#and yet in some ways it has made me who i am so its now inextricable from my identity

[thedrotter]

Do any of you remember a Youtube video about Re:Kinder talking about how the game is seen and percieved by some people (mostly touching upon and arguing against how it has been treated insensitively as some sort of weird legend like "ooo disturbing game with a hidden truth behind it" due to it's creator being dead), as well as talking about the charm of the game (even mentioning it's art at some point) and sadness of the themes without spoiling anything at the same time?? I remember the video avoided saying any spoilers at all and only touched on the literal plot as the kids being stuck in a dire situation in the town with all the adults dead without really getting into the why (it didn't even say one of the kids themselves was the cause— as thus, spoiler free), other than that it just touched on the emotional side of it and vaguely mentioned some scenes.

i also remember at some point the later half (at the very least if not in all of it) of the video, music by Siinamota was playing in the background. Does anyone remember seeing a video like this?

I can't seem to find it anywhere and don't even remember the exact year I watched it.😭 It was the way I found out about this game a while ago, which eventually ended up in me playing it, and I really wish I could watch it again. I thought it was a deleted video by someone called hazel as it was mentioned by a lot of people, but I found that one and it isnt it.😓 I'm wondering if anyone remembers watching something along the lines of what im describing and knows if it's still up.

[cicadaland]

i would honestly be so unbelievably powerful if my internet obsession wasnt holding me back

[aria0fgold]

I don't know what I'm doing with this fic's story anymore at this point, I'm just doing feck all but somehow it's also so fun to just... make it a lil wacky.

[kisses4reid]

criminally hot | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you get wrongfully accused by a sheriff, and it isn’t you who’s angriest. it’s your boyfriend who has to expose your relationship in order to clear you.

genre - spencer x bau!fem!reader, fluff, slight angst if u squint, angry reid x calm reader

wc - 1.2k

warnings - reader uses she/her pronouns, handcuffs, violence, a weird white man i know id be fucking scared as well, oh swearing as well.

a/n - i love u you’re so awkward i am doing so well bc of ur request, keep requesting things your brain is crazy. ummm anyways this is my first time writing this kinda thing omg how exciting okay start reading it wtf you still doing here?

request - ( from @babyoureahauntedhouse ) omg hii!!! :3 this is my first time requesting, so please excuse the awkwardness 😭😭😭😭 first of all, how are you????? i hope you’re doing amazing!!! absolutely no pressure, but can you do one where reader gets falsely arrested (not a huge thing, maybe in a police station at a small town or something) and spencer absolutely **loses** his shit at how she’s being treated????? like, she’s freezing and the sheriff or somethjng keeps pushing her and then he just bursts into the interrogation room and uncuffs her and it’s just very fluffy???? thank you!

Emily handed you your coffee with a smile, receiving a small thank you in return. It was warm in your hands and created a comforting contrast to the cool chill of the police precinct you were set up in.

Things were going well given that you’d only been in the small town for half a day. The team debriefed on the plane, but Aaron had been on the phone with the leading detective for at least an hour now asking him where he was.

Emily headed off to the restrooms when a slender hand made its way to your waist. You turned and felt your cheeks heat, knowing exactly who is was.

“Hi Spencer.”

“Hi Y/n.” His eyes held sweetness in the chocolate swirls, and you felt like a kid who had been given candy. Spencer and you had been dating for a few months, but somehow in a team of profilers you both kept things under wraps, even with Spencer’s clumsy touches and your lingering stares. “I wish we were home,” he whispered.

You glanced around for anyone who could witness your interaction and get suspicious, but you were mostly alone other than Hotch and some officers who were weirdly taking a lot of attention to you.

“Yeah me too. I’m feeling oddly popular and not in the good way.”

Before you could talk more or offer him a sip of your coffee (even if you know he doesn’t like it), Aaron calls his name and the slim tall boy scurries away with a straight face.

You turn to find something to do. To reread a case, to help someone fill out papers, to talk to Morgan or Garcia. You would’ve opted to huddling in your cardigan if a tall man didn’t interrupt.

“Y/n L/n?” He asked in monotone. His arms were at his sides, one hovering above a pair of cuffs that hung from his police belt. Furrowing your eyebrows you answered,

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

“You’re under arrest for the robberies of…”

His voice pounded into the background of your head, thoughts attacking your eyes through a sudden headache as the words registered before you could help it. The room was silent except for the man’s voice, yet all you could hear was the furrow of eyebrows and quick approach of your boss, Aaron Hotchner.

“What’s going on here?”

“Your agent has been seen…”

You stood still as another officer came behind you and forced handcuffs onto your arms, gripping your wrists with unnecessary force that would surely leave bruises. You winced and looked between your boss and the officer, and then at Spencer, who was being pulled back by Morgan. He yelled your name in worry, witnessing the hardened grips on your body and rough pushing you were being subject to. Your coffee splattered on the ground, staining your white shoes.

There was only mumbles and white noise, as your eyes met with Spencer’s. The large officer behind you kicked your leg to get you moving, the shock glueing your shoes to the rubbery floor. And you almost didn’t even notice the hand on the back of your neck pushing you towards a dark room with a desk and two chairs.

You were so familiar with these rooms and yet it felt so different.

Of course, you didn’t actually do anything. And of course you attempt to clear that up to the officers who are slamming their hands on the table and screaming as much as they could, in a poor attempt to intimidate you.

Aaron was in the corner with a scolding face and hard hand to his chin, observing the situation with an intensity you barely ever see.

“Last month, you were seen at one of the houses that got robbed over night. You left a few days later, after also being seen at two of the other houses-“

“So she was seen at three of the ten houses robbed and you arrest her?” Aaron spoke up, bringing the men’s attention to your boss instead of you. You took the opportunity to look outside of the window.

Though it wasn’t clear, you could make out the outline of a tall boy you wished would just break into the room and save you.

And he did.

“Your evidence is illogical and childish. She’s an FBI agent for gods sake-“

“Anybody can be a suspect Agent Hotchner, even federal agents.” The tall one replied with a stubborn mumbled.

Suddenly, the door was slammed open and you were met with a disheveled Spencer panting with a red and severe face. He didn’t even bother looking at you before he starting schooling the men in blue, who at that point were glaring at him and attempting to look more intimidating than they actually were.

“I’ve read your files on this case and nothing links to Y/n L/n, not one-“

“There’s no way you read our-“

“I can read more in a minute than you can in a day, dickhead. Y/n was meeting old school friends when she was in town, we went to the Diner Inn afterwards and we met with her parents who have receipts for the meals because they’re-“ he turned his glance at you,” “sorry Y/n- they’re hoarders. You have nothing against her other than some positively reported visits and some photos of her hugging the house owners.” Spencer had slowly pinned the officers to the opposite wall unconsciously. It was hot. “I was there, I’m her receipt. And like her parents, she loves keeping those. So if you want to insist she’s your culprit, go for it. But your going against a man with eidetic memory and a lot of evidence.”

And while he was logical and correct, he was also a little too truthful.

The officers blinked in fear. Spencer definitely didn’t seem the type to yell or swear, so this clear, concise and undermining approach to the situation was somehow even scarier.

“Spencer,” you began, “thank you.”

He looked at you, his expression softening into empathy and care, “Of course.” His hands found a key in his back pocket as he approached you, starting to promptly uncuff you.

As Aaron continued to speak with the officers of their major mistake, Spencer took you outside of the room and into a private office. Your heart was racing, but it seemed Spencer was more stressed than you. He paced as you leaned onto the front of a wooden desk, hands over your chest as your eyes trailed Spencer.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I should’ve reacted faster, then you wouldn’t have been..” He stopped closely in front of you, his breath hot on yours as his gaze scoured over your body for injuries or bruises. “Are you okay?”

You smile calmly, “I’m fine. My leg hurts, and I think my wrists will be bruised, but I’m fine.”

He took your hands and rubbed his thumbs on your wrists carefully, causing butterflies to explode in your stomach.

“Thank you Spencer.” Your eyes dance with each others. “You were really hot. Maybe I need to get arrested more often.” You joke with a lift to your voice and a smirk, causing him to look down with a smile and shake his head.

“If being angry makes me hot maybe you should reevaluate what you-“

Your lips found his, you hand going to his bicep and his going to the back of your neck, before a clearing of the throat took you both out of your trances. It was Hotch.

“I’ve got some paperwork you both need to sign. About the arrest and,” his hand waved between you two, “this.”

Morgan stood behind Aaron with a smirk, leaving quickly to go tell Garcia that she had lost their bet.

taglist: @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

[kitasuno]

dating the love and deepspace boys | domestic moments

featuring: rafayel, xavier, and zayne x gn!reader

(´• ω •`) ♡ modern au! can you guys tell raf is my favorite..?

rafayel

a year younger than you. lies to everyone (including you) that he’s actually two years your senior. you only found out he was younger than you when you met his parents, who have his birth certificate framed. 

hates cats. despises them. they fill him with rage (fear). says he’s allergic (he’s lying).

“oh shit raf, this sucks! i guess you can’t move in with me.. i have cats”

“...you have cats?”

“yeah. 3.”

“i’m not allergic. i can move in tonight.”

chronically online. minoring in marine biology and majoring in annoying you. texts you over 200 times a day and if you don’t respond, he’s faking a horrible chronic illness. again. it’s amnesia on wednesdays, appendicitis on thursdays, chronic migraines on fridays… etc..

he has 2 followers on his private twitter. you and thomas. 

over 700k followers on instagram for some reason? he sells paintings on depop (he says it's depop but you’re convinced he sells them for heinous prices on the black market) 

cooks on occasion? has an apron that says kiss me im irish (he's not irish?) made you a tuna cupcake once?? 

pescatarian. not in the vegan/vegetarian way where he refuses to eat red meat but because he’s absolutely feral over fish. (is this cannibalism? he says its not)

lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with you but doesn’t use his bedroom. says your bed is comfier. turned his bedroom into a painting studio (IT’S for the black market you say!!) and sleeps with you. 

“raf,” you sigh. “don’t you have.. homework or something?” 

he sits between your legs, back against your chest as he scrolls through his phone. 

“yeah,” he says. you flick the back of his head because you know he’s smirking. “it’s called assignment: you. due in two minutes.” 

with his free hand, he reaches back mindlessly to grab yours. you sigh, fingers intertwining with his, a reflex as he leans his head back. his eyes meet yours and you can’t help but laugh. 

“well?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he squeezes your hand. “what are the assignment details?” 

he chews on the bottom of his lip as he thinks, humming while his eyes wander across your face. he swings your interlocked hands in circles. it’s raining outside, the heater is on, and rafayel is warm like hot chocolate. 

“what?” he says, his cheeks a tinge pink. “you’re looking at me like that again.” a pause. he turns, his head now buried in your chest.

“just studying my homework.” you say, hands instinctively wrapping around his back. the laundry machine is running in the background, rain is falling against the window, and you faintly hear your rice cooker dinging in the kitchen. home, you think, is with rafayel.

“i can hear your heartbeat.” he says, voice muffled. “it’s super fast. you like me or something?” 

“i really like you.” you say, without skipping a beat. rafayel groans into your chest, sighing in discontent. 

“no fair. i’m supposed to be the flirter.” 

you press a kiss onto the top of his head and you feel his body melt into yours. the two of you fall into a warm silence, his breath steady as he traces paintings into your neck. 

“raf?” you mumble, eyes drooping. he hums in response. “did you pass your assignment?” 

he smiles. “with flying colors.” 

xavier

chronic napper. (yapper?) 

has 100 late assignments. failing all of his classes yet got into the top university in your country because he got a perfect score on his entrance exams. you thought he was a nepo baby (turns out he’s just.. smart?)

his procrastination rubs off on you… he is the WORST distraction and he knows it. so smug about it and uses it to his own advantage. will perch on top of you when you’re studying and kiss down your neck until you go to sleep with him. 

lives in the apartment on top of yours but is at your house most days, if not all. you ask him to move in.

“am i not already.. living with you?” 

“don’t you still have your apartment, though?”

“yeah..?”

 is that good for the economy?? is it financially smart? not at all, but he’s too lazy to move out and put his apartment up for lease. 

xavier sleeps with his legs entangled with yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your chest. the air conditioning hums in the background as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, dimming the brightness as you hear xavier stir. 

“sorry xav, did i wake you up?” you ask. he doesn’t respond, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he glares at your phone. 

“xavier?” you question, swallowing a laugh at his ruffled hair and disheveled clothes. 

“phone down.” he says, voice raspy with sleep and an octave lower than usual. you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“can i get a pretty please in this economy?” 

xavier’s eyes narrow as he snatches your phone away, snoozing the device and placing it on the nightstand next to you. his lips ghost your neck, pressing kisses against your skin as he mumbles incoherently in the dark of your bedroom. 

“xavier-” you breathe, giggling at the sensation. “that tickles!” 

he nips at your neck. 

“bedtime. now.” 

zayne

3 years older than you 

he literally has his whole life together at 27 which scares you so much

“my credit card is your credit card” typa boyfriend

cooks. cleans. has a 9-5. you’re interning at the hospital that he works at (he’s head doctor!!)

you’re just a sweet little intern and zayne is the big bad monster!! everyone at work thinks he hates you because he’s extra strict on you. doesn’t give you any special treatment, ‘ignores’ you most days (but also slips meals into your locker and hands you heat packs on cold days in the hospital)

no one knows he’s dating you until one day someone sees you leaving in zaynes car. 

“oh, you carpool with doctor zayne?”

“huh? no, we live together.”

“you WHAT???”

he’s a virgo……. erm……

the two of you get ready together in the morning. his guard is down when he’s sleepy and he’ll cling to you as he brushes his teeth and does his hair.

you wake up to the cold night breeze, blinking the sleep out of your eyes and shivering as you scan your surroundings. you yelp as you meet the attentive gaze of your boyfriend. 

“huh? whuh? huh?” you splutter, squirming as zayne holds you tighter. he’s carrying you bridal style in his arms, his jacket around your shoulders as the two of you walk to his car. you see the bright lights of akso hospital fading away behind the two of you. 

“it’s two am,” he says calmly, placing you down gently as he opens your car door for you. “you waited for my shift to end. again.” 

you smile bashfully, rubbing the back of your head. “well, i didn’t wanna just leave you!” 

zayne clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed but gaze warm. he guides you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt in place. 

“you can nap on the way home,” he says, closing the door and sliding into his side of the car. 

the heater’s on already- courtesy of his super expensive electric car. he fastens his own seatbelt and hands you a hot tea and bread from the hospital vending machine. 

“drink up. doctor’s orders.” 

you grin before he leans over to press a kiss on your lips. 

“thank you for waiting for me.”

[ursie]

Brennan’s statement on Palestine :

[ ID: Statement from Brennan Lee Mulligan, on Instagram. It consists of three black squares with plain white text. The text reads as follows:

"I'm calling on my government officials to immediately demand a ceasefire and de-escalation in Gaza.

I applaud anyone and everyone calling for peace, with the understanding that real peace only exists if it deeply and honestly accounts for and fully ends violence in all its forms. Real peace addresses and corrects wrong-doing in the past and guards against it in the future. It goes hand in hand with justice and requires truth, restoration, reconciliation, reparation.

Peace cannot co-exist with collective punishment, ethnic cleansing and forced displacement. It cannot co-exist with blockades, embargoes, or with 2.2 million people, half of which are children, trapped with no hope of escape or political recourse. it cannot co-exist with murdered journalists, bombed hospitals, or years of protesters being shot and killed at the border. it cannot co-exist with illegal settlements, segregated roads, and the silent, imperial chill that settles over the gaps in the violence - the unspoken geopolitical consensus that a group of people need to unflinchingly accept permanent subjugation and occupation.

My hear breaks for every Israeli person who lost loved ones during the attacks of October 7th. It breaks for every Ukrainian person who has lost their loved ones. It breaks for every Congolese person who has lost their loved ones. I do not speak on behalf of Palestinians now because some lives are worth more than others. I speak on their behalf because I, and all Americans, have a responsibility to pressure our government because we are responsible for this. Some have said that this situation is complicated. The Unites States government clearly disagrees. It has definitively, categorically, militarily chosen a side, and I do not agree with that decision.

In wiring this, I have been wrestling with what I am sure many people like me wrestle with: There is a powerful narrative surrounding violence in the Middle East that asserts and ever-moving goalpost of self-education and study in order to even be qualified to have an opinion. As someone with a love of research, I have at times in my life fallen into the trap that I am not educated enough clever enough, or aware enough to have a worthwhile perspective, and that three more articles and two more lectures and one more book will do the trick. Unfortunately, democracy doesn't work that way - we, the citizens of any democracy, cannot possibly be experts on every aspect of the policies of our governments, and yet if we do not constantly weigh in an make our voices heard, the entire experiment falls apart. Not only do people constantly doubt themselves and the things they can see with their own two eyes, but old shortcuts for political action can fall apart as well: This specific issue exists along a raw, charged and unique faultline in American Politics. Nobody I grew up with has ever challenged me on my support for abortion rights, LGBT rights, Black Lives Matter, anti-capitalism, anti-fascism, none of it. The people in my country who would despise me for those positions are, for all intents and purposes, strangers to me. But there are people who I've broken bread with and shared honest affection with who will see the words I've written here and incorrectly conclude that I do not wish for the security, dignity and happiness of them and their loved ones, and that breaks my fucking heart. Full-throatedly condemning the actions of the Israeli government while battling rampant anti-semitism at home is an urgent moral necessity, and doing so is made unnecessarily challenging for the average person to navigate by the pointed obfuscations of cynical opportunists, bigots, and demagogues on all sides of the political spectrum who see some advantage in sowing that incredibly dangerous confusion.

So, I'm calling my representatives. I'm having hard conversations with friends and family. I'm here, talking to you. I should have done it sooner. If you're Israeli and hurt by this statement, know that I want freedom, dignity, security and peace for you, and that every ounce of my political awareness believes whole-heartedly that the actions of your government are not only destroying innocent lives, but doing so to the detriment of you and your loved ones' safety. If you're American and feel lost and confused - I understand and empathize. This, the whole country, only works when we get involved. I am constantly haunted by the specter that maybe I missed some crucial piece of information on this, or any, important world event. I'll just have to make my peace with that self-doubt and trust my gut by going with Jewish Voice for Peace, Amnesty International, the Geneva Conventions, the United Nations, etc. And if you're Palestinian and reading this: I unreservedly support your right to life, to freedom, to happiness and human flourishing, to full enfranchisement and equal rights, to opportunity, prosperity and abundance, to the restoration of stolen property and land, and to a Free Palestine." End ID ]

[wilwheaton]

For some odd reason, moderator Jake Tapper told Trump in the beginning that he didn't need to answer the questions and that he could use the time however he wanted. Trump ran with that, essentially giving a rally speech whenever he had the floor and was unresponsive to the vast majority of the questions. He made faces and insulted Biden to his face, at one point calling him a criminal and a Manchurian candidate. If anyone had said 10 years ago that this would happen at a presidential debate they would have been laughed out of the room. After the debate when most of the country had turned off cable news or gone to bed, CNN aired its fact check. [...] Even had Joe Biden been at the top of his game, he would not have been able to parry all those lies and he shouldn't have been put in the role of being Donald Trump's fact checker. His choice was to either ignore the lies and let them stand so he could use his time to make his own case or spend the entire debate correcting the record. It was not a fair fight. It's obvious that Biden's terrible performance has caused panic among Democrats and liberal pundits and analysts. The calls for him to withdraw are loud and meaningful and it's going to be a very rough period in this campaign whatever happens. For me, this isn't really a question. As long as Donald Trump is on the ballot, I will vote for the Democratic nominee. If it's Biden or someone else, the calculation remains the same. Nothing is worse than another Trump administration and I suspect that at the end of the day Democratic voters will agree with that. So it's still a matter of those undecided voters in swing states, just like it was on Thursday morning.

CNN's debate was no fair fight

CNN, yet again, gave Trump a national stage to vomit an endless stream of unchecked lies, and today, CNN is telling itself and anyone who will listen that the network and its moderators did a great job. That’s just plainly false, and America is paying the price for their failure.

That doesn’t let Biden off the hook. Biden had a terrible night. He was so bad, it’s allowed the political press to completely ignore not just how much Trump lied, but what he lied about: January 6, all his indictments, his Covid response, and on and on. President Biden was a disaster, and his campaign should be at DefCon 1 to try and repair all the damage. I am terrified that his awful performance will obscure his surprisingly good record and leadership in the post-insurrection era, and give the political press an excuse to run with “Biden is old” in the face of Trump’s endless lies, his felony convictions, his pending trials, and all of his criminality. Someone at Salon said that Trump didn’t win, but Biden absolutely lost. I can’t argue with that, even if the facts are all on Biden’s side.

I’ve seen President Biden on TV today, and even last night after the debate, where he didn’t come across as an ancient dude who needs a walker on his way to some Matlock reruns. He looks and sounds like the SOTU Biden we all expected would show up last night. I have no idea why he was so awful for 99% of the debate (the campaign says he has a cold), and I have no idea why the guy who is showing up to speak to supporters today, and who delivered the SOTU didn’t show up last night to save America from Trump, again.

But we have to live with this reality now, and I hope like hell that the Biden campaign, the candidate, and the entire Democratic party apparatus scrambles like fucking crazy to get all hands on deck to fix this, and remind voters that

This isn’t about BIden vs. Trump. This is about America vs. Project 2025.

There will be no second debate where Biden can try to salvage something out of the wreckage of this one. Trump has everything to lose and nothing to gain. Trump will crow about how he won, and declare he has no reason to debate again, and he’s right. Biden had one shot and he absolutely blew it. The moderators did not help, but the campaign had to have known they wouldn’t, and it sure looks like they didn’t prepare Biden for what we all knew was coming. I don’t know how those same people stop the bleeding, and if they can’t, America and the world are in real, real trouble.

But we all have to remember that we have a choice to make in just a few months. Right now, and probably on election day, the choice is between Joe Biden and Democracy, or Donald Trump and Fascism. It’s stark, it’s clear, it’s binary, and I can not believe that it is even a question. I just hope that there are enough voters out there who will understand that we do have a choice. The options suck, but we do have a choice.

Please choose Democracy. Please choose America. Please choose the future world our children will inherit from us.

[lqvesoph]

She‘s WHOSE daughter??? || LN4

gif by @formulaonedirection

lando norris x webber!reader

summary: After releasing your new album you go to the Bahrain Grand Prix to finally see your two favorite Aussie’s. What you didn’t expect is to meet a certain Brit as well.

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

masterlist | taglist

Part 1

yn.adams: Thank you for all the love on GUTS!!! Tour is coming I promissssse but now off to Bahrain🏁

comments:

gracieabrams: YOURE UNREAL

rachelzegler: all american t*ts frr

danielricciardo: Okay who am I fighting today🥊

oscarpiastri: See u in Bahrain (finally)

> yn.adams: FINALLY!!!

> oscarpiastri: You‘ve become busy since becoming a world star🥲

fan: SHES COMING TO BAHRAIN!!!

> fan: FINALLY!! Its been ages

fan: Has she ever been to a race??

> fan: Well… I mean obviously LMAO😭

fan: U supporting Red Bull or Mclaren this weekend?

> yn.adams: Rbr obviously!! Not even Oscar can get me into that orange Garage🤨

> oscarpiastri: It’s PAPAYA!!!

load more comments

*~*~*~*~*~*

"GOOD MORNING!!!", an australian accent yelled into your ear just moments after you entered the Bahrain paddock.

You flinched, immediately slapping the person’s arm. "Daniel!!!", you called and pushed the driver away from you as he tried to pull you into a hug.

"I‘ve missed you so much", he mumbled, pressing you close to him and ruffling your hair after, which made you slap his hand away from your head.

"You seen Osc yet?“, you asked, looking around you, spotting a few photographers whose camera’s where direct to you. Daniel shook his head. "Nope, I thought you‘d come together. I‘m surprised you’re only here now."

You rolled your eyes and kept walking with Daniel. "I was on a video call with my team, discussing the upcoming tour. We gotta work out a schedule and call the venues and stuff", you replied. "We‘ve been on there even before the album came out and I still haven’t completely made up my mind."

"Indecisive little shit", Daniel laughed, making you slap his arm with a chuckle. You made your way to the Red Bull hospitality, Daniel waving at a few people from Mclaren that he was still friends with even after he left the team at the end of the 2022 season.

"I think Kelly and P are in there", he told you before hugging you goodbye. "If you see Oscar, tell him I‘m looking for him", you said, smiling and ruffling through Daniel‘s hair as some sorta revenge, before quickly stepping back and running up the stairs to the entrance.

Daniel laughed and pointed a finger at you. "I‘m gonna get you back!" You giggled and waved as you walked backwards into the hospitality.

Looking around the room you quickly spotted Kelly with her daughter Penelope sitting on a creme coloured couch.

"Heyy, honey", she greeted you and got up to hug you. "Hey, darling", you then said and lifted Penelope up who was reaching her arms out to you.

Just when you sat down, your phone chimed with a new message.

Osc🧡: Meet me in front of Mclaren

You: I‘m not going in tho

Osc🧡: Well I can’t really walk into Red Bull can I?

You: 🙄okay

"I‘ll be back soon, Oscar just texted", you let Kelly know and high fived P who giggled as you did. Jeez, how much you missed that little sunshine!

You glanced around the front porch of Mclaren‘s hospitality but didn’t spot Oscar. And as you didn’t just want to walk into the building you stayed where you were, next to the steps leading up to the entrance.

"You walked in with Danny, right?", someone spoke behind you, making you turn around. The confused expression on your face quickly leaving when you came face to face with the other Mclaren driver.

He sat at one of the tables with another curly haired guy and a blonde girl.

You nodded. "Yeah", you simply said. "You wanna come up here?", he asked, gesturing to the empty chair next to him.

You‘ve never spoken to Lando Norris, all you knew about him was through stories from either Oscar or Daniel. You knew that he spent some of his winterbreak with Danny and Martin in Australia. Daniel had asked you to come along as well but you were busy with the release of your new album so you had to decline.

You looked around you one last time, trying to find Oscar but failed, so you nodded and took the few stairs up to the table the three of them were sitting at.

As you stood directly in front of them, you saw how the blonde girl recognized you. You‘ve always been good at reading people but over the last years you‘ve become incredibly good at telling whether people recognized you when facing them. Even if they try their hardest to hide it, that small second when their eyes widen in realization was enough for you to tell.

"I‘m Lando", he introduced himself, holding a hand out to greet you. "Y/n, nice to meet you", you smiled, trying to ignore the urge to tell him 'I know, I‘m friends with Daniel and Oscar'. "Max and Pietra, friends of me", he then gestured over to the people sitting across from you.

"So, how do you know Daniel?", Lando asked, crossing his arms on the table. "I‘ve known him since I was 8 years old, I think", you smiled, remembering tiny 8 year old you giggling and blushing when first talking to Daniel at the British Grand Prix. "Really?", his eyes widened. "How did you meet?" "Uh, through my dad, he‘s from Australia as well", you answered, leaving out most of the details.

"You‘re australian?", Lando questioned with raised eyesbrows. "No no, my dad is. My mom‘s from America and I kinda grew up between California and Canberra", you explained.

"However, for some reason she likes to ignore her australian origin", a voice said behind you, making you smirk as you recognized the familiar Melbourne accent.

You turned around in your chair and stood up before wrapping your arms around Oscar. "Hey, princess", he laughed. "How‘ve you been?"

"Bit stressful with Tour at the minute but it feels so good to be back here!", you grinned.

As you turned back to the other three, you couldn’t help but notice Lando‘s confused face. Maybe it was the fact you basically jumped Oscar or that he‘d called you 'princess', something he‘s been doing ever since your first Tour when you got gifted a little crown from your fans because it matched the dress you were wearing on stage.

"I se you‘ve made friends already, might wanna stay here for the race?", Oscar asked with a smirk. You slapped the back of his head in an affectionate way. "Nuh uh, nice try, Piastri", you chuckled. "I‘ll be watching from Red Bull, you know that."

The confused expression on Lando‘s face only seemed to deepen with everything you said so you gave him a quick explanation. "My father used to work at Red Bull, so it‘s the team I‘ve grown up with and I‘m not leaving that."

Oscar snorted at you little white lie but you rammed your elbow into his side to get him to keep quiet.

Lando nodded, still slightly confused by the way you and Oscar acted with each other but before he could question it, a team member walked out of the door and told the two drivers to start getting ready for the race.

"I‘ll see you later, okay? You‘re driving back with Daniel?", your best friend asked. "I haven’t talked to him about it but-" "Okay, then I‘m taking you back to the hotel", he interrupted you with a grin.

"Jeez, splitting my time with you two like you‘re my parents", you laughed but agreed and hugged the driver goodbye.

"Bye, bye!", you waved to Lando, Max and Pietra before walking back over to Red Bull.

*~*~*~*~*~*

After the race and all the podium celebrations, you waited in front of the Mclaren hospitality for Oscar, scrolling mindlessly on your Twitter while ignoring the 22 unread messages from your management.

"Hey, Y/n", a voice said behind you, making you look up from your phone. "Lando, hi. Congrats on your race", you smiled. "Thanks, could’ve been better but we‘ll try again next week", he shrugged.

"Jeddah, right?", you asked, not having memorized the calendar quite yet. The driver nodded and played around with the orange lanyard in his hands.

"You coming?", he dared to ask after a few seconds and from the way his fingers fiddled with the orange band faster, you could tell how nervous he was. You shrugged. "I don’t know yet, I’m quite busy with work at the minute, so probably no. But I‘ll definitely be in Melbourne", you replied, trying to lighten the mood by adding the last sentence.

"Pietra told me you’re a singer", he revealed, making you smile at the memory of the blonde girl. "I could tell she recognized me", you admitted. Lando chuckled. "She said she tried her hardest to not let it show but was freaking out on the inside! She‘s actually quite mad at herself for not asking you for a picture!"

You giggled again and shook your head. "She could’ve asked, I wouldn’t have minded", you said with a small smile. "If she’s at a Grand Prix just let me know and I promise I‘ll find her." "I‘ll let her know", he nodded and looked to the ground with the cutest smile you have seen in a while.

The combination of the brunette curly hair, the british accent, the smile and his dimples, drove you crazy and made you heart skip a few beats. But you tried your best to keep it together.

Little did you know that Lando quite literally felt the same about you. Your long hair, along with the color of your eyes and especially your smile made his heart beat a little faster as well.

You stayed in silence for a few seconds, just looking at each other admiringly before a voice interrupted your starring.

"Princess!! Sorry for being late!", Oscar called while walking out of the hospitality with Lily‘s hand in his. You smiled at the sight of your best friend’s girlfriend and send her a little wave which she returned with the hand that wasn’t wrapped in Oscar‘s.

"That‘s okay, I had Lando to keep me company", you chuckled, making the brit smile a little. "You ready?", Oscar asked and you nodded.

He said goodbye to Lando and started walking down the stairs.

"I’ll see you in Australia?", Lando asked one last time. You nodded your head with a smile. "Oh for sure, I wouldn’t miss this race for the world!", you chuckled. "Great!", Lando whispered under his breath and gave you a little wave which you returned before following Oscar and Lily.

"What do you think of him?", Oscar asked as soon as Lando was out of hearing range. "Lando? He’s pretty cute", you simply stated, not daring to mention the other words floating around your head. Nice, pretty, gorgeous, hot and handsome were just a few examples.

"Why do you ask?"

Oscar smirked. "No reason, really!"

tagged: redbullracing, danielricciardo, oscarpiastri

yn.adams: bahrain dump (feat. my two favorite aussies)

comments:

oscarpiastri: You‘re an aussie as well…

> yn.adams: But I‘m not tho…🤷‍♀️

> oscarpiastri: Y/n🤨

danielricciardo: I‘m shown before Oscar

> yn.adams: rolling my eyes as we speak

> fan: LMAOOO

fan: Am I seeing you in the Mclaren garage?

> yn.adams: JUST FOR A SECOND!!!

fan: The race weekend is better when ur there

liked by yn.adams

fan: How does she know Oscar and Daniel??

> fan: Through her dad obviously

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Part 2

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[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him. 

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it. 

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

--------------------------

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing. 

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject. 

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!" 

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back. 

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment. 

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it. 

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you. 

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

-------------------------

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her. 

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it. 

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt. 

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw 

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email. 

-----------------------------

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind. 

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him. 

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions. 

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight. 

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now. 

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

-------------------------

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[bahablastplz]

Roommate: Chan x Reader

Roommate Chan who wants to help you destress with a massage after a long day... Content: Just straight-up smut Warnings: Fingering, praise, degradation, a little humiliation WC: 1100

You were laying on the couch with Chan. 

Chan has been your roommate for some time and your friend for longer than you could remember, so to be sprawled across the couch, limbs somewhat intertwined and a movie to be played in the background was nothing unfamiliar. Especially after a long day at work, taking the time to unwind together was nothing new. 

But today you were just so tense. Stiff all over, muscles tense and sore, you were unable to find relief. You suppose that your gym workout from yesterday had been a little intense, and you were certainly feeling it now. 

Subconsciously as you watched, you started to punch your legs a little bit, trying to get the tightened muscles to relax. 

Chan’s hands shot out and grabbed your own, making you freeze. 

“What are you doing, babygirl?” He sounded concerned but the nickname made sparks fly through your body. 

“Nothing,” you say, trying to explain it away. Of course, Chan would never let that happen. 

He doesn’t let go of his grasp on your hand. “You call punching your legs ‘nothing?’” He inquires. 

“My legs are just a little sore,” you sigh. “It was leg day yesterday.” 

“Ahhh,” he says, as if that explains everything. Maybe it did. His eyes are back on the screen, but his hands are grabbing your legs to place them over his lap, pulling you even closer to him.  

“What are you–” 

“Shhh, helping,” he says. His big, strong hands are on your legs now, his dexterous fingers working into your muscles. You let out a sigh of relief as you feel him working away the tension, his thumbs moving over your thighs to rub deep yet gentle circles into your skin.  You’re aware of every movement, however, and you hate how flustered his actions have you. Chan never shied away from physical touch, and he’s even given you a brief platonic shoulder massage before. As your roommate, of course he’s seen you in more vulnerable scenarios, seeing into the more casual or intimate aspects of your life, but this… you couldn’t help but stare at the man who seemed so unfazed. 

As he rubs into a particularly sore area, you let out a tiny groan. 

“Feels good?” he asks, a small smirk splaying across his features but his eyes glued to the screen. 

You nod your head. The tone of his voice has arousal running through your entire body and your breath hitches as he moves higher, still only mid-thigh. You hope he doesn’t catch your reaction–surely he won’t, he’s not even watching you.  

Lightly he slaps the inside of your thigh, causing you to gasp. “Use your words,” he scolds. 

“Yes,” you answer, too fast. “Feels good, Chan.” 

“Good girl,” he praises, though the way he coos the words makes it feel less like a compliment. Your eyes stay glued to him and the way he stays unaffected; his words make you squeeze your thighs together lightly, searching for a little relief. What you weren’t expecting was for him to grab the flesh of your thigh hard between his fingers, causing you to let out a moan. 

“Such a filthy girl,” he says. “Here I am trying to give you a massage and make you feel good but you’re over here having dirty thoughts, aren’t you?” His hand stays between your legs, rubbing your inner thigh but not making its way higher. You squeeze your legs harder, trapping his hand between your legs. 

“Need you, Chan. Touch me, please?” You decide to just say it, just needing to get past the hurdle knowing it will be worth it. He doesn’t let up as easily as you think though. 

“Oh? But I am touching you, sweet girl,” he says, pinching your inner thigh and causing you to spread them open for him. “Or are you talking about your needy pussy?” He trails his hand up, resting it against your clothed core. You nod your head unabashedly and he laughs at your excitement. His eyes are on you now, finally, and you burn under his gaze. You watch as he pushes the fabric to the side and dips his fingers shallowly into your entrance, gathering your arousal on his fingers. He pulls out to show you how soaked his fingers are. 

“Look how wet you are for me, baby,” he praises. “My sweet, dirty girl is so needy for me, all from a little touching.” 

“Just for you,” you confirm, and you watch him take a deep breath, affected by your words. Sliding his hands back down to your center, he gathers more of your arousal and spreads it around your clit, circling slowly around the area with his fingers. It’s obvious from his stare that he is more than alright with taking his time with you, relishing in the way that you fall apart on his fingers. He hisses when you spread your legs open wide for him, giving him full access. He moves fast, grabbing your shorts and ripping them off of your body. When you close your legs again he tuts, grabbing them and forcing them wide open for him, slotting his body in between your legs. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he says. He slides two fingers into your entrance now, shallowly fucking his fingers in and out of you. “Such a slutty pussy, for me.” You relinquish control and let him take over, submitting to the urge to arch your back and let out a loud moan. He continues to babble about how he can’t believe he’s waited for so long to have you like this, how he’s been thinking of touching your pussy for so long, and you start to tremble beneath him. 

“Chan,” you say, trying to warn the man, but he shushes you. 

“I got you,” he says. He shoves his fingers into you deeper but doesn’t change his pace, curling his fingers. “Let go for me.” That’s all you need to find your release, completely coming apart for him on his fingers. He sweet talks you right through your orgasm, slowing his movements. 

You watch as he pulls his fingers out of you, looking deep into your eyes as he puts his fingers into his mouth and sucks. “So sweet,” he says, more to himself than to you. He reaches over your body for the remote, clicking the power button and turning off the device. The action makes you laugh. 

“What?” he laughs with you. “Don’t act like you were actually watching that, I definitely wasn’t.” You scoff at his words and screech as he picks you up, cradling you into his chest. 

“Your room or mine?”  ***

Author's note: Sorry not sorry for the double Chan post, he is my bias though so don't be surprised...

Masterlist Recs

[s0urw00lf]

Love is in the air

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: you unknowingly give Dean another reason to fall deeper in love with you

Warning: complete and utter fluff and sam is a girls girl.

A/N: idk if anyone has done something like this, but I really loved it and I think it’s my favorite fic I’ve written yet. Also this isn’t proofread so if you see any mistakes please let me know. I wrote this at 5 am so I probably won’t notice any mistakes. Anywho hope you enjoy!!!

Today’s hunt had been a bust after you and Dean were tasked by Sam to be the cliche “couple in love” so that the envious love witch would target you instead of some other innocent couple.

So now you and Dean were in the impala driving back to the motel that happened to be about a fourth five minute drive away from the restaurant she was targeting.

The night was silent aside from the quiet music Dean had playing in the background and the light tapping of his thumbs against the steering wheel. Dean looked incredibly good in his suit and tie, a look you wish he’d worn more often.

To Dean you looked better than any angel that could grace his presence, when you exited the bathroom with your off the shoulder black form fitting dress and high heels that made your legs look like heaven, his knees almost buckled and he would’ve hadn’t it been for Sam who was there to catch him before he could.

“Hey dean?” You asked softly, drawing his attention from the empty road to you, replying with a ‘hmm’. His green eyes were extra bright in the darkness and made you want to melt in your seat.

“Can I roll down the window?” You asked, it was an odd request on your part, because you usually don’t like the pressure the harsh wind puts on your head. Dean eyebrows rose in surprise before answering “f’course sweetheart, sure it’s not gonna make your head hurt?” he asked sincerely

You shook your head “no it won’t be for long I just… want to try something” you said, pausing in thought you hoped that the feeling would push away the sadness you felt. He nodded glancing back at the road, “okay then go for it” he said with a smile.

You clicked the button to roll down the window and felt immediately relaxed. You put your arm out of the window, closing your eyes and let the wind blow on your face and whistle past your ears.

Dean watched with love in his eyes at how relaxed you looked, he could tell that the your failure to obtain the witches attention had bothered you but decided against saying anything, but as soon as the wind hit your face its like all that sadness slipped away with the wind.

You sat like that for a minute or so before deciding that was enough, you opened your eyes looking for the button again before an idea struck you. You paused in thought ‘would that be too cliche’ you asked yourself, but ultimately you told yourself ‘who cares, do it’ so you did.

You surprised Dean when you stuck your torso out of the window, he immediately grabbed on to your thigh in case you accidentally slipped. You raised your arms as the wind that was way stronger whipped past you, the air was sticky which you’d guessed was from the rain that had fell a few hours prior but you could care less.

For the first time in a life time you felt completely and utterly free, from the worried of the things that lurk in the dark, from death, and disappointment. But the feel of dean hand on your thigh mixed with the wind whipping past you and through your hair made you want to cry of happiness.

Dean watched you from inside of the car, how beautiful you looked, in that moment he was convinced you were sent right from heaven into his arms just so he could live this moment. He saw all of your worries slip away as a carefree smile graces your face. The light from the streetlight lit you up like a pop star on stage and he was your audience.

You caught him even more by surprise when you let out a loud and cheery “woooo” and it seemed like time had slowed. If both of his hands weren’t occupied he would’ve taken a picture, but he couldn’t and he would have to rely on his memory to recall this moment for the rest of his life. He wasn’t even sure how he hadn’t crashed the car.

Your heart thumped loudly at the adrenaline that rushed through your veins and that’s when you decided to get back in the car. You seated yourself back on the seat and rolled up the window before letting out the most cheerful laugh Dean had ever heard from you and just the sound itself had his heart souring. “Holy. I see why they do that in movies” you said, looking at him with the most genuine smile he’d ever seen.

Dean couldn’t help the smile that took over his features at the happiness gleaming from your face. You were glowing and it was the most precious moment of his life. “You are gorgeous sweetheart” he said, he couldn’t help that it slipped past his lips, but the look on your face showed it didn’t have much of an effect on you. You rolled your eyes, still smiling “whatever, eyes on the road Winchester, I don’t want to be roadkill because you’re too distracted” you joked. Dean huffed out a laugh in response.

For the rest of the ride the two of you basked in the happiness that replaced the previous gloom. And when you arrived at the motel, Dean was the first one out the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you. “Such a gentleman, if I’d known you’d be this sweet I would’ve let you take me on a date sooner” you joked, but Dean didn’t take it as one. “Then let me” he said genuinely.

Your smile faltered, ‘is he messing with me?’ You thought “what” you said, it was the only thing you could get out. “Let me take you on a date. A real date not one where we have to look over our shoulders the whole time. Let me take out on a date to drink champagne and eat all those fancy meals that don’t even fill you up” Dean said almost sounding as if he was begging.

Dean grabbed your hands “y/n if you let me I will go the whole nine yards. Flowers, a gift, rent a fancy car and order valet whatever you-“ you cut dean off with a kiss to which he immediately returned. The kiss was soft and sweet, you could feel his eyelashes slightly brush against your cheek, and the way he relaxed into the kiss made you swoon.

His hands dropped yours and he placed his on your hips and you bought yours around his neck pulling him deeper into it. You only pulled away because your lungs had began to burn from the lack of oxygen. Deans eyes remained closed for a little longer, reveling in the feel of your lips against his and your body pressing against him. “Woman you drive me insane” he muttered before opening his eyes.

He was graced with the sight of you smiling up at him with your arms still around his neck. “You can take me on a date dean Winchester, but it doesn’t have to be anything fancy. We could go to a diner in baby and I’d be just as happy” you said softly, your nose brushing his.

It wasn’t often Dean was rendered speechless, but in that moment he was sure you were made for him and only him. “O-okay” he stuttered. You giggled in amusement “have I rendered you speechless?” You teased, and deans cheeks reddened. “Maybe this will knock some words back into your head” you said before pressing your lips against his for the second time, only this time you didn’t give him enough time to recuperate.

“Hey I wasn’t done” he said, and you laughed loudly. Pulling away from him you closed the door to baby and began to drag him back to your shared motel room with Sam who you were sure was watching you wondering why it was taking so long for you to enter the room.

“C’mon Winchester we can talk out the details later” you said grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the stairs that led to your room.

Added bonus:

Sam had seen the blush in deans cheeks and he pure happiness in the both of your eyes. Dean quickly excused himself to the bathroom and Sam looked at you with raised brows. He’d helped you pick out that dress, telling you “Dean won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you”. You have him the biggest smile trying to contain your excitement “it worked” you whisper yelled. A huge smile broke out on Sam’s face “I told you it would” he said.

He had been the biggest supporter of you and his brother’s possible relationship. “He asked me out Sammy” you whispered so Dean wouldn’t hear. You threw yourself on the bed like a teenager from one of those romance sitcoms you claimed to not like, but before Sam could ask for more details the bathroom door opened revealing a slightly less blushing Dean.

He eyes you two skeptically “what are you two whispering about” he asked. “Just how we’ll get the witch now” you quickly lied. If Dean suspected you were lying he didn’t show, because he immediately turned his back to you and Sam trying to get his tie off. You sent Sam a quick and subtle wink that meant ‘I’ll tell you later’ and he nodded trying to hide his smile

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA # 35

Who will he be tonight? that’s the question.

Imagine dis…

It's been a while since I last posted here and even though I am late on the trend the song would not leave my head ( due to my gremlin of siblings) and you are now here to suffer with me.

MWAHAHAHAHA

…

Bruce was stressed, not because of his nightly duties nor his exhausting job as the CEO of Wayne enterprise. He got his license to foster children by the skin of his teeth through legal channels, he was so close as to use his privileges as the richest man in Gotham to get his license also to be able to foster Richard “Dick” Grayson.

Apparently despite his playboy persona aka “Brucie Wayne” just entering its social debut almost made him almost impossible to foster Dick as the social worker that had been assigned to him is also one of the few social workers in Gotham that takes their job seriously.

Bruce knew that his budding playboy persona, the carefree “BRUCIE Wayne” should be buried, he could replace this mask of his with his philanthropist self but he couldn’t just immediately change it would and will raise whispers on why, but what could be the reason?

Just as he continued scheming a knock broke his train of thoughts and entered Danny Nightgale, the calm and efficient secretary who had worked before with Lucius Fox ever since he had been hired. Danny, from Bruce’s file on him, son of two leading ecto-biologists in the world, a quiet kid who grew up in a city from nowhere, had a bad accident that left him with a slow heartbeat, discovered that one of the last two purple back gorilla is female and thus avoiding total extinction. Doesn’t have much media presence due to their hometown being the home of the former ghost hero Phantom who had vanished the moment that the anti-ecto acts had been re-appealed…

…

Bruce approached Danny with a pitch and handed him a nicely drafted contract. The agreement was straightforward: pretend to be Bruce's adoring partner in public. It was the only way to change the public's opinion, to show the world a stable, dependable, responsible Bruce Wayne who was ready to be a foster and maybe a father.

…

As years went by this arrangement had been beneficial to both parties.

Danny now saves more money, and despite having one of the highest salaries being paid all went to his rent to the nicer parts of Gotham. It had so many insurances as well security measures to ensure the tenants are safe, but the downside having most of his paycheck going to the rent itself. Now he has a permanent house that is large and free food that is made by the greatest cook that ever existed.

Bruce is less embarrassed about putting on a show for the public, he seems to take on the air-head mask whenever his supposed “lover” is around and near him, turning him into a bumbling mess whenever the “love of his life” is around him. He also secretly took great pleasure whenever those annoying journalists asked nonsense questions which he answered in his most obnoxious voice spiel away how world peace is attainable if all just gave their own Danny’s.

…

Each generation of Batkids saw how Bruce had a crush on Danny yet kept fumbling himself and reminding himself that all of this was just part of the contract. Sure each kid knew of said contract that was made for Dick’s sake but said the reason for said contract wanted to rip that thing ages ago and into pieces the moment he wanted to call Danny Dad.

Though each child that resides in that manor noticed some inconsistency within Danny’s schedules, not only that they have just recently discovered that while Danny loves to chat there are still personal things that he hadn't delved into aside from the information that was already in his files. Of course, there is also his weird avoidance of the vigilante group of Gotham, especially Batman, despite being proven to the public both in and out of Gotham that Batman is trustworthy, Danny still held wariness to said vigilante.

You’d think that after years of exposure around the Wayne’s Danny would have already discovered the cave all on his own. But it seems that every time are inches away discovering their secret an emergency or urgent priority was flaring from the Wayne enterprise that only he was needed to solve the said problem.

After weeks of Tim’s continuous intake of a very worrying amount of pure caffeine, espresso shots, and 10 different brands of energy drinks they have finally connected the dots.

Danny is a secret FBI agent planted in Gotham to catch Batman and his group in the act of breaking the law and to disband the whole spiel about being a hero and vigilante. Sure the JL and the sudden rise of heroes and vigilantes that popped up around the world that are not government affiliated made those who sat at those red velvet chairs nervous as they don’t have any active say or word as to what crimes to focus on and so on. There are reasons why Amanda Waller is still in power and still allowed to roam free with funds after funds to continue her work despite being continuously caught by the JL.

Now it is up to them to change Danny’s mind and abandon his mission so that they can finally stop seeing Bruce act like that “Brucie” persona, that they thanked the gods had been immediately vetoed, towards Danny.

…

Alfred sits down in one of the manor’s libraries with a cup of tea in one hand a book in another with another small pile on the side with a teapot ready to refill himself another cup.

He sighs at the drama that seems to unfold to his eyes only.

Ever since Master Danny had been integrated into this household he had found more free time than he could ever imagine. The young man would always find ways to outpace Alfred when it comes to housework to the point it had become their little game to this day. As much as he supports his ward/son, Master Bruce needs to gather all emotional intelligence he has left and confess to Master Danny.

But that wasn’t the live soap opera that it seemed to unravel.

His grandkids are set and believe that Master Danny is a secret agent who is here due to a mission related to the vigilante group stationed in Gotham.

Alfred adores all of them, he did but sometimes he wonders if the title World’s Greatest Detective is to be added to his arsenal of titles.

Alfred knew that Master Danny wasn’t just an ordinary secretary but he was also the Ghost King of the Infinite Realms, how did he know of this?

He simply walked in on Danny changing from his human self to that otherworldly creature that looked too regal to be a normal being, and so clues that were the littlest of things that he had always chalked up to the angle of the light seemed to begin clicking in place.

Alfred was a bit miffed when he learned that Master Danny might have been cheating when it came to their little bouts of cleaning the manor but he now stayed quiet as Master Danny still didn’t know of the quote “furry brigade” unquote are the Wayne’s, and based on Master Danny’s past rants he will have his little laugh when the truth comes out, but until then he will drink his tea in peace as the drama in Wayne manor seems to unfold.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[writing-fanics]

More Than Anything

Lucifer Morningstar x F!Reader

[summary: final battle lives lost but the show must go on!]

Masterlist > chapter I > chapter ii > chapter iii > chapter iv

[a/n: since it’s technically been a month Lucifer and Y/n’s relationship has blossomed but not into a romantic one just yet. Just maybe the occasional flirting but I will have flashbacks to moments to have it not feel rushed.]

[also y/n likes making cursed animal combinations like a dolphin with wings.. being in hell for a month has brought her out of her shell so much she’s much happier. also the reader is whatever height you are, but to me she's slightly taller than Lucifer. sorry if this seems rushed.. its alot of work y/n trained with vaggie in weapon combat. she also kinda had help from lucifer. if ya'll want I'll write another side chapter about what lucifer and her did in combat..]

word count: 3,789 {6-7 pages)

[warning: major spoilers for episode 7-8: mentions of sex: slight smut in the end (full poorly written smut in side chapter): death spoilers:

song

[Y/n] helped prepare the hotel while Charlie and Vaggie were out, she still couldn't help but think that if it all were to end tomorrow. Should she confess her feelings to Lucifer. She tried but failed weeks ago, and now with extermination day being 24 hours away. But even then would it even matter, if she did? If they were going to die what's the point? But then..

"Ugh, why do feelings have to be so complicated?!" She groaned to herself, as she helped fortify the hotel. In her own thoughts. Yet, she remembered how awkward Lucifer was acting this morning when they were eating breakfast. It could've been because of extermination day in the next 24 hours or maybe something else?

"A-Are you okay?" She asked worriedly, at Lucifer. Who scoffed in response and smiled nervously, "Y-Yeah, I'm alright fine perfectly fine." He sweats, as he looked at her nervously.

He watched as she left the manor to go help his daughter and the hotel prepare, and cursed to himself.. God, he was absolutely infatuated with her and couldn't even confess his feelings, for her. What if she dies? No don't think that he couldn't even bare the thought of losing her again.

He reached into his pocket and revealed the rubber duck with butterfly wings, and started at it softly.

[ Flashback ]

[Y/n] bit down on her lower lip, as she tried to make her first rubber duck. Squinting her eyes as she tried, to attach some butterfly wings. She smiled, jumping out of her chair in her guest room and ran down the hallway. She bursts into the room,“Lu, I did it!” She exclaimed, holding the rubber duck in her hands. Flapping its wings occasionally lifting itself off the palm of her hand. Flapping its wings.

“Wow, you did an even better job than me.” He said, causing her to blush. But shaking her head, “Nah, yours are way better.” She said, smiling looking at him.

She looked down at the rubber duck nervously, the extermination was only a few days away and people were preparing for a bloodbath a massacre, an all out war.

“I-I..” She sighed and downcasted at the ground, before shaking her head and smiled. “I made caramel apple pancakes.” She said, smile and Lucifer’s eyes lit up.

“Why didn’t you just say so!” He exclaimed, before she knew it he was already out the door of his study. Towards the delicious caramel apple pancakes.

She smiled sadly, looking down at the rubber duck. Pressing the secret button on its wing. “I love you!” It said its robotic child like voice exclaimed, and she looked down sadly. “I feel butterflies in my stomach when I’m with you,” she clenched her fist, almost crushing the duck but stopped. Looking at it sadly, “I really am pathetic.” she sighed, she walked over towards the shelf.

That had a rubber duck with similar top hat, to that of Lucifer and hesitantly placed it beside it. On the shelf, before backing away and leaving going downstairs to eat breakfast with Lucifer.

- ——

Lucifer entered his study after [Y/n] had left, to help prepare for war being a recently fallen angel and all. He sat at his desk, he glanced over at the shelf. Noticing a new rubber duck, figuring she must’ve placed it there.

He admired it in awe, the translucent butterfly wings. He remembered how much she loves butterflies, he remembered when she joked about combining the two. A Duckerfly. A duck with wings. Even then she was absolutely adorable, her jokes always seemed to make him laugh.

He titled his head noticing a hidden button on its wings, pressing it curiously. “I’m a duck with wings!” The duck said, and he chuckled.

“Duckerfly!”

“I love you!”

He stopped for a moment, processing what the duck had just said. Pressing the button again, “I get butterflies when I’m with you,” His heart seemed to skip a beat, he pressed it again.. and again and again. Until it looped back to it saying, ‘I love you.’

-------------------

[Y/n] smiled as she returned the hug, wrapping her arms around Charlie. “Thank you for everything,” thanked Charlie, looking up at the older woman smiling. "Ever since I was little," She said, looking up at her, "The stories, my dad used to tell me about you inspired me." and the older woman, looked at her and smiled her heart swelling with joy.

She chuckled softly, "When I was in heaven, I thought he'd forgotten about me." said [Y/n], her gaze soften as she reminisced of memories of the past. "Seems, it was quite the opposite who could've thought he'd tell stories of me to his own daughter." She said, smiling as she took Charlie by both hands.

She looked down at her, "You're like the child I've always wanted but never had," She said, the princess of hell couldn't help but chuckle, reminding her of the weird rivalry both her father and Alastor had.

"But, I'm not trying to replace your mother." She reiterated, "Not at all, I just want you to know. That I'm always here for you." She said, looking at her. Charlie pulled back from the hug, "I can see why my dad likes you so much," said Charlie, causing the woman in front of her cheeks to go red.

"Ah...Um.." She mumbled, but Charlie placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled, "It's okay, I think the two of you would be cute together." said Charlie, smiling. Even though she missed her mom Lilith, and that her dad might still possibly miss her. She couldn't help but notice even though on the small instances, her and her dad have spoke before all this.

She could see how happy he was having [Y/n] here, in Hell. She noticed the occasional flirting. Yes, it might sound weird but she loved seeing her dad happy more than anything. "U-Um, thank you." stammered [Y/n].

------------

[Y/n]'s eyes widened as the force-shield shattered, but she snapped back as an exorcists attacked her and she could've sworn, she heard her shout traitor. She made quick use of her weapon, and ended the exorcists life by cutting off her head.

Patches of her clothes covered in yellow ichor, a tiny cut on her cheek she sustained when fighting an exorcists. But slowly, everything seemed to go downhill as the one who was supposed to take care of Adam. Alastor had suddenly disappeared leaving Charlie to fear the worst.

[Y/n]'s eyes widened in horror as Sir Pentious' airship was destroyed, right before everyone's eyes. "No!" Charlie wailed, as tears brimmed her eyes in shock. She'd barely gotten to know Sir Pentious, in the month she was in Hell.

But, he seemed like a good person who genuinely wanted to redeem himself. Who gave trust to his friends. and in the end made the ultimate sacrifice. Gripping the weapon tightly in her hands, she charged towards Adam.

Almost impaling him, but he dodged out of the way. "Why look who it is?" He said, looking down at her mockingly. She glared at him, "Why isn't it little miss traitor." He said, and she snarled gritting her teeth as she lunged towards him, but he laughed and dodge.

"Wow, you look even worse than you did in Heaven." He mocked, and she pursed her lips eyes filled with rage. As she dodged his attacks, "Says the arrogant bastard who let himself go after Eden," She spat, and he glared at her sending a beam that almost hit her.

But wasn't so lucky about the next one, causing her to groan in pain. "Wow, you really suck at this don't you." He laughed, god she wanted to rip out his fucking tongue. "Do you ever stop fucking talking?!" She shouted, angrily.

Adam dodged her attacks as she sent them his way. Swiftly flying out of the way angering her, as her eyes started glowing as she swings at him with the angelic weapon. She glared at him angrily, “All this for a dick you can’t suck!” shouted Adam, and she glared at him angrily. Gritting her teeth, “Ugh! Fuck you.” she spat. Missing him once again.

“You really are pathetic you know that?” He laughed. Before she could even react a yellow beam, struck her already bleeding side. Gold ichor dripping from the wound, her movement faltering, "S-Shut the fuck up!" She shouted angrily, but a blast sent her flying backwards. Causing her to crash into, the hotel knocking her unconscious.

“Y/n!” Charlie shouted, watching as she plummet to the ground. But she didn’t, and felt a pair of arms wrap around her holding her, she looked up and smiled. She quickly wrapped her arms around him, “Lu,” She whispered.

Then her eyes widened, “Please tell me you didn’t hear that.” She looked embarrassed, cheeks red. Lucifer cocked his head to the side,“Not all of it just the, a dick you can’t suck part.” He said, her cheeks bright red. How she wanted to curl up into a ball and hide in a cave.

She pursed her lips inward and groaned, “I would kiss you now-” Her cheeks turned red, as a tomato as he said that. Even more so as he looked down at her with a mischievous grin, “But, we can do that later.” He said, a grin on his face then turning to are at Adam.

Glaring at him as well as she pulled away from Lucifer, “I’ll take you up on that offer, but first.” She clicked her tongue, gripping her weapon as she glared at Adam.

Seething her teeth, as she gripped the weapon tightly. “Let’s get this fucker.” She spat, with swift speed flying off towards the angel.

Lucifer smiled watching as she flew off, “That’s my girl,” He smiled, as the two of them flew off towards Adam. Following after her, the look of anger on his face seeing his daughter in danger.

Lucifer cackled as he looks down at Adam, dodging his attacks."So, this is what you've been up to since Eden?" said Lucifer, a he flew around him."Gotta say, you really let yourself go buddy." He said, as he transformed into a snake. Adam grabbing him by the tail, and trying to throw him. But before he could Lucifer transforms into a duck. "You judgin' me? You're the most hated being in all of creations." Adam shouted, angrily at him.

"Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer." said Lucifer, using his fingers to make a 'V' shape bringing it to his lips. "or the second. Bow-chicka-wow-wow." said Lucifer, as he makes a thrusting motion in the air. Angering Adam, "I'll fucking end you!!" Adam shouted, as he chased after Lucifer.

[Y/n] flew up towards them, she laughed mischievously, as she transformed into different animals. Teasing him, “For someone who calls himself dick master, your own wives didn’t even want yours!” She laughed, grinning as you transformed into a dolphin with wings.

She slapped him using the tail across the face. Smiling mischievously, “Ugh! You bitch!” He shouted, angrily trying to grab her but she ducked. Flying away swiftly.

“The bully gets bullied,” She cackled, making faces at him before disappearing in a poof of yellow clouds. She giggled, as Lucifer took her by the hand. And the two of took pride in dancing to dodge, Adam’s attacks. “Oh, can’t catch us..” The two of them teased.

“That duck you left me,” He said, as the two of you disappeared from Adam, dodging his attacks. Her cheeks turned red as she looked at him, “I love you too,” He said, and her heart swelled with joy. Really was he saying this now?!

Adam gagged in disgust, “Stop moving you freaks!” Adam shouted, causing the king of hell to shake his head, “Hey, I’m trying to confess my love over here!” shouted Lucifer, causing her cheeks to turn even redder. Adam growing angrier, as he glared at them.

Adam groaned in anger, as he sent a beam of yellow ichor towards them. But Lucifer holding [Y/n] close protectively, as he swiftly pulled her out of the way. “Charlie!” She shouted worriedly, and swiftly as she said that Lucifer was off towards his daughter.

[ slight time skip ]

[Y/n] placed her hand on her bleeding side, as she stood up to her feet. Glaring at Adam as she stood beside everyone else, "You don't get to end this." Adam said, as he stood to his feet weakly. Climbing out of the hole, "I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man," He shouted, looking at the sinners and demons in front of him, "and you're just some fucking clown or something." He spat, glaring at them.

"I started everything on Earth." He shouted, rambling. "All of mankind came from theses fucking nuts." He shouted, staring at them. While they just stood their listening to his tantrum, "You all should be worshipping me." He screamed.

"you ungrateful, disgusting fucking losers!" He shouted,Adam wails, and everyone stars at him in shock seeing the dagger protruding from his stomach. "Hey, you got something sticking out of your..your thing there." said Lucifer, pointing nonchalantly at the dagger sticking out of his stomach.

Adam fell forward, revealing Niffty holding the blade in her hands. "Niffty?" Charlie said in shock. Niffty sat there for a moment before, "Stab! Stab! Stab!" Niffty shouted, as she laughed manically. As she continued to stab him repeatedly. "Blood! ha ha ha!" She laughed, a crazed look in her eyes.

Lute screamed, as she rushed towards Adam turning him over as he died. Crying over her friend and leader, who sent her a final smile before dying. "It's over," Charlie and [Y/n], said glaring down at Lute.

"Take your little friends," said Lucifer, as he glared at Lute angrily in his demon form, "and go home." He shouted, is voice distorted and demonic. "Please.!" He asked, relaxed and calm yet with a sinister tone to his voice. Everyone watched, as the exorcists retreated back to heaven.

Lucifer sighed and turned back towards everyone, "Alright who wants some pancakes." asked Lucifer, as he wrapped an arm around [Y/n]'s waist. "This lovely lady right here makes some delicious, caramel apple pancakes." He said, a huge grin on his face. She smiled sheepishly, as she looked at everyone. Niffty raised her hand. "But first, I need to get this bandaged." She said, looking at the others smiling softly as she pointed at the wound.

She winced in pain as she climbed, over the rubble. “I’m okay,” She smiled, looking at Lucifer. She looked over towards Charlie, as she stared at the destroyed hotel. Everyone looked at her sadly, as she stared at the destruction and bloodshed that the war had caused. Holding KeeKee in her arms, she looked down at the banner they had made for Sir Pentious month's ago. Tears welled up in Charlie's eyes, realizing the ultimate sacrifice.

"He did it for us, the ultimate sacrifice," Charlie sang, as she choked back a sob. Vaggie placed her hand on her shoulder, "He gave me his trust, and look how we pay the price," She sang, as she walked away. She looked around at the cranage and destruction, "This bloodshed could have been avoided." She sang sadly, even though they won. She felt as if in a way it was all for nothing with the lives that were lost, "If I convinced Heaven to work together," She sang, tearfully.

She walked over towards the ledge, revealing the destroyed Hazbin Hotel and what remains, "I took a hotel and I destroyed it," She sang sadly, seeing the damage she couldn't help but blame herself for, "I know I could have done better." She sang, as she hugged her self tears welling up in her eyes, as she fell to her knees. "Better, instead of letting you down," She sang, looking down at the ground.

 'Come on little lady, why the frown?' Lucifer sang, as he looked down at his daughter, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'In the last ten-thousand years. You're the first one to change this town' He sang, standing up on his feet getting in front of her, 'You can do this, now I know it!' He sang, placing his hand underneath Charlie's chin. 'For your story has just begun'

"You can't quit now, hell, you owe it," [Y/n] sang, as she smiled at Charlie warmly, "There's still damage to be undone," sang Lucifer, as he smiled at his daughter.

"You've changed my mind," He sang.

"You've touched their hearts." sang [Y/n].

"Found the good in souls gone bad"

"The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone,"

Lucifer looked at his daughter triumphantly, and sang."But by God, Charlie!" [Y/n]wrapped an arm around her, "The show, it must go on" Lucifer and [Y/n] sang, Charlie looked up towards her friends.

“We can do this!” Charlie’s friends sang, as they looked down at her smiling comforting her, making the best of the situation. “We can build it!” everyone sang, smiling at her.

‘Best hotel that you’ve ever seen!’

‘Twice the bedrooms’

‘We can fill it’

“With more sinners than you can dream,” Lucifer sang, as he wrapped an arm around [Y/n]’s waist, a slight tint of red appearing on her cheeks. “It starts with you, you know, it's true.” They sang, as they looked down at her smiling. Hopeful despite the hotel being destroyed, despite the sinners lost.

“Fulfill your destiny!” Charlie looked at her friend, and wiped away her tears and smiled looking at them. “So long as I've got all of you with me!” Charlie smiled, as she wrapped her arms around them.

[Y/n] spreads her wings and smiles, as she flies around. Helping everyone work on rebuilding the hotel. From scratch to be grander than ever. As she sang to help rebuild the hotel she, still couldn’t believe that he loved her back. Almost feeling like a dream that he told her he loved her back. Her heart still skipping a beat, as a wave of relief seemed to wash away.

After a seemingly endless period of wallowing in self-pity, she had finally found happiness with him. With him by her side, she was filled with a sense of anticipation for what was to come in the future.

Suddenly, he scooped her up in his arms like a bride, and she let out a yelp of surprise. As he leaned down towards her, she felt his lips against hers, and a soft gasp escaped her. Her body tensed up in response as her heart began to pound against her chest, overcome with a mixture of nervousness and relief. Her eyes slowly fluttering shut as she melted into the kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning more into the kiss.

He whispered into her ear, causing her to shudder and turn beet red. Despite her flustered demeanor, he couldn't help but chuckle softly. Furrowing her eyebrows as she looked at him, and playfully leapt out of his arms.

Transforming into a duck with butterfly wings, and flying off. Lucifer chasing after her, as she switched between each forms giggling, as they continued to help rebuild the hotel. She smiled, as magic flew through her fingers butterflies flew around the hotel glowing with yellow ichor.

Everyone stood at the portrait of Sir Pentious, memorial saluting the great general who sacrifed himself for his friends. “We can do this,” everyone sang, as they stared at the portrait mourning the loss. But a smile on their face, knowing that his sacrifice guaranteed them a better and hopeful future towards redeeming sinner.

“We can do this,” Charlie sang, as she stared at the “We'll be better,” everyone sang smiling, as they remembered Sir Pentious. Saluting their fallen friend.

“We'll be better,”

‘Though redemption may take a while’

“Though it may take a while,” Charlie sang, smiling as [Y/n] placed her hand in her shoulder.

‘Wayward sinners, clear their ledger’

‘And we're doing it with a smile’ Alastor sang, as he appeared between them. Charlie’s eyes lighting up smiling, as she hugged him. “Yeah!” everyone except Lucifer, smiled as they looked towards Alastor.

‘We made a difference, wait and see’

‘We're gonna do this, you and me.’ Charlie and Vaggie sang, as they hugged eachother.

As they walked out towards the courtyard with a hopeful smile. [Y/n] smiled as Lucifer took her hand into his squeezing, she looked down at him and smiled. Fireworks lit up the red sky of hell, as they looked at the newly rebuilt Hazbin Hotel.

Lucifer used his magic shrinking the key, and handing it to Charlie. Who smiled looking at the hotel, “And then tomorrow, it will be a fuckin’ happy day in Hell!” They all sang, as they looked at the newly completed and rebuilt grander than ever. Hazbin Hotel.

[side chapter sneak peek]

Lucifer and [Y/n}, had left suddenly after saying goodbye to Charlie and everyone saying they needed some. "rest" But Angel knew all to well, he saw right past through it. "Yeah, they're about to fuck." Angel said, earning a groan of disgust from everyone. In particularly, Charlie. "Ew, that's my dad." said Charlie, in disgust looking up at Angel Dust.

"What? It's pretty obvious!" He exclaimed, folding his arms across his chest. Before looking off in the distance curiously, "I wonder what kind of kink the Short King is into." He wondered curiously, he took notice of the apples.

Charlie covered her ears, while everyone started walking off. "He's definitely into food play, whipped cream and apples." Angel continued, and "Lala! I can't hear you!" Charlie shouted, as she walked off. "Hey, Charlie give me Y/n's number so I can ask!" He shouted, running after her, "No!" shouted Charlie, as she walked towards the hotel.

"Aw, come one I need to know!" Angel shouted, chasing after Charlie.

meanwhile.. in lucifer's room{ya'll will get the actual smut later so rn its the morning after}

Lucifer's eyes fluttered open and he was met with the most wonderous sight, of [Y/n] and her crinkled up nose as she slept letting out the occasional snore. He smiled softly, as he brushed his fingers against her cheek causing her to smile. His heart seemed to flutter, how did he get so lucky?

"Aw, Lucifer." She said playfully, looking at him as he attacked her neck with kisses, "I've gotta make breakfast." She said, and he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck. "Mm, not yet." He said, as he pulled her underneath the covers. She was in for a long morning.

a/n: no y/n didn't know that Lilith was in heaven im not kidding. She had no idea, but with her coming into play for season 2. There will def be some drama stirring, if she's a villian or not.

also lemme know if theres any gaps so i can go back and fix them.

taglist: @supernerdycookietrashblrr @96jnie @mit-suri @koji-akeme @dinawss @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @wanderlustingcastaway @only-cherry-blossom @runaway-expert @buubsii @darkknightsandredrobins @kokoneai5 @colletepop @asheitoshin @thesimppotato11 @cherry-4200 @jolynetodd @blaire-blake @thedarkkitten @astrxwitch

[risingode]

loml (loss of my life)

summary: in which ellie's only ever cried in front of you three times. yet the fourth is the most devastating of them all.

pairing: ellie williams x y/n

genre: angst

wc: 962

please comment or message letting me know your thoughts! it helps motivate me :)

once again inspired by taylor swfit :)

a/n: hello everyone! it has been quite a while since i have uploaded on here. i've had a lot of changes in my life since the last time i posted a writing of mine, primarily, i am now in my third (!!!) year of university. crazy to even think about tbh. anyways, i know i primarily write about jungkook from bts, but recently i was gifted a ps5 by my brother in law and the first game i bought was tlou part 2 remastered because i never quite got over the game, or more specifically, ellie williams lmaooooo. anyways pls enjoy this short little drabble, i am excited to get back into writing! and yes, i will keep writing for jungkook as well, i'm just mixing it up a bit!

Ellie Williams was an enigma to the world, and right now, her mystery is unfurling in the cruelest of ways. The room before you is a tapestry of shattered dreams, clothes scattered like discarded promises, each garment a silent witness to the betrayal unfolding before your eyes.

Your heart, once so full of trust and love, feels like it's disintegrating. A heart-shaped void appears on the floor beneath you, a grotesque reflection of the pain ripping through your chest. There, in the dim light, your fiancée lies entwined with another woman, their bodies a stark betrayal of the vows once promised to you.

It's almost absurd, the way a love that once made you feel invincible can crumble so easily, as if it was all a cruel joke. The sight is so surreal that you question its reality, your mind unable to reconcile the image before you with the life you thought you shared. Your feet are rooted to the ground, as if some invisible force has tethered you to this unbearable truth.

The diamond ring on your finger, once a symbol of unending love, now feels like a shackle, its weight a painful reminder of the promises that were so carelessly broken. You stand there, numb and hollow, the ache in your chest growing more insistent with every breath. 

Her voice is a faint murmur, drowned out by the protective haze your mind has wrapped around you, shielding you from the full weight of her betrayal. The woman who promised to stand by you for the rest of your life is now an almost surreal presence, a distant echo as the reality of the situation sinks in.

They scramble to untangle themselves from the bed—your bed. Clothes are hastily pulled on, and you feel a wave of nausea rise up, the bile surging before you can even hope to stop it. The force of the moment propels you into action, and you sprint through the house, your heart pounding with the realization that every corner holds a painful reminder of the life you built together.

The couch you assembled in your first apartment, the dishes you chose together, each one a piece of your shared dream, perfectly matching the white and royal blue of your kitchen. The kitchen where you cooked meals side by side, dancing to songs from artists you discovered together, 

“This one’s the song I want to walk down the aisle to,” you’d said, stirring the pasta as you both cooked together.

Ellie looked up from where she stood, buttering garlic bread. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling as you watched her. “Do you like it?”

Her eyes twinkled with that familiar warmth as she walked over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist. “I don’t care what song you walk down the aisle to,” her tender voice whispers into your ear, “as long as the person standing at the end of it is me.” 

The air is cold against your hot skin, a reminder of how real everything you just experienced was. You couldn’t seem to care, though, almost prying open the door to your poorly parked car. The silence of it deafening as you give yourself time to catch your breath, finally it was quiet. Still, the sounds of their shared moans and whimpers echoes in your mind. The silence doesn’t last long, a loud thump breaks you out of your dissociated trance. Your neck snaps towards your driver’s side window, Ellie’s tearful face is the sight you’re met with. You think back to all the times you’ve seen her cry before. You conclude it’s three. 

The first time was when she was drunk, confessing her feelings, afraid you didn’t feel the same. You had held her close, whispering reassurances. 

“Oh, Ellie, you’re silly to think I don’t like you too.”

The second was when you were rushed to the hospital after a fall at work. The memory is a blur of bright lights and pain, but Ellie’s tear-streaked face as she clung to you is vivid. 

“You scared me so bad, baby,” she had sobbed into your shoulder.

You had tried to lighten the moment, chuckling despite your discomfort. “I just have a mild concussion. The only thing I’m worried about is how I’m going to step back into that office without a bag over my head. I’m so embarrassed.” 

She pulls away to look at your pouting face, noticing a light purple bruise decorating your pretty eye. She frowns, leaning in to leave a kiss on it. “Shut up, you’re never leaving my side again.”

The third and only time you cried alongside her was the day she proposed, her hand shaking in your grasp as she got down on one knee. 

“You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I don’t care how many years pass, or how many hurdles we come across, I will always be there for you. I can’t imagine loving anyone as much as I love you, baby.” 

You’re choking on your tears, your hand feels almost numb at the tightening of her grip. You reach your empty hand up to your chest, willing your beating heart to still. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Now, in the cold car, you’re confronting the fourth time, a cruel twist of fate that you never anticipated would be this moment. You thought the tears would come on your wedding day, as you exchanged vows to love and cherish each other, for better or for worse. The irony makes you laugh, a broken, hollow sound, as you shift the car into reverse.

Ignoring the pleading sobs muffled by the glass, you drive away, each mile feeling like a mile further from the life you once knew and the promises that were so easily shattered.

[worldsover]

Better Things ft. Karina, Ningning

length ✦ 7k

genres ✧ toxic relationship; cuckquean; cockwarming; degradation; needy subby gf!Ningning, hook-up!Karina

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Ningning is a doormat.

Ningning is your girlfriend.

Ningning is some girl who lives with you and if she were your girlfriend, you probably would have had sex with her before a dozen other women. If she were your girlfriend, you probably wouldn't have had sex with those women. If she weren't a doormat, she would have left when she caught you in bed with another girl the first time. Would have left when you made her watch the seventh time. Would have left after she ate your creampie out of some random girl you just met at a club. That's why you can't even bring yourself to feel guilty about taking advantage of her.

Well, that, and new pussy's better than guilt.

But to say better implies some level of good. It's fine. You're exhausted. Exhausted from work. Exhausted from dealing with people. You're so exhausted, yet Ningning greets you in the doorway with open arms and a warm hug like she has all the energy in the world. Like you've ever given her an ounce of that energy back. She's wearing a red tank top that shows off her cleavage and short shorts that cling to her toned legs. That could've worked before, could've made you carry her straight to the bedroom.

The doormat must have waited where the doormat belonged, all day, as it tightens its embrace.

Ningning releases you and gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek. The sweetest smile on her face. Eyes like your next words are precious gold. "Welcome home, babe."

Could've made you feel warm inside. You have no gold left to give. "Work was shit."

"I'm sorry," Ningning responds. "You seem stressed." She leans in for another kiss, trying to comfort and soothe you with her affection. Give Ningning an inch or six or seven, and she'll take 26 miles. You don't have the energy for a marathon.

You pull away. "I'm tired," you say dismissively, already making your way to the couch without acknowledging her further.

Ningning pouts. "Right. Of course. Go rest on the couch. I'll get you a drink."

She returns with a glass of water, but you wish it were something stronger as she settles in beside you on the couch. "You're really are tense, babe," she says with concern, running her hands over your shoulders and neck. "I... I could help. Daddy."

Your pet name sounds forced, calculated out of her mouth. It has been too long since you've truly desired or pleasured Ningning, and she makes sure you're aware of it every time she tries to initiate intimacy with you. And even when she does manage to catch your attention, it's only because other women have used her as an unwilling participant in their own sexual encounters with you.

So when she begs and pleads with you now, it's easy to brush off her advances and ignore her kisses. But as she continues to whisper promises and titles like "Take your stress out on me" and "Daddy's good girl," a dark idea begins to form in your mind.

Suddenly, Ningning's hand slips down to stroke you through your trousers and her lips attach themselves to your neck like a leech. She must sense the shift in your demeanor because she becomes more desperate and persistent in her seduction.

You remain silent, mulling over her offer. Suddenly, Ningning's grip tightens on your bulge and she exclaims "Daddy! See? You're getting hard already. That means I can use me now, right? Please, I'll be so good for you."

The rush getting to your head makes you reply in earnest for the first time. "You're right."

Ningning gasps softly, her lips forming a grin. "I-I am?"

"Yep. I need a good fuck."

Her hand slips from your pants as she springs up, jubilant and bouncing with excitement. "Yes! You deserve it," she exclaims, her eyes shining with glee. "How do you want me? Which hole do you want to jerk off with? To dump your cum into?"

You pull out your phone.

Instantly, her joy turns to disappointment as she realizes what this means. "Daddy...why? But...but why?"

You open Tinder and show her all the matches you have.

"No." She pouts, her face genuinely forlorn. "No, please, no, Daddy, I'll do anything. Not another random whore. I've been so good, I did such a good job getting you hard. Why do these sluts get your cock?"

"You barely did shit. You're not good, you're just desperate."

"Please!" She's back to clinging to your arm, back to giving you desperate pecks on your cheek and wherever she can peck, but you don't let her kiss your lips, turning your face away. "Kiss me, use me, anything! What do I have to do? Stroke your cock faster? Gag on your big Daddy dick? Be your personal porn star all day? Please, tell me, I, I need you so bad."

Your gaze vacillates between her and your phone.

"Your cum, I need it. I need you to stretch me out. Daddy, I need you to grope me, throw me around, force your dick down my throat, anything, please, I need you! Please, use your bitch."

You have made your decision. "Maybe later. After I hook up with a hotter girl. You can have seconds."

She has to hold back a tear, shuddering, trembling in frustration. "Later?"

You nod and look down at her, sternly.

"Okay. Yes. Of course, yes, Daddy, you need to… feel good after, after a stressful day. Seeing you happy is more important, and I'm not doing a good enough job."

"You're not."

She swallows hard. "Yeah. So if one of those sluts can make you feel better than me... I suppose I can wait my turn." The kisses that punctuate each of her words, that travel to wherever you allow them, slow down. She has left marks and saliva all over you.

"Are you done?" You hold up your phone. "If you want me to use you sooner, then I'll have to find someone sooner, right?"

"Yes, I understand." She sits up, her hands clasped together demurely. "Wait. But, you're still hard."

"And?"

"May I suck you, Daddy?" she asks.

You shake your head. "I've got better things to do with my time than you."

Ningning begs with her eyes, pouting and pleading. "I know, I know. I'm just a useless needy slut who can't satisfy you... but at least I can warm your cock with my mouth. Right? I'll keep quiet while servicing your cock and you can keep swiping on Tinder."

You lean back in thought.

"You know I can be a good cock warmer for you. If that's all I'm good for… please?"

You examine her face—adorable and needy—her lips twitching as if she's about to burst into tears. She is right. Those very lips are heavenly wrapped around your shaft, sipping and slurping on your cockhead. "Fine," you say.

"Yay!" she celebrates. "Thank you, oh my god, thank you, Daddy." She gives you one last kiss on the lips before going to her place. On her knees, between your legs, in front of the couch. It'd only be more appropriate with your feet on her.

Your focus remains on your phone as you begin searching for a hot girl to hook up with.

"It's been so long since I tasted your—"

"I thought this was for my pleasure," you say. Hearing her speak instead of feeling her mouth on your cock annoys you.

"Sorry. You're right. This is for you. Doesn't matter what I want." She unbuckles your belt and pulls down your trousers.

You nod as you return your attention to the phone screen. You've been picky with the girls you swipe for, but this time, you're looking for anyone with a hot face and nice tits. While your girlfriend is certainly cute, she doesn't exactly fulfill those criteria, especially not now. Especially not tits.

Ningning presses her face against your underwear and takes a long whiff, a smile growing. She runs her tongue on your boxers, marking them with some saliva; its dampness seeps through the fabric.

Grabbing her hair, you say, "Dumb bitch, begging for scraps, did I ask you to do that?" You yank, causing her to wince in pain.

"Ow, n-no. I'm sorry, Daddy." After looking into her eyes for a few seconds, you let go of her hair, then Ningning immediately frees your cock. She's mesmerized as if she's never seen it before, and you find the target of her attention: the leaking pre-cum. She can't help herself from giving your tip a kiss. "Okay, you can keep swiping," she says. "I'll make you feel so good while you find a tight hole to use."

You don't respond, instead doing just as stated. Left, left, left, left, left. It's looking like one of those evenings. The only plus side is the simple sensation of pleasure as Ningning suckles slowly like a lollipop.

"Do my lips feel good? Is it nice having your pet warm your cock while you find prettier whores?" Truthfully, if there's one thing Ningning is expert at, it's sending shivers through your body with her mouth. She explores every inch of your cock with her tongue, skillfully tracing along the ridges and then sliding back down to your shaft.

Finally, you find a few pretty girls here and there. It's still many more left swipes than right, but most of the women you swipe match immediately. However, you lose interest in most quickly.

"Ah, I, I luhhv, this, cah…" In between Ningning talking with a mouthful, you relish in the sounds of quiet sucking. It distracts you from your ankle-shallow conversations, the dumb pickup lines, the straightforward advances.

You're tempted to grab her hair again and shove her lips down the base until she chokes and gags, but then Tinder would've been a waste of time anyway.

With her lips so diligently latched to your shaft, Ningning starts to drool. You give her one glance, and she immediately starts to lick your shaft clean. "I love cleaning your cock. That's all I'm good for, I know. I love being on my knees for you, having your perfect dick in my mouth, looking up at you and seeing your lust… e-even if it's for other girls." A hint of sadness in her voice. But even as she knows she will never be enough for you, she finds pleasure in submitting to your desires and being on her knees for you. And despite her words, her actions show that she loves it just as much as you do—if not more.

The lazy blowjob continues for some time, your erection carefully nurtured by Ningning's lips. You finally find the match you're looking for, the hottest girl you've ever seen in your life. Karina, 23. Every picture hardens your dick more than anything this cockwarmer toy of a woman can do. Whether it's a casual crop top or an elegant low-cut black dress, her ample cleavage leaves little to the imagination. Karina was the one for tonight. Your conversation with her quickly becomes sexual, which becomes an invite to your place.

Ningning notices your smile. "Did you get a match?" she asks gleefully. "Did you find a new pretty whore to break?" Her lips are more active on your shaft now, gliding up and down with renewed enthusiasm.

"Yep."

"Ahh." She releases your shaft, sticking out her tongue as saliva bridges from her bottom lip to your tip. With puppy dog eyes, she looks up at you and timidly asks, "I-is she prettier than me?"

"Duh." You show her Karina's pictures. "She has bigger tits too."

Ningning looks down. "That's great, Daddy," she says quietly. She perks herself up by kissing your dick. "I'm glad you found a better whore to fuck. When will she be here?"

"In a few hours."

"Okay, Daddy. I'll take care of this cock. I'll keep it nice and warm and wet. You can just relax until she arrives. " She returns to her duty, her lips a pillowy cushion, and she sucks with no complaint.

You idly browse your phone while Ningning keeps her lips sealed around your shaft like it's the most precious thing in the world. When you get up for snacks, she follows you around the house, never letting go of your cock for fear of losing it forever. Returning to the couch, you lie down and watch some shows while Ningning remains on her knees, expertly sucking away.

It's not until you receive the text that Karina is on her way that you finally pull a half-asleep Ningning off of your dick. You quickly gather yourself and prepare for Karina's arrival.

The doorbell rings. You answer the door. Your jaw practically drops to the floor when you open the door. Karina stands before you, clad in a tight pink tube top that shows off the toned shape of her midriff and accentuates the weightiness of her ample breasts. So much skin on display that you hardly know where to look first. A tantalizing hint of vanilla fills the air, adding to the already-charged atmosphere.

"Hello, handsome," she purrs, her voice naturally sultry. She leans in for a kiss before even stepping inside.

The kiss lingers longer than expected, your tongues dancing with a hint of alcohol, perhaps wine. Her hands find their way to your shoulders while yours rest on her waist, reveling in the softness of her smooth skin. Eventually, you release each other from the passionate embrace. "Wow. Hello, Karina. You look absolutely stunning."

"Aw, thank you."

You invite her inside. "Make yourself comfortable."

"I'm glad we matched so quick. Your pics were such a tease." Karina pokes you in the chest.

"And I'm glad you accepted my invite," you reply with a grin.

She giggles. "How could I say no? Straight to the point. And trust me, I could definitely blow off some steam today." Karina scans the living room, then freezes when she notices Ningning sitting there.

You bury your face in your hands; you completely forgot about her.

"Who's that?" Karina asks with an arched eyebrow. "You didn't mention anyone else joining us."

Ningning speaks up: "I'm Dad—"

"She's nobody," you say.

Karina laughs, her gaze lingering on Ningning's figure. "Nobody? Really?" She turns back to you with an impish grin. "Well, she's quite gorgeous. Maybe she could join us and make things even more fun?"

Ningning practically bounces in her seat. "That would be amazing! Can I please join, Daddy?"

Karina runs her hand down your chest, causing you to catch your breath. "So she calls you 'Daddy', huh? That's interesting." Her eyes flicker over Ningning before returning to you with an impish glint. "Well then… what do you say… 'Daddy'?"

Hearing the pet name spoken by Karina in such a seductive tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you release a quick exhale. "Just you and me. All night long."

"Ooh, when you put it like that…" Karina trails off with a smirk. "You better not disappoint." She wraps her arm around your neck and goes in for a deep kiss, your lips locked together as your tongues swirl in each other's mouths. At this moment, it's easy for you to forget about your own girlfriend waiting in the living room, stumbling inside while still entwined with Karina.

"Daddy, p-please, I'll behave," Ningning stutters out from behind you. "I can make you feel good too. I promise, I'll be a good girl."

Karina's lips part from yours with a soft moan, and the sound thrums through your body like a sweet melody. More than anything else, you want to hear the notes of those moans louder and harder and over and over again. Karina catches sight of Ningning watching them from the corner of her eye and chuckles playfully. "Oh, honey, look at that face. She looks like she's about to cry."

"Ignore her."

Karina smirks—a deadly thing. "Ignore her, huh? Sure." She gives you one last lingering kiss before breaking away with a satisfied sigh. "Now show me where your bathroom is so I can freshen up."

You lead the way, but before you can show Karina into the bathroom, you get distracted by the creamy skin of her neck and begin kissing it fervently. Your kisses trail back up to her lips, and once again your tongues dance together. You've kissed Karina more in the past few minutes than you have your girlfriend in a long time.

Karina shudders when you pull away. "Ffuck, this is gonna be an incredible night, huh?" She runs a hand through your hair before giving you a sly smile. "You're such a good kisser. No wonder you have her wrapped around your finger… say, what's her name?"

"Doesn't matter. Just think of her like my house pet."

Karina's teeth sink into her bottom lip. "Damn. Okay," she says, nodding, "get comfy in your bedroom, babe. I'll be ready in just a moment."

You nod and watch as Karina disappears into the bathroom. When you head back to the living room, you find Ningning quietly sobbing to herself.

Holding her chin with a firm and unyielding grip, you force Ningning to look at you, and her eyes widen in fear. "What the fuck?"

"Wh-what?" Ningning sniffles.

Giving her cheek a few light slaps, you scowl at her. "Don't 'what' me, or give me those puppy dog eyes. Why the fuck are you still here?"

"I-I, I'm sorry," Ningning stammers through her sobs. "I don't know... I thought maybe I could join in or take care of you afterwards or..."

Echoes of a crack, you land a harder slap on her cheek, leaving a red mark behind. "I am not fucking you!" you snap. "Do you really think I would waste my time with someone like you when I have a goddess like Karina in my home?" You let out a heavy sigh. "What am I going to do with you?"

Ningning avoids making eye contact as she apologizes once again.

"Fine," you say, standing up. "Follow me to my room."

"Really?"

"Just do as I say."

You sit down on the edge of your bed and point to the floor in front of you, a spot that is all too familiar for Ningning. She obeys without question, kneeling by your crotch as you tug down your pants and underwear to reveal your soft cock. You then yank Ningning's head down towards your lap.

"What do I—" she starts but is cut off by your hiss.

"Are you stupid? What have you been doing for the past few hours?"

Ningning whimpers quietly. "Yes, Daddy." She begins stroking you with her small hand.

"Use your mouth," you command.

"Right, right." She quickly swallows your member, her lips dragging along its flaccid length. As you harden in her mouth, she gags when it hits the back of her throat, but diligently she cleans up all the saliva.

You close your eyes, picturing Karina instead, and after a few minutes, pictures in your mind materialize as the door opens.

"Hey, what do you think—" Karina's voice trails off as she sees Ningning between your legs, servicing your now fully erect cock. "I thought you said she wasn't joining us," she says with a giggle.

"Well, I'm just using her to get you ready for me," you reply. Despite the ministrations of Ningning's lips and tongue, your attention is solely focused on the woman standing in front of you.

Karina steps closer, her eyes fixated on Ningning. "That's such a turn on, seeing her between your legs like that," Karina says, smirking.

Ningning moans happily as she continues to orally service your dick.

"Look at her," Karina says, "such a cute thing."

"No, look at you," you reply. "That top looks perfect on you. Your body's perfect."

"Thank you, babe. I wore this just for tonight." Karina brings her hands to her chest, and you must be drooling when she squeezes. "You like?"

You nod. "You're the hottest girl I've ever seen, Karina."

Ningning lets out a sad whimper around your cock.

Karina sits down on the edge of the bed next to you, watching intently as Ningning works to get your cock even harder with her mouth. "Wow, your cock is perfect. She's almost got you ready for me." She grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss.

You're in a new endless world of bliss, Karina's lips on yours, Ningning's lips on your cock. The sound of her blowjob is noisy, wet, sloppy, but you notice only the moans coming out of Karina's mouth into yours. And even better than that is when Karina presses her full breasts against your arm, giving you visions of what's to come—hours of playing with those breasts greedily between your fingers.

Again, when Karina releases the kiss, she lets out a light moan, and it's the prettiest thing you've heard. "I can't wait to ride that big fucking cock."

"You don't have to wait." With a firm grip on Ningning's hair, you pull her off your cock and toss her onto the floor with a gentle thud. "Get a condom for me," you command.

Ningning lays on the ground, spit-covered lips quivering. She can't make eye contact with you or Karina. "Yes, Daddy."

Karina's legs rub together. "She's such an obedient girl." She brings her legs over and straddles you before she starts making out with you once again.

Though your hands are all over her body, they naturally find their way toward her breasts.

"Yeah, fuck, touch me," Karina says breathily, "feel me up."

"Your tits are incredible, holy shit."

"Just having your pet isn't enough for you?" Karina asks playfully.

You shake your head. "But you're more than enough."

Karina's lips press firmly against yours, her teeth grazing your lower lip in excitement. As you deepen the kiss, you can taste the faint hint of her lip gloss mingled with the subtle tang of your own blood. Her hands begin to explore, trailing down your body until they reach your shaft. Like Ningning before her, she struggles to fully wrap her fingers around your girth. "Fuck, you're so thick," she whispers in awe.

You let out a deep groan as Karina starts to twist and slide her hand up and down your wettened cock. Just then, Ningning's soft voice interrupts your passion-filled moment. "Here's the condom, Daddy," she says softly.

"Put it on with that dirty little mouth of yours."

Karina giggles then brings her lips back on yours, brings her tongue back into your mouth.

"You, you really want me to…"

You give her a stern look.

"Of, of course, Daddy. Whatever you want," she nervously replies before awkwardly scooting towards where you're sitting. You can see that she's struggling to find the space between you and Karina straddling your lap. Eventually, you hear the sound of the condom packet opening and feel Ningning putting it on with her mouth.

Karina's moans get louder, and she runs her hands through your hair.

"It's on, Daddy," Ningning announces timidly as she sits next to you, her hands resting meekly on her thighs.

You and Karina seem to want to kiss forever, Karina especially reveling in the spectator; however, she breaks it first. "Get on your back," she says, her eyes piercing into yours. "I'm riding you and this fucking beautiful dick into the bed."

As you both shuffle around and get comfortable, you push Ningning aside to the corner of the bed. You sink into the pillows while Karina kneels above you, gazing at you with hungry desire.

Ningning's tiny voice is barely audible as she begs, "Can I watch? Please, Daddy?" Her eyes gleam with admiration and delight at the sight of you and Karina together. "I love seeing you feel good. I promise I'll be quiet, I won't interrupt."

There might have been words in your right ear.

Karina laughs as she positions her slender figure over your cock. She takes hold of it and guides it towards her entrance with expert precision. "Are you just ignoring her? That's pretty fucking…" She sinks down into your length and moans loudly, musically. "Hot, oh, fuck, you feel so good." Her pussy clings closely, warm and snug around you.

Feeling dizzy with pleasure, you grab onto her shapely hips as she moves on top of you. She moans in response and adjusts to fit your entire length inside of her, her hand feeling your hardness through her slim waist.

"Wait, fuck, please. Don't move yet." Karina gasps. She begins to gyrate her hips back and forth, causing your head to spin even more. With that body and those tits and that tight hole and that impossibly perfect face contorting with bliss, any man could cum before the first thrust. But somehow, you manage to resist as she begins lifting herself, then fucking into you slowly. "That's, that's it. Nngh."

All the while, your eyes are dead set on her tits, waiting to watch them in action.

As Karina drops herself down onto you again, coating your dick with her juices, she starts to bounce at a steady rhythm. Even though they are confined by fabric, her ample breasts jiggle enticingly with each motion. "Fuck, that's too good," Karina says, moaning, closing her eyes. Then, she opens them as she looks over to where Ningning is squirming. "Aww, look how she's eyeing your cock. When was the last time you fucked her?"

"Hm. Maybe a month ago."

"God, you're so mean to her. I can't imagine depriving someone of this amazing dick." She moans as your length hits a particularly sensitive spot inside her, and then she leans down to grab your face. "I love it." There, she kisses you while her ride starts to intensify. You love the weight of her tits, and the loud slapping sound of her ass bearing down over and over.

"I'll come back later, Daddy." Ningning's voice is filled with dejection before fading away.

As Karina rides you cowgirl style, she sits up straight once again, her toes curling, her breasts bouncing, and her hair flying around her. You reach for her tube top, and she helps pull it up. You didn't think this ride could get better—then, the drop, as her boobs are set free. There's a magical ripple, so plenty for your eyes to feast on. And while the way her tits drop is hypnotizing, the way they bounce without the restraint of fabric is even more so. Karina brings her arms up and you assist her in removing the top completely before flinging it aside, leaving both of you bare and vulnerable to each other's touch.

In this new position, sitting up against the headboard, you lean in to kiss Karina deeply before trailing down to explore every inch of her body. Your lips linger at her long neck, her defined collarbone, and her lithe arms, but always find their way back to her luscious breasts where you suck on each pink nipple with fervor.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck, just like that, I'm so, so sensitive there." Karina moans breathlessly as she grinds against your cock. Her body vibrates with pleasure, and you can feel the clench of her cunt around your cock, tightening and relaxing with every deep thrust.

As you notice her soft mewling turn into breathy gasps, you intensify your actions: while your lips are latched to one of her firm nipples, and one hand is massaging her other breast thoroughly, your free hand goes down to her clit, rubbing in neat circles, causing her to arch her back and cry out in pleasure.

"Fuck, yes! Gonna, gonna cum!" Her words are punctuated by deep groans of pleasure, and you revel in her vocal responses, the sound of her deeper voice more harmonious to your ears than your girlfriend's high-pitched cries.

Her legs tremble as she slows down, giving you the opportunity to take control. You thrust upwards with determination, while simultaneously stimulating every sensitive spot on her body. Karina throws her head back, and she cums on your cock gracefully; you give her no quarter, pounding her through every pulse of her orgasm. Her cunt's tight grip makes you lightheaded, but you continue as a machine, worshipping her tits with your mouth and fingers, playing with her clit, until she's driven to new heights of pleasure.

After many long and languid inhales and exhales, Karina sighs contentedly, her body sated from the intense lovemaking. "I haven't cum that good in so long. Fuck." She pulls you close and kisses you deeply like the gratitude spoken didn't just escape her tongue. "So you haven't fucked her like this in a month? I almost feel bad for her."

"Don't."

"Sure." Karina playfully taps your shoulders, her fingers dancing over your skin. "Well then, I think it's only fair that I reward you for that."

With a soft wet pop, she lifts herself off of your slick member, the condom shining in the dim light of the room. She kneels before you, hunger in her eyes as she looks at your throbbing cock. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips in anticipation.

"Do you have another condom?" she asks.

"Yeah, it's over by the drawer," you reply, still trying to catch your breath from the intense ride.

She scoffs. "Yet you made her… whatever." Karina's fingers graze your skin as she peels off the condom, the cool sensation a stark contrast to the heat emanating from her body. "Trust me, this much feels better. Plus I want to taste your precum."

She aligns your shaft between her perfect breasts, the soft sensation of them cushioning your cock. "Fuck, Karina. I've never done this before," you say with a gasp.

"Figured as much. Your other plaything's tiny tits could never compare to this, right?" Karina smirks before letting a glob of spit drip from her lips. Your dominant tendencies seem to have rubbed off on her and it turns you on even more.

But what really turns you on is the warmth and plushness of her breasts against your sensitive skin. She takes charge, using her skilled hands to stroke your cock as she holds her breasts together, creating a delicious pressure. Her movements are both gentle and firm as she guides you between her cleavage with precision. Each time your tip pokes out from between her breasts, she gives it a lick or a kiss that sends shivers through your body and elicits groans from deep within your lungs. And every time she does so, she manages to get just enough of the taste that she craves, as she keeps you on a plateau of pleasure and causes you to leak beads of semen.

You can't help but move your hips in rhythm with her while she continues to stroke you with her breasts. She notices and soon lets you take control, allowing you to thrust at your own pace. When you feel yourself getting closer to climax, you slow down and start kneading her breasts—first softly, then harder as your desire and arousal build. You treat her absurd body with the roughness it deserves, pulling her up from her knees by her malleable tits. "Oh, shit," Karina says as you throw her onto the bed, "I love how rough you are."

Eventually, the two of you end up fucking in every corner of the bedroom, finding places where you haven't fucked Ningning or even any other woman. You have Karina arched over the dresser as you enter her from behind, her moans mingling with the sound of rattling wood. You carry Karina, both hands sinking into the flesh of her buttcheeks, giving you both a workout. You two move to the floor, where a torrid round of reverse cowgirl shows off how her ass was as perfect an asset as her tits.

But the most intense and primal position is when you have her pinned against the door, her breasts and face pressed against it, her arm pulled back as you fuck her standing—well, she's only standing because your cock is propping her up, her legs jelly. In this frenzy, Karina is both a willing participant and a willing object, surrendering herself to the pleasure that awaits in each new position and location.

"Yes, yes! Just like that!" Karina cries out as sweat drips down her back; you lean over to taste the saltiness as you nibble on her neck.

And right there, in that position against the door, you make Karina cum again. This time, she squirts violently and her release sprays onto your legs, onto the floor, clear liquid making a mess between her thighs. You hear a whine from the other side of the door. You can't ever be accused of neglecting your girlfriend of her needs.

As if drawn by an uncontrollable magnetism, the two of you find your way back to where you started: you lying on the bed, and Karina riding the life out of you. Her breasts bounce with each thrust and your hands can't resist kneading them roughly. Red marks appear on her otherwise flawless skin, adding to the passionate chaos of the room. This roughness only intensifies Karina's tightness around your cock as she begs for more.

"You love it when I'm rough?" You growl into her ear. "Love feeling this big dick pounding into you?"

"God, yes! Fuck me back!" Karina exclaims.

Suddenly, Ningning opens the door. "Daddy, I just—"

But she's interrupted as Karina shouts and another wave of orgasm wracks through her body, causing her to pull away from you, too sensitive to continue. "Oh... my god," she says, out of breath. "I can't believe you made me cum again." Karina's lips dive into your neck, her wetness dripping down your thighs onto the sheets that you and Ningning share.

"Ningning's whisper breaks through the heavy atmosphere, her voice tinged with concern. "I just wanted to check up on you," she says softly. "You've been at it for a while. It's almost midnight."

Karina disentangles herself from the crook of your neck and moves to lay her head on your chest. Looking at Ningning with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she lets out a playful laugh. "Yeah, he's been fucking me senseless for a while now. Damn, he's good."

A smirk spreads across your face.

"I...uh..." Ningning struggles to find the right words, unsure whether to express pride or sadness.

"You just wanted to watch, didn't you?" Karina says, running her hand down your bare chest. "You naughty little thing."

You chime in, "Oh, I know her well. She was listening the whole time, pressed against the door with her ear. I could hear her." You'd ask if she made herself cum. You don't care.

A blush creeps onto Ningning's cheeks as she nods shyly.

"Wow, she is soo needy." Karina looks down and notices that your erection is still going strong. "Fuckin' hell, you stud. Haven't cum yet?"

"Nope."

Karina peels herself off of you and lies down next to you on the bed. "Here, I'll lay down so you can pound my pussy until you cum. Does that sound good to you?"

You waste no time positioning your cock between her legs, then you grab her ankles and place them over your shoulders.

"Oh shit, yes..." She draws in a sharp breath as you thrust into her all at once, causing her eyes to roll back in ecstasy. "God, fuck, I'm still so turned on..." Her words become moans as you piston into her, your primal instincts taking over.

You watch as Karina's irresistible breasts jiggle with each and every thrust, her soaked pussy gripping onto you tightly.

"You don't care if she watches do you?" Karina giggles like she's drunk off your cock. "Looks like, ngh, you don't care what she does at all. Hnn…" She looks at Ningning, who is standing by the door, unable to look away. Karina pats the bed to her. "Come here, join us on the bed. You can get a closer look at Daddy's cock going in and out of me. Don't you want to see how I please your Daddy? Watch him fuck my brains out. Watch why he's choosing me over you."

"Daddy, wait—"

Karina moans. "Hurry up or get out, I don't think your Daddy gives a fuck."

Ningning only hesitates one more second before dragging her feet over to the bed.

"Good girl," Karina praises as Ningning lies down next to her obediently.

"Can you touch me, Daddy? Please? Or will you just hold my hand while you—"

You swat her hand away when she reaches out towards you, causing Karina to erupt in laughter. "Looks like she'll just have to watch."

You kiss Karina like you love her, like she's your girlfriend, or your wife, or your long-lost love you haven't seen in years. It must be breaking Ningning's heart, but you can't see or care, with Karina's face the only face in your mind. The only reminders of Ningning's presence are the occasional whimpers and moans that escape from her lips.

"Come on, babe," Karina urges with a fierce kiss, "don't hold back. I want to make you cum in front of her." She places her hand on your chest, slowing your movements. "Flip me over and rail me, babe. Give me everything she wants."

You swiftly pull out and bring Karina to her hands and knees.

"Ooh, that's it." She moans loudly as you push her head down and thrust into her from behind. Her back arches, showcasing the perfect curve of her ass.

As your movements become more forceful, Karina's moans echo through the room and she clings to the sheets with desperation. You finally make eye contact with Ningning, her hands buried in her shorts and her breath ragged as she watches you and Karina together.

"God, you're so rough. Yes!" Karina shouts.

Meanwhile, Ningning's gasps and moans grow louder as she tries to pleasure herself. Despite her best efforts, it seems that nothing can satisfy her.

"Do it," Karina says, looking back, "cum for me!"

All of the sensations come crashing together—the movement of Karina's body, the tightness of her pussy around you, and the sight of your girlfriend watching as you fuck another woman. With one final rough slam, you burst inside Karina, gripping her ass cheeks and calling out her name. Every last drop is drained from your balls as you fill the condom to the seams.

After the intense pulsations subside, you loosen your grip on Karina's ass and she collapses onto the bed, breathing heavily and moaning in satisfaction. "Holy fuck. That was amazing," she says between giggles. She notices that Ningning has not stopped pleasuring herself this entire time, her fingers slick with wetness as they slide in and out of her swollen folds. "Looks like I'm not the only one who thought so. You enjoy seeing your man blow his load in another woman so much, don't you? Are you pretending to be me right now?"

You are surprised by Karina's bold words, but not surprised at Ningning's increased moans and trembling body as she reaches her desperate climax because of those words, likely making a mess of her underwear.

"That's so hot," Karina purrs with a wiggle of her hips. Your half-hard cock remains inside of her as she speaks. "Give me a few more thrusts before you pull out."

You oblige, gazing up at the ceiling while Karina wrings every last bit of pleasure from you into the condom. She disentangles herself from you and leans in for a kiss.

"Mmh, that was fun. We should do that again sometime. Oh, and can I use your shower?" Karina asks.

"Of course," you reply. "Actually, do you mind if I join you in a sec?"

She nods, smiling. "Sure, babe. That sounds nice." Karina heads to the shower with a flick of her hair over her shoulder, drawing the attention of both you and Ningning to her toned buttocks.

Ningning lies on the bed, spent on her own self-pleasure. "Did, mmnh, did you have fun, Daddy? Was she good for you?"

Stretching, you remove the condom from your now-flaccid member. "The best."

"Nnh." Her breathing quickens. "That looks good."

You offer her the condom, almost filled to the brim with your load.

"F-for me? Really, Daddy? I can have your yummy cum?"

"Sure."

She's excited for the first time in a while. "Yes! Thank you! Oh, thank you, thank you, Daddy!" Ningning takes the cum-filled condom and brings it to her lips, drinking the cum out like a woman parched in the desert. Her lips make wet, sucking noises as she swallows up the thick, sticky globs of semen. "Oh god, Daddy, you taste so good."

Each gulp of cum elicits a moan from Ningning as she savors it. You can tell that she's still sore from her last orgasm, and despite that, her hand snakes its way back down to fingerfuck herself again. She keeps the condom in her mouth for a while, making sure she doesn't miss out on a drop, turning it inside out to be sure—even when it's empty, she gets herself off again with her lips wrapped around the used protection.

As Ningning prepares to bring herself to another climax using the condom around her fingers as a substitute for your cock, you excuse yourself and head to the shower. What a doormat does with her time does not concern you. You have a shower to hop into and an actual woman to enjoy it with.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

[lorelune]

cicatrix

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

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

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

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

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

“You should go see him.”

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

“Who?” You lie. You already know who.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Foolish?” You interrupt her with a laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

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

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

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

“I could take over.” Fu Xuan suggests.

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

“... Tasks can be delegated accordingly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fu Xuan says your name sharply.

“Yes?” 

“... I’m worried.”

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

(You’re so tired.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

Most of the data is slop to someone without training.

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

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

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

You’re used to the awe of it.

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

And you have been fixing it. 

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

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

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

You’re tired, maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You dream of Jing Yuan often.

Sometimes, these dreams are awful.

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

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

Sometimes, the dreams are pleasant.

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

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

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

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

Leaving only you to your work. Fixing. 

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

So, you tinker away.

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

Your head pounds.

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try to think little of it. Artisanship Commission. 

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

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

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

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

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

Odd.

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

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

The interaction leaves you with a vague sense of unease. 

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

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

And you mustn’t visit Jing Yuan.

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

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

Rations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t allow that.” 

“... Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

Yanqing’s eyes are shiny and wet.

Oh.

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cross your arms and try not to cry.

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

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

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

“No hello?”

“Fine. Hello.”

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

You don’t budge.

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

He hums, “You do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds embarrassing.”

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

“... Really?”

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

You don’t know what to think.

“I have to—”

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

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

You tap the pendant on your chest.

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

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

“... A week?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(“There are worse ways to die.”)

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

“Ideally, I wouldn’t—”

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

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

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

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

To save him from being swallowed by Mara.

And yet, you beg him to remember you. 

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow.

“Probably not.”

“I apologize.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s simply too pleasant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is not a dream.

“Oh,” you say, softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Cruel man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you miss it—?

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re pulling rank on me?” 

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

“… Are the gardens off limits?”

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

“... Really?”

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

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

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

Neither you nor Jing Yuan escaped unscathed.

“Do I need to prepare?”

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

“Did I wake up at all?”

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

You nearly moan. 

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

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

“I want it.” 

“A bath?” 

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

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

You don’t need to be persuaded. 

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

...

“How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Physically?”

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

“... Mentally? All over, Jing Yuan.”

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

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

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

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

“No, not at all.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod along, only half-there. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels heavenly.

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

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

“I’m filthy, aren’t I?” You ask.

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

“May I wash yours?” You ask. 

“You still have your body, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe later, for now you bask.

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

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

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

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

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

“... Pleasure, huh?”

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

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

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

“I was worried.”

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

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

Half-dead. 

Corpse-like. 

Steps from death’s door.

On your way to the grave.

Dead.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s hard.”

“I know.” 

The hands around you squeeze hard enough to bruise.

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

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

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

“What could I have said?”

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

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

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

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

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

(Don’t go. Please don’t go. Not yet.)

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

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

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

“Please—” 

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

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

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

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

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

Jing Yuan must see your eyes water. He softens.

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

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

...

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

And these aren’t typical circumstances.

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

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

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

You huff. 

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

It’s tortuous. It’s wonderful.

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

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

He locks the door behind you as you step inside. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course I would.”

You say it so simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You haven’t been touched in so long.

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

“Such a lovely scent,” He hums.

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

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

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

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

“Scoundrel.”

“I think you do like it.”

You missed bantering with him.

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

Jing Yuan bites down on your neck.

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

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

(What a wretched man.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s all soul-splitting.

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

You were so scared of losing this.

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

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

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

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

I can’t lose you just yet.

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

“N-No, you must.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tears well up in your eyes.

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

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

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

“Oh, [Name].” He says, mournful. 

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

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

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

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

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

“... You did?” 

He pauses. 

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

“Oh.”

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

“Did you think I didn’t worry?”

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

“I asked to see you, you know.”

“... I was told.”

“What did you think that meant?”

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

“... Dan Heng?”

“Sure.” Lizard. Fucker. 

“... You’re jealous?”

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

Jing Yuan looks startled, then his expression softens. 

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

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

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

“... He’s not coming to steal you?”

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

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

“Do you wish he would?”

Jing Yuan pauses.

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

You’re sensitive.

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

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

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

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

(This is how Jing Yuan prefers it anyways.)

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

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

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

“F-Finally giving in?”

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

“Bastard.”

He nips the apex of your thigh and you yip.

“Yours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I being gentle enough?”

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

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

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

“What’s unfair?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“P-Please—”

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

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

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

Who's to say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” You look down. 

The bulge of him makes your mouth water. 

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

“... That would be nice.”

“Would you like peaches?”

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

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

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

“Can I come to the kitchen with you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I— I forgot how big it is.”

“I’m still covered, dearest.”

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

You want to ask him:

“How do you do this?”

And Jing Yuan, mirthful, would say:

“Do what?”

And you would say:

“This.”

This: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are glad he eats. That he is full. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” 

“... Fairly sure.”

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

There’s no harm to it, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So much,” you admit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squirm, bucking your hips, urging him closer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘S okay?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “But I want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... You want me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” You can do that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damning yourselves.

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

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

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

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

“You’re going to take all of me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Your worry is misplaced.)

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

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

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

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

“No guilt—”

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

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

You really won’t be able to walk tomorrow. 

“I don’t doubt y-you like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To have both of you.

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

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

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

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

Both had by each other. 

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

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

(You felt small and helpless.)

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

Perhaps, they already have.

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

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

It is good to rest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marking each other as each other’s. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jing Yuan is ever patient with you.

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

It is a simple way to put something much larger.

Jing Yuan seems to understand regardless.

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

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

“I try to remind myself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, I’ll carry you? That’s doable.”

“No— I mean— You can—” 

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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