#complete with consensual spice

[distinctlywhumpthing]

First Night Home pt. 1

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Aiden wishes he could know the way home by heart. Feel a sense of comfort, that indescribable pull, as familiarity marks the closing distance to the place where he belongs. It’s a foolish, naked yearning. One that hangs in the spotlight of his focus a moment too long, leaving him feeling just as exposed. 

He spreads his fingers on his legs to stop from curling them into fists. Curling his toes in his shoes is a cheap substitute for grounding himself but at least it keeps that look off Leo’s face. 

The one that confirms Aiden is a burden he didn’t sign up for, companion or not. 

“Almost there,” Leo says, pulling away from a stop sign and turning left. 

His stomach drops and he turns toward the window to hide his face. 

Just like the first night, he has no idea what to expect when they arrive. He should be able to grant Leo a fraction of the trust he has felt but is always unable to find when he needs it most. It’s overwhelmed too easily, road salt cloudy headlights on an unlit route, feeble light swallowed by darkness before it can illuminate anything more than the rush of pavement before it disappears. His catastrophizing is stunted by exhaustion but the longer they drive down the winding roads, the more his stomach knots and twists, anticipation-turning-to-dread the only mile marker he has. He worries about losing to his nausea, as much as a passenger in his body as he is in the car, heading toward the inevitable. 

When Leo turns off the road, Aiden panics even more, scanning the row of four identical condos, porch lights still casting a dim glow in the pre-dawn light. He doesn’t recognize anything, except Leo’s work van at the end of the shared driveway. Shame rises along with the bile in his stomach. It’s disrespectful to Leo and the invitation to share any part of his home—to entertain it as a place he could pretend to belong—if he can’t even recognize it from the outside.

For fuck’s sake, it’s the barest of minimums required to lay claim to any place.

He bites back his apology. Stutters won’t be the only thing that comes out if he opens his mouth just now. He wouldn’t be able to articulate the transgression anyway. Little progress he made earlier trying to explain he wasn’t trying to run from Leo at the hospital, that he was just trying to give him a shot at getting his life back. The one before he took on a damaged—

“Home sweet home.” Leo kills the engine and lets his head fall back against the headrest with a sigh.

Aiden lowers his gaze, guilt swirling in his stomach. Again, the apology is on the tip of his tongue but his eyes start to burn hot with tears. He will not cry again. He cannot. He bites the inside of his cheek and the taste of blood is a quick distraction. 

Worse than dissolving into a crying mess would be getting sick in Leo’s sister’s car. 

Leo’s on the move anyway. With another sigh, he gets out, leaving Aiden alone to clap his good hand over his mouth and force deep breaths in and out through his nose. He even closes his eyes to beg himself to be capable this time. Better for this second-second chance. Easier after everything. 

Little good it does. 

By the time Leo reaches his door, Aiden is resigned to ducking around him to throw up. The bar lowered to please just don’t get sick on Leo’s shoes. 

The cold air hits him in a blast when Leo reaches the door and helps him out. He blinks against the sharp sting of it, both hands gripping Leo’s forearm. Another lungful of brisk winter morning and the nausea settles. 

His next inhale is full of sky. Deep blue night softening with the light of day from one horizon to the other. A whisper of purple hinting at the brilliance of more colors soon to come. He could stay here forever, taking in the spectrum of dark to light, the stars fading out in the west and the sun soon to rise in the east. He watched the sunrise a few times from the bedroom window upstairs but he can’t remember the last time he stood under a sky like this. 

Or the last time he was outside in daylight at all. 

“Hon, you alright?”

Leo’s expression has probably passed concern because Aiden let a few tears escape. They’ve already slid down his cheeks, warm at the outset, their wakes chilled in the fresh morning air. 

He wipes his face with his sleeve, still looking up. “Thank you,” he hears himself whisper and somehow it comes out crystal clear. He wishes he could say more, thank Leo for this morning sky he had nothing and everything to do with. But he doesn’t trust himself not to ruin it. 

Leo doesn’t say anything back, just wraps an arm around his shoulders. 

As soon as they step inside, he wants to run back to the feeling he found under the sky. But Leo’s exhausted and he already waited with Aiden until the sun started peeking over the horizon. Watching the sun rise wouldn’t stave off the inevitable. It’ll be over in minutes anyway. 

Aiden winds up hovering at the edge of the kitchen, unsure if he should stay out of the way or help. The bags sit on the island, handles still standing at attention from being lifted there. 

Leo relieves him of any guesswork by setting a glass of water on the island. “Think you can drink this?” 

He nods, grateful for an easy opportunity to be obedient, and slides onto a stool, watching for any reaction from Leo out of habit, but he’s looking down. Aiden’s stomach knots when he realizes he’s reading the slip of paper from the doctors again. 

If Leo tells him to take any of the medicine, he should. He will. He’ll do anything Leo asks him to. Happily. If what Leo said about finding him is true, he owes him his life twice over, maybe three times if he considers—

“Aiden?”

He jumps and Leo quickly leans over to clamp a hand around his teetering glass.

“M’sorry.” He tucks his hands between his legs, apology not quite audible even to his ears. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“S’okay,” he whispers. 

Leo’s sigh makes him flinch before he can catch himself. 

Leo holds up his hands, one still holding the rescued glass. “Easy, sweetheart. We’re all good. It’s all good.” 

Aiden nods. He’s overreacting, reading into Leo’s every fucking exhale. He’s just overreacting but still, tears are building behind his eyes. He nods again, squeezing his hands into fists but the pain that radiates up his arms makes the tears fall. “M’sorry, m’sorry.” He shakes his hands out at his sides, swipes furiously at the traitorous tears, and refuses—refuses—to meet Leo’s gaze to see how completely exasperated and disappointed he is. “M’sorry, m’sorry—”  

“Aiden. Aiden.” Leo’s beside him now, warm hand on his shoulder making him realize just how much he’s curled forward. “Just breathe. That’s right. You’re okay, you’re good.” 

He nods, sniffling. He needs to pull himself together. “M’sorry, m’sorry.” 

“Hon, look at me.” 

He meets Leo’s eyes, letting himself shelter in the ease of obedience. 

“You’re good, it’s all good. We’ll figure things out together, step by step, in the morning—or, well, later today.” Leo’s soft chuckle, tired as it is, tempts Adien further into the lulls of earned safety and he doesn’t have the energy to resist. Leo rubs his shoulder. “Everything will look a little better after some sleep, yeah?” Leo goes to the sink to top up his glass. “Let’s head up.” 

His stomach drops and maybe even his lungs too because he can’t feel himself breathe anymore. He’s too busy trying to read Leo’s face. What about the mess upstairs? Should he get the bleach? Or is this the moment Leo finally punishes him? 

He follows Leo to the stairs, shoving his shaking hands into the pocket of the hoodie. He knots his fingers together as much as he can without it hurting too much. He’s not sure what they’ll find upstairs. He can only remember blurs and there’s no telling what happened after his memory stops. 

“Better get scrubbing, ‘359.” 

He shakes his head but the flashes of the facility tiles, covered in blood, are so bright in his mind. His hand gripping the banister feels far away, feet climbing the stairs even further. A few more steps and he’ll be able to see the bathroom. 

The blood, the tiles. 

“Aiden?” 

He flinches, attention snapping back to Leo a few steps ahead. “M’good,” he says, too quickly because Leo narrows his eyes. He walks back down and stops one step lower so they’re the same height. 

“There’s no— there’s nothing to worry about. I asked Jesse to come over while we were out.” 

He nods slowly.  

“Everything’s clean, it’s all good.” 

Aiden hopes he hides his shameful relief better than his lack of understanding. “Mmm’thanks…” It’s not enough. He’ll never be enough. 

Leo holds out his arm. “All good, hon.” 

At the top of the stairs, he goes the extra mile and flicks on every light in the bathroom. The brightness hurts Aiden’s eyes but the bathroom is indeed spotless. 

Like nothing ever happened.

Leo walks him to the second bedroom, sets the glass of water on the desk and clicks on the little lamp. “I’ll get you some clean pajamas.” 

The pressure in the room changes when Leo leaves. 

Aiden’s breath comes easier, inhale and exhale deeper. The air no longer feeling finite to leave space for all the anticipation that accompanies Leo. 

But his relief is quickly spoiled by the discomfort of idleness. 

Using the desk chair for balance, he strips to his underwear, neatly folding the dirty clothes to be put in the hamper in the bathroom. He doesn’t want to see the bandages on his hand or arms, nor the gauze taped to his elbow and collarbone. Any visible trace of blood and Leo will want to check them, clean the stitches, change the bandages, ask him how he’s feeling, if he wants to take something for it and he can’t answer, he can’t look, he can’t handle having Leo examine him like that, so careful like he’s breakable when he’s done all this to himself and— 

He covers his face with his hands. Tries to pull in a deeper breath but the smell of betadine under the bandages makes his stomach churn so he lets his hands fall. 

There’s a smudge on his upper arm. Rubbing at it with his thumb does nothing. He turns to see it in the faint light coming through the window— 

It’s blood. Dried blood, all over. A ragged stripe of it snaking across his upper arms and chest. He can see it spreading, hear the drip, drip, drip of the faucet he was shaking too much to turn off completely. 

He pinches his eyes shut and shakes his head but when he opens his eyes again it’s even worse. It’s everywhere, splotches up and down his arms, all over his torso. 

Splattered all over the bright, white tiles. 

He can’t get it off. He has to get rid of it. He has to wash away the blood. 

“Scrub those tiles good and clean, ‘359.” 

No, this can’t be happening right now. 

His breath trembles and he can’t fill his lungs anymore but it doesn’t matter because the sounds of his panic have already caught Leo’s attention. 

“Aiden?” 

He spins to face Leo, bumping into the door which hits the wall and makes him jump all over again. His apology comes out as more of a strangled whine. 

“Easy.” Leo makes his movements slow and deliberate as he sets the clothes down. “It’s alright.” 

Aiden nods along. Of course it’s alright. He knows it’s alright but he still can’t seem to catch more than tiny gasps of air at a time. It’s just Leo. He’s here with Leo. He’s—

“Hey, hey, look at me.” 

Leo doesn’t try to move any closer, just holds his gaze. “That’s good, just breathe. We’ve got all the time we need. There’s no rush. Just take it easy. Take some slow, deep breaths.” 

He hates how immediately possible it is when he can hear it as a command. 

“Good, that’s good. You’re good.” 

Hates even more that he sinks his teeth right into all the warmth and relief he can get from the shallow praise, a shiver running up his spine in its wake. But it helps and he can already stand a bit straighter, think, and see a bit clearer. 

Leo waits a few more deep breaths. “All good?” 

“Mhm, m’sorry—” He clears his throat. “I—I—” He steels himself and lets his arms fall, eyes locked on Leo’s expression. 

“Ah. I didn’t think of that.” 

Leo’s frown makes his heart race. He crosses an arm over his chest, as if there might be a chance Leo can actually see the hair-trigger reactivity he’s got tonight. 

“I’ll get a washcloth with some soap, I can—” 

“Please—” he chokes out, calves hitting the bed frame. He blinks away Harrison, standing over him, cold and indifferent while he begs and cries. 

“Okay, never mind.” Aiden is still holding his breath so Leo softens his voice. “Hey, hey, easy. Not that one, okay? Forget I suggested it.” 

He drags in a strained breath. “M’sorry.” Forces himself to take a step back toward Leo.

“It’s alright, don’t be sorry. I need to know these things, it’s good you’re telling me.” 

He swallows and looks down. Unsure if he’s more ashamed that Leo has to spell it out for him or that it’s necessary at all. 

“Well, I guess a shower is the next option. What do you think?” 

Aiden nods, trying to look at least a little more composed to face the bathroom. 

“Okay,” Leo says but he doesn’t move. 

Aiden looks down again to let him think. He wants to shake out his arms, and his legs too while he’s at it. Just because he can and that’s why it helps. But he doesn’t want Leo to think he’s impatient. He’d probably tip right over anyway. 

“Sorry, okay, yeah. Just a quick shower, I’ll help you.” He turns and Aiden follows. 

It won’t be as simple as that but it’s a lie of solace they’ll cling to like a life raft. 

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@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

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@whumps-and-bumps @i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney

[thef1diary]

Anytime, Anywhere | D. Ricciardo

Kinktober 4/11 - Free Use

Summary: it didn’t matter if you were in the safety of your home or not, Daniel could have you whenever he wanted.

warnings: 18+ smut, consensual free use, unprotected sex, slight breast play, lil bit of degradation, praise kink, fingering, Daniel’s like obsessed w your cunt

please note, though not explicitly mentioned, the free use arrangement is completely consensual from both sides aka no one is doing anything they don’t want to. also, huge thank you to @emchante for proofreading this, love you loads!

wc: 4.5k

kinktober masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The kitchen is warm, filled with the comforting scent of herbs and spices simmering on the stove. You’re standing by the counter, chopping vegetables, the rhythm of the knife steady against the cutting board. It’s a quiet moment, one where you’d normally lose yourself in the task, but you can already feel Daniel’s presence approaching behind you.

“Danny, can you help me with—” The words are barely out of your mouth when you feel him press up against you from behind, his hands sliding around your waist, his chest firm. His lips find the curve of your neck instantly, peppering kisses all over.

You let out a soft sigh, tilting your head to the side to give him more access, but you try to keep your focus on the vegetables in front of you. Your movements slowed down, the rhythmic chopping faltering as his kisses grew insistent. His teeth grazed your skin lightly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Daniel…” you murmured, but there’s no hint of resistance in your voice.

“I’m right here,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low. His hands roam lower, over your hips before dipping under the hem of your skirt. His featherlight touch glides over your inner thighs before grasping on the fabric, slowly pulling it up until it’s bunched around your waist.

Your breath catches in your throat as the cool air hits your skin, and though you try to keep chopping, your focus splinters under the heat of his touch. His fingers graze over the bare skin of your hips and trailing lower, until he reaches the space where your panties should’ve been. But there’s nothing. Just you, completely exposed and ready for him.

His soft chuckle vibrates against your neck, lips still ghosting over your skin. “Good girl,” he mutters, his voice a rough whisper. The praise sends a wave of warmth through you, your cunt’s wetness slicking your thighs as evidence.

Daniel’s hand lingers between your thighs, fingers gliding over your folds with deliberate teasing strokes. Ever since the two of you had agreed on this, there was no point in wearing anything that might get in the way of what he wanted.

You’d stopped wearing panties completely, abandoning them in favor of clothing that granted him easy access whenever the mood struck. Skirts had become your uniform—simple, accessible, and a constant reminder of your submission to him. All he needed to do was lift the hem, and you were his, no flimsy barriers in place.

Over time, he’d indulge you with a wardrobe full of skirts, each one shorter than the last. With every new skirt, the tease was more potent, the air against your bare skin constantly reminding you that you were his for the taking, any time he desired.

He’d spoiled you this way, every hemline a bit more revealing, every breeze between your legs a subtle promise of what was to come. And now, as his fingers glide over your wetness, you know exactly why you’d agreed to it. The ease with which he could take control of your body was intoxicating, leaving you vulnerable in the best possible way.

His fingers part your slick folds as he dips into your wetness, collecting it on his fingertips. He hums in low approval, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. He sucks them clean, savouring the taste with a deep, satisfied groan.

Daniel’s body pressing you firmly against the counter is the only thing keeping you upright as your focus shifts from the task at hand to the overwhelming presence behind you. The rich, earthy aroma of herbs and spices simmering on the stove fades into the background, eclipsed by the intoxicating scent of Daniel—something undeniably masculine, warm, and familiar. His scent wraps around you, filling your senses as he holds you there, exposed and vulnerable.

His hand doesn’t stay idle for long. He reaches for the neckline of your shirt, fingers hooking under the fabric, and with one swift motion, he pulls it down. The cool air hits your bare chest, and your nipples harden immediately. You gasp at the sudden exposure, your body arching into the pleasure. You never bothered with bras at home, not when Daniel made it clear he preferred you without them.

“Just the way I like it,” Daniel mutters, his large hands cup your boobs, playing with the soft, supple mounds. His thumbs circle your nipples, teasing them with a featherlight touch that has you biting your lip, struggling to hold back a moan.

You suck in a sharp breath as he toys with you, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. You can feel him grinning against your neck, savouring the way your body responds to him without resistance. Your thighs tremble, wetness slicking your skin as you try, and fail, to stay focused on the task in front of you.

“Drop the knife,” he commands, his voice barely above a whisper, but the authority in it is undeniable. The tone sends a shiver down your spine, your fingers instantly loosening their grip on the handle. The knife clatters to the counter, forgotten as his hands slide down your body with purpose. Compliance comes easily, a reflex born out of the silent understanding between you.

He grips your hips, tugging you with him as he takes a few steps back, pressing your ass against his clothed cock. His rough palms spread your cheeks apart, and you hear the low groan of approval as he watches your arousal drip down your pussy and onto your thighs.

“Fuck,” Daniel muttered, his voice thick with lust. “Look at you… already so wet.”

You whimper, the sound barely leaving your throat as his fingers brush lightly over your folds, spreading your wetness further. You can feel him watching you, the intensity of his gaze heavy as he marvels at the way your body responds to him. You don’t dare to move, don’t even think of it, not when you know exactly what’s coming next.

Without warning, he reaches forward and swipes the cutting board out of the way, sending the vegetables scattering. His grip on your hips tightens as he bends you over the counter, pressing your chest flat against the cool surface. The sudden shift makes your breath hitch, and you brace yourself, palms splayed out on the flat surface beside you, your body already trembling with anticipation.

Daniel wastes no time. His hands grip your hips firmly, and you can feel the rough fabric of his jeans grazing against the back of your thighs. He hadn’t even bothered to take them off completely, too desperate to get inside you. The sensation of the denim biting into your skin is the only warning you get before he pushes into you—thick, unrelenting, and all at once.

A gasp escapes your lips, sharp and breathless, as your mouth falls open in shock. He stretches you to the limit, filling you completely in one brutal thrust.

“That’s it,” he growls, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, holding you in place. “Take it.”

The pleasure is immediate and overwhelming, your body instinctively arching to meet his rough thrusts. Each movement is purposeful, brutal, and all-consuming. You can feel how desperate he is to claim you, to remind you of exactly who you belong to. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the kitchen, mixed with your broken moans and the low groans coming from Daniel.

His hand moves down to your ass, spreading you wider as he watches himself disappear inside you, over and over again. The filthy sound of your slickness meeting each thrust fills the room, and he curses under his breath, eyes locked on the sight.

“You’re s’good for me,” Daniel grunts, pounding into you harder. “So eager to let me use you.”

Your mind blanks, your nails scraping against the countertop as you nod frantically, unable to form a coherent response. The only thing grounding you is the feeling of him inside you, fucking you like he owns you—and in this moment, he does.

“Fuck, Daniel…” you moan, voice shaky, barely audible over the sound of his cock thrusting into you.

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back, lips brushing against your ear. “You were made for this,” he muttered, his pace quickening, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Made to be fucked like this. Mine to take whenever I want.”

His words send you spiraling, your body tightening around him as the pleasure builds to a breaking point. He can feel it, too, the way your pussy clenches around his cock, and it only spurs him on, his hips slamming into yours.

“You gonna cum for me?” he breathes, his voice ragged with exertion. His hand snakes between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that push you over the edge. “Cum all over my cock.”

It’s too much. The heat of his body, the roughness of his voice, the relentless pace—it all crashes over you in a wave of ecstasy. Your body shakes violently as you fall apart beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you, leaving you breathless and trembling as you moan his name.

Daniel isn’t far behind. With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his grip on your hips bruising as he groans, spilling inside you. The sound of his release sends one last shudder of pleasure through your body, your mind blissfully blank as he slowly pulls out, leaving you empty and spent.

You collapse against the counter, your legs shaky and weak, trying to catch your breath. Daniel stands behind you, his hands still gripping your hips as he leans down, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Now, what did you need help with?”

— — —

The gym is filled with the pounding beat of Daniel’s workout playlist, the bass reverberating off the walls. It’s a fast-paced mix, perfectly matching the intensity of his solo workout. Sweat clings to his skin, muscles flexing with every movement as he powers through his sets. He’s deep in the zone, the rhythm of the music syncing with the repetition of lifting, his breath steady and controlled.

You step in quietly, drawn by the sound of the music and the sight of Daniel’s toned body moving effortlessly through his routine. You don’t acknowledge him, knowing full well he’s focused on his workout, and head to the far corner of the gym, rolling out your mat. You’re dressed in a tight workout set—shorts that hug your curves and a sports bra that offers little in the way of modesty. It’s an outfit you’ve worn many times before, but today it feels different.

You drop into a series of stretches, starting with a deep forward bend, reaching for your toes. As you move, the tight fabric of your shorts clings to your skin in a way that’s impossible to ignore. The material molds to every curve of your body, hugging your thighs and pressing against your bare pussy—because you hadn’t bothered with panties. Or rather, you weren’t allowed to. Not when Daniel made it clear that panties were unnecessary.

With every stretch, the fabric pulls tighter against your cunt, the friction sending an unintentional wave of heat through you. You shift your hips, trying to focus on loosening your muscles, but it’s hard to ignore the way the material rubs against your bare skin, each movement causing a small pulse of arousal to build inside you.

You spread your legs wider, sinking deeper into the stretch, your mind momentarily focused on the satisfying pull in your hamstrings. But as your body shifts, you’re unaware of just how exposed you are. The tight material catches between your lips, pressing into your folds so much that it feels like you’re barely wearing anything at all.

You think it’s just the lack of underwear that’s making you feel so bare, convinced the sensation is all in your head. What you don’t realize is how truly visible you are—your pussy completely framed and outlined by your shorts, the thin fabric offering almost no coverage. It clings to every detail, highlighting the shape of your folds, as if the material is struggling to keep anything hidden. It’s almost obscene, the way your cunt is on display, but you remain oblivious, stretching and moving as if you’re not practically naked.

In reality, it would be better if you were completely nude, because at least then, the exposure would be intentional.

Daniel notices. He’s been watching you from the moment you walked in, his eyes tracking every movement as you stretch. The way your muscles flex and your body moves, wrapped in that tight workout set, has his blood running hot.

Daniel watches you with a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips, eyes glued to the sight between your spread legs. He’s more than pleased—thrilled, really—that even here, outside the privacy of your home, you follow his rule without hesitation. No panties. It may be a private gym, secluded and safe, but it’s the principle that gets him going. You’re obedient, even when you don’t realize just how exposed you are.

The music blares in the background, but it’s nothing compared to the sudden surge of desire that courses through him. His workout forgotten, Daniel sets down his weights and strides toward you, his eyes never leaving the curve of your ass as you drop to all fours in another stretch. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t announce his presence; he just watches, drawn to how the material of your shorts has ridden up, caught between your legs, displaying the full shape of your cunt.

You don’t hear him approach. Too focused on the burning stretch in your muscles, you arch your back, completely unaware that Daniel is standing right behind you. That is, until you feel it—his large, warm hand cups your pussy through your shorts, pressing with deliberate, unrelenting pressure. The shock of it sends a gasp spilling from your lips, and your body freezes at the sudden, unexpected contact.

“Daniel,” you gasp, your voice barely audible over the thumping music.

He doesn’t respond with words, only action. His grip tightens as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles through the material. His other hand grips your hip, keeping you steady as his fingers play with you, nudging your swollen clit with the same practiced ease that has your breath hitching.

The sensation is maddening, the rough drag of the fabric against your sensitive skin making it impossible to think straight. Your legs part wider instinctively, inviting him to do more, to take what he wants. His fingers trace along your slit, running up and down your folds, gathering the wetness that has seeped through your shorts.

Just as you’re sure he’s going to pull your shorts down and give you what your body craves, Daniel surprises you. With a swift, rough motion, he yanks your shorts even tighter against your pussy, pulling the material harshly up between your lips. The pressure is immediate and intense, the fabric digging into your clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you that rips a moan from your throat. Your body arches into his touch, completely at his mercy.

“Look at you,” he growls softly, his voice laced with a filthy edge. “So fucking desperate, you should’ve just walked in with your pussy out, ready for me.”

His grip still firm on the waistband, keeping the material taut against your cunt, while his other hand slides down, giving your pussy a light tap, making you gasp as the sharp sting of pleasure mixes with the aching need that’s building between your legs. The second and third time he brings his fingers down, it’s directed at your clit protruding through the tightened fabric, each gentle slap sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

But just as quickly as it began, it’s over. Daniel steps back, his touch disappearing, leaving you panting, your body buzzing with unfulfilled desire. You glance over your shoulder, expecting him to continue, to fill your cunt—instead, he’s already walking back to his weights as if nothing happened.

The heat between your legs throbs, the feeling of his hands lingering long after he’s let go. You’re left hot and bothered, your pussy slick and swollen, but Daniel doesn’t seem to care. This is what he likes most about your arrangement — it’s not always about him using you to get off. No, sometimes it’s about watching you fall apart under his touch, teasing you until you’re aching for more and then forcing you to return to your mundane tasks as if nothing ever happened.

You finish your stretches, the lingering heat from Daniel’s touch burning in your skin, the wetness between your legs undeniable. Your shorts are already sticking to you, soaked from when his fingers slid over your slit. It’s hard to focus on anything else, but you need to move on, to pretend like you’re not dripping wet and aching for him to finish what he started.

Taking a deep breath, you walk over to the weights, setting yourself up for squats, your body instinctively falling into the rhythm of the workout. The bar rests heavy on your shoulders as you lower yourself, the strain of your muscles distracting you only for a moment from the throbbing between your legs.

You bite your lip, trying to concentrate, but the sensation is impossible to ignore, the fabric no longer doing anything to hide how turned on you are.

You can’t ignore Daniel’s presence, no matter how hard you try to focus on your workout. It’s like a thick, lustful cloud surrounding you, suffocating your concentration with every heavy breath he takes. Every grunt, every clink of metal as he lifts weights echoes through the gym over the music, making your core tighten with each sound. He had taken his shirt off now, sweat glistening over the hard planes of his chest, his muscles flexing with every movement.

You pretend to keep your focus, but you can feel it—the weight of his gaze burning into your skin. He’s watching you. Waiting.

You lower yourself again, your muscles quivering with the effort, but it’s not the workout that’s making your legs tremble. It’s the slick heat between your thighs, the way your soaked shorts cling to your skin, rubbing against your clit with every movement.

You feel his presence before you see him, the space between you shrinking as he steps closer. By the time you rise from your squat, Daniel is right in front of you, his eyes dark with intent. He doesn’t waste a second—his hands move instantly, cupping your tits through your sports bra as you try to finish your set. His fingers knead the sensitive flesh, thumbs brushing over your already hard nipples, making you gasp and falter under the weight of both the bar and his touch.

“You really think I’m going to let you finish this workout?” Daniel’s voice is low, husky, dripping with lust. “Not with the way you walked in here practically bare.”

Your breath hitches, legs shaking as his hands roam over your body. You try to maintain control, to focus on the bar resting on your shoulders, but the way Daniel’s fingers trace along your sides, slipping down to your waist, makes it impossible to concentrate. He’s everywhere, his touch overwhelming, possessive.

“Save your energy, baby,” he murmurs, leaning in close until his lips brush your ear. “You’re going to need it. You know I’m not stopping until you’re dripping in this fucking gym.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat surging through you, your cunt throbbing in response.

You shakily place the weight back into its spot, and as soon as your hands are free, they instinctively reach out to him, sliding over his sweat-slicked chest. The hard muscles beneath his skin flex under your palms, and you can’t help but bite your lip as you trace the lines of his abs, your mind already fogging with lust.

Daniel grabs your wrists, pulling you closer with a wicked grin, guiding you towards a workout bench. Your back meets the padded surface as he presses you down onto the bench. His hands move with purpose, pushing your thighs apart until you’re splayed open for him, your cunt visibly outlined by the damp fabric of your shorts.

Daniel’s fingers find the soaked material between your legs, pulling the fabric away from your dripping cunt, and pinching it until the wetness coats his fingertips.

His eyes darken as he looks at you. “Let’s make this easier, hmm?”

With a sudden, sharp motion, he tears the fabric right over your pussy, the sound of it ripping echoing through the gym now that his playlist had ended. The cool air hits your exposed, dripping cunt, making you shiver, but it’s Daniel’s fingers that make you gasp. He wastes no time, slipping two fingers between your folds, gathering your slickness as he drags them over your clit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispers, his voice thick with lust as he circles your clit with slow, teasing strokes. His other hand slides up your body, pinching your nipple through your bra, sending a fresh wave of heat flooding your core. “You’re going to take whatever I give you, aren’t you? Right here, on this bench.”

Your body arches into his touch, legs spreading wider as you nod frantically, unable to form words. The thought of being taken right there, out in the open, dripping all over the equipment, makes your cunt throb with anticipation.

Daniel chuckles darkly, leaning down to nip at your ear as his fingers keep torturing your swollen clit. “Good girl. Now stay still, because I’m not stopping until you’re soaked in more than just sweat.”

In one fluid motion, Daniel pulls his cock out, thick and heavy in his hand, and the sight alone makes your walls clench in anticipation. He positions himself, the tip teasing the wetness between your folds, just barely brushing against your sensitive, slick skin. You’re so ready, your body practically begging for him, your pussy already pulsing with need as he slowly pushes into you. Inch by inch, he fills you through the hole in your torn shorts, stretching you in the most delicious way.

A guttural moan escapes you, your body trembling as he sinks deeper, the sensation of his cock sliding into your tight warmth overwhelming your senses. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, filling you completely, your walls hugging him snugly. For a moment, all you can feel is the way he fits so perfectly inside you, leaving you breathless and needy.

Daniel’s grip on your waist tightens, and he starts to move, his hips rolling into you with a slow but intense rhythm. Each thrust sends a shockwave of pleasure through you, driving deeper with every motion. His fingers find your swollen clit again, rubbing in circles that match the pace of his hips, the pressure building with each stroke.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, your moans growing desperate, your body arching off the bench as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside you. He holds your legs apart, his thrusts becoming more intense, more deliberate, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you. The tension builds, and you can feel it—you’re about to squirt.

He pulls out just before you lose control. He taps your soaked cunt with his cock, the sensation almost too much as he rubs your clit, coaxing the orgasm out of you.

Your body shudders violently, and you cry out as your juices gush from you, soaking his cock and thighs. He keeps rubbing your clit, pushing you to the edge of overstimulation, making you gush even more. The wetness pools beneath you, and just when you think you can’t take any more, he slides back inside you in one swift thrust.

The feeling of him filling you again, his cock sliding through your slickness, sends you spiraling. He doesn’t hold back now, each thrust harder and faster than the last. Your body trembles, on the brink of another orgasm as he pounds into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke.

“Come on, cum for me,” Daniel growls, his voice strained as he drives deeper, feeling your walls flutter around him. “I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

You can’t hold back any longer. Your body tenses, and with a broken moan, you fall over the edge, your cunt clenching tight around him as your orgasm rips through you. The pleasure is blinding, waves of heat crashing over you as your body spasms uncontrollably beneath him.

With one last deep thrust, Daniel groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he fills you, his cock pulsing as he spills into you, the heat of his cum mixing with your own. He holds you there, completely still for a moment, his cock twitching inside you as you both come down from the high.

When Daniel finally pulls out, the sensation of emptiness makes you whimper, and almost immediately, his cum begins to leak from the torn hole in your shorts. The warmth of it drips down onto the padded surface beneath you, mixing with your own slickness. Your legs are still spread wide, your body trembling, utterly spent and exposed.

Daniel stands over you, his eyes roaming over your flushed skin, your trembling thighs, and the mess between your legs. A satisfied smirk curls his lips. “Guess you’re gonna need to change,” he says, his voice low and teasing, like this is all part of some game you didn’t realize you were playing.

Still catching your breath, you blink up at him, the haze of pleasure lingering in your mind. “Shit… I didn’t bring a change of clothes,” you manage to murmur, your heart racing at the realization.

Daniel’s eyes darken with amusement, and he shrugs, completely unfazed. “No worries,” he says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “You can walk home like that, shower later.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, your pulse quickening at the thought of leaving like this, with a torn hole in your shorts and his cum leaking out of you. “You want me to walk home with my pussy out? You ripped my shorts, Daniel. I can’t walk around like this!”

He chuckles, stepping closer, his fingers tracing the edges of the torn fabric. “You were such a good girl for me, coming here without panties, knowing damn well how easy it’d be for me to get inside you. And now? Since you forgot a change of clothes, you’re gonna have to walk home like the little slut you are, with my cum leaking out of you and that hole in your shorts.”

taglist: @thenotoriouserg @cheer-bear-go-vroom @ggaslyp1 @nominsgirl @moll1701 @mrs-saturday @teamnovalak @sassy-chan @ruti26-11 @kennysimp101 @falling-feels-like-flying @laeblue @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bountychanti @savewaterdrinkvodka @cloud-55 @aarchiives @holylovercopsludge @black-fireproofs @lazydragonpeach @biancathecool @myownwritings @rebelatbay @ethereal0810 @leclercsluvs @01rrdbull @fallingforfalll2 @lilorose25

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 17 - Drunk Sex]

Pairing: Good Boy!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: new relationship!AU, Idol!Yoongi

Kinks: sex in his studio, romantic vanilla sex, consensual drunk sex, some dirty talk, lots of giggles and kisses, a quick breast worship cause it’s Yoongi, safe vaginal penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, dry humping, thigh riding, use of a vibrator, talks about male masturbation, he talks about using her moans in songs, Amazon position, they’re just drunk and horny and in love <3, he is The Man, like i need him so bad emotionally

Wordcount: 5.9k

a/n: if you voice me a wish of vanilla studio sex with some spice sprinkled on top, i take out my pen and deliver because i’m in a fact a whore for studio sex <3 fuckk i need to eat this Yoongi with a spoon no joke 🖤 i also miss him a lot :(

He makes you laugh. He is funny, you really think that he is. His laugh is also addictive. Deep, unless you match his humour just right and it turns into a squeak. You love laughing with him. You have been doing so for quite some hours today, sharing food and beer in his studio. You can feel the effects of the alcohol by now. It’s warm and fuzzy and dulls your boundaries a little. You don’t feel the need to force your senses to stay sharp. Not in his presence. He is safe and kind and sweet. Home, that’s what he has become. 

And right now, he is also incredibly cute in your eyes. He is wearing a yellow sweater and brown pants and he clearly did his hair. It’s because he knew that you would be coming over for dinner. He smells like masculine cologne and he wears rings on his fingers. He put effort into himself because you deserve nothing less. He is very attractive and beyond tempting, but most of all, he is cute. 

You stop laughing, completely engrossed in his face and how it moves when he smiles. 

Yoongi notices your change of attitude instantly, fumbling with his earlobe.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes suddenly struggling to upkeep contact.

“It’s just that”, you scoot closer, brushing the back of your hand down his cheek.

Yoongi’s breath hitches, his heart speeds up in his chest. 

“Your cheeks become red when you’re drunk. It’s such a pretty shade.” 

“Uhm”, Yoongi looks to the side. He stumbles for words and ends up laughing breathily instead. He clears his throat, scooting to the edge of the sofa to reach for his glass of beer. 

You smile, resting back against the sofa with your head on the edge of the backrest and your eyes glued to him. You giggle.

He glances at you and looks away, taking a big sip of beer. When you don’t stop looking at him, he finally speaks up.

“Don’t look at me for so long. I don’t know how to handle it”, he is pouting and using a cute voice for it.

“I can’t help it. I think that you’re so cute.”

He flusters, rubbing the side of his neck. 

“Okay”, he mumbles, eating a piece of fried chicken to distract himself from his nerves. The chicken is cold by now and he isn’t really hungry so it seems to never end in his mouth. He gulps it down when he suddenly feels your hands on his arms, feeling him up, touching him. Your kiss is placed on the round part of his shoulder. 

“Your shyness is very attractive. It makes me wanna ravish you.”

“___, oh my god”, he gasps, meeting your eyes because your statement shocked him. 

You simply flutter your lashes and smile playfully.

“Why are you saying this?” 

“Why not? It’s the truth.” 

“Yeah well, even if…oh my god.”

You laugh, closing the distance by putting your legs over his lap sideways and hugging his chest. 

You kiss his cheek, “I can’t get enough of you, Min Yoongi.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“Mhm, as are you.” 

He clears his throat awkwardly, rubbing his own ear again. You decide to match him by nibbling on his other ear. 

“Woah”, he gets out, tilting his head back as a surprise shiver shakes his body. He moves away instantly, widened eyes meeting yours. 

“Did you like that?” you ask him, playing with his earlobe. It feels so soft and squishy between your fingers.

“___, I don’t know what you’re trying to do but we have to stop.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t wanna take advantage of you. You drank and your boundaries are down and I…I’m not that kind of man. I like you, a lot, and I care about you. I mean, not that I would take advantage of you if I didn’t feel for you like this, but I just. I guess, I just, what I wanna say is that I’m not one of those guys that get excited when a woman is visibly drunk.” 

“I know. I never thought that you were. You’re kind, sweet, respectful and a total gentleman. I trust you, Min Yoongi. I feel safe with you.”

“Please just call me Yoongi.”

“Well, I trust you Yoongi. And I like you a lot too.”

"You do?” 

You change the way you sit so you can talk. You and he haven’t seen each other for long. This is all new and exciting. You had your first kiss already, your first cuddle and shared some intimate moments with each other. But all of this is still new. The big L word hasn’t fallen yet although both of you burn to say it. You also haven’t really gone official to the people who matter. Your friends and family and Yoongi’s in return. You don’t want to give other people a chance to ruin this. Your last relationships have been a while for either of you and you both agree that the last one didn’t feel like this. It didn’t feel so electric and right and almost cosmical. As if some higher power brought you and him together. When you are together, nothing really matters and everything seems so much brighter. Yoongi only has a good morning when he can wish you a nice day at work and in return gets to read your funny morning texts. You swear you start to taste his kisses with every sip of coffee because so often he tastes like coffee when he kisses you. Sometimes Yoongi stops and stares when something reminds him of you and he always has to take a picture and send it to you. Sometimes you stumble upon a stray cat and see Yoongi in it and you always have to send him a picture as well. You and he became parts of each other’s days and build little houses in each other’s hearts. And it feels good and right to both of you.

“Of course I like you”, you say, taking his hand to kiss his knuckles, “I think you’re the most exciting yet mundane thing that has ever happened to me.”

He chuckles, squeezing your hand. 

“I’m serious. You make my heart race and at the same time, you calm me down like no one else has ever done.” 

“That’s…” He lowers his head. “Actually such a sweet thing to say. Thank you.”

You flip his hand and push his sweater sleeve up to reveal his wrist. The scent of his cologne lingers on it. You inhale deeply and kiss his wrist. 

Yoongi gasps, heart almost jumping out of his throat.

“I mean it. You’re like my everything currently. You’re every single thought taking up my mind”, you say and guide your kisses further up his arm. The skin of his inner arm is so soft and smells like him. Kissing it makes you droopy. 

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say, but his head is turning. His breath speeds up, his skin tingles. He is really sensitive on his inner arm and your kisses feel electric on his skin.

You manage to kiss him as far as his elbow and then the jumper punches up too much to go up any further. You nuzzle your nose into the slope of his elbow, sucking on his skin gently. 

Yoongi sighs. 

The sound makes you lift your head. You pull his sweater down mindlessly, holding the hem of his sleeve as your eyes race between his’. 

His pupils are slightly widened, his cheeks are even more flushed. He is gazing, looking utterly bewitched and droopy.

“I feel the same”, his voice doesn’t want to go above a breathy whisper. With a warm timbre such as his’, it is very attractive. “It’s all new to me. These feelings. I’ve never felt like this before. You are in my mind all day and night and it’s so good. I can’t get enough of it and of you.” 

“You can’t?” 

His eyes flit to your lips. He shakes his head, mouthing an honest “I can’t.”

You close the distance. His lids lower, his nose brushes yours. 

“Are you really sure?” he whispers.

“I’m really sure. Are you sure too? I’m not that type of woman either who gets off on taking advantage of a drunk guy. If I came across as such, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

“You didn’t. I know that you’re safe. I feel, uhm, I guess I feel safe in wanting to be myself with you when it comes to, you know, sex.” 

You snicker, rubbing your nose against his’ in a sign of affection. He closes his eyes, enjoying it with a sweet sigh.

“You’re so cute. You always get shy the moment we talk about sex. You rap about making people cum with your tongue, but you’re different behind closed doors.”

“It’s ‘cause I like you, I get nervous.”

“Why? It’s just me.”

“Exactly. I don’t wanna disappoint.”

“You’re not. Sometimes when I’m trying to sleep, I keep thinking about what we did and I get excited about the next time.”

He sighs your name softly, eyes gazing at your lips so longingly the distance even hurts you unbearably. You heal yourselves by breaking the distance and kissing his lips.

Yoongi moans your name, cupping your cheeks and kissing you back eagerly. Your initial plan was to break it after a short second to build tension, but you can’t bring yourself to do so now that it is actually happening. You love kissing him. You could do it all day. 

There was a day where you almost did. He came over after work and then spent the night. You and he weren’t ready for sex back then, but you both felt comfortable in making out. You barely left the bed the next morning, spending hours kissing each other. It was so amazing.

He has the perfect lips for it as well. Soft and always moisturized. The shapes of them are beautiful. They fit his face as if they were made just for him, they are pouty and delicate and yet plump as well. When he applies lip balm, his lower lip always moves with the balm before it bounces back into place. When he talks, he tends to pout with his upper lip. When he sleeps, he keeps them slightly parted and when he smiles, they curl back to make space for his teeth and gums. You could fill books with poems about them. Never in your life have you been more smitten with a pair of lips than his’. 

To kiss them and have them kiss you back, is true heaven. Tonight it is tainted by the encouraging power of alcohol. It isn’t long until Yoongi darts his tongue out to trace your lips. You instantly part them, meeting his tongue with your own. 

He gasps, breaking the kiss surprisingly. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yes, I am. I fucking am”, he breathes, pulling you back into the kiss.

You moan softly, pushing him back onto the leather couch. Yoongi falls with a purr, feeling electric tingles in his crotch when you claim the space between his legs and scratch your nails over his scalp softly. Yoongi nudges your leg with his own just obviously enough that you break the kiss.

“Too much?” 

“No, just…I’m here if you need something too”, he whispers, gazing up at you devotedly.

“You say such sexy stuff, damn”, you get out and kiss him. You take up his offer, changing positions so you could grind on his thigh. You make sure to keep one knee against his own crotch, hoping that he likes it. 

He does. He likes it. All of it. He likes your weight on him and how warm you feel between your legs. He likes how your knee grinds against his crotch because it feels fucking electric to him. He likes kissing you, holding you and touching you and being touched in return. Oh, he really likes you.

Yoongi purrs, running his big hands up and down your back. He lingers on the parts which are softest, kneading and squeezing them as if he wanted to memorise how it feels to hold you. It makes you burn up like crazy. It also makes you breathless, forcing you to break the kiss you don’t want to break. Yoongi chases you with parted lips and a sigh of your name. 

“Sorry, air, hah”, you breathe, giggling shyly.

Yoongi chuckles, lips curling into a lopsided smile, “yeah ”, he lulls, voice rumbling in his chest.

You snicker and bury your nose in his cheek, “I’m dizzy. Closing my eyes really made it obvious that I’m drunk.” 

“Same. Did you change your mind?”

“No. You?”

“No.” 

“Mhm”, you hum and feel the consuming need to kiss his neck. The scent of his cologne drives you crazy, you need to eat it off of him until your tongue knows how he tastes. 

Yoongi gasps, tensing up for a second before an aggressive shudder turns his entire body limp. He moans throatily, rolling his head to the side. 

You claim the newfound space instantly, kissing his skin as much as you lick it. The alcohol lowers your shame and makes you bold. You kissed his neck before, but not like this. You are sloppy and messy. Yoongi swears he might pass out from light headedness. It feels unbelievable, turning him on like nothing else. 

The only way he can handle it is by grabbing your buttocks and giving them a squeeze. You whimper softly, lips stuttering on his neck and hips trying to chase his touch. Yoongi slides his hand between your legs to test the waters.

“Yoongi”, you sigh, making him shiver with a moan against his ear and your tongue tracing the shape of it. Your hips grind down on his hand, giving him all the knowledge he needed. He moves on his own, rubbing your sweet warmth over the fabric of your pants.

You shudder, fingers twisting his hair gently. It doesn’t hurt, it simply makes his scalp tingle like crazy. The quiet moans you let out, he answers in a throaty purr. The giggle you produce in reaction to it, he answers with a chuckle. 

You lift your head, meeting his droopy eyes just as droopily. His hair is messy at the top because you played with it. His neck is glistening where you licked and kissed it. Your heart flutters, your stomach does too. You make a sound and grab his hair to tilt his head back and therefore reveal his throat to you. He allows you, purring deeply when you swirl your tongue up his sensitive throat. His voice tickles so nicely that you have to do it again and again and again and again until it naturally evolves into you kissing your way to the side of his neck along his jawline. Yoongi rolls his head to the side gladly, lungs working overtime to breathe and head turning incurably. The shivers reach their peak when you take his earlobe between your teeth to tug on it softly. Yoongi writhes under you, arching his back to bear what you make him feel. You never had him arch his back before so this is ruining you. You lift your lips, having to look at his face. It is flushed beyond repair, contrasting deliciously against his love marked neck.

“Did that feel good to you?” you ask him, breathing heavily as you wait for his answer. His hand doesn’t move right now, resting on your pussy. It feels so warm.

“Everything does”, he breathes out. 

“You arched your back.” 

Shyness washes over his features, he looks to the side. You make him look at you with two fingers under his chin. His lips part in awe, his eyes cloud over in devotion. 

“I want to go further. Do you want it too?” you ask him.

“I do.” 

You sit up and hook your finger under your shirt. Yoongi sits up as well, doing the same with his jumper. You throw your pieces of clothing to the floor at the same time, looking at each other. 

“Weren’t you hot?” you snicker, tugging on the fabric of the white t-shirt he wore under the jumper.

“I actually wasn’t. I was cozy”, he throws back sassily because he knows that you share his sense of humour and see it as him being playful.

You snicker, scrunching your nose. 

Yoongi smiles at you and hooks his fingers in his shirt to take it off as well. When he reappears again, he is greeted with your naked breasts and your eyes looking at him expectantly. 

“Wow okay”, he lets out, staring in awe. He stays completely still, making you laugh.

“Did you turn into a statue?” 

“Huh? I uh, no”, he shakes off his paralysation. “Sorry, you’re just so beautiful. I can’t believe that you’re real.” 

“You’re beautiful too. Can I?” 

“Yes. Can I?” 

“Yes please”, you allow him, placing your hands on his chest to feel him up. 

Yoongi purrs deeply, wrapping his arms around you to pull you close. Sadly your hands have to slip to his shoulders for now, but you don’t mind because he makes you fucking arch your back and roll your head back with the way he worships your chest. His left hand is between your shoulder blades, while his right hand is between your legs, rubbing your warmth. The fabric is soaked by now. It turns him on so much. He moans and purrs, kissing and licking your breasts as if they were everything he needed to survive. Yoongi kissed your chest before, but not like this. Not with so much tongue and so sloppily. The alcohol makes him brave and bold, resulting in you almost wanting to cry from how good it feels. 

“You’re so beautiful”, he sighs, giving your nipples a break when they are swollen and sensitive. He marks your collarbones with his love instead, tastes your shoulders and repays the favour to your neck.

You collapse into him, knocking his nose into your neck and a laugh out of him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, hugging you when you hug him first. 

“I don’t know. Just haven’t felt so good with anyone before.” 

His heart speeds up. 

“I feel the same.”

“You do?” 

“Yeah”, he says and giggles cutely.  

It breaks you instantly and you match his drunk giggles. You and he hug and giggle, riding on the drunken waves of dizzy heads and giddy hearts.

He mewls and lifts his head by nuzzling into you first. It’s like a cat that asks for affection. 

“I’ll sound like a jerk, but can we go further?” 

“You don’t sound like a jerk when I want the same.”

“Really?” 

You nod your head. He lets out a breathy laugh, eyes widening in emotion. You smile and cradle his cheeks, pulling him into a giddy kiss. Just one more before you and he get naked. He accepts it happily, sighing and purring as his lips dance with yours. Like always when you break the kiss, he chases you. He is lovely like this. 

“It’s torture when you break the kiss”, he chuckles. 

“I know”, you snicker, “it’s for a greater good.” 

“Mhm fuck, I hope.”

You climb off his lap, almost face planting the floor if he didn’t hold your hips instantly.

“Are you okay?” 

You laugh, nodding your head. 

“Just dizzy as fuck.” 

“Sit down please, I don’t want you to fall.”

“I’m okay. Look”, you get on one foot to take off your pants. You lose balance and end up jumping around the small space between the couch and the coffee table as you try to take off your pants. 

Yoongi stumbles to his feet, calling your name and drunkenly wrapping his arms around you from behind. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, please”, he pleads, kissing your shoulder and neck. 

“I’m alright”, you sigh, taking off your pants with his support while your body feels electric. Yoongi has stronger arms than one might think at first. To have them around you as he drunkenly ravishes your neck is making you dizzy. 

“You can let go of me now, I’m naked.” 

“Can I feel?”

You gulp, nodding your head. Yoongi was never that bold before. You might ascend to a higher plain if he keeps being like this. 

Yoongi dances the flat of his palm down the middle of your torso. He stops. He takes your earlobe between his teeth. He tugs and moves his hand quickly, connecting it with your dripping heat. 

“Ah!” you moan loudly, arching your back. You throw your hand over your mouth, trying to muffle yourself.

“It’s okay. My studio is soundproof. No one can hear us”, he whispers, voice tickling your ear as his long fingers part your folds in a slow and sensual massage. 

You drop your hand, using it to grab the back of his neck instead. He melts closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He plays with your dripping entrance, increasing the speed of your pulse.

“And you don’t have to hold back for my sake. Just let it all out, please”, he says, making you moan by burying two fingers in your aching walls. He presses the heel of his palm to your clit, applying warm pressure as he curls his fingers inside you. They are so long that he easily reaches your best spots.

“A-ah, ahm, ah…”

“Don’t hold back, please. You sound so sweet”, he purrs, curling his fingers just right. You are throbbing around him, feeling so warm and soft. He goes crazy at the sensations, aching to replace his fingers with his cock.

You mewl softly, hips trembling on his hand and fingers leaving red marks on his neck. Yoongi fingered you before and quite frankly, you still haven’t properly recovered from that first time. His hands are too sexy. Masculine, strong, big and veiny. Yet at the same time, they are so tender and careful and touch you with such gentleness. They are also very flexible and have way too much stamina to offer. Quite frankly, your legs never shook as hard as they did when he first fingered you.

“Ah, wow, oh wow, ah…”

“I love your sounds”, he drags his words, which is way too sexy, “makes me wanna record them and put them in a song.” 

“Wait this is”, you croak, knees buckling.

“Too far?” He pulls out. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s just a lot to handle on my drunk legs. You’re so sexy right now.” 

He chuckles. You snicker, turning in his arms. You put your hands on his chest. He touches your lower back, gazing into your eyes. There is a constant warm throbbing between your legs. And an ache only he could fill.

“You never talked like this before.”

“Blame the alcohol.”

You and he share drunk giggles and soft touches. 

“Can I undress you?” 

“Yes please.” 

You snicker, making him snicker too. You and he sway drunkenly as you begin fumbling with his pants, not once breaking eye contact. You are trapped in a dance between little distance and more distance between your lips, but never take the last step to kiss. It’s addicting to share space and air and moans but to never give in to temptation. 

Soon his pants are open and you push them down over his round butt. He steps out of them, almost face planting the floor if you weren’t holding his arms so tightly.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“It is. Fuck, I’m so drunk”, he laughs and hugs your waist, swaying with you to the melody of your beating hearts.

“Me too”, you chuckle, playing with his hair. 

He smiles, kisses your forehead before he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. You sigh, eyes closing from the loving affection. 

“You’re really sure about this?” he asks.

“I’ve never been so sure about anything. You?”

“I’m so sure. Just don’t expect a genius performance in my state. I think my hips are gonna have a mind of their own and forget how thrusting works in the middle of it.”

You snicker, letting him taste your next words by brushing your lips against his’.

“Then let me do the moving.” 

“Are you serious?” he almost whimpers the words, knees buckling. 

“Mhm very.”

Yoongi moans your name, trying to kiss you at the same time. You snicker, twisting his hair, lips parted and eyes half lidded. This is keeping you alive like nothing else. 

“Is that okay for me to do?” 

“More than okay.” 

“Then sit down”, you say and push at his chest gently. 

Yoongi falls clumsily, grunting in surprise. His eyes are comically big. 

“Oh! Sorry, are you okay?” You gasp. “I didn’t mean to push you that hard. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just got weak in the knees”, he assures you and laughs with you. 

“God, you’re so cute.” You climb his lap, playing with his hair and stubbing his face with your nose.

“You know that I need to get a condom first?” he smiles as he talks. 

“Then get it.” 

“I can’t do that when you’re on top of me.”

“Right”, you say and giggle, “shit, you’re right.”

You climb off his lap again, gazing at him as he waddles to his desk. He is still wearing his briefs. His butt looks so good in them. He bends down to open the second drawer of his desk. He grabs more than a condom.

“What else did you get?” 

He turns, showing off the black vibrator and lube proudly.

“Why do you have a vibrator in your studio?” you gasp.

“For when I get needy.”

“You use this stuff on yourself!?” 

“Yes? Why not?” he asks, cocking his brow up in question.

“It’s just really hot. Damn. So you’re telling me that you jerked off here before?” 

“Way too many times”, he confesses and chuckles.

“Hot. Wow hot. Damn.” 

He grins shyly.

“Do you want me to use it on you?” you ask him.

“If you want to, but it’s for you. If you need a little more to get there. Don’t worry, I sterilize my toys after each use.” 

“You’re so hot, holy fuck.” 

Yoongi steps out of his briefs and opens the condom, rolling it on his cock. You gulp, salivating like crazy. You never wanted him more than you do right now. 

“You’re so hot, oh my god. What the hell”, you murmur under your breath, making him chuckle. Your constant praise makes him confident so he gives his cock a few jerks just for show, purring deeply.

“Yoongi, oh my god, you’re so hot.”

“You’re hot too. Like a lot.”

“Oh my god, I wanna fuck you.”

He sits down and holds his cock straight for you. 

“Please? Do?” he begs with cute puppy eyes. 

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Can I do something new with you?” 

“I didn’t clean out my butt if you’re suggesting that.” 

“What? Hot, but not what I”, you snicker and close the distance, “we have to talk about butt stuff another time, I might bust if we do that now.”

He laughs, eyes filled with fondness.

“Okay. What are you thinking then?” he asks.

“I’ll just show you, okay?” 

“Yes, okay.” 

You push him down onto the cushions and take his legs to bend them and push them apart.

Yoongi laughs in disbelief, head going dizzy. He looks at you in a mixture of shock, amusement and arousal.

“Too far?”

“No, it’s so sexy.” 

“It is. I’ll take you like this. Just like this”, you say and change position so you can take in his cock. You sink him into you carefully, watching his face change into an expression of surprised bliss.

“Mhhhhm”, he lets out in a purr, eyes going hazy.

You move your hips, grinding and rolling them into him with his cock deep inside you. It is as if you were fucking missionary. Except that he is deep inside you and there is nothing penetrating him. 

Yoongi doesn’t see a difference, having to gasp for fucking air and dimple his own legs as he holds himself open.

“Like this. What do you think of it?” 

He nods his head vigorously, letting out a high-pitched whimper. He never did this before so it is making you dizzy. You chase the warmth between your legs, staring at his flushed face obsessively.

“Yes? You like it?” 

“So much. Ah!” he drops his head to the side, rolling his eyes back and grabbing your waist. “so much….”

You drop to your elbows, kissing his neck needily. Your hips are sloppy in how they fuck, filling each of you with electric pleasure.

“This is insane, what the fuck”, Yoongi gets out, following it up with a moan and a scrunch of his handsome face.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, fuck yes. Ah ___ don’t stop, please”, he begs, arching his back.

“Yoongi, oh god”, you keen, clenching around him in excitement. You could get used to making him arch his back. He is so sexy when he does.

Yoongi breathes out and mewls at the same time, resulting in the sweetest sounds of pleasure you have ever heard. You get off on it so good, wanting for him to make another sound. You bury his cock in you as deep as the position allows it, writing your names with your hips. Just as you had hoped, Yoongi makes the sweetest sound, squeezing your waist. 

You moan his name, falling into pleasure with him afterwards. You move needily and definitely motivated by alcohol. It is a messy fuck, passionate and confident and so incredibly good.

Yoongi is glad that he is drunk, otherwise he wouldn’t last long. Alcohol makes his cock work just a little slower than if he was sober. At first he thought it would be a problem, but he sees now that it is a blessing. You feel so good - too good - and he wants it to last longer.

“It feels good, please fuck me, please don’t stop”, he begs you, arching his back and curling his toes when your walls throb around him. 

“Oh god, you’re so hot”, you mewl, fulfilling his wish with such vigour the cushions of his sofa squeak and croak. Truly, they have never witnessed such a sloppy, good fuck and the best part is that this is only the beginning.

But enough about the sweet future which awaits unknowing you. In the present, you and he have started to share heat and shaky breaths, bodies hot from the long, passionate fuck you have been doing by now. Your thighs ache, begging for a break. Your pussy is so wet that it started to drip down his shaft and plumb balls. It feels so good, constantly keeping you on edge and yet you can’t seem to fall over it. It’s driving you insane by now. 

“Fuck”, you are both laughing and moaning your words, tickling his ear with them, “I’m really fucking drunk, it’s hard to get there.”

“Same, ah, but it feels….so good”, he agrees, head dizzy to the point he has to grab the edge of the sofa for support. You have him on cloud nine, high, feeling out of this world.

“It does, you do. Just need more.”

Yoongi flails with his hand on the cushion, trying to find the vibrator. You hand it to him, just as you help him push the button to turn it on. The rest he can do by himself. He guides it between your bodies, connecting it with your lower stomach first. 

“Lower, baby, that’s my stomach”, you giggle, claiming his lips in a passionate kiss.

“Sorry”, Yoongi purrs, obeying your orders with such precision you growl and feed him your tongue. 

He welcomes it gladly, drooling all over your lips which in this moment is so goddamn sexy and endearing to you. To think you ruin him to the point of sloppy kisses being his norm. You are going to be so fucking obsessed with this man, showing him your growing fondness with deep rolls of your hips. 

He can feel the vibrations too, grabbing your upper back as his cock finally begins to work again. This is going to break him and he fears he might pass out from it. He digs his heels into the cushion, meeting your movements needily and without a plan. The only thing his body runs on is how he feels beneath you and the warmth of your tight walls around his cock. 

Your body trembles, unoccupied hand burying itself deep in his luscious locks. The kiss breaks but you stay close, panting and moaning into each other’s mouths. 

“This is getting me there”, you whimper. 

“Me too”, he croaks. 

“Yoongi, I…I love you”, you confess, finally falling over the sweet edge. It feels so good, so intense and soul-consuming that you find yourself sobbing and shaking. 

Yoongi breaks the second you dropped the big L word, deep voice coming out as little gasps of your name and fingers grasping you for dear life. He didn’t even think that he could orgasm that intensely, but your emotional confession makes it possible. He feels on cloud nine, curling his toes and arching his back.

You collapse on him after your high, dropping the vibrator on the floor accidentally.

“What was that?” he mumbles into your shoulder, cock still throbbing inside you and ears ringing.

“Toy”, you lull, walls pulsating in the afterglow.

“Ah.”

He wraps his arms around you, wiggling his hips a little to ensure his cock would slip out of you. He doesn’t want to risk it softening and the condom slipping off. Cuddling like this, you recover, sharing silence and warmth. You are both so drunk, heads turning even as you lie down. It is almost as if being so connected and sharing such a passionate moment made it worse. You don’t mind it however, you have each other’s presence and that feels very safe to have.

“So this just happened”, Yoongi breaks the silence.

“I know”, you say and break into giddy snickers instantly. Yoongi joins you without hesitation, sharing in the warm fuzzy happiness you and he get to experience together.

“I can’t believe I did that. We did that.”

“It was so hot.”

“It was.”

He hums, rubbing his hands up and down your back. You settle into him with a content sigh, playing with his messy hair.

“The studio is really soundproof, right?”

“It is. Trust me I was louder on my own. Nobody heard me.”

“You are so hot, it’s insane.”

He chuckles lazily, craning his neck to kiss whatever part of your head he reaches first. You purr happily, chasing his kiss by tilting your head closer to him. Another kiss is placed to your heated face, you retort it as best as possible.

“Soo, uhm”, he begins, eyes sparkly and droopy, “you dropped the L word.”

“Oh god, too soon? I’m sorry, please can we just forget-“

“Hush, don’t worry. I’m glad you did. I love you too, just didn’t wanna say it first and scare you away.”

You lift your head. Yoongi meets your eyes.

“You feel the same?”

“I do. I have done so for a while”, he says, smiling softly and reaching up to brush the back of his hand down your face.

“Wow Yoongi, I’m so happy”, you confess, claiming his lips in a giggly kiss.

And of course, because Yoongi is drunk and happy and giddy, he giggles with you. What you and he are having might still be new, but it is right and it is good and it will last. You are both so sure of it.

[mingi-s-dimples]

「 Skyline Sins - Mingi 」

"You like the view, baby?"

"Y-yes-"

"I like the view too. The view of your ass bouncing against me."

pairing: mingi x fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth

summary: Mingi's always so touchy... but tonight, he just can't get enough of you. At first, at dinner.. then, on the balcony.

wc: 3.7k

warnings: rough needy mingi, risky touching, public touching, slightly fingering under the table, public setting, balcony sex, making out, kissing, he's needy af, marking, hair pulling, neck holding, rough sex, cursing, possessiveness, teasing, dirty talk (slut), unprotected (boo use protection irl!!!), 3 rounds, desk sex, lots of cum, cum control (he makes her keep his cum inside until the dinner ends), spanking, biting, doggy, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: Thank you @atiny1 for uncovering this idea LMAO cause I got it while we were yapping... and damn. That's all I have to say 😵‍💫😵‍💫. I love Mingi. That's it.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The party is a fucking blur—champagne bubbling in crystal glasses, laughter and murmured conversations blending with the pounding bass. The city skyline glows through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a breathtaking view of the world below.

But none of it matters.

Because Mingi is watching you.

Not just watching—devouring.

From across the room, sprawled in a leather chair like he owns the place, legs spread obscenely wide, a whiskey glass dangling from his fingers. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you once.

And you feel it.

Everywhere.

The weight of his gaze burns into your skin, making it impossible to focus. Impossible to breathe. Your dress suddenly feels too tight, your thighs press together too often, and you know. You fucking know he’s enjoying every second of this.

So when he suddenly appears beside you, lowering himself into the seat next to yours, heat rolling off him in waves—

You know you’re in trouble.

He spreads his legs, pressing his thigh against yours, his body too close, his scent wrapping around you—whiskey, spice, something dangerous.

Then—his hand grips your thigh.

Hard.

His fingers dig in, thumb brushing circles over your bare skin, and when he leans in, lips grazing your ear, his voice is pure sin.

"Enough fucking around."

Your breath hitches. "Mingi, we’re in public—"

He ignores you. "Been watching you squirm all night." His grip tightens, rough, possessive. "You like teasing me, baby?"

You should push him away. You should remind him where you are.

But you don’t.

Because fuck—this side of him? This rough, reckless, desperate side? It wrecks you.

His fingers slide higher. Too high. They ghost just beneath the hem of your dress, so close you almost snap.

"Someone will see—"

"I don’t give a fuck."

His voice is a low, dangerous growl, and the way he says it—like a warning, like a threat—has your stomach flipping, thighs trembling.

Mingi notices.

Of course he does.

He shifts, spreading his legs wider, forcing yours apart, using the cover of the tablecloth like it was meant for this. And when his fingers drag up your inner thigh—slow, teasing, his touch barely there—your nails dig into the table.

"You’re.. wet already, sweetheart?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. "Mingi, please—"

"Please what, baby?" His voice is all amusement, all filth. "You want me to stop?"

You don’t answer.

Because you don’t want him to.

Mingi smirks. Then—he pushes your panties aside.

Your entire body locks up.

His fingers slide between your folds, gathering the mess he’s caused, and he lets out a low, wrecked groan.

"Holy fuck."

Then—he pushes a finger in.

You suck in a sharp breath, body jolting. Your walls clamp around him instantly, the stretch not nearly enough, but fuck, you feel it everywhere.

Mingi’s chuckle is dark, cruel. "That’s it." He pushes deeper, knuckles brushing against you. "Take it, baby."

Your hand shoots out, grabbing his thigh, nails digging in, but you can’t stop the soft whimper that slips out.

And that’s when you panic.

Your voice is a frantic whisper, barely audible over the music. "Mingi—there are people—what if someone—"

He shoves his finger deeper.

The words die in your throat.

Your back arches, legs trembling, and Mingi groans, deep and wrecked.

"Let them see." His tone is pure filth, his breath hot against your ear. "Let them see how fucking good you take me."

You choke on a gasp, your nails digging into his thigh so hard it’ll bruise, but Mingi is relentless. His finger fucks into you, slow, deep, dragging pleasure kicking and screaming through your veins.

Then—he adds a second finger.

Your thighs twitch. Your walls clamp down, and Mingi feels it.

His breath shudders. "Oh, you like that?" He spreads his fingers, stretching you wider, hitting that spot so perfectly—

And then—he pulls out.

Your body jerks at the loss, your hips twitching, chasing friction, but he’s already lifting his fingers to his lips.

And then—he sucks them clean.

Your stomach fucking drops.

Mingi groans, eyes locked on yours, his tongue swiping over every drop of slick.

And then—his voice is a growl.

"Get up.”

Your brain barely registers the command before he grips your wrist, begging you through his eyes. His pace is brutal, shoving past bodies, ignoring the glances thrown your way.

And then—his room.

The door slams shut, and suddenly, your chest is against the wall.

His hands grip your waist, spinning you around, and then his mouth is on yours—rough, desperate, claiming. There’s no teasing, no hesitation, just pure need, his lips crashing into yours with teeth and tongue, hot and consuming.

You barely have time to gasp before he presses you against the glass rail of the balcony, his massive frame caging you in. One hand tangles in your hair, the other gripping your hip, pulling you flush against him.

And fuck, you feel him.

His hard, throbbing cock pressing against your stomach, proof of how badly he wants you.

"You drive me fucking insane," he growls against your lips.

Then—his teeth sink into your bottom lip, tugging.

You whimper, nails digging into his shoulders, and Mingi groans, his grip tightening, as if he’s barely holding himself back.

His lips move, trailing down your jaw, nipping at your skin—sharp, possessive bites, each one soothed by the slow, sensual drag of his tongue. Then—he finds your shoulder. And bites.

Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave a mark, enough to brand you.

You gasp, back arching, and Mingi growls, his breath hot against your skin. "Mine."

The word sends a full-body shudder through you. Then, his hands move.

They slide down, gripping your thighs, your hips, grasping at your dress. His fingers bunch the fabric, dragging it up, higher, exposing you to the night air. And he doesn’t even hesitate.

He yanks your panties to the side. Not off. Not even a second of patience. Just pushed aside—like he’s too desperate, too gone, to waste even a second.

His other hand moves fast, unbuckling his belt with one sharp motion, the sound slicing through the heavy silence. Then—his zipper, the rustle of fabric.

And when he frees himself—his cock springing from the confines of his briefs, thick and aching—

He doesn’t wait. He doesn’t tease.

He grips your hips, spins you to face the railing, and presses you forward.

Your chest hits the cool metal, breath hitching as you feel the blunt, heated press of his cock right there, dragging against your soaked folds.

Mingi exhales, voice wrecked. "You’re dripping for me."

His fingers dig into your hips. His tone is low, strained, barely controlled.

"Mhm..You’re ready."

And then—he pushes in. He doesn’t ease in. He doesn’t wait, doesn’t tease, doesn’t even give you a second to adjust—because he knows.

He felt how ready you were, how drenched you were for him, how your body was already begging for it.

So he grips your hips, tight and bruising, and buries himself to the hilt.

Your head snaps back, lips parting on a silent gasp, your body jolting from the sheer force of it—the stretch, the pressure, the way he fills you so completely, so perfectly.

Mingi groans, low and guttural, his fingers flexing against your skin as he pulls back just enough—before slamming right back in.

"Fuck—" His voice is wrecked, strained, like he’s trying not to lose control. "You feel even better than I imagined."

And then—he moves. Not slow. Not careful. Relentless.

His hips snap forward, his pace merciless, punishing, filthy, each thrust sending a shockwave through your body, your chest pressing harder against the railing.

The cool metal bites into your heated skin, but you don’t care.

Because Mingi is ruining you.

His hands are everywhere—gripping, squeezing, possessing. His breath is hot against your neck, his voice dripping with raw need.

"You looked so good tonight, baby." His thrusts deepen, angle shifting, hitting exactly where you need him. "Had me hard the second I saw you."

Your nails scrape against the railing, barely able to hold yourself up, and Mingi notices.

Loves it.

He laughs, dark and breathless, so full of need. "You really thought I was gonna wait?"

His fingers tighten on your hips, his pace somehow getting even rougher, every movement a claim, a statement, a warning.

"I would’ve taken you right there." He snaps his hips forward, making you gasp. "In front of everyone."

A hand slides up, gripping your throat, tilting your head back until his lips graze your ear.

His voice is a dangerous whisper.

"So they all knew who you belong to."

"M-Mingi—"

Your voice is a broken moan, raw and breathless, slipping past your lips before you can stop it. Your hands clench around the railing, your legs shaking as he drives into you, deep and punishing, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with the distant hum of the city below.

Mingi growls, low and satisfied. "You like that, huh?"

His grip on your waist tightens, his other hand coming down fast.

A sharp slap lands on your ass.

The sting burns through the pleasure, sending a shockwave straight to your core, and your body jerks in response.

Mingi chuckles—dark, amused, wrecked. "Yeah, you do."

Before you can even recover, his hand moves up, fast, firm—

Fingers wrapping tight around your throat.

In one swift motion, he yanks you back against his chest, his arm locking around your waist, keeping you pinned in place.

"Let me hear you." His lips graze your ear, his voice thick with lust. "Let everyone fucking hear you."

Your head tilts back onto his shoulder, your breath coming out in broken gasps as he takes you apart, his pace never faltering, never giving you a chance to catch up.

Then—his mouth is on your neck.

Hot. Wet. Possessive.

His lips drag over your skin, tongue tracing the sensitive spots before his teeth sink in.

A sharp bite.

A groan rumbles through his chest, vibrating against your back as he marks you.

"Mine."

Mingi’s grip on your throat tightens, his chest hot and firm against your back, keeping you trapped between his body and the cool glass of the balcony railing.

His thrusts are punishing, deep and brutal, each one sending shockwaves through your trembling body.

"Taking me so fucking well," he groans, lips brushing your ear, his voice thick with pride and possession. "You were made for this, weren’t you?"

You can’t even speak—just moan, high and wrecked, the pleasure building too fast, too strong.

Your fingers clutch at his arm around your waist, nails digging into his skin, and you barely manage to choke out—

"Mingi—ah, fuck—I need to—"

His chuckle is dark, knowing.

"Yeah? You need to what, baby?"

His pace doesn’t slow, his cock slamming into you, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your legs threaten to give out.

Then—his hand leaves your throat.

Slides down, down, down.

And then—his fingers find your clit.

You whimper, a wrecked sob of pleasure, and Mingi groans, his breath hot against your ear.

"Come on, baby." His fingers circle, slow and teasing, contrasting with the brutal pace of his hips. "Let everyone hear what a good slut you are for me."

Your body tenses, coils tightening, pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave.

And when he presses down harder, rubs faster, fucks you even deeper—

You break.

The moment it crashes through you, it wrecks you.

Your whole body shakes, back arching against Mingi’s chest as your orgasm rips you apart, white-hot and overwhelming.

And he feels it.

Feels the way you tighten around him, feels the way your thighs tremble, hears the helpless, broken moan that spills from your lips as you lose yourself completely.

"Fuck—" Mingi snarls, fingers digging bruises into your waist as he pounds through your high, chasing his own. "That’s it, baby—take it. Take all of it."

His thrusts get sloppier, rougher, his breath ragged as he buries his face in your neck, sucking at the damp skin, his groans vibrating through your spine.

"Gonna fill you up—" his voice breaks, desperate and ruined, "—gonna make sure you feel me dripping out of you all fucking night."

And then—he snaps.

His hips slam flush against yours, his cock pulsing deep inside, and with one last growl—he spills into you.

Hot. Thick. Endless.

Mingi shudders, his arms tightening around you, holding you so close, so deep, like he’s afraid to let go.

For a moment, there’s only breathing.

Heavy, ragged, shared.

Then—his lips find your back.

Soft. Lingering. Adoring.

Trailing from your shoulder blades, down your spine, pressing worship into every inch of you.

But he’s not done.

Because he’s still hard.

Still throbbing inside you, still not ready to let you go.

And when you shift slightly, whimpering from the over-sensitivity, Mingi groans, his hands already starting to move again.

"Baby—" His voice is wrecked, pleading, lips tracing up your back, kissing over the fresh marks he left. "One more. Please."

You shiver as he presses closer, hips rolling against your ass, his cock still thick, still needy.

"I’ve been thinking about this all night," he whispers, begging, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "May I?"

His fingers slide to your waist, gentle but firm, already preparing to bend you over again.

"Please, baby. Just one more."

And when you give the smallest, neediest nod—

He takes you again. Mingi doesn’t waste a second.

The second your breathy “yes” leaves your lips, he grins, dark and wrecked, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls out—

Only to slam right back in.

A choked gasp rips from your throat, your arms barely holding you up against the balcony railing as he sets a pace that’s somehow even harder, rougher, filthier than before.

And he loves it.

Loves how your body shudders beneath him, how your nails scrape at the railing, how you’re still so sensitive, still so desperate for more.

His hands slide up your body, over your spine, your shoulders—before gripping your throat again, tilting your head back so his lips can graze your ear.

"You like the view, baby?" His voice is teasing, cocky, but so wrecked with lust.

Through your gasps and moans, you manage a shaky, “Y-Yes—”

Mingi chuckles.

Dark. Low. Dangerous.

His pace doesn’t falter, doesn’t slow—if anything, he drives into you harder, deeper, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing through the night.

"Yeah?" His grip tightens, voice thick with amusement. "I like the view too."

He drags his teeth over your shoulder, then bites down, groaning when you whimper at the sting.

"The view of your ass bouncing against me."

A sharp smack lands on your skin, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"The way your body shudders when I’m fully inside you."

Another slap, then his fingers spread over the mark, rubbing it in, soothing and teasing all at once.

His hips snap forward, relentless, and he chuckles again when you sob his name.

"So fucking beautiful."

Mingi snaps.

Your moans, the way your body tightens around him, the way you gasp his name like it’s the only word you know— it’s too much.

His grip tightens, his nails digging into your hips, holding you in place as he slams into you with reckless force.

No more teasing.

No more playing around.

Just raw, unrestrained need.

His voice is a wrecked growl, spilling from his lips with no filter, no shame.

"Fuck—look at you." His head tilts back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he watches the way your body shakes, trembles, comes undone for him. "Look at how you take it. Fucking made for me."

His hips snap harder, faster, deeper, and he loses himself in it.

The sound of your skin meeting.

The filthy squelch every time he bottoms out.

The way you clutch at the railing like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

And then—you whimper.

“M-Mingi—”

Your voice shatters, high and breathless, and when he feels you tighten around him, trembling, needing—

He completely fucking breaks.

"Cum, baby." His hand slides down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles. "Give it to me. Let me feel you."

You gasp, moan, sob—

And then—you shatter.

Hard.

Your whole body locks up, legs shaking, head tilting back onto his shoulder as a wrecked, helpless scream leaves your lips.

And that’s it for him.

Mingi slams deep one last time, groaning your name, filling you up so much you can feel the heat pooling inside you.

His arms tighten around you, holding you up as you both tremble, completely fucking ruined.

For a moment, there’s just breathing.

Then—his lips find your neck.

Soft. Lingering. Addicted.

And he exhales, still inside you, still completely lost in you.

"Fuck, baby."

Mingi is still inside you, still throbbing, still completely wrecked— yet somehow, his hunger hasn’t dimmed.

His forehead presses against your shoulder, his breath ragged, his arms locked tight around your waist as he tries to regain control.

But he can’t.

Because you’re still so tight, still so wet, still fucking dripping with everything he’s already given you.

A deep, wrecked groan leaves his lips, his hands gripping your waist as he barely pulls back—just enough to push into you again, slow, deliberate, teasing.

And then, he laughs.

"Fuck." His voice is hoarse, ruined, a hint of pure disbelief under all that need. "I’ve never been this hard for three rounds…"

He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into your waist, his lips pressing against your shoulder like he’s trying to ground himself.

"What are you doing to me, damn?" His tone is playful but wrecked, like he’s actually scared of how bad he wants you.

His hands slide up your sides, over your stomach, his touch lingering, possessive.

Then—his lips find your neck again, tracing over the fresh marks he left.

"How good you looked in that dress…" He nips at your skin, groaning when you shiver. "I wanted to rip it off in an instant."

Then, his voice drops, teasing but urgent.

"But… we have to be back in ten, if we don’t want to raise suspicions."

Yet, despite his words—he still doesn’t pull out.

Instead, his grip tightens.

And before you can even process it—

Mingi moves.

Swift. Sudden. Strong.

He lifts you off the railing, one arm hooking under your knees, the other around your back, carrying you like you weigh nothing.

And then—he’s striding back into the room, straight toward the desk.

"But I’m not fucking done with you yet."

And the second he reaches it—he sets you down, spreads your legs, and ruins you all over again.

Mingi doesn’t waste a second.

Gripping your thighs, your waist, your throat—he doesn’t know where to touch first because he wants all of you at once.

His lips crash into yours, desperate, messy, hot, his tongue claiming every whimper, every moan as he pushes you back against the cool wood.

And then—his hands move.

One gripping your hip.

The other sliding lower.

And when his fingers find your clit, slick and swollen from everything he’s already done to you—

You whimper.

Mingi groans into your mouth, eating every sound, his fingers teasing, circling, slow at first—before pressing down, rubbing rough and deep.

"You’re still so fucking wet, baby." His voice is thick with pure obsession, his breath hot against your lips.

And then—he pulls out of you completely.

Just to watch the way his cum drips out of you, pooling onto the desk.

"Fuck." His jaw clenches, his thumb sliding down to collect some of the mess—before he shoves it back inside you, pushing it deep.

You cry out, thighs trembling, hands clutching at his arms, his shoulders, anything to ground yourself.

And that’s when he loses it.

Mingi doesn’t ease back in.

He slams into you with one brutal stroke, knocking the breath from your lungs, his hands pinning you down as he sets a pace that’s relentless, unhinged, completely desperate.

Your body jolts with every thrust, the desk creaking beneath you, his cock hitting deep—too deep, just right.

And then—his lips are on yours again.

Messy. Sloppy. Ruined.

Like he’s trying to distract you from the fact that his hand is sliding down once again.

And then—you feel it.

His fingers press against your clit.

Teasing. Circling. Ruining you.

And you try to pull away, shaking your head, already too close, already too sensitive—

But Mingi doesn’t let you.

"Shh, baby," he whispers, his lips dragging over yours, catching your moans, swallowing every sound. "Let me make you fall apart one more time."

His fingers rub rougher, deeper, filthier.

And then—you break.. for what seems the 3rd time.

Your entire body shudders, seizes, collapses, your climax hitting you so hard you lose all sense of time, of space, of anything but him.

And then—you feel it.

The pressure—the release—the heat flooding between your thighs as your body gives in completely.

And when Mingi realizes what just happened— that you squirted all over-

His hips stutter, his whole body tensing, his breath catching in his throat.

His cock pulses inside you, spilling every last drop of cum he has, his groan deep, broken, completely fucking ruined.

For a moment, there’s nothing but breathing.

Heavy. Ragged. Shared.

Then—his lips press against your forehead, soft and lingering.

And he exhales, whispering—

"I don’t think I can ever get enough of you."

Mingi pulls away just slightly, his chest still heaving as he looks down at you. For a brief moment, his expression softens, almost tender. His fingers graze your thighs gently before he slowly pulls your panties back up, his touch surprisingly delicate after everything that just happened.

A teasing smirk crosses his lips, his eyes glinting with mischief. "You’re going to have to hold it in for a little longer," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear as he gives you a playful squeeze. "We’ve got an hour before we can head back and continue where we left off... don’t think I forgot what I’ve got planned for you."

He lifts his head, eyes meeting yours with a mix of intensity and something softer, something more endearing. His fingers brush your cheek before he adds with a quiet chuckle, "I don’t know how you’re going to resist me for that long... but I’ll be watching." he says as he zips up his suit pants, just like nothing happened.

And just like that, the tension shifts. It's still there—intense, electric—but there's a teasing playfulness in the air, as though he’s giving you a taste of something more, something that’ll come later.

NETWORKS:

@illusionnet

@blossomnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[sunseed-fandump]

Heyya! Wanted to ask, since there is the Bad Batch's reaction's to the Ancients, but what do you think the Beast (so far) reaction to them, and vice versa?

Mystic Flour Cookie ==> The kids find it kind of pathetic that the minute her Cocoon of Enlightenment Plan went awry that she just... Gave up. Was it not fair that a false rumor ruined her plan? Yeah. But the fact she threw in the towel the minute things didn't go her way makes her come off more like a spoiled brat than anything.

As for Mystic Flour's opinion on the kids, she would find them pathetic in her own way. After all, what could three small children hope to achieve when they're literally going up against the entire world? At least in the case of the Beasts, they were created with the power of gods. They were made to shift the world and change it however they saw fit, as it was their creators who gave them that birthright. But these small cookies? They're nothing but ignorant selfish children who rebel for the sake of rebelling. Their hopes to do anything meaningful or impactful are for naught.

Burning Spice Cookie ==> While the kids do enjoy causing more than a bit of property damage here and there, they can't really get behind the idea of reducing the world to nothing but a lifeless wasteland of ashes. They're not interested in engaging in a war without reason. They view Burning Spice as a warmonger and disagree with his sentiment that the lives of others merely exist for his entertainment. If you're THAT bored, then get a damn hobby!

On Burning Spice's end, he would like the kids' spunk! But he would find it pathetic that they're holding back and getting so attached to each other and others. Friendships are a weakness, a vulnerability to exploit. They're limiting their true lethal potential by harboring these useless things. The children have already caused plenty of destruction, so why not just allow their lust for chaos to consume them completely? They should just let go and become the monsters they were clearly meant to be.

Shadow Milk Cookie ==> They fucking HATE this guy!!! Gingerbrave can't stand the fact he's a manipulator and puppets others like they're his toys. Wizard hates him on principle because malicious lies and rumors are something that made his life incredibly difficult. Wild Strawberry hates him because he's a clown. She doesn't like clowns. Overall, the general consensus is: This guy fucking sucks!!!! Throw tomatoes at him!!!!

As for Shadow Milk's opinion on the kids, well he'd just find them and their pointless little crusade a-DORABLE! (in a condescending way) The way they're fruitlessly struggling against the tides of fate is HILARIOUS! They're blindly following this vague idea of a "free world" that's dangling in front of them like a carrot on a stick, when really it's all just a comforting lie the kids told themselves in a pathetic attempt to give themselves purpose! The chaos and mischief they cause is definitely entertaining, and it's even juicer with that little twinge of tragedy. Simple cookies like them exist purely to be at the mercy of perfect cookies like himself. They can't change fate, even if they DID obtain all the Soul Jam! It's just not in the cards for them. They'll just keep running 'round and around until they break, and he'll be right there to make it all the more entertaining! Ah, but, he supposes they could be useful. After all, Pure Vanilla Cookie went and got himself attached. How sweet....

[cloudyluun]

Out Of The Darkness

Summary: Y/N finds herself lost in deep subspace after an intense scene with Harry. As the emotional and physical toll of the experience starts to overwhelm her, Harry realizes she’s slipping too far away. He gently but urgently calls it, determined to guide her back from the depths with tender aftercare. As he holds her and reassures her, he struggles to help her reconnect with the present, and together, they slowly navigate the space between vulnerability and comfort, reminding each other of the deep connection they share.

A/N: hi sweet angels!! 🥺 thank you so much for reading Out of the Darkness—this one is so special to me. i really wanted to explore the softer, more vulnerable side of kink—how intense trust, aftercare, and emotional connection are just as important (if not more!) than the scene itself. this fic is deeply personal and tender, and writing it felt like wrapping someone in a warm hug after a storm. i hope it made you feel seen, held, and reminded you how powerful love can be when it’s gentle. Based on this request.

sending you all the cozy vibes, forehead kisses, and soft blankets!! pls don’t forget to drink water and check in with yourselves today

Word Count: 9,4k

Warnings: 

BDSM dynamics (consensual power exchange)

Intense subspace / subdrop themes

Mentions of emotional vulnerability and disorientation

Aftercare-heavy content

Safe, sane, consensual kink (but very emotionally raw)

Soft dom!Harry

Reader experiencing physical and emotional overwhelm (handled gently)

Mentions of crying / tears

Very intimate and introspective

Wasn’t proofread sorry!!

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The room was quiet, except for the low hum of music playing through the speakers—soft, atmospheric, barely there. It wasn't anything with lyrics, just a slow, rolling rhythm that matched the pulsing dim light from the corner lamp. The air was warm, heavy with that lived-in scent of home and the subtle spice of the candle Harry had lit an hour ago. Vanilla and sandalwood. The curtains were drawn, shadows stretching gently across the walls, and everything in the room felt like it belonged to this moment—contained, intimate, untouched by the world outside.

Y/N was on her knees, her breathing slow and steady, fingers loosely curled against her thighs. She wasn't bound—Harry hadn’t gone for ropes tonight. This was about something different. It was about trust, about surrendering in a way that had nothing to do with restraints and everything to do with her choosing to stay. Choosing to give him control, and herself completely. Her eyes were cast downward, lashes soft against her cheeks, and the way her chest rose and fell said she was calm. Present. But already teetering close to that edge where the world begins to fade a little.

Harry knelt in front of her, not touching, just watching. He’d been guiding her through this for the past hour, shifting slowly from playful commands to something quieter, more intense. There was nothing rushed in the way he moved or spoke—every gesture deliberate, every word purposeful. He wanted her to feel it, to let herself sink into it fully. There had been teasing at first, a bit of light pain, some breathy laughs exchanged when she challenged him with a look or a smirk. But those had faded as the energy shifted between them, as he brought her deeper into the space they shared.

“Doing alright, baby?” he asked, voice low and smooth, one hand lifting to gently brush her cheek. She leaned into the touch without speaking, just nodding slowly, eyes fluttering closed. That small gesture told him more than words could. She was already starting to let go, piece by piece, surrendering control the way they’d talked about. He dragged his thumb along her lower lip, a ghost of a smile playing on his face as he watched her react—barely. Slower now. More internal.

“Color?” he prompted again, soft but clear.

“Green,” she murmured, almost too quiet, but not quite.

He nodded, satisfied. “Good girl.”

It landed with weight, those two words. Not just praise, but a promise. That he saw her. That she was safe. That he was right here, watching every shift in her body, every flicker of change behind her expression.

He stood, circling her slowly, his bare feet making no sound on the plush rug beneath them. She didn’t move, didn’t flinch—completely still, waiting. Trusting. The tension was thick now, not from fear, but from anticipation. She was in it with him, deeply so, and Harry could feel it in the air, the invisible thread connecting them stretched taut.

“Hands behind your back,” he said quietly, returning to stand behind her. She obeyed instantly, lacing her fingers without hesitation. He didn’t bind them—didn’t need to. The power exchange was enough. He leaned down, close to her ear. “You’re being so good for me.”

She let out a soft exhale, and he could hear it—how much she needed to hear that, how much the reassurance anchored her. Harry’s fingers grazed her shoulders, moved down slowly along her arms, not grabbing, just mapping her, reminding her he was there. Present. In control.

He took his time. There was no rush to the build-up, no urgency to escalate. This was where he thrived—slow tension, psychological depth, the long draw of anticipation. Y/N trembled slightly when his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh, but she didn’t break form. He was careful to keep checking in without overwhelming her. Whispered questions. Gentle touches. Watching the rise and fall of her breath. Watching the way her body responded before her voice did.

At one point, she wavered—not out of uncertainty, but from being so deep in it already. Harry noticed. Her knees shifted, her spine curved ever so slightly forward. It was subtle, but he caught it, and he moved closer again, kneeling behind her and wrapping one arm gently around her waist to steady her.

“Still with me, baby?” he asked, his mouth close to her ear.

She nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah. I’m here.”

Her voice was breathy, a little distant. Not quite gone, but slipping. He filed that away. Her edges were softening. It was early still, but she was going deeper than she usually did. He didn't panic. Just adjusted.

He ran his hand down her side, grounding her, and kissed the curve of her shoulder. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered.

The scene kept unfolding like that—unhurried, deliberate, deep. He shifted her position, had her lay on the padded blanket near the foot of the bed, kissed her lips softly before slipping a silk blindfold over her eyes. Her breathing hitched, but she didn’t protest. That was a new layer for them—giving up her sight—and it thrilled him that she trusted him enough to accept it without fear. He checked in again, a gentle squeeze to her hand, a quiet word, and her whispered response confirmed it.

Green.

He explored her slowly, using his voice, his hands, and careful temperature play to blur her awareness. Ice against her inner wrist. Warm breath against her neck. Fingertips grazing, never staying long in one place. Every reaction she gave—every sigh, every shiver—was noted, responded to, drawn out. He watched the way her mouth parted when he dragged a soft feather across the back of her knee, the way she squirmed when he pressed his lips to the inside of her arm, the skin so sensitive there. He watched her unravel with infinite care.

The deeper she sank, the quieter she became. Not silent in a distant way—just unmoored. Her limbs loosened. Her jaw slackened. Her responses grew slower, like she was underwater and everything was moving through syrup. Harry recognized it instantly. Subspace. She was slipping into it earlier than he expected tonight, and it was beautiful to watch. But it also meant he had to be even more careful now. She was vulnerable in a different way.

He leaned down, brushing his nose against her cheek. “Color?”

It took a second. Too long. But eventually, she whispered, “Green.”

Still green, but only just. The moment she said it, Harry felt a flicker of something tighten in his chest. Not fear exactly, but awareness. She was floating, and she was floating fast.

He didn't stop.

Not yet.

Instead, he adjusted. He slowed down even more, dropped his voice lower, touched her with even more intention. He wasn’t going to push her—he wasn’t trying to break her—but he wanted to see where she could go. Wanted to give her the space to explore the limits they’d talked about, to feel the surrender she’d asked for. She’d told him she wanted to go deeper this time, and she trusted him to guide her there. And he would. As far as she wanted. No further.

Her chest rose and fell in a rhythm that was no longer steady. More shallow now. Her fingers twitched when he kissed just beneath her ear, and her lips parted with a quiet whimper when he whispered her name again. She didn’t respond with words. Just the sound. Soft. Distant.

Harry moved back slightly, his brows drawing together. He brushed a finger along her jaw, her lips, watching her try to focus.

“Y/N?”

She blinked beneath the blindfold. Her lips moved, but nothing came out.

He tilted her chin gently. “Baby, can you answer me?”

A pause.

Then a whisper: “I’m… here.”

But the way she said it told him everything.

She was barely tethered. Floating. Her voice had no weight to it. Her body was completely relaxed, pliant in a way that almost made him ache. It was beautiful, but it was time.

Harry pulled the blindfold off, watching her lashes flutter open, though her gaze didn’t fully land. She was too far under.

He exhaled, brushing the hair from her face with both hands, grounding himself as much as her.

The scene had gone exactly the way she wanted. Intense. Emotional. Intimate.

But she’d given everything.

And now, he had to bring her back.

Harry stayed perfectly still for a second, holding his breath, watching her. The dazed look in her eyes, the way her lashes trembled but didn’t lift to meet his gaze—it was all there. The signs. Her breathing was shallow, her lips slightly parted, and the tiny frown between her brows said her body was still reacting, but her mind was already slipping into the haze. She looked like she was drifting through fog, floating somewhere too far from him now.

“Y/N,” he murmured again, quieter this time. A thread of emotion wound tight through his voice. He cupped her face with both hands, thumbs brushing along her cheeks. “Sweetheart, you with me?”

No answer.

She blinked once, slowly, like her eyes were moving through water. She wasn't panicking, wasn’t afraid—but she was clearly gone. Not in a dangerous way, not yet. But if he didn’t handle it carefully, the drop could become too steep. Harry recognized that shift. He knew subspace when he saw it, had seen it in her before. But tonight it was different. She wasn’t just skimming the edges. She’d fallen deep.

Her body was heavier in his arms when he reached for her. She didn’t move away, didn’t resist, but her limbs had lost their tension, her muscles too relaxed. She was warm and pliant, completely surrendered to whatever came next. It made his chest tighten in ways he hadn’t expected.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, trying not to let the flicker of worry in his stomach reach his hands. His voice was soft, measured. “It’s alright, baby. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

No reaction. Not even a nod.

Harry swallowed, steadying his tone. “Can you hear me, love?”

She made a small sound in the back of her throat, a breath that barely counted as a response. Her head tilted slightly toward him, but it wasn’t conscious. Not really. Her eyes had gone glassy, her lips twitching with some faraway thought she couldn’t seem to place. She was floating in that place where nothing felt quite real, where sensation blurred with emotion and time slowed down.

He adjusted, easing her back into a seated position on the padded blanket, guiding her gently with firm hands. Her body followed him, soft and loose, like a doll. She blinked again, but the world wasn’t there behind her eyes. He could see it clearly. She didn’t even know she was gone yet.

And that scared him a little.

Not because he didn’t know what to do—he did. But because of how much trust she’d given him. How far she’d let herself go. That kind of vulnerability was rare, even between them, and it hit him hard in the chest. She’d given him everything and asked for nothing but care in return.

“Okay, baby,” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. “You’re deep, huh?”

A breath. A barely-there sigh.

He nodded to himself. “Alright. No more.”

His hands moved with calm precision, pulling a soft throw from the edge of the bed and wrapping it around her shoulders. Her skin was warm, but he knew how fast that could shift once the adrenaline wore off. He needed to start anchoring her now—physically, emotionally—before she drifted too far to feel any of it.

Her body sagged into him when he wrapped the blanket tighter. That tiny act of pressure seemed to soothe something in her. Her head lolled against his chest, and he let her stay there, holding her without restraint, one hand running up and down her back in slow, even strokes. He kept his voice low, a steady current in her ear.

“You’re okay, Y/N. I’m right here.”

His other hand found hers and squeezed gently. Nothing back. Just her fingers lying limp in his palm. He exhaled quietly, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment. He wasn’t panicking. He couldn’t panic. She needed calm. She needed consistency. But he hated seeing her like this—so far gone that even blinking looked like effort.

Still, there was something achingly beautiful in it. The depth of her trust. The soft lines of her face, relaxed and open. She wasn’t distressed—just detached. And that was the difference.

She wasn’t scared.

But she was lost.

He leaned back slightly, his hand never leaving her arm. “Can you give me a little nod, sweetheart? Just a small one.”

Her head twitched, barely a centimeter. It was unclear if she was responding or if her body just shifted with the rhythm of his voice. He took it anyway.

“Good girl. That’s it. Just stay with me.”

The silence stretched between them, thick and full. He could hear the music still playing in the background, slow piano chords drifting through the space, but it felt miles away. The rest of the world didn’t exist in this moment. It was just her and him. The weight of her against his chest. The feel of her breath against his neck.

He checked her pulse with practiced fingers—not because he was worried something was wrong, but because it grounded him too. It was steady, slow. A little fluttery, but not dangerous. Just the after-effects of a scene that had taken her deeper than either of them expected.

“Y/N,” he said again, more firmly this time, but still gentle. “If you can hear me, I want you to take a deep breath. In through your nose. Come on, love. For me.”

Nothing.

Then, a shaky inhale.

Shallow, but it was something.

He smiled softly, brushing his knuckles along her jaw. “That’s my girl. That’s it. Just like that.”

It would be slow, he knew that. The return always was. But this—this kind of depth—would take longer. He wasn’t trying to rush her. He just needed to keep reaching. Keep showing her that she wasn’t alone in the dark.

He shifted her slightly, letting her body drape sideways so he could cradle her more easily, her head resting against his collarbone now. She whimpered faintly, some part of her responding to the closeness, the safety. His fingers slid through her hair, soft and slow, again and again, while he whispered to her.

“I’m right here. Not going anywhere. Just breathe.”

The blanket slipped slightly, and he adjusted it, tucking it around her legs, rubbing gentle circles into her knee with his palm. Her skin twitched beneath his touch, sensitive, raw, but not resisting.

Her head moved, just barely. Like she was trying to say something. Her lips parted again, a soft noise escaping. Not a word, but a feeling. He caught it anyway.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his throat tight. “You don’t have to talk yet. Just rest. I’ll do the talking.”

His thumb brushed over her cheek again. Her face was flushed, her lashes damp at the corners. Had she cried? Maybe. Subspace could do that—blur all the boundaries until everything poured out. He’d hold that for her too. All of it.

“You were amazing,” he said quietly. “So strong for me. I’m proud of you.”

Her fingers twitched in his. Not much, but enough that he noticed.

He kissed her temple, lingering there for a long beat. She smelled like warmth and skin and the faint spice of the candle.

Everything in him softened.

Even now, when she was unreachable, she was still choosing to be with him. That kind of trust wasn’t something he took lightly. It wasn’t just about the scene or the play. It was about the space they built together. The way she let him see her when she had nothing left to give.

He held her tighter, not smothering, but firm. Secure.

“You’re safe,” he whispered again. “You’re not alone.”

Another small breath. Her lashes fluttered again. Still no words. Still drifting. But maybe, just maybe, she was starting to hear him.

Harry's heart thudded steadily under her cheek, a rhythmic beat against her temple, but his chest was tight. Every breath he took felt heavier now, like something inside him had clicked into a different mode. The part of him that thrived in control—the one that could read her like a book, respond with perfect timing, guide her through any scene—was now yielding to something else entirely. Not panic. But something close. Awareness. The kind that settles in your stomach with a quiet thud. She was too far. Too soft. Too silent. Not gone in a dangerous way, but gone in a way that made it clear he needed to stop.

His eyes scanned her face again, looking for some flicker of connection. A sign that she was aware. Present. But her gaze was vacant, unfocused, and every time her lips parted, it was like a thought tried to surface but didn’t quite make it. Her body rested heavily against his, limp and surrendered, and while it was beautiful—achingly so—it wasn’t sustainable. Not for where she was now. Not for what she needed.

Harry exhaled slowly, pressing a long kiss to her forehead. “Alright,” he whispered, letting the words settle in the space between them. He moved gently, loosening his hold just enough to shift their position, his hands never leaving her body. “Okay, love. That’s enough now.”

He guided her with care, repositioning himself so they were face to face. Her body swayed slightly with the movement, unresisting. Her head lolled a little, and he caught it quickly with one hand, steadying her chin.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “I’m calling it, baby. We’re done, alright? You gave me everything. You did so good.”

Still nothing more than a whisper of breath against his skin. No nod. No shift. Just her body pressing instinctively into him, like his touch was the only thing anchoring her now.

His tone softened further, almost pleading. “It’s okay, love. I’ve got you.”

He said it again—not because she hadn’t heard, but because she needed to hear it more than once. Because sometimes words don’t sink in the first time, not in this state. She was floating too far out to grab them fully. So he kept speaking, slow and steady, letting the cadence of his voice wrap around her like the blanket still tucked around her shoulders.

Inside, though, Harry was wrestling with himself. Not visibly, never that. He kept his face calm, his hands steady. But there was a war happening in the quiet spaces between his words. He’d seen subspace before. He’d been here with her before, too. But not like this. Not quite this deep. Not where her responses were this slow, where the line between pleasure and overwhelm blurred so thin that even he couldn’t tell which side of it she was on anymore.

He had to make the right call, and he had to make it now.

A part of him wanted to see if she’d come back on her own. Wanted to trust that she’d find her way, like she had before. But something told him that wasn’t fair to ask of her this time. She’d gone deeper than she knew, and waiting too long could turn this from an intimate high to an emotional freefall. He wouldn’t let that happen.

So he shut it down, gently but completely. No hesitation in his actions now, even if his heart still squeezed every time he looked at her dazed expression.

He shifted her into his lap fully, one arm around her back, the other cradling her head. Her face pressed against his collarbone, her breath hot and shallow. He rocked them slightly, letting the motion soothe them both, grounding himself as much as her. The blanket rustled softly around them, and the room held its silence, dim light flickering gently across the walls.

He kept whispering to her. Telling her she was safe. That she did well. That he was proud. And all of it was true. But beneath the words, there was a thread of guilt he couldn’t quite shake. Not because he’d pushed her too far—they had clear boundaries, and he’d watched her carefully. But because there was always that voice in the back of his head that whispered: Should I have seen it sooner? Should I have stopped earlier?

He hated that voice. It wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t productive. But it was persistent.

His fingers traced soft lines up and down her spine, the rhythm meant to soothe. But inside, he was tightening under the weight of responsibility. He didn’t need to be perfect. She never asked him to be. But he wanted to be. Wanted to be everything she needed—her guide, her anchor, her safe place to land. And right now, that meant being calm even when his own chest ached with the urgency to make sure she was okay.

Her lips brushed against the side of his neck, not a kiss, not deliberate. Just a reflex, maybe. Or a sign that she was trying to orient herself again. He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling against her temple.

“That’s it, love,” he said softly. “Come back to me.”

He repeated it like a prayer, quiet and full of care. He wasn’t trying to pull her out too fast. That could do more harm than good. He just needed to be there, ready, while she made her slow return. He didn’t need her to talk, or move, or even understand yet. He just needed her to know she was held.

Time moved differently in this space. Seconds stretched. Minutes lingered. He didn’t look at the clock. He just kept holding her, kept grounding her with his presence. Every now and then, she’d shift slightly, like her body was trying to remember where it was. Her fingers twitched once, curled faintly against his thigh. He took it as a sign, however small.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, pressing another kiss into her hair. “Just breathe. That’s all you need to do right now.”

His hand moved to her cheek, cupping it gently. Her skin was warm beneath his palm, soft and flushed. She didn’t lean into it, not yet, but she didn’t pull away either. That was enough for now.

And still, the voice inside him stirred. Wondering if he should have eased them out of the scene sooner. Wondering if she’d felt overwhelmed before he saw it. Wondering if she’d felt alone, even for a moment. The thought made his chest ache.

He pushed it down, not because it didn’t matter, but because right now wasn’t about him. He’d unpack all of that later. When she was back, when she could tell him with words how she felt and what she needed. But for now, he just had to be steady. Gentle. Unshakable.

So he kept whispering. Kept holding her close. Kept rocking them slightly back and forth in that tiny world they’d created. He let his voice wrap around her like a lifeline.

“It’s over now, baby. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

And even though she didn’t say it back, even though her eyes were still unfocused and her breath still shaky, he knew she heard him.

Not with her ears.

But with whatever part of her still knew he’d never let her go.

Harry held her a little closer, as if that alone could tether her more firmly to the present. He could feel her heartbeat where her chest pressed against him—still slow, a little uneven. Her breathing was shallow, drifting in and out of rhythm, like she was hovering between sleep and something deeper. He didn’t rush her. Didn’t speak right away. Just let her feel him, the solidity of his arms around her, the warmth of his skin, the steady, quiet way he breathed through his nose.

Finally, he tilted his head slightly so his lips brushed her temple. “You’re safe, sweetheart. Just breathe for me.”

The words weren’t just words—they were deliberate, grounding, gentle. He repeated them, softer this time, and let the silence that followed stretch between them like a bridge. Slowly, he felt her fingers twitch again, her head shift just barely against his shoulder. It was like her body was trying to catch up with her mind, still working out how to function now that the intensity of the scene had passed.

Harry adjusted the blanket around her, carefully tugging it up over her shoulders and tucking it beneath her legs. Every movement was deliberate, slow, never abrupt. He knew the sensation of coming down could feel like free-falling if you weren’t held properly, so he made sure she was cocooned in warmth. Every adjustment he made was a quiet promise—I’m here, I’m watching, I won’t let you go.

He reached behind him for the glass of water he’d set aside earlier, anticipating the moment she’d need it. When he gently nudged it against her lips, she didn’t respond at first, just let it rest there. So he whispered again, “Just a little sip, love. Just to help you feel better.”

Her lips parted slightly, not because she fully understood, but because she trusted him enough to let him guide her through even this. He tipped the glass just enough to wet her mouth, watching closely as she swallowed. Slow. Weak. But she did it.

“That’s it,” he murmured, setting the glass down again. “That’s my girl.”

He stroked her back, hand broad and warm, moving in steady circles. Her breathing was starting to even out, little by little, and he matched her pace, syncing his own breath with hers to help her find some kind of rhythm again.

She still hadn’t said a word. He didn’t expect her to.

Coming back from subspace wasn’t like flipping a switch. It was a climb, and sometimes your limbs didn’t work the way you wanted them to. Sometimes the world felt too loud, or too sharp, or too heavy. And Harry had learned—through time, through trust, through their conversations after scenes—that the most important thing wasn’t fixing it. It was just being there. Letting her know she wasn’t climbing back alone.

He shifted slightly, cradling her head more securely in the crook of his arm, and brought his other hand to her hair. His fingers combed through it slowly, brushing it back from her face, careful not to tug. The strands were damp with sweat at the roots, and he could feel the heat still radiating off her skin. She’d given him everything—her control, her voice, her strength—and now she was running on empty.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered against her hair, his lips barely moving. “Just keep breathing.”

She made a sound then—barely a hum, more breath than anything else. But it was different. It wasn’t random. It had weight, however small. He didn’t pause or react too much. Just let his fingers keep moving through her hair, down to her neck, then back up again. Over and over, until he felt her body start to respond to the rhythm of his touch.

He glanced down, watching her face. Her brows had softened. That slight crease in her forehead was gone. Her lips were parted just a little, her cheeks pink with the remnants of exertion and heat. She looked like she was sleeping, but he knew she wasn’t. Not yet. She was still somewhere between, still floating—but now he could feel the direction shifting.

She was starting to return.

He didn’t speak again for a while. Just let her rest against him, adjusting the blanket when it slipped slightly, brushing his hand over her arms, making sure she stayed warm. He reached for the cooling pad he kept nearby—just in case—and gently slipped it behind her back, giving her body a chance to stabilize. He’d learned the signs over time. When her body dipped too far, her temperature could drop fast, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

She shifted slightly against him, her nose brushing his chest. He looked down and saw her brows twitch together, like her mind was catching up to what her body had just done.

“There you are,” he whispered with a smile, keeping his tone light, reassuring. “Took a little trip, huh?”

No answer. But her hand moved—not much, just a curl of her fingers against his arm. Still, it was enough. Enough for him to know she was starting to feel him again.

He tilted his head to press a kiss to her forehead, long and slow, letting it linger. His lips stayed there for several seconds, not rushing the moment. Just offering warmth. Contact. Love.

Then he pulled back and brushed the hair away from her face again, this time tucking it behind her ear. His thumb followed the curve of her cheekbone, gentle enough that it didn’t startle her, but firm enough to register.

“I’ve got you,” he said again, not because she didn’t know it, but because she needed to keep hearing it until she believed it all the way down.

He felt her shift again, this time a little more purposefully. Her arm moved just enough to slip around his waist, her fingers weakly pressing into the side of his shirt. She still hadn’t lifted her head, but she was holding him now. Choosing to cling instead of just leaning.

His heart ached with tenderness.

“Hey,” he whispered. “That’s it, baby. Come on back.”

She let out a shaky breath, a little more defined this time. Like it caught somewhere in her chest before leaving her lungs. It wasn’t quite a sob, but it was raw, and it made him hold her tighter without hesitation.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing the side of her head again. “I know, love. It’s a lot. Just take your time.”

He didn’t press for words. Didn’t ask if she was okay yet. He’d wait. She didn’t need questions right now—she needed presence. And he’d give it to her for as long as it took.

The pads of his fingers traced soft circles along her shoulder. Slow, mindless. Grounding. The kind of touch that didn’t demand anything from her but reminded her she wasn’t alone in her body. That she was loved in it, no matter how out of it she felt.

He reached for the water again, easing the glass to her lips once more. “Just another sip, love. Then we can lie down if you want.”

She opened her mouth slightly, this time more on her own. He helped her drink, just a little, before setting the glass aside. Her breath shuddered as she swallowed, and she let out the smallest sigh when he brushed his fingers along her jaw again.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, his voice hoarse now, not from emotion but from speaking so low, so steady, for so long. “I’m right here. Always.”

The room was quiet again, except for the music still playing softly in the background. She was still wrapped around him, blanket tucked tight, body slowly relaxing against his. Her breathing had settled. Still light, still delicate, but not panicked.

He held her for a long time after that. Let the moment stretch and settle around them. Let her come back on her own terms. Let her feel what she needed to feel without trying to fill the space too quickly.

Because he knew the road back from subspace could be confusing. It wasn’t always linear. Sometimes it meant silence. Sometimes it meant tears. Sometimes it meant curling up and letting someone else carry the weight of you for a while.

And he would carry her. For as long as she needed.

Harry kept his arms around her like they were the only thing tethering her to the world. Maybe they were. His hand hadn’t stopped moving, tracing slow, familiar circles over her back, his fingers slipping just under the hem of the blanket to stroke her skin in soft, grounding motions. She hadn’t spoken, but her body had started to respond—little things. The subtle way she held on to his shirt. The shift of her weight as she tried to settle. The way her breath caught every now and then like her system was rebooting, trying to remember how to be in her body again.

“You’re here with me, love,” he whispered, close to her ear. “You’re safe. It’s okay, we’ve got all the time you need.”

He could feel her heartbeat against him, still fluttery and a bit uneven, but it was steadier than before. Her skin was warm and damp, like her body was finally realizing it wasn’t in fight-or-flight anymore. Just floating in that confusing middle place. She still hadn’t lifted her head, and he wasn’t rushing her. She was curled into him like it was the only place she remembered how to be, and if that’s what she needed, then that’s what he’d give her.

Her fingers clenched slightly against his side. He looked down to see her face—barely lifted now, her lips parted like she was trying to form a word, but her brow was tight with confusion.

“Hey,” he said softly, shifting to brush his thumb across her cheek. “You with me?”

Her eyes opened, hazy and slow, and she blinked up at him. There was no recognition at first—just that same lost, foggy stare that made his chest pull tight. But then something flickered. Not clarity, not yet. Just awareness.

“I… I don’t…” Her voice was a whisper, hoarse and cracked like she’d been silent for days. She didn’t finish the sentence.

Harry leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to hers. “It’s alright. Don’t try to talk yet. You’re safe, yeah? Just stay right here.”

Her mouth opened again, and this time she let out a sound—somewhere between a breath and a sob. It wasn’t sharp, wasn’t loud. Just a release. Like the weight of being present again was heavier than she expected.

“I don’t know where I am,” she murmured. Her voice was trembling. “I can’t… think.”

Harry’s heart broke a little at the words. Not because she was in pain—though part of her was—but because he knew that feeling. Knew that kind of mental disorientation that came when you gave everything and came back to a world that suddenly felt too loud, too sharp, too fast.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, cupping her face in both hands. “You don’t have to think right now. I’ve got you. Just stay close, yeah? Feel me holding you.”

She nodded slowly, eyes fluttering shut again like the act of being awake was too much. He kissed her forehead, then the bridge of her nose. She was trembling now, almost imperceptibly, and he wrapped the blanket tighter around her again.

“It’s okay,” he kept saying, not because he thought she didn’t hear him the first time, but because she needed to hear it over and over until it stuck. “You’re here. With me. You’re safe.”

The blanket shifted with her breathing. She was trying to regulate herself, but he could tell it was a struggle. Her face was flushed, but not with embarrassment. It was the kind of flush that came after emotional overwhelm. Her mind was fighting to come back, and she didn’t know what to do with everything she was feeling.

“I feel…” she started, then trailed off. “I don’t know. Weird. Not right.”

“I know,” Harry said gently, brushing his fingers along the back of her neck. “It’s normal, baby. You went deep, deeper than before. Your body’s still catching up, but it’s all okay. You’re safe now.”

She nodded again, but it looked automatic, like she was trying to agree just to make sense of it all. Her body shifted against his, like she couldn’t quite find the right way to sit, to breathe, to exist in herself again. He could feel how unsteady she was—not physically, but emotionally. Vulnerable didn’t even begin to cover it.

“I feel stupid,” she whispered suddenly, her voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to go that far.”

Harry's hands stilled for just a second before resuming their motion. “Hey,” he said firmly, but still soft. “No. None of that. Don’t do that to yourself.”

She let out a shaky breath and buried her face in his chest.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he continued, lowering his voice again. “You gave me your trust. That’s never something to be ashamed of. Ever.”

She didn’t respond, but her fingers curled tighter into his shirt.

He could feel it—her panic edging in. Not loud. Not explosive. But quiet and inward, the kind that made you shrink in on yourself, question everything, doubt your own reactions. He’d seen it before. He hated seeing it now.

So he wrapped his arms around her tighter, held her like a shield.

“You were perfect,” he said into her hair. “I mean that. I was watching you every second. You were strong and soft and everything I love about you, all at once.”

A small, broken noise escaped her throat.

“You didn’t mess up,” he said again. “You just let go. That’s what you needed. That’s what we talked about, remember?”

She nodded against his chest.

“I’m proud of you,” he added quietly. “So proud. You were safe the whole time. Still are.”

He felt her shoulders rise and fall with another shaky breath, then again, slower this time. She was settling—but it was a delicate balance. He kept his hand moving over her back, slow and steady, a constant rhythm. Her breathing began to mimic it, syncing up, like her body was finally listening to the cues he was giving it.

“Can I touch your face?” he asked quietly.

She gave the faintest nod.

He brought one hand up to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek slowly. Her skin was damp—sweat, maybe tears, maybe both—but she didn’t shy away from the touch. Her eyes opened again, unfocused but no longer empty.

“There you are,” he murmured. “That’s better.”

She blinked, and this time her lips moved like she was about to say something but didn’t. He could see the words forming behind her eyes but getting stuck somewhere between her brain and her mouth.

“It’s okay,” he said again. “You don’t have to talk until you’re ready. I’ll just be here.”

And he meant it. For as long as it took. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Still, inside, he felt the pull. The deep ache of wanting to do more. To fix it. To speed up her return. But he knew better. Knew that pushing, even with good intentions, would only make her feel worse. So he stayed still. Present. Soft.

She pulled her head back slightly, just enough to look up at him.

“I felt… like I disappeared,” she whispered, finally managing a full thought.

He nodded slowly. “I know. I saw it. But I was with you the whole time.”

“I didn’t know where I was,” she said. “And now I feel like… like everything’s too much. Too loud.”

“That’s normal, love,” he said gently. “You were deep in it. But you’re back now. It’s just going to take a little time for everything to feel normal again.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and one slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She looked like she was trying to apologize for it, but he caught her chin in his hand before she could turn away.

“None of that,” he whispered. “Tears are okay. All of this is okay.”

She nodded, and the smallest smile tugged at the corner of her lips—a sad smile, a grateful one. Then she leaned back into him, burying her face against his chest again.

His hand returned to her back, tracing those soft circles again, a rhythm they both knew by heart now.

“You’re safe,” he whispered once more. “You’re with me. And you did so well.”

He felt her breath hitch again, but this time, it wasn’t panic. It was release. The kind that came from being held exactly how you needed. The kind that meant she was still floating, but no longer alone.

Harry didn’t speak for a while after that. He just held her, feeling the rhythm of her breathing gradually settle against him. The tension that had been coiled through her muscles for what felt like hours slowly began to slip away. Every time she exhaled, it came with a little more ease. A little more surrender—not the kind from earlier, not the kind that put her into subspace—but the quieter, grounded kind. The kind you only gave when you knew you were safe.

Her head rested on his chest, the weight of it familiar and comforting, and he could tell she was listening—not just to his words, but to the sound of his heart beating under her ear. That steady thump, slow and reassuring. He wasn’t doing anything special. He wasn’t trying to guide her out anymore. Now, he was just there, present, letting his body do the talking. The strong arms around her, the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his breath. It said everything she needed to hear.

His hand stroked slowly up and down her back, fingers curling slightly as they passed over the fabric of the blanket. She murmured something soft—not quite a word—but it had weight to it, like it came from somewhere deep, like it was all she could manage. He dipped his head, pressing a kiss to her hair, just above her ear.

“I know, baby,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

She didn’t move, but he felt her shift inwardly, felt her body lean more fully into his. It was the kind of surrender that came not from giving up, but from feeling safe enough to be small. To let someone else take the weight. She didn’t have to be anything right now. Not strong, not brave, not in control. Just held.

His fingers moved up to her shoulder, gently kneading the tightness he knew was probably starting to settle in. The tension that came after the drop, the kind that didn’t announce itself until you’d come back to your body. She didn’t flinch, didn’t even twitch. Just breathed through it, her cheek pressed into his chest. He let his touch be light, circular, soothing. He wasn’t trying to fix anything—just offering relief, piece by piece.

“You’re alright now,” he said softly. “You’re doing so well.”

She was still so quiet, and he didn’t mind it. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was full. Full of everything they couldn’t say yet but understood anyway. There was comfort in it, in just existing together like this. She didn’t need to talk. She didn’t need to explain. Her body was telling him everything he needed to know.

He shifted slightly, pulling her even closer, adjusting the blanket so it wrapped tighter around her legs. He could feel her skin starting to cool, and he didn’t want her catching a chill. When he reached behind him and grabbed the throw pillow off the couch, he carefully slid it under her arm so she could rest more comfortably without lifting her head.

She let out the smallest hum in response—a sound of appreciation, maybe—but didn’t lift her face. He ran his fingers along her spine again, slow and steady.

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured into her hair. “You went so deep, and you did it with so much trust. I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

He didn’t expect her to answer. He wasn’t even saying it for a response. He was saying it because it was true. Because she needed to hear it. Because sometimes, when you come out of a place that vulnerable, your first instinct is to doubt yourself. To question whether you did it right, whether you were too much, whether you made it harder for the other person. And Harry wanted to make sure she never even started down that path.

He pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing. You were perfect.”

Her arm moved slightly, adjusting the way she held onto him. She didn’t speak, but he felt her thumb brush against his side, a small, barely-there motion that felt like her way of saying thank you. Of saying I hear you. He held onto that moment, let it settle in his chest like warmth.

The music in the background had faded to near silence now, the playlist looping back to its softer, slower tracks. It gave the room a muted, timeless feel, like they were suspended in a space that didn’t require movement or sound. Just presence.

After a few more minutes, Harry leaned back enough to look at her face. Her eyes were still closed, but her expression had shifted. The crease in her brow was gone. Her lips were soft, relaxed. He brushed his thumb along her cheek again, watching for any reaction.

Her eyes fluttered open at the touch, hazy but clearer now. Still dazed, but not lost.

“Hi,” he whispered with a small smile.

She blinked slowly, her gaze meeting his with the smallest bit of awareness. Her lips moved, just slightly, and this time, it sounded like a word.

“Hi.”

He smiled wider, nodding. “There you are.”

She didn’t say anything else, and he didn’t push. He just kissed her forehead again, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth. Slow, careful, not overwhelming. She let out a breath that trembled but didn’t break.

He adjusted her again, helping her lie back slightly so her body could stretch out. Her limbs were stiff, uncooperative, but he moved with her, supporting every joint, every shift, like he was handling something precious. Which, to him, she was.

“There,” he murmured. “Better?”

She nodded faintly, eyes fluttering closed again. Her head rested against the pillow now, and he lay beside her, their legs tangled, one of his hands resting lightly on her stomach. His thumb rubbed slow circles just below her navel.

He stayed like that, just watching her breathe, adjusting the blanket every time it slipped an inch. At one point, he reached for another one, draping it over them both. The warmth cocooned them, and she shifted just enough to press her face against his neck again.

He felt her lips move against his skin. A whisper.

“Love you.”

It was the first full thing she’d said, and it hit him in the chest with a kind of quiet force that made his eyes sting.

He turned his head, brushing his lips against her hair.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “So much.”

She curled into him a little more after that, and he knew she was finally starting to feel safe in her own skin again. Not fully there yet—but close enough to let the world come back in without it hurting. Close enough to let herself feel his love and not question whether she deserved it.

He kept touching her, massaging her shoulders, her arms, the back of her neck. Every part of her he could reach without making her move. His hands were steady, warm, never leaving her for long. Sometimes she’d sigh. Sometimes she’d make a tiny noise of appreciation. But mostly, she just let herself be cared for.

And that was enough.

That was everything.

Time didn’t seem to move in the usual way. It passed in a hush, measured not by the clock on the wall but by the rhythm of breathing, the gentle drift of limbs finding comfort, the quiet rustle of blankets shifting as their bodies adjusted to being still. Harry stayed close, never letting more than a few inches come between them. His hand stayed over her stomach, thumb sweeping slow, grounding circles against the fabric of her shirt, while his other hand remained tangled gently in hers.

She didn’t speak. He didn’t either, not for a long time. There was nothing urgent left to say. Nothing that couldn’t be said through closeness, through the weight of presence. The room felt warm now in the way only deep stillness could bring—like even the walls knew not to interrupt.

Eventually, after a while—ten minutes maybe, or thirty, he didn’t know—he felt it. A shift. The almost imperceptible way her body came back into itself. A deeper breath. A longer exhale. The slight way her fingers moved under his, like she was remembering they were there.

Harry tilted his head, eyes flicking down to her face. She was still tucked into his chest, but her brows had relaxed, her jaw no longer clenched. Her breathing had changed, too—not quite normal, but no longer erratic. Controlled now. Calmer.

Then she stirred. Just a little. Her hand pulled from his to brush softly at the blanket on her lap, like she was grounding herself, checking to make sure she was really there.

Harry didn’t speak, not yet. He just watched as she moved her head, a slow, tentative lift off his chest, blinking a few times like the light was new again. Her lashes were damp, and her eyes shimmered when they finally met his.

They didn’t need to smile. They didn’t need to rush into anything light or playful. This wasn’t that kind of moment.

Y/N blinked again, and a tear slid down her cheek—silent, soft, not from sadness.

Harry reached up instantly, thumb catching it before it could fall too far. His eyes didn’t waver from hers.

“Hi,” she whispered, voice scratchy and faint, but real. There was a weight behind it now that hadn’t been there earlier.

He smiled, small and full of tenderness. “Hey.”

More tears came, but she didn’t turn away from him. Her body didn’t flinch like it had before. She didn’t try to hide.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, and Harry’s chest pulled tight—not in frustration, but in heartbreak that she even felt the need to say it.

“No,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize for trusting me.”

She swallowed hard, eyes blinking fast as more tears rolled down her face. She was fully here now—present, aware, raw. And it hit her all at once, the depth of what she’d experienced, the intensity of her vulnerability. She reached up, her hand trembling slightly, and cupped his face. Her thumb grazed his cheekbone, the smallest, gentlest touch, but it was enough to still him completely.

Harry closed his eyes for a second, letting out a quiet breath as he leaned into her palm. The weight of her hand, the intent behind it—it was everything.

They stayed like that for a moment, locked in silence, her hand on his face, his heart beating steady beneath the hand still curled in her lap. Nothing else existed. Not the room. Not the world outside. Just the connection stretching between them, so fragile and so unbreakable all at once.

Her fingers traced the edge of his jaw, then moved up to brush his hair back from his face. He let her, not because he needed to be soothed, but because she needed to give something now—something soft, something real, something hers. And he’d take it, all of it, every time.

“I felt like I disappeared,” she said, voice quieter than ever. “Like I wasn’t even in my body anymore.”

Harry nodded gently, his hand coming up to wrap around her wrist, anchoring her hand where it rested on his cheek.

“I know,” he murmured. “I saw it happening. I was right there with you.”

She took a shaky breath. “It was beautiful. And scary. At the same time.”

“I know,” he said again, rubbing his thumb over the inside of her wrist. “But you were never alone. Not for one second.”

“I know,” she whispered back.

They fell into another silence after that—not because there was nothing left to say, but because they were both holding so much, and the quiet felt like the only way to carry it. It wrapped around them like a blanket, warm and familiar, allowing her to keep leaning into him without needing to justify it, without needing to explain why she couldn’t stop crying yet.

He let her cry. Let her feel it all. Didn’t try to stop the tears or change the subject or make her laugh. He just held her. Kissed the crown of her head. Traced circles into her skin. And when the tears slowed, when her breathing evened out again, when her hand dropped from his cheek to rest against his chest, she looked at him once more.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

His smile returned, quiet and full of emotion. “Always.”

She nestled closer again, cheek against his shoulder now, arm draped over his stomach. Her body fit into his like she belonged there, like she’d been made to be held just like this. And maybe she had.

Harry stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, his fingers stroking up and down her spine. He was tired—emotionally, physically—but there wasn’t even a flicker of regret or hesitation in him. She was worth every ounce of it. The vulnerability she’d shown tonight, the rawness, the depth of surrender—it had taken everything out of her. And he would give everything in return.

He tilted his head and kissed her temple again, lingering.

“You did so well, love,” he whispered, his voice soft but certain. “I’m so proud of you. You’re amazing.”

She didn’t say anything right away. But he felt her press closer, felt her breath hitch in that same way it had earlier—only now, it wasn’t release or panic. It was peace.

And with those words, she knew.

She was back.

Safe.

Loved.

Grounded.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

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[starrylothcat]

Hey hey! Love your writing!

I wanted to ask for some nsfw headcannons for Wolffe, Cody, and Rex. Where their F!Jedi reader keeps force projecting different sex scenes of them together during a briefing; with the boys trying to keep it together during the briefing and their reactions/what they say to her after.

I also just wanted to say, that you are one my favorite TCW/TBB writers on Tumblr!

Distractions - NSFW Headcanons with Cody, Wolffe, and Rex

Summary: You decide to spice up a pre-mission briefing meeting by projecting naughty visions to your clone, knowing you’ll pay for it later.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Absolute filth. Smut. No real plot. Dom vibes from Wolffe and Cody, slightly rough handling but everything consensual. Fingering, oral, PiV sex. Reader a Jedi, not described in detail.

Pairings: Cody x Fem!JediReader, Wolffe x Fem!JediReader, Rex x Fem!JediReader

WC: Around 2,000 total (bullet points)

A/N: Let me tell you, the squeal I squealed when I got this ask! Thank you for this filthy request, anon! And thank you for your even kinder comment, I was having some self-doubt in my writing lately and I’m glad that you are enjoying my silly little stories, it means a lot to me and I love writing for y’all!

This is pure smutty goodness below the cut, I hope it’s what you envisioned. I had fun writing this for sure! I kinda got carried away with Rex, oops. Enjoy! 💛

✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

💛 Cody 💛

He is a tough man to crack.

He’s always the Marshal Commander, taking his duties seriously on and off the battlefield.

You started innocently, visions of you kissing up and down his torso, slowly taking off his armor and blacks, fondling his cock, whispering how good of a girl you’ve been and that you’re ready to please your Commander in any way.

Cody didn’t even look at you, though you saw his hand twitch slightly at his side.

You smiled to yourself, projecting a more enticing scene into his mind.

This time, you were sucking his cock, his gloved hand wrapped in your hair, mumbling how amazing your lips felt around him, how much he was going to reward you later for being so good to him.

Still, nothing. Though his jaw seemed tense as he listened to Obi-Wan go over battle plans.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game, an exceedingly dangerous game, one that you will be thouroughly punished for later.

The thought shot a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, upping the ante again, needing him to crack.

The next image was of you, laying on his bunk, pleasuring yourself, two fingers deep inside your sopping pussy, your other hand pinching and tweaking your nipples writhing and moaning in pleasure, getting off completely fine without his assistance.

Since my Commander can’t be bothered to help me, I have to take matters into my own hands…

You held that teasing, lewd image in his mind, and you could almost feel the blade of his stare pierce straight through you as he finally made eye contact across the room.

It was a simple gesture that said so much, and you knew you had him.

After the meeting, you went straight to your personal quarters, knowing he wouldn’t be too far behind.

As your door hissed closed behind you, it was open again, and Cody had you pinned to a nearby wall so fast you barely had time to register what was happening.

Cody was deadly silent as he crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue clashing as his armored body pressed into your robed one.

You smirked against his lips as he pulled away for air, your lungs burning. “Cody-“

Cody growled as he flipped you around, your face pressed up agains the wall, tugging down your robes, revealing your ass to him and your glistening pussy.

He gave your ass a solid smack, his lips against your ear, heavy and commanding.

“You’re not getting away with this.”

You sighed in both pain and pleasure, hearing the clunk of his codpiece hitting the floor, his fingers gripping your ass hard as he rubbed his rigid cock at your entrance.

“Is this what you wanted?” He husked, “to be filled by your Commander? To beg for this cock? Oh, mesh’la, you’ll be begging.”

You let out a whine as he teased your dripping entrance with his cockhead, already thinking you maybe took it a little too far with your visions, knowing he was a man true to his word.

It was too late now.

“Cody, please, I need-“

Smack! Another slap to your ass, his other hand wandering between your folds.

“Only good, obedient girls get this cock. After that stunt in the comm room, you have a lot to make up for.“

He swiped a finger over your clit, causing you to cry out, your body twitching, unable to move much between the wall and his solid form behind you.

He roughly rubbed your clit, pushing two fingers into your entrance, immediately finding the spongy spot that made you see stars.

“You’re soaking, mesh’la, so needy for me.”

You could feel your release coming quickly, choking out his name as his other hand groped at your breast.

Cody knew you were close, feeling you tighten around him, your high pitched moans giving you away.

Cody removed his fingers right as you were about to reach your peak.

You whimpered, trying to lean back against him, desperate for your release, for anything.

Cody spun you around again, pressing his gloved fingers soaked with your juice to your lips.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you cum. You haven’t proved yourself to me, though. Now be a good girl, and clean me up.”

You licked his gloved fingers clean, tasting yourself and giving him a little show of what you could do with your tongue, if you let him.

Cody’s eyes darkened, slowly pulling his fingers out of your mouth, a line of spit connecting your lips to his fingers.

“On your knees, mesh’la. Like I said, you have a lot to make up for.”

🖤 Wolffe 🖤

The image you projected was absolutely filthy.

Your hands were pinned behind your back by his large hand, the other pressing between your shoulder blades keeping you down on the bed as he pounded into you from behind.

You were shamelessly moaning his name like a dirty Holofilm star, crying out for him to go harder, faster.

You stood at attention, casually glancing at him, noticing a bead of sweat forming at Wolffe’s temple.

You could sense he was trying his best not to leap over the holomap and ravage you in front of everyone.

You decided he had enough of the first fantasy, briefly closed your eyes, projecting another scene into his mind.

You were on your knees in front of him, your mouth open as he shoots ropes of cum all over your face, greedily lapping it up, kissing up and down his still-hard cock, begging for more.

Wolffe’s eyes flashed at you, his cybernetic eye and scar making him look more dangerous than usual, his eyes narrowing.

Got him.

You were enjoying watching him keep it together, a vein bulging at his forehead, his neck tense as he stood at attention, listening to Master Koon’s hologram.

You knew you were in for it after the meeting.

That was the entire point.

Wolffe was practically kicking down the door to your personal quarters after the meeting, pinning you to your bed, his mouth ravaging yours, moving down to suck and bite at your neck, hard.

He had your wrists held above your head with one hand, his grip like iron.

There was no escape.

“What was that?” He growled as he continued the assault on your neck, his hand tightening even more around your wrists that were wiggling to get free.

You whined as his hand that was digging into your waist moved under your robes, up toward your breasts.

“Answer me, mesh’la. Or you won’t get what you so obviously want.”

His gloved touch left a trail of fire on your skin, sending goosebumps across your body and a jolt of arousal straight to your pussy, your panties wet at the anticipation.

“You looked bored during the meeting.” You smirked at up at him, breathy pants leaving you as he touched you. “Thought you could use some entertainment.”

Wolffe’s gaze darkened at your teasing tone, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Without warning, he ripped open the front of your robes, yanking down your breast band.

You yelped as he attacked your breasts with this lips and teeth, leaving more marks for him to gently kiss over later when he was through with you.

“Do you want my cum, mesh’la? Is that what you want?” Wolffe grunted against your flushed skin as he switched to your other breast.

You gasped a yes, his teeth expertly nipping and tugging at your sensitive bud.

You writhed, your wrists still restrained above your head by his strong hand.

“I’ll fill your mouth to the brim, and you’ll swallow every drop, isn’t that right you filthy girl?”

You nodded, almost delirious just at his mouth on your nipples. He hadn’t even really started touching you yet.

“And then I’ll fill that pretty pussy of yours, but only if you behave. Will you behave for me?”

“Y-yes!” Your voice cracked, needing him to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name. 

“Yes…?” He stopped, his predatory gaze locking on you.

“Yes…Commander.”

“Good girl.”

Wolffe continued ravaging your breasts, your mewls filling the room.

“Please, I want your cock inside me, I want you to cum so deep inside me, Wolf-Commander. I’ll be good, I promise…”

Wolffe released your wrists, your hands finally free.

“You haven’t been good though, you knew that the second you invaded my mind with those visions.”

Wolffe sat up, and began removing his armor. You forgot it was even still on.

“I’ll make sure you’re properly punished for such distractions, and then I’ll decide when you’re ready for my cock.”

You shivered at his promise as he climbed over you, just in his blacks, the outline of his rigid cock straining against the fabric.

“I dunno, Commander. You seem to be all bark and no bite.” You teased, knowing you were getting yourself into even more trouble.

A dark chuckle reverberated in his chest, ripping your pants and panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.

Wolffe grasped your thighs, biting down into the soft flesh of your inner leg, earning a loud yelp from you as his tongue eased the first of many marks he will leave on your body.

“Be careful what you wish for, mesh’la.”

💙 Rex 💙

You had him sweating and fidgeting as Rex tried to keep a straight face in the briefing room.

Rex was attempting to listen to the mission report, but your vision in his mind was proving to be quite the distraction.

You were on his face, his hands grasping your thighs as he feasted on your pussy from below.

“Rex, oh kriff, more, please, I need your big cock, I want you to ruin me.”

Rex gave you a desperate look from across the room, slightly shaking his head.

You ignored his pleading glance, changing the vision.

Now, you were splayed out on his desk in his private Captain’s quarters, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you, your back arching as you rubbed your clit, cumming over and over again around him.

His desk was dripping with your juices, your breasts bouncing almost comically as you cried out his name, hamming up the vision to see Rex squirm.

Rex suddenly coughed, everyone in the room looking at him momentarily.

You rocked on your heels, hands behind your back, pretending to listen as the pre-mission brief continued, completely innocent.

Finally, the meeting ended.

You exited the room, Rex quickly walking past you.

“My office. Now.” He hissed quietly, before being called over by Anakin to discuss further plans.

When Rex opened the door to his office, you were sitting at his desk, waiting for him.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, General.” Rex strode up to you, placing his hands on his desk, leaning over toward you.

You loved it when he used his serious Captain voice on you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain.”

“You know.” His voice dropped an octave, husky and gruff, just how you liked it.

“You’ll have to elaborate. I can’t read minds.”

Rex stood up straight, his expression unreadable. You continued to sit in his chair as he walked around the desk and over to you.

Rex leaned down again, placing his hands on the armrests of the chair, caging you in.

For a moment, you thought he was actually upset with you. You felt guilty, maybe you did take it too far in the meeting.

You opened your mouth to apologize, but Rex spoke first.

“I think you can, mesh’la. How else would you know those visions are what I think about doing to you every waking moment?”

His lips were hovering centimeters from yours, a quiet gasp leaving your lips, your body quivering at his statement.

Oh, he liked it.

His breath fanned over your face, feeling your panties dampen, his usual soft eyes glazed over with lust.

You leaned forward to close the small distance, wanting to taste him, but he pulled away, avoiding your kiss.

“Mmm, mesh’la. You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” Rex purred in your ear, his gloved hand snaking up your neck, tilting your head to the side.

He placed a hot kiss right below your ear, lazily licking your neck.

“Rex…” you sighed, grasping at his shoulder pads, his teeth grazing your skin, his lips pressing to the side of your jaw.

“You want something from me?” He removed himself from you, kneeling between your legs.

“I’m not sure if you deserve it. I could write you up for what you did back there.”

Rex hooked his fingers under your pants, pulling them down your legs. You lifted your ass, helping him remove your lower clothes.

“Yeah? What would the report say?” You shuddered as Rex began lavishing your bare thighs, teeth and tongue sucking and nibbling as he slowly made his way up to your aching apex.

You could feel Rex smirk against your skin.

“My General coercing me into questionable situations. Inappropriate use of Jedi abilities.”

Rex stopped right at your core, aching and throbbing for him. You could feel his breath on your pussy, desperate now for any friction.

You let out a frustrated whine as Rex kissed your inner thigh, ignoring where you needed him most.

“Rex…”

“Patience, mesh’la. You need a lesson in discipline, it seems.”

Rex brushed his nose against your clit, your hips instinctually bucking up toward him, your hands grasping at his buzzed hair.

You groaned impatiently as he gently kissed your labia, touching you everywhere but your clit.

“You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” He rumbled into your core, a finger now teasing your entrance.

You panted, knowing you asked for this, that you deserved this, but you could still protest to his teasing.

“Captain, please…” You begged, shifting your hips, hoping he would press his finger knuckle deep inside you.

Rex continued to just tease your entrance with his finger tip, slowly circling, not quite pressing all the way inside.

“Kriff, you’re so wet. Do you want me to fuck you on my desk? Do you want to cum over and over again on my cock?”

You nodded, heavy pants the only sound able to leave your lips as he finally pressed his finger inside.

“Use your words, is that what you want?”

Rex’s lips were brushing over your clit, the teasing almost too much.

“Y-yes! Please, Rex, I need you inside me!” Your words came out as a garbled cry as he suddenly sucked on your clit, adding a second finger to your pussy, stretching you so deliciously you thought you might cry, pleasure shooting up your spine.

And his cock wasn’t even inside you yet.

“You’ll get my cock, mesh’la, don’t worry. But first, I want you to cum just like this.” Rex added a third finger, his tongue and lips circling your clit, your vision white from the pleasure as you squirmed and writhed in his chair, totally at his mercy, your orgasm building quickly.

You came apart on his fingers, shaking and sobbing his name, pleasure coursing through you as Rex’s fingers and mouth worked you through your first orgasm.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum.” Rex’s pupils were blown with desire, licking his lips as he cleaned you up, his baritone voice was laden with desire, his control now gone.

You barely had time to come down from you high as Rex easily lifted you onto his desk, removing his codpiece in a flash, pulling down his blacks far enough for his flushed, dripping cock to spring free.

“And you’re going to cum again, and again, and again. Are you ready, mesh’la? This is what you asked for.”

Your answer was a cry of his name, his hands gripping your hips as he slammed into you, starting a devastating pace, fucking you exactly like you showed him in your vision.

Your last coherent thought before being so thoroughly fucked and blissed out by your Captain was that you should definitely tease him like this more often.

Tag list: @littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @secondaryrealm @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @starqueensthings @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @dreamie411 @aconstructofamind @coraex @multi-fan-dom-madness @freesia-writes @kashasenpai @sunshinesdaydream @din-miller @clonemedickix @wizardofrozz @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @blueink-bluesoul @the-cantina @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @sleepingsun501 @sunshinesdaydream

[mandalhoerian]

I’m really impressed by your analysis of Raf’s new card! Everything you stated makes so much sense and gave me a fresh perspective on his insecurities.

However, I recently came across a discussion on Reddit where someone pointed out that Rafayel's actions could be seen as problematic. They argued there’s a lack of consent from MC, suggesting that MC wasn’t fully into it. They mentioned the use of the dagger as a symbol of the MC's discomfort or pain, which they attributed to her being tense or unrelaxed. They also highlighted how MC seemed to try distracting him, like asking him to answer the phone or pointing out the snow.

Personally, I don’t agree with their interpretation, but I’m struggling to articulate why. Do you have any thoughts or interpretations that might help address this perspective?

Okay, um. First and foremost, thank you for sharing your thoughts and for trusting me with this question, but god did I literally react like this.

But, before we get into the analysis of the deed itself, let’s start first by grounding this discussion in the context of the product that is Love and Deepspace.

This is a 12+ rated action-adventure sci-fi otome game, which sets a clear expectation for the tone and themes presented. While otome games can and often do explore nuanced and occasionally darker themes (and this doesn't mean they have subpar writing just because they're meant for a wider audience), they are typically balanced with the age-appropriate rating in mind. In a banner like this that is intentionally designed to revolve around romantic sex, it’s essential to recognize that the developers aren’t aiming to create content that veers into dead dove or non-consensual territory. To suggest that the writers or developers would include something as serious as this, especially under the guise of a romance storyline, is not only a misinterpretation but also an extreme departure from the genre’s conventions and the intended tone of the game.

The entire theme of the event is centered on exploring romantic tension, intimacy, and the growing bond between characters in a way that’s exciting but ultimately safe and consensual. The "spice" in these scenarios is shockingly suggestive when you have the censorship in mind, and designed to make us scream, not to introduce dark or inappropriate themes that would completely undermine the romantic fantasy. To imply otherwise is frankly absurd and feels like reading intent where there is none.

1) Otome games, particularly those rated 12+, are crafted to engage players in a romantic and emotionally fulfilling experience. They're fluffy, they're angsty, they can be dark and heavy, but even in more mature otome games, themes of non-consent (when they appear) are explicitly framed and addressed with appropriate tonal shifts. This isn’t a game where heavy, disturbing themes are shoehorned into a romantic storyline for shock value.

2) If the developers were truly presenting a situation where non-consensual sex or coercion was involved, it would be a complete betrayal of the genre, the event’s theme, and the player’s trust. The "spice" banner would instantly alienate the audience it’s designed for and spark backlash, not romantic engagement. The devs know their audience and their ratings, and this simply isn’t the place or context for something so serious.

Now that we're done WHY this sort of scenario CANNOT be the case for infold's writing, let's go into the symbolism and the language used to describe the act.

Rafayel enters the room abruptly and begins kissing MC without preamble. While this could initially seem forward, the scene takes care to show that:

MC actively breaks away to question him multiple times. This demonstrates that she is neither overpowered nor silenced, she has the agency to assert herself.

When she bites his lip, Rafayel respects this boundary and answers her questions, and more importantly, stops being non-verbal and communicates. It shows he is responsive to her cues, even when caught up in the moment.

The dynamic here leans into playful tension rather than coercion. MC’s actions (breaking away and biting) and Rafayel’s response (answering her and continuing to interact with her desires) showcase a mutual push-and-pull, common in romantic tension scenes.

As the scene progresses, it becomes clear that MC is not just passively involved but actively reciprocates:

Holds his hand on her own to make him accept the call while they're being sexual. That's freaky.

She flips him over and begins initiating physical affection, kissing him from his ear to his chest. This is a strong indication that she is not only comfortable but also eager to participate in their intimacy.

The "punish" action selected by the player highlights MC’s playful intent and interest in this interaction, especially in the context of teasing Rafayel while his friend’s call looms in the background. This playful edge basically screams mutual enjoyment rather than discomfort.

And now to the main course

the dagger

Listen. As much as we've normalized that this is dick in puss moment, infold can't. So, they've got to use euphemisms to describe Rafayel's dick and what he does with it. The metaphor of the "dagger" isn't meant to represent his dick and it hurting her.

Soft sharpness seeps into me bit by bit: This describes the initial entry, slow and deliberate, emphasizing Rafayel’s care in ensuring the act is comfortable and mutual. "Soft" reflects the intensity of the sensation without implying pain by juxtaposing with "sharpness". It also tells you that "soft sharpness" is his dick and it's describing how gentle he's being. How can sharpness be soft? When you're careful with it that it doesn't feel "sharp" anymore. It's meant to be a stand-in for his cock. It's not describing pain. It's his peanis. The dong. The verb "seeps" here says all you need to know, it's not painful.

Then it (the <<soft sharpness>>) digs into me like a dagger: This directly describes Rafayel increasing his movement (or thrusting), with the "dagger" symbolizing THE MOVEMENT. You know what you do with a dagger? Stab with it. The imagery of a dagger isn’t meant to evoke harm, it’s a stand-in for the deliberate and rhythmic motion of penetration.

So, in smut-language, Rafayel was putting it in slowly, then half-way, he thrusted it all the way in, quickly.

And so, let's interpret the act going forward.

"Yellow sand as far as the eye can see is covered by snow"

Remember that Rafayel indirectly called MC "the snow" by saying "it was soft and beautiful" when she pointed out it was snowing in the desert? This metaphor reflects the emotional and physical dynamic between Rafayel and MC. The “yellow sand” symbolizes Rafayel and his inner turmoil, dryness, and insecurities. The “snow” represents MC and his soothing presence and how her love transforms and comforts him. They are also on top of each other lmao, he is being “covered” by her presence, fully surrendering to her.

"We approach the sea beyond the dunes despite the bumpiness"

The "sea" symbolizes climax or release, both physically and emotionally. The “bumpiness” describes the physical intensity of their rhythm as they near this point together.

"Ripples travel along the undulating water's surface"

Yep. They're still going at it. This metaphor captures the sensations and physical effects of reaching climax. The ripples signify the aftereffects of release, the pleasure that radiates and envelops both of them. This is Rafayel and MC experiencing the peak of their intimacy, with the “undulating water” representing their synchronized pleasure and satisfaction.

"Swept into that endless blue"

Post-orgasm bliss. The overwhelming euphoria and serenity that comes with shared climax. It emphasizes the emotional connection they feel in this moment—boundless and all-encompassing.

"This isn't the abyss. Rather, it's a place filled with red flame lilies. This is Rafayel's color."

Now, this is MY interpretation, so take it with a grain of salt.

The "abyss" here symbolizes the emotional and creative void Rafayel has been experiencing--his lack of inspiration and his deep-rooted insecurities that leave him feeling hollow and disconnected. The abyss represents the blank canvas of his mind.

The transition from the abyss to the field of red flame lilies signifies a turning point for Rafayel. The flame lilies are not just a burst of inspiration, they are deeply tied to MC and the way she has reignited his passion BEYOND pain, both as an artist and as a person capable of love and connection.

By stating, “This is Rafayel’s color,” the narrative emphasizes that the flame lilies are uniquely his. They symbolize the return of his personal brand of creativity and vibrancy. It’s not about finding generic inspiration, it’s about rediscovering his own voice and perspective and MC doesn’t simply provide inspiration, she helps him unlock what was already inside him, and I believe, somehow witnesses the bursting of life inside him in her mind throughout the bond they share. MC serves as the guiding force that helps him reclaim his “color,” allowing him to see himself, and his art, in a new light.

Flame lilies are striking and bold, often symbolizing passion, love, and transformation. They’re an apt metaphor for Rafayel’s internal rebirth. Where the abyss was blank and desolate, the lilies are vibrant and overflowing with meaning, mirroring his renewed sense of self.

So, yeah.

And let’s be honest if you’re going to suggest non-consensual sex in a scene where MC flips him over, actively teases him, and metaphorically commands his every move through a glowing mark on his chest, then maybe it’s time to step away from the Reddit threads and reconnect with nature, maybe consider why you're intentionally picking on Rafayel like this.

He even asked, “Are you sure?” AND checked in with her later with "Are you comfortable?" -- all green flags here. If that’s not the gold standard of consent in an otome game, I don’t know what is.

I hope this was satisfactory, anon!!!!!

[yanderecrazysie]

Wishes (Yandere Oikawa, Kuroo, and Bokuto)

Another Commission, yay! Thank you so much!

Title: Wishes

Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader; Bokuto Kotarou x Reader; Oikawa Tooru x Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes, demons, NSFW, consensual sex, chubby reader, somewhat goth reader, aged up characters as always

“You know those things don’t work,” your best friend said with a roll of her eyes.

“I know,” you replied. Still, you felt oddly drawn to the beaten-up ouija board box. You took off the lid and stared down at the board. It was in perfect condition and had a black planchette included.

Your friend had already moved on to look at the rest of the yard sale. You approached the lady sitting at the check-out table, which was just a fold-out table with a lockbox filled with money.

“How much is this?” you asked, holding up the box.

The woman’s eyes went wide for a moment before she said quickly, “You can have it. On the house.”

“Huh?” you didn’t expect that reaction, “Why is it free?”

“Look how beaten up it is!” she said shrilly, “No one else would want it.”

“But the board is in perfect-”

“Take it, please,” the lady interrupted with a tone of finality. You shrugged and thanked her.

Honestly, it just made you more interested in the board. Creepy things were totally your thing. Not that anyone would be surprised by that by looking at you: all-black clothing covering your chubby form, hair dyed black, and plenty of piercings…

You tucked the box under your arm and went over to your friend. She gave you an “are-you-serious” look. “You’re actually going to take that thing home?”

“It’ll be fun to mess with,” you shrugged, “Maybe I’ll summon a demon or two. You know, spice things up a bit.”

Your friend shook her head, “Just don’t let it eat your soul or whatever.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------

You opened the box and pulled out the ouija board and planchette, placing them on your kitchen table. You turned off all the lights and lit a few candles so you could still see the board. Setting your fingers on the smooth black planchette and taking a deep breath, you said, “Alright, let’s see if this works.”

“Is anyone here?” you asked loudly. Your heart beated violently in your chest.

Nothing happened. The room was completely silent. You were about to give up when the planchette suddenly moved. Slowly, it slid to YES.

You stopped breathing. “Who are you?” you asked.

The planchette moved under your fingers, deliberately spelling out: B O K U T O.

“Bokuto? Are you alone?”

NO.

Your heart beat faster, “Who is with you?”

The board responded fast this time. K U R O O and, after a few second, O I K A W A.

“What brought you here?”

The planchette was still for a few moments. Then, it spelled out Y O U.

Before you had time to process that answer, the candles flickered violently before blowing out completely. You swallowed in complete darkness.

The ouija board began to glow, then, with a loud CRACK the board split in half and the room filled with a swirling red mist.

You scrambled backwards and flicked the light switch on to see better. Three figures now stood in front of your table, smiling at you deviously.

The first man, his silver hair streaked with black and his golden eyes glowing with excitement, said, “Hey hey hey! You called and here I am!”

The second man had dark hair and a sharp grin, “Well, well, looks like someone has a thing for danger. Lucky us.”

The last man stepped forward, his charming smile not putting you at ease, “You must be the reason we were dragged here. And what a reason you are!”

You backed up until your back hit your couch, “Who are you?”

The first man pouted, “I’m Bokuto, remember?”

“Kuroo,” said the dark-haired man.

“And I’m Oikawa,” purred the last man.

“What do you want from me?” you asked.

“You summoned us,” Oikawa pointed out, “Surely you had a reason.”

Your breath hitched, “I-I didn’t think it would actually work,” you stammered.

Bokuto grinned wide, his sharp teeth glinting, “Doesn’t matter whether you meant it or not. We’re here now!”

Kuroo stepped closer, “Summoning us ties a little connection,” he said, “And we don’t take that lightly.”

“You must want something, cutie,” Oikawa crooned, “Companionship? Power? A little danger in your life.”

You stared at them for a moment. As someone who had been bullied mercilessly in school for your weight, power was definitely something you would like.

“Do I have to give up my soul?” you asked carefully.

“We’re incubi, so all you need to get what you want is to offer your body to one of us,” Oikawa explained.

“What if I want three wishes?” you asked.

“Then you would need to sleep with all of us,” Kuroo replied, looking intrigued, “That would be a first.”

“Fine,” your voice wavered, “I want people to respect and fear me. I want success in everything I do. And I want someone to love me for me, instead of expecting me to change.”

The demons exchanged amused glances. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Oikawa crooned, “Are you entirely sure.”

“Absolutely,” you said, hope flaring in your chest. This may be the best decision you’ve ever made!

Oikawa reached forward and laid his hand on your clothing. In an instant, it disappeared, leaving you completely naked. The clothing on the demons disappeared as well. Your heart caught in your throat. This was a rather… ambitious decision. Could you really take all of them?

“You’re in for a treat, my dear,” Oikawa purred, lifting you into the air and placing you on the couch. His fingers pinched your nipples and Kuroo’s mouth found yours. You moaned into the kiss and Kuroo’s tongue slipped past your lips, making out with you as though he needed it more than air.

Bokuto, meanwhile, was making his way down your body. His warm breath on your cunt as he began kissing the insides of your thighs. Kuroo’s hands roamed over your ass. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter.

Oikawa’s fingers finally released your nipples and he took Kuroo’s place, kissing you passionately. Kuroo’s fingers began probing at your back entrance, teasingly moving them in and out. 

Without warning, Bokuto’s tongue was on your clit, licking and sucking until you cried out in the best orgasm of your life.

The demons weren’t done with you yet. “You ready, my dear?” came Kuroo’s husky voice. You nodded, still trembling from your orgasm.

Kuroo’s cock slid into your ass at the same time as Bokuto’s slid into your cunt. You moaned loudly and Oikawa’s cock pushed its way into your throat. 

You never imagined taking three cocks at once but you were in heaven. Which was ironic, considering these men most certainly came from hell.

They began to thrust gently, all in unison as though they’d planned this from the start. And maybe they had.

You gagged a little on Oikawa’s length, drool dripping down your chin. You were struck dumb by all the impressively-sized dicks and, once one of them hit your g-spot, you were lost to a world of pleasure.

You came even harder than before, the vibrations from your moan and the squeezing of your walls causing Oikawa, Kuroo, and Bokuto to cum too. You swallowed every drop of Oikawa’s thick cum and licked your lips. The other two men pulled out and you could feel their cum dripping from your holes.

You laid back down on the couch, panting. The three demons stood above you, grinning down at you.

“My wishes,” you managed to ask, “When will they come true?”

The demons exchanged amused glances once more. “They already have.”

“Who is the guy that will fall in love with me, then?” you asked.

“There’s actually three. Take a wild guess who,” Oikawa snickered, kissing you gently on the neck.

Your blood ran cold, “But-”

“I told you to be careful what to wish for.

[lieutenantfloyd]

Please please write something with stilgar he's so under apricated

Nectar | Stilgar x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Minors DNI)

Warnings: Smut without plot, consensual somnophilia, fingering, oral (f recieving), hair pulling, squirting, overstimulation, riding, creampie.

Read on AO3

He comes to you at night, smelling of spice and war.

His silent footsteps paired with the shadowy night allow him to slink in without alerting the others. You're mostly asleep, but you still feel thankful for having your own tent.

Stilgar is quick to sink to his knees and lean over your body. You whine as he places a kiss to the back of your neck. The material of his plain clothing presses against your skin, and you're too tired to chaste him for leaving his stillsuit behind.

The nights are growing more dangerous as of late, and you've become accustomed to simply resting—your body dancing in and out of sleep while never truly letting your guard down.

When inside your tent, you strip down to nothing more than the barest layers. There's something intoxicating about the always warm air of Arrakis moving over every inch of your skin.

Equally as intoxicating is the approving hiss Stilgar lets out while spreading your bare legs. You're wet, despite bringing yourself to completion maybe an hour ago. After having him, your fingers—while warm and nimble—can no longer satisfy you fully.

As if he heard your thoughts, he runs his middle finger through your folds before bringing the moisture he discovers to his mouth. A low, throaty whine leaves his mouth and you instinctually buck your hips back towards him. Stilgar takes the bait and lowers his head between your thighs.

His fingers spread you open, allowing him to lick long, thick stripes up your pussy. You drop your head forward, burying your face while voicing a high pitched whine into the bed linens underneath you.

His calloused hands slide upward, sinking into the meat of your ass as his skilled tongue begins to fuck itself into your core. Your back arches with each thrust, and you again buck your hips back into him. Doing your best to ride his face while he devours you from behind. Once your moans begin to bleed into the air, he shifts softly. Slacking his jaw while pushing his face and mouth further into your core. The new angle allows the rough strands of his beard to brush against your swollen clit, unraveling you completely.

Stilgar shifts his focus, now casting shapes between your sopping folds as the aftershocks of your first orgasm ripple through your body.

You reach a hand behind you and take a fistful of his messy hair, spurring him onward. He spreads your thighs even further.

Your second peak comes quick and messy. Water is near impossible to come by in these lands, but you ensure he'll never dry.

Unwavering in his assault of your cunt, Stilgar adds a warm, thick finger, then two more. The delicious stretch makes the grip on his hair tighten, but Stilgar doesn't slow his motions. You've already proven on previous occasions that you'll happily take whatever he gives you. The wet sounds of your fingered cunt blend with the cries falling from your mouth.

With each aching curl of his digits, the corners of your vision grow blurrier as your body goes taut. Only after you're shaking with a third orgasm does he pull away, now content with kissing his way up your spine.

While you catch your breath, he slots himself next to you. Soon after, he pulls you into his strong arms before drawing you upwards. Stilgar's stiff cock slips into you near effortlessly, and you test the waters by rolling your hips. He smiles at you contently, his lips and surrounding beard still coated in your nectar.

You set a hurried pace, greedily riding him. His strained moans freely fill the air with each snap of your hips.

It's only been two days since his last visit, but there's a sense of desperation within him.

It isn't long before he's nearing his own peak, his strong arms pulling you down against his chest. He's clingiest when he's close, and you smile as his hands curl protectively around the small of your back. His stream of moans grows sharper.

Your fingernails dig into the tanned skin of his chest. When your hips start to falter, his large hands waste no time guiding you down onto his solid cock until you both cum. A strained groan passes his lips as he paints your cunt generously with his seed.

-

Sometimes deep conversation follows, but like many nights you lay together in comfortable silence.

You kiss his shoulder and watch as his boundless blue eyes widen and an unmistakable shudder flows through him. Stilgar, a deeply religious man, has a particular way of leaving you feeling grateful to be on the receiving end of his faithfulness.

The sands beat harshly against the walls of your tent.  Your fingers traipse lazily across his chest before you send your hand traveling lower.

After all, giving him your own devotion and praise is only fair.

[butchtaurus]

modern au polin fanfics i like

i’ll link them, along with how long it is (chapter + word count) and the rating if it isn’t explicit. i won’t write any descriptions cause you can just check it out if the title speaks to you. maybe i’ll write lil things if i feel like it. they should all be complete/finished but ones that aren’t will have a note saying when they were last updated or whatever

regency fics

she sighs, he gasps by malpal123 - one shot, just under 10k words. monster fucker type shit.

Romancing Miss Featherington (Poorly) by lilfinch - 4 chapters 15k words.

Tiger Stripes by lixabiz - 11 chapters 55k words.

Here, There, and Everywhere by LightLeadingMe - one shot 5.5k words. breeding kink stuff, like penelope has a cum obsession.

hands by ktbeets, liziana (series [not complete but the 4 works in the series are completed]) - one shot 9k words (all together so far 37k words. 4 one shots, one multi chapter complete as of march 3 2025)

free by applepuffsilver - 3 chapters 12k words. title speaks for itself i think but free use 🫣

Before sunset by lafleurdumal - 9 chapters 28k words.

tie me up, tie me down by applepuffsilver - 3 chapters 18k words. penelope is going thru therapy and has to learn to let go of control. so obviously that ends up meaning some kinky shit with colin.

fuck away the pain (baby scream my name) by theyarnmaidstale - this one is locked unless you have an account. one shot 10k words. debling cheats on penelope, she asks for help from colin to get over him, free use again.

The way you make me feel by LilithAfrodite04 - 6 chapters 23k words. penelope is in a failing relationship with fife. fife wants to do a partner swap to “spice up” their relationship. it will not work out for him… 🤭

The Age of Exploration by CosmicMuncher69 - 10 chapters 56k words. listen i love this fic but i have to say food being used during sex is not it for me so that turned me off but i still love the fic! can’t remember what chapter that was but just an fyi

It's You, You're the Problem by thathoppingmadtargaryen - 27 chapters 100k words. enemies to lovers? forced proximity

Five Feet To Be Exact by KatofKanals (series, part 2 One of Me Is Cute, But Is Two? says incomplete as of nov 2 2024) - 19 chapters 70k words (plus 19 chapters 129k words). colin gets into an accident that keeps him at home from his constant travels, colin and penelope then get close 😳

wild nights, wild nights by gentlewallflower (greyspilot) - 14 chapters 79k words. penelope is a call girl/sex worker 🫣

cherry by LightLeadingMe - one shot 6k words. reverse age gap and virginity taking, colin is the virgin!

ignore signs of change, no more by maxmayfield - 2 chapter 14k words. taking ur girl best friends virginity as a bestie xoxo

tethered. by uneventfulhouses - one shot 50k words.

Strip by writergirl8 - 13 chapters 102k words. colin keeps stumbling in on penelope undressed oopsie

motivation by applepuffsilver - one shot, just under 6k words. colin needs some motivation to study 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 cw: author says mild dubcon so i’ll pass that on to you before opening the link

strawberries on a summer evenin’ by grizzlyfromthevault - one shot just under 21k words. virgin colin, again

Let's Make It Cinematic by KatofKanals - 11 chapters 87k words. penelope has an onlyfans

Sugar by lixabiz, wantisamlindyla - 20 chapters 86k words. penelope becomes colin’s sugar baby. there’s bad communication obviously.

Bless The Telephone by KatofKanals - 13 chapters 100k words. phone sex

wanna make you fall in love by applepuffsilver, writergirl8 - 5 chapters 29k. this is one of my most unhinged fanfic likes. like this is breeding kink to an extreme with misunderstandings from not communicating but everyone consensually loves it

happier than ever by deanxcasxlove - 16 chapters 58k. penelope is divorcing alfred.

just say you won't let go by WinterLampost - 5 chapters 19k words. fake relationship

pink in the night by applepuffsilver - 43k words 8 chapters. this one i’m like afraid to share tbh. it’s so nasty dirty kinky freaky but it makes me feel things! the author makes a note about colin masturbating to a teenage penelope (there’s a 5 year age gap) it’s mentioned twice but in the fic penelope is an adult, 24. but i know that could be a jarring thing to read even if it’s not real. cw for body image stuff

English Girl in an American Town by The_Snuggery - 65k words 15 chapters. this is the comfort fic, it has some light angst but solid communication. cause as you know if you’re an avid polin fanfic reader many fics use miscommunication, which is a base theme of polin’s story yes, and most of the time it drives me insane. but you don’t have to deal with that here!

Life Advice by Chinesepapercut - 110k words 24 chapters. another comfort fic where polin don’t have huge miscommunication issues. this has a small cw like in “pink in the night” where it’s mentioned colin may have had some more than friendly feelings with a teenage penelope (there’s a 3 year age gap) but nothing bad happens obviously but it could be off putting idk

Dear Whitney by Rachel_writes_plays - 73k words 18 chapters. ANOTHER comfort fic, not much miscommunication. tho personally i think this is the most ooc to me? you can decide that for yourself tho, i still really like this fic cause the concept is different and interesting compared to others i’ve read.

sweet things need time to grow by applepuffsilver - 40k words, one shot. (but also has an accompanying fic 6k words) western polin! i love the setting of this fic. it has not even miscommunication, it has like no communication for most of the fic, which is insane. every time i read a fic like that im like blorbos please just talk to each other but anyway i love this fic its great. thank you applepuffsilver for something so niche

Surviving Christmas by Sea_Dragonfly - 36k words, 5 chapters. a rom com christmas basically. tbh i could totally imagine the hallmark vision of this.

I'm Making Her a Mama by KatofKanals - 29 chapters, 200k words. most insane scenario but i love this fic 🥹

Black Limousine by PennyFB - 24 chapters 73k words. penelope needs a fake boyfriend so she hires an escort, named colin. i find this one to be a bit ooc? like more ooc than usual for modern au’s but i like the content of it so i read it!

cleanse my soul, make me whole by applepuffsilver, writergirl8 - 7 chapters 65k words. this one makes me insane. size difference in multiple ways 😳, kinky dirty lovely, a bit of miscommunication but it all works out in the end! a bit of queer colin if you like that.

down the line, things might change by Demisexual Colin Bridgerton (karawrites) - 6 chapters 21k words. long distance/phone sex

if it's the thought that counts (let's think it through) by Demisexual Colin Bridgerton (karawrites) - one shot 18k words. virgin colin asks penelope to take his virginity (he doesn’t know she’s also a virgin)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling my gf insane and kicking her out?

I, at the time 23f, was dating Blair, just turned 24f. We lived with my disabled and sick mother.

To make a long story short, it takes me awhile to get it wet. I can be horny but that doesn't necessarily mean anything is happening. Which sucks, cause Blair can get wet in minutes and is ready to go. Its also hard cause sometimes we have to be quick because my mother needs something, and sometimes I dont get off. Which Blair feels bad about *I told her she shouldn't it's my fault not hers*

Well, Blair started asking to spice things up in the bedroom. Sure. We roleplayed a few times, something about me being a lost princess and her a knight. I had on a heart necklace that was the "key" to figuring out my identity type of deal. We tried other kinks, like bondage. It was all fun and consensual. I noticed she liked the necklace a lot and she off handedly said it turns her on seeing me completely bare except the Jewelry so we kept it on.

Well I just turned 24, and for my birthday I wanted to go out to dinner. I go to put on the necklace because its cute and would go with my outfit and my gf told me not to.. i do and you know what happens? I immediately feel horny and start to become wet.

I got fucking Pavlov'd by a necklace. Which my gf KNEW because she told me not to wear it. Blair confessed, she said she felt bad that it took me so long that I couldn't finish sometimes and she wanted to see if there was anything she could do to get me wet faster. She did apologize and said if she had time she would stay and make sure I got off (which the times my mother was not at home and was at therapy for a few hours my gf had no problem building me up and getting me there). She said she thought if I associated something with sex then maybe it would make me get closer quicker.

I told her she was insane and just started crying because it feels like she used something against me. That she basically manipulated me? It was also embarrassing that a stupid piece of metal got me turned on so quick when sometimes it takes hours with her. I told her to get out of my house and she did, crying and apologizing the whole time. I didnt want to listen to her but now I feel maybe I overreacted? like maybe I shouldn't have kicked her out but i was crying and i still dont know what to think AITA?

[daycourtofficial]

please PLEASE one STEAMING hot caramel cappuccino + a pumpkin spice americano with marshmallows…(the modern au of her finding out she’s pregnant with atlas? make it angsty? like it’s a big family fight esp because she’s unmarried maybe…IDK HOWEVER YOU IMAGINED IT QUEEn!)

omg modern gf pregnancy reveal honestly iconic I went with her finding out but if someone wanted a huge family blowup I could absolutely do it 👀

Order a coffee for Gingerfucker week here

“Az, I can’t look.” Your words were spoken through the door, apprehension lacing every word. The wood felt so solid beneath your back, but you needed more support than it offered. “Can you- can you come in here?”

You heard shuffling from the other side of the door, scooting forward off the door to allow Azriel to slip in. You leaned against the wall instead, letting his large body slip inside. He shut the door behind him, keeping his eyes on you, not once even looking toward the bathroom counter.

“I’m not touching it.” He slowly sank down next to you, his long legs scrunched together in the cramped space. You slightly leaned into him, already feeling braver with his support.

“Why not?” You moved your gaze from the wooden cabinets in front of you, looking up at him.

“You peed on it.”

“I only peed on part of it and the part I peed on has a cap on it.”

“Every relationship has a line.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You looked away from him, taking in the perfectly cleaned tiles of the floor. He was right - you couldn’t help wondering if Eris was that line.

“I’m not looking.” You knew what he was telling you. He couldn’t be the first to know the results. You had to know first. He couldn’t be the one to tell you this.

“Okay.”

“We can sit here until you’re ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

Azriel thought over your words, chewing them around in his mind. He took a moment, wanting his words to be right when they came out.

“I know you. I’ve known you for a long time. There has never been anything you haven’t been able to handle.”

His eyes held such sincerity, his strong gaze enough to help push you up off the floor. You closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath. You and Eris had been so careful when sneaking around, multiple layers of birth control potentially ineffective.

You squeezed your eyes shut, deciding if it was positive, you would call Eris. You wanted him here, but it would have been impossible to sneak him into your family’s lake house. If it was positive, you’d make some excuse to leave. You had to see him. This wasn’t a phone call conversation.

It was a long weekend, most of your family out of the house on an alcohol and grocery run. Azriel came in this morning, unable to leave the city until a few hours ago. You had called him, asking him to stop at a pharmacy on the way in and to make sure everyone was gone before he crept in.

He hadn’t asked anything, only wanting to know if you wanted to be alone. You thought you had, initially keeping him on the other side of the door. But Eris couldn’t be here and you weren’t sure you could face this completely alone.

You looked at the stick, the word ‘pregnant’ in bold letters looking back at you. It felt like a turning point in your life - nothing would be the same, everything would have to change. You would have to come clean - no more lying, sneaking, or hiding.

“I’m pregnant.” The words tumbled from you, your brain trying to rationalize this outcome. You had realized this morning you were late, your period overdue by several weeks. How had you not noticed until now? You cut in before Azriel could say anything. “Don’t ask. You can’t ask.”

“Was it consensual? Because I will-“ you cut him off, unable to listen as his voice rose slowly, his brows knitting at the thought.

“It was consensual. But you can’t ask.”

“Okay.” You could hear how much he wanted to know, your best friend’s constant need to know everything practically yelling at him.

The two of you sat in silence, but you felt Azriel moving slowly, as if warning you of his impending touch. His scarred fingers wrapped your hand, squeezing softly as he spoke.

“If you need someone to, you know. Whatever you choose. I’ll be there for you.”

Doubt began creeping in. If he knew it was Eris’, would he? Or would he never wish to see you again?

“Thanks Az. But I think- I think I want it.”

You wanted it all with Eris - the baby, the publicity, the scrutiny, the fallout from your family. You wanted every last bit of it as long as he was right next to you.

You wanted it all - your family, Eris, this baby. But if you had to pick sides, you’re picking Eris over and over again.

[rivendellwatch]

[Update Spice Week N°1]

Hi peeps! I wanted to take a moment to gently revisit and clarify some of the conversations around content boundaries for the upcoming Spice Week event. I’ve received some thoughtful, passionate feedback on the form so far (thank you!!) and I truly appreciate that folks care enough to share their perspectives.

Because this is meant to be a safe, sexy, and creatively freeing event for everyone who opts in, I want to make sure everything’s crystal clear before we move forward, because this is an important topic.💌

TW: mentions of dark themes who could be triggering to the reader!!

So! Let’s start here:

Me saying "no rape/non-con/abuse" doesn't mean I'm "banning" BDSM.

Kinks and abuse are NOT the same thing. Those are COMPLETELY different things.

🖤 What’s allowed and welcomed? Kink is not only allowed—it’s encouraged! Let me be super clear: if you enjoy writing or reading about dom/sub dynamics, impact play, restraints, degradation (soft or sharp), voice kink, begging, being tied up, calling someone "sir", whatever tickles your fancy—it is more than welcome here. We even have whole prompt wheels with these spicy themes because this event is meant to be unhinged, cathartic, indulgent, and freeing.✨

I want this to be a space where you can explore fantasy, power dynamics, and all the delicious stuff—as long as it's consensual and clearly tagged.

🧷 What’s not allowed? The line I’d like to keep firmly in place is around non-consensual sexual violence, aka:

Rape or true non-con, especially when portrayed without context or as something desirable

Unlabeled abuse or sexual trauma

Anything that might give people a false sense of comfort only to pull the rug out with unexpected content

This is not about kink-shaming. It’s about mutual respect and informed participation.

Some dub-con elements, like sex pollen, magical manipulation, “oops we’re stuck in this horny cave,” etc., can be okay—as long as they’re well-tagged. The same goes for violence in the context of character dynamics (we’re in Middle-earth after all, things get stabby). But stories that center or glorify rape, abuse, or harm without consent or context are just not something I want associated with this space.

🔖 Tagging Matters I’d rather we empower people with thorough tagging, rather than overly policing content. No AO3 “Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings” for this event, please. Be open and clear so folks can choose what they want to read—and what to skip.

✅ Tag your kinks

✅ Tag your dub-con setups (also putting it in the author note could help)

✅ Tag your violence

❌ Don’t submit work that includes non-con, abuse or rape

I trust that we’re all adults here who know the difference between rough consensual kink and non-consensual harm. One is hot. The other is not.

Also, just as a note for everyone—AO3 has built-in systems to help manage content responsibly, including the ability to report works that misuse tags or fail to properly warn for sensitive material.

If something is mislabeled or lacking essential warnings (like non-con not being tagged), readers can flag it through AO3’s support system, and the moderators do take action when necessary. This is part of why I’m emphasizing clear, accurate, and thorough tagging during Spice Week: it helps keep the space safe, enjoyable, and respectful for everyone, no matter their comfort levels or preferences.

I completely understand that for some writers and readers, exploring darker or more morally ambiguous themes—like non-con—can be cathartic, emotionally complex, and creatively fulfilling. There’s nothing wrong with that, and I absolutely respect the value and importance of spaces where those narratives can be explored deeply and safely. This just isn’t quite the space for it.

There are dedicated events, spaces and communities that specialize in those explorations, where expectations are set accordingly and people opt in with full awareness.

In contrast, Spice Week is meant to be a more broadly welcoming space for everyone who enjoys a bit of heat—whether that means slow-burn tension, kinky fun, or absolutely losing your mind over someone’s thighs. And part of that means ensuring folks feel safe and informed engaging with the content, especially when browsing the tag casually or seeing their faves pop up on a prompt.

I want to be transparent too: the majority of responses to the interest form so far expressed a preference for not including non-con, abuse, rape content in the event, even with tagging.

And while I understand that might be frustrating to writers who lean into darker or more intense themes (you are absolutely valid!!), I’m choosing to follow the guidance of what makes most people feel safest and most included for this particular event.

This doesn’t mean your writing isn’t valued or wanted in fandom—it just means this specific week is angled toward spicy, consensual, kink-friendly, fun-chaotic creations with clear boundaries.

Ending Note: To wrap this up, I want to emphasize something really important: me not allowing rape, non-con, and abuse in the context of this event does not mean I’m kink-shaming anyone.

There’s a very big difference between drawing boundaries for safety and shaming people for their tastes. I’m not here to tell people what they can or cannot write in general—I’m just setting clear, respectful limits for this specific space so that it feels comfortable and welcoming to the majority of people participating.

One response implied that disallowing these themes was kink-shaming folks who enjoy BDSM or similar dynamics—and I really want to clear that up: that’s simply not the case.

BDSM, power play, rough sex, praise, degradation, restraints, consensual dub-con setups like sex pollen or aphrodisiacs etc—all of that can absolutely be a part of the event as long as it’s clearly tagged and rooted in mutual consent within the fic. Abuse and kink are not the same thing. Kinks are negotiated and consensual; abuse is a violation.

The line matters, and it’s one I intend to uphold with care and respect for both writers and readers.

I also want to take a moment to say that I deeply believe in the value of writing and reading smut, erotica, and all forms of spicy fiction as something that can be incredibly cathartic, empowering, and healing. For so many of us, these spaces are how we reconnect with our bodies, our autonomy, our confidence, and even our sense of safety—especially after experiences that have taken those things away. Smut isn’t just "fun"—it’s often reclamation, exploration, comfort, or just joy. And that is beautiful.

Because I see writing this way, I also believe that certain themes can be truly disruptive to that healing and autonomy. For this reason, I’ve made the decision that rape, non-con (non-consensual sexual acts), and abuse will not be permitted as themes or content in Spice Week. I know these subjects can also be processed through fiction for some, and I’m not dismissing that as a coping mechanism—but this particular space, for this event, is meant to feel like a haven, a cozy fire-lit tavern where no one has to worry about stumbling into those wounds by accident. For many participants, even reading summaries or tags that reference these topics can break that safe atmosphere.

It’s not about censorship or judgment. It’s about drawing boundaries that reflect the tone and comfort I want to cultivate for this community during this specific week. This is a celebration of enthusiastic, consensual intimacy, and I want everyone who takes part to know they won’t have to brace themselves for something traumatic in the middle of their fun. I know that may be frustrating for some darker fic writers, and I hear and respect that—but I ask that people extend that same respect to those who need this event to remain a soft, safe space, even if it contains smut/spice.

Because I care deeply about the emotional safety, comfort, and joy of everyone participating in this event, Abuse, Rape, and Non-Con will be excluded from Spice Week.

Again, this is not a reflection on anyone’s personal preferences or coping mechanisms—there are many incredible events out there with a darker tone or more open content policy. But here, in this little corner of fandom, we’re creating something warm, spicy, joyful, and safe.

If these guidelines don’t match someone’s creative goals or vibe, that’s totally okay. Everyone has different preferences, and I’m sure there are plenty of other events or spaces where more extreme or cathartic themes can be explored freely. I truly wish everyone the best in finding or creating what feels right for them—and thank you again to everyone who offered thoughtful feedback and helped me shape this into something inclusive, fun, and safe. 💖✨

_ Bucky

[vibrantbirdy]

You are so incredibly talented! I love reading all of your works! : )

Could I request a Cal Kestis x female reader (or OC, no preference really). I’ve been super into the game recently and just love his character. Maybe a really strong female character, but she gets flustered by Cal’s confidence, and how much she has grown to like him more than friends. I totally see him being a complete flirt (but still sweet). Haha. I’ve always had this idea that it would be cool for a force user to show someone what it’s like by holding their hand and pulling something to them (like aiding them in using the force). Stupid maybe I don’t know lol, basically Cal being suave and laying it on thick. Fluff, crack, little spice, I’m here for whatever creative piece you get going ❤️

Firstly, thank you for your lovely words! Secondly, yay, Cal! Thank you, I'm glad someone's asked for Cal, this is a cute prompt.

Character x Reader requests are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Masterlist of my fics can be found here.

Title: Proximity Fandom: Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order/Survivor Games Setting: Prior to events of Jedi Survivor Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Fluff - This is tooth-rotting fluff with a little added spice as requested ;) Warnings: This fic is 18+ so please heed and respect the adult rating. Descriptions of sexual longing/arousal; one scene of strong consensual sex - nothing too descriptive but probably on the borderline of (hopefully still sweet) mild smut. Pairing: Cal Kestis x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 5.5k (Because I have no self control) Summary: You are an accomplished Coruscanti thief who has been recruited by the Rebel Jedi, Cal Kestis. As you join him and his crew on their adventures aboard the Mantis, you and Cal have to navigate your growing feelings for each other.

You are standing in some Imperial-worshipping Senator's private vault in a bank nestled deep in the heart of Coruscant's palatial financial district. You've just located your prize - a data stick containing the names of high standing political and military figures within the Empire who have Republic, perhaps even Rebel leaning sympathies.

It's the Senator's insurance policy, his get out of jail free card - something he can produce at the eleventh hour in case his unwavering loyalty to the Empire turns out not to be enough to save him from the pull and push of the Imperial tide of oppression swelling across the Galaxy.

You'll sell the data stick to one Rebel faction or another, whoever is willing to pay most for your service in getting information out of Imperial hands and aiding the Rebel's recruitment drive in the process.

You're in the middle of internally congratulating yourself on successfully extracting the data stick from its complex security casing when a male voice, almost conversational in tone, rings out behind you.

"I can't let you leave with that."

Startled, you whirl around to see a man standing no more than a meter away from you. You wonder how long he's been there, watching you.

He has bright ginger hair which is swept back from his face, short at the back and sides, but longer on top and slightly ruffled. His matching red stubble sits on his cheeks, chin, upper-lip and travels up his well-defined jawline to his ears. He is dressed simply in a fawn shirt, dark grey pants, and sturdy brown boots.

A small red and white droid, bipedal, with a flat rectangular head and two photoreceptors, one slightly larger and beadier than the other, hangs almost casually off his shoulder like a pet. It's a BD unit, you think.

Both the man and the droid are rather dirty, but then, so are you after squeezing your way through a maze of dusty ventilation shafts. It makes sense the only possible way they could have gotten in here is the same way you did.

The stranger is holding something metal in his right hand that glints occasionally in the vault's dim security lighting, but you can't quite work out what it is. A weapon?

You raise your blaster.

"Don't!" he shouts, holding out a palm towards you, "The vault is magnetically sealed, if you miss, that bolt's going to cause us both a world of problems."

You raise an eyebrow because one, you already know that, and two...

"Bold of you to assume I'll miss at point blank range," you say levelly.

You keep your weapon trained steadily at the young man's chest.

He adjusts his grip on whatever it is he is holding and a green beam of light extends from the hilt of what you now realise is a lightsaber. A deep thrumming sound resonates around the small chamber.

A Jedi. Great.

You thought they were all extinct after the Emperor's purge. Briefly, childhood memories of evening strolls with your parents past the monumental ziggurat of the Jedi temple glowing golden in the low Coruscanti sun flash through your mind. You remember the thrill of excitement at seeing the Jedi, elegant and regal in their grand robes, lightsabers clinking at their belts as they swept by on important Republic business.

Right now? Here? This is the last place you want to see one.

The light from the blade illuminates the young man's face which, you have to admit, is a rather attractive combination of youthful and rugged. His nose and cheeks are peppered with freckles and his eyes contain green irises so deep in colour that they almost match his blade. A thin, red scar runs almost horizontally across the bridge of his nose, dipping down onto his right cheek. The ghost of a smirk is now playing on his lips and it has the irritating effect of making him more handsome.

You don't know why, but for some reason, you trust him instinctively not to try and cut you in half with that humming beam of hot, vibrating energy. At a stalemate, you lower your blaster. He follows your lead by deactivating the blade of his saber immediately.

"If you make me a good offer, you can have this right now," you say, one hand on your hip, the other waving the data stick in front of him impatiently.

You never like staying on the scene of a job too long and you are starting to feel on edge.

"I've got ... uhhh ... one hundred credits?"

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he speaks. He knows it's a stupidly lowball offer and you scoff loudly to let him know you think so too.

"Look, I know the ISB would pay a lot for information like this but..."

"I don't sell to the Empire," you snarl, cutting him off.

He holds up his hands in a gesture of apology which seems genuine enough. He tries again.

"I really need to get this to a contact in the Mid Rim..."

"The Mid Rim?" you interrupt abruptly, "that's off-world."

"Yeah..." his brow furrows and a slow, quizzical smile spreads across his face at the obviousness of your statement.

You curse yourself for being as predictable as a cheap holo novel. All your life you've lived on Coruscant. You've never been anywhere else. These days, the endless maze of unnatural, lifeless spires and struts and blocks of artificial construction seem to press in and in and in on you so that, despite the sprawling size of the metropolis, it feels like you are living in a tiny metal cage.

Still, this stranger didn't need to know that, and you realise you've given him his angle - a bargaining chip.

"I can't buy it off you," he reasons, "I don't have the credits, but I do have a proposal. Work with me and my crew. It's regular and we're rarely on one world for too long..."

There it is...

You got in here," he continues, gesturing around the vault, "we could use someone with your skill set. And, you get to piss off the Empire in the process."

You consider his offer. You are used to working alone and you don't like the complications that come with relying on others. Trusting anyone is difficult after fending for yourself, all alone, so successfully and for so long....

But with the Empire continuing to close their fist around all aspects of daily life, work was difficult to come by on Coruscant these days. Thieving in the city from Imperial targets in particular was becoming more and more fraught with danger.

While it riled you that he was able to read you so easily, really, what did you have to lose? Because by the Force did you not want to get off Coruscant? Isn't this what you'd been waiting for your whole life? An adventure?

"One job," you counter pragmatically, extending your hand to shake his, "And we'll see how it goes from there."

"Cal Kestis," he introduces himself with a disarmingly friendly smile, "And deal."

*************************************************

One job turns into another then another and another. Weeks turn into months and soon you've been on Cal's ship - well, borrowed ship you had come to learn - the Mantis for nearly half a year.

You've grown close with the crew of the Mantis. Cal, Gabs, Bravo and the two hulking Klatooinine twins, Lizz and Koob. This type of camaraderie is new to you. You really thought you'd struggle with it, that your independent nature would rail against the confines of living in close quarters with ship mates and fitting your own whims and desires and wants around others. In reality, you've never felt more at home. You didn't realise how lonely you had become before.

And the missions you run with the crew are exhilarating. This new life is so much more than just pilfering here and there from the Empire. You feel like you are really making a difference, like you're spitting directly in the face of the Imperial machine with every job. You feel like a Rebel.

It's not all sabotage and espionage and fighting Stormtroopers though. Off duty, life on the Mantis is mainly based around friendly joshing and winding each other up. And the dull minutiae of life still goes on.

Like now.

You and Cal are patching up the Mantis while the others are out on a supply run. You are currently crouched on your haunches so that the service hatch you are examining on one of the walls inside the ship is at eye level.

Cal is stood behind you, arms folded across his chest. You've been arguing good naturedly about what the problem is with the engine cooling system for an hour and you are now impatiently waiting for BD-1 to finish his scan to find out which one of you is right.

The little droid crawls out from the tangle of wires and gives you little nod and a boop of approval. You pat BD on his rectangular head and he scurries up your arm and on to your shoulder.

"I told you that was the problem," you say, craning your neck to look up at Cal with a triumphant grin.

You gesture to the wiring tool in his hand.

"Give that to me, I'll do it."

The Jedi looks down at the small instrument in his hand then tosses it up in the air and catches it again. He has that mischievous look on his face, the one you've learned to recognise as a sign that he's about to do something really annoying.

"Kestis..." you warn standing up, unable to stop your lips curling into a smile.

You make a lunge for the tool in his hand, but he's too quick. In a flash, he's holding it up above his head. Cal is almost a head taller than you and there's no way you can reach that high, even when you stretch up onto your tiptoes.

Instead, you decide to play dirty. You jab him hard in both his sides with your fingers where you know he's ticklish. He makes a funny sort of snorting noise in surprise and his hand drops for long enough that you manage to snatch the tool from him and make off with it at great speed.

Cal darts after you, both of you careering in to the kitchen of the Mantis, the thud and scrape of your boots on the ship's durasteel grated floor ringing throughout the ship in chorus with your laughter.

BD-1 takes this opportunity to leap of your shoulder and onto the kitchen table with an indignant whirr, determined not to get involved in this organic tomfoolery.

Cal is on you in seconds. He grabs you around the middle and lifts you off the ground with ease, spinning you around and deliberately tickling you in between making grabs for the wiring tool.

You squeal and let out perhaps the most ridiculous giggle to ever escape your mouth. You can't let him get away with forcing you to make a noise like that so you elbow him in the stomach. It's only a gentle prod really, but it's enough to make him grunt and let go of you.

As Cal doubles over, winded, you sprint back around to the opposite side of kitchen table holding the instrument aloft and performing a little victory dance.

Across the table, Cal straightens and, with a cocky look on his face, he stretches his arm out towards you. You stumble forwards slightly as if pulled forwards by an invisible rope tied around your wrist as he uses the Force to tear the tool easily out of your hand and bring it flying through the air to rest in his own outstretched palm.

"That's cheating!" you say, breathlessly.

Despite your half-hearted admonishment, in reality, you're delighted. And you're certain Cal knows it. The more time you spend with him, the more that old fascination you held as a child with the strange powers of the Jedi has returned. You are always enchanted by Cal's displays of Force ability.

"Alright kids, we almost ready to go?" Gabs' voice echoing through from the Mantis' doorway signals the return of the others.

Cal shrugs at you and you both grin, panting from your exertions. Keeping his green eyes locked on yours, he backs casually towards the door to help Gabs and the others load up the supply crates. Just before he exits the ship, he tosses the wiring tool to you underarm and you catch it with an elaborate flourish and twirl that makes him laugh.

You return to your work fixing the Mantis's cooling system with BD-1. You try to concentrate, but you feel slightly giddy. You can still feel Cal's strong arms against your body as if they remain wrapped around you. His masculine scent, pleasant and earthy and fresh like petrichor, seems to linger in your proximity and on your skin.

BD-1 tries his best to keep you right. He trills or nudges you every so often either to correct your wiring or to encourage you to stop staring into space with that inane, absent-minded smile.

When you lie in your cot bed that night, the hum of the Mantis' hyperdrive lulls you into a comfortable drowsiness and your thoughts return, unbidden, to Cal.

Over the past few months, it's like the very idea of him nestled deep into your brain and now refuses to budge. Every morning when you wake, you look forward to the sight of his honest, open, expressive face. The warmth of his slightly crooked smile. The way his red brows arch when he finds something funny before he squeezes his eyes shut so tight that they crinkle at the corners as he throws back his head, letting out peels of joyful, open-mouthed laughter.

Even when he has those strange moments of quiet introspection which you don't quite understand yet, you find it hard not to watch him. You can't help it, even although you sometimes feel like you are intruding on a private, sacred moment of reflection. It's always the same. His eyes glaze over as he stares out into the distance at nothing, a muscle works in his chiselled jaw, and then his head drops as if in dignified, melancholic prayer. These periods never last too long - not when he has a crew to lead.

There's no point in denying it anymore, at least not to yourself anyway. Your feelings for Cal go beyond comradeship; beyond friendship. And a hopeful notion has formed in your head that he might actually feel the same way about you.

It's both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

A sudden heat blooms deep within your very core and rises in your cheeks as your mind conjures the image, no, the feeling of Cal's solid, toned body, pressed against yours in a feverish, impassioned embrace, your limbs entwined, fingers woven tightly through the flames of his red hair

Force, you want him.

You place a palm against the cool durasteel wall above your head that separates your room from the Jedi's. You wonder what he's thinking of on the other side of the thin sheet of metal.

****************************************

Cal Kestis can't sleep. Like most Jedi, he can't actually read the thoughts of others, but his connection to the Force allows him to feel the emotions and state of mind of those around him.

Over the past few months, the Jedi has noticed your feelings for him blossoming into something more than friendship, mirroring the growth of his own affections for you.

But tonight, Cal can sense that something in your emotional frequency has changed. Evolved. A clarity, a new and vigorous and glorious certainty in your desire for him radiates incandescent through the Force. It's like the smouldering embers of a fire have ignited into a ferocious blaze.

As the feeling permeates through the thin sheet-metal wall dividing you, the intensity of it, the heat of it, drives him crazy. He wants to rip through the flimsy partition separating you and give you everything you want from him and more. His whole body is aflame with almost painful arousal and he is aching to bring himself release.

Cal resists, teetering on the very edge of giving himself over to his desire. Is this voyeuristic? Is he trespassing? Crossing some unspoken line? Should he be trying to block you out? He doesn't know.

The Jedi hisses through his teeth in frustration. Reluctantly, he rolls out of bed and, sinking to his knees on the floor, surrenders himself to the Force in search of whatever temporary solace he can find in meditation.

Even as he does so, he knows that the only real relief he'll be able to get now is if he can find it with you.

***************************************

The crew of the Mantis are taking some time to rest after a run of particularly eventful jobs. You've landed on the quiet world of Brax at the edge of the Mid Rim. It's a beautiful, lush planet adorned with meadows of wildflowers, glassy lakes and sprawling coniferous forests.

Everyone is making the most of their down time.

Gabs and Bravo have gone off for a hike in the nearby woods.

BD-1 is having a well earned oil bath on the Mantis.

The twins are snoozing in the meadow amongst the flowers. When you'd crept past them earlier, you'd smiled fondly - the peaceful serenity on their faces was such an odd juxtaposition to their usual chaotic enthusiasm for life.

Having successfully sneaked past Lizz and Koob without waking them, you are now sitting atop a large slab of rock which juts up and out of the meadow. You alternate between admiring the view of the lake and cleaning your blaster.

It is a warm day, but a gentle cooling breeze keeps the heat at bay. A gust suddenly whips up the heady, sweet smell of wildflowers all around you. For some reason the scent triggers something inside you, your heart suddenly full to bursting with a strange concoction of melancholy and joy.

To think that all this beauty, all this Galaxy was just out here, waiting, your whole life. And if you'd never met Cal, you might still be crawling through filthy ventilation shafts smelling of metal and damp and darkness just to get by on Coruscant.

You are just about ready to reassemble your weapon when you look up from your task towards where the Jedi is meditating with his back to you. He's kneeling a few meters in front of you on the sandy shore by the still water. You always think it's strange how he chooses to sit on his knees, rather than cross-legged. It looks uncomfortable to you, but he seems to be able to sit like that for anywhere up to an hour. Maybe you'll ask him about it one day.

Cal is shirtless. Even from here, you can see the freckles littered like celestial constellations across his strong back and down his broad shoulders and muscled arms. You take the opportunity to admire the outlines and angles of his taut, athletic body.

You start as the Jedi begins to stand. You'd rather not get caught staring at him quite so openly and you quickly shift your gaze back to your blaster which is still in its various component parts.

Cal turns and advances towards you up the beach and onto the grassy meadow. You pretend not to have noticed him at all, but you keep catching glimpses of him in your peripheral vision. He walks a few paces, then stops and looks around as if he's searching for something on the ground. Then he crouches down. He does this several times.

What is he up to?

"Hey," Cal says casually as he finally wanders over to you.

He has to crane his neck to speak to you, perched as you are on top of your rock, and use a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He's hiding something behind his back you realise.

"Oh, hey," you reply, as if you're surprised to see him there.

He pulls his hand from behind his back and reaches up to you. In his grasp is a bunch of wildflowers, beautiful pastel blues and pinks and purples.

You exclaim softly in surprise, a rather giddy sound that makes Cal beam up at you. As you take the blooms from him, his fingertips, calloused and tough from years of wielding a weapon in combat, brush gently against your hand. Even that small touch feels like a spark of electricity arching between you.

"See you at dinner," he says, and he's clearly pleased with himself as he retreats towards the Mantis, head held high, a jaunt in his step.

As you twist in your seated position to watch him disappear into the ship, you realise you were so enchanted by the gesture that you forgot to say thank you.

That's the thing about Cal Kestis. He's completely disarming. He has a rare, effortless charisma and an easy, flirtatious way about him that is somehow both sweet and suave at the same time. Few men you've met have ever managed to render you so flustered.

You look down at the delicate blooms in your hand and bring them to your nose, inhaling their fresh scent. Smiling to yourself, you shake loose the functional way you usually wear your hair to keep it out of your face and retie it, carefully weaving the wildflowers that Cal has picked for you through your locks.

When you come in for dinner - Bravo's turn to cook - Cal is already sitting at the kitchen table. He looks up and inclines his head to the side as he takes you in, his eyes widening. You blush furiously to see the genuine pleasure at the sight of you and your decorated hair written so openly on his face.

Amid the usual convivial hubbub and chaos of dinner in the Mantis' kitchen, you and Cal steal glances at each other across the table.

**********************************************

That evening, the moon is low and yellow in Brax's dark sky, hanging like a ball of golden light above the lake. You have an hour or so before you all depart for a rendezvous with a contact on Naboo. It's the twins' turn to do pre-flight checks and you find yourself on the shores of the water, skimming stones with Cal to kill time.

Before joining the crew of the Mantis you'd never skimmed a stone in your life. Not many places to do that on Coruscant. But Gabs in particular is an ace at it and she's taught you well.

Cal spots a likely candidate for his next projectile and he brings it flying casually into his hand using his Jedi abilities.

"What does it feel like like?" You ask, suddenly.

Cal smiles at you, seemingly understanding that you are talking about the Force. He hesitates for a second, looking down at the stone in his open palm. Then he places it back on the ground in an obvious position, nestled in the sand a few feet in front of you, and moves round to stand behind you.

He's so close you can feel his heart beating against his chest. Instinctively, you lean back into him, enjoying the safe feeling that his nearness gives you, and the warmth of his body against yours in the chill night air.

"It's time for instruction," he says softly.

He's said that phrase before when he's showing anyone how to do something new. You've come to understand that it's a fond impression of his late Master's dignified voice - a touching habit you've always thought.

Tonight it sounds different. His tone is light and teasing, but the smirk you can hear as he speaks makes the words sound almost seductive in a way that causes something to flip then tighten in the pit of your abdomen.

"Hold out your hand."

You extend your right arm, holding your palm outwards as you've seen Cal do many times. He places his own palm against the back of your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours.

His other hand comes to rest at your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer into him. He doesn't need to put it there and you both know it. Nor does he need to rest his chin on your left shoulder, so close to your cheek that his stubble almost tickles your skin.

Yet you can tell that you are both revelling in this rare, private opportunity for proximity between the two of you, and it is as thrilling as it is maddening.

"Focus. Breathe."

You realise you've been holding your breath. You feel Cal's chest rising and falling against your back and you match your own breathing in time with his. You can't help but notice it's at a slightly elevated pace.

"See the stone in your hand."

You nod and exhale, your eyes boring into the rock as if you really are going to levitate it yourself. You try and fail to stifle a sudden giggle at the ridiculousness of such an idea.

"Concentrate," Cal scolds quietly in your ear but you can hear the smile in his voice as the hand round your waist tightens its grip ever so slightly.

"I am," you mutter, but it's only half true.

You wonder if it's just your imagination, but in the seconds that follow, you think you can feel an deep, vibration flowing through Cal and passing through his body and into yours, binding your lifeforces together.

The rock flies so suddenly into your palm that you jump. You just about remember to close your fingers around the stone's cool, smooth surface as you shout out in surprise and delight. Cal lets out a good-natured laugh at your reaction and you glow as it rumbles through his whole body and yours.

You've just made up your mind to twist around in his arms kiss him when BD-1 comes running through the grass at great speed on his little legs, beeping and chirping urgently.

"Ok buddy, ok, we're coming," Cal says kindly to the little droid, but you can hear the exasperation at the untimely interruption in his voice.

*******************************************

Course set, the Mantis is travelling at lightspeed and, nestled safely in the cradle of the hyperlane, you will probably make it to Naboo in about six hours.

You suspect the rest of the crew are all sleeping soundly. The Mantis takes care of herself for the most part when travelling through hyperspace. With the life you lead, the importance of catching rest when you can cannot be underestimated.

You, however, cannot sleep. Thoughts of Cal and your interrupted moment by the lake race through your mind. The wildflowers he gave you are still in your hair and every so often you catch the ghost of their aroma, reminding you of your almost idyllic day on Brax.

You sigh and drag yourself out of bed, deciding to go and sit in the empty cockpit of the Mantis for a while and watch the stars race by as you hurtle through the hyperlane. Although it should really be frightening, you love to watch great swathes of the Galaxy disappear in a flash before your eyes as the Mantis catapults through space. It's a novel experience for you still - being off Coruscant, light speed travel, new worlds.

You wave your hand over the control and the door to your room hisses open. You jump to see a figure already standing there in the corridor. With a jolt of excitement, and with a strange feeling that you've summoned him somehow, you realise that it's Cal.

"Uh, hi.."

You don't let him get more than two words into his sentence. You grab him roughly by the front of his loose night shirt - which is slung low, revealing tufts of ginger hair on his chest and the elegant lines of his collarbone - and pull him into a deep kiss.

Not breaking away from your lips, and hardly hesitating, he picks you with almost alarming ease. You wrap your legs around his waist and curl your fingers in his red hair as he carries you back into your quarters. He places you up onto your workbench situated against the opposite wall as the door slides closed behind you.

"You look so pretty with those flowers in your hair," he mumbles into your neck you shiver with pleasure as his mouth brushes against your skin as he talks.

"Yes, it's a shame you're about to make such a mess of me," you whisper into his ear.

He pulls back to stare at you for a moment, green eyes wide as if dumbfounded by your forwardness. His delighted, slack-jawed expression forces a loud giggle from deep within you.

"Shhh," Cal warns emphatically, keenly aware of the proximity of the rest of the crew and how thin the walls of the Mantis are. He presses a kiss to your mouth in an attempt to silence your outburst, but you can feel his body shake with his own barely contained laughter as he grins against your lips.

Once your stifled mirth subsides, you hastily start to undress each other. You barely have time to appreciate the now naked, muscular form of the Jedi before you, when, in his enthusiasm to remove it, Cal accidentally rips your flimsy night dress away from your body. As it comes apart in his hands, the fabric makes a loud tearing sound, louder even perhaps than that of your previous bouts of laughter. You both freeze, as if anticipating someone will burst through the door and catch you in this compromising position, before dissolving into poorly restrained giggles again.

As he drinks in the sight of your body, Cal's expression changes into something primal. His brows knit together as if he is trying to understand how you could possibly be sitting in front of him like this. Then, his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare before he crashes his mouth back down on to yours into a deliciously rough kiss.

You don't move from your position on your workbench, and you coil your legs around Cal as tight as you can as he starts to move in you. The pace is urgent. You don't mind. There'll be opportunities for languid and gentle love-making in the future. Right now, this is a matter of need for both of you. The cord of tension that has been tightening between you for months finally snapping in a glorious, frenzied, explosion of mutual lust.

As his pace increases and his movements start to become uncoordinated, Cal moves a hand down between your bodies, splaying his palm against you, and settling the pad of his thumb between your legs at the very place you most need it to be.

At this, your hand which was tangled in his flaming hair flies down to join the other at his back and he growls as you claw your fingers in to his flesh between his shoulder blades.

You press your lips hard into his shoulder to muffle your cries as you approach your peak and then, suddenly, you are crashing over the edge and seeing stars. You gasp out his name, over and over, open mouthed and breathy against his ear.

This, combined with the sensation of your body in rapture, sends Cal hurtling towards his own oblivion. You cling to him while the great, strong muscles all over his body tense and release, and he lets out a long, shuddering groan into your neck that is almost a whimper.

The sight of him, the sound of him falling apart in front of you is beautiful.

Once you've both caught your breath, Cal lifts you gently off the table, and carries you to your tiny, single cot bed. You manage to position yourselves fairly comfortably in the snug space by lying on your sides. The Jedi has one arm laced underneath you with the other slung over your waist, hand resting on your stomach and holding you close to his warm chest.

As you are lulled almost into a doze by the sound and feel of his slow and steady heartbeat, you take in the rather sorry sight of the flowers which once bejewelled your hair, now scattered in ruin across the functional durasteel floor.

"I told you those flowers wouldn't last," you muse drowsily.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Cal removes his hand from your waist and reaches out his arm, palm splayed open. A blue bell flower, stem and petals astonishingly still intact- a brave survivor of the onslaught of urgent hands through your hair - floats lazily up from the floor and towards you on the bed.

Cal plucks it out of the air and gently weaves the bloom into your locks just above your ear. Then, he kisses you gently on the cheek and then on your shoulder, his beard tickling your skin, before sinking back down on to his side and resuming his previous position curled comfortingly around you.

For some reason, despite the eroticism of what you've just done together, this sweet gesture makes you flush disproportionately and you feel your cheeks turning pink.

You're starting to realise, perhaps hope, that the heady feeling of being slightly flustered in Cal Kestis' proximity might never go away.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 45

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Amor Gignit Amorem

Notes: /

!!!Special Warnings for this chapter: !!!SPICE/SMUT!!!! Foreplay, Oral F recieving. Unprotected sex. Consensual!!!

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  45/47

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Swiftly he turned you in his arms, curling a hand gently around your throat, kissing along the side of your neck with vigor. The hotness of his mouth was burning onto your skin, it heated your throat before it was at the spot below your ear. A nervous giggle escaped you. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck before his lips closed over it.

He reached for the cords of your trousers, undoing the knot. “May I undress you?”

“You may.” You leaned back into him, nudging your nose against his jaw and neck, pressing your lips to them.

He moved the trousers down your hips and let them fall to the floor, helping you step out of them. Your shirt was lifted over your head and off of your body, he dropped it on top of your trousers as if it had personally scorned him by keeping the sight of you from his view.

His arm hooked around you, pulling you against him again after he saw you shy away. A very breathy compliment went right past your ear, “My beautiful wife.”

Being completely bare in front of him was confronting, you couldn’t fight the urge to cover yourself with your arms and hands, it was a very vulnerable position to be in.

He could sense your own nervousness rising to heights it had never been before. “Shhh…” he hushed, “You are safe with me.”

“I know.” You leaned into him more. “I just feel very bare right now.”

He slowly turned you around, eyes drinking in the sight of your body. The look in his eyes was nowhere near one you had ever seen before, they were dazed yet somehow alert. A certain confidence was oozing off of him. He was not afraid anymore, he was certain about this, you could tell. He walked you backwards until your back met the wall beside the bed. You took the initiative to undo his trousers, letting them fall to the floor and he stepped out of them. Your moment by the washbasin had had it’s affect on him. He was hardening and the sight of him now bare made you clench your legs together in anticipation, a choking breath got caught in your throat when he brought his hand down between them. You were shaking against him, doubting your legs could keep you standing without him there to pin you to the wall. You had brought an arm around him, holding on to his shoulder as his fingers worked to get your body more and more unsteady. Those slender digits of his knew what to do, as did his mouth that did not stop tasting what he could of your bare shoulder. With no fabric to hide behind, the sound of your wetness was also impossible to hide as his fingers slid through it.

“Ah.” he said. One word, spoken so smugly.

You turned your head to the side to hide that it had flustered you. For him it was obviously a stroke to his ego to hear how wet you were becoming from his manual administrations.

He smiled against your ear, pushing his leg between yours to get them to open more. “You will be streaming over me at this rate.”

“Shut up-”

He slowly sank his index finger inside, silencing you, and smirked when you tried to close your legs at the sudden sensation. Your hold on his shoulder got firmer as he tended to your growing ache for him, little time passed before he added his middle finger to aid. He rested his forehead to yours, breathing unsteadily, trying to fight how he shook in his bones. You let your hand glide down his chest, spreading it open on his abdomen and making your way down to palm him.

You copied the rhythm he used on you, stroking him for every pump of his fingers, a slow but steady rhythm that had him close his eyes and focus on breathing.

“Still alright?” You touched his cheek.

He hummed, swallowing down a sound upon stroking him again. He withdrew his hand from you and plucked your own from his member. His eyes traveled to the bed, then back to you. You read the unspoken from his eyes and took the initiative to take seat on the edge of the mattress, looking up at him with undeniable longing. It was finally happening and you were struck by a mixture of emotions, how odd it was to feel so overwhelmed with anticipation that you’d almost want to flee the overpowering feeling. It was just nerves, so many nerves…

He caressed your cheek, unable to hide how nervous he himself sounded, “Lay down for me?”

So many nerves, rushing through your body and mind, causing you to process what he had asked a little slower. A nervous giggle fell from your lips at your own slow response. “Forgive me, I’m nervous.”

“As am I.” His expression softened.

You had just scooted back to get closer to the pillows when he crawled onto the bed, caught you behind the knee and tugged at your leg. It had you with your back against the mattress instantly. With agility he moved to be above you, body weighing down on yours. Your knees were at either side of him to let him get comfortable between your legs.

He traced the tip of his finger down your nose, over your lips and chin, all the way down between your breasts. With that boyish charm he smiled down at you just as his hand spread open on your stomach and glided down between your legs. He squeezed your inner thigh and felt lightly over the mess he had already caused down there.

He whispered close to your lips, “Tonight I want to please your body until you know no other name but mine.”

It took a moment before you were able to form words again upon hearing that. “Lancelot, tonight should be about your desires first. It is the first time you-”

He stole a kiss, nearly scolding you, “It is our consummation.” His lips nipped at your collarbone. “All I want for tonight is for us to find pleasure together, in any way we can have it.”

He went lower, dragging his mouth over your chest, lightly cupping a breast he tended to with his mouth. Lower and lower, he moved over your body, leaving a trail of wet kisses to mark where he’d been, brushing his mouth over every scar he encountered. He reached where he had been heading to and claimed you with his mouth, letting out a grunt when tasting your arousal right from the source. He did not mind when your fingers went into his hair to steer him, nor when you uttered some quiet directions. With devotion he sought to fulfill his promise, his name began to tumble from your lips as if it was the only word you still knew how to speak.

A moan broke free. “Lancelot…”

He crawled back up your body, taking hold of your chin to kiss you fiercely at the call of his name. His actions switched from sweet to dominant in the most intoxicating way, his heated breath never left you as it traveled across your skin. He stroked himself, aligning and preparing himself for claiming what he wanted. Your gazes locked together, a undeniable nod from you and one from him.

“Make me yours, my Lancelot.” you encouraged softly.

There was a slight arch to his brow, a smile that bordered on smug. He leaned in closer to your ear to correct it, “You are mine.”

Of course he was nervous to guide himself inside, when he palmed himself you helped guide him by the hand. His eyes had darkened upon receiving help like this, betraying how arousing it must have been to him.

That first feeling of heat… was indescribable. With caution he brought himself deeper, eyes never leaving your face to search for signs of discomfort. It was exactly what his body craved for but nothing he could have imagined. Your eyes had fluttered shut, a few quiet gasps fled your lips and he could not help but kiss them.

“You’re mine…” he sounded in disbelief.

It had been quite a while since you last shared your bed with someone, but this time it did not mean nothing, it meant everything. He was so present and attentive, careful even though you could sense the burning desire in him.

You traced your thumb over his marking, speaking against his lips, “And you are mine.”

He poured his heart into the kiss that followed, teeth grazed over lips over tongue. You moved against him, seeking the friction he was still denying himself of. The first time he moved it was by pure instinct, his body seeking the pleasure yours could bring.

Your hands landed on his hips, encouraging him, “That’s it… just like that.”

It was an instinct he was yet to learn to use, your guidance was appreciated by him. Quietly you uttered more encouragement and praises as he began to slowly thrust and looked to you for guidance.

He was taking his time, savoring the moment and feeling. He let his hips move instinctively into the heat. It aroused him to no end when he felt your body try and match the rhythm. From the corner of his eyes he noticed how the flame of the candle on the nightstand had transformed to the beautiful green of Fey Fire. Was it this union causing it?

Your breath became one when he leaned down to kiss you, your moans bordered on whimpers as his movements got stronger. He squeezed your thigh, your rear, digging the pads of his fingers into them. Gliding his touch over their soft flesh, grabbing hold of them. You grabbed hold on his shoulders, feeling how much you were shaking under him. Each of his thrusts made the tension build in your core. The angle was almost right and you hoped to fix it.

You gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Let me into your lap. Like in Gramaire.”

He gave no protest and rolled over, putting you into his lap as requested. The short disconnection was solved quickly when you palmed and sank down on him. You rode him slowly, letting him adjust to the difference. He caressed you all over, tracing his fingers from your collarbone down and over your breast, teasing them over your abdomen. A hand grazed over your waist, to your hip and over your thigh. Your core throbbed in pleasure.

A slight jolt went through him in response, his eyes fell shut as he emitted a low content sound he could barely suppress. “Yes… like that…”

He was smiling rapturous when your enthusiasm got stronger and you started to kiss along his neck and throat. His hands were on your waist and began to grab on more firmly the more passionate you grew. You hummed contently into his ear, kissing his earlobe and letting your teeth take hold of it for a brief second.

He had not expected to feel your teeth but was certainly not disappointed. “Little minx.”

When you used your teeth again, he planted you right back under him and with a scolding kiss he reinserted himself. You could tell that he wasn’t giving all of himself. A pent-up frustration was audible in his breathing and it was terribly arousing to hear how much he wanted more but was too restrained and careful to take it. His worry was endearing, but you wanted him, all of him, to hear and feel him take what he so desired.

“Harder.” you gave the incentive. “Please… you won’t break me.”

A sound rumbled through his chest, deep and heavy, a sound so primitive that your body clenched around him once in response. With a long thrust he gave all of himself, pressing his lips against the shell of your ear when you arched into him. His thrusts came at a delicious pace, long and deep, your hips matched the movements of his own. He hit an angle inside that winded the coil in your core with every thrust.

He was chasing his release, groaning louder the closer he got to it. You let him claim it, feeling him thrust harder and urgent. He was throbbing and swelling. His mouth was ghosting over yours, panting against it.

“Oh… gods…” You were close, throbbing on his length, whimpering at the feeling.

He recognized that whimpering. “Let it come… let me feel you grip at me.” He could see that his words had an effect on you. “Almost there…” He gave long strokes, steering your hips to make you take him fully. “That’s it, Sweetheart.”

It was his own low deep moan and throb of his cock that send you over the edge. You couldn’t help it when your cries of pleasure were loud. It came over you like an avalanche, he thrusted a little and it left you a whimpering mess. Every clench of you caused his breath to hitch.

It was impossible not to spill himself when your body was urging it out of him like this. He could not hold back, the stimulation was too strong.

He let out a deep low moan, his cock throbbed strongly and then twitched, spurts of his release hit deep inside. He sank down, using his elbows for support to not put all his weight on you. You were shaking as much as he was and gripping at his arms.

An instant tiredness set into him, nowhere in this world he had felt more comfortable and spend than now. His whole body felt warm and relaxed, feeling you breathe deeply beneath him.

He withdrew himself, never breaking the comfortable position you found yourselves in. Tired and dazed, his lips brushed to your throat, dragging his bottom lip along it until he could taste your lips. Lazily your mouths glided together, your bodies entangled with each other.

“How did it feel for you?” you asked him in a whisper.

He touched your lips, smiling at how much plumper they looked from being put to use. “Unlike anything I have ever experienced.”

Your chest felt warm, tempting you to sleep, a temptation you tried to fight. “In a good way, or…?”

“Yes.” His smile got brighter. “Were you worried I did not enjoy myself?”

“No.” you lied.

He chuckled softly, seeing through the lie. “Good.” He saw your eyes grow tired, much like his own. “Have I pleased you?”

It had sounded a little worried. You erased that concern from his thoughts, “I loved feeling you in me.”

More forward than he thought you would be. What once may have shocked him to hear was now a compliment he etched into his memory.

His fingers danced on your chest. “I want you to tell me when you wish for this, allow me to ensure all your needs are tended to. My wife will have all she needs.”

You wove your fingers through his hair. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. I know you tend to pass your limits just for the benefit of others.”

A gentle smile curved his lips. “You believe it does not benefit me to hear your moans?”

“I…” you covered your face at seeing the smug grin on his.

His thumb tapped on your bottom lip before his lips locked around it. “Share your love with me, and allow me to do the same.”

Your arms closed around him, letting him nest himself against you.

“I feel…” he barely dared to say it.

“Tired?” you guessed.

He feared how it came across. “I do not mean to insult”

It was rather sweet to hear it. “It’s normal. It is late and your body did just exhaust itself.” A grin set on your face. “You saved yourself until marriage. How holy of you.”

The display of wit earned you a squeeze to your rear from him. “At least one of us did.”

You gasped at the unexpected jest. “Oi!”

He kissed away any form of retort you could have thought up to speak and smiled against your mouth in victory.

He settled down next to you, covering both with the sheets for warmth. “Is that why you did not bleed?”

The question surprised you, although it was not strange for one of his upbringing to have questions. “Not everyone bleeds the first time either.”

He dared to look inquisitive, but did not dare ask further.

You scratched his scalp lightly, soothing him. “Being aroused enough tends to help everything go easier, but everyone is different. Did you think I’d bleed?”

“I considered it possible.” he admitted.

That was perhaps why he had held back, out of fear to harm. You made a mental note to share more details on these matters with him.

He put his head down against your shoulder, hooking an arm around you. “I might have panicked if you had.”

You let the jest slip, “Thought you would be used to the sight of blood.”

He sighed, closing his eyes. “Not yours.”

When you stayed quiet for a moment, you could see how he slowly slipped into the allure of sleep.

“I love you so much…” you whispered, playing with his hair a little.

He mumbled something incoherent, too far on the path of sleep, but you choose to believe he reciprocated your statement and let him drift off to sleep.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  At dawn you were still laying on the bed, stomach down, enjoying a peaceful morning by writing in your journal. During the night you had slipped into your chemise for some more warmth. But Lancelot had still been bare when he awoke, only putting his trousers on when he had made his way to the washbasin after you had finished with it. You glanced up to see him wash himself intimately and were glad that both you and him were comfortable with it happening without shame.

You bit your lip, distracted by it. “Need a hand?”

He halted, back facing you, having clearly heard the risque tease. He threw a glance over his shoulder, seeing your cheeky smirk. “You are aware that when you lie down like that I can see into your chemise?”

You dropped your gaze and found out he was right, you tightened the knot in the cords to make the chemise sit less open at the neck. “If you hadn’t told me and someone walked in here…”

He wished he had not pointed it out and lost the view. “Then they would have seen only a glimpse of the beauty that I saw last night.”

You send him a look. “Charming.”

He left the washbasin and approached the bed. “The door is locked, I learned my lesson when Gawain interrupted us.”

You buried your face into your hands for a moment. “Oh gods, why do you have to remind me…”

A chuckle fell, he sat down on the bed and tried to see what you had written down. “Writing of our night?”

You glanced back at him. “That is a very personal matter to write in a journal about. Anyone could grab it and read it.”

“I know you will find a creative way to mention it.” He rubbed your back.

“Are you so desperate to be immortalized in my journal?” you jested, feeling his hand go to the low of your back.

“I did say I see that journal as a way to see into your soul.” He recalled the night he had come to your room in the inn, when he had kissed you and changed everything between you. Even then he had hoped to find the answers to your feelings towards him within the pages of your journal.

You closed the journal. “I think you see into my soul quite well without it.”

He touched your rear with caution, glancing at your face briefly to see if you minded. “I try.”

It made you giggle. Until he tapped your behind, not hard but fast enough to force a gasp out of your lungs. “Oh my… gods… did you just smack my rear?!”

His eyes glistered with mischief, “You are strong enough for it.”

You began to push yourself up. “Don’t you try and stroke my ego with this.”

With a hand on your back he pushed you back down on your stomach, rubbing the spot his hand had come down on. “Would you like me to rub some salve on it?”

You watched him climb up on the bed and straddle your legs. “Was that your plan? Bruise my behind to get me out of my chemise?”

He was smiling broadly at the wit you displayed. “I doubt I bruised you. But perhaps I should inspect it?”

By kicking your leg back, your heel hit him against his rear or back, you weren’t sure what it had been.

He leaned down, his hot breath right into your ear. “You treacherous minx.”

Another gasp fled your throat when he truly took hold of your rear with his hand, kneading at it. He was bolder, taking more risks.

The smugness was dripping from his voice, “You do not sound as if you are in pain.”

You couldn’t believe the effect he had on your body, he was acting like a smug twit and still it felt really good to feel how he lewdly touched your rear. One small layer of fabric did little to shield you from the warmth of his hands that were seemingly determined to make you ache for him.

His hand slipped between your thighs, the fabric formed a pathetic thin barrier. “I keep thinking how warm it is, being between your thighs.”

You felt his fingers caress your inner thighs, getting closer to where they had so patiently heated you last night.

His voice was a husk, deep and inviting, “I desire to make you mine again.”

You tilted your head back, smiling. “I am yours.”

“Yes.” He nodded, voice dropping lower, “You are.”

When you opened your legs a little more he made an approving sound and began to undo the knot that held his trousers in place, willing to begin this coupling.

A knock on the door ruined that plan. An instant silence fell where both hoped those at the door would just go away, sadly they did not and another knock came.

“Ugh.” Lancelot uttered his dismay.

You swallowed a laugh at his response. He put the sheets over you a little before walking to the door.

Arthur awaited him on the other side, looking oddly nervous. “Apologies for banging on your door so early, but you need to get dressed and come with me.”

“Why?” he asked, sounding disinterested.

Arthur did not take that lack of interest to heart. “Just trust me.” He saw you past Lancelot’s shoulder, a wide smile grew on his face at seeing you on the bed in your chemise. “Good morning, y/n.”

Lancelot moved the door so it would hide you from sight. “We’ll be out in a moment.”

Arthur gave a nod and stepped back before he could get the door slammed shut in his face, having seen the spark of jealousy flare up in the Ash Man’s eyes.

Lancelot picked up your clothes and put them on the bed near you, he stared at you for a moment gaze flowing over you. A sigh passed his lips and you held back a small laugh at how he could pout.

“Don’t worry, my love.” you told him. “We’ll have more time alone.”

As you both got dressed you noticed a mark in his neck, it only took you a second to realize you were the one that had caused it. One passionate night and you had kissed his neck a little too enthusiastically. Had he noticed it himself?

Another knock sounded at the door, Arthur was calling out to ask if you had perhaps fallen back asleep, much to Lancelot’s annoyance. You hoped Arthur had a good reason to steal the peaceful morning away.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  You had followed Arthur to the stables, where he showed Lancelot what he’d found where Goliath was stalled.

“I found this near him.” Arthur reached into his pocket, taking out a small piece of cloth that he unfolded for Lancelot to see.

Lancelot instantly recognized the needles and berries of the tree. “Yew…”

Panic rained over him, cold as winter’s ice. Little of a yew tree was needed to kill a horse and even a man. How had it gotten into the stables? There were no such trees nearby.

He went to Goliath immediately, trying to see if the horse showed any strange symptoms.

You turned to him. “Why is that bad?”

“It can kill a horse. It can kill a person as well if ingested.” He tried and failed to stay calm.

Arthur voiced what Lancelot had not yet dared to think. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think this got in here by accident. I only found them with Goliath.”

“Are they in the dining hall?” Lancelot’s eyes grew focused.

Arthur kept quiet, sensing the danger rising before his eyes. Unfortunately, the lack of an answer did nothing to stop the Ash Man from turning around and marching out of the stables.

You knew but all too well what would happen if he went to confront the newcomers in the state he was in and rushed after him, managing to grab hold of him not far outside of the stable.

“Don’t do it, Lancelot!” You stepped in front of him to block his path and he nearly bumped into you.

He took hold of your upper arms. “They are trying to poison him!”

You tried not to jump to the worst conclusion just yet. “We don’t know that for certain, this could be something else other than retaliation.”

Anger spilled from his every word, “You heard what Arthur said. They know he is my horse and the Fey know perfectly well what is poisonous!”

You physically stopped him from trying to march away. “We cannot go into a fit of blind rage! If you go into the castle like this I know you will not be able to stay calm. Let Gawain help.”

“Help?” It came out short.

The tension in your body released a little when he started to look calmer. “To find the ones who think it is acceptable to poison a horse.”

The change in his eyes was subtle when you placed a hand unto his chest. He was a storm, but not one without an end.

“Alright.” he yielded. “I will speak to Gawain, but I will not wait patiently for a solution while others try to poison Goliath.”

He retreated back to the stables where Arthur still stood near where Goliath was. Was it foolish to hope that the yew got into the stables by accident? Had the wind carried it inside? Looking around, no such trees were to be seen nearby…

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