#THIS MADE ME LOSE IT SO HARS

[lorelune]

cicatrix

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort, cathartic smut || wc: 21.5k  || ao3 ||

Both you and Jing Yuan are known to put well-being aside for the sake of others. You reckon with it.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: i've been COOKING!!!! please enjoy this very cathartic, gooey oneshot 😩💕!!!!! jing yuan is so beloved and getting to chew on him and his character makes me wanna roll around and scream (positive). thank you so much to bee (@suguwu) for talking this piece out w me each step of the way and andy (@andypantsx3) for a so helpful final read through 🥺🩷 read and enjoy loves!!!

CW: reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and afab anatomy, author-created lore & worldbuilding, reader visibly loses weight due to bodily stress, general talk of weight and bodies, reference to pain during intimacy, a single pregnancy joke made entirely in jest

“You should go see him.”

This is not the first time Diviner Fu has told you this. It’s actually the third time. It’s her third time attempting to have this particular conversation with you, one which you are becoming increasingly adept at parrying around. 

“Who?” You lie. You already know who.

“The General?” Fu Xuan sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “He’s awake, you know. Barely. But he has asked for you. Both while he was mostly unconscious and since he’s regained his lucidity. Go see him.”

“I’ll pass.” You shift on your knees with a heavy thump. Bone on metal. “Besides, can’t you, of all people, see I am hard at work here? I don’t exactly have the time for personal visits at the moment.”

That is not a lie. That is a steadfast truth. One both you and Fu Xuan, as the Master Calibrator and the Master Diviner respectively, fully understand.

Fu Xuan has sought you out deep within the Luofu’s inner structure. Far below the sprawl of metal-plated cities and neighborhoods, are the catacomb intestines you’ve been toiling in for... sometime now. Since whenever the Lord Ravager harnessed the Arbor, and the roots of a dead tree powered by an Aeon mutilated the Luofu’s most delicate innards. Innards you need to fix, rather than having frustrating conversations with Lady Fu.

You tap around on the interface on your wrist-bound jade abacus and curse. Your fingers are newly calloused, irritated at the tips from all of the poking and prodding you’ve had to do. You dip your hands into one of the opened buckets fastened to your belt, pulling forth when you’re sticky with iridescent sludge that slowly drips down your wrist like thick syrup. 

Returning to the utility panel you were previously working on before being interrupted, you tinker with a few of its delicate dials. All thrown off by the overabundance of... Abundance and the physical impact of the roots growth, deeper in the Luofu’s structure. You concentrate and thread quantum with the sap on your hands, trying to coax the machines into a more stable stasis. 

“At least consider it.” Fu Xuan says. Technically, she could order you, as she is on some administrative level, your superior and (from what you last heard) the acting General of the Luofu while the Divine Foresight has been indisposed. And yet, she does not force you. 

“Fine. I’ll consider it— if and when the Luofu is running diagnostic assessments with an average above fourty.”

“That’s— somewhat agreeable. But, I do think you’re being entirely—”

“Foolish?” You interrupt her with a laugh.

“Childish.” Fu Xuan taps her foot. The sound bounces around the narrow passageway, rattling into your skull. “Can the two of you not talk like adults and settle things?”

“I’m not sure what there is to ‘settle’ with him, Lady Fu.” You twitch your index and pinky finger at the same time. The internals sing, a hymn you know, the chord is a step or two too low— fucker. “He did something supremely stupid, and I am working.”

“That’s an obtuse way to look at things, and you know it.”

“In what way?” You crack open your eyes. You hadn’t realized you’d shut them. You’re sure they’re bloodshot. “What do you think about the General’s actions in subduing the Lord Ravager, Lady Fu?”

“I do believe he was reckless— as reckless as that man allows himself to be.” Fu Xuan has clearly thought about this before. Frustration pinches in her voice. “But it was not without the results.”

“So calculated recklessness is fine if, in the worst case, you end up as the Luofu’s next Arbiter General?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“I am.” You say, sighing. Anger prickles under your skin. This is all easier to deal with (read: ignore) if you focus on the ship and its internals. Its stupid, destroyed, obliterated internals. “I apologize.”

“When was the last time you slept?” Fu Xuan asks.

“... Yesterday? Probably?” There’s no daylight. You conserve battery life on your various devices by keeping screens dim, so you don’t know the hour. Time has felt liquid for some time now.

“I could take over.” Fu Xuan suggests.

“You still have a ship to run, I assume. Unless the Divine Foresight was so eager to get back to work already.”

“... Tasks can be delegated accordingly.”

“It’s not necessary.” You shake your head. “I mean this as no slight, but the rate at which you would be able to complete repairs and calibrations would be at the same rate at which the ship’s fail-safes and functions are degrading. It isn’t worth it.”

Perhaps, under different circumstances, Fu Xuan would squawk at you for discounting her skills as a calibrator so quickly. She is trained, not to your degree or expertise, but in a pinch, she can complete repairs, hear the chords, see the quantum maps required to keep the Luofu and its many delicate parts and pieces functioning accordingly. 

However, the Luofu’s current circumstances do not constitute a ‘pinch’ and rather a ‘once-in-an-era disaster that nearly killed the long-lived, beloved General, destroyed the longstanding Creation Furnace, revealed the previous disgraced High Elder of the Vidhaydara, nearly reawoke the Ambrosial Arbor’. And, as Jing Yuan had told you in confidence— “It’s a Stellaron.”

And hence, you and your expertise are best-suited for the task of repairing the insides of the Luofu. 

“... Even still.” She says somewhat gravely. “This is unsustainable.”

“I recognize that.” And you do, childish avoidance of the General aside. “Once the ship’s up to forty percent attuned, the diagnostic algorithms attached to the internal citrine abaci should stabilize and begin to re-establish a self-healing cycle. At which point, my manual diagnostics and repairs will no longer be necessary at the level at which I’m completing them now.”

“What percentage attuned is the Luofu at, as of now?”

“... Twenty-seven.” This is, technically, the truth. 

(However, you have little confidence in that number, as it fluctuates heavily based on time of day and your own location within the tunnels and mechanical catacombs. You imagine this may be due to any number of things— there may be a gamma leak down deeper, where the radiation sponges are not as effective. There could still be creatures and roots of Abundance, alive in the passageways, wreaking havoc on the systems in real time. The diagnostic systems themselves could be failing, or at the very least damaged, which means that prescribing a number at all to the Luofu’s condition is a stupid idea to begin with—)

Fu Xuan says your name sharply.

“Yes?” 

“... I’m worried.”

“That’s probably for the best.” You wish there was more sympathy in your voice, but it sounds cold and outside of your body. 

(You’re so tired.)

Fu Xuan sighs, and drops to her knees next to you, peering in one the copper box you’ve been wrist deep in for the better part of ten minutes. Distractions slow down the process so immensely. 

“Your reasoning is sound, and I understand that this isn’t entirely some ploy to skirt around the General’s requests to see you.” Fu Xuan hands you a small pendant, cut of purple stone and lit from the inside out. “Please, wear this. It will transmit your vital signs and location to a monitor on the surface.”

You blanch, “Is this for you, or the General?”

“For the Divination Commission on paper.” Fu Xuan loops it around your neck. “You’re the only Master Calibrator on the Luofu. To lose track of you, or lose you, would be dire. It will also assuage some of the General’s anxieties and keep him from pestering me about you.

“The general, anxious?” You throw back your head with a laugh and withdraw your hands from the paneling. The sludge has liquified further, more mucus-y now as it drips down your forearms. You wipe away what remains with a well-used rag from your belt. “I’ve never known Jing Yuan to be anxious.”

“He is now.” Fu Xuan says simply. “Or, as much as he allows himself to be. I am not interested in delving into the General’s psychology, but I am interested in keeping you in decent condition. That pendant has an emergency function. If you tap it three times, it’ll send a distress signal with your location.”

You want to say that that’s ‘unnecessary’, but you know that’s your bad mood. There’s a reason why Fu Xuan made this journey, alone, and is speaking to you so frankly. There are bags under her eyes too.

“Thank you, Fu Xuan.” You say, softly, kinder than you have been. 

Despite your grime, perhaps mutual, you wrap your arms around her shoulders and squeeze. She hugs you back and deflates, if only for a moment.

...

The Luofu’s utility organs are built downwards, filling what would be considered the ‘hull’ of the ship, until you hit the Hall of Karma. There’s insulation between the ship’s most vital part and the weary souls of the departed, which provides you some comfort as you must descend deeper and deeper. 

The Luofu is as much a ship as it is a planet— a live ecosystem, adapted to fit the various immortals who call it home. The bowels of the Luofu are truthfully a combination of metal and plant matter— dirt and mechanical roots meant to hold the ground in one piece around you. Much of the organic matter of the ship is covered behind metal plating, lest risking a collapse.

Most of the damage you must tinker to fix occurs in the small, delicate panels that are placed in the walls every ten meters or so. They’re nondescript, mostly. Surrounded by a few various dials— a few circular meters are faded and out of use (relics from when the Luofu left its parent civilization, millenia ago), and a port to sync up a jade abacus to for more detailed readings.

Most of the data is slop to someone without training.

Even with training, your exhaustion is making the various numbers, symbols, and graphs feel like slop. 

The panel can be disconnected with a small, quill-looking tool (there’s only a small amount left on the Luofu, maybe twenty in total. The head of the tool is carved from an old, red stone, burnt in an old fire by a forgemaster long dead. You keep track of your handful diligently, lest you lose them without another smith to make them.) Once the utility panel is pried off, it reveals a suspended layer of liquid, far deeper than it looks. If you really tried, you probably could fit your entire arm in and still have depth.

Suspended in the liquid are the mechanisms that truly run the Luofu. It’s hard to describe how they fit together. It takes an affinity for quantum, a century (or three) of training, to make sense of how to parse together the ship's parts. The parts are various small machines, crystals, living ecosystems bound into balls and sustained by astrosynthesis beyond this world.

You’re used to the awe of it.

Along your waist, you carry several pots of stellar lubricant. The grease provides... some amount of slip when poking around in it yourself. It resonates with the quantum and allows you to see the stretches of energy that allow the ship to run as it does. Tender leylines, woven threads, songs and hymns that are of many familiar beats and melodies. 

Everything slips together as you pull yet another panel from a wall. The mechanisms sing out of tune, in dissonant chords, off-beat in the wrong time signature.

You dunk your hands into the lubricant, ignoring the slowly erupting burns on your forearms from over-exposure.

You shove your hands into the wall. You work. You fix. 

...

Not so long ago, you and Fu Xuan were not the only two Calibrator on the Xianzhou Alliance’s Luofu. There had been an apprentice in the Divination Commission who was studying, seeking mastery, just as you yourself had. They were more skilled than Lady Fu in the arts of calibration. You think they hailed from the Yaoqing. They were soft, gentle-hearted and young by the standards of Xianzhou natives.

So perhaps, this is why they became Marastruck in the mouth of one of the utility tunnels after seeing footage of the Divine Foresight being dragged unconscious and limp into the apothecary. Gingko leaves tearing their skin, an unholy sob turning to a shriek to cut the air. You were lucky the transformation occurred while you were above ground, and a patrol of Cloud Knights was nearby.

You’re probably lucky that you hadn’t (haven’t) succumbed to Mara. If you were a few centuries younger and less trained in the arts of meditation, you might have been swallowed up like the apprentice had been.

Jing Yuan, for all of his many games and schemes and tricks, radiates the air of someone almost infallible. He is not perfect; he has never been one for edges that are too manicured. He’s far more content dozing the afternoon away or taking a stroll through one of his gardens than hosting war-meetings. He prefers to wear plain clothes to the market in hopes he will not be recognized (though, he always is). 

But, he is strong and remarkably difficult to phase or bother in any setting. On more than one occasion, you’ve spent the evening trying to rile him up and get him to pounce, but the General is always content to watch your attempts with a lazy smile on his face. Content to sweetly watch you struggle in getting under his skin. He may be affected, but he is hard to break. If he does, it is with such grace that you wouldn’t have any idea he did break, and it feels as if you’ve somehow slipped, rather than him. He is cunning and sure-footed in a way that you can’t help but admire. 

You’re not the only one to feel that way.

(Though, you’re the only one who shares a bed with him. So.)

The Xianzhou has little place for legends, yet Jing Yuan is old enough and well-thought of enough to have become one. So, you cannot blame the apprentice for falling to Mara. Not when they, and the rest of the Luofu, saw a legend buckle at the knees. 

...

You were right about diagnostics being inaccurate. However, the reason was a mix of your two initial hypotheses. 

Parts of the diagnostic system, deep and low within the Luofu’s internal organs, had been damaged. Radiation leaks from the core of the ship, usually held back by sponges and filters, was drifting upward to damage any number of sensors and organic processes keeping the Luofu operational.

(All useless details really, none of it makes sense anymore. The ship is fucked. You must fix it.)

And you have been fixing it. 

You reek of stellar lubricant, skin stained pearly and glittery under the fluorescent lights that dot the tunnels. Your eyes ache; it’s gotten quite difficult to focus them. You’re lucky that there’s occasional spigots tapped into the walls, with some type of freshwater flowing from them, even if it does take awhile for any liquid to run. They probably haven’t been used in decades— maybe centuries. Most of the internals of the Luofu heal and repair on their own. 

A calibrator would only need to step-in in the case of a calamity.

Time has gotten slippery. Though you send up status reports (of varying quality) through your wrist-bound jade abacus, you can’t say it’s on a schedule. You do them when you have the mental fortitude to craft something acceptable for the Divination Commission to scoff at. 

You’re tired, maybe.

There are some mediary chambers between levels. Old, dust-covered rooms with a cot and some rations. Though you raid the ones you come across for emergency food stores, you don’t stay to sleep. You usually keel over on the metal flooring with your outermost robe thrown over you like a blanket. Your pillow is your own folded hands. 

It’s viciously uncomfortable, but you find sleeping difficult regardless. The offensively bright grow lights are sensitive to flesh life, and will not turn off in your presence. The floor is sometimes searingly warm, sometimes ice cold. If you stop working, your own thoughts threaten to swallow you whole. You only achieve sleep in brief moments, perhaps a few hours at a time, when you’re entirely spent. 

It is unpleasant sleep. A mix of recent horrors and faraway comforts.

(You initially heard from Fu Xuan what Jing Yuan had done.)

(Shortly after, footage was posted of the Divine Foresight, unconscious and being dragged across the Luofu for medical attention. Jing Yuan was entirely unresponsive and cradled in the arms of the Vidharayda’s... reawoken? Returned? (You stay out of Lizard Politics.) (Regardless, it still burns.))

(There’s chaos in the sounds captured on the video, the shocked, disbelieving voices.)

(You had turned off your phone (you have still yet to turn it back on) and dragged the apprentice to the tunnels. You ignored their crumbled expression and all of their disbelief. It would not serve either of you— anyone— in that moment. This was foolish of you.)

(You remember your apprentice and how their panic grew to Mara so quickly. How they looked sick to their stomach, braced against one of the entrances to the tunnels of the catacombs, clutching their skull. You urged them forward, begged them to hurry— that the diagnostics were grave. You could see the gnarled roots of the arbor already having penetrated some of the ancillary walls.)

(They looked so scared as they were swallowed by Mara. Eyes flashing scarlet, gingko leaves spilling from their mouth as they screamed. Flesh tearing to be healed wrong seconds later. Beautiful silk robes torn to shreds, body mutilated from the inside out.)

(They’d lunged at you, howling, and you’d barely side-stepped them. You ran to a patrol of Cloud Knights, overworked and clearly battleworn themselves and exhausted. Regardless, they took down your apprentice. Cut them at the back of the knees, called a Judge, dragged them off to the Hall of Karma.)

You dream of Jing Yuan often.

Sometimes, these dreams are awful.

Lady Fu had told you to visit him, prior to your initial descent into the catacombs. She said he was unconscious and battered. He would certainly recover; the General is particularly hearty. She urged you to see him in the Alchemy Commission. She said this as if Jing Yuan hadn’t just thrown himself in front of a being that rivaled some Aeons. She said this as if the Luofu wasn’t a few mechanical failures away from ceasing function and you were the only one aboard the Luofu able to stop it with any efficiency.

You dream of Jing Yuan being lanced through with his own guandao. You dream of him falling to the stone of Scalegorge Waterscape, eyes blooming red, and ginkgo leaves erupting from his shoulders. You dream of him mutilated beyond belief by beings so much more powerful than either of you. You dream of having to watch a patrol of Cloud Knights pin him to the ground as Mara consumes him.

Sometimes, the dreams are pleasant.

The worst are those where you think you have woken up in bed with him. Mimi purrs at the foot of his stupid, indulgently large bed. Your cheek is pressed to his chest, warm and alive and okay, and he rumbles some laugh when you seem confused. He asks if you’d like breakfast. A bath. You should go to the markets together, shouldn’t you?

You dream of his body next to yours. Well and whole and intertwined.

You prefer to be awake; it allows you to feel like you have some semblance of control over your own mind. 

Horrors crop up into the forefront of your mind without warning often. Staying focused on your repairs helps you. Grounding yourself in the sting of the lubricant over your skin keeps your thoughts closer to the material, rather than the intangible fears that threaten to swallow you whole. 

Leaving only you to your work. Fixing. 

You wipe sweat from your brow, uncaring of the grease that smears across your skin and clumps in your hair. The panel in front of you is being particularly fuzzy. The parts are old. The impact from the Arbors sudden growth had damaged the delicate nature of the mechanisms. 

So, you tinker away.

Quantum threading, weaving, unraveling, trying again. And again, and again.

Your head pounds.

...

At some point, when checking your jade abacus, the diagnostic percentages have stopped going down. They’re actually going up, steadily and on their own.

You don’t believe it at first, but after... a while of keeping an eye on it, it doesn’t appear to be a fluke. Functionality is hovering around thirty-three percent, unfailingly, and rising a percentage every day or so. The panels you check appear to be healing themselves as well, albeit slowly. Thin, vermillion tendrils snake around in the oil to poke and prod as you have. Albeit, it’s not enough, but it provides a kernel of respite nonetheless.

Coincidentally, you run out of stellar lubricant around this same time as well.

The only option (as you’ve already pilfered the stores you’ve come across) is to ascend back to the surface of the Luofu and fetch more from the Artisanship Commission. 

You feel delirious when you rise fully and stretch your arms above your head. Your hands knock into the metal ceiling as your back cracks in at least four different places. Your knees ache. Your legs have long since cramped up. You feel stiff down to your bones, but you separate from the feeling. You must, there’s more important things to worry about. 

Ascending the catacombs is difficult. You hadn’t... realized quite how deep you’d gone for repairs. It takes quite some time to climb the thin utility ladders and weave the correct path upwards. You’re slowed by gravity and your own lethargy. The exertion takes its toll quickly, but you ignore it. You have a task to complete. 

(Your body's slick with sweat. Your vision threatens to tunnel.)

Perhaps you’ll pick up some proper rations as well. The nutritional power you had pilfered from the tunnel’s stores probably isn’t meant to be consumed in the long term. 

You come to surface through a shrouded doorway in a residential neighborhood. It’s warm, temperate as the Luofu usually is. There’s a pleasant breeze and the smell of grass and water in the air. It’s a sharp contrast to the metallic tang of oil and lubricant that you’re slicked with.

You try to think little of it. Artisanship Commission. 

On your way, you get the occasional odd stare. A child points at you. You, perhaps, are covered in grime and attribute any gawking to that. Maybe? You’re due for a bath. Though with all the errands it appears you need to run, do you really have time for one? 

There’s a shop on the edge of the Artisanship Commission you duck into. The shopkeeper is speaking to another customer at the counter, but goes silent when you give him a friendly wave. You’re a regular here, after all. 

You grab as much of the lubricant as you can carry in your arms and place it on the counter, poking around in your pocket for your... phone. It’s probably out of battery.

“Could you put this on the Divination Commission’s tab?” You ask him. “It’s being used for official business.”

The shopkeeper is still looking at you, wide-eyed. Mouth hanging open. He stiffly nods and rings you up. 

Odd.

You think little of it. He slowly loads your jars into an old crate and hands it to you. 

“Be well.” You say on the way out. The shopkeeper does not reply. 

The interaction leaves you with a vague sense of unease. 

That feeling mounts the more you realize that people are looking at you, as you make your way to Aurum Alley for rations. One woman even tries to stop you, but you wave her off. You need to—

Get rations. Maybe take a shower. Descend again because there’s no way the systems can be sustained and heal fast enough on their own. You must work, you must toil.

And you mustn’t visit Jing Yuan.

Not yet. Not until you can forget how he looked, slack and half-dead in the arms of his men. Perhaps you should forget the face of the returned High Elder as well. You’ve— you’ve put together that he and Jing Yuan have some type of history. You know from the whisperings that the man saved Jing Yuan. 

(You can’t ever save him. You are not a fighter. You’re a well-paid mechanic.)

Rations.

You’re stopped before you ever are three steps into Aurum Alley by a group of Cloud Knights.

“Halt.” One of them says, raising her weapon. 

“... Pardon?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. The crate in your arms is too heavy for this. “Can I help you?”

“Please wait,” the tip of her guandao shines, “you are the Divination Commission’s Master Calibrator, correct?”

“... Yes?” You sigh. “I apologize, but I must get past you. I’m on official business. Supply run.” 

The Knight rotates her blade to the butt of it against your chest, applying light pressure. Holding you there, tucked between several buildings and fairly out of sight. Your stomach drops. 

“I can’t allow that.” 

“... Excuse me?”

You’re about ready to snap at the nervous-looking knight once more, but you’re interrupted. The sound of quick feet over stone stops behind you and frigid air begins to spill down your neck. You turn your head painfully over your shoulder. 

Yanqing, the fierce little thing, is poised behind you, spitting steam and frost. His gold eyes are angry, teeth bared. He looks exhausted. 

“You are being detained,” he says, angry and sharp.

“What?” You snap, turning to face him. He looks ready to raise his blade against you, hand twitching at his waist. That’s not your concern at this moment. “Yanqing— what are you—”

Yanqing’s eyes are shiny and wet.

Oh.

“You’re being detained by order of the Divine Foresight.” He says, voice unwavering despite the tears beading against his lower lashes. 

...

Yanqing seems like he’s seething as he leads you to one of Jing Yuan’s personal gardens. It’s on a terrace, high above most of the Luofu, far-away from any of the Commission's that may bother him when he is attempting to relax.

You know this garden well; it’s your favorite spot to relax in with Jing Yuan.

He leads you directly to Jing Yuan who is standing on an overlook, hand behind his back as he stares out over a roiling sea. The waves crash far below, the sound a mere echo. His shoulders are slack. He hardly looks angry. It’s rare that he ever does.

“General.” Yanqing says— he is angry. “I’ve brought them.”

“Oh?” Jing Yuan turns, a pleasant smile stretching across his face. “You found them?”

“Yes, in Aurum Alley.” Yanqing salutes and steps to the side.

You cross your arms and try not to cry.

Jing Yuan looks fine. He’s clearly in one piece. Whole. Whole. No visible injury, no new limp as he steps closer to you, examining you just as intently as you examine him. 

It’s a horrible relief to see him fine— even if you should scold him. If you had the energy, you would. You would rake him over the damn coals for endangering himself as he did. You will, later. Maybe. But for now—

“Am I done being detained?” You ask, malice in your voice. “I have work to do.”

“No hello?”

“Fine. Hello.”

“Hi,” Jing Yuan says more gently, beckoning you to a lovely looking pile of silk pillows and a thick mat. The perfect spot for a midday catnap. “I’m afraid I do intend to keep you for a bit longer. Sit, please.”

You don’t budge.

“Jing Yuan,” You say his name. Your voice doesn’t wobble, and you’re grateful for it. “I do not have time for this.”

He hums, “You do.”

“You must know the Luofu’s internals are shot.” He must, right? You need to get back. You need to keep fixing. “I do not have time for tea and a chat. Be forward with me, please.”

Jing Yuan, who has already sat down on the silks, looks up at you. He’s perfectly poised, relaxed like a big cat, but with sharp, watchful eyes. He’s choosing his words carefully, albeit quickly. 

“Did you know the Matrix of Prescience resumed function earlier today?” He tells you. “Early this morning, it awoke. Diviner Fu says the function is still minimal, but improving by the hour.”

There’s a wave of relief hearing that— at least the Divination Commission can resume somewhat normal activity. Fu Xuan is probably overjoyed. Maybe. You should check— you need to check. There may be calibrations to reconfigure on the surface. Aeons, there probably is and you’re foolish for not addressing those yet. You should. 

Jing Yuan says your name, gentle but unyielding, “Stay with me.”

“I’m— I’m glad the Matrix is working. But, there’s still much that needs to be addressed Jing Yuan. The Luofu’s fail safes— the vitality transmitters— the gamma diffusers—”

You feel overwhelmed and nauseous. You want to lay down and cry. You want to run away to the nearest hidden entrance to the tunnels and work. So badly do you want to flee, hide, and toil and fix this stupid ship.

(Because, you can’t look Jing Yuan in the eye for too long. He’s safe, but the memory of him half-dead is still living in your mind. It’s murky, but there. You need it to die. You need it to stop. You need—)

Jing Yuan takes your hands in his own. It shocks you out of your spiral as his thumbs graze your knuckles. It hurts. You wince without thinking to muffle it. Chemical abrasions and hives litter the skin of your hands. It tracks up your arms to your elbows, you see now. 

You flinch and try to pull away, but Jing Yuan keeps you there. Suspended.

“I had a meeting with the other Arbiter-Generals, just the other day.” Jing Yuan sounds wistful. “I was surprised to find out that every other ship in the Xianzhou Alliance’s fleet has at least four Master Calibrators. They were shocked to find the Luofu only having one.”

“That sounds embarrassing.”

“It was, perhaps,” Jing Yuan laughs in a good-natured way. “The other Generals were quite kind, and have sent a handful of Master Calibrators to the Luofu to assist with repairs. They’ll be here in the next day or so.”

“... Really?”

“Yes.” Jing Yuan sighs. “I’ll owe a favor or two, but it’s more than worth it.”

You don’t know what to think.

“I have to—”

“You’re actually being placed on a somewhat indefinite leave.” Jing Yuan then yanks you down into the pillows, to the thick mat, and into his arms. “I’m afraid I’ve missed you terribly. You’ve been incredibly difficult to track down.”

“I was just in the tunnels.” You try to push away from him. “Fu Xuan gave me this little tracker.” 

You tap the pendant on your chest.

“You went deep enough into the Luofu that this pendant only pinged your location every few days.” Jing Yuan raises you up, so you’re perched in his lap. You steady yourself on his chest. His living, breathing chest. “At one point, it didn’t register your vitals for a week.”

Jing Yuan says this quietly. It’s admission, given the tone of his voice. He sounds a bit stricken, almost pained. His brow is scrunched as he rubs up and down your shoulders.

“... A week?” 

“Indeed. You scared me quite badly, you know.”

Something in you aches. Guilt rises up your throat, but you don’t give yourself much time to examine it. Not yet. 

“You’re one to talk.” You murmur, hitting a fist against his chest angrily. “You threw yourself in front of a Lord Ravager?”

“A necessary blow that ensured victory.” Jing Yuan says simply. As if he is speaking about a feint during a sparring match, or a risky move in a star chess game. “A worthwhile opportunity, really—”

“You could have died.” You snap at him, finally looking at him down your nose, baring your teeth. You are tired and angry. It feels like you could swallow the sun and you would be fine with exploding. 

“I could have.” He hums. There’s more that he wants to say, you can tell. You can imagine what he could wax on about—

(“It would have been worth it if it guaranteed the Luofu’s safety.”

(“Am I not going to die already? I would think it be better to give my life for the safety of the people, rather than be decimated by Mara.”)

(“There are worse ways to die.”)

“You’re so foolish.” You want to cry. Maybe you are. Your head is pounding and your eyes hurt. “You can’t do that.”

“Ideally, I wouldn’t—”

“No, stop, just—” You grab his cheeks in your hands and bring your nose to press against his. You meet his eyes, gold and molten. “You cannot sacrifice yourself in such a way. I beg you to be selfish. If for no other reason than to give me a proper goodbye.”

(Jing Yuan had been distant in the days leading up to the Arbor’s reawakening. He’d been dodging your calls, ignoring pre-scheduled outings, and skimping on sleeping in your bed. When you’d seen the videos of his limp body and heard from Lady Fu that he was still unconscious, there was, perhaps, a moment where you believed that that was it. You wouldn’t get a goodbye. You’d only see a ragdolled corpse to mourn.)

What you’re asking of Jing Yuan is a siren song of Mara. You know this. To yearn is to suffer. To be attached is to suffer. To cling is to suffer. And suffering is to mara. You both know this. You dance with the stars and their weavings often enough to be suspended somewhat above other immortals— such things seem small in avenues of Aeons and destiny. 

Jing Yuan, however, is a master of separation. Meditation. He is quiet about the skills he’s cultivated. You notice them though— the way he measures his breathing, the conscious effort he makes to keep himself loose and slack. The way his memory is diced up, not from incensed Mara sprouts, but from missing pieces. Tragedies that have either been removed or blotted out from his own practice.

To save him from being swallowed by Mara.

And yet, you beg him to remember you. 

You almost retract, recoil, and run. This is too real. You have been in the General’s bed for who knows how long. It doesn’t matter that you have been his partner for the last several decades. You’ve never asked him to keep you in his thoughts— keep you like this. It has always felt too unfair of a thing to ask. 

“You,” You spit through tears, “Cannot leave me so cruelly. Not like that. Let me be precious to you, Jing Yuan, if only for a short time.”

There is no such thing as being endless without consequence, but perhaps the General can spare you his affections, truly, for a brief moment. Maybe it’s a pipedream. Maybe you’re delirious from lack of sleep and hunger and the high of feeling Jing Yuan solid and whole beneath you is simply too much.

Jing Yuan coaxes you to keep your head up when you try to duck into his neck. He buries a hand in your hand that quickly slides down to your nape. He holds a wide, warm palm there to steady you.

“Dear,” Jing Yuan strokes down your cheeks, rubbing away tears you can’t stop from falling. His smile is melancholy, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a broken smile. “I’m quite remissed. Have I not made it clear that I already think of you in such a way?”

You swallow.

“Probably not.”

“I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize— just— say it.” Not on his deathbed, or Mara-struck in chains and gnarled with Ginkgo leaves. 

Jing Yuan pauses, rubbing away tears from under your eyes and squeezing his hand that lingers on the back of your neck. He opens his mouth, flounders, then closes it. Then speaks.

“Beloved,” He begins and you’re already breaking. “I am sorry that I haven’t made it clear to you that you are dear to me. There are certain things that I cannot promise you as they are outside of my control as well as yours. But what I can assure you is that you are so incredibly dear to me. If I must continue to live as I do now, I would like to do so by your side. I apologize for not being forthright.”

“... So, no throwing yourself in front of Lord Ravagers?”

“... Sacrifices must be made.” Jing Yuan says, though his voice is, perhaps, more mournful. 

“You are not a sacrifice.” You swallow, the words burning you as well. “You are much more than just foder. You are— you’re dear to people. Dear to me. You are not to throw yourself in the line of fire as part of a convenient plan.” 

“I will not make you a promise that I cannot keep.” He is too duty-bound; it’s a practiced thing. You’ve heard he was once laze-about oaf who could barely handle a sword. You try to appeal to any remnants of that man.

“Then at least tell me.” You urge, beg. “Maybe there are other options you haven’t thought of. You get stuck in your head, you know.”

“Do I?” His smile turns mischievous and teasing.

“You—!” You headbutt him lightly and he rolls you into the silken blankets. 

The moment your back touches the softness below you, skull cushioned in the palm of Jing Yuan’s hand, you can feel exhaustion catching up with you.

“You must heed your own rules, love,” Jing Yuan tells you, covering your body with his. Silver hair falls in a veil around you. It’s like starlight. The memories of oil and machine parts feel far away. “No more running yourself ragged. Or hiding in the utility tunnels for a month.”

“... A month?” Your words slur. There’s no way you were down there for a month.

“Actually, a month and a week.” Jing Yuan says. His hand smooths over your front with a front. “You’ve lost weight. And as effortlessly radiant as you are, you do look quite poorly. I’m sure it’s nothing an indefinite, relaxing, extended, paid-leave can’t fix, hm?”

“Thas’ so long,” You say, your eyes rolling back into your head. You’re slipping.

“I know.” Jing Yuan kisses your forehead and remains there. “I missed you terribly.”

You want to say more. How desperately do you want to tell him, “I missed you too. I couldn’t stop thinking of you dying. I dreamed of your bed and warmth and wanted nothing more.” But your body is simply too tired. The... month of exhaustion catches up with you within the silks and you have to fight to keep your eyes open.

Jing Yuan hushes you when you whine, grabbing at him to drag him closer.

“Rest now.” He tells you. “You need it. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jing Yuan holds you in the soft blankets, flush against downy pillows and the plush of his chest. One of his hands finds home around your waist, the other over the crown of your head. 

You are tugged down— not in the bowels of Xianzhou’s Luofu, but into the arms of a lover and the hold of a deep and inexorable sleep.

The next time you’re awake, you’re swathed in buttery linens and pleasantly warm. Your world is fuzzy and unfocused, and at first you think you are dreaming.

It’s simply too pleasant.

Your cheek is pressed against Jing Yuan’s bare chest. You can tell from the softness of your cheek squished against the softness of his pectoral, along with the bit of silver fuzz that tickles your nose. He smells like you remember— notes of cedar oils and herbs, mixing with the scent of his own stale sweat from whatever training he completes with Yanqing. 

It’s comforting and familiar. This is why it must be a dream.

So you cling to Jing Yuan. The arm thrown over his chest constricts. The leg you have loosely thrown over his own tangles and hooks him closer. You shimmy higher to press your nose to the underside of his jaw and inhale. 

Jing Yuan chuckles, a rumbling thing that’s hoarse with sleep, “Good morning to you too.”

You do not open your eyes. Rather, you squeeze them shut, and cling to the dream.

His hand glides up your back, finding home on your waist once more before giving you a squeeze, “You can sleep more, you have quite the deficit to make up for.”

You grumble. You’re practically on top of him, like it would prolong the pleasant illusion your mind is creating. 

Your own palm rests over his chest, and you pause. There’s a texture that’s new. Scar tissue beneath your finger tips that runs little rivers over his flesh. Jing Yuan’s breath hitches as you trace them. You pull away from the safety of his throat to peer down at his chest. New scars litter his chest, all connected webs of damage. The skin is puckered and freshly healed.

This is not a dream.

“Oh,” you say, softly. 

“I apologize. Your favorite canvas has been a bit marked up.” Jing Yuan sighs. 

“Jing Yuan.” You squeak and bat at his chest. “Don’t speak of your body and condition in such a way.”

“Why not? I so have missed your marks on me, you know. It’s been a lonely recovery period—”

“Jing. Yuan.” You tug at his hair playfully. “It is too early for you to be teasing me.”

“I don’t think it’s ever ‘too early’ for such things.” Jing Yuan laughs. “Besides, I think you quite like it.”

“Cruel man.”

“You wound me.” There’s no bite to either of your voices. Just something warm and underused. 

You press a kiss to his cheek and nudge your nose into the pudge of it, “Truly?”

“No.” Jing Yuan pulls you up by your waist, holding you flush to him as he turns to face you. You are chest to chest, nose to nose. “There’s no need to worry about the nips of a kitten, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You awful, awful man—” You say with a burgeoning smile that you can’t help but wear. 

Jing Yuan cups a large, warm palm against your jaw and presses his lips to yours. 

It’s indulgent, just like the ridiculously-sized bed you’re entangled in and the silken sleep pants you can feel him wearing. Your smile into it— you missed this. 

Why did you miss it—?

Oh. 

You pull away, eyes widening, “Jing Yuan, the ship. I have— repairs. I have to—”

He silences you with a quick kiss, racking his nails down your back and you gasp.

“The repairs are being taken care of by a few honored guests from the Xuling and Yuque. Diviner Fu is their point of contact and guide for the duration of their stay. They will be completing the remaining restoration while you enjoy your leave.”

“I mean—” You flounder, panic is bursting in your chest. “They can contact me— I know what needs to be fixed, I can at least make a list—?”

Jing Yuan hums, grip getting tighter around your hips. It’s a shadow of something you’ve seen in him before— it’s a bit possessive. 

“Once again, dear, you are on indefinite leave by order of the Seat of Divine Foresight by the Arbiter General himself.” He reminds you with a glint in his eye. “You needn’t make any lists or instructions for our guests. Diviner Fu is more than capable of directing them as necessary. Actually, I believe she’ll quite like it.”

“You’re pulling rank on me?” 

“As I have every right to do.” Jing Yuan doesn’t relent. More sweetly, he continues. “As your lover, I would also be much happier to see you recovering in bed than anywhere else.”

“… Are the gardens off limits?”

“No, though I’d recommend giving yourself a few days of minimal activity.” Jing Yuan frowns then. “I don’t believe you realize it, but you are quite weak at the moment.”

“... Really?”

“Lady Bailu’s cloudhymns are quite advanced these days.” He rubs a thumb below your eyes, over what must be a dark circle. “But, her skills mostly lie in healing flesh wounds and disease. You are malnourished, dehydrated, and... overall rundown.”

“... The Dragon Lady is going to give me an earful, isn’t she?”

“In time.” Jing Yuan laughs. He brings one of your hands up to his face to press his lips to your knuckles. No longer covered in burns and irritated hives, but still bearing light scarring. 

Neither you nor Jing Yuan escaped unscathed.

“Do I need to prepare?”

“Perhaps not as much as you think.” Jing Yuan hums, pulling the sheets over your heads. “She examined you while you were asleep a few times. She has already scolded you plenty, even if you don’t remember it.”

“Did I wake up at all?”

“Barely. It was almost concerning.” Jing Yuan tugs you closer and tucks your head under his chin. “I did manage to have you sip some water and give you a wipe down though. Admittedly, you do need a proper bath.”

You nearly moan. 

The idea of a bath is downright erotic. Though you don’t feel as greasy and as sticky as you could, given Jing Yuan had kindly gotten the worst of it off of you, the idea of being truly clean sounded pornographic.

Especially, given you were at Jing Yuan’s residence, and in addition to his indulgently large and comfortable bed, he also had an indulgently large and opulent self-heating bath. The idea of having a long soak and scrub has you burying your face into Jing Yuan chest and squeezing around his middle.

“I want it.” 

“A bath?” 

“Yes. And you. And a meal. Lots of things, actually.” Enough to make your head spin. It feels like your slowly waking mind is all out of sorts. 

“Let’s start with a meal and a bath, then.” Jing Yuan offers. “Perhaps after a nap?”

You don’t need to be persuaded. 

It’s a kinder sleep you sink into. Less bottomless and far warmer. Jing Yuan kisses you breathless and a bit stupid as you drift off, chuckling against your lips as you grumble and grouse at him, before being tugged down into sleep once more.

...

“How are you feeling?”

You ask Jing Yuan this as you give yourself a pre-bath rinse behind an ornate screen. The wet cloth clutched in your hands drips fat droplets of water onto the polished, glass tile beneath your feet. Soap clings to your body, falling into little rivulets, taking the worst of your grime down the nearby drain. Watching the iridescent bubbles distracts you from the weight of your own words.

You’ve been wanting to ask Jing Yuan this for—

(Weeks, probably, actually, in the time of the Xianzhou Alliance’s calendar. At least you since you saw him nearly lifeless in the grainy cell phone footage.)

Since you have woken and were sleepily led to Jing Yuan’s opulent, resplendent private baths, at least.

From the other side of the screen, Jing Yuan answers, “I feel fine, dear.”

“Physically?”

“I’ve had more than enough time to recover.” 

“... Mentally? All over, Jing Yuan.”

You hate asking this, but you know it’s necessary. You’re sure Jing Yuan is being monitored for Mara-onset symptoms; there’s no way he couldn’t be. You don’t see any obvious ones. But, Mara is the most extreme of afflictions. 

He laughs again, and you can feel him shaking his head like it can shake off your concern, “I assure you, I’m more than fine. Having to be responsible for so much paperwork again is painful, but doable.”

He’s dodging your question, albeit with less finesse than he normally would. 

“Would you blame me if I doubted that answer?”

“No, not at all.”

You sigh and rinse the last of the suds from your body. It’s tedious, this roundabout game with Jing Yuan, but he is rarely forthcoming with personal information. Whether that’s memories of his life before you entered it, political stratagem, or his own mental state— it’sall veiled. You’ve gotten more adept at playing his games, but you truthfully don’t know if you have the energy to try.

You rub your hand over your face. One thing at a time.

You pluck the robe Jing Yuan had supplied from the top of the screen and wrap yourself in the (thin, wispy, objectively indecent) garment. It’s not doing much to cover you at all, as the light, silken fabric clings to the wet curves of your body. You appreciate the attempt at modesty in the same way you appreciate Jing Yuan idling on the other side of the screen. 

You feel like a doe on uneven ground still. Jing Yuan probably expects this.

He guides you to the bath, steering into more light-hearted chatter. He tells you what Yanqing has been up to since he has resumed his office, once again asking for swords and seemingly training with a new vigor and intensity. He has been begging the General to spar with him all hours of the day. Or, call back his newfound friends from the Astral Express for a round or two. Qingzu will be taking a much-needed vacation in the coming weeks. Jing Yuan’s carmelias and bluebell astrums have begun to bloom. 

You nod along, only half-there. 

Jing Yuan eases your robe off your shoulder as he speaks. His voice is low and a bit rough from his own nap. The broad planes of his palms and fingers smooth over your shoulders and peel the fabric down. His thumb worries the marred skin of your forearms.

“We’ll make sure your next meals are particularly hearty. These should heal up quickly, wouldn’t you say?” He coaxes. 

You nod, staring at the burns. They’ll be nothing but worn-looking scars in a matter of weeks. 

Your robe is slung over a cart, filled with a collection of luxurious bath oils and soaps. Jing Yuan only has a few indulgences— his sprawling, soft bed, his many gardens, and his opulent, resplendent private bath laid with emerald green glass tiles and a sunken tub that could’ve been counted as a pool given its size. You’re grateful for it— though you’ve only used it a handful of times. The General has a habit of taking quick showers, unless he has the better part of the day to lounge in the perfectly-warmed water.

You try not to linger on your own nakedness, though you can feel Jing Yuan surveying you. There must be bruises on your waist from the heavy belt you were wearing. Visible weight loss too. You busy yourself by untying the sash of Jing Yuan’s robe and pulling it from his shoulders. It had already been somewhat open, revealing the marred expanse of his chest. Thin, spidery scars that clearly stretched over most of his body.

Typically, Xianzhou Native bodies heal with little scarring. But, these wounds were carved by a Lord Ravager. You’re unsure if they will follow the same logic. 

You will love Jing Yuan, obviously, regardless of any lasting marks. But the thought still makes you sad— something in you aches. You trace the scars leading down from his chest to his softened tummy to the v of his hips. His cock is soft between his legs. It’s too dark in the bath to tell if the scars extend there as well. 

“You look troubled.” He says, pausing his stories.

“I worry for you, so much.” You tell him. 

Meeting his eyes is difficult. The honey-stone color of them looks darker in the dimly-lit chamber, but you can easily see the crease between his brow. There’s clear concern, perhaps a bit overwritten by his need to conceal his hand.

Perhaps he is too tired himself to be as careful as he usually is.

(Good. If there’s anyone who he can let his guard down around, Aeons, let it be you.)

Jing Yuan helps you into the tub. First, he enters, sliding into the steaming water with a shudder. He extends his hand to you as you take unsure steps onto the slick tiling. The water is the perfect temperature— not too hot, but pleasantly warm in a way that won’t lead to overheating. You hide your body under the water and sink up to your chin and sigh.

It feels heavenly.

Jing Yuan chuckles as you do and smoothes a hand over the top of your head. He’s already reaching for a few bottles on the nearby cart, pouring a few under the steady gurgle of water that flows from a wide tap. It’s entrancing to watch— equally as entrancing is the breadth of Jing Yuan’s shoulder, marred by the scarring. He’s beautiful in a way that makes your stomach knot.

You end up settled with your back pressed to his front, laid in his lap, almost dozing as he massages shampoo into your hair.

“I’m filthy, aren’t I?” You ask.

Jing Yuan hums, “I’ve never seen you this unkempt, no.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He kisses the back of your soapy skull. “You needn’t apologize for anything. I’m not upset with you.”

“... Okay.” You concede. He goes back to dutifully washing your hair, then follows it with conditioner and securing your hair up and out of the water as necessary. His idle talk has stopped, the space filled by the running water and your own breath.

“May I wash yours?” You ask. 

“You still have your body, love.”

“I know,” You reply sheepishly. “At least let me get your conditioner in?”

Jing Yuan laughs, and coaxes you to turn with his big hands wrapped around your waist under the waist. You spin his lap, straddling him. It’s a precarious position, but you... missed it. Nudging yourself closer, you lean into him, chest to chest, and deflate.

He laughs, something rich and warm that radiates from his body into your own, “It really is hard work, bathing, isn’t it?”

“No,” You muffle your words into his collarbones. “Just give me a minute.”

“Of course,” His arms wrap firmly around your waist, locking you together. He’s hot— he runs like a furnace even when not in a toasty bath. There’s a bit of sweat dripping down his neck and you’re tempted to lick it away.

Maybe later, for now you bask.

You bask in the fact that Jing Yuan is here, warm and alive. You want to commit him to memory— better than you have. If it forsakes you to Mara in a few decades, you do not care. You had forgotten the softness of his chest, the curve of his waist and the point of his nose. The details of Jing Yuan had become so fuzzy in such a short time. You’re sure Lady Bailu would assert it had something to do with your ‘chronic sleep deprivation’, but you’re not sure if you agree with that potential diagnosis.

Spending too much time attuned to immaterial quantum fields erodes your psyche, probably. 

“So deep in thought.” Jing Yuan runs a head down your back. “Take a break to rinse, hm?”

“I haven’t gotten yours in yet, though?”

“We can take our time. Besides, I bathed this morning. This is all for pleasure.”

“... Pleasure, huh?”

Jing Yuan flashes you a grin burgeoning on mischievous, “Yes, pleasure, in whatever form that may come. Is that what’s plaguing you, dear?”

“No, not at all.” You sigh and lean back from him, cupping his cheeks. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Jing Yuan says. His cards are showing— his voice is straining, pitched in a way that indicates he’s sad in his chest. The thing between your ribs aches.

“I was worried.”

“So you have said.” Jing Yuan cajoles you down, slipping your head half in the water to rinse away your conditioner. He suspends you with a single arm. His musculature is obscene. 

“How could I not be?” You clench your jaw. “I saw videos of you being taken to the Alchemy Commission— you— you looked—”

Half-dead. 

Corpse-like. 

Steps from death’s door.

On your way to the grave.

Dead.

Jing Yuan calls your name, rubbing soothing little circles over the small of your waist, “I’m well now, dear.”

“But you almost weren’t.” Your voice breaks. You don’t mean for it to. You tuck yourself into his neck and hide.

You don’t want to cry, but you can feel something welling up from within your guts. It’s the thing you pushed down relentlessly in the bowels of the Luofu. As you tinkered and toiled in the depths of the ship, you never let this ache spill over, lest you drown. Whether that’s in Mara or a less permanent type of suffering, you do not know.

“But I am.” Jing Yuan assures you. “I am here now, aren’t I? Whole and in one piece.”

You know this. You know this. But— You drag your fingernails over his shoulder blades. Jing Yuan shudders as you do.

“It’s hard.”

“I know.” 

The hands around you squeeze hard enough to bruise.

“I thought you were going to keel over in the gardens when Yanqing first brought you to me.” Jing Yuan confesses. “I’d been pestering Lady Fu on the hour for any updates about your whereabouts and communications.”

“... I wasn’t communicating with anyone, though.”

“I know.” Jing Yuan has a thread of... contempt to it. “I wish you would have.”

“What could I have said?”

“I’m not sure,” Jing Yuan tangles a hand in your washed hair and tilts your face to meet his. “But, I’m sure you would’ve found the right words.”

He kisses you. Or you kiss him. Who’s to say.

You don’t have the right words— you may never. Certainly not in your mind or on your tongue now. The thing that rises in your throat is carnal and old and writhing— want. Verging on need. You struggle to keep the kiss chaste, closed lips pressed together after so long apart

Perhaps Jing Yuan has a similar depth that’s clawing at his insides. 

He tilts his head, dragging you closer. Close as can be. He kisses you in a silently desperate way. You accept his advances and tangle your hands in his hair. Tug him closer and closer and closer.

(Don’t go. Please don’t go. Not yet.)

(Not until we’re both split apart by gingko roots and dappled in noontime sunlight.)

You gasp his name as you break apart for breath, smoothing your thumbs down his cheekbones and jaw. His pupils are blown and desperate.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, always so polite.

“Please—” 

Jing Yuan kisses you again, deeper and pulling you into the depths of the bath. His hands trail down to your thighs, squeezing along the way. Calloused and wide, familiar. The feel of them is coming home, you hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

You keen against his lips and Jing Yuan laughs— the gall of that man.

His flips you easily, caging you against the edge of the pool. This way, he has height over you. He looms, casting a flickering shadow in the amber light of the beeswax candles scattered about. You swallow as you watch droplets of water slide down his throat, chest, tummy. His forearms make you feel dizzy.

“May I have you?” He asks, once again. “Not yet— but I don’t want to progress if you’re not feeling fit for it.”

“N-No,” You feel desperate, you sound desperate. Sensitive and clawing, the beast that you buried in the depths of the Luofu crawls out of your throat and wraps itself around you. Tears spring to your eyes. “Please? Just— be slow—”

Jing Yuan must see your eyes water. He softens.

He thumbs over the fragile skin beneath your eyes, as if wiping the stray tear could wipe away the dark circles punched there as well. 

“Of course.” He assures you and presses his lips to your forehead.

...

Jing Yuan takes ‘slow’ both seriously and literally. You are both grateful and horribly frustrated by this. You almost regret not telling Jing Yuan to simply bend you over the lip of the bath and fuck you senseless, though Jing Yuan probably would not have granted you that even if you had asked. He loves to savor when he can. Bedding you is no exception— even under more typical circumstances.

And these aren’t typical circumstances.

Perhaps you should’ve known Jing Yuan intended to break you apart and stitch you back together.

He doesn’t escalate things much further in the bath, despite petting down your sides and seeming to always have his lips on you. You wash his hair as you’d ask to, scratching at his scalp and relishing the almost-purr he lets out as he wraps himself around you. When you start to just barely grind in his lap (squirm, more than anything), he is quick to still you with an iron-like hold on your hips, pinning you down and over his thighs. 

“Not yet,” He tells you, nipping at your jaw. “Be patient.”

You huff. 

Jing Yuan takes charge of finishing washing you, using gentle touch and a soft cloth from your ankles to the crown of your head. His touch lingers, starting some low burning flame low in your gut that you have a feeling won’t be quenched for quite some time. 

It’s tortuous. It’s wonderful.

After you towel each other off, he leads you back to his rooms, only in the damp robes and undergarments he’d dutifully remembered to bring along. The silk clings to Jing Yuan’s bulk as he walks beside you. His hand is on your lower back. Little bugs chirp in the courtyard gardens you pass. There’s the gurgle of a fountain. The soft breeze that Luofu always keeps, even on the most temperate days of summer. It’s all so different from the acrid smell of lubricant and the ambient machine hum you had become so used to.

“I’m only on leave, not house arrest, correct?” You ask as you enter his wing, to his bedroom. 

He locks the door behind you as you step inside. 

“No, no house arrest.” Jing Yuan hums as he strips off his robe. You want to bite him. “You’re free to roam within reason.”

“Does ‘within reason’ include the nursery that outlander keeps in the Exalting Sanctum?” 

“Of course. Though I may assign you a chaperone.”

“Really? Would you send Yanqing with me for a quick run to grab a new shrub or two.”

Jing Yuan laughs, something rich and full that rolls over you like a fleeced quilt, “I figured that I would be your chaperone, dear. If you’d allow.”

“... You’re making this sound like a date, General.”

“Am I?” Jing Yuan smiles so honeyed, it makes something in your chest begin to crack. You lay your hands on his bare chest and hold your ear to his chest. He laughs when you do. “I’d like it if it was. If you’d have me.”

“Of course I would.”

You say it so simply.

You want to crawl into his body and live there, and break any spindly seedlings of Mara away with your own two hands.

Jing Yuan kisses you, walking you back into the door. His lips are soft, a bit chapped in a way that’s familiar and comforting. You run a hand up and down his chest, stopping to squish one of his ample pecs. You muffle a laugh into Jing Yuan’s lips as he stutters out a groan. Sweet, sweet man. 

“I missed you,” You tell him once more, hoping your words seep past the seam of his lips, down his throat and sink into his guts. 

Jing Yuan responds by pressing you into the door, using the warm line of his body to flatten you to the wood. His kiss verges on desperate, tongue insistent at the seam of your lips, hands tugging you close, close, closer. You yield to him, whining as his tongue licks into your mouth, the taste of him so familiar it makes you ache.

You tug at his hair and urge him closer, if that is possible.

His touch is searing as he breaks away, panting, eyes hot. Scalding. His hair is down, drying to a fluffy, untamed mane around his cheeks and shoulders. It’s charming. You thumb over his cheeks with a smile. He leans into your touch while giving you a soft smile.

“The reign you have over me.” He sighs. You don’t get a chance to question him— his thigh slots between your own and your breath catches with the contact.

You haven’t been touched in so long.

You cling to his shoulders and just barely grind on his thigh— as much as his hold on your waist will allow. Jing Yuan’s kisses trail from your lips to over your cheeks and down your throat. He stops at the juncture of your neck and shoulders, nosing into the spot.

“Such a lovely scent,” He hums.

“I-I bet I smelled horrible before, h-huh?” You laugh as he begins to worry a patch of skin. Tender and fragile, perfect for bruising.

“Hm, I wouldn’t say that.” His teeth graze your throat and your head falls back into the door with thud. Jing Yuan shields your skull with his hands a beat later. “You’d be surprised how many times we’ve shared a bed and you’ve reeked of your favorite brand of astral lubricant.”

“Jing Yuan!” You shriek with a laugh and bat at his shoulders. “You’re so cruel.”

“What, do you not like when I tease you?”

“Scoundrel.”

“I think you do like it.”

You missed bantering with him.

“I love you.” You tell him. He knows— you know this. Declarations of love are rare for the long-lived. At least so directly— to care so deeply is to damn yourself to a faster descent into Mara. Though, to live and deprive yourself of companionship and love is to be dead while living. There’s a tender balance between connection and detachment. Both you and Jing Yuan are intimately familiar with it and indulge together.

Jing Yuan bites down on your neck.

It hurts, enough that you jolt and squirm against his body. Jing Yuan holds you into place, sucking on the skin he’d sunk his teeth into. It’s higher on his neck than he’d usually mark you. 

(He’s leaving it to be seen. You are Jing Yuan’s, loved and held.)

(What a wretched man.)

By the time he pulls away, you’re panting. Tears have welled up on your lash line. It hurts and it hurts even more when Jing Yuan runs a high thumb over the quickly rising skin. You gasp and Jing Yuan catches your chin in the wide palm of his hand.

You meet his gaze, intense and lighting-vibrant. You’re panting with an open mouth. 

“How lovely.” And he presses a kiss to a corner of your mouth. 

Jing Yuan guides you to his ridiculously large bed (that could surely fit up to five bodies and a fully grown, white lion.) The sheets have been changed, though you have a feeling they’ll be dirtied again by the morning. 

It’s gentle, the way he hastens you higher up the mattress before giving you a light shove into a mound of pillows. You hook your legs around his waist, drawing him as close as he’ll allow. 

He massages the meat of your thighs. His gaze goes long, and a bit unfocused, though it's trained on you. 

(You wonder what he’s thinking. Jing Yuan is so careful, always so ginger and measured in his steps. Still, there’s a fire in him that you often overlook. It’s the part of him that keeps a lion as a housemate, raised a young boy into a champion, and... you suppose urged him to become the Luofu’s sacrificial lamb in the face of the Destruction.)

You gulp, throat bobbing. Perhaps, you know your General to be a docile, indolent man who prefers naps and board games too much else. Perhaps you have overlooked, or rather forgotten, that you once saw the Divine Foresight as a warlord, given what you’d read about him in the data banks during your studies on the Yuque. 

Jing Yuan’s hand drifts down your front. You’re still wearing your robe. Gentle touch peels it away, leaving you in just a pair of thin panties. They’re a soft, breathable fabric— the kind that will surely show your interest in the General. (You have a feeling Jing Yuan picked them out for that reason expressly.) 

Jing Yuan presses the pad of his thumb over your clit through the fabric. 

You aren’t expecting it, and arch your back with a squeak. His hand lays hot at the innermost part of your thigh, at the fragile skin where it meets your more sensitive parts. 

“I-I thought you said you’d go slow.” You squirm. 

“Of course.” Jing Yuan remains unmoving, applying just enough pressure to be maddening. “I intend to.” 

With how sensitive you are, you need him to be slow. Your body feels tender out of the bath— cooked and raw all at once. Your muscles still ache from your time in the tunnels and you feel... atrophied, if anything. 

Jing Yuan must know this, and you trust him to keep his word. 

He makes his way home between your thighs, laying over your front to kiss you once more. This is slow, every lick and nip thoughtful, every barely-there roll of his hips is intentional. You’re not sure where he finds the restraint. 

You pet through his hair, softening incrementally with each soft touch he gives you.

He pulls away, lips kiss-bruised and cheeks flushed. It’s cute to see the General so disheveled. He’d never look this out of it and starry-eyed outside of this shared bedroom. It makes you giddy. You smother his cheeks with kisses and let him muffle laughter into your skin. 

It’s all soul-splitting.

It’s good. The proximity is warm and inviting. You missed the richness of his bed, the scent of incense and the candles you stock the room with. You missed the roll of his muscles underneath your fingertips and the mirthful glint that flashes in his eyes whenever he thinks he has you on the ropes.

You were so scared of losing this.

It hits you in the chest, caving you in, breaking rib and bone. You were so scared— terrified that this dance you’ve become so adept at sharing with Jing Yuan would end before you were ready for it too. You know that you’ll both fall to Mara, it’s inevitable— but you don’t want it to happen yet. You’re not ready for the final flourish. You weren’t ready for Jing Yuan’s cradled, near lifeless body to be the dying gasp of the partnership you had.

You know it's foolish to think this way. Things— all things, are bigger than mortal minds. Paths cut by the stars, brushstrokes by Gods and Aeons that dictate the lives and destiny of all. You are one mind, one body, one tender spirit. You cannot fight against such forces. You will be crushed.

But, for now, you savor. Take each moment and be grateful even as it slips, honey-warm and molten, between your fingers to be replaced by another in the next instant, equally as lovely. Piled on each other. It is enough. 

You crush Jing Yuan to you, hard and fast enough that the wind is knocked out of him, “Please be more careful with yourself.”

I can’t lose you just yet.

“I will try.” His voice is a comforting curl over you. He strokes over your temples and forehead.

“N-No, you must.” 

You don’t know the words yet for what you want to tell him. The feelings are too large, too unmanageable. Maybe attuning to the Luofu’s quantum fields has rotted your brain. You’ve lost your words. 

With some cajoling, you flip Jing Yuan onto his back. 

Sitting up over his hips, you set upon his neck. First with soft kisses, just as he gave you, then with nips and stronger bites. Then a chomp below his jaw. His hips crest upwards, his hands spasming around your waist as he holds you steady. The sounds that leak from him make you want to crawl down his throat. 

You suck and bite at the mark until you’re satisfied, pulling away to see his pale skin bruising darker by the moment. You admire the popped blood vessels with what must be a dreamy expression on your face.

“Leaving your mark on me?” Jing Yuan asks, breathless and light. 

“It’s only fair.” You kiss his smile, sharing it, “Just as you did to me.”

Running your hands down his chest, you frown at the scars. 

“What if I joined the Cloud Knights?” You ask him. 

Jing Yuan looks a bit... surprised, “Why would you do that? Though, perhaps, giving up your position as Master Calibrator would be reasonable, given recent events.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” You watch the rise and fall of Jing Yuan’s chest with an ache in your own. “If I was stronger, I could protect you, couldn’t I?”

Tears well up in your eyes.

Jing Yuan opens his mouth to speak, you hear his inhale, but you cut him off, “I-If I was a fighter, or just a Diviner, couldn’t I help more? Could I— could I have stopped this? Or stop something horrible from happening in the future? I don’t want to see you hurt like this.”

It should be a bit funny, maybe, that you’re sitting on the waist of the half-hard Divine Foresight, in tears, asking him if you could protect him. A man treated as nearly infallible, a legend amongst people who so rarely have them. He has an eternal spirit gifted by an Aeon tied to his very being. 

And yet you, something of a mechanic and professional tinkerer, beg to protect him.

“Oh, [Name].” He says, mournful. 

You swallow down a sob and tears drip from your eyes to splatter on his chest. Your vision blurs and you rake your nails down his chest. More raised marks— yours struck on him this time. Jing Yuan winds a hand in your hair, strokes down your neck, tries to calm you but it's hard. You can’t catch yourself. 

“I’m s-sorry—” You tell him between gulps of air. You’re supposed to be being bed right now, fucked stupid and more brainless than you already are, but you’re crying and the panic welling up in your chest feels bottomless and vast. 

“No apologies,” Jing Yuan hushes you, rubbing away tears. “You’re alright. I understand.”

“You do?” You snort. It’s blotted out by a proper sob that you hide in Jing Yuan’s chest. 

“How could I not?” He rubs over your dark circles under your eyes, then the bruising around your hips. The softness around your waist that’s not as plump as it was a month ago. “Do you think I didn’t contend with traversing the tunnels myself and pulling you out by your scruff?”

“... You did?” 

He pauses. 

“Everyday.” Jing Yuan admits after a moment. Any admission from him is hard earned. 

“Oh.”

You blink, and cry all over again because you feel silly and foolish all over. He hushes you, petting over your cheeks, back, hips— anywhere he can reach. He’s good at soothing, knowing what strokes to provide and where. 

“Did you think I didn’t worry?”

“I—I don’t know,” You shake your head. “You had more important things to worry about, right? And— and you were recovering.”

“I asked to see you, you know.”

“... I was told.”

“What did you think that meant?”

“... I don’t know.” You don’t. “I just— I was being a coward. I was scared to see the extent of your injuries before the ship was repaired fully. I wanted— I wanted things to be okay. I didn’t want to go to the surface and see that Vidyadhara who saved you.” 

“... Dan Heng?”

“Sure.” Lizard. Fucker. 

“... You’re jealous?”

“No.” Oh, yes. Entirely. “I just— he got to carry you. I have to join the Cloud Knights and get strong enough to do so myself. It’s only fair. You’re mine, not some lizard’s.”

Jing Yuan looks startled, then his expression softens. 

You besmirch the not-quite outlander easily. You do not know him— you’ve heard whispers. Nothing from Jing Yuan, and you do not pry at his past (and he doesn’t pry at yours.) You know they have a connection from before your time on the Luofu. You don’t fully know its nature, but judging by the passing... grief that Jing Yuan wears, if only for a moment, you can guess. Infer.

(Something of lovers. Almost lovers. If nothing else, Jing Yuan cared for him very much.)

“You needn’t worry about Dan Heng, dear,” he gently. says. “Such things are in the past now. He has moved onto a different shore, and is quite happy on the Astral Express.”

“... He’s not coming to steal you?”

“No,” he laughs, looking mournful again. “I’m certain he has no interest in such things.”

He speaks so sadly. Not heartbroken, it’s not that fresh. He speaks through a wound with a type of melancholy that resonates in your chest like a minor chord. You resist the urge to say, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ 

“Do you wish he would?”

Jing Yuan pauses.

“No.” He shakes his head, “Not anymore. We have both grown.”

And he pets over your cheek before kissing you. You know he’s telling you the truth. 

...

Jing Yuan does not allow haste, and neither do you. Perhaps, you both are feeling fragile. You keep breaking each other open, only to help the other reassemble their pieces a moment later. 

Jing Yuan enjoys savoring physical contact, regardless of circumstance or propriety. He steals touches in public in a way that’s indulgent, but never overt. He licks into your mouth with the pace like cooling honey. Each does is meant to brand. You’re meant to feel it, feel him, for as long as the moment will allow. He savors you with hitches of his own breath, a desperation of his own bubbling under his surface. 

You can be a bit shy when he truly gluts himself this way. It’s so overt. It tears something in you, and reveals a squishy, softer center that you’re anxious to show anyone. Even a lover like Jing Yuan who has shown you time and time again there is nothing to fear, other than his own foolhardy decisions. 

Jing Yuan probably likes it when he gets to be this slow. Peeling back layer after layer of you, forcing you to luxuriate in the unfamiliar warmth, and be reminded that he is there and sturdy. 

Jing Yuan is laid between your thighs, your legs over his shoulder. His thick forearm is braced across your navel, your hand held in his. Your fingers are intertwined. His other hand pets at the back of your thighs as you shudder. 

You’re sensitive.

Jing Yuan eats your cunt with the pace of a man who has nothing to lose, no phases of the moon to observe, and something to prove. He laps at your center, squeezing your hand with each jolt of your hips against his mouth.

The stroke of his tongue is slow and unhurried. He’s enjoying himself, savoring your taste, humming and groaning when you inadvertently grind against his mouth. During a more routine fuck, Jing Yuan enjoys when you anchor yourself with a grip in his hair and fuck his face. Any impulse you could have to indulge in such a way tonight is quelled. His grip is unyielding on your hand. Your free hand is tangled in the sheets, occasionally shakily pushing Jing Yuan’s mane away from his forehead so you can watch him tongue fuck you with the pace of the lazy, sunbathing cat.

You drop your head to the nest of pillows behind you with a groan and throw your arm over your eyes.

Jing Yuan chuckles against your cunt and flicks his tongue over your clit. He sucks and you want to sob. He hasn’t let you built up to any release— it’s long form teasing, it’s torture. You can feel how wet you are between your thighs, sticky from your own slick and his saliva. You’re messy.

(This is how Jing Yuan prefers it anyways.)

Jing Yuan had made a point to tease you in your thin panties before putting his mouth on you at all. Stroking over the fabric, barely dipping his fingers under the thin, lace waistband. He kissed your covered pussy until you were almost tearing the sheets in your balled up fists. 

Jing Yuan still hasn’t put anything inside of you. You know it will be— tight. Jing Yuan has large hands and a proportionally large cock (that most Xianzhou Alliance gossip forums still undersize). Part of his slowness is necessary. 

The tip of a finger teases your hole and you kick at his back in surprise.

“F-Finally giving in?”

“I’m not giving in at all,” Jing Yuan pulls away from your cunt to speak, wet and sloppy around his mouth. Eyes half-lidded and so, so content. “I’ve never had anything other than the intention to open you on my tongue and my fingers. What gave you any other impression?”

“Bastard.”

He nips the apex of your thigh and you yip.

“Yours.”

You smile, stupid and a little love drunk, and stroke his hair, “Mine.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze darkens for a moment— something passes there. A thought you can’t read from him or glean anything from. The headiness of the moment temporarily breaks, and for an instant you think that something is wrong. You almost push yourself off the bed in a fit of concern—

But Jing Yuan begins the slow press of his finger into your cunt. 

You gasp and squirm, flinching almost. Jing Yuan bears his weight on your waist and keeps you in place as you do, intently watching your expression and parted, wet lips. You’re flayed. It’s just a finger, but it feels big. His fingers are big— a bit calloused, but softer than you’d think.

As he sinks the digit into you, you pant. He kisses your clit, encouraging you to open up for him, murmuring little words of praise that sit in your brain pleasantly but are hard to make distinct. You go slack into the mound of pillows as his mouth returns to your cunt, the single finger fully inside you, resting as you tremble. 

With a suck to your clit, he crooks the finger up.

It feels good. The spot is tender. Jing Yuan knows just where to apply pressure, the pace and angle are so, so good. He’s memorized this part of you. A month apart isn’t going to remove that knowledge. 

He teases you like this— never letting you rise too close to release. The roiling tendrils of arousal in your gut stay there, like stoked embers without tinder to light anew. You take it— you take what he gives you. You relish each touch, lick, and kiss.

“Jing Yuan—” You gasp his name as he removes the single finger to begin to stretch you with two.

Two is— it’s a lot. Normally, it wouldn’t be. Maybe, you’d beg for more, and beg for more faster. But now, two stings and aches on your insides. You claw at his hair and whine in the back of your throat. Jing Yuan hushes you and spits on his fingers, the extra bit of lubrication helping somewhat, but you’re tight and wound.

“Are you alright?” Jing Yuan asks as he massages the most sensitive spot in your cunt. He asks genuinely, not as a tease.

“‘S tight,” You squeeze out, wiggling your hips. 

“Am I being gentle enough?”

“Uh-huh,” You pet over his forehead. “Thank you?”

“Of course.” Jing Yuan chuckles. “Does it feel good?’

“Y-Yeah,” You whine as Jing Yuan curls his fingers, thumb pressed against your clit and rolling the pearl of itl. “I-It’s unfair.”

“What’s unfair?” 

“That you make me feel s-so good,” You don’t know how else to articulate it. The feral thing in your chest crawls over your body once more, and jerks your hips for more of his touch. You urge his fingers deep, wordlessly beg for more pressure against your cunt.

“You’re so sweet,” Jing Yuan coos, rising to his knees and taking one of your legs with him. Your middle falls open. It feels... vulnerable. You feel exposed and sliced. Your stomach churns for a moment. You nearly ask Jing Yuan to stop.

(Except, Jing Yuan has fucked you enough times to know that you don’t enjoy the physical vulnerability of your sensitive core. It sets you off. He knows that you prefer to cuddle with his massive hand against your belly. He knows you even wear clothes that provide some protection, billowing fabrics and belts. You’re a sensitive thing.)

He slides his broad hand over your belly, and presses down as he leisurely pumps his fingers in and out of your core. The pressure of it burns— scalds you and your arousal feels white hot. He’s prodding you from the inside and the outside, and you feel something bubbling up.

“You’re close,” Jing Yuan says with a catlike smile. “Would you like to come?”

“P-Please—”

Jing Yuan hums, slowing, almost ruining the impending crest, but clicks his tongue and continues. It’s a farce, a little game he’s playing, and much to your (enjoyed) frustration, you’re his other player.

“I would love to hear you beg,” Jing Yuan croons, leaning over your form, bending your leg at an angle that is unfair in all regards. “But, I’d also like to be kind tonight. I think you deserve it— you need it, don’t you?”

“I—” You do. His hand quickens and with his other, he braces behind one of your knees. He ducks down to retake his place between your thighs, eating your cunt with a persistence and vigor that has your eyes roll back in your head. He drills your insides with a deep, steady rhythm that. Maybe could get you pregnant.

Who's to say. 

“I’m—” You gasp, ready to beg regardless of what Jing Yuan wants or expects from you. You want to give him everything. 

“That’s it. Let go.” He beckons you and you break. 

Your orgasm slams into you. The teasing and playful edging made you sensitive and like a livewire. When you finally cum, you choke on your own breath, eyes rolling back into your head, and you shove your face into a pillow to muffle the half-sobbed moans that spill from your lips out of your control.

Jing Yuan continues his ministrations through it. Dutifully. Unyielding, even as you twitch with oversensitivity and wisps of exhaustion.

He gently lowers your trembling leg with a sweet smile. He pets you like a cat.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softened in a way you only get to see. 

“Thank you.” Your words slur as he settles beside you, tucking next to you. 

He’s hard— so hard that there’s a wet patch on his bottoms from pooling pre. You can feel the length of him against your thigh, and you reach for him. You should really grab some oil—

Jing Yuan stops you with a gentle hand on your wrist. 

“Slow, remember?” He reminds you with a grin that is mischievous. “Let’s take a break, just for a moment.”

“Are you sure?” You look down. 

The bulge of him makes your mouth water. 

“Entirely.” He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to your wrist. “How about a quick snack, hm? I can fetch some fruit to cut.” 

“... That would be nice.”

“Would you like peaches?”

“P-Please.” Your voice is watery and small. Jing Yuan looks smitten to hear the tone. “... Meldberries too? And apples?”

“Of course,” Jing Yuan looks happy. Relieved. Deflated in a way that makes you realize that he had been so tense before. Since you met him in the gardens, haggard and exhausted.

(You’re in his bed, sated and watery and being taken care of.)

“Can I come to the kitchen with you?” 

“Are you sure you can walk?” Jing Yuan teases, thumbing at your trembling inner thigh, littered with fresh bruises.

“I can now—” you huff, playfully indignant. “We should bring some back. For... later. When I can’t walk. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully?” Jing Yuan tilts his head, eyes half-lidded and amused. 

“Oh, don’t act so innocent!” You laugh and headbutt him lightly. If you had more energy, you’d play fight with him and ruffle the sheets up more than they already are. “I’m sure you’d like me immobile by the time you and your ridiculous cock are through with me.”

“... Ridiculous cock?” Jing Yuan can’t hide the laughter in his voice, or the flush on his cheeks. “So cruel.”

“I— I forgot how big it is.”

“I’m still covered, dearest.”

You gesture, panicked, below the covers to the bulge and still growing wet spot, “Your dick is close to the size of my forearm, Jing Yuan. I can see it without... seeing it.”

“You’re so complimentary.” He practically giggles. “So sweet. I had forgotten how sweet orgasm makes you. Or, is this your fatigue talking?”

“... Both? I missed you.” You say, using your un-held hand to pat Jing Yuan’s covered cock with a smile. “Missed this too.”

Jing Yuan almost squeaks at the unexpected contact. He apparently is just as sensitive as you. He hides his light blush in your neck, and you can’t help but laugh, and think about how sweet the peaches will be when cut by your lover’s hands and shared from the same plate.

...

Jing Yuan keeps his word. The early evening stretches into late evening, every touch and sensation coaxed and unhurried. Slow-stretched sugar, lest it shatters. 

In the kitchen, Jing Yuan cuts you a plate of peaches while you rest on his lap, watching the hypnotic carving of his knife with half-lidded eyes. He feeds you slices on a small fruit fork while sending off a message or two from his jade abacus. He carries half a dozen other fruits back to his bedroom and prods you for a more substantial meal order at some point. 

You finish off the last few slices while draped in his robe, dazed from your previous high. You feel— out of it. Raw and scraped out. Not much different from how you felt during your time in the utility tunnels, but instead of feverishly working, you’re in the warmly light room of your lover. His warm hand is splayed on the small of your back, rubbing little circles. 

You want to ask him:

“How do you do this?”

And Jing Yuan, mirthful, would say:

“Do what?”

And you would say:

“This.”

This: 

The way your mind resists fullness, empty by familiar nature. You’ve been cored, like the apple Jing Yuan dutifully cut and fed to you. Your thighs continue to shake. You’re bruised, marked, all his, in a way that cows and strokes the feral part of your mind still half-convinced this is all an elaborate illusion.

How could any of this be a fabrication? When Jing Yuan is so warm behind you, happy to bask in your presence while you bask in his. Jing Yuan’s contentment is infectious, it always is— but so quickly, he has stripped you of your ability to parry it. You can’t hold concern. You can barely hold your body upright. You want to fall into him, ask to take more, and hold him until you simply can’t anymore.

You do not ask Jing Yuan how he undoes you. Predicting the conversation seems— easy. Too easy. (Probably because calibrating a machine meant to sustain a civilization for weeks on end does damage that’s yet to be fully healed. Prediction is a symptom of overuse, divination a side effect. A cumbersome one.) You can imagine the way Jing Yuan would dance with his words, effortlessly sparring in a way that you simply couldn’t keep up with. You are already disarmed. You need his candor, and nothing is more honest than the General’s body.

“Come here.” Jing Yuan beckons you into the sheets to lay with him properly.

(It’s uncanny how he can predict your needs like a diviner himself.)

You follow his direction and let him tug you into his side. Your cheek rests over his chest, soft and a little rounder than it was when you first met him. He’s gained weight since then— which is good. He’s always been bulky under his uniform and regalia, toned muscle from centuries of training and sparring. But there wasn’t much else to him— he used to skip meals if it was too inconvenient to eat. If you were sharing a plate, he’d offer you a larger portion.

It was something so slightly self-deprecating. At first, you hadn’t noticed it. Jing Yuan is not a proud man, he is keen and clever in all regards— but his ego has stayed in check for as long as he’s been Arbiter-General. He commits this quiet act of self-harm, so miniscule that most wouldn’t bat an eye. His lack of appetite was a manifestation of some burden— as he will continue to live and slowly waste away, why should his body not as well?

You’d like to think you’d broken him of his destructive eating habits. Or, at least contributed. Warm meals, arm-in-arm snacking on street foods at night. Vendors are always happy to give the Divine Foresight a free treat, even if he offers them strales every time. He eats well around you, and you know it extends farther. He takes lunches with Yanqing at least once a week. There’s a stash of homemade honey oats and dried apricots stowed in his desk. 

You are glad he eats. That he is full. 

You appreciate the feel of him under your fingertips, how he has softened and grown a bit less worn during his own leave. He deserves a vacation. Maybe, you’ll sit on his cock and beg him to fucking retire with the promise you’ll be happy to stay that way for as long as he pleases if he does. Anything to keep him this lax and soft. You want to commit it to memory, but you still feel fuzzy.

“Enjoying yourself?” He laughs as he speaks, busying himself with the tacky skin on the nape of your neck. He pets you there.

“Yes.” You grab his chest, thumbing dangerously close to his nipple. “You feel nice.”

“I’m glad.” Jing Yuan says, tone curling and smitten. You feel drunk with it. He hums. “You seem a bit lost. May I guide you back here?”

“I don’t think I am.” You pout. “I’m here.”

“Are you sure?” 

“... Fairly sure.”

“May I try anyway?” Jing Yuan asks. “It would make me very happy too.”

There’s no harm to it, really.

“I’ll be good.” He adds and holds your wrist so tenderly in his palm. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

Jing Yuan drags the thin skin of your wrist over his lips, kissing the flesh as he does. It’s reverent, slow as he promised. He peeks up at you as he does, a curtain of his silver hair almost obscuring the warm gold of his eyes. There’s want there, so caramelized that it makes you ache. 

Jing Yuan rolls you, so that he’s above you, sitting over your hips. It’s— not too heavy. The weight of him is comforting if nothing else. The heat of him is grounding as he hovers over you, nosing at your jaw, nipping bruised skin. He licks the brutal bite he left earlier and you yip. You don’t have it in you to chastise him for it— you— you maybe like it too much to do so. 

Like this, it’s easier to notice how Jing Yuan wants. How his hand is sliding between over your sternum, between your breasts, down the soft line of your belly and navel, and back up again. It’s slow, radiating a yearning that sinks down into your organs heat from a hearth. He thumbs over the line of your throat and kisses you.

He’s more insistent now, licking into your mouth immediately, keeping his rhythm slow and actions drawn out. 

Jing Yuan pulls back just enough to speak, warm breath over your lips, “You’re doing so well.”

You feel warm in your cheeks and tug him closer. If only you burrow in his flesh bones, flush the marrow out to replace it with yourself. You’d do it if it meant keeping him upright for longer. 

“I’m right here.” Jing Yuan hushes you, gathering your wrists in one hand. You hadn’t realized desperate little keens were leaking from your throat, soaking the room. Jing Yuan doesn’t seem to mind. “No need to fuss. You’re alright.”

“You’re sure?” You ask, you feel out of your body. 

Jing Yuan knows this and he tethers you to him with a kiss and firm touch, “I’m sure. You trust me, don’t you?”

“So much,” you admit. 

Jing Yuan looks down at your softly, expression beginning to shatter. He is a difficult man to work with— he wears many faces, several hats, and speaks in riddles more often than not. To receive his honesty is— a fucking gift. You want to hold it in your hands and swallow it. His hair falls over his face as he peers down at you, thumbing over the lines of your throat.

“You’re so good.” He says gently, quiet. Like it’s a secret for the two of you. “You’d do anything I’d ask you to right now, wouldn’t you?”

You nod, then think about what he asked. You still would. Probably. Maybe give him some grief along the way, “As long as you’re not too mean about it.”

“Oh?” He teases. He teases, even now. Even when your core is exposed and you’re bare and he’s stalling despite being hard against your thigh. “You’re still so sweet when I’m a bit mean. I think you enjoy it.” 

A broken, nearly-pathetic noise drips from your lips. You clutch at his arms and try to bury your face in the sheets. Your face feels so warm, it's making you dizzy.

“No need to be shy,” he sounds smitten, a smile bleeding into his tone. He kisses you with it, again and again until you’re breathless and stupid once more. He pulls back until you’re nose to nose, hand drifting to the apex of your thighs. 

You squirm, bucking your hips, urging him closer. 

“Patience, love, I’ll give you what you need.” He tells you and kisses the corner of your mouth. You believe him.

Jing Yuan settles himself between your thighs, holding them open with his own. He is not a small man, and it leaves you very exposed. More exposed than you would like, and it makes something in you writhe. Jing Yuan hushes you, soothes you as he’s so good at doing as he drenches his fingers in oil.

(The first time you fucked, you did not do this step. Oil and any type of lubricant was skipped, and you paid the price the next morning with a bit of light bleeding and an ache that would send Jing Yuan to the Alchemy Commission to fetch some specialty painkillers. He was very apologetic the morning after, guilt-ridden even. At some point, he started carrying little vials on his person and insisting lubricant be used regardless of how impromptu of a lay it was.)

(That is all to say that Jing Yuan’s cock is huge and has the capability to break you.)

He presses a finger into you— it goes in easily, slides with the aid of lubricant and your own slick.

“Oh,” Jing Yuan breathes, gaze drifting from your parted lips to the finger he sinks into you. “You’re so wet.”

You want to be snarky. Of course you are, he’s already had you on his tongue earlier in the day— now, he’s been teasing you, playing with you, and being sweet with you. How could you not be? It’s the only natural response to your lover treating you in such a way.

However, you do not get a chance to show him any sass as he crooks his finger upwards and rubs the pad of his thumb in a familiar pattern, little circles over your clit. A gasping moan spills from your lips and Jing Yuan holds you down with his free hand on your hips. He pets you when you shake and yearn for more too quickly. 

“‘S okay?” You ask.

“Very.” Jing Yuan smiles, beaming, almost purring. “I’ll tell you if it isn’t.”

“Okay.” You nod, feeling wrung out already. Beads of sweat rise between your breasts and drip down your skin. 

Jing Yuan must notice too, as he ducks forward to lick a firm strip over your tacky skin, groaning as he does before moving to one of your nipples. He kisses around the bud, nips just enough to make you fuss, before wrapping his lips around it. He bites, sucks, and groans into you as he does. 

You pet through his hair, scrapping your nails down his neck and back. Marking him however you can.

Jing Yuan pulls away from you, panting, and kisses you hard on the mouth. It’s a clash, really. Harsher and more desperate than he usually would give you. He’s usually not this messy, but your teeth clack together awkwardly and you swallow around the discomfort. Jing Yuan is quick to correct himself, deepening the kiss more sweetly as if to apologize. 

He slips a second finger inside your cunt, next to the first, drenching your hole in slick and lube. It’s— messy. It is wet. The sound is obscene, even if Jing Yuan is being slow and gentle with your most delicate parts. Arousal pools in your gut, and want makes you feel like a sinking puddle, spreading out over the sheets like you’re going to absorb into Jing Yuan’s lavish mattress. 

You open up for him, relax with the contact and let him take care of you as he wishes.

He presses another finger into you— this one stings, despite the preparation and slick drenching you down your thighs and the sheets below you. He moves slowly, kissing your cheeks and hushing you when you whine. 

“I’ve got you,” He smiles, and drags his lips over your cheeks. It’s reassuring, and something blooms from the base of your spine up to your throat. He gives you playfully chomp over the apple of one and you let out a little laugh. It bubbles up out of you and Jing Yuan shares it with his own deeper one.

He fans out his fingers inside you, slowly, with each thrust. It’s measured, practiced. Despite the time apart. 

Jing Yuan is hard against your leg. You can feel him, though Jing Yuan is still wearing his own robe and silks which simply will not do. Tugging, you drag it off him, and push yourself half up. You attempt to reach for his cock, you want it— him. But Jing Yuan stills his fingers inside you, clicks his tongue, and knocks you back into the mattress with a gentle (albeit firm) shove.

“Not yet.” He scolds, though there’s no bark behind it. 

You frown. “But I want you.”

“And what if I want you too?” Jing Yuan asks.

It’s something he’s never raised directly before.

He’s made such a fact known, however. You know he wants you. Jing Yuan was happy to complete a number of courting gestures, prior to becoming something of an official couple. He keeps you close, he is kind to you, he even tells you a secret or two. He fucks you like he loves you and wants you close. He leaves marks all of you, from your neck, all the way down to even your ankles and calves on occasion. He shares drinks with you in his gardens, offers you a place in his bed and somewhere in his heart, even if you’re still (after decades) understanding where that is.

But, so rarely does he state that he wants you so plainly. 

Want is dangerous. Yearning and all. Yearning must be a passing emotion if one is to resist Mara. If anything, Mara is accumulated and rotting yearning. 

Jing Yuan has lived a long life due to how he copes with yearning. 

To admit to it— it is an act of vulnerability. To admit a weakness, a thing that could tear him full of undying roots and strike him down. It is the danger of the Divine Foresight finding a partner and becoming coupled. It invites such feelings. 

You had assumed Jing Yuan hadn’t entertained such notions directly. To give them time in his mind could bring rumination. Which— could easily go sour.

“... You want me?” 

Jing Yuan tilts his head cutely, “Yes, of course. Was that not obvious?”

“I inferred,” You feel sticky and sloppy as Jing Yuan withdraws his fingers. 

He climbs off the bed, only for a moment. He shucks off the last of his clothing, leaving him bare. Candle light casts shadows over the contours of him. His cock looks— painfully hard. As he climbs back into bed, it bobs, swollen and dark red at the head. Almost purpling. It’s slick with pre that is still beading from his slit.

“... Can I suck you off?” You ask, a bit entranced. “Please?”

“Not now,” He tells you with a laugh. “Later, if you ask me nicely again.”

“Okay.” You can do that. 

Jing Yuan huffs out another laugh with a shake of his head, “Insatiable thing.”

“I missed you.” You tell him. Your voice is watery. Your own admission.

Jing Yuan flips you by your midsection, coaxing you to raise your hips enough to sandwich a few silk pillows between your hips and the bed. His hands linger over the bruises on your hips, then slide down the swell of your ass to the backs of your thighs. He pets you until you’re relaxed, boneless.

He parts from you over for a moment, rummaging through a nearby cupboard for oil. You hear him slick his cock. The sound makes you squeeze your thighs together and bury your face in the sheets. 

Jing Yuan surprises you by pressing a finger into you from behind. A sound rips from your throat as he finds your sweet spots, adding another finger quickly, then a third. You’re drenched between your thighs, so slick you feel drunk. Jing Yuan positions your legs a little wider and settles between them. 

“D-Don’t aggravate your injury,” You remember, beginning to push yourself up. A moment of lucidity as you can sense Jing Yuan lining him up. “Not on my account.”

“I won’t.” He promises, running a hand down your back from tailbone to nape to coax you back against the mattress. He presses a kiss to the base of your spine. “Always so caring and diligent.”

“I—” You cut yourself off as the head of his cock teases your folds. Rubbing. “Jing Yuan—”

“I want you.” Jing Yuan tells you, doubling back, bumping against your clit as you moan. 

“Y-You can have me,” You want to see his face, rub his cheeks. “You do have me. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Damning yourselves.

Can’t the General be selfish in lieu of his looming retirement? Can’t the Master Calibrator enjoy the company of others, and not the mechanical hum of a God Ship?

“I have you?” Jing Yuan asks, beginning to push into you.

You can’t reply— you can’t. Despite the prep, and oil, and arousal all together, it’s still tight. Jing Yuan is thick enough that it’s outlandish, and you’re feeling every inch of that girth as he enters you. You clutch your balled-up hands in the soft sheets near your head. You try to keep your breathing even but it’s hard. Jing Yuan pets down your sides, leaning over your back, whispering little words of praise and encouragement as you take him. 

“You’re so lovely. Look how well you’re doing.”

“You’re going to take all of me.”

“I’ll be gentle. I’ll be good to you.”

He is, and you don’t mean to cry, you don’t, but you do when he bottoms out, and you can feel him so, so deep, it’s in your throat. The heat of him inside you is searing. You’re changed. You’re being carved out by him anew, and he wants you. 

“You h-have me,” You tell him. You scrambled a hand behind you, shaking as you brace yourself against the bed. You manage to get a handful of his head and drag him down over your back. “Jing Yuan, please have me.”

You’ll beg for it; shame has been lost.

You want to stay here. In his bed. By his side. You want him to want the same with you. Not with old flames. You don’t want Jing Yuan to deny himself pleasure in the face of duty, as if the two cannot exist. As if rules cannot be bent or changed by the hand that rules them or the Calibrator who tweaks the vessel that you both live on. Things change. It is the nature of life and starshine.

Even with the Xianzhou Natives' lifetime, they are bound to grow, endlessly. 

Jing Yuan pauses above you, stills so deep in you. You’re worried for a moment you’ve crossed a line. That your desperation has spurred him away, rather than closer. It terrifies you. It grips you so hard that it feels like your heart could shatter to pieces.

(Your worry is misplaced.)

Jing Yuan lets out a shuddering sigh, pulling out almost completely. You panic (“no, no, no, don’t, ‘M sorry”) and nearly flip over to try and recover the situation. However— you’re mistaken.

He groans as he slams back into you, curling over your back, gathering you up in his arms, and rolling his hips. He’s scraping the insides of you. You’re raw. 

“N-No apologies,” His voice breaks. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Y—You offer me yourself so sweetly. I only feel guilty that—” 

He cuts himself off with another deep thrust that punches a broken sound out of you. Tears begin to drip down your cheeks.

“No guilt—”

“I feel guilty,” Jing Yuan punctuates his words with a cant of his hips that has you going slack in his arms, ragdolled by pleasure, “that you think you must beg to be had. I feel immensely guilty that you could have any doubt toward me as a lover.”

He guides you back down to the bed, steadying himself with a searing palm on the back of your neck and a hand leveraged on your lower back.

You really won’t be able to walk tomorrow. 

“I don’t doubt y-you like that.”

(It’s less about some nebulous insecurity you keep as his lover, and more about the solid knowledge that Jing Yuan is so careful with his connections. You cannot believe yourself to be the exception.)

(Sometimes, you doubt that he has any tether to anyone. Like he’s waiting to die. No matter how fond he is of you, that this will supersede it. It damns his well being. It damns the future. But, how steadfast does it make the present? You’d like to think its enough for him to keep you as company due to legitimate desire and care, rather than balming of some wound as your insecurities tell you it could be.)

In retrospect, you’ll feel foolish for thinking so little of Jing Yuan’s feelings toward you. 

He grabs you by your cheeks in one hand, craning your neck back to face him the best you can on your tummy. He levels his face with yours, nose to nose. Eyes alight. He looks... almost angry. Jaw tight, seated and still inside you to the hilt. You’re full— bursting at the seams, but you have enough lucidity to focus your vision and see how pained he looks. Pained and enraptured, loving and loved. He’s bound up with it, the same way that you are. 

“If I could, I would keep you in this bed. If not this bed, then the gardens I would follow you into your tunnels and learn the harmonies and chords you know, even if I couldn’t keep a tune. I would keep you full like this. I would cut you stone fruit whenever you’d like something sweet.”

It’s a declaration. It might as well be a proposal.

You don’t get a chance to reply. Your breath is knocked out of you, like every thought and fear and insecurity that you’ve been shouldering. Jing Yuan fucks you with the full force of his hips, thighs bracketed with your own. It hurts— barely. Enough that you’ll feel it for days and carry a limp for just as long. 

His pace is quick and deep. He’s not chasing— he’s creating. Marking a spot inside you that’s just for him. Only him. It makes you feel giddy and stupid and you laugh through the tears streaming down your cheeks. It’s— all a lot. Jing Yuan keeps you tucked so close, pressing you into the silks sheets. He breathes through his mouth, panting against the back of your neck , sucking more marks into the skin, darkening the preexisting ones. Claiming, in a way that feels different from the hickeys he had given you in the past. 

You sob as he tilts your hips up. He drills downward, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. You’re— you’re going to explode. The friction of the pillows below your hips isn’t enough to come,but Jing Yuan drilling your insides is getting you close to something. It feels like a peak you’re not meant to climb, and you sob at the sensation. Like you’re free falling.

Jing Yuan holds you closer, wrapping an arm around your midsection, and the feeling disappears.

He sneaks a hand to your cunt. First he feels where you’re joined. The sticky, sloppy mess of pre, slick and lube that you’ve made. You’ll need another bath. Maybe two. He runs gentle fingers along the seam of your cunt, where he’s slowed his thrusts so he can feel where you’re practically tethered together. 

“Taking me so well,” Jing Yuan is breathless. He rubs your clit, bracing himself over your front, and fucks you so wonderfully that your vision begins to darken at the edges.

It’s unfair how quickly he gets you to your peak, touching you like this. He knows your body, and you squeeze down around him with a cry as you crest. Your cunt clamps down as the knots in your gut unfurl. You jolt back with the sensation, overwhelming and all consuming. Jing Yuan moans behind you, a beautiful sound you want to have so committed to memory so that even when you’re riddled with mara, you’ll remember the sound. 

Jing Yuan doesn’t chase his relief, he lays over your back like a blanket as you shake through the aftershocks of your orgasm and fucks you slow and deep. He only hastens when you let out a warbling little sound, something hurt from your bruised insides making themselves known.

He quiets you with a soft, dragged out whisper of praise. He thrusts harder— faster— and moments later there’s a gush of warmth in your guts that makes your eyes roll back into your head. You want to come again, and you can’t help the temptation to reach down and get off, just once— more.

Jing Yuan nearly growls as you do. He bats your hand away, flips you so you’re belly up. Your hips are raised on the mound of pillows and it hits you what he intends to do.

To have both of you.

He throws your legs over his shoulders. Your thighs shake around his cheeks as he gives them a quick kiss, before diving into his meal. He moans and groans into your cunt, out of breath from fucking you still, but no-less diligent. He fucks his cum back into your with a thick finger for a few thrust, just barely— you’ll be too sore and he knows it. 

He eats his release from your cunt. It’s— debauched. It’s so, so much and you can’t do anything other than writhe and tug at his hair. Your hips hurt, but you still find it in you to grind against his mouth. It’s— one of his favorite things. He likes to be used sometimes. This is one of his favorite flavors, when his tongue is inside of you and you drag him closer by his hair and let the friction bring you to orgasm, however long it takes.

You, truthfully, do not have much left in your body to chase this. 

Jing Yuan must know this, or he is feeling similarly— or both. Probably both. You’re too floaty and gone to tell. You’re still crying as he moves to your clit, licks and sucks until you fall apart on his tongue once more, full and sated with him. 

Both had by each other. 

You fall into the bed sheets as you finish, dragging a sweaty Jing Yuan closer. So close. He keeps you closer still, over his chest, cheek pillows on the swell of his pec (breast) and a dusting of silver hair. You’re shaking from the high— so is he. You feel like you’re going to fall into a million pieces.

(It reminds you, briefly, of how it felt when you first dropped into the utility tunnels, after the calibration apprentice went Mara-Struck. How you felt so— alone— gone. How fragile you felt sprinting through the tunnels with the knowledge that your world was being torn apart by forces beyond your control.)

(You felt small and helpless.)

The feeling is quickly extinguished— or maybe made to feel pleasurable. Jing Yuan practically purrs underneath you, petting you, stroking over your new bruises and marks. You keep a hand buried in his hair, petting over his cheeks. Staying lucid— is hard. The last thing you clearly remember was hopelessly fond, adoring, gold eyes, gazing back at you so lovingly, that they could remake you.

Perhaps, they already have.

It’s sometime later, in one of Jing Yuan’s gardens. This one is nestled, lush, in the large courtyard in the center of his home. A pond gurgles with the bubble of fat fish that swim near the surface of the water. You fed them earlier and they’re still looping, searching for an extra snack.

You lay some distance away from the pond on a blanket that Jing Yuan has designated as your ‘outside blanket’ as it is particularly large (tall enough for him to sprawl out on and more than wide enough to fit the both of you) and thick. Your head is pillowed on Jing Yuan’s arm as he is curled toward you, legs tangled with your own. It’s late afternoon, and the General is taking one of his beloved naps. You’ve taken to combing a hand through his hair, scratching along his scalp and behind his ear and contenting yourself with the little sighs and almost-purrs he lets you. 

It is good to rest.

Your leave has, overall, been quite restful. Mostly. Aside from the times that Jing Yuan cannot keep his hands of you and you end up fucking whereever is convenient before retiring to your (now shared) bedroom. The bouts leave you tired and worn, but in a satisfying way. Jing Yuan has been particularly dutiful and attentive post-fuck, always handing you chilled water to sip and offering a treat. Sometimes a fruit or a candy he has apparently been stashing away. He gives you as many kisses as you can bear, and you return the gesture as much as you’re able.

Jing Yuan has become... handiser. Needier. You’d say clingier, but as much as he tends to cling when he’s around his estate with you, it never feels overbearing. He indulges in closeness with you in a way that feels shameless in the best way. 

It’s the same in public. You’ve gone to the night markets, once or twice to indulge in street foods, and Jing Yuan is equally as touchy, albeit it’s more subtle. A hand on your lower back, standing behind you while he orders with an arm wrapped around your waist. You hold hands when you walk, or you loop an arm through his elbow if it's particularly crowded. He did these things before, but they seem more... necessary. Like he has to keep you close. The contact he shares with you is firmer. Richer, even. He’s always been intentional with you, it's his nature, but now his actions have taken on a different shape. Intentionally showing want, rather than showing closeness.

It creates both a softness and an edge to him that you are thoroughly enjoying.

There’s softness in how lax he is next to you, dozing the afternoon away after completing the bare minimum of work for the day. His cheeks are rounder, and a bit rosy. It’s warm today. It’s the softness of skinship, how you’re both seeking out each other’s barest parts, even if it's only for a moment or two of skin-to-skin contact. It’s how his care is so explicit these days. 

The edge of it is how the General is anxious, perhaps. It’s a possessive flavor that Jing Yuan has, perhaps, always has, but is simply more apparent now. His touches in public flaunt the fact that you’re clearly a couple, nevermind what gossip magazines and street whisperers will say. It’s the consistent marks he leaves on you— those visible hickeys on your neck, down to the dark, sore ones he leaves on your inner thighs and the softness of your stomach. It’s the way he commissioned a set of earrings, one for each of you to wear. 

(He had looked a bit melancholy, just for a moment, when he first presented you with them. Like a memory had surfaced but then was quickly let go and set adrift in favor of the present.)

The set is crafted with gold connected with a flat, rectangle of stone that dangles down from it. The stone is red, inlaid with gold veins. Some alloy that was probably mined on an asteroid— a rarity. They’re beautiful. You hardly know what to say when you receive yours; Jing Yuan had presented you the gift while already wearing his. 

Marking each other as each other’s. 

It’s brazen— and you like it. The beast of feeling that tore you to shreds in the utility tunnels feels far away, lately. Your extended leave has been good and you’re... grateful Jing Yuan has been quite official (and strict) about keeping you away from work.

You run the pad of your thumb under his eye. The skin is delicate, wrinkled just the slightest. It’s a tragedy, for many reasons, that you both are long-lived and cursed with Abundance. You’d like to see the crow’s feet Jing Yuan would have, if his skin did not keep itself so elastic and young.

Apparently awake, Jing Yuan grabs your wrist and brings it to his lip. He sets upon you with a lazy smile. His eyes open, just halfway, and he looks at you, so adoring.

“Are your thoughts entertaining?” Jing Yuan asks, gentle as he holds you closer. “You seem quite lost in them.”

You hum, kissing his jaw with a drag of your lips, “Not lost. Just reflecting.”

Jing Yuan hums himself, nosing into your temple. Then your hairline, where he leaves a line of kisses in his wake. You shudder with the feather-light feeling.

“Would you like to share?” Jing Yuan asks. “Or, perhaps take a rest with me? Though I am very appreciative of the head massage, I do believe you could use a rest. Unless you wish to take a stroll, and turn in early?”

“A stroll sounds lovely in a bit. I don’t mind sharing, though,” you answer. 

Jing Yuan smiles against your skin. You wish it could brand you, “I’m listening, whenever you’d like.”

You gather your words for a moment. It takes— a second. A long one. The Dragon Lady says that you’re experiencing some lasting effects from being attuned to the Quantum fields for too long in the wake of the Stellaron Crisis. She seemed confident your impairments would heal but your mind is that of a mortal. It will take time.

Jing Yuan is ever patient with you.

“I suppose I’m grateful,” You tell him. “I am glad I have a space in your life, and I am grateful that you show it to me in the ways that you do. I would be— very sad, if I was not by your side, I think.”

It is a simple way to put something much larger.

Jing Yuan seems to understand regardless.

He takes a deep breath, then squeezes you to his chest. It forces the air from your lungs in a way that makes you light-headed.

“How kind are you.” Jing Yuan sighs, nuzzling into your hair. “To think of me so sweetly, without prompting. I’m very fortunate to have you as a lover. I hope you know that.”

“I try to remind myself.”

“Do I need to remind you more myself?” Jing Yuan asks, his smile turning a bit mischievous. He rolls himself over you, caging you. “I’m happy to.”

“You’ll spoil me!” You laugh and bat at his chest, slipping your arms over his shoulders, locking your hands behind his neck.

“I quite like having you spoiled.” Jing Yuan contends with a cute tilt of his head. “I should resolve to spoil you more, actually. Do you have any ideas on how to do so? I’m happy to listen.”

“Jing Yuan—” You huff with an uncontainable grin. Your heart is going to burst from your chest. You would let it. You’d let Jing Yuan take its place. You practically already have. 

“I think,” Jing Yuan whispers in your ear, breath warm and sweet. “I ought to keep you in bed for the afternoon, perhaps pause the plan for a stroll until later in the evening. Starfire flies have been gathering in one of the gardens near the Exalting Sanctum— what do you say to a post-coital jaunt?”

“I mean—” You flush and bump your nose into his cheek, like a cat giving ample affection. “I don’t think I’ll be properly spoiled if I can still walk after you’re through with me.”

“So, I’ll carry you? That’s doable.”

“No— I mean— You can—” 

“I’m teasing you,” Jing Yuan murmurs with a tone so sweet and warm, you could melt into the soft blanket and soil below you. “Whatever you’d like. We can decide along the way.”

You smile.

“Yeah,” Your chest feels tight and warm and lovely all at once. Jing Yuan pulls away, and the earring that twins your own dangles, catching the falling sun in its veins of gold. “I’d like to decide along the way with you.”

It means more than this instance, it’s encompassing. To be long-lived and coupled is to tread the shallows of what could be Mara. To wear the mark of another is to dare to swim closer to the roiling beast of Abundance that none of the Xianzhou Natives can truly outrun.

But you think that, perhaps, you and Jing Yuan will be alright until that day, whenever it may be. You will spoil each other, hold each other, and take your steps while extending a patient hand to the other if they’d like to take it. You’ll listen to echoes together and learn to forget them. You’ll harmonize with stardust and Jing Yuan will play his games of many dimensional chess until he (hopefully soon) retires.

The smile that grows on your face is warm like a hearth, honeyed like a spiced tea, and kind. It splits the both of you open, and Jing Yuan kisses you like he can’t help but to do anything else. You don’t lose your grin, and you give it to him against his lips, laughing together as you share breath.

It’s sweet and lovely, you think, as Jing Yuan touches your foreheads together. You have this, and you’ll be happy to have this for as long as Fate and Aeons allow. You think that Jing Yuan will be happy too— with a coveted smile so kind given to you and a bed, shared. 

You bask in it— this. The gardens and the heat of him and the warmth in your chest, for however long you’re given. 

#lore writes #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan reader insert #hsr x reader #cooking complete. meal on the table :'^) #enjoy loves!!

[dallaji]

Control Freak.

♡ bada lee x reader / NSFW❗❗❗

SUMMARY: Your girlfriend doesn’t like giving up the reins, but perhaps with some gentle urging she will finally let loose. Even if it's just for a little bit.

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

CW: PORN WITHOUT PLOT (like leech rallay NO plot), established relationship, reader is a power bottom and bada is perplexed!! befuddled!!11, bada with a strap, toys.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: please don't kill me for not releasing a request. (〃´▽`〃) this has been in my drafts for a while, so i decided to finish it. kind of experimental / out of my comfort zone, but hopefully still enjoyable!!1 not proofread yet btw.

————— ୨୧ —————

Bada always needed to be in control.

You had noticed when you first met her.

That particular club had never been on your radar before, but your friends dragged you along and the crowd and music were decent enough. It had only taken fifteen minutes of you dancing around strangers, the heavy bass of the music controlling the sway of your body, until a pair of magnetic eyes met yours from across the room. 

Something about her beckoned you, the anticipation blooming in your stomach. Even when her arm had snaked around your lower back, signaling to any passersby that she had staked her claim, Bada couldn’t help but glance over to her friends every once in a while; making sure they weren’t going overboard with drinking. Before she took you to her place she checked in on each and every one of them, her hand never leaving your lower back.

When Bada had invited you to watch one of her dance classes, you immediately picked up on her ability to command the room. When her students performed the taught choreo back to her, Bada's eagle-like eyes searched for any out-of-place formations or unsharp movements. If anyone was off the beat, she would make them redo the entire routine start to finish. Not in a draconian way, but with words of encouragement, only ever wanting to see them give their very best.

You noticed again on one of your first dates. After offering to cook for her that evening, Bada insisted on tagging along with you to the grocery store. She had wricked the basket from your hand straight away with a half smile. Without even needing to, she reached any tall shelf regardless. 

Once settled in your small one bedroom apartment, Bada had lurked over your shoulder with curious eyes like a patient puppy, watching you prepare the meal. Before you could even ask, she handed you whichever utensils or ingredients were needed. All that despite your constant urging to have her sit back and relax.

Instead, Bada shook her head with a bashful smile: “I want to help.” Is what she had said.

You noticed in more private settings, too. 

Whenever she made you orgasm, she would lock your legs in place and deliberately hold down the thrashing of your limbs. Bada wanted to feel you lose yourself to her, and never make you forget who got you to that point.

Her hungry gaze didn't leave your face, as if she needed to commit every expression to memory. “That’s it, baby,” She’d coax, “So good for me.”

When she wore the familiar harness with her strap-on, she immediately had you bent over in a perfect angle; a hand on the back of your neck to keep you exactly where she wanted you as she pistoned her hips against you. As soon as you got close, she would pull out with a giggle, only to move you onto your back; hoisting your legs over her shoulders to see how far she could edge you along.

Sometimes you wanted to return the favor: “Let me make you feel good,” You would whisper against her lips, Bada panting underneath you as her hands found purchase on your hips. 

Despite her unwavering dedication in keeping you pliant, you were desperate to give back to her. So you would throw a leg over her waist in a foolhardy attempt to lock her into place, and Bada followed your every motion with a lovestruck expression.

However, once your fingers pressed into her, half-lidded eyes meeting yours, her hand would curl around your wrist: sometimes dictating your motions, and sometimes just to keep a tight hold on you. A silent reminder of who is in charge.

And despite this clear-cut dynamic in the bedroom, neither of you ever cared for strict roles. It wasn’t something you had ever explicitly discussed. You worked her up just as much as she did you. Some days you were both desperate for it, one shoving the other against a wall after a long week of barely getting to see each other; other days the two of you giggled under the sheets, the early morning rise peeking through the blinds as soft pants filled the room. 

Yet the outcome was always the same. Completely surrendering yourself to her as she, almost obsessively, found new ways to have you exactly the way she wanted you.

You didn’t mind, though, as it was so inherently Bada. Soft, yet capable; kind, but forthright; sometimes shy, though always poised.

But sometimes, you wondered.

After a particularly stressful day, she would lay you down on the bed and put on her strap without you even imploring her to do so. Wearing her harness, she could sometimes come from just watching your eyes roll back as she fucked into you, the suction on the back of the strap rubbing against her mound at just the right angle. 

Other times, you pushed your hand down her harness, fingers circling her folds in an attempt to keep up with the unforgiving pace of her hips. 

But most of the time, she would hold your hands over your head or against your back, and intently watch you come undone, not paying attention to her own pleasure whatsoever. 

It almost seemed to be cathartic for her, having such a control over you when her grueling schedule was something she simply underwent. When her professional life had become hectic, she barely found the energy to say ‘no’ to things. She would come to your place with tense muscles and a tired smile, but never too tired to pull you into the bedroom with a meaningful look in her eyes. You were more than willing to give her that release. What were you if not at her disposal?

But you still wondered. You believed that, from time to time, it was healthy to let go of the reins. Perhaps finding a way to relinquish at least a little bit, allowing herself to unravel in your hold, could help her blow off steam too. 

You had an idea, and what better time to try it than today?

Bada had started her day with an early photoshoot and ended it with a filmed interview. Once she had reached your apartment, you already had takeout food laid out on the table for her. She greeted you with a warm embrace, pressing a tender kiss on your lips before digging in.

With a mouthful of fried rice, she complained about unfriendly hairstylists and bad traffic, rubbing at her temples to will away a commencing headache. You listened intently before sharing your own frustrations with a project at work; Bada squeezed your hand, urging you to take a break from time to time. You chuckled at the irony. Look who’s talking.

“I have a day off tomorrow,” Bada said nonchalantly, scooping some leftover slices of beef into her bowl.

“Good thing I changed my sheets today.” You replied teasingly, stealing some of her beef.

Bada looked up at you with a mischievous grin.

Soon after you were on your bed entirely naked, panting and sensitive all over, as Bada hunched over you in nothing but her underwear. She had been teasing you relentlessly, dragging her fingernails up and down your thighs as she scattered hickeys across your skin, tonguing at each bruise she created.

"Tell me what you want, princess." She mouthed against the soft skin of your inner thigh, before her teeth pressed down in a lovebite. 

"Want to get fucked," You managed to rasp, your fingers tangling into the locks of her hair.

She hummed thoughtfully, as if she was deciding on what to eat for dinner, and you felt the reverberations against your skin: "It has been a while, hasn't it?" Her tongue licked a long stripe along the area where your cunt and thigh met, her fingertips squeezing into your quivering legs; holding them still.

It was difficult to stay focused with Bada winding you up as much as she did, but you managed to find a stable enough voice to speak: "I- I want to try something new, though..."

"Oh?” She glanced up at you from in between your legs, her mouth slick from the kisses she had left all over you.

You nodded timidly, slowly moving to sit up. Bada followed suit, watching you curiously with her hands resting atop your thighs.

From your bedside drawer you pulled a small box, quickly opening it and placing the contents on the bed. Bada raised her eyebrows.

It was a small pink bullet vibrator, and a remote.

You watched Bada do the math in her head.

“Do you want to have both…?” You almost choked on your spit, flustering not only at her suggestion but the way she seemed incredibly interested in the prospect.

“No! I want you to… wear this, while also wearing your strap,” You muttered, feeling more embarrassed by the second. Bada’s mouth formed a small ‘o’, and you continued hurriedly: “I think it would feel good, for the both of us.”

The way Bada smiled was almost cheshire-like, and she slowly pushed you down on the bed again, a newfound eagerness in her ministrations that let you breathe a sigh of relief. “Does my baby think she can handle it?” She spoke with a cloyingly sweet lilt to her voice, and you had to swallow the bratty remark on the tip of your tongue. 

Of course Bada could not conceive of herself not being able to handle it- she was still under the impression that you would be the main receiver here.

Before you could think of something to respond, Bada placed the remote and the vibrator in your hand, pressing her lips into the crook of your neck.

“Go ahead. Put it in.” She whispered, and all you could do was obey with an eagerness that left you mortified.

As her lips parted against the sensitive skin of your neck, the tip of her tongue drawing circles, your hand moved into her underwear; you rolled the bullet along the front of her heat, fingers reaching to feel the wetness of her folds. Bada hummed encouragingly, her own hands clinging onto your hips. 

You moved further down, coating the bullet with her wetness and letting it aid you when you slowly pushed it into her entrance with the tip of your finger. It earned you a soft moan from Bada, who let out a shuddered breath against your collarbones.

Before you retreated your hand, you made sure to cup her into the palm of your hand, fingers gliding along her folds. You loved how wet she got, and so fast at that. 

She sucked in a breath at your lingering touches, the sound turning into a mocking giggle. “Are you trying to tease me?”

You shuddered at the silent threat that hid behind her words, and shook your head bashfully. You promptly removed your hand, and Bada clicked her tongue in feigned indignance; but her eyes were still glazed with affection.

It was part of the game the both of you played, but you were still intent on reversing the roles at least a little bit.

Her hand came up to grab a tight hold on your face, fingertips digging into your cheeks as she forced you to meet her in a kiss. You made a desperate noise, immediately parting your lips for her as she kissed your breath away, tongue prodding against yours. 

But she ended the kiss much too soon for your liking, and you chased after her mouth. The taller girl chuckled, pushing you flat against the bed a second time by the grip she had on your face. “Patience” is all she said before moving off the bed and rummaging through the drawer for something familiar.

The strap is a similar bright pink as the bullet, and your shuddered in anticipation. You were always mesmerized from the way Bada stepped into the harness. Everything about her body language alluded to how often she wore it; she hoisted it up and expertly tightened the belts around her hips. Bada was lean, yet soft in all the right places, and the way the straps of the harness hugged around her figure complimented the subtle formation of her abs.

Nothing was ever lost on her, so Bada shot you a lopsided grin when she noticed your hungry stare. She stalked back over to you, much too patient for your liking, and climbed back to her rightful spot between your legs. You held your breath as Bada sat up on her knees, her hands curling under your thighs before she tugged you closer to her with an almost predatory look in her eyes.

She manhandled you in place, and you leaned back on your elbows in surrender. 

Her eyes raked along your figure underneath her and she leaned closer; the cold strap pressing against your navel. You subconsciously ground against it, but Bada was just beyond reach for there to be any satisfying friction.

She tilted her head playfully, a hand coming up to cradle the side of your face: “Do you want my fingers first, or can you take it?” 

You sucked in your lower lip, bringing your hands to the firmness of her stomach. “I can take it,” You responded confidently.

She hummed quietly: “Of course you can,” The look Bada gave you almost turned you into putty, and she pulled your leg around her waist, tilting her hips in such a way that the near end of the strap pressed to your folds. You wanted to rub yourself against it, but you knew better than to defy Bada in a moment like this.

Her other hand moved in between the two of you and she felt at your wetness, just as you had done to her prior. Bada, however, didn’t hesitate before drawing circles against you, your head lolling to the side with a sharp breath. She brought the strap lower on purpose, digging it between your folds before coating it with your arousal, slicking it up. 

You tried to stay still, but every slight roll of her hips had you jump at the sensitivity and you squeezed your eyes shut. That only made it worse however, as Bada took the opportunity to begin gliding the strap up and down against you, relishing in the shudders of your body. You weren’t looking, but you knew she was smiling.

She pressed a wet kiss to your collarbones and brought her hand to the base of her strap, angling her hips at your entrance. Teasingly, she prodded the tip of the strap against you and you were almost certain she was going to drag this out until she hoisted your hips onto her lap; pushing into you without a warning. 

You gasped, clutching onto her waist as you felt the strap stretch your walls. The glide was familiar enough but you couldn’t help but feel full already. You loved the way she stuffed you.

With murmurs of encouragement, Bada grabbed a hold of your hip to push in all the way to the hilt with a sharp jerk, and the movement punched a moan out of you. You clutched onto the sheets as you spread your legs further apart, and Bada greedily crowded over you.

She pulled out until just the head of the strap was still buried in you, and gave you barely a second to breathe before slamming back inside. You dug your nails into the skin of her waist with a drawn-out whine.

The pace she set was immediately ruthless; a slow retreat before punching into you, her hip bones knocking against the back of your thighs with a slapping sound. Soon you became slack jawed, almost feeling drunk on pleasure. Bada’s hands had found purchase atop your breasts, squeezing them as her hips fucked into you, your nipples peeking from between her slender fingers. 

“You take it so well,” Bada groaned, teeth gritting as she accelerated her thrusts. “It’s fucking amazing.” 

If you hadn’t initiated this with a clear plan in mind, you could feel yourself come incredibly fast this way: Bada dominating you, who was so open and willing. Your head lolled to the side as the sound of skin on skin got louder.

Through the daze of pleasure coursing through your body, your hand managed to find the remote belonging to the bullet buried inside Bada. The taller girl didn’t notice what you were reaching for, much more focused on fucking you faster and harder. 

Your fingers somehow managed to find the ‘on’-button, your body rocking back and forth as Bada fucked you, and you pressed on the first setting without warning.

Bada faltered with a curse on her lips as she felt the vibrator set off, hips momentarily freezing. She was still buried deep inside you, and you gasped. You could feel the light pulsing of the vibrating as well, and the thought made you lightheaded. 

Bada found her footing again fast enough, an incredulous laugh falling from her lips. She brusquely grabbed a hold of your face, forcing you to look at her as she stared down with fiery eyes. She slipped back into her previously unforgiven pace, almost as if she didn’t feel the vibrator at all: “You do want to— tease me.” She stated, cooing, but almost interrupting her own words with a moan as the vibrator pulsed inside of her.

You shook your head despite the grip she had on your face: “No,” You moaned breathlessly, fighting the urge to meet her thrusts because it would surely get you to your orgasm much too fast. “Jus’ wanna see you come…”

Bada groaned at your words, leaning down to meet your lips in a messy kiss that was more tongue than anything else. She angled her hips sideways, hitting into a spot that she knew could drive you crazy, this time being no different. You moaned into her mouth and she swallowed greedily, the pace of her thrusts turning faster as you felt the vibrations through her strap.

It felt so good it was dizzying, but Bada still clearly had the upper hand here, and that was not how you wanted this to go.

You moved the vibrator one setting higher. 

Bada almost keeled over at that, pressing the palms of her hands at either side of your head as her lips parted in a silent gasp. Once again her hips stuttered against you. The vibrations were stronger now: you felt it well enough through the strap buried deep inside of you. 

You watched her intently through half-lidded eyes, hands moving to her hips with the remote still in your hold, tenderly caressing along her sides. Her eyes fell shut and she wetted her lips, hips jerking in small motions as she zoned in on the pleasure. Soft gasps were slipping from you at the shallow thrusts, but you did not dare to make her go faster or deeper. The sight hanging above you was much too beautiful.

Bada snapped out of a daze, as if she could read your mind, wild eyes meeting yours. With a tight hold on your thighs, she tugged you impossibly closer to her; her body falling on top of yours, chest to chest, and then she forced her strap deeper into you with a sharp thrust of her hips. You let out a shocked gasp, ankles crossing over her lower back as she hit the spot that made your toes curl. You could feel the vibrations even stronger now, and it seemed Bada was well aware.

“Should I make you come like this? With me staying still?” There was bite to her tone, and you mentally cursed yourself for the lewd moan that fell from your lips as she gave another thrust. You had to actively fight the urge of grinding down on the strap. You knew that, if you did, you would lose this game.

Bada rested her forehead against yours as she remained frozen, watching your every expression, but you noticed her breathing growing heavier by the second.

It was the sign you needed to press the button again, activating the second-to-last highest setting of the bullet.

“FUCK!” She hissed, burying her face in the crook of your neck as her hips flinched immediately. 

You could hear her whine, a sound you rarely ever heard from her, and your mouth went dry. 

You brought a hand to the back of her head, keeping her in place as your legs remained tight around her waist, heels digging into her lower back. The vibrating was maddening for you too, already feeling a red hot tension building up in your lower stomach, and you knew well enough from alone time how strong the third setting on the remote was. 

You could tell she was still actively trying to take charge, but the soft pants against your neck betrayed her true state. Bada began thrusting in small motions, trying to get back to fucking you, but she was so clearly oversensitive from the bullet between her legs that every motion came with stutters.  

While rubbing soothing circles into her scalp, you felt her thighs clench together. Bada’s hands gripped onto the sheets, and the messiness of her thrusts became all the more apparent.

Still, you wanted to push her further.

With the hold your legs had on her, you maneuvered Bada onto her back in one swift motion. She gasped in surprise and you groaned when the strap hit deeper into you, the buzzing of the vibrator sending chills along your spine.

You sat up with an arched back and looked down at her. In turn, Bada was already staring up at you with wide, frantic eyes; her face entirely red and bangs sticking to her forehead. Her lips were parted, and even though she was entirely bewildered, the adoration was easy to read from her expression. She was looking at you as if you were the only person in the universe, almost all her bite from earlier gone.

In a last ditch effort, her hands came to grab a hold of your hips but before she could start thrusting up into you, you turned on the final and highest setting before dropping the remote next to you. 

You could see her eyes roll back, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. She was gritting her teeth, and from the way you pressed down on top of her you could feel the vibrations even clearer. With your palms pressed right above her breasts, you began to fuck yourself on her strap, your back arching even further as the pleasure ran through your body. 

Bada squeezed her eyes shut, uncharacteristically motionless under you and still hiding her moans under her palm. You promptly wrenched her hand away from her face, pinning it next to her head and you didn’t know her pupils managed to become impossibly bigger.

“Let me hear you,” You whispered on top of her, and with a particularly hard thrust you dropped your hips down on her, making Bada’s body shake.

With that encouragement, you opened her floodgates. Her thighs squeezed together below you, and the moans that began spilling from her lips were completely obscene. She was jerking her hips once again, but no longer in an attempt to fuck you into submission; instead, she was frantically chasing after the unbearable pleasure. 

Bada did not know what to do with her hands, one of them clutching onto your hip for dear life as the other balled into a fist next to her head. You angled your hips a bit differently to reach the spot that spurred you on, deftly bouncing on the strap and fucking yourself to completion.

Bada was no longer closing her eyes, staring up at you half lidded as if she never wanted to forget the sight of you on top of her. You, similarly, found her completely irresistible. Bringing your hand to her chin, you pressed your thumb to her lower lip and Bada immediately took your digit inside her mouth. 

She was clearly in a daze, intoxicated from her ecstasy, because she was barely able to suck; instead dragging her tongue messily along your finger through short moans. You dug your thumb into the hollow of her cheek, and with that Bada involuntarily jerked her hips with a groan, punching up into you. It felt as if electricity ran down your spine, and you almost felt yourself orgasm right then and there.

Her hand came up to curl around your wrist, keeping your hand in place as her eyes threatened to fall shut at how overwhelmed she felt; the buzzing of the vibrator seemingly getting louder and louder as the both of you got closer to your release. The redness of her cheeks had cascaded down to her collarbones and her eyes were uncharacteristically wet.

You pulled your thumb away, Bada whining at that once again, but you instead grabbed a hold of her face; your wet thumb smearing her own saliva across her cheek, keeping your pace on the strap steady.

“You wanna come?” You asked softly, the delicateness in your voice betraying how much of a novice you were to this dynamic.

Bada, who still seemed to be coming to terms with the switch of your positions, could only nod, though her eyes said it all: she was completely desperate.

You began gyrating your hips at that, spurring yourself closer and closer to your orgasm with heavy pants. You were feeling the familiar coil in your lower stomach, and your body was begging for release.

“Come with me,” You pleaded, and Bada tightened her hold on your wrist as she took your index- and middle finger into her mouth, moaning deeply around your digits.

Something about that sight did you in. With a few more hard drops of your hips, the sound of your ass slamming down onto the top of her thighs filling the room, you came hard. 

You dropped your head with a loud moan, fireworks coursing through your body and thighs shaking from the exertion of keeping yourself steady on top of her. In tandem with your orgasm, you felt Bada jerk violently underneath you.

She threw her head back, a silent moan stuck on her lips as your fingers slipped out of her mouth, but her grip on your wrist only tightened. Her knees came off the bed, and soon enough she was panting from the overstimulation of the vibrator still pulsing inside of her, while you were still grinding out your orgasm on her strap. 

You had half a mind to grab the remote, your own motions coming to a halt when the sensitivity became too much, and turned off the bullet.

With a lot of effort, you managed to hoist yourself off the strap; hissing at the loss of fullness. Then, you dropped yourself next to Bada, who was trying to catch her breath, thighs absentmindedly rubbing together as she could still feel the phantom sensations of the violent vibrations from the bullet.

Bada turned her head to look at you, and before you could say anything she leaned over to kiss you deeply; head tilted and lips parted. Your hand came up to cradle the side of her face as her own arms circled around your waist, pulling you close to her.

“Thank you,” She muttered against your lips, her voice laced with something deeper as she scattered lazy kisses along your jaw, and you hummed in contentment. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked, your fingers blindly searching for the belts of her harness. 

“Tired…” She murmured, and you had to bite back a laugh. Now she knew how you felt after each time she had her way with you. 

Finally, you found the straps of her harness and began to unbuckle them, helping her slip out of it. Subsequently, you lowered your hand down her panties and Bada huffed a breath, still sensitive. 

You promptly removed the bullet and fixed her underwear back in place with a pat right on her crotch, purposefully forcing a reaction from her. She gasped once again, playfully glaring at you- or at least, attempting to do so. The taller girl was already on the brink of dozing off by the looks of it.

“Go to sleep,” You whispered, enveloping the both of you in a blanket with a final peck to her mouth; Bada pursing her lips a beat too late.

“You’ve got something else waiting for you in the morning…” Bada slurred with her eyes already shut.

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee smut #dalla!writes #girlies....... . . i am sorry for whatever this is #2 out of 4 works ending with bada knocked tf out #i'm becoming a one trick pony

[majornaxxx]

"You're mine you stupid slut."

ღ "Can you write a toxic baby daddy neteyam finding out reader went out flying with her boy bsf and he argues with her just to manhandle her and fuck her?" Req from @lowryv

ღ. I ENTIRELY FORGOT ABOUT THE BABY DADDY PART UNTIL I FINISHED WRITING IT I'M SO SORRY

But this has been the most fun (and most challenging to write) to date! I hope I did the prompt justice! (Please enjoy im sensitive (jk))

ღ Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, a little dubcon??, ooc Neteyam OOC NETEYAM OMG ,P in V, possessive Neteyam, Name calling @ reader (stupid, bitch, slut, ma,), Name calling @ Neteyam (Daddy), slapping, hair pulling, brief choking, rough blowwjobsss, reader no get to cum :(( (It made sense to me), mentions of Y/n

The view in front of you was beautiful, various shades of orange and pink, the night sky just slightly peeking out from above the clouds. You sailed through the air atop your Ikran, breathing hard from the adrenaline rush you were coming down from. An excited yip sounded behind you, and you turned to see a figure passing you. Large wings flapped gently as the creature dove down to land on a rocky ledge, the rider hopping off and turning towards you. He yelled something and waved his arms above his head in a "come here" motion. You obliged and began your descent, landing beside his Ikran.

When your feet touched the ground, he playfully punched your shoulder with a wide grin. "Y/n, that was incredible what you did!" Atu'ran exclaimed. "It was nothing!" A short-winded laugh left you as you tried your hardest to catch your breath. "Oh, nonsense!" His tail lashed behind him as he described your adventurous escapades from hours before. He excitedly chatted on, his arms and hands creating big gestures as he acted out the scenarios he narrated.

Atu'ran had been your best friend since childhood. Your parents had been best friends long before you were born, the relationship trickling down to the two of you. Today your friend had convinced you to go flying with him all afternoon. "Calm down, Atu'ran." You laughed as you stretched your arms and wrists, grunting at the soreness from holding the harness for hours. "Now, why should I?" He extended his arms above his head and slid down onto the ground with his legs crossed. "I can barely get you out anymore."

"Bullshit.." You'd learned the word from Neteyam, the unfamiliar human syllables rolling off your tongue. "What makes you think that?" His expression changed quickly, and he sheepishly ducked his head. "Well.." He started. "He's been taking up a lot of your time since the announcement that you are to be mated. In all honesty, it's begun to worry me."

For some reason, his statement irked you. "Spending time with my future mate is not a crime, Atu'ran." You said, turning back to your Ikran to fiddle with the harness. "Of course, but you two are attached at the hip. I worry you're, I don't know, losing yourself to him?" You sucked a sharp breath in through your nose and turned back to look at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"N-Nothing bad, of course!" He waved his hands in front of him as he looked up at you in an attempt to save his ass. "You're just- You've changed." He was not helping his case. You rested one hand on your Ikran and the other on your hip as you looked down at him. "Neteyam and I spend a perfectly normal amount of time together." Your eyes narrowed.

Atu'ran frowned and slowly stood up, standing an entire foot taller than you. "I just-" He hesitated. "I care about you, Y/n. I only wish for the best for you."

"Atu'ran-" Your voice cut off as the screech of an Ikran echoed around you. As the massive creature soared overhead, you instinctively shielded your face with your arm. The winged creature landed beside you, and the rider quickly dismounted. You barely had a moment to see who was coming towards you before they shoved Atu'ran to the ground. "Back the fuck off!" They barked.

Oh, Eywa. "Neteyam!" You flitted forward to grab onto his arm. "Leave him alone!" He paid you no mind and continued to reprimand your friend. Atu'ran shuffled his way back towards his now growling Ikran as Neteyam yelled. "Neteyam, we can talk about this-" Your future mate promptly cut him off. "If I catch you around Y/n again, I will hang you as an ornament in my hut!"

He suddenly stood on his feet, baring his teeth at the warrior across from him. "Over my dead body." His sudden boost of confidence was seemingly a death wish. "She is MY mate-" "and you have done nothing but puppet her to do whatever you desire." Atu'ran cut him off. It felt like forever as the two men stood, gaze locked on one another, expressions filled with hatred. Atu'rans gaze flicked towards you, silently posing the question, "Whose side were you on?"

"I-" Neteyam turned, his gaze boring into you. His eyes sent shivers down your spine, and you twiddled your thumbs as you lowered your head. "Atu'ran, he IS my mate.." Your friend scoffed, turning his head away. "I expected more from you, Y/n." He said, grabbing onto his Ikran harness and pulling himself onto the beast. "Wait! But-" "I'm done waiting." He scoffed, yipping and sending the Ikran flying into the distance.

After a moment of silence, Neteyam turned to you. "You were late." You could hear irritation in his voice. "W-We just went flying, 'Teyam!" Your voice cracked as you shrunk into yourself. "Just flying my ass." He hissed, snatching your wrist and pulling you towards him. "You know I don't want you around him, Y/n."

"He's my friend!" You exclaimed. His grip tightened around you at your words, causing you to suck a sharp breath through your teeth. "You're mine. Do I need to spell it out for you? You do what I say," His free hand slid into your hair, "When I say it." He suddenly gripped a chunk and pulled you closer to him. "Look at me, Bitch." The action caused you to cry out, eyes squeezing shut. His breath was warm against your face as he growled. "Now." He pulled harder.

Your eyes shot open to stare into his. "Stupid fucking girl.." He chuckled. He let go of your arm, running his fingertips down your sides and stopping at your hips. He suddenly brought his hand down on your ass, firmly grasping the flesh, causing you to gasp. Knees wobbled, and your bottom lip quivered as the action sent electricity between your legs. "Who do you belong to?" He sighed, ducking his head down to your neck and running his tongue across your collarbone.

Your attempt to pronounce his name failed as you trembled. He released your hair, running his hand down your back and stopping to untie your top. "Who do you belong to, Y/n?" He suddenly nipped at the sensitive skin on your neck, causing you to yelp. "I- You! You, Neteyam!" Your hands flew forward to grab onto his shoulders. The loss of his warmth as he drew back caused you to whine, the noise cut off by a slap across your jaw. Before you could grab your face, you were turned around and bent over. Your arms bent behind your back, Neteyam held your wrists with one hand. "Who do you belong to, you stupid slut?!" He snarled, his free hand cracking down on your rear.

"You, Daddy!" You cried out as tears pricked at your eyes. He leaned down, his chest pressing against your back as he began to grind his hips into you. Somewhere along the way, his tewng had ended up by his feet, his bare erection rubbing against your ass. "You need a reminder, Ma. A good fucking reminder."

You shivered as he slipped your top off, reaching around to squeeze your breasts as he continued to grind against you. "Don't move your fucking arms." He demanded and promptly let go of your wrists. After a few moments, your uncomfortably wet tewng was slid down your legs, exposing your pussy to the evening air. You sighed, the noise cut short by a squeal as he slipped his cock between your thighs. You whined as he dragged his length overtop your clit, avoiding properly fucking you. He groaned, rolling his head back as he felt your warmth against his cock. "Fucking wet…" He moaned deeply. Suddenly, he pulled his hips away entirely, causing you to whine at the loss of friction between your thighs. "Nete-" You started, crying out when he suddenly thrust forward, filling you up entirely.

"Fuck!" You whined, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. Neteyams hand found leverage in your hair once more, causing you to yelp as he began to fuck you. His free arm wrapped underneath you as he held you up and against him. Your legs trembled and shook as his cock hit deep inside of you.

His breathing was rackety and hot against your ear with every movement he made against you. Your hands scrambled to find something to grab onto, eventually grasping onto the arm he had put around you. "You wanted this right? You hung around Atu'ran all afternoon just because you wanted to be fucked?" Neteyam hissed. "N-No! 'Teyam, I didn't!" Your voice cracked as you spoke. "Don't lie to me, Y/n. You just wanted to get filled like a stupid fucking slut." Cries and whines escaped your lips with every thrust as he continued to accuse you. His hand released your hair as he wrapped it around the base of your throat. "Talk to me, Ma. Don't just sit there."

A sob escaped your throat as the tears that had been building up cascaded down your cheeks. "I swear! I didn't want Atu'ran!" Your nails dug into his skin as his cock continued to abuse your sopping cunt. "I don't believe you." The hand he had used to squeeze your throat ducked between your legs, his index and middle fingers making circular motions over your clit, the onslaught of new sensations making you quake.

"I guess I'll give you what you want, right? To be fucked stupid? Only Daddy will do it better than that cuck Atu'ran ever could." He snarled into your ear as he continued abusing your poor cunt. "Fuuuuck, you're so much better than Atu'ran, Daddy!" You slurred as your vision became blurry, eyes half-lidded.

"That's right, Ma.." He chuckled as he laid another slap across your ass. "You're mine." Your legs shook as you began to recognize you were close to cumming. Neteyam seemed to realize, his thrusts slowing down to a painfully mundane pace. "N-No! Daddy, please, please let me cum!" You began to whine as he took away your release. "Stupid girl, did you forget?" He slowly pulled his cock outside of the warmth of your pussy and groaned. "You don't cum until I cum."

Your wobbly knees caused you to topple onto the smooth stone, panting and shaking. Neteyam's name spilled from your mouth in mumbled gasps as the disappointment sunk in, knowing you wouldn't get to finish. You sat on your hands and knees as he let you go completely. Carefully observing, he walked to stand in front of you, slowly lowering himself onto his knees. Your head snapped upwards to look at him with teary eyes as he chuckled, sliding his hand under your chin to grasp your face.

He ran his thumb across your bottom lip, and you shivered as his touch sent butterflies to your stomach. "So fucking pretty when you listen to me." He purred before sliding his hand to the top of your head. "Listen to me, and you'll get to cum." He said as he stood. Neteyam wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few slow strokes before positioning himself in front of you. He tapped it against your lips a few times before you opened up in an "o" shape.

His grip suddenly grabbed a chunk of your hair as he pulled your head down. You let out a choked squawk as your hands flew up to grab onto his legs for leverage. Neteyam settled into a quick pace as he started to fuck your throat, grinning as you looked up at him with teary eyes. "Hows my cock taste, slut?" The taste of yourself on your tongue from your earlier activities sent warmth between your thighs as you continued to swallow him whole.

He laughed as you answered his question with a muffled "mmhmm..", obviously unable to properly answer due to your throat being stuffed full. He balled his hand into a fist in your hair and began to push your head to meet him in the middle, groaning and allowing his head to roll back. You picked your hand up to cup it between your legs and he yanked you backward, his palm striking across your cheek. "You don't fucking listen." He hissed and grabbed your head with both hands. His palms on either side of your head, he began to thrust into your mouth at a quick pace.

Finally, you were able to tear your head away, gasping for a breath. "'M sorry Daddy.. I'm so sorry Daddy.." You panted as you forced yourself to meet his eyes. "Stupid slut." He snatched you and began to manhandle you as he fucked your mouth, causing you to squeal. "Not getting away from me now, bitch." Neteyam growled.

Nails digging into his thighs, tears fell down your face as he filled your throat. "Drink every fucking drop for Daddy." He grinned as his thrusts became inconsistent, eventually stopping as he came. You let out a muffled hum, Neteyam pulling your mouth off of his cock with popping noise. "Swallow it." You nodded, coughing, but swallowing and opening your mouth to show him nonetheless.

"Good fucking Girl.." He exhaled through his nose with a groan. His hand slid underneath your chin to tilt your head upwards, wide teary eyes meeting his. "Bet you'd spit Atu'ran's out." He chuckled, your face turning pink suddenly remembering your scorned friend. "Stand up." He commanded, and you scrambled to do so, wobbling on your feet. "Get on your Ikran. We're going home." Neteyam reached down and tossed your clothing back at you.

"W-wait, what?" You stuttered. "What about-" "If i'm going to let you cum after what you did, it's going to be in MY bed, Y/n." He spun to look at you, deep eyes boring into you and sending shivers down to your pussy. "Yes Daddy-" You squealed as you began to frantically tie your tewng back on with shaking hands. Neteyam yipped, and the two Ikran who had previously flown off returned to land in front of you. His squawked, and Neteyam laughed with the large winged creature.

He pulled himself onto the back of the beast and turned to face you. "Be quick. I won't let you cum if you aren't back within the hour." The statement made you immediately turn to him to protest, "Wait! But I can't get there in ti-" "Within the hour, Y/n. Unless you want to get Atu'ran to take care of it? I'm sure he knows your body well." He remarked. "N-No! No, I'll be there!"

"An hour." He stated before taking off.

ღ

#avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #fanfic #smut #avatar neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam smut #avatar twow #atwow #atwow neteyam

[frannyzooey]

On The Green: 1

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Mature (violence, slight gore, killing - typical Ezra 😌 — will be explicit in later chapters)

Summary: Two strangers meet.

a/n: New series alert! Man alive first chapters are hard, and so I am going to yeet this into the universe before looking at it anymore. I owe everything to @bageldaddy for educating me hardcore and for being so extremely kind and thorough, and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for her Ezra eyes and inspiration and to @familyvideostevie for her support and enthusiasm and notes. It took a VILLAGE to get through this one. Enjoy meeting our stranger. :)

--

You come to surrounded by unnatural stillness.

An absence felt in the air surrounding you, there is something about it that tugs at the foggy corners of your brain, beckoning you closer to the surface. You try to listen for anything beyond the ringing in your ears, and there is…something.

A beeping sound emerging through the fog, its incessant chirping grows clearer. You blink slowly, your limbs made of lead when you try to turn your head. Instead of trying to investigate, you let yourself slip slowly back into the lush darkness, closing your eyes.  

But the strangeness of the silence tugs at you, and the beeping gets louder. 

Splices of memory come through in sharp flashes: 

The deep, bone-shaking tremble of turbulence. 

The grating sound of tearing metal. 

Beeping - so much fucking beeping, every sensor in the transport pod going off - and the whole cabin jerking to the left, your body weight pushing against the fabric restraints, your dad’s voice raw with hoarseness as he screams orders at you and –

Oh shit. Your dad. 

Your eyes pop open, and you sit up - or rather, you try to, but every muscle resists. Battered and bruised, you fumble at your harness with clumsy, shaking fingers. Looking up as it finally clicks open, you’re about to leap from the chair when you freeze. 

He’s there next to you, unmoving. 

Dead. 

“Dad?” you whisper. 

You can see without even checking for a pulse that he’s gone. That’s the feeling that pulled you awake, the vibration of life gone from the air. The stillness weighs heavy in the small space, and the beeping gets shriller somehow, more noticeable in the utter silence. 

The pod shrinks to a claustrophobic dome, and your breathing starts to come fast. Harsh, rapid exhales out of your open mouth and then you’re vomiting, right onto the floor. A cold sweat breaks out under your thermals, and you swallow hard against more bile that threatens to come up. 

There is blood splattered on the dash, pooled around the buttons. A deep gash gouged across his temple, his left eye already swollen beyond recognition. You stare at the dark, pulpy wound that runs with blood and with a heave, lose the remaining contents of your stomach. 

To have hit his head like that, he must have unbuckled and tried to fix something mid-crash, but why? Why the fuck would he do that? He knew better than that. You try to think about the sequence of events, but there is only a blur. A foggy, black spot in your memory, hazy images obscured by panic. 

You remember pieces: watching Puggart Bench grow smaller as you ascended through the atmosphere. The vague details of your father’s latest scheme, along with promises that this would be your last job. The frustration you felt at those words – ones you’ve heard a million times. 

You remember rolling your eyes and slipping on your headphones, and then scolding you for not paying attention after he jabbed you in the shoulder to take them off, and then…this. Somehow this. Guilt settles deep in your gut. 

Keeping your dazed eyes glued to the floor, you ignore the blood and beeping and the dead fucking body. You crouch low in the safety of your chair, winding your grip around the harness strap as an anchor and you sit for a moment, trying to steady your breathing. 

You sit. 

And sit. 

–

“Think she’s got anything left?”

The words spread condensation across the lower half of his visor, and Ezra listens for an answer he already knows isn’t coming. 

He always asks anyway: a constant dangling bait, in hopes his partner will bite. 

He hasn’t yet. 

Ezra bends back over the rough dug pit, his fingers splaying through the loose dirt. Anything worth digging for is sealed in his case already, but he stalls, thinking. 

He had watched the pod streak across the sky; the sight not unusual on the Green. Mercs and prospectors landed here every day to try their luck on the uninhabitable planet, but the speed in which the pod broke through the sky was unusual. Ezra could tell it was going too fast, even from the ground. His dark eyes had tracked the potential opportunity’s descent from behind the shield of his visor, and when the ground shuddered with the impact, he felt it through his gloves. 

If it had landed safety, protocol would be to keep his distance – no use needlessly engaging in a potential threat. However, he doubted that was the case after watching it fall to the earth like a stone. If he had to guess, the occupants were probably dead, and therefore, in his favor. 

His old pod flashes through his mind; nonfunctional and by now, probably stripped bare. If he doesn’t get there quickly to stake his claim, this one could fall to the same fate. It didn’t look sizeable by any stretch of the imagination, but he doesn’t need big. 

He just needs enough to fit one man, and his case. 

Ezra keeps his voice light and conversational. 

“Did you feel that?”

He looks up at his silent partner, and is met with a blank stare. Or at least Ezra assumes it’s a blank stare, with the man’s visor blackened. He can’t see his face, and has never been able to. He’s had many offers of partnership while on the Green - some out of desperation, some through coercion, some forced upon him – and though his current partner is one of the latter, he had been secretly pleased at the sheer size of him. Brute strength a valuable commodity; the hulking man is more of a utility than a partner. 

“Think it’s worthy of our time to investigate, or do you suppose there won’t be much left after a landing like that? If you want, I can go it alone?”

Met with more silence, both from his partner and from the unforgiving atmosphere of the Green, Ezra grimaces with annoyance when his partner starts to walk in the direction of the site without him. 

“Hang on now. We approach together.” Climbing out of the pit, the loose soil slips under his boots. He scrambles up as quickly as he can, unwilling to see his chance at the remains slip through his dirt-crusted fingers. 

“Now then,” he breathes heavily. “I think it would be befitting of us to use caution in our approach. The passengers may still be alive, and feeling panicked enough to pose a risk. I think –”

The hulk appears to listen to half of what Ezra says, and then turns abruptly mid-sentence, walking away. 

Snatching up his case, Ezra switches off the comm link in his helmet and his expression falls from tactful to annoyance. His eyes narrow on the man’s broad back, his fingers itching for his thrower. 

Grumbling, he follows. 

“Fucking idiot.”

–

You’re going to have to touch it. 

You wonder what it will feel like – stiff with rigor? Still pliant with traces of warmth? Heavy and impossible to move?

In all the ways you imagined you’d probably find your father dead, you somehow hadn’t thought about the logistics of actually moving his body. You imagined someone else would be the one responsible for it. Medical staff, most likely, who were used to the clammy skin and the stiff weight of death. 

Not you. 

Yet another thing you’ll have to do unwillingly for him. 

The reason you’re on this godforsaken planet in the first place, he’d forced you along to help him pay a debt owed for those fucking drops he relied on to get through his days. Days that bled into nights spent waiting for him, more his parent than his child. A freefall into the nomad life since your mother died, you’d been trailing behind him for years - an afterthought, only remembered when he needed something. 

A reluctant digging partner when he forced you to be, but also a navigator, a cook, a laundress, a caretaker. You were a lot of things to him, but never the one you wanted to be the most. 

Never a daughter. 

Your eyes slowly scan the disarray of the cabin, taking in the damage. For all the things he asked you to do, he had kept you in the dark when it came to any actual useful skills that might help you in this situation. Prospecting, digging, self-defense – anything that would have afforded you a glimpse at the possibility of independence – all of those were kept from your reach. 

Never a mechanic either, unfortunately for you. How the fuck you’re going to fix this thing, you have no idea. The manuals for it were tucked away somewhere, but they required at least a basic understanding, and you have barely that. 

You could stick with the harvesting plan he had vaguely outlined to you on the way here (assuming you could even find the gems, let alone dig them up), try to come back and fix your pod during the evenings (assuming you could even figure it out) and then try to catch the next slingback home (assuming you could even get off this planet). 

Your other option would be…none. There are no other options. 

The entire situation expands into something overwhelming, each step far outside your base of knowledge and your breathing starts to come fast again. You scold yourself, willing it to slow. 

Panicking again isn’t going to help shit. 

Wrestling with your emotions, you take a deep inhale and close your eyes, focusing on the first step. 

Before anything else, you have to move him. 

–

Through the edges of lush greenery, a pod. 

Ezra tries to tamp down his excitement, kicking his senses into high alert to scan for whomever it belongs to - but there is nothing. 

Fucking silence, the bane of his existence. 

Though in this case, a good sign. 

His own pod taken from him months ago in a standoff between himself and his former crew, this off-white piece of rubbish appears as treasure to him. It’s banged up for sure: one of the engines loose from the frame and the metal surrounding the bottom crumpled from hard impact. Unlikely that anyone survived the crash, anticipation thrums through him at the harvest in front of him. 

Keeping his expression measured, he beckons his partner to approach with him, silently advising caution. 

The idiot doesn’t though. Instead, he stomps forward and punches at the hatch button with force. 

Ezra frowns deeply, anger slipping into his tone. “Hey,” he reprimands sharply. 

The man pays Ezra no mind as the ramp slowly opens. 

–

One hand extended towards your dad’s shoulder, it hangs hesitantly in the air for a moment. Inching forward, you try to summon every ounce of bravery that you have and just when it’s about to touch— 

A loud thump sounds outside the pod, and your hand jerks back. Crouching low along the side of the pod, you crawl through the ship's scattered contents all over the floor and grab the thrower, trying to desperately wind a sufficient charge for a shot or two. The rummaging outside grows louder, and you crouch behind your chair, gripping the weapon in your sweat slick hands. Panic floods through your veins, the sharp stink of fear oozing from your pores as your body shivers with adrenaline, and you flex your hold on your weapon.

The door to the pod opens with a hiss, and two men emerge. 

One slighter than the other, which isn’t saying much—anyone would be slight compared to the size of the second man. You aren’t even sure how he managed to get into the pod, between the width of his body and his height. 

Rising swiftly, you point the weapon at them. 

“Stop,” you force out, trying to mask the tremble in your voice. 

The lithe man freezes, surprise showing on his face for a split second before disappearing. Tilting his helmet in thought, he speaks. 

“Now this is something I’ve never seen in all my time in the Green,” he muses with a drawl. “A little girl.” 

A statement, not a question, and you bristle while he continues to study you curiously. 

“Leave, or I’ll shoot.” 

Your finger flexes on the trigger, and he raises his hands in front of him. 

“Calm down, little bird. My partner and I merely ventured this way to see if all was okay after that crash we heard.” His eyes scan the cabin, a scattered mess. “Seems it was quite the landing.”

Shuffling your stance a fraction closer, you keep the thrower trained on them. “I’m fine. Now please. Go.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re fine.” He sounds completely unbothered, like you aren’t pointing a weapon directly at him. Taking a slow step forward, he peers around you. “Your partner sure doesn’t seem fine.”

“He’s not my partner. It’s my –” You freeze, scolding yourself for immediately volunteering information and his gaze drops down to your father’s lifeless form. The stranger's face sobers, and he looks back at you. 

His jaw shifting in thought, his partner seems to grow bored of the conversation and takes a heavy step forward, advancing on you. 

“Stop,” you try to order, panic creeping into the command, but he doesn’t. He keeps going, his large arm reaching towards your thrower. His massive grip choking the barrel, he rips it clean from your hands before you can even think about stopping him, and you crouch back behind your chair, trembling.

“My apologies for my partner, little one. He’s not keen on having weapons pointed at him. You can understand, I’m sure. Why don’t you come out from behind that chair and let’s talk. A deal, if you’re open to it.”

You don’t want to strike a deal with them. You know that any deal you attempt to broker on your behalf is going to be in their favor no matter what the conditions are. Your father never taught you the skills of negotiation – those were always done out of sight. Your mouth dries, sweat beading along your nape. What fucking deal could there even be to make that doesn’t end up with you dead? Or worse?

With so much happening in the last two hours, it’s hard to process anything, let alone a negotiation with deadly strangers on a hostile planet. How you handle this situation could be literally life or death for you, and you beg your brain to pick up pace. 

Please. Please. Come on, think.

Your mind still struggling but knowing you’re running out of time, you force yourself back up. 

“The deal was leave, and I won’t shoot.”

He only grins at that, and rage at the unfairness of it all flares bright through you.

“Besides, why should I believe anything you say? You’ll probably just kill me the first chance you get.”

“Why would you assume I intend harm?”

You don’t have anything to say to that, instead looking at his partner. Fear at his sheer size displays clearly on your face no matter how hard to try to mask it. “Why else would he steal my gun? Shoot me first before I can shoot, right?”

“If that was the case, he would have shot you already.” He lets a beat pass, his eyes narrowing in their focus on you. “Still could though, I guess.”

There is something behind the indifference in his voice, something in his eyes that begs you silently to listen to him — but then his partner raises his thrower, and several things happen at once.

You whimper, dunking behind the tattered chair. 

The smaller man whips his railgun from his hip, pulling the trigger.

You scream, and the bullet hits his partner square in the chest. 

The larger man stumbles forward as if to grab him but the smaller one shoots him again, the second shot landing in his gut. The force of the close shot pushes the larger man backwards, his heavy body slamming into the pod wall. 

He slumps down, collapsing into a lifeless heap.

There is a beat of weighted silence; your form frozen. 

The roguish man’s profile faces you: dark features partially obscured by the dome of his helmet, you can see closely shorn brown hair in matted disarray with a shock of white that smears just above his temple. Black eyes that glimmer in the fluorescent light, the edges lined with age. Tanned skin, a strong nose, plush lips under a mustache. 

He stares at his dead partner with something akin to satisfaction, and it turns your stomach to think of not only how quickly he resorted to violence, but also how much he seems to enjoy it. 

“Well would you look at that. Now we have two to move.” 

Still in shock, the violent scene in front of you startles you just as much as his nonchalance does. You watch as he turns to face you; a hooked scar marring the skin under his eye. 

“Now little one,” he says with seeming politeness. “You ready to hear that deal?”

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra/you #ezra/reader #pedro pascal

[mccoyquialisms]

Incredible things from the london D20 live show in no particular order (straight from memory so may not be totally accurate or have much context at all):

First of all the line up was incredible. Kugrash, Pete, Sundry Sydney, Skip, Fabian and Adaine. What a terrible combination of personalities, it was so funny

Btw everyone looked so good. They looked really good, those fits <3. Murph striped button up/polo? shirt and Lou grandpa sweater you will always be famous

When Siobhan rolled Adaine everyone was so excited. Lou (who had already rolled for Fabian) hugged her, picked her up and spun her around on stage ❤️

Everyone was so excited to have a buddy ❤️

The setting was rolled as a crown of candy, after Brennan literally said “wow we happened to have a few people from the same place, wouldn’t it be hilarious if we got a crown of candy or neverafter or something?”

Everyone arrives and are doing introductions and the first thing Fabian says is “[tearfully] Adaine is that a giant rat?” Cue the whole atrium losing it.

Sydney then proceeds to minor illusion Kugrash as “sexy.” After some deliberation and when prompted by Brennan, Murph decided this means he looks exactly the same except for giant veneers

Beardsley: Can I distract the guard?

Brennan [flabbergasted, as the rest of the party was doing INSANE shit around this]: Sure, the DC is 500.

Beardsley: If I crit will you let it happen

Brennan [indulgently]: sure

Beardsley: [rolls a nat 20]

Brennan: [despair], cast: [running around in circles on stage and jumping], fans: [losing it]

And that’s how they accidentally start a revolt in Candia within minutes of arrival by Pete the Chosen Outsider with the peppermint tooth and prophesied king of candia. But it’s cool because in the next few minutes Kugrash teaches them about democracy.

So many little references to past campaigns and character one liners. Way too many for me to list but the cast was clearly enjoying dropping them

Sundry Sydney hitting King Calroy with 3 grenades ON SIGHT

A Hasted Kugrash doing an opposed athletics against Calroy and Brennan rolls a Nat 1. The dice wanted that motherfucker DEAD.

Kugrash to Calroy: “I eat from the trash, and I’ve never seen a cake as shitty as you!’ And then proceeds to 300-style kick him off the castle wall (as acted out by human man Murph)

Sooo much PVP though really most of that was between Pete and Fabian as they fought over the crown of candia

Sundry Sydney successfully seduced and awakens personhood in Adaine’s identify spell. His name is ANUS now. (Another use…)

Skip is quangled out and replaced by Lapin (played by Zac) and tries to keep the party on track. He fails many times. He takes up smoking from the stress. Adaine does as well.

At some point Pete’s wild magic turns his hands into rock candy, which he uses to deal 2d20 damage to Fabian during a fight

Emily as Sydney, whenever crazy shit happens: this is canon! [raises cannon arm]

All of them (except Pete) have some bad baby milk and do kublacaine. Cue a small detour for more pvp between Pete and Fabian

Arthur Aguefort is released from captivity in a castle full of/made from eggs. He and Lapin may or may not know each other biblically. They met on an app for old magical men, don’t worry about it.

Bill Seacaster is the pirate prince of the dairy lands and has the quangle. They get into his castle with Operation Fancy Perfume Part 2 except Emily rolled a nat 1 for her assist, so first poisonous perfume takes out most of the party and everyone inside the castle. I think Emily may have been crying she was laughing so hard.

They sort of defeat Bill by giving him pleasure putty (which he USES behind a curtain in front of EVERYONE) and then has to go take a nap, so they sneak into the rest of the castle to find the quangle. I am never going to forgive Brennan for making it canon that he goes “yar har har YO HO HO” when he gets off. I WILL NEVER UNHEAR THIS.

Pete Conlan somehow gains the power of flight from Bambi LeRoux (Sydney brought her) singing the Reading Rainbow theme song. He does a flying ribbon dance out the window, where she stops singing and he falls and takes max fall damage. He’s still up, so Fabian jumps out the window with Feather Fall and shoots him with a laser gun until he actually dies lmao. He gets injured too somehow but I forgot how. They both get healed and everyone continues on like nothing happened.

Emily took her dice that rolled a Nat 1, kissed it, and threw it into audience with a cheeky expression. I’m in love with her I fear

The time quangle is an entire pool of lemon yogurt. At the bottom of the pool is a completely naked Gilear Faeth

Kugrash eats all the yogurt despite knowing it will kill him in order to end the quangle. His farewell speech has as a backdrop Gilear’s giant hog (played by Brennan’s arm, as he got out of his chair to stand behind Murph the ENTIRE time he was talking). Kugrash then ascends to the big bodega in the sky.

Sydney also seduces Annabelle Cheddar (EDIT: fuck it was like 12 AM forgive me) Primsy Coldbottle, who is explicitly 29 in this version of time. Both her and Anus join Sydney in returning to AnarchEra. I cannot emphasize enough how horny this live show was

Everyone gets sent back to their respective universes, except Arthur. He’s going to hang out in Candia for a bit to be Lapin’s “roommate.”

Fabian’s last line is that he has to call his banker because he has a new nemesis

Lapin: “That was the worst group of people I have ever met.”

God that was so funny, I really hope these live shows are getting recorded and will be released somewhere later. I need everyone to experience the epic highs and lows of this d20 session.

#dimension 20 live #dimension 20 #dropout #dimension 20 spoilers #d20 live #my musings

[sidekick-hero]

the unparalleled and precious @flowercrowngods tagged me to post some lines of an unpublished wip with no context

The sound of someone inserting their key card into the slot is followed by the handle being pushed down. Then the door to the room opens, revealing the lucky guy who will have him for the next two hours.

He’s pretty, is the first thing that comes to Steve’s mind. Tall and slender, with a small waist and very nice arms decorated in black ink. Most stunning, however, is his face. The pale skin a tantalizing contrast to his pink lips, dark hair framing high cheekbones and deep brown eyes that look at him like a deer in the headlights.

Then, the door closes with a bang.

“Guys? There’s some dude sitting on my bed, you might wanna call security. I’ll hold down the door but you gotta hurry.” Eddie’s voice trembles slightly and Steve’s torn between worry and amusement.

Faintly he can hear the other men laughing and Eddie's indignant squeak. "What the hell are you laughing at? There`s a crazy stalker in my room! Probably armed and dangerous!"

"Oh yeah, I bet he has a big gun," Garrett/Gareth snorts, and Steve rolls his eyes at the very obvious, very bad joke. The guy probably thinks he's really funny.

Eddie seems to agree with Steve, even if unknowingly. "Har-bloody-har. Jeff, c'mon, tell me you at least take this seriously!"

This is one of those nights when Steve wishes he was smart enough, or at least ambitious enough to go to college, so he wouldn't have to make money on the side dealing with shit like this. At least most of his clients were easier to deal with, if not as easy on the eyes as this Eddie.

"Eddie, trust me, you can open the door. He's harmless."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's your birthday present!" Freak interrupts, clearly losing patience. "Gareth's right, we should have just made him put a bow on his dick and be done with it. At least then we wouldn't be standing here arguing."

Steve wonders if they know he can hear every word they say. Like everyone else in the surrounding rooms, because they're not exactly quiet. He just hopes nobody calls the cops.

"He's... What the fuck? You can't just give someone a person, that's human trafficking!"

Obviously tired of making a scene outside a hotel room, Jeff just opens the door and pulls Eddie inside, trusting the others to follow. They do, closing the door behind them, and then they all look at Steve, who is still sitting on the bed, regretting all his life choices that led him here.

He gives a little wave with his fingers. "Surprise."

Eddie blinks at him, speechless, his mouth slightly ajar. Despite the situation, he remains unfairly attractive, his wide eyes stirring something in Steve that he hesitates to explore further. Steve's knowledge of Eddie is limited to his questionable choice of friends, yet he feels an inexplicable urge to shield him from the world, to keep him safe. The urge is unexpected in itself, but even more so in the intensity with which it hits him.

"This is Steve," Gareth introduces, stumbling over his words. "And, uh, well, he... yeah. Guys?" Gareth glances around, hoping for support from the others, but they remain silent. Steve rises from his spot on the bed and approaches Eddie.

As he stands before him, Steve is enveloped in a mixture of clean body spray, shampoo, and a faint whiff of cigarette smoke. Eddie's eyes, even larger up close, hold a warm hue that is captivating. Steve flashes a smile, aiming for a blend of reassurance and flirtation.

"I'm Steve, and for the next two hours, I can be whatever you need," he declares, though technically, twenty minutes have already elapsed. Nevertheless, for Eddie, Steve is willing to make an exception.

tagging with no pressure, only appreciation: @starryeyedjanai, @thefreakandthehair, @hbyrde36, @runninriot, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, @steddieas-shegoes

#steddie #steddie fanfic #sub eddie week #(at least I hope I get it done until the end of the week) #my writing #wip game

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories |seven| Azriel X reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

A/N: Little bit of a filler, setting up for the second act. I'm very excited for you guys to see where this is going <3

The week that she was gone was more miserable than most. Your fae healing would kick in, leaving little trace of Tamlin’s brutality, only for him to return and beat you to a pulp once more. You were starting to lose track of the days, only seeming to exist in between Tamlin’s visits, when Feyre reappeared. Not looking worse for wear, but instead looking a little lighter than when she left, but filled with the same amount of anxiety. 

You could hear Tamlin lock her away into the study, questioning her on everything about the Night Court. Feyre saw so little though, you knew that. Your brother wouldn’t put the Court at risk by bringing her anywhere but the Moonstone Palace. But she met with Mor, and that was enough to bring me to my knees. Just knowing she was alive was enough. But then Feyre mentioned Cassian and Azriel and tears started to flow freely. Because they were alive and in one piece. After everything they made it, they were alive and well. Rhys wouldn’t have mentioned them otherwise. 

You sobbed on the floor of your rooms, curled in a ball. Because he lived. Despite it all, Azriel lived. And maybe, somehow you would see him again. Maybe, just maybe, you would be able to escape and make it home. Bide your time until the faebane was out of your system enough to reach out to Rhys for help. 

The Tithe came a week later. You hadn’t left your rooms in months, hadn’t felt the sun on your face. Food was brought to you by Alis, sometimes Feyre would sneak into your rooms for a moment. You wish she would’ve after she returned from the Night Court so you could learn how Rhys and Mor were first hand, instead of having to strain to hear it all. 

You watched from my window as Feyre sat beside Tamlin, looking like the picture of a Spring Court lady. It made you sick. She belonged here just as much as you did. You couldn’t hear from where you stood, but you could see them just fine. The way half of the people barely had enough to pay the Tithe. It broke your heart, Tamlin should have delayed it again. Should have given his people more than three months to recover from the fifty years of pain and suffering they had to endure. But Tamlin was proud, too proud. 

So when Feyre gave her jewels to a water wraith, you knew he would be furious. You could hear it over the dinner that followed. The way they snapped at one another, and then silence, like Feyre left the room. 

It was hours before you heard the sound of what seemed like an explosion. You couldn't move to find out what happened, so you strained my ears to hear whatever you could. All you could hear was Tamlin apologizing over and over again to Feyre. He keeps promising he’ll do better, keeps promising they’ll get through this and that things will change. You wonder if she knows it’s all a lie? 

Rhys comes for her a few weeks later. In the middle of the night, while you’re all fast asleep. You don’t wake until Tamlin comes bursting into your rooms, demanding to know how he can get Rhys to release Feyre from their bargain. When you tell him that your stubborn brother would rather die than give Tamlin something he wanted, he beat you. And then beat you some more, until you were nothing but a bloodied mess on the floor. 

He was waiting by an oak tree at the end of the week. Your body was sore and broken, but healing slowly. Rhys appeared with Feyre in tow, looking exhausted as always. You were beginning to truly worry about her, because it was obvious she was a shell of the human you met months ago. A shell of the one who slapped Tamlin and dared to go against Amerantha. 

Now she was nothing. And there was nothing I could do about it, and hardly anything Rhys could do in one week every month. He could try to get her back, but in the end she would return her and fall deeper and deeper. She was right when she told Tamlin she was drowning. 

All hell broke loose the following day though. 

Though Ianthe returned, you were finally allowed to leave your rooms for a time. You found Feyre standing by the front door, begging Tamlin to take her with him on his trip. He refused, of course, leaving her alone in the doorway. When Feyre said she was coming whether Tamlin liked it or not, you could see something change in him. That’s when she slammed against an invisible wall. That’s when you realized we were both fucked. 

She begged and begged, but he kept moving. He mounted his horse and rode away. Lucien lingered for a moment, saying something I couldn’t quite make out from the ringing in my own ears. She was going to rip herself apart or die in this manor house. 

You watched as Lucien and Tamlin disappeared. Watched as Feyre crumbled in on herself and slowly began to lose control. Darkness seeped out of her, then fire and ice. She was wrapping herself in a cocoon of it as she crashed to the floor. your heart broke, because you had no power to help her. 

Alis called her name, begging her to calm down. But Feyre couldn’t hear her, or chose not to. You felt the need to vomit as I watched on, feeling more helpless than you ever had before.

“Help her!” Alis demanded, finally seeing you standing there. 

“I can’t,” you choked out, “I have no power. Your master….he…I can’t do anything.” 

Feyre was going to die. There would be nothing left of her by the time Tamlin and Lucien made it back here. She would be nothing but a pile of ashes at this rate. you felt utterly sick, and angry. Angry that you had no power left to help, angry that you’d been locked away too for too long. Angry that Tamlin would even think about locking Feyre away like this, knowing that she would react poorly. 

But reacting poorly is an understatement. She was going to bring the whole place down around us. We would all die at her hand, and she wouldn’t mean to do it. She would topple the Spring Court tonight, without meaning to do it. And you would finally be free, in life or in death. 

But then the very foundations shuttered, and the sight of blonde hair filled my eyes. you  fell to your knees, because it was Mor, whole and beautiful as ever. She couldn’t see you from where you were, but you could see her as she reached into the cocoon of darkness and pulled Feyre out. 

“Go,” Alis whispered to me, “Go with them.” 

You shook your head, unable to move. Surely it couldn’t be that simple. Surely there would be something else to stop me from leaving. you  couldn’t even make it to the gate before. Why would now be any different? 

“Please-please take care of her,” Alis begged Mor, “Take care of them both.”

“Both?” Mor questioned. 

It was then, with the thought of Azriel and finally returning home to Valaris. Finally being able to fly again and feel the sun and wind on my face. Finally being able to feel Cassian’s bone crushing hugs, and Rhys….oh Rhys. It was only then that you got to your feet and moved from your hiding spot. 

Mor faltered upon seeing me. You  thought she might even drop Feyre as a sob ripped from her lips. Feyre seemed to be unconscious in the woman’s arms, unaware of what was happening. But Mor knew, the second she laid eyes upon me, she knew. Even though my body had changed and I’d matured, she still saw me. 

“How is this possible?” She questioned, taking a small step towards me. 

“You don’t have time,” Alis warned, “Someone will have alerted the High Lord, he’ll be on his way.”

“Take me home Mor,” you beg, “Please Mor, take me home.”

“Consider yourselves very, very lucky that your High Lord was not here when we arrived,” Mor warned. 

With tears in her eyes, Mor nodded towards me and took a step towards the door. Feyre finally took in a breath, deep and shuttering. You swallowed hard and followed them out of the door. Mor told Feyre that nothing was going to keep them from her, and that Rhys shattered the shields without a second thought. 

What would he do when he realized what else he freed? Would he be happy to see you again after so many years? Or would it be too painful for him, after moving on hundreds of years ago. Because surely they all moved on. Surely they didn’t think about you the way you thought of all of them. Surely they didn’t spend every day mourning the life you could have had if Tamlin hadn’t told his father and brothers where to find you that day, or if Rhys hadn’t told Tamlin, or if he’d simply showed up to meet you that day. So many things could be different. 

“Hold onto me,” Mor told you , tears streaming down her face. 

You grasp onto her arm and hold tightly to it as she winnows you. Your eyes strain against the bright light that floods your vision. Rhys is leaning against a tree, and straightens the second he sees the three of you. He falters, just as Mor had. Eyes blinking furiously as if he’s trying to clear his head. 

“You-” 

“Rhys,” your voice cracks, “It’s me. I promise.”

“I-” He shakes his head, “You’re dead.”

“No,” You whisper to him, “That’s what they wanted you to think. I’ve been locked away this whole time.”

He reaches for you. Like you’re a ghost that’s going to disappear the second he touches you. Only you don’t, because you’re living and breathing. He breaks then, tears streaming down his face as he pulls you into a tight hug. 

“We need to move, Rhys,” Mor reminds him, “The faster we’re in the Night Court, the better.”

“Take me home,” You say again, “I just want to go home.” 

“Oh, Little Star,” for the first time in hundreds of years, the name is said with such love and adoration. You don’t flinch when you hear it, you don’t expect it to be accompanied by a blow. Because you know you’re safe now. Safe and loved and protected, “Let’s go home.”

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @saltedscotchcoffee @queerqueenlynn @wallacewillow0773638 @sstrohma @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @maddybraps @minnieoo @witchymomfrien @mariahoedt @one-big-fangirl @amara-moonlight @st0rmyt @annamariereads16 @hunterksmith @sleepylunarwolf @sh4nn @emryb @mikatanazaki @ilovespideyyy @nickishadow139

#acomaf #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x you #azriel x reader #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

[demonicbaby666]

A Job Offer

One Shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds 

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Genre: Angst and Smut

Words: 5.2k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, NSFW, smut, cursing, fingering, oral, overstimulation, strap on use (JJ!recieiving)

Summary: Despite you and JJ not being a couple, you do share nights together, nights that are not so innocent. However, when a job offer comes your way, you have to decide whether it'd be better to stay at the BAU or accept your new position, and like it or not, JJ has a part to play in this choice.

A/n: Hi, the kids don’t exist in this timeline. Also the timeline doesn’t timeline cause JJ ain’t really liaison, but I care not. Also, leaving it on a sorta cliffhanger without a part 2 cause I’m mean xoxo

"I'm going to cum!" JJ screamed up to the ceiling, her hips moving erratically to and from the mattress, "Fuck baby, so good."

You were fucking her just how she liked it, dirty, rough and hard, pounding the strap in and out of her so fast it became a blur of skin slapping against skin, the dildo only appearing in rapid intervals. JJ's hands were encouraging your every thrust, her nails etching their distinct curved signature into the supple skin of your ass. 

"Do it," you encouraged, soaking up every desperate moan. With a slip of your hand between your bodies, you rubbed the older woman's clit, gently enough so that the sensitivity gained from the last hour of fucking was not piqued but hard enough so that the pressure would give her the needed edge over her impending orgasm, "Cum for me JJ." 

"Yes!" She cried out, her release simultaneously sparking life into every cell in her body and freezing it in its tracks. Her hands stayed stagnant but firm, keeping you fully sheathed inside her as her body shuddered and her hips ground in circles, lengthening her orgasm to its full extent. 

Slowly, a steady breathing pattern was adopted between the two of you. The hands holding you close slackened, allowing you room to pull out and fall back onto the mattress with a content sigh falling from your lips. The moment was only made better when soft blonde locks tickled your chest, and you glanced down to see JJ's head settling on your shoulder. Metal clacked quietly - fingers expertly unbuckling the harness from your hips, allowing you to shuffle it off and place it aside. 

A comfortable silence soon fell over your bedroom, warm and lulling. Your fingers traipsed mindlessly up and down JJ's spine whilst she wrapped an arm around your waist, nestled closer into your neck, and planted light kisses over the salty skin. It was easy in times like these to lose yourself, forget the daily struggles that fed your sullen mind, and imagine that life could always be filled with the contentedness you were given a brief taste of. A daydream come true, but the reality was much crueler. 

"I've got to go," JJ sighed after a minute or two, showing no intent or want of moving, "Will's back in an hour." 

"A few more minutes," you grumbled, running a hand through her hair and pulling her body in a little closer. 

No argument was made, and JJ wholeheartedly accepted her fate, shuffling her body half atop yours and moving her kisses higher to the fine line of your jaw. The finite moment lingered with sweet kisses and caresses shared, and soon, you succumbed to sleep. It's a simple but treasured thing, sleeping next to the person you've found yourself undeniably falling for. It's seeing another side of them and letting them see a secret side of you when you have no control over how you look - peaceful or softly snoring from the exhaustion of a long work day, as JJ often did. 

The cold woke you, alongside the quiet shuffling from the far side of the room. It was never a fond sight to sit up, rubbing well-earned sleep from your eyes, and see JJ dressing herself, going over what excuse she'd come up with to tell her fiance. 

"Shit," she groaned, walking over to the bed and placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, "I didn't mean to wake you." 

"It's okay," you smiled, "What time is it?" 

"Almost eight. We slept for about an hour," JJ rushed to say, double-checking her phone before tossing it into her bag, "I've got to go, but I'll see you tomorrow." 

You tried your best to give her a convincing smile and a cordial nod, though you knew it was anything but. She was trying to hide the obvious stress running through her system from sleeping in too long and, most likely, being late back home. So you - as always - found yourself empathising.

"Drive safe," you said, your false smile still intact. 

It wasn't hard to fall back asleep once you heard the front door to your apartment close. You'd become accustomed to warding off unpleasant thoughts after encounters and partings with JJ. The two options were either to feed them and entrap yourself into believing a false reality or to acknowledge that life just isn't pretty or straightforward, it's a brutal battlefield, and the only way to survive is to face the truth of a shitty situation. That acceptance kept you strong and tactile in how you responded to the predicament you'd found yourself in. So, sleep came easy, knowing you'd already surmounted the horrors that fought to keep you awake. 

The following morning was, as it turned out, not so ordinary. The routine check of your emails had you up on your feet and pacing, overcome with utter bewilderment. A job offer to run the Washington FBI office for counterterrorism had landed in your lap a while ago, and you'd taken a gander in submitting your name into the mix. In honesty, it was a drunken gander, and you had never expected to be considered, let alone chosen. But life had a funny way of surprising you then. 

Though the start of the day was somewhat unexpected, you treated it as any other, getting breakfast, driving to work, and sitting down at your desk to sift through mountains of paperwork. You'd worked in the BAU for a while, and it only dawned on you with thoughts of leaving that the work grew to be tiresome, cases were exhausting, each taking its toll on your psyche. Yet the gratification of putting shitty ass people behind bars just couldn't be matched. Plus, you adored the team. They were your family; you settled down in Virginia, and, well, there was JJ. The pros seemed to outweigh the cons, but you hadn't had time to do more research, so assuming that staying at the BAU was the better option wasn't exactly foolproof. 

"You're moving to Washington?!" A high-pitched squeal came from behind you, and you felt everyone turn to look at you as Garcia stormed towards your desk. 

Soaring from your chair, you yanked the blonde by her arm and pulled her into the hallway, ignoring the curious looks from the rest of the team.

"First of all, stalking me… Not cool," you bitterly whispered before taking a deep breath and quelling your tone. In times like these, it was hard not to find the technical analyst's snooping infuriating, but at the end of the day, the truth was her checkups came from a place of worry, "Second, I haven't decided yet." 

A flash of hurt crossed her features, "So you are considering it?" 

There was no use playing coy, "Yes. It's a good job, Garcia and I'd be stupid not to." 

"I just," she said, briefly pausing and giving you a watery smile, "I know. I'm happy for you. I just don't want to see you go." 

It was safe to assume every little outburst this woman had was down to her rampant emotions and her fundamental problem with change. That's why it was hard to stay mad at her. She honestly didn't want to see you go and was most likely beating herself up for feeling so conflicted. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't known what that felt like. 

"Come here," you open your arms to her, and she gladly accepts the gesture by falling into them, "I promise I'll tell you what I decide. Plus, I'd never let you miss the opportunity to throw me a killer goodbye party." 

"You better not," she grumbled, pulling back to fix her hair, "We've got a case, by the way. Hotch is waiting in the briefing room." 

"Well, rally the troops, and I'll see you there."

The briefing went as briefings do: information was handed out, and vivid imagery was shared and imprinted into your head forever. However, the presence of JJ next to you did help. She had a calming aura, and all you'd have to do when you felt as though the world was a shitty place - which it very much is - was turn to her and admire how her smile could be so warm, how her fleeting reassuring touches would pacify your sunken mood and how throughout her whole time at the BAU she'd remained so strong and still so loving, and you'd feel fine. 

"You okay?" JJ asked as you walked to the car, "I heard Garcia this morning, and you seemed off during the briefing." 

"I'm all good," you lied, giving her a smile when she opened the passenger door for you, "I have a lot on my mind, that's all." Not a lie. 

She appeared sceptical, her eyes zoning in on you and creasing every so slightly at the sides. But she must have pushed it aside whilst closing the door and making her way around the car because the next thing she said was, "Well, I'd be happy to take your mind off it later." 

You chuckled at that. It was no secret that JJ had a high libido, and hell, if you didn't love it, particularly in times when she'd ravish you all night and would still have the energy to go again the following morning. It made you feel the most wanted you'd ever felt during the entire duration of your hapless life. The passion bred in nights spent together was mind-numbing. It felt like you found your escape with each other - away from the team, your home lives and the constant strain of cases. Somehow, even the mention of your nights together, previous or upcoming, had a way of putting your mind at rest and eliciting a beaming smile to grace your lips. 

"You know I'd never say no," you said, smirking, admiring how JJ mirrored your facial expression as she started the car and headed to the airstrip.

It was the truth; you'd never found a good enough reason to decline her offers, and the likelihood was you wouldn't. She had a way of twisting you around her fingers and never letting you forget it. Lunches, catch-ups, and, even once, a weekend trip away had been cancelled, and to think all it took was one phone and a particular husky voice at the other end of the line requesting your company. 

So, true to word, after a long day, you snuck into JJ's hotel room and found a pleasant surprise. She lay sprawled out on the bed, stark naked, a tantalising smirk adorning her lips. One index stretched out then curled in a come hither motion, and you practically leapt. 

"Someone's eager," JJ chuckled, cutting herself with a moan as your lips descended to her neck.

"Can you blame me?" You said, words slightly muffled, with you nipping and sucking at JJ's throat. 

"Mmmm, I'm not complaining," she hums as she tilts her head back and grabs the neckline of your t-shirt, "Though I will complain about you still wearing clothes," she moved her hand down to the lining of your shirt and tugged, "Off." 

Sitting up, you rid yourself of your shirt and bra, much to JJ's delight. No matter how many times she's seen you naked, she still looks at you like it's the very first time, and that in itself gets you wetter than the thought of all your exes combined. 

By the time you were done revealing your upper body, hands were already grasping at the waistband of your trousers. The irony of her earlier comment staring you right in the face was too hard to ignore, so you let out a breathy laugh whilst saying, "Now look who's eager." 

To that comment, JJ stopped her efforts to take off your trousers and instead used them to yank you forward, the tip of her nose brushing against your stomach. She darted her head down and harshly bit the side of your hip bone with a growl. You had to hold your bottom lip between your teeth to stop a moan from spilling out. 

After her display of dominance, you knew two things: JJ wanted to be in control tonight, and by the look in her eyes, if you weren't naked soon, you'd face some heavy consequences. 

"Okay, okay," you surrendered, helping her remove the last barriers between your naked bodies. 

Instantly, she had you on your back. Stationed between your legs, she looked down at you with blown-out pupils, shamelessly taking in the sight of your bare body on display. 

"Stunning," she whispered, sounding more like she was talking to herself than to you, but you seemed to blush regardless. 

JJ left you no time to repay the compliment before her lips crashed down on yours, and her tongue demanded entrance, which you readily granted. She swirled the muscle around your mouth in a practised dance, stopping now and then to nibble at your lips, then going right back in. The way she kissed was addictive, and often, you thought you could come undone just from it alone. She'd perfected the art of being rough yet gentle, fast yet slow, passionate yet loving. It set your whole body alight, made your throat dry, and your knees weak. Even when laid down, you felt your body failing you, the mattress against your back a reassuring fail-safe. 

Tender kisses fell lower, marking an invisible path to your collarbone, where they took their time dotting an array of scarlet blotches into your skin. JJ knelt back, smirking as her eyes darted over the canvas of bruising marks before she got back to work, lowering herself back down to the juncture of your breast. There, she became softer, pecking lightly from side to side till she was close enough to encapsulate a firm nipple into her mouth and lather it with her tongue. She knew your body so well - too well, you sometimes thought - you hadn't even needed to mourn the isolated attention to one breast before a warm hand cupped neglected flesh and began to knead. 

"Oh god," you whimpered, pushing yourself further into JJ's mouth and hand. 

You felt her lips curl around your breast, likely proud of herself for getting you worked up so fast despite knowing perfectly well she could do so with much less in her arsenal. Gloating put aside, JJ brought her free hand resting beside you to your thigh, squeezing the muscle - her thumb skimming the outskirts of where you almost certainly needed her. She continued to tease, and a protest lingered on your tongue, watching JJ brazenly settle on paying homage to your stomach, planting kisses high and low, but never as low as you wanted them. The pit in your stomach grew bigger, and the ache between your legs became more painful, yet the blonde paid no attention to your dejected whines. 

Finally, when even the rutting of your hips did nothing, and the wriggling about only brought JJ back to your neck, you half huffed, half moaned, "Do I need to beg?"

Oh, so pleased with herself, JJ retorted, "I'd like that very much."

Choosing your release over your pride, you grabbed the sides of JJ's face, pulling her up so she was at eye level before confidently saying, "Please fuck me, JJ. I want to feel your fingers inside me. I want you to make me cum so hard that I can't walk tomorrow."

"Mmm," she hummed, her hands squeezing both your breast and thigh, "Well, since you asked so nicely." 

The cursed thumb that had been endlessly teasing you moved, brushing lightly over your clit. As brief as the stimulation was, it was enough to cause you to jolt and grip the bedsheets. JJ retired her hand from your breast and clung to the pillow behind you, fingers running through the wet mess between your legs. 

"I love how wet you get for me," she husked, placing a quick peck on your lips and ignoring your disapproving grunt to being denied more, "I want to watch you." 

Just as she made her plans known, she thrust two fingers inside you and watched your mouth open in a gasp, biting her lip at the erotic sight. You burned, not only from her eager gaze but from the biting pleasure that ran its way along your spine and caused all your muscles to tense. The room faded to dark, your eyelids drooping, letting you hone in on the sea of sensations swimming through your body. Your chest rose and fell with every sharp intake of air you took, and it only became worse when JJ started to move, sliding her fingers out and then plunging them back in. She did this over and over until you felt as though you might burst. There were bulbs of sweat forming over your brow. Your lips were permanently parted. Your jaw shook with each breath. You were so close to the edge but not close enough. Then a thumb began caressing your clit, and you almost screamed in relief. 

"Yes," you hissed, hips bucking up and down as JJ angled her fingers to run over ridged flesh, "I'm going to cum."

"Open your eyes," she tenderly whispered, kissing your temple, then leaning back again, "Look at me." 

You did as instructed, watched JJ sway above you, saw the reverence in her eyes, and gazed into them as you felt the knot loop tighter and tighter in your stomach. She moved faster, using her hips to fuck into you harder. In a flash of white, your legs were shaking, your fingers tearing into the bed linen as your release poured out of you right onto JJ's fingers. All you could do was loop your arms around JJ and muffle your shaky cries into her neck, praying you wouldn't be heard. 

The two of you stayed intertwined like that for a while, her fingers still inside you, moving slowly and steadily until you winced from being so sensitive, and she delicately withdrew. You had to blink to make out the room decor again: a wooden bedside table with a flickering lamp atop it, a sorry-looking armchair sitting idly in the corner and a dainty coffee table beside it. 

"You okay?" JJ smiled above you, brushing strands of hair out of your face. 

Returning her smile, you gave her a nod before pulling her down for a passionate kiss. You threaded your hands through her silky hair, scratching at her scalp and enjoying the content sighs she let out. There was a harmony to how you and JJ fucked. Where you'd often find in relationships one person getting off a significant amount of times more, a giver and receiver dynamic if you will, that was nothing like what you two had. Together, you walked the line of balance well, but at that moment, feeling her above you, tasting her tongue in your mouth, and remembering the way she looked at you whilst giving yet another brain-numbing orgasm, it made you want to give her more - give her everything. 

You wanted to make sure that come the following days, she'd be so sore she wouldn't even consider letting Will touch her, let alone fuck her. Trying to eliminate the possessiveness and jealousy that lay dormant within you was useless, so in times like these, you used it for good. You could show JJ that no one else could do this for her. Her body was painted into your mind so clearly that you could be blinded and still tell it was her from touch alone. You could have your memory taken away, but with a pencil and paper, you'd draw the dips of her hips, the creases beside her eyes, and the jutting knuckles that run along her slender fingers. No one else knew her body like you; the need to remind her of it was dire. 

Using her kiss befuddled mind to your advantage; it was easy to flip the tables and trap JJ beneath you. The move earned you a shocked yelp, though the second your lips found a dusky nipple, no complaints were heard. Only sultry moans warmed your ears. 

Palms pushed the back of your head down whilst JJ arched to fit more of herself into your mouth, and you dutifully took her in. It didn't matter that you could hardly breathe, not when you could feel and hear how JJ's breath was catching in her throat and how her heart was hammering against her chest. 

After giving the older woman's breast the much-needed attention they deserved, you sought your sights lower. Leaving a shimmering trail down JJ's taut stomach, you crawled back on the bed and positioned yourself comfortably between two muscled thighs. A sharp inhale from above, and hands fisting in your hair were sign enough for you to drive forward and deliver a long lick along JJ's slit, closing your eyes to enjoy the bitter flavour of her exploding over your tastebuds. 

It wasn't long before you worked JJ up into a wiggling mess. It was painstakingly evident from the tireless efforts of the blonde's buckling hips that the lack of notice of her clit was becoming a problem. Taking pity, you sought to eradicate JJ's frustrations. With one final up swipe of your teasing tongue, you brought your lips to her needy clit and sucked. The gratification echoed around the hotel room as JJ slapped a palm over her mouth to keep quiet. 

You kept going, alternating between sucking and licking, occasionally moving south to tease JJ's cunt with the stiffened end of your tongue, then returning to her clit. 

"Don't stop," JJ breathily begged, "Don't you dare stop."

And you didn't, not for a second. You continued lathering JJ with unbridled pleasure, coaxing her body into a quivering mess until the muscles in her stomach were painfully tense and only then did you ease two fingers inside her. The pace you immediately set was vigorous, thrusting in and out of her so quickly her body was struggling to keep up. With her head flung back, JJ came with your name on her lips, breathily panting. Yet, still, you wanted more. 

Sitting up, you waited for JJ to regulate her breathing as she held tight to your forearms and only then did you start moving your fingers again. Nestling your head in her neck, you moved faster, finding and hitting a spot deep inside JJ that had her digging her nails into your skin, marring you with crescent moons dotted in red. The pain only motivated you to keep going, fucking into her harder until she was all but screaming and sure to be heard. You didn't care. She was perfect like this: panting, out of control and solely focused on what you were doing to her. 

Your arm began to protest; it ached and cramped, but you fought hard against it, using your body to drive in and out of JJ's exhausted pussy. Over and over, she spoke your name, hushed this time, as her awareness of where she was prevailed. 

Sensing JJ's orgasm from the pulsing clenches around your fingers, you snuck your thumb over a tender clit and added another finger to your thrusts. The additional force sent her toppling over the edge, but you didn't stop even then. You continued to fuck her right through her orgasm, biting into the flesh of her neck to keep her crying out. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!' JJ cried out, "I-"

She never finished, a third orgasm rapidly washing over her, snapping her spine and leaving her motionless, half off the bed. Her jaw was trembling, and her eyes wedged closed, but the starting of a contented smile was tugging the side of her lips. When she slumped down on the mattress, she was boneless and limp, her chest heaving as she struggled to draw in steady breaths, "Fuck," she finally whispered, her eyes still closed and a tear falling down the side of her cheek, "Fuck." 

Settling down next to her, resting on one elbow, you mindlessly traced patterns along her glistening stomach, smirking proudly to yourself. Aftercare had always been a big thing between the two of you, and after what you'd just done, she looked like she needed it. So you stayed that way for a while, laid down together, occasionally sharing innocent kisses and soft smiles until you wound up in each other's arms. JJ lay atop you, her leg becoming a blanket to your waist, her head and breath a chest warmer. 

"When were you going to tell me," JJ asked, and you looked down to see her eyes already on you. 

Moving strands of silky blonde hair behind JJ's ear, you give her a questioning look, "Tell you about what?" 

The question seemed to infuriate her. She shuffled out of your embrace and leaned back against the headboard, giving you a blank stare. "You don't want to go," JJ proudly stated her opinion as fact, arms folded across her chest as a finger steadily taps away at her forearm, "You know you'll get bored sitting behind a desk so much."

Brushing off the fact she had a point and focussing on remaining civil but not coming off as a pushover, you held your ground, "It's a good opportunity, and I'm not not considering taking it," you were silently begging her to understand, your eyebrows knitted together and lip wedged between your teeth.

"Come on, you can't be serious," she humorlessly laughed. The audacity of her tone gave you half a mind to walk out. You didn't, though, because this had to happen at some point, be it now or in a few days. 

"What's left for me here?" you asked, eyes trained on the blonde, your finger under her chin keeping her from looking away and trying to escape. If she wanted you to stay, so desperately as she seemed to, she owed you this, "Give me one good reason I should stay." 

Her lips parted, her jaw moving up and down in small increments. It was like the words she wanted to say were there, but she was fighting to get them out. You gave her time, looking at her with expectant eyes, softening your gaze to encourage whatever was trapped in her bobbing throat, but nothing came. Then her mouth snapped shut as though someone had tugged on an invisible string sewn through pink velvety lips, permanently sealing them. 

The silence became too loud. It sought to engulf you, swallow you up so that all you'd hear was the sound of your own broken heart beating so painfully loud it made your chest ache. Your arms felt limp as you slung them to your side and rolled on your back, staring at the ceiling. It felt cold and bare without the promise of another comforting embrace because somehow you knew there was an unspoken realisation that this was truly the end of something. 

The stinging behind your eyes had made itself known fully, and you couldn't handle JJ seeing you like this. Straightening yourself out with a roll of your shoulder and a lengthy exhale, you stood up, threw on your clothes while ignoring the awkward atmosphere that circulated the room and made your way to the door. Turning back before you exited, you sneered, "I thought so," and slammed the door shut behind you. 

To say the next day was awkward would be an understatement. If the team had noticed the tension between you and JJ, which they most likely had, they used their better judgment to ignore it and focus solely on the case. From the corner of your eye, you noticed their regular stares, but you knew it was their way of ensuring you were okay. Once you caught on, you offered small smiles and brief nods that told them all was well, and you were thankful that that was enough to ease their curiosities. 

It wasn't till much later in the day, when you were packing up to head back to the hotel, did JJ acknowledge your existence, and you weren't having any of it. She approached you as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started walking out with Reid and Emily. Instead of doing the mature thing, which would have been to wait for JJ to catch up and deal with your suffocating predicament, you gave her the cold shoulder, ignoring her presence completely and walking out. 

A faint sigh came from the room you'd just vacated, and you fought against your better judgment to head back to the hotel and put the whole day behind you. It was for the best; you needed time to think, and you still had a looming decision hanging over your head. It was a life-changing decision; you couldn't afford to cloud your mind with a frivolous affair. 

With what comfort a shabby mattress could offer, you settled back, opened your laptop, looked at some apartment listings, checked over the job description a couple more times, and re-read the email, indeed confirming you had been offered the job if you wished to take it. Despite your best efforts, the god-forsaken argument continued to play in your head: JJ's dejected look when she was unable to voice her true feelings, the razor-sharp tone she used to admonish you and most of all, her inability to give you the one thing you needed that would have turned the tables and made your decision for you. 

A knock at your door pulled you from said incessant thoughts. You'd have been grateful for the distraction had you not sensed who would likely be your 'knight in shining armour'. Rising and looking through the peephole confirmed your suspicions, and an involuntary groan slipped free. 

"Real mature," JJ quipped. Taking a deep breath and then staring pleadingly into the peephole where she knew you were standing, she tried again, "Sorry. Please, can we talk?" 

The door fractionally opened, enough for you to slip your head out and huff, "I'm exhausted, and I don't think I have the energy to deal with this now." 

"I'll give you one," she muttered under her breath.

"Give me what?" You huff. 

Opening the door to let her in, already fed up with where this conversation was inevitably headed - which was most likely an argument - you move over to lean against the outdated armchair. 

JJ watched your movements as she shut the door and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, "A reason," she began, looking down at her left hand. You curiously followed her gaze. There on her finger sat an elegant diamond ring, glinting in the lamplight. It was a sickly sight, and the vexing thing was it never used to be. Your stomach lurched, forcing you to avert your gaze to keep yourself from spewing your dinner onto the atrocious carpet. Honestly, it was a mystery that the team wasn't investigating who committed this interior design crime. 

"I don't want you to go. I want you to stay," she took long strides towards you, and you shot your head up to see, in the blink of an eye, JJ was standing tall right above you. Her fingers fidgeted with her engagement ring before she slipped it off and let it fall to the floor. The boldness of the move left you momentarily frozen until you were pulled to your feet by your waist and felt a pair of lips ghosting over yours, "And if you'll have me, I want you."

Tags: @aws-l @babygirlscout @red1culous @7thavenger @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @12fluffybunny12 @asensitivecookie @summoned-lust-demon @maxinehufflepuffprincess @whosprentiss @imlike-so-gaydude @taylorswiftsboyfriend @jareguiromanoff @lovelyy-moonlight @patronagrona @paulilvsremus @lostenby @waitaminutebaby @jarexuslover @iliketozoneout | click here to be added to my taglist

#jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau angst #jennifer jareau smut #criminal minds x reader #jennifer jareau imagine #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau fanfiction #criminal minds #cm #Jennifer jareau x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction

[roturo]

RED LIGHTS 01.10.23 - ghost face!gojo satoru x reader

“Have you ever felt so strong emotions for someone that the moment you close your eyes and start seeing red lights…?” He asked.“No?… Well, that’s how I feel for your girl. I would kill for her— And if that means killing you as well because you don’t treat her like she deserves… so let it be.”

warnings: knife play, unprotected sex, cheating, dumbification, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mentions of killing, picture taking, exhibitionism, possessive behavior, breeding, tummy bulge, marking, blowjob, use of nicknames, (dear, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart...), toxic relationships, degradation…

reblogs are appreciated!

It was a lonely night and truthfully you hoped something exciting would spark. Your boyfriend, Geto, was out with some of his friends doing god knows what, so there really wasn’t any use in texting him since he won’t respond.

You've been together for 2 years now, he treated you like a princess at first… and still does… when he wants sex… or money… or when he needs something from you. Your friends have been telling you to leave him for months now, but even after all this time, you can’t bring yourself to break up with him.

You stood up from your spot and made your way into the kitchen to make a snack. Popcorn sounded really good right about now and you chose kettle corn. 

Your head perked up at the sound of the house phone, nobody really ever called that stupid phone unless it was for bills, some annoyed girl coming for Geto, and other dumb shit so hearing it ring was a little odd, especially since it was 9pm. You grabbed the phone and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello, dear.”

“Hello? Who's this?”

“You’ll find out soon—” the caller said like it was some kind of melody talking to you, “What’s your favorite scary movie?” The question caught you off guard— You raised an eyebrow, almost hesitant to answer before shrugging your shoulders. It was probably some dumb child playing a prank on you, it’s October and crazy people go out on the streets and start their ‘wannabe killers from movies’ type of shit— but at the first kill they get captured.

But not for one specific ‘ghostface wannabe’— And deep inside you, it scared the living shit out of you. Because each time it got closer to you and your boyfriend.

“Uhm… I would probably say Scream— It’s kinda funny y’know, because it’s pretty obvious you’re trying to act like fucking ghostface to scare me, but surprise kid! No one falls for this nowadays, so if you please can stop with your dumb fucking—”

The sudden noise of someone knocking at your guard made sudden chills come down your spine— The atmosphere turned cold, and it was like someone was watching you. You looked back at the phone and the call ended, but the knocking continued.

If you were in a movie, everyone would be yelling at you not to open that door but who was going to stop you? This was just some random teenagers right?…

When you opened the door, there stood the stranger holding a shiny large knife in one hand and a camera in the other. Your heart went crazy as you saw him stand tall in dark attire. The mask to the harness on his chest, the tight black long sleeve to the baggy cargo pants and combat boots. 

“Surprise.” Is what the stranger said before snapping a quick picture, the flash making you squint before a rough gloved hand gripped your throat. “This is your sweet treat, baby. You shouldn’t have tricked me like that…”

Your hands went immediately to your neck, trying to get his grip out of you. Your heart rate could turn on lights at this point, you were praying for someone to come and fucking help you right now.

His rough grip suddenly stopped, giving you space to breathe. “Shh..” His other hand caressed your left cheek with the blade of the knife— not hard enough to cut you.

“Has he made you feel his love?” 

… What? 

What the hell is he talking about?

He scoffed, your reaction almost making him lose control, the irony that you don’t even think about your boyfriend makes him even angrier at this point. “I really wanna know, do you even love him?”

His voice was darker this time, if you heard closely you could find a little tiny bit of hope in his tone, but the question and the situation you were in had your mind dizzy, tears filling your eyes. 

“Aw, c’mon now Y/N… You cryin’? You’re better than that.” The voice changer stopped, finally recognizing the person behind the mask— “G-gojo?…”

He remained silent for some second before his grip on your neck softened, and he let out a small chuckle. Gojo Satoru, the man your boyfriend hated the most but still continued being his friend. The one who always got what he wanted, everything but you.

“The one and only baby.”

“W-why? W-what?” You couldn’t form a coherent question before his grip on your neck got rougher this time, knife going closer to your neck too— He was fucking angry right now. “Hehe… Why? Why Y/N?! Why did you choose him?” His voice was unsteady, filled with mixed emotions, something about the situation you were in right now, making you feel flustered— Of all the girls he could get, why you?

Your hands softly and slowly approached his face to get rid of the mask— His blue orbs almost disappearing thanks to his dilated pupils, there was definitely something else going on behind all that “I want you” “Why him?” situation right now.

You and Gojo always had a girlfriend best friend relationship, never dealing with anything else or any kind of misunderstanding after you and Geto got together. But before?… Well, he might have told Geto about his little crush on you, but this time he was serious! Not trying to play with you like with other girls, he was even willing to change for you.

But you never caught the signs of him trying to make a move on you, and he stills remains with the fucking doubt of how his ‘best friend’ stole you from him. He knows Geto is attractive, but he’s not a good person to say the least… at least not better than him.

His eyes scanned yours, trying to find some kind of fear or hate towards him, but he couldn’t find any. His face got closer to yours, lips almost touching, you closed your eyes, anticipating his next move. But nothing could’ve prepared you when his lips crashed into yours. At first you freezed at the sudden motion, but later warmed towards him and his body.

Sudden strong emotions overcome your body, past memories flying through your mind— thinking how different life could be if you gave Gojo a chance back then. “I’ve- been giving my life for you, trying to stop everyone from getting closer to you. Fuck..” He stopped the kiss and you followed his lips asking for more but he stopped you. “Would you hate me if I killed your boyfriend?” His hand dropped the knife so both of his hands can caress your face while looking for you.

The truth is, you think he wouldn’t do it, and he’s just telling it for the act. But in reality he has been a few steps from doing it. He has done it before, so why not?

You slowly denied his question, moving your head side to side. His face grew with a sadistic and almost a scary smile thanks to your answer. And he started kissing you again, but this time it was hungrier, needier.

“On your knees..” You could never deny him, especially with him looking at you like that. You shouldn’t like this but you were not on the normal side on the kink meter anyway. What made it worse is when he collected back the thick blade— it made your body tremble. It even made your pussy wet feeling him drag the cold blade along your cheek. You whimpered pathetically.

“Yeah, you would be into this freaky shit babe. Say hi to the camera and give me a big smile before you suck my dick baby.” You didn’t notice when he grabbed his instant camera back ,t he knife no longer in your face—taking a picture of you on your knees in front of him.

“You know what to do.” 

Gojo watched as you unbuckled his belt, leather boot pushing up against your clothed cunt making you whimper. “Aren’t you the cutest? So eager to have my cock in you mouth, I bet Suguru doesn’t know how you fuck your pussy right.”

His words were filthy and the way he wasn’t scared to say them made your body tingle. “Fuck, look at that..” The view of his fat cock hanging in front of your face made you moan a little, lips coming into contact with the sticky tip until they parted. You wasted no time taking him in your mouth— A sudden flash making you close your eyes. The sound of a picture sliding off the camera fills the wet sound of you sliding your tongue along the base and sucking until the taste of him spreads on your tongue.

“Holy shit, it’s like you were made to suck dick. If this is what your mouth feels, I wonder what your pussy feels like..” You whimpered, tears filling your eyes until they spilled down your cheeks and your mascara coated your skin in messy streaks. Gojo was mean, he fucked your throat until your drool was spilling down his balls and the wet snap of his hips filled the living room area. 

You could faintly hear the ding from your phone but you couldn’t focus too much, your brain was mush and the feeling of his boot against your pussy was making it even worse. Nothing but a dumb girl. 

“I bet- Nngh- Suguru doesn’t know how to treat you right… how to make you feel his love. God, maybe this was my sweet treat instead huh? Don’t worry though, I’ll fuck you.”

Gojo made you hold his cock in your mouth until you were tapping for air. Your throat was growing sore but your cunt was worse, you were aching to feel him inside you. It was a need at this point. Your hand cupped his balls and massaged them. That earned a throaty moan from the man as he suddenly pulled out, stroking his cock until pearly strands of his cum hit your face.

He huffed as he grabbed the camera. There was a smirk on his lips and as he raised the camera, he mumbled. 

“Smile for the camera, baby..”

A drunk dazed smile showed in your face, looking nothing but like a proud girl of her acts. His cock proudly showed how hard he still was even after coming right in your face. “Such a pretty girl. And now all f’me”

His gloved hands caressed your cheek and gathered the cum left there, “Say ahh” you did as he said, mimicking the sound and he inserted his finger inside of your mouth— making you taste him.

“Stand up sweetheart.” Following his instructions, you stood up from your place. He started removing the gloves from his hands, and throwed somewhere next to his belt. His bare hands now roaming and exploring your body— undressing you with every touch.

In a blink of an eye you found yourself laying down on your bed while Gojo towers over you. Exposed chest, it was automatically the way your hands moved to explore his body this time. Another sudden flash makes you come back to reality out of your trance, the sound of the picture coming out making you look back at Gojo, who had an adorning smile on his face— full of love that it would even have been seen as creepy if other people saw it.

But it was just the both of you.

Ringing came from your phone, but it was long forgotten in the living room.

He gave a few hard pumps, craving the way the walls of your cunt spasmed and clenched around him in such a tight grip that he thought you’d stop the blood flow of his dick— You were already fucked up, he has taken two orgasms out of you, playing for the third one.

He pulled back until the angry tip of his bulbous head rested against your sore lips and pushed in swiftly, rocking you forward when he kissed your cervix, bumping it in a drawn-out pump— feeling your walls spasm sporadically, he rolled his hips and let out a chuckle when your head jerked back and moaned wantonly.

“Do you want Suguru to know how much of a whore his little girlfriend is?” Gojo cocked his head, a vicious smirk playing on his lips. The noise and flash of the camera was now part of the sex, you didn’t even notice it anymore.

“Are you in there, princess? Or are you already cockdrunk?” he rasped, tightening his hold on your hair. You shook your head, whining with pleading eyes staring up at him, hand going to grasp the arm that held your head up. Your eyes teared up and closed at every pump, your body jolting up with little moans slipping through your open mouth— ones that you couldn’t stifle because of his harsh grip. 

“Look at that bulge in your tummy— Fuck— I can feel you don’t take good cock because of how tight you are baby.” He’s fucking you senseless right now, one of his hands in your tummy feelings his cock in and out of you for support, while the other keeps your legs up so he can continue thrusting. “You would look so pretty full of me, all round and beautiful with a child of me. That’s what you want, baby? You want us to have a kid? Baby trap me so I can take you from your ass of a boyfriend? Mhm?”

...

The next day you woke up in your bed, warmer than usual, you searched for your phone and looked at the hour: 7:02 A.M— until you realized who was spooning you; Satoru. It almost felt homely if it wasn’t for the thought of Geto in some part of your mind. Satoru was still sleeping, you looked back at him and he looked so pretty.

White eyelashes resting and adorning in his eyes, slow and calm breathing coming out, and the sun hitting just right his face so his natural glow shows perfectly.

You don’t remember when you passed out while both of you were having sex, but you do remember the moment you knew you lost feelings for Geto— You stood up from bed, slowly so you wouldn’t wake Gojo up, put some clothes on and went to the kitchen for some water.

Some knocks on your door interrupted you, deciding to put the glass of water down and see who’s knocking at your door this early. When you opened up the door you swear the water you just drank went straight to your mouth again, almost throwing up thanks to the view.

There he was, your boyfriend… ex boyfriend?… Geto. He had an envelope in his left hand, brows furrowed and clearly red eyes.

“Uhh, Geto?”

“Oh so now you’re calling me Geto— It turned out to be true huh?” He signaled with the envelope towards your neck, clearly visible hickeys adorning it.

You knew exactly what he was talking about, but decided to play dumb since he got no proof… At least you wanted to think that. “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about?” He scoffed at the question, he couldn’t believe after all you’re still playing dumb. “Maybe ask your new boyfriend about it.” He gave you the envelope, inside of it there were plenty of explicit polaroid pictures between Gojo and you. Your face turning visible red while watching the photos— you looked back at Geto, trying to form some type of explanation before Gojo suddenly interrupted you.

There he was standing in nothing but a pair of black briefs while he stretched out. “Aw c’mon Suguru, we all know you have some other bitches waiting for you. But you treated the wrong person as one.”

“You fucking—”

“Ah-ah, stay there.” He pointed at him, a proud smirk showing, “Remember what I told you last time?—” He stepped closer towards him, close enough so only the both of them could hear. “—If killing you means I can stay with Y/N, you know I wouldn’t think twice. I showed you that, didn’t I?”

He chuckled and patted his shoulder. Geto just stayed there looking at Gojo like he saw a ghost. “Remember what happens when I see red lights. They turn real.”

He said those last words without any kind of emotion before closing the door and turning back so he could look back at you with a wide smile. “So… What do you want for breakfast?”

#gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader smut #jjk #jjk smut #gojo jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #kinktober 2023

[bakubunny]

such a good puppy

pairing: kirishima eijiro x reader

wc: 0.7k

summary: eijiro opens up and tells you he’s into pet play. you’d never given it a thought, so you say you’re willing to try. fluffy smut follows.

tags: aged-up characters; bf!eijiro; pup!eijiro; fem!reader; pet play; puppy play; puppy hood & harness; fluff and smut; praise (m receiving); oral sex (f receiving); tearing clothing; manhandling; strength kink; kiri is a golden retriever in human form, this was bound to happen at some point

Eijiro is on his hands and knees before you in nothing but a chest harness and a black and red puppy hood, panting with bright, crimson eyes. Your heart swells and your knees go a little weak seeing the love in his gaze.

When he first told you, he expected shock and disgust. Rejection. There was a reason he hadn’t dated much despite being in his mid twenties, and this thing he kept in hiding was a large part of it.

“Oh!” you’d said with a look of surprise.

Clearly it wasn’t something you’d expected, but you hadn’t rejected him outright. You were quiet, almost painfully so, gathering your thoughts.

“You know, sweetheart… it’s never something I've considered, but we can talk about it. I’m so thankful you trust me enough to tell me,” you’d said with a gentle smile.

Butterflies filled his stomach. He could have cried. In fact, he almost did, heat prickling at the corners of his eyes before he could stop it. “R-really? We can?”

“Of course. I want to see you happy and fulfilled. If that’s something you want, I see no harm in trying it.”

That was almost four months ago. You never expected your heart to skip the first time he slipped on his neoprene puppy hood just days later in a moment where curiosity met vulnerability, but it did. You never thought your thighs would grow hot, your cheeks would flush, or your thoughts would race seeing his broad chest fill out a leather harness with the sweetest look in his eye, but god did they ever.

It hadn’t dawned on you yet how fluid all of this could be, that something as small as a piece of gear or a few choice praises would not change the way Eijiro fucked you - used you - if and when the mood struck. Now that you’d experienced it, just the thought of how he’d moan and lose himself, relentlessly taking what he wanted with a little encouragement and a tug on his harness made you blush.

And now you’re here.

“That's my good boy,” you say in a cheery voice. You scratch his chin and lean down to give him a kiss on the head.

He’s nuzzling into your bare thigh, the heat of his lips beneath the red muzzle sending goosebumps across your skin as he places excited, sloppy kisses up your leg. Eijiro is so animated that - even as you feel a wet ache pooling in your body - you have to giggle at his playfulness, and he loves it. He’s following the warmth of your skin as you back away slightly.

Soon, you’re up against a wall and Eijiro has you trapped while he’s on his knees, mouthing his way up your thigh and over the thin fabric covering your cunt with a low groan that vibrates through your core. He rips your panties apart before tossing them aside, taking one thigh onto his shoulder. The way he savors your body with his mouth and his thick fingers as he stares up at you has you dripping and trembling around him faster than you’d care to admit. You grind your hips into his embrace as your climax hits and you moan his name, praising him over and over with the few words you can form.

“Y’such a good boy, fuck, Ei. ‘M so proud of you, makin’ me cum so hard. My big, sweet puppy,” you say, running a hand over his head as he pushes into your touch.

His eyes are hooded with lust as he looks back to you without a word, waiting for direction. You look down at him, still in a bit of a haze.

“Gonna keep bein’ good for me, sweetie?” You already know the answer just by the mischief coloring his eyes as you speak.

A low growl falls out of his throat as he snarls at you.

“Oh, really now? Is that so?” you reply, your smile growing.

Eijiro answers by hauling you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bedroom.

It would seem that today, you are his pretty toy, and he’s come out to play.

banner by @cafekitsune.

#cleaning out my drafts #aged up characters #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero #millennialmagicalgirl #bnha smut #mha smut #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #fem!reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #smut

[dilemmaontwolegs]

For a snapshot imagine a driver accidentally hurting the reader and she has to hide it from Danny because he would lose his shit. He gets worried but a bit angry that she’s lying the cause of it. Once he finds out he wants to kill the other driver because is a severe injury

The Taste of Temptation || DR3 {4}

WC: 1.6k F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five Snapshots One || Two || Three || Four || Five

You settled into the driver’s seat of an Aston Martin used for hot laps, keeping your arms out of the way while you were harnessed in. Lando and Oscar doing the same in the other two cars parked beside you, except they didn’t need the extra help to be buckled in. “I’m telling you now, this is a bad idea. I want that on the record. There’s a reason I’m a passenger princess.”

“You’ll be fine,” Lando promised over the headset and you fiddled with the dozens of buttons on the steering console. “Just don’t touch anything!”

“You should have told me that before.” The cameraman sat beside you laughed nervously and you narrowed your eyes at the lens. “If I die, I want you to remember this: I told you so.”

You muttered under your breath that you were not paid enough for the crap your employer put you through but it only made Oscar and Lando laugh as the microphone picked it all up. 

“Okay, we’ll start off with a warm up lap, just take it slow and get used to the car,” Oscar said as Lando led the way onto the track. “I’ll follow so you don't get lost.”

“It’s a flippin circle, Piastri, how often do you get lost?”

The car shot forward, throwing you and the cameraman back into your seats as you pressed the accelerator and out of reflex you slammed your foot on the brake to counter the effect. Oooph! The air was squeezed from your lungs as the car stopped but your body kept going forward, the harness like a wall hitting your chest. 

“I think you’ve put it in race mode. Turn it to sport mode.”

You scanned the buttons and saw what he meant, making the adjustment before tentatively touching the accelerator, gently speeding up to 70mph.

“I know we said take it slow but you can speed up a little bit,” Oscar teased as he tailgated you, Lando nowhere to be found up ahead.

“You do realise I am not actually a racer? I just date one.”

“Danny must have taught you something in the last two years.”

“Yeah,” Lando interrupted with a giggle. “But from what I heard, it isn’t anything to do with racing.”

You might have laughed if you weren’t concentrating so hard on following the track, until something caught your eye. “Uh, Oscar, are there wombats in Canada?”

“No…that’s a groundhog.”

Another brown ball of fur charged across the track and you screamed as you slammed on the brakes, not wanting to hit the poor animal. Oscar hadn’t expected you to brake so suddenly, or try to swerve aside. There was nothing you or he could do when you started to spin out, straight into the space his car was aiming for.

“Shit, shit, is she okay? Is she okay?” 

You could hear the panic in Oscar’s voice as he tried to push his way through the crowd of first responders trying to open your door. Pain radiated down your arm but other than that you seemed to be in one piece, except the world was upside down. “I told you so.”

“What the hell happened!” Lando exclaimed as he arrived at the crash site in time to see you escorted into the back of the medics van. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Not particularly,” you murmured around the tube you bit between your teeth. You sucked in another deep breath of pain relief as your arm was jostled and looked up to see Lando shaking his head.

“Not you,” he said as he looked at Oscar’s pale face. “Daniel’s going to kill you, mate.”

“No, he’s not,” you huffed as you got off the stretcher you had been guided to. “I’m fine so he’s never going to know.”

“You see those,” Lando stabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Those are cameras, they record things, pictures, sounds. Yeah, he’s gonna know.”

“I know what a camera is, a heavy one just fucking hit me.” You cradled your arm to your chest and took a calming breath. “This wasn’t live so it’s going to be a few weeks before this even gets uploaded. By then I’ll be fine and we can all have a laugh about it, alright. I just need to make sure Danny doesn’t hear about it before then.”

“Kind of hard when you need to go to the medical centre.”

“Then I won’t go.”

So you didn’t.

You did however accept the box of pain relief and advice to see a doctor if the pain persisted or you showed any signs of a concussion. You weren’t worried so much about that since the helmet had protected your head, it was just your arm that took the brunt of a camera smashing into it.

Daniel was surprised to see you already in the hotel room when he arrived from his meeting. Usually you stayed at the paddock later in preparation for the upcoming races but he was happy to have a few extra hours alone with you.

Leaning across the back of the couch, he greeted you with a kiss but you pulled away as his palms trailed down your body. His touch had been soft but you had still felt the burst of pain in your arm and you were glad to be wearing a long sleeve shirt to hide the bruised skin.

He frowned at the distance you had put between your bodies and he was instantly on edge. “What’s wrong, kitten?”

“Nothing, I’m just not feeling very good.”

He grabbed his phone and opened the app that monitored your monthly cycle before closing it with a frown. “Should I call for a doctor? Do you have a fever?”

He reached for your forehead but as his hand lifted it brushed against your arm and your face pinched as a pained cry hissed through your teeth.

“What happened?” he asked with barely restrained rage, his fingers desperate to touch you but unsure if it was going to cause you more pain. Tears were already welling in your eyes as you tried to keep the ruse up, but it was becoming unbearable.

“There was an accident,” you admitted as the wet streaks ran down your cheeks. “I didn’t want you to worry…”

“You’re hurt, kitten, of course I’m going to fucking worry.” He swiped the room key back up from where he had tossed it along with his phone and keys. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

You knew he was fuming from the clipped tone and the white knuckle grip he had on his keys. Reaching out with your good hand, you laced your fingers with his and whimpered into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Daniel gently wiped the tears from your cheeks before kissing your forehead with a shaky breath. “I’m not angry at you, love, but don’t you ever lie to me again, not when it comes to your health.”

You nodded meekly before he reached for the door handle where he paused. “Lando or Oscar?”

“What?”

“You were filming with McLaren today.” He looked back at you, scanning your face for the truth. “Who do I blame?”

“It was an accident. Please, Danny, can we just go? It's so sore.”

His eyes softened at the admission and he twisted the handle but you knew the conversation wasn’t finished, merely delayed.

“He broke her fucking arm!”

The wince had nothing to do with the doctor setting the cast on your arm and everything to do with Daniel’s voice out in the corridor. He had been on the phone the instant the X-ray came back and showed a clear fracture down the bone. Now you were going to have a bulky accessory on your arm for the next six weeks.

“You’re lucky it was only her arm or I’d be on my way to jail by now,” he growled as he pushed the door open and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“It was an-” you fell silent under the glare you knew wasn’t actually directed at you. He hated to see you hurt and hated he hadn’t been able to prevent it. It left his hands trembling with rage.

“I don’t know what they were thinking,” he muttered as he fell into the chair beside your bed and lifted your good hand to his lips. “Stupid fucking little videos...promise me no more.”

“But it’s my job.”

“Then quit,” he offered, like it was the simplest option in the world. “It’s not like you need it, I take care of you already, and I like taking care of you.”

“Danny…” you sighed, unsure how to approach the situation. “What if we ever broke up?”

“Is that in your plans?”

“No, but-”

“Good, because I plan on keeping you forever, and I’m more than happy to make that official. Obviously this is just a placeholder until we get home.” He started to pull the ring he wore on his pinky finger. “What? I’m terrible at losing shit, I wasn’t going to carry around your engagement ring until I found the right time to propose to you.”

You chuckled as he waited for your hand to unfurl from the fist it was in. “And you decided this was the right time?”

“I could have lost you today, kitten, I’m not going to waste another moment.” Your hand uncurled and the warm metal slid onto your ring finger before he kissed it and leaned in to kiss you too. “You’re mine, always.”

“Always,” you promised against his lips.

“Perfect, if we elope today I’ll get conjugal visits when I kill Oscar.”

Click here for part five

#the taste of temptation #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction

[thegingerwrites]

Losing a Bet

obikin ft. Anakin in lingerie, based on this post, which i absolutely love 👀😍

Anakin isn’t looking at him. Obi-Wan watches as Anakin parts his robes with his eyes firmly fixed on the kitchen cabinets as he stands in their shared living space and reveals the layers of lingerie carefully donned beneath them.

Obi-Wan should be more concerned about Anakin’s discomfort, is concerned about not forcing Anakin to suffer the consequences of his own actions for longer than necessary. Obi-Wan will absolutely tell him to take the clothes off if they distress him so much.

But…well.

Anakin did lose the bet. Anakin was the one to set the terms. Sure, it likely never crossed Anakin’s mind that he might lose said bet but that doesn’t make him any less responsible when things didn’t go his way. He is always taking risks. Isn’t this one small lesson in getting him to think things through before barrelling into them head-first?

Obi-Wan isn’t really thinking too much about any of that right now. The thoughts pass through his mind like stars in hyperspace because the main thing on his mind, the only words and images that stick around for longer than a heartbeat are lace and skin and sheer and bulge…

His eyes dart up to Anakin’s face and stay there, harnessing all of his considerable restraint to keep them fixed. An autonomic bodily response, Obi-Wan reminds himself, much like the erection currently making itself known in his own trousers. It doesn’t mean Anakin is enjoying this. The blush gracing his high cheekbones certainly seems to indicate embarrassment.

“Well?” Anakin asks, finally gathering up the stubborn nerve to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. His belt is gone now, allowing his tunic to fall open. His hands sit boldly on his hips, daring Obi-Wan to say something.

But Obi-Wan has no words. And even if he did, his mouth is suddenly dry.

“I wore them all day,” Anakin continues. “Padmé had to show me how to put them on. Am I done now or do you want to take a holo or something?”

Yes, Obi-Wan thinks. Stars, yes, this deserves to be memorialized. He can just imagine Anakin staring up at the camera petulant and pouting, hands on his hips just as they are now, a finger slipping beneath the straps at his waist...

No. A holo would be a terrible idea.

“Of course not.” Obi-Wan clears his throat. “No, I think you’ve done your time. You can take them off now.”

“Thank the Force.” Anakin’s shoulders sag with relief. He starts to walk back toward his bedroom and Obi-Wan, unthinkingly, follows him as he continues talking. “I mean, they’re not uncomfortable or anything, Padmé made sure of that, but it’s like I’m conscious of them all the time? I told her they were a bit too tight but she insisted they fit perfectly.”

“Mmhmm,” Obi-Wan hums, staring openly as Anakin faces the bed and slips the rest of his robes from his shoulders before letting them fall to the ground. His pants are next and suddenly Obi-Wan is treated to the full ensemble, the lean muscles of Anakin’s frame gilded in black lace filigree.

The contrast between the strong lines of his shoulders and the delicate fabric is intoxicating and Obi-Wan drinks his fill so long as Anakin isn’t looking. The garments are more complicated than Obi-Wan was expecting with straps that squeeze muscles and overlap and crisscross all along his form. The dark accents draw the eye to every part of Anakin that is now laid bare, from the length of his legs to the taper of his waist and the perfect peek of sun-bronzed skin sitting high on his upper thigh. Kark, the lingerie is practically painted on him where it cups the curve of his pecs and stretches across the flat plane of his belly.

Oh, Anakin is facing him now—has caught him staring.

“Master?” Anakin asks. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” says Obi-Wan quickly. “Perfectly fine.”

Obi-Wan looks down and away. He can feel his face flushing, even his ears are hot. When Anakin turns his back to Obi-Wan again, Obi-Wan gets his own moment of grateful relief.

The moment comes and goes in an instant, however, as Anakin gestures to the clasp at the center of his back. “Do you want to help me take this off?”

Want is such a terrible, traitorous word in that question. Of course Obi-Wan wants to help Anakin take his bra off. He wants to trace his fingertips over the marks Anakin’s lingerie is sure to leave on his skin. He wants to lick the bare expanse of tan muscles carved between Anakin’s shoulder blades. He wants to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Obi-Wan moves forward without answering. The clasp comes undone with two small hooks and Anakin sighs when it falls away from him. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

Anakin turns around then, probably to tell Obi-Wan to go. To stop being a creep and leave him to battle the garters and panties on his own. But then Anakin pauses, seems to catch something on Obi-Wan’s face.

His eyes flick down to Obi-Wan’s lips, perhaps catching the way he’s been worrying at them with his teeth. The smile on Anakin’s face is small and hesitant before it slowly grows with conviction.

“Do you want to help me with the rest?”

#obikin #obi wan/anakin #anakin/obi wan #aniobi #obikin fic #my fic

[ph4ngz]

Hey i have a request for Bakugou..🤭

LIKE imagine sitting on his Lap and he’s like

„ i can feel u throbbing „

btw rlly like your writings

Hot. Why does every guy I write about kinda end up being an asshole har har

I don’t have time to read this back, but hopefully there’s no mistakes *smiles awkwardly*

Thankyou btw! <3

/-/-/-/

It's been at least an hour since your boyfriend Bakugo returned home early from patrolling the city, maybe even longer. You don't know, being this horny makes it kinda difficult to keep track of time.

You're currently being bounced on your shirtless hero's thigh whilst he fills in a few bits of paperwork, built muscles flexing underneath your weight. He has a bare arm snaked around your waist to keep you steady as he moves around on the couch, and you can feel his hard abs tensing against your back each time he leans forward to retrieve another sheet of paper from the coffee table in front of you.

You'd been looking forward to having your man back from his exhausting job a few hours earlier since it makes cleaning, cooking and whatnot much easier compared to when doing it alone. Although, you had made sure to complete your daily chores before he came home today anyway, solely due to the fact that you'd been unbearably aroused since he left this morning. You'd already made yourself cum twice to the thought of him but, clearly, nothing you can do is good enough.

You're sure he can tell how you're feeling right now! You definitely saw him try to hide a smirk when he came home to you in just a shirt and panties!

You can see that he's tired of working without being able to look at his face, the sighs that blow past his lips every so often giving him away. He also never finished removing his work clothes.

"Finished yetttt?" you drawl out slowly, wiggling along the bottoms of his hero costume to reposition yourself and unintentionally nudging your clit upon his leg, the sudden tingle of pleasure making you hurriedly cover a whimper with a forced sniff.

Sighing, Bakugo answers to your childish whining, "Just gotta fill this last one out... n' then put my signature on that one, I think."

"Can't that one wait?"

Yes, you know it's rather selfish. You should be letting him concentrate, but...!

You lean back on his warm shoulder, your head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. Glancing up, you admire his side profile and the way his reading glasses rest upon the bridge of his nose. You'd always thought he looked hot with them on. Maybe he would place them on his head to keep his wild hair pushed back as he goes down on you... Or maybe he'd keep them on, until your juices squirting all over the lenses becomes too much so that he can't see clearly?

Wow, you are not doing yourself any favours.

Steamy thoughts cause your body temperature to rise, voice wobbly when you beg once again, "C'monnnn, you hardly ever get home this early. I always get lonely when you're not here with me, sitting here by myself after doing housework and stuff..."

The vivid thought of you at home, all alone, not knowing what to do with yourself for hours yanks at your boyfriend's heartstrings and it's almost paining him. Slowly, Bakugo relaxes, letting the arm around you land limply over your thighs. Still staring up at his side profile, your cute smile graces his peripheral view once he manoeuvres his head to face in your direction to show he's listening.

He closes his eyes, ballpoint pen still in hand yet not on paper, and presses his forehead into your hair so he can breathe in your homely scent. He's contemplating. A wave of pride washes over you at his behaviour, only you could ever manage to coax him out of hero work.

But that pride dulls into a certain annoyance when he reverts back to his previous position and begins to work towards completing his last form, the pen in his hand barely releasing any ink unless he presses down hard enough. He's losing motivation, just a teeny bit more persuading.

"Katsukiiiii," you extend the last sound of his name in the whiniest, most pathetic way you can whilst lifting your upper half away from him, only to force yourself down with a bratty huff. Thankfully Bakugo lifted the pen away before you made him scribble over everything with your little tantrum.

A "tch" comes from your right and you frown. Fine then, you think, proceeding to (struggle to) tug your panties down, but only until they reach the other hand he has on your upper legs. Rough, scarred fingers instantly grasp the crumpled fabric but he pays no mind.

As he writes, Bakugo moves his clutch on your underwear from the twisted hem to the noticeable wet patch between your slightly spread thighs. It's difficult to open your legs more for him with your panties constricting them to at most a mere few inches apart. You watch your boyfriend toy with the dampened cloth whilst appearing to focus on what's in front of him, repeatedly swiping a thumb across the stickiness.

"So damn impatient." he mutters grumpily as always, ignoring the abrupt exhale you release at his hand cupping your yearning cunt. Those gorgeous crimson eyes roll when you attempt circling your hips to ideally catch your pulsing clit against his bottoms, but the angle your body is positioned prevents that from happening. Though it doesn't prevent the hero from landing a clean smack on the sensitive skin of your almost hidden pussy.

"Chgh! Ow..." you grit your teeth as the initial sting subsides, finding yourself flustered with desperate tears clouding your vision. Why does he have to be so mean! What's worse is that he hasn't even showed any satisfaction yet, continuing with his stupid forms or whatever like he's being forced to tease you so brutally.

Like nothing ever happened, he returns one thick middle finger to your aching bud, only to discover that your sweet slick has amounted to so much that he can hardly keep it in one place without slipping.

Bakugo's tone of voice is relatively normal as he states, "Fucking hell, I spanked you once and you're drenched,"

You mewl lightly, his touch doing the bare minimum, gliding up and down your entrance so easily, embarrassingly easy.

Wait, he's put the pen down. Where has his other hand gone?

You hadn't realised his mouth was closing in on your ear until a sharp nibble to it makes you freeze up. A gruff whisper unleashes a tsunami of shivers to race down your spine.

"You miss me that much when I'm gone, huh?"

It sounds like a teasing question, but you know it's more than that. A 'condescending demand' is more of a fitting term. That other hand of his that sneakily coiled around your throat just now is a more than enough sign for you tell the difference. It squeezes lightly, as your hero relentlessly flicks his finger over your puffy clit. Your trembling hand rapidly covers your mouth, the odd yet familiar fear of reaching your first orgasm of the moment filling your body with sparking adrenaline.

You're wailing into your palm, fidgeting in his lap due to the overstimulation and frustration at the panties stopping your legs from opening further, drinking in his words and the breathy moans escaping him because of your own delicious little whimpers.

" 'miss me so much that you just can't help yourself, ah? So much that you go outta your way to distract me from my work?" and with that said, he stops tormenting your cunt to shove three of his digits between your sloppy folds just to press them harshly over your clenching hole.

For the first time in what seems like forever, you finally take a deep, albeit shaky, breath through your nose. Your entire body twitches uncontrollably, you were so close.

"Answer my damn question, brat."

Jeez, you picked a bad day to annoy him. Who pissed in his cereal this morning?

The growing angry rumble in his voice causes you to panic and whine into your fingers like you're incapable of talking. The grip from around your neck disappears, then returns around your wrist this time, tearing it away from your plumped lips with a thin string of drool attached.

His sudden act of power evokes pleading words from you, weak voice breaking with a, "Ka-Katsuki, I jus' wanna play—"

"Answer the question. You're not stupid," he pauses for a second before circling your entrance with some pressure. You gasp at a painful sensation blooming across your cheek, realising the hot skin is being pinched with his teeth.

"I can feel you throbbing. You can't hide it, how your tight little hole begs for me. Just say it, baby. Me, you and your needy fuckin' body all know the answer."

His fingers are almost inside you and his huge palm is pressed up on your burning clit. Bakugo nuzzles into the crook of your neck, ghosting his lips along the salty skin.

"Do yourself a favour, for god's sakes." he muffles into your shoulder whilst taking a handful of your plush hips and kneading harder than ever.

"...Yes, yes— I miss you that bad, Katsuki. I always miss you so so bad, it hurts~"

Your man chuckles lowly at you, decides to pull you further into him so that your ass grinds on his restrained, jolting cock. Your heart flutters at the sound of his laugh, even if it is mocking you. Your lusty eyes are forced to make contact with his, reading glasses pushing back his fringe just as you'd imagined. Then, he lovingly kisses the bite mark donning your face.

"Finally, s'all you had to do. Now, stop pissin' me off and bounce on it." he orders, effortlessly lifting you up by your underarms to buck his hips as he slams you down.

/-/-/-/

#katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo headcanons #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bnha bakugou #boku no hero academia #bakugou x reader #bakugo headcanons #bnha smut #bnha x reader

[diazsdimples]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @theotherbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings and @puppyboybuckley (who published the final chapter of the Mudslide Fic, PLEASE go read it!)

I wasn’t gonna do this today cause I had the shift from hell and didn’t manage to write anything yesterday between birthday things but I managed to cobble this together after my shift! Frostpunk AU weirdly came back to me so please enjoy this small snippet!

Much to Buck’s relief, both Edmundo and Christopher are still alive when they make it back to the city, in record time as Bobby will have him believe. Rappelling down the cliff with two semi-conscious, reasonably unstable patients is more difficult than they’d initially anticipated, so in a rush of fear as he watches Bobby struggle with Christopher, Buck offers to bring the boy down himself.

Much like they did the day Buck carried Christopher to the cabin, they strap the child to Buck’s chest, using a small harness stored in the med kit on a “just in case” basis. Christophers head clunks repetitively against Buck’s chest as he pushes them off the cliff, slowly letting the rope out with each jump. He wishes that it wasn’t a two-hand job, that he could cradle Christopher’s head with one hand and keep the rope moving with the other.

Above him, Bobby abseils down with Edmundo dangling to the side of him in a basket. They’d done one last temperature check on the two of them before descending into the heavy, cold mist that lay over the city, and Edmundo’s had been the lowest they’d seen it since the rescue. The way Eli’s face had paled and he’d instantly tugged Bobby aside, talking with him in low, hushed tones was enough to tell Buck about the state of his health.

It made a cold, thrill of fear rush down Buck’s spine, settling in the pit of his stomach as a constant reminder of how precarious Edmundo and Christopher’s situation was, as he carried the small boy to safety.

The moment Buck and Christopher touched the ground, they were pounced on by a team of medics, headed by Hen.

“What’s the story, Buck?” Hen asked as she hurried to help peel off Buck’s outer layers and unclip him from the harness.

“Found this guy and his dad half frozen yesterday. He’s probably 7 or 8 years old and got moderate to severe hypothermia. Eli’s been monitoring him and he’s stable but barely conscious. Probably malnourished and seriously dehydrated,” Buck pants as he lowers Christopher onto the stretcher Hen has prepared. The kid’s light brown curls fall over his face, curling against his eyelids and Buck reaches out a tender hand to brush them back before he can stop himself.

If Hen notices, she chooses not to mention the look in his eyes as he does this.

“Alright, we’re going to take him to the med tent now. What about his dad?” Hen asks as two medics swiftly hoist Christopher’s stretcher into the air and run off in the direction of the nearest med tent.

Buck watches, half in a daze as Edmundo is lowered to the ground. His lips are pale and chapped, and his face looks lifeless and devoid of colour as his head lols to the side. A sick feeling creeps through Buck’s body as he thinks of how close they came to not making it back. How close Christopher came to losing his father.

“This is Edmundo Diaz, severe hypothermia, dehydration and malnourishment. He’s had issues with his oxygen and heart rate consistently through the journey home. Hen, he’ll need around the clock care, someone to stay with him, to keep an eye on him,” Buck says, hearing the urgency in his voice as he speaks. He doesn’t know what compels him, other than a sense that Edmundo is the other half of a magnet that’s drawing him ever closer, but Buck continues talking. “You guys can’t spare another medic but I-I don’t mind sitting with him. I’m good at taking his vitals a-and I could keep an eye on the kid.”

Hen eyes him, as if trying to read what his true motivation is. “Go,” she finally says, inclining her head towards the tent. Buck doesn’t need to be told twice.

No pressure tagging @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @evanbegins @smilingbuckley @thekristen999 @elvensorceress @rainbow-nerdss @wikiangela @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @aroeddiediaz @jesuisici33 @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @nmcggg @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @kitteneddiediaz @epicbuddieficrecs @spagheddiediaz @loserdiaz

#james writes #frostpunk au #tired words that probably don’t make sense #hoping this pulls me out of my writing funk #buddie #eddie diaz #911 abc #evan buckley #911 buddie #911verse #911 fanfic #911 #eddie x buck

[paigeswrld]

Heart of Ice pt. 2

Azriel x Archeron!reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, angst, longing, I think that’s it??

WC: 2.8k

A/N: you guys are all so sweet, thank you for all the love on the first part<3 that was my first time ever writing anything, and when I started writing it I had no plan, just started typing. The fact that I got so much love blew my mind! There will be a third part to this, I think that will be the final part. I decided to just tag everyone that commented..(I’m new to tumblr so idk if it’ll work) Thank you guys for the support! I know I didn’t reply, but I saw every comment and I can’t begin to express how happy it made me to see that people actually liked it??

I’m always welcome to constructive criticism<33

****************************************************

After the night that Azriel promised to help you with your powers, you two spent a lot of time together. He tried taking you to the House of Wind to train, but you refused. You couldn’t stand to be around the others, not yet anyway. So, you began training in the woods.

Today was the start of the second week of training. Like yesterday, you spent an entire hour on silly breathing exercises for the mind, claiming that if you learn to control your mind then you can control your powers. Afterwards was spent doing physical training. With your lack of muscle, even the smallest things left your legs shaking and lungs gasping for air. Luckily, your new fae body had you gaining muscle much quicker than when you were human. Once you were entirely exhausted, he had you work on controlling your powers.

You still hadn’t managed to do more than conjure up a few snowflakes, and when you did manage more than that, you had trouble controlling where it went. Right now, Azriel wanted you to focus on making small, controlled patches of ice using water already in a puddle. It’s easier to use what’s already there then create something out of thin air, he had told you.

“Why do we do this last? Shouldn’t I practice when I have my full strength?” You turn to him after unsuccessfully trying to turn the small puddle to ice.

“If you learn to harness your powers while worn out, it’ll be easier at full strength. Besides, if you're tired, then your powers will be weaker, and there will be less risk of something going terribly wrong. Now try again.” He’s leaning against the tree, a casual day of pushing you to exhaustion.

You huff and turn back to the puddle. Deep breaths Y/N. Focus. It’s just a small puddle, you can turn it to ice. You willed your mind to stay calm, to focus simply on the puddle. You dig deep inside of you, invisible hands grasping the ice inside you and pushing it out, towards the puddle. It didn’t work. You hear a crackling, and a grunt from Azriel. You turn to him, only to find his legs frozen in a chunk of ice.

Never had you seen such shock on his face, which quickly turned to annoyance as he said, "Y/N, get me out of this damn ice."

You tried so, so hard to choke back the laugh that rose in your throat, but to no avail. Soon enough, you were doubled over in laughter. The sight of Azriel, the all mighty shadowsinger, stuck in a block of ice was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you had ever seen.

Azriel, however, looked far from amused. "Y/N, you need to focus. Melt the ice and then you can laugh all you want, but my feet are getting cold." Even though the shadowsinger tried to look angry, you could still hear the hint of amusement in his voice.

“Okay, okay fine.” You took deep breaths, calming your mind, before putting all your focus on turning the ice to water. You weren’t entirely convinced it would work, considering you couldn’t manage the puddle.

“I’d rather not lose my toes to frostbite, so if you could speed this up, that would be great.”

You sent a glare towards the male. “You know, I could just leave you here. Leave you to find your own way out of the ice.”

He smirked at you, his arms crossed, “You and I both know you’re not going to leave me. We’re miles from home and out of range of Rhys’ daemati powers. You have nowhere to go.”

Story of your life.

With a sigh, you focus again on that stupid chunk of ice. Despite being trapped in the ice, Azriel still thought it okay to taunt you, even though he relied on you to get out of his situation. What a fool. You were beginning to regret letting that stupid, arrogant, handsome male train you…

Suddenly, there was a crack of ice and the splash of water, your shoes becoming soaked.

You looked at Azriel, who was now free of the ice, everything below his knees soaked. Despite the cold of his legs, Azriel was grinning at you. Grinning at you like a madman.

“You did it! You did it Y/N!” He rushed toward you and before you could react, he threw his arms around your waist spinning you around while laughing, “I knew you could do it, I just had to get you mad enough!”

Finally, he put you down, that adorable grin still on his face. You looked at him confused, “What do you mean ‘get me mad enough’?”

“Like most people, your powers tend to react more to negative emotions, including anger. I figured if I was able to annoy you enough, you would be able to use those emotions towards changing the ice to water. I was right.” That smug smirk was back on his face.

Rolling your eyes you said to him, “Does this mean I have to make myself angry every time I want to use my powers?”

“No, but in the beginning, it might help.”

You nodded. What Azriel said made sense. Your magic did tend to act up when you were feeling a negative emotion, like anger or fear. But with that numbness still deep in your heart, it was hard to muster up any emotions, even negative ones. Your time with Azriel was the only reprieve you had from that feeling. With him, the ice caging your heart melted just the slightest bit, slowly melting more and more as the days with him went on.

Finally pulling yourself out of you thoughts, you realized Azriel must be freezing. “We should probably go, wouldn’t want you to get that frostbite you were talking about.” And with that you two were off, back to the city of Velaris.

As you lay in your bed that night, it dawned on you, that was the first time you had laughed in months.

***

As the weeks flew by, you began to master your powers. You could conjure up snow storms in small areas, trap people in ice, throw ice daggers, and that was just the surface, according to Azriel. Yet, you still couldn’t shake the freezing cold that followed you wherever you went, no matter how hot the fire or the amount of blankets you piled upon yourself.

While spending time with Azriel helped tremendously for that numbness that had been plaguing you, it wasn’t the cure. There were days, like today, where it was worse and you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of your bed. Azriel had knocked on your door twice now, but you had simply pulled the covers over your head and attempted to block out any and all light.

Darkness. Darkness was what you wanted. Darkness would welcome you with open arms, it would hold you as you fell back into that deep, dark, bottomless pit of numbing depression. You would stay there forever. If you stayed there, you wouldn’t have to face your sisters again. Or the inner circle. Or the feelings for Azriel that were becoming harder and harder to ignore. None of it would bother you, and you would rather lay here and rot than face those things head on.

To your dismay, the Shadowsinger walked in, creating a crack of light in your dark pit. “What are you still doing in bed? We were supposed to start training 20 minutes ago.”

You decided to just ignore him, pulling the cover farther over your head.

You feel a dip on the edge of the bed. “Did you stay up too late last night?”

Finally, you give him a response, “No.” In fact, you had fallen asleep right after you got home, neglecting dinner and a bath.

He sighs, “Then what’s going on? You need to talk to me.”

You try to come up with an excuse, to think of anything that will get him to leave you alone. You almost told him you had your cycle, but if that were true, he’d smell it on you.

“I’m just… not feeling well today. I think we should cancel training for the day.” Your voice came out muffled by the covers.

“Do you need to see a healer? Are you sick?”

An easy out. “Yes, I’m sick. Nothing serious, just need to rest for a day or two. Then I’ll be fine.” You stayed under the covers, not trusting that you’ll be able to keep up the lie if you look into those hazel eyes.

“When Fae get sick, it’s often very serious. We should probably get you to a healer. I’ll have Rhys get Madja.”

“No!” You sit up all of a sudden, pushing back the covers and your eyes wide, “I don’t need a healer. Please don’t call Rhys in here, or anyone for that matter. I just want to be left alone.” You pick at your nails, not having the courage to look him in the eyes.

Ever so gently, he takes your chin into his scarred hand and brings your eyes to his, “Tell me what’s really going on sweetheart. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” Concern laced his features as he looked at you.

You look to the side, struggling to keep eye contact. “I just… I get this feeling sometimes. Where I no longer care about anything. About myself. And I just want to lay in bed forever, in the darkness. It’s like I can’t get myself to feel anything but numb, more so than usual. I don’t want to leave bed, I don’t want to talk to anyone. I used to be afraid of the dark, before the Cauldron, but ever since I was Made it’s the only thing that makes me feel safe, it’s comforting.” You could feel your cheeks turning red at your confession, you’ve never been so vulnerable with someone.

Azriel’s voice is thick with emotion as he says, “And does anything help you to get out of these moods?”

You shake your head.

“Very well.” He stands up and walks out the door, and the feeling of rejection seeps into your bones. You had scared him away. Only a couple minutes later he returns, having changed out of his leathers into a t-shirt and sweatpants. Your eyes follow him as he walks over to your bed and pulls back the covers, placing himself right next to you.

“What are you doing?”

“We will spend two hours here, in this bed, and then we are going to spend the day outside, maybe have a picnic. Is that okay with you?” He settles down into the bed and turns on his side to face you. Unable to find the words, you merely nod your head.

“Good. I know that this is hard, and that being told that it will pass isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s true and it will. Until then, I will be by your side, helping you every step of the way. But Y/N,” you meet his eyes then, and he puts a hand on your cheek, “I can’t fix you, I can only be there to support you. This is something you have to do on your own, nobody else can do it for you. Okay?”

You could almost feel the ice inside your chest melting away. Tears were starting to form in your eyes, and your voice wobbled when you spoke, “Okay.”

A small smile formed on Azriels lips. He pulled you into his arms, and to your surprise, gave you a delicate kiss on the forehead. “Go back to sleep sweetheart, we have a picnic to rest up for.”

As your eyes drift close, Azriels shadows create a veil of complete darkness around you both. It seemed at that moment, something akin to love began to push its way through the ice in your heart, and not once did he mention the chill on your skin, or how his arms seemed to be the only thing that kept it at bay.

***

It had been three months since the day Azriel comforted you in bed. He has continued to do so anytime he found you nestled under the covers, refusing to leave. Some days he would hold you while you told him all of your thoughts, exposing every corner of your wretched mind. Other days you two would stay completely silent, allowing the darkness to be your only source of comfort.

But there was that one day… that one day that Azriel told you everything. He had laid his heart bare for you to see, showing you the darkness that lurked inside. He told you of his childhood, the story behind his hands, the fears and nightmares that still haunt him. The worst one, he had told you, was that voice in his head, his fathers voice, telling him he would never be enough. Telling him nobody would ever love him, for how could somebody love a monster such as Azriel? He wiped away your tears, and you his, as you told him that anyone would be lucky to have him as their own, that they should feel honored. You couldn’t help but see the resemblance… how you both never felt like you were enough. You hugged him tighter after that, and he drifted off to sleep shortly after.

It was that day that the bond snapped for you, as you looked at Az peacefully asleep in your arms. You let out a gasp, not loud enough to wake him. You could feel it then, that golden tether linking you two together for eternity. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the male you’d grown to love being yours for the rest of your existence.

There was one problem, you realized. You still hadn’t forgiven your sisters, and they you, and you weren’t sure you ever could. How could you ever get over such a thing? That feeling of love quickly turned to a feeling of dread as you realized, Azriel would have to choose. These people were his family, and even if you were his mate, that didn’t mean he would pick you. You had decided then that you wouldn’t tell him. You knew that if you did, you would lose your mate forever, and you would rather love him as his friend than not get to love him at all.

***

It had been a week since the bond snapped, and you now stood skipping stones in front of a small pond as Azriel tried to convince you to attend family dinner at the House of Wind. He’s been trying to do so for the past couple weeks, claiming everyone wants to see you.

“I’ve already told you Az, it’s too much. What if something goes wrong with my powers again?” Not turning to face Azriel as you threw a stone at the water, sending it skipping across the pond.

You could almost hear the frown in his voice, “You have full control over your powers now, you can’t keep using that same excuse. They all want to see you, they miss you.”

You turned back to face him as your face scrunched up in anger, “Don’t lie to me Az. They don’t know me well enough to miss me. Those that do don’t care about me, they just want me to show up and act like everything is fine so they don’t have a guilty conscience. I won’t put myself through the pain of having to act like I’m okay just to soothe their selfish worries about their character.” You were almost chest to chest with the Shadowsinger, temper rising as you stared him down.

“If you just gave them a chance, Feyre and Elain both ask about you every time I come home, and even Nesta has asked how you are doing. What they did was wrong, but they’re trying to make things better. Shouldn’t you at least hear them out? If not for them, then for you. Give yourself that closure.” You could see the pleading in his eyes, begging you to do this. For you. For him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say no, not as he looked at you with those big, beautiful eyes. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes before looking back up to him, “Okay. One dinner, and you have to promise that if I want to leave at any point— even if we just stepped foot through the door— you will get me out of there. Deal?”

He put his hands on your waist, pulling you even closer, “It’s a deal.” As you looked at him, triumph written all over his face, you began to wonder if maybe, for a chance at being with him, you could look past all that your sisters had done.

And so it was settled, two days from now you would be attending the Inner Circle’s family dinner.

***************************************************

Taglist:

@illyrian-dreamer @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @venussdovess @fall-myriad @mischiefmaryon @lana08 @aetherl0l @anniestar2 @nobody00sthings @goldenmagnolias @booksboysandbaklava @letspretendimnottrash @xiangping-28 @nemesis6666 @im-bili @brekkershadowsinger @feyretopia @katcandy @valeridarkness

#azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #acotar

[travlersjoy444]

2012 Raph x reader Incorrect Quotes

Uhm...mostly, that is. There's a few that are just random TMNT 2012 incorrect quotes. This was very fun for me. Might do it again sometime if the mood strikes.

***

(Y/N), skipping rocks on a lake with Raph: It’s such a beautiful evening.

Raph: Yeah, it is.

Raph: *whispering* Take that you fucking lake.

***

(Y/N): Why does Leo always do the laundry so loudly?

Raph: So everyone knows that no one helps them out in the house.

Leo, in the distance: *slams the washing machine shut*

***

Raph: You’re giving me a sticker?

Mikey: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Raph: I’m not a preschooler.

Mikey: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Raph: I earned this, back off.

***

Raph: Why am I always the bad guy?

(Y/N): Well, why am I the pretty one? We all have our thing.

***

(Y/N): Is Raph always like this when they lose?

Mikey: Oh, yes. You should've been there for the fabled 'Great Jenga Tantrum'.

Raph: yOU BUMPED THAT TABLE AND YOU KNOW IT!

***

(Y/N): Hey, wanna help me commit arson?

Leo: What the hell!?

(Y/N): Oh, sorry, my bad.

(Y/N), whispering: Wanna help me commit arson?

Leo, whispering: Of course. What do you need?

***

Casey: You know what bothers me? Bats. Why can bats fly?

Raph: Not again...

Casey: No. Seriously, who gave them the right? They're mammals! Mammals walk on land, no exceptions.

(Y/N): Just wait until you hear about whales.

Casey: What now?

***

Casey on Monday: *glues a dime to the sidewalk* Heh heh heh.

Casey on Wednesday: *walking down the street* Ooh hey! A dime!

***

(Y/N): When I met you I thought you were a real bitch.

Raph: What changed your mind?

(Y/N): Oh, I still think you’re a bitch, I’ve just grown to like that about you.

***

Leo: When I said you should try being friendlier this isn't what I meant.

Raph, stirring a cup of tea aggressively: Oh, so now I'm TOO friendly? There's no pleasing you.

(Y/N), who broke into their house an hour ago: Two sugars please.

Raph: Coming right up.

***

Casey: It’s funny how well you and Raph get along. Didn’t they hate you at first?

(Y/N): Raph hates everybody at first. It’s their way of reaching out to people.

***

Casey: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute.

Donnie: No, that's not how you make cookies.

(Y/N): FLOOR IT!!

Casey: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!?

Donnie: yOU'RE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN-

Casey: I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES!

Raph: DO IT!

Donnie: NO-

***

Raph: What the fuck? People actually tell their crushes they like them??

(Y/N): What the hell do you do?

Raph: I die? What kinda question…

***

(Y/N): I made this friendship bracelet for you.

Raph: You know, I’m not really a jewelry person.

(Y/N): You don’t have to wear…

Raph: No, I’m gonna wear it forever. Back off.

***

Raph: *sneaking in through their window*

Leo: *turning in their chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night?

Raph: I was with (Y/N)?

(Y/N): *turning in their chair* Wanna try again?

***

Raph, at (Y/N)'s funeral: I need a moment with them.

Everyone: Of course. *They leave*

Raph, leaning over (Y/N)′s coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re not dead.

(Y/N): Yeah, no shit.

***

Raph: (Y/N), I don't like you.

(Y/N): What did you say?

Raph: You heard me!

(Y/N), internally: And it turns out I actually didn't hear what the fuck you just said.

***

*(Y/N) sneezes*

Raph: (Y/N), are you sick? Here, let me wrap you in a blanket and hand-feed you some warm soup while singing you a lullaby!

*Donnie sneezes*

Raph: Oh my god. Shut the hell up.

***

(Y/N): Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time?

Raph: ...So...as enemies??

(Y/N):

***

Raph: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

(Y/N): It was me...

Raph: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

***

Kidnapper: I have your partner.

(Y/N): What? I don't have a partner...

Kidnapper: Then who just called me a lowlife bitch and spit in my face?

(Y/N): Oh my god, you have Raph.

***

Raph: I want to kiss you.

(Y/N), not paying attention: What?

Raph: I said if you die, I won't miss you.

***

*(Y/N) is crying after a breakup*

Raph: There there, (Y/N).

(Y/N), still crying: Thanks, but how did you get into my room?

Raph: Great question—

***

Raph: *yawns*

(Y/N): Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring.

Raph: Then you must be exhausted.

Leo: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.

***

Raph: Watcha doin?

(Y/N): Stealing my neighbour’s cat.

Raph: Scandalous.

Raph: Can I help?

***

(Y/N): Come on, Leo. Nobody actually believes that Raph is in love with me.

Leo, to The Squad: Raise your hand if you think that Raph is helplessly in love with (Y/N).

*Everyone raises their hand*

(Y/N): Raph, put your hand down.

***

(Y/N): Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.

Raph: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.

(Y/N): Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.

Leo, on a walkie talkie: This is Leo, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.

***

Mikey: I dare you to kiss the next person who walks into this room.

Raph: Screw that, I’m not kissing anyone.

*(Y/N) walks in*

Raph: Fine, I’ll do it. Rules are rules you know.

***

Raph: If you want my advice-

Donnie: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill your significant other. Multiple times.

Raph: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, they’ve also tried to kill me.

(Y/N): It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

***

Casey: Time sensitive question how flirt boy.

Raph: Throw rocks at he.

Mikey: Hot Dogs.

(Y/N): Kill him.

Casey: Thanks guys.

***

Leo: Why do you look like that?

Raph, laying face-first on the floor: Like what?

Leo: Like you’re dead.

Raph: It’s because I’m dying. Fuck off.

Casey: Raph accidentally called (Y/N) “babe” in front of everyone today.

Raph: *sobs into the floor*

***

(Y/N): I'm so happy, I could kiss you!

Raph: Um...Neat.

*later*

Raph, lying face down on their bed: I said "Neat," Donnie. Who the fuck says neat these days? 

It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid.

Donnie, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, Raph. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Casey confessed their love for me?

Raph: Didn't you thank them?

Donnie: *closes the book and looks at the ceiling* I fucking thanked them.

***

(Y/N): How would you like your coffee?

Raph: As dark as my soul.

(Y/N): Got it, one cup of milk coming right up!

***

(Y/N): Raph, I need some advice.

Raph: You need advice from ME?

(Y/N): Yeah, frightening, isn't it?

***

(Y/N): *sighs* I have no friends...

Raph:

Raph: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

***

Leo: You need to stop swearing so much.

Raph: Shut the fuck up.

Leo: Yeah, that's not how you do it.

Raph: Alright sorry. It's just that it's hard not to swear. The words just creep up on me when I least expect it.

Leo: Now now, don't be like that. Just replace the swear words with 'beep' and you'll be fine.

Raph: Shit the beep up.

Leo:

Raph: SHUT, DAMMIT! I MEANT SHUT!

***

Raph: *is throwing stones at (Y/N)'s window*

(Y/N): You have a phone for a reason, Raph!

*THUD*

(Y/N): DID YOU JUST THROW YOUR PHONE AT MY WINDOW?!

#tmnt x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt 2012 raph x reader #raph x reader #tmnt 2012 raph #2k12 raph x reader #2k12 raph