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ohbo-ohno · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use

Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex

note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"

Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring.

You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.

Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances.

Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees.

And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm.

Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.

It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.

———————————————————————

You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove.

Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.

There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.

“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.

One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”

You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.

Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.

“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”

You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”

He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”

He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.

He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.

“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”

“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”

“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”

You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”

“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”

He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”

You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.

Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”

You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs.

He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.

“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”

The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.

It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”

You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”

He smirks, “Nope.”

John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”

“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench.

“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.

“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”

Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”

Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”

You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”

He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.

———————————————————————

You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.

Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.

You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”

“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!”

That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”

Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.

You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips.

Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.

“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”

“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.

“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.

“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”

He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.

“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”

You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”

You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”

You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”

It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”

“She tight, Johnny?”

You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.

There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.

Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.

“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”

You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses.

“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”

“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”

Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”

You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier.

The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you.

You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.

“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.

“Me too, bonnie.”

He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.

“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.

It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”

You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours.

“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”

Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.

Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”

You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”

Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.

He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.

You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.

You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.

———————————————————————

You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”

He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in.

“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”

You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”

“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”

It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.

Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.

It doesn’t make the wait any easier.

You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.

“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”

The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.

“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.

On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.

Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely.

The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.

He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”

And, well, who are you to disobey?

You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.

“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”

“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”

“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”

“Yes, yes…”

“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”

“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”

He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.

When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.

“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.

“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”

“Alright. Need any help tonight?”

“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”

You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”

A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner.

———————————————————————

You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.

“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”

You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.

You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.

Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth.

You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.

“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”

You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.

He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.

Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state.

So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.

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pupkashi · 20 days ago

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satoru is the kind of boyfriend that you are constantly falling in with over and over again

he takes out a spider that you found in the hallway, promising he’ll let it into the backyard and won’t kill it. he’ll tease you relentlessly for running to the other side of the house while on the phone with him, begging him to come home to take care of the ‘grave danger’ you were in. satoru never once tells you how his heart flutters knowing your instinct is to cal him for help.

satoru is the kind of lover to pick flowers for you when you walk hand in hand, giggling as a spring breeze hits the two of you. he smiles, bending down and picking the daisy from the ground.

“look! i got you a flower” he grins, handing the small flower to you with a smile on his face.

“oh wow this just for me? you broke the bank with this one” he can’t help but laugh loudly, “I’m in deep credit card debt,” he replies, “think you can cover dinner for tonight?” you laugh, nodding your head- knowing he’d never let you pay for anything as long as he was around.

the kind of boyfriend to run late, but pick up flowers on the way to make it up to you, buying extravagant bouquets on a whim and making sure every vase in your home is filled with flowers at any given moment. there comes a point in the relationship where you have to sit him down and ask him softly to cut down the flower buying to once a week, as you’d run out of vases to put the flowers in.

satoru ends up buying you more vases, but realizes it’s gotten out of hand when you have no free surfaces in your home due to the overflowing amount of flora. he cuts it down to once a week after he found a bee in the house one day.

your lover brings back souvenirs from all the places he goes when on missions, trinkets that he knew you’d love spilling out of his pockets as he walks into your shared home.

“i think you’d love this little bunny figure so i got it!” he’s beaming at you, his face lights up even more when he sees how excited you are, gushing over the small figure and thanking him with a plethora of kisses.

satoru is the kind of boyfriend to tell you ‘told you so’ when you get cold because you didn’t bring a jacket, all while simultaneously taking his off and giving it to you. he tries his best to hide how much colder he is to try and make sure you stay warm, but his shivering six foot something body is hard to miss.

“satoru i think you’re colder than i was, please just take it back” you beg, shoving his jacket back into his hands, he just shakes his head, teeth slightly chattering as he lies to your face.

“im not even cold, you need to stay warm” he’s steadfast and stubborn on his stance, only taking his jacket back when you two enter a cafe and make it a point to say how hot you felt when you stepped inside.

satoru is the kind of boyfriend to hang mistletoes all over the house, giggling when he pulls you in by your waist and places a giddy kiss on your lips.

“man i love christmas” he sighs, pointing at the fourth mistletoe in the last hour as you two decorated for the holidays.

“seriously how many of these did you buy?” you laugh, pulling him closer to you and placing your lips on his. satoru smiles into the kiss, chasing after your lips even when you pull away and managing to steal one last kiss.

“mmm, alot” he whispers, snowy hair tickling your face as he presses a kiss to your cheek before continuing on with the tree lights.

satoru gojo is the kind of boyfriend to kiss you from 11:59 pm on New Year’s Eve to 12:01 am on New Year’s Day, just to say he made out with you into another year. he also does it just to make sure you can’t say you haven’t kiss him since last year.

“you’ve been kissing me since last year sweetheart just admit you’re crazy about me” he teases you, his cheeks and ears flush from the two cups of champagne he’s had.

“angel boy you have no idea” you giggle, taking in how beautiful he looks as the fireworks pop around the two of you, making his crystalline eyes shine a little brighter.

satoru gojo is the kind of boyfriend that makes you believe in soulmates, because there was no other way to describe what he was to you other than that.

satoru gojo was your soulmate, and you were his.

a/n: hi hi ! just wanted to write something short and sweet to get me back into the flow of writing <3 hopefully this help kill my writers block :3

masterlist

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls @sadmonke

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eddiesxangel · 6 months ago

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That’s that me, Espresso | rockstar!eddie

@mmunson86 requested: I can’t stop thinking about rockstar!Eddie x pop!Princess! reader! & its all thanks to miss SC & Espresso! Imagine they are at one of her concerts right right & she has Eddie sit in the middle of the stage! she is about to debut this song its the last song for the night and she dances on him , for him , around him & Eddie is loosing his mind so right after the concert he wastes no time and takes her into the dressing room & the rest well you know the rest 🙂‍↔️💗

Cw: modern au, Rockstar!Eddie x Pop!princes wife reader. Age gap, Eddie is a filthy simp for his girl, soft!Dom Eddie (sir), oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected), small bit of anal fingering. Talks of pregnancy.

2.3kwords

We are back baby!!! From the Wildflower universe, if you want more of the lore on these two.

“You ready, Angel?” Your husband smiles at you.

Husband, it still has a nice ring to it. You’ve been married just under a year. Giving birth to your little one put the wedding on the back burner, but you started the wedding planning once Lila Rose was 7 months old.

“Yeah, I think so,” you smile. You’re already in your hair and makeup, just waiting for your turn to get on stage.

The rowdy crowd of music festival goers grow impatient as the crew tirelessly works to remove the previous acts' set design.

“You think they’re going to like the new song?” You fiddle with the bedazzled mic in your hands.

“You kidding me? They’re going to love it!”

Eddie always encouraged your work, even if it wasn’t his thing. He loved every song because it was yours.

“All performers take their mark,” you hear the stage director in your ear.

You give Eddie one quick kiss and make your way to the stage.

The set went perfectly, but the riding anticipation of the new single was still in the back of your mind.

“Okay, Coachella! I’m going to need you to help me out with something.” You smile. “This is my last song of the night, and it’s brand new, so I’m a bit nervous.” You pace the stage.

“Now I have a special someone backstage with me, and I know he won’t come out unless we pressure him, so I’m going to need your help, okay?” you walk over to side stage and look him in the eye

You knew he would kill you, but you needed him for the extra moral support, and you kinda had a plan up your sleeve.

“Come on out, Eddie, baby,” you smile, and the crow starts to chant Eddie’s name.

Feeling embarrassed and a bit proud of you for getting what you wanted. Eddie stocks onto the stage, giving a small wave, not wanting this to be about him.

“Sit,” you speak into the mic and point to the fold-out chair in centre stage.

Eddie sits, and before he can protest anymore, he hears the first few beats of the music.

“Nice,” you sing in your breathy tone your husband can’t get enough of.

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo

Eddie really loved that last lyric. He thought it was very clever of you because he knew it was about him and how he eats you out.

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso.

You and your dancers moved to the beat without missing a step.

I can't relate to desperation My 'give a fucks' are on vacation And I got this one boy

You turn to your husband and wink.

And he won't stop calling

You take a few short steps around to the back of the chair.

When they act this way

You lean in from behind and run your free hand down his shoulder to his chest and back up.

I know I got 'em

You swear you hear him moan.

I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer

You twirl your hair around your finger, then summon Eddie to come closer.

Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger

He gets up and follows you like a puppy as you strut across the stage. My twisted humor, make him laugh so often My honey bee, come and get this pollen.

You flick up the edge of your mini skirt, and Eddie can see the lacy underwear beneath your stockings.

He needs this song to be over so he can finally have you. You've been rehearsing for this moment for months now. Stressing over it and with the baby, you and him have had hardly any time to have sex like you used to.

He's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

Eddie is back in his seat by the second bridge, and your dancing is driving him absolutely crazy. You know what you are doing. He can see it in your eyes; your mischievous gaze tells him you had this all planned out. You probably faked being nervous just to get him out here so you could seduce him.

Eddie was losing the battle of not getting hard in front of the thousands of fans watching. He couldn't help it; his bombshell of a wife was so irresistible.

Is it that sweet? I guess so That's that me, espresso

Eddie listened as you thanked the crowd. He took your hand and yanked you off stage once he thought it had been enough time for your final bow, letting you soak in this moment before he whisked you away.

“Eddie!” You squeal while trying to keep up with him in your platform go-go boots.

“Gotta have, you know,” he growls in your ear so only you can hear.

“Really baby? I worked you up that much?” You swoon.

After all this time, Eddie still makes your heart flutter. You never thought soulmates existed, but when you met Eddie, all that changed- especially after having his baby. The way he was with your newborn had you wanting to jump his bones before the doctor okayed you for sex again.

The trailer was close but not close enough in Eddie’s eyes. A thin sheen of sweat was starting to form on Eddie’s brow, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the hot Californian sun or the fact that his cock was about to bust through his jeans, and he was trying not to have anyone notice.

“Get out,” Eddie commands as the trailer door swings back. Eddie opens it so hard.

Your team looks startled as you and Eddie enter the small space.

You give them an apologetic look and they place down their stuff and leave you both alone.

“You were perfect up there.” he pulls you in for a kiss. “So fucking proud of you.” He kisses down your neck.

“Mmmm, thank you, baby”

“You’re a goddamn succubus, you know that, Angel?” Eddie shuts the door behind them and locks it before drawing the blinds.

“Is that right? Mr. Munson.”

“Oh, it is, Mrs. Munson.” Eddie pulls you in by the waist for a heated kiss. Still, after all this time, you both were so greedy for one another. Nothing can ever break the bond between the both of you… not again.

“God, Angel, you were a goddamn tease on that stage; you got me looking like a simp.”

You pull back, curious as to where he had heard that term.

“Simp?”

“VR tells me things.” Violet Rose, Eddie's oldest, whom you’ve adopted, is now twenty two.

“Okay, old man,” you giggle, and he walks you back to the sofa in the trailer’s back corner.

“Enough talking, more kissing.”

Your tailored dress, made just for you, was not easy to strip. Eddie was having a hell of a time trying to get out of it, only to groan when he saw your pantyhose as another barrier.

“Why do they make these things so tight.” He grumbles as you giggle at him.

“You weren’t complaining about it ten minutes ago,” you snide.

“Don’t make me put you over my knee.” He smirks.

“No, Sir,” you put your lip.

Finally, once you are out of your garments, Eddie kneels right between your legs.

“Baby, you’re going to hurt your knees,” You push his long hair back. “Why don’t we go -OH - to the couch” Not listening, his lips are already on your throbbing cunt.

The plus from your clit was relieved as Eddie’s tongue grazes it before quickly lapping and flicking at it.

“Oh fuck!” Your legs buckle, and your grip on Eddie’s hair tightens. He growls at the pain in his scalp, but he loves it all the same.

You feel his tongue go down, then to the left, then the right and finally circles your clit.

“Mmmmm, tastes so good, Angel”

“Please don’t stop!”

You feel Eddie's skilled tongue glide through your slick folds before you feel his hands nudge your legs, signalling to open them wider.

Eddie’s thick long fingers pump up into your warm wet cunt until you’re losing the battle to say upright. Your body is hunched over as Eddie sends waves of pleasure through you.

“Mmmm, that’s it, that’s my good girl. Cum for me.” The pads of his fingers graze you g spot each time. He doesn’t stop until he knows you are satisfied.

“That was a big one, baby; singing for me, go, you all worked up, didn’t it?” He stands and leads you to the couch until you’re lying down, legs spread nice and wide for him.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hum as you watch Eddie finally strip.

His body never looked better; he wants to be the healthiest to watch your baby grow up and maybe put another one in you soon.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir, more than ready.” And it was true; it’s been a few weeks since you’ve had time to have sex, and it was long overdue.

All the pent-up sexual tension between the both of you is finally being released when Eddie's hard cock slides into yours effortlessly.

“Fuck I missed my pussy, baby girl.” His head tilts back, and you take the opportunity to suck on his neck, just as you know he likes it.

“So fucking beautiful” his cock pumped in and quickly backed out.

The tip of his dick ring never failed to make you see stars. Already you’re a moaning mess for him, cock drunk, and it’s not even been a minute yet.

“There she is, there’s my good girl” Eddie palms your tit as he continues to thrust deep inside of you. He watches your eyes roll to the back of your head, blissed out by how he makes you feel.

“More” you moan.

“More what?”

“Sir, please, I need you. Baby, I love you. I love you, please, I need it.” You babble.

Eddie's heart swells. He loves you so much he would give you the moon and stars if he could. Hearing you love him, especially when the two of you are like this, really makes him kick into high gear.

He will never take for granted those three words when you say them to him; your past is too painful not to.

“Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

“Fill me.” You pull him down into a kiss. Your tongue explores his mouth.

His hand that was planted on your waist is now travelling lower to your ass.

“This what you wanted, baby? All of your holes filled?” His finger teases your puckered hole.

“Yes!” You gasp.

“I think that can be arranged. Suck” he points his finger at your face, and you take as much of it in your mouth. You suck on it until it’s dripping with your saliva.

“Such a dirty girl, letting me fuck you and play with your ass hole.” His finger slowly glides in, and he pumps it to match the rhythm of his thrusts. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir!”

“God, I love you.” Eddie can’t help but to fuck you frivolously. The sound of wet skin slapping together filled the thin walls of the trailer.

“Please, please, please.” You were so close you could feel the pit building.

The pressure of his piercing brushing your g spot with every heavy thrust, each shape snap of his hips making him slide deep inside-mixed with the pressure of his finger pressed deep inside of you was bringing you to the edge of bliss.

“You going to come when I tell you to, Angel?”

“I can’t-can’t hold it!”

“Yes, you can,” he growls.

“F-fuck,” you curse him. You can’t hold it for much longer.

“Mmm, that’s right, babygirl. You’re going to listen to what I tell you.”

Your pussy naturally grips Eddie's cock so tight he almost loses it.

“Please, Sir. I want to cum. Please!”

The look in your eyes has Eddie reeling. The way you beg and submit to him, his perfect girl. His perfect wife, the perfect mother to his children.

“Cum” he growls, and you let out a cry of relief.

With your arms wrapped around the back of Eddie's neck, you pull him down into you on instinct. His body weight pressed into you, and your cunt grips his cock so deliciously Eddie is coming with you.

“Shit, baby girl, I think you nearly killed me that time,” Eddie chuckles as his legs give out and his total weight collapses on top of you.

You giggle dumbly as Eddie plants kisses all over your face.

You look up; his face is red and sweaty, but he’s never looked more beautiful.

“That was long overdue.” You sigh with relief.

“You’re telling me,” he chuckles with you.” “Let’s get you cleaned up, mama.”

“You trying to knock me up, Munson?” Deep down, you’d love to have another baby.

“What if I was?” He looks back over his shoulder, catching you checking out his juicy ass.

“Then I’d say we should keep practicing.”

“Wait for real?”

“You’re no,t getting any younger, “ you giggle.

“Oh, you little minx, you’re in for it.” He runs back towards you, lifts you off the couch, and plops you in his lap.

“I’m sorry!” You laugh as Eddie tickles your sides.

“You really want to start trying?” He asks genuinely.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Guess it’s time for round two, gotta make sure it really sticks.”

Tags: @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @niallerlover8022 @eddiesguitarskills @all-dogs-die

@mimsie95 @mystargirl-interlude @rip-quizilla @munsonology @ali-r3n

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@nope-thanks @nabiiturner @neurospicynugget @micheledawn1975 @mikromoon

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#eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!eddiemunson #rockstar!eddie Munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #Eddie Munson x popstar!reader #wildflower #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #Eddie Munson #Spotify

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somnoir · 4 days ago

Text

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - part 3

Part 2 | Masterpost

"You know your way around the city." Dan commented, eyes narrowed once he realizes that Kitty and Johnny adapted a little too well to Gotham. Going to places even he didn't know existed, exploring and giving them intel he never realized was relevant. They knew history of Gotham in a way a local would.

Johnny shrugged, turning back to Kitty who welcomed Ember with a bright smile. The two were squealing, talking about how they were going to help mess with Firefly after burning down a well-loved studio down town.

For Dan, he wasn't going to intrude too much on his former rogues but... "You're from Gotham. Both of you."

Johnny twitched, watching as Shadow moved to play with Elle in the air.

"Yeah, we’re not too sure if our folks are still kickin’, but Kitty and me took off after they flipped over our thing. This place still gives me the heebie-jeebies, but hey, you guys are here. Gotham’s cool these days with all the furries and rogues runnin’ around." Johnny laughed, his cocky nature still burning bright, even when he looked almost melancholic at the memory of this place.

No ghost was truly comfortable in their hometown, whether they died there or not. This was where they were born, where their lives began.

"I see..." Dan mumbled, glancing to the space where Danny was usually in. His younger brother was off doing kingly duties again, slumped by work and the Observants pestering him about shit.

There's a quiet knock on his door and Jeremy was poking his head into the room again. The ghosts didn't even care, continuing to be visible and floating around. Discomfort and a bit of fear was clear on the man's face but he turned to Dante with as much courage as he could muster.

"Boss, we've got a lead on the missing kids."

Ah, yes. The recent disappearances of children. He doesn't know where they go, what happens to them. All he knows is that children were picked of the streets and never to be seen again.

"Someone's been takin' kids?" Kitty grimaced, not minding how Jeremy shuddered. "Dan, dear, darling! Send me and Johnny. We know this city better than Batman and his little birdies."

Again, Dan sighed. "Gimme a minute, Kitty. Not enough information." He grunts, turning to Jeremy to hand him the report.

"Anything else?"

"Well... About the Bats..."

"They snoopin' around again?"

"Trynna sniff out Phantom." Jeremy shrugs. "Red Hood's been pretty active. Heard he's been wonderin' about Phantom not visitin' the kids last week."

"Thanks Jeremy. Tell Marigold I said hi."

"Will do, boss!"

Once Jeremy left, the other ghosts were swarming Dan like bees. Their eyes glittering with anticipation, excitement, and vengeance. It felt strange for them to pay attention, to follow him. Danny's always felt like the better leader, struggling and suffering in the role yet rising above it all. That was why he was the king now.

"Alright, let's get to work. Most of these kids have one thing in common. Their skills. Flexible, acrobatic, and have some sort of combat training. Usually in self defence." Dan plugged in the USB into his laptop, projecting the screen on to the tv. "The latest disappearance is Layla Smithson. Fourteen. Gymnast and was sent to take taekwondo classes by her parents. Before that was Evan Chavez. Another gymnast but was also known to get into multiple fights."

"So whoever is takin' the kiddies, they go after the ones with pretty good skills." Ember hummed, turning to Kitty and then nudging her. "You've got anything to say about that?"

"Well... Maybe." Johnny shrugs too.

"Ooh! What about that nursery rhyme every Gothamites gets to listen. Y'know. About the court."

Dan frowned. "What court?"

"The court of owls!" Kitty grinned, "Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowy perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send the Talon for your head."

"Who the fuck uses that kind of shit for a nursery rhyme?" Dan scowled, but considered the possibility. "Any idea if they're real."

"Very." Johnny warned, "When Kitty and I died, we came back here a couple of times. Explored the place and tried to dig up secrets that would have killed us if we were livin'. One of 'em was the court. A secret society of a bunch off rich bastards."

"Johnny," Dan warned, knowing that something was still being kept from him.

"There's another thing..." Johnny hesitated but Kitty took his hand and continued.

Kitty grimaced, "The Court of Owls has a bunch of soldiers. They got this chemical they use on people, turnin’ ‘em into their own assassins. From what me and Johnny dug up a while back, these assassins were trained when they were kids. They call 'em Talons."

Dan wanted to yell, scream. Burn down the cursed with it's cursed bricks. Fuck. Fuck. Was the world always so shitty?

"You're telling me... There's an entire secret society that uses chemicals to turn children into assassins?"

Children.... Fucking children. They were weaponizing kids!

Ancients, he might just commit mass genocide again.

"Alright. Alright. We leave the living people out of this. The court? Their talons? I want all of you prepared. I'm gonna contact Danny to drag Skulker and Wulf's asses here immediately."

Elle grinned, "GRAB AMORPHO TOO! We're gonna need his help if we want to dismantle the court."

The office is vacated quickly, with Elle dragging Ember and Kitty for girl time and Johnny runs off with shadow. Dan is left alone, frustrated at the new information before he does his best to summon his brother, the very annoyed ghost king that appears before him in full royal regalia.

"A bit busy, Dan. Still tryin' to fight the laughing magician to help with getting rid of the Anti-Ecto Acts. Constantine is running around trying to destroy the GIW now."

Dan snorted. He knew about John Constantine. The crazy motherfucker who's soul fragments were scattered around and Danny had to deal with the paperwork and mission to collect them all.

"I know, yeah, sorry. I get that's important. But we've got a situation here."

"What would that be?"

"Secret society of rich fruitloops that are worse than Vlad. They're kidnapping children and making them into brainless assassins."

Immediately, the room grows colder than the far frozen. Danny's eyes are as green as they could ever be, but his pupils were an icy blue that would have made Frostbite shudder.

"What do you need?"

"Skulker, Wulf, and Amorpho."

"I'll send them on your way. They'll be here within 3 hours." Danny sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I'll finish up things on my end to help."

"Sure thing, twerp."

"Fuck you." Fondly.

"Fuck you too." Affectionately.

"OH! Your revenant was looking for you."

"THE SEXY RED HOOD WAS LOOKING FOR ME?!"

It was an entire week of silence. Of Wraith not doing anything at all. Even the rogues felt apprehensive to act on anything after Wraith's new subordinates started popping up to pester them. The reports were the same. Distorted footage, meta-human abilities, and a ridiculous amount of chaos.

Apparently, Two face has waged war on one of them, named Ember. Riddler was also ready to throw hands with Specter. And then Harley and Ivy were hunting down a couple names Kitty and Johnny 13. Why they were named that, none of them knew. But considering Wraith and Phantom's titles, the entire group was Ghost themed. The majority of Gotham have taken to calling them the Ghosts.

But then...

"Bruce... Get a look at this." Barbara's voice shook, horrified as she stared at the screen. Majority of the family was already in the cave, preparing to patrol once more. But their eyes were drawn to the screen. They all froze, struggling to fathom what the fuck was it they were looking.

"Holy shit."

Everyone was frozen, staring at the clear, untampered screen.

Bruce sucked in a deep breath, reading the bloody message written on the wall of... He couldn't recognize it properly. "Farewell to the Court of Owls that once watched from their shadowy perch. Their talons covered in the blood of children they once purge. Farewell to their judge, the parliament says goodbye. To Talons, to owls, the ghosts says hi."

And right beside the message was the hanging body of what Bruce recognized was the Judge of the Court of Owls.

The Court of was in ruins.

"Holy shit. HOLY SHIT!" Tim screeched, almost stumbling as he stared at the morbid message. "The Wraith and his ghosts took out the fucking court."

There was a loud rev of an engine, momentarily dragging their attention to Jason who was hurriedly getting of his bike and taking of his helmet. "Fuck, you've already seen it."

"You saw it in real life?! Where the fuck is that? The location is distorted but the entire thing is being broadcasted to the entirety of Gotham."

"There are two of 'em. That one's on the clocktower."

Barbara snapped her head towards him, "MY clocktower?!"

"Sorry 'bour that Barbie. But it got the job done for them, all of Gotham know about the court now."

Bruce grimaced, "And the other location?"

"Arkham... The Talon is the one being hanged up there. The message is shorter: Bye-Bye owls. Shouldn't have messed with the dead." Jason clicked his tongue, "That's either about the fact that the court has been messing with the dead or it's cause Wraith's group is called the Ghosts."

Jason shook his head, knowing for the fact that he'd have to track down Phantom soon. His eyes turned towards Dick, who stared at the screen as if a burden was just freed from him. Jason thinks it has.

They had found out about the Court a little while ago, then found out about Dick's situation with them. How the circus he grew up in was one of the facilities that groomed Talons. How Dick was supposed to be recruited as one when his parents died.

"Dick?" Jason murmured, gently taking Dick's hand. The other man jolted, his domino mask hiding whatever emotions there was in his eyes.

"Little Wing..."

"C'mon. Let's go grab some of Alfred's cookies. The rest of the family can deal with this." Jason quickly hurried his older brother out the cave, urging him to change our of his suit.

Dick, once again, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, struggled to understand that his nightmare that was the Court was finally dead. Most likely slaughtered by the hands of a new crime lord, a rogue that seemed desperate to keep children safe. He held the tea tightly, closing his eyes as Jason sat opposite to him.

The court was dead.

Talon was dead.

"I'm gonna go look for Phantom in a bit." Jason hummed, trying to appear comforting to Dick.

And the image of the Judge of the court's body hanging from the clocktower flashes in his head again.

"Jason." Dick whispered, "Get me a meeting with Wraith."

"What?" Jason blinked, "Dickie, no. Wraith might seem like a pretty nice guy with how he's protecting the kids, but he's still..." He paused, "He's still like me."

"I need to meet him, Jaybird. I need to confirm that the Court is gone for good. He's the only one who can do that for me."

"Why would Phantom even let you meet him?"

Dick frowned, sucking in a deep breath before taking Jason's hands.

"Tell him that Nightwing was supposed to be a Talon."

Part 4 | Masterpost

#Gotham's newest Crime Lord #danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny fenton #jason todd #nightwing #dick grayson #Dan found out that kids were being weaponized and almost repeated what he did in the last world #man is about to throw hands and fire at anyone #don't mind the inaccuracies to parts pf the plot #dick is on the verge of a mental breakdown because #one; the guy he was very disturbed by has just freed him from the legacy of rhe talon #two; he's kinda similar to his baby bro but moee willing to blow up a government #danny is stressed being king and is forcing Constantine to dismantle the GIW while he helps his brothee destroy a secret society #jason is a good bro

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milunalupin · 2 months ago

Text

— bumblebee

james potter x reader ★ 328 words

“James, honey, you left your wand on the couch again!”

As you called out, your husband bounded down the stairs, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. He snatched his wand from the plush velvet cushions, then rounded the couch to plant a tender kiss on your cheek. “Thank you, bug.”

You gently pushed his face away, the scratchy polyester of his beard tickling your skin. “I’m not going back to the store to buy another if one of us accidentally sits on it.”

“But I got the last one that lights up!” he pouted, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He pressed the button on the wand, making the tip glow a vibrant green as he waved it playfully around the bee antennae perched on your head. You couldn’t help but smile at how silly you both looked—your black and yellow striped outfit, complete with wings, contrasting with his dramatic wizarding ensemble.

“Then be more careful,” you reminded him, extending your arms just as your little one came sliding down the hall in his fluffy gold onesie. “You too, Harry! I told you that costume is slip—”

Thud.

“WAHHHH!”

James scooped your sobbing toddler into his arms, cooing softly as he wiped away the tears and drool with the sleeve of his purple cloak. “Oh, my little lion.”

Your heart sank as you noticed the angry red mark forming on your son’s forehead. “Oh James, that’s going to leave a scar, isn’t it?"

“Afraid so, lovebug,” he sighed, gently bouncing your sniffling child to soothe him. “Guess we’re not going trick-or-treating anymore since you’re crying.”

“No!”

With determination, your toddler wriggled out of James’s embrace and shuffled over to his cauldron-shaped candy bucket. He looked up at you both, eyes wide and glistening, a small bump forming above his eyebrow. “I can do it.”

You exchanged a warm, amused glance with James, a smile breaking through the worry. “Alright, let’s go get some candy, my brave little lion.”

#marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #james potter #james fleamont potter #james potter x reader #james x reader #dad!james potter #harry potter

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 11 months ago

Note

Alr hear me out, the service top lucifer with a very insecure reading. (Fem or GN) like he has to coax the reader to like open up (God damn I'm blushing thinking abt it-). Maybe even having to like talk them into even taking thier clothes off. Just a little idea stuck in my head.

Thank you very muchly.

Ooooooohh you’re giving me IDEAS (tbh I’d be the same boat)

~~~~

✨Opening Up✨

Lucifer x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, nipple play, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, service top!Lucifer

It has become evident that I am unable to write anything concise 😅

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MEANT TO POST THIS DAYS AGO 😭😭

Tag list: @trashbin-nie

@yellowsubiesdance

@j-jinxee

@stevensdickrider

@airwolf92

@mrssabinecallas

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis

@bee-sinner

@thesoccerenthusiast

@katshyperfixations

@logybearsblog

@bigfatbimbo

You sat upright on Lucifer’s king sized bed, the King of Hell straddling your lap. You don't know how you even ended up in this position, not on this bed necessarily, but how you ended up as Lucifer's beloved. You believed in your heart that you did not deserve him, but time and time again Lucifer has showered you with praise and adoration like no one ever had before. He was perfect. And you were...you. It didn't make sense.

Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your sleep shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.

"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."

"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."

"O-Ok," you stuttered.

"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.

You shook your head. "No."

"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"

You cut him of mid-sentence with a quick peck to his lips. He smiled bashfully, a cute blush spreading across his face. "Believe me, Luci, I want this. I mean I really want this, but..." you found it difficult to articulate what you wanted to say.

"Well, if that's the case darling, what if I go first then?," Lucifer proposed. You cocked your head, unsure of what he was talking about. He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, starting from the top and working his way down. Oh...OH.

Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes staggered. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth had never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.

"Do you wanna do the honors, my dear?," he asked playfully. You gulped as your hands reached towards his shoulders. Gingerly, you slid his sleeves down each arm, slowly revealing more and more skin to you. Once his shirt was completely removed, you couldn’t help but stare. His chest was so smooth and toned, almost like it had been sculpted. “Like what you see?” Lucifer questioned coyly, noticing your unwavering expression of awe.

"W-Well that's hardly fair," you whispered, finally finding your voice, "you're an actual angel. Of course you're going to be gorgeous, I-" you slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized what you had said. "Please pretend you didn't hear that!," you begged through your hand.

Lucifer's face was flushed pink, he could help but smile. He chuckled as he went to remove your hand from your face. "Is that what you really think about me, sweetheart? I'm truly flattered to hear that coming from someone as exquisite as you."

"You...You really think..." you started to say but couldn't finish. Tears began to well up in your eyes, you tried to rub them away before Lucifer could see but it was too late. Lucifer cupped your face and ran his thumbs under your eyes to clear away the tears that had fallen. Your breath hitched, you tried to take in deep heavy breaths so you wouldn't start sobbing.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh,” he spoke with a soothing tone. He removed himself from your lap and sat down next to you, embracing you in his arms. “It’s okay, angel, it’s ok. I upset you and I’m sorry, I never want to be the reason you cry.” He rested his head on top of yours while you clung to his chest. The scent of him hit your nostrils, it was like breathing in a warm spring day. Purely intoxicating. It calmed you down, you started to breathe normally again. You felt safe in his arms, you could have stayed there for the rest of your life.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, your tears finally drying. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured. He gave you a tight squeeze before you lifted yourself back up, sitting at his hip and leaving your head on his shoulder. “You weren’t the reason I was sad, you know? You never have been.”

Lucifer turned his head to you, “Really? Then why-?”

“Because I’m afraid,” you quickly responded. “I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you. That I never will be. You’re the all mighty Lucifer, King of Hell. You have so much strength and power and respect. And I’m…I’m just me.” You sighed and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your head on your knees. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Darling?,” Lucifer spoke at last. He brought himself in front of you on all fours and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him in his scarlet eyes. “ “Just you” is perfect. You don’t need to be anything but yourself! I understand what you’re feeling, and it’s okay to express that. But please know that I love you just the way you are. You are my true strength.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into his hand that was now pressed against your cheek. You took his words to heart; he loved you. He loved you so much. You had to show him that you felt the same way. You drew in a few quick and deep breaths before reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt.

“Wait, wait, what are you-” Lucifer tried to say, but you were too fast. Your shirt disappeared from your body and was tossed across the room. Silence filled the space, the only thing you could hear was your heart threatening to burst through your chest.

It was at that moment you noticed you couldn’t see Lucifer’s face. His hands had flown up to block his view of you.

“Lucifer?” you called to him.

“Y-You didn’t have to do that, love,” he stuttered. “I never wanted you to feel that you had to-”

“Please look at me, Luci,” you pleaded. “I love you. And I trust you. Let me show you. Please.”

You saw Lucifer’s hands slowly fall away from his hands, his eyes still screwed shut. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

You leaned in to plant a kiss on his soft lip. Lucifer’s eyes shot open in surprise, you pulled away before he had a chance to react. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw him staring at you. Your first instinct was to cover yourself and shy away, but you pushed those feelings deep down. You were going to be vulnerable, you needed to be brave. Not just for him, but for yourself. You gripped the bed sheets so hard that you felt your nails digging into your skin through the silk.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer had snapped out of his trance. He started to crawl towards you on his hands and knees, only stopping when his lips were inches away from your own. You felt his hot breath on you, you were finding it more and more difficult to keep your composure.

“You…are breathtaking,” he cooed, crashing his lips into yours hungrily. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, and you happily allowed it. You felt yourself slowly drifting down onto your back as you and Lucifer desperately devoured each other. He pulled away from your lips, trying to catch his breath, but you noticed he wasn’t looking into your eyes. His attention had drifted a little further down. He swallowed hard.

“May I?,” Lucifer asked breathlessly. Your face felt extremely hot and you couldn’t find the power to speak, so instead you nodded your head vigorously. He gave you a cheeky grin before lowering his mouth down onto one of your nipples. The noise you made sounded more high pitched than you meant it, but God, did it feel amazing! His tongue worked one nipple as his hand played with the other. You loved the sensation of him sucking and licking at your sensitive skin, the tiny bites from his teeth driving you insane. He rolled your other nipple between his two fingers, the pinches he gave sent your brain into overdrive. You never knew how sensitive you were, but Lucifer was more than happy to service you.

All of a sudden you noticed a different sensation, you felt something press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clothed pussy. It took your brain a few seconds to realize what was happening.

“Uhh, Lucifer, a-are you…”, you mumbled. Lucifer looked up from your chest with a puzzled face. “I can feel umm, I-I can feel your uhh…”, you didn’t know why you couldn’t say it. Maybe you were too embarrassed, which seemed silly considering what position you found yourself in. You pointed down towards your pants where Lucifer was wedged.

“Oh…OH,” Lucifer exclaimed pushing himself from you and onto his knees. “Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you could uhh, feel that…please forgive me!”

Seeing him so flustered somehow calmed some of the nerves you had before. It was cute, really. Demon overlord Lucifer getting embarrassed about unintentionally pushing his hard on against your thigh. You let out a small giggle.

"It's alright, Luci," you chuckled. "I'm flattered, really!"

Lucifer smiled, placing his hand behind him to rub the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry about that, love. I'm a little embarrassed."

“Well,” you breathed, “I guess it’s only fair that I embarrass myself too then, right?” Without warning, you grabbed the waistband of your pants and ripped them off along with your panties in one fell swoop. You laid naked in front of Lucifer, whose whole face had turned a shade of red you’ve never seen before.

“Ffffuck,” was all Lucifer could muster. You watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, attempting to regain his thoughts. Looking at you, it was plain to see how soaked you were.

“Like what you see?,” you teased. Lucifer nodded his head eagerly, still at a loss for words. You lifted your hand and curled your finger, beckoning him to you. Obediently, Lucifer crawled on the bed towards you with no reservations. “You’re not the only one that’s worked up here. Now we’re even.”

“My love, please…” Lucifer whined, “please let me taste you.”

"Don't you...wanna get more comfortable first?," you asked him, knowing the problem in his pants had probably only gotten worse for him.

"Not until I've had my fill of you, sweetheart," he smiled before forcing his head between your legs. The moan you let out was guttural, almost feral, he lapped your folds like a starving man. He took long, drawn out licks up your slit before focusing on your clit. His lips kissed and sucked on your sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure throughout you entire body. You couldn't pull away if you tried, he had wrapped his arms under your legs so you couldn't escape his assault on your cunt.

"Sh-shit, oh-oh my God Lucifer, FUCK," you moaned. You could feel a smile form on his face as this seemed to have made him pick up the pace. You screamed from his tongue darting in and out of you, feeling so close to snapping. Your thighs started to fold in on his head and you grabbed a fistful of his hair trying to regain some assemblance of control. “Fuckfuckfuck, mmmm…gonna c-cum, aaggghh, gonnacumgonnacum!” Lucifer’s tongue relentlessly circling your clit finally caused your body to spasm, your orgasm causing you to scream out in pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop though, he let you ride out your orgasm and hungrily devoured your release. Once you finally came down from your high, Lucifer lifted his face from between your legs and flashed you a toothy grin, seemingly quite proud of his work.

“You alright, darling?,” he asked innocently, almost pretending like he wasn’t the cause of what you had just experienced.

“Y-yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you breathed. “Just…Jesus, that was intense! Give me a little warning before you go all in on me like that again!”

Lucifer laughed. “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, I’m sure you couldn’t. Now, let’s get these off you, hmm?,” you said tugging at his pants.

Lucifer stood up from the bed quickly. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. From the outlines of his briefs, you were surprised that they could contain him at all. Before he could pull at the hem, you jumped off the bed to stop him.

“Allow me,” you offered, getting on your knees in front of him. You reached up and grabbed onto his briefs, snaking them down his legs. His cock sprang free of its cage and hung in front of your face, its tip already leaking. Without thinking, your wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Lucifer let out a moan that you’ve never heard before, filled with absolute lust and need. You took one of your hands and grabbed the base of his shaft, slowly stroking up and down while your mouth continued to work on his head. You ran small licks against the slit, tasting and lapping all of the precum that was forming. You loved the taste of him.

“Love…f-fuck,” Lucifer panted, trying to fight through his moans, “if you don’t s-stop now, I-I’m gonna cum. I wanna…wanna feel you. P-Please…”

Reluctantly, you pulled your mouth away from his cock with a *pop*, pouting slightly. Lucifer leaned down to grab your torso and tossed you onto the bed like you were made of paper mache. That angelic strength of his always caught you off guard. Lucifer crept between your legs, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I promise,” he whispered against your lips, “next time you can finish what you started, but right now I need you. Need to feel you.” Lucifer brought his fingers to your needy cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation. He took his other hand and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Are you ready, my angel?,” he asked softly.

You grinned and nodded your head. With that, Lucifer closed the space between you once more with a fiery kiss as his cock entered you inch by inch. Your cries mixed with his as he finally entered you completely.

“You feel…amazing, darling, fuck…” Lucifer choked out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured, “I-I’m okay. You can move.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled. Lucifer slowly began to rock his hips into you, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him ruining your pussy, hitting just the right spot every time. It didn’t take long for his pace to become erratic and uneven. He buried his cock deep inside you, both of your moans filling the room.

“Lu-Lucifer, o-oh shit, Lucifer, I-I’m so close,” you pleaded. “Please don’t stop, p-please don’t.”

“Cum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum.” Lucifer groaned. He bit down on your should as he continued to pound into you, biting and sucking your tender skin. You were shaking, he was going too fast, you were coming undone.

“Cuminme…FUCKCUMINME,” you screamed and wrapped your legs around him as your orgasm flooded over you. You felt your walls pulsating around his cock, it was too much for Lucifer to handle. You heard him cry out and felt him twitch inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.

Coming down from your highs, you both laid there for a moment trying to catch your breath. You played with Lucifer’s hair as he laid across your chest, completely worn out. A minute or two passed before Lucifer sat up and pulled himself out of you. He laid down next to you, staring at your flushed face.

“Are you alright?,” he asked. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you smiled. “That felt…really good. Thank you, for everything.”

Lucifer hummed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “No, thank you, love.”

You chuckled returning the kiss. “Would…you mind if I held you, Luci?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, but he smiled wide. “Of course not, I’d love nothing more.”

Lucifer rolled on his side, giving you the chance to push your body against his back and wrap your arms around him. You both didn’t move until the morning.

~~~~

Hope you enjoyed my second attempt at NSFW content lmaooooo

AND YEAH I MADE HIM THE LITTLE SPOON, IT’S WHAT HE WOULD WANT

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer morningstar #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #writing prompt #my writing #this was meant to be a cute short thing but i can never stop myself lmao #my signature is just posting goofy faces of Lucifer to remind everyone this is who we’re thirsting over

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ellecdc · 1 month ago

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Hi Elle! I'm here to hibernate, and I was thinking maybe a poly!rosekiller (you've got me hooked on Barty and Evan) or whatever pairing you think works best, love all our boys, with either:

“they’ve slept for like twelve straight hours. should i be worried?"

“hey, i think it’s time to go to bed.”

Because I am both. Chronically.

If you don't respond it's totally cool, you're such an amazing writer and so many people love your stuff I totally understand not being able to respond, lovely girl!

P.S remember to drink water :)

thanks so much for the prompt, doll!! and thanks for being here with me; I'm happy to be celebrating with you <3

the winter games

poly!rosekiller x fem!reader who's asleep and Barty's afraid of [702 words]

CW: immature boyfriends, muggle/modern au, Barty hit someone with his car but it was chill and also not pictured, mentions of dicks but not described

Evan swore his eyes were beginning to cross when his paperwork was interrupted by the sound of a hastily whispered “Rosie!”

Evan looked up to see Barty standing in the doorway to his office. Well, it was more like to see Barty’s shoulders and head floating about halfway up the door frame as he leaned around it without actually stepping in.

“What is it, bee?” He drawled as he turned back towards his work.

“I need help.”

“With what?”

“Hiding a body.” Barty deadpanned.

Evan let out a tired sigh and looked up at him. “Again, Barty?”

“With Y/N, Rosie! And for the last time, that cyclist I hit was fine; he bounced right back up and smacked the hood of my car. He certainly wasn’t too hurt to cuss at me.”

“What’s wrong with your Treasure?” Evan asked - diverting yet another grumbling at how inconvenient hitting another man with his car was for Barty - as he organized his sheets into a neat stack. He may have called you Barty’s Treasure, but you were his poppet, and Barty seemed to think you needed his help so Evan was inclined to help you.

“She’s asleep.” Barty said simply - troublesome cyclists forgotten - causing Evan to pause.

“I hardly see what the problem with that is, Barty.”

Barty stomped his foot and rolled his eyes as if it were Evan who was being rather meddlesome and vague. “She’s asleep in the kitchen.”

Oh…that was the problem.

Sure enough, covered in an array of flour, sprinkles, and icing, you were resting your head on one folded arm with a piping bag sitting dejectedly in your opposite hand; a small stream of red icing pooling out the bottom. Sound asleep.

You’d refused Barty’s help earlier in the evening, stating that he wouldn’t do as good a job and you wanted your holiday cookies to be perfect. Evan didn’t particularly blame you for that, but he did feel rather guilty that you couldn’t trust your boyfriend to not pipe dicks on all of your sugar cookies when your back was turned.

“You didn’t want to wake her up?” Evan surmised as he gently took the piping bag from your hand.

“Listen, I love her with my entire being, but I’m kind of afraid of her.”

Evan couldn’t help but huff a laugh at that. “Fine, can you clean this up then?” He asked, gesturing vaguely to the state of the kitchen as he came up behind you and leaned over your frame.

“Poppet.” He murmured as he gently rubbed at your shoulders. “Come on, doll.”

An incoherent sound of discontent escaped your lips as you tried to rise; Evan’s weight above you kept you from sitting up too quickly.

“Hey, I think it’s time for bed.”

“But, th’cookies-”

“Will be here in the morning.” Evan argued as he allowed you to sit up slowly. “Barty’ll even help you with them.”

“No he can’t, Ev. He’ll ruin them.”

“He will not because whilst he’s helping you, I will be supervising Barty.”

He felt something warm in his chest as he watched you struggle to wake up; brain working overtime to make sense of your surroundings and to make sense of what Evan was trying to tell you.

“We’ll get it done in the morning, yeah? Together.” He offered gently.

“Yeah…” You let out with a sigh after a beat, Barty letting out a sigh of relief of his own from behind him.

“Go get in your pyjamas, pretty girl.” Evan instructed as he helped you stand, pressing a kiss to your hair and patting your hip in dismissal before watching you plod off in the direction of the bedroom.

“Ev, can’t I just-”

“No.”

“Just one.”

“I said no, Bee.” Evan pressed more forcefully.

“I hardly see what the issue with one festive dick is.” Barty grumbled as the two of them followed you towards the bedroom. “What if I save that one and then we give it to Reg?”

That gave Evan pause.

“One.”

“Thank you!”

“What’s happening?” Your voice sounded from somewhere in the washroom, causing both boys to freeze outside of it.

“Nothing.” They chorused; one of them in the form of a question and the other in the form of a delighted cheer.

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writingroom21 · 2 months ago

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Hey boo, this is the anon who gave u the idea of the locked room one-shot thank you for writing it ❤️

I was wondering if you can write a one-shot like the reader is a daycare worker🤪 (her age is like 18-19) (I think you spoke about yourself working with children) and she looks after Rafes son named Felix or whatever u wanna name him and he is really clingy with the reader never lets go off her and gets jealous easily (Felix thinks of the reader as his mother since his birth mom left him after she gave birth) and he draws a painting of him, rafe, and reader. Rage doesn't know who reader is so Felix explains reader to him rafe falls in love and invites reader to babysit him paying her more than her daycare job and obviously there is smut❤️

Playing House

Warnings: 18+, smut, age gap (Rafe is 32 and reader is 20), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up), cream pie, breeding kink, (let me know if I missed any!)

Wc: 4.1K

This is a two in one request with this one

A/N: hey Anon! I just have to say loving the requests. Your brain is like amazing. Keep them coming

Being a single dad at 29 was not on Rafe’s bingo card.

When the girl he was regularly hooking up with sent him the positive pregnancy test he laughed at the image. There was no way she was being serious. SUre he didn’t like to use condoms but he pulled out and she said she was on birth control. There was no way in hell that she was actually pregnant.

Then she sent him a sonogram picture with her holding it up in the doctor's office. He was honestly fucked. At first he tried to play it off like it wasn’t his. Saying she must have been sleeping with others. But when she didn’t protest a paternity test he started to think she was telling the truth. Then nine months flew by and his baby boy was born. The moment he laid eyes on him he knew that was his son. The paternity test just confirms it.

It only took a week for her to run off leaving a note saying she wasn’t ready to be a mom. As if he was ready to be a dad. It took a lot of trial and error to get into a routine. He wanted to rip his hair out everytime he woke up in the middle of the night due to crying. But once again he would look in his eyes and he couldn’t. He’s learned a lot from being a father over the last three years.

He’s become more patient with others which is completely different from who he used to be. Not to mention he seems to actually have a heart. The mean old Rafe Cameron is now a gentle dad. But don’t get him wrong, he would fuck up anyone who messed with his son. That’s why he was worried when he was forced to put Felix in daycare shortly after his third birthday.

Rafe got lucky having two younger sisters who were willing to watch him along with friends. But over time it became impractical to rely on them to watch Felix. They all had their own lives and couldn’t spend hours on end with the child. That led to Rafe signing him up at Happy Bee’s, one of the best daycares in Kildare. That’s where Felix has been spending his days for almost a year. It seems to be doing good for him. Felix seems to have friends that he wouldn’t stop blabbering about. But then one person always on the little boy's mind is you.

If Rafe has to hear about you one more time he might bash his head into a wall.

“Daddy wook! Miss help me.” That’s what Felix calls you, Miss. Maybe that’s what you had the kids call you or maybe Felix just doesn’t like saying your name. Everything is always Miss this or Miss that. The other day Felix refused to eat his veggies, making a disgusted face. “C’mon bud you gotta eat them.” Rafe’s trying to shovel them into his mouth but Felix moves his head. “No. Miss doesn’t make me.” Rafe’s eye twitches at the mention of your nickname. “Well I’m not Miss, I’m dad. Which means what I say go’s, now eat your veggies.”

For ten months Rafe has heard how you don’t make him do this or you let him do that. He honestly had enough after Feliz threw a tantrum so he didn’t have to go to bed. The following day he went into the center ready to have Felix switched to another worker. But as he was waiting for the director to talk to him he watched as you interacted with the kids. They all seemed to love you, hanging on to every word you said.

Then there was his little boy.

Felix clung to you like velcro. Wherever you went he followed close behind, holding on the back of your shirt. Not once did you get mad or pull him off of you. In fact you got the kids sentled with ease like it was second nature. In his 32 years of life he has never seen someone be so natural with kids. What really got him was seeing you read to Felix. His baby boy was curled in your lap with your arms wrapped around him. If he didn’t know any better it would look like a mother with her son.

He just watches as Felix babbles to you and you can’t help but seem excited. You effortlessly make him laugh and it’s mesmerizing. “Mr. Cameron. You wanted to see me.” The director is standing in front of him now but he keeps staring at you. “Actually I changed my mind. I’ll see you at pick up.” With that he got up and walked out the building with a sense of determination.

At pick up he waited until all of the kids were gone before going to get Felix. “Hi sorry my meeting ran late.” He apologizes to you, liking the way you smile up at him. “Hey buddy, how was your day?” Felix jumps in his arms, giving him a big hug before looking at you. “Made drawings.” Rafe looks at you with an amused look which you match. “He was a real picasso. You should be proud, you got a good one.”

Your voice is soft, making you seem more approachable. “I’m Rafe. Don’t think we’ve really met.” You shake his hand telling him your name. “I was actually wondering something.” Rafe examines your features waiting to see your reaction. “Is everything all right Mr. Cameron?” Your eyes stare up at him and they look so innocent. You have to be young, if he’s guessing maybe 19 or 20.

“Yeah but I wanted to offer you a better position. Come work for me. Felix is obsessed with you and I think you’d be good for him.” You’re taken back by his request. “I’m sorry Mr. Cameron but I can’t just leave my job.” The next excuse is ready to fly out of your mouth but it stops when you hear his voice. “Rafe, call me Rafe. I’ll triple your pay and you can move into the guest bedroom.”

Triple pay and a free room? This is a great deal and you don’t know if you should turn it down. You do need the money as you help your parents with your younger siblings. Not to mention you really love Felix. The boy is like your shadow and you’ve grown fond of him. His little eyes stare at you as if he’s waiting for your answer as well. His blue eyes are a perfect match to his fathers. But you think Rafe has specks of gold in them, making them even more beautiful.

“Why me?” Rafe shifts Felix to the other side of him. “He won’t stop talking about you. I want the best care for him. You wouldn’t be able to do that while watching other kids, so here’s my solution.” Lie. He wants to see you in his house. He wants to come home to see you playing with his son, greeting him from his long day of work. The more he thinks about it the more he believes this is for himself. Looking at you he knows this is for himself more than Felix.

“Okay.”

♡♡♡♡♡

You’ve been working for Rafe for seven months now. If you are being honest it’s really great. Felix is super chill so you get to just have fun all of the time. The pay is amazing, even after you talked him into paying you normally. The house is fancy and you get to experience what the kook life feels like. Overall you would say things were great. But there was one issue you really haven't grasped.

Rafe is fucking hot.

Not any normal type of hot but DILF I’d make him a dad again kind of hot. You can’t tell if it’s a pro or con of the job. Usually you would say it was a pro because you got to see him everyday. But the downside is he’s your boss who probably looks at you like a kid. It’s not like you are. You’re 20. He’s only twelve years older than you, that shouldn’t be a problem. But you guess it wouldn’t be professional and you need the job.

It’s not like he makes it easy on you. Every morning he goes on a run coming back with his shirt off, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Then he likes to make his way over to the kitchen where you are to chug water as he asks you what the plans of the day are. You can’t count how many times your eyes drifted to his abs or how many times you lost your train of thought. He always sends you a wink before heading off to shower. Leaving you in the kitchen trying to stop yourself from following him.

Then there’s the time where he walked around the house in the tightest pair of briefs. The outline of his dick prominent as he passed you. You almost fell to your knees right then and there. There have been little moments where you catch him staring at you or checking you out. To be fair you started to dress nicer, noticing he likes it when you do. This even led to small touches.

It started with a hand on your lower back when he passed by. Everytime his fingers would find a way to lift your shirt slightly. Until one day his hand was just touching your bare back, sending shockwaves through your system. It’s like every chance he gets his hands have to be on you. Not to mention the gifts he’s been giving you.

He had come home one day after going into the office with a box of chocolates. You gushed how they were your favorite and now they magically appear in your room every week. Then there’s the shopping sprees. For the past two weeks he’s been bringing you to the main land on Saturday’s under the pretense of getting this for Felix. But as you are shopping around you end up in some of your favorite stores. As if he doesn’t do enough for you, he encourages you to get whatever you want. Rafe just swipes his card not even caring what the total was. You were being spoiled in every way.

The attention has been getting to your head. It makes you feel special thinking that he cares about you. It also doesn’t help when he doesn’t correct people when they think the three of you are a family.

You were rummaging through Felix’s bag trying to find the snacks that he likes. He’s been getting fidgety and maybe a snack would help keep him occupied. “Don’t worry about it. We can just go to the restaurant down the street. He gets food and time to relax.” You let out a sigh feeling bad that you may have forgotten to pack the snacks. “I swore I packed them before we left.”

You keep moving things around hoping they’ll pop up. “Daddy, eat.” Felix’s little voice grapes your attention. Giving up, you sling the bag over your shoulder again. Rafe picks him up, kissing the top of his head as he throws an arm around your shoulder. “I know bud. We’re going to go eat right now, right?” He looks at you so you could agree. Nodding your head you tickle Felix, kissing the hand he tries to use to push you away. His laugh is contagious, making the two of you let out your own. “Let’s get some food into that tummy, little man.” The three of you were wrapped up in your own world you didn’t see the lady watching.

“You have a beautiful family. You must be very proud.” She has a soft smile, eyes filled with joy as she watches you. Rafe responds before you can correct her mistake. “Thank you. I couldn’t be happier.”

Ever since then there’s been an energy around the two of you. It’s like the wall you two kept up were starting to crumble. Rafe was constantly texting you when he was actually in the office instead of working from home. Letting you know that he missed you and Felix or saying he can’t wait to go home to the two of you. Every message made you feel butterflies that didn’t help you stay neutral. You really hit your breaking point three days away.

Rafe had worked late today and Felix was already in bed. When you put him to bed he was already half asleep. But when you were closing the door you heard him call out to you. “Night mommy. Love you.” You had been thinking over the words when Rafe got home. He had found you in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with your back to him as you ate ice cream. “Hey. Sorry the meeting ran late so everything was pushed back.” He loosens up his tie, taking it off expecting you to answer but you don't.

He walks up behind you, his hands finding your hips. “What’s wrong baby?” The close proximity would normally send tingles down your spine but it isn’t. “Felix called me mom today.” Rafe freezes behind you for a second. He knew that his son loved you but he didn’t realize how deep that love actually went. It’s honestly not like he didn’t see it coming. The three of you have been practically playing the part of a family since you started.

He leans his head on your shoulder and kisses it. The action a new addition to the others he’s picked up over the months. “Well you’ve been a big part of his life, our lives. He wouldn’t be wrong to see you that way.” You turned in his arms staring up into his eyes. “He wouldn’t?” Rafe places his forehead on yours, brushing your nose with his. “No baby he wouldn’t. But how does it make you feel?” His eyes are closed, enjoying being this close to you. His hands are squeezing your hips, fingers spreading themselves under your shirt. “I guess it made me happy and confused. I just don’t want to hurt him.”

Your hands move their way up his arms, finding his shoulders before the hair at the nape of his neck. This is the closest the two of you have been. It doesn’t feel like a boss with their employee anymore. “We won’t.” That’s all he says to you before he’s kissing you with an intensity you’ve never seen. His lips are crashing onto yours, emotions spilling from him to you. The kiss is making your head spin so much you didn’t even realize he had lifted you to the counter.

He slots himself between your thighs, slowly moving his hips into yours. The friction makes you through your head back giving him the chance to kiss the exposed skiing of your neck. Then as if the world was playing some cruel joke it all went away. “Daddy!” Felix’s voice echoes through the halls. Rafe pulls away, his head resting on your chest as you two catch your breath. “He must’ve had a nightmare again.” He places a kiss to your skin detaching himself to go check on the boy. “I’ll go make sure he’s okay.” His right hand grabs the back of your neck and brings you in for one last kiss before heading out of the room.

That was the last time you got to be with him alone.

The next morning you woke up happier than usual. Only for you to get downstairs and see a suitcase by the door. Making your way to the kitchen you see Rafe already having breakfast with Felix. “Hey.” The two boys look at you and smile. They have the same exact one making your heart ache a little. “Daddy’s leaving.” You give Felix a sad/shocked face before turning to look at Rafe. “Oh he is?” Rafe’s eyes deflect from yours, feeling as if he was under inspection. “Yeah, just for a couple of days. They called me this morning and I can’t pass up this deal.” You just nodded, grabbing the extra prepared plate to eat yourself.

“Well I guess it’s just you and me, little man.” The rest of breakfast was awkward. Rafe was trying to talk to you but you only focused on Felix. Then after Rafe said his goodbyes. “Bye buddy I’ll see you when I get back.” Felix hugged him tight before running off, leaving the two of you alone. “I swear I didn’t know about this last night.” You crossed your arms. “It’s fine I get it.” Rafe winces at your tone, not liking how it didn’t sound like you.

He grabbed your waist pulling you closer. “Promise when I get back I’ll make it up to you. Take care of our boy. I’ll see you in a few days.” He pecked your lips before getting his bag and leaving. Our boy. You may be sad that he’s leaving you for a few days but how can you be upset? He just implied Felix was your boy and you couldn’t be happier. Guess you’ll just have to wait for him.

Today has been a long day. Felix had cried all day asking for his daddy, wanting to seek comfort in Rafe. You were woken up to the choked sobs of Felix telling you he didn’t feel good before throwing up everywhere. The day was spent cleaning your room as Felix sleeps in your bed. Every few hours you took his temperature to see that it was still normal but slightly raised. Rafe didn’t seem too concerned saying he may have eaten something that upset his stomach.

By the time it hit nine both of you were both knocked out in your bed. The tv plays an episode of Bluey, the background noise easing you two into a deep sleep. The front door opens, Rafe lugging his things in. “I’m home.” Rafe looks around to see no lights on besides the night lights for Felix. He checks Felix’s room only to see no one in there. The next room he checks is his. Sometimes Felix will sneak into his room and cuddle him to fall back asleep. He expected to see him there but when he didn’t he started to panic. Rushing to your room, he swings the door open, freezing when it does.

There you were with his baby boy, holding him to your side as you both slept. His heart rate races as he watches the two of you. Quickly he gets ready for the night, taking a shower and getting dressed. Slowly he makes his way back to your room and slots himself on the other side of the sleepy boy. For a few minutes he convinces himself this is how it always was. You, him and Felix.

In the morning when you woke up, you stretched in bed noticing that a certain someone was missing. You shoot up from the bed worried that Felix may have gotten out. In your groggy state you see a tall figure walking into your room. Now you're scared someone broke in. “Easy there. I got my sister to watch Felix since he was feeling better.” You rub your eyes trying to see if you are dreaming. “Rafe? What are you doing here?” He pushes you back to the bed and sets a plate on the table next to you.

“Taking care of you.” He kisses your check. “Thank you for taking care of him.” His lips skid across your skin, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Did you mean it?” He pulls back to look at you. “Huh?” You avert your eyes, scared of what the answer might be. “The other night when you said Felix wouldn’t be wrong for calling me mom.” The corner of his mouth lifts, a hand cupping your check. “Yeah baby I meant it.”

You crush your lips to his, throwing all caution to the wind. He meets you with the same fever. The kiss is different from the one in the kitchen. It feels like there isn’t a rush, just an excitement to explore each other. Which is exactly what Rafe wants to do. He pushes you back, his lips making their way to every inch of your skin. A moan slips your lips when he finds the sweet spot on your neck.

Before you know it your sleep shirt is on the floor, his own following along. “God you’re fucking beautiful.” You blush under his gaze, hands pulling down his pants. Rafe’s lips move lower, placing sloppy kisses over your chest. Sucking a nipple into his mouth, he takes your shorts off. His middle finger slips through your folds feeling how wet you are. An involuntary moan leaves his throat. “Who’s making you this wet baby?” You squirm under him, squeezing his finger as it glides into you. When you don’t say anything he pulls away.

The hand that was just in you grabs your face forcing you to look at him. “Answer me.” Your eyes snap open, meeting his blue ones. “You, Rafe.” He smirks at you, lowering himself once again. As he’s face to face with your pussy he smirks up at you. “That’s right baby. Don’t forget it.” His lips wrap around your clit sucking hard as he moves his hand to pump his fingers in you. His fingers are long and thick. Everytime they pump back into you, they curl hitting your g-spot.

It didn’t take long until you were pushed over the edge. Your legs trembled locking around his head. His left arm wraps around your hips, keeping you in place as he keeps devouring you. Even though you are over stimulated he keeps going until another orgasim is rushing through you. When he finally came up for air you were laid out on the bed catching your breath. He kisses up your stomach until he reaches your lips. “How you feeling?” You kiss him again, taking a hold of his dick to line him up. “Really good.” You tease his tip, rubbing it up and down your slit. Impatiently he pushes in, groaning at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

He gives you a moment to adjust before moving his hips. Slowly he rocks his hips back and forth. The feeling is overwhelming. If you thought his fingers were thick, having him inside you was a different feeling. Rafe takes a hold of your right leg, lifting it over his shoulder as the other rests on his hips. From this angle he feels more intense. “Rafe, so good.” His forehead rests on your shoulder, hips rocking into yours. His pelvis hitting your clit each time. “Fuck if you keep talking like that I’m going to fill you up.” You clench around him, liking the thought more than you’ll like to admit.

He bites your shoulder holding back a moan. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Want me to fill you up baby?” You moan, the leg around his hip pulling him closer. Nodding your head you moan. “Yeah. I need it.” You wined out. His hands tightly gripping your shoulders using it to pull you onto him. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll fill you.” One of his hands moves down to your stomach, sprawling his finger out.

“Maybe I’ll fuck a baby into you. Make you a mom and give Felix a sibling.” You let out a loud moan at his words. Nail markers litter his back as you keep clawing at it to keep yourself grounded. “Please.” He keeps fucking you but his movements are starting to stutter. His hips lose their movement as he starts to reach his peak. “Please what? Say it and I’ll give it to you.” Your mouth gaps open, sucking in air as you feel like you're suffocating. “Say it. I need you to say it.”

The tone of his voice breaks you. “Fill me please. I want you to fuck a baby in me.” His eyes meet yours. “Please Rafe.” His mouth drops open, a moan escaping. “Ah fuck.” The warmth of his cum filling you triggers your third orgasim of the night. The two of you come down, holding each other. A few minutes go by and he finally detaches himself from you. Laying next to you Rafe turns to look at you. “You know I think we may need to do that again.” He leans over you to peck your lips. “Oh yeah?” You giggle. He nods, kissing you again.

“Don’t think it worked. Gonna have to fill you until we know it did.”

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #outer banks smut #drew starkey smut #obx

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lorelune · 1 year ago

Text

cicatrix

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

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

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

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

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

“You should go see him.”

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

“Who?” You lie. You already know who.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Foolish?” You interrupt her with a laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

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

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

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

“I could take over.” Fu Xuan suggests.

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

“... Tasks can be delegated accordingly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fu Xuan says your name sharply.

“Yes?”

“... I’m worried.”

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

(You’re so tired.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

Most of the data is slop to someone without training.

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

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

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

You’re used to the awe of it.

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

And you have been fixing it.

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

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

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

You’re tired, maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You dream of Jing Yuan often.

Sometimes, these dreams are awful.

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

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

Sometimes, the dreams are pleasant.

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

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

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

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

Leaving only you to your work. Fixing.

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

So, you tinker away.

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

Your head pounds.

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try to think little of it. Artisanship Commission.

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

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

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

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

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

Odd.

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

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

The interaction leaves you with a vague sense of unease.

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

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

And you mustn’t visit Jing Yuan.

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

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

Rations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t allow that.”

“... Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

Yanqing’s eyes are shiny and wet.

Oh.

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cross your arms and try not to cry.

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

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

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

“No hello?”

“Fine. Hello.”

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

You don’t budge.

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

He hums, “You do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds embarrassing.”

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

“... Really?”

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

You don’t know what to think.

“I have to—”

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

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

You tap the pendant on your chest.

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

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

“... A week?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(“There are worse ways to die.”)

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

“Ideally, I wouldn’t—”

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

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

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

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

To save him from being swallowed by Mara.

And yet, you beg him to remember you.

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow.

“Probably not.”

“I apologize.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s simply too pleasant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is not a dream.

“Oh,” you say, softly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Cruel man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you miss it—?

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re pulling rank on me?”

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

“… Are the gardens off limits?”

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

“... Really?”

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

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

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

Neither you nor Jing Yuan escaped unscathed.

“Do I need to prepare?”

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

“Did I wake up at all?”

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

You nearly moan.

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

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

“I want it.”

“A bath?”

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

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

You don’t need to be persuaded.

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

...

“How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Physically?”

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

“... Mentally? All over, Jing Yuan.”

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

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

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

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

“No, not at all.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod along, only half-there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels heavenly.

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

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

“I’m filthy, aren’t I?” You ask.

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

“May I wash yours?” You ask.

“You still have your body, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe later, for now you bask.

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

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

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

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

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

“... Pleasure, huh?”

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

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

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

“I was worried.”

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

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

Half-dead.

Corpse-like.

Steps from death’s door.

On your way to the grave.

Dead.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s hard.”

“I know.”

The hands around you squeeze hard enough to bruise.

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

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

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

“What could I have said?”

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

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

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

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

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

(Don’t go. Please don’t go. Not yet.)

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

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

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

“Please—”

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

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

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

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

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

Jing Yuan must see your eyes water. He softens.

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

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

...

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

And these aren’t typical circumstances.

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

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

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

You huff.

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

It’s tortuous. It’s wonderful.

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

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

He locks the door behind you as you step inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course I would.”

You say it so simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You haven’t been touched in so long.

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

“Such a lovely scent,” He hums.

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

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

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

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

“Scoundrel.”

“I think you do like it.”

You missed bantering with him.

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

Jing Yuan bites down on your neck.

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

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

(What a wretched man.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s all soul-splitting.

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

You were so scared of losing this.

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

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

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

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

I can’t lose you just yet.

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

“N-No, you must.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tears well up in your eyes.

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

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

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

“Oh, [Name].” He says, mournful.

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

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

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

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

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

“... You did?”

He pauses.

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

“Oh.”

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

“Did you think I didn’t worry?”

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

“I asked to see you, you know.”

“... I was told.”

“What did you think that meant?”

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

“... Dan Heng?”

“Sure.” Lizard. Fucker.

“... You’re jealous?”

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

Jing Yuan looks startled, then his expression softens.

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

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

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

“... He’s not coming to steal you?”

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

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

“Do you wish he would?”

Jing Yuan pauses.

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

You’re sensitive.

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

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

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

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

(This is how Jing Yuan prefers it anyways.)

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

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

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

“F-Finally giving in?”

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

“Bastard.”

He nips the apex of your thigh and you yip.

“Yours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I being gentle enough?”

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

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

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

“What’s unfair?”

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

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

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

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

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

“P-Please—”

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

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

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

Who's to say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” You look down.

The bulge of him makes your mouth water.

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

“... That would be nice.”

“Would you like peaches?”

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

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

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

“Can I come to the kitchen with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I— I forgot how big it is.”

“I’m still covered, dearest.”

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

You want to ask him:

“How do you do this?”

And Jing Yuan, mirthful, would say:

“Do what?”

And you would say:

“This.”

This:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are glad he eats. That he is full.

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

“... Fairly sure.”

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

There’s no harm to it, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So much,” you admit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squirm, bucking your hips, urging him closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘S okay?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “But I want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... You want me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” You can do that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damning yourselves.

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

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

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

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

“You’re going to take all of me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Your worry is misplaced.)

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

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

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

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

“No guilt—”

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

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

You really won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

“I don’t doubt y-you like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To have both of you.

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

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

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

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

Both had by each other.

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

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

(You felt small and helpless.)

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

Perhaps, they already have.

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

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

It is good to rest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marking each other as each other’s.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jing Yuan is ever patient with you.

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

It is a simple way to put something much larger.

Jing Yuan seems to understand regardless.

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

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

“I try to remind myself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, I’ll carry you? That’s doable.”

“No— I mean— You can—”

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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mossyscavern · 30 days ago

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Not spies, just a bit incompetent.

_________________________

“Now, are you spies? Or just incompetent! Lackeys!”

The winged bot asked, leaning forward with a harsh yell as red optics flared. “Whoa, we’re not spies.” Orion ushered, servos up. “But he is incompetent.” Elita adds.

“Scanning electrical impulses: he speaks, the truth.” The bot with the face guard and yellow visor states after scanning-. ‘Is that bee?! Why’s that mech holding bee?!’ Orion thought, worry coursing through him.

“That just means he believes himself, like any spy would.” He states, leaning against the other armrest of the throne. “Hmh! M! M! Mh!” Bee tries to say, kicking his peds excitedly, but thanks to the treat he’s eating, he can’t talk.

Orion’s glad that he’s alright.. but he still can’t help but worry about the young sparkling. “Uhm.. Why is he holding him..? Is that an energon treat?” Elita-1 asks, pointing and threatening.

And from the looks of it, D really doesn’t like how they’re holding bee, judging by the obvious death stare. “He wouldn’t stop talking.” The one eyed mech explains. “Even when he was unconscious?” She wondered, optic ridge raise-.

“WE DIDN’T KNOCK OUT A SPARKLING!!!” He shouts stomping his ped, sounding offended by her question.

“Enough. Two options for you, 1: we slowly dismantle each of you, one bolt and screw at a time! And really make sure you feel it for potential kidnapping.” He says, listing off one of the two options with a scowl.

“Or 2: in exchange for a quick death, you give us intel on the energon trains, access to the mines or anything else that could hurt your boss, Sentinel Prime.” He threatens, darkening his optics more towards the three.

D-16 darkens his optics, not entirely trusting any of them.. especially with the sparkling in their arms. “Who exactly are you?” Elita asks.

Bee ate the energon treat more quickly now, trying to finish it in 20 seconds. “Wait!! Not too quickly!” The one eyed mech warned, too little too late by the time bee finished the cube.

“The cybertronian! *hic* high *hic* guard!” Bee says, hiccuping as he spoke. “*sighs* I told him not to eat it quickly.” The mech sighs, shaking his hexagonal helm fondly, handing an energon drink to the sparkling.

“Prestigious *hic* defenders of *hic* Iacon. *hic* prest-*hic*-igious?” Bee asks, hiccuping each word, then drank the energon and thanked them.

“Right. I read all about you in the archives. You were the most legendary warriors in all of Cybertron.” Orion exclaims, pointedly before remembering a very important detail about them. ‘They’ll always protect our young.’ He thought.

“Look, look! There’s starscream! Shockwave! The bot carrying me is Soundwave!” he exclaims, pointing to each main three before raising his hand.

“Hey, are all of you named wave? There’s a lot of waves” bee asked, getting an answer from shockwave’s shaking head.

“Silence!” Starscream shouts. “The young spark is correct.” The seeker states, giving bee a smile when he celebrated. “We were once the High Guard,” he starts, leaning back on the throne.

“We witnessed Sentinel’s Betrayal, saw the Primes fall. Ever since then, we’ve been fighting from the shadows to sabotage Sentinel.”

“That’s great! We’re also-.” Orion was about to stand before a multitude of weapons are levelled to his face. “Woah, okay! We’re good, relax, we’re all friends here. I just wanted to say that we’re all allies here.”

“Hah! Yeah right, like we’d believe the bots that probably kidnap the sparkling.” Starscream stood up, screaming in rage at the last bit, making everybot quiet… all but a small voice broke the silence.

“… what?”

_________________________

I’m… making this one a 2 parter.

1: I like to make these things short and sweet so it’s not too overwhelming. 2: … I can’t fit in some of moments from the movie and pair it with the baby au.. like that fight scene between D-16 and starscream.

I got permission to write this from @yuukirita … and here’s their art and writing for the inspiration -> high guard and the baby please go check it out.

#transformers one #transformers #maccadam #bumblebee #b 127 #d-16 #elita 1 #Orion pax #starscream #Soundwave #shockwave #baby bee au #transformers side of the cavern #it’s not titled like that… but it might as well be

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vhaos-chaotic-writing · 30 days ago

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🌌💗💜MOONSTORM'S BACK BOYIE!!🫶🫶 With another request of part 2 of my last request Yandere ALL tfp characters x super shy reader, the same ever reader, the whole thing being an scenario how the Autobots, even Ratchet, come back from an mission to find thare beloved SUPER innocent🥺 reader upset, sad or happy with Jack, Miko and Raf trying to chear tham up?💜💗🌌😘

MOON IS BACK!!! \(@^0^@)/

(TFP) Yandere!Autobots w/ Shy Cybertronian!Reader Pt. 2 - "The sun to my sunflower"

WARNINGS: Yandere behaviour, yandere harem, typical violence from the series and a little bit more, Reader is gender neutral and in the Autobot faction. Cliffjumper ain't here - boy is dead af. Reader has PTSD and has an anxiety attack.

Every day, like clockwork, sunflowers wake up and bend toward the sun, following its path from east to west - no matter how soft or harsh the sun is feeling that day, the always follow it until it sets.

Their optics always follow you, loving everything about you - it brings them peace in the middle of the war. They love to see you interacting with, well, anything! They love the way you express, talk, think - and while they would rather have you happy all the time, your negative emotions always remind them the reason why they love you and protect you.

Of course - their favorite emotion to see painted on your faceplate is happiness.

Your soft and lively laugh makes Bumblebee, Wheeljack and Ultra Magnus turn their helms, forgetting what they were doing for the sake of burning inside of their memory softwares the sound of your laugh and smile. Finding you laughing as Miko shows you those silly cat videos of them sleeping in funny positions, making funny noises or doing just something with their owners! Your laugh makes their sparks sigh and burn, and it brings them peace. While Ultra Magnus would stand back to keep admiring you, Bee and Wheeljack would get closer and ask you what were you laughing about, loving to hear you explain them with such joy the origin of your present contentment.

A small whine or defeated hum would make Smokescreen and Bulkhead turn their helms in the blink of an optic. To see you frown and with an annoyed expressiong makes their spark shout a 'No! No! Wrong! Sweetspark should not be annoyed!' and make their engines work quickly to fix the problem! The two mechs are quick to ask you what is the problem? Why are you upset? Are you okay? Do you need help? How can they help you? They can't stand not see you happy and pleased! When you express your frustration of having heard Jack is stressed with his studies and haven't thought how to cheer up the teenager after seeing him so down, it broke your spark. Bulkhead and Smokescreen are so relieved that you are okay, making them melt at how you keep the well being of the human children close to your spark.

Oh, but when a soft sob or the beginning of a sparkbreaking wail reaches their audials - every single one of them feels something in their spark twist and wail back. A couple of weeks ago, Raf had got you an amethyst geode since you seemed to find so fascinating the minerals from earth. You were enamoured with it, thanking Raf for nearly a whole week. The team knew how much you cared for that small gift - it brought them happiness and knew how that object brought you some kind of support whenever you were anxious or nervous.

Just when Optimus and Arcee were arriving back from a mission and being welcomed back by Ratchet, the sound of crystal breaking is heard, followed by a desperate inhale. The leader, the medic and the soldier are quick to run to your recharging room and when they enter, the sight breaks their sparks. The geode was now in pieces on the floor, with you kneeling and seemed to be holding a couple of said pieces in your servos - you must had accidentally added to much pressure as you held the mineral against your chestplate to find the comfort in order to control your anxiety attack. Alas, the moment you heard the crack and saw the pieces escaping from your servos, you broke down just as the painful memories of the beginning of the war attacked you. Ratchet and Arcee are quick to reach you, trying to calm you down, holding your servos and let you cry on either chestplate.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" You cry, your helm held against Arcee's chestplate, the fembot hugging you closely as Ratchet holds one of your servos, the medic and the soldier whispering to you supportive words. When Optimus finally moves, the medic and the soldier slowly move away but don't stop touching you until you are in Optimus' hug. The Prime holds you and when you hug him back to sob against his chestplate, Ratchet and Arcee place one of their servos on your backplates. It pains them to see you like this, crying and with tears in your precious optics. They'll end this war so you never cry again.

Like a sunflower, all of them turn their helms towards you, as you are the sun to their universe. The precious, bright and gracious sun.

Shyly asking you if you want to be mutuals... (/ω＼*)……… (/ω•＼*) Vhaos out!

#transformers #transformers x reader #yandere transformers #yandere x reader #tfp x reader #autobots x reader #transformers prime x reader #transformers prime

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achilles-rage · 1 month ago

Text

Close To You

summary: buck takes you out to a nice restaurant, then you spend the night at his place; as close to each other as possible.

word count: 5.0k

request: @dreams-encapsulated-in-glamour - So I have a request, if possible! So it’s basically romantic!buck but he’s obsessed with making both you and him cum, like finishing together multiple times throughout the session if that makes sense, with aftercare too!

a/n: thank you so much for requesting this, it was so fun to write. also i definitely got a bit carried away, my bad lol. i really like how this turned out, so i hope you enjoy<33

warnings: smut, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ Only!

You smile widely at Buck when you open your front door, your eyes trailing down his suit-clad figure before you lean in to give him a quick kiss.

“This is last minute. What have you got planned tonight, Buckley?” you tease with a raised brow as he takes one of your hands in his and guides you to do a spin for him. He uses this time to let his eyes roam your body, taking in your pretty blue dress and the way it allows him to see every dip and curve of your body. His pretty girl.

“Just wanted to take you out for dinner. Is that a crime?” he says when you’re turned to face him again, teasing you right back and then pulling you both together. He guides your hand up to his shoulder, and then both of his hands grab your hips as he steps into your apartment, and he gives you another, deeper kiss.

Honestly, he had a close call at work today, and it made him want to see you more than anything. And what better way to spend time with you than by treating you to a nice dinner?

“I guess not. Unless we don’t get dessert, then it’s most definitely a crime.” you reply when you pull away from the kiss, biting your lip as you look up at him with wide eyes. He chuckles, eyes studying your pretty face for a moment before he replies. God, he’d give you anything you asked for.

“Come on, I’m not a monster.” he teases, giving you a wink. You laugh softly, then begrudgingly part from him to grab your purse on your kitchen counter. Buck waits in the entryway, holding the door open as he watches you, and then you’re out the door and on your way down Buck’s jeep.

You feel giddy as he drives to the restaurant, and he can feel the way your leg is bouncing as he keeps his hand firmly on your thigh. The movement makes your dress ride up your thigh ever so slightly, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Buck, but he tries to ignore it for now. He’s taking you for dinner first.

You’ve been wanting to go to this new restaurant for months, but reservations are almost impossible to get; you’re not even sure how Buck managed to swing a last-minute reservation.

He acts like a perfect gentleman the whole night; not like you’re not completely used to that treatment from him, but the amount of effort he’s putting into this impromptu date night is making your whole body feel hot. You’re sure that if you weren’t surrounded by strangers right now, you’d be on top of him.

It started with him opening your car door and helping you into the jeep, then telling you how gorgeous you looked at least four times on the way to the restaurant, then it was pulling out your chair for you, and then it was him insisting on paying for the entire meal. You tried to tell him that you should at least pay for dessert – even though all you have in your purse is your lip gloss and your phone, but it’s the thought that counts – but he shoots you down immediately.

“I’m paying. It’s not your job to worry about paying for dates.” is all he says as he grabs the cheque, and you’re now completely sure that you’d be on top of him if it weren’t for being in public.

“What’s got you like this tonight?” you ask once you’re back in the jeep, the street lights illuminating Buck’s face every few seconds as you look over at him.

He squeezes your thigh twice as he glances over at you, an innocent smile on his face. He hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you all night, and it feels like torture to have to stare at the road until he gets you back to his place.

“Like what?” he asks, and you tilt your head to the side, your eyes narrowing even though there’s still a small smile on your face.

“I don’t know; nice dinner, getting all dressed up. I mean, you’re usually like this, but not this much.” you say and he sighs, shrugging. He doesn’t want to worry you, but he knows he’ll have to tell you eventually; he’s never been able to keep much from you.

“Just wanna spend time with my girl.” he tries first, and when your eyes narrow more, he tries again. “I just had a bit of a close call at work today. Nothing major, but I just wanted to do something with you, I don’t know.”

Your eyes soften at his words, and although you’re worried about how close this call really was, you know that it’s part of the job, and that he’s made it home safe today either way.

You grab his hand off of your thigh and squeeze it, then bring it up to your lips to kiss the back of his hand. He smiles over at you, and he feels the blush on his cheeks at the tender moment.

“I love you.” is all you say when you meet his gaze for a split second. He hums softly as he looks back at the road, finally pulling onto his street.

“I love you. So much.” he replies.

When you get to his building, it’s like a switch flips. The second the elevator doors close, your lips meet each other’s, and he’s pulling you in by the hips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Both of your hands start to wander as the elevator brings you to his floor; both of your breathing growing laboured and soft whines escaping your lips as you both fight the urge to rip the other’s clothes off. When you hear the faint dinging, you part begrudgingly, both panting as Buck takes your hand again and leads you to his door.

As he unlocks his door, you wrap your arms around his torso from behind, running your nails up and down the thin fabric of his dress shirt. You can’t help the soft giggle that tumbles from your lips when he drops his keys and lets out a rough “fuck;” his hands shaking so much in anticipation for what he’s planning on doing to you that he can hardly focus.

As soon as the door is unlocked, you both stumble inside, and he kicks the door closed with his foot as he cups your cheeks in his hands, bringing your lips together once again. Your purse drops to the floor as he kicks off his shoes, barely parting from your hot kiss as he backs you up towards the kitchen.

When you feel your back hit the kitchen counter, Buck’s hands slide down your ass to the back of your thick thighs and lift you onto the counter, making your dress ride up your thighs even more.

“God, you’re so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?” he whispers against your lips as his fingers trial up under your dress and along the outside of your thighs. You pull back with a dazed grin, eyes darting down to his puffy lips for a moment before you reply.

“I think I could ask you the same thing.” you tease, and he grins too. He admires you for a moment as you sit on his counter, your plush belly and thighs on full display for his eyes, and he has to fight back a groan. He’s so in love with you.

He kneels in front of you for a moment, and you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, but then he grabs one of your ankles and begins to unbuckle your heel. You watch with a soft smile as he takes both your shoes off, and when he takes each one off, he finishes with pressing a soft kiss to your shin, just below the knee.

When he stands back up, you both just stare at each other for a moment, looking into each other's eyes and both silently wondering how you got so lucky to find each other.

He brings your lips back to his for one more kiss, placing one hand on the side of your neck, before he trails kisses down your jaw to your neck. You tilt your head back immediately, and your hands eagerly go to his chest, trying blindly to push his suit jacket off of his shoulders.

His lips don’t leave your neck as he shrugs off his jacket, and when his arms are free again, he wastes no more time in pushing your dress up to expose your lower half, the skirt now bunched around your waist.

Neither of you care that you’re both still fully clothed as you work to unbuckle Buck’s belt and he pushes your panties to the side, two fingers gliding through your slick folds.

You bite your lips as you work to get his cock free, and when you’re finally able to pull him out of his pants, you waste no time in wrapping your hand around him. His two fingers have already plunged into your cunt as you stroke his cock, both of you moaning softly and bringing your lips together in a sloppy kiss as you try to focus on the other’s pleasure.

You try to keep a steady pace, running your thumb over the head of his cock every so often, but you’re finding it increasingly difficult as he uses two fingers to fuck you and his thumb to rub circles over your clit.

To make matters worse, every few strokes, he sways forward; closer to you, and his tip presses against your dripping cunt so teasingly that you want to scream. If it weren’t for his desperate moans and grunts, you’d be sure that he’s doing it on purpose. His kisses to your neck feel white hot, and you can’t help but close your eyes as you keep your head tilted back.

When you feel him start to get closer to the edge, you slow your pace, moving achingly slow as he picks up the pace of his fingers. He curls them up to hit that spot inside you, and you mewl loudly, tilting your head back as you feel yourself getting close to the edge now, as well. He smirks as he sees your expression, and he coos softly, tilting your head back down with his other hand and bringing your lips back to his.

In a few more strokes, he’s right on the edge, and he leans back from your lips again, urging you to take your hand off his cock and replacing it with his own. You lean back on your hands as you watch him, eyes glued to his hands as he continues to rub your clit roughly and fuck his fist, and in a few seconds, you’re both falling over the edge with loud moans.

He keeps his eyes on your cunt as you both cum, watching you clench around nothing as he paints your pussy with his cum. You bite your lips as your chest heaves, and you finally look back up to Buck’s face, meeting his eyes as you both try to catch your breaths.

He finally removes his fingers and brings them up to his mouth, licking them clean with a soft groan. You watch him intently, your mouth going dry as you become unable to think about anything other than how fucking good your boyfriend looks right now. Sure, he’s attractive all the time, but right now, with his slightly wrinkled dress shirt and his blown pupils, you’re not sure how you’re ever able to leave the house.

“I’m nowhere near done with you.” Buck says, after he’s finished cleaning his fingers, then brings you in for another passionate kiss. He yanks you closer by your hips, and you put your hands on his chest, shaky hands working to unbutton the shirt so you can see his beautiful torso.

When you finally get the last button undone, your hands move back up to his chest, then to his shoulders, and you push the shirt down his arms and off his body.

You part from his lips to look at his bare chest, your fingers ghosting across the scars and freckles on his skin. He chuckles softly as he watches your eyes move down his torso, seemingly in a daze, and he lets you look at him for a moment, then uses one hand to lift your chin back up to face him with a smile.

“It hardly seems fair that I’m practically naked and you’re still fully clothed, baby. I think I’m gonna have to even the playing field.” he teases, gesturing to his bare chest and his pants now sitting low on his thighs.

You laugh softly, but it turns into a quiet yelp as he pulls you off the counter to stand in front of him and then turns you around and pushes your upper half onto the cold countertop. You hum softly, biting your lips as he grabs the hem of your dress and pushes it up to bunch around your waist again, admiring your pretty panties that have moved back into place from your movements and the dark wet spot now covering your cunt.

In one swift motion he yanks your panties down, and you shiver as the cool air hits you.

“Almost there.” he whispers in your ear as he leans over you, pressing your back to his front. His arms loop around your torso, one hand landing on your plush tummy, and the other just above your chest, and then he pulls you back up to stand up straight.

He works quickly to pull your dress off your body and throw it to the side, and then he works to get your bra unclasped, sliding the straps down your shoulders painfully slowly once it’s undone.

“You’re so pretty, baby. My pretty girl.” he rasps as he gently pushes you back down onto the countertop, and you whine softly, desperate to feel him. You push your hips back against his, and he groans as he grips your hips, stopping your actions.

“I’m getting there, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” he purrs, and you whimper in anticipation. As much as he normally likes to hear you beg, he doesn’t think he has it in him right now. So, without any warning, he grabs his cock and glides it through your folds, coating himself with your arousal, and then he buries himself to the hilt with a loud moan.

You lurch forward as you feel him stretch you out, feeling his tight grip on your hips as he slowly slides out almost completely, only to bury himself into your sopping cunt in one swift motion. As he starts to fuck you, all you can do is moan, and your cheek resting against the cold counter is a harsh contrast to the way your skin is burning.

While he keeps one hand on your hip, his other moves up to your back, ghosting over your rolls and your stretch marks as he tries to touch as much of your skin as he can. You’re always so pretty for him, and right now is no exception.

His lips press hot kisses to the back of your neck and your back between low moans in your ear as he leans over you, and you can’t help the whimpers and pleas tumbling from your lips as he fucks into you like he hasn’t seen you in weeks.

As he keeps the steady pace of his thrusts, he leans down again, pressing his chest to your back. He’s desperate to feel you as much as he can; desperate to touch you and love on you, as if letting up on his hold will make you disappear right before his eyes.

He trails one of his hands from your hip to your arm, forcing you to hold your wrist up above your head on the counter as he intertwines your fingers, his palm pressed against the back of your hand; desperate to convey how much he loves you.

He fucks you slowly, moaning into your ear as he whispers soft praises into your ear. How good you feel around him. How well you take his cock. How pretty your moans are. He’s pressed so firmly against you as his hips move that it feels like he’s trying to mold you two together, not that you mind. Him being so close feels so good, the movements of his hips aside.

He can feel you clenching around him, and he can hear the way your moans become more high pitched and breathy, and he knows you’re close. He picks up the pace just slightly, although it’s far more slow and sensual than usual, and you moan loudly, grip tightening on his fingers.

“You gonna cum with me, baby?” he murmurs in your ear, and you nod quickly, trying to move your hips back against him.

“Please, wanna feel you.” you whimper in response, and he smirks. He moves his other hand from your hip and wraps it around you, fingers moving to circle your clit sloppily as he tries to hold off on cumming too soon. He loves the feeling of both of you letting go together, and he’s desperate to bring you to the edge before he fucking explodes.

“I’m gonna- I’m-” you moan breathlessly a few moments later, and with a few more thrusts, you’re both reaching your highs. You feel his cum painting your insides, and you let out a content sigh, smiling when you feel Buck bury his head in the crook of your neck. He rests there for a minute or two, still buried inside of you as you come down from your highs, and you can’t help your eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his body on top of you consumes you.

“You’re always so good for me.” he whispers against your skin, his breath tickling you and making you let out a breathy laugh.

“Can we do that again?” you tease, barely able to keep your eyes open as you focus on his voice. He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the middle of your back; right between your shoulder blades, then stands up straight.

He finally slides out of you, groaning at the mess between your thighs as he spreads you open with his hands on your ass, then pulls you to stand up straight and turns you to face him.

“Patience, baby. We’ve got all night.” he murmurs as he moves one hand up to grip your throat gently, stopping you from rising onto your toes and kissing him again.

His eyes soften as you pout, and he chuckles; he can’t say no to you. He leans down and gives you a featherlight kiss that leaves your head spinning. He’s usually gentle with you, unless you ask otherwise, but tonight, you can feel his love for you pouring out of him.

“You wanna go upstairs?” he asks when he pulls away, and you nod. Your knees feel weak at all the attention – and the orgasms he just pulled from you – so lying down sounds perfect right now.

He pulls his pants back up, just until he can get to his room and take them off completely, then guides you up the stairs to his room, trying desperately to keep his eyes off your ass as you walk ahead of him.

When you get to his room, you collapse onto his bed while he pulls his pants off, and when he’s finally lying beside you on his back and your cheek is pressed against his chest, you barely even think to care about the mess between your thighs. You’re sure you won’t be going to sleep soon either way.

“How bad was your close call today?” you ask after a few moments of silence, fingers trailing along his chest in front of your face.

“I mean, it wasn’t good, but it wasn’t being struck by lightning or anything.” he tries to joke, a sheepish look on his face. You lift your head off his chest and look up at him with a raised brow and he sighs. “Alright. I was trying to save someone who had fallen off their balcony, and was hanging on the side of their building. When I got lowered down, the winch malfunctioned, and I almost fell. I saved the person, though. Everyone’s alright.”

You sigh, biting your lip. Of course his attention is focused on the person he saved.

“But are you okay?” you ask, and he nods quickly, giving you a look that shows you he’s not lying.

“Baby, I’m fine. Promise. You just saw all of me, I don’t have any bruises or anything.” he tries to joke, and this time you do laugh a little. He’s right; you hadn’t seen anything to convince you that he isn’t okay.

“You’re a good man.” you tell him after a second, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. He blushes, a smile fighting its way onto his face as he raises a brow. Your smile widens when you see his confused expression and hear the small “thank you” that falls from his lips before you explain.

“You just told me that you almost fell off a building today, and the first thing you said after that is that the person you were meant to save is alright.” His brows furrow, and he shrugs, a little confused as to why you’re praising him right now. Not that he minds, of course. “Well, yeah. That’s why I was there.” he says a bit hesitantly.

“Baby, if anyone else was in your situation, they’d probably only be worried about themself. I’m sure that as you were struggling to keep yourself from falling, you were still thinking about the person you were trying to save.” He can feel his cheeks getting hot at your praise, finally understanding. Although he doesn’t feel like he deserves the praise, he relishes in it, staring into your eyes with so much love.

“I’m so happy you’re all mine.” you whisper before you press your lips to his. He lets out a content sigh as his arm wraps around your waist, helping you sit up and straddle his hips.

Once you’re on his lap, legs on either side of his body, his hands move to your thick thighs, digging into the flesh as he melts into the kiss. He lets you kiss him for a minute or two, but it’s when you start moving your hips against his that he flips you over, trapping you under his weight.

You laugh softly as you stare up at him, wrapping your legs around his hips as he settles between your legs, and you can feel his cock against your heat, growing hard at the small bit of friction.

“You want more, huh, baby?” he teases you softly, although he knows that he wants you just as bad.

“Please?” you ask as you look up at him with big, wide eyes. He groans at the pleading look on your face, and he glides one hand down the side of your face as the other holds himself up.

“You’re gonna get what you want, pretty girl.” he murmurs before his lips are on yours. You moan against his lips as his tongue slides into your mouth, and you loosen your legs around his hips to allow him to grind against you slowly.

He’s painfully hard again as he moves against you, and he can’t hold himself back from grabbing his cock and sliding into you slowly after a few seconds, desperate to feel you again.

Your face scrunches up as he bottoms out, and you keep your eyes on him as he begins to move, soft moans tumbling from your parted lips.

He can’t get over how pretty you look under him; sprawled out on his bed, your soft belly and tits moving with each thrust, and your big eyes locked on his as he splits you open on his cock. He can feel your skin against his as he moves his hips, one hand still holding himself up while the other moves down your neck to your chest, squeezing one of your breasts.

You arch your back into him, tilting your head back and closing your eyes as the pleasure envelopes you. He takes the time to admire you again, and relishes in how you feel pressed against him, so eager to take all that he’s willing to give you.

He looks back up at your face after a moment, then gently taps your cheek with two fingers, urging you to open your eyes again. When your eyes flutter open again, he moans, feeling your fingers digging into his shoulders as he stares deeply into your eyes.

You’re both feeling sensitive from your previous orgasms, so it doesn’t take long for both of you to get close to the edge yet again. Buck keeps his eyes locked with yours the entire time, however, loving every expression that crosses your face and how you look spread open for him on his bed.

As you both get closer and closer, he moves his hand to your throat, gripping it gently, as if to force you to keep your eyes open, he can tell that you’re struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Can you give me one more, baby?” he asks and you nod, whimpering as you keep your eyes locked on his. You can see the thin layer of sweat across his skin, and you bite your lip, feeling yourself getting dangerously close to the edge.

He pulls you in for a kiss, his hand still firmly on your throat, and his thrusts grow sloppy as his balls tighten.

With a few more thrusts, you’re both falling over the edge, and Buck leans away from your lips just in time for you to watch each other cum. As his hips still, you take the time to close your eyes, breathing heavily as you feel his release fill you up. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to that feeling.

“God, I love you.” he whispers as he nuzzles into your neck. He presses soft kisses to your skin as you both come down from your highs, letting you relax as he keeps your fronts pressed together.

“I love you.” you whisper back, your eyes still closed as you bask in the feeling of him still pressed against you.

After a minute or two, he pulls out, and you whimper softly, suddenly feeling extremely empty. You frown when you see him stand up from the bed, but when he holds out a hand to you, you smile.

“Shower?” is all he says. You nod, grabbing his hand and letting him help you off the bed.

He leads you to the bathroom, then wraps his arms around you and holds you close while you wait for the shower to heat up. He presses kisses to the top of your head as you rest against his chest, both of you wanting to stay as close to each other as possible; not wanting to be apart for even a second.

When you’re showered; each of you taking turns to help wash the other, you dry off and get back into bed. You relax into each other’s embrace, warm skin to skin as you try not to let the quick approaching sleep envelope you too soon.

“Do you want some water?” Buck is the first to break the silence, and you shake your head, too consumed with the feeling of his chest pressed to your back to even think about one of you getting out of bed.

“I just wanna lay with you.” you tell him in a quiet voice, sighing. He smiles, then presses a kiss to the back of your neck. Who is he to deny you such a sweet request?

“I love you so much, you know that, right?” he asks, his arms tightening instinctively around your waist. You smile, nodding quickly. “Of course I do. And I love you, too. More than anything.” you reply, and he’s sure that if you both weren’t so tired, he’d have you on your back again.

“Good. Because I let you order two desserts and split them even though I only wanted one of them.” he teases with a quiet chuckle. You laugh along with him, rolling your eyes.

“And I’m pretty sure you ended up liking the other one better, anyway.” you tease back, an exhausted smile plastered onto your face. He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. You’re always right, aren’t you?” he says, and you can tell from his voice that he’s smiling. You nod, giggling softly.

“It’s about time you admitted it.” you counter. You feel goosebumps on your skin when you feel his lips press to your bare shoulder, and you sigh, your eyes closing once again.

“Go to sleep, I can feel how tired you are.” he whispers in your ear. You hum softly, sighing heavily. You can feel your thoughts become cloudy, and it feels like everything is moving slower as you sink further into his arms.

“Can we do this again next weekend?” you ask in a quiet voice, and although you meant for it to come out in a teasing tone, you’re so tired that it comes out as more of a gentle plea.

“Of course, pretty girl, I promise. Now, go to sleep.” You nod slowly, and not a minute later, you’re asleep. He presses one last featherlight kiss to your bare skin before he closes his own eyes. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep either, it never does after he has you, but this time he’s out in record time, and his arm stays firmly draped over your waist the entire night.

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