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ghostwhippet · 7 months ago

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From Scratch

Nutrition Info: Johnny/Reader; 4k; a meetcute launched by Reader's inability to cook reasonable portions, and Johnny's... well, just Johnny

No matter how long you live alone, you can’t get the hang of cooking for one person. Even when you try to make a single-serving meal instead of batch cooking, somehow it balloons out of control. Wasting food makes you feel awful, but you can only freeze so much.

One evening, desperate and utterly fed up, you go kick gently at a neighbor’s door, both hands full, trying to mimic a knock with your shoe. Jason, you think his name was? Striking blue eyes, big frame, a cute cropped mohawk, amazing brogue, and he’s always been cordial when you’ve run into him around the building. Friendly, but not too friendly.

He’s understandably confused by your request at first, but seems happy enough for the food, and takes it around your repeated apologies–for bothering him, for existing, for anything you can find, really.

Unfortunately, not even forcing yourself to go and do all of that manages to pierce your shite sense of volume. Your trips to his door do get less awkward over time, though. And Johnny, his name is, always has sparklingly clean dishes and containers to return in exchange for the full ones.

Eventually he just starts showing up at your place instead and eats with you at your bar counter. He didn’t really ask, and you definitely didn’t, but there he is all the same, and… if you're honest? He’s just so easy to be around, it quickly feels natural having him there. He puts you off your guard, puts you at ease and makes you smile, like those are somehow the most natural things in the world.

From that first night, Johnny has insisted on helping with dishes. Starting the second, he’s always got groceries with him. Even manages to talk you out of your discomfort over accepting them, so well that on his fourth night, you’ve got a small shopping list ready. He’s cheeky, you don’t think he’ll mind. And he is right, after all: you're probably feeding him at least three or four nights out of the week, what with all the leftovers.

You start eating better, and trying new things you'd always planned on “getting around to,” now that you've got a reason to cook beyond not starving. Everything comes out fine the first time you make it, when you’re closely following a recipe, and Johnny has no qualms about trying anything you put in front of him. You’ve never met someone so genuinely un-fussy when it comes to food.

A couple months after he’s started eating at your place, he disappears for a while. “Work trip,” is all he'll say, and you don’t pry, even though you really want to.

Once he’s back, he starts coming over weekend afternoons sometimes. You do brunch with beer or fancy drinks in champagne flutes, or occasional breakfast on the roof before other people are awake, him in a big hoodie or jumper, and you wearing a thick blanket like it's trying to digest you, looking like a half-drowned cat because no living being is meant to be awake at such an hour.

You cut fruit into mangled flowers and vague geometric shapes for the brunches, usually while just spending time with him. He tries his hand at it once, with you pulling up videos, laughing the whole time you’re explaining how it’s supposed to work, and the utter bastard is better at it on his first go than you were after weeks. His hands are confoundingly steady, and his hand-eye coordination borders on the unnatural.

That’s probably the official start of his sous chef arc. And that’s what has him spending a night judging your knives and marveling, repeatedly and loudly, that you still have all your fingers.

You might put a piece of eggshell into his omelet that night in retaliation, and he might not even have the decency to react to it.

“...Johnny I can hear it crunching, oh my God would you spit it out!” You manage between laughter that’s got your face hurting.

That happens a lot around him. Smiling so much it hurts.

“Nah, i’s nice texture,” he says around the mouthful, then starts enunciating the longer words. “Very advanced technique. Shows a great awareness of the culinary experience–”

“You’re being such a prat. Why are you being such a prat!”

He talks over you as if he can’t hear you, as if he’s doing some mockingly posh review. “And honestly, the crunching–” he pauses and chomps down on the shell for effect, and how is it still intact, “it really engages the senses. Keeps me immersed in my dining experience.”

You regret loaning him your cooking books. Never again.

After that, though, he steals your knives, takes them home, and they come back so sharp you can cut windowpane slices of potato. He offers to teach you how to do it yourself–after stipulating with heart-clenching eagerness that he’s happy to come over and do it for you any time.

Johnny gets weirdly into shopping farmer’s markets, walking around discovering new produce and varieties of things he’s never seen before. “Fuck would I know tomatoes come in this color? Look at this thing, it’s like a feckin’... it’s a wee lumpy sunset, isn’t it? And this! Like someone took the heart of a dragon,” his voice had gone terribly dramatic, and you definitely hadn’t covered your face, “and stuck it on a bush somewhere.”

“Baby how are you so huge, but so adorable?” You don't know when the pet names started, but you know he started them; sometimes it feels like you two grew up together.

You like the challenge of the new and unexpected ingredients that come from his trips, and by this point, he’s keeping your kitchen pretty stocked with whatever oddball pantry items you ask for, so you're set up to deal with almost anything. But on rare occasions he’ll call you with a question, too. You’ve had each other’s numbers for a while, it just made coordinating easier.

“Oi can you make sommat with uh… fiddlehead ferns?”

You always can, whatever he asks about. It just takes a quick internet search to find out if you can tackle it that same night, or if it needs to wait for another day. Sometimes it ends up disastrous, but like a shot, Johnny has you laughing or throwing something at him (usually-but-not-always also while laughing) before guilt or shame can get a proper foothold.

There was a night when he was too excited about something to wait for you to answer the door when he knocked, and since then, he just sort of comes in on his own after he announces himself—at least when you know to expect him. That feels right, too, just like having him at your counter had.

You’re feeding the both of you almost every night of the week by now, even if you’re still not cooking often. You like being around him so much, you can’t imagine doing it less, not even when cooking is the last thing you want to be doing. It’s like there’s a bubbly little sun in your chest when he’s around.

Johnny makes you so happy, in fact, and you’re so afraid of losing your time with him, it’s nearly six months before the first time you have to tap out of a dinner, too knackered to make yourself even casually presentable, nevermind cook so much as instant noodles.

He reacts like it’s no problem at all, which of course he’d do, because he’s wonderful, but you don’t manage to keep your heart from dropping that he’s not at least a little sad. That he doesn’t, maybe, look forward to the nights like you do. You know your arrangement is practical, and he’s never been over unless there was food involved, but… well… seeing him seems to have become rather… vital to you.

Which means it’s better to put it away, anyhow, right?

So when, an hour after you’d texted him and basically all he’d said was No problem, thinking takeout, any votes?, he’s coming through your front door with delivery bags and talking a mile a minute like it’s just another night, you're left with your mouth open and your hand on the knob, because… because he's here.

You're not cooking, but he's still here.

You just stand there gobsmacked as he sits on the couch, nattering away, half the food out before he even realizes you’re still playing doorstop. He asks if you’re having the time of your life or if you’re going to come sit down, those horrible (wonderful) crinkles at the sides of his eyes, brows pulled up in the middle.

He looks confused when you say you want to freshen up, like he can’t see that your hair might’ve lost a row with a feral rodent, or that you’re wearing clothes that shouldn’t even be outside of a bin, nevermind on a person. He just tells you the food will get cold, and that it’ll be no good that way.

So you run your hands through your hair and sit, subdued and uncertain like you haven’t been around him in ages, as he amiably fills the silence. You know he can tell you’re not right, but he’s just… acting like it’s ok that you aren’t.

Midway through the meal, he reaches forward to grab a container and put it in front of you, and it makes his knee come up against yours.

It doesn’t move away when he sits back.

Then, as the night wears on and the very most jagged edges of your weariness have eased, he makes a joke and you bump your shoulder into him in retaliation. It pushes your legs flush… and neither of you do anything to separate them. He just keeps on being Johnny like nothing is different, like nothing strange is happening, like he can’t see how bloody flushed you must be, like the room hasn't turned to glass and burst, leaving the both of you toppling through the air.

You're not stupid, so you have to tell yourself repeatedly that he’s just trying to comfort you. He’s acting completely normal otherwise—for Johnny—and you look like a person in need of a friend tonight. And same as him, you’re at all your meal nights instead of off with friends or dates. At least for him, it’s because of his career. You haven’t even seen him bringing up a new fling in ages.

…You’re not stupid. Right?

After the food is finished, Johnny putters about cleaning up, working his way around your kitchen like he knows it exactly as well as he does. He puts all but one container of leftovers in your fridge.

You hug your knees comfortably, just sort of watching him, too full of static to be paranoid about it, and he either doesn’t realize or isn’t bothered by it. Not being a complete creep, you don’t keep it up for too long, anyhow. You’ve got plenty to occupy your thoughts.

He surprises you on his way out by casually setting a mug in front of you. He’d made you something hot to drink while he was cleaning up, and you were so spaced you hadn’t realized. He just gives you a little smile, a gentle squeeze on the shoulder with a stroke of his thumb, says, “Wednesday, yeah?” (the night of your next normal get-together), and moves on toward the door. All normal. But there’s some metal in your chest painfully bending itself into unaccustomed shapes, jabbing places that aren’t used to the pressure, pushing into your windpipe until it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t stop yourself from telling him that you made up a new seasoning blend for popcorn, if he’d maybe like to watch a movie before he goes.

He stands there by the door looking at you just for a split second too long, opens his mouth, closes it, then settles right back onto the couch up next to you. He reaches out an arm and pulls you gently into his side, moving in a way that makes it an invitation and not a demand, while he’s talking about what to watch.

You fall asleep there. So does he.

Things turn a bit funny after that in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. At the surface, everything is the same. But nothing feels the same. Every time there’s a tease, casual touches, close quarters, you have to chant not stupid not stupid not stupid on repeat in your head. He’s just Johnny, that’s all. The guy you could have grown up with.

You keep up the dinners and the weekends, and eventually, finally realize that with him around to take all your extras, you can bake. It’s something you’ve wanted to try forever, but recipes don’t really make single servings, and you never had anyone to pawn off the other 22 muffins or ¾ of the cake onto, or the sheet of croissants, because you absolutely want to try the most fussy, difficult things. And it turns out, when at last he tells you what he does, that Johnny works at the local military base–which at least explains his size–so if he can’t polish something off, well, he knows some blokes.

You’re so excited after that, things almost seem to return to normal. He even comes over and hangs out while you’re baking sometimes. Just knocking about, licking the beaters and the spoons and the bowls, doing dishes as you go, fidgeting with this or that, all while knowing you’re equally as likely to produce something inedible as you are a treat.

Johnny tells you a little about his career one evening. He says that it means he’s in real danger often, there’s a lot of secrecy with people in his personal life, long absences and surprise ones, shit pay, and likely a brief expiration date. (You don’t really let that last one in). He’s got a bit of a funny look in his eyes when he shares about all of it. Quite focused on you, in a way? It makes your cheeks heat. It isn’t as if it’s on you to approve of his life.

But at least now you understand why he’s on his own. And you suppose you’re a bit small, because while you’re incredibly sad for him, part of you is thrilled that it means he’s not likely to be swept away by someone else too soon.

You just gather yourself up, smile, and tell him that at least he’s spending the time he has as best he can, which is a hell of a lot more than a lot of people do–although you personally hope there’s a lot more of it. And that… at the end, you're glad for all the times you're involved.

Johnny’s leaning against the counter while you fold nuts and rum-soaked fruit into a thick batter, his normally busy hands jammed into his pockets, posture a bit off, and so close you almost keep elbowing him on accident, the two of you just bantering back and forth.

You turn your head toward him to fire back, and–

–his mouth is just there, on yours.

He lingers, but doesn’t move otherwise. It’s… testing, you think. You feel his lips shake against yours, in fact, just once.

Your shock dies fast and your eyes slip closed, and while it’s a brief kiss, when he pulls away, you don’t open them. You can’t. Because if you’re honest, you’ve probably been gone for him since the first time you gave him a friendly hug goodnight, and it’s only ever gotten worse. If you open your eyes, this won’t be real, or it won’t have happened, or it will shatter somehow.

After a pause, he runs the back of a finger down your temple, trailing the side of your face to your jaw. You still won’t open your eyes, so he just toys with your face until you do.

He’s got a soul-crushing smile at the corners of his eyes.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admits into the quiet.

“...Oh?” Your voice is embarrassingly, unhelpfully breathy. It’d probably be mortifying, if you had the mental capacity to fully register embarrassment at the moment.

He pauses, smile making its way to his lips, and curling them up at the corners, bit by bit. He cants his head, just a little, like he wants to see you from another angle. “Aye. …Might’ve been since the first time I saw you at the mailboxes.”

“Oh?”

That had been one of the first times you remember ever seeing him. He never said a word to you other than, “Mornin’” or “Evenin’,” if he said anything at all.

His smile blooms until you can see his teeth. “You were wearing this little shirt. Green, thin. Bit worn, like it was a favorite. Showed a wee spot of skin at your back.” His fingers brush the spot, soft and testing, near the base of your spine, and it jolts you from scalp to toes. “Might’ve… lost some time, thinking about what it’d feel like if I slid my hand up there.” He toys with the hem of your shirt and steps in, voice going deeper and rougher around the edges. “Might’ve imagined pushing it up, getting a bit closer. Really might’ve imagined putting your back up to the slots, mo–”

You kiss him this time, before he can go on, and it’s anything but testing.

And just like everything else about him, this fits.

His mouth fits against yours. His body fits against yours. And as if some band of control snaps, so abruptly you swear you feel it jolt through his skin, he's got you up on the counter, his thighs between yours, both of you already breathing hard.

His hands on you are perfect, calloused, slipping up under the back of your shirt, smoothing and gripping, making your chest and your thighs feel molten. It's ravenous, like he just has to touch your skin, has to get you closer. You arch toward him, fingers running up through his hair, legs curling around his and pulling him nearer.

His hips are carefully, stubbornly, infuriatingly back from you, but the kiss is so full of need, so close, that some of his breaths sound hollow against your mouth. It's like he can't decide whether inhaling or devouring you is more important, so he just doesn't choose.

When you're at the point of moaning unintentionally, of hungry little sounds forcing their way out of your chest, of your hips moving against the counter in desperation, when you're moments from outright begging, Johnny pulls back, and goes further when you try to chase his mouth.

His lips are red and full, his face dark--much worse when he catches sight of how completely drunk you must look--and he's panting. His fingers dig into your hips like he's trying to keep one or both of you from drowning. He squeezes his eyes shut.

You don't mean to, you really don't, but you look down, and lord help you but–

“That looks painful,” you tell him. Your voice sounds like it's been run over a washboard. He's tented against his denim, and his size is… proportional.

…You can't seem to remember how to make yourself look up.

“Really rather not talk about my cock just now, love,” he gravels, fingers clenching briefly against you. His head tips forward onto your shoulder, breaths panting out against your collar bone, leaving you to pick up every bit of heat he's trying to get out of himself.

You hum, teasing. “Shame, because I can't think of anything I'd rather talk ab—”

His big paw covers your mouth. “For the love of every Saint, I’m beggi—”

You cut him off right back. By licking his palm.

He recoils in horror, but the moment your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter, made worse every time he tries to tell you how disgusting that is, something about his sisters as kids, you don't know what else.

You're the first to sober, breathing almost back to normal, thoughts already whirring on fast-forward. You look down, pulling your knees together, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Are we…. Will we be ok, after this?”

You peek up to see him looking at you like you're daft.

“‘S been the better part of a year,” he says softly, moving forward and running his thumbs over your knees. Asking your legs to make room again, to let him get close again. “Have you really not figured it out, all this time?”

Your legs open hesitantly, and he steps in and, when you look up at him, kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, slow and warm and so tender it feels like your chest is cracking right down the center.

Eyes closed, brows a little pinched, you murmur, “We can't all be SAS savants, Johnny.” Maybe you know. Maybe. But it has been all this time, so maybe you need to hear it, too.

He's still kissing, pace unhurried and savouring, making his way to your jaw and just beneath it. But it's calming now, somewhere between reverential and still trying to bring the both of you down. Himself especially, you think.

“Then let me spell it out for you. Gladly.” He noses up against the bottom of your ear and roughs, “You are fucking stuck with me. Glued. Bloody welded.” He huffs a laugh and leans back upright—but not all the way, not too far back. “This isnae a new thing for me. You know that, right? I just….” He shakes his head and abandons the thought, “Hell, my mates have already been asking when they can come over for dinner, the dobbers.”

Your brows shoot up. “You've talked about me at work?”

He looks down, and while his face is in half a scowl, you'd swear he does it to hide a slight flush, too. “Haven't shut up about you, more like. Should hear what my Lieutenant– Ach, nevermind that.”

You hurry to say that they're welcome any time, but it makes him scowl fully.

“Not exactly keen on the idea just yet.” He puts his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and just stands there, breathing you in. He mutters into the crook of your shoulder, “Mind if I stay like this for a bit? Just while I, uh… calm down.”

His hips are still well back from you. You’re not sure you’ve ever adored and hated him so much at once.

“I’d really like that,” you tell him softly, arms going around his ribs, hands on his shoulders, chest to chest.

It's warm and resounding like this, so after a spell, without thinking, you bite his shoulder. Just sink your teeth in and leave them there. It’s not even entirely conscious, it's just so comfortable and comforting.

“All good, there, wee piranha?” he eventually asks, a smile in his voice.

You detach instantly. “Ah, sorry! I, uh, might have a tiny bit of an oral fixation.”

He groans. “Are ye trying to do me in?”

“I’m not the one who said we had to stop, Mr. Military Discipline.”

His eyes darken in a flash, but he tamps down on it just as quickly and gets that godawful cocky look on his face, instead. “Pardon me for not wanting to rush something that really matters.” His tone goes so soft at the end that you can’t even be mad at him--exactly as you know he intended, the great bastard.

“How did I not know what a sadist you are?”

And that look means he’s about to make you eat your words.

“Johnny I will happily kill you in your sleep.”

“I could handle that. Means you'd be in my bed, aye?”

He pulls your hands up from the death grip they've found on the edge of the counter and laces your fingers together. “I dinnae….” He clears his throat, frowns. “Just being away on deployment is shite now, and I love what I do. But I miss you while I'm gone, think about you back here all the bloody time, and we havnae even….”

When he doesn’t finish, you whisper, heart clenching with the realization, “You really don't want to rush this.”

He laughs quietly like he wants to argue. But what he says is, “No. I don't. But while that's true….” He steps in, chin ducking, eyes darkening even as they shine, voice lowering. “What do you say we turn the oven off? I've a funny feeling you willnae be getting around to that bake today.”

Masterlist

#johnny soap mactavish #cod soap #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #johnny mactavish #slow burn #friends to lovers #060 #meet cute #comfort fic #demisexual #fluff #johnny x reader #cod

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barnacles34 · 11 days ago

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Best Friends & a side of sex

MEOVV Gawon, Sooin X Male Reader

18+ smut 13k words

PART 2 of I Never Meant to Memorize your Smile

‘You’ve got dried cum in your hair.’ Your lips brushed her shoulder blade. Gawon's spine stiffened. ‘What?’

‘Morning, sunshine.’ She twisted, fingers probing her scalp. ‘Tell me you didn’t ejaculate into my hair last night.’ ‘Wouldn’t dream of it. Though… Exhibit A - ’ You tapped a pearlescent streak on her lower back. ‘ - and Exhibit B.’ A glint near her hairline. [1] [1] 'Aim' undersells it. Last night was less a targeted strike and more a Jackson Pollock session across her skin. Stain #1 ended with her pressed against the shower wall as you sprayed load after load over her face. Stain #2: the final piece of the day; Exhausted beyond belief, you came across her back, and the both of you collapsed from exhaustion. It's really a miracle the rest came off relatively easily. She groaned. ‘It’s crystallizing. Like sea salt.’ ‘Adds texture.’ You nuzzled the nape of her neck, inhaling lilac and sex. ‘Stay. Five more minutes.’ ‘Your semen is petrifying on my skin and you want to cuddle?’ ‘Yes.’ Your hand slid down her stomach. ‘It’s proof.’

‘Of what? Your inability to control your own - ’ ‘That we wrecked each other so thoroughly last night.’ Your thumb circled her navel. ‘That’s hot.’ She snorted. ‘You’re disgusting.’ ‘Your disgust sounds suspiciously like pride.’ ‘Fine. But if this gluey patch near my ear isn’t coconut oil, I’m bleaching your favorite jeans.’ 'Of course.' 'Lay back,' she said, still facing away from you, legs curled and slotted against your knees. 'I wanna see something.' You gently rolled onto your back, sinking into the pillow. She turned, entering your periphery with sleep-gleamed eyes and pink lips. 'Try swallowing,' she said, moving closer. You swallowed. Her lips found your neck right in the midst: a wet kiss to your Adam's apple. The sensation lingered. 'Why'd you do that?' 'Why not?'

Why not. Those two words contained everything: why not when you're curled against her like this, why not when you're deep inside her, why not when you're breathing in the sweet scent of her skin. She shifted back, still within the circle of your arms, her hair tickling your forehead. 'I'm all sore. No thanks to you.' 'I was adjusting to your needs. And your needs... are an acquired taste.' You snuggled upward, her hair now feathering across your chest, almost ticklish. She had no defense. 'The champagne was a nice touch.' 'Which bottle?' She tilted her face up, eyes still heavy but alert. 'Don't pretend there weren't multiple bottles. I counted at least three.' 'Two and a half. The third was already open.'

'Because you opened it.' Gawon turned over completely, facing you now. Goddess. Goddess. You didn't say it aloud, but she probably knew what you invoked with each gulp, each strained touch, each unfettered breath. [1]

[1] The thing about thinking "goddess" repeatedly during sex is that it's simultaneously the most embarrassing and most accurate thought possible. Like yes, technically we all know about oxytocin and dopamine and whatever chemical cocktail makes you temporarily insane, but that doesn't explain why her particular face makes your brain short-circuit into worship mode. Modern therapy would probably have words for this - "idealization" or "projection" or some other term that completely misses the point that sometimes a person just is that magnificent and your brain is simply reporting facts.

A comfortable pause; No awkwardness anymore, just the luxury of looking.

'Details.' You brushed a strand of hair from her face and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. 'How's your head?'

'Fine. I switched to water after the first few toasts. Unlike someone.'

'You're a lightweight.'

'I know. But you didn't fare much better.' She laughed properly then, burying her face in your chest. 'Certified Chair Tester.'

The memory clicked into place. 'Ah. I made you rate the chairs.'

'Yup. And I rated them all tens because I was tipsy.'

'A flimsy critic in my bed. How appalling.'

She poked your chest. 'You were swaying. It was way too funny to focus on furniture evaluation.'

'It's important information. What if we need to know which one's most comfortable?' 'At two in the morning?' 'Especially at two in the morning. That's prime chair-testing time.' 'You're ridiculous.' 'You helped.' 'Someone had to make sure you didn't fall off the balcony furniture.' 'I was perfectly stable.' 'You tried to serenade a potted plant.' 'It looked lonely.' She propped herself up on an elbow to study your face. 'What did you even sing to it?' 'I don't remember.' She blew at your face. You blinked. 'Liar. You remember everything.' 'Only the important things.' 'So what's important about last night?' You pretended to consider. 'Well, first, the sex - ' 'Hey.' Her hand found your shoulder in mock protest. 'Alright, but… come on.' You made the face that said you know it was, and she buried her face in your chest again, giggling. 'Fine. It was…' 'The best.' Another gentle smack. 'Then champagne in blankets. Plant serenading - ' 'You serenaded the plant.'

' - chair testing. When's the next time, anyway?'

'Never happening.' 'Come on.' You caught her hand, interlacing your fingers. Her skin was smooth, like heated marble. 'The way you looked in that dress…' 'Now you're just being smooth.' You traced her hand - the knuckles, the flesh between finger joints, her careful nails. 'Is it working?' 'Maybe.' She leaned in for a soft kiss. 'What else?' 'The way you insisted on ranking every wine from the minibar.' 'Research purposes.' 'On hotel stationary. With ratings out of ten.' 'What do you have against proper documentation?' Her eyes gleaming. Cute. [2]

[2] There's something deeply unhinged about making someone rate wines at 2 AM, but it's also exactly the kind of thing that seems brilliant when you're three drinks in and she's wearing your shirt and everything feels possible. The fact that she went along with it - actually took notes, actually assigned numerical values to '$8 minibar Chardonnay' - is probably why you're doomed. Anyone who matches your weird that precisely is either your soulmate or your downfall, and honestly… what's the difference?

'Nothing. Found it adorable.' You chased her as she dodged your kiss. 'What was the winner again?' 'The Rosé. Obviously.' 'Mm.' Your fingers found their way into her hair. 'We should probably get up soon.' 'Why?' 'Sooin's coming at 11:30.' She reached for her phone, squinting at the screen. 'That's… two hours away.'

'Exactly. Soon.' 'Your concept of time is broken.' The phone dropped back to the nightstand as she curled into you. 'Five more minutes.' 'You said that twenty minutes ago.' 'Did I? Must have been someone else.' 'In this bed?' 'Could be anyone. Very large bed.' 'True. I should check.' You shifted theatrically. 'Excuse me, mysterious person, have you seen my girlfriend?' She pinched your side. 'Stop.' 'About this tall, beautiful - and I mean beautiful - and makes spreadsheets about minibar wine?' 'I hate you.' 'Makes terrible threats?' She kissed you longer this time, a proper good morning. 'Better?' 'Getting there.' 'Impossible.' But she smiled against your mouth. 'What would make it better?' 'Hmm. Maybe if the mysterious bed person knew where my pants went.' 'Bathroom door.'

'How - ' 'You hung them very carefully while explaining the importance of wrinkle prevention. Very drunk. Very serious.' 'I was thoughtful.' 'You were tipsy trying to be responsible. It was cute.' 'Just cute?' 'And amusing.'

'I'll take it.' You caught her hand, kissed her palm. 'Though I notice your dress made it to an actual hanger.'

'I'm efficient even when compromised.'

'Compromised?'

'Slightly… influenced. By alcohol. And you.'

'Me?'

'You kept doing that thing.'

'What thing?'

Pink crept into her cheeks. 'The thing where you look at me like…'

'Like?'

'You know.' She hid her face in your neck. 'Stop making me say nice things. Too early.'

'It's past 9:30.'

'Weekend rules.'

'Since when do you follow weekend rules?'

'I'm adopting them. Selectively.' Her breath warmed your skin. 'Rule one: no embarrassing admissions before coffee.'

'After coffee?'

'We'll see.'

You wrapped both arms around her, content in the absurd luxury of this hotel bed. The room still held last night palpably - an empty glass on the far table, her shoes abandoned by the door, balcony doors cracked to let in cool morning air. Most importantly, her hair: properly mussed, frizzy where you grabbed it, where she moved in rhythm with your body. [3]

The morning stretched ahead, full of nothing but this.

[3] The morning-after hair observation thing is such a cliché it hurts, but: you become a forensic expert in the evidence of your own happiness. Every tangle says "this happened," every misplaced strand means "we were here, we were real, we were absurdly alive at 3 AM." It's pathetic how much meaning you can extract from follicular displacement, but then again, memory needs its anchors, and if yours happen to be keratin-based, so be it.

'It was nice watching you and Sooin together. All the history there.' 'Seven years of questionable decisions,' she murmured. 'Good decisions. Like this hotel room.' 'Mmm. I'll tell Sooin you approve.' She yawned. 'She'll be insufferable.' 'She's already insufferable. That's why we love her.' 'True.' A pause settled between you. 'Do you think she's okay? About the exhibition?' 'She will be. She always is.' 'I know. I just worry.' She shifted to look at you properly. 'Is that silly?' 'No. It's what you do.' You tucked her hair behind her ear. 'It's nice.' 'Nice?' 'Adorable. The kind where you pretend you're not soft but you actually are.' 'I'm not soft.' 'You made her a good luck playlist.' 'That's just being supportive.' 'With color-coded sections.' '…Organizational efficiency.' 'And little notes for each song.'

She buried her face in the pillow. 'Stop knowing things.'

'Never.' Your hand found her back, rubbing gentle circles. 'Hey. She's going to be brilliant. You know that, right?' 'I know.' Her voice came out muffled. 'I just want good things for her.'⁴ 'They'll happen.' She turned her head to peek at you. 'You really think so?' 'I do. And if not, we'll be there with emergency mimosas and terrible jokes.' 'Your jokes are terrible.'

'That's the point.' She smiled, reaching up to trace your face. She kissed your closed eye. You held her closer. Her eyes, the small mole on the tip of her nose. Palpable, the universe of you two. 'I love you.' She whispered. You kissed her in turn. 'I thought no embarrassing admissions before coffee.' Pink crept up her neck as she hid her face again. You pulled her closer. 'Nowhere else I'd rather be.' 'Even with mysterious bed people?' 'Especially then.'

She laughed, tugging you down for another kiss. 'Okay. Fifteen more minutes, then we really do have to get up.'

'Deal.'

'I mean it this time.'

'Sure you do.'

'I'm setting an alarm.' But she made no move toward her phone, already melting back into your arms.

'Very convincing.'

'Shh. Weekend rules. No calling out contradictions before coffee.'

'I thought that was embarrassing admissions.'

'I'm making new rules as needed.'

'Of course you are.' You kissed the crown of her head. 'Fifteen minutes.'

'Fifteen minutes.'

The promised alarm never materialized. Instead, your mouth found hers again, morning breath be damned. Your hands sprawled across her honey skin, palms pressing against the beginning swell of her breasts, circling slightly, drawing out those perfect little half-groans.

When you shifted to bracket her body with yours, she squealed playfully, pressing her palm against your shoulder. 'Someone's feeling bold.'

'Just thorough. You seemed cold.' The lie was transparent. She knew it, fingers already tracing your shoulder, eyes holding that particular heat from last night. 'Thorough, he says. Is that what we're calling it?' You answered by kissing the corner of her mouth, working your way to that spot below her ear that made her breath catch. She tilted her head automatically, a response coded into muscle memory. 'You're terrible,' she breathed.

'The worst,' you agreed against her skin. 'Absolutely the - oh.' Her words dissolved as you found that perfect junction of jaw and neck. Then, disaster: pins and needles shot down your supporting arm. She noticed immediately. 'Did your arm just fall asleep?' You lied by her side. With a big grin. So beautiful, when she smiles. 'Maybe.' 'Adorable. My strong man, defeated by his own circulation.'[1] Her hands worked your forearm back to life. 'Better?' You flexed your fingers in response. She caught your index finger, pressed a kiss to the tip. 'Competen - '

'Don't even start.' Her eyes blazed with mischief. 'Maybe stick to positions that don't require gymnastic endurance?' You pulled her firmly against you, her waist bending perfectly as she gasped. Your mouth found the flexing tendon of her neck, tongue tracing hollows and dips as she arched into you. Fifteen minutes became thirty. Thirty became an hour. Sooin could wait.

[1] All taut sinew; the next, your nerve stages a coup, flooding your limb with the fizzy static of a thousand dying televisions. The humiliation is exquisite: biology reminding you that you’re essentially a sentient meat puppet piloted by faulty wiring and whimsical blood flow. You try to play it off - Ah, just my corporeal vessel rebelling against transcendence! - but internally, you’re drafting furious letters to Evolution: “RE: Poor Design Choices in Homo Sapiens Model #27B-6. SUGGESTION: Prioritize limb reliability over, say, toe hair or the ability to taste cilantro as soap.” It’s the universe whispering, through pins and needles, that even ecstasy is provisional, subject to maintenance, and probably overdue for an upgrade.

Her breath hitched when your lips found the edge of her jaw. You kissed the hard angle first, then traced the taut cord of muscle down to the soft dip beneath her chin. When your mouth finally covered hers, it wasn’t gentle. ‘How’s that for competent?’ You growl. Into her mouth. Her breathless mouth. Inching for any opportunity to breathe. You sealed her protest with your tongue. Her hands locked behind your nape pulling you closer until her breasts flattened against your chest, nipples hardening directly on your skin. The scent of her skin - salt and gooseberries and lilac - flooded your nostrils as she arched into you. Your palm slid down her outer thigh, fingertips catching on the fabric of her panties. Higher. Over the curve of her ass, gripping the fabric until the muscle tensed under your hand. She moaned into your mouth, grinding against your hip, her bare feet wrapped around you, holding on for dear life. Then her hand was on you - fingers curling around the thick outline of your cock through your underwear, squeezing just enough to draw a ragged groan from your throat. You felt the damp heat between her legs when your thumb brushed her clothed pussy.

‘Fuck me,’ she gasped, hips jerking as you pushed two fingers past her waistband, through slick folds. ‘Turn around.’ She smirked before she pivoted, turning around, back pressed to your chest. You hooked your thumbs in her panties - black lace - and dragged them down to mid-thigh, perfectly profane. Her skin burned where your knuckles brushed her inner leg. 'Please.' She pleaded, pushing her ass against your erection' You fumbled with your underwear, cock springing free against her lower back. She guided you with a hand behind her, fingers wrapping your shaft, angling you downward. Your first thrust grazed into her. Too tight.

‘Wrong - ,’ she yelped, pain and laughter trembling. 'Oh fuck. I'm so sorry.' You sidle up next to her, 'Are you - '' 'Keep going. Don't ruin the mood. Keep going. Please.' You choked; you adjusted, the head of your cock catching on wetness this time. She gasped as you pushed past swollen flesh, sinking an inch into her. Her inner muscles clenched.

‘Deeper.’ she begged, fingers clawing at your thigh. ‘Please - ’ You drove forward until your hips met her ass. A choked cry tore from her throat as she took your full length. She was fracturing. 'Fuck. Fuck - ' You held still, letting her adjust, feeling the flutter of her walls around you. 'Take it. Take it.' You breathe out, out of breath, fucking her into heaven. Nothing to offer but your length divvied into her wet walls. Hips pinned against her every turn. Your cock kissing her cervix - the rim of her moist cunt pressed oh so tight, filthy, dirty. ‘Should’ve - ah - aimed better,’ she panted, rolling her hips to take you deeper still. You moved then - thrusts that dragged just so, perfectly, leaving just the crown of your cock before pressing your full length inside her. Her moans sharpened, pitching higher with each retreat, each return. You slid a hand around her hip, fingers finding her drenched folds, circling her swollen bud as you fucked her. Her thighs shook. ‘Come on,’ you urged, thumb pressing hard. ‘Let go.’ You fucked deeper. Restraining her neck, her back compressing into an arch that left nothing in the middle. Only her nape and ass pressed against you. You dug your palm into her navel, 'Cum for me. Princess. Cum for me.' You growl, drawl. Her back arched, more than before. More than what should be possible. A scream ripped through her as she came, muscles milking your cock. Pulse after pulse. You groaned, and you followed, hips slamming forward as release tore deep into your muscles, your bones. Rope after rope. Cum served right to her cervix. Glancing off the walls, eventually sickeningly spread all inside her, filled to the brim, spilling like lava through the slightest crevice of her folds. All she could offer was a soft sigh.

Her back was to you, she was still trembling. Sweat glued the both of you together. Your fingers stroked the damp hair at her nape.

'I don't think I can walk.'

You smile. 'Who said you had to walk?'

‘Mmm,’ she hummed, turning in your arms. ‘Such a charmer.’ Her hand slid down your chest, pausing at your abdomen. ‘Prove those muscles aren’t just for show. Carry me.’

You lifted her easily, fireman-style. Her laughter vibrated against your neck as you carried her to the bathroom.

She opened the doors. 'Though I'd be of help, you know, my arms, and your legs situation.'

'Appreciate the assistance.' You jokingly say.

The shower hissed, steam immediately fogged the mirror.

‘Brunch with Sooin later. Before her exhibition.’ she said, a reminder to herself. Water sluiced through her hair, darkening it to ink.

You followed, hands sliding over her slick shoulders. ‘And after?’

She tilted her face up, droplets catching on her lashes. ‘Haven’t decided.’ Your palm cupped her breast, thumb rubbing a taut nipple. She sighed, leaning back into you. ‘Maybe we’ll just… see.’

'Wait.' You reached for the shampoo, squirting some into your palm. 'Did Gawon just suggest winging it?'

'I'm full of surprises.' She turned, presenting her back to you as you worked the shampoo through her hair.

'Next you'll tell me you threw out your color-coded calendar.'

'Let's not get crazy.' She was soft, content. Her head steadily went along with your touch. 'This feels nice though.'

'What does?'

'Not knowing. Just… being here with you.' She leaned back slightly into your touch.

'Even with soap in your eyes?'

'Especially with soap in my eyes.' She laughed, swiping at her face. 'Very romantic. Really setting the mood.'

'I do my best.' You helped rinse her hair, fingers gentle against her scalp. 'So this spontaneous Gawon - should I be worried?'

'Terrified.' She grinned up at you. 'I might suggest something really wild. Like trying that new Thai place without checking reviews first.'

'The horror.'

'Or walking through the park without a clear idea.'

'Now you're just talking nonsense.'

'I'm learning spontaneity from you. So to speak.'

'That's either very sweet or you're setting me up for something.'

'Can't it be both?' She reached for the conditioner. 'Your turn. What do you want to do today?'

'Honestly?' You took the bottle from her. 'Whatever makes you keep smiling like that.'

'Smooth talker.' But her smile widened. 'Though I notice you didn't actually answer.'

'Maybe I'm learning from you. Keeping my options open.'

'A convert!' She pressed a wet hand to her chest in mock surprise. 'My work here is done.'

'So Sooin at… noon?'

'Eleven-thirty. She's got that exhibition at two.' Gawon tilted her head as you worked conditioner through the ends of her hair. 'She's nervous about it.'

'Art?'

'Mhm.'

'She'll nail it.' You guided her back under the water. 'She's got that whole eccentric thing down.'

'I'll tell her you said that.' She wiped water from her eyes. 'She thinks she's too cheerful for the part.'

'That’s charm though. No one has energy like her.'

'She contains multitudes.' [1] Gawon's eyes sparkled with mischief. 'Speaking of which, you never told me who your favorite poet actually is.'

[1] Gawon deploys Whitman quotes like other people deploy "um" or "well". It's her tell. You've catalogued them all: 'I contain multitudes'; 'I am large' when caught crying at a commercial; 'Do I contradict myself?' when she changes dinner plans for the third time. If you were confronted on behalf of her, you'd say, to the world and above 'She's a loser, your honor'. Though the fact that she only does this for maybe four people in the world makes you stupidly proud to be one of them.

'You're not getting out of the Whitman bit that easily.'

'Worth a shot.' She reached past you for the body wash. 'Though I bet it's someone properly pretentious. Ezra Pound? T.S. Eliot?' You had your hand out, she spooled some body wash on your palm.

You rubbed your palms together, getting suds out. 'Baudelaire, actually.' You softly rubbed her body down.

She paused, surprised. 'Gross.'

'What?'

'Pervert.' She smiled, something tender in it. 'I see where you get your naughtiness from.'

You smiled back.

The water ran.

'See?' she said finally. 'Spontaneity. We just had a poetry moment in the shower.'

You pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. 'Maybe ease up on the transcendentalists before coffee.'

'No promises.' She tucked herself against you for a moment. 'I'm feeling very one-with-the-universe today.'

'God help us all.'

'Just you.' She pulled back, eyes bright. 'Think you can handle it?'

'I'll manage somehow.'

'Good.' She headed for the bedroom, calling back, 'Because I'm thinking we skip the predetermined brunch place and just walk until we find somewhere that looks good.'

'Living dangerously.'

'Try to keep up. This new spontaneous me waits for no one.'

'Except for the fifteen minutes you'll spend choosing which spontaneous outfit to wear?'

A towel flew back through the doorway, her laughter following it. 'Twenty minutes, minimum. Some habits die hard.'

You helped her dry her hair, something you’d underestimated, she had a mischievous smile the moment you accepted her offer of drying her hair. The best part was, indeed, the scent of her hair, the softness of it, gliding along your hand.

‘Didn’t expect it to take this long?’’

‘Not at all, it's your hair. Any time is too short.’

‘You got vocal chords shaped like a heart don’t you?’

'Only for you.' You wrapped your arms around her waist, and kissed her neck once.

‘I’m feeling beguiled.’

‘Unsafe?’

‘Very. Where’s the exit?’

‘Oh. I’m not that easy.’ You tightened the embrace.

She giggled, her hand wrapping endearingly around yours.

You had maybe 3 outfits; they were also scattered - the rest of the time, you and Gawon had to look for it. You finished just a little later than Gawon.

Outside, Sooin was sitting in her jeep with the windows down. She spotted you approaching with a grin.

'Morning,' she said, climbing out. 'I brought coffee but I drank it all. Sorry.'

'You okay?' Gawon asked.

'Yeah. Just couldn't sit still at home.' She leaned against the car. 'My neighbor started vacuuming at six AM so I figured that was the universe telling me to leave.'

You all climbed in. The car smelled faintly of coffee and the blue lavender sachets she kept tucked everywhere.

'Where to?' Sooin asked, pulling out carefully.

'I hadn't really decided,' Gawon said.

Sooin glanced over. 'Really?'

'Really.'

'Huh.' A small smile crossed her face. 'Okay. Let's just drive then.'

She took a left at the light, no particular destination in mind. The morning traffic was light, mostly delivery trucks and early joggers.

'The exhibition's at two-fifteen,' Sooin said after a while. 'They want a 'spontaneous review' .'

'You're good at those,' Gawon said.

'Sometimes.' She adjusted the mirror unnecessarily. 'It's three months in Hokkaido if I get it.'

'That's far.'

'Yeah.' Another adjustment. 'Really far.'

They drove past a small café with outdoor seating. Sooin slowed.

'This works?'

'Perfect,' Gawon said.

Sooin parked, taking two tries to get it straight. Inside, they found a corner table. The place was nearly empty, just them and an older man reading a newspaper.

'Tea?' Gawon suggested when the server came by.

'Coffee,' Sooin said. 'I know, I know. But tea makes me sleepy.'

'Since when?'

'Since always. I just pretend to like it.' She smiled at the server. 'Biggest mug you have, please.'

They ordered food too - eggs, toast, nothing fancy. Sooin picked at hers.

'Not hungry?'

'I ate earlier. Made eggs at home too. Forgot I did until just now.' She laughed quietly. 'I'm a little scattered today.'

'You'll be fine,' you said.

'Maybe.' She took a sip of coffee. 'My agent actually said 'think less.''

'Helpful.'

'Right?' She managed a real smile then. 'I should just channel Gawon. Very contained.'

'I'm not that contained,' Gawon protested.

'You made me use a coaster at your apartment during a party.'

'That's just common sense.'

'It was a red solo cup.'

They fell into silence. Sooin's hands had stopped fidgeting, wrapped around her mug.

'Thanks for this,' she said eventually. 'I know I'm being weird.'

'You're not,' Gawon said.

'Right.' She put the phone down. 'Tell me something normal. Anything.'

'Like what?'

'I don't know. What you had for breakfast yesterday. Your grocery list. Literally anything that isn't about auditions.'

Gawon thought about it. 'I bought new socks.'

'Thrilling.'

'They have cats on them.'

'Of course they do.' But Sooin was almost smiling. 'Are they at least subtle cats?'

'They're wearing top hats.'

Sooin smiled.

'What? They were on sale.'

You laughed. 'Show her the ones from last week.'

'No.'

'They have tacos on them,' you told Sooin.

'Tacos?'

'Tiny dancing kitty tacos.'

Sooin stared at Gawon. 'You're secretly twelve years old.'

'They're comfortable.'

'That's not a defense.'

'It's the only defense I need.' Gawon took a sip of coffee. 'Besides, you have that shirt with the - '

'We don't talk about the shirt.'

'The one with the sequined - '

'I said we don't talk about it.'

They went back and forth like that, and slowly Sooin's death grip on her mug loosened. Her shoulders came down from around her ears.

'Fifty minutes,' she said eventually. 'Think I have time to throw up?'

'You're not going to throw up.'

'I might.'

'You won't.' Gawon pushed the water closer. 'Drink this.'

'Bossy.'

'Yeah.'

Sooin drank the water. 'Remember when I auditioned for that commercial? The one with the cat?'

'You were allergic.'

'So allergic. My face swelled up like a balloon.' She touched her cheek. 'At least there's no cats this time.'

'Small mercies.'

'Huge mercies. Can you imagine? Sorry, I can't quietly unravel, I'm too busy sneezing.''

'You'd still get it,' you said.

'With my balloon face?'

'Even then.'

'Liar.' But she looked calmer. 'Thirty minutes. Oh god.'

'You want to head over?'

'No. Yes. I don't know.' She stood up, sat back down. 'What if I forget my own name?'

'Then make one up,' Gawon suggested.

'Hi, I'm… Gertrude.'

'Aim higher.'

'Beatrice?'

'Now you're just listing old lady names.'

'Those are sophisticated names.' Sooin stood again, for real this time. 'Okay. Let's go before I really do throw up.'

You paid and left. Outside, Sooin stopped walking.

'I don't want to go to Hokkaido,' she said quietly.

'Then don't,' Gawon said.

'I need the job.'

'You need a job. Not necessarily this job.'

'It's a good opportunity.'

'Is it though?'

Sooin looked at her. 'You're supposed to be supportive.'

'I am being supportive. I'm supporting your right to not freeze your ass off for three months.'

'That's…' Sooin laughed, surprised. 'Actually helpful?'

'I have moments.'

They walked to the car. Sooin got in, started it, didn't drive.

'What if I bomb?'

'Then you bomb,' you said.

'That's it?'

'Then you bomb and we get lunch and tomorrow's another day.'

'You make it sound simple.'

'It is simple. But cruel.'

Sooin considered this. 'I hate when you're profound.'

'Sorry.'

'Don't be.' She finally put the car in drive. 'Twenty minutes. Let's do this.'

At the theater, she parked crooked and didn't fix it.

'How do I look?'

'Like yourself,' Gawon said.

'Is that good enough?'

'It's perfect.'

Sooin nodded, grabbed her bag. 'If I die in there - '

'We'll delete your browser history.'

'I was going to say tell my mother I love her, but that's better. Thanks.'

She hugged them both quickly, then walked inside before she could change her mind.

'She's going to nail it,' you said.

'Yeah.' Gawon was already looking for somewhere to wait. 'Coffee?'

'Obviously.'

You found a place across the street. Ordered. Sat by the window where you both could see the theater doors.

'She really doesn't want to go to Hokkaido,' Gawon said.

'No.'

'Think she'll take it anyway?'

'Probably.'

'Yeah.' Gawon turned her cup three times. Caught herself. 'Damn it.'

'I didn't say anything.'

'You were thinking it.'

'Little bit.'

They sat quietly, waiting. Normal morning. Normal coffee. Two people waiting for their friend to maybe change her life or maybe not.

Either way, they'd be there.

Sooin's exhibition was successful. She sold 3 pieces. 3 more than she expected. She was more than ecstatic. And she was hired.

'I got it!' Sooin shouted from the hallway, fumbling with her keys. 'Holy shit, I actually got it!'

'We heard you the first ten times,' Gawon said, taking one of the champagne bottles before Sooin dropped it.

'I'm going to keep saying it.' She finally got the door open. 'Maybe forever.'

Her apartment was a mess. Empty wine bottles from last night's panic session, canvases against every wall, a dead plant she kept meaning to throw out.

'Sit,' Gawon ordered. 'You're vibrating.'

'I can't sit. I might explode.' But Sooin collapsed on the couch anyway. 'They want me for three months. In Hokkaido. Starting next month.'

'That's fast,' you said.

'That's terrifying.' She opened the champagne badly. Foam everywhere. 'Shit. Sorry.'

'Leave it.' Gawon was already in the kitchen getting glasses. Real ones, not the plastic cups Sooin usually used.

'Fancy,' Sooin said.

'You got a real job. We're using real glasses.'

'It's just three months.'

'It's a whole thing. With a budget. A whole mentor.'

'Who thinks I have 'luminous loneliness.' Sooin made air quotes. 'Whatever that means.'

'It means you're hired,' you said.

'Yeah.' She drank half her glass at once. 'Weird though, right? Like he saw through me or something.'

Gawon and you exchanged a look.

'What?' Sooin caught it. 'What was that?'

'Nothing.'

'Bullshit. You did the thing.'

'What thing?'

'The worried look thing.' She poured more champagne. 'I'm fine. I'm great. I'm employed.'

'We know,' Gawon said carefully.

'Do you? Because you're looking at me like I'm about to cry or something.' Sooin laughed. Too loud. 'I'm not going to cry. I got the part.'

She kept drinking. Fast. By the third glass she was quieter.

'Three months is long,' she said eventually.

'We'll visit.'

'Yeah.' She picked at the couch cushion. 'It's just. I'll be alone. Again.'

'You won't be alone. You'll have the cast, the crew - '

'That's not what I mean.' Sooin looked at them. 'When's the last time someone actually wanted me around? Like, really wanted me?'

The question hung there.

'See?' She smiled, but it was all wrong. 'Can't remember either.'

'Sooin - '

'It's fine. I'm used to it.' She stood up too fast, swayed. 'I'm going to bed.'

'Let us help - '

'I'm good.' She wasn't. 'Really. Thanks for… this. For being here.'

They watched her weave toward her bedroom. The door closed with a soft click.

The apartment had gone quiet except for Sooin's gentle breathing from the bedroom. You'd both helped her there an hour ago, after the toasts became mumbled and her eyes started closing mid-sentence.

Just you and Gawon on the couch, the Yamazaki bottle between you on the coffee table. She poured two fingers each, no ice.

'She was happy,' Gawon said, tucking her legs under herself. 'Really happy.'

'The exhibition was a success.' You add.

'That's not what I mean.' Gawon took a sip, considering her words. 'Did you see her face when that couple was discussing her work? How she lit up?'

'She loves when people get it.'

'No.' Gawon shook her head. 'She loves being seen. There's a difference.'

You waited. Gawon had that look-the one that meant she was working up to something.

'She told me she hasn't been with anyone.’ She said, quiet.

'She's focused on her work.'

'She's scared.' Gawon stared into her glass. 'I mean, I know the feeling now, you know? She’s never been with anybody - I never thought that concept would be so important to me now.’

She looked at you then. 'When's the last time someone chose her? Really chose her?'

Japan’s humid night tucked the both of you in this comfortable atmosphere.

'I've been thinking,' Gawon continued. 'About what she needs.'

'Gawon - '

'Just listen.' She shifted closer. 'You're good. Actually good. Not just nice, not just charming. Good.'

'I'm not - '

'You are.' Her hand found yours. 'And she trusts you. We both do.'

'What are you asking?'

'I'm asking…' She took another sip for courage. 'I'm asking you to make her feel wanted. Even just once. So she knows what it's like.'

'You want me to-'

'I want her to stop believing she's meant to be alone.' Gawon was fierce but quiet. 'I want her to know how it feels when someone sees all of her and wants her anyway.'

'This is whiskey talking.'

She set her glass down. 'This is me talking. Me loving her enough to be unconventional.'

'And you'd be okay with it?'

'I'd be there.' The words came out sure. 'If she wanted. If it helped her feel safe.'

You studied her face - earnest, determined, maybe a little scared herself.

'This could complicate everything,' you said carefully.

'Everything's already complicated.' She laughed softly. 'We're sitting in her apartment, drinking her celebration whiskey, trying to figure out how to fix her loneliness. We passed complicated a while ago.'

'She might say no.'

'She might.' Gawon picked up her glass again. 'But she might not. And maybe that's what she needs - to choose. To be chosen.'

From the bedroom, Sooin murmured something in her sleep. You both turned toward the sound, then back to each other.

'Think about it,' Gawon said. 'That's all I'm asking.'

'I don't need to think about it.' You touched her face gently. 'If you're sure. If she wants it. If it would help her…'

'You'd do that?'

'I'd do anything for the people I love.' First time said aloud. 'Both of you.'

Gawon kissed you then, soft and grateful.

She curled into your side, and you sat there with the weight of what you were contemplating. The whiskey bottle refracted and diffracted, amber and warm, like the feeling in your chest.

'When?' you asked eventually.

'When she's sober. When she can really choose.' Gawon was sleepy now. 'When it's not about the exhibition… but just… us. Being here for her.'

'Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Okay.'

She smiled against your shoulder. In the bedroom, Sooin slept on, unaware of the promises being made in her name, for her heart, in the whiskey-soft glow of her own living room.

Morning came with the quiet sounds of movement in the kitchen.

'There's coffee,' Sooin said without turning when you and Gawon came in. She was at the stove, hair messy, wearing the same paint-stained shirt she always wore for cooking.

'Smells good,' Gawon said, settling at the table.

'It's just eggs.' Sooin was carefully neutral. 'Nothing fancy.'

'Sleep okay?' you asked.

'Fine.' She still hadn't turned around. 'You?'

'The couch was comfortable.'

'Good. That's… good.'

Gawon nudged your foot under the table. The eggs were starting to stick to the pan.

'Here.' You stood, moving to help. 'Let me - '

'I've got it.' But she let you take the spatula, stepping back.

Standing this close, you could see she'd been crying again. Not recently, but enough to leave traces.

'Sooin.'

'Don't.' Her voice was very quiet. 'Please.'

'Okay.'

You focused on the eggs, salvaging what you could. She stayed nearby, not quite touching but not moving away either.

'I said things last night,' she said finally.

'You were honest.'

'I was drunk.'

'Both can be true.'

She laughed softly, without humor. 'I guess.'

The morning light caught her face when she finally looked up. She looked tired but also somehow lighter, like crying had washed something away.

'I meant it though,' she said. 'About being tired of being alone.'

''I know.'

'It's not…' She glanced at Gawon, then back. 'I'm not trying to make this weird.'

'You're not.'

'I am though.' She moved closer, just barely. 'Aren't I?'

You set the spatula down. 'Look at me.'

She did, reluctantly.

'You're not making anything weird. You're being you.'

'That's the problem.'

'No,' you said gently. 'It's not.'

Something shifted in her face. 'You mean that.'

'Yeah.'

'Even though…' She gestured vaguely between you and Gawon.

'Even though.'

She was very still now, watching you. You reached up slowly, giving her time to step back. She didn't. Your hand touched her face.

'Oh,' she said softly.

The kiss was brief, gentle. Her fingers wrapped around your wrist, not pulling away, just holding.

When you stepped back, she stayed still for a moment, eyes closed.

…

She opened her eyes, looked at you, then at Gawon who had moved closer.

'I don't understand any of this.'

'That's okay,' Gawon said quietly.

'Is it?'

'Yeah.'

Sooin took a breath. Looked at the stove. 'I burned the eggs.'

'I noticed.'

'They're completely destroyed.'

'We'll make more,' you said.

'Right.' She turned off the burner, moved the pan to the sink. 'Right. Okay.'

She ran water over the burned mess, watched it steam.

'Thank you,' she said to the sink. 'Both of you.'

'For what?'

'I don't know.' A small laugh. 'Everything. Nothing. The eggs.'

'Anytime,' Gawon said.

The morning sun filled the kitchen. Three people standing in the aftermath of something shifting. The burned smell was already fading.

Sooin dried her hands, turned around. 'So. Breakfast?'

'Breakfast,' you agreed.

And that was enough for now.

The taxi smelled like fake pine. Gawon sat by the window, arms crossed.

'You okay?'

'Fine.'

'You're doing that thing with your jaw.'

'What thing?' Her jaw unclenched slightly.

'That thing.' You poked her shoulder. 'When you're annoyed but pretending not to be.'

'I'm not annoyed.'

'Okay.'

'I'm not.'

'I said okay.'

She turned to glare at you. 'Her lipstick is on your collar.'

You glanced down. There was indeed a faint pink smudge. 'Huh.'

'Huh? That's all?'

'What do you want me to say?'

'I don't know. Something.' She turned back to the window. 'Never mind.'

'You're jealous.'

'I'm not jealous.'

'You're a little jealous.'

'Shut up.'

You slid closer. She leaned away.

'Gawon.'

'What?'

'You literally suggested it.'

'I know what I suggested. Doesn't mean I have to like it.'

'Fair.'

The driver changed lanes. Gawon stayed pressed against the door.

'She uses vanilla lip gloss,' you said conversationally. 'Very sweet.'

'I don't care.'

'Like candy almost.'

'Stop talking.'

'You use that mint one. Much better.'

She finally looked at you. 'You're enjoying this.'

'A little bit.'

'Ass.'

'Yeah.' You touched her knee. 'Come here.'

'No.'

'Come on.'

'I said no.' But she wasn't pulling away from your hand.

'One kiss.'

'You've had enough kisses today.'

'One more.'

She rolled her eyes but turned toward you. 'You're ridiculous.'

'Yeah.'

'And your collar is still pink.'

'I'll wash it.'

'Good.' She leaned in then, quick and firm. When she pulled back, she was almost smiling. 'There. Happy?'

'Getting there.'

'Don't push it.' But she let you take her hand. 'How was it anyway?'

'How was what?'

'You know what.'

'It was nice.'

'Nice.' She considered this. 'That's it?'

'She was nervous. Kept apologizing.'

'Sounds like her…'

…

'I also liked it.' She added, in the silence.

Wha-

She swiftly kissed you this time, harder, hands on your jaw. The taxi driver coughed pointedly.

'We're almost there,' Gawon said against your mouth.

'We could circle the block.'

'That's very Pretty Woman of you.'

'I've never seen it.'

'Liar.' But she was smiling now, the tension finally breaking. 'You probably cried at the end.'

'Every time.'

'I knew it.' She settled against your side properly. 'You're such a soft touch.'

'Only for you.'

'And Sooin, apparently.' She smiled, now with an air of mischief.

'That's different.'

'I know.' Quieter now. 'I know it is. Still.'

'Still,' you agreed.

The hotel appeared ahead. Gawon straightened, already reaching for her bag.

'For the record,' she said as the taxi slowed, 'I prefer when your mouth tastes like mint. Or nothing. Or me. Or you.'

'Noted.'

The taxi stopped. The doorman was already moving toward them. The moment broke, but the understanding remained - she'd given something, watched something, felt something she hadn't expected. And maybe that was okay.

The hotel already felt like home. Two days. Just two days and the air carried Gawon's scent.

And the traces of the entire day, and the day before that.

You carried a box of cookies that Sooin made into the villa. She said it was just a parting gift just for today, but it felt more like she was trying to forget what happened. It was the opposite for you, you couldn't forget; and the fresh smell of the cookies, reminded you exactly of Sooin's plump lips, pressed desperately against yours, as the scent of the cookie caramelized in the oven.

You left the box of cookies on the table.

The door to the bathroom clicked when you sat on the bed. And Gawon emerged. Sheer stockings covering her feet to the midway of her thighs. A stunningly webbed black lingerie piece that covered just the right amount to leave you anguish, while still narrowly hiding everything.

Her bra was the same too, the underswell, the upswell, the way her breasts coupled just over the edge of the bra, just so, god almighty.

'Sit on that chair.' She was firm.

You moved, still admiring her, but now sat facing her.

She approached, slowly at first, between you and the bed, and she sat.

'I suppose this is what I planned as payback.'

'Because of yesterday.'

'Among other things. You kissing Sooin, keeping me sore this entire week.'

Her stocking-clad foot traced a deliberate path along your denim-clad thigh - a slow exploration. ‘Gawon.’ The name escaped you, raw and pleading.

‘Hush.’

Your fingers dug into the chair’s worn knit fabric. Her toes pressed, finally, against the aching bulge straining your jeans - then lifted away. ‘Gawon.’

‘Keep saying my name.’ A command.

Both feet settled heavily on your thighs now, warm soles pressing heat through denim. Your knuckles whitened. ‘What do you want? Tell me.’

‘Help me. With your feet.’

‘Good boy.’

One foot slid upward, the nylon catching on your zipper. A single toe hooked under the button. Relief was a breath away. ‘Take it out.’

‘What?’

‘Take it out.’ Her foot pressed down, the arch molding perfectly to your trapped erection. Toe pads dragged firmly along the swollen length. ‘Look at you. Hard just from my feet. Naughty boy.’

‘You’re the reason.’ Your voice was gravel. Her sole pressed harder, feeling the rigid heat through the layers of cotton and denim.¹

Her hands clenched the bedsheets, knuckles taut.

Then - emptiness. Her feet withdrew.

You looked up, lost. ‘Wh - '

Her fingers hooked the waistband of her skirt. A slow, slide down endless legs. The fabric caught briefly on her toes before pooling on the floor. Art unveiled.

You released the chair, transfixed. The air hummed with worn nerves. She planted her feet firmly on the mattress edge, wiggling her toes - a deliberate provocation. Her gaze pinned you, savoring your desperation.

Slowly, deliberately, she ripped the seam of her left stocking. White-painted toes emerged. ‘These were expensive,’ she murmured. ‘I expect… reciprocation.’ The contrast - torn black nylon against creamy skin - was devastating.

‘Take it out.’ This time, it was final. You shoved your boxers down, freeing yourself.

Gawon’s eyes widened. Her left foot landed on your bare thigh, sole searing against skin. Then the right. Both feet bracketed your shaft, radiating unbearable heat just millimeters away.

‘Let me show you what these can do.’ A soft, dangerous smile.

Her feet closed around you. Her warm textured soles around your shaft, bare toes wiggling, brushing. Pressure. Friction. Gawon grinned, your cock trapped between her arches, twitching, helpless, pooling with precum.

She asked you to move closer, ‘Wait - closer. I can - ’

You dragged the chair forward immediately, wood scraping floor. She slid toward the edge. Your hands locked around her thin calves, feeling the flex of muscle beneath nylon.

‘That… works.’ Her breath hitched. One hand slid down her stomach, fingers pressing into soft skin below her navel. Lower. Beneath the lace edge of her panties. A sigh escaped her as her fingers moved slow, shadowing across her lace panties, hints of knuckles, fingers, the soft squelch. Her hand emerged glistening.

‘God. You’re so wet.’ You barely tear out.

‘Like you wouldn’t believe.’ She held up her slick-coated hand. ‘Want it? Be good. Take it.' She wrapped that wetness around your cock. Tight. She spat into her other palm. Both hands worked you now, while her feet maintained their tight grip at the base of your cock, barely moving, but destroying your nerves nonetheless.

Then she moved. Her hand held crown of your cock as her soles pressed heavily on either side. Her hand worked the precum down, her feet worked all of it: saliva, precum, her slick.

You twitched. Back arching. Your grip on her calves was too tight at some point, to which she moaned a soft rebellion: you stopped immediately.

You dug your toes into the carpet, your biceps pulsed, you lost oxygen after every filthy pass of her feet along your length.

And yet,

Her feet never stopped - a slow, torturous undulation against your shaft. The textured nylon dragged and pulled every moan from you, every hunchback position to prevent spilling on her textured soles rubbing against the slit of your cock.

Then just as you half-twitched to completion.

She stopped.

'You want my hand?'

'Yes.' You barely say.

You were prey to Gawon: 'Louder, beg for it.'

'Please. Your hand. My cock. Please.'

Her hand gripped your cock like it was a squeeze toy, a welcome sensation when you're passing in and out of consciousness.

Every downward stroke of her hands synced with her soles pressed hard around your cock.

'Look at you,' she breathed. 'Twitching like a rabbit in a snare.'

A strangled sound escaped you. Her thumbs circled your swollen head, smearing her wetness mixed with yours. Pre-come slicked the path. The schlick-schlick of her pumping hands synced with the shush-shush of nylon soles gliding.

Then she changed rhythm.

Her feet stilled, clamped tight just below the head. Her hands accelerated, twisting on the upstroke, thumb digging into the frenulum.

'Gawon - !'

'Not yet.' Her command was amber and honey and gunpowder pressed to your very nerves. 'You hold it. Hold it for me. Be a good boy.'

Sweat beaded your temples. Your hips jerked, seeking deeper pressure, but her feet held firm, denying release. Muscles trembled - thighs, abdomen, the cords in your neck standing rigid. The need was a live wire sparking behind your eyes.

'You taste the air?' She murmured, inexplicably.

You did. Salt. Her arousal. The tang of overworked nerves.

'That’s you unmaking. That’s what I do. Now, come here. sit here.' She patted on the part of bed between her thighs.

You stood up immediately, sitting between her thighs, her arms now entangled around your waist.

'I have a request.' She pressed a kiss to your jaw.

'Mm.' You reply. Running on fumes.

'I want you to… are you listening?' She says, now soft.

In a flash, her legs wrapped around your waist, her hand wrapped around your cock. Her heels just hovered by the sides of your shaft.

Then her heels dug in.

You let out a groan. In pleasure.

'I want to watch you have sex with Sooin.'

You twitched. You almost came. You groaned too. She's trying to fucking kill you. Her heels moved just so, the muscle of your shaft shifting in turn, her soles now pressed on either side of your shaft.

'Gawon - '

'Fuck Sooin for me. I won't force you. I want you to. I liked it… I liked it when you kissed her.'

'Gawon - ' You breathe. You were about to break. You were twitching. One more move. That's all she needed to break you.

'So?' Waiting for an answer.

Her left foot shifted. Just the big toe, dragging slowly, agonizingly, from root to tip along the pulsing vein underneath your cock. A whimper tore loose. Her hands tightened, twisting harder.

'Ok! I will. Fuck. I'll fuck Sooin. In front of you... I'll cum inside her.'

You groaned, her soles continued its movement, along the length of your cock, the whole of her soles, milking you.

She moaned. She came before you did. She moaned right on the rim of your ear, vibrating her perfect orgasm.

Holy Fucking Shit.

You detonated next.

It was a structural collapse. Spine arching, heels digging into carpet, vision whiting out as heat roared up your spine. Her hands milked every spasm, her feet a warm, grounding weight as you emptied yourself over her fingers, stripes of white landing hot on your stomach, her fingers, the carpet below the bed.

You panted, Gawon held you firm.

Gawon watched, chest rising and falling rapidly, her own arousal glistening visibly now at the lace edge of her panties. She lifted her slick, glazed hand, studying the mess with detached fascination.

'Holy fuck.' She said, spent.

You laughed.

She laughed in turn.

Her foot, still resting against your spent cock, gave one final, proprietary squeeze.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow was when everything was gonna happen.

You and Gawon shared a shower. Went along with the routine of days past.

With a commitment etched into eachother's hearts.

The day was neutral. Routine. You and gawon showered together. She scoffed when you held her waist with a half-hard cock against her back; all she could offer was, 'Tonight, you'll have all the time you need.' She didn't know how much that made you ache.

The hours ambled past. You and Gawon made rounds to cafes, pet shops, summer trees. Her honey hand was wrapped with yours the entire time, even when clammy: a soft proclamation that the both of you would be through thick and thin.

By evening, you walked nervously with Gawon to Sooin's place. She said everything was arranged. What did that mean?

The walk upstairs was even more nerve-wracking. It was until Gawon hugged you, right outside the door to Sooin's, that you calmed down. 'Sooin deserves the best. You deserve the best. I won't be jealous. I want Sooin to feel loved - more than just a kiss. I want you to understand, more than just sex, that I'll be forever yours.'

'It's a pity I can't throw you against this wall and make love. Hm?' You grin. She grins back. You kiss. You have no idea what you did to deserve Gawon.

The door softly cranked open and Sooin was stood there. Her hands raised perpendicular, waiting for you.

You walked towards her, then hugged her.

Sooin stood on her toes for a moment, readjusting her arms around your neck. She was secure, holding your head, looking at you; maybe she was trying to conceptualize something, something more foreign than just kissing.

Your hands were at her waist now, against her warm skin.

You were already half-hard. Half-dizzy. Crazed: Gawon's watching you, Sooin wants you. Focus, for once, focus.

Two beautiful women, one observing, one right in your arms - the one that isn't your girlfriend. You were confused.

Things were uncoiling. You aren't sure what it was.

'Kiss me. Again. More. As much as it takes.' Sooin whispered, right on your ear. Her moist breath tingling the side of your ear, your face.

Your breath caught. AWOL. You looked at Sooin once more. Her cheeks flush, her breaths heavy, her hair tangled so perfectly around your fingers.

You caught the side of her chin with one hand. Tilting her head just a little, just so, and you touched her lips. She was breathing fast, her heart was beating, you felt it on her lips.

You slid your tongue between her lips, selfishly. mmph she says, christ almighty. You traced her lips, her tongue.

Her arms tightened around your neck, and she took initiative: pushing her tongue deep into your mouth. You moved in response, in surprise. 'Gently' you whisper, she nods; now, licking softly, her tongue to yours, exploring you. Her hands were stretching the quarter-zip that Gawon bought for you.

You were catastrophically hard. You weren't privy to what Gawon was doing, what she was saying, most of all, what her reaction was. You were a deer under spotlight. Sooin coodinating perfectly to make sure you couldn't look at Gawon.

'Was that good?' She asked. Cheeks flush. Breathing heavily. Her hips were gently rocking against you. On your hardness.

'Yes. That… was perfect.' You whisper, just loud enough. Gawon surely heard it. Your cock jerked in excitement.

Without saying anything, you pulled her tight, entering her mouth once more, harder, without sympathy. She squealed something. You kissed her hard. Passionately. Far passionately than before, far more than the other times.

Your arm seized the small of her back. You helped her rock her body against your hardness. She was moaning in tandem with your pushes and pulls.

You looked down to see, to go past concept, to see what you were doing to Sooin. But before then, Sooin pulled your chin again, and kissed you hungrily.

Don't worry.

Just enjoy it.

'Christ almighty Sooin.' You balk, speech almost unintelligible. Desperately clinging to Sooin's body.

'Grind into me. Please.' She begged. That was it. That did it.

You nearly lifted her into the air as you ground yourself deep into her. Separated by cloth. Your cock against her pussy.

She moaned deep into your mouth. Her husky voice destroying a piece of you every time.

'I'm gonna come.'

'Keep going. Please. Keep going.'

You desperately move. Forgetting everything. Concepts forgotten. Just Sooin body perfectly sidled up on your brick-hard cock.

Then:

Gawon wrapped her arms around your shoulders. Forehead against your nape.

'I want in.'

Sooin retreated back. Cheeks red. Breathing heavily.

Gawon’s lips left a searing trail down your neck - half-graze, half-bite - as her fingers hooked the hem of your shirt. Fabric rasped upward, baring skin to the cool air and her hotter mouth. She mapped your shoulders, the tense cord of your triceps, then circled to face you, eyes locked on yours as her tongue flicked a nipple. The jolt went straight to your groin.

‘I want to suck your cock.’

No preamble. No permission asked. Her hands were already at your waistband, deftly working the button, the zipper teeth parting like a sigh. Your fingers tangled in her hair, not guiding, just anchoring, as she sank to her knees.

Behind her, Sooin stood frozen. Back pressed to the doorframe, knuckles white where she gripped the wood. Her breath hitched - a soft, involuntary sound. Gawon heard it. Didn’t turn. Just smiled against your hipbone, her breath humid through the thin cotton of your briefs.

‘Watch,’ Gawon murmured, not to you.

She peeled the briefs down. Your cock sprang free, flushed and straining and dripping with pre cum. Gawon’s gaze didn’t leave Sooin’s face as she took you into her mouth.

Her cheeks hollowed out, a gentle sucking noise rang out as your knees almost buckled right then and there.

The soft whimpers of Gawon going deeper.

The slick noise of her tongue circling the head.

Sooin made a sound - a whimper trapped in her throat. Gawon hummed around you, the vibration ricocheting up your spine. Encouragement? Mockery? Impossible to tell.

‘Gawon - ’ you choked out.

She pulled off with a filthy pop. ‘Patience.’ Her hand replaced her mouth, stroking slowly. Deliberate. Theatrical. ‘She’s never seen this, has she? Never seen how pretty a man comes apart.’

Sooin’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed on Gawon’s hand moving on your shaft. A fevered flush crept up her neck.

Gawon’s free hand reached back, blind, and found Sooin’s wrist. ‘Touch him,’ she ordered, voice thick around the command. ‘Just here.’ She guided Sooin’s trembling fingers to your hip, to the tense muscle jumping beneath sweat-damp skin. ‘Feel how hard he is for us.’

Sooin’s touch was feather-light. Terrified. Electrifying. Her fingertips traced the V of your pelvis, then flinched back.

‘Look at him,’ Gawon insisted, taking you deep again, hollowing her cheeks. _‘Look at what we do to him.’

Sooin’s breath stuttered. This time, when her hand returned, it didn’t tremble. Her palm flattened against your stomach, feeling the clench and release of muscle as Gawon sucked harder, faster. Her thumb brushed the base of your cock where Gawon’s lips stretched tight.

Two hands now. Two women. One unbearable friction.

Gawon moaned around you - a sound of pure satisfaction - and Sooin echoed it, softer, wonderstruck. Her nails bit lightly into your hip as Gawon took you to the hilt, throat working, eyes watering but never closing, never looking away from Sooin’s rapt, overwhelmed face.

Gawon’s throat flexed - a tight, rippling swallow against the head of your cock. Her nose pressed into your base. You felt the ridge of your crown catch momentarily on the tense ring of muscle at the back of her mouth before she forced herself deeper, her throat opening in a practiced spasm. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, tracking mascara-smudged paths down her flushed cheeks. She didn’t blink. Didn’t look away from you.

Her lips sealed impossibly tight around the root, the stretch burning. You felt the thump thump thump of her pulse through the soft flesh of her palate, pressed directly against your straining underside. Saliva overflowed, thick and slick, dripping down your shaft onto Sooin’s hand still splayed on your lower belly. The warm rivulet traced a path through the sweat-sheened skin.

Gawon held you there, buried to the hilt. Her breath came in short, desperate sniffs through flared nostrils, unable to inhale fully. Her jaw trembled with the effort. A low, guttural hum vibrated through her throat and into your cock - a physical buzz deep in your core.

Then, slowly, agonizingly, she retreated. Her throat released its grip with a wet, sucking pop. Your cock slid back through the tight tunnel of her mouth, every ridge, every vein catching exquisitely on her tongue, her palate, her teeth held carefully back. Her tongue flattened beneath you, a hot, broad pressure massaging the sensitive frenulum as she withdrew. Cool air hit the slick length for a fraction of a second before her lips, swollen and red, sealed back around the head.

Her tongue pressed hard under your cock, making you wince with pleasure, all the joints of your body gridlocked under blissful tyranny. Her lips pulsed around your shaft, the softness of the inside of her mouth, molded around your shaft, all velvety and fucking outrageous, dragging horribly along your length, the suction of her lips making a meek sound as it passed the crown of your cock.

Her hands never stopping working the base of your shaft and your balls. Switching rhythmically, squeezing lightly, fingers rolling your sac, just so, just so.

'Fuck. Gawon.'

'God. I love you. And this cock. And everything.' She breathed out, all flush and bothered, intermittently sending a hand down her panties, knuckles shadowing along her panties as she fucked herself on her fingers.

Gawon's saliva ran glistening along your shaft. Before it could pass down your legs, her lips surrounded your shaft again. Slicking Sooin's fingers where they still pressed against your hip. The sound was obscene: wet schlicks on the upstroke, guttural swallows of choked gasps when she surfaced, the constant drip onto skin.

Her hot gusts fanned your wet skin when she, occasionally, came up for air: short, sharp inhalations followed by low moans directed at you, directed at her fingers working on her pussy, before she plunged down again.

Sooin’s hand on your hip shifted. Her thumb found the taut tendon running from your hip bone towards your groin. She pressed into the rigid cord of muscle, her nail scraping lightly through the sweat and Gawon’s spit. Her other hand, the one Gawon had guided, lifted from your belly. You felt her hesitation in the air above your cock, then the tentative brush of a fingertip against the slick, spit-sheened head - just below where Gawon’s lips were sealed. A jolt shot through you.

Gawon felt it too. Her eyes, locked on Sooin’s, narrowed slightly. She increased the suction, hollowing her cheeks sharply, pulling Sooin’s focus back to her mouth, her control. She released you with another filthy pop, saliva stringing between her lower lip and your crown.

'See?' Gawon rasped, her voice wrecked. She didn't break eye contact with Sooin. Her tongue darted out, broad and pink, lapping at the pre-come beading at your tip, collecting it messily. 'See how he leaks for it?' She guided your cockhead back to her lips, her tongue swirling over the slit once more before taking you in, not deep this time, just the head, sucking hard and fast, her cheeks collapsing inward. 'All this… just from my mouth. Imagine.'

Gawon looked at you once again. This time, she stood up, wrapping her arms around your neck before kissing the side of your face, then pressing her tongue deep into your mouth.

Sooin stood there, wet-handed, even flusher, but she still just stood there: waiting, patiently.

'Sooin.'

That was all she had to say for Sooin to rush back towards you. But before she came, Gawon pushed you. You lost the abiltiy to maintain balance a long time ago, your knees were fucked, your brain was totally fucked. You were just fucked.

So you fell. Onto the bed.

'Calculated.' You breathe, masking the previous panic in your voice.

'Always.' Gawon says. And she leans on you, her knees on the bed. Hand on your wet cock.

Her lips surrounded your nipple, and a faint suction ran through your entire body.

Gawon's hand, the one taht was preoccupied with stroking you into madness, pulled for Sooin to come. And, again, she did.

Knees on the bed.

Palpably close to your cock, Sooin kneeled closer. And her lips pressed warm against your nipple.

Gawon motioned for Sooin, something unspoken, and you felt her hand wrap around your shaft.

Schlick.

Her moved. Her hands were smaller. Warmer. Tighter.

Schlick.

'Sit on him.' Gawon said. You darted up to look at them. Sooin was silent, eyes wide, her hand stopped moving.

'Are you sure?'

'Sit on him. Dear.'

The side of your chest where Gawon stayed was warm, she was there, looking at Sooin, she slid off your body, steadying herself. Her skin glanced off the sunlight, she was paler, a born deer surrounded by two wolves.

You were complicit in her ruin. You knew it now. Your cock grew harder the more you looked; soft skin, large bosom, thick thighs. You took a deep breath when Sooin straddled you, your lungs ballooned, the sides of her inner thighs pressed to your outer thighs. Her body was just inches off your rock-hard cock.

Gawon slid behind Sooin. Sooin didn’t turn - her gaze stayed locked on you, lips swollen and bitten red. The snick of a bra clasp echoed in the quiet. The garment slid down Sooin’s arms and landed in your lap, warm from her skin.

'Ah.'

Their laughter tangled - light, nervous. Gawon’s hand darted out, snatching the bra away.

Sooin’s breasts were bare now, high and full, nipples flushed pink. Your gut clenched, a visceral pull to bury yourself inside her - now.

She crossed her arms over her chest. 'You’re grinning,' Gawon observed, mischievious.

'I know.'

'Approved?' Gawon’s tone was all edges.

'Jesus. Are you blind?' You shifted closer, easing Sooin back against your chest. She was gentle, her back was arched. She was so so soft. Her bare shoulders trembled.

'Mm!' Sooin gasped as your thigh brushed her inner leg.

'Okay?' you murmured.

She nodded, cheeks blazing with red.

A hand closed around your cock - Gawon’s. Her thumb pressed the leaking tip. 'Hard as marble. Is this for her?'

You stayed silent. The answer pulsed in her grip.

Sooin arched when Gawon’s other hand slid between her legs, palming her through damp cotton. 'It’s really happening. Oh fuck, it's really happening.' Sooin breathed, pinned between you.

Gawon hooked a finger in the waistband of Sooin’s panties. Look. She peeled the fabric aside.

Wet heat glistened. No barriers left.

You traced Sooin’s inner thigh, feeling the jump of her muscle. 'Tell me.' 'I want' Sooin’s voice frayed. 'Just… touch me first.'

Gawon’s hand left your cock, guiding yours to Sooin’s center. 'Here.' Your fingers met slick heat. Sooin whimpered.

'Like this?' You circled her clit, her viscous slick covering the pads of your fingers. Holy fuck. Sooin’s head fell back against Gawon. 'Yes. God - yes.'

Gawon bit Sooin’s shoulder, leaving a red bloom. 'He needs to feel you. Ready?' Sooin nodded, frantic.

You lined up, the head of your cock nudging her entrance. Her hips jerked. 'Wait,' Gawon ordered. She spat into her palm, slicked your length. 'Now.'

You pushed in - slow. Sooin cried out, back bowing. 'Breathe,' Gawon commanded, pinning Sooin’s hips down. 'Take it.'

Sooin’s walls clenched, scalding tight. 'More - ' You thrust deeper. She sobbed, nails scraping your forearm.

Gawon watched. She moved to the side of the bed, sitting next to you. Hand on her mound - fingers moving. She breathed soft. She was looking at you, how you moved into Sooin. You met her eyes, once or twice. Making sure she saw, how your hips crushed against Sooin. Gawon's grin didn't leave her, her lust-gleamed eyes didn't change. Her fingers were still inside of her. In the background, as you stared at Gawon, Sooin let out pitiful moans that was more inspiration than anything else.

You moved deeper. Found her shoulder to bite on. Her pussy was wet, hot, her slick passed through your entire shaft, collecting down your balls.

'I'm fucking losing it. I'm fucking losing it.' She repeated, in your ear. You went faster.

Her hips moved up, your hands pulling as support, and she crashed back down. Her ass against your thighs. Smack.

She let out a pitiful moan again.

She moved back to find a different position. Her breasts bounced up and down. Your cock ground against her g-spot. She came.

She came just like that.

'Ahhh. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck' She buried her head in your shoulder. Trembled. Lost herself. Regained herself. Grinded her hips just a little. Letting your cock move and scrape against her sensitive spots.

'How does it feel? His cock grinding you. All inside you. Stretching you out.' Gawon's hand held Sooin's sweaty nape.

It wasn't question: an observation.

Her pink pussy was swollen around you. Morphed around you. Her stomach moved as her diaphragm collected oxygen. It felt unreal, her pussy tightening as she breathed in and out. It reminded you of a grounding detail, as the pause ensued: fucking Sooin as your girlfriend watched.

This time, Gawon's hand wrapped behind you, and she kissed you; first, on your ear, a tender, wet kiss that traced the outline of your ear; then, as you tried to kiss her back, her finger hovered over your chin, and pushed it back: 'I'm a spectator.' That was all she said.

Sooin was still breathing softly, her forehead still pressed against your left shoulder. The sides of her body still moved in accordance of her breaths, her humid breath hovered on your collarbone - worn out, high on bliss.

'Slap me.'

What?

'What?' You say, this time, with your mouth. Doubly processing.

'I want you to slap me.'

You look at Gawon, only to find her smiling.

The only clueless person in the room - you. [1]

[1] The exact moment your brain, which was previously operating on a simple "This is nice / This is weird / This is hot" flowchart, blue-screens entirely. It's the dawning, ice-water horror of realizing that the other two players in this… scenario… have apparently been co-authoring a very specific Google Doc of Kinks & Agendas in a shared folder you were never invited to.

Sooin blew air at you. You looked, she was smiling, still rawing from the pleasure, and then, just then, kissed you.

You locked your arms behind her back, and pressed your cock so deep that she groaned into your mouth. Her tongue moved in frantic movements as you pressed deeper and deeper into her; her folds pressed wet against the base of your shaft. You let the kiss go - to Sooin's dismay: mouth open and dizzy and flushed - to press your face against the space between her breasts; on either side, there was hills of perfect upswell dotted with pinkish nipples. You held her firmer as you plowed into her. She was still, victim to her pleasure, moaning, groaning, releasing her slick - some of it dripping on the carpet.

You saw Gawon move behind Sooin in your periphery. A sharp crack echoed - Gawon’s palm landing hard on Sooin’s ass. Sooin yelped, her fingers digging into the back of your neck. You held her hips down against your lap, your cock buried deep inside her, and delivered your own stinging slap to her other cheek. The flesh jiggled, already flushed.

'Thought you could just take and take, little thief?' Gawon hissed, naked, pressing her front against Sooin’s sweaty back. Her lips brushed Sooin’s ear. 'Squeeze her tight. Make her gush. Let her ruin her own fucking carpet.'

No more talk needed.

You stood, lifting Sooin’s legs, hooking them over your shoulders. She groaned, back arching, as the angle drove you impossibly deeper, the head of your cock grinding against her cervix. A raw, punched-out whimper escaped her - she was still trembling from her last climax.

You pulled her ass back, just enough for the tip to catch, then slammed home. A wet thwack of flesh meeting flesh. Sooin shrieked. You grunted, the force driving your hips forward.

Glancing down, you saw Gawon on her knees between Sooin’s splayed legs. One hand was frantically rubbing her own swollen clit. The other hand rose and fell in weak, almost spastic slaps against Sooin’s reddened ass. 'Close… oh fuck, close,' Gawon gasped, her voice thin and strained.

Sooin’s ass slammed against your hips again, slicker now. The wet sound was obscene - a mix of her slick, her cum, your pre-cum, smearing across skin and dripping onto the carpet below. The air reeked of sex and sweat.

Gawon’s head snapped back. A ragged cry tore from her throat as she came, her hips bucking against her own hand, her weak slaps stopping entirely as her body seized. 'Yes! Fuck! YES!'

The sight, the sound, the feel of Sooin’s cunt clamping down like a slick fist - it pushed you over the edge. 'Gonna - !' you managed, pulling out just as the first hot pulse surged up your shaft.

'Fuck! Fuck!' Sooin sobbed, her body convulsing. Her swollen pussy clenched around nothing, and a gush of clear fluid splattered onto the carpet between her thighs, soaking into the fibers. 'Oh god! Oh god!' she gasped between desperate cries, her hips jerking as she squirted again.

You gave her no respite. Still hard, still throbbing, you shoved back into her sopping, pink entrance. This time, you crushed your mouth to hers, swallowing her gasps as you fucked her through her own aftershocks. Deep, punishing strokes. The final sprint.

You buried yourself to the root, grinding hard. 'Fuck!' The growl ripped from your chest as you locked Sooin against you, fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. You emptied yourself deep inside her - one thick, hot rope after another, painting her inner walls, each pulse kissing her cervix. Your balls tightened, drawn up, as Gawon ducked her head, hollowing her cheeks to suck them greedily, swallowing what spilled.

'You… filled me,' Sooin breathed against your lips, dazed.

You kissed her, deep.

You thrust twice more, shallow and possessive, grinding your spend deeper into her core. Then you pulled out with a wet suck.

Thick globs of your cum spurted onto the soaked carpet, joining her slick puddle. One stray pulse landed on Gawon’s waiting tongue. She closed her mouth, swallowing.

You lowered Sooin onto the bed. She collapsed, chest heaving, looking up at you with glazed, awestruck eyes.

Your gaze locked onto Gawon. She was still panting, her own climax lingering. On her knees, she shuffled forward until her face was level with your softening cock, still glistening with a mix of your spend and Sooin’s slick. She let the heavy head rest on her tongue for a heartbeat, tasting it, before closing her lips around your shaft. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking firmly, cleaning every inch with slow swipes of her tongue.

To be continued.

a\n: And here we are! Hopefully this fic isn't too bad, I forgot how to write, and then maybe remembered…. idk. So for a few updates, I think releases will be monthly. Commissions are a bit of an issue - since i live somewhere where receiving payments or even operating a paypal account is strictly forbidden - so I decided to close the Ko-Fi account. When push comes to shove, and I mean when I'm really seeking money, I may find a work around. For now, here are my free works: monthly, utterly imperfect, barely edited, yet here. right here.

#gawon smut #kpop smut #fanfic #kpop #sooin #sooin smut #meovv smut

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sttoru · 1 year ago

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“eat your veggies, baby girl,” satoru urges his daughter. you’re all seated at the dining table, eating the food off your own plates. your husband is right next to your child’s high chair, trying to get her to eat her broccoli.

she scrunches her nose up to show her reluctance. when satoru gives her a frown of his own, she eventually gives in. “kay, papa..” she whines. she parts her messy lips and allows the green vegetable to enter her mouth.

you grin at the cute sight. your daughter reminds you of satoru in so many ways. she’s got a sweet tooth, just like him, and both of them dislike vegetables, “heh, you sound like your papa. he also doesn’t like his veggies.”

satoru pouts and looks over at you. he puffs up his chest and tries to defend himself, trying to be a good role model to his little girl, “hey, no, i eat my vegetables. lookie here, princess.”

satoru hesitates before shoving a big piece of broccoli down his throat. he visibly cringes at the taste and texture, but tries to play it off with a big grin - hoping to encourage his daughter to do the same.

“papa don’t like?” she asks with a concerned pout, tilting her head. it’s painfully obvious that he doesn’t like it - even a kid like her could tell. her tiny hand reaches out to satoru and pats him on the arm for comfort. she’s already so emotionally mature for her age.

the white haired sorcerer shakes his head. he coughs a bit and forces himself to eat another piece of the same vegetable, “no.. papa likes it very much,” satoru makes some funny faces as he continues to eat. he’s not fooling anyone, not even his daughter, “mhm.. so good.”

your toddler grins and tries not to laugh at the sight of her dad making those funny faces as he eats. though, she fails to hold in her contagious laughter when satoru turns his head to hide his suffering from her, “bwahahaha!”

her giggles make you smile and let out a chuckle of your own. satoru nearly chokes on his vegetables when he hears his kid’s adorable laugh. he grins from ear to ear and wipes his mouth with a napkin, “oh? laughing at your papa, hm? that’s not so nice, little princess.”

satoru jokes. he makes sure your daughter doesn’t have any food in her mouth before moving to tickle her belly, making her giggles even louder. you watch as he nibbles on her ear—thoroughly enjoying those sounds of joy coming from your toddler.

satoru’s mission is accomplished. maybe not his initial goal, but this one suffices for now. he’s made his wife and daughter laugh and that’s all what matters.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n

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kumikuzushi-kun · 2 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Telemachus x Reader

"Throwing an apple at someone was a gesture of love or courtship — if the person caught or accepted the apple, it meant that the love was reciprocated."

Warning(s) : None really, fluff and reader's is oblivious while Telemachus is just a shy lover boii

: Telemachus best boy! this is my first time writing in 2nd person so I hope yallu enjoy :)))

The streets of Ithaca was a medley of noise as Telemachus roamed around the hall of stalls and people, with a hood concealing his features—it was like a breath of fresh air.

With the weight of the expectations upon him, the hungry growing suitors in the comforts of his home and longing of his father, it was hard describing his cycle as relaxing.

The queen—his mother had suggested for him to wander outside the palace walls, explore the beauty of Ithaca, though with his identity as prince it won't take that long before a commotion would occur hence the suitors.

So the second when the old stall owner commented about his familiarity—he walked off out of the busy area.

Telemachus later finds himself in a quiet grove, the profusion of green leaves serves as a natural roof from the sun's shine—deliberately making the scene cool toned due to cast of shadows with few sunlight poking through the cracks.

The young prince looked around the grove as his footsteps brought him to a large apple tree, "These are probably the reddest apples i've ever seen" He commented inaudibly, a quiet chortle followed.

Telemachus ran his palms through the rough texture of the trunk—as he slowly descended to take a seat on the grass with his back settled on the tree's trunk.

This is nice

He thought as he tried to put his mind at ease, for such a pretty apple tree—he was suprised that no more people had taken the fruits, it was quite silent for—

"Oh no!" A voice interrupted the said silence—before Telemachus could react of the voice, a hard small like object fell above—landing at the Prince's head. "Ow!" Telemachus yelped at the sudden hit as he unwittingly caught the said object on his right hand with his left rubbing his head.

He blinked his eyes open to see what he was holding—to see a red apple. Telemachus then looked up to the tree just to see a hooded figure on a branch high up. "I'm sorry!" You yelled through the branches.

"My apologies there! My basket seemed to have filled up already" You added as Telemachus saw that you started to climb down the tree.

Telemachus saw that you were approaching the ground with such grace, it’s as though descending requires no effort at all—despite that, the swift jumping made the prince worry.

"U-uh it's no worries but hey,, you should be careful climbing down, You could-"

Before he could have finished his statement, you had landed on the last branch which was also just above Telemachus's head to the right.

That's where the prince got a good look at your features, Just like him with a hood trailing down your figure but in this angle he could see your face more clearly.

The person turns out to be a young woman who looks around his age, Your eyes were the first thing he noticed—as if they carried kindness in every glance—Your hair fell around your face in a lovely kind of mess, swaying with every breeze of the wind. Telemachus's gaze lowered just below to catch a glimpse of your lips, and back to your eyes.

You tilted your head to the side, as you blinked at the male. Telemachus blinked back, realizing he'd been staring at you for too long.

"Did it hit your head hard? I'm really sorry about that again" You asked with concern.

"Oh- you mean the apple? I'm alright" Telemachus replied edgy.

"Hmm" The young woman hummed as Telemachus bit the inside of his cheek as an awkward silence followed.

Without a warning you suddenly raised your hand to feel the top of Telemachus's head.

This caused the prince of Ithaca's eyes to widen—taken back by your sudden boldness.

"E-excuse me—? What are you-"

"Your hair is really soft, I don't think a falling apple at such a height would land gently on your head especially with hair as soft as yours" You cut him off.

Telemachus was taken back at your bluntness, a blush spread at his cheeks while you kept unfazed as if you didn't just compliment him twice.

"It's fine really.. What are you even doing up there anyways?" The male asked as your hand slowly left his head while he held out the apple he had caught.

You didn't say anything and stared at the apple and back to Telemachus—instead you revealed a basket filled with rich red apples from your cloth—giving your answer.

He gave a surprise blink.

You started to get down from the branch you were sitting in—jumping down and landing gracefully beside the prince. Upon standing next to him, the height difference was inversed, now the male was towering between you as he looked slightly down at your height—seeing this made you smile cheeky with your eyes closed.

Your smiling image made a subtle flutter in Telemachus heart. "I'm (name)" You introduced with a warm smile. "I saw the apple tree from afar away and I can't help but take some" You said.

"Yeah.. it's quite an apple" Telemachus said awkwardly—rubbing his nape, he took a peek at you and almost instantly regretted it—

Your smile was adorable in the eyes of the prince, the way your words were coated with a gentle voice, your subtle chuckle that filled the place, The young male felt his stomach fill with those classic butterflies—just like the ones described in romance novels or the tales of his parent's love told by his mother.

"Are you from around here?" Your question caused the prince to look at you dumbfounded—thinking you were joking but when he saw the genuine and innocence that followed, he thought of a conclusion.

"Uh- yeah! I am, are you..?" He stuttered.

You let out a chortle, "No I'm not" You answered turning to the side. "Oh.." Telemachus mumbled looking towards your side profile which deliberately caused his blush to hue again.

Now that you mentioned it, you did look outlandish, foreign. There was a subtle difference between the Ithaca women he had met and your features.

"So what brings you here in the forest? uhh I didn't catch your name" You asked

Your question made Telemachus also realize—since you're not from here, you probably don't recognize or know his status. The idea made his lips crack a smile knowing that he was just a stranger to you, someone new and a chance to be himself and not a title derived from his father.

"Telemachus" He introduced.

He was Telemachus at this moment, not the prince of Ithaca or the Son of the legendary Odysseus. He was just Telemachus.

"That's a very pretty name, Telemachus"

The way you said it—slow, deliberate—made him pause.

No one had ever said his name like that before. It didn’t sound like a title, or a legacy, or a burden. Just... his name.

He glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “You say it like it means something good.” He laughs.

"Your name means far and battle, sounds pretty impressive, don't you think?" You commented, turning your heel towards the male, leaning dangerously close to his presence.

You glanced down at the apple he was holding since earlier, plastered in his palm without a single scratch. An unreadable grin formed your lips as your gaze went to his own. "You caught it" You said.

Telemachus looked where you were referring to and saw you were talking about the apple in his hand. "Oh yeah! Do you want it back?" He asked naively.

You leaned back to your feet as you gave him a look with a closed mouth, this made telemachus tilt his head—confused at your lack of reply and silence. Exchanging looks at the apple and back to what you just said.

It took some time and a few chuckles from you and slowly Telemachus started to get the hint.

"Oh- yeah! I didn't mean to- not that I...!"

"Well, to be fair, I didn't technically throw it either" You cut him off, turning away from the prince at a slow pace with your hands holding the basket behind your back.

"The fruits in Ithaca taste so much fresher—are there other fruit trees around here too?” You changed the subject but your smile from the previous topic didn't change. "Huh?" The prince stuttered quite dazed from the change of topic.

You only chuckled with your lips closed, your eyes turned away from Telemachus to watch the passing wind blow away and it seemed that the wind god guided your eyes—as you caught a glimpse of another fruit tree in the distance.

The scene immediately lit up your eyes with excitement as you shot your gaze back to the prince who tried to follow what you were looking at.

"It looks like a.. peach tree? no, I think it's a cherry-" He tried to take a guess but was interrupted, "Who cares! Come on!" Your voice bolted with excitement.

Without another second, you took Telemachus’s hand and took off running—dragging the unprepared boy along at your pace. You laughed when he nearly stumbled, fumbling over his words as he questioned what was happening. You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you glanced back at him with a playful, one-eyed smile.

“Don’t worry about it! Just follow me! I’ll even teach you how to climb a tree!” you called out cheerfully.

"W-what!? I know how to climb a tree!"

"How about getting down from the tree!" Your reply made him shut his mouth—almost pouting, which made you laugh louder.

You turned your attention forward just as the wind swept through, pulling your hood from your head. Your hair spilled free, a few strands dancing with the breeze. Laughter lingered on your lips—warm and easy, like sunlight streaming through the trees.

Behind you, Telemachus muttered something under his breath, half to himself, questioning how he’d ended up in this situation: being pulled along by a girl he’d only just met, her smile the warmest thing he’d seen all day, dragging him off to pick fruit.

And yet, despite it all, his hand stayed in yours—tight, steady, maybe even a little reluctant to let go.

This wasn’t how he thought his day would go.

But he wasn’t complaining.

When you finally slowed down, your breath was heavy but your grin never left your lips, you led him beneath a tall tree with branches thick and sprawling.

"The peach tree is there" Telemachus said looking at the said tree is, "I told you that I'll teach you how to climb a tree did I? Peach trees are too fragile for climbing" You said letting go of his hand to go closer to the tall tree—the sudden absence of your touch made him turn his head back to you. "Besides there's an even cooler thing waiting above this tree" you added before dropping down your basket of apples on the grass.

"Better than a basket full of peaches?" Telemachus laughs at his own joke.

"Hmm.... Maybe? You decide" You said in an elusive tone, at that—you started to climb the tree in ease, reaching the first branch and taking a seat on it, "Come on!" You encourage the lean boy with a smile.

Telemachus looked up to check the height of the tree and deliberately gulped but then landed his eyes on your waiting figure—your feet swinging off the branch, signaling the boy to follow with your hands. Who was he to deny an invite from such a girl?

Letting out a sigh as he hesitantly started climbing. "Don't let the fear get to you!" You yelled as you saw him hesitant.

When later you saw that he was getting the hang of it, you smiled at him like a proud mother before also continuing climbing high up—checking up from time to time at Telemachus.

The tree's branches were strong and sturdy enough to console Telemachus from worrying too much—with addition of your words of encouragement.

"Come on! Come on!"

"It will be worth it! I promise!"

"Careful there!"

"Watch out for thorns or sharp parts kay?"

It seems though that the prince didn't really take your last comment deeply because he was more focused on catching up to you—so when he grabbed another branch to lift himself up, he felt a sharp part that really pierced. "Ah!" He yelled as he dragged his hand but that just made him scratch his palm into the sharp part more.

The sudden addition of pain made him react defiantly as he let go—shutting his eyes, expecting what was next...

But then a hand grabbed his wrist swiftly—catching the prince just in time, he opened his eyes to see you—worry tinted your iris but quickly faded away when you came into contact with his eyes. "Got you!" You called out

Telemachus cracked a smile but was also embarrassed cause he almost fell to his death.

You helped him up towards the branch you were in, taking the hand that was affected in both of your hands. "You're hurt" you stated as you gently exclaimed the open wound.

"Yeah.. but not really it's just a scratch-"

"You're still hurt" You cut him off, placing his hand at your lap and digging in your cape for something. "It doesn't hurt that much" He said, you should see the state he would be whenever the suitors pick up a fight on him

"Wounds are tended not ignored" You stated as you brought out a roll of bandage.

"That isn't really necessary, I can just-"

"I refuse, I don't want it to get an infection" You fought back leaning closer for dominance which made the male back up slightly—blushing.

"I-its fine-"

“Please let me, Telemachus,” you said, your voice laced with worry.

Telemachus blinked, his eyes widening as he studied your face—the way your brows curved with concern, the subtle pout pulling at your lips. Your grip on his hand had tightened, firm but quiet, yet still warm and gentle.

The way you spoke his name—slow, almost fragile, as if it might shatter—caught in his chest.

Neither of you noticed just how close you two were at this moment.

At the end he lets you, each movement and touch was gentle, careful and sincere. He couldn't help but admire you while you wrap the bandage around his wound.

"There" You conclude.

"Thanks.." He murmured meekly.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you looked up at the tree, "a few more branches before we see it" you said.

"I understand if you don't want to risk going higher" You said with a soft-eyed smile. Telemachus can see you were disappointed about not showing him 'it' but yet you didn't show it through your words—more concerned for his safety and opinion.

"No, I want to" He confessed. This time your eyes widen slightly, "A-are you sure? I wouldn't want you to-"

"It was just a scratch silly, and besides I'm curious what's this 'it' that got your eyes sparkling" He said with a breathy laugh.

This time you were the one taken back but your lips quickly turned back into a smile upon hearing his response. "Okay..but this time stay close to me" You said handing your hand to the young boy, he was shy at first—attempting to minimize the growing blush on his cheeks, it didn't take long before he planted his hands to yours.

The two of you climbed slowly towards the top of the tree, the higher you both go up—the more you look out of the distance. Telemachus took notice of this and followed your eye's direction.

As you both climbed higher, the leaves began to thin, letting more of the sky slip through the gaps like a slowly unfolding curtain. The orange hue of the sky deepened into a golden glow, streaked with soft strokes of pink. Wispy-shaped clouds floated gently across the scene, like brushstrokes left unfinished. The sun hovered low—glowing like an ember on the edge of the earth—casting long, dappled shadows through the branches.

“Just in time for the sunset!” you squealed, your voice light with excitement. At last, the two of you reached the highest branch.

Telemachus, still mesmerized by the view—and maybe a little by you—paused beside you. His eyes didn’t know where to rest: on the sky that looked like it had been set on fire, or on the way the light danced in your eyes.

He sat down beside you, slower this time, as if he didn’t want to disturb the stillness. He looked back at the sky, the view of Ithaca below—the wind blowing as the leaves flowed together. This was much better than his view from his balcony.

The smell of sweet fruits and nature linger in the wind and the ocean waves from the corner of his eye. The scene felt like a dream—it was beautiful.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You said as if you read his thoughts. Telemachus was able to take his eyes off the scene to look at you. "It's worth the climb" You said with a warm smile—leaning on your palms as you close your eyes at ease.

Telemachus fell quiet, his gaze lingered on you longer than the sky infront of him, The sunset was breathtaking, but there was something about the way you smiled—calm and content, like you belonged with the wind, somewhere that made the moment feel more special. He remained silent beside you as he continued to admire your presence.

You opened one eye open to see him looking at you, caught somewhere between awe and thought, his lips was parted close—this time it was your turn to study his eyes.

His eyes held a warm color—caught between the sea and earth, deep brown but with the hints of the sunset, they shimmered like gold and amber. They were steady, curious and full of quiet longing, his soft gaze was something that made your heart still.

The two of you stared at each other's inner souls for awhile before the both of you realized it. Turning back in each other's opposite direction—both you and Telemachus held pink blushes however the male kissed his lips quite embarrassed while you held out your laughter.

The two of you stayed like this for awhile, watching the sky's hue fade as you both exchanged conversation, every second of getting to know each other bounded a stronger chemistry between you two. That day Telemachus felt at peace maybe it was because he was away from his problems or because of you who introduced peace to him.

Thank you for reading everyone! Interactions are greatly appreciated! I'm really proud of this one so I hope it was decently enjoyable:'0 Live Laugh Love Telemarketing <3

~kikoyu

#telemachus #telemachus x reader #epic the musical #Epic the musical x reader #odysseus #penelope #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #fluff #i love telemachus #the odyssey #odyssey x reader #greek mythology #greek #telemachus epic the musical #epic x reader #wisdom saga #oneshot

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summertiide · 5 months ago

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hence nothing remains except for our regrets

sometimes you just gotta smash your interests together like playdough!!! here's the Great God Grove gods in OFF's style!

shoutout to @weirdalchemy for the sketch of Huzzle Mug's pose and a ton of help in working out the other ones!

the full-sized + unsprited sketches / some assorted rambling under the cut!

link to the bizzyboys!

turning them into little 200px max sprites lost some of the detail i really enjoyed on some of them (thespius basically lost all of his hair flowers, and bauhauzzo lost a few nice rock-chipping details i was super fond of u_u), so i figured i'd include my sketches also!

a few extra design notes from while i was trying to figure everything out

i wanted to keep Miss Mitternacht really simple, and tried to lean into the early-game boss sort of look! (i was also trying to remember how to get the sketchy-pencil texture to translate into the smaller versions, oops)

Cobigail and Inspekta were the first ones i thought of when i decided to make all of them! Cobigail's jumpscare face was an instant pick, even if i lost all of those extra little lines in the spriting process

drawing typewriters is a nightmare. people who draw Click Clack all the time at his typewriter are stronger than i could possibly imagine

i got stuck on Thespius for a while, and he was the second to last one i finished - he's a lover, not a fighter!!! i wound up sort of trying to take an angle similar to Sugar's in OFF, an optional boss who you have to deliberately go for (i have this distinct vision in my mind of a boss track for him called "Swansong")

Bauhauzzo is meant to look kind of stuck in the ground, like an obelisk!

Inspekta was taken for sort of a "busted doll" look, from that bit in the art book where they said he was animated to "move like a plushie"! he was my favorite of the bunch to work on, even if the hands were kind of a Situation

it was kind of a bummer that more of King's eye-veil didn't turn out in the sprite, but i couldn't quite find a way to make it show up without making it hide her face too much! people drawing her posing with the sword was a huge source of inspiration, though, it just felt right

i might do more of these sometime soon - maybe the Bizzyboys as a sort of group fight? i also thought about doing a Godpoke Batter type of look but i couldn't quite figure out how to finagle that, but i may try again later on!

#my art #great god grove #great god grove spoilers #i have been working on this for like four days now. oof ouch my wristssssss #it's such a process to make OFF-style sprites but its genuinely so much fun i might try to do some for other things sometime!#cw eyestrain #<- just in case those backgrounds are Too Much for some folks

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monster-disaster · 5 months ago

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How do you think certain monster boyfriends/husbands handle their girlfriends’/wives’ plushies? Especially if they’re on the bed with them? 🧸🧸🧸

It's a cute idea. 😊

Your orc doesn’t have a problem with your plush or plushies. Within reason. A stuffed animal or two? That’s fine. Cute, even. But if he rolls over in the middle of the night and gets jabbed in the eye by the ear of a plush bunny? That’s where he draws the line. Especially when he wants to hug you, and he has to fight himself through them to reach you. "Alright, sweetheart," he rumbles. "This ain't workin’."

Your werewolf is jealous. And he doesn't even try to hide it. Why would you need anything else when he is right there, soft, warm, and big enough to hold you in his arms as you drift off? He is your personal comfort, your real-life cuddle buddy, and yet, here you are, wrapping your arms around a fluffy monkey as it could compare to the heat of his body. He isn't about to throw your toys out, he is not cruel, but every so often, when he catches you with a plush nestled in your arms, he growls about it; "Don’t need that thing when you’ve got me, babe. I’ll keep you plenty cozy."

Your minotaur gets a little annoyed by the plush toys every now and again, especially when he wakes up to find one tangled around his horns. He’s not the type to make a big deal about it, but the soft, squishy feeling of a stuffed bear rubbing against his head in his sleep? Yeah, that’s not his idea of a good morning. The first time it happens, he just blinks at it, letting out a long, frustrated sigh before carefully untangling the toy from his horns, muttering something under his breath. "How the hell did this even happen?" It’s not that he minds the toys themselves, but the constant wrestling with them while he's trying to sleep is another matter.

Your goblin uses them as pillows. At first, you notice a few of them have started to migrate from their usual spots, ending up on the couch or in the bed. And then, one morning, you wake up only to find one of your favorite plushies squished right under his head as he snores away beside you. "What? It’s the perfect angle for my neck. Nice and soft, just the right support, you know, sweetheart?"

Your rakshasa boyfriend is all for the plushies. They are soft, warm, and perfectly comfortable for snuggling up with during the night. The real issue, though, is his mania for filling the bed with as many pillows and blankets as he can find. He doesn't care if it’s summer and the heat is unbearable. To him, the more softness around him, the better. You wake up in the middle of the night buried under a mountain of pillows, surrounded by enough blankets to make it feel like winter, and you sigh, wiping sweat from your brow. "Darling, you can never have too much comfort."

Your dragon boyfriend is totally fine with your plushies. After all, he can understand your hoarding tendencies. So, your plushies? He gets it, even if you have a few more than you might admit. He might find a certain charm in it. If they start taking up too much space, he just builds a bigger nest for the two of you and your plush army. "Don’t worry, love, we have enough room for your treasures."

Your naga doesn't like them. It’s not that he has anything against them per se, but the textures just don’t sit well with him. The soft, squishy feel of plush toys feels strange against his scales, and the last thing he wants in his sleep is the feeling of fluffy ears or stitched eyes brushing against his body. He tolerates them for you, but if you catch him side-eyeing the toys, you know why. Fortunately, the solution is simple. You just place your plushies on the other side of the bed so he can curl up around you without touching them. "So much better."

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lambilegs · 5 months ago

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extremely vague and open ended request:

im in desperate need of dry humping and thigh riding with sevika… do with that what you will :)

(bonus points if it’s soft smut with a lot of praise hehe) soft sevika lives in my head rent freeeeee

soft and sleepy dry humping with sevi

�� note to anon: HIII bae so I was sooo eepy when I got this request, and I really wanted to write some soft, sleepy sex with sevi, so I just had to do this request hehe. and thank you so so much for being so sweet about the req stuff, you're a sweetheart <3 and same omg soft!sevi has my heart ♡ contains: dry humping, sevi and reader being soft and in love, clothed sex, reader's body is referred to w the following terms: "clit," reader is called "pretty" ♡ divider by: @/kodaswrld

you whine as sevika holds you close against her in the dark of your guys' shared room, your flimsy pajama shorts drenched through as you rut desperately against her thigh. her strong arms wrap around your waist, the cool fingers of her bionic hand slithering under your shirt to scratch lightly at your skin. you shiver from the cool, smooth texture of it, the slight prick of the ends making you jerk harder in surprise.

even in the dark, you can see sevika's teeth flash at you, her sweet little gap peaking out in the row of white. god, she has such nice teeth. that thought sends you surging forward, capturing her lips in yours as you two languidly make out, the bump of her scar so uniquely her that the briefest skim of it as you shivering.

the trembles of your body cause her to tug you in closer, her hoodie plunging you into a comforting heat. a part of you melts at how even now, in the throes of pleasure, both of you heavy-eyed and hazy from sleepiness, she still manages to take care of you. she's like that, really. always showing her love in quiet, seamless ways that flow into one another like an everlasting chain of tenderness. she sees your skin covered in goosebumps, and she silently retrieves a blanket. you mention being thirsty during a walk, and she's hurrying to the nearest gas station. you mention a snack you like, and the next day, it's stocked up in your kitchen's pantry. it's the kind of affection that doesn't demand reward or to be seen. it simply exists out of nothing but care and attentive consideration.

the thoughts of how lovely your girlfriend is has you cupping her face, your tongues massaging one another's as her hand slides down to your ass, nails digging into the plush cheek of it as she grinds you forward and back along the firm, thick muscle of her thigh. the press of it against your clothed clit gives you a muffled sort of pleasure that sends your entire body squirming against hers, a soft whine flowing from your lips into hers.

"goddamn it, you're so cute," she groans against your lips, almost as though the sentiment is a personal attack on her. "you do this on purpose to get me staying up and taking care of you?"

you laugh softly, the sound shattering into a long moan when she lifts her thigh up, nudging it harder against you. "I--I-- it's not my fault you have the sleep schedule of an old man."

"hey, well," she chuckles, scattering kisses down the slope of your neck, sucking softly on the spot that dips to your shoulder, "I need to wake early to work. and I need to work so I can put my pretty baby in skimpy little shorts like this."

you shakily giggle, biting your lip so hard it aches when her hands grope your ass tightly and begin helping you ride her faster, harder. your arms loop around her strong neck, fingers toying with the ends of her silky black hair. from the tiredness wrapping around every inch of you, seeping into your skin, weighing on your eyes, and the way sevika is helping you so diligently to take your pleasure, you feel utterly softened and completely malleable.

"I love you," you whine, pressing quick, skittering kisses along her cheek.

her grip on your ass loosens, and your stomach flips at the way her grey eyes burn brightly in the dim lighting, a bit wide and imploring when searching your face. it's not your guys' first time saying it, but you know it's still a level of vulnerability she's spent years avoiding like the plague for convenience's sake. and with every stitch that gets added to the string of your guys' bond together, you can feel the veil she's held before herself stretching more and more, ready to snap completely.

she clears her throat, then gruffly murmurs, "I love you too. you know I do."

"I mean, yeah -- after all, who'd stay up until 1:00AM just to make me come when she has to be up at 6:00AM?"

she snorts, the corner of her lip quirking up. "only a damn fool."

#s.writing #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x you #arcane x reader

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aliwritex · 5 months ago

Text

oscar thoughts: college student!reader riding his thigh 18+ 1.6k

notes: he’s a bit clueless in this and it was caused because of this pic. it’s quite silly but i like this don’t be mean

Chess at a house party. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a party and it wasn’t a house. But chess wasn’t really in your plans for the end of semester gathering. Fine, it wasn’t a gathering either, something in between. Your apartment was full of classmates, most of them, dancing, talking or having a drink. But in the corner of the living room sat your roommate and two of his friends, playing chess.

“What are you doing? This is an excuse to not use our brains and you’re ruining it.”

“Oh, come here, you have to play Oscar, he’s too good. Think you could beat him though.” your friend said, pulling you back by the hand.

“Scott, I’m not gonna play chess when I’m hosting a party”

“Cmon, everyone’s set and having fun, have a game, please, Oscar’s feeling a little out of place.”

You were familiar with Oscar, he was friends with Scott, your roommate, and you’d met him a couple times, he was nice, polite and hot. So you sat down, watching the boy replace the pieces to the right spots.

“Best of three?”

“For what?”

“Don’t know yet, i’ll decide while we play” you teased and watched him nod and sign at the table, letting you know you had the white pieces.

Oscar won the first match, you the second, gathering low cheering from your two friends that watched.

“Right, if I win this one, I get to take you to my room for ‘seven minutes in heaven’ or more” you teased.

Said and done, you won the last round. Maybe he let you but you didn’t mind. You both got up and you took his hand in yours, guiding him to the other side of the apartment as your friends cheered on him.

You sat him on the bed and he just stared up at you.

“Are you a virgin?” you bluntly asked the boy and watched him blush uncontrollably.

“I- what? No!”

Watching him stutter made you smile. You walked across the room, taking off your shoes and looking around your vanity for a clip to hold your hair up.

“You sure act like one” you told him through the mirror “relax a little”

Oscar could swear he got a peak of your underwear when you bent over to do so.

“Seeing I’m the winner, think I'm gonna claim my prize. And I’ve wanted to do this for a while”

Your confession made him choke on his breath as he watched you walk over to him. Your finger reached out for his chin, making him lift his head, brown eyes staring up at you through lashes. You kissed his pouty lips, sitting on his thigh. Your action knocked the breath out of his lungs, he could not respond to your kiss for a second.

“C’mon, don’t be so shy”

You guided his hands to your waist, under your flowy shirt. They were cold and slightly shaking but the touch felt good, reassuring. Your short skirt had bunched up around your hips, allowing you to feel his thigh muscles right against your underwear as you kissed. Your hands dived into his already messy hair as your tongue made it into his mouth.

His thumbs caressed your sides softly, a tentative touch that showed him getting more confident. His hands then reached up your back, lifting your shirt to expose your stomach and allowing him to catch a glimpse of a tattoo he didn’t know about, it made him curious.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked when your lips left his to explore his neck.

You chuckled at his question and slowly pulled away from him “Just sit here for me, yeah? Wanna use you for bit”

Your lips met his again and your hands dropped to take his to your hips. Then you started to move.

You had a particularly thin pair of panties on that allowed you to feel the texture of his shorts against your skin as your hips dragged forwards. You moved back, arching your back and letting his hands follow your hips. When you bucked forwards again Oscar understood what you were doing and he was in shock. But as soon as he recomposed himself he spread his legs further, making his shorts ride up.

Then the only thing separating you was your underwear but he took care of that too. His hand carefully and slowly met your middle, tucking your panties to the side. You groaned when you felt your wet lips meet his thigh, his cool skin contrasting with your middle.

Your hips moved faster and the pleasure made your head fall back, letting Oscar watch your body moving, in awe. He could feel your thigh muscles flexing beneath his hands as you moved and he was watching the way your breathing became ragged.

Your hands left his shoulders for a second, just to pull down the straps of your top, it made your boobs fall out of it, right on his face. Then you were back at it, hips moving fast, hands grabbing his shoulders, tits on his face and occasional pretty moans, you were putting on a show for him.

And it was working. He was watching like he didn’t want to miss a second of your performance. And you could feel his hard cock pressing against your knee when you moved. You couldn’t lie, it felt powerful to have him like that, under you, watching so mesmerized. You would love to concentrate on his face to see his reactions but you were already feeling your insides tighten.

Moans started coming out of your lips with no filter, you knew the music in the apartment was loud enough that only Oscar would hear them. Your thighs tightened around his and almost stopped you from moving. You were about to lose your high when his hands met your hips again and helped your movements.

You squeezed his shoulders tightly when you came, legs also tensing up around his till he was trapped. He made sure to keep his eyes on you as you did, watching your face contorting with pleasure, head thrown back and mouth open, a strangled moan making its way out.

He sighed when your head finally dropped to his shoulder and your body relaxed on top of him.

“Didn’t know you had a tattoo” he whispered to the side of your neck as his thumb caressed the mark on your stomach.

“I don’t go around showing it to everyone. Maybe you could see all of it some day though.” you teased as you pulled away, kissing his lips quickly.

A string of wetness connected your cunt to his thigh when you got up, the view making him groan. He watched from the bed as you pulled your straps back up and your skirt down but instead of straightening up your panties you took them off. You thought about it for a second before throwing them on his lap.

“You sort yourself out,” you told him through the mirror again as you let your hair down this time, now allowing him a view of your wet cunt when you bent over, “see you outside”

Oscar just watched you walk out of the room, he couldn’t say anything, just throw his body back on the bed and think about what happened.

He was left a mess, lying on your bed as you got back to the party. He wandered what you meant by ‘you sort yourself out’ after giving him your panties.

Surely you hadn’t meant for him to jerk off, right? He definitely thought about it, looking at the thin fabric in his hand he imagined how good it would look and feel to have it wrapped around his cock, your slick rubbing on his sensitive skin. But he stopped his thoughts.

No, what you meant was that he should take his time and calm down and come back outside, not jerk off to your panties and take them home.

He sighed loudly, almost a grunt, and looked down at his shorts, still very visibly tented. He tried to take his mind elsewhere but even your room was making him lose his mind. Your smell was everywhere, he first thought it was just the sheets so he sat back up but it was in the air – sweet perfume mixed with your own scent and the result was perfectly you.

He had left his phone outside so he couldn’t do that to distract himself. So he started singing, the first song in his head, threw himself back onto the bed and closed his eyes. It was just a hum at first, then some of the lyrics but a minute later he was singing and tapping his foot to “Life is a Highway” from the Cars soundtrack.

So when you walked back into your room to grab your shoes you caught Oscar tapping his foot on your carpet, lying back on your bed and singing to the ceiling. He sat back up immediately, eyes blown wide as you looked a him for a second before bursting into laughter.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I- I was trying to distract myself” he pouted, lying back on the bed “‘t’s not going down”

You chuckled at him and it only made his cock twitch. “I thought you were gonna… you know…”

“So you did mean that”

“Yeah, I gave you my underwear, I thought that was implied”

“Right, I didn’t want you to think that I was a creep” he confessed.

“Awn. You’re really sweet. I shouldn’t have been so mean to you”

“You can always make up to me” he tried.

“Yeah, not now though, Scott said we’re low on drinks” you told him as you put your shoes back on “Can you drive me to get some more?”

“Sure, give me a second”

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #a writes

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endursent · 7 months ago

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Imagining for my parter turned into a cat. Imagine reader being a very popular kitty among the cat society and get mating offers from other kitties how would the guys react? I think Jelly jelly Jing yuan for sure, silent anger stare from Dan heng and pouty pouty Aven.

【 content; established relationship , humour , some jealousy/possessiveness...? , gn!reader , temporarily turned cat (reader) 】

【 characters; aventurine , dan heng , jing yuan 】

【 note; this got a bit out of hand. thank you for the ask! love these little goobers... 】

【 word count; 2.827 | masterlist 】

Jing Yuan;

As much as you enjoy being pampered and cuddled by your dear Jing Yuan… it’s much too hot to be engulfed by his practically radiating body today. The weather systems of the Luofu have been slowly shifting into simulating the warmth of summer, and it seems whoever is in charge of maintenance forgot to input a maximum temperature, because no way this was intentional.

It’s humid, hot, and you want to find a little pond to lie down beside—worst case scenario, you hang out in the Fyxestroll Gardens. They’re always cool and nice, cloudy and spooky enough to chase people away from crowding it on warmer days.

Trotting down the connecting paths between the Exalted Sanctum and the nearest transport station, your ears flick curiously as you hear footsteps in tune with yours, with only mild delay. Raising your gaze, you see a small white and brown coloured cat on top of the large partition walls separating markets from the pathways. It stops when you do and sits down, tail swaying almost excitedly.

You’re not entirely sure what it wants, but you have a starskiff to catch! You start walking again and pick up your speed until the other cat runs out of walls to run along and follow you.

It doesn’t become an isolated incident either, you were trying to get some grilled fish from a stall you often visit in your normal form. Using your best kitty eyes and rubbing along old Wan’s legs to try and get some leftovers (not that Jing Yuan doesn’t feed you, but you REALLY want this specifically made fish), the old stall-owner gives in and gives you some small pieces, though raw—better for your current form, not your preference in texture, but you’ll take it.

Unfortunately, as you’re carrying your prize along to return to the Seat of Divine Foresight, a white-furred cat joins you on the street—immediately rubbing its body along yours as it’s tail sways happily and finds yours.

Now, you just assume this guy wants your fish. This is YOUR fish.

Hissing and kicking their side with your hind leg, you shoot off to protect your loot and hurry to the Cloud Knight that guards the way to the Seat.

The third time, you’re sitting and watching Jing Yuan play chess against Yanqing yet again, usually you would be busy at your own job at this time, but given your predicament… you get to hang around. You whacked a piece off the board once, and now you’re a confined prisoner on Jing Yuan’s lap.

After dozing off for a while—ironically on the dozing general’s lap—you wake up to see Jing Yuan scooping a cat up and moving it away. Where did that come from??

As you had been sleeping, two cats had come into the gardens, which isn’t too unusual, the ponds and thick trees are perfect napping spots and no one minds having cats around to pet and feed. Though they hadn’t come to nap or beg for treats, they had hopped over to Jing Yuan and tried to squeeze their little heads between his arms to poke their noses at you or sniff at your fur.

Not wanting to wake you, Jing Yuan had scooped them up with one hand and deposited them behind him, but they kept coming back. He frowns slightly as your large eyes blink open, awakened from your cozy nap. “Are you hiding anything under yourself?” he wonders, perhaps the cats are smelling some food from you. But no, you’re empty handed(pawed?) and confused.

As Jing Yuan seemed occupied dragging the cats away from you and hadn’t made his turn in several minutes, Yanqing leaned back. Looks like he’ll just have to wait until this is resolved.

You stand up on Jing Yuan’s thighs and shake yourself, poking your head out over his forearm to meet noses with one of the cats. Maybe they just need to say hi and they’ll leave.

That is, until you look to the left and are met with a raised rear from the other cat right in front of your face.

Jing Yuan laughs at the sight of your eyes bulging in surprise and quickly snapping your head back from sniffing at the other cats. He cradles you in his arms and rubs his large hand over your tummy. “Seems like my little kitty has been presented to, have you been followed around like this recently? “ Jing Yuan smiles and pinches your paw gently. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have protected you from this terrible harassment~”

You wouldn’t really call it that, you thought one had just been curious, another had been trying to steal your fish—and then there was that one time a cat had tried to bite the back of your neck, but you thought he was just trying to pick a fight.

Maybe not actually being a cat made their intentions fly over your head.

Standing up and disregarding his game with Yanqing—who shot to his feet and protested—Jing Yuan carried you back inside the Sea of Divine Foresight, gently shooing the following cats out of the doorway with his foot before settling down on a soft divan by a wall. “There, now I’ve got you all to myself,” he says, scratching behind your ear to have you lean into his hand for more. You're just too cute, how can he let others fawn over you when it should be him that showers you with affection? After all, he knows you best, and he knows the best spots to scratch and comb through where you can't reach. “Even like this, you’re irresistible? Perhaps I should put a cute collar on you with my smell and name on it.”

You sneeze as his hand brushes over your whiskers, you peer up at him—you have a feeling that he wouldn’t stop there, Jing Yuan would gift you a human sized one when you’re back to normal too!

Dan Heng;

He doesn’t particularly like the idea of bringing you off the Express while you’re like this—mostly concerned that you’ll get lost or distracted and then get lost. What if you get hit by a car?? You don’t have any vets on the Express.

It’s in his nature to overthink about these things, and to be worried for your safety. You’re just… so small like this, practically without any tools to protect yourself, and cute enough that someone might try to yoink you off the street for their own.

Regardless, he’s been convinced to take you with him. By a combination of your big kitten eyes, and March’s attempt at mimicking it for double the effect—it was unsettling enough that it halved the progress your pleading made, but half is enough when it’s you.

He does however, not expect you to be bringing a hoard of other cats behind you after wandering off for a few minutes.

Dan Heng blinks at you as you run to him and practically throw yourself onto his pant leg, scrambling up his clothes like a squirrel fleeing from a bear, with about seven cats behind you.

He puts his hands under you to hold you after you make it up to his chest and nearly stumbles back as they try to rise on their hind legs to sniff at you. What the hell did you do for this to happen?? Thankfully, Dan Heng expertly navigates past the army of curious cats and escapes the situation with you in his arms.

Not the first and likely not the last time he has to rescue you from a situation you yourself created.

Thankfully, you behave yourself for the remainder of the day and there’s no further incident… Dan Heng relaxes slightly—until he spots you sitting idly on a bench on the side of the streets where you, Dan Heng, March and Himeko had been looking at an expansive market. He looks away, you look rather content sitting there and observing the crowds for now.

When he looks back, there’s another cat there. Do you just emit “come bother me” scents for other cats? He doesn’t smell anything strange from you at all… but then again, he’s not a cat.

Dan Heng doesn’t get immediately alarmed… maybe it’s just a cat saying hello, that’s not very unusual for them to do… he thinks…? Ever since you turned into a cat, he’s had to confront the fact that he doesn’t, in fact, know much about cats.

He side-eyes the interaction for a while until Himeko asks for his attention on something, and he turns away for only a split second. When he looks towards you again after about two minutes at most… you’re loafing on the bench, and the other cat is licking and grooming your fur in spots you can’t reach properly.

Now, seeing two cats sitting around and grooming each other can be quite cute, he’s seen videos of it before…

But this isn’t just some cats? One of them is his partner! He feels something prickle at the back of his mind, and though he tries to hold his instincts back whenever they rise—he purred once on accident when you were stroking his hair before bed and never let his guard down since—Dan Heng can’t help it when he turns around and crosses the street.

You blink up at him, half-asleep from the warmth of the market and the thorough cleaning from this very friendly cat. You hadn’t even noticed the other cat’s tail was entwined with yours.

Rather rudely, but not aggressively, Dan Heng pushes the other cat away from you, its body just sliding a bit to the right. He then picks you up and gives the offending cat a sharp look before turning away and taking you to the rest of the group.

You were confined to being “bag carried” for the rest of the mission, where Dan Heng literally put you in a bag where only your head stuck up out of it, and carried you around like that. Mostly because his arms would get too tired of holding you normally, and you could snooze easily if you wanted to.

You open your eyes to find the familiar ceiling of the Express’ archive room, and Dan Heng setting the bag aside. You stretch, limbs reaching into the air. Dan Heng stares and a small smile lifts the corner of his lips, he takes your front paws with separate hands and holds them up where you were stretching them. “Cute… though I do prefer you as normal, I hope to hold your hands again soon.”

Aventurine;

Seeing that the progress of getting you back to normal was taking far longer than he anticipated, Aventurine made it a habit to take you along. He would often at the start leave you at home over most of the day and only bring you around if he was going to be in his office… but concerned you would either die of boredom or scratch the furniture in frustration until there was nothing left, he had you along with him.

Aventurine works a lot—too much, you would sometimes say. If he’s not carrying out missions or doing more lengthy business with select companies or operations, he is attending meetings, answering messages or other things.

Mostly, he travels between indebted worlds.

And you DESPISE the transportation method.

Touching down on solid ground is heavenly, you hop out of his arms and lay down flat. It’s not so bad in human form, but like this? Sucks. Terrible. You hate it.

Aventurine only laughs and scoops you up again. “I’ve got places to be today, how about you go explore for a while? Report to me the details when you’re done,” he jokes and rubs your cheek with his thumb, making you blink a few times as his finger comes so close to your eyes. “Just don’t go too far, hm? Meet me back here for dinner.”

With that, he leans down and gives your furry head a good smooch and sets you down again. You shake yourself and look up at him… Aventurine stares down at you. You’re both waiting for the other to leave first.

After a brief standstill, you’re the first to break the eye-contact and turn to trot away. New world and city to explore—and doing it from the perspective of a cat is surprisingly easy and fun, though you do sometimes get chased away by old ladies with brooms.

There’s a surprisingly large cat population in this city, despite the high rise buildings and gloomy scenery they also all seem well fed, perhaps it’s a very friendly place? Or perhaps they’re all house-cats having some fresh air.

You approach one to greet, you’ve become rather adept at recognising whether a cat is a stray or just an outside-cat. The cats of Pier Point are friendly in the upper districts, but get rather suspicious and territorial in the lower ones… which is rather understandable, you suppose.

The cat you walk up to and greet has entirely black fur and bright yellow eyes, they almost blended into the alleyway you spotted them in but had very approachable body language, sitting and licking their paw lazily.

As you hop onto the dumpster they sit on, the cat looks up and walks over, poking noses with you as you sniff each other—you mostly do it for politeness’ sake, you can’t entirely discern what each scent means… you can smell it, but you don’t have the mind of a cat to understand what it’s supposed to indicate.

You do smell a lot of wet cat coming from this one though. No wonder it was bathing itself.

After it got a bit too busy sniffing around your tail, it thankfully pulled back when you whacked them away… for now. After doing some more exploring, you found that more and more cats were poking their heads out to greet you—fine enough, but they kept following you around.

Even after meeting up with Aventurine again and meowing at him in varying tones, and him nodding along as if he could understand you perfectly… they still kept coming around. Finding a restaurant that Aventurine was satisfied with AND allowed cats isn’t easy picking, but he did eventually pick one and plop you down opposite of him on the chair.

Never fails to amuse him to look at you from across a dining or restaurant table where you’re poking your head above the edge of it to peer up at the plates. Aventurine leans on his palm, chin resting on it calmly as he reads from the menu. You meow repeatedly until he takes one tone as more affirmative than the others and figures that’s the dish you wanted… whether it's cat safe, well, he’ll just eat the non-safe things off your plate. You won’t complain… much.

While waiting for your food, Aventurine shows you something on his phone—not only is he sitting across from a cat in a restaurant as if he were on a date with it, but also showing it his phone—but you get distracted when the plates arrive. Thankfully the waiter had relayed it to the kitchen that there was an actual cat going to eat this deliciously made plate of shrimps, and it seems they either humoured him, or fully believed him.

Either way, you have shrimp!

While you lick at the plate and gobble down the seafood, you don’t even notice another cat hopping up into the chair next to you—not until it tries to steal some of your food. You hiss and swat at them to get them away, but it doesn’t deter them much.

Aventurine swallows his bite and sighs. “My date is being encroached on, you wouldn’t dare leave with another, darling?” his dramatics only makes your frustration with the other cat trying to bite at the back of your neck rise. How about he stop whining and help you?!

Your protesting, communicated in a series of aggrieved meows, goes unattended for a while until he hums. “I suppose I must rescue my date from this interloper,” Aventurine says. You think he’s being a bit dramatic with his wording, but once he picks up the offending cat by the scruff of his neck and shoos him away, you are relieved to be at peace with your shrimp again.

He squats down by the chair you sit in and rubs your head, a smile touching his expression as your eyes close. “There, better? I’ll be sure to keep all these curious cats away from you.” though it was rather amusing to watch you hiss and whack away, he would rather avoid a situation where you're uncomfortable—especially in a form and state where you can hardly express that discomfort and advocate for yourself. Aventurine much rather prefers to have you for himself.

You nuzzle your head into his palm, a small rumbling purr leaving your chest. Better.

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #my writing #fics #gn reader #aventurine #jing yuan #honkai star rail #dan heng

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