s the first time. How turned on are you, Gaeul?”

“Just looking at you has me flowing.” Gaeul said.

I looked down and she wasn’t lying. I met her eyes and, though she blushed, the rapid breathing and chewing of her bottom lip told me enough. Sakura was equally as turned on. Without me saying a word, they were soon fondling their pussies. They were absolutely perfect, If I concentrated hard enough, I could almost taste their scent.

“Hey,” Sakura whimpered and I already knew it was the tone of a girl who needed to orgasm. I sat up on my knees between them, alternating kissing each of them as they were soon frigging themselves something silly.

“Oh god,” Gaeul moaned, “Oh god, this is going to be...”

“Are you going to cum for me?” I asked them both. They both nodded eagerly, leaning down to kiss each of them again. They whimpered as I slid my tongue into Gaeul’s mouth first, caressing her cheek, before doing the same to Sakura. Noticing their nipples were almost achingly hard, I took one in each hand and started to play with them.

“Oh fuck yes!” Gaeul cried out as her entire body started to quiver. She was almost sobbing though there was no thought of stopping. Sakura followed in orgasm within seconds, whimpering and crying as both leaned into my body, both of them refusing to stop for a second.

“Keep going,” I whispered into Sakura’s ear, before leaning over to Gaeul, “I want you to pass out.”

Gaeul could only whimper and moan, Sakura was barely capable of saying anything. I turned around and wrapped an arm around each of them, watching as they spread their legs further. My cock was already rock hard again, both of them concentrating on themselves but fondling me at the same time. They climaxed in unison again within a few minutes. A third one quickly followed after that. Then I asked them to give me their fingers.

I tasted them for the first time, Sakura the first to offer her fingers before I tasted Gaeul. Now that they’d stopped, they were clearly exhausted after a long night out and now having sorted themselves out. We needed a quick shower together, just to wash away the sweat from a night of dancing and our other activities.

Returning to bed afterwards, they performed ‘scissors, paper, rock’ in regards to who’d spoon against me. Gaeul won, happily cuddled back against me, Sakura cuddling back into her friend. My arms were long enough wrap around them both.

“Will you be hard in the morning?” Gaeul asked just before I was about to drift off.

“Well, I always am but I think it’ll be extra hard in the morning.” They both giggled at the insinuation. “I love you both.”

“We love you more,” they replied in unison.

—

I woke to an empty bed the next morning. I wandered out to the living room, finding Sakura and Gaeul in the kitchen preparing breakfast naked. In the morning light, they were even more stunning, and they’d both made sure they’re hair was up in a ponytail. Any chance of my cock deflating disappeared in an instant.

Moving to stand behind them, they giggled as I kissed them each on the cheek, moving down to kiss and nibble on their necks, ensuring I pressed my cock into each of them when doing it. I enjoyed the moans they both made as they could clearly feel how turned on, I was by both of them. It made me chuckle. I would have never considered anything like this. I’d moved out of their apartment to avoid the temptation.

Now here we were, three naked friends having crossed a line the previous night, and there was no doubt we would be making love sooner rather than later.

-

After enjoying a naked breakfast, Sakura mentioned a lunch at their shared apartment, something we did at least once a month on a Sunday. It was amusing that they had to get dressed in what they wore before while I slipped on some clean clothes. “Maybe you can just undress us again at our place?” Sakura asked with a smirked.

Once we were in their apartment, they again performed the game I’d see them play throughout the years. Gaeul won so took my hand, standing in front of me and told me to strip her. I did it incredibly slowly, ensuring I turned her on, my fingers lightly trailing all over her smooth, pale skin, kissing her in various places. By the time I had her down to the lingerie she’d worn the night before, she was completely turned on. Glancing at her panties, the darker colour told me everything I needed to know.

“I want you,” she breathed.

Once she was naked, I pulled her into my body, easily lifting her up, making her squeal. She looked at the doorway and smiled, motioning Sakura to join us. I did the same for Sakura. “I love your body,” I whispered, looking up to see her blinking rapidly, “I can’t wait to learn about both of you completely.”

As soon as she was naked, I kissed and cuddled her too, earning a squeal and giggle equal to her friend. I could almost smell their arousal. Making sure they were standing side by side; I met each pair of eyes and I knew they wanted to do a whole lot more with me then and there. “I’m thinking the same thing,” I stated, “But we do have an appointment to keep. If I put both of you on that bed, we won’t be leaving until tomorrow morning.”

I think they shuddered at the insinuation and were now aware that I wanted them both intimately. I knew what I saw in my eyes in that moment. I wanted to make love to them. I wanted them as much as they wanted me. And they knew that, once we did sleep together, that was us committed, the three of us, forever.

Somehow, I managed to tear myself away and head towards the living room, ending up in the kitchen to throw some cold water on my face. I could hear them giggling away as they got ready, turning up half an hour later dressed more conservatively than the night before.

We stayed long enough to watch movies before I had to go home. Calling a taxi, it suddenly hit me how lonely I was going to feel walking into that empty apartment again. Now that I’d finally confronted my own feelings, while they had well and truly confessed how they felt, the idea of being apart made me sad.

“Then we’ll have to start looking for a place to share. At least three bedrooms. A master one big enough for the three of us, then a couple for when we start having kids,” Sakura added.

“What?”

“We’re having children,” Gaeul replied.

I looked between them both. “You’re serious?” Receiving two firm nods, their faces broke out into grins when I smiled at them.

“Well, I Always wanted to be a father.” I said, grinning.

“And you’re going to make us mothers,” Sakura stated, “But that’s for later. First, we’re going to enjoy some steamy sex.” She glanced around and leaned forward, both of them caressing my groin. I shuddered as they giggled, kissing me on the cheek.

—

Concentrating at work that week was difficult. The guys seemed to realize straight away as they all started asking if I’d met someone. I had no reason to complain and it was time to start looking at everything positively.

Friday afternoon after work, I did some grocery shopping, ensuring I had their favorite food and drink in the apartment. From the moment I stepped in the door, I was inundated with selfies of them getting ready. I’d already received more than one naked picture from them. In fact, a couple of videos as well where they were fooling around with each other. That was pure masturbation material.

The intercom finally buzzed as I was placing a dish in the oven. Buzzing them up, I waited by the front door for them to appear. They appeared wearing a little black dress each, what looked like black thigh highs or stocking, and black heels. The cut of the dress showed off their cleavage and clung tight to their curves. I kissed each of them for a good minute or so before I escorted them inside. They only carried a small bag each. When asking why they’d packed lightly, they suggested that all they would need would be some lingerie to pose for me, and clothes to wear home on Sunday night.

Otherwise, they would be naked for my enjoyment.

Placing their things in my bedroom, I led them to the dining area, where I had already set the table, candles lit, a bottle of white wine chilling, music playing lightly in the background, the sort that would set the mood. Earned another kiss from them both, lasting a couple of minutes, feeling them press their delectable little bodies into me. I practically growled in return as I got a good handful of a pert ass on each of them.

Sitting each of them down, as the table was only a small square, they would sit to either side of me. I was only serving one of their favorite dishes, followed by dessert. Pouring them a glass of wine, we made small talk as I waited for the food to cook. I wasn’t an expert in the kitchen but I could follow a recipe and was confident enough to make my own subtle changes. They’d tasted my version more than once and loved it.

And they certainly loved it this time, making the sort of noises I hoped to hear later. My thoughts were reflected on my eyes and face as Sakura giggled.

“Oh, we’ll be making even better noises than that when you make love to us later. Gaeul and I have already agreed that we’d better go home Sunday night feeling very tender between our legs.”

“We took the pill for a while but stopped bothering since we’ve never been with a man before, Sakura and I ovulate at the same time, so when it’s time, you’d better get ready,” Gaeul added.

Serving dessert afterwards, they moved their chairs around next to mine so I could feed them both. After each spoonful, they made sure to kiss me, their hands caressing my body and crotch. I was now nursing a significant tent in my trousers and was rather eager to see them naked again. Thankfully, the apartment came with a dishwasher. Loading that up first, I left it to run for later as I was led out to the living room. I enjoyed the fact they were taking the lead as they wasted no time starting to undress me. Didn’t stop at my underwear, that came off quickly like everything else.

Pushing me back to sit on the lounge, they ensured my legs were spread wide enough so they could sit between them together. Feeling two tongues running up and down my shaft was an experience I never thought I’d have. But it was the look in their eyes that had me smile. They knew I’d make them happy later, but in this moment, it was simply about my pleasure.

“We’ve practiced on a toy or two,” Sakura explained, “Had to get over our gag reflex.”

“You’ve got a big cock too and we wanted to ensure we could swallow you whole,” Gaeul added.

I managed to a nod as I watched Sakura wrap her lips around my shaft. The groan I released made Gaeul giggle as she sat up enough to kiss me, Sakura rather quickly proving that the training worked as she swallowed more and more of my shaft. I groaned into Gaeul’s mouth, making her break the kiss as she needed to giggle, before Sakura removed her mouth and Gaeul took over.

“Fuck,” I murmured.

“Just imagine this every day for the rest of your life,” Sakura whispered, leaning up to kiss me next.

For the next minutes, Sakura and Gaeul alternated either blowing or kissing me. Their hands caressed my body, thighs or balls. They were both ever so eager to make me cum. Their dirty talk was on point and did nothing but reinforce how much they wanted this, and that they definitely wanted it inside them later.

Watching their heads bobbing up and down, eyes gazing up into mine with that mixture of love, lust and devotion, I had to run my fingers through their hair. The one not blowing me returned such a sweet smile, it would have made most other men cry.

“Who wants it?” I had to ask.

They both smiled and played their usual game, best of three. Sakura won, but whoever won never rubbed it in. It was something they’d done to keep things fair. Sure, they tried to out-think each other, but in the law of averages, it was likely the winning split was 50/50. Gaeul kissed Sakura on the cheek and told her how pretty she was, but how it was to see my cock in her mouth and down her throat.

“Maybe we can put on a show for him later too?” Sakura moaned as she moved faster on my cock, reading my body language and reactions. “Though I’m hoping he wants to lick our tight little pussies first?”

Sakura moaned. I groaned. And then I erupted. Sakura was ready for it, her eyes lighting up as she felt the first spurt of cum flood her mouth. Best orgasm of my life to that point, hands down, no contest. I knew the first time I would cum in either of them later would be better, but still, I know I sat there with a stupid smile on my face as I emptied myself.

Gaeul then handed me her phone, told me to record, as Sakura turned to kiss her. I knew exactly what they were doing. No chance of my cock softening for a second. They clutched each other tightly as they made out before they turned to me and showed the result.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, “You two little minxes.”

“Only ever for you. We’ll be your innocent best friends outside the bedroom, but we’ll do anything for you inside the bedroom. We’ve never done this and we’ll only ever do this for you,” Sakura stated.

“Then can you swallow?”

They complied immediately, smiling at me before showing me their empty mouths. “Good girls.”

Giggling, they helped me to my feet and led me towards my bedroom. I’d already set things up there. A nice bedspread and clean sheets. Scented candles. The same music softly in the background. That same game, Gaeul won, so I undressed her first, making out with her the entire time, Sakura pressing behind her so she wasn’t left out.

After undressing Sakura, we moved together onto the bed, the pair lying side by side as I sat on my knees, gazing down upon them. I disappeared for a few seconds, returning with my phone to snap a couple of photos. It quickly turned into quite the erotic photoshoot before they were both begging me to pleasure them.

I would have loved to please them both at once but I only had one mouth. Two hands, but only one mouth. Sensing my thoughts, they sat up for a moment and kissed my cheek. They knew I didn’t have a favourite. Despite they had their own unique personalities, despite how alike they could be at the same time.

“Okay, how about this...” Sakura stated, “Whoever gets first go here, the other makes love to him first. That okay with you, Gaeul?”

“Kura, I wouldn’t care if I was second both times.”

“I’m already thinking the same thing.” Sakura replied.

They smiled at each other before they played that same game. Gaeul won. While she was happy to win, there was a momentary look. The kiss they shared was soft but I could see the love. And it was obvious they were more than used to kissing each other and being intimate.

Lying back side by side again, Sakura lay on her side as Gaeul spread her legs for me. I lavished her body with attention, enjoying her moans and pleas that I give her ignored pussy my attention. But I was learning as I went along and she was loving every second. Her breasts and nipples were very sensitive. Kissing up and down her inner things made her squeal. She loved being tickled, the giggles warming my heart. Sakura was occasionally kissing her and I made sure she wasn’t feeling left out, trailing my fingers up and down her legs at the same time.

Gaeul almost sobbed when my tongue touched her pussy for the first time. I glanced at Sakura to see her blinking back tears. I knew she would react like that later. Gaeul tasted divine as I gently lapped at her juicy lips, watching as her juices dribbled down onto the blanket, such was her arousal. Her scent had my cock as hard as I could remember, making Sakura giggle when I moved and spread her legs, savouring her scent. Slightly different to Gaeul, but I gave her a quick kiss on her pussy before returning to Gaeul.

I’d always enjoyed going down on a girl, and the best part was those first few times when learning what worked best with a new lover. Thankfully, Gaeul was also a vocal lover, letting me know how she liked to licked, how she liked my fingers to move, when I finally slid them inside her, even suggested she’d like a finger or two up the bum at a later time, both stating against that their ass were completely untouched.

“Like that,” she moaned, “Like that. My clit. Just circle it like that.”

Doing as she asked, I noticed how her body reacted. An all over body shudder and the sort of guttural moan I’d heard from previous lovers. She’d just utterly loved what I’d done.

“Make her cum,” Sakura whispered, “I can’t wait for my turn.”

I glanced her way and smiled as I renewed my attack on Gaeul’s clit. With two fingers inside her, curled to find that sweet spot, once I’d found it, she was almost bucking, her back arching in a manner that told me she wasn’t going to be able to hold back.

When Gaeul did orgasm, it was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in my life. One hand with the bedsheet scrunched up. The other holding Sakura hand. I had to hold one of her thighs to stop her from squashing my head. If the neighbors were listening, I could only hope they thought we were being kinky.

I didn’t relent, my fingers starting to get quite wet, juices trickling into the palm of my hand. No chance of my jaw or tongue getting sore yet. Her entire body was on fire, incredibly sensitive, and I asked Sakura to give her nipples attention as they were crying out for it. As soon as Sakura latched onto one of them, Gaeul shuddered and enjoyed another orgasm.

“Please don’t stop,” Gaeul whimpered.

“Kura needs a turn,” I murmured, though my tongue was quickly back at work.

“Just one more, then you can make Kura cum!” she giggled.

As soon as I gave Gaeul one more toe-curling orgasm, I removed my fingers and rolled Sakura onto her back, smiling as she eagerly spread her legs though sat up to kiss me, almost licking my lips so she could taste her friend. “Tastes good, doesn’t she?”

“You taste wonderful too, Sakura,” Gaeul murmured, not surprised she was lying back with a broad grin on her face.

Learning Sakura’s body was just as much fun, kissing and touching where I thought she’d be sensitive. I didn’t want to do the same thing, so actually turned her over and focused on her back. Leaving soft kisses down her spine almost had her whimpering before I kissed and nibbled two very firm cheeks, Gaeul watching and giggling, stating she wanted that too.

Licking her pussy from the rear was also different, particularly as her rosebud was just there for the taking. Glancing at Gaeul, she smirked and nodded, so I moved my tongue and gave that some attention. The moan Sakura released suggested she loved it before she fell onto her side, giggling away. I couldn’t help chuckle at her reaction as I pulled her back towards me and dove for her pussy again.

I found that special spot inside her, clit was a little different to Gaeul, but she still made those cute little noises that Gaeul made when getting excited. I watched her face as she approached orgasm, the moans but also looking rather cute when nibbling on her bottom lip, trying to look innocent.

Thankfully, Sakura orgasmed and whatever she was going to say disappeared. Then I gave her a couple of others, doing my best to make each subsequent one even bigger, before she was asking or mercy, just like Gaeul.

Sitting back on my knees, I gazed down at the pair of them, lazing back with smiles on their lips and love in their eyes. Their eyes trailed down my body towards my cock, which was now eager for more action.

“I’ll get us a drink,” I stated, quickly getting up and grabbing the second bottle of wine from the fridge and three glasses. I rarely drank wine. To be honest, I couldn’t stand the stuff, but I’d sip at it occasionally if given a glass.

I was amused when they sculled their glasses and, after taking mine, Sakura laid back as Gaeul lay next to her. “I’m assuming you’ve used a sex toy or two?” I asked.

“Nothing as big as your cock though,” Sakura replied.

“So, you want this big cock inside you?”

“Please can you just fuck me already?” she plead, an almost innocent voice that didn’t fit the sight of her spread eagled on my bed, ready to have cock inside her.

She watched me wide-eyed as I positioned my body over hers. Fingers ran up one of my arms to my back, my other hand guiding my cock as I gently rubbed the head against her slit. She moaned against, still feeling a little sensitive from her earlier treatment. Gaeul was cuddling in as close as she could.

I groaned as I felt my cock slide inside her. Fuck, she was so tight. Sakura whimpered almost immediately, feeling her fingers dig inside me. Leaning down to kiss her, I think she appreciated that as I felt her breath catch, keeping her emotions under control.

Taking my time giving her my entire length, I gently pulled back and pushed forward. I groaned again, hearing Gaeul giggle next to me. “Fuck, Sakura,” I grunted, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Just for you,” Sakura replied, hearing her breath catch again.

It took a couple of minutes to bury my length inside her. When we both looked down, our eyes met and we exchanged a smile before we made love. Sakura didn’t want to just lie there, she wanted to be an active participant. She’d obviously done a lot of reading but didn’t mind instruction on what would feel good for both of us. What I wanted was to see if she would cum while on her back. I knew it was a struggle for some, it would depend on depth, angle, and sometimes, it just didn’t happen.

Her fingers continued to caress my upper arms and back, kissing occasionally. Lifting her legs, she wrapped those around me, changing the angle, and she exclaimed excitedly I felt even deeper. I knew that could hurt, but she assured me it didn’t, for me to go a little faster. I knew, in the future, we’d probably do all sorts of stuff but, this first time, it was going to be tender and my pleasure was theirs.

“I love you,” she whispered, “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you both as much.”

“You’re going to feel emotional, Gaeul,” Sakura murmured

“Knowing he is inside me, and that he’s going to cum in me soon...” Gaeul moan.

“Soon enough,” I chuckled.

“Worth the wait?” Gaeul wondered.

Sakura scoffed. “Fuck! I wish we’d leapt on him the first time we met him!”

“Once he’s cum, we’ll suck him back to hardness together so I can have my turn.” Gaeul said.

I kept quiet as I focused on not climaxing just yet. I could have switched positions and done plenty of other things, but for a first time, I was keeping it simple. Thrusting faster, Sakura was really getting into it, meeting my thrusts and her face lit up. Begging me to fuck her, and she got what she wanted. Unfortunately, it also meant I wasn’t going to last long at all.

“Close,” I muttered.

“Cum in me,” Sakura moaned.

“Cum in her. Then you’re doing the same for me.” said Gaeul.

Hand on heart, it was probably the best orgasm of my life until that moment. A torrent of cum filled Sakura’s pussy, thrusting and pumping more and more cum. Surprised it didn’t end up coming out of her nose. I left my cock inside her until I simply had to pull out and relax on my back, smiling as I was immediately cuddled two goddesses on each side.

“Holy shit,” Sakura whispered into my ear, “Will it be like that every time?”

“Wait until we try positions that might just help you orgasm even harder.”

“Can I ride you?” Gaeul asked.

“We can do whatever is on your mind.” I paused before quickly adding, “Within reason.”

Gaeul kept her word though, moving down my body to take my cock in her mouth. She giggled, stating she could taste Sakura on my cock. Sakura slid a pair of fingers into her pussy, showing me her fingers glistened with my cum and her own juices, Gaeul not hesitating for a moment to suck on them. Fairly sure my cock twitched at the sight.

She had me rock hard again quickly, watching as she straddled me and I felt her hot pussy rub along my shaft. Moaning a couple of times, my eyes on her face as she did that sexy thing of biting her bottom lip, as she was obviously turned on, before she lifted herself up and impaled herself on my cock.

“Oh my god!” she cried out once she’d bottomed out a couple of minutes later, resting on my chest so I could cuddle her, feeling her gyrating her bottom ever so slightly to get used to me.

Eventually sitting back, I let her take complete control. I was nothing but a live toy to ride, as she took her time figuring out what felt really good. Watching her moan, giggle and climax while riding me was something that would live long in the memory back. Sakura was enjoying the show at the same time.

With her hands on my chest, Gaeul soon had a look in her eye that I recognised as I’d already seen it. Feeling her start to squeeze my cock as she rode me, she cried out as the orgasm tore through her body. Even Sakura was impressed as Gaeul moaned and whimpered, not wanting to stop riding and grinding on my cock for a second.

“You’ve got to do this too,” Gaeul almost sobbed, “Ride him too, but I get his cum.”

Gaeul enjoyed two more before she slid off, collapsing onto the bed, all aquiver, as Sakura mounted me slowly and figured things out herself. Watching her face light up as my fingers ran up her thighs to her hips to help keep her balance had me smiling, then I sat up and played with her nipples as she was soon working herself into a frenzy.

“Oh fuck!” she cried out, “Gaeul, we have to have this dick in us every night!”

“Think he’s going to say no?” asked Gaeul.

I laughed around the nipple in my mouth as Sakura enjoyed her first orgasm with my cock inside her. Lying back, she enjoyed three more before I warned her I was getting close. They swapped, though Gaeul wanted to be on her back for when I did cum. Back inside her again, she begged me to fuck her like I’d done Sakura.

Five minutes later, having done exactly that, I filled Gaeul like I’d filled Sakura. And that was me done for the night. I would get hard again, of that there wasn’t a doubt, but I’d only cum dust. We spent a few minutes catching our breath before agreeing to shower together. My hands were busy again as I loved feeling them up, and despite their own tiredness, they were both eager to have me make them orgasm again.

After another of their games, the girls decided that Sakura would spoon back against me, while Gaeul would sleep behind me, so I was in their sandwich. I think we probably fell asleep at the same time.

Waking up the next morning, I lifted Sakura’s leg and felt her up. It woke her up, whispering that’s how she’d always wanted me to wake her up, my fingers eventually sliding inside her. Gaeul woke up and spooned back against Sakura, Sakura giving her the same treatment. Both asked about me, and I said my only concern was making them as happy as I was.

Soon as they’d both had one orgasm, I had them both on their back and my mouth between one pair of legs, Gaeul enjoyed an orgasm quite quickly, before I moved to Sakura, who was so excited, she barely lasted a few minutes. I spent an hour doing that, pleasuring one until orgasm, then moving to pleasure the other one. They were absolutely loving it.

My reward? They had me stand up, both of them on their knees, practically worshipping my cock. And when it was time to cum, they performed the same erotic show, Gaeul taking the entire load in her mouth and sharing it with Sakura before they swallowed.

We relaxed after breakfast to recharge our batteries. I fucked both of them out on the balcony, which was amusing though I was confident we didn’t put on too much of a show. After lunch, I was treated to another dual blowjob, though this time it ended with my cum ending up on their faces, only at their demand. And if they want something, rest assured I will do it for them.

They cooked dinner for us that evening, adjourning to the living room afterwards, music playing as I danced with both of them. Sometimes with Gaeul, sometimes with Sakura, something all three of us together. Then they danced together and it was rather erotic particularly when they made out and started to strip each other. As soon as they were naked, I was dragged to the bedroom, stripped, with the pair of them hopping onto the bed, wiggling their fantastic butts in my direction.

Glancing back in my direction, they were grinning, ensuring they were smacking together. “Will you fuck us now?” Gaeul asked, that innocent voice again.

“We don’t like the boys at school,” Sakura added, “We want our best friend to fuck us.”

“They all have little dicks compared to you.”

“And we want to have your babies too.”

To say I fucked them into the mattress that night wouldn’t be an understatement. By the time I was done with them, I’d dumped a pair of loads into them each, and any thought of a shower before sleeping ended as they practically passed out, snuggling up together, laughing away as they admitted they were going to pay the price for it the next morning.

I woke early and ran a bath for them, lifting Sakura up first and lying her down in the tub, before doing the same for Gaeul, ensuring she was facing Sakura, thankful the tap and faucet was in the middle of the bath. As they relaxed, I told them I’d prepare breakfast for them. They walked out a good half an hour later as I was putting the finishing touches to our breakfast.

When they hugged me, I simply held them in my arms for a few minutes. They’d used some scented shampoo, strawberry, and their bodywash was of a fruit that mixed well with it. When they both gazed up at me, I knew in that moment, we were completely committed to each other.

Spending the day not having sex proved that we could revert to our normal friend relationship, hours of idle conversation, bad jokes, and plenty of laughs. But when it came for them to go back to their apartment, I had no idea it was going to feel as bad as it was. As for them, they were in bits by the time I walked them downstairs. Hugging them tightly again, we promised to see each other every weekend, as many times as we could during the week, and that we’d start discussing living together.

“Buy a house,” I suggested, “Particularly if we do have children together.”

Both of them grinned as although it had been mentioned in the throes of passion, having children was going to be a big deal for us.

For the next three weeks, we were together all weekend while we spent nearly every weeknight together as well. The pair of them usually came to my place. I was surprised when they said that my apartment was nicer, plus there was on selecting which bedroom we would use, something we’d have to do at their place.

—

After a month of us ‘dating’, we had a weekend where we had our first genuine threesomes. For the first four weekends, I would only have sex with one of them, the other lying next to us, watching and usually masturbating. I was told during the week that the next weekend was going to be special. Arriving home from work and a gym session to find Sakura and Gaeul already naked and waiting for me.

“Dinner later,” Sakura told me, “Sex first.”

That involved me being undressed by two, naked, horny goddess. As soon as I was naked, they were on their knees, play-fighting over who’d suck my cock. They eventually arrived at a system that worked for all three of us, though that feelings of two tongues working my shaft would never be replaced. Gaeul was the one who took the load and I was surprised Sakura told her to swallow it, stating she’d get her own load sometime during the weekend.

Anyway, threesomes. It was a weekend of experimentation. To me, there was nothing better than lying back with Sakura on my cock, Gaeul on my face. Whether she was sitting forward or reverse didn’t bother me, but if they sat reverse, that sweet little rosebud was on offer, and both had already gained a liking for having their asshole licked. And they were adamant that anal was still on the table.

What they enjoyed was me fucking one of them behind while the one being fucked could eat the other one out. Occasionally, they’d enjoy a sixty-nine so I’d fuck one of them while occasionally feel a tongue licking my shaft and balls. The hottest thing was filling one of them with cum, pulling out so the other could lick my cock clean, before watching her bury her face in her friends’ pussy to lick out some of my cum.

Sakura and Gaeul kept to their word about doing absolutely anything for me and I was treated to a sexy striptease show. And there was no faking from either of them. I knew how much they loved me, but there was no missing they loved each other just as much. I’d never felt any different sort of love for either of them, and they loved me just the same. Everything was equal.

During all this dating, we spent every weekend house hunting, while during the week, in between everything else, we were online searching for the right property. After only four months, we found what we wanted. Nothing fancy, just three-bedroom house, modern kitchen and dining room, huge bathroom plus an en-suite off the master bedroom. It cost a pretty penny, but pooling our three wages together meant we could afford it. We put in an offer which the soon to be previous owners accepted immediately.

Excitement was off the charts the day we were handed the keys. I did most of the moving though we did pull in a couple of friends to help out with the larger, bulkier items. However, we made sure no-one except the three of us had anything to do with organizing the bedrooms. The master bedroom would be the room shared by the three of us. However, one of the other bedrooms would be made up to look like someone slept in it.

We christened each and every room. Even the laundry room. Fucking Sakura and Gaeul while the washing machine was rumbling along was certainly a lot of fun. Nailing them from behind as they sat on their knees in the hallway was hilarious as they ended up with carpet burns.

We’d been living together for three months when I arrived home from work on a Friday. I didn’t expect to walk into the house to be greeted by candles burning everywhere. Dropping my bag in its usual position near the front door, I called out for the two of them. They walked out of our bathroom wearing grins on their faces and the smallest pieces of lingerie possible. Barely covered their nipples and pussy. Walking towards me, they both kissed me softly before taking a hand of mine each and leading me towards the dinner table, finding it already covered in dishes.

Taking a seat, I had to glance at one of them, then the other. “Okay, something’s going on,” I finally stated, “What is it?”

They exchanged a smile. “Um... There are two things actually. The first is that, tonight, we’re giving you our last virginity,” Sakura explained.

When I smiled, they both giggled. “And the second thing?”

“We’re both pregnant,” Gaeul replied.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“She was lying.” 

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day. 

“About how she got to the institute.” 

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.” 

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance. 

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...” 

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.” 

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.” 

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?” 

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?” 

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.” 

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.” 

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London. 

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting. 

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you. 

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means. 

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more. 

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with. 

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table. 

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules. 

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day. 

You wonder if they ever get a break. 

Maybe this is a break for them. 

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority. 

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy. 

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you. 

Except you don’t know your pack. 

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.  

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first. 

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price. 

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after. 

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you. 

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one. 

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs. 

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall. 

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle. 

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers. 

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now. 

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C. 

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too. 

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back. 

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?” 

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.” 

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit. 

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.” 

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most. 

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing. 

“You hungry?” Gaz asks. 

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting. 

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh. 

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well. 

The thought makes something flutter in your chest. 

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?” 

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.” 

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.” 

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you. 

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his. 

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower. 

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either. 

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight. 

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table. 

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone. 

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling. 

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.” 

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own. 

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away. 

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand. 

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one. 

“Captain John Price.” He says. 

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves. 

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other. 

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep. 

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta. 

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.” 

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA. 

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.” 

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond. 

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.” 

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says. 

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.” 

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.” 

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.” 

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.” 

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.” 

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.” 

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.” 

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things. 

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.” 

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond. 

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says. 

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.” 

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second. 

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.” 

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want. 

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.” 

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.” 

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.” 

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole. 

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.” 

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. 

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?” 

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base. 

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega. 

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world. 

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age. 

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas. 

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up. 

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check. 

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack. 

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings. 

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world. 

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you. 

Or maybe they would have been worse. 

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.” 

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?” 

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.” 

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.” 

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?” 

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.” 

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask. 

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?” 

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer. 

“And how did that go?” 

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.” 

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it. 

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares. 

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer. 

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns? 

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center. 

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways. 

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center. 

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks. 

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night. 

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit. 

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.” 

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.” 

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.” 

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning? 

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being. 

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel. 

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space? 

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.” 

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him. 

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit? 

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence? 

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response? 

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself. 

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive. 

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.” 

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble. 

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you? 

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives. 

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside. 

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over. 

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.” 

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.” 

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought. 

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that. 

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk. 

An unneeded disruption to their lives. 

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you. 

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate. 

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you. 

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet. 

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?” 

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.” 

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!” 

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself. 

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?” 

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.” 

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.” 

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says. 

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game. 

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap. 

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him. 

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?” 

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.” 

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch. 

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder. 

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again. 

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.” 

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state. 

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up. 

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made. 

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.” 

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.” 

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face. 

NEXT ->

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[kaysungshine]

𝓛𝓸𝓯𝓲 𝓛𝓾𝓼𝓽 ♡

{ Pairing } - Producer.bf!Jisung x afab.gf!reader

{ Genre } - NSFW; s/f/d(dark)*, PWP, established relationship

{ Synopsis } - Your boyfriend doesn't know any other method of stress relief, other than creating music. He can get so consumed by it, it can become the stressor. So you decide to present him with a new method. That's how you found yourself walking down the street in nothing but lingerie and a long coat.

{ WC } - 2.9k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, *forced orgasm/slight dubcon if you squint, everything is consensual but there is begging for more when reader might be at her limit so that's why I'm including dubcon (for those who may find it triggering)*, use of pet names (baby, angel, mine, my love, good girl & Ji), very lowkey needy/soft dom & romantic sub dynamic, worshipping reader, oral (f. recieving), squirting, overstimulation, unprotected piv (do as I say & not as I write, pee after sex too!), creampie, cum feeding & eating, fingers in mouth, pussy worship, I may just have gotten carried away with oral fixations okay? FORGIVE ME.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - I originally was going to post a Hyunjin oneshot next, but I wanted to finish this one in time for Jiji's birthday! It's 2 am on the 14th where I am heheh. Hopefully you all like it. Han producing music will always be hot asf for me personally lmao. Barely proofread.

The air was cool, seeping underneath your long wool coat. In any other circumstance, on a late fall night, the coat would be enough to keep the chill out. Today however, it wouldn't. But you still kept walking, determined to make it to Jisungs studio. 

You focused on the clicking of the heels on the boots you wore. And the sound of the wind picking up, signalling a blustery night ahead. The small sounds calm your nerves. 

You were anxious about Jisung's reaction, he was in one of his moods again. You understand, you truly do. Juggling everything he has to on his plate, it was no easy feat. There were times he'd just let that dark veil take over, and shut everyone out without even meaning to. 

You knew he was in that state again when you hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. It wasn't for lack of effort on your end either. Every phone call sent to voicemail, every text sent by you was met with the same response;

'At the studio, I'll text you after, angel'.

You knew it was time for intervention when Chan texted you that he was only coming home, at 2 in the morning no less, to shower and change. No eating, no resting, just back to the studio afterwards.

This had happened twice before in the almost year you've been dating. Each time you remember talking with him afterwards, he always said the same thing;

'making music is my stress relief.'

That may be true, but it doesn't change the fact that he is also a workaholic. One who easily gets lost in the creative space he has built a career off of. And once that diligence sets in, it's hard to shake off. 

So here you are, ready to try a new approach. Ready to offer a new kind of relief. An alternative. 

You and Jisungs sex life was far from boring. Far from infrequent, you'd say too. But it surely was more... monotonous. You'd never complain about it, and neither would he. There was nothing wrong with it. It just happened at the 'perfect' times in your relationship. 

Before bed, after date nights, on monthly anniversaries, to express massive amounts of love, etc. 

It was never to celebrate happiness, calm anger, or comfort sadness. Never to relieve stress. 

You were determined to change that. There was no reason you could not help him in any way you could. And in this aspect, you knew you could. 

Still, you were nervous. This would be new, he never did well with new. 

Your footsteps stopped, leaving only the sound of the wind in your ears. Until you pressed your badge against the card reader, listening to the beeps, to the gears unlock. 

Once inside the lobby, the clinking of your heels against the vinyl tile filled your ears. Each step matches the thumping in your heart, you find yourself speed walking.

 You smiled and gave a little wave to the staff in the lobby, and they returned it. 

In the elevator, the sound of its melodic music filled your ears next. The whirring background noise the machinery made, stopped, as you reached your desired floor. 

There was silence when you stepped off. The flooring is carpeted now, and soundproof rooms lined the hallway leaving the night quiet. 

You took a deep breath and made your way to the door you knew was your boyfriend's. It was unlocked, thankfully. 

You let yourself in, seeing the silhouette of your boyfriends back facing the door in the blue lighting. 

He was all about ambiance in this facet of life, having LED's lining the ceiling. The only source of light in the room, besides the glowing screens of his monitors. 

He was sat in his chair, headphones on, hood up, head nodding in tandem with his fingers tapping. 

You took the opportunity to slide your boots off. Opting to keep your coat on, you brushed your hair over one shoulder. You took your badge from around your neck, and tossed it on the leather couch that was against the wall. 

Padding your way over to him, you place your hand on his shoulder lightly. He tenses under your touch, and turns his head. He's frowning when he first faces you, eyebrow furrowed together. 

When he sees you though, he softens. The corners of his mouth slightly upturning to a small smile. 

"Baby..." He whispers, sliding his head phones off. Soft lofi music is filling the room from them. 

He grabs your hand off his shoulder, bringing it to his lips. He's pressing soft kisses to your palm, and placing it on his cheek. 

"It's late my angel, why are you here?" He says in a husky voice with more volume. 

Your heart flutters at his gentleness, and you bend down to press your own lips to the top of his head. A musky, yet spicy vanilla scent fills your nostrils. His scent. 

"I'm here to help you baby." You murmur to him softly. 

That caught his attention. He fully swivelled around to face you, taking both of your hands in his. He gazed up into your eyes, a curious look on his face. 

You smiled down on him, feeling nothing but love for this man. You'd relax him in any way you can. You placed a hand on each side of his face, bending down again. No more words were said as you kissed him. As your hands slid down his neck, his found themselves on yours, pulling you closer to him. Matching your eagerness.

You let your hands fully slide off him, and tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Your trembling fingers were working the buttons on your coat. One by one, releasing the fabric from your bare skin. 

You stood up, letting the coat fall from your shoulders.

Jisung lets out a soft gasp, and licks his lips. 

Exposed to him, was his favorite lingerie you owned. It was a bra and panty set, satin and lace. Revealing. 

All white. 

Your boyfriends favorite part. He always said that the contrast against your melanated skin was a work of art. He joked about commissioning Hyunjin, if he didn't have to see you essentially naked.

So here you stood before him, presenting yourself to him. Silently willing him to do as he pleases. To take your body and use you to decompress. You were too nervous to say it.

He traces the swell of your breast with a finger, curving around the delicate lace. It's a simple touch, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps blooming on your skin. 

"So sexy." He mumbles, eyes roving your whole body. 

He stands up, kissing you desperately, and walking you back to the couch. Your knees hit the back of it, and you're forced to sit. Lips ripping away from his, panting at the desire in his eyes. 

All your nerves were gone. New or not, it would never change the fact that Jisung craved you as much as you craved him. 

He held himself up with his hands on the back of the couch, and hovered above you for a moment looking you in the eyes. 

Then he was sinking to the ground, on his knees, between your legs. His hands smooth over your thighs, making them pliant with soft kisses, before he spreads them open. Your pussy is glistening behind the lace, and he licks his lips again. 

His hand glides from your thigh, to your heat. Thumb brushing against that sensitive bud, the friction eliciting a whine from you. 

His eyes snap up to you, and he holds your gaze as his tongue licks a stripe up your clothed core. The tip of it flicking deliciously against your sensitive clit. 

"Mmmm..." He groaned at the taste of you, "All for me?"

You moan at his tongue swiping against you again, and again, "All for you, my love." 

His fingers hook underneath the band of your underwear, and he peels them off you. He's whimpering, watching as strings of your arousal stick to them. The cool air is hitting your sex, before puffs of hot air from his mouth is. And you're shivering again at the sensation. 

A gasp escapes you when his tongue slides between your folds. Lapping up your juices, and suckling at that bundle of nerves. You listen to the wet sounds his mouth is making against you, along with the broken melody coming from his head set. You get lost in it. 

Your hand finds his hair, and you're grinding against his mouth. He's whimpering and moaning with you, one hand palming at his bulge. The other has fingers teasing your entrance. 

You let out a loud moan when two fingers push into you, and your grasp on his hair loosens. He takes the opportunity to get air, panting, mouth hanging open. His cheeks, chin and lips all shine in the dull blue light. 

His fingers continue to pump into you as he watches your face contort for him. He's smiling with lidded eyes, basking in the fact that he's making you feel so good. 

"Ji..." You moan, needing more.

"My beautiful baby, let me worship you a little longer." And he's diving back down.

His tongue focuses on your clit, and fingers coaxing that gummy spot inside you. He's pulling moan after moan from you, making out with your lower lips, bringing you closer to the edge. Your thighs start trembling around his head, and he has to grip the fleshy part of one of them to stop you from squeezing him before he's finished. 

You're spilling over the edge, body alight and your release coating his fingers, and face. He's lapping up every little bit, determined to taste your pleasure on his tongue. Only when you start to whine from constant overstimulation does he stop. 

He's kissing his way up to your lips, leaving a wet trail behind him that you couldn't bring yourself to care about. 

You're not sure when he managed to discard his pants and boxers, but you feel his hard, bare length pressing against your inner thigh. 

He's rubbing his member against your pussy now, letting your slick and his saliva cover him. Kissing your neck as he's rocking against you, he whispers, "Angel, do you have another one for me?"

Of course you did, you knew you did. You needed to feel him, you needed to please him. So you started nodding fervently, eyes rolling in the back of your head when he sucked lightly near your ear and jaw. 

He had a grasp of his cock now, dragging the head through your folds with added pressure. Each squelch of your juices sounds like music to your ears, anticipation building in your body.

"'Gonna make you feel s'good." He's whining into your neck. 

He has your legs around him now, as he fills you slowly, both of you savoring the sensations it brings. Your pussy spasms around him, and it has him grunting. 

"Always feel so good squeezin' me..." He mumbled, letting you adjust, "...exactly what I needed..." 

Then he was pumping into you, and you felt it. All the frustrations he was holding onto, all the stress, all the vexation. He was translating it into the energy he used to pleasure you. Letting go of it all. 

You couldn't hear the soft lofi music coming from his head set anymore, instead the slapping of skin and heavy breathing mixed with moans were filling the room. You'd never be more thankful for a soundproof space. Neither of you were holding back. 

Your moans only being interrupted by quiet curses, and his being peppered in between praises of how good you feel for him. He made it known he was chasing your high before his, begging you to cum for him. 

"Please angel," he whispers against your lips, "need to feel you cumming on my cock."

His pace became quicker as he kissed you, and his hand slithered down to play with your clit. Your back arched off the couch at that, angling him deeper inside you. He groaned, and his thrusts faltered for a second indicating he was close. 

Regardless he was determined to finish you, and his tone grew more demanding, "Be a good girl... cum for me, angel."

And that was all your body and mind needed to let go, legs locking around him and body shaking. Your hands slid under his hoodie, and nails dug into his back. It was the kind of intense orgasm, that your moan got stuck in your throat, instead a rough growl coming out. 

You sounded absolutely feral for him, and you were. 

That was what pushed him over the edge, a slew of curses leaving his mouth as his hips stuttered. With a final harsh thrust, he cums deep inside you. All of the negativity has dispersed from his body, and he collapsed back to his knees. 

You're both panting, trying to catch your breath. You jolt when you feel his fingers in your folds, over sensitivity taking over yet again. He's spreading you open, hypnotized by the way his cum is drooling out of you. 

"So perfect, fuck." He says as he drags his finger through it. 

He's bringing it up to your lips, and your mouth opens instinctively. You're sucking his finger into your mouth, his essence salty but familiar on your tongue. 

His eyes are locked to yours as you work his finger, licking it clean. He slips a second finger in your mouth, letting you cover them in your saliva before he dips back down for a taste himself. 

You're whining around his fingers when his tongue glides against your clit, and your hips try to retract into the couch. Quickly, he has both hands on your hips, securing you in place so he can continue tasting you. 

"We taste so good together, my love..." He's mumbling against you. 

His words will never fail to coax submission out of you.

Your hand flies back to his hair, as good as it feels you're trying to pull him away. He's just burying his face deeper, tongue dipping into your entrance to make sure he's tasting everything. 

"Ji... s'too much... I can't-" You're pleading, even though you feel yourself succumbing to the overwhelming brushes of his tongue.

He hisses when you finally succeed in pulling him off you, "Please angel," He's begging again, "Just one more. I know you have one more for me." 

"Fuck, Ji, I-" 

He silences you with his tongue flat against you, another lick up to your clit "Please, need to hear you cumming one more time for me." He whines and starts leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your pussy. 

You always knew he was more of a giver. That even though it was you who had cum twice, and he only once. He preferred it that way. Even if he was the one needing the release more, he thrived more on your pleasure.

"Just be gentl-" You try to say, but cut yourself off with a groan. 

He's eagerly slurping at your core. Lost in the moment, all he has is your pussy on his mind now. Messily licking and lapping at every inch. He's shaking his head and moaning into it, keeping you pinned in place by your hips. 

You feel another orgasm starting to build quickly, clenching around nothing. He risks you bucking your hips roughly into his face, and takes a hand off your hip. He's pushing two fingers into you yet again, and you're seeing stars. 

His fingers curl, and his lips close around your clit, sucking lightly. You feel your release slip away from you, and your cumming on his face again. Yelling his name. He only grows more determined.

He leans back so he can watch the beautiful, writhing, mess he reduced you to. The thumb of his other hand is replacing his mouth, continuously flicking your bud. He doesn't slow his movements as you ride out your orgasm, instead picking them up. 

Your world turns white, and you feel yourself squirt on his hands. He's watching you in awe, whispering more praise for you as your juices spray over him. 

"So fucking sexy, my good girl."

"That's it, let go for me, let it all go."

"Knew you had one more in you, all for me."

"My perfect angel."

It's when you start to slip into that floaty space that he finally stops. He doesn't want you too gone, he's limited in the care he can provide here.

He's positioning you to lay on the couch, and he's laying behind you. You're both wet and sticky, and heaving for air. Yet, it's blissful. 

You lay there for what could've been minutes or an hour, you weren't sure. You were content in each other's touch. Your arm reaches back to caress his head, fingers combing through his hair. He's humming. 

"I love you." You finally murmur. 

"I love you more, angel. Thank you for this." He says, and kisses your shoulder. 

"You caught on quickly to my idea." You giggled.

He laughed with you, "I caught on halfway through it, actually. I was just beside myself with desire for you." 

You blushed at that, and you were thankful he couldn't see it. 

"I mean you showed up in my favorite set..." He whispers and starts toying with the lace on your bra, his finger slipping underneath to flick your nipple, "In ONLY my favorite set. How could I not show you how much I admire you." 

You felt his length harden against you again, and he rolled his hips slowly as he gripped your hip. 

You knew the night was far from over. 

As for how you were both going to escape and clean up? Well that was a problem for future you. 

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