kahidlaws

[kahidlaws]

✧。◟[NSFW] ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪᴅᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ — lee x reader [PGR]

so I'm coming home to you

synopsis ; there are answers far beyond words in between turbulences. you are looking for those in lee's battles, in the way he sat beside you, yet what can you say, when the ride home is silent?

alternatively: starry was unsatisfied because we never knew what happened after the epilogue and got a time skip instead, so she is writing it down on her terms LOL

a.n. - this idea came to me while I was cooking breakfast. I nearly dropped the bowl. I nearly dropped my eggs 😭 also I wanna suggest listening to fallingforyou by The 1975 for this too if yall wanna. I wanted this to be an angst to fluff but I decided to make it in a separate post LOL ALSO I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS EARLIER AHAHAHA I'm sorri oh well

pairing - lee hyperreal x f!commandant

words - 7,691

warnings - WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 21: SPIRAL OF CHRONOS. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, NSFW THEMES: soft sex hehe, body worship, cunnilingus, creampie-, vaginal penetration, squirting, virginity loss but it's the both of them LOL, lee being so soft and gentle. semi-established relationship, mutual pining.

edit - dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

The ride home is silent.

A gentle lull of a torrential downpour, multiple raindrops pattering on the aircraft's window. Apart from the tired snores and occasional groaning of both constructs and commandants, you are certain: everyone on the aircraft was alive. Miraculously, even if the chances of being so were as small as a pea.

A sharp pain in your mind knocks on your head. Ah, right. Although the realization finally hits you, the piercing pain in your head has yet to dull, after all of the events that unfolded. You wondered, how lucky you were to be alive, despite connecting with so many constructs, all the while maintaining a deep M.I.N.D. connection with Lee. Perhaps, the gods listened to your selfish plea.

After all, Lee came back alive. And he is sitting, silently beside you.

Arms crossed as he leaned on the chair you both sat in, his frame never leaving a hint of space between you. His mesmerizing cerulean eyes were hidden, eyes closed as he breathed so softly.

It's the first time you've seen Lee's frame up close. The first time as a hologram, the second after he emerged from the tower. And now, one glance away.

His hair was a lighter shade of blonde, long bangs covering up until his eyes. Face more defined, looking more mature, yet still so youthful. There weren't any scars on Lee's face anymore, unlike his Entropy frame. Despite his cold and neutral face, as he slept, you can't help but notice that he looked more gentle, softer. Your hand reached out carefully trying not to disturb his sleep, fingers lightly tracing from the top of his head, to the side of his face, to his lips— a thought passed your mind, but you shook your head instead.

As you pulled away, Lee's hand grabbed yours.

“You are shaking,” a whisper that tickled your ear brought you back to reality, “are you alright, my Commandant?”

My Commandant. He only called you that in a fierce, stoic tone. But now, his voice is so tranquil, you might have mistaken it as a phantom. A ripple rumbles through your chest. Lee's voice, although you've heard it so many times, never failed to make you shake, never failed to make you sigh of relief. Unlike his Entropy and Palefire frames, what changed? His new frame is gentler, softer, too. Grasping the warm blanket wrapped around you, you felt Lee lean closer to you. You looked back at him, finding a worried expression across his face.

A face you've seen for the first time, should have made you afraid. Yet, the new face is looking at you, the same way he used to. A sense of familiarity, a sense of comfort.

“I'm okay,” you admitted, “Please don't worry.”

The windows were tinted dark, a few shimmering stars outside. In the dim light of the evening haze, cerulean eyes looked down on you, calculating and quiet. “Is there something wrong? You seem distressed.”

Apart from all the events that conspired earlier, it's probably safe to say that you were far from okay. But you still held onto your words, “Nothing. I just...wanted to see you up close.”

Sturdy, mechanical arms wrapped themselves around your frail, tired body. The gesture made you sink into Lee's chest, a new wave of comfort entangling itself on both of your bodies. Yes, this was— and still is— the man you liked for a long time. And this was the same space you've always loved to drown in, away from the cold, war-struck world.

“Wasn't it you who told me not to shoulder everything,” Lee chuckled, “You can tell me the truth, my Commandant. I am here to bear it all with you.”

His words made you snort. “Oh, now you take my words?”

“I remember everything you say, orders and everything.”

The turbulence seemed to hit a little harder, as Lee held you tighter in his embrace. You found yourself nestled in his lap eventually, cradled like a child in your teammate's arms. You still looked at Lee, searching for something. Two awake individuals now converse in hushed tones.

“You're making me quite nervous, Commandant.” Lee spoke as you continued to stare at him.

“I still can't believe that you are here.” You childishly poked his puffed cheeks, “Are you sure you're real?”

Ah, there he is. His usual stoic expression as he looked at you nonchalantly. But they were quickly replaced with a warm smile, eyes softening at your antics. “My Commandant, I believe that we are still connected right now. Do you wish to check it?”

As far as you were concerned, what Lee said is true; the connection with him is still a brightly burning flame, signaling its closeness with you right now. Yet, as you continue to gaze at your teammate, who was looking elsewhere, another realization dawned on you. Reaching out to touch his neck, his shoulders, his metallic chest— all hardened, like a cyborg. But you can still feel it, in your fingertips, his heartbeat reflecting yours, a cadenza of fluttering butterflies.

“Commandant,” Lee took your shivering hand, looking at you as he brought the back of it to his lips, “I'm here, okay? I'm back. I'm holding you like this.”

He is. As you gazed at his face, the whims of today that brought cold demons do not sway so easily, your heart crumbling once more— the fear that gnawed you left and right back when you were at the foot of the impenetrable tower, helpless in front of bloodlusted monsters. The thought of earlier when blood spilled your hands came back to haunt you: an unprecedented future where Lee did not emerge from the tower, a grim call for humanity...what did it look like?

“Hearing you say that,” your voice cracked, a fresh wave of tears now threatening to spill from your tired eyes, “brings me so much comfort, Lee.”

How ironic. A few hours ago, you bravely put on your facade, welcoming Lee back when he emerged from the then-heteronomer tower. Your smile was bigger than all the countless turbulences you've faced, a plethora of hope that baptised the witnesses there. But with the silent ride home to Babylonia, Liv and the other healers now resting, all the other conscious and unconscious commandants and constructs, you couldn't help but break down now, an endless stream of worry, fear, and relief as a storm in your body. Silent sobs wreck through your body, but Lee— your Lee, yours— held you so tight.

“I'm sorry,” even in the gentlest tone, his apology only made you sob more, “I know I should have thought about it thoroughly, I should have planned it with you. But it was the only solution.”

He kissed your temple, his cold fingers interlacing with your shaky ones, “...to keep you alive.”

You should be happy; Lee is right. He's alive, everyone else is alive. The tower was now a purification one. Yet why, out of all the things you should be crying about, an unfathomable thought that crossed your mind— something about death, something about a dogtag drenched in the bluest vital fluid— made you cry more?

“Commandant [Y/N],” Lee calls your name, that it catches your attention, a skip in your heart, “You're so brave. I'm sorry that you went through so much. But right now, everything will be alright.”

As your sobs slow down, Lee leans closer to your face, a finger wiping away the stream of tears, his lips kissing them away. Wait. Have you ever been so intimate with Lee this way? It suddenly baffled you; sure, you were both aware of each other's affections, sneaking away to be with one another. The furthest thing you've both even gone to, was a simple kiss on the cheek in your bedroom, before Lee went away, claiming his cooling systems malfunctioned. The gravity of the situation made you snap out of your sadness.

“W-wait, Lee,” you weakly shimmied out of his embrace, “I-I thought you didn't want this-”

You vividly remember Lee hates public display of affection.

But right now, his expression was puzzled, as if confused with your reaction. “And?”

A timid blush creeps in your cheeks. Somehow, you were the one getting embarrassed.

“I thought you didn't want people to see this kind of,” you coughed, “...display.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I am just taking care of my Commandant. There's no other explanation.”

Ah, what a fickle mind you have. Embarrassed, you sunk deep into his arms, pouting as you hid your face in his chest. “Ah...sorry.”

Lee coughs, “But there is something I do want to talk to you about.”

Peering up at him, you cocked your head to the side, “The mission? Or...what happened earlier?”

He looked at you with a small smile, before a faint pink tint in his cheeks appeared. He tucked the blanket to your chest, before returning his fingers to the gaps in yours. “We will arrive in Babylonia soon. It may be a hellhole right now, but...your rest will be the priority.”

“Hey, what-”

“-Get some sleep for now, Commandant...”

Gentle cerulean eyes looked at you with an unfamiliar emotion. Was it really unfamiliar, or were you slowly succumbing to the lull of a well-needed sleep.

It felt like a dream. His touch, his voice, his gestures. Your mouth opens, trying to call out Lee's name. But the way his thumb caressed your intertwined hands, the safety of a cradle as he held you close, the faint smell of his scent—

You fall asleep by the time the aircraft docks at Babylonia's hangar.

You remember the day you realized you liked Lee.

It was a little crush that bothered you like a bunny, hopping around the corners when it saw food nearby. You tried to ignore it, favoring the quiet, tranquil field, your battlefield for the fight against the virus. Yet, the longer you lingered in the field, the more of that man in blue with a cold facade and steeled eyes seem to capture your attention, far longer than any lesson you took in the F.O.S.

“Do you have any wish?” You remember Lee's sudden, peculiar question one day, at the Gray Raven lounge.

You were both chilling there, across one another; you were by the table, doing your paperwork, and him on the sofa, polishing his weapon. The question was so out of the blue. A few weeks after your initial meeting, and he was still in his Palefire frame. In honesty, what was your greatest wish? You were merely a fresh graduate, finally with a team assigned to you. You've been through the simulations, memorized every nook and crook of the books, and can even recite the constitution and the laws. All of this for the sake of humanity.

“Retaking Earth, having a future of peace.” was a simple way to put it.

But Lee only had a cold expression on his face, despondent eyes looking at you with judgement. You recognized this look, one that he'd been wearing every time you were around. You admitted him, earlier, his frigidity nearly makes you wet your pants. But when the last word escaped your lips, the expression changed for a split second— relief?— before it returned to its hardened state.

“I'm not asking you to do a pep talk.”

You pondered once more. Sure, humanity is needed. But guess not for Lee. What did you want, really? Ah, you remember the parcel you ordered, and the many more that were to come. Your wallet had been growing slimmer, too. Smiling, a stupid, yet practical idea sauntered to your young mind.

“Retiring as early as possible to get my pension?”

A life of pure ecstasy and glory. It wasn't so bad. But that look on Lee's face seemed to insinuate that he'd probably kill you and stage it as something else.

“Can you just give me one that is actually achievable?”

Is retiring early too much? When you looked up to Lee for another witty remark, you found yourself frozen. What once were steeled eyes were a noticeable shade of indigo, complimenting the blue patterns on his outfit. A clenched jaw, soft skin, a remarkable face that seemed to know so many things at once. You've always known you had a little bit of admiration for your team, with the tasks assigned to you little by little. But did you ever have your heart skip a beat whenever Lucia or Liv was around? You remember fierce and timid eyes looking at you, but never this cold. No, only Lee.

Only Lee could do that.

What little crush became a massive infatuation.

“Then,” sheepishly smiling, you felt your cheeks tint in the lightest shade, yet you still looked at Lee, “your smile?”

The question caught him off guard. Taking advantage of the situation, you decided to tease him further, “I want to see you smile more, Lee.”

You've always wanted to see him smile. One that was genuine, not commanded, nor forced. For the first time since your first meeting, there was a crack in his expression, a thin shade of pink dusting his own cheeks; a seemingly thin facade that only motivated you to open the lock that was presented to you.

“W-what-”

“You will scare everyone off with that intimidating look on your face,” you smiled, “So, please?”

Before the next moment could happen, the memory goes dark, and you open your eyes.

Your senses are out of place, lost as you tried to regain everything. First, your sense of smell returns as the scent of vanilla fills the room. Next is your hearing, the white noise of the air conditioner overwhelms the empty space. The feel of your bones and muscles, albeit sore and tired, felt weightless as you tried to lift your arms and legs up. The soft grasp of cotton and the mattress. When your vision returns, the white ceiling is adorned with the many trinkets you could remember sticking onto the top, the feeling of home asking to be welcomed. The comforts of the bed seemed to beg you to stay more, but you forced your body to sit up, the familiar scene of your room at the Gray Raven base now into view.

Did you...fall asleep? What time is it? You didn't want another lifetime of scolding waiting for you outside of your door. Lucia and Liv could be in the training room. And Lee...

An ominous feeling rattled your body. When you look down at your hands, a silent scream on your lips as you jump from the bed— your hands are tainted with a mixture of blue vital fluids and the brightest red.

Nearly falling onto the floor, lucky enough that you landed on your mattress. You suddenly remember everything—

“Lee!”

You forget your dignity. You forget your bare feet, you forget everything else. You had to find Lee. You had to. Running out of the door, you bolted to find the blonde man, the fear that you were too late to save him.

But before you could reach the last door that held all the answers you were looking for, a tall, study cushion prevented you from doing so.

“...dant! Commandant!”

A familiar voice. Snapping out of your fear-stricken trance, you felt yourself being pushed off slightly. A pair of worried cerulean eyes looking down at you.

“Commandant, I'm here!” A baritone voice, ones that made your eyes blur from the tears, “I'm here. I'm back.”

A comforting hold over you. A towering figure. The presence that could only make you crumble. Your teammate. The one that filled your quiet days.

“You're,” you choked, the dam of tears that spilled senselessly, “Lee, you're alive.”

He sighed in relief. Looking at you with a small smile, he said, “...You must be confused. Let's eat before we talk.”

Sunnyside up egg and bacon, the other kind of egg being scrambled. Two plates, two pieces of toast. A coffee and a glass of milk. And you finished it all, your share with the sunnyside up. The other was close to finishing, with Lee still tinkering on the small robot that was on his side.

A part of you thinks rationally, as you shouldn't eat like a pig when in front of someone else. But you can't help but strive to satiate the hunger that was distracting you from doing anything else. Apart from that, the raging headache was now gone.

You noticed something different, though.

“Did you enjoy it, Commandant?”

You glanced at Lee, before looking back at your clean plate. You wanted to retort, but, you awkwardly laughed instead. “Thank you, I really enjoyed it, Lee.”

“You looked like you tasted something else though,” you raised your brow, before he added, “Your expression changed.”

“Ah,” you absentmindedly toyed with your fork, “...it tasted different. Did Liv cook this?”

A faint blush adorned his cheek. “I was the one who cooked the food. Liv did not participate at all.”

You blinked in surprise. Lee? Cooking?

“Really?” Bewildered, you reeled back, “It tasted so good. I want a second serving...”

You had nothing against Lee's skills. He followed all of the nitty gritty details of the cookbook he used, making the dish taste too bland or too dry. But the one you tasted seemed different.

“I can cook more for you then, Commandant,” Lee prepared to stand up, but you grabbed his arm.

“Later, later!” You beamed at him, “I'm quite surprised as it tasted...”

What were the right words? As his hand loosened on your grip, you blurted out, “Warm.”

“Did it now?” A teasing tone. You huffed out, which made him grin.

“I'm glad you think so. After all, you were asleep for two days.”

The events of before came rushing back, nearly overwhelming you. But Lee's hand in yours strengthened your resolve. There were still a few questions on your mind, like—

“I checked you up on the Star of Life.” Lee continued, “I couldn't leave you there, as they were still packed with all the other victims. They granted you to rest here, where we watched over you.”

“What about the other people with us at the surface?”

“They were treated as well, Commandant. Right now, they gave us a two-week rest, with everything trying to settle down and rebuilding whatever we can.”

You touched his hand, “What about...you?”

And he touched yours back. “I did, as soon as we had you here.”

“I see, thank you,” you looked down on the oversized shirt, before glancing at Lee's now reddening face.

“I- um, we helped you clean and dress up. Mostly Liv and Lucia.”

“Where are they now...?”

“They might be helping with the rebuilding. It's my turn to watch over you.”

You hummed, retreating your hand, a small sense of disappointment. A comforting, yet anxious silence enveloped the environment; you fiddled with your hands, trying to find the right words to say. But the longer you dwell, the more your anxiety grew.

“...I didn't think that my shirt would look good on you.”

Your feelings dissipated. You looked up, Lee looking away to hide his blush, “I wanted to give it to Murray, but I'm glad that I still had some left.”

“Th...thank you, Lee. It feels very comfortable.” It was normal, right? Wearing boyfriend shirts has been a trend lately. So why are you blushing like a tomato? Well, at least the two of you look like tomatoes.

“...I still have a few more,” Lee said, gathering the courage to look at you, “If you're not closed to the idea of having shirts like the one you are wearing now, then, let me know.”

The cloth did feel quite comfy, never mind how it rested above your knees. It also smelled like Lee— apple blossoms and summertime. You were hoping you could keep the shirt hidden, but you were glad you had his confirmation.

Another silence. At this point, you'd rather be swallowed by the ground whole than be stuck with the awkward air. As you thought about it, deeper in thought, you felt Lee's fingers reach for yours, index finger wrapped around your pinky. Looking up, Lee already had his eyes on you, cerulean eyes looking with the same unfamiliar emotion.

“Commandant,” Quietly, as if the glass in front of you would break, “...Are you scared?”

“No,” you shook your head, sighing, “I was only worried. I thought...”

“So, you are.” Tenderly, he brought your hand closer to his face, “I feel that I can't apologize enough.”

“No, no, Lee,” What were you doing? Your vision nearly blurs, guilt clawing at the back of your throat, that your voice feels so small, “It's okay, it really is...”

“You told me yourself that you'd allow me to share all my burdens,” Gently, he kisses your fingers one by one, his eyes closed, “That we're doing this together until the end. You and I— you are no exception.”

Lee doesn't leave any finger unkissed, warm lips on your fingertips, before he trailed his kisses to the side of your hand, to the pulse on your wrist. Ah, he knows. He knew about the flash of blood on your hands, the haunting memory between the both of you. The first drop of your tears escaped. Then another. Until it became an endless stream, running down your face.

“I'm sorry, Commandant, for scaring you.” He opened his eyes, revealing glossy ones, mirroring your sad expression, “But I assure you; I am here, I'm sitting with you, I'm next to you now.”

Two of his hands are now on your wrist, hovering over his jaw, words brewing at the tip of his tongue. Does he know about your hammering heartbeat? How this very gesture, so intimate, so real— there are words far beyond comprehension, beyond verbal communication, that wishes to be said. But all it took was the way he looked at you, your hands on his. He pulls you closer, eased comfortably in his awaiting lap.

“In the tower,” he admitted, “The frame knows something, and I can't tell Asimov unless I tell you first.”

“What do you mean?”

His fingers are now on your cheek, wiping away all of your tears, looking at you with such sincerity, it nearly breaks your heart, “I saw the future.”

It made you freeze. The future? It didn't seem true. But you trusted Lee, and you would safeguard everything he said to protect him.

“Like...you saw it happen?”

He nods, “I do. I can even go back into the past. I used to remember it all so clearly, but...”

A twinge of dread sinks in your stomach, whispering, “you can't anymore?”

“...In the end, I can still remember the worst that happened.”

Lee's free hand cups your cheek, and you only noticed it now, the vibrant color of his cerulean eyes, reflected so bright. “I lost you in all of them.”

It hits you faster— you weren't the only one who suffered. Lee, your Lee, battled his own demons inside of the tower. It made your stomach sink, your heartbeat wild in your chest. Your Lee, who had always been so calculating and ahead of everything, had the fear that you also had.

The vivid thought of your hand wrapped around a bloodied dogtag washes over you. But you tried to push it away from your mind, opting to cup Lee's cheeks.

“Lee,” words die on your throat, “I'm...”

“That's why I need to tell you this, Commandant,” he inhaled deeply, that a shiver ran down your spine—

Was he going to ask to step down? To leave Gray Raven, to leave...you?

His face was dangerously close to yours now, your breathing tangled with yours, your warmth clinging to his skin, “I never want to be away from you again, Commandant.”

You held your breath. In the heat of the afternoon haze, Lee's arms are on your waist, the other on your cheek; you, on his lap, holding his face. All of the thousand words, unsaid during the ride home, poured in like a fountain. His thumb wipes away the last tear from your eyes, mouth curling into a smile.

“I may not hold what lies in the future, or how long until our end will arrive, but right now, I will not hesitate to spend all of our precious time together. I want to protect you. I will do everything I can to keep on saving you, even if I have to give my life.”

He drives the final nail onto his words, “I like you. I like you far too much, that if I don't see you anymore, then I will never know what to do.”

A confession. Lee was never this honest or upfront. It rattled you to the core, that a simple event made him change like this. Honest, upfront, intimate. But you only shook your head, the hold over him tightened.

“No,” you breathed out, “I can't lose you like that, Lee. I never want to lose you.”

“Save me all you want, but you know that I'll do the same,” you muttered, leaning to press your lips onto his cheeks, “But I won't only die for you. I will live for you.”

“I-”

“I like you, too, Lee. I like you that I would rather watch the world burn than to see you gone from me.”

In this very small space, you could hear his heartbeat echo alongside yours. His grip on your waist tightens, and you are leaving kisses on his face. There is a feeling that bubbles inside of you. You wanted to call him that word— something you've been craving to say that it aches too much in your mouth, asking to be confessed. But you already know that neither of you are ready to say it, nor accept it.

“Commandant-”

“Say my name, Lee,” your voice breaks, as your hands itch to wrap them around Lee, too touch-starved to care if this kind of intimacy breaks both of your boundaries, “I want to hear you say it.”

“[Y/N],” Lee's voice said your name so softly, that your heart flutters, “[Y/N],”

You've only heard Lee call your name with your title. But now, in the heat of this moment, as he calls your name, you never wanted anything more than to kiss him. Already leaning to close the missing gap, but you hesitate. You were really going to break all of the other boundaries you've both set for one another. So you lean away, slightly disappointed.

“[Y/N]?”

“I'm sorry, Lee.” A small pout on your lips, “I really...want to kiss you.”

“...I do, too.” You notice the pink in his cheeks grew darker, “...I want to kiss you. I want to do many things with you, [Y/N].”

Ah, a clear sign. One that makes your heart erupt with joy, one that made the grin on your face uncontrollable.

“Then, kiss me, Lee,” you said, cupping his cheeks, “I want you to kiss me.”

And he does. Your arms are wrapped on his shoulders, his lips on your waist. Closing the aching gap, that your bodies are pressed onto each other, it reminds you of the collision of stars— merging into one. Kissing Lee for the first time is soft, gentle, with a hint of neediness and satisfaction. One where the longer you've kissed, breaking away only to find a string of saliva on your lips, an unbearable need to kiss each other once more, that it deepens.

It distracts you, however— his hands tease along your bare thighs, fingers lightly tapping on your skin. You only move closer, his hands finding themselves wrapped on the back of your thighs.

“Lee,” you whispered, pulling away to find a string of saliva as you catch your breath, “can you touch me more, please? I want to know if this is real.”

“This is real,” he affirms, guiding your legs to wrap themselves on his hips, “...And I am touching you right now.”

He wastes no time kissing you again, one hand on your cheek, the other caressing your hips. Your hands, however putty, start to pull on his own clothes, finding where his buttons could be. Lee must have noticed it, when you breathe for air, he chuckles.

“Hyperreal isn't like my Entropy or Palefire, [Y/N]. Seems like I'll be the one taking them off, as you don't know where.”

“Such a tease,” you pout, “You should have asked Asimov to put some buttons or zipper somewhere to easily take off your clothes.”

“Well,” Lee coughs, “I honestly did not think that I would be making out with my Commandant in the future.”

It made you laugh loudly, fingers grazing his chin, “Cute. Well, I guess your prophecy skills are a bit too rusty, hm?”

“Mm,” Lee leans to brush his nose on the side of your face, “I did not forsee that an attractive girl like you would be on my lap right now, being so receptive and kind to me.”

The statement made you blush. “Cut it, and I thought you were the one who gets flustered easily.”

“Th-” Lee pulls away, revealing his adorable pout, paired with the raging blush on his cheeks, made you want to remember this sight forever, “That's because there is something wrong with my cooling system.”

“Even now on your new frame?”

He sighs. “I'm starting to think that it's not because of the cooling system...”

“Oh, you admit it now?”

“...Yeah,” he takes a strand of your hair in between his fingers, twiddling, “I think it's because of you, [Y/N].”

“Why is it my fault now?”

“You...” Lee pauses, before looking at you, “...you make me think of things to the point of overthinking. You keep overriding my logic, always skewing my predicted data.”

“I'm sorry?” Awkwardly applogizing, but Lee only laughs.

“Do you know what you're doing to me, [Y/N]?”

“Mm, no,” your hands play with Lee's hair, behind his ear, “Pray tell?”

“You skewer with the data because...you create scenarios in my M.I.N.D. You drive me insane to the point that I have to investigate the data, correct it again, so that it won't interfere with mine.”

“What kind of data tampering do I do, Lee?” You were teasing at this point, Lee's ears turning red, “Explain it more.”

“You...” He wanted to throw a retort, but your teasing is relentless, that he only looks deep in your eyes, “You make me think of things that I want to do with you, that only lovers do.”

There you go. Your stomach flutters at the thought that you both shared the same sentiments.

“What kind, Lee?” You dropped your voice into a whisper, leaning to his ear, “Can you show me?”

“No, I-”

“-Don't hold back on me. That's an order.”

Under the light of the dining room, Lee's cerulean eyes turn into a darker shade, a low growl on his throat. Not a moment later, he hoists you by your ass and carries you onto the table, large hands touching your bare thighs. His face was still dangerously close to yours, lips touching, but not enough to leave a kiss.

“I'm not sure if I can please you enough,” he whispered, “But God, I want to touch you, [Y/N].”

The desperation in his voice. The slight shaking in his hands. Eager lips waiting to kiss you over and over— what a perfect concoction to appease the growing greed that was brewing down there. You decided to close the gap, hoping it was enough to answer the question Lee asked.

“Touch me more, Lee,” you whined when you pulled away slightly, hands all over his chest, “I want you. I need you so much.”

Lee doesn't waste any time. He kisses you once more, before carrying you once more in his arms. You leave it up to him, as he carries you back to your room, albeit clumsily as you feel yourself gently be squished in between the walls as he fumbles with the direction. But you don't mind, not when the kiss becomes fervent enough, tongue dipping to taste Lee's, to taste where you could reach. Your whines grow louder when you feel yourself lowered onto the soft surface— the bed— and the click of the door shut.

When you opened your eyes, Lee was already in the middle of taking off his upper clothes, revealing bionic skin in his shade, a glowing mark in the middle of his chest. Nevermind the way his arms looked, but the sight as he slowly undressed himself was enough to make your mouth (and probably your private area) water.

“Do you like the view?” Lee teases. Mindlessly, you nodded.

“Pretty...” you dawdled, admiring the glowing mark on his chest, “you're so pretty, Lee...”

“You should see yourself, [Y/N].”

Grasping to touch yourself, you realized that the shirt you were wearing was already raised to your tummy, revealing your panties. You didn't know what you looked like, really. But you trust Lee.

“I can't,” you smugly smiled, “Mind telling me what I look like now, Lee?”

As soon as he was finished in taking off his upper clothing, he leaned down, caging you in between his buff body. “Beautiful,” he said, thumb caressing your lips, “You look so delectable.”

Kissing you once more. Heat settles in between your pressed bodies, incessant hands reaching where they could. Gently, Lee's lips kissed your jaw, trailing to your ear. Softly, slow hands fiddling with the hem of his— now yours— shirt, teasing by the dip of your stomach. Butterfly kisses along your neck, nibbling so little, in a place where only Lee can see. A primal need gnawed at your heart; perhaps Lee's mark could be enough to satiate the need, right?

You craned your neck to him, muttering, “More, please.”

Hesitation sits where his lips were, short breaths fanning it. “Are you...are you sure?”

“Please,” your pleas somehow sound like a breathless moan, “We have two weeks to be here, right?”

You didn't see what his expression looked like, but he seemed convinced, teeth grazing on one particular spot that made you moan. And Lee devilishly nibbles on it.

“As you wish then, Commandant.”

Ah, the title again. You wanted to answer back, but Lee seemed to know where your weak spots were, with you writhing from pleasure. After the assault on your neck, his trail of kisses paused as he lifted off your shirt, revealing your breasts in their naked glory. Shimmying out of the shirt, you felt embarrassed already, covering yourself, in nothing but your underwear.

But Lee only held your hips, “Let me see you, [Y/N].”

“I-I don't think I have the best body, y'know,” you admitted, looking away, “It might not be perfect.”

Lee doesn't say a word. Taking your hands, he looks at you, before bringing it to his lips.

“[Y/N], look at me,” you do, mouth shut, “Tell me what you think of these hands?”

“Um,” you ponder for a moment, “For patting you?”

He smiles a bit, before kissing the back of your hands. “They can be used like that. But these are gentle hands, ones that use weapons to protect her comrades.”

He begins to trail kisses again, on your arms, to your shoulders, to your neck. You softly moaned as he kissed the side of your head, hearing him say, “Your arms are strong enough to carry your teammates, shouldering your strength that helps those you've always wanted to reach.”

“You're incredible, [Y/N],” he purred, kissing your clavicle, kissing you all the way, in between the valley of your breasts, “You are so beautiful, so powerful.”

Kissing and kissing your breasts, fondling them with care. You cry out his name from the sensitivity, the fluttering feelings all around you. He doesn't break eye contact as he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking it, and playing with the other.

Your mouth is a chorus, now— babbles of "Lee, Lee", "more, please", that the way he caged you perfectly in between his legs, you couldn't help but drown in the way he's holding you.

A while later, his lips travel to your stomach, your waist, a teasing little kiss on your hips— hoisting your legs up to his broad shoulders. He looks at you, as if asking you to not look away.

“[Y/N],” his voice sounds so sultry, mesmerizing you, “You may think that you're not perfect, but to me, you've always been so...holy, divine.”

Lee pressed a kiss to your ankles, to your legs, your knees, “I could worship you forever like this,” a few more kisses on the back of your legs- “I'll do this just so you know how much I adore you.”

How intimate, how devoted your Lee was— with your legs so close to his chest, you could feel his heartbeat thrumming. It was beating so loud like yours, a perfect mirror that rumbled in every part of your body, pulsating with so much want and need, that it made you want to pull him closer.

“Lee,” you moaned, feeling his lips slowly kiss your knees, trailing to the inside of your thighs, “Lee,”

“I'm right here,” He pressed a kiss to your weeping, clothed cunt, sending a jolt throughout your body, “Let me hear you more, my [Y/N]. Don't cover your mouth.”

You don't. Not when he sucks your clothed cunt with such vigor, your back arching for him. Your hands find themselves seeking respite in his hair, as he pulls down your soaked underwear, agonizingly slow. Wiggling out of it, you peered down to look at Lee, nearly drooling at the way your pussy was displayed all for him. You felt yourself dripping with want.

“God,” Lee groaned, a mix of a breathless moan and sigh, his fingers experimentally rubbing your labia, “You're even so beautiful down here, my [Y/N].”

You moaned at his words, hole clenching around nothing. You've touched yourself down there on fairly lonely nights, wishing it was Lee's hands instead of your own. But right now, as he rubs your slit with your slick, how lewdly your own mouth betrayed you, you may as well wish those lonely nights won't return, as the real thing was far better than your imagination.

“Lee, stop teasing,” you whined, “Touch me more.”

“I am already doing that,” he said, “Do you not feel it?”

“Well, honestly, with the way you're- nngh-”

He licked a long stripe on your slit, causing you to moan out loud. Hearing your reaction, Lee licks the same spot once more, making you twitch. But his hands are faster, holding your hips.

“Delectable,” He said, licking his lips, “I want to taste more.”

His lips latch onto your peeking clit, lapping at you like a starved man. It's messy, yet so hot— fingers prodding your hole, Lee's mouth on your needy pussy. You've lost all common sense at this point, fingers grasping tightly on his hair, babbling senselessly for Lee, tears crying as he works you out of your climax. You badly wish it wasn't a dream; your fingers could no longer do justice to the way Lee was taking you right now. It doesn't take any longer, though— you tried to warn Lee, but you came so unexpectedly, squirting uncontrollably with a loud cry of Lee's name.

You tread the wonders of your high, shaking with ultimate pleasure, as Lee dutifully coaxed out your juices, licking you clean. When you've come down, you've noticed Lee hovering above you, cerulean eyes still clouded with lust, yet with appreciation.

“That's it,” he cooed, fingers brushing away the hair that covered your face, “you're so amazing, my [Y/N].”

You moaned as he leaned down to kiss you, hands wrapped to cradle you, and you could taste yourself, cum and slick, on his lips. But you never minded that— let alone how hot it felt.

“Do you still want to do this?” Lee asked, looking at you with concern, “We can call it a day when you're overwhelmed.”

“No,” you said, pulling him closer, “We're past the point of no return. Besides...”

Placing a hand on his cheek, to which he leaned, you spoke, “I want you to be my first, Lee.”

He freezes. Looking up, he muttered, “A-are you sure? I don't want you to regret it.”

“I will never mind if it's you.” You smiled, “If anything, I want to give it all to you. I...adore you far too much. You'll only make my wishes come true.”

Lee thought for a moment, before looking back at you. “We're the same, then.”

Swiftly taking off his boxers, Lee's cock stands tall and proud, bouncing off to his stomach. You marveled at the sight, mouth-watering once more. You reached out to wrap your hands around the shaft, causing Lee to moan.

“Pretty,” you massaged the shaft, smearing the tip that had his pre-cum, “you're so big, too.”

Tall and long, and you feared he'd be too big to fit inside of you. It was veiny, with the fat mushroom tip with a lot of pre-cum. You wanted to put him in your mouth to return the favor, but with your cunt crying out loud of his cock, you wanted nothing more but to ask him to bury himself inside of you.

Lee looked like he could cum from your touch alone. But he doesn't want to— no, he had to be inside of you. He swallows his moans down, but the longer you jerk him, whiny groans and whimpering began to overwhelm him.

“Let me- hah,” Lee steals one last kiss on your cheek, before preparing to align himself to take your maidenhead, “I want you, [Y/N].”

“And I need you, Lee.” You cupped his cheek, whining as you felt his tip catch your clit, cock rubbing your drenched pussy, “I need you inside of me.”

Lee helps himself, guiding his cock in. You moaned out loud as you felt the tip prod your quivering hole, hands tightly grabbing onto his shoulders. Lee immediately holds your hips, a few shallow thrusts to help you accommodate his size. Your mouth slips out moans, eyes rolling back as half of his cock is already inside of you. But God, did you already feel so full, brushing a soft spot inside of you.

“[Y/N],” Lee stutters, heavily sigh that became a moan, “You feel so t-tight, hah,”

“Lee,” you cried out as he thrusted shallowly, weakly pulling his arm, “you're so big...”

“Shh, I'm sorry, I'm almost there,” he cooed, kissing the corner of your lips, “A little bit more.”

You scream his name as Lee finally bottoms out, triggering your second orgasm. Lee could only moan as he grasped your hips, groaning at the way you tightened, squeezing him without mercy. But he still rubs your hips, easing you back to reality.

“Fuck,” Blurring out, but hearing him curse, made you involuntarily clench around him, “You're not only tight, but you're nearly killing me here.”

“S-sorry,”

Lee only thrusts into you as an answer. Squeaking from the sensitivity, you tried to reason out, but failed as Lee chuckled.

“It's not your fault, [Y/N]. I guess it means I'm good, hm?”

Bastard. Still so cocky. You pouted, “You are mean.”

“And you're so pretty.”

Lee resumed thrusting in and out of you, the recoil making your breasts bounce. One hand holds your hips, the other on your hand, taking them to his lips. As pleasure starts to build despite your sensitivity, you somehow recognize the gravity of the situation: Lee's smell, your nearly-fucked out senses, the creak of your bed, and the way he was still making love to you, your virginities now given to each other. Lee fucks into you just right, the cock hitting all of the spots that made you babble. Everything was overwhelmingly good, that you arched off of the bed, his cock hitting inside of you deeper.

“Lee,” you cried out, “Lee, God,”

“I'm here,” he leaned to you, “I'm here.”

You never wanted this moment to end. You forget your responsibilities, you forget the war— even just for a moment, everything was perfect for the both of you. As Lee settles your legs in his shoulders, the intense feeling is knotting at the bottom of your stomach, waiting to snap.

“[Y/N],” Lee cooed, “Are you going to come?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, “I wanna come with you-”

“I'm almost there,” as if adhering to your needs, Lee slips his fingers to your clit, rubbing it, “You can do it.”

Your climax really is coming, alongside Lee's. But before the knot snaps, you realize that Lee is still speaking.

“[Y/N],” in between moans and your whining, Lee gripped your hands, cerulean eyes glimmering. “My [Y/N]-”

“-I love you.”

You teetered so close to the edge that you couldn't process his words. But it was enough to reach your climax. Writhing, you felt yourself be filled with something down there, you and Lee moaning each other's names. He rests his head in between your shoulders. And you were perfectly content with the weight on top of you.

It takes you a few moments to process it. In between catching breaths, his hair in your fingers, your other hand fiddling with his own, the message seems clear.

“Are you okay?” Lee asked as soon as he was back on top of you, still sheathed inside of you, “Did I hurt you?”

“No...” Your eyes must be glimmering like his, as your tears began to blur your vision, “What a charming man you are, Lee.”

Lee understood, but he still feigned ignorance. “Hm? How so.”

Pressing your hands flat on his chest, you felt his heartbeat, slowing down to a normal one, and it made you wish that you could stay like that forever.

“I love you, too, Lee.” These were words you've longed to say after all. “I will always love you.”

Lee only smiled, cheeks tinted in the bright shade of pink, “...I'm glad you heard that, then, my [Y/N].”

How funny that the ride home seemed silent. But the words were far better spoken out loud in the end.

BONUS:

“Lee! Commandant! We're back!”

The sound of the door opening at the Gray Raven lounge reverberates. Two figures emerge inside, carrying a bag full of ingredients.

“Lee?” Liv asked, looking around, “Where is he?”

“It's unlike him to leave so abruptly.” Lucia shrugged, “Let's check on the Commandant.”

Leaving the bag on the table, Liv and Lucia trotted to the Commadant's room, finding two figures sleeping next to each other.

“Oh,” Lucia whispered, beckoning Liv to be silent, “They're here. Lee's sleeping next to the Commandant.”

“I see...” Liv looks around to find clothes all over the floor. “Did someone break in? Why is the floor messy?”

“I don't know. Lee was probably trying to dress the Commandant.”

“I noticed the plates were also unwashed. Did the Commandant already wake up?”

“We'll just ask later when Lee's awake.”

When the door of the Commandant's room finally closed, a loud slap could be heard.

“Ow, [Y/N]-”

“I am never going to go out of this room.” You sighed in embarrassment, remembering that the hickies on your neck are very visible, and you're probably aware that you couldn't walk. “I'm screwed.”

“We just did.”

“Lee!”

— starry

[kahidlaws]

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 slamsinto 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 isn’t.”

“I’m still covered, dearest.”

You gesture, panicked, below the covers 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. 

[kahidlaws]

quick executor alter drabble dedicated to a mutual who indoctrinated me to appreciating the sankta <3

reader is ambiguous gender but has a vagina

cw: desk sex, fingering, clothed sex, premature ejaculation but like he can bring it back up like how he brought me back into the game 🥴

He's started asking questions.

This was out of the ordinary for someone like Federico 'Executor' Giallo. The man never second-guessed, never doubted his superiors requests when it comes to missions. It led to many people theorizing that Executor was a robot but then that would be an insult to Lancet-2 because she had more personality than he did.

You never expected the question that he asks of you.

"How do you finger someone?"

Good gods, he can really excel at everything if you asked him.

He has his ever-so serious expression on his face. The same one where he shoots his guns at the enemy. The same one where he's gained the title of Saint. The same one where he delicately glides his fingers over your wet folds as you taught him with a shaky breath.

Enacting such a lascivious act on your desk was far from how you wanted the lesson to go but you didn't complain. After all, Executor had no qualms when he hoisted you on it and removed your pants and underwear in a way that seemed to practice. If you didn't know any better, it seemed as though he was treating this as a mission.

But you do know better. You see how his ears turn ever-so pink and his heart that beats profoundly beneath his saintly garb.

"Is this well for you, Doctor?" He asks you, voice hushed.

You sighed softly at his ministrations. He was trying but he was following a routine. "It's okay, but not quite there yet. You have to change it up."

He raised a brow and if he didn't have his fingers toying with your pussy, you would've laughed. "'Change it up'?"

"Like so." You proceeded to shoo his hand away, using your own to show him how to pleasure you. "You want to alternate strokes and teasing in order to increase the feeling of satisfaction when we get to penetrative sex."

And it was amazing how he listened intently to you, eyes honing in on how your index and ring finger parted your folds in order for your middle finger to rub your clit. You let out a small moan, rubbing slow circles around the nub. He tentatively raised a hand and you let it glide across your inner thigh before attempting to copy your moves. He used his thumb to rub your clit and the size difference of his thumb compared to your finger was enough to make you fully moan.

He caught on fully, this time, shooing your hand away as he uses his entire palm to cover your pussy. The heel of his palm digging into your clit as his long fingers found their way prodding your entrance. He let out an imperceptible breath through his nose, almost marveling at how wet you became from his actions.

"You mentioned penetrative sex," He started, eyes wandering straight to yours, "is there something more to this?"

Oh, dear gods, you were going to enjoy this.

"Y-Yes there is." You answered, eyes fluttering when the tips of his fingers entered your hole but not all the way. "If you want c-continue after this."

He paused, his middle finger circling over your hole. "It wouldn't be fair if I didn't see this through."

And then he plunged his middle and ring finger all the way inside you. Your eyes fully rolled back, your spine concaving as you let out a keening cry. His fingers were long enough to reach that special part inside of you that when he curls them just right-

You threw your head back when he did, hands grabbing purchase on his clothes as your hips thrusted to meet his hand. The heel of his palm continued to grind deliciously against your clit as his fingers plunged in and out, making squelching noises that it made your ears burn.

"Fuck, Executor-" You whimpered. "Federico, please..."

His throat bobs up and down at the mention of his name. His other hand replaced his palm, the thumb doing quick strokes on your clit as his fingers thrusted deeper, curling each time he reaches the deepest parts.

"Fuck, Federico, yes...!" You mewled, tossing an arm over your eyes. "Just like that-mmm fuck, I'm gonna-"

He drew impossibly closer to you, now leaning over your sprawled body. He braces his hand over you, making him return in using his palm to grind your clit. "Doctor, I might have a problem."

The words didn't register in your mind. It wasn't until he slowed down that you looked up at him. "H-Huh?"

He took your hand that used to cover your eyes, guiding it across his chest and down to his pants where you gasped when you felt his sizeable problem.

"What shall I do, Doctor?"

His responses were so dry but it does the complete opposite to your pussy. You squeezed his girth through his clothes and you grinned teasingly when you hear his sharp intake of breath.

"You just continue." You breathed against his lips. "I'll handle your problem."

And with that, you surged forward, capturing his lips against yours as you palmed his cock. Thankfully, he knew how to kiss, meeting your eager mouth with his as you felt his tongue glide over the seam of your lips. His hand that was still toying with your pussy began to thrust harder, making you move up and down your desk as his mouth swallowed your moans. Meanwhile, your hand was pressing against his girth, teasing what you assumed was the head of his cock as you gripped harder.

When you felt the coil in your stomach getting tighter, you parted from his mouth, eyes shining with tears. "I'm close, Federico...!"

He thankfully understood, upping the ante as he raised himself over you. His other hand soon returned to your clit, rubbing in quick strokes as your hips thrusted to meet his hands. You were losing your grip on his cock but you had to see it through. You gripped his girth harder, rubbing it through his clothes that it made Federico shudder.

"Doctor..." He sighed out. "I..."

Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by your cries of your orgasm washing over you. Your walls clenched his fingers so tightly that it seemed like you were trying to break his fingers. He slowed down on his ministrations, letting your orgasm continue as your thighs twitch beside him. Sweat rolled down your back, making you cringe when you remember that you didn't remove your top or your coat.

You felt as though all the bones were melted. Your chest heaved up and down, already tired from having to be fingered by Executor of all people but you were elated all the same.

You tried to retrieve your hand back from his crotch but your eyebrows raised in surprise when you felt wetness. Looking down, you gasped when you spot a dark patch on his pants where his cock was. Did he always cum that much?

"That's what I was trying to say." He said after a beat. "How will you remedy this, Doctor?"

You were tired. You just got the best orgasm of your life minutes ago. You should've been the good partner and cleaned up the mess.

But you grinned cheekily, fingers toying with his zipper. "I'll see this mission through, Federico."

And you delighted in being this Sankta's first when you felt his cock stir under your fingertips.

[kahidlaws]

shoutout to this weibo post for making me come back to this account and be horny again

listen, r1999 has got to be the most out there gacha games in terms of story and character art but they really hit the nail on the head with horropedia when it comes to catering to my tastes in men (nerd, brunette, loser)

cw: gn!reader, mutual masturbation, both are switch but reader is leaning top and horropedia is leaning sub, reader gets horny while listening to joshua mansplain horror movies thats literally the instigator, please use lube not spit when in real life sex

You tried to pay attention. You really did.

The horror movie that he picked up from the confines of his DVD collection was mid at best and absolute dog water at worst. With a 'horropedia' as your boyfriend, you gained a thing or two about criticizing horror movies. You two were barely 10 minutes into the movie when he began his usual spiel towards the cookie-cut introductory characters.

"Ah, despite the obvious modernized times, they're still following the same-old pattern movies back in the 70s did. How droll..."

"Eww what's with this crummy set?! Nightmare on Elm Street had better lighting than this!"

"Dear god, did you hear that?! This script is too cringey even for horror movie standards!"

... Is it possible to get horny just from hearing him complain?

God, even just watching his side profile as he talks is enough to set your heart pumping. You two were sat (well, he was sat) on his abhorrent yellow sofa chair, with you perched on his lap and legs haphazardly strewn across the armrest. No longer were you paying attention to the movie. Instead, your attention was honed in on his face; how the TV's glow made his warm brown eyes shine like stars, how it made a glare on his glasses that he kept pushing up (and it had no right being that hot), how it made his freckles stand out more that you want to kiss a path to form constellations.

Anything that he says after you blacked out is muddied. It was a sign that you had enough.

You leaned in closer to his neck, nosing against the expanse of freckled skin (yes he had freckles everywhere). The action didn't deter him from continuing his tirade and instead he curled his arm around your waist, hand patting your hip. While the gesture was sweet, it didn't help relieve the problem between your legs.

So you went through with your desire to kiss a path of constellations. Starting from the bottom area of his ear down to the crook of his neck. Each kiss left an incredibly cliche smack that you can't help but feel giddy about. It was there that you felt him react to your ministrations. His speech slowly died down as you felt his hand grip the meat of your hip.

You see his Adam's Apple bob up and down and you fought the urge to just bite it. He cleared his throat, the movie no longer at the forefront of his mind. "So this is that trope where the significant other usually instigates sexual intercourse while watching a movie?"

"Are you really gonna do your usual speech towards porn tropes?"

"Hey, I can't help to point out the obvious."

You rolled your eyes, can't believing that this guy was the love of your life. Instead of continuing your kisses, you nibbled right where his clavicle was jutting out from his worn shirt. The gasp he let out was nothing short of euphoric but it was ruined when he started yapping again.

"I must say, this is quite unlike you," he started but he egged you on further by smoothing his hand across the inside of your thighs, "has my usual semantics about horror movies flipped a switch inside you and made you a horndog just like the bimbos in those movies."

"Joshua," you seethed, and you were serious when you used his real name, "keep talking like that and I'm gonna wring you out until you can barely cum."

He gulped but with how his cock twitched beneath his pants betrayed how he would love the idea. "Alright alright, I'll shut up."

And to his credit, he was quiet. When you rucked his shirt upwards and his nipples out to the cold air, you leaned in and kissed one before taking it in your mouth. He keened, back concaving as his hand traveled further inward to your sex. With nimble fingers, he toyed with it above the material of your bottoms before you felt them move faster.

"Oh wow, you really got it bad for me, huh?" He remarked breathlessly, seeing you crumble from the ministrations. "Aren't you a precious little thing, getting off from hearing me talk all day?"

You lightly bit his nipple, relishing in his yelp before moving back up. "Joshua, I swear to god I'm going to leave you high and dry."

"You would never." He snorted. He then took his other hand and tried to shimmy your bottoms down. With your bottom half now out in the open, he raised his hand to your mouth. His lips quirked into a smirk when you let his ring and middle finger inside your mouth, suckling them just like how you did with his nipple. "You love me and my voice too much."

You internally seethed that he was right. Damn him and his stupid voice and his stupid tirade, he has such an immense hold on you that if you did follow through with your promise on leaving him dry, it would be you suffering the most.

"Alright, fine." You conceded after he retrieves his fingers from your mouth, glaring lightly at his smug face. "I love your voice and your stupid spiels. Happy?"

He let out a pleased huff. "I mean, I already knew all along, but it certainly is a boost to the ego when you confirm it for me."

Rolling your eyes, you kissed him fully on the lips for the first time this night. Your hand pinching and rolling his nipple while the other wrapped behind his neck and tugged on his low ponytail. You swallowed in his groan, his tongue swirling against yours. The fingers that you swallowed trailed down to your hole, toying at the entrance before slowly pushing inside.

Swearing, you parted from him, elated at the sight of him reddened and out of breath. You giggled at the trail of spit connecting your mouths before you broke it by leaning forward and kissing the freckles on his face. That was a surefire way of knocking him down a peg; how you show affection to, what he describes as 'An unsightly visual upon his face', his freckles was always your winning card.

You left a final kiss on his nose before leaning back. "I really do want to see you broken and crying, Joshua."

He moaned lightly, leaning down to your neck to hide his reddening face as his fingers curled inward. The moan you let out was pornographic but Joshua didn't point it out, clearly far gone into his pleasures. He mouthed along your neck. "Yeah? I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want to see you try your best."

You scoffed, gently prying his head away from your neck and staring straight into his eyes. Something hot curled inside you when you see how shiny his eyes became. "Keep talking and I'll make sure that you'll keep cumming until morning."

He whimpered at your words, his fingers faltering in pleasuring you. You cooed. "What's wrong, baby? Can't keep your mouth open for me?"

He shifted in his seat. During the whole time, you never removed his cock underneath his pants. The sizeable tent already sporting a dark patch. "N-No... I can do it."

"Good boy." You purred and you giggled at how he shivered at the praise. The hand on his chest moved down to his pajama bottoms, tugging them down as best as you could. He lifted himself from his seat, groaning in pain and relief at how his cock finally sprung free from his clothes as he threw his pants in a random corner of the room.

Joshua was always pretty. It was a shame everyone thinks he's 'unconventional' because he was such a chatterbox when him never shutting up was the most attractive thing ever. Screw them then, you think, as you stared reverently at his cock. It throbbed painfully against his stomach, the head flushed a pretty red just like his face as it curved slightly to the left. It was so perfect for you that you can't help but thank whatever deity made you meet Joshua.

"My pretty boy..." You breathed out. "Remember our deal, okay?"

He nodded wordlessly. Immediately, you wrapped your hand around his head, spreading the precum as your hand glides across his shaft. He let out a drawn-out moan, tilting his head back against the sofa chair as his fingers pumped in and out of your hole.

"F-Fuuuuck..." He keened, eyes glossed over with unshed tears. "Feels so good. The way you wrap your hand around me just right-ah!"

He jumped slightly when your other hand tugged his ponytail roughly, showing the expanse of his neck. You bit his Adam's Apple and you squeezed his fingers when you hear him cry out in pleasure. "Keep talking."

"Love how you mark me up...!" He continued. "Love how you make me yours. Love how you tease the h-ah, head of my cock before you rub it. Love how you twist your hand just right...!"

You let go of his skin after you fully blemished it red and stinging. "Yeah? You love it when I treat you like this, huh?"

He nodded against his hold. Your hand was already easily moving up and down his cock, making it easier for you to twist your wrist and quicken your pace. He bucked his hips upward, legs twitching from the stimulation. Of course, he made sure that you weren't the only one giving. He curled his fingers inwards, making you gasp out loud as his other hand inched down towards your most sensitive area.

"Mhm." He hummed, watching at how your back arced beautifully when he played with your most sensitive part. "Love how you react so prettily when I touch you like this. Almost like you were built for me-built for me to break and use over and over."

"Fuck, Joshua." You breathlessly giggled, letting go of his ponytail. "Wasn't expecting this out of you."

He chuckled softly, lightly bumping his forehead against yours. His glasses were completely askew across his nose bridge so you adjusted them for him. His eyes were unabashed in their affection, shining like twin diamonds. It was almost sickening how he looks at your with such hazily romantic reverence.

He smiled softly. "Love you."

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat before you pecked his lips. "Love you, too."

He hummed happily. "Love how you love me. Like I'm someone worth loving. Love it when you love me like this."

His speech was getting repetitive. His fingers going in and out of your hole at a faster rate as squelching noises permeated the room. Your hand squeezed his cock tighter, pumping up and down, begging for his cum to run down your hand so you can lick it all off.

"Fuck," he gasped out, mouth open as let out his grunts, "love you so much. Love you love you love you—"

"Give it to me, Joshua." You said, legs twitching at how fast he's playing with your sex. "Let go, pretty baby. I've got you."

He cried out, bucking his hips to meet your hand as you watched his cock spurt cum. "Fuck fuck fuck, oh god, I-hah!"

As his orgasm racked his body, you watched as he loses himself. The fingers inside you curled the right way before you came. His other hand toyed with your sex further until you cried out from the overstimulation. His cock shot his seed upwards, hitting you and Joshua. Some of it got onto Joshua's cheek so you leaned in and licked them off of him.

Heavy breathing was all that was heard in the room as you two cooled down from the session. After you cleaned his cheek, you laid down on his still-heaving chest. He leaned his on top of your head, arms wrapping around you and bringing you impossibly closer.

He breathed in and out, letting out chuckles underneath his breath. "So, you really like how I talk, eh?"

You groaned, burrowing your face further into his chest. "Don't remind me."

"You know I'm gonna never live it down, right?" He gloated, kissing the top of your head. "What a glorious feeling. To have my honey be so smitten with my voice."

"Dear god, what have I done."

He barked out a laugh, nuzzling you closer. He decided to stop for now, but he'll remember this moment whenever he hosts a horror movie review again.

Maybe being a chatterbox led to good things after all.

[kahidlaws]

need to be fucked by a big rough scarred knight who holds my face down into a pillow and coos and growls about how soft i am and calls me ‘my lady’ or other such titles whilst he treats me so filthily i forget all of my court manners

[kahidlaws]

i needed to make ONE tribute to pride month so this my tribute to myself

kafka x gn!reader x blade

cw: threesome, s/m themes, scratching, smoking, face sitting, overstimulation, mentions of burning kink, all of them give switch energy but i think kafka is a power bottom its true she told me, blade is a sadomasochist, you’re in here for the ride

Like, they had no reason to make them so hot? They all look so open for anything its actually turning my brain to mush.

Kafka knows she has you wrapped around her finger. Blade less so, but he won’t deny Kafka anytime soon since she was the one who dragged you into his arms. As he continues to mark up your body, biting marks across the expanse of skin like he would be doomed if he wouldn’t leave blood, Kafka pokes your cheek with a well-manicured nail.

You eyed it, automatically parting your lips in order for her index and thumb to smooth over them. You barely missed the ‘What a sweetie’ from her before she shoved them inside your mouth. The danger of her pointed nails was not lost on you as they narrowly poked through the inside of your cheeks but what would a little blood be a bother to anyone?

She scooches backwards, letting your head fall on her lap. You see her ever-present smile on her face, eyes squinting in glee as she cooed at you. “Already clocking out? We haven’t even started yet.”

You shook your head a bit too fast for your liking. She doesn’t take your over eagerness as a bad thing, instead letting out a huff of laughter as the finger inside your mouth glided over your salivating tongue. Drool was already leaking from the sides of your mouth, trailing down your face and onto her thighs but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Good good. Wouldn’t want to disappoint Bladie, right? He’s the one suffering the most out of all of us.”

The man let out a grunt, clearly meant to deny being desperate but with the way he was rutting his hard on against your leg begged to differ.

“Don’t be like that,” she chastised, her index and thumb grabbing your tongue, “I know you want this just as much as our little birdie here, isn’t that right?”

With the way she grabbed your tongue and dragged it out, making more drool fall from your mouth, how could you refuse?

“But enough talk.” She started, letting your tongue go and chuckling how it stayed outside. “I think it’s time to get started.”

Parting her thighs, your head falls onto the bed. Above you was her already wet pussy darkening the maroon fabric of her lingerie. She pushed it aside and your mouth watered even more at the sight of her pretty cunt hanging above your face.

“Oh and,” she warned, “make sure you scratch Bladie, okay? I’m not quite in the mood to get bruised up.”

And with that, she sat down on your face, smothering you without mercy. With reckless abandon, your tongue lashed itself against her clit. She didn’t even hold back, grounding her hips as her thighs squished against your ears. You would welcome them crushing you at this point.

Above you, Kafka hummed in pleasure, swiveling her hips to further ride your face. She grabbed your wrists in each hand before placing them on what you assumed to be Blade’s body. “Don’t be shy. Scratch him up real good.”

And how could you deny it? Not when Blade already lined himself up in front of your lubed hole and pushed in. Your back curved at the penetration, the girth of his cock already stretching you so well. Your hands found purchased somewhere on his body and scratched down without mercy. You could hear his deep and guttural groan beneath Kafka, reverberating against your chest like a bass.

His callused hands found purchase on your hips and gripped them until bruising. “Stay.”

You whimpered, trying to keep still as he still continued to push. Your legs automatically wrapped themselves around Blade’s waist as his entire cock finally fit snug inside you. The sensation was unbearable but it was amazing. The painful stretch nearly made you cum as your nails dug grooves into his skin. He also seemed to be suffering as well, his hands smoothing over your numerous bites as one settled on your chest as the other went underneath your knee. It pushed it further from you, letting him gain more space for him to settle between your thighs.

A slap on your chest made you yelp before its claws groped the other half of your chest. “Don’t forget about me, little birdie.”

With newfound vigor, you enclosed your lips around her clit before giving a harsh suck. At that, she let out a full moan, grinding against your mouth as she scratched your chest. “Good little birdie. Oh, aren’t you good for us?”

You can’t help but nod and Kafka giggled at it. “And a cutie too. Aren’t we lucky, Bladie?”

The man who was still inside you harrumphed. “... They’re alright.”

She scoffs. “Alright? You look like you already want to pop inside of them already.”

Oh how you wished you could see Blade. See how the stoic and ruthless Stellaron Hunter sweat and pant because of your hole sucking him in so nicely. You supposed hearing his near-inaudible grunts and moans. But you supposed feeling how his hips twitch whenever you squeeze him would have to do.

As you moved a hand to thumb Kafka’s clit, Blade already moved back, cock sliding deliciously inside you before he thrusted back in harshly. You let out a scream, trying to sit up but Kafka’s weight kept you pinned.

A claw poked against your nipple. “Don’t bite me down there.”

Humming your affirmations, you continued to pleasure her. Your tongue pushing inside and tasting her as much as you could as your thumb rubbed against her clit. You felt her back curve, riding your face in sync with Blade’s thrusts. Both of them set a harsh and brutish pace, the promise of completely ruining you was not lost on you. As Blade’s cock hit that special spot inside of you, the coil in your stomach grew tighter and tighter.

You couldn’t help but moan against Kafka’s pussy as Blade mercilessly mounted you. You felt Kafka’s other hand land on your chest before they scratched and drew blood.

It was that moment that the coil snapped. Your hips met Blade’s as you rode your orgasm as he continued to grind against your abused hole. Your orgasm triggered his own, letting out pained grunts before spilling himself inside of you. His hands had a vice grip on your skin and you were dreading how you would look in the morning. Assuming that you would even wake up in the morning. His hot seed filled you up as Kafka watched in glee.

“Looks like you two had your fun.” She said, lifting a hand to poke Blade’s cheek. He looked away from her, trying to hide his reddened face and the dark look in his eyes that he still wanted more. “But I still haven’t cum yet, so... Get to work.”

She then continued to ride you, this time riding against your flattened tongue as you let her abuse your face. Her juices flood your face, nearly drowning you but you didn’t care. Her quivering thighs was the only indicator on when she was coming before you felt her seize up and her pussy absolutely gushing above your open mouth.

Kafka let out an unabashed moan. “Yes yes yes that’s a good birdie. Oh, our precious little one, so eager to please us, hm? Oh fuck such a good little one.”

As she rode her high on your tongue, you felt Blade rut against your hole. You keened at the sensation and before you could do anything, Kafka already removed herself from you. Taking in gulps of air, your eyes adjusted to the sight of Kafka again, this time her complexion sweating and reddened.

“You’ve done well, little birdie.” She cooed, her palm cupping your cheek as you nuzzled it. “But I know you aren’t done, right? Even Bladie wants another go at you even if he looks like he doesn’t want it.”

You looked down to Blade and the sight made nearly suffocating to death worth it. His hair was stuck against his sweaty skin as his chest heaved up and down. His eyes were dark and unfocused but they clearly set their sights on you, tongue darting out to lick his lips and you can’t help but moan at how he looked at you.

“Now, you two go play with one another.” She said, sitting back against the headboard as she procured a cigarette and a lighter from the bedside drawer. “I’ll rest up here and watch.”

You watch her light the cig and then taking it in her mouth. Before you could say anything, Blade had his hands beneath your back and then brought you upwards. You were now sitting on Blade’s lap, facing him completely as his hands supported your back. To your surprise, he surged forward, kissing your drenched face before settling on your lips.

You moaned as his tongue wrestled against your own, letting him dominate your mouth as his saliva and Kafka’s juices made your head spin. This was too much and he wasn’t even thrusting.

He pulled back, a trail of spittle connecting you two before he spoke. “Ride me.”

With a whimper, you nodded at his command. Setting yourself up to ride him, you raised your hips, his cockhead being the only thing inside of you before slamming your hips back down. You let out a squeal, already sensitive from your previous orgasm as Blade let out another deep groan. You raised your hips then slammed them again, continuing to overstimulate yourself as you wrapped your arms around Blade’s neck.

You two were the only ones in the bedroom, too wrapped up in the sensations of each other. Blade’s cock continued to bully itself inside of you, his seed already spilling out of your hole and splattering against your bodies like a painting. You were so wrapped up with each other that you didn’t hear Kafka.

She let out a giggle. “Don’t you two look cute. Bet you wanna keep going until you break, hm?”

You nodded at her without any sort of shame, riding his cock as if this was your calling. He didn’t respond, but the way his cock twitched and him biting his lip made you gasp out loud.

“Thought so.” She said, leaning in closer to you as the smoke of the cigarette waft towards your nose. “I bet you also want more pain, right? Let’s say... you want this little cig to burn your skin? Leave some real nasty marks?”

You let out a throaty groan before hiding your face against Blade’s neck. She let out a laugh. “You do? Oh my, we got ourselves a great one, didn’t we, Bladie?”

He gave a hum as you felt his hand press against the back of your head. “... Later, Kafka.”

She huffed. “You and wanting to prolong this... Fine.”

She leaned in close to your ear. “If you and Blade cum at least... five times? I’ll open another pack of cigs and mark you up even more.”

The promise was dark, dangerous and it made the situation more unbearable as you keened against them. She kissed your ear. “Hope you have the energy left. Or don’t. It’s more fun when you’re boneless.”

And when Blade came inside you for the second time only to handle your body on all fours, you knew that you would be hibernating when all of this is over.

[kahidlaws]

the average state of a tumblr writing blog in the year 2023

[kahidlaws]

me when i’m writing smut and i have to figure out what sex position and foreplay combination i’m using this time to spice things up

[kahidlaws]

idk just an fyi to smut writers on here,,, content creators get notified when you use their gif in a post. it shows up in our notifications. if you use the gif search for an imagine, make sure OP is okay with you using their gif first !!!!!

[kahidlaws]

From the open shore, I will learn to fly.

this is a nsfw sideblog where i write when i feel too horny for my tastes. i dont usually do requests but i am willing to share some brainrots with yall <3

minors + ageless blogs will be blocked. 

masterlist + rules | carrd | ao3

© kahidlaws do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or recommend my works outside of tumblr

[kahidlaws]

RULES ;

open for nsft/nsfw

please let me know beforehand of any specific kinks/fetishes so that i’ll let you know if i am able to write it or not

do not spam my inbox, spam liking or spam reblogging my posts (especially ones that are not works)

do not dm me or be comfortable with me when we are not mutuals

do not send me discourse or any other type of argument

MASTERLIST ;

ACE ATTORNEY/THE GREAT ACE ATTORNEY

ARKNIGHTS

FATE GRAND ORDER

FIRE EMBLEM

GENSHIN IMPACT

JOJO’S BIZZARE ADVENTURE

JUJUTSU KAISEN

OTHERS –>

[kahidlaws]

literally cooked this up during coding class im so sorry

tw: sexual content, unedited ramblings so dont expect a grand piece

pantalone would buy a crate full of (very expensive) dildos/vibrators just for you to use it on him.

ik people want him to ruin us but frankly, i want to ruin him. make his bougie-ass sore and financially adept legs to give out each time he remembers how you plowed his tight hole with the 8-inch long and 3-inch wide, navy blue dildo with glowing blue veins and a flared base that he personally commissioned just for you to use it on him. i want to see this conniving regrator buckle down on his knees for you to shove another commissioned dildo down his throat.

he wants you to ride on his face, doesnt matter if you have a dick or a pussy, make a fucking mess on his face. ruin his visage, ruin his glasses, because this fucking whore would keep the glasses that were made a mess from your session inside a special case because he can. while his philosophy states he could always buy more pairs, he can’t help the... sentimental value his ruined glasses has.

dont get him the wrong way, it’s not that he’s a sub (he’s very much capable of returning the mess that you’ve brought upon him), it’s the thought that you are the only one who sees the scheming regrator flushed red and covered with his own cum. it’s the thought that his image is now burned into your memory and he can’t help the shiver down his spine when he realizes that that image of his is burned into your mind. finally, a legacy that he’s enacted without any outside help.

oh, but besides that, he loves to have all things, so don’t be embarrassed to use this current batch of toys that he purchased. after all, even though he has expensive tastes, he makes sure to use it all up to the fullest.

[kahidlaws]

Leave a comment on your fave porn fics you cowards

[kahidlaws]

this entire blog’s theme will turn into specter the unchained as soon as hd assets drop

[kahidlaws]

Red Light, Green Light

pairing: ayato x fem ! reader

summary: who would’ve thought that sending a harmless selfie to your boyfriend, complaining about your day while you’re apart, would end up with you edging yourself while he tells you how and where to touch yourself?

genre: modern au ( they have phones, teyvat exist just….modern ), established relationship, smut, kinda pwp tbh, 18+ only !!

warnings: soft dom ! ayato, phone sex, guided + mutual masturbation, dirty talk ( no degradation ), edging, a hint of voyeurism, past mentions of throat fucking and spanking 

word count: 8.8k

note: originally posted on my other account for a different fandom but i decided to repurpose it for genshin. i was a bit torn on who to go with for this concept but ultimately ayato won bc im a simp

minors (under 18) + ageless blogs dni !!

Keep reading

[kahidlaws]

alright im just gonna say it, because im tired and my brain filter has already gone to sleep for the night

i used to read smut as a minor, you used to read smut as a minor, your fav authors used to read smut as minors, and minors still read smut today. there is no way we can prevent or change this.

but you know what i DIDN'T do when reading smut as a minor? interact with it or the authors. i kept to myself, got my fill, and then stayed away. it really wasn't hard.

whether or not minors should read smut at all is debatable. on the one hand, it can be a fun and safe way to explore your sexuality through fantasy, rather than going out there and catching STIs and getting pregnant. on the other, the smut fanfic corner of the internet is vast and largely unmoderated; it is likely you will stumble upon topics/kinks/stories that can be traumatic or harmful to some individuals. reading about fictional sex and intimacy may also create unrealistic expectations about real-life sex and intimacy.

but regardless of the moral/ethical intricacies of minors reading smut, the fact remains that teens are very often horny, and once a horny teen sets their mind to reading smutty fic about their favorite characters, there's nothing we can do to stop them.

then, what can we do? well, a few things:

- we can maintain our boundaries and continue to block minors and ageless blogs that follow us

- we can continue to impress upon minors who stumble upon our blogs the importance of respecting those boundaries

- we can continue to tag our smutty fanfic thoroughly and appropriately, so people can avoid things that they know will be harmful for them to read

- we can continue having discussions about fantasy vs reality, and what is and is not healthy in a real-life sexual or intimate scenario/relationship

in my opinion, shaming minors for reading smut altogether only does more harm than good - the more a kid is shamed for their sexuality, the more they try to hide it and the more likely they are to engage in risky sex. that doesn't mean we shouldn't shame them for not respecting a DNI boundary.

i don't have a witty, cutting conclusion to this rant, so i'll conclude by saying that i think the only way to protect everyone best is to be realistic, firm, and kind in the manner in which we address this issue. shaming kids for being horny isn't gonna get us anywhere at all.

[kahidlaws]

hey yall, internet writing etiquette 101: do not dm an author and ask them to write an EXTREMELY specific kink/fetish fic without offering any kind of financial compensation/asking about commissions first. i already write tons and tons and tons and tons of stuff for free and for fun because this blog is just as much for me as it is for an audience.

but remember this is all stuff i want to write and have explicitly said i am okay with writing because of my rules page + my “dc i will and won’t write” page. but please do not come into my dms and ask me to write an EXTREMELY specific scenario that is tailored to you specifically because that is then a commission, not a fun thirst people send to my ask that i am allowed to build upon if i so choose. but please do not expect writers to write something that is so specific that it’s essentially tailored to you for free, especially when it’s kink content and/or OC content. it’s rude.