#or warm.... easy to get sick in spring

[plasticsandwich]

heartbroken keygirl sketch i did inbetween my reports

[uglygirltrying]

wolf-hybrid!simon x bunny-hybrid!reader | PT2 | pt1 | pt3 |

he did show you. it was so much warmer, than in your burrow.

it was easy to feel safe and warm enough, in his big arms, to eventually fall asleep. even if he was the hunter, your natural predator, you were basking in a warm hole, filled with his musk. your head went mush and fuzzy, eyes fluttering shut.

the wolf grinned and chuckled above you. what a silly bunny. your legs twitched, as you slowly went under. so compliant, no arguing when he took you, and you so easily went limp in his arms.

oh, you were going to be so much fun when the spring comes. maybe you'd be even more submissive, or on the other hand, maybe you'd get snappy. that'd be fun, simon thought.

he can already imagine the little bunny in heat, constantly rubbing against him, begging for a litter. if he feels nice, he might even give you one. simon smirks at the thought. such a sweet thing you are.

simon felt reluctant to leave. what if you ran? well, he would surely find you, after breathing your scent in so much. but still, it would be a lot of trouble, to track you, and catch you again. he didn't want to go through all of that trouble. he didn't want you to run.

simon signed. he had to find food. some meat for himself, and maybe some bark for you. but he knew that you didn't have a strong enough reason to stay. a warm den? you surely could find another one around. a mate? not really, he basically just snatched you up, against your will. maybe if you fought more, he would feel guilty. but this, this felt like a love story. he found you, brought you home, and here you are, sleeping in his den.

he did have time to linger and think. he did hunt best in the dark after all. simon breathed out again. whatever, he thought. you could run. he'd catch you, and bring you back. whatever.

simon sat up, leaving the bunny girl to lay there. he crawled out of the den, and made his way to the surface. the sun is setting, the rays creating shadows of the surrounding birch trees. the snowfall has stopped. it's so quiet and calm. the snow is beautifully set and hard surfaced, glistening in the light.

the wolf stood up, and began his search for food.

you felt disoriented. where were you? this isn't your burrow. your eyes slowly opened, drowsy, and confused. with a croaky groan, it hit you. where you were. why, and how.

you sniffed the air. the smell is so much lighter now. with a confused expression, you looked around the den. you're alone. huh?

why? where is he? is he hiding behind the opening, waiting to spook you and punish you, when you try to leave?

he's gone. it's your chance now. you can go, leave, run back home, to your burrow. the den is colder without his body pressed against you. it's almost as cold as your burrow. oh. it's warmer here. even without him.

it almost feels shameful to even hesitate leaving. you should! but you can't. you can't get yourself to crawl out and run for your life. how would he feel, coming back, into a empty den? a nest. that feels like an bad word. it's not your nest, not even your den. you're just... there.

why can't you leave? it's his fault, of course, he must've done something to you... are you feverish, why won't you run? maybe you're sick... running would only make that worse. and there's a perfectly good bed just under you.

you sighed. how pitiful. you laid back down. how embarrassing. but it felt so good, to just lay. don't you have a backbone? it would feel better if... it would be warmer. maybe even safer. if he was there. but is he even your protector. is this den a trap, why isn't he here?

thinking felt overwhelming. or maybe it was just the topic. but it felt exhausting. you should just not think. just lay there, and hope for his return. pathetic.

simon's hands were full of bark. he already ate his meal. he didn't want to bring anything bloody into the den, it would surely disturb you. if you even were still there.

simon scoffed. it's useless to assume. he doesn't know anything about you. maybe you're waiting behind the opening, a rock in hand, waiting for him to stick his head in, so you can punish him, for taking you.

he sniffed the air. nobody else is around. at least not around the hole in the hill. the snow's surface was untouched, not counting his own footprints. maybe you were still there. hopefully you were asleep. sweet, and compliant. maybe you were awake, desperately waiting for him to come back and keep you warm.

he almost smirked at his own fantasies. how silly. you already have him dreaming. oh, he is hooked, simon chuckled.

with hands full of bark, just for you, simon stood above the entrance of his den. might as well barge in. and so he did. simon crawled into his den. and there you were. still asleep. in his nest. the wolf felt proud. he kept you around. here he was, bringing you food, while you just slept. that's how it's meant to be.

simon dropped the bark in a corner of the den. he almost rushed. he wanted to cuddle up next to you, hold you in his arms, keep you warm, and protect you. at light speed, he had crawled next to you.

even in your sleepy state, he had managed to startle you. you're eyes narrowed open.

"go back to sleep, bun..." he softly murmured to you. with a tired nod of your head, you closed your eyes, and fell back asleep.

it made simon chuckle. you will never have a reason to complain again. you're his now, after all. his.

either this is my magnum opus, or im delusional ;( heart banner by @roseschoices

taglist: @famouscattale @nappingmoon @distinguishedprincesstrash @tame-the-lion-writes @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

[thehighladywrites]

you’re just like me

pairing: cassian x crazy stalker reader

summary: cassian thinks of you as his insanely obsessive ex girlfriend who’s downright crazy. you are obviously cassian’s one true love and will eliminate anything that stands in your way.

warnings: murder, dark romance, cheeky little twist👀, stalking, obsessive behavior, sexual content, knives, nasty sex, um also a sick way of getting off just downright crazy, description of murder… um this is just kinda dark. two psychos encouraging each other

amara’s note: so i might be making this into a series bc i have an amazing idea for azriel next😫😫😫 also guys this was a lil dark lol

You couldn’t understand how Cassian had the nerve to walk away from you. There was absolutely nothing wrong with you, not one single thing. People just didn’t get it; love was supposed to be all-consuming, right? Obsession wasn’t a flaw. It was just proof you cared deeply. So what if you knew his schedule down to the minute, memorized the exact scent of his shampoo, or followed him everywhere he went like your very existence depended on it? That wasn’t weird, it was love. Real, burning, raw love.

Cassian must have been confused, that’s all. Poor thing, probably led astray by some outside influence. Maybe someone whispered lies into his ear or cast some strange spell over his mind. Yeah, that had to be it, because Cassian did love you. He did. He just needed to wake up and realize it again.

And when he did , he’d thank you for never letting go, for being the one person who truly saw him, who loved him without limits.

Seeing Cassian sitting next to some water-wraith makes your heart pound harder and harder, fury bubbling under your skin. That’s it — that’s why he hasn’t been his usual self. That wretched wraith is manipulating him, filling his head with filthy lies about you. Poisoning what was meant to be perfect.

You have to stop this. You have to save him. And the only way to do that is to get rid of her. Permanently.

Your hands itch for action, and you’re already stepping forward when a hand clamps around your wrist.

“Are you about to go over to Cassian?” Feyre’s calm voice cuts through your haze of rage. “Don’t cause a scene.”

You tilt your head, offering her a polite smile. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply going to claim what is rightfully mine.”

You tug at her grip, but it holds firm. Feyre’s eyes narrow. “Not so fast. You know Cassian will think you’re crazy if you kill her right here and now.”

Your breath catches. How the hell did she know? Were you that obvious?

Before you can respond, she steps closer, her intoxicating perfume filling your senses. Her voice, low and smooth, sends shivers down your spine.

“If you want that little whore gone, gut her like a fucking fish. I’ll even help you. But not now, it’ll look bad for us.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Never in a million years would you have expected Feyre to suggest murder.

“Why are you so interested in me killing her?” you ask, voice curious.

A wicked smile curls at her lips before she presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “That little bitch tried to fuck Rhys right in front of me. Didn’t even bother pretending she didn’t know who I was. She didn’t care. And now I want her gone.”

Her voice cracks with a manic edge before she smooths it over, composure snapping neatly back into place.

She was just like you, a comfort you took pleasure in, someone who understood that love was meant to be fierce, consuming, and without limits.

—

You did exactly what Feyre suggested — waited until the big meeting with all the courts had ended, biding your time until the wraith was on her way back to Spring. She was alone, vulnerable, just as you had hoped.

Before she could winnow away, you struck. Kidnapping her had been easy, far too easy. And then came the best part: stabbing her over and over until you were drenched in her warm blood. Her look of terror sent a sick thrill down your spine, flipping your stomach in delight. Fuck, it felt good to finally get rid of her. Like being on edge for an eternity and finally getting the sweet, blissful relief you'd craved.

You cleaned up meticulously, disposing of every shred of evidence. No one would ever find her.

Winnowing back to Velaris, you appeared just outside Cassian’s house, dagger still in hand. Breaking in through your usual route was second nature by now. You settled yourself on his sofa, waiting patiently like you always did when he needed a gentle reminder of who truly belonged to him.

The door creaked open, and Cassian trudged inside, shoulders sagging with exhaustion. Normally, you'd feel a pang of sympathy for how hard he worked — how much he gave of himself. But not tonight. Tonight, you were kinda pissed.

His eyes flicked toward you, squinting in the dim light. He hesitated, unsure of who he was looking at until he flipped the lights on.

The color drained from his face as he stumbled backward, eyes wide with shock. “What the hell?” His voice wavered. “What are you doing here?”

You tilted your head, offering a sweet, unwavering smile. “Hi, Cassian. Done being a manwhore? Ready to come back to your senses?”

His gaze darted to the blood soaking your clothes, the gleaming dagger in your hand. He shook his head in disbelief, taking another step back, as if distance could protect him from you.

“I said, what are you doing here?” His voice hardens, sharp and commanding.

Yours matches his, cold and steady. “Well, since you seem to be under some delusion that you can get away from me, I figured I’d burst your little bubble and remind you that’s not the case.”

A calm smile spreads across your lips as you lift the dagger, pointing it directly at him. The weight of it feels right in your hand, steady and sure.

Cassian’s chest rises and falls as tension coils through the room. “You’re insane,” he mutters, disbelief lacing every word.

“Call it what you want. Call it love, call it obsession. Call me fucking insane,” you say, taking a slow step forward. “But you belong to me, Cassian. Always have. Always will.”

You shake your head and laugh, a hollow, unsettling sound. “Gods, Cassian. I don't know why you're doing this to me. Stop being so damn difficult and realize there's no one else for you. That water-wraith slut sure knows it now.”

His face goes pale, a hand pressing against his chest. “W-what are you talking about? You... you killed her?” he asks, horrified.

“Sure did.” You smile sweetly, tilting your head. “And I'll end anyone you think can take my place. Am I clear? Either you realize it now, or I keep killing people. It's all up to you.” You shrug nonchalantly, inspecting your nails as if this conversation were about the weather.

There's a long silence, thick with tension, and then something changes.

His voice drops, lower and rougher. “Took you long enough.”

Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing in confusion. His pale, horrified expression has melted away, replaced by something darker, more primal. His eyes gleam with something unholy, and his mouth twists into a cruel, wicked smile.

“Was wondering when you’d kill that little wraith,” he says smoothly, his voice dripping with amusement. “Gods know it was hard feigning interest.”

A warmth spreads through your chest, almost dizzying. Was this a dream? No way. Cassian matching your intensity, your madness — that was only supposed to happen in fantasies.

“What?” you whisper, barely believing what you’re hearing.

He steps closer, eyes gleaming darkly. “Didn’t think I noticed your stalking? Or the way you conveniently disposed of anyone I talked to?” His smirk widens, sharp and dangerous. “The way you just happened to show up at places I had scheduled? I’ve been onto you since day one.”

Your breath catches, heart thundering. “And?”

“And I knew you were the one the day you snuck into my room and stared at me, thinking I didn’t know,” he murmurs, eyes burning into yours with dark satisfaction.

A shiver runs down your spine, both thrilled and unhinged by his words. “You knew?”

He leans in closer, voice low and possessive. “Of course I knew. Your heavy breathing was a dead giveaway, sweetheart. You looked like you were seconds away from crawling into bed with me.”

You grin, eyes gleaming with madness. “I almost did.”

And it was true. He had been shirtless, skin smooth and golden in the moonlight, hair tied back so his sharp, handsome features were perfectly highlighted. Only years of discipline had kept you rooted to the spot instead of crawling into bed with him like you’d wanted to.

His smile deepens, dark and taunting. “You should’ve.” He steps closer, voice dropping to a low, sinful whisper. “Not the Gods themselves could have pulled me away.”

Your pulse races, wild and electric. This was so not fucking happening. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m not tempting you, my love.” he says, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “I’m inviting you.”

He looks down at you, hands settling on your hips as he pulls you so close. Cassian’s heat makes your brain go fuzzy and for a moment you’re lost. Just as he is about to kiss you…

”Wait. So you felt the same I did? Why did you act all high and mighty when you’re literally worse than me?” You step back and raise an eyebrow at him, arms crossed over your chest.

Cassian blinks, clearly taken aback by your sudden outburst, but instead of guilt or surprise softening his expression, something darker gleams in his eyes — intrigue, even delight. “You’re mad at me, baby?”

“Of course I’m mad!” you snap, practically vibrating with frustration. “You knew I’m bsessed with you, and instead of saying anything, you just sat there, playing with me, making me feel insane.”

Your grip on the dagger tightens in pure frustration. “Do you know how many nights I spent plotting ways to keep you? How much blood I spilled thinking you didn’t care?”

His lips twitch, eyes filled with dark amusement.

“You could’ve just matched my crazy from day one, but nooo, you had to be all stoic and mysterious. Gods, Cassian, that’s infuriating.”

He steps closer, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re adorable when you’re pissed off, ya know? A cute, hotheaded little thing.”

“Adorable? I should stab you,” you snarl, but he only grins wider.

“Do it,” he whispers, his voice dripping with challenge. “I’d love to see what happens next.”

Your breath catches, heart racing as his words sink in. Cassian wasn’t just tolerating your madness, he wanted it, thrived on it, matched it beat for beat.

The realization sends a dizzy thrill through you, but you pout anyway, refusing to let him off the hook that easily. “You’re the worst,” you grumble, turning your head away with a dramatic huff.

He chuckles darkly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “I was only interesed in seeing how far you’d go. Didn’t know if you’d run for the hills when I told you I murdered Helion’s advicer for looking at you yesterday.”

Your heart skips a beat, then thunders wildly in your chest. A sharp, wicked grin tugs at your lips despite yourself. “You did that?”

“Snapped his neck right before breakfast. Or did I feed him his own fingers then strangle him with his insides? Can’t say I remember.”

A sick thrill courses through you. Man, he was fucking perfect. It was so fucking wrong but your knees went weak and you started throbbing. He killed someone just for staring at you?

That was actually hot.

—

With no surprise, cassian fucked you for so long, so hard so fucking deep. It was so nasty, a reaaaal mess. one hand of his grabs onto your thigh, another gripping your waist while he’s glancing down at your sloppy cunt, what a masterpiece. Cassian decided he needed to see better so he pulled out as you whimpered pathetically.

his fingers smear his oozing cum all over you, from the slit all the way to your, swollen, throbbing clit.

“look at you makin’ a damn mess.” Your shaky hands gripping his wide shoulders start to slip. His arm tightens around your waist before you fall backwards. “fuckkkk, baby, look at how good your pussy was takin’ me, see how fucking wet she is?” you shudder as his fingers go knuckle deep into your cunt, giving you a few pumps before he pulls it right out, stringy wetness coating them.

he places two thick fingers inside of your mouth, you suck them clean whilst still moving against him, silently pleading for him to fill you out.

“shiiit, not fair. you got these killer hips that’ll dumb down any man.” Cassian finally fills you up again, his fat cock gliding against ypur wall just right. “oh-fuckkkk thaaat’s it, slow baby. slow, fuck me good, yeah?”

Cassian’s breath hitches as you tighten around him, his arm hurling behind the headboard. the desperation of having something to hold on to gives you an ego boost. was your just pussy too damn good?

“c-cas,” you moan, feeling his big fingers stroke their way against your waist to the very undersides of your thighs. you made sure to go slow, slow and steady just like he wanted. cassian’s got a sleazy grin, feeling the wetness of your cunt take him with all its might. “g-gonna cum!”

“i can tell, ah shit— you’re squeezin’ the fuck outta me,” He grunts in response as he feels you writhing, groaning at the gummy texture of your walls mightily gripping around him tight.

But it’s not enough. The rush lingers, addictive and gnawing, and you want more — need more. Something to cling to, something to burn into your memory for the rest of the week. A painfully sweet reminder of just how far you’ll both go for each other.

Your lips curl into a sly smile, voice dropping into a breathy tease. Finally, you’d lock in one last time to see if he was really as crazy as you. “Do you want to know,” You pause, your breath hitching in pleasure, “how it felt to kill t-that wraith?”

Cassian’s entire body tenses, his pupils dilating as a spark of something wild flickers in his eyes. His pulse kicks up, thrumming like a war drum. Fuck yeah, he wanted to know. Every sickening, twisted detail. Morality be damned—this was love.

“Tell me,” he demands, voice low and raw, filled with a dark hunger.

You grin wickedly, savoring his reaction. “It was beautiful,” you whimper, letting the memory flood your senses. “The way her breath hitched when she realized she was going to die? Gods, Cassian, it was intoxicating. She looked so helpless.”

His breath shudders as he pumps harder, his voice gravelly. “What did you feel?”

A dark satisfaction blooms in your chest. “Relief,” you murmur. “Pure relief. Like I’d been waiting forever and I was free.”

Cassian’s eyes burn into yours, his lips curling into a slow, dangerous smile. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. “Absolutely perfect. Absolutely mine.”

Your heart races as you lean in, lips hovering near his ear. “Next time,” you purr, “I’ll let you watch then fuck me right there.”

That’s it. Those few sadistic words are all the power he needs to finish you both off.

“you’re a nasty fucking girl—ughhhh.”

his speed had the bed creaking louder, and cassian’s grunting in your ear was getting louder as you were feeling fuller than ever. with hot pounds of skin against skin roughly slapping against each other after each second, the two of you felt the same pangs of pleasure and fervent dizziness. “inside, cas—fuck, cum inside me!” before an inevitable flood of heavenly pleasure consumes you both.

your cunt throbs the second he spills an entire whopping load inside of you raw, and you nuzzle your face into his neck. “cas—,” you stammer, and your walls were oh so greedy, adjusting to the way your pussy convulses around him, sharp nails dragging over his back. you both cum together as a surge of electricity pulses through each of your veins.

“fuck… ya better take every drop, s-shit,” he groans before slumping back against the headboard, tugging you closer so your face rests on his neck.

This was absolutely perfect. Cassian was yours now—forever. He could never leave you. And if he tried? You wouldn’t just kill him; you’d burn the entire world down with him. If you couldn’t have him, no one could. He simply wouldn’t exist without you.

That was love.

And Cassian being utterly, unapologetically insane? A gift wrapped in chaos. He understood you better than anyone ever could. Maybe you’d push him, see just how far that darkness in him stretched. Because Cassian didn’t get jealous—he got even. He got murderous.

“I love you, Cassian. So, so much,” you sob into his neck, your body trembling under the weight of the confession.

“I know you do,” he rasps, his voice rough as he grabs a blanket, wrapping it around your shivering form. His strong arms envelop you completely, his touch obsessive, possessive. His hand trails down your hair and back with agonizing tenderness as though memorizing every inch of you.

But something gnaws at you—a flicker of unease. Why wasn’t he saying it back? Did he need more proof that you were his literal wife(even if he didn’t know it yet), his reason for fucking breathing?

As if sensing your doubt, his grip tightens, pulling you even closer until you could hear the rapid, frantic beat of his heart. His lips brush against your ear, his voice low and raw, trembling with emotion.

“There are no words for what I feel for you,” he says, voice breaking. “Love is too weak, too pitiful. What I feel for you—gods, it devours me whole. It’s a sickness, an obsession that digs its claws into me and never lets go. You are everything. My breath, my blood, my madness.”

His words crash over you, wild and terrifying and utterly beautiful. And you know—he belongs to you as much as you belong to him.

Always.

[lorelune]

O4O: part iii // PART 2

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || omega4omega w/ milfy jing yuan || wc: 19.7k of 37.3k  || ao3 ||

Your heat, and the sickness that comes with it, has set in fully. Jing Yuan contends with the type of closeness he craves with you.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

💦🎀 this piece is apart of SPRING FEVER: an omegaverse collab! 🎀💦

✨ O4O masterlist ✨ // part i — part ii — part iii -> PART 1 & PART 2

🩷 extended author's note

❣️ please note! part iii of o4o is separated into two posts here on tumblr. part 1 can be found linked above and at the end of this post as well. part iii is up as a single chapter on ao3 additionally! ❣️

notes: part 2!!! my god we MADE IT!!! my friends!! please enjoy. milfy jing yuan actualized. for new readers, please see above for links and such. enjoy dears 💗

CW: omegaverse, omega reader, omega jing yuan, top jing yuan (in this part) milfy jing yuan, mommy kink (both explicit and implicit), cry baby reader, fisting, knotting toys, biting, faux nursing, hurt/comfort, sickfic, past dan feng/jing yuan/yingxing, author-created omegaverse lore

Your pre-heat ends slowly. It festers hour by hour over the course of two days. 

During that time, you’re achy and tired more than anything else. You spend most of your time laying on top of or next to Jing Yuan, tucked near his neck to breathe, open-mouthed, near his scent glands. You doze through most of your pre-heat. When you are awake enough for conversation, it’s mostly sensical. Needy and whiny in the most endearing way, but still intelligible.

He manages to feed you throughout your pre-heat. You’re not very hungry, but Jing Yuan convinces you to eat a few morsels every few hours. The prepped fruits, rice, and granola mixes get you through the worst of it.

On the second day of your pre-heat, you are properly miserable. You shiver with your heightening fever and your teeth slam together with the accompanying chills. You’ve changed your soft, lounge clothes at least half a dozen times in the last day. Your preferred position is your face smushed into his chest, forcing out labored breath after breath.

It is not easy to watch.

Discomfort is one thing, but you are clearly in pain. A fair amount of it. He knew you would be, but that doesn’t make seeing you in this state any easier. There is only so much he can do at this stage to ease you. Forcing you to take little bites of snacks and sips of electrolyte water is better than nothing. Massaging your now less-tender scent glands helps the most. You enjoy it, and you tell him so with your words and in the way you keen with his touch and roll to leave your most sensitive spots more open for him to touch.

It’s still only taking the edge off.

“It won’t be much longer,” he tells you. Filtered starlight beams down from the Luofu’s sky, leaking in from the edges of your blackout curtains. He tugs one a little to the side, back to darkness, jostling you in the process. “How are you feeling?”

You grumble, “L-like shit. I need to peel my s-skin off.”

“Too warm?” He asks.

“N-no too— cold. And itchy. And wrong.” You nestle closer to him, heading your cheek against his collarbone. “I w-want it to stop.”

“I know,” he says gently. “I know it isn’t comfortable.”  

“It i-isn’t. A-Are you sure that I h-have to go through with this?” 

“I’m sure.”

He’s certain.

At this point, you’re fully titrated off your suppressants. The only medicinal intervention that you’ve been prescribed to safely take at this point is tinctures for nausea and headaches if needed as well as an anti-inflammatory oil to use on any sore muscles or joints for once your heat begins and you inevitably put yourself and get put in various uncomfortable positions. 

(There is, technically, another medication you’ve been prescribed as well. A chalky powder that can be broken off and ground down between Jing Yuan’s fingers and then rubbed on your gums and under your tongue. Per Lei Huiling’s firm instructions, this remedy is only to be used under the worst, heat-sick-induced circumstances.)

At present, and per Jing Yuan’s predictions, you will simply need to tough out your heat.

He’s there though.

Jing Yuan reminds you of this with a kiss, tilting your head up by the jaw and capturing your lips with his own. You kiss him back, eager and clumsy. Still trembling, but it doesn’t stop you from returning the gesture just as sweetly as he gives it to you. 

“You’re doing well.” He speaks against your lips.

You whine, squirming, “You need to be careful, saying such sweet things to me.”

He chuckles, “Why is that?”

“Because.”

“‘Because’?” 

“You know why!” Because it flusters you, clearly. Your palms cup his cheeks and you struggle to meet his gaze. It’s cute that you try.

“Could you enlighten me?”

“You’re teasing me now!” Your words carry no bite as you nip at one of his cheeks. “When you’re so nice, it makes it hard to think straight. Especially now.”

“And is there anything wrong with that?” He’s certain that you enjoy being teased, just as much as he enjoys teasing you.w

“... No. But, you’re weakening me. To your wiles. Sufficiently.”

“Am I now?”

“Yes!” You gasp as he noses below your ear. “Very much so!”

“Considering that you’re my omega,” he glances up at you, smug. “I would hope that my ‘wiles’ would be quite effective on you.”

You squeak, sputter, and nose into his hair to muffle the half-joking cry that you let loose. It’s clear that his intentional word choice, calling you his ‘omega’, is having its intended effect of turning you into a content, happy-scented puddle.

He preens.

It won’t be very long now.

...

Your heat properly erupts in the middle of the night, perhaps early morning.

Jing Yuan wakes up on his back, with you straddling his hips, grinding in tight, hard circles over his own sex. The straps of your bedclothes, indecently thin garments, slip down your shoulders. Your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth and you brace yourself with your hands cupping over his breasts.

You’re leaking so much slick over him it feels immediately obscene.

“Baby—” His voice rumbles, gravely from sleep. 

“—‘Started,” you tell him. “‘Started really bad, Jing Yuan. Hurts.” 

You crumple at your middle, still grinding but ducking over him. Your mouth is on the scent gland in his neck instantly, lapping with flat-tongued strokes.

The scent of your heat engulfs him then. It’s— it’s strong. So strong, that a single meaningful lungful has him feeling light-headed. The pheromones you’re pouring out are heady and thick. Jing Yuan swears he can feel them in his throat. The usual warm scent and the acrid undertone that preheat had given you have been burned away. It’s still warm but it’s— spiced— Like dark tea brewed and served with a dollop of creamy honey. The lingering warmth of perfumed clothes just removed. A mouthful of a fresh, moist pastry— 

Perhaps Jing Yuan isn’t thinking very clearly and he just wants you in his mouth.

He’s no alpha. He has no knot that begins to make itself known in response to the pheromonal firestorm that your heat has created. The white-iron hot desire that he feels in his gut is entirely something else. A delicacy he hasn’t had before, truthfully. Not like this. His cock is already hard and his cunt has been leaking between his legs as you’ve been clumsily taking your fill of him.

“When did it start, dear?” he asks. 

You speak into his skin. “‘Don’t know. A few hours? In my sleep, I think.”

Your words are slurred and your sentences are already choppy. Jing Yuan mainly asked his previous question to gauge your sense of lucidity and your faculties. They’re fading already. 

He takes a hold of your waist and pets down your back, gathering his bearings. You talked about this together; he knows how to proceed. Your desires have been voiced, and your trust has been entirely placed in him, no matter how nervous you have been.

Jing Yuan covets that trust. 

He will take good care of you.

It takes essentially no effort to flip you gently, so you’re on your back within your nest. You blink at him, dazed. 

“N-No—” You throw your head back against the mound of pillows with an angry huff. Your hips roll into the air, seeking friction that you’re not being given. “I—I need something, please, please—”

He shushes you, (“I know, I know.”) before wedging his soft, thick thigh between your own. The contact makes you cry out, clawing at Jing Yuan’s arms where he holds you. You— twitch with the contact, barely grinding before your hips stutter. 

A choked noise works its way out of your throat. Jing Yuan’s heart aches.

“I’ve got you,” he assures. “Does this hurt, or feel good?”

“I—” You squeeze his shoulders and throw an arm over your arms. “G-Good? Maybe? ‘S lot.”

“We’ll go slow,” he promises, petting your sides, silky with the robe that barely remains on you. 

Little trickles of slick have begun to seep from your cunt. It soaks through your thin panties, dampening his thigh. Jing Yuan purrs. Sweat soaks your robe as he carefully unties the loose knot at your waist, exposing your soft tummy and heaving chest. Before you can flinch from the exposure, Jing Yuan is petting you, hushing you. 

Heats don’t demand slowness, usually. They demand haste. Excess. As much contact and pheromones other than one’s own as one can conceivably inhale. Most omegas demand near-constant fucking, or at least penetration, for the duration of their heat. There are salves and oils for abrasion and potential tears, some of which Jing Yuan has already stocked for you. 

Slowness doesn’t necessitate them. Not right away anyway.

He smooths his hands up your ribs, stopping to cup your cheeks and rub below your eyes. “I’ve got you.”

You keen and arch into him. “‘So good to me—”

“As you deserve,” he chuckles. It’s easy to be good to you. 

You kiss him. Your lips are chapped, just barely, and he feels the drag of the dry skin when he angles his head to better deepen the kiss. You’re sweet about this kind of contact. You surge forward, closer, seeking his touch, prodding his lips with your tongue until he parts them just enough for you to lick into his mouth.

The two of you moan when you do. Pheromones in spit— the mixing of yours is divine. It makes Jing Yuan’s eyes roll back in his head behind his closed eyelids. The taste of you melds with your scent. It’s an intoxicant, truly. He laps at your tongue and sucks it into his mouth until you’re making soft, needy noises against him.

You pull apart, just far enough away to breathe full breaths. You pet over his face, pupils blown so wide that only a thin ring of your iris remains. Your lips stay parted. Wet, with drool visibly pooling in your mouth.

Slick is beginning to soak your nest beneath you.

You notice this at the same time Jing Yuan does, and a twisted look appears on your face. It mars your expression for the briefest moment before you wipe the back of your hand over your lips with a huff.

Jing Yuan observes.

(He expected this much. For you to impede your own pleasure, to scorn your own desire.)

It will take some whittling, he has known this, but you will enjoy this. At least some of it, he will make sure of that. If nothing else, you will be sated and well taken care of.

His wide hands hike up your thighs on either side of him, braced on his own hips. He purrs your name with a tilt of his head, “Can you be good for me?”

“O-Of course— I can.”

“I mean it.” He speaks low, almost dark, nosing the sensitive shell of your ear. “I know you can be.”

His words make you whine. It’s a pathetic, whimpering sound that makes his cock twitch. It’s sweet and so cute. It makes his insides flutter and he kisses you with the feeling. 

It’s an engulfing sort of thing, your heat. Jing Yuan still retains his level head but he can feel the different edge his arousal carries now. It’s not like his own heat. He has a blessed amount of clarity, but his gut is pierced by heat that is so searing, his cockhead is already purpling. Your slick is beginning to mix together.

You’re— losing yourself. He can see it as he breaks away to kiss down your neck. Your breaths are too fast, maybe a little too shallow. When you do inhale, there’s a little sound that cuts the air that concerns him. Your hands stay fisted in the sheets at your side, and you squeak as he nips at your collarbones.

“Baby—” The pet name rolls off his tongue without thinking. “I’ve got you, okay?”

You nod, jerkily. Uncomfortable, clearly. He rubs your sides with a frown.

“J-just—” You barely get the words out as you curse under your breath. “Hurts. I don’t— I don’t—” 

“It’ll feel better if I touch you, don’t you think?”

With the suggestion, he cups over your chest, running a thumb over the tender flesh there. You jump with the sensation.

“I—I just—” Your voice breaks, and you manage to push yourself up. Shooing Jing Yuan off and a bit away, running a hand down your cheeks. You can’t manage eye contact, instead stare into the warm shadows of your bedroom. A scowl plays on your lips. “I—I don’t k-know, it feels bad. It hurts and it feels bad and I don’t know— I don’t—”

The panic in your voice is so clear. It makes his heart ache.

“Does it not feel good when I touch you?”

“Not— not not good. Just not... comfortable. I don’t—”

He says your name softly.

Your breath comes too fast, “Are you sure you w-want to be helping?”

He says your name again. You don’t seem to hear him.

“I mean— I’ll be fine. If you don’t want to, I can handle this on my own. All the help already has been r-really nice—”

He says your name firmly. You still don’t hear him.

“I—I just— I don’t deserve your kindness, y-you know? And it’s only going to g-get harder, you should just l-leave before it gets worse—”

(Leave? Leave? LEAVE you like this? For Jing Yuan to even fathom leaving you alone, suffering, heat-stricken, and alone in your nest, makes him ache in all new ways and it sends a sparking line of rage in him that demands attention.)

He says your name once more, hard enough in tone that you jump. Before you can protest more, and attempt to shutter yourself from support again— he places a hand over you both and levels his gaze with your own.

His voice comes out far more gently than he thought it would. “Please do not suggest that I would leave my omega alone while in the throes of heat sickness. I know you’re scared, and that it is difficult, but I’m here to take care of you, and I mean that, so truly.”

“But it’s a lot—”

“It’s really not.” Jing Yuan cuts you off. “It won’t ever be ‘a lot’ to be in your nest, with you. Pleasuring you and providing you comfort? They’re joys, not chores.”

“I—” You put a hand in your hair, gripping your hair at the root. “Even s-so, I— I don’t t-think, Jing Yuan, I don’t think I r-really deserve all of your kindness... do I?”

Your last words are quiet, so quiet that he hardly hears them. The moment they’re out of your mouth, you make a pained sound, your chest heaving, and you tug at your hair and—

Jing Yuan can’t have that. He can’t.

In a fluid motion, he has your bent in half.

Your feet dangle off his shoulders, your calves rounding his cheeks. Your own cheeks flush with the motion. Your thighs squish against the softness of your belly. Jing Yuan disentangles your hand from your hair with a gentle hum. You protest, just a little, squeezing your legs together the best you can. 

He cows you down with ease. You settle for draping the damp bits of your robe over your core. The hint of modesty has you relax, just a little.

He laces both of your hands together and presses them into your nest on either side of your head. 

“I won’t have you being cruel to yourself,” Jing Yuan says. His tone brokers no argument, and you don’t attempt to give him one regardless. “I won’t stand for you hurting any more than your body already is.”

You only look guilty and sad, barely managing eye contact. “O-Okay.”

“And—” Jing Yuan brushes his nose with yours, his hair falling like a veil around you both. “You deserve to feel good, don’t you think?”

“M-Maybe. It’s a lot—”

“It’s not a lot.”

“But it is.” 

“It is to you, in your mind, perhaps.” He rationalizes. “But, it’s not a lot for me. And I’m the one with you now, aren’t I?”

You blink at him, chewing your lip.

“... You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t wanna be, huh?” Tears gather in your eyes.

“I wouldn’t. And, I very much want to be here.” With you, in your nest, bringing you pleasure and comfort. It’s all he wants, and he’s so close to being able to give it to you. “I know it is frightening to trust someone enough to give them yourself like this. But, I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

“I know— but, it i-is scary.” You sniffle. “... Are you sure i-it’s okay?”

“Very sure.”

“O-Okay.”

You don’t look completely settled, there’s something deeper in you that’s showing itself now. It's an insecurity he’s seen glimpses of, but now that he’s between your legs, folding you at the waist, it shows itself more completely. 

You swallow. “... You’ll tell me if it’s not okay?”

“Of course.” He kisses you again, reverent. “But that won’t happen.”

“You can’t be certain.” 

“I can be.”

“But you— can’t—”

“I can be.” He repeats. “Please, trust me.”

That’s all this is, isn’t it? An exchange of trust. You wrestle with giving yours to him, more than him to you, and that’s okay. There are pieces of you he doesn’t know, and that’s alright. He has time to learn them at whatever pace is comfortable for you. He is a patient man, after all. 

At this moment, there’s still worry.  He is sure that there are wounded parts of you that are keeping you from (and have kept you from) luxuriating in the pleasure a heat can bring, or accepting the comfort you so desperately need now. 

He’ll pick those apart later. 

For now, he waits for you to process, to unfurl slowly with his plying and prying. He’s never been one to beg, but he thinks he would, for you.

You don’t make him. 

“I trust you.” Your voice is the most solid it’s been in days.

He kisses you then. Once, twice, a third time. Until the haggard little breaths you were giving him turn to sweet, burgeoning moans that he drinks up greedily. Your core grinds against his own, slick with you, mixing with him. It’s not enough contact, not enough to be sating, but it’s a promise of something so, so deserved.

...

Your heat rages.

Jing Yuan has only his own heat as a point of reference— maybe the lingerings of Baiheng’s he witnessed in the past— regardless, by comparison, your heat is far more intense. If his heats are the singe of sitting a bit too close to an otherwise comfortable hearth, yours is much more like setting on fresh, live embers without the ability to move away from the burn of them.

He still attempts to take his time. He wants to do this right. 

Jing Yuan grinds his cock against your core. You’ve soaked him; you’ve soaked your nest too. It’s an obscene amount of slick. He’s already had to pause a few times to get you to sip from one of your well-placed water bottles, despite your protests.

“Be good,” he reminds you. You are good, so you let him tip the bottle against your lips. Once the water hits your tongue, you drink greedily. 

You’re becoming less lucid. 

Jing Yuan still rests between your legs, on his haunches despite the ghosts of hip pain. He drags his lips over your ankles, leaving light, calming kisses. You whine with the contact, bucking your hips.

You want more, he knows this— he knows, but he wants to give you enough without overwhelming you. It’s a delicate balance that he is learning in real-time.

The head of his filled-out cock catches on your clit. Your back arches and your scent goes aflame.

It— it is a lot. Not too much, not unmanageable, but Jing Yuan would be lying if he said that being with you now wasn’t a lot.

Your scent is so potent, so mouthwatering, that Jing Yuan has found himself drooling. His mouth is full of spit when he kisses you, pushing you back into your nest (where you are warm and safe and tended to.) You’re so warm to the touch. Feverish, clearly. 

(Despite the ramping contact, the looming presence of heat sickness remains.)

Your arousal is so apparent. You’re so sensitive, despite your neediness and needs. 

(This is already so overwhelming for you.)

Jing Yuan pulls away from your lips. You both pant. The melding of your scents (in his fucking mouth) has him grinding against your core, holding your hips in a grip that is verging on bruising. You don’t seem to mind, you may even be enjoying it, based on the way your eyes are half-lidded.

He rolls you both into your side, resting with one arm under your head and his other meandering down your torso.

Playfully, Jing Yuan rubs the pad of his thumb over your nipple. He relishes the sound you make in response, something cracking and dry and so needy.

“Please—“ 

(He wants you to break; he wants to bring you there.)

He kisses the words from your mouth. Shameless. As he deserves to be. 

You extend your neck for him, probably without meaning to. You bear your burning scent gland to him and give him a silent plea for relief, one that he answers without question.

It’s following an instinct, really. The urge to help, quell, to make better— it’s such an integral part of how he lives. It’s why he has been such a well-thought-of, reliable General. It’s why he has weathered quiet pains that others would run from in order to bring about something better. 

On a personal level, the latent instinct to ‘care’ does not present itself that often. It does not have much opportunity to, especially these days. Perhaps when Yanqing was just a scrap of a cub, maybe, he was aware of the itch in his chest to ‘care’ with his own two hands for another.

Yingxing and Dan Feng didn’t care to indulge those feelings of Jing Yuan. Not with any frequency, anyways. They enjoyed crumbs of it but preferred to tend to Jing Yuan instead. He does enjoy receiving care, and they lavished him with it while skillfully avoiding the most intense of his own urges.

You, however, welcome them.

Part of it is that you… are a little pathetic. Especially now, wet-eyed and soft in your tummy, wordlessly begging for more of him and the relief he can so easily bring you.

He kisses down to your scent gland, gentle over the sensitive flesh before sucking at it. You warble out a cry, scrambling for purchase over his shoulders. He can feel the round gland under his tongue, softening minutely, but still firm and hot. 

Your scent hits his tongue in the most raw way. It makes his eyes water and a pure purr rips from the base of his throat. He grips your hips, hard, to drag you closer. He has to as he sucks there and takes mouthfuls of your scent like a fine, effervescent spirit. 

His hand slides over the expanse of your hips, hovering near your sex without broaching too close.

“Can I touch you here—?”

“Please!” You shove your face into the crook of his neck, throwing your leg over his hip, so your dripping core is exposed. 

The cold air makes you jolt, whine, and shove closer to him. Desperate and burning. That’s all it takes for Jing Yuan to slip a hand between your legs, wide, and cover your cunt completely.

(He wants to feel you.)

The heat coming off you is obscene. Startling, even. You really are in heat and burning up. Your cunt radiates the heat of fever as he squeezes over it. Over you, and your most vulnerable core.

A watery, desperate sound is muffled into his neck.

He’s touched you before, during his own heat. Laying with you then was a pleasure, truly, but the memory of it is heat-blurred. He cherishes the flashes and afterimages he does have. Even from those fragments, he remembers you are sensitive. He knows now that he is the first one to ever touch you like, hold you like this, and be near you like this and— 

(Well, it’s doing something to him on such a carnal level that he feels like he’s being slowly rewritten within your nest—)

He has been so careful with you. Chaste, before this too. Partially to not overwhelm you, and partially because he is, perhaps, being a bit covetous about this. Sharing a heat, sharing many of your firsts with you— he is grateful and possessive of these things in equal measure.

Jing Yuan gives you what you need, running a knuckle between the seam of your cunt. Your chest heaves against his own as he does so. He rubs against the bud of your clit, switching to the pad of his thumb to roll small circles over you.

You moan for him, dissolving into soft pants and desperate sounds.

It’s easy to pleasure you this way. You’re so sensitive; it doesn’t take much. He’s aided by the unconscious grind of your hips toward his hand. The pressure won’t be enough, but for now, you take it in kind.

Your slick coats his fingers, dripping obscenely onto your thigh, only to spill onto the bed below. He drags his fingers through it, relishing the slip of it.

“Inside?” he asks.

You nod, vigorous and eager.

And you’re so good for him. Taking what you are given, asking when you need more. You’re so sweet for him; he hopes you know. He’ll make sure to tell you. He’ll show you too.

He teases your hole only for a moment before gingerly pressing his index finger into your cunt.

You’re tight. He expected this, but you’re still tighter than he thought you’d be—

(He wonders, latently, if you ever touch yourself here, or if your discomfort with knots and nearly-new collection of toys is indicative of a preference against penetration under different circumstances.)

You gasp at the intrusion and wriggle. Aeons, you shudder with the contact and somehow tense even further. Something— something old and soft in him aches.

“It’s alright,” he assures. It’s all he can do. “I’ve got you, it’s alright.”

You whine, “I k-know.”

It’s the most lucid you’ve been since your heat has started.

Jing Yuan doesn’t move his finger; he focuses on petting down your side and lavishing your cheeks with kisses. You loosen up with his attention, enough for him to comfortably move inside you just the smallest bit. Slick wets his wrist.

“S-Sorry—” You twitch when he barely curls his finger. “‘M not good at this—”

“Hush,” Jing Yuan scolds, lightly, with a tender tone in his voice that he hardly recognizes. “You’re doing very well for me. All you need to do is feel good and remember that I have you, hm? Can you do that for me?”

It’s condescending to speak to you this way. It lights a fire in his own belly, all the same. You respond so well to it— nodding, sniffling, and readjusting your leg over his hip so that you’re even more open. 

He rubs your clit with his thumb, adding another finger when he deems you ready, then another when your cunt is practically gushing. The scent is— intoxicating. Worryingly sweet, heat sickness creeping in despite everything, but Jing Yuan will do all he can—

In a flurry of motion, he kneels between your legs, pressing a hand over your navel with his thumb circling your clit faster. He pumps three fingers into you at a steady pace, deep and curling. He has been hitting your sweet spot, he knows. He can feel the way your cunt flutters around his fingers.

You’re debauched.

Every motion forces a little sound from you. Sweat pools in the valley of your chest. Your hair is mussed up from friction and static. You white-knuckle the sheets at your side.

You need more, but Jing Yuan can only give you so much in small doses for now.

When you come, it’s an intense thing. Your legs tighten around him, ankles locking against his lower back as your back arches off the bed. You throw a hand over your mouth, attempting to muffle the filthy moan that cracks from it—

He’s quick to bat it away— with his mouth. He— he needs to hear you, actually. In a decisive, quick move, he nips at your wrist while finger fucking you through your orgasm. Tears bead at the corners of your eyes

Your chest heaves as you come down from the high.

Jing Yuan’s cock is hard. It’s not much of a concern for him, not now— it’s better he put off coming until he actually fucks you. He’s pouring slick from his own cunt still, and it’s cooling against his thighs. He shivers.

“‘S’okay? You?” You slur, blinking rapidly. “C’mere please.”

You bundle up together in your nest. 

In the afterburn of pleasure... you don’t seem sated. If anything, your scent is more tart than before. It’s worrisome. You mewl, something soft and sad and pathetic, squeezing your thighs together as they tangle with his own.

“Oh, dear,” he says. “I’ve got you. It’s alright.”

His reassurances will only go so far, he knows. Your omegan hindbrain has cravings that cannot be satisfied just by sweet words. There are other comforts you need, too. You wriggle next to him, seeking out the scent gland in his neck, and that feeling in his stomach presents itself and twists.

...

Jing Yuan is very glad that he massaged out your scent glands prior to your heat. If he hadn’t, it probably would have resulted in some sort of medical emergency truthfully. 

Your heat rages, and quickly heat sickness sweeps you up.

He is good to you because he wants to be so badly, but it’s not enough. 

After using his fingers, he uses one of your toys next. He lets you on top of him, chest-to-chest. You grind over his painfully stiff cock, while he fucks you with one of your dildos. It’s one with a fierce curve, scrapping over your sweet spot.

You cum twice more, in quick succession, gushing over top of his cock and lower belly. The release unfortunately does not do much of anything to soothe your ache. Your scent grows beyond acrid and bitter, suffocating the room. The intertwining pheromones of your mutual arousal are swallowed by it. Your scent grows more concerning with more stimulation. It’s— worrisome. Deeply troubling.

(You need knot. He knows you need it. You probably know it too, if only in the most carnal, base parts of your brain. You need to be fucked, filled and stuffed full before you’ll feel well again. Each touch he gives you that isn’t knot, no matter how pleasurable, is not enough. It can’t ever be enough.)

(Attempting to provide you relief with your assortment of toys without... pushing was wishful thinking. A valiant, worthwhile attempt, but nonetheless, insufficient.)

Jing Yuan, truthfully, expected this. He planned contingencies— he always does— they just... will be potentially unpleasant for you.

(Or, cleaving for the two of you, perhaps, if he is not careful. If he chooses one particularly daring path.)

Your nest is rumpled. You lay on your side, panting with an open mouth. Your eyes are bloodshot and half-lidded. Jing Yuan cups your cheeks and rubs over the burning flesh.

“I feel so bad,” You tell him, glancing up at him. There’s slick halfway down your thighs. “‘M gonna die?”

“No.” He corrects swiftly. He laps over your cheeks, following his own latent instincts. It feels right. “You’ll be alright dear, I promise—”

“You sure?”

“Certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

You don’t respond, just lean into him. Your lucidity is mostly gone with heat and fever.

“Baby?” He asks, the endearment slipping from his lips (almost out of his control—) “You trust me to take care of you, don’t you?”

“‘So much, Jing Yuan.”

“I’m glad.”

He kisses you on your lips, chapped and cracking as they are. You’re sweating and slicking out liquid faster than you can drink and stay hydrated.

It’s concerning, all of it is— but he has your express permission. Consent to push, in this instance. You need it, he knows this and he can see it. He mentally reminds himself where the most important of your medications are kept and where the spare packets of electrolyte drink powder have been stashed.

You lean into his touch, flame to flame.

...

Jing Yuan is putting off fucking you.

Because it is not what you need right now.

What you need is fullness, without knot, which Jing Yuan can provide you. Granted in a way that he’s only seen in pornographic immersia and read about in dirty online forums under a pseudonym, but he has a great deal of confidence in himself to deliver. 

It is still somewhat daunting. 

Especially considering that your state is continuing to worsen. Night falls more quickly than he would like. And, despite his own sore wrist and slick-stained chin, you’re worse for wear.

You’re tucked against him. You’ve been fervently seeking closeness from him in a grabby, cute way. You sit sideways in his lap with your cheek squished against his breast. A sheet has been thrown haphazardly over the two of you, less for modesty and its meager offering of heat, and instead for some amount of grounding. An additional tether, other than himself. You wear the scent-gland stimulating cuffs tight on your wrists. 

You pant, whine, and shove your face into his chest.

”A-Awful—“ Your words slip and grit out from clenched teeth.

“I know.” Jing Yuan finds himself whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“I—“ You grind your teeth. 

Jing Yuan grabs your lower jaw and squeezes, just enough so that you release the tension there.

“Be good.”

”I-I’m— I’m trying.”

You dissolve. A sob creeps from the back of your throat, onto your tongue before spilling from your lips. One after another, frantic sounds punctuated by ragged, high breaths.

It hurts to hear; it hurts to know you’ve fallen to this point while he is in your nest. 

It’s for lack of trying, you both know that. (Or he hopes you do. He isn’t certain that you’re within yourself enough to make those types of assumptions.) 

“It’s alright,” he tries to soothe, but you’re past that point. You hiccup around your breath and jolt against him. 

(The sight of you so overtaken by tears does something to him. A simultaneous affection and urge to... coddle? Keep? Have? It’s hard to identify. It lingers in the aether of him and tangles with his instincts in such a way—)

Jing Yuan presses his fingers into your mouth.

You accept it, you always do, even if you fight with the digit for a moment. Your jaw tightens up and your lips purse like you’re ready to nip him. He probes around your mouth, and you relax almost instantly with the motion. He pets along your tongue and your gums— even pushes toward the back of your mouth, just shy of where your gag reflex will trigger. Your tension drips away as he explores. 

You suck on his finger, dutifully, just as he intended.

He likes this— he has since the first time he deigned to follow this impulse. It seems to relax you as well. Settles you, even now, when you’re heat-flushed and so poorly. He pets along your cheeks too. Your tears don’t quite dry, but your breath evens out beautifully. 

“It’s alright,” he coos, relieved. “So good for him.”

You preen with the praise, and rest against him, an everburning coal. 

This is part of the indulgent thing that Jing Yuan struggles to acknowledge. It’s hard to get his teeth around, and even harder to word. He’s been gifted with an eloquent silver tongue since his youth; he’s never found it difficult to string together his thoughts into words. This feeling is an exception. There have been very few in his lifetime.

(You’re— his. You’re his. His. He has to take care of you. Make sure you’re well, even if it hurts to get there. He’ll take care of you, so well. You’ll let him because you’re good for him, and you listen so well and don’t fuss anymore than you need to.)

He swallows.

“Let’s take care of you now, hm?” He hums. 

You’re agreeable when he slides you off his lap, and back into your rumpled nest. He takes time to re-fluff it around the two of you, letting you sink into the space further. You shove your face into one of the shirts he’d left with you that made its way into the core of your nest. You hold it to your chest and watch him.

He settles between your legs. Steadies himself and shifts his hair to one shoulder. You watch him with attention that must be hard to muster within your fever. The soft thing in him cracks further, yearns harder.

“Baby,” he says, soft and reverent. “Can I help you feel better?”

“Y-you have been—”

“Not like before,” he tells you. “I’m going to fill you up. It’ll make you feel better here.”

He presses his flat hand over your navel. Your hips jump sharply.

You eye him warily. 

“… N-No knots?”

“No knots.” He assures you. “Just me. Is that alright?”

You nod immediately. Instantly. You trust him so deeply; it almost hurts to think about.

He kisses you. The finger that had been in your mouth probes downward, past your ribs and soft tummy, to your steadily leaking cunt. He drags the digit up and down there, pressing into your slow and steady. He refuses haste here. He wants to take his time.

His own arousal feels secondary, especially now. The plan he has crafted, the act that he is beginning, will be more than sating enough. He doesn’t even really feel the urge to be sated physically. It’s an act of giving in a way that makes something older in his hindbrain purr at the prospect of actualizing. 

He adds a second finger into your hole, pumping them in and out, slowly. 

You mewl under him, desperate and... small. Not actually, not really, but in the way that he is perceiving you. Like a kitten needing the tending of its... 

(Mother.)

Oh.

There’s clarity in putting a word to the desires he feels. He... suspected something similar. But hadn’t come to him so bluntly before. It feels almost lewd in its nature, maybe fetishistic. He doesn’t particularly mind, truthfully. There’s a shuddering, warm kind of pleasure he takes in having a grip on this burgeoning type of desire. The shape of it is clearer. 

“Jing Yuan?” You say, soft and wet. “‘S okay? You okay?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, kissing you again. Stealing any potential doubts and worries you could have.

He slips a third finger into him, and he swallows the moan that tumbles from your lips against his own. 

You’re loose from prior stimulation and the incessant slick. Three fingers is hardly a stretch, but four is. He rolls your clit while teasing his pinky finger at your entrance. Your cunt flexes around his fingers and you make a sound of vague confusion, pushing up to see better.

Moderately unnecessary.

Jing Yuan cajoles you a bit, keeping his fingers inside you as he does. He fixes the angle of you so you’re flat on your back with your leg raised up on either side of him. Folded in half. If he presses down on your legs, you’d be held down into a favored omega mating position. You must enjoy it, as a gush of slick streams from your hole. You pant and squirm.

He spits on his fingers, letting a ball of saliva drip to where he enters you. 

His pinky finger bullies its way inside of you. It’s a slow affair, pressing in and a little deeper with each gentle thrust of his fingers. Enough to stretch, but barely ache. Your toes curl as he tends to you.

“One more,” he tells you. 

“... ‘S more?”

He hums. You’re so feverish. You haven’t caught on, have you? 

Jing Yuan shapes his hand just right, spitting again and scooping up excess slick on his thumb to smear over the rest of his hand that remains outside of you. He toys with your stretched opening, giving you a moment to put together his action.

(Such a sweet thing, needing this so badly from him.)

He pushes the last of his fingers inside you.

“O-Oh���” You watch as he does, jaw going slack and your legs falling limp at his sides.

This is a stretch. It’s too much, probably, but once the ache of all of his fingers carving your cunt open subsides, it will be so good for you. He’s confident.

Jing Yuan bites his own lip when you whimper, sweat beading on your neck. It’s unpleasant. It hurts you. He knows. He knows and he persists despite the resistance at your opening. He hopes— you don’t tear. You shouldn’t, you’re so slick and warm and wet that you should be just fine. The thought that you could still frightens him enough that he feels sick to his stomach—

(His baby— that can’t happen. If it does, he’ll lick you clean and well there until you’re all better.)

It’s a snug fit when he finally manages to wedge his thumb inside of you. His fist slips inside of you, and the opening of your cunt only has to stretch around his wrist— which still isn’t small. Neither is his hand. Neither of them line up with the anatomy of an alpha cock and knot, but it’s closer than anything else. It’ll sate the need you have for fullness.

His mouth waters at the sight of his hand in you. The bulge it makes in your belly. His gaze flickers back to your face and he— 

His cock twitches, he nearly blacks out.

You’re a vision. It’s obscene. Your lips are bitten raw, bleeding at a corner. Drool slips down the side of your lips, and you’re struggling to keep your gaze focused, but it’s trained on him. Near him. Slipping down to where Jing Yuan has managed to work his entire fist into you. You fist one of the pillows under your head, and the other is wound up in the sheets at your side. 

When he dares to move his fist in you, even a little, it shoots to grab his free wrist.

He hushes you, then. Your breath is too fast. Overstimulation just from insertion is to be expected, that’s what he had read. He kisses the crook of your knee with a hum.

“J-Jing Yuan—” Your voice clips, frantic. “Too much, too much—”

“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s not a knot, dear. It’s just me, taking care of you. I can take it out at any time.”

“I— ‘re s-sure?” 

“Certain. But I think this will help you. Doesn’t it feel good to be full?”

“... Full.”

It’s what an omega craves so deeply. Full of knots, love, and care, that they can both give to others and receive in kind. They desire to be cherished, really. He wants to cherish you. This in itself is an act of complete adoration. Jing Yuan feels giddy with it. 

He barely moves his hand, the motion can barely be called a thrust— but he presses against your womb all the same. All of your insides.

The stimulation is enough that you come, constricting over his hand with a gush of slick so obscene, Jing Yuan can’t help but dip his head down and lap up the spill that runs down his wrist. He gives your clit an errant kiss, and that had you crying out, squirming, and then freezing with the abrupt pressure.

You cry out his name, watery and endless.

It’s good, like this. His cock is so hard it hurts, and his cunt drips its own puddle into your nest. It’s easy to ignore, put aside, as you lay yourself bare for him. He’s as locked inside of you as he can possibly be without an alpha’s anatomy. The closeness of the act turns his own guts as he lavishes you with kisses.

You arch with each of his movements, jarring and overstimulated pleasantly. Little streams of pleas for more, for him, for his touch and presence dribble from your lips as he works his fist in little thrusts inside you. You cum, at least twice more, maybe three times. He loses count once you gush and squirm so much that it coats your navel and up to his forearm.

He’d like to make you do that out of heat when he’d be able to see your embarrassed expression and hear your bashful words.

Now, you glut yourself, begging with little grinds of your hips and pulling his hand to your lips to suck on his free fingers. It’s obscene, it’s perfect, and you’re full.

“So good for me,” he licks your cheek, his hair covering the two of you like a veil. “Do you know that, how good you are?”

You nod, drunk on pleasure, and relief, more than anything. 

“Say it for me, baby.”

“‘M good,” you smile, toothy and pure, and throw your head back when he ducks down to lick at your scent gland. 

“Once more, please?

“I’m good— f-for you—”

“For who?”

“... For— Jing Yuan?”

“Try again, dear.”

You make a helpless sound. “...G-General?”

“Once more. I know you can do it.”

Jing Yuan doesn't know— how to communicate this wordlessly. It will require words when you are more equipped to hear them. This is already pushing what you can handle in your overheated mind.

But he tries— because he trusts you just as much as you trust him.

He opens his mouth, jaw wide, and hovers his teeth over your scent gland. He doesn’t bite, he wouldn’t now, but he makes his teeth known with a brush of his sharp canines around the round, inset organ. He knows you feel them. You shudder. His fingers dip in your mouth again, just for a moment, to press down on your tongue and demand attention—

He withdraws them and your breath catches. Your scent blooms into cedar and cinnamon.

“Oh.” You go still. “... Mommy? Mama?”

Jing Yuan groans, something unadulterated and unfiltered. It’s a sound of his own relief, his own quenching and realizing coalescing. It’s punctuated by a sharp worry, that if this is misread and wrong, this tender thing that belongs to you just as much as it belongs to him will be rejected—

But the feeling is washed away easily when he gets a look at your face, awestruck. Open and soft. Yearning in a way that’s cracked open. You wouldn’t give this to anyone else, would you?

It calms him, instantly. You surge closer to kiss him, sobbing against his lips as the motion presses his knuckles into your sweet spot and your cervix makes you come again, easy for him, as you so deserve to be.

You melt then. Into him, into your nest, dissolving into a puddle of slick and soft-hearted tears. Jing Yuan catches you easily, as he has wanted to do for so, so long.

...

Having another omega as a heatmate is about comfort, ultimately. 

It’s not the same as having an alpha in your nest. There’s no cloud of pheromones that urges one to fall to their knees and present prettily for a knot. The craving for fullness is there, but the parched feelings of desire are more lucid. One does not drown in desire, but rather swim and tread water. 

Having another omega as a heatmate helps keep one floating.

After the discovery that Jing Yuan’s fist is a proper and satisfying alternative for a (comfortable) knot, your heat sickness begins to ebb off. It’s slow, but your fever reduces from sweltering down to toasty. Working his fist into you every eight hours or so keeps your symptoms manageable. Along with mini-massages to your scent glands, the edges of heat sickness have smoothed out, much to his relief.

There’s another aspect to your relief, of course. His own too. The fledgling dynamic that has been realized is... good. So good. Jing Yuan has felt it growing since his own heat. The need to care for you, to dote and coddle you as you need (maybe a little more than you need—), but he didn’t have the words to describe the urges. The relationship that he instinctively wanted to have with you— his omega.

It seems obvious in retrospect. From the first moment he took interest in you, you have scratched a particular part of his brain that he hadn’t isolated and examined thoroughly previously. Perhaps if he had, the expression of care that you’ve now put a name to would’ve been birthed far sooner.

Regardless, it’s good to have now. And to indulge it in the presence and explore it under these conditions where it is so, so needed. 

Your mind is still foggy; it’s very evident. You’re snuggled up, between his thighs, rolling the pudge above his hips in your hands. You’re purring. It’s a uniquely omegan sound that he has been twinning with you often. Including now.

It sounds like a harmony, his own a few steps lower than yours.

You sink lower down his body, dragging your nose and lips over his thighs. Your gaze is clouded and your mouth is wet.

“‘Wanna take care of you—” you say, nuzzling into the juncture of his thigh and pelvis. You suck in a breath, tasting his musk on your tongue. 

You shudder.

“If you’d like,” he replies, running a hand through your hair. “Take what you need.”

It’s his presence that you need, really. You need to be drenched in his scent, and there is no better way than being between his legs and mouthing at the head of his cock.

(He remembers this feeling during his own heat with you as well. Needing you to be inside him, to glut himself on you— his mouth was the best way to do it.)

He imagines you feel similarly as you stroke him, licking away a pearl of pre that appears at the tip. A shuddering breath leaves his lips.

It feels... good. Everything has felt good. The physicality, the intimacy, the literal closeness, the sexual contact you have shared— it’s been good. Pleasurable. Even if he hasn’t been on the receiving end for much of it, it has still been satisfying and filling in a way that gets him purring louder and rougher. 

“‘Can I?” Your words slur and you drag the tip of your nose up the length of his cock. “Can I suck you off, mommy?”

Jing Yuan has to stifle the sound that catches in his throat. He nods; he doesn’t trust himself enough to speak. You sink your mouth down his cock with a moan, eyes shutting and you work your tongue against the underside of it. It’s sizable for an omega. It’s a perfect mouthful for you. 

It feels good— so good. He’s sensitive; he doesn’t touch himself particularly often. It shows now as he inhales sharply, raking a hand through your hair to rest on your crown. He strokes his fingers there, shaking all over. 

You lack technique, but your pure want makes up for it. Your mouth is wet and lush around him. So sweetly, you keep purring, the vibration of it curling around him in a way that threatens to make him go cross-eyed.

He is embarrassingly close embarrassingly quickly. 

Jing Yuan manages to hold off with a measured sigh, attempting to unfurl some of the tension in his stomach. You suck at him with unrelenting vigor regardless.

Even more unfairly, one of your hands drifts lower, to the seam of his cunt. Your eyes crack open just enough to look at him, mirthful and mischievous as you pull off him. Strands of spit stretch from your lips to the rapidly purpling head of his cock. 

“‘S good?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

”So good, b-baby.” 

His voice trembles, he doesn’t mean it to. You sink a finger into him and curl without reverie. It scratches his sweet spot, pressing up against the most fragile parts of him.

He arches his back with a groan— it’s so much. The scent of him has drool dripping from your lips, down onto his cock while you thrust your fingers gingerly in and out. Even heat-brained, you are so thoughtful with him.

”I—“ Your voice breaks, dry. You swallow. “I want you to come in my m-mouth. Please?”

”Asking so sweetly,” he muses as you wrap your lip around his cock once more. “How could I not?”

You purr even louder, fucking him deeper and harder. Pleasure crackles up his spine. Your scent is sweet and warm in his mouth, like aromatic spices, warmed over a heart-bound stove. It’s creamy honey on his tongue. His cock twitches in your mouth and you moan with it, wanton.

It’s too good, really. It’s better he spills early, rather than later. Your stamina will surely outlast his own and he’d rather have some resilience left as your heat progresses.

He comes down your throat with a cracking moan.

It’s higher and softer than he’d used to. He’s not usually loud— not when he’s by himself, anyway. Yet he can’t restrain the way he falls apart under your touch, pouring cum down your throat in spurts, his slick drenching your hand. 

You pull away with a kitten cough. Jing Yuan is breathless, floored, and hollowed out in some ways. Your overt desire is undoing to him. He wants you— in his mouth.

You lick the cum and spittle off our lips with a wry grin. You meet his gaze as you lap up his slick from your fingers. Your tongue lays flat and moves slowly. You sway between his legs, panting a little too quickly for his liking.

He feels himself growl, cowing.

He doesn’t mean to, but he does despite that. 

“Be careful now, baby,” he reminds you. 

He doesn’t mind the display of your confidence. You’re so rarely cocky. But it’s so satisfying to see how you crumble to this dynamic, the way you yearn for his hand and guidance.

”Why’s that?” You tilt your head cutely.

He hums, “I don’t want you getting ahead of yourself.”

”Oh.” You blink at him, nodding. It’s demure and sweet. “I understand. S-Sorry.”

”There’s nothing to be sorry about." He kisses you. Your mouth tastes like both of you. He licks against your teeth for the lingerings of his own spent. “It’s quite flattering, but I know best to take care of you, don’t I?”

This makes you pause. 

There’s so much trust between the two of you; he knows this. He’s so intensely aware of it. None of this (your companionship, sharing your nest, both of your heats) could occur without it. Yet, he asks for more. 

(He wants you to say it. That he can take care of you.)

”Y-Yeah,” you say and reach for his hand to squeeze it. “Y-You know best, mommy.”

You both shudder when you speak. He curses under his breath.

...

You need to be taken care of. Jing Yuan feels entirely confident in that fact as he lies with you.

You— deserve it. Maybe it is the pheromones affecting him, or maybe it’s just the way you’ve broken down and he can see how easily helpless you have become.

Desire looks good on you. Neediness, even better.

You squirm below him, pawing at him to come close. You can’t stand for him to be away from you too long. You had warned him about this, but truthfully he thought you were exaggerating in some sense. He knows now you absolutely were not, and his presence is required in his nest at nearly all times if you’re awake. 

(When you’re sleeping, he manages to disentangle himself from you (however painful) to wash up and collect enough food and water from your little kitchen to last through the next romp.)

Jing Yuan holds a warm cloth in his hand, damp but not soaking. He rubs it over your inner thighs in smooth circles. There’s a caked layer of slick there, uncomfortably clinging to your skin. He’s certain that you don’t notice, but he feels better knowing he’s able to clean you up.

He peaks at your cunt while he does so.

You’re... warm. So warm between your legs, scalding, and still so wet. Puffy from all of the contact and friction, but he doesn’t note any immediately concerning abrasions. He’s been careful when using his fists. Your hole is stretched with heat and all of his tending.

He feels contented. Especially so considering you’ve settled and are close to dozing above him.

It’s a good feeling. He kisses over your navel.

...

When Jing Yuan fucks you for the first time, he lets himself be as reverent as he truly desires.

It’s only the two of you and the soft, lulling whir of your home’s scent locking system, several days into your heat. Nighttime stretches late with moonbeams that leak around your curtains. He doesn’t bother fully closing them now. He’s far too comfortable. You’re curled against his side, cheek laid against his breast. Your breath is smooth and slow with easy sleep. His own twins your pace. 

The moon is good company for this particular type of peace.

It’s late enough that the orb of it is high, bathing the Luofu’s peaceful floral district in a downpour of silver. It looks nearly light out. It’s enchanting to see slivers of it, slicing into the stillness of your room in thin rays. One lays across your face, crossing the bridge of your nose. 

(Jing Yuan would be lying if he said that it didn’t make him feel melancholic. The moon reminds him so easily of Dan Feng, the same way that the swathes of stars and inky cosmos remind him of Yingxing. He has no reason to mourn now, he has already done plenty, but he can’t help but feel the ache in the moon spray all the same.)

You stir. His scent must have changed.

“Jing Yuan,” you murmur, voice slurring and thick with sleep. “‘S okay— what’s wrong?”

You roll so you lay on top of him, propped up on your hands.

“Nothing important. You can sleep.” He tries to assure you, but the tone of his own voice is weaker than he means it to be. The lingering mourning creeps in.

You nudge your nose against his cheek.

“I don’t wanna,” you say the words into his skin with a kiss. “Not if you’re upset. What’s on your mind?”

“It’s alright, dear.” It really... is. He thinks so with some amount of confidence.

(Jing Yuan is so careful with his ghosts, so skillful in the way that he keeps them from those who cares for in the present. He doesn’t wish to share his grief anymore. The wounds have closed and all that remains is the occasional ache of scar tissue. That much he can manage on his own.)

“Nooo—” You whine with a nip. “You gotta tell me. Please?”

He concedes; you make it so tempting to.

“I’m only thinking about the past.” He sighs. The sound fills the room. “Nothing but bygone times, dear. There’s no reason to trouble yourself about it.

“... Are you thinking about your old mates?”

“Perhaps.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“The moon makes me fragile.” He admits.

You don’t respond. For a moment, he’s worried that you’ll be offended by his wandering thoughts. He is sharing your nest. 

His worry is misplaced.

You straddle his hips and kiss him, soft and slow. Your thighs tighten around him as you urge him back into the sheets, drawing away only to press the kindest words into the cheeks.

“It’s alright to be fragile,” you tell him. An assurance of your own, given to him.

(Is it alright to be fragile? This thing with you, all of the newness of this dynamic and intimacy requires fragility to be shown. It’s vulnerable. Jing Yuan has been so, so careful with such things. To process his grief well and fully and still be a steadfast, unfailing leader. There’s a middle path he traverses well, but your new venture together is so different.)

He swallows. You kiss the swell of his throat with a hum.

Jing Yuan coaxes you into the sheets next to him, by his side. His hand slips between your legs. You gasp, so tender and sensitive after days of heat. You are fragile. In a similar way to him, but so different too. It makes something between his ribs shake. It’s wanting and craven in a way that feels foreign.

You cup his cheek then and kiss him. Your lips are so soft. The taste of you, the scent of you fills him as you lick into his mouth. Needy. You chase his cowardice away so easily. He breathes into your mouth with a happy sigh.

(There’s no alpha-driven drive for ownership in him. Just the need to have you be his because, you’re— you’re his baby. His soft, sweet thing that must never forget how cared for you are.)

You moan together.

Jing Yuan runs his finger up and down your sex. You’re soaked and sore, but wanting. So wanting, trembling next to him as you kiss him desperately. All little noises of desire, drenching him and the stillness of the room. The moon watches.

“Want you—” You say against his lips.

“How?” You may need his fist again. Or a toy. Or, something else.

“You,” you gasp, pulling away enough to cry out as he toys with your entrance. “You— you— you in me, please—”

You don’t need to beg, but it is cute that you do.

He shushes you with a kiss on your forehead.

“Me?” There’s a hint of mirth in his tone. 

You huff and whine, “Y-Yes— I want— I want you inside me.”

“More than my hand.”

“You!”

“Use your words clearly, dear,” he brushes his nose with yours. “I’d hate to misunderstand what my baby needs.”

A shattered sound comes from your throat and you squirm.

“I—I—” You swallow. “C-Can you fuck me?”

Oh, he can.

“Of course,” he breathes the words over your lips. The ghost of the sound caught in the shaft of moonlight that paints your cheeks. “I’ll take good care of you.”

He will, he will, he will.

It’s not hard to coax you onto your back. Your thighs spread around his hips, leaving you open to his prodding. Omegas traditionally enjoy presenting on their knees for an alpha, but there are no pheromonal, instinctual urges here. Just the sticky kind of feeling that has you gasping as he presses two fingers into you.

There’s no need to stretch you; this is for pleasure. He curls his fingers for the sheer shake of carving out your insides with all of his desire. He rolls your clit with his thumb, practiced in the things you like, the things that have you rolling your hips and gasping for more.

His own cock is hard, stiff against his soft tummy. It leaks an excess of milky pre, dripping down his shaft. It’s obscene. He pulls away from your cunt only to pump his cock once, twice, smearing his fingers with pre. You make an aching, wanton sound as he pushes back into you. The mix of your drips down his wrist, down to your ass.

You moan his name and grab his wrist, “I’m ready— please—”

“Shhh,” he hushes. He kisses your protests away. “Mommy knows best, don’t you think?”

You nod, helpless to his influence. It’s cute. It’s molten in his hands and he wants it in his mouth.

He leans down to kiss your collarbones, then lower to your chest. Your nipples are peaked with your heat. He’s neglected them, truthfully. It’s an easy thing to rectify luckily. He kisses down until he has the right one in his mouth. He laps at the pearl of it, greedy. You cry out beneath him, wracked with pleasure, riding out what he gives you. You trust him so much.

Your hand winds into his hair and you pet him, as though he’s a big housecat. He can’t say that he minds.

He fucks you with his fingers as he switches to the other side of your chest. He sucks marks in his wake, to match all of the others he has left in various stages of healing.

By the time he pulls away, you’re panting, tears in your eyes, so close to coming it’s visible. Your core is tight, your jaw is slack and drool pools, wet, on your lips.

“My sweet thing,” he slips lower, licking down your stomach in a straight line. He rests his cheek on your inner thigh, breathing hotly over your cunt. The scent of you has him dizzy and pleased beyond belief. “I think you should come once I’m inside you, what do you think?”

Jing Yuan kisses your swollen clit with a teasing smile.

You make a helpless, confused sound as he draws away, deflating into the sheets. Fidgeting, you peer up at him as waits for your response.

“... If you think so, mommy.”

“Won’t it feel good?” He plies. “To come on my cock?”

“Uh-huh,” You nod. 

Jing Yuan plucks a bottle of lube from within the folds of your nest. It’s unnecessary, but the effort matters. He slicks himself up, hissing through his teeth. 

“I w-want,” you say, struggling to sit up with your shaking limbs. “I-I want you to c-come inside me— please?”

“Begging?” Jing Yuan can’t help the smile that grows over his features. His baby is so, so sweet. “For something I’ve already wanted to give you. So sweet, so good—”

You sob. It’s a helpless, fragile, sound. It sparks something in him, an urge that’s fast and immediate. You need tending, care— he kisses the sound from your lips with a quiet hush. A whispered ‘I have you, I have you, I have you’. 

This position is vulnerable. Showing your stomach like this leaves you open. Unprotected. There are old wisdoms that say omegas present on all four to protect their most vulnerable parts— their primary scent glands and tummy. Despite the calm of the air, the softness of your nest, and the presence of a gentle, kind moon, you still look a little scared.

“I have you,” he reminds you, inches forward on his old knees. “You know that I do, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes, mama—” You shake as the head of his cock rubs your clit.

He stifles a groan, and you outright moan, reaching for his arm, wrist, hand— anything to ground you. It’s so easy to grab your hand in his own, press it into the sheets, and slide into you.

It’s your first time— you’ve taken toys, his fist— but this is different. It cores you; he can tell by the way your hips jolt and your mouth goes slack. An ‘oh—’ is punched from the center of your chest, and you squeeze his hand.

His cock isn’t a stretch for you, but merely being in you hollows you out and lets him fill you up all the same.

“‘S good,” your voice breaks from your throat. “So good—”

Jing Yuan steels himself with a thick breath, slowly, slowly, grinding into you a little more with each thrust. Until with one last roll, he’s buried to the hilt.

You’re hot. He’s never fucked someone in heat. Aeons, he hasn’t fucked anyone in centuries, and he had forgotten how overwhelming the sensation of being surrounded by wet, hot bliss could be. He hangs his head low and tries to collect himself.

It takes a moment, then two, then three—

“Mama?” You ask him, soft and sweet as you cup his cheek. “C-Can you move? Have I been g-good enough?”

He whines, he hears his own sounds, and kisses you hard on the mouth as draws his hips back in the same motion. He speaks against your lips, “You don’t need to be good for me to have this. You deserve it— sweet baby.”

It’s easy to fall into this role, so easy. Too easy, in a perverse, indulgent way that nearly has him cumming with his own words but he collects himself enough to fuck back into you.

He sets the pace, slow and as deep as he can go. Each thrust is a punch to your insides, the angle of your hips has the head of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot perfectly. Tears drip from your eyes, down into your hairline.

The sight of you, below him, chest heaving, soft, melted, has him stopping, half-in you to steady himself. He nearly has to withdraw from your cunt entirely to circle the base of his cock his fingers just to stave off orgasm.

“Baby,” his voice shakes more than he has heard it do so for half a millennium. “It’s hard to last when you feel so good.”

You try to get out some snarky remark, something too mouthy and wordy for his baby, so he cuts you off with a swift thrust back into you. You dissolve. Your eyes scrunch closed and your back bends beautifully off your nest. Your grip flails from the sheets to him, and then back to the sheets as you attempt to ground on something.

(Him— you need to ground on him. Jing Yuan will take such good care of you. He’s filling you up, keeping you warm and well-loved.)

He deftly pulls your hand from the sheet and intertwines your fingers with his own. He brings you palm-to-palm, before pressing them down into the mattress. You make a shattered sound, all for him.

Drool seeps out of his own mouth. He kisses you, then, mixes spit with your own to taste you just as much as he feels you.

It feels like gluttony. An indulgence, to have you like this. He isn’t one to deny himself simple pleasures but this feels beyond ‘simple��. It’s complicated. Layered, something he’ll need to decipher and chew on when he’s more within his own faculties. When you are too, so he can consult you as much as is appropriate. Part of him wants to bar you from it. You shouldn’t have to think so much about it, you’re his baby—

You grow tighter around him, wetter. The sounds coming from your cunt and his cock are obscene. He’s leaking along with you.

Jing Yuan lets go of your hand. You whine. Cry. Something sad and shaking. Your eyes are bloodshot and teary as you scramble for him. Jing Yuan coos, little sweet things that drip like confections from his lips. He slides his hands up the backs of your thighs, to the backs of your knees, and anchors himself there.

He bears his weight down and folds you in half.

Your panic stutters, then stalls. Your jaw falls open.

It’s an instinctual thing for an omega in heat. To be pressed open like this, fucked open by a loving mate.

Your head tilts to the side and bears your scent gland.

And—

(Jing Yuan will not bite you. He wants to. He wants to so badly. Once you understand what that means, to have your mama’s bite on you in that way, then he can. He thinks you’ll want it just as much as he does.)

“Oh, baby—” His own voice sinks into a low groan as he pushes back in. “So beautiful for me. You know just what to do, don’t you?”

You whine and tilt your head even farther to the side. It almost looks painful. “Please, m-mama—”

He kisses over the spot your sweet, little heat brain wants him to. His hip cant forward pressed to the hilt. It’s enough that you come with a sob, your legs quivering under him.

“S-Soon, baby,” Jing Yuan can barely keep it together. He licks his lips, the remnants of you and him there. “I’ll make you all mine— all mommy’s, hm?”

“P-Please!”

Your begging is its own declaration. Your desperation, your helplessness, and the ways in which you are cutely feeble really have done something to Jing Yuan that he could never have expected. He doesn’t dislike it. The way he wants to care for you, feels attracted to the idea, and intimacy of that feels blinding, even if he doesn’t know all of the intricacies of it yet. He’ll find them out, along with you, by his side— in his lap— maybe on your knees— against his chest and in his nest—

There’s such certainty in your mutual desires. 

Jing Yuan can’t— he can’t bear it— 

He comes. The sound that rips from his throat is between a moan and a whimper of his own. Cracked and wet all at once as he presses all of his weight into you. He fills you up the best he can’t— omega cum isn’t very thick, more watery— but considering his own restraint, it’s plentiful. It spills out as he fucks you through his orgasm and the last dredges of your own.

You grab at his shoulders, tucking your own face as close as you can.

Jing Yuan can barely hold himself up as he pants to catch his breath. His knees shake as he rights himself just enough to but without fully slipping out of you.

His vision blurs as your scent surrounds him. He can’t help the smile.

He pulls away just enough for his cockhead to pop from your cunt with a gush of cum, tangling and connecting to him in strands. It’s— erotic. An image branded on the inside of his brain.

A shattered noise comes from you— in heat— unfull—

As quickly as he can manage, he wiggles his fist inside you. 

It sates you immediately. Jing Yuan can’t help but coo as you go limp and gooey into your nest with a soft cry. Your chest still heaves, tears streaming down your cheeks.

You’re a mess. Debauched in all ways. And Jing Yuan got you that way.

It makes him feel unjustifiably prideful. A bit smug, even, if he were to be so transparent about it.

The feeling settles down into something... warming. Contentment that scratches an urge that’s both buried in his hindbrain and stitched into his soul, perhaps. A high that continues even as he settles next to you, tugging you snuggly against him as you happily shake through your ‘knotting’.

It’s easy to rest then. To bask and enjoy the heat, the stillness of the evening, the companion in the moon, and your honey-sweet presence by his side. 

“Mommy,” you whisper into his cheek with a kiss. “Jing Yuan— t-thank you.”

“O-Of course.” He whispers back like he’s exchanging a secret. “I have much more to give you if you’ll let me, sweetling.”

Your breathe catches, eyes wide. 

“Mama is spoiling me.”

“Mommy is giving you what you rightfully deserve.”

Before you can counter, he kisses you. Dumb and sweet all at once. You smile against his lips with a giggle that he eats in the next moment. 

A morsel, all his own.

...

As your heat abates, your sweet dynamic grows. It has time to breathe and be more than a desperate connection born from the discomfort of your heat and his own need to tend. Now there’s just the honeycomb richness of a new desire that you both indulge. Test. 

Now, you’re in Jing Yuan’s lap while he rests against your headboard. You’ve just finished sharing a bowl of rice pudding and red bean jellies. Jing Yuan has spoonfed you, as he is finding he very much enjoys. Partially because it is such a transparent act of care and also because he finds your vague indignation and fidgeting to be quite cute.

You’re still fidgeting, now, in his lap. Your legs on either side of his thighs, tense. His cock is buried in you, warm and steadily hard. 

Your cheek lays against his collarbone. You’re settled there, comfortable after some initial adjusting. It has been your sheepish request that initiated your current lap-sitting and cock warming, but Jing Yuan can hardly complain. He’s quite pleased. Your cheeks are hot against his skin, though flushed now with embarrassment more than heat.

You huff,  “M-Mama— Jing Yuan— Do you have to read that?”

He hums, teasing. “Why? Do you not enjoy my choice of story?” 

Jing Yuan holds a small book in one hand, thumb pressed into the inner spine of it. He’d plucked it from the bottom of your nightstand while you’d been dozing and found the story quite... interesting. 

It’s one of the raunchy erotica fictions that gets sold out of little carts in Aurum Alley. The cover is plainly pink, aside from the title “The Lion-Strong Lieutenant and The Fox-Hearted Maiden”. Jing Yuan had paged through it with some amount of uncontained curiosity. The story follows a freshly deployed (vaguely familiar) Cloud Knight lieutenant and a foxian healer on the front lines of a Hunt on a distant planet. It’s filthy, really. There’s smut within the first few chapters that he skims through. Decently written too. He can see why you enjoy it and keep it by your bedside.

When you rouse enough to notice that he’s reading, and what he’s reading, you’re mortified. You’d attempted to snatch the book away from Jing Yuan, but unfortunately for you, he’s quite a bit taller and in better shape than you are. He simply holds it above his head rather pleased with himself.

How his cock ended up inside of you is rather lost on him. You really do enjoy your perch in his lap, and at this point in your heat, being filled by something of any girth is more pleasant than being entirely empty. 

Reading the book aloud to you is more for himself. Because you’re very, very cute when you’re so embarrassed and a bit shameful. 

You hide in his neck and whine.

“I don’t t-think this one is meant to be read out loud...” Your voice wobbles like you’re going to cry.

“Why’s that, dear?”

“It’s... u-um, too dirty?”

“Hm,” he clicks his tongue, coaxing your head up so he can meet your watery gaze. “That may be true. Why was my baby reading it then?”

A nervous chirp clicks from your throat and you shift in his lap. His cock jostles in your cunt. 

“Because—!” You huff. “It’s f-fun to read when I’m alone.”

“‘Fun’?”

It’s hard to keep himself from teasing you.

You squeal and squirm more, before tucking yourself close. You grow quiet, brooding as much as Jing Yuan will allow before intervening. He chuckles as you do, petting down the back of your neck, over your soothed scent glands, and down your bare spine. 

He relents and sets down the book.

“Would you prefer a different story, dear?”

“... Y-yes, please.”

“That can be done.”

He hums and pets you, enough that you calm down and sniffle through the beginning of your tears. 

Jing Yuan should’ve known his baby needs a story that is easier to swallow. Something less dirty—

(As if his cock isn’t buried in you. As if your cunt is fluttering around him whenever his hips so much as twitch.) 

“P-Please, mommy?”

(Ah, how simply and purely you affect him.)

“Of course, dear.” 

You don’t need to beg for this. Jing Yuan adjusts enough that you’re able to slouch fully into his chest. 

He pets you while he tells you a story about something simple. Something easy. About a traveling merchant who falls for a witch on a lush planet. It’s a fable plucked from an immersia that Jing Yuan vaguely remembers from when he was young. It’s a good bedtime story, much better than genuine pornography.

His voice carries in your room, growing rougher and lower as sleep tugs at his own eyelids. At some point in his tale-winding, you begin to drag your lips up and down his neck, mouthing at his scent glands. It’s a silent plea for him to rest, to relax, and to exchange scent. Jing Yuan can intuit it from you so easily.

He ends up dozing along with you, words fading as you drool over his collarbone.

The last thing he does before fading into sleep himself is commit the stillness and peace of this to memory. 

...

You clearly thrive under the specific type of care that Jing Yuan gives you.

‘Mommy’ and ‘baby’ do something good to your brain. It makes you float, and exit the spaces and feelings that make you so anxious and off-kilter. He knows that on a day-to-day basis, you can be quite fractious and unsure of yourself. (Your tears were the first thing that endeared you to him, after all). He can already tell that this dynamic is allowing you a specific type of respite from these anxieties. 

Not having to think too hard is good for you. Jing Yuan thinks it is a good thing in general, and especially now, during your heat, something you’ve been so worried about before and during. He thinks it’ll be good for you afterward as well... if it’s something you’d like to continue. 

(Jing Yuan truly hopes you will. He wants to.)

It’s a reprieve for him too.

You’re a precious, little thing that needs care that he can provide. You’re the only thing he needs to worry about then, too. He’s always latently aware of his greater responsibilities, it feels impossible to not be, but they feel further away when you’re snuggled closer to him with hazy eyes and a soft smile meant only for him to see. 

There are different layers to this that he’d like to explore. Little bits and actions that he can see the appeal of, perhaps that he even craves, but he knows that they must be treated gingerly. This is new for both of you. And there’s truly no need to rush.

(There is, however, one thing that sticks in his mind in an unignorable way—)

(A curious desire, one he wants quite badly.)

Jing Yuan is propped up by a mountain of pillows, snuggled deep in your nest with a pastel, knitted blanket tossed over his legs. You’re on his lap, rump over his thighs with your legs curled up to the side of him. You’ve slipped quite low like this, your cheek pillowed against his sternum. It’s one of your favorite spots, he’s learned.

Two of his fingers are in your mouth, resting on your tongue. 

This is one of your favorite things, he thinks. He thinks that it is one of his own as well. It may have started as a teasing action at first, during his own heat, something to wordlessly test the waters of this dynamic when it first began to present itself, but now it feels like something more weighted. 

It’s a precursor at the very least.

You suck on his fingers lightly; you’re half asleep as you do. Drool shines on the corners of your mouth in a cutely messy way. He wants to lick it off. One of his arms cradles you, around your back with a hand tucked firmly against your waist.

There’s a temptation to push things a little... further.

It’s not an entirely chaste thought, though it’s hardly burgeoning on sexual. Jing Yuan supposes that the nature of your whole dynamic, really. The line between the carnal and the pure has been so blurred, it might as well not be there. It’s safe and intimate— refreshingly so. There is nothing more than it needs other than that.

Jing Yuan swallows, his mouth feeling dry.

You make little sound, the beginnings of a purr as you rouse enough to blink up at him.

“Dear,” he asks. “May I try something? You can stop if you do not like it.”

You blink at him a few more times, before nodding, your top teeth bumping against his fingers in your mouth. 

(How trusting, how sweet, how pliant and good for him you— is what he desires to do next, not just a manifestation of that?)

He slips you lower, so your cheek is smushed up against his chest instead. 

The ample swell of his breast is never something he’s minded. He’s always been a bit fuller than his peers, perhaps a lot these days, considering all of the deskwork he does has resulted in some weight gain around his middle. It’s hardly noticeable under his official costume and regalia; it looks more like muscle then. 

Now, bare with you and skin-to-skin, his chest is round with muscle and soft tissue. His stomach rolls over, pudge covering the muscle he has maintained. He’s sure you feel all of it. He hopes it makes you feel safer, knowing that your omega can look after you in those ways too.

And Jing Yuan has confidence that in those physical ways, he can. The tender way he wants to explore is more uncharted.

He withdraws his fingers from your mouth and coaxes you into turning your face against his breast fully. Your lips brush one of his dusty pink nipples and he twitches. You freeze, glancing up at him with wide eyes. There’s only trust there, thick and rich and all his. Your scent is so warm now, so warm. You look back to his chest, going a bit cross-eyed, then back up to him.

You nose around his nipple before taking it into your mouth. Fully.

He gasps as you do— he’s— he’s sensitive. It’s not a place he really touches himself. The contact makes him stiffen up; both his spine and his nipple that is under your tongue. You freeze as he jolts, pausing, but not drawing away.

Jing Yuan takes a moment to steady himself, before petting down the back of your head, a wordless sign to continue.

And you do, because you are so good and you trust him so much. You lap around his nipple and suck without question, easily sinking back into the headspace that you both enjoy so much. You’re dutiful, at first, enthusiastic, but the fervor of it fades after a minute or two.

Instead, you relax even further. Your legs splay, heels sliding along the bottom of your nest. Your thighs fall open and a burst of your scent, both calm and aroused, floods the room. You lean all of your weight into him, seeking more as your eyes slip fully closed.

It’s good. So good to see you relax, to feel your against his chest. Jing Yuan is both sated and aroused all at once, his own scent turning as you suck. It’s... creamier, milkier. You seem to enjoy it, making a high, happy noise against him.

“Oh, b-baby—” His own voice shakes, just enough to betray his overwhelm.

You calm him by shifting somehow closer, sucking deeper and harder on his nipple. There will surely be a mark there.

Jing Yuan’s cock is half hard as you suck, and he can see slick begin to leak out from your cunt, stickying your thighs. He— he wants to touch you. To satisfy you even more. He reaches between your thighs, cups your sex, and rolls your clit with the two fingers that had previously been in your mouth. You gasp against him, suck harder, and moan.

It’s— it’s all debauched. Sensual yet so comfortable, Jing Yuan can’t help but luxuriate. The pleasure you’re exchanging exists only for pleasure's sake; neither of you feels hastened toward completion. Instead, it’s just this— you nursing on his chest and him playing with you just enough that your hips tilt and grind for more, but never to glut.

(Jing Yuan— part of him— he’s not even sure which part, wishes he could give you more than nursing. He wishes he could give you milk too. If he can’t fill you up with a knot, why not fill your belly up with his milk? He would like that. You probably would too. Warm and full and content against his chest.)

He feels— a little out of his mind about it. In a good way. Perhaps, if this is something you’d like to indulge in again, something could be done to make that a reality. Jing Yuan is sure he can make a few anonymous accounts and poke around forums for an answers. Perhaps call in a few favors at the Alchemy Commission, if it comes to that.

The desire for this— this dynamic that’s gratifying dynamic that’s growing and fleshing itself out in real time— has him ready to go the distance without question. He’s excited to. 

It’s easy to be excited, with you content and within pleasure so deeply against him. 

He’s quite excited for whatever comes next. 

...

Your heat ends after nine days. 

The last days of it are slow. Exhaustion has settled into both of you, and the intimacy you share is unhurried and lazy. There’s no fever to it, only the want for closeness amidst your own fatigue. 

As post-heat creeps in, there is somewhat of a chill that’s spread over your home as well.

It’s a quiet feeling, one that neither of you addresses at first. Jing Yuan can smell it on you, and on himself, before he identifies clearly that something isn’t quite right. You aren’t mad, there is no anger in your scent or the way you carry yourself. Your words are not cruel, nor is their tone. If anything, it’s the opposite. You cling to him harder, squeeze closer, and beg for more of him whenever you can. Not for sex. You just want to be near him.

You sit in the bath together quietly, watching the rainbow-slick bubbles in tandem. 

Your bath isn’t quite big enough for the two of you. Jing Yuan’s knees stick up just out of the water. Your own are nestled beside his as you sit between his thighs. You’re wiping a warm, soapy washcloth over his offered arm in little circles, a soft frown on your face. 

You’re both very aware that this— you— will end soon. This state will.

Jing Yuan has a ship to head. He has taken a great deal of (abnormal) time off to accommodate your heat, which he has no regrets about. However, he is all too aware of the mountain of paperwork he’ll have to complete and the amount of catching up he will need to do once he returns. He’s been assured by Qingzu and Fu Xuan over text that the Luofu’s various affairs are being handled well and accordingly, and he’s sure that they’re doing a fine job at managing things in his absence—

But, he must take up the helm once again. Along with the full brunt of its responsibilities. Having you as his own does not change that.

Jing Yuan has never cared much for his image, not beyond managing perceptions that may be genuinely damaging to the stability of the Luofu’s denizens. As much as he has a reputation for loafing and lounging about, he’s reliable. No other Arbiter General has held this title for as long as he has and kept their ship as hale as he has. As much as he’s known to be a ‘Bachelor Alpha’ — he’s fairly certain taking you publicly as his omega will not damage his reputation, not in any meaningful way.

He worries for you though. Your station is lower. For as much of an eye as Madame Yukong keeps on you, and as much power he can exert, you will more than likely face backlash. Beyond already-buzzing rumors, he is certain you’ll face some amount of questioning from those around you. Criticisms. Both of you will undoubtedly face judgments as well. Jing Yuan is certain he’ll hear at least from the other Generals, if not the Marshal herself.

(The Divine Foresight, an ‘Alpha’, taking a simple administrative staff as his mate— it could be quite the scandal. If mishandled.)

(One thing at a time—)

You break the stillness of your steam-filled bathroom with a low hum.

“How’s this gonna work?” You ask. “... Mommy?”

“That’s a good question.” He kisses the back of your head, over your wet hair. You smell like the herbal shampoo you favor. “How would you like it to?”

“Please don’t leave this all up to me.”

“I’m not.” He squeezed your middle, hiding his own face in your shoulder. “I’d appreciate your perspective.”

“I figured you would have put it together already.”

“Oh?”

“I know how your mind works.” You bump your head into his own. “Or, I think I do. I, at least, have an idea of it. You’re always a few steps ahead of me, you know?”

“And how do you think that is?” 

“... You know me before I even know myself a lot of the time.”

You’re more keen than you give yourself credit for. He ought to help you work on your self-esteem. 

“Even so. I would like to hear your own genuine thoughts from your mouth, rather than my inferences and deductions.”

“Only if you tell me what you want too. Just as genuine.”

He nods, conceding easily. “Of course.”

You grab his hand in your own. Your thumbs roll into his palms, the ghost of a massage. “I... I like being... your omega. Your b-baby too, even if I don’t, um, quite know all the details of how it all works. Or if you know, either. But you know lots, so maybe you do. I dunno— I— it’s just—”

“Take your time, dear.”

You sigh and run your fingers over the pulse in his wrist. “... I don’t want to lose this just because my heat’s all over. I— I want to keep being yours.”

Thank Lan.

“The feeling is mutual,” he admits, smothering yourself with the fragrance of your skin. There’s melancholy in his tone that twins your own. “Very much so.”

“I’m glad.” You nose into him harder, more insistent for closeness. “I’m glad we want b-both want that. I’d... prefer we be somewhat private about it. I know that people are already talking about, um, us. I’m sure Li Ming has already been texting me about it. And I don’t necessarily mind people knowing that we’re together. I think it’s unavoidable, really.”

“I would agree.”

“But, I’d like this... this...” You hold your hands together, and dip his fingertips shallowly into his mouth, before withdrawing. “To be just ours.”

“I feel similarly.” 

There’s any number of commonplace, and less commonplace, dynamics that exist on the Luofu and across the Xianzhou. Your budding dynamic, truthfully, isn’t all that odd given this variety (Xianzhou natives have certainly had a long while to cultivate them—). Regardless of this, Jing Yuan would prefer to keep things private unless... certain circumstances arise. And those can be talked about—

(If specific types of encouragement or discipline in conjunction with care is something you desire and something he thinks would be beneficial for you, there may be a place for some public showing of dominance and submission. But, that’s not relevant now. Not yet. The details can wait.)

“And um— well, you—” You squirm to look at him. Almost pouting. “Y-You can bite me. I-I want you to. Claim me, if you want. I know it’s not really gonna do anything but—”

“You want my mark?” 

Jing Yuan feels light-headed with the knowledge. He assumed as much but still—

“Y-Yeah, really bad. It took everything during my heat not to ask for it.”

Jing Yuan would’ve been able to hold back if you had. But— it would have been... more difficult, had you begged. He’s weak for it, weak for you.

“I would like to leave my claim on you as well.” He has to swallow, clear his throat. “Not now, or during this heat of yours. I’d like to wait until we have a better moment established for it.”

“Something a little more preplanned ... Make it meaningful, yeah?”

“Yes, I’d prefer it that way.”

“I-I like that idea. Besides, it would be unfair for you to mark me and take my virginity during a single heat.”

His cock twitches. You clearly feel it as you grin, smother him with a smattering of kisses to his cheeks. 

For all the details, all the little things to sort, and preferences to wade through, this is easy. The exchange of physicality and comfort is good. Jing Yuan— well— it’s not something he’s had in a long time. It’s not something he’s really craved either. Now, he feels greedy for it as you press a kiss to the apple of his cheek. He can feel your smile there, content and happy. 

“I’ll take good care of you,” he tells you. It’s a confession and an assurance all in one. “Do you trust me, dear?”

“More than anything,” you say simply like you aren’t bearing your soul to him. Like you don’t hold the most fragile part of him in your own hands as well.

“I’m glad.” 

Jing Yuan covets the exchange. He cherishes you and this dynamic and this new thing that has opened up for him after he has been convinced for so long that he’d subsist on silicone toys and scraps until Mara ate him. 

There’s a hope in his chest, tended by more than kindling. It’s warm and full of comfort, just as you are, purring and content against his front.

“... What do you want?” You ask, soft, a little more timid. “I know you said you feel similarly, but I want to hear your thoughts too.”

Jing Yuan collects him, and the slow accumulation of thoughts he’s had in the past few days crystallizes behind his eyes. 

“I would prefer not to hide you.” He admits, barely masking the tremble in his voice. “The nature of our relationship may remain private, as I said I’d prefer it that way as well. However, I’ll ask you to forgive me for my selfishness— I would prefer not to hide my affections for you.”

He squeezes you.

It’s not easy to confess. But he—

(Jing Yuan recalls the rumors of him and the High Elder fraternizing. And of the short-life craftsman that stole his heart. He didn’t mind it back then. He didn’t. His ego was much larger and younger. But, stealing kisses in the shadow of Aurum Alley and in the deepest, darkest sections of Imbibtor Lunae’s delve make him sad to think about now.)

(Jing Yuan thinks he is too old to hide himself so much. As adept as he has become in his inscrutability if you would permit him to be selfish—)

“I can accept that,” you reply. “I... I get a little nervous about it. But... you’ll take care of me, won’t you?”

You parrot his own words back to him. He slips his fingers in your mouth, as you both so enjoy. A reward. A treat. He can feel you grin around the digits. 

“Of course.” He can shield you from the worst of it. “I would also like if you would mark me as well.”

“‘Bite ‘yu?” Your words are garbled on his fingers as you whip around to look at him. There are practically stars in your eyes as the water of the bath sloshes, bubbles foaming up to your shoulders.

“A mutual claim.” He confirms. “A visible one.”

“You’re ‘slure?”

“Entirely ‘slure’.” 

Jing Yuan has thought about... perhaps in excess while your heat has been pittering out. It’s not unheard, but not traditional either. He doesn’t particularly care. He just wants your mark on him too. 

An excited, trilling purr rips from your throat as you smatter his face with even more kisses. Insistent ones, that douse him in your scent. He can feel the elation thrumming off of you, and he can’t help but be soothed by it. 

(Mutual want after so long still feels so foreignly good after so long starved.)

Jing Yuan gathers your face in his hands and kisses you, open-mouthed and long. His grip slips down your thighs, ass, waist— wherever he can squeeze and feel you most. Your hands land on his chest, groping there (a new favorite activity of yours—)

You pull away, breathlessly. Your eyes crinkle at the corner. The water is cooling, but Jing Yuan finds himself not caring all that much. The heat of you is enough. The warmth between you is a rolling hearth that keeps him toasty, through and through.

“I like you a lot, Jing Yuan.” You confess, nosing into his cheek. You speak your next words so softly, he hardly catches them. “‘Like you lots, mama.”

“Oh, baby,” his voice slips, so transparently full of desire it almost shocks him. He’s okay with the surprise. He may even want more of it, if it’s from you, especially if it’s from this. “I like you very much as well.”

So, so much. 

//💦🌺💦//

You and Jing Yuan were right about many things. One being that rumors explode once you and Jing Yuan make yourselves a public item.

They’re entertaining, if nothing else.

“The Divine Foresight — Shacked up in his tenure.”

“The Lazing Luofu General’s omega smells like orange blossom and sea salt: FACT OR FICTION!”

“Knot: CONFIRMED! Does General Jing Yuan’s battle prowess carry over into the bedroom?”

“WHO IS THE DIVINE FORESIGHT’S OMEGA?! The latest scoop from Little Gui!”

The tabloids across the Xianzhou Alliance had already been publishing half-baked stories about the Luofu’s General’s omega lover who he keeps sequestered in a lush garden with specific security clearance in order to access it. But, the details were paltry and the photos they’d somehow acquired from your visits to and from the Alchemy Commission were quite blurry.

Now, however— the Divine Foresight has a claiming bite on his neck. And the omega on his arm has one as well. And the pair of them where matching courting bracelets around their wrists. 

The stories they print are... wild. And for the first while after the news breaks, you’re bombarded by reporters and internet personalities, wanting the freshest, juiciest scoop on your relationship with the General. You always politely declined to tell them any details, providing them the (prefabricated and rehearsed) direction to contact ‘the Divine Foresight’s publicist’ with a provided contact number.

(Jing Yuan only revealed to you later that this was The Master Diviner’s contact, and she chewed each and every shameless, drama-mongering reporter so intensely that they dared not to attempt to chase either of you down again.)

The fanfare of it all fades rather quickly. A new reality sets in and you quite like it.

As much as you favor Jing Yuan’s first garden, the one that the two of you shared so many lunches in, you’ve become quite partial to his home. The spacious courtyard and its two massive ponds are your favorite features. The inside of his estate being lavish and increasingly homey doesn’t hurt either. You’ve started to spend most of your time there, sharing his nest.

You like it very much.

Jing Yuan does too, you think. He never wears scent patches at home, these days, even if it makes Yanqing dramatically crinkle up his nose and leave the room half the time. Jing Yuan tells you that he’s ‘just at that age’. Jing Yuan also tells you that Yanqing presented young. And that there’s a spitfire alpha girl under the wing of the Zhuming’s Flaming Heart who Jing Yuan thinks would make a good match for him. ‘Strings are being pulled’, he says. 

Jing Yuan is always pulling strings.

Not that you mind it. You notice it, but it doesn’t bother you. If anything, being more keenly aware of Jing Yuan’s inner workings makes observing the way he moves within the world and the machinations he employs allows you to make more sense of him as a person. He holds such a heavy burden. And as much as you’ve known this for the entire duration of your friendship, courtship, and subsequent mateship with him, you’ve grown to have a new perspective on it.

You can see that weight more easily.

It’s why the dynamic you have together works. Jing Yuan can still strategize and control as much as he pleases but on a smaller scale. You think it must be very... nice for him to have you, his very sweet omega who is much easier to please than the many denizens and political factions of the Xianzhou Alliance. The control is still there, but in a different dose, played with within a different frame. 

It’s been good to explore.

You like it very much too. You like... being his baby. Not thinking so hard. Feeling secure enough and trusting him enough to not have to look over your shoulder so often. He does take care of you very well, and you feel so very fortunate to have him.

You rub over the scar of your claiming bite absent-mindedly. 

The day is quite young, and Jing Yuan has taken you out to a small shop just outside of the Alchemy Commission. The walls are lined with shelves, packed with stacks of neatly folded fabrics. A well-dressed vidyadhara has you up on a little pedestal, diligently taking your measurements as Jing Yuan browses through their selection. A censer hangs in an open window, burning a cool-smelling incense that wafts over the space. 

Jing Yuan wants matching pajamas.

(Or, rather, you raised the idea and Jing Yuan is humoring you with such a great deal of enthusiasm that one would think he raised this want, and not yourself.)

It’s very cute to see Jing Yuan be so excited. 

The omega, in full regalia, looks quite at home throwing a few bolts of fabric over his arm as another worker advises him on the best fabrics for this type of garment. He listens intently, despite probably already knowing a great deal of what the worker is telling him. It’s very sweet of him; at least you think so. The ribbon he wears in his hair bobs as he nods along.

You smile to yourself.

“What are your thoughts on a looser fit?” The vidyadhara asks from behind you. “I would recommend it, given the styles the two of you selected.”

“I would agree.” Jing Yuan says from across the shop.

The question wasn’t directed at him, but he answers for you regardless. This isn’t that odd for an ‘alpha’, perhaps some omegas would be a bit chuffed about it. But you like it. Especially like this. When you know Jing Yuan is spoiling you with a day out full of treats and presents and companionship and an evening that will certainly devolve into you, in his lap, with your mouth on his tits—

Jing Yuan hums from behind you, his voice breaking you from your very lovely fantasy. Your scent must’ve changed, however minutely. Your arousal is something for Jing Yuan’s nose only.

(You still don’t wear scent blockers. Lei Huiling heavily suggested that you keep it that way, in addition to the low-dose suppressants that you’ve been taking.)

“I-I like loose,” you say. “Loose is good. Can we get new robes too?”

“Of course. Perhaps a few sets of day clothes as well?” Jing Yuan has a new appreciation for loungewear. It’s a good use of the insane amount of capital he’s accrued over the years as General. Not to mention he deserves the comfiest and nicest garments for loafing about.

“Let me fetch a few catalogs,” the vidyadhara excuses themselves to the back of the shop, bustling about.

You stay atop the little podium as Jing Yuan comes around you, looking you up and down. He looks content as a cat splayed out in a sunbeam. He lifts your arm, inspecting it like he intends to measure you himself, despite having no sewer tape himself. He rubs his hands over your arms in circles, trailing upwards. Despite his wrists being covered by his vambraces, and below that scent-blocking patches, he still attempts to scent you.

(Such a possessive creature, really.)

“I’ve been considering,” he begins, “Commissioning a set of lingerie, perhaps. From a shop with a bit more discretion.”

“F-For me, or for you?” 

“Either, or. Which would you prefer?”

You think about Jing Yuan in— in stockings, a well-fitted bra, and garters and your scent must change because he’s giving you a rich, full-bodied laugh a moment later and rubbing over your cheeks with your thumbs. 

He teases, “How brazen.”

“You—!” You feel indignant and embarrassed all at once. A part of you slips lower, and you trust Jing Yuan to catch you. “You s-started this!”

“So I did,” he hums. “With an honest question. What do you think, dear?”

“U-Um—” You struggle to find your words. Acutely aware of the environment you’re in and distracted by the thought of perching in his lap in a skimpy robe and your own set of lace, it makes you feel dumb and wanting. “... B-Both?”

“I would concur.” He hums, pleased with himself. “I’ll do some research into it, hm? What do you think?”

“T-That sounds good to m-me.”

“Does it now?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod, grabbing his hands in your own, squeezing. A sunbeam warms your back and Jing Yuan warms you from the front. “It sounds very good.”

“And so it will be done.”

... 

You and Jing Yuan giggle behind closed doors about the general public’s perception that he is an alpha.

Jing Yuan certainly has become good at acting like one. He has the posture and way of speech down. He’s larger and broader than most would think an omega to be, even if a decent amount of that is soft fat that you like putting in your mouth. He fights like an alpha too, but that’s from fighting plenty of alphas while training in his youth.

(His Master was an alpha, he tells you. She let him be an omega in private luckily. Jing Yuan speaks of it fondly, if not a bit wistful.)

When it’s just the two of you, he gets to act more like an omega.

Like you’re omegas. 

It’s all the affection and stickiness you could want. 

You’ve never had care like Jing Yuangives you— not from your alpha mother or your beta father. Not from the gaggle of friends you made while traveling through the Alliance, long before you settled on the Luofu. Not from the few alphas who attempted to court you, and the omegas you twirled with at the little clubs you enjoyed during your time on the Zhuming. 

It’s different than everything you’ve had before.

You’ve had bits of it before, morsels that you could hold in your hands or on your tongue... but it never felt right. It never satisfied enough, or felt safe enough to indulge to the point of being satisfying. Flings at clubs were fun, but you never did anymore than kiss in dark corners. Your brief stint with your traveling friends were a handful of betas and a few alphas who treated you like something to be held like a trophy and paraded around, as much as a friend. Your mother— your father—

(They did not know what to do with a soft-hearted omega child. You think that they tried your best, but you know your mother resented— resents your presentation, even now. She tries in the ways that she knows how. There’s always a chunk of money in your account that shouldn’t be there at the end of the year. She made sure you had the best scent locking system available.)

(Empathetically, you can tell that she cares, and this is her way of showing it.)

(Yet, it doesn’t change the callous off-hand comments. You can’t find it in yourself to fully forgive her for trying to marry your off for two decades straight. Or, the way that she had last looked at you with your neck bare. Or, the comment that follows.)

(“Shouldn’t you be more careful? Alphas will think you’re a slut if you don’t mask that scent of yours. Why aren’t you using that body wash I sent you?)

(You haven’t seen your mother in years now. It’s for the best.)

Jing Yuan treats you well and cares for you in a way that you hadn’t fully known you’d craved. You are very thankful for him. 

It’s a more comfortable type of care. Maybe, because it came about slowly. You had been dining with Jing Yuan over lunch for... several years, probably, before you shared a heat with him. Even if you thought he was an alpha, he has always been a safe alpha. His presence, even before all this, made you braver. So has Madame Yukong’s guidance and Li Ming’s friendship. You like being an omega. You like being an omega with another omega. 

...

Nights with Jing Yuan are your favorite.

Jing Yuan has you underneath him, rolling his hips against yours. His cock is soaked, wet, and slippery as he grinds over your clit. His cunt pours slick onto your own as you match his pace, his rhythm the best you can. His weight is braced on his arms, folded on either side of your head.

He licks into your mouth as he kisses you stupid. Truly dumb, because you’re just his baby at this moment, and you don’t need to think too hard or do anything other than be a helpless thing in need of coddling. Jing Yuan gorges himself on you in these instances. He fucks his tongue into your mouth as he keeps you closed. 

There’s no haste to this. Neither of you have the desire to be filled. You could— Jing Yuan will probably fuck you later, or he’ll put a harness and strap on you and ride you himself. But you don’t have to have that type of play for this to be enjoyable. 

You just need him.

The taste on your tongue is just him. There are no alpha pheromones, just the sweet, sunshiney, milky scent of Jing Yuan that you’ve come to crave, and clamor for when you don’t have it for too long. It’s so good, you don’t mind suffocating on it. You want to. 

“So good, baby,” he says into your mouth, pulling away just enough to press his fingers into your mouth. 

He pushes them deeper than he does so casually. They stretch to the back of your tongue, nudging the back of your throat. You startle, just enough to whine, before he gives you a little ‘shhh, shhh, shhh—’. The broad plane of his free palm cup the case of your skull as he fucks your mouth.

The silver of his hair falls like a veil of moonlight around his cheeks. The gold of his eyes has been almost eaten by desire, pupils dilated so wide. Desire looks good on him. Want makes Jing Yuan bloom, and it makes you feel that much more content. It’s easy to go lax under his hands and let him fuck your mouth and pet over your tongue as he sees fit.

You like this so much. Being a cherished, sweet thing that’s both used and (loved) in equal measure. It’s safe. It’s good. He’s good, for all of the details and roles he must juggle, you know Jing Yuan is good. 

Later, when you’re held against Jing Yuan’s chest, lazily sucking at his breast while he plays with your hair, you bask in the goodness of it. You giggle and laugh when Jing Yuan teases you, and huff when he presses you just enough. It’s reciprocal. A wordless, ever-moving exchange. Safety for safety, (love) for (love), even if neither of you has said the words yet.

That night, wrapped in the sheets, rising from your pleasant stupor, you study Jing Yuan.

You like him like this. His face is slack and relaxed. The painted purple circles under his eyes don’t seem quite as dark. The slope of his nose is gentler, and the pudge of his cheeks is more pronounced.

You soften for him. How can you not?

A honey eye cracks half-open and you squeak. You’ve been caught.

“Dear,” Jing Yuan’s voice crackles with sleep. He brings you closer with a thick bicep around your waist. “Should you not be sleeping?”

“Mommy,” you whine, smothered against his chest. “You look too pretty to sleep. ‘M just admiring.”

“Flattery won’t make up for a lack of rest.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

He laughs above you. It’s a rough sound, good-natured, and all for you. You preen and nose into his jaw. You lap at the claiming bite you left on him, feel the divots of the scar beneath your tongue.

“Being so sweet to me,” he croons. “Is there something else you’d like?”

If you wanted more, you could have it. There’s part of you that itches to be warmed on his cock. Or warm his cock with your mouth. Or kiss until you quite literally can’t stay awake any longer. There’s a central idea to each idea that comes to mind. 

“Just you.” You tell him. 

You hear his breath catch. The thump of his heartbeat, fast, loud, and strong. 

“That’s all?”

“Mhm,” you settle closer, into the safe heat of him. You let it envelop you. “I just want you.”

He squeezes around your waist, tethering you. It feels like a strong enough grip to weather most anything, from the roughest of your heats to the worst storms. You lean into it. Bask.

“My baby is so kind.”

“Just for you.”

“Just for me?”

“Just for you.” You repeat, and kiss him, soaked in moonlight and your woven scents. 

part 1 link if you need 💕

thank you for reading 🩷

[yezznn]

Sick Day - Drabble

pairings: sick bf!Yeonjun x gn!reader

genre: fluff (stablished relationship)

warnings: none, just a really stubborn yj

check out my masterlist

a/n: this is rushed and short and I couldn’t even count the words butttt I’m mid final week so bare w me pls, it’s not even proofread 😓

Thinking about…taking care of jjun when he’s sick.

Yeonjun hates showing weakness, so when he starts feeling under the weather, he tries to hide it from you. He insists he's fine, even though you can see the fatigue in his eyes.

You notice the little things—how he’s quieter than usual, how he winces slightly when he moves, and how he’s been avoiding your concerned gaze.

You gently offer to help, suggesting he takes it easy and lets you take care of him. But Yeonjun, being the stubborn guy he is, brushes it off with a weak smile, saying he doesn’t want to worry you.

But eventually, his body betrays him. He’s too tired to keep up the facade, and he finally admits he’s not feeling well. His voice is softer, almost defeated, as he asks if you can stay with him.

You immediately spring into action, making sure he’s comfortable. You bring him a warm blanket, some soup, and his favorite tea. He’s burning up and too exhausted to speak, but you can see the relief in his eyes.

As he lies down, you gently cuddle up next to him, not caring about getting sick too. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close and burying his hot face in the crook of your neck. The warmth of your presence is soothing, and he finally allows himself to relax.

You whisper sweet words of comfort, telling him it’s okay to rest and that you’re there for him. He’s barely able to nod in response, his eyes closing as he leans into your touch.

Throughout the day, you stay by his side, making sure he’s hydrated and comfortable. You watch movies together, and he occasionally drifts off to sleep, feeling safe and loved in your arms.

When he’s feeling a bit better, he thanks you softly. Sleepily babbling that he doesn’t know what he’d do without you, and you can see the genuine appreciation in his eyes.

— This experience brings you even closer. Yeonjun realizes that it’s okay to lean on you, and you feel a deeper connection, knowing that you can be there for each other in times of need.

[bnuuys-writing]

Overblot Yuu! (Reader)

Hi guys! Here's the first part to that idea of Yuu overblotting! It is going to be an X Reader! Poll ends in 4 hrs but I wanted to get a head start on it! Considering I have so many votes casted in currently, I might as well make this into a series! But whoever wins first will get the first chapter! Anyway, hope you enjoy!!

-Bunny Out!

This isn't how you imagined how you'd turn out to be. This isn't you. Yet, how could you turn away from this wonderful feeling of something you were denied in this world? The coursing through your veins, the power at your fingertips, the energy swelling within you—

Magic.

———

Spring was coming up, the frosty air was slowly becoming warmer and warmer as sprouts of flowers began to appear. Grass over the courtyards were losing their morning jack frost more and more every day. Soon, finals were going to come up and summer recess would start. Everyone would go home, spend time with family, friends, loved ones.

Everyone but you.

Standing in the courtyard, eyes glazed over as you couldn't help but stare at the morning gym class soaring in the sky. Ortho, who you could tell by his jets and his broom leaving a white streak in the sky as airplanes would back in your homeland. Twirling and playing around with Epel, Deuce, Ace, and Jack, Sebek only tailed along just to reprimand them on proper technique and form of flying on a broomstick. All of your friends but you.

Taking a large inhale through your nose, slowly exhaling it as your eyes closed ever so slightly as your gaze turned from your magically soaring friends to your breath. This was unfair. Everything was unfair. Headmage Crowley still not finding your way home, all your friends will leave you here at the school just to see their friends and families again back in their homes, yet you couldn't go back to yours. All the while knowing after Malleus’ overblot, there hadn't been any sightings or starting of anyone else beginning to overblot.

Grim rested upon your shoulders, his breath coming out easy and slow as he peeked one eye out at you, a small yowl coming from his mouth as he yawned and stretched.

“Nyah, henchman, why have we stopped? It is still cold outside. Shouldn't we be heading to class?” He whined out, cuddling closer to you under your scarf to better stave himself off from the cold. To lean closer to your overwhelming body heat. You fogged over eyes slowly trailed out from the sky where you lost sight of your friends behind some clouds down to the pesky direbeast resting on your shoulder. You felt unnaturally warm in the cold weather, yet you couldn't be getting sick— Not with finals being so close by. You couldn't risk missing one lecture of a world you didn't know and having your grades tank and you fail.

“Sorry about that Grim, I was just observing our friends in the sky.” You mumbled out, the concoction of medicines coursing through your veins of all allergy relievers, cough drops in your pocket and a warm direbeast upon your neck to prevent a migraine from forming.

Grim, in turn, only seemed to frown at hearing the longing within your voice.

“If you want to go flying! You can always ask me, your magically gifted and future best sorcerer of all time!” Grim shouted out loudly into your ear on accident, causing it to begin ringing as you smiled weakly at your companion. Of course, you could always ask. There were plenty of others who were more capable of flying than Grim but you wished you could just do it on your own.

“I'll have to take you up on that offer sometime, Grim.” You hummed out, clearing your throat ever so slightly as you began to finish your trek into your first class with Grim.

Potionology.

Certainly this should've been one of the easier classes, right? Memorizing potions, pouring things into mixtures to get certain elements and components right before adding more in to get different effects, just like chemistry lab back home for you, right?! Well, when you looked at the ingredient lists, you could barely understand at least half of what the requirements were, and most of the time that was just what beaker you needed and if you needed a stirring stick. The newts, apparently there were more than just one. Direroots were hard to cut for you due to them beginning to scream if cut improperly. 

You were sure Professor Crewel was just ready to stop you from attending classes if it weren't from little nudges of your lab partner across the table helping you. Although most of your potions went wrong either due to Grim overheating it, Deuce fighting with Ace, or you just simply were unable to fully grasp the material. 

Then led onto your next class, History.

This should've been easier, right?! Its just more of memorization, pinpointing certain times and dates and their most important. Yet, that was impossible as you learned more about the different countries on the many different continents. For all the points of history had major significant events happening all at the same time. 

The Queendom of Roses beheading of the first King, all the while in the Savannah, the true king found himself home in order to take back the throne from his wicked uncle that ran the lands dry of all life.

But just before all that, some important Princess in the land of Briar faced off a large important Knight? But the City of Flowers, where you recalled meeting Rollo, was dealing with sightings of their first monster who was locked away in the infamous belltower while the city burned.

Not to mention years later, a beautiful woman who locals swore was made of seafoam was actually found out to be a mermaid, hoping to marry the Prince who was already betrothed to a young woman who was labeled the Fairest in The Land. 

Sure, they all counted back to the stories and fairytales back home but the memorization of dates, names, and which came first and after were confusing. You almost found yourself in debt to Azul in order of getting help if it weren't for Riddle stepping in first and offering his help to you when he found you almost near meltdown, head stuffed into a history book in the darkest corner of the library.

After history left your gym class.

Which consisted mostly of running laps until your legs gave out or sitting on the benches, watching your friends and Grim try to operate a broomstick. Coach Vargas didn't want you to feel left out, but to the nurse, stating how you were a liability after Grim dropped you in his large feats of grandeur, causing Deuce and Ace to crash into together in hopes of catching you, Epel grabbing your track vest at first only for the zipper to break and continue your plummet. Jack and Sebek were the ones who caught you by your feet before you could crack your head open on the grass. Ortho was quick to give you a quick scan and escort you to the nurses office after finding your blood pressure skyrocketed through the roof.

So the benches, you made sure were kept warm. And never lonely. Certainly it was never the other way. 

Which is where you reside currently, eyes fixed up at the sky as you watched Scarabia students try to make evasive maneuvers while carrying the magic-disc for a simple game of magicshift but their opponents of Pomefiore made it very difficult. Watching how they seemed to be able to soar without a single care in the world, for if they fell, they could easily catch themselves by calling back their broomstick or with some other magical maneuver.

Never were they in danger of losing their life unlike the school's residential magicless human.

After that was just getting groceries, making dinner for Grim and yourself, homework studying, then to finish off the night; your evening walk with Malleus and chatter about gargoyles. That always left you feeling at least a tiny bit better as you left after every discussion with a small ‘goodnight’ and went to bed.

Yet, it felt like the days were growing longer ever since you went to Styx. This illness you were experiencing felt like it had been slowly accumulating since Riddle's overblot. First starting with small sneezes and allergy like symptoms until now, after Malleus’ overblot, you felt like you were knocking on death's doorstep. Yet, you had to press through. One day missed felt like a whole year of trying to recover whatever material you couldn't grasp and making your grade slip even more. 

And the only reason you were allowed to stay on campus is to keep an eye on Grim. Make sure your precious roommate succeeds in school. Which means pulling your own weight in order for him to succeed and live his dreams. 

“And so, when youre looking at this equation, you have to remember to plug it into the quadratic formula, Grim.” Your voice was slow and scratchy after another long day of schooling and now here you were trying to help Grim pull his own weight. Although, your help didn't seem all too helpful in the moment as the direbeasts hopes felt like they were fading away fast within his paws.

“Nya! I don't understand human concepts of math! I want to learn magic! I want to cast magic! I want to be a sorcerer! The greatest one!” Grim yowled out loudly, a spark of fire magic sparking at the scattered papers of homework, lighting them aflame with shades of blue. 

“Grim! Dont—!” You shouted as you began to pat out the flames, not caring for the burning sensation. Yes, it hurt. Yet, what hurt more is hours of work going up in literal blue flames. “To be a great sorcerer, you have to understand the basics of being human to fit in!” You responded out, trying to sound reasonable in your reply as you were able to save some of the papers of homework. Turning towards a very irritated looking Grim who… Did… He seem bigger than before? Surely there was no way he could've grown a bit bigger sitting next to you!

Yet, his intense yowling could be heard throughout the ramshackle as his magical ink pen could be seen spurting out extra ink. You knew this sight before.

Grim was about to overblot.

“Grim! Just calm down. We can figure this out—!” You reached out to your friend once more only to get swiped away by claws. Blood began to seep down your hand as you felt something more stickier drip down your hand, casting a glance down to your weeping wound, black ink spots to be found seeping into your skin instead of flowing with the rivers of red.

“How can a magicless human like you understand my wants?!” Grim howled out, as your eyes flicked back to his form and indeed. He was growing larger, and larger, and the ink was accumulating more, and more all over his body. 

“Because if I didn't, why do you think I would even still be trying to help you pass?! If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even be attending this school!” You snapped back and paused. No. That wasn't what you wanted to say. That was cruel, and mean. Your eyes flicked down to the wound once more as you began to recall what you remember about human bodies.

Was it human bodies being 70% water? No, otherwise the ink would wash away in the bloodstream.

Was it that human bodies are made up of 99% empty space? No, that wouldn't make sense in this theory.

The body being a collection of matter within a continuous three dimensional space? Physics isn't helpful in this matter either. 

No, it was energy! The human body is energy! And what is most of Twisted Wonderland? Magical energy! You were breathing it in, eating it, absorbing it! Magical energy— overblots— being here in Twisted Wonderland was poisoning you! That's why you've been so sick, you've been absorbing so much energy that wasn't made to fit in your human body—

Another ear shrieking yowl broke you through your thoughts as you snapped your gaze up to Grim, a much larger Grim who was larger than the size of a horse growling at you. Blot surrounding his whole form but that didn't deter you. If you were going to lose yourself, you could lose yourself trying to save your best friend. The one that has been with you this entire time without fail.

Launching yourself at him, a yell ripping through the room as you began to claw, tear, and rip blot away from Grim. Getting yourself coated in it yourself. If you were never meant to go home, if you weren't meant to get magic poisoning, you might as well pass trying to save your best friend.

“We can get through this together Grim! Just believe me! Don't overblot, please!” Yet, your cries were unheard as another deafening roar echoed through the ramshackle as the magic around you felt like it was getting stronger. You could feel yourself getting pulled in slowly now, a sacrifice maybe? A ticking bomb of pent up magical energy storing within you, poisoning you, and now would be beneficial for Grim now. Yet, you weren't going to lose. You just couldn't.

As you felt blot forming from yourself, sparks of something clicking with your stomach as you began to slowly fade out of consciousness. Hearing glass shatter and the panting of Grim bolting as you resided somewhere on his back. You refused to die like this. You couldn't leave him alone like this.

You know, you could always make Crowley look for your way home.

What? Where did that thought come from? You consciousness was fading more and more to darkness, unable to keep both eyes open as you felt your will giving up the fight.

Forget Crowley. You can find your own way home. Just give in. 

We will set you free, Prefect. We will send you home if you just…

Give in to the power.

[beepboopkek]

— Practice makes perfect (F!Reader) [Part two]

Including: Dr.Ratio x AFAB!Reader

Part One is here

amab version has been posted on both ao3 and tumblr as well!

cw: ! NSFW ! , AFAB!Reader, established relationship, b0tt0m!sub!reader x d0m!t0p!ratio , fluff and smut, soft dr ratio, he's called veritas, oral F recieving, light cursing, hot spring freaking, aftercare, lmk if I missed anything

w/c: 2.8k

a/n: the long awaited part two to the dr ratio fic!! probably not what you guys are expecting but i like myself some soft ratio content too so ... also i apologise sincerely for any formatting mistakes, I decided I would post tonight, fell sick, still decided to go to my pc and post it and then . my pc stopped responding . so now I'm on phone rip,, anyway I hope you enjoy!

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

After your impromptu romp together, you somehow managed to get all the questions right—but not without significant struggle. Every wrong answer had earned you a “punishment” that left your cheeks burning and your body aching in ways that were both mortifying and thrilling. The aftermath of your study session was a blur of sore muscles, a tender lower half, and your boyfriend’s sheepish but endearing attempts to make amends with a parade of apologetic gifts. Which eventually led the two of you to decide to escape the chaos of your work lives for a while, booking a short trip to the Xianzhou Luofu.

Reaching there was easy enough, with Veritas’ connection to the IPC, a shuttle was already booked and the hotel reservations were made well in advance. The hotel was nestled in a quiet corner of Aurum Alley, the Luofu’s vibrant culinary street bustling with tantalizing aromas and lively chatter. It was Veritas’ first choice for a good reason—the hotel was renowned for its luxurious indoor hot springs, a favorite among tourists visiting the Luofu for the first time. Veritas, ever the planner, seemed thoroughly content ensuring everything was perfectly set for your stay.

On the day of your arrival, you were promptly escorted to your rooms, where the welcoming scent of fresh herbs and subtle incense greeted you. The two of you wasted no time settling in, quickly changing into swimsuits to prepare for the highlight of the trip—an exclusive session at the indoor hot spring that Veritas had, unsurprisingly, pre-booked well in advance. The thought of sinking into the warm, sparkling waters after a long journey made you feel a little more relaxed already. As you adjusted the straps of your swimsuit, you couldn’t help but notice Veritas’ smug smile, clearly proud of his meticulous planning.

As you stepped into the indoor hot spring area, the atmosphere immediately shifted to one of relaxation. The air was warm and thick with a gentle mist, carrying the soothing scent of eucalyptus and jasmine. The space was softly lit by lanterns with intricate designs, their golden glow reflecting off the rippling water below. The hot spring itself was a stunning centerpiece, its natural stone edges blending seamlessly with the room’s tranquil aesthetic. The water shimmered with a faint blue-green hue, its surface occasionally disturbed by the gentle flow from a carved stone spout. Surrounding the spring were polished wooden benches and plush white towels neatly folded, ready for use. You spotted a wooden tray with a different array of soaps placed on the stone, presumably for the people that enjoy bathing in the springs. The walls were adorned with elegant scrolls depicting scenes of the Luofu’s rich history. Overhead, bamboo slats covered the ceiling, allowing air to easily pass through the porous wood.

It was quiet, save for the soft trickle of water and the occasional hum of wind from vents designed to maintain the perfect balance of warmth and freshness. Veritas practically lit up as he stepped into the steamy room, his usual calm demeanor giving way to excitement. His sharp features, usually composed in a stoic expression, softened as his gaze darted to the shimmering surface of the hot spring. A smile spread across his face as his eyes met yours.

He shrugged off the towel draped over his shoulders, revealing the drool-worthy cords of muscle, well-defined shoulders flexing at the action. His movements were quick but unhurried, like someone who had been waiting for this moment and couldn’t hide his eagerness any longer.

He shot you a glance over his shoulder and without waiting for an answer, he stepped into the steaming water, his breath hitching slightly as the heat lapped at his skin. A contented sigh escaped his lips as he sank deeper and deeper until the water skimmed across the solid expanse of the middle of his torso, resting his back against the smooth stones of the spring.

“This,” he declared, his smile widening as he tilted his head back to enjoy the warmth, the tips of his violet curls getting soaked in the process, “was definitely worth the trip.” There was something infectious about his excitement—it was rare to see him so unguarded, and you couldn’t help but smile as he gestured for you to join him, splashing the water lightly in your direction.

You stepped cautiously to the edge of the hot spring making sure you didn't accidentally slip and make a fool of yourself, the warm mist curled around your skin as you adjusted the straps of your swimsuit one final time. The heat of the water brushed against your toes as you dipped them in, drawing a soft inhale from you. Slowly, you eased yourself into the spring, the silky warmth enveloping your body inch by inch.

As you sank into the water, your muscles immediately began to relax, the tension from the journey (and the ridiculous tutoring you had) melting away. You let out a quiet sigh of contentment, leaning back against the stone edge and letting the soothing heat seep into your skin. It was only then that you noticed Veritas’ gaze.

He was watching you intently, dark copper eyes trailing over the curves of your form as the water lapped gently around you. His expression was subtle but unmistakable—his lips curved in a small, appreciative smile, and there was a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes.

“Enjoying the view?” you teased, arching an eyebrow at him.

His eyes met yours, as if he were a deer caught in headlights, his ears turning a light shade of pink as he looked away.

“Always,” he replied, his voice low and smooth.

“But don’t let me distract you from relaxing... you’ve earned it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, he wasn’t looking at you but you knew he could feel it.

“Oh, you bet I have.”

Casual conversation continued, drifting from shared jokes about the eccentricities of your trip to softer, more personal topics. Veritas’ voice was calm and steady, yet it carried a subtle warmth that made every word feel closer, more intimate. You found yourself mirroring his energy, your responses playful but tinged with sincerity.

With each passing minute, the distance between you seemed to vanish without either of you truly noticing—or maybe, neither of you wanted to admit you had. After a playful round of splashing water back and forth, the mood shifted. In a sudden, fluid motion, you found yourself in his lap with his palms holding your waist in a possessive grip.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his tone light but his gaze intense, the flicker of a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“Very,” you replied with a smile of your own, feeling emboldened. “Why? Are you nervous?”

His laugh was soft, almost too casual. “Not at all. Just making sure you’re not planning any sneak attacks.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, but you couldn’t help the way your smile lingered. At one point, you tilted your head back to laugh at something he said and he grabbed it as an opportunity to lay a kiss on the column of your throat.

“You know,” You began, flashing Veritas a charming smirk as an idea formed in your brain. Under the water, you placed your hands atop the ones already resting at your waist, pushing them lower and lower to the band of your underwear. Veritas’ eyes widened slightly in response as his eyes darted down to the water and back up to your eyes. His thumb twitched against your side, as if he was almost itching to peel off your clothes.

“You said that I should be grateful for this trip, right?”His eyes narrowed at your question, softly applying more pressure onto your hips as you shuddered.

“Not today,” Before you could blink, your body was met with the cold yet smooth surface of the stone behind you, Veritas had turned the two of you around and lifted you onto the rock so that only your calves stayed inside the water. The water sloshed around your heated bodies at the sudden motion, splashing your knees and his torso.

“Veritas!” Your reaction was instant, hands frantically gripping strong shoulders with goosebump-ridden arms. The man in question simply hooked his thumb under the band and teasingly rubbed circles on the wet skin as he observed your reactions.

“This trip is about you,” Veritas spoke in a hushed tone as he tugged lightly. Your ears burned in embarrassment as your swimsuit clung to your wet body. From this angle, you had to look down slightly to look into Veritas’ eyes, his face dusted with shades of red and you weren’t able to tell if he was blushing or if it was the heat from the hot spring. Another tug at your underwear had you snapping your legs shut in even more embarrassment.

“Veritas! Over here? Are you out of your mind?” Your voice is hushed as you frantically look around as if people were inside your very private room.

“Yes and no,” Another tug at your strap, “May I?”

Well, to be fair you had the room booked for another hour or so if you remember correctly. The door was also locked because you were the last one to enter and you didn’t want someone accidentally walking in while you were half naked and with your boyfriend. After weighing your options, you nodded your head shyly as you caved in to his request. “You are so lucky I love you.”

Veritas only smiled at you, finally tugging your underwear down to the middle of your thighs and slowly off the length of your legs, throwing it off to the side on the rocks as he knocked your knees apart with a firm, warm hand. He was in-between your legs before you could react, kissing you like a starved man. His left hand curled around the back of your waist as the right cupped your cheek to angle you downwards.

You gasped as his tongue swiped across the seam of your lips, the hand cupping your cheek slowly travelling down your torso. He stopped at the base of your chest, giving a gentle squeeze and a swipe over your nipple with his thumb and then moving lower until he reached your pussy. You shook as you felt a thick finger slide down from your clit to breach your entrance, pushing it in till it reached his knuckle before making shallow thrusts with it. You moaned softly at the sensation and Veritas took the opportunity to kiss you even more deeply.

Fuck.

All at once, his lips and his finger left you. A whine built at the back of your throat at the sudden loss of heat as you glared at Veritas.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.”

The doctor was back before you could voice your complaints, bending lower and hoisting your legs onto his corded shoulders. Veritas got to work immediately, like he had been waiting for an opportunity to present itself. His hands settled underneath the back of your thighs and his thumbs spread your lips open. He licked a long stripe upwards, dipping his tongue lightly inside you before bringing it up to your clit. Loud sounds of slurping filled the steam-filled room as your boyfriend lapped around your vulva. A loud moan was ripped from your throat as Veritas captured the nub of your clit into his mouth and sucked it gently. You grasped his hair at that, pushing his sweaty bangs back as the two of you made eye contact, you smirked, whispering as you spoke, “So, this is how you get the great Veritas, hah, Ratio to shut up, huh?”

Veritas took his mouth off your clit with a loud pop, licking his lips like he had a delectable meal as he challenged you right back, “Only for you.”

You could only gasp in surprise as he went right back to eating you out, some strands from his slicked back hair falling in front of his face as he gently bit down before kissing your clit, flicking the sensitive flesh with the tip of his tongue. Your orgasm was quick in approaching, you held onto his hair as you pushed your lower half into his face to ride it, the bridge of his nose bumping your clit as he moved lower to prod your entrance with his tongue.

“Veritas— I’m co—”

Your head fell back as you orgasmed, the prickling sensations rushing through your body as sweat rolled down your chest and forehead. The stones were cold, the water was hot and the room was heated which you realised, made for a wonderful sensory overload combined with Veritas’ ministrations. You rode out your orgasm as you ground your pussy on his face, tugging at purple strands as he swallowed everything you released.

Veritas finally let up when you released the grip on his hair, coming up from in-between your legs to gather your cum on his fingers, swiping it over his tongue as he swallowed all while making eye contact with you.

You were the first to speak, staring at his disheveled appearance as you spoke, “Holy shit.”

Veritas narrowed his eyes at you as he frowned. “Language.”

“Oh, don’t give me that after what you just did!”

Veritas moved his leg uncomfortably at that and you glanced down to note his half-hard dick in his trunks. Your gaze moved upwards as you caught your boyfriend blushing again. “Need help with that?” Your voice was a low, sultry purr as you moved to stand up but Veritas’ hands were on you in an instant, pushing you to sit back down.

“Not today. Let me take care of you.” Veritas sounded almost exasperated at your insistence so far.

“You already have! I doubt I can go again, Let me—”

“No. It’ll go away naturally. I want us to relax and enjoy this.” Veritas frowned at you this time and you knew you had lost. There was nothing harder than trying to talk to a stubborn scholar. Especially if it's your stubborn scholar.

“Fine, If you insist.”

Veritas chuckled softly at your reaction, turning to retrieve the herbal, non-toxic soaps neatly arranged on a wooden tray at the edge of the hot spring. With an easy grace, he returned, his movements steady and sure. Without a word, he leaned down and effortlessly scooped you up from where you were sitting on the rocks, cradling you as if you weighed nothing. His touch was firm but gentle as he carried you back into the warm embrace of the water, his lips curving into a soft smile as he watched you get settled back you down. You sighed as your cold body heated up once more, the now stiff muscles of your lower back unwinding and relaxing.

Veritas used the small pail left by the staff to take some water from the spring and gently rinse your hair. Then, he carefully poured a small amount of shampoo into his palm, the subtle aroma of lavender and eucalyptus filling the air as the steam enhanced the soothing scent. His fingers worked the shampoo into a rich lather, and he gestured for you to tilt your head back slightly. You complied, closing your eyes as the warm water swirled around you both.

His hands moved with a surprising tenderness, running through your hair in deliberate, gentle strokes. His fingertips brushed against your scalp with just the right amount of pressure, sending a wave of relaxation through your body. He took his time, working the shampoo into every strand, his touch both meticulous and unhurried.

“Looks like the hair oil I gave you has been working.” he murmured, his voice low and teasing and you could hear the faintest smile in his voice, even without opening your eyes.

“Only because someone insists on a strict self-care regime,” you replied with a quiet laugh, though you couldn’t deny how soothing his touch felt.

As he moved to massage your scalp, his thumbs pressed lightly against the base of your head, kneading away the tension you hadn’t even realized was there. His fingers traced slow, circular motions, and you couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh, the combination of the warm water and his careful attention melting away any lingering stress.

The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of you. His actions felt deliberate, as if he was pouring an unspoken affection into every gentle stroke and touch. When he finally rinsed your hair, cupping the water with his hands to ensure it didn’t get into your eyes, you opened them briefly to catch his expression.

His gaze was focused, softened by something unspoken, and when he caught you looking, he smiled. “Relax,” he said quietly, his voice carrying both a command and a reassurance. And after a long, long time, you let yourself do just that.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Heyy, Your work is so amazing it makes me beg for more!

So like gp! Donna x Fem! Blind reader.

So y/n have been working for donna for a very long time, also she's blind but she can see like Outline of the place and the story: Donna's so sweet to her also so in love with y/n and one day something happens (you can choose) that's make Donna confess and y/n feels the same.

And Donna si so scared but y/n assures her that she love her more than anything and they make love 💕

Thank youu...also sorry for my grammar again 🤭

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your support and for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

A useless maid?

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Blind! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, a bit of smut, Minors DNI, fluff, blindness...

Word count: 7,799

Summary: Why keep a blind maid like you?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

Spring was always your favorite season.

The morning sun warmed your face, telling you it was time to get up, and you did, opening the window, letting a floral scent and a fresh breeze wash over your face. It was a good way to start a new day.

Your life was always a constant whirlwind of circumstances, emotions, luck and misfortune. When you were 20, you were completely alone. Your parents were no longer there and you were the only one who could do something so that loneliness wouldn’t become your companion forever.

In some way you still found hard to believe, you ended up obtaining a privilege that only a few people enjoyed, serving one of the Lords.

To be a maid, to cook... All of those were easy tasks for a girl like you. You didn't stand out in them, but at least you were much more willing to do them than some of your friends, those who, involuntarily, ended up working in the castle.

Perhaps your different, cheerful and optimistic attitude was what led you to the job of your life, serving as a maid in a mansion that was the fear of most of the villagers, in that dangerous place from which no one returned, the Beneviento Estate.

A normal, ordinary maid for a not so ordinary woman. Donna Beneviento was the youngest of the Lords, the most discreet, and for many people, the most feared. It was risky to offer your services to that veiled figure, to that woman in black who walked elegantly next to her doll, but the risk was worth it.

You didn’t live with an army of helpful girls willing to do anything. You were alone in that mansion. It wasn’t a euphemism or an exaggerated way of telling your story; you really were in complete solitude.

Your mistress was not known for her intense approach. It seemed that during those first months, all she did was to avoid you. A woman like her, surely accustomed to being served since she was very young, couldn’t bear the mistake she made by hiring you, by letting you share your life with hers.

That apparently irrational fear this sick woman had at seeing her territory occupied by a cheerful and funny girl faded little by little, with the inevitable passage of time.

Donna wasn’t like people said. Yes, she had problems, a mental illness that occasionally you suffer with her, but most of the time she was just a normal woman with a life that perhaps she didn’t want to live.

Reluctant to contact, to words, the lady in black always tried to ignore any of your smiles or your kind questions. But that distant and cold attitude soon disappeared.

The months were a succession of achievements, of timid approaches from the lady towards you, of almost imperceptible whispers. Trust was something difficult to achieve, until, one day, the black veil that covered the doll maker's face fell before your eyes.

It was not the first time you saw Donna without the veil, at least it wasn’t the first time she was aware of it. Her special beauty caused a tremor in your legs, a spark in your eyes that widened your smile.

Apparently, the fear she instilled in the villagers was almost involuntary; the horrible monster they talked about in the tavern didn’t exist, it was an illusion.

Ashamed of her appearance, recognizing that her body had also changed thanks to the gift of the Gods, Lady Beneviento opened up to you, cementing the foundation of your relationship, a healthy relationship of mutual trust and respect that would continue to this day.

Donna, free of her complexes, began to be part of your life in a less discreet way, to cloud your loneliness at the same time that you made hers disappear.

Smiles, laughter, deep conversations… Yes, of course that was much more like what you were looking for as a maid. You couldn't complain and you never would, not even about the childish jealousy that the Angie doll always felt towards you.

But… Yes, your life was still a succession of luck and misfortune. Working for Lady Beneviento had been a luck, but a fleeting one, one that barely lasted a year.

You could still feel the cold of that day, you could remember the snowflakes landing on your clothes and the sound of the crows anticipating what was going to happen. You were never superstitious, but maybe just for once, you should have listened to the signs.

Your days off were usually boring, you didn't have things to do in the old mansion, and you never really liked being guarded by walls. A walk through the woods seemed like a good option, at least until it was time to eat, the time to chat with the lady in black until the sun disappeared.

Your thoughts used to cause you a kind of lucid dream in which you used to lose yourself, letting your legs walk on the snowy ground.

Your memories were your companions, as was the dark figure of the lady. She was an interesting woman, of course, a new curiosity you loved to discover little by little. Soon the darkness began to wake you from your wanderings and the world around you seemed unfamiliar.

You were lost.

Luckily you knew how to orient yourself, even though those rotten branches prevented you from walking normally. You weren't scared, but a pressure in your chest became a much clearer sign of a bad feeling.

Humming, letting the fear disappear with a soft melody, you walked slowly towards what you thought was the exit of that dark forest.

The pain of a strong blow accompanied by a roar would remain in your memories forever. Lycans, those horrible creatures were to blame for the end of the paradise you lived in.

The push of the creature knocked you to the ground, causing your head to hit a rock and your world to plunge into an inevitable darkness.

You woke up shortly after, when the cold of the night was more present and a shrill voice called you. Donna and Angie weren’t long in appearing. You might think they wanted to help you, but they were looking for you to punish you for your audacity, for daring to abandon the sad and mourning lady in black.

It didn't take you long to fight against the irrational rage of the Italian, to explain what your situation had been. The blow to your head throbbed and the humidity in your hair made the lady see your true problem.

Forgetting about her accusations, she took you back to the mansion in silence, healing your wound and apologizing.

In any other circumstances that little crisis could have been considered over but... No, your hell had only just begun.

Your life returned to normal, the tasks you were always happy to do calmed that throbbing pain in your head. Everything had returned to its place, the smile had returned to the brunette's face, and the mockery and jealousy had returned to the doll.

One day… Yes, you remembered that day, that day when the sun was streaming through the windows. You were as always, cleaning the mansion with your cheerful humming until you froze in place, blinking several times.

The painting from which you were cleaning the years of neglect began to blur in front of you, to darken. It could be a hallucination. It could be that Donna wanted to play with you. It was an impossible theory for several reasons, but the most important one was that the lady wasn’t at home.

The dark circle surrounding your vision grew larger, blackening the rays of sunlight, distorting your vision completely. That blow to the head wasn’t just an anecdote; it was the beginning of your misfortune.

You never said anything. You didn't tell Donna that your world was getting darker, that her beauty was no longer perceptible to you.

Going blind would mean the end of that wonderful, peaceful year. You would return to your old cabin to spend the rest of your life alone.

Determined to ignore the increasingly obvious failure of your sense of sight, you tried to go on with your life as normal and not show the lady in black what was happening to you.

At first it wasn't very complicated, but when all you were able to see were timid shadows, when it was impossible for you to act normally, Donna finally noticed.

Crying, screaming, tears... That afternoon was anything but pleasant. Confessing your sudden blindness, you begged the lady not to be rejected.

Prepared to be dismissed, to return to your life with no meaning, you lowered your head. You felt no scorn, just a hand on your shoulder and a gasp of concern. Donna didn’t abandon you. She didn’t give up on you. Unlike scorning you, she went out of her way to help you.

Unfortunately, not even the Mighty Mother Miranda could make you see again. The lady in black tried too, but to no avail.

A blind maid, who would want that?

Against all odds, Donna Beneviento wanted it.

You were not scorned, cast out of her life, no. She kept you in your place. She trusted and helped you to adjust to your new situation so, according to her, you wouldn’t abandon her. It might be a selfish thought on her part, but it was your salvation.

You would never see her beauty again, that bright eye, that stoic look from the portrait on the stairs, that pleasant and warm smile, but at least you could still hear her voice, smell her lavender perfume, touch her when she guided you. You had lost your sight, but you had not lost Donna.

Sweet and pleasant, the lady's behavior became a mystery. Patient and tender, she helped you to see life without being able to see it, so your blindness didn’t prevent you from living like you deserved.

Maybe the Black Gods had taken pity on you or maybe it was simply a miracle.

Time, merciless, passed little by little and this new situation became your new life. You knew the house perfectly well before your problem and, with Donna’s help and even Angie’s, you managed perfectly doing almost all the chores.

The only thing you weren't allowed to do was cooking, but that was an advantage since the lady in black was a much better cook than you.

(Y/N), a 23-year-old blind girl serving Lady Beneviento… it seemed like the title of a novel. A year of light, two years of darkness and an eternity of shadows, a gloomy future that you wouldn't have been able to bear if Donna hadn't been by your side.

Lady, boss, mistress… All those terms blurred even more than your vision. The relationship you had settled as a routine that you appreciated more than anything else, maybe too much.

Of course, any strange thought that had to do with Lady Beneviento always did its best to get into your head, but you, with elegance and professionalism, firmly dispersed it.

She took pity on you, just that… Just that?

Guided by the rays of sunlight, you prepared to face a new day, a new challenge that you increasingly mastered. Your efforts always went beyond your capabilities, but you would do anything to not lose the tranquility that the mansion offered you, that Donna offered you.

“Good morning…” you said to yourself, sighing as you soaked your hands in a softening cream.

Touching, smelling and hearing had become your new way of seeing life, you would have to take care of yourself, emphasize what had remained instead of lamenting what you had lost.

Dressed, combed and ready for work, you timidly went down the stairs, smiling as you noticed the penetrating aroma of the coffee that Donna prepared every morning.

“Hey, watch out!” A sudden squeal made you step back, scared.

“What? What's going on?” you asked fearfully, trying to distinguish the possible danger around you.

Hearing a timid, well-known laugh, you rolled your useless eyes, reaching out your hands to guide yourself through the mansion.

“Very funny, Angie…” you murmured as you heard steps on the wood, surely belonging to the triumphant doll.

“I tricked you,” the puppet mocked, approaching you so you could pick her up, as you always did, on Donna's orders, of course.

“It's very bad to trick a blind person, you know that?” you said amused, letting the doll serve as a guide to the table.

“Oh... Are you a person?” Angie mocked, laughing amused.

“Mm, I think so,” you joked, grabbing the chair with your other hand and sitting down carefully. “One day I'm going to have a heart attack.”

“You should be used to it, silly girl, Angie is always there to scare you,” the puppet hissed, guiding your hand towards the old coffee pot. “Watch out!”

“What? What's wrong now?” you asked, pulling your hand away in fright.

“It's hot…” the doll murmured, getting off your lap with an amused laugh.

“Oh, yeah, right,” you groaned, shaking your head at the puppet's tireless mockery, one that wasn't annoying, but maybe too recurrent.

“Basta, Angie!” Donna appeared with an authoritative and almost furious voice, reprimanding her doll's rebellious attitude.

“What? It was a joke,” the puppet protested, making the smile on your face widen.

You really didn't know exactly why you were smiling… It could be because of Donna's comical relationship with her porcelain counterpart, or because you knew the lady was there like every morning.

“It's okay. Angie's right, I should be used to it,” you said in a sweet voice, apologizing to the doll.

The lady in black sighed, probably shaking her head, and moved closer to you, accompanied by the usual sound of coffee pouring into your cup.

“Donna,” you said, interrupting the brunette who, like every day, helped you get better on the chair while she guided you to breakfast. “Buongiorno”

“Good morning, (Y/N),” she whispered, taking your hand to guide it to the steaming cup, moving away when she made sure everything was properly in place. “Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, yes, I was especially tired yesterday,” you said, blowing on the cup and bringing it to your lips, enjoying that bitter aroma with which you always started the day.

“I'm sorry, I'm sure it was my fault,” Donna said, sitting in front of you. “I shouldn't have kept you that long.”

“It's okay, it was funny,” you murmured with a tender smile, searching with your hand for those perfect toasts that she always made. “I didn't know that “The Tell-Tale Heart” was such a spooky story.”

“Mm, Poe is always very spooky, (Y/N), he was the inspiration for many of the later horror novels,” the brunette explained, talking about your reading night, one of your favorite pastimes for a couple of years now.

“Yeah, I see,” you commented in an informal tone. “I… Well, before… You know,” you said with a slightly broken tone. “I liked to read fantasy novels.”

“I know,” Donna said abruptly, as if knowing things about you was important to her, as if the fact that you knew that she knew that kind of information was something she wanted to point out involuntarily. “I know, (Y/N), I know you loved to read.”

“Oh, okay…” you sighed at that abrupt reaction.

“I'm sorry,” the lady said after a few moments of awkward silence. “I didn't mean to talk to you like that.”

“Don't worry,” you said, downplaying it. “It's not your fault. I've probably told you about it many times, you know I talk too much.”

“You do,” Donna said, with a voice that revealed a beautiful smile. “I'm sorry you lost that... hobby,” she sighed, showing once again a guilt for your misfortune that didn't exist.

No, not at all, she had nothing to do with what happened to you, but somehow, sometimes, she thought she had.

“I haven't really lost it, I prefer you to read to me,” you said amused, biting your lip unconsciously. “You're very good at acting.”

“Do you think so? I guess it's a compliment,” the lady answered, with a slightly lower tone.

“Of course,” you said with a sigh, finishing your coffee slowly, enjoying one of the endless conversations with the lady in black, ones that increased much more after your accident.

“W-Well, I… Oh, it doesn't matter,” she said, regretting something she was going to say to you, a tone you already knew, that was very familiar to you. “If I tell you, you'll laugh at me.”

“No, no, no, not at all, I would never laugh at you, Donna,” you said, wanting to discover something else about that dark woman, something that was still at the top of your priorities and hobbies.

“Well, it's that I… I used to, I used to do… Puppet shows to Josef, my gardener,” she finally explained, with a voice that perfectly matched a blush on her cheeks, something that made you smile.

“Really? How curious,” you said, listening attentively. “With Angie?”

“Yes, with Angie,” the doll answered, with an annoyed and offended voice. “It was humiliating.”

“How were you supposed to know? You weren't alive back then,” Donna protested, addressing Angie in a comical way, something that made you laugh softly.

“Wow... You're a woman of many talents,” you murmured pleasantly, finishing your breakfast.

“Really? Um... I, I don't think so,” she said, with a slightly nervous voice, like every time something resembling a compliment came out of your lips. “I mean, grazie, (Y/N)”

You smiled, nodding formally and guiding yourself to get up from the table.

“Anyway, I should start with my chores,” you commented, saying goodbye to another of those shy encounters with the lady, who immediately got up to help you. “Oh, thank you, Donna, but it's not necessary.”

“Um, okay…” she sighed, making sure that there was no danger around you. “I'm sorry, it's just that…”

“Don't apologize for being nice,” you said softly. “Can’t someone like you be nice?”

“Someone like me?” she asked, helping you around the table again, filling your senses with that intoxicating lavender perfume. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, well, the Lords are supposed to be ruthless and fearsome, right?” you joked, shaking your head.

“That's what you think about us?” Donna asked, guiding you with her arm towards the hallway. “Am I ruthless with you, (Y/N)?”

“Mm, well… No, not entirely,” you said laughing amused, walking next to her. “Wait, where are we going?”

“To the workshop, I need your help,” she said with a cold voice, guiding you towards the elevator. “If you can, of course.”

“Today I had to clean the kitchen but… I suppose I can make an exception,” you said curiously. “If my lady needs my help…”

“My lady… Forget about that nonsense, you've been here for three years,” Donna said, annoyed by that formality you knew she hated, but that provoked funny reactions from the regal and stoic Lady Beneviento.

“I was joking,” you said, laughing discreetly, holding on to her arm as you felt the unpleasant humidity of the basement get into your clothes. “I'm sorry if it bothered you.”

“It didn't bother me,” she said, with a tone just as cold as that place, involuntarily condemning you for a silent walk through those dark corridors.

“What do I have to do?” you asked when the lady guided you through the workshop until you sat on a chair, getting a little closer to what looked like her work table. “Supervise?”

“You make a joke out of everything, (Y/N)…” Donna murmured, sitting down beside you with a sad movement. “You're worse than Angie.”

“Worse than Angie?” you joked again. “I'd rather laugh at myself than complain at every corner. It's something I learned long before blindness.”

“Mm, an admirable thought, (Y/N),” the lady commented, moving some items you couldn't make out and handing you what looked like a sewing kit. “Here, take this.”

“Okay,” you said, securing the objects in your hands.

“Can you sew?” the lady asked. “Maybe I'm forcing you to make too much effort.”

“Not at all, Donna. It's fine,” you said, nodding in a reassuring voice. “I'm still capable of doing it, and very well indeed.”

A shy laugh from the lady raised your lips even more.

“Oh, okay, I would never dare to question you,” the brunette joked, guiding your hand towards what seemed to be several fabrics. “I need you to tell me which one you like the most.”

“Mm, let's see...” you murmured, studying each of the fabrics, not being able to remove the sensation of Donna's hand in yours, a soft and distant contact, shy, pleasant and warm. “This one is too rough.”

“Well, not this one,” she said, discarding one of the pieces of fabric. “What do you think of this one?”

“Mm, yes, much better,” you said, nodding, closing your eyes to feel the soft touch of the chosen fabric even more. “What color is it?”

“Gray,” the lady said, studying your choice carefully and searching the table again. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, picking up another piece of fabric the lady handed you.

“I need you to sew these ruffles on the edge of the fabric, it's for a dress. Do you think you could do it?” she asked, suddenly focused on her work, a very special one, strange but shocking for someone like her.

A doll maker for children who was the nightmare of many of them; it was another of the sweet contradictions you admired about Beneviento.

“Yes, I'll try,” you confirmed, feeling the edge and joining it with that piece of ruffles.

“Well, then… Let's get to work,” Donna sighed, handing you a needle along with its thread. “If you see that you can't just…”

“Relax, I already told you that I'm good at sewing,” you said confidently, running your hands over the fabric, starting your task with mastery.

You couldn't see it, but the movement of the shadows you saw told you that the lady nodded, focusing on her dolls.

It was a pleasant morning. Guided by your instinct, you sewed in silence, humming from time to time. The lady's always nervous breathing was your companion, along with the creaking of the wooden limps hanging from the ceiling.

The lavender was intoxicating and your stupid head turned from time to time, desperately seeking to look at the lady, to ingratiate yourself with her beauty once again, one last time.

That desire to contemplate the light of her dark gaze grew with time. You may not have given it all the importance it required, but little by little that burning feeling made its way, making your heart beat faster and faster in her presence.

“Mm, I think it's done,” you said satisfied, checking with your hands the work you had done.

“Let me see,” Donna said, still focused, extending her hand towards yours as she ran it over the embroidery. “Yes, good work, (Y/N),” she whispered satisfied, letting her hand fall, just enough for it to met yours.

You smiled happy to have pleased her and felt a shiver at the soft touch of her hand on yours, one that abandoned the fabric and focused on your skin carelessly.

“Donna?” you asked, interrupting that curious exploration, the silence that had formed while she caressed you, one in which the lady seemed to have completely lost herself.

“I-I'm sorry,” she said, removing her bold hand from your skin, snatching the fabric from you abruptly. “I shouldn't have done it.”

“No, it's nothing…” you said cautiously due to the lady's apparently nervous attitude. “Do you like my hands?” you asked innocently.

“Um… Yes, they are, they are very soft,” she said, with a voice broken by nerves, by that strange and uncomfortable situation.

“Well, I have to confess that I’m cheating,” you said, rubbing your hands, trying to find in them the softness that Donna appreciated.

“Cheating?” she asked curiously, with a slightly calmer tone.

“Yes, well, I put on some hand cream, you know… Now they are… Well, as if they were my eyes,” you explained passively, preventing memories from haunting and sadden you. “I bought it from the Duke and it seems that it was really worth all those lei.”

“I see,” the brunette commented, looking away. “They are… Beautiful…”

“Thank you,” you sighed with a shy smile, noticing the familiar burning of a blush that was surely betraying your embarrassment. “Yours too.”

“Mine? Oh, well, thank you,” she said timidly, moving to look at them closely because the shadows you saw. “But I'm afraid I don't take care of them as much as you do.”

“No? Well, they are soft,” you said amused, hiding the nervous trembling of those hands that the lady in black liked that much. “May I?” you asked carefully, extending your hand towards her, who took it slowly. “Mm, yes, they are quite soft too…”

Unintentionally, instead of dissipating that tension, you increased it, generating another strange silence that rhythmically accompanied those caresses.

At that moment you felt something else, a look you couldn't see, the gleam in her eye that was nonexistent to you, but that stuck in your chest like an invisible enemy.

“(Y/N),” Donna said after a few more moments of erratic caresses, forcing you to come out of your thoughts and suddenly let her hand go. “I-I need my hand to work…”

“Sorry,” you said, embarrassed for having lost yourself in her touch, one she started and was eager to finish. “I don't know what I was thinking…”

“Don't apologize, I… I…” the lady stammered, her voice getting smaller and smaller, stopping talking before finishing the sentence, leaving you bewildered. “I liked you caressing me.”

“Oh, yes, well… Me too,” you said timidly, trying, unsuccessfully, to interpret those almost inaudible words, marked with a strong accent, as if they were struggling to get out of her lips.

“Really? I mean… Um…” she said nervously again, shaking her head exaggeratedly, surely thinking that you were incapable of seeing her.

She was partly right, but the shadows moved in a way that you could slowly decipher.

“Today is my afternoon off…” you commented, breaking the pleasant silence that formed after that strange conversation, after those strange caresses.

“Certo,” Donna sighed uncomfortable, surely not gathering the necessary warmth to ask you to leave her alone. “What are you going to do?”

“I had thought… I don't know, it's a beautiful day, maybe I’ll take a walk around the grounds,” you said, playing with things on the table that you couldn't see.

Donna stopped abruptly.

“A walk? By yourself?” she asked inquisitively. “I-I don't think it's a good idea, (Y/N), it's, it's dangerous.”

“Yes, but… I need to get some fresh air, you know,” you explained, resting your head on your hand.

“Don't you remember the last time you went out for a walk?” the lady questioned, with a reproachful tone that chilled your blood. “No.”

“Of course I remember,” you said abruptly, offended by that comment, because the memories clouded that tender moment. “But it's been a long time.”

“No,” the brunette sentenced with a stern and authoritative tone. “Forget it, (Y/N).”

“Hey, it's supposed to be my afternoon off, I should be able to do whatever I want,” you protested annoyed, crossing your arms. “Nothing will happen to me, I'm well oriented.”

“I said no,” she repeated through clenched teeth. “You will never leave this house alone again, do you understand?”

“Oh…” you said, backing away from the abruptness of her words. “Well, in that case… Why don't you come with me?” you asked with a brighter tone, with a hopeful smile on your face.

“Io? With you?” Donna asked, judging by the gesture she made, pointing at herself.

You nodded effusively.

“You can show the grounds to me,” you said with a childish, pleading voice, getting a little closer to that lavender scent. “If you’re with me, nothing will happen, right?”

“Do you really want to walk with me?” she asked, incredulous at your proposal. “You… With me?”

“Yes, of course,” you said amused. “What do you think?”

“I think it's a wonderful idea, (Y/N), but… I, I'm afraid I can't,” the lady sighed, lowering her head. “This afternoon I have a meeting with Mother Miranda, and I don't know how long it will take.”

“Oh, wow… I guess that cancels my plans,” you lamented, pouting, causing a concentrated sigh from the brunette, who turned to you again.

“W-Wait,” she interrupted, with a soft tone. “Excuse me for my abruptness… I just don't want…”

“Anything to happen to me, I understand, Donna,” you said with a tired voice, shaking your head.

“Mm…” she murmured. “But, but I might find another solution…”

“Which one?”

The lady laughed shyly, leaving you in suspense until the desired moment arrived.

“I can't believe it, what am I, a guide dog?” Angie protested, reluctantly accompanying you out of the mansion.

Having Angie with you was an unexpected, but funny solution.

“Come on Angie, be nice,” you said, guiding yourself by her footsteps and her wooden hand on your legs. “I'm sure a walk would be good for you.”

“Ha, do you think so? I should be with my Donna at the meeting playing with Moreau but no… The silly doll has to be a guide for the blind girl, I shouldn’t be surprised, after all,” the doll murmured, pulling your dress towards the elevator. “Come on, silly…”

“Shouldn’t you be surprised?” you asked curiously, searching for the button with your hands. “Why do you say that?”

Angie gasped, as if she had said something she shouldn’t.

“No way, you gossipy fool, I was talking to myself, you weren’t invited to this conversation,” the puppet protested, making you laugh again. “Hey, careful, there’s a puddle over there, go to your right. No, not my right… Oh, what have I done to deserve this?”

You danced comically, avoiding the obstacles the doll warned you about, something very funny for her, of course.

“Stop complaining, I heard you talking to Donna and you seemed excited about the idea,” you said amused, searching for the doll with your hands and letting yourself be guided by her wooden arms.

“Were you spying us?” she asked indignantly, crossing her arms.

“No... It's just that you talk too loud,” you joked, earning a grunt from the doll, who continued on her way.

It was a pleasant walk. The shadows you saw were illuminated by the evening sun and the spring breeze was much better for your skin than any cream. The doll amused and guided you correctly, almost as if she really cared about you.

“Mm... What’s that smell?” you asked, stopping to enjoy a sweet floral aroma that began to flood your senses. “Flowers?”

“Of course they are flowers,” Angie said, tugging at your dress. “Over here, blind girl.”

“Wait, wait, let me get close,” you said, guiding yourself by your sense of smell towards that attractive perfume. “I would like to touch them.”

“Are you stupid? Come here, huh!” the doll shrieked when you started walking on your own towards that smell, with your eyes closed, unable to feel anything but the aroma of those flowers.

“Angie…” you hissed when the doll insisted on moving you out of the way. “Come on, let me go.”

“Hey, stop!” she shrieked almost desperately. “Don't come closer there!”

“Why?” you asked, turning towards her voice but without stopping walking, a terrible idea.

Your foot tripped on what seemed like a root, making you fall irremediably forward. On the ground, the scent of those flowers began to be unpleasant, too intense. You had undoubtedly fallen on top of them.

“Oh... Angie, help me,” you protested, feeling the ground with your hands, touching the fine petals of the flowers.

“Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo!” Angie shrieked. “Fool! Are you okay?” she asked, shaking your shoulders as she helped you up as best she could. “Can you hear me?”

That voice began to distort when you felt a strange dizziness. The light you saw completely darkened and you collapsed on the ground hopelessly, fainting.

“Oh... Shit... Donna’s going to throw me into the fireplace...”

That was the last thing you were able to hear before succumbing to a different darkness, to a deep sleep.

Slowly your hearing began to work again, but your body was unable to move.

“Do you realize what you've done!?” a distorted scream was the first thing you could hear.

Your body felt weak, but strangely comfortable.

“Hey, hey, don't take it out on me, silly Donna, it was her fault!” a shriek that belonged to Angie continued that argument.

“Her fault? You're supposed to take care of her!” the lady shrieked, now with the most recognizable voice. “Porca miseria!”

“She was the one who wanted to smell the flowers, you can't blame me for you being a coward and not being able to tell her that…”

“Get out! Get out of my sight or I swear that…!” the lady shouted again, making a terrible and dangerous echo in that unknown place.

Sleep prevented you from continuing to listen. Your desire to sleep overcame the anxiety of not knowing where you were or what had happened.

Consciousness slowly returned again and your body felt somewhat better, being able to understand your surroundings. You were on a bed, that was obvious, the humidity of the environment and the smell of lavender placed you in the Beneviento mansion, next to Donna.

Your limp hand was warm, surrounded by something soft, strange, which you quickly identified: Donna's hand. The lady squeezed it tightly while whispering something that your ears weren’t able to hear, at least for a while.

“Come on... Tesoro, per favore... Don't do this to me...” the lady whispered in a clearer, but sobbing voice.

You squeezed your eyes shut, realizing that you could move a little, that your hands were no longer useless and your fingers, free from hers, could caress the soft silk sheets that you used to wash. It was Donna's bedroom, you were sure.

“The antidote should have taken effect… You should wake up,” she whispered with another sob, squeezing your hand even tighter. “Please… I shouldn't have left you alone, amore mio…”

The desire you had to open your eyes calmed down when you heard that affectionate way of calling you, forcing you to remain still, pretending to remain unconscious due to the curiosity that excessive concern caused you.

“(Y/N) please, you can't do this to me… You can't leave me alone again, not now… Not when I can't live without you…” she continued sobbing, burying her head in your motionless body, pulling at your clothes, scratching them desperately. “It's my fault…”

Once again, you decided not to give yourself away.

“I'm a coward…” she lamented, crying into your clothes, letting your hand go to hit the mattress hard. “I'm a coward! I-I should have told you how I felt about you before… Before… Oddio… You can't leave me, y-you can't… (Y/N), I've been, I've been in love with you for so long…”

You had to suppress the reflex action of opening your eyes at that totally unexpected confession. She loved you.

You'd be lying if you said that the lady in black's sweet and caring attitude didn't seem a bit exaggerated to you. After all, nobody needed a blind maid, nobody could find someone like you useful unless… Unless that person were madly in love with you.

Little by little you began to understand many things, to explain the lady's strange attitudes, her stammering, stuttering and embarrassing escapes after a conversation about love or mutual interests.

You had things to confess too, feelings you never dared to bring to light, emotions that went far beyond pure gratitude for not being scorned when you lost your sight. Donna was a beautiful, intelligent, kind, disturbed but terribly loving and attentive woman.

Before the shadows took over you, you used to be a bit addicted to her smile, to her shy and embarrassed look, perhaps much more than you would have liked to admit.

You, who didn’t know what love was, found it in Donna without even realizing it, without giving importance to the desires of your heart, desires that your head blurred among a thousand ways of saying that it was something impossible, totally improbable.

That addiction didn’t change with the shadows. It was accentuated in the memories, in the image of her beauty always present in your dreams. Maybe you hadn't realized how much...

“Please, wake up... I... I... I love you...” she whispered, interrupting your own ramblings, confirming that those words hadn't been the result of the intoxication of the flowers.

“Donna, I love you too,” you said, unable to hold back any longer, abruptly sitting up and making the lady back away, scared.

“Ah, cazzo!” she shrieked, almost falling off the chair where she was taking care of you. “(Y/N)?”

“I'm, I'm awake, my love,” you said, with a splendid smile. “Those things you've said to me...”

“What? Were you awake the whole time?” she asked in a fearful, almost annoyed voice. “How dare you? Do you know how scared I was?”

“Hey, come on, calm down, everything's okay...” you said, making a gesture with your hands to relax the brunette's embarrassed nervousness.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, nothing's okay,” she said with labored breathing, making an unpleasant noise as she dragged the chair and stood up, walking from one side of the room to the other. “Damn it, (Y/N)! Were you playing with me?”

“No, Donna, I…” you said, preventing with all your effort an imminent crisis that knowing you had heard her confession had provoked. “I-I don't even know what happened to me…”

“Oh, you tripped in the forest and fell on a bunch of Indian anesthetic flowers,” Donna explained, without stopping moving, or so the sound of her heels indicated. “Why did you get close to them? Don't you know how dangerous they are?”

“Well, it's obvious that I didn't know,” you said, crossing your arms. “I didn't see it coming.”

“Stop joking, you could have stayed in a coma forever, (Y/N)… You could have…” she murmured, coming closer again and caressing your cheek quickly, with a trembling hand.

“Here I am. Nothing happened to me,” you said satisfied by your resurrection. “Actually, I'm glad it happened to me.”

“How can you say that!?” the lady shrieked, completely unhinged. “Do you realize what would have happened to me if…!?”

The silence fell heavily on you.

“Yes, I realize, Donna,” you said after a few moments, which luckily, the lady didn’t take advantage of to escape from her embarrassing confession. “I’ve heard everything.”

“You must be proud, right?” she said with a hiss, apparently pointing at you with her finger. “You're… Ugh…”

“If this hadn't happened to me you would never have had the courage to tell me that you loved me,” you said in a low voice, playing with the sheets.

“Forget about that… It's, it's nonsense,” she said, sitting on the mattress and brushing your hair away from your head, intoxicating you with lavender again. “Don't think about it, okay?”

“How can you expect me not to, Donna?” you said, abruptly, furiously. “I've been repressing what I felt for you for three years because I would never think that you could feel the same, now that I know, you can't just do that. You can't ask me to forget the nicest thing that has been said to me in my life…”

“What? You…? Do you feel something for me?” she asked, with a different tone, distrustful. “Are you trying to trick me?”

“No, of course I’m not,” you said nervously. “Donna, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and… Even before I lost my sight I… W-Well… I think, I think I’m crazy about you.”

“(Y/N) I…” she said in a whisper, caressing your cheek while you accompanied the gesture with a soft grip of your hand in hers. “I just can’t believe you…”

“Don't do it,” you whispered, guiding your hand towards her deformed face, running your fingers through her hair, tangling them on it slowly before leaning towards her, placing your lips on hers briefly. “You don't have to believe me right now, but maybe you will over time… No one has ever treated me like you, with you I feel… I feel like I don't need my eyes… That the light of your beauty illuminates my darkness…”

“That's very nice,” Donna said, laughing shyly, resting her forehead against yours. “But, but now it's too soon to… Talk about this… You should, you should rest, you could suffer a relapse,” she said, kissing you briefly again and moving away from you, something that you prevented with a firm grip on her wrist.

“Wait…” you sighed, dragging her back to you. “If that's true... Let me enjoy your love before I return to the darkness...”

With that velvety whisper, you brought your lips closer to hers again in a much more intense way, deepening the wet kiss that the brunette accepted without complaint.

You knew the path of your life, the fortunes, the misfortunes... You didn't know what the future held for you, if those damned flowers would change your destiny again.

The fear of losing what you had achieved was strong in your heart, in the desire that you thought you would never feel. If Donna was your fortune, you wanted to have her. You wanted to feel her before fate played with you again.

Your breathing became agitated as your soft hands roamed over her body, feeling, noticing every inch of her soft, burning skin. The sensations didn't need to be seen, only to be enjoyed.

The trembling of her body at your touch was much more noticeable, the rush and eagerness of her breathing matched the kisses, the timid caresses of your tongues.

Donna seemed worried, but your insistence was strong, it was invincible as you pulled her body to rest on top of yours. Now you too would smell of lavender.

Feeling, hearing, touching, tasting… All those heightened senses were like an ambrosia that accompanied the timid movement of your hips.

Your curious hands scrutinized her clothes, her skin, each one of those parts that you didn't want to forget, that your dreams reminded you of despite your reluctance to ignore them.

Softness, sweetness, love… Those words accompanied each one of your kisses, the caresses that her fingers made timidly on the edges of your dress, asking permission to make their way through your skin.

Her lips tickled your neck and your hips moved impatiently as they brushed against hers. Your eyes remained closed, absent of the shadows that wouldn’t frame in the slightest the blind sensation of her beauty mixing with you.

“I-I don't know if we should, (Y/N)…” the lady murmured, stopping her passionate kisses, looking at you without knowing that you were doing the same with your mind, that you could see her face even though you couldn't really do it. “This is very hasty.”

“I know,” you said, bringing your smart hand to her cheek again, passing over her wet lips, because of yours.

Her hands were guided by the sight before her, by the amazing skill with which your clothes gave way to your bare skin, ready to be caressed only by her hands. Her slender fingers wandered aimlessly over your chest, like curious explorers.

Your chest rose and fell with each caress, with each kiss that was planted on your skin. Her silky black hair tickled you, making you laugh in a playful way, drawing her lips back to where they should be forever, on yours.

Panting, caresses, kisses that became more and more erratic... Any kind of regret disappeared along with her black dress, along with the touch of her erection contradicting her cautious words. You needed her, you always needed her. She never left you, you never would.

“(Y/N)…” the lady moaned when your hands pulled down her underwear, when the desire and rush of your lust completely stripped the lady.

It was a bitter moment. You would have given anything to contemplate her naked body on yours, to be able to stare at it and not through the crack of a door.

Yes, sometimes you did, before… You weren't even aware of how much you loved her.

“Please,” you begged, opening your eyes so the shadows would give you a break, so you could see her blurred figure as she slowly entered you, making you moan from that hot, unmatched and overwhelming sensation. “Donna!”

“I-I'm sorry… Did I hurt you?” the lady said, positioning herself more comfortably as she entered you completely, giving your body enough time to adapt to her trembling, imposing shaft.

“It doesn't matter...” you sighed in relief when that pain turned into thousands of electric currents running through your body.

The shadows were unnecessary, your eyes were useless. The only thing that mattered was what you felt, what you wanted to feel.

When comfort and pleasure forced you to moan, Donna began to move, moaning too in a discreet but terribly erotic way. Her hips moved slowly and her thrusts stretched your walls in a tender, not abrupt way.

Your lips claimed hers while her erection caressed your interior, causing the lustful movements of your hips, a whole world of unique sensations for which you didn’t need your stupid eyes.

Without words, only moans, with caresses, that erotic dance continued at its own pace, swinging your bodies, enjoying the movements that pleasure generated and the reactions of the brunette feeling inside of you.

That romanticism faded when the pleasure forced you to behave wilder, moaning uncontrollably as your body claimed hers even more, squeezing it, not letting her separate from you for a moment. Your muscles tensed after some rougher thrusts, after the scratches of the lady in black, after her loss of control.

Your first shared release was much more than you were looking for, more than you wanted. Your whole body arched, twisting irremediably, held by her firm hands in your back, keeping you close to her.

Donna couldn't resist that sinful embrace of your walls around her and with a less discreet moan she also released herself, filling you with her warm seed, with a wet and slippery caress.

“Donna...” you sighed in relief, hugging her, resting your head on her shoulder and letting your body be cradled by hers. “Never stop being the light of my darkness…”

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader. cw food (they’re eating ice cream and reader enjoys *glass shatters* mint chocolate chip). fluff, established relationship, feelings etc. | wc 901, divider thanks to cafekitsune!

Sitting thigh to thigh with Satoru on a park bench not far from your home, the two of you decided to take a bit of leisure time to yourselves. The sweets in your hands were a must according to him and now that you’re sitting to enjoy them, you have to admit that he was correct.

“When I was eight, I told my mom I wanted to marry ice cream someday,” you sigh after scooping a spoonful in your mouth.

The anecdote makes you feel a little embarrassed to share though you recall it easily. Sitting next to her in her car, merrily enjoying the mint chocolate chip scoop topped cone in your little hand, on a day not entirely unlike the mid-spring one you’re enjoying now. You meant every word of it, as big of a lover back then as you are now, even for the inanimate and edible.

“You treat me like I’m ice cream sometimes so maybe you were right.”

He wiggles his eyebrows salaciously, the motion visible over the tops of his sunglasses. You giggle and playfully swat at him, careful to keep your cup and spoon steady. The reference to your pension for enjoying licking every inch of him (as if he doesn’t have the same proclivities...) you possibly can warms your cheeks and you scoop a bite from your cup and into your mouth to cool yourself down, a pleased hum further grabbing his attention.

The two of you aren’t married, not quite yet, but he has told you for years that you will be. It’s you or no one as far as he’s concerned, well aware he’s going to live an easy lifetime listening to that same pleased sigh on repeat for years to come.

“Do that again?”

You scoff and roll your eyes although there is no bite to it. The ability to roll with the punches is one of the things he has always enjoyed the most about you. There is an innate playfulness to you that perfectly compliments his own even though you may pretend to be Miss Serious when the mood strikes you.

Like right now.

“Stop being gross and enjoy this beautiful day, Satoru.

He plays off your displeased warning with a laugh, tossing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. It really is a treat to get to spend this time with him during the daylight hours considering how busy both of your schedules tend to be thanks to, well, the whole sorcery thing and the sun illuminates him enough you can almost see a halo around the top of his head.

This world is beautiful because he’s in it, you think to yourself.

Dreamily, you sigh and glance down at your thighs instead of looking at him which would only further your lovesick feeling. Your heart is so full it feels it may pop like a balloon, a sign you need to let out what you’re thinking about.

“You know, sometimes I think about anything I loved before you and that love feels so shallow.”

That is not what he was expecting you to say. Satoru’s eyes widen and he tilts his head, puffing out air loudly.

“You loved something before you met me? What a betrayal.”

The smile on your face dims and your posture tightens while you turn your face away from him. He has seen you in every vulnerable state a person can be in - naked and clothed, sick and well, broken and whole. Even if you withdraw, he will always bring you back. This time is no different.

Gojo reaches for you, turning your face toward him with his free hand.

“No no no, come back here. I was just kidding.”

His fingers rest against your jaw and his thumb runs over the round of your cheek and your sour look fades in an instant. There are many things you loved before him, people too, and though it stings to know your feelings weren’t preserved until the day he landed in your life he smiles at you softly. From the day he admitted his feelings to you years ago, you were his and his alone. There’s no use in being jealous now and whatever remains of the bitter taste dies within him when he looks at your face and leans over to glance into your cup.

“So are you saying you love me more than ice cream?”

Giggling, you tap his nose with the handle of the wooden spoon in your hand.

“I’m saying that I love you more than anything that has come before or after you at the very least.”

“Then I’ll take this as a sign you don’t want that then.” Reaching for your ice cream, he wiggles his fingers and you hold it out of his grasp with a laugh. “No,” you feign annoyance and sigh loudly. “But I’ll share it with you.”

Reaching into your cup you pull out a scoop and feed it into his open, waiting mouth. He dramatically hums his pleasure, bundling his hands against his chest and shaking slightly. It’s a ridiculous move but you can’t help but laugh at him, reaching for another scoop in to feed him again.

“I love you too, by the way.” He adds after accepting the second bite, mouth still half full and cold. Nodding with a soft smile, you know he always will.

[inadaydream99]

Skz Tropes

Stray Kids ot8 x reader, very very fluffy

A/N - This proved a lot more challenging for me to write than I initially thought, but I think it’s turned out ok!

Disclaimer: this does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know!

Chan

Childhood friends to lovers

Falling for your childhood best friend had not been something you’d planned. But here you are, head in your hands, as the weight of realisation bares down on you like a ton of bricks. You’d been in denial for so long that it wasn’t until innocent Chan had excitedly babbled to you about being asked out on a date by a colleague of his that your deeply repressed feelings for him came racing to the surface.

It’s been a few days and you haven’t been able to untangle your muddled feelings into something understandable or rational. Trying to convince yourself that you’ve simply mistaken how you feel about him is not easy in the slightest. You’ve even gone as far as blaming your ego, that it’s not because you’re in love with Chan, but because you simply don’t like the idea of him choosing someone over you. That you don’t want to become second best.

However, all those ways of interpreting your feelings become useless when the day of his date arrives…

You blame Jeongin for inviting you over to their place because you can never say no to your sweet Innie. It’s all his fault. It’s his fault you have to witness Chan sprinting around their place as he gets ready. It’s his fault you feel so sick with nerves that you’re unable to eat any of the snacks he’d so thoughtfully bought for you. And it’s most certainly his fault that - for lack of anyone else being around in Chan’s final moment of panic - that Jeongin had disappeared right when he’d needed last minute advice on how to style his hair.

“Just run your fingers through it - fluff it up a little.” You try to fight the overwhelming mix of nausea and nervousness that slowly raises from your stomach.

“Like this?” Oblivious Chan runs his fingers through his hair bashfully, only making more of a mess.

You guess his lacking ability to take instruction helps you settle though, finding yourself laughing at how clueless he has become.

“Please help me…” he begins to sulk, signalling for you to just take over and tidy the mess he’d created atop his head. And how can you say no?

With trepidation, you step closer to him. Fingers a little shaky as they timidly thread through the first few strands of hair with caution. You lean onto your tippy-toes to reach the hair further back. But, as silent seconds tick by, you find yourself relaxing into the task. With each wisp of hair being neatly placed, your breathing becomes pliant and your racing heart resettles.

“There…” you softly utter while giving one last examine of your work. “Perfect.”

Lowering yourself back to flat feet, you force a smile to your quiet friend. But, being your clumsy self, you wobble mid-way as you make eye contact, almost toppling over from his intense stare.

“I got you-” Chan breathes, catching your waist in his warm palms before steadying you into his chest. With your head right above his heart, the steady thump-thump and the way his hands continue to hold you so securely make you feel as though you could drift off to sleep. If only you could get the guilt of being in his arms when he’s not yours out of your head.

“I sho- you should” you break away from him, stepping back with your head hanging low. You fear meeting his eyes in case of giving yourself away. Until his finger tucks under your chin and coerces you to.

Your breath hitches in your throat from the unexpected proximity, noses almost brushing.

“We should.” Chan stares at you deeply, the corner of his mouth perking upon seeing your brows furrow and your head tilt just the slightest in confusion. So many questions spring into your mind, mouth slightly agape as you struggle to find the right one to ask first.

But it seems Chan knows exactly how to settle them all.

“There was never a colleague. There’s only ever been you baby girl.”

Minho

Best friends brother

You’ve had a crush on your best friends brother for as long as you can remember. But, when Minho left for college, you swore to yourself that you’d get over him. It broke your heart enough to know that he would no longer be there every time you visited your friend. You also knew that he’d be having the time of his life at college, meeting lots of people that are way more attractive than you… you made a promise to yourself that you’d move on from your silly little crush.

But then he returned home for the summer and your feelings came flooding back ten fold. He’d matured a lot in the time he’d been away. Your weak little heart couldn’t resist him.

Everything seemed to fall back into the way things always used to be. You’d spend your time secretly admiring Minho while you hung out with his sister, blushing any time he’d catch you staring from across the room. That caught-you-staring smirk of his had a way of simultaneously embarrassing and melting you, shyly looking away from him for barely a second before you found yourself looking back. He never failed to make your heart skip a beat from the adrenaline rush of finding him still watching you, his grin growing wider from meeting your eyes again so soon.

These small interactions repeated themselves for the rest of the week until Minho finally had enough. He’d thought it was adorable how you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of him. He gets it, he’s the mature older brother who’s off limits. It makes him desirable because you can’t just admit to his little sister how you so very clearly feel.

But what if he made the first move? It would probably make things far easier for you and he could take the blame if his sister got mad.

It felt slightly bazar for him to think of it this way. It’s not like you’d caught his interests before. Not that Minho hasn’t ever found you cute. He’s just never looked at you the way he has since he’s been back home. His time away at college had really changed you, you’d grown out of your childish charm and into an adult.

“You know, I’ve seen you almost every day since I’ve been back and yet we’ve barely talked.” You’re met with Minho’s sheepish smirk as you let his statement sink in. “Why is that?”

“Maybe because I’ve been studying for finals?” You tilt your head, raising a brow at him. “Like you were last year.” He chuckles, catching on to your teasing. It seems senior year had really bought you out of your shell.

You take a small step back when Minho moves closer, eyes narrowing onto you like he’s inspecting. “Studying. Staring. You’ve been very busy.” And finally he laughs. You scoff away the flustered feelings that begin to raise from his accusations, wishing you’d been better at disciplining yourself to keep your eyes off of Minho and on your notes instead.

“Disagree all you want pretty.” His hands find their way to your waist, making your breath hitch. “You find me just as alluring as I find you.”

Changbin

Cute neighbour

It sucks having a neighbour like Changbin because every time you encounter him, you somehow make yourself look like an idiot. He’s just too nice and handsome and cute, it melts your brain. The last thing you wanted was to develop a crush on a guy in your building but here you are. Crushing hard. And he’s your neighbour. So every time you interact with him, you’re usually in some disorganised state - running late to somewhere or returning home after a long and busy day - it’s embarrassing.

You’d just managed to lug your heavy grocery bags up five floors because the elevator happened to be out of service on the very same day your cupboards were bare. Out of breath, you placed one your of heavy bags on the floor to one-handedly fish out your keys from your pocket and begin trying to unlock your door. It’s more difficult than you anticipated it to be and after a few unsuccessful attempts at turning the key, you begin to whine like a child.

That is until you hear a voice offer their help and you freeze. Before you know it, your apartment door is swinging open and the heavy bag you’d still been holding has been taken from your hands. You watch Changbin carrying both grocery bags with ease into your apartment, before he places them down and turns to you with that smirk of his. “Are you coming in or…”

From that day onwards, things began to shift between you and Changbin in ways that left you giddy yet completely unsure of where you stood. It started with small, casual interactions—friendly waves when you passed in the hallway, his cheeky grin popping up most mornings when you stepped out of your flat. But soon, those small moments grew into something more.

He always seemed to be there when you needed him, like when the strap of your bag snapped in the middle of the stairwell, and he fixed it with a hair tie he somehow had on hand. Or when your phone fell from your hand while you were juggling too many things, and he caught it mid-air with a smug, “You really need to slow down.”

One evening, after a particularly stressful day at work, you trudged home only to find Changbin sitting on the floor of the hallway outside your door, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up when he saw you and grinned.

“Lost your key again?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he replied, standing and stretching. “Thought I’d make sure you got home safe. You’ve been looking exhausted lately.”

Your heart fluttered at his concern but you weren’t at the stage of letting him know that yet, so instead you settle for light sarcasm. “I look tired huh? Aren’t you sweet?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He laughed, stepping aside to let you unlock your door.

One evening - a few days later - you were sitting on your living room floor, sorting through a pile of old photos and papers, when a knock at the door interrupted you. Without thinking, you called out, “Come in!” assuming it was Changbin. And of course, it was.

He stepped inside, hands in his pockets, and gave you a curious look. “What’s all this?”

“Just… a clear-out,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the mess. “Thought it was about time I sorted my life out.”

He smirked, crouching down beside you. “Good luck with that.”

Before you knew it, he was rifling through the pile, holding up embarrassing photos and making you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. Somewhere between teasing you about a particularly tragic haircut and helping you create a “keep” and “bin” pile, the atmosphere shifted.

“You know,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “I don’t really spend time like this with anyone else.”

You paused, your heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, turning to look at you, “I like being around you. A lot.”

Your breath caught. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the warmth in his eyes melting every bit of doubt you’d ever had about how he felt.

“I like being around you too,” you admitted softly.

His grin widened, and without another word, he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. The touch was so gentle, it sent shivers down your spine. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he leaned in and kissed you—a kiss so warm and soft, it left you dizzy.

Maybe having a neighbour like Changbin wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, it was quickly becoming your favourite thing.

Hyunjin

Forbidden love

Why is it that you always want the one thing you can’t have? What is it that makes it so alluring? These are questions that have circled Hyunjin’s mind of as long as he can remember. Is it the thrill of sneaking around without getting caught, or the fact that it makes him feel like he’s living a double life of sorts? Maybe it’s knowing that his family would never approve. In fact, he’s pretty sure it is all off those things and more.

Being with you makes Hyunjin’s already incredibly privileged life complete. It doesn’t matter to him that you don’t come from money like he does, or that you didn’t grow up surrounded by the filthy rich and famous. It makes him like you even more. You’re different, down to Earth. You are able to show him a new perspective to life, one without all the chauvinistic, ungrateful, money-hungry crowds he’s used to.

Hyunjin wants for nothing when you are around. You fill his heart up with so much love and make him a million times happier than any of the so-called suitable matches his parents have tried to force upon him ever could.

Which is why he’s decided to run away.

When a servant of his parent’s caught Hyunjin sneaking you into their palace-like mansion, they’d instantly forbid you to go near their precious heir again. And Hyunjin was to be matched with someone of their choice, with more riches than you could ever dream of. His parents couldn’t care less about their only son’s desires for true love. In their eyes, accumulating more power is what he’s good for.

Hyunjin can’t stand the thought of being without you and so, in the early hours of the dreaded match day, he flees to you. Arriving on your doorstep with the sun barely rising in the horizon, Hyunjin doesn’t care how bitterly cold he is. The endearing confusion on your rosy face warms him up as though his heart has been set on fire.

“You’re crazy.” Hyunjin can see your frown from where you pour him a warm cup of tea near the stove. He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of you for a second since he arrived. And, if he’s being completely honest, he’s a little dissatisfied with your lack of excitement to see him. After all, he knows you love him just as much. You’ve told him countless times before how besotted you are with him.

“Crazy for you, my love.” He shivers under the blanket you wrapped him in. A trembling smirk trying to keep still so as to not ruin his attempts to butter you up to his idea.

But how can you agree to such a thing as running away and starting a new life? You won’t deny how there’s nothing more you want than to do exactly that with him. But not under these circumstances. Not knowing he’s left his parents without so much as a goodbye. Let alone knowing he is safe.

“Baby.” You grab his hands, leaning into him. “You know I love you more than there are stars in the sky…” his expression brightens “…but we can’t run away from our problems.” then falls, the burning flames from the fire casting his ethereal features in a honey-orange glow. Your palm raises to cup his cheek. “If we’re to be together then we have to stand up for ourselves.”

Hyunjin nods. He knows you’re right, he just wanted to push that reality so far away so neither of you would have to face it. Knowing that you are telling him to fight for what he wants makes him feel differently about it though. He knows that his parents will be furious with his desires. But he doesn’t care. He’s not afraid of them anymore. And he knows that he needs to go back to face them.

But for now he just wants to be with you, pulling you into his arms as tightly as he can, until your face is smooshed against his chest. You both cuddle in silence, only the crackling of the fire filling the space around you. And with a final kiss to the crown of your head, you both drift into sleep knowing that your love is stronger than anything this world can throw at you.

Jisung

Fated/ Literally falling for each other

To be fated with someone can seem like such a daunting thing. You’d always found the prospect of being predestined as someone’s one and only to be petrifying. But that was before you met him.

Fate was what bought Jisung into your life. How could it not have been? Never had you clicked with someone so seamlessly. It was like everything had been slowly aligning to make that one perfect meeting of two lonely, anxious lovers.

You’d chosen the wrong shoes to wear on your way to work, not realising before that the temperature outside was so cold everything had become covered in ice. The soles of your feet were smooth, providing no grip on the slippery concrete as you tried to manoeuvre along the sidewalk while dodging passers. And everything was going as uneventfully as possible, until you lost your footing and began falling backwards.

You braced yourself for the impending thud against the ground, your eyes screwed shut as though that would make the hit less painful. Except, it never came… Instead, you felt strong arms secure around you as your weight crashed into a surface that was sturdy but not solid like like the ground.

“Woah, you ok there?” A man. That’s what you’d fallen into. You’d opened your eyes just as you were helped back onto your feet, taking in your saviour. And suddenly you’d forgotten your own name.

Jisung’s eyes had shone brightly, worriedly, into yours in search of an answer. But you had been rendered speechless by him - your hero - and the genuine concern for your wellbeing, even though you didn’t know each other mere seconds before.

From that moment onwards, life had liked to cause you issues and disruptions, and fate had it that you’d end up being led back to Jisung each time.

Like that one time a few months after your initial meeting when your bus had been cancelled and so you’d ended up walking to work. It was early Spring and you’d been too distracted by the blossom emerging on the trees to notice that you were at a crossing and needed to stop. Just as you were about to step out into oncoming traffic a hand had grabbed your arm and pulled you to safety. And when you’d turned to thank your saviour, you’d been met with those familiar eyes and their warmth.

The third time fate bought you together - because apparently neither of you could take a hint that you were meant to be together - was actually when Jisung was running late for a blind date.

He’s arrived at the restaurant so late his date had apparently left. Feeling terrible and embarrassingly out of breath from all his rushing about, he’d approached the bar and ordered a drink, simultaneously elbowing the one at his side all over the counter and you.

“Ah I’m so sorry!” He’d panicked, reaching over the bar to grab some paper towels. You’d giggled, watching as he clumsily mopped your drink up, letting him know it’s ok in an attempt to settle his nerves.

“So…” you’d been speaking to Jisung for a while before it dawned on you to ask what he was doing here alone. “… are you waiting for someone?” He nervously gulped, guilt filling his expression.

“I was meant to be on a blind date, but I was running so late they obviously left…” it’s clear he’s ashamed of himself. Jisung can’t believe he’d stood someone up like that, he felt terrible. But your amused laughter made him chuckle along nonetheless - albeit mostly in confusion.

“That’s funny, I was meant to be on a blind date too.”

It’s not until you notice the way Jisung is frozen in place that it dawns on you what he must be thinking. And after verification that you were set up by the same friend, there’s no denying. You are each other’s blind date.

From that moment onwards, your relationship had flourished. I mean, it was a great joke to begin your relationship with. You’d continued your date well into the early hours, laughing and getting to know one another with ease. It was like you’d know each other for way longer than just one night - which you somehow had without realising.

And as you recounted your previous - although brief - meetings together, you realised that you were meant to be. You guess fate really doesn’t give up that easily.

Felix

College crush/ popular student x invisible student

Becoming friends with Felix happened so naturally and developing a crush on him happened just as much so. You knew from the first encounter that he was going to be a part of your life. From the way his eyes shone with glee, his smile wide and scrunching up his freckled cheeks. He was like a ray on sunshine on a miserable day; warm, inviting and a missing presence when not around.

You’d shared many classes with him over your first few years. Always sitting, going over notes and working on assignments together, which had only enabled for you to fall for him deeper and deeper. The more you got to know him, to see little quirks of his personality, the more you loved him. Yes, love. You’ll admit it to yourself because - despite never being in love with anyone before - you are sure that is what it feels like.

There’s just one huge problem… Felix is the most popular guy on your campus, he’d never see you in the same way. In fact, it’s a miracle that he even sees you as a friend.

You’d describe yourself as pretty invisible to most people. Although, it’s somewhat intentional on your part - you just prefer to keep yourself to yourself, having been burnt by past friends before. But with Felix, it was easy to let your guard down. Despite him being known by practically everyone, he never let it go to his head. His kindness and empathy extends to everyone, regardless of if they’re trying to be invisible or not.

As you sit in the quiet corner of the library, your laptop and books spread out haphazardly in front of you, you can’t help but glance up at Felix as he speaks. He’s perched across from you, his face animated as he delves into some intricate lore from a recent series he’s been obsessed with. It’s hard to focus on his words when the sight of him is so… distracting. His golden hair catches the soft overhead light, his freckles standing out like constellations, and his enthusiasm is so genuine it makes your heart ache.

Felix is, without a doubt, the most handsome guy on campus. Everywhere he goes, people try their best to grab his attention so they can greet him, stop him for a chat, or even flirt with him. It’s like he’s a magnet, drawing everyone in with his sunshine-like warmth. And yet, somehow, in the middle of all that attention, he’s chosen to spend time with you.

Being invisible has its perks—no drama, no pressure, no risk of getting hurt. But with Felix, it’s different. He sees you, really sees you, in a way that no one else ever has. And that’s what makes it so hard to keep your feelings for him in check.

“You’re quiet today,” Felix says suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts. His deep, warm voice is filled with curiosity as he tilts his head to study you. “Am I boring you?”

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head quickly. “No! Not at all. I just… you’re really passionate about this stuff. It’s nice to see.”

His lips curve into that signature smile of his—the one that sends your heart racing every time. “You’re just saying that to be polite,” he teases lightly, leaning forward on his elbows. “But I’ll take it.”

You chuckle softly, but the sound feels hollow. It’s hard to relax when he’s looking at you like that, his amber-brown eyes filled with warmth. It’s moments like these that make it impossible to forget how out of place you feel next to him. You’re the shy, quiet one who fades into the background, while he’s the golden boy who lights up every room he walks into. What could he possibly see in you?

“Seriously, though,” Felix says after a moment, his voice softer now. “You’ve been really quiet today. Is something on your mind?”

You hesitate, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your notebook. He always asks questions like this, as if he genuinely cares—and you know he does, which only makes it harder. “I’m fine,” you say eventually, forcing a small smile. “Just tired, I think.”

Felix doesn’t look convinced. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he continues to study you. “You’re always saying that,” he says, a hint of a pout on his lips. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice. You want to believe him—you do—but the idea of opening up, of admitting how you really feel, terrifies you. “I know,” you murmur, lowering your gaze. “But I promise, I’m fine.”

He sighs but doesn’t press further. Instead, he reaches out and gives your hand a gentle tap, his touch sending a jolt through you. “Alright,” he says, his smile returning. “But I’m here if you change your mind.”

The conversation shifts after that, and you’re grateful for it. But as the two of you pack up your things and leave the library together, you can’t help but feel the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you.

As you step outside, the cool evening air nipping at your skin, Felix glances over at you. “It’s freezing,” he says, his brow furrowing. Without hesitation, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. “Here. You need it more than I do.”

Your cheeks heat up at the gesture, and you clutch the jacket tightly around you. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I did,” he replies easily, his smile as bright as ever. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you freeze?”

The word friend twists in your chest, but you force a small smile and thank him softly. He falls into step beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets as the two of you make your way across campus. The walk is quiet at first, the soft crunch of leaves beneath your feet the only sound, but Felix breaks the silence. “Hey,” he says suddenly, his tone almost casual, but there’s a flicker of nervousness in his expression. “Do you fancy grabbing a coffee tomorrow?”

You blink at him, startled. “Just us?”

“Yeah,” he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His voice lowers slightly, and his steps falter as if he’s hesitating. “We’re always doing study sessions, but… I thought it might be nice to hang out properly. No stress of assignments, just a bit of time to relax. What do you think?”

Your heart pounds, and for a moment, you’re certain he can hear it. The idea of spending time with him—just the two of you, outside of your usual routine—feels too good to be true.

“I’d like that,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the warmth spreading through you.

Felix’s smile brightens, and there’s something in his expression—relief, maybe, or something softer—that makes your breath catch. “Brilliant,” he says, his tone light again. “I’ll text you the details later, yeah?”

You nod, clutching his jacket closer as a breeze sweeps past. The scent of him—fresh and warm—lingers in the fabric, and you can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips.

As Felix walks you to your building, his voice filling the quiet night with a story about something funny that happened at soccer practice, you feel a flicker of something you haven’t let yourself believe in before: hope. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not the only one who feels like this.

Seungmin

Enemies to lovers/ grumpy sunshine couple

I actually ended up posting this on its own because I got carried away…

Read here!

Jeongin

Brothers best friend

For as long as you’ve known Jeongin, he’s always been your twin brother’s friend. Until he went on vacation for the entire summer and came back different. He’d clearly had a growth spurt, his shoulders had broadened and his face had become more defined. He’d adopted a mature style and became more serious about his passions, choosing to spend extra time in the gym instead of playing video games with your brother. He’d really caught your eye. Amazed at how much he’d changed in such a short time.

Sharing the same classes as your brother and his friends had always been a nuisance for as long as you have been at school. That was until you developed a huge crush on one of them. Suddenly, you didn’t mind having your brother and his friends around, so long as Jeongin was there like he always was. It gave you the most perfect opportunities to spend time with him and get close, forming your own little friendship together right under your brother’s nose.

Soon enough, Jeongin was coming to your house to see you. The first time being a bit confusing when you answered the front door to see him when your brother was not at home. But, after some explaining about how Jeongin wanted to hang out with you instead and felt it was probably best to do it while your brother wasn’t around, you let him in. And over the years since you always continued to keep your little friendship.

The only problem is it’s your final summer before heading off to college. Your final summer before you have to say goodbye to your Jeongin. Well, not really your Jeongin. You’ve never been able to get out of the friend zone, always too afraid of his feelings not being reciprocated. But your heart wishes he was yours.

From afar, Jeongin watches as you give the iced americano you’ve made for him a stir with a contented smile on your face. The morning light that streams through the kitchen window frames your face perfectly, highlighting the light dusting of freckles across your cheeks so they glimmer like little stars. He’s never been more breath-taken by you than in this moment, and Jeongin is sure he’s breath-taken by you every time you’re around.

“Thanks.” He smiles, accepting the drink from you, his dimples deepening as you lock eyes.

You’re not sure what it is, but there seems to be something hanging in the air around you. It’s been there ever since he arrived at your family home the night before, lingering when you snuggled into him on the sofa as you watched a movie, and still clinging on this morning as you have both slowly gotten ready for the day. You just can’t put your finger on what it could be…

“So… (Y/N)…” your full attention is on Jeongin as he slowly begins. “Do you have any plans for this evening?” He looks nervous, unable to hold his gaze as he finishes his question.

Your sigh makes his heart drop. There it is, the impending rejection. But you’re finally in the clear about that thing that’s been following you since yesterday and you can’t believe it took you so long to remember. Tomorrow Jeongin goes off to college.

You close of the few steps between you and Jeongin, tucking your finger under his chin so he has no choice but to look at you before his mind begins to swirl with too many worries. You can see it in his eyes as they pour into yours.

“I know tomorrow is going to be incredibly tough for both of us, but let’s just focus on right now, okay?”

There’s a gentle smile on your lips that draws Jeongins attention, only able to softly nod in acknowledgement of your words as his mind tries not to let him stare for too long. But then what you’d actually said sinks in - you’d misunderstood his intentions. He chuckles to himself, noticing your confusion to his sudden change.

You hadn’t rejected him like he thought you were going to, because you thought he meant about leaving tomorrow.

“I was actually asking you out, like on a date…”

The light “oh” that sounds from you does, however, reignite his fear of rejection. Which you pick up on right away.

“I’d love to!” You rush out urgently, grabbing onto his forearm in earnest. Peering up at him, you notice the small, but growing, smile that spreads across his lips. And you can’t help but to reciprocate.

There’s a moment of happy silence between you before he speaks.

“I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Right now, all I want is to be with you.”

[yandere-wishes]

✾Sweet Like Morning-Glory ✾

💚Summary: There's a melody humming within your bones. A tune Baizhu strums with his needles and drugs. The ballade sings of a love more deadly than any toxin. 

💚Author's note: Requested by my darling @fangirl-katwithclaws hope you enjoy it, Love!!~ 💜

💚Warnings: drugging, intoxicants, narcotics, reader is dazed.  

You wake up wrong. Half dead and half alive with none of the glory. 

You feel broken, cleaved as if someone dissembled you and then tried to re-assemble you in a hurry. Erroneously forging pieces that do not fit. There's a thumping in your head and in your right arm. A reminder of a memory long since forgotten. 

There's a squeaking noise, the door sliding heavily against the wooden floorboards. It's too loud. Actually, now that you think about it, everything feels too loud. The birds, the crickets, the mysterious tune that haunts the Liyue streets. Everything feels like lost notes ambushing your lagging encephalon.

You turn your head to the source of the noise, watch as the door opens ever so agonizingly slow. There's green and gold and a flash of white that enters the room. Him. The only thing that stands out in a sea of blurry colors too vivid to process. Him. The one who's always at the forefront of your brain no matter how sluggish you feel. 

Baizhu sits on the edge of your shared bed, his easy smile ever present on his pale face. He leaves the tray of food on your lap and raises both hands to cup your cheeks, pressing a soft kiss on your cracked lips. 

There's something wrong with the way Baizhu tastes. His kisses are bitter. All molten violetgrass and qingxin flowers. It's like the toxins from his soul are seeping into you, it takes unprecedented self-control you didn't know you possessed to remain still within his grasp. He mutters something against your lips, something lighthearted and sweet. Like the first fresh breeze of spring. Only it's fall now or is it winter? Everything is getting so hard to recall. 

To all of Liyue, you are known as Baizhu's sick bride. The one with limbs stiffer than her stepdaughter's and a foggy memory to boot. In actuality, you do not know how you gained such a title. Your memories tend to be nothing more than faint echos and ebony slates of confusion. You can't even properly recall how you met Baizhu, let alone how you married him. All you remember is a phrase, the first I love you Baizhu said. Albit with diffrent words and a much diffrent phrasing. 

"My what lovely veins you have."

If thoughts would be permitted to linger in your mind for longer than mere seconds, then maybe, just maybe that phrase would have seemed off to you. Something all so wrong about finding beauty under one's skin. But your thoughts are never consistent enough to draw such intricate conclusions. Instead, you nuzzle into Baizhu's touch, trying to ground yourself. Baizhu plucks something small of the breakfast tray and pops it into his mouth. He waits a heartbeat before kissing you again. Slipping something round into your mouth. 

You can almost feel your pulse fade. 

It's warm in Bubu pharmacy, too warm. You feel like your skin is melting off your bones. "it's too warm" you mumble, eyes unfocused staring at the front entrance of the pharmacy. Your mind is spinning, out of control like a crashing bird. 

You lean back against your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Baizhu's hand finds its way to your head, entwining his fingers into your hair. You permit a heavy whine to escape your throat, a dry muffled noise that briefly catches the attention of some of the patrons. "Baizhu, please" you mutter, desperate to leave the lively room. 

Sometimes you vaguely recall a time when the presence of others hadn't been so suffocating. When you'd laughed with the people of the harbor and basked in their sweet company. Only when you had met Baizhu had socializing become so taxing. An exhausting affair your sweet lover helped you avoid. At times, in rare bouts of clarity, it almost felt as if Baizhu had planned this. As if he held the blame for your metamorphosis into a hermit. 

And if you were ever conscious enough to care it may have been a problem... 

Qiqi runs in, leaving her basket of fresh herbs on a chair. She runs over to you, lifting her arms. You wrap your arms around her waist and try to pull her up. She's getting heavier you note, albeit you're sure you are, in fact, the one getting weaker. 

"Qiqi, darling. Maybe it's best you take Mommy to her room. I'll join you shortly once Gui arrives." 

Qiqi nods and reaches to hold your hand. Walking idly by you, hand in hand, as you escape the suffocating room. 

You wonder if Qiqi appreciates your lethargy. Lolls in knowing there is another like her. Someone stiff and sick and with a mind too slow to process nothing more than idle commands. 

There's mold festering inside her. A rigor mortis she can not beat. Her body betrays her at every step. Yet ultimately she is the true traitor, the one who didn't honor her body's dying wish. You wonder if Qiqi even fully comprehends what being a zombie entails. You wonder if you wholly understand it yourself. 

Maybe you had died a long time ago too, maybe Baizhu had found a way to resurrect you. That would account for the constant stiffness and memory lapses. It made more sense than this malady he kept going on about. A haunting hollowness dances across the darker corners of your heart. It twirls and pirouettes to the tune of anticipation. Maybe this darkness has always been a wrathful death. Cheated from claiming you for the grave. 

Your room is quiet, a contrast to the morning. The shadows slither across the walls as you wait patiently for Baizhu. You'd sent Qiqi off to her room. Hoping she'd busy herself with doctor dolls she so fancied. Your eyes trained on the door. Mind empty except for rouge thoughts of him. The way his warm hands feel so good against your burning skin. How gentle he is with you as if you'd been made from glass. You love him. You're sure you do. 

Baizhu slips in quietly. Closing the door and shutting out the world. 

He sits next to you on the bed. Hands ghosting over your body. 

It feels like your skin doesn't fit correctly over your bones. 

"You're so beautiful like this". There's a needle between his fingers, held with all the percussion in the world. Beads of vivid green drip from the tip, a sacrifice to perfection. 

If Baizhu could he'd pluck the flesh off your limps just to catch a glimpse of your porcalin white bones. he'd open their shells and kiss the marrow resting within. You remember him detailing that in a loose breath once. How gorgeous you'd be unskinned. How he'd love to kiss every part of you hidden behind your delicate skin. It's something from the past, or something from the future, too hard to fully remember. He does tend to fanaticize out loud all too often.  

Baizhu pulls you closer, taking kisses from your shoulder to the depression of your elbow. There he sucks, prepping the vein. Another dose gentily spills into you and he kisses your lips passionately. 

Your eyes remain open. Taking him in, in his entirety. 

You blame the archons, the green they used for his hair is much too vibrant. The acid-like tone has surely bled into his soul. Filling it with venoms. Venoms he can't help, in turn, leaking into his lover.

You're mind grows dimmer as Baizhue's kisses grow hotter. His voice a fading star as he breathes out your name. 

"My sweet, sweet darling, out like a wilted rose I see."

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter one

close to home | chapter one

plot: a nice introductory to the reader and a sense of who she is

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,287 Warnings: violence, blood A/N: thanks for checking out the first chapter! Just a nice quick introduction to the character :)

You’d woken to the sound of something thumping against the wood floor of your home and the loud meow of Tora. She’d taken it upon herself to catch breakfast for the two of you, a fat squirrel. After the unexpected meal the two of you shared, you knew what needed to be done. Today was run day. And you were out of water. 

So you geared up, an empty gray canvas pack on your shoulders, your one good gun strapped around your leg, a machete at your waist, and a few other knives hidden around your body. You were always prepared. 

The morning spring bite nipped at your cheeks when you stepped outside the tiny home. Your eyes scanned the ground below for any signs of the dead, and you listened for the rustling leaves of footsteps. But there was nothing. You were safe for now. 

It was easier climbing down the tree than up, though Tora made it look relatively easy. But you weren’t lucky enough to have claws to help you, so climbing down the rope was your only option. 

The rope slid easily enough through your leather glovelettes and soon your boots hit the ground. Tora was waiting for you, sitting by the main tree trunk holding your home. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You said to the cat, “Let’s go find water before we die of thirst, huh?” You said to the cat. 

It was silent as you walked towards the lake four miles from your home. The sky above you was full of puffy white clouds, and the trees around you kept you mainly in the shade. A few birds sang above in the treeline, and every so often, Tora chased a squirrel up the tree. By the time you reached the lake, you had two hanging from your belt, and the day was warming up. 

Licking the sweat off your upper lip, your knelt by the water’s edge and started filling up the empty plastic water bottles you had. Tora splashed around in the muddy, sandy mix of the lakeshore and chirped at the little fish that darted away from her. 

You chuckled to yourself and moved on to another bottle. The sun was now at the midpoint in the sky, and you scolded yourself for taking so long to get to the lake. The Georgia heat this spring seemed unforgivable, as if whatever God that sent this plague was sending another sick joke. The idea of summer being around the corner kept you up at night. You hated the heat. 

Just as the fourth bottle was filled, a branch snapped at the tree line. Then came the familiar moaning, and you looked up in time to see two deads headed your way. Tora hissed at the sight of them and darted toward the nearest tree. 

“Good girl, Tora,” You said, screwing the bottle shot and standing. It thudded to the ground, and you grabbed the machete and twirled it once in your hand. Your eyes darted between the dead as you worked out a plan. 

They were moving slowly, no doubt cause of the heat and decaying parts of their body. But still, they were persistent. The closest one attacked first, and you ducked, bending around its outreached arms and kicking it to the ground, just in time for the other one to reach you. Your machete hit the skull first, and the body dropped, giving you a second to pull it out.

Blood speckled your face like freckles as you turned and grabbed the last dead one by the throat. Its arms reached out to hold you, but you quickly ended it before it ended you. Its body joined its partner on the grass, and you flicked the machete before stabbing it into the ground, cleaning the blood off. 

You whistled a three-note tune and heard Tora meowing. The Maine coon cat was among the most intelligent animals you’d ever trained. 

“Come on, baby,” You said, “The day is just getting started.”

***

If your watch was correct, it was nearing four in the afternoon. This meant you had about four hours until sunset and were a long way from home. After the lake, you took the familiar southern trail to a small state park. A few abandoned RVs that you’d picked clean weeks ago told you that you were very close to a small town that was mostly deserted. 

You whipped the seat off your forehead as you approached one of the first buildings you’d have the courage to check out. It was a town hall building with nothing good except a few dead bodies. Apparently, small-town governments weren’t on the top evacuation lists. 

Tora trotted alongside you, her head just below your knee, and her hair matted from today’s journey. You’d have to brush it out for her when you return home. 

You ignored the town hall building and walked through the town's main street. It was utterly silent, save for the scuff of your boots and your cat's occasional meow or hiss. 

“Okay, last time we were here, we checked out the library,” You said to the cat, “I think we should check out the corner store next. Odds were that it’s been picked clean already, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. I also am going to need summer clothes….” You trailed off as you shielded your eyes from the sun. The morning clouds had grown darker, but the hot sun still managed to peak out. You heard some thunder in the distance but couldn’t tell how far or where it was coming from.

“If we need to make camp tonight, we can go to the library,” You said. You’d had to spend the night in the town several times, and the library was the safest place to get to. It was easy to climb to, and Tora was familiar with it. 

The corner store had a few things you could scavenge; a few Tylenol travel packets, some jerky you found underneath the shelves, and an assortment of lights and matchbooks. Tora even found something; the broken shopkeeper bell. 

Still, there was nothing you really needed. There was no ammo or water. Those were your top priorities. 

You checked a few other small shops; a gunshop, nothing, a bank, for the hell of it, and then finally a thrift store, where you found plenty of clothes. You took your time going through the section, trying to weigh out what was best for the summer heat. You needed to keep cool, but you needed to be protected. You found a couple shirts and shorts, new undergarments and socks. Your bag was filled to the brim, and you knew it was time to head back. 

“Crap,” You muttered when you walked back to the front door. Tora meowed in her own disapproving way. 

The sudden downpour and oncoming thunderstorm would keep you there tonight. Tora wouldn’t venture into the rain unless absolutely necessary, and you felt the same way. 

“At least we found some jerky,” You said. 

It wasn’t hard to build up a makeshift camp in the building. Dozens of once-donated blankets provided ample bedding for you and Tora, and there were enough books to get a small fire going in the back of the building. With only four bottles of water, you took ample care of gutting and cleaning a squirrel for dinner for the two of you. It wasn’t long before you put the fire out and settled in for the night. 

[thisisourlovestory]

Daylight

part 3- the chronicles of a stargirl and her sun masterlist

Luke Castellan x reader

Summary- Sometimes you’ve just gotta get up and watch the sun

Word count- 2.8k

Taglist:

@abbersreads @tenshis-cake @lol6sposts if you want to be added just let me know!!

“That the best you've got?” You laughed as you sidestepped the jab of a sword. “C’mon I know you can do so much better. What happened to best swordmaster in three hundred years?” You changed your voice slightly and grinned at the affronted look on Luke's face.

“I do not sound like that.”

“Yeah you do, don't lie to yourself meus sol. You have a baby voice and that's okay.” You twirled out of the way of another stab.

“But seriously you're going easy on me.” He opened his mouth but you continued without thinking. “And don't even try to say you aren’t because I’m actually breathing this time and not lying on the floor trying to get my heart rate down from a million beats a minute so I didn't die.” Luke grinned and lowered his sword.

“Now that was funny and you can't even deny it. You looked like a living, barely breathing tomato.” You glared at him, trying to hide the smile threatening to break out on your face.

“Of course you would take pleasure in my pain. Just like Annabeth you are.” Luke smiled and rolled his eyes.

“So dramatic stargirl. And if you really don't want me to go easy on you then who am I to deny your request.” His smile morphed into a full blown grin, mischief danced in his brown eyes and you immediately regretted your words but held your sword in front of you with one hand, waiting for him to make the first move.

He darted towards you, bringing his sword down as you raised your own up to meet him and they clashed with a loud clang. His eyes met your own as you twisted your wrist to fling his sword away from you. There was a sort of approval in them as he muttered quietly.

“Not bad stargirl. Not bad at all.” Then they were alight with determination as he swung his sword in a wide arc that had you springing back to avoid the sharp end sinking into the skin of your stomach. You retaliated quickly, thrusting your weapon forward only for him to block the blow and kick you back gently. You both continued like this for a while, trading blows one after the other. Strike, block, repeat. Beads of sweat were dripping down your face, pieces of hair coming loose from the plait you had tied it up in earlier sticking to your forehead and cheeks. You couldn't help the way your eyes strayed from Lukes movements to his face, idly taking in the way his eyes sparked with fire, his hair beginning to stick to his own forehead and the grin stretched across his lips as he said something that didn't quite reach your ears. And because you were distracted by looking at Luke, you didn't quite notice in time when his eyes lit with a quiet triumph and he lunged forward.

Pain shot through your arm and you dropped your sword in shock. You lifted your arm up only to see a river of red flowing down, pooling in your bent elbow and spilling over onto the sawdust. You winced as the cut throbbed, the ebb and flow of blood gathering at the surface of your skin and dripping down was quite disconcerting as you scrambled to understand what had actually happened. You blinked, feeling slightly nauseous at the sight of the blood, it wasn't that you were afraid of blood or anything per se, it was just the sheer amount that could come out of your body from the slightest cut that had you feeling sick. You swayed ever so slightly on the spot and suddenly Luke was beside you, wrapping an arm around you and leading you over to take a seat on the steps. You vaguely heard him say something about going to get some bandages but your mind was elsewhere, focused on the pain in your arm.

You felt warm hands on either side of your face, a voice, fuzzy in the darkness of your mind.

“Girl- star- stargirl,” The voice insisted, “Stargirl look at me. Y/N look at me.” You snapped out of it at the use of your name, your eyes finding Lukes immediately. His eyes were filled with worry and regret and something else that you can't quite put your finger on. “Hey, hey, you good?” He asked, keeping his gaze locked on yours as you nodded wordlessly in affirmation. “I need to wrap your arm up okay.” You held your arm out in front of you and he inhaled quickly at the sight before shaking it off and bringing out a wipe. “This might sting.” He warned as he started to clean the blood off your arm, eventually he dragged it over the cut and you hissed quietly at the burning sensation. As soon as the blood was cleared from the cut more started to well up and Luke cursed under his breath. He reached for a roll of gauze and began to wrap it around your forearm, it immediately stained red and he continued to wrap it until the red was covered and all you could see was the plain white of the bandage against your arm.

“I'm sorry,” Luke mumbled, his fingers tracing over the line where you knew his blade sank into your skin as if it were butter, “I'm so sorry stargirl, I didn't,” He sighed deeply, raising a hand to push his hair out of his face, “I'm sorry.” He finished lamely, sitting on his heels in front of you.

“S’alright meus sol.” You managed a smile. “It was an accident.” He shook his head.

“Doesn't matter, I still hurt you even if I didn't mean to and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, I swear to you that I didn't mean for it to happen and-” You cut him off abruptly, leaning forward to grab his hands and twine your fingers with his own.

“You didn't do it on purpose meus sol.” You whispered forcefully. “I'm fine, it was just a small cut and I'll be right as rain in a few days.” You smiled lightly. “You don't need to ask for forgiveness. You have it, always.” Luke looked up at you, his eyes dark.

“But I-”

“Stop being a drama queen Luke, I'm not going to die from a cut made in training. Although I'm not opposed to making you grovel a bit for forgiveness.” You mused, a grin spreading across your lips. “Wait actually if there's ever a next time you have to give up all your strawberry pie to me for a month.”

“A month!” He exclaimed. “No way. I am not giving up that pie to you for a full bloody month.” You pouted slightly, allowing your bottom lip to tremble a bit and your eyes to gloss over with tears.

“But meus sol-” Those three words combined with the look you gave him were all it took for him to fold.

“Okay, you can have my strawberry pie. You can have as much as you want just please don't hate me.” You beamed and threw yourself into him, hugging him tightly.

“Could never hate you meus sol. You're my best friend.” Luke let out a shuddering breath and hugged you tighter, his voice muffled as he spoke into your hair.

“Yeah, you're mine as well stargirl.” You hummed happily, inhaling deeply, the calming scent of what was just utterly Luke washed over you as he moved you both to sit down on the stone steps. He shifted you around in his arms so your head was tilted back onto his shoulder, your legs thrown over his own and his left hand still entwined with yours so you were both comfortably entangled in a jumble of limbs. It was silent for a moment as you sat peacefully, his right hand twisting the loose strands of your hair around his index finger and you tracing circles on his arm. Luke broke the silence first.

“Why do you call me meus sol?” You smiled slightly at the question, your eyes misting over at the memory.

You were dreaming, finally drifting through the realm of Morpheus like a feather on the wind. You settled down on an island filled with mythical creatures- pure white unicorns, golden dragons, grinning mermaids. The noise they made washed over you, screeches and neighs and hissing laughter suddenly interrupted by the whisper of your name, repeated insistently by a disembodied voice until the island faded and you woke up.

You blinked slowly awake as someone poked your cheek, repeatedly saying your name each time. You scrunched your nose and turned over in bed coming face to face with the grinning culprit who woke you up.

“Why?” You mumbled. “Just why?”

“I've got something to show you. So get up.” You turned back over and wrapped a blanket around yourself.

“Go away.” In response you immediately found yourself shivering as the warmth was ripped away from you.

“I’ll take you to pick strawberries later.” You shot up and rolled onto the floor with flailing arms and legs. You glared up at Luke from your new spot on the floor as he doubled over laughing quietly so he didn’t wake anyone else by accident.

“I’m sorry, you just- that.” You rolled your eyes and stood up, brushing dirt off your sleep shorts and tank top.

“Well what do you have to show me that you needed to wake me up at this ungodly hour?” Luke grinned and took your hand, dragging you out of the cabin and through the trees to the beach. He sat down on the cold sand at the shoreline, pulling you down next to him and pointed to the horizon.

“Just watch.” So you watched.

The sun rose slowly, casting a golden glow across the calm waves that sparkled like crystals in the light. Pink, purple, orange and yellow seemed to erupt from the sea, painting the deep blue of the sky in their bright colours as you watched transfixed by the patterns they seemed to form in the air. A small smile spread across your face as you leaned back on your arms, tilting your head up to look at Luke next to you. He was gazing out to sea, the sun hitting his face perfectly, lighting it up gold. He looked happy, free. All at once a surge of happiness hit you, you were happy at camp, you were happy with Annabeth and Luke and the chaos that occurred daily. More than that it made you happy. If you left it would be as if all the happiness was sucked out of your life. Luke turned his head and smiled at you.

“So what do you think?” He questioned softly. “Was it worth me waking you up at such an ungodly hour?” He raised his voice a pitch and you frowned.

“I don’t sound like that.” You protested, smacking him as he laughed.

“Sorry, sorry. But really, do you like it?” Your gaze softened as you looked out over the sea again, silver fish jumping out of the waves and hovering mid air for a second.

“Yeah, yeah I like it.”

“Cool, I hoped you would.” He coughed slightly. “Y’know I think you might be my best friend stargirl.” You hummed.

“Well that's a good thing because I think you might be mine Luke.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever had many friends before.” You shrugged.

“Ditto, the whole weirdo demigod thing always seems to scare people off.” He tilted his head back.

“Shame that.” You pushed his shoulder playfully, your breath catching slightly as he grinned back at you.

You gasped suddenly as a wave of cold sea water ran up your legs and you shuffled back on the sand.

“What stargirl, afraid of a little bit of water?” You gave him an incredulous look.

“No, it’s just cold.” He raised an eyebrow and reached out but you scooted further away shaking your head. “Nuh uh. No way are you making me go in there.”

“Who said I was gonna?” He asked innocently, tilting his head to the side like a puppy. You jumped to your feet and began to run up the beach. He caught up to you in seconds, wrapping his arms around your stomach and carrying your kicking form into the sea. You clung to him like a monkey, staring at him with pleading eyes before he dumped you into the water. You surfaced gasping, clothes stuck to your body and wet hair draped over your shoulders as you splashed water at him. Soon it was a full on battle, each of you drenching each other in water over and over again, ‘It doesn’t really matter if I get any wetter at this point’ you thought as you shrieked when he tacked you, pulling you both beneath the surface.

When you both finally dragged yourselves up the beach after the water fight you were breathless from laughter, salt sticking to your skin as it dried, white crystals appearing to light up under the warm rays of the sun. You collapsed onto the sand, the sun having heated it up slightly sending a tingle up your spine and you shivered as a sudden gust of wind swept across the beach. Luke immediately handed you his sweater and you pulled it on, muttering your thanks as you tugged it over your legs and hugged your knees. He sat next to you, shaking his head so that he sprayed shining droplets of water everywhere and dark, damp curls stuck to his forehead. In that moment he looked so…pretty, you supposed. Eyes crinkled as his smile widened, skin glowing gold as the sun shone down brighter on him making it seem as if he was the one radiating the light. And the longer you looked at him the more you realised just how easily he had managed to worm his way into your life, you had gone from strangers to best friends in just under a month, hell he’d given you a nickname the second time you spoke to each other, you hadn’t allowed anyone to give you one of those since- well since ever. His eyes locked on you as you leaned into him for warmth, his sweater engulfing your shivering form. He wound an arm around your shoulders and realised much the same as you just had. You had carved a little piece out of his heart and inserted yourself in its place; he wouldn’t have it any other way, you just got him like nobody else had. He often found himself looking for you across the archery fields, seeking you out when Annabeth jabbered on about some new fixation and mouthing for help as you laughed at him only to glare when he directed Annabeths attention towards you.

Your voice interrupted his thoughts.

“We should probably go back now, people will be waking up.” He nodded slowly, both of you stood up in sync and began to walk back up the sand dunes, his arm still slung over your shoulder. “That was fun, despite the wake up call you gave me. We should do it more often meus sol.”

He didn’t bat an eye at the name you gave him.

“How does once a month sound?” You grinned and held out your pinky finger.

“Deal.” He linked his pinky with yours and you shook on it.

You shrugged.

“It suits you.”

“Well what does it mean?” You broke out into peals of laughter. “We don’t all have professors for parents stargirl, excuse me for not knowing how to speak a different language.” You nudged him.

“I could teach you.”

“I doubt you’d be a very good teacher stargirl.” You gasped in mock outrage.

“I would be a fantastic teacher thank you very much, it’s you who would be the terrible student.” Luke raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen you trying to teach kids archery. It doesn’t end well.” You went silent for a second.

“You might have a point there.” Luke pinched your arm lightly.

“You’ve diverted from the subject. Why do you call me that?”

“Well why do you call me stargirl?” He froze for a moment and brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“Like I said, it suits you.”

“That’s not a proper answer meus sol.” You craned your neck to look up at him.

“Neither was yours.” You huffed and pushed yourself to a standing position, crossing your arms and looking down at him.

“Let’s just say that it’s my way of saying you’re my best friend.” He grinned.

“And I’ll say the same.” You shook your head.

“You’re ridiculous meus sol.” His grin widened at your words as he stood up and slung an arm over your shoulders, starting to lead you over to where Annabeth was waving madly at you both.

“But you love it stargirl.”

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you (I can never look away) I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you (Things will never be the same)

[yellowbunnydreams]

So Bunny Ears won the HeadCannon poll by a fair margin! Don't worry Vamp!Will fans, I'll also do one for him and the AU at a later point, but of course, I must write for our soft husband first.

William loves fruit flavoured candies, specifically gummy candies

However he does keep a bag of jolly ranchers in his desk drawer and enjoys freaking people out when he crunches them rather than letting them melt.

He was punk in college and occasionally puts his tongue piercing back in to stop it from closing. He has however swallowed the ball for it too many times to count.

He loves pecan pie, especially the kind with whipping cream and caramel drizzle

At some point during a drunken dinner, Henry tried to convince him to get matching Fredbear and Spring-Bonnie tattoos. Henry went first and William went home.

When he's sick, William turns into a grumpy(ier) man. Refuses to take sick days and might take some cold-and-flu medication if he feels super ill. Henry and Sarah have absolutely had to drag his ass to urgent care to force him to see a doctor on multiple occasions.

In college he was one of those people who could not revise for anything and then aced all his assignments, even if he didn't turn up to class.

Holds the high-score in 'Fruity Maze' and honestly a shocking amount of the arcade games, and no he doesn't use the cheats even though he knows all of them because he has to debug the machines after kids try to manipulate them for cheats.

His full name is William David Afton, although he usually misses out his middle name because he's not a huge fan of it.

Not an openly humorous man, but he loves inside jokes with people. He particularly enjoys flustering a certain new girlfriend, and gleefully remembers when the whole ID incident occurred between them.

NSFW HeadCannons under the cut

William Afton absolutely goes feral for lingerie. More specifically, he loves ripping it to show off how strong he is, and the more expensive the better as he knows he can just afford to buy you new ones if you want them.

Call him 'sir' and he'll loose that extra bit of control, he likes the authority he has not as your boss, but that he can show you all those skills he's learnt behind closed doors.

That man has SUCH a biting kink. He wants to mark you up and let people see who you belong to and that it was passionate, it's also a bit of a trust thing since it's stupidly easy for a man of his size to accidentally be a little too rough and break skin.

Don't even get him started on cock-warming. He's definitely not fantasised about having you in his lap and warming him up whilst he tries to teach you how to fix the animatronics.

Has an oral fixation. It's part of the reason for loving gummy candies, but he certainly isn't going to complain if he can put that fixation to tasting you in any way possible. Kissing, biting, eating you out. He's all too happy to do it all. When you bit his ring off, he went absolutely feral knowing that your pretty mouth could become fixated too.

[darlingsfandom]

Good Service

Note: This was privately requested . Not proofread

TW: piss kink( IF YOU DONT LIKE IT, DONT READ IT), dirty talk, fingers in mouth !

The sun had set on the horizon which meant that it was time for you to clean yourself up from cleaning all day. Being the Shelby’s maid was pretty easy since they did clean up after their selfs for the most part.

You had put your cleaning supplies away in the closet and had taken a deep breath before making your way down to the end of the hall to hide away in your room until morning came. On your way something made you stop before you heard your name being yelled out. It was normal for one of the members to call for you after hours because they needed something like a drink but this call made you shiver, it was laced with anger.

“Y/N!” You looked over your shoulder to see Thomas standing there with his nostrils flared. He signaled you over to him and you made your way quickly to him. He scanned you up and down before turning on his heel and made you follow him to his bathroom.

“Do you enjoy your job Y/N?” Thomas placed his hands on his hips.

“Yes Mr.Shelby , I’m beyond thankful that you let me work here let alone stay here …”

“Then why can’t ya do yer job!” He pointed to the sink of his bathroom. You batted your eyelashes in disbelief as you seen some grime that you swore you had cleaned earlier. Maybe it was during the delivery? You looked back at Thomas with pleading eyes.

“I’m sorry Mr.Shelby ! I swear I cleaned that earlier! “

“I’m aware ya were in here, everything else looks decent enough. Yer just lucky I’m in a good mood and that I even hired ya because your father gave ya to me as a thank you we’ll call it.” His lips curved into a smirk while he circled you slowly. Suddenly he had you down on your knees looking up at him. “Since ya like to keep things dirty, you should be dirty too.” Tommy unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers to let his cock spring free.

“Mr.Shelby… I don’t seem too… OH MY GOD!” You felt the warm liquid soaking through the top of your dress.

“Shut up you whore, you’ll take my piss and clean it.” He shook his cock a little admiring how you sat there dripping with his piss. Tommy stepped closer being careful not to step in it before he grabbed the back of your head and pushed it close to the head of his cock. “Go on! Clean my piss you disgusting whore!” Your eyes watered a little before wrapping your lips around the head. You could taste the golden liquid that was still on his cock and it made you shiver. “See you’re being useful! This is good service.” He watched in amazement as you suckled the head of his cock but that wasn’t enough, he pushed your head all the way down his cock making you gag. You dug your nails into his exposed thighs while he held your head down. “Take my cock! Only whores like you let their boss piss on them and use them like the little toys they are!” Tommy pulled you off making you gasp loudly before he shoved his fingers in your mouth. “Don’t even try to argue with me.”

You were crying off your mascara as Thomas twisted his fingers in your mouth. He pulled them out before wiping it across your chin. His hand wrapped around your arm and yanked you up to your feet before turning you around to bend you over the sink, flipped up your dress and smirked when he felt the wet spot on your panties.

“What a dirty girl you are, only sick little whores get off on getting pissed on and sucking cock!” Tommy swatted your ass with the back of his hand making you squirm, but he yelled at you to stay still and accept your punishment.

“I’m sorry Mr.Shelby!” You sobbed from the stinging on your ass.

“Damn right yer sorry! Do a better job! I didn’t take ya in out of the kindness of my heart .” Tommy smoothed his hand over your glowing red ass before slipping his fingers into the front of your panties, smirking as he felt your wetness coat his fingers. You held onto the sink tightly as Tommy worked you over with his fingers. He watched in the mirror how you kept your eyes shut as he twisted his fingers in and out. He grinned to himself how you wanted to fight it but all the pretty moans leaving your mouth said otherwise, how your hips were bucking against his fingers, you liked it! And truth be told Thomas had found your journal of dirty fantasies when he went looking for you.

“Oh come on sweetie, I’ve seen that little book of yours…” he whispered into your ear which made your eyes shoot open.

“Mr.Shelby… I…”

“Save it! Who knew my little maid was such a filthy girl ? And don’t you dare think this is the only one I read about your little piss kink… I’m going to make all of your little desires come true.” Tommy bit your ear as he fingered you faster which was enough to send you over the edge. He smirked to himself before yanking his fingers back to suck on them while you laid hunched over the sink. “Now be a good little slut, clean up your mess then come back and finish me off. Show me how good your service really is.”

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

26 - Callsign: Sunshine

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky, OMC Captain Bodhi 'Sunshine' Denson x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: All kinds in this one! We've got heavy alcohol comsumption, SMUT, protected!piv, typical fighter pilot violence, AN ACTUAL FIGHT with blood and punching (and one cheap shot) mentions of death and cancer treatment

A/N: This one is gonna hurt. And it's not Jake this time. (Well maybe a tiny bit)I told y'all Bodhi was important. This is all flashbacks but they're super important and it's kind of wrapping up some plot points and connecting some things. As always, comments, likes, reblogs are most appreciated! Check out the other two parts of this story by heading over the the Masterlist for Twisters/TopGun Crossover!

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03 @coloraturadiva @kmc1989 @khouse712

Sam never thought she'd see Bodhi again after that night, but she did. A couple of weeks later, it was spring break, and she'd come home, and to the realization that her father might not make it to her graduation. He was currently undergoing a round of chemotherapy, which seemed to be helping significantly. So, they wanted to keep it up until he was at a comfortable place, but there was no way he could get on a plane in his condition, with his destroyed immune system. 

Sam went to a bar that night, not even one she knew, and had too many drinks. She was about to text her mother to come get her, which was the most embarrassing thing ever, when she felt a hand at her back. It equally startled and comforted her.

“Samantha.” It was Bodhi. His smile was warm and inviting and Sam nearly fell into him. She giggled and he took a hold of her, steadying her. 

“Too much to drink again, honey?” He mused. 

“Hi Sunshine, what brings you here?” Sam hadn't put together just how drunk she was until she heard herself slur her words. This was bad. 

“Well, sweet girl, I think I might be here to save you from yourself.” Bodhi said, as he guided her away from the bar and threw some cash toward the bartender. He gave him a thumbs up and shooed them away. An easy smile crossed Bodhi’s lips as he helped her onto the sidewalk. “I’ll drive you home, honey.”

He ushered her carefully to his truck and the whole way, Sam was laughing and telling him how sick her father was, how good she was doing in school, and how terribly sad she was that her father was probably going to miss her graduation. 

“I’m sure he’ll figure a way to get there. If I know anythin’ about Iceman, it’s that he’s always reliable.” Bodhi said, as they got to his truck. Sam turned in his arms, letting her lips fall toward his. It shocked him and then he eased her away for a moment.

“Honey...not like this. You’re way too drunk.” He said softly, running a hand over her cheek. There was a sadness in her eyes that he hated to see there. He wanted to make it better but he knew he couldn’t do a damn thing. 

“Take me to your place.” She slurred and Bodhi sighed. His place was closer. He helped her up into the truck and then drove. Back to his tiny studio apartment. It was the third floor, and had a great view of the ocean. Bodhi helped Sam up the stairs, careful to not let her trip. Once they were inside, he settled her on the couch.

“Can I see your phone? I'll text whoever you need me to.” He said and Sam very willingly handed her phone over.

“Just text my mom and tell her I went home with Nat. She'll know who that is.” Sam said, laying down on her side. She coughed and heaved, causing Bodhi’s eyes to widen and run to the kitchen. He grabbed a large pot, figuring if she was going to throw up, at least she could have something to catch it in. He was in for a rough night. He sent a text to her mother.

Sam: staying at Nat’s tonight

It took a few minutes but her mother responded with no more than an ‘okay’ and that was enough acknowledgement for Bodhi. He gave Sam her phone back, and then he sat down next to her. She smirked and sat up, reaching for him.

“Ohhh Sunshine...Sunshiiiine.” She chimed, making him chuckle. He shook his head as she latched onto him and leaned in to kiss him.

“Honey, we can't.” He said softly, running his knuckles over her cheek as her mouth connected with his messily. He allowed the kiss but when she let her fingers drift down to his belt, he stopped her.

“Sweet girl...if you really want me that bad, you can have me in the mornin’ when you’re not drunk. I ain’t takin’ you like this.” He pulled her against him and she struggled for a moment, clawing at his shirt. She just wanted to have sex. Meaningless sex, and he wasn’t having it, and she wasn’t understanding why through the shroud of alcohol, but she’d come to her senses in the morning.

She fell asleep sprawled on top of him.

Halfway through the night, she woke up, puking in the bucket, which then woke Bodhi up. He took her to the bathroom and held her hair as she vomited several more times. He wiped her mouth and chin off. He helped her out of the pretty dress she had been in and into one of his old t-shirts. He got her water and brought her to his bed and tucked her under the covers. He dumped the bucket in the toilet and then washed it out and placed it by the side of the bed. He climbed under the covers next to her and rubbed her back until she fell asleep again.

When the sun shone through the windows in the morning, Sam had a ripping headache and her throat hurt. She rolled to face the handsome pilot. He did not stir, only breathed softly next to her, an arm draped over her. She was dizzy and she decided to crawl out of bed and find the bathroom. The studio was small, so that wasn’t hard.

After she found some mouthwash and took a quick shower, she headed back to the bedroom, where Bodhi was still asleep. She cuddled up to him under the covers and after a little while, he awoke. He shifted and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. 

“You’re not burning up anymore.” He whispered and she cocked a brow.

“What do you mean?” She asked, her voice raspy. 

“You were so drunk. You were pouring sweat in your sleep. I had put a cool cloth over your forehead to help.” Bodhi explained as his arms came to wrap around her. 

“Did we...” She asked, and Bodhi, seeing the worry in her eyes, comfortingly rubbed her back.

“No honey. I wouldn't do that to you.” He said softly, bringing tears to Sam's eyes. She tentatively stretched towards him and he closed the rest of the distance to kiss her. 

“Like I said last night, if you still feel the same, you can have me now, since you're not drunk anymore.” He mused, his voice taking on a slightly husky quality whether he meant it no or not. It sent a jolt straight through her core, her abs tightening with the thought of him inside her again. She did want him. She wanted his musky, mature scent caging her in on all sides. His muscular, lean body protecting her, and moving against her. She wanted his breath heavy in her ears, whispering sweet nothings to linger in the space between them. 

“Oh Captain...my Captain.” She sighed, pulling him in for a torrid kiss that set both their bodies ablaze. Bodhi climbed over her, fumbling in his bedside table for a condom. He was quick to roll it on, slow to slide inside of her, and even slower to fuck her. She whimpered beneath him, her nails grazing over his chest, rapidly pressing him toward a point of no return. 

It was not long before she sighed, his callsign slipping from her mouth, which in turn sent Bodhi over the edge. And as they fell asleep, Bodhi whispered ‘think I might love you a little bit, honey’ without realizing it.

That was the last time Sam would ever be that drunk again. However it was not the last time she would see Bodhi. In fact, she would see him several more times. They would have ‘meaningless sex’ several more times. Sam kept telling him ‘can’t have feelings’ and ‘can’t keep doing this’ but she kept going back for more. Bodhi treated her all the same though. 

His lingering touches when they were together, his gentle presence beside her, made her feel protected. Even though the feelings weren’t reciprocated in the moment, Sam could maybe admit there was something there, between them. To Bodhi, it was all the same. Whether she loved him or not, he treated her the way a man should treat a woman. With respect. With reverence. And he showed her what she could have, if she would just let her guard down. If she would just let him in. If it had been another time, another place, maybe it could’ve worked. But all he hoped for was that in time, she would find the right man, and she could shake off her armor and let him in.

And then, Bodhi’s jet would have mechanical failure and he would go down somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. The funeral was quiet, some of his squadron and Samantha, Maverick, and her father. That was when she realized just how little Bodhi mattered to anyone. But he’d been important to Sam.

And Samantha would realize that she should’ve loved him. She should’ve given him more of herself. She should’ve stopped telling him she didn’t have feelings for him, because she had. She should’ve admitted to him and herself the feelings that she had, because they were more than just liking him. She had loved Bodhi, just too little and too late.

So when she sat at the Hard Deck that evening, and Jake Seresin made his intentions very clear right then and there, she decided to give him a chance. She gave him the chance that she didn’t give Bodhi. For the memory of Bodhi, for her Sunshine, she would love Jake Seresin in all the ways she wouldn’t let herself love Bodhi. It was what he would’ve wanted. If it wasn’t going to be him, Bodhi would’ve wanted her to find someone to love and to heal. In some ways, she thought maybe Bodhi had sent Jake to her. Maybe she saw just a little of Bodhi in Jake.

🛩⚓️🛩

Several months before the incident between Sam and Rooster...

“Delta One inbound. Missiles locked. Standing by for go.” Jake said through the comms. 

“Delta Two on your left. Weapons envelope. Missiles locked. Defer to Delta One.” Austin said, his gaze shooting toward Jake’s jet. 

Austin Arin, callsign ‘Pope’, had been Jake’s wingman for a while now and the two had a great bond. Jake, who was hesitant to trust anyone other than himself, trusted Austin implicitly. They’d been sent overseas, somewhere in the Pacific for a mission. A strike on a carrier connected to nefarious sources in the Middle East that was prohibiting supplies from being brought into the ports closest to where US bases resupplied from. 

It was going to be a dogfight. Jake knew that. Austin knew that. And it was as if Bradley didn’t. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw was flying as a third, behind Austin. It was the first time Rooster was flying a dual F-18. For Charlie, his backseater, this was the first time they’d flown together. It had been a last minute decision from the boat, having had two pilots come down with illnesses unrelated to each other. One pilot was headed home and the other was manageable on the boat, but there was no way he’d be flying this mission.

“Delta Three Weapons Locked. Defer to Delta One.” Rooster said and the boot acknowledged all three planes. 

“Delta you are a go for attack. Fire at will.” The Commander said and Jake punched it, heading toward the battle zone in the air. There were several enemy fighters. 

“Bandit on your nose Delta Two. Evade!” Jake said, successfully warning Austin, who dove out of the way. Rooster followed and Jake took out one bandit, Austin taking out the other. There was one more, but it seemed to skip in and out of radar. It came up behind them and Rooster evaded. Their goal was to destroy the carrier deck of the enemy boat so they couldn’t launch any more planes. 

As they got closer, more fighters were launched in quick succession. Jake, Austin, and Bradley called for back up and their commander sent another team out.

“Delta Three head to target we’ve got this.” Jake said, with Austin posting up beside him, their wing tips close. They glanced over at each other and saluted then dipped away from each other. Rooster flew toward the enemy carrier evading several bandits as he went. He fired a missile, blowing a huge hole in the deck of the carrier. It wasn’t enough though, because as soon as his second volley of missiles was launched, they catapulted what looked to be some of the last of their fighters. 

Austin was taking out planes left and right. Jake would slide in at the last second and distract them while  Austin dove down below them or above them and fired. The other team had arrived in time to help get rid of the majority of the bandits, but as Austin got out of Jake’s range, it was now on Rooster to help him. 

“All Deltas flow to carrier. Target is destroyed.” There was cheering that could be heard over the comms, and everyone complied. The spare team headed back first and successfully landed on the carrier one by one. Then Jake touched down and just as he was about to exit his jet, there was chatter over the radios.

“Delta Two defending! I need help! Delta Three where are you!” He heard Austin’s voice over the radio and his heart stopped. He saw flares and only saw one jet but as he looked closer, there was another jet behind Austin.

“On my way Delta Two, Still five miles out. Evade!” Bradley said and Jake’s heart sank.

“Delta Three where the fuck are you! Get here now!”

“Delta Three! Delta!” 

Static. 

Then silence.

Jake looked up in the distance just in time to see the explosion before anyone heard it. In a ball of fire and smoke, Austin ‘Pope’ Arin died for his country. Jake watched as Delta Four launched and took out the bandit, just as Rooster showed up. Both jets landed a few moments later and as soon as Bradley stepped down from the ladder, Jake was on him.

“WHERE THE FUCK WHERE YOU?” Jake yelled, pushing Bradley. He fell to the ground and got right back up, grabbing Jake’s flight suit and pushing him against the ladder.

“I was on my fucking way! We had an engine issue and I couldn’t push the jet!”

“THAT’S BULLSHIT ROOSTER. YOU FUCKIN’ KILLED MY WINGMAN CAUSE YOU JUST PERCHED ON THAT GODDAMN TRIGGER. YOU WERE LATE. YOU’RE ALWAYS FASHIONABLY LATE!” Jake’s rage could not be contained and he jumped toward Rooster, his hand connecting with the other man’s face hard enough to draw blood. Rooster drew back and got a few punches in before Jake had him on the ground again. He kicked Rooster in the ribs and then pulled him up by his collar and threw him against the nose of the nearest jet. Rooster wobbled as he stood, landing one more good punch to Jake’s gut, but it was Jake who landed the knockout blow. He hit Rooster square in the jaw and Roos saw stars and fell to the ground, blood dripping from his mouth and nose.

“I swear to fuckin’ god, Rooster, the court martial is worth it. You killed my best friend, you ignorant fuck. You’d better stay the fuck outta my way from now the fuck on.” Jake’s voice had evened out. It was almost calm as he wiped the blood from his own mouth. He rubbed his stomach and groaned as he headed toward medical. 

No one helped Rooster up immediately. Because they sort of knew Jake was right. Bradley had gotten there too late and left Austin open without help. Jake had every right to do what he did. And Rooster was the only one who thought otherwise.

Back home, Austin’s funeral was hard for Jake. He met Austin’s mother, giving her the folded flag. He punched his wings into his best friend’s casket. Jake was given a service medal. He didn’t want it though. He didn’t feel like he deserved it. 

🛩⚓️🛩

Samantha needed to talk to someone. She found herself driving to the cemetery. Her legs carried her down the rows to the small stone set in the ground, where there was no body buried. They’d never found him.

She knelt down and placed her fingers over the cold stone, tracing the words etched there.

“Capt. Bodhi ‘Sunshine’ Denson, 1976 - 2022, VFA-151 Vigilantes, Beloved Pilot”

Sam always wondered if Jake knew him. 

“Sunshine...Sunshiiine...” She sung softly, tears stinging her eyes. “I should’ve loved you better. But I know you’d be happy to see me with Jake. If I could ask one more thing of you...please protect him and bring him back to me...” 

A gentle breeze blew, caressing Sam’s cheek and she let her eyes flutter shut. She swore for a moment that the scent of Bodhi’s cologne, a musky, woody warmth, floating to her nostrils, as if his spirit accepted her request. The breeze rustled the leaves above and a few fell, one landing on top of Sam’s hand.

“Thank you for sending me Jake. I know it was you. It was your last act of service. Rest well knowing he’ll take care of me just like you would’ve. I loved you, Bodhi. I always will.” She kissed her fingertips and then touched the stone. She took the leaf that had fallen and placed it on the dashboard when she got into her father’s truck. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, and glanced back at the dogs sleeping in the back seat. Only Rocco stirred, giving a small whine and a wag of his tail. 

She then drove back to Jake’s, laid back in his bed, and waited for a miracle.