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thebearer · 2 days

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love me tomorrow |carmen berzatto x reader| part three

prompt: after time apart, you and carmen meet up for the first time since the fight.

or part three and the final part of the devastation fic (spoiler- the resolution haha). part one and part two can be found here :)

contains: angst. hurt with comfort (finally lol). mentions of mean!carmen, past fighting. past trauma, family trauma. carmen's been to therapy (yay). language. mom!reader x dad!carmen. fluff at the end, i had to make it a little funny and end on a light note bc it felt so heavy lol. word count- 4.7k+

“He’s here,” Sugar announced, the chime of a doorbell following nearly cinematically.

Your shoulders tightened, stomach twisting with an ache of nerves you tried to swallow. You were so nervous- why were you so nervous? He’d fucked up, not you. He was here to grovel and beg for forgiveness, not you. Still, you felt your hairline prick with heat, hands clammy when you heard the door opening downstairs.

“Okay,” You tried to steady your voice, exhaling slowly out of your nose. “I’m almost done.”

Sugar nodded, not leaving, keeping her post behind you. “You know you don’t have to do this.” Sugar looked at you through the mirror, arms folded over her chest, watching you carefully for a sign- anything that would give her a red flag, make her call this off.

“I know,” You swallowed your buzzing nerves, jittery in the pit of your belly.

“I’ll tell him to go away. You give me the word, and I’ll kick him out.” Sugar stood, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you. “Seriously. One wrong word, wrong look, anything, he’s gone. Say the word.”

You gave a small smile. “I think I’ll be alright, but thank you.” You muttered, looking down at your bare ring finger. You still found yourself reaching for your ring, heart spiking in a panic when you’d see it was gone, only to sink when you remembered why- why you left it.

“I feel like it’s time.” You admitted, trying to convince yourself more than Natalie. You were still unsure, so jarred and hurt by the last time you’d spoken to Carmen. The things he’d said, how he’d hurt you. “I think we have to figure something out.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Sugar gave you a pointed look. “Trust me, if this was me, Pete would never live that down- never. He’d be at my mercy for the rest of his life, if I even let him back into it.”

You knew Natalie wasn’t joking, that she would do just as she said, but that was also easy for her to say; when Pete could not fathom ever thinking those things about her, let alone saying them to her. Sometimes you wished Carmen could be softer, a little more like Pete in that way.

“He’s been going to therapy,” Richie’s voice played in your mind. “He’s, uh, he’s doin’ good. Tryna get better for you, for both of you. He loves you, you know that, sweetheart. He’s just… He’s fucked up, y’know? We all are a little, but he’s workin’ on it.”

You hoped that was true. For your marriage, for your baby. Sugar and Pete had been taking Teddy to see Carmen. You couldn't bring yourself to see him yet, but depriving him of Teddy felt cruel and inhumane.

Downstairs, you could hear her gurgling, Carmen’s soft tone greeting her in hushed excitement. It soothed you, even for just a moment, it felt familiar- felt like home. What you’d missed so badly, what you longed for to have again.

“Uncle Carm, why haven’t you been staying here too?” MJ’s tiny squeak of a voice rang up the stairs, greeting you as you quietly crept down them.

“MJ,” Pete muttered, shaking his head gently. “C’mon, bud, you know Uncle Carm’s been on a business trip.”

“Right, yeah.” Carmen nodded, his hand patting Teddy’s back gently, soothing her and him. Just feeling the weight of her back on his chest, it put him at ease. She was bigger now, longer than he remembered, but he tried not to think about that, nose pressing into her soft tufts of hair.

MJ saw you first, his face falling into a pout. “Aw, does that mean you’re going home?” He whined, looking at you then back at Carmen. “Are you takin’ Anchovy and Teddy?”

Anchovy skittered towards you, running up the stairs at the mention of his name. He’d been a trooper with MJ and Maggie, both kids enamored with the cat who was less than impressed with them.

Carmen stiffened at the sight of you, spine rigid, heart skipping and falling in his chest. There was a pause of awkward uncertainty, neither of you sure what to say. “If you’re good,” Sugar stepped in. “Maybe your aunt and uncle will let you play with them a little longer while they go out.” She looked at you, shrugging gently at the suggestion.

You looked at Carmen, eyes meeting him in a brief, unsure gaze, before nodding. “Yeah, that would be- that would be great, MJ.” You gave a soft smile to the boy.

Carmen stood, passing Teddy off to Sugar with a quiet muttering of thanks. He met you in the doorway, hand reaching for yours, but stopping himself, pulling back hesitantly. Instead, he held the door open, letting you pass by him first.

The car smelled like a mix of cleaning supply, masked with car fresheners he’d stuck in the vents. He’d been smoking, more than usual, you were sure of it. He’d gotten down to one a day after Teddy was born, paranoid that he’d give her asthma or a rash or something worse.

“Um,” Carmen hesitated, his voice shaking in a way that he hadn’t since your first date. “I was… I was thinkin’ we could go somewhere t-to talk?” Carmen’s gaze met yours, lips pressing together, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

You nodded, your hands clasped in your lap, both of you too rigid, too uncomfortable. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” You looked down at your nails. “We could go get coffee? Go to the one by the restaurant.”

Carmen’s heart burned with a dull ache. The coffee shop a block from The Bear had been a staple in your relationship. When you’d first moved in together, to the shitty downtown apartment to be closer to the restaurant, Carmen would go every Sunday. Sometimes he’d pick up, other times you’d come with him, sit in the corner seat side by side in a booth- like the couples you used to roll your eyes at, lovesick.

Someone was already sitting in that booth when you got there, so you settled for a small two seater in the back, secluded and empty. Carmen brought you your coffee without asking, he knew the order by heart now, etched into his mind permanently.

“Thank you,” You muttered, accepting the paper cup, your eyes not meeting his, but your hands brushing. You didn’t pull away this time.

Carmen sat across from you, a dread filled silence falling thick between the two of you. His knee bouncing under the table. “I, uh, I wanna talk first if-if that’s good with you.” Carmen’s eyes lifted under his ball cap, pulled low on his head, curls peaking out.

You nodded, twisting the paper cup around on the table, too nervous to drink it. Carmen took a breath, trying to calm his racing mind. “Take a deep breath before you start. It’s ok to take a second to get your words in order, Carmen. Collect your thoughts.” Dr. Mullins’ words rang through his head.

“I wanna start by saying that I’m sorry.” Carmen looked at you when he said it, eyes rounding in a pathetically sweet way. “I-I’m sorry and I…I didn’t mean anything I said. I would never- It wasn’t you.”

You looked down at the table, the familiar heat burning in your nose and throat, a threat of tears already. “Hey,” Carmen said firmly, leaning forward. “C’mon, look at me. Please?” You look at him hesitantly, jaw clenching, trying to keep yourself from crying.

Carmen held your gaze, his lips pressing together in a tight line to keep his own emotions in. “It wasn’t you.” His gaze was intense but soft all at once, holding yours. “It… It was all me. All of it. I-I was overwhelmed, I was stressed, I fucked up, a-and-” Carmen’s voice cracked, breaking at the end, his hand running over his face to try and calm himself.

You felt your own eyes well with tears, chin ducking closer into yourself, leaning towards him. You wanted to reach out, to grab his hand that rested on the table, squeeze it in comfort like you always did. Instead, you looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

“And I shouldn’t have said any of that shit because-because none of it was true.” Carmen continued, his voice strained.

“So why’d you say it then?” You surprised yourself with the firmness in your tone, edging on a snap.

Carmen blinked, surprised but not entirely shocked. His knee bounced faster and faster under the table. He took a second, holding his breath before exhaling, trying to keep the growing tightness in his chest to a minimum.

“I was stressed. I was tired. I-I was overwhelmed, and… and I was an asshole.” Carmen admitted, but you still didn’t seem convinced. You knew him better than anyone, better than Dr. Mullins, better than even Fak or Richie or Sugar.

“I… I was hurting. I was hurting an-and I was so fuckin’ angry. I don’t-I don’t even know why I was so angry.” Carmen admitted, nodding slowly, eyes flickering from your gaze to his hands nervously. “I just… I think I wanted someone to hurt like I was hurting. I just, I don’t know, I wanted someone else to feel like I was, an-and I should have- it was fuckin’ stupid, an-and selfish, and…”

Your eyes were glassy with tears you tried to hide, blinking a tear that fell down your cheek, wiping it quickly. Carmen’s chest ached, burned with hurt at the sight of you.

“And I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.” He looked at you sincerely. “I-I-I never said anything more untrue and fuckin’ stupid in my life.”

“You…” You took a breath, your voice shaking with emotions. “You really hurt my feelings, Carmen.” You admitted looking at him. He nodded, jaw flexing, neck blossoming with splotches of emotion.

“I just don’t really understand how-how you didn’t mean to say those things. I mean, clearly you-you’ve thought that before.” Your voice lifted higher and higher, climbing with a cry that threatened to break. “I know you’re saying you didn’t mean those things, and I get that, but my problem is you’ve thought them before-”

“-No, no, I swear-”

“-You have, Carmen. Clearly you have. You wouldn’t- You didn’t just come up with that shit out of nowhere.” Your voice was beginning to climb, trying to level it out in the cafe, keeping your composure. You took a breath, pinching the bridge of your nose, pad of your thumb swiping the corner of your eye to catch a stray tear. “Just… Just don’t lie to me.”

Carmen pressed his hands together, trying hard to remember his breathing while his mind was racing. Sugar was right, it was uncomfortable, worse than he could have imagined.

“You’re right,” Carmen admitted with a nod. There was no point in lying, not to you, you always knew better, knew him better. “I-I did, but not-not like that. Not,” Carmen’s breath hitched, chest tight with a wave of anxiety.

“You know wh-when I was at the restaurant, and I… I would be ready to rip my fuckin’ hair out. Everything was just goin’ to shit, o-or we’d realize there was a critic on the books, or I’d forgot to order some shit, I’d be going fuckin’ crazy, ya know?” Carmen rambled, words spilling out in tumbles of jumbled truth.

“I’d go to my office for a second, just to-just to take a fuckin’ breath, and… and I’d check my phone and I’d see a text from you.” His heart swelled at the memory. You’d text him updates through the day, knowing he’d seen him when he could. Baby Teddy in her crib, Anchovy in the bassinet, her outfit for the day, nap time- all the moments he missed at work because you wanted him to see. You had considered him. Carmen missed it more than words could describe the past days, checking his phone out of habit, hoping to see a little OOTD with a smiley face and a wrinkly baby Teddy attached- instead, he saw nothing.

“I’d just… I don’t know. I was sittin’ there, just fuckin’ stressed o-or angry, and then I’d see that and I-I’d feel,” Carmen paused. Gather your thoughts, gather your thoughts.

“I felt… I just felt weird about it?” Carmen’s brows pinched together, looking at you for help, unsure. Your face fell, his heart lurching with fear.

“No, no, no, no. Not-Not like that. I- fuck, that’s not what- I love the pictures. Love them. I-I- They’re the only things that get me through the day, it-it’s not that-” Carmen stuttered out, head dropping into his hands in defeat. Way to go, Berzatto.

“Felt weird?” You repeated, calm, your way of soothing him. Keeping your voice even, steady without any tones he could read into and spiral. It was second nature at this point. “Weird how?”

“It made me feel like… like I was, I was missin’ out.” Carmen admitted, eyes shining bright and a little wide like they always did when he’d finally admit something. Wide eyed, scared, almost, like he shouldn’t have told the truth.

“I felt like, I’m at work, an-and you were at home with Teddy, and…and I felt like I was bein’ a shitty dad. Like I was there too much, an-and I’d miss out on her, and then I��d miss you, I’d just…” Carmen threw his hands out lightly, cheeks puffing with a slow, shaky exhale.

“I was jealous, maybe? Ma-Maybe that’s the word, but I just… I didn’t want to be there, and I know,” He lifted his voice before you could begin to speak. “I know I’m th-the boss, and-and I get that. And it’s not- it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault you’re home- I’m glad you’re home, I am, because you’re doin’ so much. You are, an-and I know that, I know. You’re-You’re doin’ the most important job in the fuckin’ world, I mean, you’re keepin’ ou-our baby alive.”

Carmen laughed humorlessly, a scoff that turned into a sniffle, shaking his head. You sat quietly, listening to his words, taking them in with a slow nod. Carmen looked at you, trying to read you, taking in your expressions. Your shoulders less tense, tired, face neutral but he saw the way your lips twitched, holding back a cry.

“Just sometimes when-when I’d be in the shit, I’d just want to be home.” Carmen admitted. “I’d want to be home, but… but I knew I couldn’t be. I knew I had to-to take care of things, take care of you an-and Teddy, and I don’t- fuck, I don’t mean it like a bad thing. I like doing it, I mean obviously I fuckin’ do, it’s just- it-it’s a lot sometimes and I get-”

“-Carm,” You cut off his ramblings, reaching across the table, your hand sliding over the top of his, squeezing it gently.

Carmen thought his lungs might have given out, his heart too, looking down at your hand in awe. Bolts of electricity shot through his body, tingling at his skin that touched yours with excitement. He’d missed this, missed your touch, missed you. It felt surreal, sitting here, feeling you, seeing you.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen whispered, turning his hand to hold yours. Hands clammy, fingernails bitten to the quick. His fingers intertwined in yours, holding your hand so tightly your fingers tingles. He held your hand like he was scared to let go, like if he did he might never get to hold your hand again.

“I’m sorry. It-It wasn’t fair. It..It’s not fair.” Carmen squeezed your hand, shaking his head lightly. “You didn’t… I don’t know how to say how much you mean to me.” Carmen looked at you, eyes glassy, red rimmed with tears that gathered at his water line.

“I, uh, I-I tried to- Well, Richie’s thera- my therapist told me to, uh, to try an-and write out what I wanted to say to you. Take time and reflect and give it to you, but I, uh, I was up all night because I kept starting over.” Carmen rambled on.

“Everything I was tryna write it just… it didn’t feel like enough. It didn’t do you justice.” Carmen looked up at you, thumb brushing over your knuckle gently. “I felt like it just wasn’t enough. They’re aren’t any words to describe you. To…To describe what you mean to me, an-and how much I love you.”

You swallowed back a sob, looking into his eyes. An intensity you hadn’t seen since he said his vows, maybe more now. “I-I love you so much, and… and I don’t deserve you. I don’t fucking deserve you.” Carmen choked out, a sob slipping out between his confessions.

“I-I’m a fuckin’ loser, an-and a psycho, and I-I’m a shitty dad and husband…And I-I’m fucked up, and you-you chose to love me anyways. An-And to marry me, and have a kid with me- start a family with me. And what do I do? I fuck it up, and I don’t deserve you. I never have, an-and I never will.” Carmen rambled, tears sliding down his cheeks freely, leaning towards you, shoulders stuttering with a choking of tears.

“Don’t say that.” You sniffle, shaking your head. “Don’t say that-”

“-No, it’s true, it’s fuckin’ true-”

“-No, it isn’t. Carmen, don’t say that.” You reach your free hand out, cupping his cheek across the table, thumb swiping over his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. You held him, feeling the heat in his cheeks, he turned into your touch, breath slowing.

“You’re not a loser. You’re not a psycho. You’re not a bad dad, or-or a bad husband either.” You leaned forwards, closing in the gap between the two of you, the edge of the table digging into your stomach. “You made a mistake-”

“-No, that’s-that’s- it’s worse than that. It’s so much fuckin’ worse than that. Don’t-”

“-You made a mistake.” You said, firmer this time, cradling his cheek in your hand.

Carmen took a breath, squeezing your hand in his, sniffing deep to keep his tears in. “I don’t… I don’t want to be like my parents.” He whispered, eyes rounding in a scared way. “I-I don’t want to fuck up you o-or Teddy or… I just don’t wanna end up like them. I wanna be different.”

“You’re not gonna end up like them.” You shook your head softly.

“No, I-I was actin’ just like them.” Carmen muttered. “Yellin’ at you a-and actin’ like a complete fuckin’ lunatic. Just like them, an-and I don’t wanna live like that.”

“You won’t.” You reassured him gently, whispering across the table. He shook his head in protest. “Carm, listen to me. You’re… You’re not like them, ok?”

You could feel Carmen start to shake, a trembling through his system that was a tell-tale sign of a panic attack. Your eyes scanned over the restaurant, filling up with the mid-afternoon rush. “Come on,” You nodded towards the door, pushing your chair back, hand still in his. “Let’s get some air.”

Carmen didn’t argue, he wouldn’t- couldn’t even if he wanted to. Your hand in his, squeezing his gently, pulling him towards the car. Carmen pulled the keys out with shaky hands, unlocking the door. He reached for the passenger door, but you pulled the back door open instead, surprising him when you slipped in the backseat, nodding at him to follow you. You squeezed into the middle, Teddy’s car seat pressed to your back, Carmen pressed into your side, shutting the door.

“You’re not like them.” You broke the silence, turning yourself towards him. “You’re not.”

Carmen leaned his head back against the seat, tears leaking out of his eyes. “You-You don’t have to do this, say that.” He shook his head. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Carmen, you’re not like your parents.” You reached for his hand again. “The fact that you’re scared to be like them, scared and trying to stop it, that shows me you’re not like them.”

Carmen’s chest stuttered, a hissing of a cry leaving his lungs. “You made a mistake.” You swallowed, your own heart aching. “But… But that doesn’t mean you’re as a whole a bad person. It just means you made a mistake, and if you learn from it and become better, then it’s ok. It’s a lesson learned.”

Carmen nodded, eyes squeezing shut, tight like he was trying to keep everything in. “I just…I really fucking miss you.” Carmen admitted through a wobbly voice, eyes still closed. “I-I really miss you, and… and I want you to come home.”

You shook your head, tears sliding down your cheeks. “I miss you too.” You whispered, squeezing his hand. “I missed you so much.”

Carmen turned, arms wrapping around your body, pulling you tightly into him. His nose pressed into the top of your head, breathing in detergent that didn’t smell like what you used at home, shampoo, too. You held onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders, pushing him further and further into you until it felt like your bodies were meshing together, fusing into one.

Whispered apologies shared through teary, wet sniffles filled the space. Carmen’s nose rubbing against yours, hesitating before he kissed you. You pulled him into you, finally soothing the aching longing that had built in your chest, your lips catching his, the two of you staying unmoving, wanting to feel the other. Clinging to each other, hands grabbing, lips parting, Carmen pressing you against the car seat, hand cradled on the back of your head.

“I-I understand if you still don’t wanna come home.” Carmen muttered, breath hot over your cheek, nose rubbing against your skin. “But I really fuckin’ miss you.”

“I miss you too.” You muttered, lips buzzing against his neck, tears hot and trickling onto the collar of his t-shirt. “I-I want to come home.”

“A-Are you sure?” Carmen’s eyes lit up with hope, though he tried to hide it, the way he always did; too scared to let him get too excited, too hopeful because he always feared it would end.

“Yeah,” You whispered, nodding gently, balling the back of his shirt between your fingers.

“Yeah?” Carmen repeated, lips pressing together to keep his cry in, a different one this time. One of relief. For the first time in days, he felt like he could breathe, like his lungs weren’t constricting and on the brink of collapse. His mind didn’t race and cloud with delirious confusion. No, here and now, holding you, Carmen had clarity.

The both of you stayed in the back of the car, holding the other, chest to chest until your heartbeat became the same, steady rhythm, matching the others.

Carmen held your hand on the drive back, pressing wet kisses to your knuckles, trying to wipe his eyes of any tears. “Can’t let Pete see me cryin’ again.” He muttered. “That was a new fuckin’ low.” You had giggled softly, enough to have his heart fluttering. He’d never admit it out loud, not now, anyways, that he was thankful for Pete. How he’d taken care of you, of Teddy, of Anchovy. He’d stuck up for you, even if it was against Carmen, and that meant the world to Carmen.

Pulling into Sugar and Pete’s house, Carmen shoved the gear shift into park, his hand still in yours, both of you sitting in each other's company for a minute longer. Just a little bit longer the two of you, before you had to face the others.

“Oh, uh, one more thing.” Carmen’s thumb ran over your knuckles before he let go of your hand for a moment, raising up in the seat to dig into the front pocket of his jeans.

“I, uh, I brought your rings back.” Carmen’s voice dropped, a shake in his words that matched the shake in his hands, pinching your wedding band and ring in between his fingers.

You swallowed at the sight, Carmen holding the ring between his fingers, it took you back to years before when he’d proposed. Nearly as nervous as he was now, just as shaky, but for a different reason.

“You don’t have to put them on or anything. I don’t- I’m not tryna make you do that, it’s your choice, obviously. I just,” Carmen took a breath, looking at you. “I thought you might want them back.”

You paused for a moment, looking at the rings, the sting of the last time you saw them still burning and aching in your chest, but this time, it wasn’t as crushing. It was more of a dull ache, a tiredness that came with it instead of devastation.

Reaching out, your fingertips tickled his palms, gathering the two rings in your hand. You looked at them, turning them over in your hands. “Thank you,” You mumbled, looking up at Carmen. He swallowed, giving a nod, trying to mask the hurt that you hadn’t put them back on- you didn’t miss it.

“Do-” Your voice caught in your throat. “Will you put them back on?” You blinked at him, wide eyed, asking so sweet, Carmen thought his heart might give out entirely.

You held the rings out towards him. “Will you put them back on for me? Please?”

Carmen didn’t deserve you. The notion rang loud over and over in his head again, throat burning, welling up with tears. He didn’t deserve you. You were too good, too fuckin’ good for him.

His hands trembled, holding yours and slipping the rings back onto your ring finger, back to their rightful place. Carmen twisted them, a deep breath of a sob that was threatening to break filling the space. His fingers intertwined with yours, free hand cupping your jaw, pulling you into a kiss over the console.

Sugar looked out the window, peeking through the blinds. “What’re they doin’ out there?” Pete whispered behind her, like the two of you might hear them. “Do they look happy? Sad? You don’t think it went bad, do you? I mean, Carmen can be-”

“-Pete,” Sugar snapped with a soft huff. “Look for yourself.” She moved, biting back a small grin.

Pete slid in her place, pushing the blinds apart, sneakily looking out the side of them. He could see the two of you in the car, Carmen’s hands on the back of your head, holding you while you leaned across the console in a deep, passionate kiss.

“Well, lookie there.” Pete grinned, letting the blinds fall. “I guess there was a happy ending after all.”

Sugar rolled her eyes, lips twitching in a small smile. “He still has a lot to make up for. I hope she didn’t let him off the hook too easily.” She grumbled, crossing her arms. “But I am glad they made up. I would kill Carmen if he fucked things up with my favorite sister-in-law.”

Pete let out a small laugh, looking out the window again. “The kids are gonna miss Teddy and Anchovy when they go back. MJ’s gonna be devastated they’re taking them.” Pete muttered, Sugar nodded.

Pete paused for a moment, looking behind him with a soft frown. “Y’know, this is gonna sound crazy, Nat, but I’ll be kinda glad when Anchovy is gone.” Pete admitted in a hushed tone, like Anchovy might hear him.

Sugar snorted lightly. “Yeah. Except MJ and Maggie will be begging for a cat of their own. They’ve already started and I told them-”

“-No, I mean,” Pete turned, watching the orange cat slink around at the top of the stairs, Anchovy glaring down at Pete before disappearing to the guest room. “I don’t think that cat likes me.”

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junislqve · 3 days

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⟡ out of limit — ot7

when they find out you’re secretly liking them (and they are secretly liking you too) — minor drawback, you are their best friend’s sister

pairs members + reader content petnames fluff wordcount 1632 — find my other works

note i love writing prompts, this was supposed to be a short-ish headcannon hence why hee's is kinda short. but i got carried away lmfao

LEE HEESEUNG

“thanks, pretty”

heeseung would relentlessly tease you once he finds out. calling you petnames and complimenting you all the time just to get a reaction out of you.

he finds it adorable when you would blush and dismiss his flirting with a mumble.

of course, he knew that he wouldn’t even get the chance to confess his feelings back to you before his head gets chopped off by jay. but he found his way around.

sneaking into your room when jay’s back is turned or sneaking in a few kisses when you all watch movies together. he loves the way you would get red from his words, looking away out of embarrassment.

he loves the thrill of meeting you, getting to hold you and savor you even if it was only for a while.

he would take risks if it meant being able to hold you and be beside you. snuggling his head into the crook of your neck chasing the comfort you gave him.

PARK JONGSEONG

he’s quiet. he already was before, much more now when he found out.

jay was never really a talkative person to people who weren’t his friends. but he has always felt comfortable with you, talking about his days and anything he’s thinking about.

that was what brought you to like him. at first, you thought that he was quite intimidating and would be really hard to talk to. but since he was your brother’s best friend, jay had warmed up to you from the countless visits he’s paid to your house.

you’d realize his abrupt silence towards you. you thought he was avoiding you, thinking you’ve said something wrong to him.

however, the only reason he’s gone silent was because he was scared you’d find out he likes you back. his heartbeat speeding like crazy when you put your face so close to his in attempt to make him break character and start talking to you again.

of course, you won and he ended up mumbling nonsense to you while hiding his face afraid it was going to turn red if he continued to see your pretty face so up close.

“stop doing that… you look too pretty”

SIM JAEYUN

“i like you too”

the absolute worst at keeping secrets so the moment he finds out he’s just going to have this dazed look. he was in love with you. that much, all of his friends knew, except for heeseung of course.

you didn’t even know of jake’s existence until you were waiting for your brother to pick you up and he was there in the passenger seat. he and your brother talked a lot and you just tuned them out.

what you didn’t expect was for him to turn around and talk to you. you thought he was about to ask the basics; your name, age, whatever. however, jake started including you in their conversation. asking for your opinions about something they were talking about.

since then, you’ve always liked whenever jake would hang out with your brother. knowing that he would ask if you wanted to join them every single time. he was so sweet and caring, and really good looking. how could’ve you not fallen for him?

so when you and jake were left in the ice cream parlor as your brother went to the bathroom. jake was observing your rigid figure. your eyes trained on your phone for dear life, scrolling up and down your contact list just to avoid awkwardness.

that’s when jake said it, gazing at you with a soft smile, “i like you too, you know?”

PARK SUNGHOON

you knew sunghoon purely from gossip. everyone had different opinions about him, most including the words ‘cold’ and ‘quiet’. you’ve only ever seen him whenever he had to receive trophies from the principal for winning competitions.

you were an average student. your grades were’t horrible, but they weren’t stellar either. so imagine your surprise when you got paired up with sunghoon for an end of year project worth 60% of your grades.

truthfully, you were scared of him for a while. thinking he would be strict with schedule and meetups. sunghoon however proved you wrong when he started chatting you first asking when you were free to do the work and not minding the place of meetup.

you worked with him for 3 months until the project was finally complete and perfect. during those times, you both had met up plenty of times each time getting to know the other more by exchanging stories.

sunghoon found out when he forgot to take his bag in the class and overheard your friend convincing you to confess. you sat slumped across her, your hand on your head.

sunghoon was just battling himself at this point. he harbored feelings for you that he’s been denying for months. he’s known you for way longer than you thought. having his eye on you way before the fated project pairing.

he took an interest in you, finding it fun to observe you in silence and trying to come up with a way to approach you.

however, all of it went down the drain when he found out your brother, jake, is quite well known to be protective. and what’s worse is that he knew your brother, not personally but well acquainted enough.

sunghoon didn’t really know how to express the feelings he had for you. even after hearing you confess, basically. so he attempted to do it without words. listing all the things you liked and disliked in his head for future reference.

“you said you were craving ice cream” showing up at your doorstep, his body soaking wet from the rain, panting. but the plastic bag he grasped tightly was completely dry, filled with much more snacks than you would ever need.

KIM SUNOO

“wasn’t it obvious?”

you knew sunoo was a very cheerful and chatty person. it wasn’t weird that you two had become well acquainted despite him being your brother’s best friend.

he was a really friendly person which drove you to become comfortable talking to him, even if your brother wasn’t around. his kindness and concern for you made you take an immediate liking to him.

you knew however that that was sunoo’s nature so you really didn’t have your hopes up. labeling anything he does as just him being his own friendly self. it took sunoo quite a while to figure out you liked him.

almost immediately after finding out sunoo’s chattiness towards you grew tenfold. meanwhile, you were trying to avoid him.

sunoo caught on and one day stopped by your apartment unexpectedly, “i thought you liked me” he says with a faux pout.

at first you were scared he didn’t like you back but rest assured, he gave you the biggest hug and peppered kisses all over your face right after.

“you’re adorable when you’re flustered”

YANG JUNGWON

“i don’t want you to walk home alone”

you barely knew jungwon. yet from how he acted towards others, you’ve always looked up to him.

he was entirely selfless and loved helping people.

the lines between fascination and like quickly blurred when you were the one being his object of affection.

because jungwon and your brother became close friends, jungwon took it upon himself to take care of you too. meaning, when your brother wasn’t there, jungwon was.

somewhere between all the after-school hangouts and him taking you out to watch movies together, the mere closeness of jungwon made your head dizzy.

he always hugged you alot, it was all friendly. but now his smell overtakes your senses, his warmth circling every inch of your body.

and by the time you tried to distance from him, he never let you out of his sight.

when you refused to let him drive you back home and would rather wait for the rain to stop, jungwon went and sat there with you, draping his jacket around your figure.

“i’m waiting here with you” he says smiling so sweetly, those dimples in view. his hand went to pat your head and you unconsciously leaned to his touch.

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki was your own best friend along with your brother’s. when you two first met, you both immediately clicked, much to your brother’s dismay.

he had always liked you a bit more than your brother, teasing you yet giving you everything you want.

put simply, he’s wrapped around your finger. you just didn’t know that.

any smart person can see that he’s head over heels. i mean, who would willingly run to your house in the middle of the night just because you said you were hungry other than riki?

you usually went out with your brother, though the begging would take somewhere within half an hour, but you won most of the time nonetheless.

however, with riki, you had just shot him a short text that seriously didn’t mean as much. only a small ‘i’m kinda hungry’ and you find him outside your door minutes later, holding his car keys.

you both end up in a 24 hour convenience store at midnight, slurping up warm ramen together.

when someone opened the door and the wind from outside hits your face, you didn’t expect riki to hold your hair back as you continued chewing.

you might be weak willed here, but after that day he kept bringing a hair tie on his wrist. specifically on days you two would hang out and with much denial, you knew you had feelings for him.

not to worry though, because he’s been in love with you for the longest time.

you just couldn’t catch the gaze he had when he held your hair, or the smile he has when you cracked an unfunny joke.

555 notes · View notes

smutoperator · 23 hours

Text

I Love Her Smile

Kim Jiwon (Jeewon) x Male Reader

Tags: ass eating, belly bulging, big tits worship, bikini, bouncy boobs, creampie, cup, cute smile, deepthroating, (lots of) facefucking, motorboating, pile driver, queefing, riding, titfucking, spit, vibrator

Word count: 3739

After filming the music video for Cignature's latest comeback, Jeewon seemed tired. Being the milking cow of a small company while carrying such a heavy load can be quite burdensome. But even after such an exausting routine, she managed to always smile.

You met Jeewon after the filming, asking her about how she felt. "I'm good, but a little tired; how about you?" she asked. "I'm fine; better now with you. I love your smile, Jeewon," you replied.

"I wasn't born yesterday; I know what you mean by that," Jeewon said. "Well, you're such a tease I had to notice," you said back. "Indeed, I live off that," she continued.

"Then stand up and show me what you mean by that," you told her. Jeewon understood the assignment, shaking her body left and right and making her beautiful milkers swing. "Perfect, they are so beautiful," you told her. Indeed, Jeewon's massive tits never ceased to amaze you, no matter how often you had seen them. That outfit they gave her for the video made Jeewon look sexier than ever, and you were enjoying it to the fullest.

"Shake them harder, tease me," you ordered to Jeewon, who obliged. Her small bra could barely hold her fully natural 34 double-D cup tits in place, and that got truer with all her shaking. Jeewon felt her nipples start to slip and tried to cover them as an instant reaction, but it was futile.

Jeewon laughed and bounced her boobs up and down. Her bra wasn't enough to hold them in place for long, with her right tits popping up first. She kept shaking them until they were on full display. "Good girl, that's what I'm talking about," you told her.

"That was fun," Jeewon smirked at you. "Keep teasing me; put your bra back and flash them," you told her, who does that before letting them fully free. "I could do this all day for you," she said. "But weren't you tired?" you asked her. "Yeah, but I love the attention you give to my tits," she said.

"Well, you're such a cute, sexy girl, Jeewon. I'll give you all the attention; better if you take those jeans off," you tell her. "Sure," she says, pulling her pants down and showing the lower part of her bikini. "It's all for you; we didn't film it in the music video because it hardly covers anything," she said.

"If it barely covers anything, you should just pull them to the side," you told Jeewon, who quickly followed, spreading her ass cheeks for you to see her holes. "We're just getting started," she said. "Indeed we are; take those panties off next," you ordered. "Hmmm nice, your ass is winking already; I can't wait to put my tongue in there," you told her.

"You're such a naughty boy," Jeewon told you. "Yes, I am," you said back. "You told me you were tired; you should sit on this chair and let me please you," you continued. "Of course," she said.

Jeewon sat on the char as you started massaging her bare boobs, then kissed them and licked her nipples. Alternating between the boobs, your tongue perfectly worshipped them. "Shake them into my face," you asked. Jeewon grabbed her udders close together, and you started motorboating her, much to her enjoyment.

"Lube your tiddies," you told Jeewon, giving her a bottle to pour the liquid all over it. "Shake them for me, my baby," you said. Her lubed tits made for a much easier massage, as you quickly took advantage and easily slid your hands back into Jeewon's udders, clapping them against each other and enjoying the sound.

"Everything is better with lube," Jeewon says. "You know what's better? Your tits shaking in my face," you replied, starting another round of motorboating, this time with Jeewon going much faster. After she was done, you groped one of her tits while sucking the other like a needy baby.

"You like that, don't you?" you asked her. "Yes, I love it," Jeewon said, showing you her big, btight smile. "Shake them harder in my face," you told her. Jeewon amplified the intensity as your head was hit left and right by her huge milkers, and you loved it. So did Jeewon, who couldn't stop laughing.

"Hmmm, how much of those tiddies can I fit in my mouth?" you asked her, bringing them together and getting your face buried deep in her udders. "They can barely fit, I see," Jeewon laughed. Sometimes she tried to hide, but there was truly no point; her boobs are huge, and she loves getting them worshipped. "Your mouth is so good in my tiddies," Jeewon said as you kept kissing and grabbing them, even slapping yourself with them.

"Let me spin it around and show where else my mouth can be good," you told her, spinning the chair hard to get Jeewon's ass in front of your face. You were so excited you ended up missing the mark and almost making her fall off. "Wow, you really want it," she said. "Yes, I do; put your ass close to my face," you replied.

"For all the talk about your tiddies, you sure got a nice ass too, Jeewon. Can you make your butt wink for me?" you asked, making her laugh. "How does a butt wink?" she asked. "Well, whatever, as long as you're ready for my tongue," you said, diving it into Jeewon's butthole with fast stabbings inside her pink anus.

Jeewon started moaning and grabbed your head to push it deeper into her ass. "Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh, you tongue it so good," she said. "Lean forward and let me spit on it," you said, sniffing and eating her tiny butthole. "So, do you like my tongue in your ass?" you asked. "I love it," she said.

A few more minutes of eating ass and Jeewon moaning ensued as you tongue-fucked her. "You taste so good," you told her, following with spinning sessions with the chair where your mouth went from her anus straight to her big tits and then back to her asshole. "Which one do you like better, how I grab your tits or how I eat your ass?" you asked. "Can't decide; both are so good," she said back.

You went back to her tits for a bit, pinching her nipples and slapping them against each other. "I just love that sound, making a milkshake with them," you said. "Now let me get back in that ass," you said, getting your tonguing more intense and Jeewon's moans louder. "Oh my God," she said as you were committed not to spare a single inch of her anus without cleaning.

"Ohhhh, ohhhhh, you eat my ass so good," Jeewon says, with lots of moans in between. "Then hold my head and push it against it," you replied. Jeewon shaken her ass with your face making noise between her cheeks, mimicking the motorboating you gave to her tits moments ago.

"Yeah, that's perfect, ahhhh," Jeewon enjoyed every second of your tongue in her ass. "You look amazing; it seems like you're ready to suck some cock," you told her. "I'd love to," she replied.

Jeewon unzips your trousers and gets shocked by your hard cock already popping out. "So big," she says, measuring it against the bottle of lube you gave her and finding out it's got the same length. Jeewon starts sucking it using no hands and getting very sloppy from the start. "Spit all over my cock," you tell her.

It doesn't take long before you grab her head and start pushing your shaft deeper into her throat, making Jeewon almost choke on it, spitting more saliva once she gags. She quickly recovers and starts blowing it off again, making a lot of noise.

"Are you ready to get facefucked?" you ask her. Jeewon nods positively. "Then come here," you say, grabbing her head and pounding her sloppy throat a few times as a test. "I love all that spit dripping from your face," you say, as Jeewon uses it to lube your shaft and suck it deeper, her udders bouncing hard as you fuck her face.

"Drool on it, baby," you tell as you can't stop fucking Jeewon's cute face, hitting the depth of her throat until she coughs again. Her face is already full of saliva, as you let her jerk your dick as well. "You're such a good cocksucker, aren't you?" you praise her blowjob skills.

"God, I love how much spit is falling into your chest," you tell her as you don't stop fucking her face, taking it balls deep as a string of saliva forms from Jeewon's chin up to her tits. "Shake those tits if you want to suck my cock," you tell Jeeewon, who moves them left and right after. "Perfect, just like that," you tell her.

Jeewon savors your meat to the fullest as you treat her throat like her second pussy. "Get it all the way down your throat," you tell her, but she struggles with your massive length, quickly gagging after a few tries. "I can't; it's just so fucking big.".

"Open your mouth wide," you tell Jeewon as you keep sticking your cock in it and enjoy the bulging under her cheek, giving it a couple strikes. "Holy shit, my boobs are full of saliva," she says as she shakes them, and you start the hardest round of facefucking on her. The only thing better than a smile in her face was your cock stuffing it.

"Play with your pussy while you suck my cock," you order to Jeewon, handing her one of those gigantic magic wand vibrators, which she turns on and places between her legs. Your facefucking is so sloppy; she's got saliva running all the way down her belly now, and the louder the vibrator gets, the harder you fuck her face.

Jeewon starts to moan louder as her pussy gets massaged; between it and your thrusts in her mouth, she can barely hold the vibrator as her legs get weaker. "Good girl making that big cock wet enough to hop on it," you praise her. "Yes, I'm ready to ride this," she says.

"Not yet," you tell Jeewon as she gags on your cock. "Slap those tits against my cock," you order as Jeewon brings them up together and starts hitting your pole from both sides. "Perfect, now let me spank your tiddies," you say, slapping your hard shaft against her milkers as she once again gives you that big smile you love so much.

"Squeeze that cock," you ask Jeewon, who presses your shaft between her big tits. It's so girthy she can barely squeeze them together. After such a long time, finally a cock worthy of her massive boobage. You push it up and down her tits, like a sausage making its way between a pair of hot dog buns.

You don't hold back, giving Jeewon the hard titfucking her massive udders deserve. "Open your mouth, lick that cock while I destroy those big tits," you tell her. Jeewon loves it, licking your tip like a maniac every time it emerges out of her milkers. "Keep your mouth open," you say, thrusting so hard that instead you actually end up missing it multiple times.

You lay down and let Jeewon be in control. As she squeezes your cock so hard, only your tip now pops out of her tits. "Oh yeah, that's so good," you tell her. "My tits are so soft and wet; look how easily they slide between your cock," she says.

However, it doesn't take long for your primal instincts to take over. "Let me tittyfuck you, bitch," you say as you start thrusting up Jeewon's huge melons in full speed. Her big heart now forms a heart-shaped (or pussy-shaped, a few would say) hole that your cock passes through. Jeewon keeps it well lubed with some spits, as you slide between her boobs fairly easily.

You take a little break and let Jeewon bounce those boobs up and down your dick like a maniac, with a few cocksuckings in between. Jeewon then stops and starts deepthroating your cock. "Do it; get it as wet as you can for your pussy," you tell her. Jeewon does just as you ask, coating your cock full of spit for a couple minutes. "Don't use your hands, just bob your head all the way down my balls," you tell her. Jeewon goes deeper and deeper until she finally gags.

"Are you ready to ride me now?" you ask Jeewon. "YESSSSS!" she enthusiastically says, her big smile back on her face. Jeewon doesn't take long to sit on your pole. "Ohhhhh," you groan as her tight pussy squeezes your walls. Jeewon herself is impressive, as she takes your full length. "Oh my God, Oh My God, fuck," she says as soon as she starts bouncing on it.

Jeewon quickly turns into a mess; your wet cock easily slides up and down her pussy, and her boobs are now jiggling nonstop. "God damn it, you're so fucking big," she says, but never stopping the ride.

"Choke me, yessss, ahhhhhh," Jeewon moans as you make it harder on her. Your hips clap hard against her butt every time she descends down it. You give her a little test as you push your cock up while choking her, making her laugh full of joy as she quickly regains control of the ride.

"Oh my God, you're so fucking deep inside me," Jeewon says as she can't stop moaning. You now grope her big tits, much to her enjoyment. "OH YES, OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," she rapidily screams. "Lean forward a bit," you order to her, taking her massive udders in your mouth while she bounces on your dick.

Jeewon's pussy quickly starts tightening the longer she goes with her ride. You grab her waist and push her body down your hips. "AHHHH FUCKKKK, YESSSS," she screams, closing her eyes as she gets completely impaled and her boobs bounce freely.

More and more moans come out of Jeewson's mouth as she quickly gets exausted, using all her mouth to ride your cock with hard and fast bounces. Her udders are a spectacle to watch as they turn into wild pinballs that move directionless. "AHHHHH, Fuck my little pussy," Jeewon begs, slowly getting out of breath the longer you impale her pussy.

"Get on your feet and keep bouncing on that dick," you command. Jeewon pushes harder, her pussy getting stretched out to the fullest, her ass clapping hard against your body. You finally decide to give her a break: "Come here to suck my cock," you tell her, kneeling as Jeewon bends over and gets that meat in her mouth as soon as you give her the command.

"Don't cover your tits; let me see them bounce," you tell her as Jeewon bobs her head on your cock. Like an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object, you meet her head bobbing with more thrusts down her throat, doing as much as you can to make her boobs bounce.

"Ready to put it back in your pussy?" you ask her. "Yes, always ready," she says. "But first, you need to get a little sloppier; let me make those tits shake," you continue, fucking her face once again as you entertain herself with all the movement her milkers make while you do so.

Jeewon can't hide how tired she looks at this point, panting multiple times as she gags on your cock. But she's still hungry for cock, spitting all over it and throating it as deep as she can as you destroy her tiny, slutty mouth.

"Now you're ready," you tell her. Jeewon brings the lube bottle back and gets her boobs wet again. "Shake it," you command, as the lube falls down into your crotch and Jeewon rubs it on your shaft before sitting on it again, this time in reverse cowgirl.

Jeewon doesn't hold back, riding your cock as hard as she can. Her boobs are an even bouncier mess now. And she's an even bigger mess of moans. "AHHHH, YES, FUCK, OH MY GOD," she screams as you just passively watch, Jeewon planting her hands against the couch as a support while she bounces on your prick.

"OH FUCK THAT'S DEEP," Jeewon says as she ends up sliding your cock inside her cunt all the way down to your balls. You take advantage of this moment of weakness from her and thrust upwards. "AHHHHHH, YESSSS," she screams as her tits almost fly out of her body.

"FUCK THAT'S SO DEEP IN MY STOMACH, YES, YES, YES," Jeewon screams as your cock strikes her mercilessly balls deep, losing her breath as you hit her cervix. Her body is fully sweaty as she just lies on top of you and sits with your cock deep inside her, massaging your balls while she tries to recover from the quick but extremely hard pounding you just gave her.

Jeewon tries to ride a couple times but can barely last a minute. "FUCK YES, YES, YES," she says. "I need this cock so bad, but I'm so fucking tired," she says. "Then suck my dick," you tell her as she takes it deep in her throat like a hungry demon, but you do to her face just as you did to her pussy, pouding it from down low while Jeewon struggles with her throat getting filled full of cock at a franctic pace.

"Are you ready to get fucked lying on your back?" you ask Jeewon. "Yes, please, do it; I've never done this position before," Jeewon says with a huge smile on her face, her legs pressed against her big boobs. "Ready for this big cock to take you on a piledriver?" you keep asking. "Yesss, I'm so excited," Jeewon answers.

You rub and slap your cock against Jeewon's entrance, adding a little lube around her lower side. Jeewon's pussy starts queefing as soon as you penetrate it. You love the noise coming out of her cunt as you fuck her. "Hmmm, look at this tight pussy squirting all that lube," you say. "That's so hot," you say.

Jeewon grabs her boobs, jiggling them with her hands, and her moans are very out of breath now. You play with her pussy going in and out of it and enjoying the queefing sounds. You slowly pick up the pace, bulging your massive cock under her belly. "Fuck this little pussy, YESSSS, FUCKKK," Jeewon screams in between lots of moans.

"Look at that big cock under my stomach," Jeewon notices your bulging dick, massaging her belly in the area around it. You hit her pussy straight and deep, staying with your shaft buried all the way down her cunt. "Let's see it, let's see it," you enjoy your cock stabbing her insides as Jeewon runs her hands around the bulge under her tummy. "Poke me right there, please," she demands.

"AHHHHHH, OHHHHH FUCKKKK," Jeewon screams as you hit deep in her cervix; she is exhausted now and just enjoys you taking her pussy all the way in. A few liquids come out of her vagina, and you love it. "Oh God, are you squirting?" you ask her. "YESSSS," she screams as your cock dives into a pudddle of juices that get trapped between your shaft and gravity, pushing it back down inside Jeewon's fuckhole.

Jeewon laughs as you finger her little pussy. "Come here, baby, taste that cock full of squirt," you tell her. Jeewon gets up immediately, diving to suck your dick and lick your shaft from top to bottom, enjoying the taste of herself. "Dirty girl," you say to her as she chokes on your cock and bounces her tit with her franctic head-bobbing, smiling like the good whore she is.

As Jeewon finishes gagging on your cock, a coat of saliva fills it from top to bottom. She still has the strength for one final round, slapping her own ass as you look at her baby-making body. Jeewon puts her right leg up and gets herself into an acrobatic position on the couch for one last fucking. You slide your cock deep into her pussy from the beginning, making her moan softly.

You pound Jeewon fast and hard, making sure her boobs bounce as much as possible. At this point, Jeewon can barely feel her legs, just letting herself become a little cocksleeve for your monster cock. "Oh yes, oh yes," she moans as your balls clap against her clit and her boobs hit her chin. "That feels so fucking amazing," she says as your cock relentlessly attacks her cunt.

"OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," Jeewon says as you pound her balls deep. Her tits become massive bouncy pinballs at each thrust you give her; her clit stretches out like an opening mouth, and speaking of mouths, she opens her as far as she can to moan every time your cock fills her insides.

"CUM FOR ME, YES, CUM IN MY LITTLE PUSSY, PLEASE," Jeewon begs. Soon, you leave your signature inside it, coating her walls full of your white ink just as she wanted to. "Push it out," you tell her, spreading her pussy lips and bringing a cup where your cum lands after flowing out of her pussy.

Jeewon pushes the cum out of her pussy like a cow getting milked out of her tits. "Drop on your knees and pour it all over your big tits for me," you demand as Jeewon picks the cup up and fills her milkers full of your milk, licking her own nipples to taste your cum right out of her boobs as she gives you one final big smile.

"That was a lot of fun," Jeewon says. "So you had a lot of fun, you little slut; what was your favorite part?" you ask her. "Probably the piledriver loved watching your cock poking me from the inside," she said. "That's great; I hope I get to have more fun with you," you tell her. "Me too; that would be awesome," Jeewon replied.

"Last thing, I really love your smile," you say to Jeewon.

"And my big tits and little pussy too," Jeewon says, shaking her tiddies for one last time.

"Needless to say I love them."

#jeewon smut #cignature smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

467 notes · View notes

monstersflashlight · 2 days

Text

Commission for @lynnistired!

A/N: Thank you so much for trusting me again! This turned out a bit more sweet than expected (but still spicy). Hope you like this one, too! <3 Part 1 can be found here.

Request: I'm here to request more werebunny boyfriend the first was was too good and now I need more🙏🏽 whatever plot you want go crazy with it!!

Date a werebunny they said… (part 2)

Were-bunny x fem!reader || oral sex, praise kink, forced orgasms, mentioned somnophilia

You blinked slowly as the world came to be around your fuzzy brain, waking up after the best and worst experience of your life: your were-rabbit boyfriend’s rut.

You didn’t know how many hours passed since it started, you didn’t even know what time it was. It was dark outside, maybe a whole day went by as you got ravished? You had no idea. You passed out a couple times during the rut. Your boyfriend didn’t stop fucking you, restlessly, even when you were asleep. Your brain was too fuzzy and your body too tired to keep up with his extreme stamina.

You woke up twice because of him. He kept forcing orgasms out of you, making you scream at the top of your lungs as tears rolled down your cheeks. The pleasure so high it was painful, but so, so, so good.

The idea that he was that turned on by you made everything a thousand times more intense, and the fact that he took everything he needed from your limp body was weirdly hot. You liked the fact that he couldn’t hold back his passion around you, that he was pretty much feral for your pussy and your pleasure. After your pussy recovered, you would probably want to explore the free use thing a bit more. That thought made you feel naughty, but a spark of arousal rose inside of you.

You didn’t even know how your body still had the energy to be turned on, you felt dehydrated after so many orgasms. Even though your soft were-rabbit made you drink water any chance he got.

Third time you woke up, there was a soft and wet tongue parting your labia and kissing your oversensitive clit. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeated over and over as he licked your abused pussy.

You groaned pathetically, trying to get away from him. You wanted to tell him off, to tell him to go fuck himself or something. But you had not a single drop of energy in your body. He exhausted you so completely you couldn’t do anything but to lie there as he licked the mixture of his cum and your juices.

You were so sensitive it was almost painful, but the immense pleasure that filled you with each touch of his tongue was beyond anything you’d ever felt. He licked and sucked, making out with your pussy slowly, but with a purpose. He was trying to take everything you had and then some more. He wanted everything. But you didn’t even know if you could come anymore. It felt like an impossible quest at that point.

But he proved you wrong, licking you lazily as his fingers probed your asshole. You moaned and came again, your thighs trembling around his head, your hands holding onto his long fluffy ears. “You can’t stop coming, can you?” He asked rhetorically, looking up at you with the most tender expression you’ve ever seen on is face.

His eyes showed all his love for you, but also a spark of heat beyond it. You didn’t know if he wanted to go again, but you weren’t sure you could. Your pussy couldn’t take it. He didn’t seem to care about your tears or your whimpers, he kept playing with your pussy, eating you out like you were his new favorite snack.

He blew some hot air against your clit and you cried out. “Come on, darling, one more,” he urged. You tried to move away again, but he grabbed your legs and drew you to him again.

“I can’t. Please stop. Please. I can’t take it anymore.” Your hands pulled at his ears, trying to get him away from your abused pussy. He chuckled and kissed your clit softly, forcing a new round of whimpers out of you.

“Of course you can. One more and I promise I’ll stop.” He sucked your clit inside his mouth and you cried out his name, trembling under him.

He always wanted to make you orgasm over and over, sometimes you believed he was trying to drink your soul out of you. Sometimes you thought he liked to make you come more than coming himself. And at this point of his rut, you were 99% sure it was exactly like that. He stopped fucking you long ago, opting for making you come as he humped the mattress. In other circumstances, you would have found that hot and adorable, but at that point you felt like an exposed nerve.

“You promise?” You asked, hopeful. You didn’t know if you could take any more, you felt like floating already, like your body wasn’t yours anymore. It was his. All of you was his.

“Yes. Come for me.” You knew it was a lie, always a lie. He wouldn’t stop wanting you to come. But you couldn’t deny him, not when he was doing such a good job making out with your tender flesh. You came again, your body barely moving anymore. “Good girl, I wish you could see yourself right now. You look gorgeous all limp and drunk with pleasure. All fucked out.” He was talking to you, but looking at your pussy. You didn’t even care if he was talking about your pussy and not yourself as a person. You would gladly be just a set of holes for him to use.

You didn’t get to verbalize that idea, your eyes felt heavy as sleep claimed you once more.

He woke you up just like that at least three more times. Getting you to come and come. And after what felt like thousand orgasms later, and maybe a couple more naps in between, you woke up without a tongue inside your pussy. You sighed in relief, your voice too worn out to say anything coherent, yet.

Your pretty were-rabbit boyfriend was laying beside you, his head against the pillow, looking at you intently. “Are you okay?” He whispered. You tried to hide your blush, feeling shy for some reason. He fucked you to hell and back, and now you felt shy because he was looking at you tenderly… Sometimes you couldn’t understand your own head.

You checked your body mentally. “I think so. I don’t think I can move, though.” Your lower body felt sore all over, and your upper body pretty much the same. It felt like you went to the gym for twelve hours straight. And well... if you counted the amount of times you fucked, the gym scenario was probably a less extenuating activity.

He jumped to his feet instantly. “No worries. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll do everything for you.” He tried to fuss over you, covering you with the blanket and caressing your hair. You leaned down to his touch and sighed happily. That felt great. He offered you some water that you took gladly, helping your head up so you wouldn’t choke.

And then something inside of you went uh oh, and you felt a new urge. “I- I kinda need to pee,” you confessed.

“I take you.” He was reaching for you instantly.

The idea of him carrying your naked body to the bathroom and waiting for you to finish made you want to cringe. “What? No!” You exclaimed, trying to push your body up on the bed. And failing.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “Can you walk?” You tried to sit, and after a good three minutes you got your body to the edge of the bed, panting.

“Uh. Yes.” You tried to get up on your own, but your legs weren’t responding. Fuck. “Okay, no. I can’t walk.” He lowered his head to hide his smirk, but you saw it either way. He was proud of himself. He was happy you couldn’t walk. What a shithead. But you had to hide your own smile. “Is this my first sex injury?” You asked, jokingly. He looked at you worried, but at the sight of your smile he melted.

“Yeah, you can say it like that.” His voice was neutral, and you knew instantly that something was wrong.

You joked a bit more, trying to reduce the uncomfortable feeling setting between you. “Can’t wait to tell my friends my boyfriend injured me, sexually.”

He looked at you, his ears twitching and fluttering, embarrassed. “You… You still want to be my girlfriend?” His voice was so low you almost didn’t hear him. But, luckily, you were so close you could rise your hand and put it on his soft cheek.

“What? Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” You forced him to look at you and kissed his cute button nose, making him frown in the most adorable way. “I love you, you idiot.”

“Even if after I became a sex maniac?” The worry and self-consciousnesses behind his words made your heart hurt for him.

“Yes. I love you no matter what, you silly rabbit. You act like you didn’t make me come at least a thousand times, I enjoyed that, didn’t you realize?” You told him, smiling so big your cheeks hurt. He returned your smile and you couldn’t hold yourself back from kissing him senseless. “But no more sex for a couple days,” you added, chuckling.

“Okay, whatever you want.” He was looking at you like you held the moon, and you felt the most especial girl in the entire world.

“Now, can you get me to the bathroom or not?” You broke heartfelt the moment, as always. He laughed and moved your almost limp body across the room.

You couldn’t stop smiling, and he couldn’t either.

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yinyuedijun · 2 days

Text

NIGHT FLOWER: part i

Your place in the world was one of a tool. This was true of every slave: you were all things to be used. Kakavasha understood this about you, and he understood this about himself. It was how he survived all those years ago, and it’s how he survives now. And so, when Aventurine goes into his first heat in years and decides to suffer it alone, you can only think of one way to get him to accept your help: You offer to let him use you.

written for @/lorelune's spring fever collab & @ficsforgaza

13.5k words of omegaverse, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, angst with an eventual happy ending. gn alpha reader + omega aventurine (they each have both amab and afab genitalia). explicit piv sex, reader bottoms, the sex is consensual but emotionally complicated and deeply sad. cw slavery, racism, gendered violence, including very brief and non-graphic (but direct) references to sexual abuse during slavery. the sa and slavery are not eroticized. dead dove do not eat, mdni.

thank you to @acerathia, @minnaci, @owlespresso for all your help with beta reading and to @kosmiccarma for brainstorming omega aventurine hcs!

“I’ve alw███ l█ved ███, Ka██v█s███”

You knew it from the moment you met him.

Gaunt, pallid, weighed down by heavy chains. Irises that glowed like the auroras back in your world. Delicate features that made every passerby in the market stop to read the description on the placard. (Sigonian, it said, although you couldn’t read at the time. Avgin. Male. Omega. Sixteen years old. Sixty Tanba, no tax.) He had an all-consuming scent that was impossible to ignore—one that possessed you, made your heels dig into the dirt, every atom in your body resisting the impatient jerk of the chains at your wrist. Even through your muzzle, through the perpetual stench of carbon-steel and blood, you could smell it: honey and wildflowers. A fragrance that settled deep within you, flooded you with a warmth that felt like home.

Aventurine is not a spiritual person. He once told you this, his smile cold in the glow of an artificial moon. He'd been deeply religious as a child, but hasn’t since cared for fairy tales about fortune and fate, three-eyed goddesses or merciful rainfalls. Hasn't thought about anything like a destined love. He thinks the idea of a true mate is laughable, that no such bond could ever be forged between an omega and an alpha. That nothing so unconditional could ever exist.

You know differently, of course. You've known it from the moment you met him, from the second you laid eyes on him and thought, I need to help you, and I need to protect you, and I need you to be safe, and you’d never once heard the word ‘love’ in your life—slaves are never loved by their masters, after all, and you'd always been nothing but a slave—but every atom of your being knew that you loved him, that you'd always love him.

And when your master cradled your face that night and crooned that he owned you, that you'd always be his obedient, alpha pet—for the first time in your life, you knew that he was wrong.

You didn't belong to your slaver.

You belonged to him.

To Kakavasha.

These days, Aventurine does not smell like honey, and your jaw is not restrained.

Your muzzle was one of the first things that Aventurine threw away when he bought your freedom. According to the Amber Era system, it had been several months since the murder of your shared master. Ninety-five Star Calendar days after the Interastral Peace Corps had arrested Kakavasha. An entire rotation around the black hole at the centre of your wretched galaxy, all of which had been spent in the captivity of some new mistress. She picked you out because she liked your calming scent and the look of your face, but mostly she used you for the fighting pits just like your old master.

Aventurine had been sitting in the audience of your final match, then bought you out right after you won. “I’m in need of a fighter,” he’d said, smiling in his thick furs and jewels. He played the part of a slavemaster perfectly, his gloved hands wandering the span of your aching shoulders, touching the bloodied maw of your mask. “And I’d be willing to pay top credit for yours.”

She protested. You were her most prized possession, one of her greatest investments. Slaves from your planet were hard enough to come by—alphas capable of reproduction, nearly impossible. And you were so well-behaved, so poised, so endearing in a way that was rare for alphas. She was fond of you. Her omega slaves were fond of you too. They would be distraught if you left, and that would complicate her household affairs—and surely Aventurine, as a respectable owner of human capital like herself, could understand how inconvenient that would be?

Aventurine bared his teeth in a gracious smile. (You’d never seen Kakavasha make such an expression before—so disarming, so cunning, a crescent moon beneath snake eyes. He’d never smelt like this either, like an expensive cologne layered with bleach, and it left you feeling nauseous, wondering if he was ill.) He flirted his way into her good graces, made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, and then he brought you into the first-class ship on which he’d arrived. You were so stunned by its luxury—the handwoven carpets, the crushed velvet seats, the imported tea from several galaxies away and the custom-ordered outfit he had bought for you—that you nearly missed the tremble in his hands as he punched numbers into the remote control lock for your chains.

He had regained his composure by the time he pulled away your muzzle, though. He threw it carelessly to the ground—your titanium chains, too. Then kicked both away with his shined leather shoes.

“There,” Aventurine said, smiling cheerfully. “Much better, don’t you think?”

“Vasha—” you started, voice thick with wasted grief, and all you wanted to was reach for him, to double check that he was real, but he placed a finger to your lips and stopped you. You stiffened at the satin touch, but he seemed unbothered.

“‘Aventurine’,” he corrected.

You stared blankly. “What?”

“‘Aventurine’. Like the gemstone. That’s my name now.”

“You—” Your voice caught in your throat. You realized that you’d been holding your breath. You always had the habit of holding your breath in the luxurious, private rooms of very rich men, because you never liked what happened in them. Forcing yourself to breathe, you asked, “You gave yourself a new name?”

“No. The IPC gave me a new name. They gave me a job, too.”

“A job?” you asked, voice faint. Now that you were breathing again, you were noticing once more just how bizarre he smelled. Sterile and expensive and completely foreign. “You’re free now?”

“Well, I’m a freedman, but I don’t know if I’d call myself free. I’m a bit… indebted to the IPC, let’s say. But that’s fine. I can’t complain. I mean—look around. This beats the fighting pits, doesn’t it?” He gestured lazily at your surroundings, and you nodded.

“It’s nice here,” you replied, feeling absurd but not knowing what else to say. Once Kakavasha got talking, it was impossible to get a word in edgewise.

“You like it here? Good. This room’s yours. Mine is the next one over. You’ll live and work here, with me. I’ll make sure you’re paid well. Full benefits, vacation, salary, and overtime. The standard pay for your role is seventy-thousand credits per month, but I’ll see if I can get you more. HR is pretty strict about their hiring policies, but—”

“You’re hiring me?”

Aventurine went very still, his smile tightly controlled. His eyes remained fixed on you, but they seemed less snake-like, now. They looked more familiar. More afraid.

“I’m offering, yes,” he said neatly. “You’ll be part of my personal security detail. I don’t have the contract for you to review yet, unfortunately. I didn’t arrange one ahead of time because, well”—he laughed, as if this were polite conversation and he were making a joke about the weather—“I didn’t know if I’d find you alive. But things worked out in my favour. They always work out in my favour. I’ll make sure they’ll work out in your favour too, so long as you’re with me. So you’ll consider it, won’t you? Staying with—working for me, I mean.”

Your eyes went soft. Beneath the artificial fragrance, you finally caught a hint of his familiar scent—more wildflower than honey at that moment, the way it always is when he’s scared.

“Kakavasha—”

“Name your price,” he said loudly, “and I’ll match it.”

You sighed. “Vasha,” you said more gently, and his shoulders relaxed at the subvocal shift in your timbre, at the famed alpha Voice that necessitated your muzzle, “I don’t care about the money. Of course I’ll stay here. But—what happened? Why did you kill him yourself? Why didn't you let me do it? That was the plan. It was always supposed to be me.”

It was my job, you thought then, just as you had thought to yourself every night, curled up in your bed and trying to recall the scent of fresh honey, to keep you safe.

He shrugged and said, “It would have been too risky to involve you.”

“You were caught and sentenced to death. The risk was already too high.”

“But the stakes weren’t,” he replied simply, and before you could ask what he meant by that, he continued, “and it worked out, didn’t it? I work for the IPC. You work for me. We’re freedmen now. Whatever I've lost, it doesn't matter. Our gains far outweigh it.”

“And what have you lost, Vasha?”

He smiled at you, charming and distracting. A crescent moon beneath snake eyes. “Nothing of value,” he reassured you, and even though you could feel the calm of an omega’s voice washing over you, even though it released all the tension in your body, all you could smell was cologne and wildflowers, and you knew that he was lying.

Vasha once told you, curled up and quiet on the basement floor, that he despised his eyes. They were supposed to be a sign of blessing from Gaiathra Triclops, but they'd never brought him anything but trouble. They were the first thing that the slavers always noticed about him, the feature that made him such an alluring commodity. Their aurora glow, their strange beauty, their promise of a rare opportunity: a chance at owning a specimen of an exotic, endangered species, possibly the last of its kind. These are all things that you've heard in the parlour of your master’s house as he entertained rich company, the crowd of them gawking at his human curios.

Avgin are said to make the most beautiful slaves, he'd often say. And Avgin omegas are said to be the most beautiful among them. What do you all think? They'd all hum, peering closely at Kakavasha’s features, and inevitably someone would joke, I think I'd like to borrow him sometime, and then they would all laugh while your pulse ticked up and you imagined tearing at their throats. Vasha would search for your gaze in these moments, giving you a long, pointed look: Don't do anything stupid.

He’d always been so blasé about it, the way people fixated on his Avgin blood. You'll never understand how. He didn't react to any of the comments, the groping, the innuendos. He was, however, distinctly unimpressed at the way that your master liked to play him up as a rare and expensive acquisition, as a sign of his own status. It's embarrassing to watch, Kakavasha had remarked. Everyone knows that Sigonian slaves are uncommon but cheap—people always think we’ll bring them more trouble than our worth. This was how Kakavasha had ended up in the market in the first place: because his last master had been robbed, and he'd been wrongly blamed for it.

The blame, to this day, has never stopped. People—powerful people, politicians, businessmen, socialites—look at Aventurine’s eyes and immediately reach for their pockets. You've seen it for yourself, these spineless despots and scammers feeling for their wallets. Sigonian, you know they're thinking. Liar, cheat, thief, whore, worthless, worthless, worthless. Your hands tighten around your blade each time, a loaded gun with a finger on the trigger.

Alphas are said to be violent by nature. Aventurine has often called you the one exception to this rule: the most docile, good-hearted alpha he's ever met. But this is a lie. You do have a predator instinct, and it comes out in full-force whenever you’re around these particular types of men. These types who notice Aventurine’s eyes and see a thief; these monsters who see his irises and imagine what it would be like to bed him. You’d kill them if you could. It would be so easy, especially now that you are an IPC dog. The Company is already such a violent force; what would be one more murder?

But Aventurine has never ordered you to punish anyone. (Don't do anything stupid, he always tells you with a glance, smiling through every humiliation.) Nor has he ever seemed bothered enough by these meetings to try concealing his heritage.

A fellow Asset Liquidation Specialist once asked why he didn't just hide his eye colour—it would likely be better for fostering relationships, negotiating deals—but Aventurine had shrugged it off. I'm a gambler working with the IPC, he'd said. Do you really think a pair of coloured contacts would make anyone trust me? He'd laughed, and his voice had carried a threatening edge, and his coworker had shifted visibly at it. Being an Avgin is the least threatening thing about me, wouldn't you say?

You think that Aventurine likes being seen as a threat. Sometimes you wonder if this is why he doesn't mind wearing his eyes so much, but abhors keeping his scent. He washes his clothes until they're free of his disarming sweetness and then masks himself with an unsettling blend of ambergris, jasmine, and wood. And he is on suppressants all the time—hasn’t had a single heat since the day he killed his master. Hasn't smelled like himself, either.

At the end of the day, it’s manageable being an Avgin in this business, he often comments, spraying half a bottle of masking cologne on himself, but you can't be an Avgin and an omega. Wouldn’t you agree?

You'd know better than me, you reply, noncommittally—and truthfully.

But you're an alpha, he observes. Don't you have an opinion?

You don't pay me to have opinions, you always remind him, stone-faced. You pay me to stand here and look scary. And Aventurine always laughs at this, and he always wires you money and calls it a bonus as he pesters you for an answer, and he always gets distracted and starts scrolling through all his shopping wishlists instead. I saw this thing the other day and thought of you. And this too. Would you like either of them? Would you like them both? I’m a very generous manager, you know. I'll buy you anything you like.

But even though he always gets distracted, Aventurine never forgets. Sooner or later, he inevitably circles back to these questions—these anxieties about his scent, about his eyes, about his blood. He never cares for anyone else’s opinions, but he's always been curious about yours. Even when he was Vasha, he wanted to know what you thought.

He’d been sixteen years old and delirious with heat the first time he asked you, face wrinkling with pain as he spilled his thoughts. It was so incoherent, so sad, you thought it must have been about a fever dream. Mama Fenge, he kept saying. Mama Fenge blessed me, She blessed me, I'm blessed, it rained when I was born—did you know that? My luck, I was lucky. The Katicans, they never caught me. They got everyone else, but not me. I was blessed by Her. I'm going to save my people. I will. I'll save my sister. My eyes are proof. My mistress liked them. Said they're beautiful. Worth sixty whole coppers. A blessing. He pulled you close, pressed his scalding face to your scent gland, and his whole body shuddered with relief. This was the first and only time he'd allowed you to hold him, and it was only out of desperation, out of his mind. Do you like them, alpha? Do you like my eyes? Why? Is it because they're beautiful? Because they're from Gaiathra?

“I like them because they're yours,” you'd replied, and Kakavasha had laughed deliriously.

This is when he told you he hated them: I'd close them forever, if I could.

When you were younger—dumber—you had a habit of squirrelling away every spare coin you came across. You collected them in a little purse that one of the omega slaves had sewn for you—a thank-you for always keeping the other alphas away from her—and you hid it underneath a loose floorboard. By the time that Kakavasha was arrested, you'd saved up twenty-nine Tanba. You’d wanted enough to buy Kakavasha’s freedom and then to set him up for a comfortable life.

It had been a stupid plan. An embarrassing one. If you ever confessed it to Aventurine, he'd laugh at you. Slaves can't buy other slaves, he'd say. Leave the schemes to me next time. You’re too good-hearted for it.

You’d already known that, of course. You knew that you didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him, but you wanted to. God, did you want to—you spent every waking moment thinking about it, every sleeping moment dreaming of it. It wasn't even that you desired him, though he was beautiful and fragrant and more delicate than anything that had ever touched you in your life, which was only your master’s hands and your muzzle and your chains. Aventurine would feel so soft in comparison, you’d always figured. It made your heart ache, thinking about getting to hold something so lovely.

But really—that desire came second. What came first was how mated omegas feel safe around their alphas, and you so desperately wanted him to be safe. Kakavasha had looked so frail, so grim, as your master took his chains and led him home from the market, and you could smell the fear coming off him in waves. And you could do nothing to stop it. You had nothing you could use to stop it—nothing other than your hands that could kill for him and your pheromones that could soothe him and your useless heart that wanted to collect sixty Tanba for him. That was all you had.

So you failed in the end. Of course you did. You didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him. You couldn't even do for him the one thing you could have done—which was to kill. And Kakavasha suffered for your incompetence. He had to dirty his hands with blood and gamble his way into wealth and then suddenly he was freeing you, not the other way around.

And now you are comfortable. You'll lead an easy life from now, Aventurine reassured you when he brought you onto his ship all those years ago, and he's kept that promise. What about you? you'd asked him then. Will you lead an easy life with me, if you're working for the IPC? And he had smiled and lied to you: Yes.

It had been a painfully obvious lie. If you were a smarter person, you'd have never believed it in the first place. Aventurine has no interest in leading an easy life, because an easy life would be less profitable, and less profit would mean less safety. And he is always, always worried about being unsafe. It is indiscernible to everyone but you—an alpha (his alpha, always his, even if he doesn't want you) who has watched over him for so long that you can detect every shift in his scent. No matter how much cologne he drowns himself in and no matter how strong his suppressants are, you know when he is afraid.

And here is the bitter truth, the ultimate proof of your shortcomings:

Aventurine is always afraid.

It is a beautiful day on Agnisahr, and you can tell that Aventurine is about to throw up from worry.

You're sitting in the middle of stunning wealth—Aventurine in his feathers and jewellery, you in your tailored jacket—in a lobby made from marble and pale sandstone, with a view of palm trees and rolling, scarlet sand dunes beyond the window. The waitstaff addresses him as Honoured Guest and they keep his crystal chalice filled constantly with water—one of the most expensive commodities on the planet. Aventurine has been drinking from it religiously, which is strange as he typically has the habit of forgetting to hydrate. A faint wildflower scent is drifting from his slender form. These are the only giveaway to his mood: he's otherwise as pokerfaced as ever, smiling calmly as he discusses his plans to sabotage the local government and acquire the planet for the IPC.

“This is a very dangerous mission,” you state flatly.

“All my missions are dangerous.” He takes a sip, one pinky up. “The IPC pays me well for a reason. As they say—”

“‘High risk, high reward.’ I know.” You try not to sound bitter, though you allow yourself to sound tired. “I still do not think the risk is worth the reward in this case.”

“I think over 5.6 million in credits is a great reward, actually. We could do a lot with that kind of money.”

You raise a brow. “What could an extra 5.6 million get you that you can't already buy?” It is—as Topaz would say—‘chump change’ in comparison to his current wealth, which sums to a number so vast that you can't wrap your head around it.

Aventurine pretends to miss the point. “Tons! We could buy a new spacecraft. Get another mansion. Or—we could take a vacation to Penacony. I hear it's quite nice there.” A playful smile. “I could get us a penthouse unit. With a featherbed.”

You frown. Sometimes Aventurine likes to flirt when you're being stubborn—not out of interest, but as a ploy to distract you. He’d developed the habit after he joined the IPC. It used to fluster you, but now it only makes you cross your arms.

“You could die,” you point out.

“You'll protect me.”

“No, I won't. You always find a way to get rid of me when things are most dangerous.” You give him an accusatory stare. “You never let me do my job.”

He's too shameless to deny it. “And it's worked out fine, hasn't it? I haven't died so far.”

“Yes. Just by dumb luck.”

“I beg to differ. My luck is quite reliable.” He sets down his glass. Glances back outside. A microexpression, brows knotting for the briefest second as he studies the sky. “I'm not worried.”

“You're a shit liar.”

That gets him to look at you, letting a small frown pass over his face. “No, I'm actually a great liar. You're just too good at reading me. It's very inconvenient, you know.”

“I can't help it.” You lean toward him, making a show of it as you sniff. An orchid-like scent—faint but unmistakable—has seeped into artificial ambergris and wood. “It's hard to ignore.”

He hums. He isn't frowning anymore—but doesn't look happy, either. “I should change suppressants.” He taps the side of his empty glass, fidgeting. Aventurine never fidgets: it's an amateur giveaway. “These ones clearly don't work well enough.”

“That won't help. I know you too well.” Your eyes soften. He's looking outside again, the blues of his irises distant. “You're worried, Aventurine. More than usual. Let’s back out of this—let Jade handle it.”

“The mission isn't what's bothering me,” he says patiently. “I just don't like this planet.”

“Because you can tell it's dangerous.”

“No. Well—it is, but nothing I can't handle.” He leans back. “I just dislike the weather here.”

You arch a brow. “...the weather?”

“Yes,” he says neatly, “it's too dry here. I'll break out.”

You open your mouth. Close it. It is possibly the most absurd thing you've ever heard, and certainly the worst lie that's ever come from him. For as long as you've known him, Aventurine has had flawless skin, marble-smooth, and ever since being freed, he’s never really cared much for looking handsome so much as looking rich. But he maintains his serious expression: all-in on the farce. “Did you know that outside the capital, this planet hasn't had any natural rain in a quarter of an Amber Era? And the stellar winds are terrible. I don't know how people live on a planet like this.” His eyes narrow at the cloudless sky. “The IPC is going to need to do a lot of terraforming if they want to make this into a merchant hub.”

“Aventurine.”

“It'll be a pain crossing the desert—the elements will ruin my clothes, you know,” he continues. “It won't be so bad while we're on the ships, but we’ve got to go outside from time to time. Can't make any friends otherwise.”

“Aventurine.”

“And there's nothing to do for fun when we’re not working.” He sighs dramatically. “I can't wait to get our 5.6 billion and leave for someplace else. I'm being serious about Penacony, by the way—”

“Aventurine.”

“—though not about the featherbed. I'll get you your own room, obviously. And I'll buy whatever dream experience you’d like. What kind would you want?”

Finally allowed a chance to speak, you say, “One where you retire.”

“Retire? Why would I ever do that?”

“I don't know. Maybe you decide you've made enough money.”

“No such thing.”

“Then you can settle down with someone.”

That makes him smile. It feels mocking. “Me? Settling down? With who?”

“Who knows. Someone who will treat you better than the IPC, I hope.”

“Anyone that nice would run in the other direction. But never mind me. This would be your dream experience. What happens to you in it?”

“I stop chasing after you and get to live out the rest of my days in peace,” you say dryly, and Aventurine blinks. “Please stop deflecting. The IPC gave you a suicide mission. We will both die if we stay here.”

He looks serious now. “I wouldn't let you die.”

“You can't know that.”

“Well, I do. And I've got decent chances at surviving too—at least one in ten.”

You feel like sighing—a deep, aggravated noise is heavy in your throat—but Aventurine doesn't enjoy it when you show anger around him. It's the one omega instinct that he can't ignore, you suppose: unease around an aggressive alpha. Voice tightly controlled, you say, “You’re going to bet your life on one in ten?”

“Sure. My chances were worse on the last planet, and things worked out great. It'll be the same on Agnisahr.” Aventurine raises a hand, calls for the bill. The conversation is over. You lean back in your seat, watching sourly as he pays tens of thousands of credits just for water.

“You know, they say the royal family is backed by an Aeon,” you can't help but point out, once the waiter is gone. A last-ditch effort. Aventurine smiles at it, amused. Like you're a child.

“So what?” He glances outside, at the desolate landscape beyond the oasis—nothing but red sand, a blue, rainless sky, and two radiant suns shining above it all. “The protection of a god is nothing compared to the schemes of human beings. And gods abandon their people all the time, anyway.”

During your tenth day on Agnisahr, you realise that something is deeply wrong.

It takes you some time to understand what’s happening. At first you think that whatever political danger you’ve intuited is much worse than you thought, and that’s why Aventurine has been so pale, so discomforted, so exhausted. Then his scent starts changing—he switches clothes two, three times a day (because of all this heat during Agnisahran days, he tells his new business associates) and spritzes his nape with his cologne almost religiously—and you wonder if he is sick with something. If the food in this planet has something that disagrees with his Sigonian biology, or if he has picked up one of the local filoviruses, or if someone’s poisoned one of his meals because they’ve correctly identified him as a threat. Aventurine dismisses every single one of these theories when you bring it up, and—as if in denial—only attributes it to the weather. (I’ve never done well in deserts, he tells you, his eyes on his phone screen. I'm not used to them. It is above 300 Kelvin, and you do not see a single bead of sweat on his neck, and his cheeks are not even a little flushed.)

You only figure it out when he is too ill to get out of bed one morning and forbids all the IPC staff from coming near his hotel room. It sets off alarms immediately—Aventurine, no matter how sick, will work and see through meetings as long as he is mentally capable of it—and so you naturally ignore his orders and check on him, using the spare key to his sleeping quarters that you're given as a policy. And as soon as the door cracks open—as soon as you step inside only to be hit with a violent, cloying sweetness—you realise what’s happening and slam the door shut behind you.

“You’re in heat,” you blurt out, and Aventurine—a shivering, panting mess on the bed—groans in response.

“Why are you here?” He turns toward you, still lucid enough to glare at you through the tangled mess of his hair. His voice is weak, but no less self-possessed: “I was very clear—no company today.”

“I am your personal bodyguard,” you remind him mildly. Your voice is calm—both non-threatening and non-condescending. “Those orders don’t apply to me. If things feel suspicious, I look into it. And they felt very suspicious.” Your brow knits as you study his clothes. Mulberry silk clings to his form, soaked through with sweat. Thin, eucalyptus sheets are tangled up around him. There are only two pillows. No water bottles. No knotting toys.

Nothing.

“You didn't know you'd be in heat,” you realise. “What happened to your suppressants?”

“I don't know.” There’s a quiet, frustrated edge to his voice. Vulnerable too. It makes you think of when you were both still slaves, and Aventurine was confined to the basement of the manor—the one that all omega slaves were made to ride out their heats in. Either they would do it alone or were ordered to spend it with some alpha, usually either a friend of the master or an alpha slave he wished to reward. That's when they're most pliable, he'd tell his guests, or sometimes even you. They get so desperate they'll present themselves to anyone. Then amused laughter from the other party—How obscene!—as you looked away, blood hammering in your ears.

You had been your master’s favourite. His most obedient, most profitable pet—striking enough for his guests to admire, deadly enough for his audiences to bet on, docile enough for him to enjoy. Good enough for him to reward, and he often rewarded you with his most beautiful slave: his Avgin omega. Just don't mark him, he’d said, fastening the muzzle around your mouth. It'll ruin his market value. Who knows if someday he'd sell Kakavasha off to some alpha master who wished to claim him, he said. Though I don't think there's anyone in this star system who'd want a Sigonian for a mate, let alone a Sigonian slave. Then he’d paused, eyes scanning over you. As if contemplating. But maybe they'd try to get Avgin whelps out of him, he added, and you felt like throwing up.

You'd never mate him in those moments, your muzzle always prevented you from saying. You didn't even want to think about touching him, and he didn't want to think about it either. Even in the cruel grip of his heats, with nothing but the thin mat beneath him and his slave’s rags around him, Kakavasha hadn't wanted any kind of contact from you, rejecting any chance of solace. Don't, don't—not again, not again, he'd begged. Then as the nights marched on and his mind grew hazier, he’d start whimpering too: It hurts, alpha. It hurts. Help me. It hurts. Don't touch me. Not again. It hurts. It hurts. Stop it, please stop it.

It gutted you.

It went against every instinct, not to touch him. To let him lie there, in scorching, lonely pain, when all you wanted to do was to dispel it. It would be so easy to press yourself against him and let his skin cool against yours, do the one thing that your body was good at other than killing. But not again, not again, I can't anymore, I don't want it, I never wanted it, and all you could do was sit there, unmoving. Watch as the most delicate, precious thing you had in your life shatter.

And standing here now, watching Aventurine shatter before you once more—it is unbearable. He needs a nest, you keep thinking. He needs a nest and some water and some kind of touch, some kind of relief, but not again, not again, and you’re still a slave, still a worthless and stupid slave, and Kakavasha is still crying on a basement floor and you can't do anything for him.

“You need help, Aventurine,” you say, voice soft, and his whole body tenses. His scent dips, and the scent of florals overwhelms you.

“No,” he breathes, “I don't.”

“You do. You're sick.” You bite your lip. Your heart splits as you suggest it, but you say, “I can call a professional.”

“No,” he spits. The facade is gone. The poker face has cracked. The anger and the pain and the fear are all on full display, and his voice sharpens: “No strangers.”

No foreign scents, you realise he's demanding. A new scent would probably make him feel unsafe.

Then let me help you, you think of pleading, but not again, not again, and you're filled with so much shame at the thought that all you can do is look away.

“Then—can I do anything?” He goes still. “Not—not that, but something to make you more comfortable. I can build you a nest, at least—”

“No.” He takes a deep, shaking breath. “No nests. I don't need one—”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don't,” he says. His voice is wavering now, on the verge of crumbling with fever and pain. “I've never—I’ve never needed a nest, I don't—I don't want to—” He presses his face into his pillow. “I need—I need to be alone, fuck—”

He doesn't mean to whine. The cry for distress is instinct, something that all omegas are programmed to do in heat. You’ve heard that they’ve evolved to make this noise as a way of appealing to nearby alphas for help, but you think this must be a lie as you never once saw your alpha master giving mercy to any of his omega slaves. Still, whether it is your biology or not—the noise that Aventurine makes has your heart aching so much you can't help but step forward. But he shakes his head and inches away, shuddering violently, and then his voice echoes again in that cold basement—not again, not again, and don't touch it anymore, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore, not again, and it's all you can do to back away until your spine is pressed against the door.

“I'm sorry, Vasha,” you say, strained. “I’m sorry. I'll leave you now.”

As the door shuts behind you, you catch a final glimpse him—face pressed into the pillows, shivering.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was crying.

When you were both slaves, Aventurine hated seeing you during his heats.

Kakavasha was normally calm around you. Most of the time, he was even friendly (he was friendly to everyone whom he thought could be useful), but he was different during his heats. Sometimes he was vicious; mostly he was withdrawn. Nearly always, he wanted to be left alone. In those moments, all he could register was your alpha scent and his memories of what other people had done to him during his heats. And while you'd have hated to leave him, despised the idea of him being offered to another alpha—even more than that, you hated violating this boundary of his. Hated that you were allowed to do whatever you wanted to him. Hated being the reason he felt so unsafe.

Hated being an alpha.

Now that you no longer have the orders of your slavemaster hanging over you, it is the least you can do to respect Aventurine’s wish of being left alone. He has every right to privacy, and you have every obligation to give it to him. But instead you have been standing here, outside his door, for a full system-hour.

Every time you try to leave, your body is wracked with anxiety. The thought of other people—other alphas—coming near him in this state makes you seethe, your hands flexing at your side. The predator instinct comes out, and the people around you notice it. Every person unlucky enough to walk down this hall scurries away under your glare, even the other IPC staff wandering about to look for Aventurine: Must be their mate on the other side, they remark to one another, and then they're gone.

It is a hard thing to hear. You are not his mate. You are not even a heat partner. If you were, then he wouldn't be in so much pain. Not now, and not back then.

Aventurine has never had easy heats. You keep replaying your memories of all his past ones, each one a wound in your heart: the aching sweetness of nectar and honey; his withering body as he clutched his abdomen and curled up; the tears and sweat staining the mat beneath him. And above all: the fear. The scent of it, the sight of it, the sound of it in his voice. Stronger today than any other day.

By instinct, you know that he cannot persist like this. That this time is somehow worse than all those other times, and that he will become seriously ill if left alone.

After nearly an hour and a half, you finally open the door, fearing the worst.

“Aventurine?” you say quietly, but there's no response, and your stomach drops as you see him.

His body is pale, listless. If it weren't for the fragrance washing over you or the sweat on his temple, you'd worry that he was dead.

Tentatively, you reach out. Rest a hand on his forehead, and it scorches you. He stirs at the touch, doesn't open his eyes—but the quiet sigh of relief is unmistakable. His fingers twitch, as if wanting to reach for you.

“Aventurine,” you say gently. “Aventurine, I'm going to take care of you. Is that alright?”

He doesn't respond. You grimace, pulling away to fetch things for him: several spare pillows from the closet, an extra blanket too. From his suitcase, you grab a few of his sweaters, all thick cotton and fleece. He’d had a sense that Agnisahr would be cold at night. Deserts always get cold after sundown, since sand doesn’t retain heat, he'd told you while he was packing. Or I think so, anyway. Don't know why. Must have read it somewhere. Then he’d given you a long, unreadable look before saying, Make sure to bring a jacket. The warmest one you have. The elements on a planet like Agnisahr can kill a person—even a person like you.

I’m sure I’ll be fine, you’d dismissed him. I can survive anything. Any kind of weather, any kind of illness, any kind of pain: these are all things your species is known for being able to endure, the trait that made you such a prized slave in your master’s eyes, such a useful agent at the IPC. You hadn’t given Aventurine’s warning any thought and hardly paid attention to what you’d thrown into your own suitcase.

It surprises you, then, that you find one of your sweaters in his luggage. Made from Sedanian cashmere and heat tech designed by the Intelligentsia Guild. Cloud-soft and warm to the touch. Aventurine had bought it for you before you were deployed to Jarilo-IV to collect intelligence for Topaz. Warmest thing in the known universe, he’d commented. One of a kind, too. Remember to wear it, alright? Don't let my money go to waste, now.

You stare at it, kneading the fleece between your fingers. You hadn’t mentioned wanting to bring this sweater. You’d lost it in your closet some months ago and forgot about it. Aventurine must have remembered and gone looking for it, because—why? You aren't sure. Probably because it’s warmer and softer than anything he owns, you guess. Of course he’d want to wear it.

You throw it into the pile of things you’ve collected for him.

You take it all to his bed, the mattress dipping as you sit next to Aventurine. One by one, you scent each item with your wrist, watching him carefully the whole time. You’re quiet as you lay them out around him, leaving him undisturbed as you build a nest. You order water and electrolyte drinks too, and you’re quick about going to the door when you hear room service knocking—with how feverish he is, he probably badly needs it.

Aventurine is awake when you come back. His breathing is still laboured, pained—but calm.

“I said I didn’t need a nest,” Aventurine says, though he doesn’t sound angry. You wonder if he’s too weak to be. His voice is faint, and his eyes are barely open—focused on the pile of blankets and clothing around him.

“You’re welcome.” You open a bottle of water, hold it out to him. “Drink.”

Aventurine pauses, stares at the offering like it's some kind of foreign object. But he accepts it eventually, sitting up and taking it from you. He winces with the movement, which he tries to hide. He ignores your frown as he drinks, and he doesn't stop until the bottle is empty.

“There are more,” you say, pointing at the several additional bottles on the nightstand. “And some food and some painkillers. I don't know how well they’ll work. This isn't a normal heat. If you're alright with it, I'll call a doctor and—”

“Everything smells like you,” he says quietly, and you stop.

“...yes. Unless they’re mated, nests usually feel most comforting to an omega when they smell like an alpha.” You swallow, looking away. “...you don't have a mate, and you didn't want a professional, so this was the only option I could think of. I'm sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says. He picks out one of the sweaters that have made its way into the nest, the Sedanian one. “I don't mind it.”

“Oh.” You let out a breath. “Then—can I call a doctor?”

His grip on the sweater tightens. “No.”

You frown. “Aventurine—”

“I’ve never needed a doctor before,” he says. He sounds unbothered, but he's fidgeting with the sweater now. “I don't need one now.”

A lie. He almost certainly needed a doctor in some of his prior heats, but you don't push the matter. “Maybe you don't need one,” you say instead, “but it would help.”

“I don't need help,” he says, and you look at him in disbelief. He catches your expression, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Not more than you've already done, I mean.”

“I’ve barely—”

“Contact Topaz. Tell her I'm incapacitated. Tell her…” He hums. “Tell her I have food poisoning. The personnel too. It's not time-sensitive, our business on Agnisahr, so it shouldn't matter if I need a few days off.”

“You really need—”

“Give my regrets to our Agnisahran friends. Deliver it in person. They see you as my right hand, so they’ll most appreciate it coming from you. Topaz can help you with the verbiage. And—try to socialise with them a little, won't you? I think that little omega princess of theirs likes you. Some of the courtesans too, and they have surprising influence.”

“I do not want to be around any omega other than you right now,” you say before you can stop yourself, and Aventurine stops, blinking. His expression is blank, if perhaps a little curious—but his scent shifts. You can't identify how. You add quickly, “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re this sick.”

“Ah. Right.” Aventurine looks away. His voice sounds strange, and his heat must be getting to him again, because it carries a hint of pain. “But you have to. The IPC’s goals take priority.”

You frown. “Your life is more important than the IPC,” you say, and he laughs. Loudly.

“What? This is just a heat. I’m not going to die.”

“You don’t know that without seeing a doctor.”

“I do. I’m willing to bet money that I won’t die.” He cuts you off before you can reply: yes, you're always willing to bet on your life. “And even if I do, that would still be less important than Agnisahr. Do you know how many resources are on this lifeless rock?” His mouth slants. “If we mess up here, I’m dead anyway.”

“I wouldn’t let them touch you.”

“Yes, you would—because they would kill you too.” Aventurine sighs. His eyes close, and his brow creases—a sign that whatever reprieve he was lucky enough to get is about to end. “Go do what I asked. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll… see a doctor if you do.”

You stand immediately. “Alright. I’ll be back to check on you.”

“I know.”

You stop at the door, giving him a long look. Seeing him like this—lying on a proper bed, cradled in a warm nest, with water and food and medicine nearby—you feel a little better. This is leagues beyond what he’d been afforded in his days as a slave, at the very least. Even if he isn’t free, at least he isn’t trapped.

But it still doesn’t feel good, having to step away. The last thing you want to do is talk to other people, pretend to have interest in other omegas. There are an astonishing number of them who are interested in you on this planet—that princess, and some baron’s son, and one of the prince’s favourite paramours—but you can’t bring yourself to care even for business purposes when Aventurine is like this. You can't act as if you are enjoying yourself when you know he is in pain.

You wonder about telling Topaz the truth. You wonder if she’d be worried enough about Aventurine to let you neglect this mission and cover for you instead, without letting Jade or Diamond or anyone else dangerous know. Not that you think that anyone at the Company particularly cares about Kakavasha—it’s only that he’s valuable. Aventurine of Stratagems is valuable. How many worlds have fallen because of him?

But he seemed unwilling to bet on his worth to them. Which is startling, given how often he's bet on it in the past.

“What’s so important about this planet,” you can’t help but ask, “that the IPC would rather you die than lose it?”

He’s silent for a long moment. His eyes are closed—hidden—but you can see his knuckles whiten as he clutches the Sedanian sweater.

“Copper,” he says. “They want it for the copper.”

When Kakavasha first suggested a friendship to you, it had felt like something in between a proposition and a threat:

Go ahead, he'd said. Use me as you wish. You can even stab me in the back if you want. Just be mindful of this: I don't make deals that don't pay off.

It might have been a strange way of making friends in any other circumstance, but in a house of slaves, it was a natural one. You had not been a clever person—still aren't—but you understood that your place in the world was one of a tool. This was the place of all slaves: you were all things to be used. Your body was a thing to be used. It was valuable for its strength, for its hardiness, for its threat in the arena and for its convenience in your master’s bed (or in a dark basement, or within a heat house, or inside whichever omega your mistress ordered you to calm down). It did not surprise you that Kakavasha wanted to use it as well. It did not surprise you that Kakavasha expected you to use him in return.

You never would have, of course. Kakavasha was not a thing to be used—he had always been a mate. Though you were happy to let him use you, because all you were was a tool anyway, so it was really all you could offer him: to be used.

None of this has changed for you. You don't think any of this has changed for Aventurine, either. With each new friendship he makes, he repeats those familiar words: Use me as you wish. And with each person who accepts, this is exactly what they do: they use him, and they use him, and they use him until suddenly they notice he's tricked them and they've got the losing hand.

You damned gambler, they always spit. You Sigonian wretch. All you know is how to manipulate people. Thief, liar, cheat, whore. Despite all these insults, Aventurine always smiles at them. Cry as they might, he’s won his bet and has their world in his palms.

Winner takes all, he sometimes gloats.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. This is all Aventurine knows; these are his great guiding principles in life. (He's told you this point blank, stacking up chips in his favourite gambling dens with a self-satisfied grin.) You often find yourself coming back to these conversations, particularly when you need to convince him of something.

And right now, you very badly need to convince him of something.

Aventurine is ignoring his doctor’s advice. His suppressants are unstable in extreme temperatures, he's been told. During travel on Agnisahr, they'd degraded, and now he’s experiencing his first heat in several years. Of course it's going to be painful, his doctor had said. I can prescribe you some medication to ease the symptoms, but really—nothing will work better than a heat partner. It doesn't need to be a mate. Any alpha will do.

The doctor had been an alpha. You had asked for a beta or omega, but alphas tend to dominate in Interastral Medical Schools, so they're in short supply. Aventurine had been still the whole time, face unreadable, but you could tell he wanted to throw up at the stench of an unfamiliar alpha. You had stepped between the two of them, not bothering to hide the animosity in your voice. We’ll take the medication, you had said, and the doctor had sniffed the air and nodded at you in approval.

Probably won't need it. An alpha like you could sort him out with just a few rounds, he told you, and both of you stayed quiet as he left.

You still aren't talking, or even looking at each other. Aventurine has lay down in his nest again, closing his eyes, while you stand as far away as physically possible—at the door where you'd just shown the doctor out. With the room shut off again, windows closed and door locked, Aventurine’s scent is starting to flood your senses once more. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him shivering.

“What do you want to do?” you ask.

“Nothing.” He swallows. “I'll be fine.”

He's afraid. You can tell he's afraid. And you can tell he’ll be more afraid if you take even a single step closer to him, so you nod and say, “I'll go pick up your medication, then,” and Aventurine doesn't stop you. You can see him curling up in his nest, face pressed into the cashmere sweater.

But he still doesn't stop you.

After a few more days, Aventurine finally breaks.

There is a rare sag to his shoulders when he calls you to the room, along with a taste of dread in the air. You haven't seen him so vulnerable in years. Aventurine is not an open person, so cunning and self-possessed in his wealth—but Kakavasha was more brittle, more powerless, flayed raw and open even though he didn't often get the whip. (It would ruin his value if he ever scarred—his looks were his greatest selling point, your master said.) He was especially defeated when forced to spend his heats with an alpha he didn't want. You wonder, a vice grip of pain around your heart, whether this entire situation is simply an extension of that. Whether he is calling you here against his will, this time compelled by his pain, rather than his master. Whether this luxury suite feels like that wretched basement to him.

He doesn't look at you when he talks, nor does he sit up. He remains curled in his nest, nearly clinging onto the blankets and clothes.

“That stupid medication,” he pants out, sharp even in his heat, “isn't working.”

“I can tell.” Your brow knots. He’s in so much pain, it is palpable. “I”—you hesitate, voice dropping. “Can I help you?”

He goes quiet. As both Aventurine and Kakavasha, he has always been disinclined to accept help from other people. There is no such thing as unconditional help in his mind—only leverage and weakness. He hates it when people have leverage over him, and he hates being weak. Both are things that can be exploited, and Aventurine always needs to be the one doing the exploiting. He always needs to be in control.

Even like this, the last threads of his sanity about to snap, with every circuit of his omega biology trying to drag him into insensible lust, he fights viciously to be in control.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. Control and being controlled. This is how he's always lived. This is how he's always survived.

This is the only way to let him maintain control when he is most afraid of losing it.

“I don't mind,” you say quietly, “if you use me.”

Even through the haze of heat, Aventurine’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“I don't mind if you use me,” you repeat, voice neutral. Unfeeling. The proposal might sound cruel to someone else, but not you. After all—your place in the world is one of a tool, and this is what you've always done as an alpha and a slave: sleeping with people to take care of their needs, or sometimes just their desires. It did always make you feel strangely hollow, but you think it will feel just fine with Aventurine. All you've ever wanted to do is keep him safe, and surely, this will do that, but—

“I'll only help if you want. I don't want to force it.” You lower your eyes. “But if you do want it, I'll be careful with you. You can lead. I promise.”

“...I know.” Aventurine’s voice is weak, cracks with pain, but you can tell he's speaking with clarity. “I know you will be.”

You look up. “Then you'll let me help?”

Aventurine looks away—a sign that he cannot adopt his usual smile. He’s clutching that sweater again, pressed close to his chest.

“Just your wrist,” he says quietly.

You listen carefully. “What?”

“I just—I just want your wrist.” He looks away. “Your—your scent gland. Only that.”

“Okay.”

You get up, then falter. When it was your job to comfort your mistress’ omega slaves, you were told to enter their nests—no permission needed from them, no permission needed from you, because only her permission ever mattered for anything. The omegas were usually too delirious to care, often had even begged for it with the state of mind that they were in. But Aventurine is different. He's not like you, and he's not like them. He's never bent to any of his masters’ wills. And even if he did, you wouldn't want to have him bend to yours.

Instead of climbing into his nest, you ask, “Can I sit on the bed?” He doesn't answer. “Just the edge of it,” you add, and you hear him exhale.

“Fine,” he says, breathing measured.

“Thank you,” you say, and he gives you a confused look. But then you're reaching out with a hand, offering it, and he is quickly distracted.

Aventurine drops the sweater, grabs your hand almost immediately. He turns over your palms, fingers tracing your heartlines—as if testing you, as if mapping out territory. He runs his thumbs along the veins of your wrists, too, right over your scent gland, and you have to force yourself not to shudder at the feeling. You only stay still, letting him explore the contours of your hands, letting him acclimate to the feeling of your skin. He laces his fingers with your own, a latticework trap, and he finally drags his wrist along yours.

Both of you inhale sharply.

You can't react. You know it'll scare him if you do, but it's hard to keep still. The way his scent blossoms, the way it mingles with yours, the way it all washes over you—what you're doing can hardly be called touching, but you feel like you're going mad. Especially when he flushes like that, his vibrant eyes fluttering shut. Especially when the sweetness of honey overtakes your senses. Especially when you can smell the way his body is reacting, all that wetness and heat and slick dripping between his legs. You don't miss the way his thighs rub together, nor the hard outline of his cock straining against his pants.

Aventurine shudders. He brings your hand up to his face, rests his cheek in your palm. His skin is flushed and burning with fever, and it's no wonder that he's sighing with relief at your touch. You try not to stare at the way his mouth falls open. He looks at you for a moment, his gaze a hazy violet and blue—before he closes his eyes again and presses his lips into your wrist.

Fuck.

“Aventurine—” You have to stop, voice strangled, when you feel the full softness of his lips working against your skin. He’s panting now, laboured breaths sweeping over your veins. Then you feel his teeth catch, a gentle nip on your flesh, and when he groans into your racing pulse—deep, relieved, desperate, a noise that makes your gut flare with heat—you realise you can't do this.

You pull back your hand, and Aventurine startles.

“Aventurine,” you say, voice strained. Maybe we should stop, you want to say, but he cuts you off.

“I need”—a shaky breath—“I need more.”

You watch Aventurine carefully. His pupils are dilated, blue irises nearly eclipsed. His cheeks are rosy, and he can't stop panting. You can fully smell his arousal now, even through his silk clothes. He's desperate, needing to be filled.

But he also looks torn. His brows are knotted, and you can taste a faint hint of fear in the air now. His knuckles clutch at the sheets, almost white, and he stares at them. He can't look up. He can't look at you. His whole body is tense, like he wants to bolt—and if he weren't so weak, you think he might actually.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He doesn't nod. He also doesn't shake his head. His arms clutch at his midsection as he winces. He doesn't look like Aventurine. He looks like Kakavasha. It makes your heart ache as you watch him give into his body’s demands, wearing the same expression he did on the day your master bought him.

“...don't use your Voice on me,” Aventurine—Kakavasha—says quietly.

It takes you a moment to realise what he's asking. “I won't.”

“And”—his eyes somehow grow even more evasive, hidden by his long lashes— “don’t touch my commodity code.”

His commodity code. His commodity code that is seared into his scent gland. His code that, if you kiss, will ease his agony instantly. His code that, if you bite—will chain him to you irreversibly.

“Of course I won't,” you say instantly.

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

“And—” Aventurine looks away, jaw tight. His voice is quiet but wrought with tension: “—I don't like when people put things inside me.”

Something claws the walls of your heart.

“That's fine too,” you reply. “I don't mind doing it the other way.”

Aventurine’s sigh is nearly inaudible, but unmistakable. His scent shifts a little bit, the wildflower fragrance fading ever so slightly. But he doesn't come to you. He merely sits there—waiting. Expecting. Maybe dreading. Even in the senseless daze of heat, he’s too anxious to move.

You approach slowly. Though you're overwhelmed by the bouquet of his scent, though you feel a curl of heat in your belly in response to it—you are slow. Alphas are supposedly victims of insatiable lust whenever around an omega in heat, absolved of every action they take, but you are convinced this is a lie. You have never once wanted to handle Aventurine with such cruelty. You think that inflicting violence on him, more than anything else, would go against your biology. Every molecule in your body would reject putting him in such pain or inciting such fear. So you are careful when you approach him, slow as you inch up to him—but you do not think it helps.

Aventurine lies down, his face turned away from yours. His eyes squeeze shut, like he's expecting this to hurt. Uncertainty gnaws at your gut as you lean over him, draping your body over his—the only position you've ever taken an omega in, other than mounting them from behind.

(You do not want to mount Aventurine. You never have. It is an impersonal position, a position that omega biology supposedly would force him to enjoy, a position that alphas have likely dictated him to enjoy. You think there is nothing you would hate more. In your weakest, most selfish moments, in your worst ruts, when you’ve allowed yourself to fantasise about mating Kakavasha—you are always facing each other, and he is always looking at you with his eyes you've always loved, and it always feels intimate. Never impersonal. Never dictated. Never forced.)

Aventurine is so honeysweet beneath you. More fragrant than any omega you’ve ever been with. You glance at his commodity code, trying to ignore the scent of his branded skin, then lean down to press your face against the other side of his neck, where a faint scar mars the otherwise flawless slope of his nape. Like every other omega slave you've ever slept with, the scent gland there has been excised: a precautionary measure to reduce the risk of an unwanted mating bite.

(Not unwanted by them—the wants of a slave never matter—but unwanted by their owners. A mating bite would ruin the code seared into their neck, claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. It would hurt their resale value. Only owners are allowed to claim slaves in such a permanent way—and the wants of a slave have no relevance there, either.)

It's a funny thing, this surgical scar. Even with their gland missing, you've noticed that most omegas like having their neck scented by you anyway, probably from some vestigial instinct. You guess that Aventurine won't be any different, that maybe it will comfort him. But when your lips skim the scar left on him by his owner, his entire body stiffens beneath you. His fragrance cuts into your lungs, sharp.

You recoil, as if burned by the touch of him.

“Sorry,” Aventurine is quick to say. He tries to glance at you, but his diamond pupils quickly avoid you again. “Don’t worry about me. Just do whatever you need to do.”

“But you're scared,” you point out, and you see his brow twitch. “You’re scared when I touch you.”

“Not scared,” he lies. “Just…”

When his eyes finally look at you—land on your lips—you understand.

A bite would claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. If you lost your mind—give into the insatiable lust of an alpha whenever around an omega in heat—you might bite him, and then you would own Aventurine.

And Aventurine would rather die than be owned by anyone again.

He doesn't need to finish his sentence. You already know what you need to do.

“It's okay,” you say gently, and his brow knots. “I have an idea.”

Aventurine is always afraid.

This is a fact that has haunted you since the day you met him. You've wondered about how to fix it—the bare minimum as his mate (always his, even if he doesn't want you)—and you’ve never quite pinned down how. Because when someone has spent their life in perpetual fear, how do you make them feel safe? When their life is constantly at risk, how do you ever make them feel calm?

You still aren't sure of the answer. But after seeing Kakavasha become Aventurine, you now have a good guess.

It is clear from his scent that Aventurine does not feel remotely safe right now. Not when you leave to fetch something from your own room, and not when you return. The anxiety thickens when he sees, in your hands, a very familiar muzzle.

Aventurine stares. He is not smiling, but he also does not reveal his discomfort on his face, even as beads of sweat line his temple. But his voice is too controlled, too calm, when he asks, “You kept the mask.”

You nod.

“I told you to throw it out,” he points out, “when I freed you.”

“I know. Sorry. I don't know why I kept it.” You remember how tightly you clutched it before the incinerator, thinking about how strange it would feel, discarding something that you'd worn everyday since you presented—but you don't tell him this. Instead, you say, “But it’s convenient.”

Before Aventurine can say anything, you toss him the remote.

“You’re afraid of my bite and my Voice, but you don't have to be with this,” you explain. Your tone is gentle, soothing. Probably disarming coming from an alpha, with how he is in heat. Perhaps that's why he’s studying the remote rather than chucking it away. “You'll be in full control if I wear this.”

Control. Mere seconds after you say it, you can smell his fragrance change again, mellowing. It's only a brief moment of calm that fades when you latch the mask onto your face, but he doesn't smell as nearly as stressed before.

Aventurine watches you carefully as the carbon steel swallows your maw, its old and familiar edges biting into you. For the first time in years, you cannot tell what he is thinking—truly poker-faced even to you.

“You aren't bothered by wearing that thing while we do this,” he says—asks?—and you shake your head. The muzzle was part of you for years. You were wearing it when you killed someone for the first time. You were wearing it when you went into rut for the first time. You were wearing it when your master had sex with you for the first time. It doesn't bother you that you’ll wear it when you have sex with Aventurine.

If you could speak, you would ask him, Why do you think it would bother me? But all you do is gesture for him to sit up. To switch places with you. You lie down—something you've never done with an omega—and wait for him to get on top.

Aventurine stares at you for a long, quiet moment. It's followed by a sigh of relief. Disarmed, he—for the first time in any heat you've witnessed—finally relaxes. His scent wafts over you as he climbs between your legs, and you can feel the heat radiating from his hands as he parts your thighs, almost scalding.

He doesn't bother getting you ready, too needy to think rationally, but he doesn't have to anyway. You've been wet ever since you felt his mouth touch your wrist, hard ever since you heard him groan into it. You're equally desperate to get some relief as you feel his cockhead sliding against your opening, leaking all over your entrance as his slick drips onto your thighs. His breath shakes as he enters you, and he can't hear it with how you're muzzled—but you groan just as deeply as him at the tight stretch.

You hear him swear when you clench around him, watch him lean over you. His arms shake as he supports himself, refusing to succumb to his heat even as he chases his relief. You seek out his gaze (just as in your dreams, facing each other, intimate), and his neon eyes catch on your eyes for a brief, breathtaking second—

—before he looks away.

There's a flash of—you don't know what, maybe pain? Or fear?—in his irises as he does. A twitch of the brow, a tell he'd normally rather die than let slip. You have the realisation, as Aventurine moves inside you, that even while you're muzzled, even while he has complete control over you—he still can't stand having sex with you. Probably because he can't stand being in heat in general, you tell yourself. Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore. He'd have this reaction to anyone.

Still—you didn't expect him to have this reaction to you.

Your hands twitch, possessed by an old instinct to cover your eyes. But you'd probably scare Aventurine if you moved your arms, so all you do is dig your fingers into the sheets and squeeze them shut. You tell yourself again and again that he'd hate having sex with anyone in these circumstances—not just you. And then you tell yourself, as a desperate, broken moan leaves his branded throat, that he would also come inside anyone in these circumstances, caught within the cruel grip of his heat.

Aventurine stills inside you as he finishes. He pants, sweat dripping down his temple as he shudders in his ecstasy, his spend hot and thick inside you. You can feel his fever break as he comes down from his high, the heat coming off his body easing into a manageable warmth.

Do you feel better, you try to say, but you can't move your mouth while your mask is on. So you wait patiently for Aventurine to come back to himself, watching him carefully as he pulls out and rolls onto the mattress beside you. He finally glances at you then. His eyes narrow once they land on you, confusion flicking through them. Then displeasure. He reaches for the remote.

To your surprise, he immediately punches in the code to unlock your muzzle. Aventurine has apparently remembered the numbers after all these years, as if the moment he freed you has been since seared into his memory.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing you say, and Aventurine gives you a confused look. He’s still panting, dazed, so you ask, “Can I check your temperature?” And when he nods, you confirm your suspicion: he's still much too warm.

There is an ache between your legs and a strange hollow in your gut (because you aren't very experienced with receiving, you think—your body likely just isn't used to the feeling of it), but you quickly forget them. All you can think of is Aventurine, and how he’s still unwell, and how you need to comfort him. The instinct is so strong that you don't even say anything as you get up, straightening out your clothes.

“Are you leaving?” Aventurine asks. His voice is neutral, completely unbothered, but the thought is so horrific to you that you turn back to him with wide eyes.

“Of course not. I'm going to get you water and medicine.” A beat. You stare at Aventurine’s eyes, then think about how he hid them from you during sex. The hollow feeling comes back, but it's mostly eclipsed by your anxiety at the next thought: “...do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to?”

“I—” I'd rather die, you think. Being forced to leave him right now would feel like tearing out a piece of yourself. You don't know if there's an alpha in this world who could leave their mate in the middle of a heat. And even if he is unmarked, unattached to you—you still think of yourself as his mate. (His, always his, even if he doesn't want you.) “I would prefer not to. I am your heat partner. I'm supposed to take care of you.”

You hear a quiet breath. “Right. Of course. You're always so conscientious.” Aventurine nods, as if convincing himself of something. “Try not to take too long.”

“I’ll come back soon,” you promise, and the air sweetens. Encouraged, you add, voice gentle: “I’ll bring that medication, and then we can have sex as many times as you need after I come back. I'll make sure you're not in any pain anymore.” You pause, studying him. “Is there anything else you need to feel better?”

His fragrance changes once more, this time in a way you don't totally recognize. “No.” His voice sounds strange. His scent is still foreign, fluctuating, possibly hinting at some kind of pain. The heat must be getting to him again—and of course it wasn't enough, what you just did, what you can provide. He likely needs to be filled to get any kind of lasting relief, but you left him empty. “No, that's all I want.”

You nod, forcing yourself to look calm. Ignoring the emptiness in your gut. It didn't feel bad, but you hope it'll feel better next time you have sex. You think it will. Alphas are supposed to be filled with an insatiable lust near omegas in heat, after all. And even though you’ve never felt that before—never felt anything sleeping with all those omegas in your mistress’ house—you are sure you'll eventually feel it around Aventurine.

But the feeling never comes. Even though you can tell that his heat has returned by the time you're back—sweat beading his temples, laboured breaths at his lips, his bottoms now discarded, with full evidence of arousal between his legs—you don't feel much of anything as you reach for your mask again.

“Don't,” Aventurine says, before it can clasp around your face. You give him a curious look. He explains, “Don't. I don't want to have sex again. Not yet.”

You stare at him, shifting. Uncomfortable. Uncertain. Not knowing how he wants to use you. “What can I do?”

He gives you a long look. “Come here. I… I want your scent gland.”

It's a sensible request. If there's a way to seek relief without fucking someone—without fucking you, which he clearly hated doing—you're sure Aventurine would prefer it. So you climb into his nest, holding your wrist out for him, and—

“No.” His voice is quiet. “I want the one on your neck.”

“...oh.”

You stand there, not sure where to move. If he wants you in his nest again, or if he’d rather do this standing. You’re relieved when he demands, “Lie down.”

You expect him to get on top of you when you do. Assume that he wants complete control—but he instead lies down beside you. Presses his body into yours, and then his face into your neck. His nose and lips brush against your scent gland, a full-body shudder running through him, and—

—and now you know for a fact that it is a lie that alphas want nothing other than to fuck an omega when they're in heat. Because even like this, with his lips sweet on your neck, with the sheets soaked with his slick, with his spend leaking out of you—you do not want to have sex with Aventurine. You only want to hold him. You only want him to keep scenting you. You only want to scent him back.

You only want him to feel safe.

You breathe in deeply, lungs flooded by honey. You think of what it felt like to hold him in that cold basement, when he was delirious with fever and pain, and you think about how different his scent is now. How much sweeter it is. How much calmer he feels.

“Do you feel better?” you ask, and he doesn't respond, but you know the answer. His hands come up to dig into your shirt, and he presses into you like you're a sweater in his nest. Silence blankets over you both, calm and warm. His laboured breath starts to improve.

He does eventually speak.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he says, “what you smell like?”

You stare at him. Your master used to say that you smelled good, but he'd never elaborated, and you hadn't wanted him to. “No.”

Aventurine breathes in.

“You smell like—” A little sigh, shaking and feverish, leaves him. “You smell like rain.”

Your eyebrows tick up. “Rain?”

“Yes. Or not just rain, but”—he pauses, next words quiet—“more Iike after it rains. You smell like the desert after a rainfall.”

“Oh.” You don't know what to say to that. Feeling distinctly like it's a silly question, you ask, “Is that a good scent?”

“Some would think so. Especially to people from the desert. You probably smell like a blessing to them. Although…”

Aventurine goes quiet again. You stare at the chandelier above you, all crystal and white gold, and wait.

“Although?” you prompt.

“...although I wouldn't really know,” he says. “It’s just a hunch. I bet it's why so many omegas on this planet like you.”

You couldn't care less about those other omegas. All you care about is Aventurine. “And?” you say. “Do you like my scent?”

His reply never comes. He just breathes deeply again, seeking relief from your neck—not intimacy. Any alpha’s scent would work; that doctor told you so. Any alpha’s touch would work, too. There are no special feelings involved here. Your place in the world is one of a tool, and tools are never especially liked nor disliked. Their value exists only in how they can be used.

You don't know why you even bothered to ask the question.

But then something strange happens: Aventurine curls against you, pressing even further into you. His lashes flutter against your pulse again; it ticks up in response, beating fast against his lips.

“I do,” he says quietly. “I do like it.”

You swallow. “But I guess that's because you're in heat. Any alpha would smell good to you, wouldn’t they?”

“No.” His fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt. “No, I like it because it's yours.”

You know better than to read too much into his response. Aventurine had already said it earlier: No foreign scents. He's only tolerating this whole arrangement because you don't smell unfamiliar to him. Only able to use you because you are the least threatening option.

But the words break something in you—break the thing that made you unable to throw out that little pouch of copper coins that you were saving up for Kakavasha’s freedom, the part of you that made you wear that carbon-steel mask for him. It is this part of you that has your eyes squeezing shut and your arms wrapping around him. You know he’ll recoil, reject you, but just this once—you need to try.

Aventurine doesn't push you away.

He melts into you instead, inhaling deeply. Your scent gland tingles with the warmth of his breath, the feeling of his lips. He seems—comfortable.

You can't fathom why he’s staying in your arms. Perhaps he's simply desperate for some kind of relief from his heat, just like when you held him in the basement while he was delirious from pain. But Aventurine had spoken to you with clarity just now, and his skin doesn't feel scalding so much as warm, and his scent is so different than from that moment. So sweet and so gentle, without a trace of fear. It makes your heart squeeze. As much as you've always wanted Aventurine to feel safe, you'd never imagined that his scent would be so beautiful when he is.

It makes your heart ache. You've never held anything so lovely before, and you’ve never felt so warm before, and it all makes up for how badly it hurt to let Aventurine inside you. How hollow it made you feel to let him use you. How none of that matters as long as you can keep him safe like this, because you belong to Kakavasha. You'll always belong to Kakavasha, in a fate that was chosen for you on the day you met him.

You're his, always his—even if he’ll never want you.

end part i

thank you so much to lore for hosting a fantastic collab and to my sponsors who funded this fic and got it over the finish line! please go check out @ficsforgaza to find other amazing hsr writers you can sponsor in order to help fundraise! here is my own wip list, if you are interested in seeing more from me!

and thank you most of all to YOU! I appreciate you so much for reading this chapter. thank you so much for sticking it through.

additional end notes

#aventurine x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #cw.omegaverse #cw.slavery #cw.sa #dead dove

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dark-moonlust · 2 days

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Cοckwarming Minοtaur PART 1: Office

I’m turning this imagine into a series!!!!

Pairing: Minotaur x human reader

Summary: your Minotaur boyfriend Balen is madly in love with you. And he has a wicked little obsession with cockwarming. He always finds excuses to have you sit on his lap. Even when you are at work.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, semi-public workplace smut, Minotaur huge🍆, cοckwarming, lots of come. Don’t like, don’t read please.

This is a series and you can find more here.

You loved your Minotaur boyfriend, Balen.

The two of you had met three years ago at a workplace friendly to both monsters and humans. Balen was your superior, and you had just started working as his secretary. From the very first meeting, you had felt something deep and strong connecting him to you. You were attracted to him, incredibly aroused and in need of him. Balen had explained that it was the mating bond, a sacred bond that tied his heart to yours. Since then, you’d decided to give your relationship a chance and be together.

Your relationship was based on mutual trust and security, a connection deeper and stronger than you’d ever experienced.

Fast forward to the present, you still loved him like crazy, your relationship never better.

Balen was a fascinating presence in your life. Despite his towering and unusual appearance, your Minotaur was tender and sweet. You saw past his different appearance and found something deep and poignant with him. He cared for you better than any human boyfriend would — and fucked you with a passion that left you breathless.

Balen was madly in love with you. And he had a wicked little obsession with cockwarming. He was obsessed with the feel of you, the security of holding you in his arms while his cock pulsed inside you. And he always found excuses to have you sit on his lap, his cock thrust up your depths as he resumed his day as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

During shopping? During work? During lunch, dinner or any time of the day. Yes to all. Balen somehow made it work.

At work, he was particularly demanding when cockwarming him. Coworkers might enter his office, but he kept you there, your neat dress hiding your flushed face and betraying your state. Sometimes he played with your clit and made you cum, other times, he just stayed inside you and made work calls and reviewed business files. And when he finally pulled out of you, it was always with the promise to find a way to be close to you later.

That morning, you were in your office working on a presentation for an important project. You’d finished it with ease and were eager to share your ideas with your boss and colleagues. As you sat at your desk, typing away at your computer, the phone rang.

Called ID: Mr. Balen - Office.

You had an idea of what this call was about.

“Hello,” you answered casually.

“Come to my office,” your boyfriend said, his voice deep and throaty. “I need to check the progress of your presentation.”

“Yes, Sir.”

You complied, standing up and making your way to his spacious office. You knocked and entered discretely.

And there he was.

Seated at his magnificent mahogany desk, the sheer size of him dwarfed the surrounding furniture. Balen’s hulking form filled the room, his presence overwhelming. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit, the clothing tailored to fit his immense size. He was at least three times bigger than you, his body chiseled with muscles and silky fur. His head was crowned with a pair of curved horns, his face a captivating combination of beast and man. Upon seeing you, his dark eyes lit up and he let out a deep rumble, vibrating from his chest.

“Come here,” he said, his voice casual but demanding.

“I’ve brought my presentation,” you said but as soon as you were inches from him, he pulled you to him, his hands lifting your dress and guiding you to sit on his lap.

“Balen,” you whined as he quickly tugged away your panties, a finger finding its way inside you. You were drenched, wet from the earlier fuck he’d given you during the car ride to work. You clutched his broad shoulders, burying your face in his chest and biting your lips as that wickedly perfect digit stretched your walls, preparing you for his cock.

Soon, you felt him shift, unzipping his trousers and freezing his monstrous cock. Your Minotaur sported a dick unlike any other. It was long and curved, thick and surrounded by protruding veins. The head was broad and leaking pre-cum, his balls round and swollen, the poor babies squeezed between his legs.

Strong hands cupped your ass, positioning you over his raging girth. The cockhead nudged your entrance, coaxing your pussy lips apart and slowly invading your depths. With a slow, deliberate upward thrust, he buried himself inside you, a low groan of satisfaction rumbling from his chest. Your belly bulged from the sheer girth of him inside you. You moaned lewdly but quickly muffled your cries by biting his shoulder. He loved it when you did that.

“So good for me. Just for a little bit, baby, okay?” he murmured, his hands resting possessively on your hips. “I need this.”

You nodded, trying to control your breathing as you adjusted to the invasion and stretch. Balen resumed his work, one large hand rubbing your ass from under your dress while the other resumed his work, moving expertly over his keyboard as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He even studied your presentation while you struggled to focus with the constant feel of his cock stretching your pussy.

“Excellent work with your presentation,” he praised, “you covered every important point.”

“Th…thank you,” you murmured, running your fingers through the exposed fur at his neck.

You wiggled a little, desperate for release and rubbed your clit against him. His hand on your ass pressed you closer against him, thrusting just barely inside you. He did it again and again, rewarding you for taking his dick so well. A few minutes later, the friction against your clit was perfect and you came, your walls contracting hard around his cock. You bit his shoulder to muffle your cries and Balen followed, releasing pump after pump of his load inside you. He was surprisingly quiet and reserved, but you knew his passion was great; his heartbeat was erratic.

“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against you.

It was at that moment, that a coworker knocked on the door. You clutched your boyfriend, your heart racing. Balen remained calm, his hands steady as he continued to work and bid the coworker to enter. The coworker, a male werewolf, entered, used to the sight of you hugging your boyfriend and what was happening beneath your neat clothing. Everyone in the office knew of your relationship and the demands of your minotaur boyfriend. Balen had made it so everyone respected you no matter what.

Balen and the werewolf discussed business as usual, while your face flushed with the effort of maintaining composure. Balen’s cock was throbbing inside you, his seed overflowing even if he was buried balls deep inside you. Once the coworker left, Balen kissed you, his tongue brushing against your lips before thrusting into your mouth. He tasted every crevice of your mouth and then drew back, a hint of a grin on his bull face.

“You did well,” he drawled, his voice thick with pride.

“Don’t I always?” you teased sweetly.

“Always.” He pressed you closed against him, his cock kissing so deep inside you that you groaned. “I love you mate. Love your beautiful smile, your lovely heart and your pretty little pussy.”

You smiled. “I love you, too, my horny minotaur.”

“Hmmm…” he growled. “You are my everything, little mate and it seems I can’t function without you.”

“Balen…” you trailed off, winching as more of his seed tricked down your thighs. “We made a mess. Shouldn’t we—”

“It’s alright, my love,” he said. “There are clothes in the cabinet. I always keep spares for both.”

Did you enjoy? Follow for more! Click to get notified when I update. I’ll post PART 2 as soon as I can!

#minotaur x reader #minotaur x human #minotaur smut #minotaur monster #minotaur x you #monster x reader #monster x you #monster fucker #monster lover #monster smut #monster x human #monster x female reader #monster boyfriend #monster fudger #monster romance #monster fuqqer #monster fic

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st7rnioioss · 2 days

Text

ੈ‧₊˚ i married mommy

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris sturniolo x reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: swearing, fluff, kissing, smut, p in v, kinda cuts off as they get reeaaally freaky LMAO.

part one here

part two here

───────── 🐇

it’s been three years since chris proposed to you. neither of your has forgotten about it, still talking about it as you go to bed. around two years ago, you were blessed with another kid, your son dean.

you’ve never been happier.

the wedding went better than you both could have ever imagined. your dress was beyond beautiful. of course you were nervous, but it dwelled a little as you saw chris’s wide smile, a few tears threatening to spill. even connor was mesmerized. it was the best day of your lives. behind connors birth. behind deans birth. behind the proposal. behind your first kiss - whatever.

“chris?” you mumbled from beside him, turning to lay on your other side. gently, you caressed his forearm, focusing on his arm as you waited for an answer.

“what’s up?” chris smiled, taking your hand in his to interlace your fingers.

you giggled with him, cutting yourself off. “do- do you remember when we were eighteen, and we dreamed about this? i just- i can’t believe it. we were in the same position as now, talking about our future. how i’d always wanted two perfect little boys, and- you always talked about marrying me?” you trailed off, fidgeting with your interlocked fingers.

chris couldn’t help but smile a little. he does remember - in fact, he thinks about it more than twice a day. how you’ve always been dreaming about each other, this family.

“yeah, i do. it’s crazy, really. i can’t imagine myself anywhere else - without connor, dean, you,” he emphasizes on ‘you’, giggling softly as he kissed the top of your head.

“gosh, i love you so so much, chris.” you let out a tired laugh. carefully, you get up to lay on your stomach, holding yourself up on your arms. you both stared a bit at each other, admiring.

“i love you a million times more.” chris then smiles, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

instead of pulling back, you grab his jaw, hesitating for a split second before smashing your lips on his. chris’s smiles into the kiss, wrapping a hand around your neck to pull you closer.

now, you were used to kissing him, of course. he's your husband, isn’t he? but having an eight-year-old and two-year-old in the house it made it hard for you to get… intimate. lucky for you, the kids were already out like a light.

“i love you.” you say breathlessly, smiling at chris with a hand running through his hair.

“you already said that, y’know.” he chuckled, leaning in for another kiss.

it didn’t go exactly as planned. no, the sweet kiss from remembering your youth turned into you laying under chris. funny.

you were on your back, chris’s forearm resting beside your head to keep himself up, the other resting under your jaw. you knew you had to stay as quiet as possible. after all, your kids were just down the hall.

“think you can be quiet for me?” chris whispers, pulling away from the kiss to look at you for permission.

with a nod, he immediately pulled your tank top off, staring at you for a second before attacking your neck with kisses, his fingers gently pinching your nipples.

“shit- chris..” you whined quietly. it wasn’t too difficult for you. your 17-year-old selves were used to having sneaky sex around your parent’s house.

you felt his lips curl into a smirk against your skin, leaving a final light pink mark as he got up.

both your clothes were discarded somewhere else on the bed in no time. chris’s hands were all over your hips and waist, reminiscing the curves here and there.

chris looked up at you with a smirk, one of his hands crawling up to your mouth, covering your mouth while making sure not to hurt you. with another short nod, he slowly slid himself into your pussy, holding back the groans that were threatening to slip past his lips.

he felt the vibrations of your voice against his hands, watching your eyebrows furrow with the muffled moans against his hand.

“fuck.. y’feel so good,” he praised, making sure to stay quiet. carefully, he slid almost all the way out, before thrusting back up into you.

───────── 🐇

“chris- chris! you’re dropping dean!” you yell-laugh at chris, making sure he doesn’t drop your 2-year-old. “sorry, sorry! i got you buddy,” chris laughs, settling on the picnic blanket next to you and connor, getting a mumbled ‘its okay dada’ back.

your 3 year wedding anniversary was today, and to no ones surprised, you were having a picnic under the same tree chris proposed to you. sure, you went here all the time, but it never got lame to any of you. it was you and chris’s spot, and now you got to share it with your kids.

“mom, i don’t like this. it tastes like piss.” your eight-year-old complains, his face scrunched up in disgusted as he pours his drink out on the grass.

“connor! language.” you whisper, giving him a look he knows a bit too well by now.

chris on the other hand found it a bit too funny.

“that’s my boy.” he highfives him, giggling at your annoyed expression.

“chris, i won’t have you raise both my kids like this.” you rolled your eyes at him, taking dean from chris’s grasp to help him eat his softer food.

“you mean our kids. i’d say i was probably the most important part in maki-” you cut chris off, slapping his hand.

“chris! he’s eight!”you laugh, hitting his shoulder to shut him up, looking at connor to make sure he didn’t pick up on too much.

“my bad.” he laughs along, wiggling his eyebrows, referring to the.. night you had the day before.

───────── 🐇

its been a little over an hour. connor was near you, playing witht the ball you had brought along, practicing some tricks. dean was in the stroller, a little tired from the very very busy day..

chris was sitting against the tree, yourself in-between his legs.

“god, it’s beautiful today. on our anniversary.” you chuckle, looking up at chris behind you with a smile.

it was hard to believe. well, not really. you’ve always seen you and chris here. it was hard to believe time flew like this. all of a sudden, the two teenagers had two kids? and they’re married?

he looked down at you, smiling back with a smile in agreement. his fingers ran over your knuckles, gently caressing your hands as you watched your son, the nature, the skies.

“i love you. so much.” chris whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. you giggle, turning your upper body to look at chris face to face.

“i love you even more.” you almost didn’t get to whisper before chris’s hand was under your jaw, guiding you towards his lips, kissing you softly but repeatedly.

you leaned closer, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss, but chris pulled back.

“okay, okay. that’s enough, princess, connor is not too satisfied.” chris laughs, wiping the corner of his mouth as connor gives you an ‘oh, really?’ look.

“oh, come here connor! sit with us.” you laugh along, motioning for connor to come over and sit with you, patting the space between you and chris.

“guess we gotta continue that later, then,” chris whispered, just before connor wrapped his arms around your neck in a hug.

───────── 🐇

hope u enjoyed! sorry if its a little rushed and feels un-finished :( i had no idea what to write

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @toriinie @cupidzsq @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @emma4eva @riasturns @sweetbabydoe @bambi-slxt @elliewrites1 @its-jennarose @abbypost @chrisstopherfilmed @sturniolossss @ducksturniolo @junnniiieee07 @urfavvev3lyn @vschrissturn @keerahsturn @sturniolololover @domaniquessidehoe @sturniolossss @k-l-a-w-s @pearlzier @pjmpcyy @mbsbaby @christhopersturniolo @mattspolitank @sarosfilms

#˚ ༘ ೀ⋆𝑺𝑻7𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑰𝑶𝑺𝑺｡˚#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #the sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo

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puckinghischier · 1 day

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Sunburnt

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: reader gets a little too excited on her first day at the lake, resulting in a nasty sunburn

notes: hi!!!! long time so see!! my writing slump has been brutal, but i had a lil pool day today and was sitting there thinking about what a summer at the hughes lake house is like while sunbathing and this little piece popped into my head. it’s not much and probably a lil all over the place, but i hope you enjoy!! i missed all of you 🥺

[3.3k]

(also, unedited bc it’s late and i’m going to bed. i might edit it in the morning, we’ll see)

You’ve waited all year for this. You have absolutely nothing on your agenda but two straight months of lake house fun and working on your tan.

Your move to New Jersey had really put a halt to any tan building for a majority of the year. You learned quickly that the winters were long and brutal, leaving little room to feed your sunbathing addiction.

You had tried to find a salon to tan at, but you quickly got bored of the bright lights and sterile smell. You even tried spray tans a couple of times, but you always felt you had more of an orange tone than a golden one.

You didn’t have to worry about any of it for a second longer, though. You were finally in the place you craved to be year-round.

Since the season ended early for the boys this year, the Devils losing their shot at the playoffs, you and Jack had packed your things and left Jersey the second all of his current post-season duties were over with.

Jack had managed to secure himself a pass on any other post season activities the players might be pulled for. He wasn’t required to return to the city until pre-season started.

Luke and Quinn were set to join the two of you whenever they could, but with Luke playing on the U.S. national team, and Quinn’s playoff run with the Canucks coming up, it would be weeks before either brother made their way to the beloved lake house.

Ellen and Jim were also set to join at some point during the stay, but weren’t yet sure of when they could escape their work for a few weeks.

This leaves you and Jack with the entire house to yourself for the beginning of your stay. You loved the other Hughes brothers, but with Luke living with Jack and your own roommate being a homebody, the two of you were rarely ever awarded with true alone time.

You were currently putting sheets on the bed in what will be yours and Jack’s room for the next two months while Jack unloads his car.

You were nearly done when you hear the sound of a suitcase being dragged up the stairs.

“God, Y/N, I know we’re going to be here a while, but it feels like you packed your entire apartment in here.”

Poking your head out of the open doorway, you watch as your boyfriend heaves your gigantic suitcase up the double flight of stairs.

“Well, I was going to only pack a few swimsuits and pjs, but I figured I should pack some real clothes for when the rest of your family gets here.”

Jack responds with a glare as he climbs the final step, stopping to take a breather. His face was a light shade of red and there were a few beads of sweat on his top lip.

“You know, I figured since you just finished your season you’d still be in pretty decent shape, but it looks like you’re going to have to stay in the gym all summer. Maybe do a bit more cardio and weight lifting, seeing as you’re struggling to carry my lil’ ole’ suitcase,” you tease, retreating back into the bedroom to place the decorative pillows on the bed.

“Maybe if you didn’t shove a dead body in your luggage I’d be able to carry it up the stairs like a normal person. But no, you had to pack cinderblocks.” He rolls the oversized suitcase into the corner of the room, placing his own measly duffle bag next to it.

You let a small giggle slip out, walking over to where Jack was standing with his hands on his hips.

Once you reach him, you place your hands through the opening left by his arms on either side of his torso, hugging him close to you. You let your chin rest on his chest as you look up at him, his own face tilted down so he could meet your eyes.

“Thank you, my big strong hockey player boyfriend, for carrying the dead body in my suitcase up the stairs. I’ll make sure to leave your name out of all this in court,” you joke, leaning up to place a small peck on his lips.

“Oh, how kind of you. How will I ever repay you?” Jack places his own arms around you, pulling you even closer.

“Hmmm…” you pretend to think. “How about helping me rub tanning lotion on my back and laying in the sun with me for the rest of the day?”

Jack acts like he’s mulling it over, raising his eyebrows while tilting his head to one side.

“I guess I can manage that. Considering the circumstances.”

You smile up at him, pulling out of his embrace.

“Yay! Okay, I have to go get changed. Set up the chairs for us?” You ask him, clapping your hands together out of excitement.

“Your wish is my command,” Jack says with a bow, playfully rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

You turn to open your suitcase to fish out one of the many bathing suits you brought as Jack makes his way out of the room.

“Find the sunniest spot you can! I need to make up for lost time!” you shout after him, hearing a laugh as he makes his way down the stairs.

Only 10 minutes later, you walk out of the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. You spot Jack on the dock down near the lake, putting the final touches on your sunny oasis.

You make the small trek down to him, pool bag in hand and sunglasses on your face.

“Wow, all this for me?” you announce your presence as you reach the end of the lengthy deck.

Jack had set up two tanning chairs on the end of the dock, an umbrella in-between them for when you inevitably claim you’re too hot and sweaty to sit in the sun any longer. He had a small cooler set up with waters, beer for himself, and some of your favorite fruity seltzers.

He had even found a small fan that he clipped to the arm of your chair to keep you cool while you laid out in the sun. He was fiddling with the small speaker he had under the umbrella as you approached, a country song flowing out around you.

“Only the best for my little felon,” he recalls your earlier conversation, raising up to give you his full attention.

Once his eyes fall on you, his mouth snaps shut.

You had picked your skimpiest bikini, wanting to get all of the risqué swimsuits out of the way before the two of you had company later in the summer.

The number you were currently sporting was a pale pink matching set. Two tiny triangles covered your chest, while a high-legged thong covered the rest of you.

You watched as his darkening eyes raked over your body, his tongue poking out to wet his dry lips.

“Hell, baby, you can stuff my dead body in a suitcase if you’re going to look like that while doing it,” Jack breathes out.

You laugh at his response, walking over and setting your stuff on your chair, patting his bare chest as you walk past him.

You bend over to grab your tanning lotion out of your bag when you feel a light smack on your ass cheek, straightening up to find Jack standing right behind you, his hand finding its place on your exposed hip.

“Y’know, we could skip this whole tanning thing and go make use of that big, empty house while we have the chance,” Jack lowly whispers in your ear, sliding his hand around to ghost his fingers up and down the soft skin of your belly.

You lean your head back on his shoulder at the touch, allowing yourself to enjoy it for a few more seconds before turning around in his hold and placing your hands on his freckled shoulders.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea and would absolutely love to….” You trail off, standing on your tip toes and letting your lips touch his ear as you speak. Jack gulps, closing his eyes as he feels your hand slip from its spot on his shoulder and continue to move downward, almost reaching the band of his swimming trunks when you stop.

“…..after we tan” you finish, bringing your hand back up to pat his cheek, causing his eyes to shoot open.

“Okay, not fair,” he pouts as you push him back so you can continue digging through your bag.

“You told me you’d tan with me, so tan with me you shall,” you remind him, finding the bottle of lotion and holding it out to him.

Jack fulfills your wishes and very thoroughly applies the dark lotion to your skin, only being reprimanded for wandering hands a few times.

The two of you lay out on the dock for hours, enjoying each other’s company while feeling the rays soak into your skin. You talk about Jack’s team and this past season, what the upcoming season might hold, what the plan is for when the rest of the Hughes family joins, and various other light topics.

At one point you let the soft music and warmness of the sun lull you to sleep, only waking up when Jack comes over and gently shakes your shoulders.

“Y/N, c’mon, time to go inside. You’ve been in the sun for way too long, you’re going to get burnt,” Jack softly speaks to you as you come back into consciousness.

“Mmm, don’t wanna. Too comfy. Warm. Five more minutes,” you fight him, turning your head over to face opposite him.

“Nope, not an option. Can’t let you get too fried on your first day. You won’t be able to do anything for days if we don’t go inside, Lovey,” Jack uses the nickname he stole from your own family.

You grumble in protest, but peel yourself from the chair nonetheless. You notice how much lower the sun is in the sky and wander what time it is. You pull your phone from your bag to see you’ve been out here well into the evening.

You realize you and Jack forgot to go grocery shopping after you got here, your excitement about the sunshine causing you to forget any other chores you intended on doing today.

You grab your bag and follow Jack back up the dock, admiring the way the muscles in his back are flexed due to him carrying the still full cooler on his shoulder.

“Hey, J, what are we gonna do for dinner? We don’t have any groceries and I’m not sure if you want to go out, but-“ you’re cut off by your own stomach, the growl loud enough for the two of you to hear over the music still flowing through the speaker in Jack’s pocket.

“Yeah, looks like we’re going out, huh?” Jack laughs as your cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink than they already are from the sun.

You reach the house and help unload the cooler into the fridge before making your way up the stairs to rinse off and change.

When you step into the bathroom and undress, you’re shocked to see the extremely present tan lines already formed on your very red skin. You hadn’t noticed it outside, but your entire front half is a fiery shade of red.

You lightly press two fingers to the skin in-between your breasts and notice the two white fingerprints left behind. Your eyes widen when you realize how badly burnt you are.

You exit the bathroom to grab the after-sun lotion you packed before returning and turning the shower on, making sure you remember to lather yourself in the lotion after you’re done showering.

You peel back the curtain and step under the warm stream of water, but the feeling of the water hitting your sensitive skin causes you to cry out, trying to remove yourself from the water’s harsh sting.

Your scream of pain grabs Jack’s attention, causing him to rush up the stairs and burst into the bathroom, panic evident on his face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong, are you okay?” he steps into the bathroom, looking around for the source of your scream.

“Jack, we have a problem….” You whine, pulling the curtain back to reveal the state of your skin.

Jack’s eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening at the angry, red color of your skin.

“Oh Lovey…”

You stand with the curtain open, shivering despite the elevated temperature of your skin. You had turned the water to cold to avoid the searing pain again, but the cold felt like small knives poking into your flesh.

“I think we got a little too excited with the tanning lotion….” You squeak out, trying to wrap your arms around yourself, but any touch to your skin felt like fire.

Jack’s eyes fill with sympathy, but also guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have woken you up sooner. You just looked so content I didn’t want to make you go inside just yet.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I should have set a timer or something. You know how I get,” you wave off his guilt, knowing you can get a little sun-drunk sometimes.

Although, you had never let yourself get this burnt before.

You blame the New Jersey climate and its lack of warm weather for your tanning needs to prevent this from happening once you do manage to get somewhere warm and sunny.

Jack still looks at you, not sure what to do for you, but not wanting to leave you by yourself, seeing as you’re stuck standing with your arms held out a few inches from your torso to avoid any unwanted skin contact.

“I don’t know how I’m going to shower, Jack. The water burns so bad, even on cold. But I have to get this sticky lotion off of me,” you whine again, frustrated that you’re burnt so badly you can’t even wash the tacky lotion off of your body.

“I’ll go get a soft washcloth, hang on,” Jack leaves the bathroom for only a second before returning with a soft, blue cloth in his hands.

He adjusts the water temperature and holds the cloth under the lukewarm water for a moment before applying some of your body wash to it and handing it to you.

You take the cloth from his hands and attempt to wash yourself, but any movement of your limbs causes your damaged skin to pull, making you whimper out in pain.

“Okay, don’t worry baby, I got you,” Jack takes the cloth from you, stepping into the shower, standing in-between you and the water streaming out of the shower head.

“Please, be careful, J, it hurts,” you whine out, eyeing the cloth in his hand.

“I got you, Lovey, trust me,” Jack tells you as he drags the cloth over your skin so lightly you’re not even sure it’s touching you.

He continues the feather-light motion slowly, until he’s cleaned your entire body.

“I have to rinse you now, okay? It might sting, but we’ll go slow,” he turns to rinse the cloth, letting it soak with water once more after there’s no traces of soap left.

You close your eyes as he squeezes the water out of the cloth onto your arm, the sting only slightly better than before, but bearable enough you only have to have him stop once.

After he rinses all of the soap off of your body, Jack turns off the shower and finds the softest towel in the cabinet under the sink. He pats your sore skin dry, then rubs the after-sun lotion all over your body before helping you into your pajamas.

“Jack, I don’t think I can wear this, hurts too bad,” you tell him when he hands you the matching button up shirt to the shorts you’re currently wearing.

“Okay, go topless, then. Won’t hurt my feelings any,” he winks at you, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile.

Once you were as dressed as you could stand to be, Jack helps you to the bed sitting in the middle of your bedroom. Luckily your back wasn’t burnt, so he helps you into a partial sitting position, piling several pillows behind you to prop you up.

He starts to pull the blanket over you, but you stop him, knowing anything touching your skin right know would bring you to tears.

“Babe, you’re going to get cold if you don’t cover up with something. As soon as the sun sets you’ll get the chills,” he eyes the large window on the other side of the room, knowing it’ll be dark in another hour.

“Jack it hurts too bad, I can’t,” you cry out, pouting at him.

“Okay, fine. We’ll figure something out later,” he gives in, walking over to the other side of the bed and sitting down.

He turns on the tv and attempts to find something for the two of you to watch when your stomach growls again, reminding you that you still hadn’t eaten since this morning.

“Jack, I’m still hungry.”

“Do you want me to go grab something?”

“No, don’t leave me here by myself, what if my skin starts melting off?” you exasperated.

Jack laughs at you. “Your skin isn’t going to start melting, but fine. I’ll go find the take out menus and see who delivers.”

Thirty minutes later the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of your Chinese food.

Jack goes to grab the food and bring plates upstairs so the two of you can eat in your bed, knowing you don’t feel like trying to walk downstairs to the dining room table.

He sets everything out like a small buffet. You manage to sit up a little straighter and try to reach for a plate, but the movement brings a new stinging warmth to the skin of your arm.

“Jack, I can’t even reach for a plate, how am I supposed to fill said plate and feed myself,” you say, frustrated.

Jack doesn’t say anything, but he takes the plate you were reaching for and puts all of your favorites on it. He grabs a fork and moves so he’s sitting cross-legged beside you.

“Here, open up,” Jack brings a fork full of food towards your mouth, motioning for you to open your mouth as the fork gets closer to you.

You open your mouth and he shovels the food in, going back in for more food once you had chewed and swallowed the first bite.

“Are you really going to sit here and feed me that entire plate?” you ask him, slightly embarrassed that this is how your first night at the lake house is going.

“Well, yeah. You said you were hungry, right?” Jack responds, looking at you as if he thought your question was stupid.

“I am, but you don’t have to do this. You can eat your food. I’ll figure out something. I feel like a kid sitting here being fed,” you tell him, wishing you could cross your arms the way you usually do when you pout.

“Y/N, you’re sitting in front of me with no shirt on. I’m trying my hardest not to stare at your boobs right now because I feel it would be wildly inappropriate to be sporting a boner when my girlfriend is clearly in pain. I can assure you, the last thing I’m thinking about right now is you resembling a kid,” he says, seriousness lacing his tone.

You laugh at your boyfriend, causing the skin on your belly to burn slightly, but you don’t care. You love how Jack can always make you feel better about any situation, even one as embarrassing as this.

“Now, c’mon and open up. Your food is gonna get cold,” he fusses, bringing another fork full of food towards your mouth.

He feeds you an entire plate of food, then eats his own. He takes the dishes and leftovers downstairs before coming back up to take a shower of his own.

Once he’s done with his own shower, he brings the bottle of after-sun back into the bedroom and lathers your skin in it once again, hoping this will help soothe your skin a bit more before the two of you try to sleep.

He settles in the bed, and as he predicted, you’ve started violently shivering.

“Can I please put a blanket on you now? I know you said it hurts, but you’re going to shiver right out of this bed if you don’t cover up,” Jack pleads, hating to see you shaking like this.

“Yeah, we can try. But maybe just the top sheet only for now,” you tell him, still apprehensive.

He gently pulls the top sheet over your body, letting it fall right at your collar bone.

You thank him for that second coat of after-sun because you can actually bear the thin cotton on your skin this time.

“Better?” he asks, waiting for any kind of negative reaction from you.

“Better. Thank you, Jack,” you tell him, causing him to relax a bit.

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” he shrugs it off, moving to get himself settled on his side of the bed.

“No, I mean it. I’m sorry I let myself ruin our first night here. I just got too eager, I guess. Forgot I haven’t laid out in a while.”

“It’s okay. Really. It’s partially my fault, too. For letting you sleep for so long without making you move under the umbrella with me,” he turns the light off, sliding down next to you, but not touching your skin.

“Well, I promise, I’m wearing sunscreen and sunscreen only for the rest of the summer,” you swear to him, moving your hand to loop your pinky through his, not being able to handle not touching him.

“I mean, I’m all for it, babe, but I don’t know how my parents and brothers will feel about that,” Jack quips back. You can hear the amused smile on his face, even though the room is pitch black.

“Goodnight, Jack.” Is all you say, rolling your eyes and smiling even though you know he can’t see you.

Jack lets out a laugh, squeezing your pinky.

Your skin may be on fire due to your love of sun soaking, but your heart has been sunburnt for years; Jack’s own personal sunshine setting it on fire every second you’re together.

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hollyoongs · 1 day

Text

𝗛𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗟 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠 || 𝗣.𝗦.𝗛

happy (belate) birthday to me! 🧚🏻‍♀️💓

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: idol!sunghoon x idol!reader (the reader is fem bodied andd on the pill) || 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: smut ||𝘄.𝗰: +4.6k || 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: small plot an then full smut, petnames (slut, good girl, etc), teasing (Sunghoon is such a tease ilh), dacryphilia, surprise squirting, orgams denial, Sunghoon ties reader, deepthroating, reverse and normal cowgirl, spanking.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Being a couple sounded really easy at first but after becoming idols and not seeing ech other faces for months, just changed one think. That you two will ALWAYS be horny

You parked the rented car in the garage, looking around before going inside to the big venue, watching it get crowed from your seat, smiling at the large fanbase in that concert through your mask to cover yourself since you don't want to be discovered and cause rumors.

After several months with events, promotions, and more, you couldn't see your boyfriend for a while until this moment when the company gave you a month break. The first thing you did was book a flight when the Fate Tour concert places were uploaded and pray to all the gods above to make you have a ticket way back. And thankfully, you did everything without telling your boyfriend, Sunghoon.

You remember the first time you laid eyes on Sunghoon like it was yesterday? It was at the ice rink, where the air was crisp with the promise of winter and the sound of blades slicing through the ice echoed softly. Your cousin had dragged you along to watch her practice, and that's when you saw him effortlessly gliding across the ice with such grace and finesse.

Your cousin had introduced you to him, and from that moment on, there was an undeniable connection between the two of you. He was shy; his cheeks tinted pink whenever he spoke to you, but his eyes held a warmth that drew you in like a moth to a flame. And, oh, how those stolen glances sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within your heart that refused to be extinguished.

As you both started training together, you found solace in each other's company, sharing dreams and aspirations under the watchful gaze of the stars. His gentle encouragement pushed you to strive for greatness, and in return, you offered him unwavering support, a pillar of strength in times of doubt.

Every stolen moment together felt like a scene from a fairytale, with whispered promises and stolen kisses hidden away from prying eyes. And though the world around you may have been chaotic and uncertain, in his arms, you found sanctuary, a safe haven where love blossomed like the first flowers of spring.

As the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into cheers, you felt your heart race with anticipation. You couldn't wait to see the seven boys perform—to see them in their element, doing what they loved most. And most importantly, you couldn't wait to see and surprise him.

The music began, and you watched with bated breath as all of them appeared on stage. You searched for Sunghoon, and you could feel yourself getting nervous by how he made eye contact with the camera that captured the moment and showed it on the big screen. He looked more mesmerizing than ever under the stage lights, his movements fluid and graceful.

His interaction with fans was incredibly endearing, with each gesture and smile making the crowd feel more connected to him. He waved at them, accepted their thoughtfully prepared gifts, and made every encounter feel deeply personal. But then something extraordinary happened that sent a wave of electricity through the air.

He picked up a black cowboy hat adorned with his name in sparkling rhinestones and elegant feathers. As he slowly placed it on his head, his entire demeanor shifted. His movements became more fluid and deliberate, exuding a confidence that was intoxicating. He began to dance, his hips swaying with a tantalizing rhythm, each movement more sensual than the last. The crowd erupted in screams, their excitement reaching a fever pitch.

His gaze was intense, filled with a magnetic allure that made your heart race. He moved closer to the edge of the stage. Your breath hitched, unable to tear your eyes away from him, and the air was thick with anticipation.

After what felt like the shortest moment of your life, the concert finally came to an end, and you quickly made your way backstage, your heart pounding in your chest with emotion and a slight fear, in order to not be seen by anyone else. You couldn't contain your excitement as you waited for Sunghoon to finish his post-concert rituals and emerge from the dressing room.

You heard the cheers from the dancers and production team when they started to get down, and you knew they were coming. The door of the place you were was opened, and you saw Jay smiling at him.

Jay made everything possible, from you having a ticket in an unwanted place (which you begged for) to an unknown room far away from the staff and cameras that were recording the tour in general for the behind-the-scenes. Mostly because he was feeling worried about his best friend being so down about not seeing you or spending time with you.

"I'm going to fool Sunghoon to make him come over here in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Jay. You're the best," you replied, your voice trembling with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Jay gave you a reassuring smile before slipping out of the room, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your heart pounding louder with each passing second. Finally, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door creaked open. Sunghoon stepped in, looking puzzled, until his eyes landed on you. For a moment, he was frozen, disbelief and joy mingling on his face.

"Surprise," you whispered, stepping forward.

Sunghoon's eyes widened in disbelief, a wide smile spreading across his face as he felt his tiredness go away in the blink of an eye. "What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine joy.

"Can I not see my boyfriend?" you replied, closing the gap between you.

Sunghoon's arms enveloped you in a warm, tight embrace, his familiar scent wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, his eyes watering a little bit. "I missed you so much," he breathed into your hair.

"I missed you too," you said, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. The depth of emotion in his gaze took your breath away, and you felt a shiver of anticipation as his hands cupped your face, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks.

Without another word, his lips found yours in a tender kiss that quickly deepened, filled with the longing and passion of months spent apart. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, as if he couldn't bear the thought of any distance between you.

The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared love and desire. You could feel the heat of his body and the rhythm of his heartbeat matching your own, and it was intoxicating. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and you lost yourself in the moment.

As the kiss broke, Sunghoon's forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. "I've dreamed of this moment every single day," he confessed, his voice low and husky.

"And now it's real," you replied, your hands tracing the contours of his back, feeling the tension and warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. "We have a whole week together."

His eyes sparkled with a mix of happiness and mischief. "A week isn't nearly enough," he said, his voice dropping to a suggestive whisper, "but we can make every second count."

With a playful smile, you took his hand, leading him towards the couch in the corner of the room. "Let's start right now," you said, your voice equally suggestive, "and see where the night takes us."

He didn't answer; he just straight-attached his lips to yours. You could feel his desesperation, and you must admit that yours was as obvious as his.

Sunghoon's hands slid down your back, pulling you closer as your bodies pressed together. The intensity of his kiss sent shivers down your spine, every touch igniting a fire within you that had been simmering for months. You could feel his heart racing, matching the frantic beat of your own.

The couch in that room provided little space, but it didn't matter. The world outside ceased to exist as you and Sunghoon reconnected, each kiss a promise, each touch a reaffirmation of the love that had grown stronger despite the distance and time apart. His lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made your breath hitch and your body ache for more.

"Sunghoon" You whispered his name, your voice filled with need, and he responded with a growl that sent a thrill through you when you held his torn arms. His hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, and claiming every inch of you as his own. You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shoulders, his hair—anything to ground yourself in the overwhelming sensation of being with him again.

"God, I've missed you," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. "I've thought about this every night."

You pulled him closer, your lips finding his in a kiss that spoke of all the longing and desire you had bottled up. "Me too," you breathed, your words mingling with the taste of him. "I never want to be apart from you again."

His hands tightened around your waist, and his eyes were dark with emotion. "We'll find a way," he promised, his voice fierce. "I really want you right now."

You grabbed his toned arms as he kissed your neck, your hands traveling behind his head while he couldn't bear the urge to grab your ass. He moans now, leaving your mouth.

"You want a quicky right now?" Sunghoon's moan was enough for you to actually separate him from you to take off his body and the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. He was still sweaty from the concert, the soft light of that space making him shine beautifully. He grabbed the band of the jeans you were wearing to pull you close and make you jump, his arms holding you as you locked him with your legs on his hips and removed your shirt, him pampering your skin with kisses.

"I want to fuck you so bad, sweetie."

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw desire in his voice sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You clung to him as he carried you, his hands firm on your waist, your fingers digging in just enough to leave an imprint. The couch became an insignificant detail, a mere backdrop to the fervor that consumed both of you.

Sunghoon lowered you onto the couch, his body hovering over yours as his eyes roamed hungrily across your exposed skin. "God, you're beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion and desire. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both possessive and tender, a perfect reflection of the love and lust coursing through his veins.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as your bodies moved in a synchronized dance of passion. His kisses trailed down your neck, lingering on your collarbone before descending to your chest. You arched into his touch, every nerve ending alight with anticipation and need.

"I can't wait any longer," you gasped, your hands fumbling with the button of his jeans. The urgency between you was palpable—a magnetic force pulling you together in a desperate bid to erase the months of separation.

He helped you with your jeans, his own hands trembling slightly as he undid the button and zipper. In one swift motion, he pulled them off, leaving you in your underwear. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching.

"You're so damn sexy," he groaned, his hands sliding up your thighs and pushing aside the thin fabric that was the only barrier left between you. "I've missed this; I missed you so much."

You reached for his jeans, sliding them down his hips, the anticipation building as you felt the heat of his skin against yours. He kicked them off, his body now pressed against you, every inch of him hard and ready. The feel of his arousal against your thigh sent a thrill through you, a reminder of how much you had both yearned for this moment.

"Please, Sunghoon," you whispered, your voice a plea that spoke volumes. "I need you."

With a growl, he captured your lips again, his hand sliding down to position himself at your entrance. The moment he entered you, a gasp tore from your lips, and the sensation was overwhelming in its intensity. He filled you completely, every thrust a reminder of the connection you had both missed so dearly.

"Fuck, I missed your pussy so bad," he groaned, his pace relentless as he drove into you. Each movement was a promise, a testament to the love and desire that had never wavered. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, a symphony of passion and need that echoed through the small room.

Your nails raked down his back, your moans mingling with his as the intensity built. "Sunghoon!" you cried out, your voice raw with pleasure. "I'm so close."

His response was a deep, guttural moan, his pace quickening as he drove you both toward the edge. "Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice rough and breathless. "I need to feel your cum."

With a final thrust, you shattered, the pleasure washing over you in waves that left you trembling and breathless. Sunghoon followed moments later, his release a powerful testament to the bond that had brought you back together.

As you lay there, tangled in each other's arms, the world outside seemed to fade away. The only thing that mattered was the two of you, the love that had defied distance and time, and the promise of a future where you would never be apart again.

Seven knocks on the door alerted both of you. "Sunghoon, they're starting to ask for you." You looked at him and both rushed to take all your clothes. After your appearance was decent, you were about to get out, Sunghoon winning and putting himself in front of the door, blocking it.

"Where's your stay?"

"At your hotel room," he said, opening his eyes in surprise and biting his lips in delight.

"I have to thank Jay for all of this." You grabbed his jaw, pulling him in a slow kiss. You could feel his fangs in the kiss and how needy he was for you, and you were just hiding the wet patch in your pants from the event before and how we whine when you separate from him, pulling his lower lip with a smirk on his face.

"Meet me at the hotel room, Park." You made him move aside and open the door, looking at Jay beside it wearing headphones and winking at you, handing you the card key to his best friend's hotel room. "Thank you, Jay."

"Give me a head start. Are you going to be really loud?"

"Probably."

"Then I'm going to give the members earplugs." You rolled your eyes at him as you successfully escaped the venue without a single camara on your face or fans surrounding you asking for explanations.

You arrived at the hotel, going straight to Sunghoon's hotel room. Anticipation coursed through your veins. You saw your appearance once again in the bathroom mirror and put the bag of clothes you brought with a brand new lingere set. You inhaled the cologne of your boyfriend in the air and smiled. You started to get undressed and put on the brand new set, a pearly white lingerie that was mostly strings.

You smiled at how your make-up and hair were retouched, ensuring you looked perfect for what was about to come. The delicate lace clung to your curves, accentuating your figure in all the right places. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence. The anticipation of what was to come made your heart race.

The door clicked open, and you went out of the bathroom to see Sunghoon step inside with the hat he had at the concert, his eyes widening at the sight of you. He took a moment to take in your appearance, the hunger in his gaze evident as he locked the door behind him with a determined click. The tension in the room was palpable, and you could feel the heat radiating from him as he approached you. Without a word, he pulled you into a fierce kiss, throwing his hat somewhere, his hands roaming your body, appreciating the new lingerie set after.

"You're breathtaking," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire.

You smiled against his mouth, pressing your body closer to his. "I'm glad you like it."

His hands moved to the straps of your lingerie, teasingly slipping them off your shoulders. "I more than like it," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck for the second time, sending shivers down your spine.

You let out a soft moan, your hands finding their way to his hair and tugging gently. "I've been waiting for this moment," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His hands slid down your sides, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your pants. He pulled them down slowly, teasingly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Me too," he replied, his voice husky with need.

He lifted you onto the bed, positioning you so that you were lying on your back, your wrists tied to the headboard with the silky ropes that the set had. You felt a thrill of excitement at being at his mercy, knowing that he would take his time to make you feel incredible.

He trailed kisses down your body, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of your skin. You writhed beneath him, the anticipation and teasing driving you wild. He hovered over your core, his breath hot against your sensitive skin, but he didn't touch you where you needed it most.

You squirmed in anticipation, the sensation of being restrained heightening your arousal.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "I’m going to tease you until you beg for release."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan. His hands roamed your body, his fingers grazing your skin with agonizing slowness. When he finally reached your pants, he smirked at the dampness he found there.

"So wet for me already," he murmured, sliding them down and off.

He knelt between your legs, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you squirm. His fingers traced lazy circles around your clitoral area, never quite touching it, driving you to the edge of sanity. You bucked your hips, desperate for more, but he held you down firmly.

"Missed me?" His voice was husky, filled with desire.

"Always," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Sunghoon," you begged, your voice breaking with need.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Not yet, baby; I want to hear you beg some more."

You whimpered, your hips lifting off the bed in a desperate attempt to get closer to his mouth. "Please, I need you," you pleaded, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes.

He smirked, clearly enjoying your desperation. "Soon," he promised, his fingers slipping inside you and curling in just the right way to make you cry out.

He worked with you expertly, bringing you to the brink of orgasm before pulling back, leaving you panting and on the verge of tears. "Please, Sunghoon, I can't take it anymore," you sobbed, your body trembling with need.

"Patience, baby," he teased, his voice a low growl.

The teasing continued until you were panting, tears of frustration welling in your eyes. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he finally relented, his mouth descending on your core and his tongue flicking over your clitoral area with precision. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as he pushed you over the edge.

"Not yet," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "You don't get to come until I say so."

You whimpered, tears streaming down your face as the denial pushed you to the brink. He grinned at your torment, his fingers slipping inside you, slow and deliberate. The pressure built, and just as you felt you might explode, he withdrew, leaving you gasping and sobbing.

"You’re so beautiful when you cry," he whispered, kissing away your tears.

Finally, he lowered his mouth to your clitoral area, sucking gently. The sudden, intense pleasure was too much, and with a strangled cry, you came, your body shuddering with the force of your release. The orgasm ripped through you, intense and all-consuming, your cries echoing in the room. But he didn’t stop; his tongue kept working, prolonging your orgasm.

By the time he finally pulled back, you were a trembling, panting mess, tears of pleasure streaming down your face.

He untied your wrists, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "You did so well, baby," he murmured, kissing your forehead gently.

Sunghoon kissed his way up to your whole face, his lips meeting yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. "But I’m not done with you yet," he whispered against your mouth, unbuttoning his pants.

You got on your knees in bed at the same time he was fully revealed. Your breath hitched as you took in the sight of him, his arousal evident and demanding attention. Sunghoon's eyes were dark with desire, and he gently guided your head towards him. You knew what he wanted, and the anticipation made your heart race.

With a mixture of eagerness and reverence, you opened your mouth, taking him in slowly. The sensation of his hardness against your tongue sent a shiver down your spine. Sunghoon's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding you as you started to move, taking him deeper with each bob of your head.

His low groan of pleasure spurred you on, your own arousal reigniting as you felt him respond to your touch. You took him deeper, the feeling of fullness making you moan and gag around him, being used in this way with Sunghoon looking like he was touching heaven with each suckr. Sunghoon's grip tightened slightly, his breathing growing more labored as you continued, your movements steady and relentless.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice husky with desire. "Take it all."

You pushed yourself to take him even deeper, your gag reflex triggering slightly, but you pushed past it, wanting to please him. The way he looked down at you, his expression one of pure bliss, made every effort worth it. You could feel yourself growing wetter with every second, the intensity of the moment heightening your own need.

Sunghoon's moans grew louder, and his hips started to move in time with your rhythm. You hollowed your cheeks, creating a tighter suction, and he responded with a deep, throaty growl. "Fuck, you're amazing," he breathed out, his voice strained.

You could tell he was close, and you doubled your efforts, wanting to push him over the edge. His movements became more erratic, his fingers tightening in your hair as he approached his climax. With a final, deep thrust, he came, his release hot and intense. You swallowed eagerly, taking in everything he had to offer.

As he pulled back, you looked up at him, your eyes glazed with desire and satisfaction. Your hand reached to the back of his neck, pushing him to be on top of you instead of standing up.

Sunghoon's eyes never left yours as he positioned himself above you, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his hands roaming your body with renewed urgency, like he always does.

You could feel the hardness of his body pressing against you; the heat between you was almost unbearable. "You're incredible," he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with admiration and raw need. "I want to be inside you."

"What's stopping you?" you whispered back, your voice breathless with anticipation, your doe eyes looking at his as you opened more of your legs.

You didn't let him take a good look. With a swift, practiced motion, you were on top of him, rocking your wet entrace with his once again hard cock. You saw your left, the cowboy hat calling your attention. You reached for it, and you put it on, gaining a moan from your boyfriend at the view.

"You'll be the death of me. My pretty cowgirl." You aligned yourself with his cock, the tip of his erection teasing your wet folds. You gasped, your body arching towards him, desperate for the connection. He entered you slowly, filling you inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming.

The stretch, the fullness, and the way he seemed to fit perfectly inside you—it was almost too much.

Sunghoon's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you began to ride him, the rhythm building steadily. The way you moved, the sight of you in that hat—it drove him wild. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving imprints of his need on your skin.

"You like that, don't you?" you teased, your voice dripping with seductive confidence as you bounced on his length, your breasts heaving with each motion. He could only groan in response, his eyes rolling back momentarily as you increased the pace, your hips grinding against him with primal urgency.

With each thrust, you felt a delicious friction that sent jolts of pleasure through your body, making your breaths come out in gasps. You leaned back slightly, placing your hands on his thighs for leverage, allowing him a perfect view of your body in motion.

Suddenly, Sunghoon's hands left your hips and came down hard on your ass, the sharp sting of the spank making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. "You like that, baby?" he growled, his voice rough with desire as he delivered another spank, the sound echoing in the room, copying the teasing.

"Yes, Sunghoon," you panted, the spanking only fueling your arousal. "More."

He obliged, alternating between spanking and gripping your hips to help guide you on his cock. Each spank was a reminder of his control, a sharp pleasure that contrasted with the deep, rolling waves of pleasure from his thrusts inside you.

You could feel your orgasm building, the pressure mounting as you rode him harder, and your movements becoming more frantic. Sensing your nearing climax, Sunghoon suddenly shifted, flipping you onto your back without pulling out. He moved quickly, positioning you for reverse cowgirl.

With your back to him, you sank down onto his cock once more. This time, you could feel it deeper, and that simply made you scream, your movements more erratic as you chased your high. His hands found your ass again, spanking you hard enough to leave a delicious sting. You cried out, the combination of his cock filling you and the sharp bites of pain pushing you over the edge.

"Cum for me, baby," he commanded, his voice strained as he felt your walls tightening around him. His words sent you spiraling, your orgasm crashing over you in powerful waves. You screamed his name, your body convulsing as you rode out your climax, your ass cheeks mivong like waves, and driving him insane.

Sunghoon followed you shortly after, his own release triggered by the sight of you coming undone on top of him. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he thrust up into you, emptying himself deep inside you with a guttural moan.

You collapsed against him while taking the hat off, both of you breathless and sweaty, in the afterglow of your intense session, leaving you both feeling satisfied and deeply connected.

"That was amazing," you whispered, turning your head to look at him with a blissful smile.

"You're amazing," he replied, his eyes filled with love and admiration as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. "Please keep the hat; I'll fuck you with that every single time."

#hollyworld #hollyoongs #hollymoots #enhypen #enhypen smut #kpop #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #kbookshelf #kflixnet #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon

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thatlittlered · 3 days

Text

lovefool | aaron hotchner

warning(s): 18+, detailed description of sexual acts (m!masturbation) under the cut!

GIF by @scuttling

previous parts

author's note: feast on this, my metaphorical children, because more and better things are coming very soon. I also made a masterlist for your reading convenience.

Follow me @MadeofLilies at Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

Aaron finds himself quite disoriented when he wakes up next to you. Smooth cotton on his cheek, mellow morning light peeking through the blinds. The warmth of a soft body prevails over all. Chests touching, limbs entangled. It is almost becoming too warm under the covers, or it might just be the rush of realization.

The lovely smell of your freshly washed hair brings him closer; so close that he might nudge your cheek with his nose if he moves a single inch but he doesn’t dare. It would be the first ever act of intimacy between you in daylight.

You must have felt his breath on your face because you stir until there’s no space left between you. There is nowhere to look but in each other’s eyes.

It should feel weirder than it does.

He looks so young under this light; his face littered with moles that you would like to kiss. His hand dares to move to your eyebrow and settles the hair there tenderly before moving downward. The touch of his thumb might as well be a kiss when he’s tracing your cheekbone, your nose, your mouth.

“Good morning.”

His voice is hoarse and it makes you laugh.

“Good morning, Aaron.”

Neither of you wants to move, but you decide to take the plunge, “I’m going to make some coffee, okay?”

“Okay.”

He takes his time getting up, looking around your room for more pieces of you to remember. He is drawn to your vanity where your perfume and hairbrush lie. You’ve left out a toothbrush for him; ever thoughtful.

When he finally joins you in the small kitchen, you’re a sight for sore eyes and you smile when you see him, pushing a steaming cup of coffee his way.

“Are you hungry?”

He sits so sweetly across from you on the kitchen island.

“I’m okay, thank you.”

Your feet touch, but neither of you moves away.

“You don’t eat breakfast?”

“I have cereal with Jack, mostly because he asks me to.”

The ease with which he had touched and kissed you the night before has dissipated, ephemeral confidence melting away to leave behind a man unsure of what to say or do. He wishes you had met a long time ago, when he could have given you the best parts of him. His best now is… meager. Those parts of him seem long gone, or more accurately, forcefully taken.

Now everything is an impossible decision to make. Every moment of intimacy comes with the fear of imminent darkness. He must dare to break way.

“We have cereal.”

You get up to grab the box from the shelf and when you turn around, he’s almost caging you between the counter and his body. His hands are on your face again, holding you in place so he can kiss you with the taste of coffee on his tongue, which begs for entry.

You both willfully ignore the straining under the thin fabric of his boxers. You can feel him growing hard on your thigh, but you wouldn’t dare speak of it, and he certainly won’t. It’s too soon, way too soon. He was simply taken with the smallest bit of skin that had peaked through when you reached to grab the box; wanted to remember what you taste like, to break away.

His hands are still on your face as he speaks, forehead to forehead.

“I can’t stay long; I have to pick up Jack from his aunt’s. I promised him we’d spend the day together.”

“That’s okay, I understand.”

He kisses you again but lingers, one last taste before he has to go.

“I would really like to take you out to dinner on our next day off.”

-.-.-

The days that follow are torture. You’re all drowning in backed up cases and the endless stream of paperwork that follows. The peaceful night of sleeping in each other’s arms and the coffee laced kisses are but a distant memory amidst this chaos.

Yet, in the rare moments when everything slows, it’s hard to keep his eyes off you, especially today. Especially when you’re wearing that red blouse. Aaron’s seen it before, appreciated it just as much as then against your complexion, but there’s something exhilarating, sinful about having seen it hang in your closet. It puts everything in a new perspective; this tantalizing secret between the two of you waiting to be realized again and again and again, if he can help it.

If only you had the time.

It takes all the self-restraint he can find within him not to approach you at the hotel. It would be easy, so easy, wouldn’t raise the faintest suspicion if he just knocked on your door after hours and you could talk – just a little. But, he can’t. He won’t. There are still limits.

Emotional exhaustion is a trap, with the mind begging for rest and the body ignoring its pleas till collapse. His body begs for you. Pleads to be held and kissed and gently lulled to sleep now that it knows the feeling.

The shower pressure is sharp, unkind, nothing like you, but the warm fog that follows… he can almost see before him the soft plane of your bare shoulder, the drops of water on your collarbone. He had not dared to look past, but he can only imagine and oh, he does. He could have surrendered himself completely, laid on top of you in the small bathtub in a mess of clothed and naked limbs. He could have allowed -begged of you- to touch him, feel any part of him you wanted to and then grant him the gift of doing the same. The smoothness of your wet body under his hands, the desperation in your kisses.

He can almost feel you on his fingertips right now, so, he gives in. Takes himself in hand to relieve the almost painful feeling. It’s muscle memory really, there should be nothing truly sensual about it but he can’t keep the images out of his head. His body recalls every detail of your touch and his mind takes advantage.

Images and feign sensations of your feather light touch on his stomach, trailing down to pay attention where he most needs you to. Your thumb presses delicately on the head, teasing him into a desperate awakening of his every sense. He is leaking for you already and you don’t let it go to waste, dragging your thumb up and down slowly until his precum spreads all over. It makes it easier to go further, pull the extra skin down gently and enjoy the sheer magnitude of him.

He jolts in your hand at the movement, but stays perfectly still after in fear that you will stop. You wouldn’t, not ever. A large vein runs on the bottom part of his cock and you can’t help but trace it, watching the way he reacts. He jolts again, begging for more, more of whatever you can give him and you take the hint. Your hand wraps around his base completely, enveloping him in softness he would die for, before beginning to move up and down in long, slow motions.

You kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck and he is about to collapse in front of you, nothing but a desperate, needy mess for you to play with. He is painfully close, can’t possibly even keep his eyes open and you can tell, so you go faster, harder. He cums with your name in his mouth.

Everything slows down from there. The spell of the warm shower fog once again wears off and when he opens his eyes, it’s painfully clear you’ve taken over his whole existence, so much so that he must fantasize about the things he’d like to do to you, and things he’d like you to do to him, in order to get through the night.

Come morning, when you’re all gathered in the jet and going home, he can’t look you in the eye.

You notice.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine

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babyyhoneyyy · 2 days

Note

3. “Tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again.” and 32. "I can't hide it anymore. I have to tell you how I feel."

Reader tells her best friend Harry how she feels and thinking he may not feels the same way, sacred that their friendship is ruined and not knowing that Harry loves her!!

Angstyy idea but with happy ending please thank you!!🥺💔🥺

yes of course!! thank you for requesting this ily 🫶🏻

prompts:

3. “Tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

32. “I can’t hide it anymore. I have to tell you how I feel.”

Mallorca was absolutely beautiful in the summer. Sunny mornings, the kind that made the heat feel like a golden blanket on skin, and warm, windy nights which allow you to cool off after a long day on the sand.

The beach was definitely Y/N’s favorite place to be. It was where she spent most of her time, surrounded by her friends and the people she loved— she was really glad she decided to come to the trip last minute. It was the breath of fresh air she didn’t know she needed, after weeks of being cooped up in her office.

It was their third night there, and Y/N had been sipping on a number of drinks throughout the evening, dressed in a knitted coverup and pink swimsuit. She was sitting with her friend Denise who was telling Y/N all about the handsome frenchman she ran into in the resort lobby.

Y/N was trying to listen; nodding along to her friend’s words and giving her opinion on what the guy was wearing, but it was hard to do anything when Harry was right across the room, leaning against a wall and chatting up a pretty blonde girl who seemed really into him.

Y/N wanted to look away but just couldn’t. Her heart was in her throat when she saw the girl put a hand on Harry’s chest. He put his hand over hers and let his fingers trail down her bare forearm, tracing the skin there. A frown settled on Y/N’s features as she continued watching the two flirt, and when he pulled the girl in by her waist, she forced herself to face her friend again.

An uneasy feeling settled in her tummy— like jealousy and anger, coiling through her veins and making her tongue taste sour.

She had been hopelessly in love with Harry for years. Ever since she infiltrated the friend group, she had heart-shaped eyes for the boy. And really, how couldn’t she? He was sweet and funny, he would always listen when she had to something to say, cared for her and made time for her.

He was a dreamboat, and Y/N fell for him the moment she first saw him.

So, obviously when she sees him get all lovey and flirty with other people, it made her heart ache.

It ached all throughout the rest of her time at the bar as Y/N willed herself to not look in Harry’s direction and it ached during the walk back to her hotel room.

She had such an amazing day sightseeing with her friends and swimming at the beach, it was a shame she was ending it feeling so bummed.

Y/N moped for a bit and rolled around in her bed. It had gone on too long, her little crush on her Harry. Long enough that him not knowing was starting to drive her crazy. She couldn’t even be sure he was into her like that. He was still dating and seeing people on and off, and she had a vague idea of what his type was, but the fear of getting rejected and loosing Harry for good scared her.

But what if she told him, and he realised he liked her too?

Things could also go well, if luck was on her side.

What if her telling him about her feelings is the only thing that was keeping Y/N from getting what she always wanted? She just needed a push… something to finally tip her over the edge and spill to Harry all of her feelings.

Maybe it was the number of drinks she had, or maybe it was the 2AM adrenaline that coursed through her veins, but she found herself shoving her keycard into her pocket and racing out of her room.

The thought process was such that it was her second last night on the beautiful island, and she might go insane if she didn’t tell Harry how she felt right now. If things didn’t go her way, she would act like it never happened, blaming the exchange on the drinks she had.

If things did go her way, then well, maybe she would finally have a shot at what she always desired.

She was standing outside of his door before she knew it, rapping her fingers on the wood, once, twi—

Fuck, what if he brought that girl to his room? Or what if he wasn’t there because he was in her room instead? Shit, shit, sh—

“Y/N?”

The door swung open. Harry stood there with tousled hair, shirtless and in a pair of sweats. His voice was raspy, like she had woken him from sleep. “Harry,” she breathed, eyes wide, “are… are you alone?”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yes. Why, is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” she wracked her brain trying to find the right words, trying not to look too happy he was by himself, “I just… I can’t hide it anymore. I have to tell you how I feel.”

“What are you talking about?” He grabbed her arm and pulled her into his room so she wasn’t just standing in the hallway. Her heart raced as she looked around, glad to see that one side of his bed was still completely made and untouched, proving that no one but him had slept there. His clothes were folded neatly on a table and the rest was kept nice and tidy.

She met his expectant, sleep-swollen eyes. “Harry I… I love you.”

It’s short and it’s simple. She tried to get the point across in the three words, but apparently, it wasn’t enough.

“I love you too, Y/N, but why is this suddenly important at two in the morning?”

“No, Harry, I love you, and I have loved you for a long time,” she said, “you can tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again, but I had to tell you. I love you, like, I want to be with you, and touch you—“

Now she was rambling, and if she didn’t stop she would only embarrass herself.

“— and kiss you and… I don’t know if you feel the same. You can tell me if you don’t, just please say something.”

Her lip fell victim to her anxious teeth as she watched his expression change to that of confusion.

A beat passed; then two.

“Harry?”

“Y-you love me like, romantically?”

Y/N nodded eagerly. Harry’s lips parted like he just had an epiphany. “Yes, Harry, like romantically. If… if you don’t then it’s okay I can go back to my room and I won’t ever bring this up again, we can forget it ever happened—“

“—no. I don’t want to forget this.”

An arm curled around her waist and before she could process it, Harry pressed his lips to hers. Y/N couldn’t even describe how she felt in that moment, buzzing and electric when butterflies flitted about in her tummy. The hold he had on her waist slipped up to her jaw, fingers split around her ear as he kissed her with so much passion. It was everything she ever dreamed of.

A couple of seconds later he parted from her mouth, but kept his forehead against hers. “I’m so stupid,” were the first words to leave his mouth. Y/N giggled, “why?”

Harry kissed her again, “because,” he said, between pecks, “if I had known you felt this way, I would have done this ages ago.”

His confession did something great for Y/N, her eyes sparkling and heart racing. “Really? You… you feel the same way? You’re not just saying it ‘cause I sai—“

He cut her off with another hard kiss. “I would never do that to you. I love you, Y/N. And I have for a long, long time. I’m just angry it took us so long to finally tell each other how we felt.”

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

Y/N sighed. “I guess we are stupid.” Harry grinned down at her, “stupid and in love.”

divider by @firefly-graphics

HEYY I HOPE I DID THE PROMPT JUSTICE!! let me know if you liked it!!! 🫶🏻🤭 apologies if it sucks ass I DONT THINK IM BEST AT ANGST LOLOL

#harry styles drabble #writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #queue

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d-targaryenshoe · 3 days

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Reflected Love - Benedict Bridgerton

Word Count: 1761

Summary: When one does not see the beauty of themselves, maybe the person that loves them the most can show them, can they not?

You sat in the corner of the room, your gaze fixed upon your husband as he carefully mixed the paints on his palette.

His concentration was absolute, his movements precise and deliberate. You couldn't help but marvel at the way he could lose himself in his work, becoming utterly absorbed by the process of creation.

It was as if he were a different person when he was painting.

You recalled the first time you had seen him in this form when you were still courting.

He had been painting a portrait of you, and you had felt a strange mix of awe and vulnerability as you had watched him capture your likeness on canvas.

It was as if he had been able to see straight into your soul, revealing a depth of understanding that you hadn't known was there.

The canvas he was working on now was a landscape, a serene meadow with a winding stream and a stand of trees in the distance.

The sunlight danced across the scene, casting dappled shadows that you could almost feel on your skin.

It was a peaceful image, a study in tranquility, and you wondered if it was meant to represent something particular in his mind.

You were about to ask him when he paused, his brush hovering above the canvas. "What do you think, dearest?" His voice was soft, almost tentative.

You considered the question for a moment. The light was beginning to fade, and the room was growing dim.

You moved closer to the painting, your eyes taking in the details that you hadn't noticed from afar.

"It's beautiful, Ben," you said truthfully. "It reminds me of the day we picnicked at the lake, just outside of town."

He looked up at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You remember that?"

You nodded, your heart swelling at the memory. "Of course, It was one of my favorite days with you."

He smiled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he returned to his painting. "I'm glad you think so. I've been trying to capture that feeling of serenity and peace in this landscape. Do you think I've succeeded?"

You studied the painting once more, taking in the way the colors danced across the canvas, the gentle brushstrokes that created the impression of a soft breeze rippling through the grass and the leaves of the trees.

"Yes, I believe you have, love. It's beautiful." you paused, your eyes meeting his once more. "But there's something else I've been wanting to speak to you about."

Your husband's brush hovered over the canvas, waiting for you to continue. He had always been attentive to you, and quick to offer support and understanding.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "It's about myself," you said softly. "Lately, I've been feeling rather self-conscious. I've been wondering if I look...different to you."

Benedict's brow furrowed in confusion. "Different? Of course not, my love. You're the most beautiful woman in the world to me." He set his brush down on the palette and turned to face you. "Why do you ask?"

"Just rather curious, yet you're my husband, I felt like I wanted to know."

Your words hung in the air between you, and Benedict took a moment to consider his response. He knew that you were likely referring to the change in your relationship since courting became a marriage.

"I do see you differently now, my love," he said gently. "But not in a way that makes you any less gorgeous or desirable to me. I see the depth of your soul, the strength of your character, the love that you bring into my life."

He moved closer to you, taking your hands in his. "You are my wife, y/n, and nothing will ever change that."

You smiled at his words, feeling the warmth of his touch. "I know that. It's just...I want to make sure you're happy. I want to be the woman you need me to be."

Benedict held out his hand towards you. "May I?"

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion. As he took your hand in his, you felt a sense of peace and reassurance wash over you. "What are you going to do?"

"Trust me," Benedict answered, leading you over to the long mirror that was placed in the corner of the room, standing behind you.

He started to undo the ties of your dress, making the fabric fall down to the ground.

"I want you to close your eyes," he whispered, his voice low and gentle. "And just feel."

You hesitated for a moment, then obeyed. You felt the cool air caress your skin as he moved your hair aside, exposing your neck.

His touch was so light, so gentle, that it sent shivers down your spine. You breathed in deeply, letting the sensations wash over you.

You felt his fingers trace circles on your back, and you arched your spine instinctively, wanting more.

It was a strange, intoxicating feeling, being so vulnerable and yet so desired. You could hear the soft rustle of his clothes as he moved closer, and the warmth of his body against yours made your heart race.

With a soft moan, you let your head fall back against his shoulder, allowing him to guide your movements.

His touch was confident and sure, and you felt utterly safe in his embrace. He placed a tender kiss at the base of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Look at yourself," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Look at how captivating you are."

You obeyed, opening your eyes and gazing into the mirror.

The reflection showed you how Benedict had his strong arms wrapped tightly around you.

She could see the intensity in his eyes as he looked down at you, his expression one of pure adoration.

As he continued to hold you close, you could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and you longed for him.

His touch was so gentle and tender, yet so possessive and demanding. He lowered his head and kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours.

You moaned into his mouth, arching your back as he took control, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

He guided your hands to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

You ran your nails lightly across his skin, teasing him, and he growled with pleasure.

Benedict pulled away from the kiss, gazing down at you with fierce adoration. "I need you," he breathed, his voice thick with desire.

You arched your back, offering yourself to him. "Have me," you whispered, feeling a delicious ache spread through your body.

He moved with a grace that belied his strength, guiding your hips to meet his rhythm.

Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each stroke deeper and more urgent than the last.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving tiny half-moons in his skin as he drove into you, claiming you as his own.

You gasped his name, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your bodies moved together in a dance of desire.

He kissed you roughly, his tongue tangling with yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

You arched your back, feeling the familiar tension building deep within you.

You could feel the pull between you both, the connection that went beyond physical desire.

It was as if you were two halves of a whole, perfectly fitted together. He thrust into you harder, faster, his eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror.

"You're so beautiful," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You moaned in reply, arching your back to meet his thrusts. "I want you," you breathed, feeling the familiar tension building deep within you. "I need you."

Benedict growled, his movements becoming more urgent as he drove deeper inside you.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue dancing with yours.

You could feel his strength, his power, as he held you close, his hands running down your back, cupping your bottom, lifting you higher against him.

"Oh God," you moaned, your voice breaking as you moved with him, your bodies in perfect sync.

You could feel the mirror under your hands, and the contrast between the hard surface and the softness of his skin only served to heighten your senses.

Benedict's movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked into your eyes.

"That was..."

Your words trailed off as you clung to Benedict, your bodies still entwined. The intensity of your lovemaking had left you both breathless, your hearts racing.

You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady rhythm of his breath in your ear.

He had been so rough with you, driving into you with such urgency, but it hadn't been overwhelming. It had been exactly what you needed.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you remembered the look in his eyes, the way he had looked at you as if you were the only person in the world.

You knew that you had given yourself to him completely, and in that moment, you couldn't imagine ever wanting anyone else.

As your breathing began to steady, you could feel the weight of his body pressing against yours, the warmth of his skin.

You could still feel the mark of his hands on your hips, the impression of his fingers against your skin.

It was as if he had left a part of himself there, branding you as his own.

"Not that, but you, you are, the center of everything I do," Benedict said.

You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your fingertips. "So are you," you replied, looking deeply into his eyes.

"But if I'm right, we're still very naked in this room where every moment one of your siblings can walk in."

Benedict chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, they won't bother us," he assured you. "They know I adore the art of nude portraits." His words sent a shiver down your spine.

"I love you."

You whispered the words as you gazed up into his eyes, your heart racing. You felt so exposed and vulnerable in this moment, but at the same time, so free.

He had always made you feel this way as if you were the most important person in the world.

As if there was nothing you couldn't do or be with him by your side.

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aeternallis · 3 days

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Colin's "entrapment" line was hard to listen to, but it was most definitely a sign of how unhinged he really is for Penelope.

Ok but for reals, I'm not sure how everyone else reacted when Colin said his now infamous "entrapment" line, but I just love how if one looks at this line a little more closely, it was definitely some semblance of an underhanded (and also a bit silly, lol) attempt to actually keep Penelope entrapped. Haha, the irony of it all. Idk, at least that was my read on it!

Like, it was definitely said in anger as well; he's hurting, and he’s hurting badly, so of course he wants to hit back in some way, however he can. Luke Newton absolutely meant it when he said that Colin reacts to the reveal in the worst way possible, alas.

My very first reaction to that scene: //pauses the screen to yell at Colin at 4am in the morning, “Entrapment????! If you feel trapped, then why the hell are you still going along with it, ya dumb ass!!!

Because really, think about it: Colin was definitely within his rights to call off the wedding, especially when he'd mentioned that Violet had noticed that he and Penelope had not seen each other for some time. It would have been the perfect time to reveal Penelope's secret to his mother, if indeed he felt entrapped by the LW of it all. Violet is family; if he wanted to still protect Penelope but no longer wanted to marry her, he would have been able to count on Violet's discretion. I'm sure she and Lady Danbury would have come up with some sort of plan to deal with the aftermath regarding the Bridgertons’ reputation, as we'd seen with Anthony and Edwina's botched wedding.

Furthermore, it would have probably been the better option to reveal it to her, since the existence of LW does put his family in danger; Penelope herself knows this. Every decision she makes post-LW reveal to Colin is due to the Bridgertons being in danger. Lady Danbury makes a point of this when she said in the last episode, “There is only one other person who loves the Bridgertons more than I.”

Eloise was able to keep the secret with no real consequences because although Penelope was her ex-bff, El still loves her, and besides that, nothing legal binds them as Colin's marriage to Penelope would.

Even when he was getting ready to talk to Benedict about getting funds to fulfill Cressida’s demands, he insisted on making up a lie to shield Penelope’s identity as LW. He knows more than anything that fulfilling a demand like this, all for the sake of his wife and at the cost of using a substantial amount of Bridgertons’ financial assets, may not put his marriage in the best light within his family. He doesn’t want to be forced to have to choose between his wife and his family, so he’s keen on keeping the lie going.

So for all intents and purposes, he doesn't tell his mother, or any of his other siblings (besides Eloise, who already knew); this in and of itself is hella fucking risky. The fact that Colin is willing to take this risk of withholding Penelope's secret identity from his family, the fact that he doesn't think to jeopardize this potentially risky betrothal—already goes to show the measure in regards to how much he wants Pen for his wife. We the audience know this because he waits until the very last minute to tell Violet, and even then, it's not Colin who chose to reveal it to her, but Penelope herself.

Another point: arguably, we can also say that Colin has a lot more wiggle room with his engagement to Penelope to call off the wedding, much more than he ever did with his engagement to Marina.

"A man of honor"? Exactly what "honor" are we talking about here? Colin claimed that he would have married Marina had she just told him the truth, yet when push came to shove and the truth of her pregnancy was revealed for all the world to know, he still chose to take the out Penelope gave him through LW. It’s easier to make a declaration like that when it’s all said and done. Lol Sure, he regretted it and apologized for his behavior later on, but he had made his choice regardless. Y’all can just feel Marina and Lady Danbury judging this dumb ass (affectionate) for dwelling in the past. Silly young man! XD What's stopping him this time around?

"We had been...intimate." Are you talking about the mirror scene, sir? Because let me assure you, you and Penelope have long been "intimate" way before you decided to buy a love nest and take her V-card the very next day you proposed to her. In fact, this is where the significance of their first kiss in 3.02 rings so, SO importantly and WHY it was vital that it was Penelope who asked and said that it would not have to mean anything. Colin knows Penelope would never use their first time together and/or the heated moment in the carriage as a way to entrap him. That first kiss alone should have already warranted that they get married, but Penelope makes it clear that it’s simply a favor, nothing more.

Oddly enough, I’m surprised Colin doesn’t bring up the idea of a long engagement (yknow, as he initially wanted with Marina, but who’s keeping track at this point), considering that would have potentially benefitted their situation. 🤔 His dumb ass (affectionate) was more than willing to stick to the wedding schedule…huh.

Besides all that, I don’t think it’s the showrunners’ intent to “taint” those special moments between them by changing the context through Colin’s (very biased) POV; to believe that to be the case would be, imo, just a bad faith argument. The genre is romance, y’all; these intimacy scenes are on an entirely different pedestal.

Because remember, that “entrapment” line of Colin’s only came about due to Penelope starting the conversation with, “Are you going to call off the wedding?”

Didn’t it almost seem like an afterthought, that he just came up with it on the spot? Hahaha.

I can bet y’all Cressida’s fake ass €20,000 blackmail money that before they’d met up to discuss wedding breakfast plans with their mamas, it had probably never even occurred to Colin to cancel their wedding. Angry and furious as he was, it was never a question of whether or not he still wanted Penelope for a wife.

The fact that it’s Penelope who begins that conversation and opens that Pandora’s box possibility is so, so damn important. Because not only does it show how much Penelope truly loves him in that she would never trap him, it also shows her maturity, in that she’s willing to face the consequences of her actions. She’s willing to give Colin the choice to back out, heartbreaking as it would be to face it, even if she herself would not be the one to pursue that choice.

She gives him the choice a good number of times: the wedding breakfast plan scene, the wedding day itself when she hesitates on the aisle, and the annulment offer after the butterfly scene.

Penelope defends herself softly, but truthfully: she never meant to entrap him, because she really didn’t. And Colin knows this; he would not still love her and want her if he honestly believed she wanted to entrap him. Hell, even if she did, the audience knows it’s a desire that comes from a good place: she loves him, so of course she doesn’t want to lose him. She wants to marry him, because she loves him. That’s all there is to it.

But despite knowing this (imo, anyway), we can also say that this conversation may have contributed to Colin’s downward spiral during the majority of episode 7 and 8, and why he becomes hella fucking desperate to be “useful” to her.

Because unlike himself, Penelope has now begun to entertain the idea of living a life that doesn’t include him—at least, not as her husband. Penelope is brave and strong enough to let him go due to the pain she caused him for her lies and her actions as LW, and as for Colin…well…

(I love it, it’s the same conundrum that Anthony faced in S2: Kate is strong enough to leave him behind and return to India, but Anthony…well…)

TL;DR, Colin’s entrapment line was literally an excuse he gave himself to keep his betrothal to Penelope intact. It’s a line that works in two ways simultaneously: it’s a painful, childish, underhanded thing to say in order to hurt Penelope’s feelings, to get back at her for the anguish he’s suffered. Yet at the same time, it’s also another excuse he gives himself in order to push through with the marriage, to tie Penelope to himself forever.

Because unlike Penelope, the very idea of living without her as his wife, of not having her in his life, is and always will be an impossible notion for Colin to ever entertain.

#polin #bridgerton #meta post #meta #I love these two a lot

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surielstea · 2 days

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Ballroom Benefits

1k celebration request!

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Eris find themselves in the center of a ballroom yet again, despite their passionate feelings towards each other.

A. Note: Lucien is high lord of the day court in this (sorry Helion) and Eris is high lord of autumn! (P.s, posting on Father’s Day with Eris Vandaddy, you’re all welcome)

The ball thrown by the High Lord of the Day Court had a mix of guests, varying from different courts as well as groups from the same.

Lucien's always been a people person, gallivanting across Prythian, whether he was running from something or searching for another it didn't matter. That's how I met him, on one of his many adventures— I later became his Winter Court contact, keeping him informed of the situation in my Court through correspondence during Amarantha's reign of terror.

Once Lucien became High Lord I had been offered a place to stay in the Day Court, so the galas and balls were mandatory since they occurred in the very palace I was living in.

I wouldn't have come if I had any other choice, it wasn't as if I spoke to Lucien much during these events anyway, he was always preoccupied with his mate's family.

Which left me leaning against a wall, sipping my wine, staring at a familiar stranger beyond the sea of decadent gowns and obnoxiously large skirts, mirroring my position on the opposite wall. His deep red hair was unmistakable, stark against the inky green— nearly black, of his suit. His ringed hand was holding a whiskey glass, the amber liquid nearly matching the color of his hair. The golden crown atop his head was delicate and simple like a wreath of thin leaves dipped in liquid gold.

I avert my gaze when I realize I've been analyzing him far longer than I should have. But only a moment later my eyes trail back to him, unable to stay away for long but this time he was staring right back at me, my gaze catching his and my breath getting lost on me.

He smirks, the action foxlike and sinister, I can't help but return the expression with a scowl. His auburn eyes leave mine, in favor of raking down my dress with a slow, lustful drag. He admired every curve and every dip with such intensity that I swore I could feel his hands on me the way they were last night, possessive and demanding and everything I loathed on a man but when it came to him I was helpless.

When he decided he was done eating me with his eyes they found mine again, and his smirk widened as he brought his crystal glass up to his sensuous lips. The bastard delighted in this sweet torture.

He was a High Lord, he could do whatever he wanted, and be with whoever he wanted. But I was a simple female who had only lived amongst the common folk, and in the autumn court, a simple high fae like me would never be worthy of a High Lord, especially not one from a foreign court.

But when his lips first met mine I knew I was ruined. I wouldn't let myself fall in love with someone I could never have, I wouldn't subject myself to such a comforting torture, so I chose to morph my emotions into the opposite of how I truly felt. Resentment, loathing, pure hatred.

He liked to tease me for it, which made our charade all the more easier. I couldn't stand his snide remarks, especially not when they reigned so painfully true. He drove me mad, kept me awake at night, plagued my dreams when I ever did get sleep.

I looked away from him and down to my goblet, swirling the red wine lazily. I could still feel his gaze tracking my every move, just as influential as any words he'd ever said.

I flick my eyes back up after a few songs go by, expecting to meet his again but his spot on the wall is now vacant, and the High Lord of Autumn is nowhere to be found. My brows crease and I map the ballroom, afraid he'd gotten bored with my silent staring and found someone else to play his game with.

"Looking for someone?" An all too familiar voice hums from directly beside me. I steel my features and grit my teeth, pivoting only the slightest inch to face the much taller male. He had a sloppy smirk on his face, putting his sharp canines on display.

"Just scoping out the dance floor," I murmur, a poor lie but he didn't call me out on it. "Why aren't you out there?" I look back to the center of the room, Fae from all different courts twirling amongst each other. "You're not one to shy away from a waltz," I finalize, looking back at him with narrowed brows.

He simply shrugs, taking each of the dancers in with his piercing eyes. "Perhaps I'm waiting for the right partner?" He suggests and I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I don't dance," I claim but be was entirely unconvinced and took an invasive step closer, cinnamon and campfire smoke surrounding me.

"Don't? Or won't?" He questions with a raised brow, clearly knowing the answer.

"C'mon," His hand meets my waist and even through the layers of expensive cloth and my corset, I felt that familiar warmth. "Don't make me beg," He hummed, his voice low only for us to hear.

I shivered visibly, like the weather of my home court had gusted into the ballroom but his hand on my waist remained warm, as if he absorbed all the heat in the room. "People will stare," I say, twisting the bracelet on my wrist anxiously.

"People are staring at you anyway," He hums. "A pretty girl from a foreign court, you're the talk of the town, fawn," He hums, his hand snaking further around my waist, my breath hitching as his large hand splayed over my hip, claiming and territorial the way his eyes were marking me earlier.

"And I suppose you want to sink your teeth in me first?" I ask and I can feel his arrogant smile from behind me.

"Haven't I already?" His chest presses to my back, his head ducked towards my shoulder so his lips could ghost the shell of my ear. People were staring, and if they weren't blatantly studying us they were stealing glances.

"If I dance with you will you leave me alone after?" I question and he hums in contemplation.

"How soon is after?" He asks.

"Right after, Vanserra," I grit, stressing my words. I spat his last name like a curse, and I knew the blow hit him harder than any other insult I could've thrown at him.

"Alright, right after, I'll leave you alone." He gives in, letting go of my waist and extending his hand out to me properly. I twist my lips to the side, my internal debate dying away when my eyes meet his. They were so warm and brought me comfort in an odd sort of way because the way he stared at me was so intimate.

"You're the worst," I murmur, taking his hand and placing my wine glass down on the window sill at my right. His smile widens and he practically catapults me out onto the dance floor.

The orchestra seemed to have noticed our arrival, the waltz song died down for something a little faster.

Our hands slotted together, my chest against his, and our faces all too close. It was too natural, too familiar. Eris and I have been parading around each other with this game of ours for years, occasionally hooking up when needing to blow off some steam— and the sexual tension between us was enough to satiate the lust of a pleasure hall. But it's never been quite like this.

When he danced each step he made was calculated and thorough, yet so fluid. He controlled me like a puppeteer pulling strings. I matched his every move. The music was consuming as it mounted in a crescendo, my spinning becoming sharper and when the strings of the orchestra came to a sudden stop Eris did the same as if he could feel the music thrumming beneath his very skin. He stops me too, pulling me into him, one of his hands pressed to the small of my back, forcing my chest against his, and his other hand was hooked beneath my bare thigh that had escaped from the high slit in my gown, holding it to his hip as I latch my arms around the nape of his neck for balance.

Heavy pants filled the silence, his lips so close to mine that we shared the same breath. "You want me to leave you alone now?" His voice was low as he spoke between breaths. No, I never wanted him to leave me alone. I wanted his hands on me all the time, his warmth, his eyes. I needed every inch of him against me. An unfamiliar sensation bloomed in the pit of my stomach and it began to eat away at my insides. I shuddered, hating every part of its devouring.

"I said 'right after' didn't I?" I mock and he smirks, his hand still on my thigh slipping higher.

"We live long lives you and I, if time is relative how soon really is 'right after'?" He asks and I roll my eyes at his plotting.

"You're relentless," I grumble, attempting to ignore the way his hand continued its journey upward.

"You didn't answer my question," He claims and my brows furrow in confusion. "Do you want me to leave you alone now?" He repeats and I swallow thickly, my cheeks threatening to blush but I fight the warmth off and say exactly the opposite of how I truly felt.

"What I want, is to wrap my hands around your throat and strangle you," I grit out and he nearly laughs.

"Tempting," He smirks, dropping my leg before his hand could slip fully beneath my dress.

I look around the room, the stares have eased off but the tension between us was felt by everyone else just as much as us, enough for it to make a noticeable impact on the way people danced around us, like we had been centered in a ring of fire and no one dared face the flames.

"We should get out of here," He muttered, bringing me back to him. My eyes locked with his yet again. Had he been staring at me this whole time?

"Finally, something we can agree on," I tighten my grip on his left hand, letting the other go as I lead him through the ballroom and into a separate alcove that led to a vacant hallway.

My hand detached from his the moment we were alone, but his arms wrapped around my waist, his head meeting the junction of my neck and shoulder.

"Get off of me," I groan, squirming half-heartedly beneath his grasp, not truly wanting him to release me.

"You're so cold baby, I have to warm you up," He claims, referring to my naturally cold skin, hailing from the winter court had its downsides, and being eternally cold was one of them. I huff, turning around to face him with narrowed brows. He smiles down at my stubborn features, his hands clasping behind my back.

"Don't call me that," I frown.

"Call you what, baby?" He asked a lilt in his tone making it clear he was teasing.

"That." My arms cross over my chest as I seethe the word out. "It could give someone the wrong impression," I argue and he tilts his head down at me demeaningly.

"Oh? And what impression is that?" He smirks, leaning lethally close. I can't find it in myself to reply. If I told him the ideas running through my head he'd tease me endlessly for it. So I kept my jaw shut and continued to stare up at him with a piercing gaze. "Tell me, baby, am I making you nervous?" He inclined his head.

"Shut up before I—" My words are cut off by his cynical laughter, the sound rocking through me.

"Before you what?" He drawls, pulling me into him closer. I seal my mouth into a thin line. "No, tell me, baby, I want to hear you finish that senten—" I crash my lips onto his.

Rising onto the tips of my toes and eagerly closed the distance between us, silencing him with my lips but he recovered quickly, his hands grasping at my hips and pulling me closer, kissing me with the same passion I met him with.

It was over as soon as it began, my lower lip being pinched between his teeth as he fought me from pulling away. "Shut up, before I do it for you," I finish my sentence he so rudely interrupted. He looked at me with hunger in his gaze, the way a predator sizes up its prey before attacking, it was lust-filled and besetting.

"Stop looking at me like that," I mumble, a blush creeping onto my features.

"Like what?" He smirks.

"Like you, want me," I mumble as if the idea was absurd.

"Want you?" He leans closer, saying the idea like it was the most insane thing he's heard to date. "No, baby I need you." He finishes, pecking my lips so casually it made me feel like we were more than what we truly are.

I ignore the swell in my chest and match his expression as he pulls away. "You're insatiable," I grimace. He only smiles and leans in again, his tongue swiping over my bottom lip, claiming my mouth as he penetrated it with the muscle, exploring every crook and crevice he could find. I pull away, my hand on his chest as a warning.

"Do you remember where my room is?" I purr, mapping my hands up his chest, across his broad shoulders, then clasping at the nape of his neck.

"Now look who's insatiable," He smirks and I roll my eyes, but I can't get a retort out before he's winnowing us into my private bedroom and pinning me against the wall.

It all happened so suddenly. One moment we were in the hall arguing, and the next in my bedroom with our lips locked.

My back pressed against a wall, his tongue exploring my mouth like it was his to claim. My hands roam his chest, undoing button after button of his shirt. Our movements were rushed and anticipating as we thrashed for each other's clothes, the sound of tearing echoing off my walls, making me cringe. This was my best dress, and he most definitely just tore it in half.

"Eris," I seethed and he smiled against my lips.

"I'll buy you a dozen new ones," He promised, his hands coming to my now bare waist, the discarded dress pooling at my feet.

He lifts me up with ease, guiding me back against the wall. The thrumming in my heart was demanding for more, and he was so very generous to give it to me.

His hips press into mine, the cloth of his pants the only thing separating us fully. I work at his belt while he reigns over my mouth, his tongue beating our silent battle and now tasting whatever place he can find.

The thud of his belt as it hit the ground might've been the best sound I had heard all evening, that was until I palmed him through his pants and he released an involuntary groan, which I decided was the best sound I'd hear all evening, and I'd make it my mission to hear it again.

"Eris," I whisper on his lips, a tone of need slipping into it while I undo the ties of his pants.

"I know, baby," He murmurs, helping me with the action.

"I want you," I confess and he smirks against my lips, making my embarrassment spike.

"Yeah?" He hums and I nod, not wishing to argue, just wishing for him. "You want me?" He prompts, only wanting to hear it from my lips again.

"C'mon, you know I do," I practically whine, my head falling back against the wall as he drops his mouth down to the column of my throat. He smiles against my skin at the sound and the desperation of my words.

"No, I don't think I do," He claims. "Why don't you show me?" His lips pulled away from my neck so he could look at my disgruntled expression.

"I hate you," I grit out.

"And yet no one gets you off, but me," He taunted and the smirk was heard in his voice. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back on the wall, refusing to feed into his already inflated ego.

"Eris," I sigh, my nails digging into the skin of his muscled back but he didn't flinch.

"Say it." He kissed up my jaw between words. "Say it, baby, and then I'll give you what you want," He hummed into the shell of my ear while cupping his hand to my heat and an incriminating noise slipped from the base of my throat, the sound somewhere between a whimper and groan.

"You're the only one," I sigh out, grinding against his palm. "The only one who makes me come," I say, my words honing true despite my passionate feelings towards him. "I can't even get off on my own hand without thinking of you," My confession caught us both entirely by surprise, I hadn't meant to say it, but the friction between my thighs was enough to drive me mad. He smiled against my skin at the visual I painted for him.

"Yeah? I bet you wished it was my fingers didn't you?" He questions and I nod, leaning into my admission, there was no taking it back now and I sure as hel wasn't going to shy beneath his gaze. "You want to feel my fingers now, baby?" He asks and my breath hitched before I began nodding fervently again.

"Please," I cry out and he smiles in reply, pushing off the wall and carrying me to my welcoming bed, the mattress plush as he lays me down onto it, my head falling to the pillows as he mounts over me, his hands dancing along the straps of my panties.

"This is okay?" He flicks his eyes up at me and I nod. "I need words, Fawn," He urges and I flush, my cheeks growing hot.

"Please, more than okay," I mutter and his smile morphs from fox to wolf, my last piece of clothing being discarded like nothing onto the floor. He nearly groaned at the sight of me, all spread out beneath him, entirely bare.

"I've barely touched you and you're soaked," He admires, his head tilting down at me demeaningly but before I can muster a retort he swiped a finger through my folds and I'm cut off with a gasp.

"That sensitive?" He smirks and I nod, my head reeling as he adds another finger, coating them in my slick as he continues his slow, almost lazy movements. I close my eyes at the stimulating feeling, my back bowing against the mattress as his thumb comes down onto my clit, doing tight circles around the peaking bud, resulting in me mewling his name uncontrollably. "Baby," He tuts pitifully, the sound making me clench around nothing.

"Please, more Eris," I gripe and he smirks.

"Yeah?" He croons. "Think you can handle more Fawn?" He didn't give me time to reply before one of his lithe fingers pushed into my entrance.

My breath hitched at the stretch, gripping the sheets beneath me at the sudden sensation. "I think you can take more than this, don't you?" He asked and he quickly added another one. "Oh don't tell me just my hand is too much?" His brows creased as if he was genuinely worried, the sardonic pitch of his voice made the middle of my back arch off the mattress.

He smiled, that reaction good enough for him and he began pumping his fingers inside of me, his thumb never leaving my clit.

Once his hand was entirely coated in my arousal he stopped thrusting his fingers in and out of me, but instead began curling them methodically, somehow immediately finding my most sensitive nerves and torturing them.

"Eris," I cried out, tears pricking my eyes at both how amazing it felt and the pain of the stretch. "Eris— I'm," He leaned down, catching the rest of my words with his mouth, and I seemed to have forgotten what I was going to say anyway, so I kissed him back. My perked breasts press against his chest, hardened nipples brushing against him in an awfully sinful way, the feeling making me grind down onto his thumb, his fingers continuing to curl into that perfect spot, the knot in my stomach tightening and suddenly I remember what I needed to tell him.

"Eris m'close, please," I whimper into his mouth, my legs jolting with his unrelenting ministrations. "Please, can I come?" I beg but he only continues looking down at me, watching as I fall apart in his arms. My breathing picks up and so does his pace but right before my climax, he removes his hand.

I gasp, my body shuddering at the sudden absence of his stimulating touch. My brows crease, a cry ripping from my throat as I realize he wasn't going to let me come. "Gods, you're a fucking bastard," I curse, hitting his shoulder.

"Baby," He grabs my wrist, pulling it away from continuing to pummel him. "I'm not letting you come unless it's on my cock." He gives me a pointed look and I frown pathetically. "Now be a good girl, and suck for me," He brings the fingers that were just inside of me to my mouth.

"C'mon," His thumb pulls at my chin and I narrow my eyes up at him defiantly. "No? You don't want to be good?" He tilts his head, removing his fingers from my lips. "Such a fucking brat," He sighs, both his hands meeting my hips and forcefully flipping me over, his touch rough and demanding, so different when compared to earlier.

"Eris, please," I whine as he presses my head down into the pillows, leaving my hips up, creating a perfect curve with my back, my hips aligned with his.

"No Fawn, if you're going to act like a brat I'm going to treat you like one," He says, his voice rough and possessive, the sound alone making my slick drip down my thighs. "Now, spread," He grips my hip in warning and I suppress a whine as I draw my legs open, sinking down until I was straddling nothing and my hips were aching as they pressed down into the bed.

I couldn't see him but I knew he was smiling at the sight of how vulnerable I was for him.

"Look at that, you're capable of listening," He teases and I flush, gritting my teeth and gripping the sheets to restrain from retorting again.

"Just, fuck me please," I sigh out, his hands grip my hips harder.

"Yeah? You that needy for my cock?" He suggests and I nod with a whine and paired it with a moan as the weight of his length pressed to my cunt, my arousal dripping onto it as he begins to drag it through my folds, the feeling indescribable.

"Please," I mewl and he grunts at the feeling of me clenching around nothing, so very needy for his penetration.

"Eris," I plead, wishing he could see the tears running down my cheeks and how badly I needed this.

"Be patient," He demanded and all I could do was obey, my stomach churning in anticipation as he wrapped his hand around himself, spreading my slick down his length with a rough grip. He lets out a strangled groan as I arch deeper into to pillows, giving him the perfect view of my sopping wet cunt, ready for his entrance.

He pressed his tip to where I needed him most and I nearly thanked every god I could think of, but I didn't get the chance because he was already dipping into me. The throbbing head of his cock was expanding my walls, molding me into his width as he proceeded deeper inside of me.

I cried at the feeling, each of his thrusts resulting in his length going deeper and deeper, my legs couldn't spread any wider, and yet the stretch was too much.

"Gods, baby," He grunts and I whimper in reply, our noises meshing together into a symphonic chorus, his thrusts and the clapping of our hips as he bottoms out adding to the rhythm. I cry out his name, my head buried in the pillows as I attempt to stifle my moans.

The head of his cock slams into my most sensitive bundle of nerves, unrelenting and harrowing against it.

"Fuck, you feel so perfect wrapped around me." He grunted and I squeezed around him tighter in reply, my head spinning as he pounded into me with an outmatched speed.

The position we were in made it feel like he was penetrating my womb, every inch of him sheathed inside of me like I was a sleeve perfectly crafted for him and him alone. No one ever got me off because I was molded to him, every ridge and vein filling me so perfectly.

"Eris," I pant out, my hips aching as I could already feel my soreness developing. He didn't care, didn't slow his pace in the slightest as he was too caught up in fucking me ruthlessly.

One of his hands left my hip and curved around my waist, two of his fingers met my clit and I gasped at the overstimulation against the puffy, reddened bud. I screamed into the pillows, unsure whether I wanted to scramble away or grind into it. I decided on the latter, my body arching into his touch without my control.

"Your little cunt is so tight, baby," Eris grunts, the head of his cock still ramming right into my bundle of nerves. "All for me," He hums and I nod, even if he was speaking to himself I could only agree with him. I pull away from the pillows for a moment to catch my breath but he grips my hair and forces me back down, making me clamp around him tighter. He grunted, one of his hands on my clit, the other forcing my head down as he drove his hips into mine with I screamed into the pillows.

"Gripping me so tight, already so close aren't you?" He teases and I nod, hoping he can understand me despite my lack of air.

He smiles manically, lust taking control of him as he lets go of my head and leans down so his chest is pressed against my back, his free hand wrapping around my torso, and ever so slowly pressing into my lower abdomen.

I could barely breathe and yet the sensation of him feeling just how deep his length was inside of me had my breath hitching. I gasped at how much bigger he felt as he pressed himself into my walls, forcing me to feel every ridge and pulse of his cock.

Tears continue to cascade down my cheeks, my thighs quivering beneath him as the throbbing need in the pit of my stomach continues to grow and grow, ready to rupture at any moment.

"Eris, I can't," I pull away from the pillows, still catching my breath. "S'too much," I whine but his thrusts continue, pressing his fingers harder into my clit, his circling getting rougher. "Be good for me and take it, yeah?" He hums, nipping at my shoulder. I nod with a pant, my limbs burning from staying in this position for so long but I didn't care, as long as he kept fucking me senseless I couldn't find it in myself to tell him I didn't secretly like how rough he is with me, how he used me like some doll. I loved it, loved every moment of it and he knew well enough that I didn't actually want him to stop.

"Eris," I sigh out.

"What is it, baby?" He hums into the shell of my ear.

"M'close, please can I come this time?" I beg and I can feel the smirk on his face as he kisses along my bare shoulder.

"You going to beg for it?" He asks and my stomach flips at the idea. Fucking bastard. I don't reply, because I know he already knows the answer.

"C'mon, I'm waiting," He croons and I release a moan, my stomach hollowing as my climax pleads to be released, but he wouldn't let me, and I knew if I did without permission it'd be a much longer night.

"Please," I murmur.

"What was that?"

"Please, Eris," I say louder this time. "Please, let me come I promise I'll be so good for you," My cries are like music to his ears, my cunt twitching around him and my legs jolting as they beg for my orgasm too.

"Yeah? You'll be good?" He asked and I nodded pitifully.

"I promise, just, please Eris can I?" I mewl and he's quiet for a moment, the beating silence making my insides shred while he continues his harsh thrusts.

"Go ahead," He says and a wave of relief washes over me. "Make a mess for me, pretty girl," He allows and then a different wave washes over me, with an all-consuming amount of pleasure, the kind that fueled fires. The feeling bloomed in the pit of my stomach before spreading throughout the rest of my body, all the way to my fingertips. My entire body caved into the mattress and my legs spasmed as I clenched tighter than I ever had before around him, resulting in a twitch of his cock, signaling that he was close.

"Come inside me," I say, still overwhelmed with the passion between us.

"Fuck," He grunts at my request. "Please, fill me Eris," I whine and he can't hold back anymore, with one last rough thrust he finds his release and paints my walls white, pumping his fluids out into me with my name on his lips.

After a few more languid strokes he pulled out, my legs immediately shutting and screaming at me in pain with the action, I'd be sore without a question in the morning. I release a deep sigh, letting my body sink into the bed entirely, not even bothering to roll over.

"No baby, you can't fall asleep like this," He reprimanded, grabbing my waist with a gentleness that rivaled his earlier rough touch. I whined incoherently as he pulled me from the warm bed and carried me to the bathroom where he'd clean me up.

He was tender as he washed my inner thighs, and even more so when wiping near my folds. We didn't speak, just sat in a comfortable silence, avoiding the thoughts of where we went from here. I was too tired to pick through my feelings at the moment, so I allowed myself to lean on him when he carried me back to the bedroom, and I allowed him to dress me into a soft nightgown and a new pair of underwear.

He tucked me in with the blankets, using a hand to brush my hair from my face, and for a second it seemed like he was going to kiss my forehead but instead, he pulled away and searched through my room for his clothes.

I unabashedly stared as he put his boxers back on, the torture of watching him leave was agonizing, but I never looked away. But as he reached for his pants I couldn't bear it, and let myself speak up. "Don't go."

He looked at me with pinched brows and an amused smile on his lips, I rolled my eyes at his expression.

"You're the only source of warmth in this stupid room, come back to bed," I grumbled and his grin remained as he dropped his pants and glided back to my bed. I scooted over for him but that was senseless since he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his chest. I look up at him with a glare and he simply shrugs.

"You said you were cold," He murmurs, his hands growing warmer against the small of my back.

"Whatever," I mumbled, stuffing my face into his warm chest. He chuckles softly, his other hand coming up to my hair and running through it soothingly.

"Goodnight Fawn," He hums.

"Night, Vanserra," I murmur.

The sun-kissed my skin as it rose over the horizon and spread onto my face. The action makes me stir, my brows pinching together as I mumble incoherently, my dreams still controlling me as I prattle on about them with half-finished sentences and slurred words.

A deep chuckle makes me peek my eyes open, spotting an all too familiar face staring right at me. He was framed by the beaming sunrise behind him, yellows and oranges bringing out the gold of his hair.

"What are you laughing at?" I seethe, flipping over so my back faced him, deciding to be dramatic about it.

"You're just cute when you wake up," He hums and I grumble a curse beneath my breath. "I slept so well last night, baby," His hand snaked around my waist and pulled me into him, my back flush against his chest.

"That makes one of us," I say with venom on my tongue but he ignores it, his hand trailing down my waist and slipping beneath the covers where my thigh was.

"It's too early to argue with you," He mumbles into my shoulder, his hand coming back up but this time slipping beneath my dress. "Go back to sleep," He urges, his hand heating up the slightest fraction, the warmth coercing me back to my slumber but I wouldn't give in.

"Get off of me," I huff, wiggling in his grasp but he only chuckles and watches as I fight the blankets, and ultimately lose.

"You wanted my hands all over you last night, remember?" He crooned, nipping at my shoulder and I groaned, flipping around to face him.

"Just because I let you come inside of me doesn't mean we're some old married couple, stop acting like this," I poked his chest and he raised a brow.

"Like what, snow?" He hummed, his nose brushing against mine.

"A new nickname too? Gods, you must be in love with me," I muse and he smirks at the accusation.

"I must be," He agrees, his arm tightening around me, pressing against the small of my back as our legs tangle and our noses touch.

"Shut up," I murmur, the blush across my face evident.

"Are you going to make me again?" He questions and I roll my eyes, moving past his nose and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, my hand coming to his cheek as he tightened his hold around me, rolling us over so I was lying atop him.

I detached from his lips, albeit reluctantly. "Don't you have to go back to Autumn?" I ask. "High Lord business and all," I murmur and he smiles.

"You going to miss me?" He surmises and I stuff my head into his neck, running my fingers through his hair unconsciously.

"Just want to know when you're going to finally leave me alone," I grumble.

"You still have me for a few hours, unfortunately for you," He hums and I groan in annoyance, contrary to me also kissing up his neck.

"Maybe we should go back to sleep. The time will pass faster," I hum.

"Or we could do something else to pass the time," He suggests and I pull away from his neck to give him a glare, which he returns with a knowing smirk.

"You're insatiable," I say.

"For you." He retorts.

I huffed and lay back down on his shoulder, secretly enjoying the way I could hear his heart beating, the steady thrums quickening whenever I kissed up the column of his throat. It was amusing, how much of an effect I had on him and I'd be lying if I said it didn't boost my ego at least a little bit.

"You're so cold," He observes, running his hands up and down my waist.

"No shit," I mumble.

"Are you always this freezing?" He asks and I shake my head.

"Only when I'm away from the Winter Court," I explain, lifting my head up to take in his expression.

"But you're never in the winter court?" His brows crease, one of his hands leaving my waist in favor of cupping my cheek.

"Mhm." I nod. "but you do a pretty good job at warming me up too," I hum, leaning into his hand. I hadn't meant for the movement to be so intimate, but he didn't seem to mind as he warmed his hand, his fingertips heating against my cheek.

"Yeah? It doesn't burn?" He asks, hesitantly pulling his hand away but I catch his wrist and put it back on my jaw.

"It feels nice," I reassure and he offers me a rare smile, the gentle kind, void of malicious intent.

"Go back to sleep, I'll still be here when you wake up." He guides my head back down onto his shoulder, resting atop his chest, just over his heart.

"Wish you weren't," I mumble, running my fingers up and down the grooves of his bicep, my fingertips feather light and icy cold as I dance them along his skin.

"We both know that's a lie, fawn," He says and I swallow thickly, deciding not to reply because this was all starting to feel too soft, too warm. He was melting me in his comforting hands and like water, I was slipping between his fingers faster than he could catch before I crashed to the ground. I close my eyes, shutting off my incessant thinking for a few moments, selfishly preferring to cherish this fleeting moment. "You better be here when I wake up," I whisper, my voice raw. My violent tone disappeared.

"So you can tell me this will never happen again?" He shifts beneath me, my head coming to the same pillow he was lying on.

"Something like that," I murmur, cupping his sharp jaw in my hand. "Maybe I'll even threaten you, I haven't decided yet," I hum and he smiles at the idea.

"Looking forward to it," He mumbled, before leaning forward and nudging my face upward with his nose before placing his lips on mine once more, the movement was so much more tender than it's ever been before, it made my stomach churn and my fingertips jolt. I hated it, whatever he was doing to me. Hated every second of it, yet he left me addicted, pleading for more like a bad drug. "Sleep, I'll be here," He pulls away a fraction, still close enough to share the same breath as me. I nod and settle into the crook of his neck, my arms tightening around his chest comfortingly. His warm hands were placed on my back and thigh, rubbing slow circles with his thumb and coaxing me back to sleep.

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