#r u serious rn . what in the fuck was that

[littleoceanbabe]

loki: i don’t want to be alone.

the s2e6 loki writers, for some reason: so anyway i have an idea-

[etchedstars]

they were insane for "ill be all the poets" btw (im breaking down over this)

[t-lostinworlds]

kinda hate how i'm such a guilty spender. like dude, you're buying FOOD to literally keep yourself ALIVE. stop feeling bad about using your money to buy groceries dammit

[unriding]

very messy word dump below the cut + in tags :^) heh

okay it’s officially been a full day since reading this and i’m going to write down everything i remember feeling from day 1! and then in the tags im going to reread this (for the third time within 24 hours) and add thoughts that i didn’t put down here. SORRY FOR THE MESS & NO PRESSURE TO READ ALL THIS SJKDMF IT IS JUST A LOT OF WORD VOMIT BC IM INSANE OVER THIS FIC

okay i should start from the beginning. Wait I’ll use caps so it’s easier to read if you’re reading it bahahhaa OKAY. The way you write alpha / omega!!! It’s different from what I’m used to reading— and I mean it has a lot of a depth. The way you wrote reader being an alpha = being so protective over Aventurine fucked me up so bad /pos. Reader just wants him safe and they’re so real for that.

Going off on that, I LOVE HOW U WROTE THE READER. Understands Aventurine so well. Will literally do anything to keep him safe. Understands what sets him off and what he’s comfortable with. The part where Aventurine was talking about the next mission & reader seeing right through him ): are you serious /pos. WAIT I SKIPPED TOO FAR AHEAD. When Aventurine was trying to get reader to join the IPC? Dead. Evie DEAD. Reader saw right through him omg. Being able to notice the little changes in his scent, the way he tries to mask it etc etc. I love that so bad.

WHEN READER FOUND HIM IN HEAT FUUUCK. ARE YOU SERIOUS /pos. Fighting the urge to help him vs waiting to just make it better because reader has the power to ): I loved that so much. The struggle was so real. Literally bringing a doctor just to hear that he needs an alpha to help anyways omg. Lowkey when the doctor said that I was like PLEASE LET US HELP YOU PLEASEEEEEEE. But also. I didn’t want him to be scared either you know ):

I skipped over another scene sighs. THE part where reader said ‘I like your eyes because they’re yours” and then the end. Him saying he likes our scent because it’s ours. Are you serious /pos. Be so serious /pos.

Okay the scent gland scenes actually fucked me up so bad (I unfortunately did not dream about anything but maybe that is for the best because I’m still recovering from this scene). The part where he asks for just the wrist. Reader struggling when they FEEL HIS TEETH GRAZE THE WRIST IM GONNA EXPLODE OMFG. The immediate pulling away because we don’t want to scare him please. + the scent gland scene at the end. HE DIDN’T FEEL LIKE HE HAD TO BE ON TOP. We could lay side by side ): I was so happy that he was okay with that omg. Literally all giddy like aaaaa!!!!!! IM NOT A THREAT!! Actually that’s a lie I wasn’t giddy. I was literally in tears jejdkckckckk Aventurine 😭😭 ughhhhhhh /pos

I won’t comment on the actual scene (I am commenting on it right now actually) because I was literally so sad and my heart hurt so badly for him. I wanted him to see himself from our POV for just one moment so he can understand that we genuinely love him and treasure him & want to keep him safe. ):

ABOUT YOUR WRITING ITSELF : insanity. I will just say insanity. How should I put it in words….. just thinking about this fic again is taking all the words out of my mouth shejdjfjj (I say this as I type a 27738 page essay about it). I love how you write. I really do. Your writing style is so beautiful. I haven’t read the other tags under your fic but I’m sure many others have said the same thing!!! They word it better than me I’m sure bsjsjsjsjsk

I just love everything about it. How you add in little details (oh! Speaking of details— Aventurine’s reaction to reader cozying up to her husband in the other fic) HEJDJJDJDJ omg. But in this fic, the little signs of him being scared. Scared 24/7 actually ): I love how you conveyed his fear so much. And the way he tries so hard to hide it. HIM CRUMBLING DOWN TO HIS RAW SELF WHEN HES IN HEAT. AND THE FEAR THERE TOO. INSANE.

^^ How you wrote him so adamant about not needing help at first …. To him asking for the scent gland ….. to him agreeing to use reader. It was all so real. He didn’t just change his mind like oh okay! It took him a while to be okay with it and I love how real it all felt. You write dialogue & little details so well— it actually drives me nuts (/compliment /pos)

Oh this just reminded me. Your description of how Aventurine smells killed me /pos. And how you describe his scent as sweet. I’m really not okay /pos. It fits him so well. And … for reader…. the scent after rain ? Oh my god ???? I love that smell so much. It’s so comforting…. OMG. COMFORTING????????? BECAUSE. Oh wow. I’m really not okay now. I JUST LOVE ALL THE DETAILS LIKE THAT )))): it’s so clear you put so much thought into all these things because your fic has so much depth. I lowkey yanked out Notibility for your other Aventurine fic to highlight the parts I wanted to comment on ehdjdkkck I was annotating it like a book (I’m so sorry if this is creepy I promise I don’t do this on a regular basis. I don’t annotate fics normally. Actually please disregard this because I’m a bit red admitting this) (I just have the memory of a goldfish and can only remember feelings and not actual content) (That’s a lie because here I am remembering a lot of this fic MOST LIKELY BECAUSE I READ IT WITH MY EYES AN INCH FROM THE SCREEN PROBABLY I WAS LIKE O_O) /pos

NIGHT FLOWER: part i

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

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

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

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

“I’ve alw███ l█ved ███, Ka██v█s███”

You knew it from the moment you met him.

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

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

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

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

You didn't belong to your slaver.

You belonged to him.

To Kakavasha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Aventurine’,” he corrected.

You stared blankly. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re hiring me?”

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

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

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

“Kakavasha—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what have you lost, Vasha?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aventurine is always afraid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could die,” you point out.

“You'll protect me.”

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

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

“Yes. Just by dumb luck.”

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

“You're a shit liar.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you can tell it's dangerous.”

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

You arch a brow. “...the weather?”

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

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

“Aventurine.”

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

“Aventurine.”

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

“Aventurine.”

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

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

“Retire? Why would I ever do that?”

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

“No such thing.”

“Then you can settle down with someone.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You can't know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

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

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

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

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

It gutted you.

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

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

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

“No,” he breathes, “I don't.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, you do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hated being an alpha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His grip on the sweater tightens. “No.”

You frown. “Aventurine—”

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

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

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

“I’ve barely—”

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

“You really need—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t let them touch you.”

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Winner takes all, he sometimes gloats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want to do?” you ask.

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

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

But he still doesn't stop you.

After a few more days, Aventurine finally breaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just your wrist,” he says quietly.

You listen carefully. “What?”

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

“Okay.”

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

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

“Fine,” he says, breathing measured.

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

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

Both of you inhale sharply.

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

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

Fuck.

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

You pull back your hand, and Aventurine startles.

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

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

Something claws the walls of your heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not scared,” he lies. “Just…”

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

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

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

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

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

Aventurine is always afraid.

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

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

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

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

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—before he looks away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...oh.”

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

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

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

You only want him to feel safe.

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

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

He does eventually speak.

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

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

Aventurine breathes in.

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

Your eyebrows tick up. “Rain?”

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

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

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

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

“Although?” you prompt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aventurine doesn't push you away.

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

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

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

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

end part i

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

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

additional end notes

[grocerystoredean]

panem dash simulator

peeniss4everlark Follow

NOOOOOOOOOO

officialsenecacrane Follow

me when i lie

districtfun Follow

i heard from my uncle who works at hunger games that they're only pulling from everlark shippers when they do the quarter quell

gurlonfire

thats funny because when i was fucking your uncle last night he told me they're only pulling from bitchy district one stans

catohead69 Follow

we poppin the biggest bottles when cato wins

catohead69 Follow

theeclove Follow

okay but is anyone else pissed how the district 11 guy literally did favoritism for late districts or what

rues-song

the careers literally did an alliance r u fucking kidding me i hope u get reaped

theeclove

clearly SOMEBODY doesnt understand the strategy of the games

career-sweep Follow

PLEASE tag your hunger games spoilers. this is literally common sense the games have been going on for 74 years you should know better by now

#hunger games spoilers #SOOO pissed rn theres never been a live announcement and now i found out from fucking everlarks

maytheodds Follow

Yes I'm a 30 yr old hunger games watcher. I've been watching kids die since you were in diapers. You have NO idea the tragedies I've endured. Hunger games is escapism for many of us when I come home from a long day of logging the last thing I need is for some 13 yr old tribute dying in a high stakes competition that we ALL knew was high stakes starting a riot and destroying all the nations grain

corholeanussnow

lmao. get a load of this guy

girlalcoholic Follow

haymitch stans rise tf up

#yes girl get that salve #i would fuck that old man

cinnagirl3000 Follow

i wld nvr survive in thg fr baby im killing myself

#thnk goddddd im cap 😁 #i woulda stepped tf off that platform cinna its been an honor

caeserflickerwoman Follow

does anyone else think it was fucked that peeta invaded ceasar's space when he CLEARLY wasn't comfortable with being SNIFFED by a STRANGER

softgreenpillow

fuck you this is clearly so fucking capitol-centric no one in the capitol would ever be comfortable with any districtperson doing ANYTHING these days. it is capitol-boot-licking scum like you that holds the movement back. get BLOCKED idiot

butchjohanna Follow

Just something I've noticed I think we as a fandom have gotten WAY too comfortable using the phrase "get reaped" as an insult, when it's a very serious reality that many children live with and should not be taken this lightly. Some people online have had to put their names in more for necessities like bread or water and the absolute terror that grips a person waiting for their name to be called doesn't leave you even in adulthood. Please think before you speak

#many of you are not acting in a way that johanna would be proud of. get it together #reaping mention

starcrossedluvrs Follow

[flowershines]

✰ REACTION: RANDOM SEXUAL TEXTS WITH THE LEGAL LINE

{warnings} ⇨ smut, mentions of sex

HEESEUNG:

when r u coming back again?

soon, baby soon

miss you so much

wish u were here

been needing u so bad

aw my baby been needing my cock

your pussy clench around nothing wishing my cock was filling you up?

hee don’t get me all wet

ur not even here to help :(

wanna ft?

my cock is twitching at the thought of your cunt being filled w me

JAY:

just had the best dream

it was of u 🫶

aww what did we do

cuddle?

watch movies?

nope

we fucked

ffs jay 😣

you were sitting on my face then rode me

please sit on my face

need your cunt suffocating me

PARK JONGSEONG

get a hold of ur dick

it’s scaring me :(

JAKE:

please shove your dick so far in my throat

need you so bad, please fuck me like a little slut

your so hot

put your cock in me 🤗

IM GRIPPING AT THE WALLS

i’m ur fuck toy use me!!!!

omg Y/nnie?

srry saw a edit of u 😞

you’re that crazy for me huh?

if u were serious about all of that i will fuck ur throat

i will use you like a fuck toy

and i will fuck you so good princess

u bless my day

I LOVE U SM

I love you too 🫶

SUNGHOON:

good morning stinky

good morning love

how’d you sleep

good still tired tho

wbu

good ig

hoon jr never disappoints 🫡

again?!

you should come over and help me

🙏

nooooo

i just woke up 😪

what am i supposed to do

u got a hand right? do what u do when i’m not there

i grind against your pillow wishing it was you

u brat

i’ll be there in 10

I love you 🫶🫶

shut up

SUNOO:

y u look so fine

the manspreading?!!!!

😍😍

gorgeous i’m live

can’t talk rn :(

that’s fine just open my messages when you are done 🤗

okii

make sure to only watch me 😡

don’t worry pretty boy i am

Y/N

you can’t call me things like that

aww blushing boyyy

such a cutie

bet you won’t be ‘aw’ing me when i’m fucking your tight cunt when we get back to the dorms

silent?

be ready gorgeous

yes sir 🫡

JUNGWON:

please come over

the members are gone

i can finally fuck you and get a taste of that sobbing wet cunt

HELLO??

what happened to good afternoon or i love you so much pretty??

baby please

my cock is twitching at the thought of you

i swear just the thought of you can make me cum

i need you

see now y didn’t u just say that 🤩

tell me more, elaborate.

im gonna eat you out

then fuck you till the members get back

but you need to hurry humping the mattress isn’t as good as you

how dare u start w/o me 🥲

i’m omw handsome

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ PICK UP, DAMMIT. ❞

— suggestive beginning (it's not what you think), jealous satosugu if u squint, shoko x reader (?), poly! satosugu verse, thinking about calling her sho..........constantly

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ i bought a wax kit recently and it was the worst pain just ever, kms

“O-ow, fuck!”

“Shoko, please, not so har- ah!”

“Do you need me to go slower?,” she asks with hints of a mocking tone.

“…No, it's fine. Just stop pulling them so hard, I can't take it.”

"Aw, come on. I could be much rougher than this, ya know?"

"Sho, cut it out!"

She laughs as you suck in a deep breath, giving her a look that says you’re ready, and Shoko yanks upwards in one swift motion. Yelps fill the air, loud and a lot, like you’re a kicked dog. The pain eases when you slap a palm over the skin, soothing the burn. Shoko pats your head to console you, though the way she looks into your eyes is also a little patronizing, teasing. Your phone buzzes nearby.

“Only a little more to go, ya ready?”

“Shit, I guess.” You roll the joint of your arm to reduce the soreness in your shoulder. This was taking a lot longer than you’d planned.

“Alright, I’ll count down this time.” Taking hold of the wax strip, Shoko catches your gaze before speaking. “3…2…” You inhale and brace yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “1!”

Another cry as she yanks the remaining wax away from your armpit, setting it down on your leg and placing a gentle hand on the burning skin. Your head falls back as relief floods your system. A deep sigh frees itself from your lungs.

“Finally.” You blow out a breath, traces of a whistle come out with it. “That shit hurt.”

“I told you it was gonna be bad. But nooo,” Shoko rolls her eyes as she coats your armpit in the after-wax spray. “Big, bad y/n didn’t wanna listen to little ol’ me.”

“Shut up.” You elbow her in the side. Your phone buzzes again, and there’s a knock on the door before Shoko can comment on it.

“Is that them?,” she asks. “Damn, did they run over here?”

You pick up your phone and read the pile of texts, mostly from Gojo, that they sent after your last reply.

sugar🫶🏾: ???

pretty boy!!💙: WTF

pretty boy!!💙: NO WAY IN HELL

pretty boy!!💙: WE CAN DO A WAY BETTER JOB

sugar🫶🏾

missed facetime video call

sugar🫶🏾: y/n r u being serious rn…?

pretty boy!!💙: SHE BETTER NOT BE

(After you never answered)

4 missed calls from pretty boy!!💙 1 missed call from sugar🫶🏾

pretty boy!!💙: PICK UP DAMMIT

pretty boy!!💙: BABY YOU CAN’T LEAVE US HANGING LIKE THIS

sugar🫶🏾: im coming over

pretty boy!!💙: ME TOO

Shoko giggles at the texts over your shoulder, both of you ignoring the rapid knocking at your door. “Why are they so worried, did they want to help you try out your new kit that bad?”

A smile spreads on your face. “I told them you were giving me a Brazilian.”

tagz: @anthoosies @staryukis @mysugu

[whyse7vn]

NICE ERA -

[ ot7 x reader ] > pt one HERE

🍼👨🏼‍🦲⁉️

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

yoongi: love you guys

jimin: are you killing yourself or something?

jk: 😧

yoongi: no i just love you guys

jk: i think yoongi is killing himself 😣

namjoon: here if you want to talk

yoongi: can i not just say i love you guys?

y/n: holy shit

yoongi r u killing urself????

yoongi: no i’m just spreading love

hobi: WOAH WHAT THE HELL

YOONGI ARE YOU DYING??

yoongi: no

jk: pls don’t kys yoongi 😢☹️💔

jin: yoongi is being more open with his feelings guys

hobi: his suicidal ones?

tae: pouring one out for you yoongi 🍾🥂

jin: no just his love for us all

isn’t that right yoongi??

yoongi: right

hobi: nothing about this is right

jk: i’m so scared rn 😓

y/n: is he drunk???

jin: on love!!

yoongi: on love.

namjoon: ew yoongi man what the fuck??

yoongi: we should all have a sleepover at my house like we did on kooks birthday

it will be fun

jimin: uhhhhhhhhhh

hobi: i’m literally shaking in fucking fear rn

yoongi: i’ll order food

tae: are you gonna poison it

yoongi: why would i do that?

tae: guys….

namjoon: in shock

y/n: jin done performed a lobotomy on yoongi ohmygod ☠️☠️☠️

jin: i did no such thing

jk: yoongi look at me this isn’t you

yoongi please

yoongi: hi jungkook

jk: MAKE IT STOP

GUYS MAKE IT STOP WHY IS HE BEING NICE MAKE IT STOP

namjoon: yoongi are you like actually ok?

yoongi: perfect

tae: have i shifted to an alternate universe

jk: shift

tae: night shift

jimin: you need one

tae: no i don’t

jimin: ok mr wire me 10k

tae: that was ages ago thank u very much

get over it

but guys tell him i have money tho lol

yoongi: jimin tae has money

tae: STOP iT???????

y/n: this is so unsettling

yoongi: isn’t it nice us all being together

having fun

and stuff

tae: what is stuff?

pls elaborate on stuff

jk: maybe joon gave yoongi cocaine

namjoon: shut up

tae: yoongi when you say stuff do you mean cocaine?

yoongi: love

us being together

friendship

we are friends

jk: yoongi can i be your best friend

yoongi: you are my best friend jungkook

jk: :D

yoongi: :D

jk: nvm this is really scary sorry

jk left “🍼👨🏼‍🦲⁉️”

tae: i agree

tae left “🍼👨🏼‍🦲⁉️”

yoongi: i miss you all

let’s go out to eat tomorrow yeah?

i can pay idm

jin: YESS IM IN

jimin: ofc ur in

yoongi: guys let’s not argue

jimin: ewuuuuu shut up

namjoon added tae to “🍼👨🏼‍🦲⁉️”

namjoon added jk to “🍼👨🏼‍🦲⁉️”

yoongi: welcome back ^^

jk: STOP

tae: i’m gonna throw up

jin: please accept the new yoongi

jk: NO

y/n: yoongi have you experienced any serious head trauma in the last 24 hours?

yoongi: no

hobi: i think he’s lying

yoongi: let’s all drink together today

jk: NONONONO

yoongi: oh do you have plans today jungkook?

we can move it to the weekend if you want

jk: girlfriendsaveme 😨

y/n: yoongi….

yoongi: yeah?

tae: yoongi send me a stack

jimin: LMAO u not getting that

yoongi: sure

jimin: fake

tae: HOLY SHIT YOONGI JUST SENT ME MONEY GUYS???

namjoon: oh my god….

hobi: he’s truly lost it

y/n: no fucking way

jimin: WAIT YOONGI ME NEXT HELLO????

yoongi: kk

jimin: I JUST GOT MONEY OHMGODDJJD

jin: isn’t this nice guys??

isn’t yoongi nice??

tae: yeah yoongi ur the best

jimin: love you yoongi

nicest man ever

yoongi: :3

namjoon: oh

yoongi: what can i say

jk: words probably

yoongi: i love my team

i love my crew

namjoon: oh wow

y/n: did he just….

hobi: MIN YOONGI JUST QUOTED SEVENTEEN?/!/£3

jimin: this is insane

jk: our biggest enemies in this life…

tae: WOWWWWWWWWW

jin: so proud!!

how mature how nice !!

jk: i’m going to commit murder and it’s going to be on myself

tae: i think i just threw up

hobi: yoongi you know woozi is in that group right?

yoongi: yes

jimin: and mingyu

the one she went a date with btw

y/n: stop

yoongi: i know.

hobi: he’s mad

yoongi: no i’m not

namjoon: it’s ok if you’re mad yoongi

y/n: no it’s not

jk: yoongi pls be mad

yoongi: i’m not mad

y/n: he’s not mad

jimin: normally he would be mad

yoongi: well i’m not mad so

jin: right he’s a changed man

namjoon: why?

yoongi: what

namjoon: why are you being nice

it’s like freaking us all out

jk: so much 😣

yoongi: i am nice normally

hobi: well no!

yoongi: i am nice

jimin: again no!!

tae: not even 24 hours ago yoongi told me to kms

yoongi: it was a joke

tae:

jimin: publicly executed is crazy

tae: right like omg?

jimin: understandable tho

tae: ok no

yoongi: it was a joke

tae: DIDN’T laugh

jk: yoongi punched me once

twice

three times actually

yoongi: as a joke

jin: guys let’s not focus on yoongi’s past but his present

and his present is nice!

jk: present

y/n: ?????

HELLO WHAT

YOONGI PUNCHED KOOK???

yoongi: as a joke

y/n: WHEN???? NAMJOON DID YOU KNOW?????????

namjoon: no actually i didn’t

jin: y/n joon ur in the past pls join us in the present

yoongi’s present

jk: i want the present

where is the present

yoongi: i’m nice

jk: i can travel to the present if need be

hobi: i’m confused

tae: in what context

hobi: this context ??

tae: oh ok

hobi: what other context is there

tae: sexually

namjoon: why is everything sexual with you?

hobi: sexuality by taemin lol

jimin: WHERE

tae: gay

jk: gay means happy

namjoon: guys

y/n: girls

jk: jimin are you not happy?

tae: jimin are you gay?

jimin: shut up

tae: me when taemin doesn’t call me back pt 407

jimin: why would taemin be calling you

tae: LOL

namjoon: guys enough

tae: one taemin mention he looses his mind you see that guys

namjoon: taehyung

tae: ok sorry

hobi: i’m still confused

NOT sexually

jk: i hope we are all gay (happy) toady!!

yoongi: me too

jimin: (kill yourself)

tae: (taemin)

jk: tae

min

tae min

tae in a min

tae in a minute

jimin x taehyung in a minute

y/n: fork in kitchen

hobi: oh ok

jimin: EW????

tae: that’s my name lol

WAIT WTF

ME AND HIM ????????

I KISS NO MEN

jk: one time you kissed me

tae: ON ACCIDENT

hobi: “accident”

yoongi type “accident”

yoongi: punching jungkook WAS an accident

tae: GUYS ME KISSING JUNGKOOK WAS FR AN ACCIDENT LIKE JOKE

jimin: yeah ok

namjoon: sighs

y/n: liar!!

tae: I WAS KNOCKING AT Y/NS DOOR CUZ WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GO OUT

AND WHEN THE DOOR OPEN I JUST WENT FOR THE KISS OK? EYES CLOSED AND EVERYTHING

jimin: sounds like he likes men to me

tae: NO

I DONT I JUST

STOP

DIDNT KNOW ITVWAS JUNGKOOK UNTIL I PULLED AWAY

jk: it’s ok my lips are very soft like that

y/n: fact

tae: NO ITS NOT OK

jin: wait that’s lowkey so crazy cuz how didn’t you notice the height difference

kook is like way taller than her

tae: thought she was wearing heels

y/n: it was 10 in the morning..

hobi: hold on

you didn’t know it was jungkook until you pulled away…

….

…….

……….

jungkook why did you let tae kiss you?

jk: i thought he was coming out to me

and i’m no homophobe !!!!

i didn’t know if that’s was a normal thing people did when they come out so i just let him do it

because like if i didn’t let him i didn’t want him to take that as me not supporting him yk?

i support him so yeah

idk

i was really confused

and no i didn’t kiss him back

i kinda just stood there

like

🧍🏻‍♂️

that and yeah

and he was all like “don’t be like that babe” and when he pulled away he screamed fell to his knees and then left

tbh i thought it was a dream

but i guess not

namjoon: how long did the kiss last?

tae: NAMJOON

namjoon: sorry just wanted to know

jk: maybe like 15 seconds

i think my lack of kissing back got to him

jimin: THATS CRAZY LMWKEORIFJFN

hobi: homophobe turned homosexual

tae: I AM NONE OF THOSE

jk: if it makes you feel better the kiss was really bad ur lips were really dry

tae: DON’T DESCRIBE MY LIPS SHUT UPLD

y/n: LMAO

tae: STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS LETS GO BSCK TO THE ORIGINAL TOPIC

YOONGI

YOONGI WYA

YOONGI HELLO

YOONGI

yoongi: i support you

hobi: #somuchsupoort

jimin: so brave

y/n: be who you are

namjoon: 👍🏼

jin: !!

jk: i support you for who you are❤️🧡🤍🩷❤️ (idk the flag )

y/n: lesbian

jk: really 😨

y/n: yeah

jk: but you kiss me 🙁

y/n: what

jk: i can be a woman for you

namjoon: okay !!!!!

enough sexuality talk

um yeah

yoongi say something

yoongi: i love you all

namjoon: omg…

jimin: ew man

hobi: gross

jk: i feel lightheaded

tae: gagging

y/n: 😟

jin: ok i’m not enjoying this as much as i thought i would i must say

yoongi: ?

jimin: ‘i must say’ 💀💀💀

hobi: bet he stroked his nonexistent beard while saying that

jimin: likeeee 😭😭😭

jin: can i live

there was literally nothing wrong with what i said

yoongi: right

jin: STOP

sorry force of habit

yoongi: don’t be upset with me jin

i’m sorry

y/n: yoongi

talk to us

normally

please

yoongi: i’m nice

y/n: i’m aware

yoongi: i’m being nicer

y/n: why

jin: wait omg let’s move on

isn’t it such a nice day lmao

yoongi: great weather we’re having

jin: summer sure is coming!!

hobi: ewww

y/n: this old people conversation ☠️☠️

jimin: imagine what their dms look like

jk: yikes

yoongi: jungkook

jk: sorry

yoongi im sorry

i actually meant

(Y)es (I) (K)now (E)very conversation they have is (S)uper cool

yikes

yoongi: thanks

just wanted to say i like your hair

jk: oh

jimin: his hair has been the same for like the last 5 months

yoongi: i know

just wanted him to know i like it because he’s my friend and he has nice hair

jk: wow

ok

is this real

wow

GUYS

yoongi likes my hair

y/n: wow

jk: YOONGI MY FRIEND

guys at first the new yoongi was really scary but now i think i like him

he’s my friend

pls be kind to MY FRIEND

MY BEST FRIEND

jimin: i still hate his yoongi tell me to kms right now before i do something crazy

tae: please

hobi: no joke

namjoon: yoongi i understand that you are being ‘nice’ now but i hope you don’t lose your true self and personality in this new chapter of your life

y/n: what joon said

jin: yoongi tell us what you like about ME next

ik it’s like really hard so i’ll let you pick 5

yoongi: jin i like

your

um

hold on can we talk about out contracts for one second

hobi: ohmugod guys he’s killing himself fr now

jimin: it was fun while it lasted bro

namjoon: sure

jin: NO WE CANT NO

yoongi: we’re all renewing right?

jk: yes bff ^^

jin: STOP

tae: yeah

hobi: yes sighs looks out window

jimin: thumbs up

namjoon: ofc??

y/n: lol i already renewed

yoongi: what

namjoon: are you thinking about not renewing??

jin: GUYS STOROORIRNRJIRJ

yoongi: y/n

you already renewed???

y/n: yeah?

yoongi: you’re not leaving

y/n: no…

yoongi: were you thinking about leaving?

y/n: no?

yoongi: so you didnt tell jin you i wish nicer????

y/n: lol no

didn’t jin say that in this gc himself like a few weeks ago lmao?

jin left “🍼👨🏼‍🦲⁉️”

yoongi: bye

going to find jin

yoongi left “🍼👨🏼‍🦲⁉️”

jk: um

yoongi joined “🍼👨🏼‍🦲⁉️”

yoongi: also jungkook you are not my best friend all of you can kill yourselves i’ve never prayed on anyone’s downfall as much as i do for all of yours i can’t believe this is my life ur all so annoying taehyung you WILL die the most painful death i promise you if any of you mention this day to anyone ever i will have your nudes on every website known to man and your address on twitter

fuck you all

yoongi left “🍼👨🏼‍🦲⁉️”

tae: does he know twitter is x now?

y/n: he didn’t mean that

he’s just a little upset

hobi: rip jin

jimin: how the hell does he have MY nudes

tae: didn’t know he was freaky like that 😈👅

hobi: bet you did

man kisser

tae: STOP

jk: best friend…

y/n: he still is your best friend kook he’s just upset at jin rn!!

jk: really?

y/n: yeah!!

jimin: she lying

y/n: SHUT UP

namjoon: so jin told yoongi that y/n was leaving the group because he’s mean

so to get her to say he was nice to us

jimin: glad your following joon

namjoon: ew

hobi: right?

namjoon: okay

cant believe we experienced that

let’s just sleep this one off boys

and girl

jimin: awoman to that

hobi: i have to smoke after this geez

jk: y/n pls hold me i’m traumatised

y/n: on my way

tae: ok but how did he add himself back into the gc tho…

—

didn’t even plan this but look jin did fr do this for HIMSELF LMAO

yoongi dumb as hell for not remembering this

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @blairebangtan @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @batukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae

[sanjisboyfie]

one piece smau: dating zoro edition

- slight nsfw images + wording , very slight

- male reader !!

liked by freeluffy, SUPERCOLA, and 10k others

rzs.[name]: muah smooch kiss 😚

tagged: [name]s_hubby

[name]s_hubby: i love u pretty boy

-> rzs.[name]: come home imy

-> [name]s_hubby: im gettin ur stupid biggie bag wait a second

dni_nami: STOP BEING HAPPY ON MY TL ‼️‼️‼️ I DIDNT ASK FOR TS esp from u two

-> rzs.[name]: btw nami i jus venmoed u for the snacks u bought for us at the movies

-> dni_nami: i wish u both nothing but happiness 🫶🏼 love u botthhhh

uso_pp: damn why he eatin u ... [name] u good??

-> [name]s_hubby: pls stfu u touch deprived idiot

liked by purrrona, rzs.[name], and 11k others

[name]s_hubby: why r ppl spelling gym "jim" that shit sound stupid as fuck

tagged: rzs.[name]

rzs.[name]: my favorite pillow <333

rzs.[name]: guys do u see how he tagged me :))) its cuz hes my boyfriend

rzs.[name]: pls tell me ur single plsplsplsplsplsplsplsplspl

-> [name]s_hubby: i almost blocked u bc i thought u were a rando

-> uso_pp: smths tellin me this isnt the right answer ???

-> [name]s_hubby: mb i mean, yes i do have a boyfriend and am happily married to him

freeluffy: ZORO i beat ur pr 😈😈

-> [name]s_hubby: mf i know u didnt stop lying

princesanji: vomitted in my mouth xoxo

-> [name]s_hubby: the jealousy from this comment is crazy

liked by [name]s_hubby, princesanji, and 10k others

rzs.[name]: HES SOOOOO HOTTTT I MIGHT JUST START DROOLING

tagged: [name]s_hubby

[name]s_hubby: please do not start drooling i might break up w u

-> rzs.[name]: u practically started crying when i told u i had to leave the bed to go to school , i cant even jmagine if i broke up w you

-> uso_pp: his ass is not built to survive without u [name] pls dont break up w him for the sake of everyone else

randomgirl: happy for u ig ...

-> [name]s_hubby: im gonna block u from [name]s phone cuz hes too nice to do it himself foh w ur bullshit

[liked by dni_nami, robinkills, and 100 others]

johnnybro: BIG BRO ZORO GOT THE CUTEST BOYFRIEND EVER

-> rzs.[name]: JOHNNNNYY zoro says he misses u

-> [name]s_hubby: i didnt but good to hear from u johnny and yes my bf is the cutest

liked by rzs.[name], [name]s_hubby, and 9k others

SUPERCOLA: zoros drunk ass couldnt even stand upright and [name] had to go on over there to sober him up

tagged: rzs.[name] and [name]s_hubby

robinkills: what even got him to come back to his senses? he was so drunk

-> rzs.[name]: i told him he would have to sleep on the couch unless he got serious

[liked by dni_nami, princesanji, and 57 others]

-> dni_nami: thats all it took??? wtf 💀💀💀

freeluffy: zoro is so funny 😂😂😂 he kept bumping into poles ans apologizing to them

-> [name]s_hubby: luffy delete this comment rn u have ten minutes.

rzs.[name]: i love my boyfriend ��� even if hes so fucking stupid

-> SUPERCOLA: pls do NOT start beef in my comment section i was tryna show how cut u guys r as a couple not how stupid u both are

liked by rzs.[name], princesanji, and 17k others

[name]s_hubby: one day ill put a proper ring on his finger and then MAYBE just maybe bitches will stop tryna slide in his dms

tagged: rzs.[name]

uso_pp: it was cute until u threatened a whole population of people

-> [name]s_hubby: the issue is that theres a whole population of people tryna get w my bf, thats not my fault

dni_nami: zoro u almost had me fooled that u were being a SWEET bf for once

rzs.[name]: why not rn???

-> [name]s_hubby: shhh

princesanji: the caption couldve been smth great and then u ruined it

-> [name]s_hubby: and ur still single. so...

liked by dni_nami, [name]s_hubby, and 12k others

rzs.[name]: i was told to make it more obvious on my acc that i have a bf (even tho hes in all my posts) so pls stop dming me now ty

tagged: [name]s_hubby

[name]s_hubby: his username is literally "roronoa zoro's [name]" as in - IM RORONOA ZORO ... i need all of u to wake tf up

-> rzs.[name]: and my man!!! thank u to my man!!

dni_nami: if anyone knew u two in real life theyd know all u do is talk abt each other

uso_pp: the world if ppl were able to take a hint🌈✨✌️☮️🕊️

princesanji: i am begging all of u to actually stop dming [name] bc the amt of ppl is genuinely stressing zoro out and its making him act even more like an asshole to the rest of us. please spare us this treatment and leave them both alone

[liked by [name]s_hubby, rzs.name, and 120 others]

rzs.[name]'s story:

happy 2 yr anniversary, im so lucky to have you in my life

[name]s_hubby replied to your story: i hope i get to wake up next to you everyday, i love you so much please come home quick so i can show you pretty boy <3

[yuan4i]

CULT OF DIONYSUS al haitham x reader x kaveh

SYNOPSIS kaveh, al haitham and you are close friends and went to the same high school. but after your junior year, you left them and sumeru behind for liyue’s 2 year med school exchange program. now you’re back in sumeru for a class reunion and attending sumeru akademiya. 

STATUS 01/14/23, on going, slow updates

GENRE social media au, modern au, college au 

CONTENT WARNINGS childhood friends to lovers, love triangle, angst, suggestive, implied afab reader (they/them prns), unhealthy behaviors, written before kaveh's in game release & pre 3.4 version release, messy timestamps, will add more later! (✿) = written chapters

TAGLIST closed! please let me know if you changed your username.

CHARACTERS 4LYFERS | overwork no sleep

ACT I - "I'M FEELING DEVIOUS"

01 . still sleeping ? 02 . packing 03 . reunion message?? 04 . bitch this you? 05 . i'll try to miss you ✿ 06 . bro's down bad fr 07 . 10/10 08 . reunion day ✿ 09. what's his problem? 10 . pretty boy 11 . asked them out 12 . why r u here? ✿ 13 . his text 14 . lying to me? 15 . you? upset? 16 . call me if u get lost

ACT II - "YOU'RE LOOKING GLAMOROUS"

17. is it too late to switch majors?? ✿ 18. third wheeling? 19. tall, blonde and gorgeous ✿ 20. cuddles on the couch 21. do you like him? 22. wingman !? 23. tickets (and backstage) 24. welcome to the renaissance ✿ 25. you guys knew?? ✿ 26. get drunk 27. sober up, bitch 28. cruel summer ✿ 29. can i kiss you? ✿ 30. good for them. | 30.5 cult of dionysus notes ✿

ACT III - "LETS GET MISCHIEVOUS"

31. hello panda cookies 32. man wtf ✿ 33. get me out 34. homophobia arc 35. fuck this 36. exams 37. fool ✿ 38. brunch cafe! 39. ch*lde 40. miss u 41. ate that 42. operation cute guy.. ✿ 43. consider it a date 44. rough patch? 45. double date ✿ 46. we aren't dating 47. no one noticed

ACT IV - "AND POLYAMOROUS"

48. again? 49. your roommate let me in ✿ 50. ily im sry 51. r u serious rn 52. not your fool 53. ur so fking selfish 54. tba...

TAGLIST @yelshin @alizaneth @red-chester @rhaitanis @sunsinrinn @achy-boo @cerisearan @ceylestia @afoxesgreed @im-bili @pyrrhicgaze @victoria1676 @akagism2 @kokxm1 @rifran @squishychongyun @sharkiestory @cafezjjn @gautier-lei @scaramouche-slut @hangecanweholdhands @aixaingela @kay-stryker @giggles8899 @imma-too-many-fandoms @starryeyedkoko @awritingotaku @ittosoneandoniwife @sukunasrealgf @crowbird @jaeminbabygirl @rainbowsaz @h4chi @myaaones @prettypei @jiminscarmex @istgnature @vvasant @dreamingkace @sunsethw4 @aludicpoet @just-simping-over-genshin @scarlet-kazuha @icedmocha1 @kittycasie @hydration-is-for-weenies @jayvolans @angelkazusstuff @ky-uuu @vanitasbrainrot @temshouineichi @kaoyamamegami @serenareiss @lordbugs @lez-zuha @boxdisappeared @tamikahoshiko @makimakimi @yuminako @minty-vxnilla @eunchaeluvr @sukunasin @screechingxiaolover @ragnvdnr @cicato @letthewindlead @jkbubbs @simp4bakuh03 @kunikuzi @mochicurls21 @celestair @amaruthine @spadecentral @kitsunechan707 @jjkclub @younganarchist @kokoscutie @warcelia @tinandabin @pomeiu @annoying-and-upset @twstmemebox @ashhh-14 @wonderland-fan @cartoon-obsessed-aroacelesbian @sunnyskiesv2 @anteroz @bloombb @teapartyspilled @butterflyqueen234 @cindywasneverhere @parcqq @randomidk-123 @crazydreamcat @wateredfay @h-8chi @Imgayandshesanime @sweetkyojuro @thegalaxyisunfolding @tikitsune @yae-lover @aerisellesuchi @emiliona @kaoyamamegami @kemireads19 @novasstar @3cst4syy @cherrybb-ily @tighnariskobi @whoskaikai @lamcos @ganertys @bananasquash @frosted-hyacinth @fallenisded @manhdayyyy @mccnology @lulumallow @siomairice135 @samyayaya @matchablossomsss @mccnology @lulumallow @siomairice135 @matchablossomsss @ciel-solar

sign up for taglist (closed) here

©yuan4i 2023/2024. all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate any of my work without my consent.

[eczlipse]

hii julie!! pleek serve me some han angst w a happy ish ending🧎🏻‍♀️im a sucker for mutual pining and skater han.

please make sure you rest and dont overwork yourself :33 <3

HARD TO LOVE - H.J (REQ)

genre + warnings : angst + smut, use of dr0gs, skater!han, pining. unsafe s3x, - PLEASE USE PROTECTION. not proof-read !!! lowercase intended.

wc : 1.4k

pairing : skater!han x fem!reader, shitty(ish)!han

it had already been a couple weeks since you and jisung supposedly had confessed your ‘feelings’ to each other. he’d been your type, over your height, funny, great style and he happened to skate as well— made it both better and scarier, skater boys never had the best history when it came to dating. being with him was hard, he always had you confused on if or not he liked you. always leaving you on delivered or simply missing eachother’s texts and calls.

in this case, it had been a week of missing eachother constantly, you text him.

y/n , 5:14 pm

jiji, where r u ? can we hang out or something ?

you waited impatiently for an answer— god was he hard to reach. you’d find yourself rethinking everything. was he really worth it ? you liked him so much, stressed so much— yet you couldn’t bring yourself to end it when things got tough. your train of thought stops as you here a ‘ding’ on your phone.

jiji , 5:27 pm

hi beautiful, im out rn alone @ the skate parkk .. i’ll text you the address ?

he then sent you a link to the location as you put a thumbs up reaction to his message. you picked up your bike ride your way to his location. it was a couple minutes away so you’d arrived quickly. as you parked your bike at the entrance area, you could see his slouched figure sitting on one of the skating structures. you smiled at him, walked up to him and decided to scare him.

- boo!

you said harshly while scaring him out of his blank thoughts— he flinched whilst smiling up at you.

- hey— you made it. i missed you.

he admitted, hugging your small frame into his arms as you sunk into him.

- really, did you ? you barely text me anymore… i missed you too.

you hummed as you sat down on the same edge as him.

- uhm, yeah i’ve been really busy with work and skating and stuff.

yet he barely had any time for you. you wanted to let out all you felt torwards him, anger, happiness, love and more. you had to be civil.

- jisung, you could’ve at least told me all that instead of leaving me on delivered, hm’?

he simply ignored your question, and continued.

- maybe a blunt’ll make you feel less stressed— hm?

he showed you two rolls, attempting to hand them over to you. was he being serious? after a whole week of ignoring you, this is what you got back. you doubted jisung even liked you at this point, his mannerisms were off and there simply had to be something else going on. and it wasn’t about you and him. maybe if you took it, he’d be more honest. hopefully in a good way.

- if i take it, will you genuinely talk to me ?

he hummed, smiling at you and handing you a roll. he then pulled out his lighter and lit both of your blunts. you inhaled the smells at first and finally went in and took a puff. one, then two, and up to three. exhaling, you felt your high coming in.

- fuck—

you slithered under your breath. jisung didn’t seem affected by it too much, this was probably your second time ever consuming.

- i didn’t want to talk to you because i was scared. it feels like you don’t like me.

jisung breathed as he looked at your distraught face. you looked dizzy.

- why the hell wouldn’t i’ ? you’re the one who… who never text’ me..

you slithered your words once more while pointing at him. your expressions dropped, you suddenly felt sad.

- maybe we just need some time alone.

he spoke once more, you weren’t even sure what you were hearing from him.

- you can’t talk to me while i’m— this high.

you coughed, throwing the blunt else where.

- hey! that’s mine!

he yelled at you.

- so what if it’s yours ? you care about that , right now ? what about me jisung, hmm? what about me ? you’re trying to leave me while i’m high. you’re fucked up.

- no, you know what’s fucked up ? you never even wondering if i’m okay.

he added, jisung’s eyebrows furrowed at your sudden reaction. he couldn’t believe you, you couldn’t believe him.

- oh, bullshit. i stopped spamming you because obviously— you don’t wanna be bothered. and i don’t want to either right now. fuck you.

- whatever.

he grabbed his skateboard and skated away, far away from you. what was wrong with him. getting you high? just to leave. from there on out, you both knew you disliked eachother right now. and there was no coming back from this.

as days passed after that upsetting argument, you and jisung hadn’t spoken. you didn’t want to hear from him whatsoever. you felt lonely, and as if you were the problem. he disappointed you deeply, you couldn’t help but cry in your dorm every now and then remembering that evening. you’d drown yourself in alcohol, ignore everyone around you and just, wait. wait for what exactly ? your happiness to come back. you’d feel better when you were with him, even if he’d treat you badly, you knew you liked him so much.

jisung spent his time trying to forget about you. yet to him, you were the most alluring person on earth. your charm, beauty personality and all of it. he hated himself for the way he acted towards you and regretted everything. a part of him wanted to run back to you, beg for forgiveness and start all over again. but it all seemed impossible. his friends encouraged him to at least try, try talking to you. he was scared, very scared. but, he didn’t want to leave it like this.

if it were to end, he would want it to be clear. not left alone for the air to decide. after a while of thinking , he brought himself to going over to your dorm. he didn’t want it to end it like this , not having to see you again. at that, he grabbed his skateboard and ran out the door, hoping for his plan to work— apologize, ask for another chance and hopefully end happily ever after ? he questioned himself but for you he needed to get those doubts away.

as he got closer to your house, he began skating faster. speeding up. as he arrived to the building, he ran up the stairs to your dorm. it took him a while to arrive but when he did, he’d hoped it was all worth it. he banged on your door.

at the sound, you’d almost jumped out of your seat— who was it ? you thought. getting up, you brought yourself to the door and slowly opened it. you saw jisung’s face and that beanie of his, god he always wore that. your face had dropped, you felt shocked to have seen him after so long.

- wh- what are you doing here jisung?

you mumbled under your breath, avoiding eye contact with the man in front of you.

- i- y/n, i’m so sorry for the other night. i didn’t mean what i said , i like you so much it almost hurts— i just- i want what’s best for you, i’m shitty and i know i am and i’m so sorry… y- you don’t deserve this at all and i’m so disappointed i had to make you go through this, i—

he stumbled over his words, his voice cracked as he continued— he was nervous and genuine. you couldn’t help but smile at his antics and interrupt him.

- it’s okay. don’t worry , i’m glad you came over and—

jisung cut you off with a tender kiss on the lips, you melted onto his lips as your tongues moved together. he slowly let himself into your dorm as you kissed him passionately. this had been the first time you both shared a kiss. your eyes met once you both pulled away. he began fumbling getting his hoodie off as he asked you a question.

- can i— please ?

you smiled at him and hummed in response, he began trailing his hands around your body as he slowly began taking off your tank top. as your tank top was thrown on the floor, you brought each other to the living room as he unclapsed your bra and trailed kisses on your soft skin.

your bodies felt each other getting hotter, you’d both wanted more. you slid your hands down to his groin, unbuckling his belt and his jeans— you wanted him in you.

- please’

you whimpered at him, tugging on his boxers. he smirked at your needy frame and began preparing himself for entrance. jisung slowly stroked himself, trying not to let any groans out just yet— soon enough he aligned himself to your entrance and slid himself into you, letting out a sudden moan from you.

as he thrusted into you, you moaned at every push, grabbing onto his arms as your grip tightened on him— that only turned him on more. jisung whispered soft moans into your ears as he lowered his body down to you. the feeling of him inside you, the way he held your hand as he thrusted into you— only made you want him more.

- fuck’ mmgh’—

he moaned under his breath, feeling himself get closer. you whimpered at his sounds as he began fastening his pace into you. your sudden gasps had him going faster, you felt your orgasm come as soon as his as you came together letting out loud moans of pleasure. he pulled out of you, his seed dripping more and more.

jisung then fell onto you, kissing you once more before speaking again.

- hm… i think we’re cool right ?

he snickered.

- shut up jiji.

you chuckled while fluffing up his hair. jisung was yours, and you were his. your bodies felt intertwined to eachother after such an erotic orgasm.

[itsangelll]

hello could I be able to request a nsfw alphabet with older Tom??

If your comfortable tyyyy!

A/n: OF COURSE. I’ve always wanted to make one of these ENJOY! <3

that’s it I’m officially screaming for him getting down on my knees rn. LOOK AT HOW HE HOLDS THAT DAMN CIGARETTE OR HIS HANDS I don’t know how much more I can take before I completely die.

𝒩𝒮ℱ𝒲 𝒶𝓁𝓅𝒽𝒶𝒷ℯ𝓉 𝓉ℴ𝓂 𝓀𝒶𝓊𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓏 <3

A=after care: he would be the best with aftercare now that he’s older would definitely give you a bubble bath some nice candles lit everything to make sure your okay.

B=Body Part (favourite body part of his and yours): it would definitely be his cock I KNOW FOR A FACT he’s very prideful about it and won’t shut up about it with you 😭 now yours definitely gotta say he loves boobs or ass depending on his mood big or small he would grab them at any time.

C=Cum: now i feel like Tom hm he would definitely use a condom butttt every once in a while he would cum deep inside you definitely would love to see it leaking out of your cunt (I can’t believe I’m writing this. 😀)

D=dirty secret of his: he’s definitely dominant but he would wanna see you dominate him once in a while (I would do that.)

E= Experience (how well experienced they are) I know for a fact that this man has fucked some bitches back then 2000s so he’s very well experienced knowing every trick to get you screaming and begging for more.

F= Favourite position: missionary and cowgirl my personal opinion he loves to see your face during sex gets him even more horny and absolutely loves your riding him gets him absolutely weak.

G= Goofy (Are they serious during sex?) yes he’d definitely make sure that you and him get the pleasure you both want but during a quickie he’d throw a few jokes here and there.

H= Hair (Do they trim?) it depends I feel like every month or so he’d shave but other than that he doesn’t really mind

I= Intimacy (Are they intimate during sex?) fuck yes he’d be kissing you all over giving you hickeys that man would go crazy

J= Jerking off 😀 if he’s away on tour that man would call you every night he’d be jerking off to your pictures while he’s away You dirty mf.

K= Kinks (one kink or more) OKAY NOW i feel like Tom would just have a little bit of a praise degrading kink maybe a breeding kink (somethings wrong with me. 😭) he’d praise and degrade the shit out of you at the same time

L= Location (Favourite places to have sex.) For Tom I would say definitely a car or maybe a hotel anywhere at anytime.

M=Motivation (turns them on what gets them really going etc.) he’d get horny at anything you’d do sitting on his lap kissing him anything at all.

N= No (something they definitely wouldn’t agree too) i feel like Tom would not definitely not wanna do pegging

O= Oral (receiving giving) he’s definitely into receiving he loves seeing your face messed up with drool and his cum but, he would absolutely devour you he’d overstimulate you until you can’t take it anymore.

P= Pace (Slow and sensual or rough?) he’s a bit of both honestly he’d go slow until your whining and begging him to go more fast then he’ll go rough.

Q= Quickie: this man is down for a quickie at any time.

R= Risk taking: Tom would absolutely take the risk he would not care about getting caught if you both are really horny he’s down for it anywhere.

S= Stamina (How long can they last?) he could last for hours on end but after like 8-9 rounds he’d tap out

T=Toys (would they own any?) hm yes and no he loves using his fingers and everything else to pleasure you but if he had an interview or anything he’d definitely use one on you.

U=Unfair (teasing) Tom is absolute asshole when it comes to teasing he’d have you all worked up whether it’s kissing your neck whispering dirty things in your ear anything at all.

V=Volume (how loud they are) he would love loud girl he loves hearing you moan scream etc, depending on how into it he is he’ll moan but other than that a few groans.

W=Woman (what type of woman he would date) he would go out with anyone personally he said in an interview himself “I just love women” so basically any woman.

X=Xray (what’s packing down there) a lot man has got a whole package.

Z=Zzz (how fast they would fall asleep) he would fall asleep after you fell asleep making sure your looked after while he just holds you in his arms.

A/n: I absolutely loved writing this keep sending requests in!! Mwah bye cuties <33

Taglist:

@bunniesthoughts

@memzyyy

@itsmealaiah

@madzandmore

@il0vet0mk4ulitz

@jadedchar

[monsterbunny69]

König NSFW alphabet 🤭

A=Aftercare

Aftercare w him🫶🏻

König will clean you both up and run a bath or shower for you both and he will admire you a lot after sex, especially the makes you left on each other

B=Body part

What body part of yours is his favorite?

He can’t decide. Probably your ass, maybe boobs (if you have em)

C=Cum

Anything to do with cum

When he comes for the first time after a few days without masturbating or having sex there a LOT. If you guys go for multiple rounds or he has been jerking off a lot lately then there will be barely any.

D=Dirty Secret

What is one of his dirty secrets?

Sometimes teasing him without actually having sec with him or touching his dick much can make him cum because he is so touch starved.

E=Experience

How experienced is he in bed?

Honestly? Not that much, but everyone believes he’s fucked lots of women

F=Favorite position

Self explanatory 💀

He LOVES it when you ride him

G=Goofy

Are they goofy or serious in bed?

He’s pretty serious, but sweet

H=Hair

What’s his Pube grooming situation?

He trims his pubes but doesn’t fully shave unless you really want him to

I=Intimacy

How romantic is he in the moment?

He’s very romantic in bed and sees sex as a romantic thing

J=Jack off

How often does he masturbate?

Often. Like twice a day

K=Kink

What are his kinks?

Oh boy here’s a list of all the ones I can think of: (if you have any suggestions lmk🤭)

-bondage

-pain

-he’s a switch

-blood

-cock warming

-tbh a lot of BDSM

-will choke you if you want

-spit

-orgasm denial

Tbh my brain is fried and I can’t think of anymore rn

M=Motivation

What turns him on?

You 🙌🏻, your body, when you show skin, when you tease him, making out with him, pressing him against a wall, teasing him into being dominant with you, if you can intimidate him

N=NO

What he wouldn’t do in bed.

He wouldn’t do non-con or heavy pain and gore, he will use knives but no other weapons on you because he really doesn’t want to hurt you.

O=Oral

Preference for oral

He loves giving and receiving, whatever you want bb

P=Pace

How fast does he like it?

He will start off slow and speed up as he gets closer or if you want him to

Q=Quickie

Does he like quickies?

Yes, specifically at work 🤭

R=Risk

Will he experiment with you?

Yes. As long as what you want to do is safe for you.

S=Stamina

How many rounds can he go for?

Many, pretty much as many as you want.

T=Toy

Do they use or own toys?

He doesn’t own any toys, but he will use them on you if you want

U=Unfair

Does he like to tease or be teased

Yes to both, he really likes teasing you ;)

V=Volume

How loud is he?

He can be loud if you want him to, he mainly grunts and moans pretty quietly

W=Wild card

Random sex head canon.

Let him cream pie you

X=X-Ray

What’s in those pants? How big is he?

7 and 1/2 inches hard, 4inches soft

Y=Yearning

How high is his sex drive

High, he’d fuck you everyday if you wanted

Z=Zzz

Does he fall asleep after?

It depends on how many rounds you guys go for

[kroosluvr]

hear me out. sumi mentions how bad her cramps have been to akechi. he nods and moves on. 6hrs later groceries show up at her door. every possible snack. her fave tea. new heatpack. painkillers galore. she texts ren assuming it's him. hes just as confused. she texts akechi. akechis like "oh sorry. I kept thinking about what you said. i didnt know your specific preferences." sumi's like "SO YOU BOUGHT THE WHOLE STORE?" akechis like "well don't word it like that."

DO YOU WANT ME TO FUCKING KILL MYSELF B EHONEST> BE SO HONEST WITH ME DO U WANT TO RUIN MY LIFE. LIKE BE HONEST I CAN GO RUN INTO TTRAFFIC RIGHT NOW I WILL GO SWIMMIGN WITH THE FISHES BRO LIKE I AM ACTUALLY OGING TO END IT ALL IM SO SERIOUS. LIKE IT MIGHT ACTUALLY BE OVER FOR ME LIKE YOU MIGHT JUST NOT HEAR FROM ME AGAIN LIKE I THINK ITS OVER. LIKE ITS SOOOO OVER LIKE DO YOUWANT ME TO DIE RN LIKE IS IT THAT SERIOUS IS IT IS IT

ok im over it. Uh.um. ujm. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGWEGHWJ2222234234124-0128532902839852083209

"SHE TEXTS REN ASSUMIJGN ITS HIM" SSDJKGHVVHHGGHGHGHHGHGHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"I KEPT THINKING ABT WHAT U SAID" THE FUCKIGN EXPRESSION ON MY FACE RIGHT NOW.

"well dont word it like that" STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP i know his ears r blushing rn despite the scowl on his face

i KNOW ren would not ever ever ever let him live it down. "hey akechi remember when u shot me point blank where were MY painkillers and chocolates huh" "Kill yourse

[rv3rblog]

hey champ you up for writing a gaz x omega male reader when they were teens? not asking for smut (as kids shouldn’t have sex), but just some cute stuff between the two when they were like high schoolers or something, even as still just friends. perhaps they just presented and the reader just asks gaz to sent some stuff for him , idk how your abo things work

sorry for wasting your time and thanks for your attention

omg no u r not wasting my time !! i have so many thoughts abt alpha!gaz u dnt understood. dnt hesitate to make requests !!

alpha!gaz x omega m!reader

warnings: abo rambling and military inaccuracies

word count: 1k

i want to say that you presented first between the two of you. i think that presenting is like another form of puberty, so you’re around 14/15 when it happens.

when first presenting i think you only develop your scent/mating glands and your body develops the same way it does during puberty. another thing is hormones and instincts.

when you first present you build a nest, your first couple of heats aren’t sexual but instead filled with the need to be surrounded by the scents of your pack/family. you build a nest with some article of clothings of your family but it feels wrong, incomplete. it confuses you so bad until your mom chuckles a little and asks if you perhaps, want something of kyle and you do.

you text kyle, still unpresented and ask him to come over with something of his for your nest.

he comes over so fast because he can basically feel how distressed you are. he comes with a couple used shirts and he even offers to scent you (even though he hasn’t presented yet)

kyle presents a couple weeks after you, 2/3 weeks to be exact.

alpha ruts, like an omega’s heat isnt sexual at first but instinctual. he’s more possessive with his things (and you) as well as always butting heads with other alpha’s who want to court you but he drives them away.

“he’s my omega, not yours. fuck off.”

you of course, don’t notice. a little too overwhelmed with being able to smell everyones scent because for the first three months of presenting y’all aren’t allowed to wear scent blockers (patches).

because the ruts and heats aren’t sexual, teens are required to still go to school because they aren’t physically hindered. so, imagine a bunch of teens.. basically on steroids bc of their hormones.

kyle, who is extremely possessive over you, scents you constantly, always nuzzling against your scent gland and you do the same to him.

you both have a crush on each other it drives everyone around you guys insane, im so serious rn.

like i said in the first alpha!gaz post, you guys are toeing the line between just friends and courting.

he’s constantly giving you gifts, scenting you, around you like a guard dog up until the point he leaves for basic training.

always calling you his pretty boy too.

kyle nuzzles against your scent gland as soon as he sees you. his lips against your neck as he continues to scent you. he whispers against your forehead, calling you his, his pretty boy, his sweet omega.

and you’re as equally possessive. one day you overhear another omega talking about wanting to give kyle a gift to see if he’d be open to courting and you snarl at them. it catches both of you off guard and you get flustered and walk away.

kyle can sense your mood dropped, your scent not as sweet but more sour. he nuzzles against your head, whispering and asking what’s wrong and you confess that a classmate wants to court him and that it upset you.

(which sounded silly to you as soon as you said it)

kyle smiled softly, now knowing that you were just as possessive over him the same way he was over you. he scents you and whispers against your head.

“don’t worry darlin’ no one can take me from you. ‘m yours and only yours.”

never really hits you that he means it.

also, he never calls you by your name. even when yall where just kids it was always some variation of a petname.

sometimes, the two of you stay on the phone at night.

you’re whispering as you hold the phone against your ear, curled up in your nest. somehow, kyle can tell something is bothering you even through the phone.

“what’s the matter pretty boy?”

you huff out a breath and nuzzle deeper into your covers.

“come on pretty, i won’t judge you.”

you mumble it against your blanket and he tilts his head and asks you to repeat yourself.

“…my nest doesn’t smell like you.”

and like, realistically it should smell like him. especially since you always smell like him but for some reason it doesn’t and it upsets you.

he chuckles a little and smiles sweetly, “i can give you another shirt pretty boy, would that work?”

and yeah, he’s like really cocky about it. enjoys seeing that you smell like him even though he hasn’t personally scented you yet.

this man is always calling you his. i know i said it before but his personal favorite things to call you?

“pretty boy” “sweet omega” “pretty omega” “darling” and the rare (very rare one he reserves for your heats) “baby boy” (or when he extremely possessive)

now, moving on to when he enlists? bro you are so fucking devestated. your omega screaming at you that your alpha is leaving you :( your scent sour whenever kyle brings it up :(

and it upsets him so bad to see you upset

“what’s wrong daring? talk to me.”

but the things is, you don’t. you’re a little too stubborn to admit that you’re gonna miss him and your little fantasy. the thing is he already knows.

“i’m gonna be fine. i promise.”

he scents you deply before he leaves the first time. nuzzles against your scent glands, gives you his bedsheets and shirts he wore recently.

you add the bedsheets to your nest. when he leaves you don’t leave your nest for a couple days.

he calls you when he can.

“i miss my pretty boy.” he whispers against the phone. “i miss you a lot, my baby boy.”

(he’s pouting as he talks to you)

when he comes back from basic training and spends a while with his family he bee lines to you. everyone around thinks you two are courting and he doesn’t correct them.

“my pretty boy, missed you a lot.” as he scents you.

he can smell your scent sweeten as he scents you and it drives him insane. playfully nips at your neck like when yall were kids.

overall, before officially courting you two drove everyone insane bc yall r so in love w one another and were already basically courting. like everyone at ur school knew better than to try to court either of you bc yall wld snarl at them or growl !! love sick teens who just presented <3

[p0rnd3aler]

LET ME YAWN

BF!Gojo X Reader

a drabble

Synopsis: Gojo is the type of man who will never let you fall asleep in peace

CW: established relationship, fluff, gojo is an asshole but in a funny way, nipple touching? But not nsfw

Word count: 347

AN: bro i promise im working on ur guys’ requests. college classes r just kicking my ass rn okay. also it’s hard to come up with new sex positions. this is extremely self indulgent, very little plot. i hope it brings u joy. I’ll produce more smut soon

“Let me yawwnnnn!” You whine

“Nuh uh. You can’t steal all the oxygen in here. You have to pay the tax.” He retorts, with a shit eating grin on his face.

You pout at him, before you feel it again. The impending yawn. You start to yawn and he immediately starts screaming into your open mouth, causing you to break into laughter and ruining your yawn for the FIFTH time in the past 2 minutes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You try to get the words out in a serious tone, but you can’t help but giggle through your words.

He ignores your question, and just blurts out

“Hm, it seems you’ve overpaid on your taxes, looks like we owe you a refund” before blowing a raspberry on your neck.

Against your will, you break out into laughter yet again. Trying to get away from his jokes, you shuffle away from him on the bed, before he traps your legs with his.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He demands, now leaning up on his elbows and watching your upper half move away as your legs are anchored between his.

“I’m going somewhere that’ll let me yawn!” You flop down on your back, unable to move any further with the way Satoru has your lower half pinned to the bed, and he takes the opportunity to move close to you again and run his hands under your shirt.

His cold fingers brush up and down your body, tweaking your nipples playfully, before lifting up your shirt and yelling:

“BABY BACK RIBS?!” As he starts blowing more raspberries on your ribcage, and tickling your sides.

You’re left with no choice but to laugh until you’re lightheaded, completely at the mercy of your goofy ass boyfriend. You blurt his name out between your guffawing, and while he can’t help but tease you, he feels his entire body warm at the sound of you screaming his name out between laughs. He sees your smile, your reddening cheeks, and your eyes squeezed shut out of pure joy.

What a beautiful sight to him.