#there’s no way I won’t be in pain by the end of the day

[peachysunrize]

All Too Well ⥃ modern!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: a reunion with your ex boyfriend at his mom’s Christmas party shouldn’t end with limbs tangled under a christmas tree, should it?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Mentions of toxic relationships, Aemond goes to therapy, smut, angst, p in v, oral (F receiving), breeding, secret relationships, alcohol, arguments, drunk sex!!! English is not my first language<3

Word count: 4.3k+

A/n: soooo this happened lol and ALSO THANK YOU TO THE ANON WHO GAVE ME THIS IDEA!!! I hope you enjoy this!! Comments & reblogs are more than appreciated💕💕

I don’t have a taglist so please follow and turn on notifications for @peachysunrizefics <3

Tension surprisingly is not high tonight despite the entire family being present. Perhaps the three glasses of mulled wine Aegon has thrust into your hand are doing the magic at keeping you sane — or perhaps you are too busy trying to escape the dark gaze of your ex-boyfriend.

It is… something to say the least; Alicent’s party is always extravagant, beautiful, and cozy. She outdoes herself each year by going above and beyond to prepare the eve with the most delicious meals and new drinks, terrifyingly expensive gifts, and last but not least, decorating the mansion with the most eye-catching milestones in every corner — probably Aegon’s doing — and a Christmas tree in every room.

You take a long sip from your glass, humming as the spices in the wine hit your tongue, Aegon’s sigh making you roll your eyes in annoyance.

“What?” You hiss, glaring at him as he shrugs and leans on the wall behind you, “It was your brilliant idea to join your family, not mine.”

“Yeah, but you’re sulking worse than me, and no one here has traumatized ya before,” he whispers, pouting as he takes a long swig from his glass, giving you a small yet quick smile.

You sneer at him, recalling every single pain a certain member of this family has put you through. All the tears and screams you shed for him on the bathroom floor, the days you called in sick because you had cried your energy out the night before, the hours you had to spend with Aegon with a fake smile plastered on your face because he could not know anything about your broken heart.

After all, it all happened due to the forced secrecy.

“Right,” you scoff, finishing your drink in one sip before looking at Aegon’s family conversing, only one person keeping himself invisible in the shadows, “That’s why you told me your… brother won’t be here.”

“That has nothing to do with trauma, dumbass,” Aegon says, walking to the long dining table in front of you to grab a bottle of wine and pour a generous amount in his glass, “It’s not like my brother has any interest in you, he is just a fucking sociopath, and a bit fucking weird but ‘s all.”

“Let’s not talk about him,” you exhale sharply, trying to ignore your friend’s point, yet again, the lack of knowledge on what has really happened between you and his younger brother. How could he when Aemond tried his hardest to keep you his secret, a forbidden captive to pour his deranged love into?

You loved him, and he did too! His love was everything you could ever imagine; it was pure, lovely, so warm and world consuming. But then something shifted in him, he wanted you in his corner of the world, tucked away from every eye.

It all started with subtle hints you tried to ignore; you were fine with being his forbidden romance, his lover in the shadows and you knew all too well why he wanted you kept in the dark. He was so in love, so smitten with the way you smelt, the way your lips curled in a smile, your messy hair on the hotel’s soft pillow. 

Your eyes wander around the room, finding Aemond’s eye already on you, his gaze sending shivers down your spine. His eye still weakens your knees; his stare is enough to make your throat dry and your hands tremble. There is not much to do especially when you are used to being the subject of his unwavering attention — most of the time, you would blush and swoon over how he wouldn’t take his eye off you when you both lay on the bed together, but it equally unnerved you how he used to act in front of other people as if he could not care less about your existence, and when he did he was scaring off other men, not allowing them even to have a normal conversation with you.

You avert your eyes back to your glass before you move towards the dining table to grab something to eat and keep your mind from thinking about him and ultimately ruining your night. The spicy taste of Alicent’s cheese twist distracts you for a little, and you can find the strength to look back at Aegon and ignore the piercing gaze of his younger brother.

“This tastes good, your Mum is an amazing cook,” you say, taking another one to stuff your mouth with, and washing it down with a freshly poured wine from your glass.

“Yeah, as if she doesn’t have a whole ass kitchen staff ready downstairs,” he chuckles and steals a bite from your twist, making a gagging sound at the taste, “Holy fuck, how can you eat this crap? It feels like I’ve dumped an entire jalapeno down my throat. Aemond is the same, he can never go without adding kilos of pepper to his food.”

“Stop, Aegon,” you hiss at him, shaking your head as you pinch your friend’s side, “How many times have I told you not to mention him in front of me?”

“Many fucking times,” he groans and leans on his elbows on the table, “I don’t get why you are so defensive about him. He’s a good kid!”

“He forgot my birthday and took you and your family on a fucking trip, so yes, I don’t want to think about him,” you tell him, sighing loudly before leaning back on the wall behind you, “Besides, he always treats me like a piece of trash!”

“He does that to everyone! You’re not different, lemme tell you that,” You know Aegon wants to make you feel better, you know that, but when he utters those words, you can not help but think about how much that statement is true; Aemond treated you like another person who did not deserve him in public while he hated everyone who breathed the same air as you. It was confusing, it was heartbreaking.

You glance back at the spot where you last saw him, only to find him finishing another shot of whiskey, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looks down at his shoes with disdain written all over his face. He looks troubled, his mind is probably racing with a hundred thoughts; you know him too well, all those nights spent in his arms only to listen to his soft murmurs about his family that would always lead to him telling you how much he appreciates and adores you, but can’t let anyone see you being in a relationship with him.

Perhaps it was the duality between obsession and indifference that drove you apart.

With another sigh, you leave Aegon to let him go socialize with his family, smirking when he glares at you with a scowl on his face. But you need to get out of this place and hide somewhere because the more you spend in this huge hall, the more the walls get closer. 

You do not spare him another glance before you walk out of the hall and upstairs, going to the closest bathroom to have a minute for yourself away from him, in hopes of pushing his thoughts out of your head. You can feel the intensity of his stare as he watches you leave, his eye not once leaving your silhouette as you try to hide yourself from him.

You slam the door shut as soon as you step inside the bathroom, chest heaving with each breath; seeing him was enough damage, but to feel him yearning from across the room is worse. You want nothing more than to vanish from this place and never be seen again, but you can’t, and it pains you deeply because you need to walk out of this door with your head held high and act all happy and comfortable while you are bothered by Aemond’s presence immensely.

You put your glass down on the edge of the bathroom sink before you turn on the water and splash some on your face, not caring if you have ruined your makeup or not. The coldness of the water eases your mind a bit, helping you gather your thoughts, but it is not enough, nor were the drinks you took earlier. When it comes to him, nothing is enough to take the edge off.

Looking at yourself in the mirror reminds you of how much you miss having his arms wrapped around you when you were getting ready to leave his apartment or the hotel room, at that moment nothing seemed so out of place, but it all came crashing down because of the two worlds he created and danced around them for too long.

Shaking your head slightly, you take a long and deep breath before grabbing your glass again and leaving the bathroom. You had no wish to go back downstairs, not anymore at least. With one last breath, you close the door before you and march towards another staircase leading to a sitting room you always loved to spend time in when Alicent would invite you over.

Without looking inside the room you open the door and walk inside, making sure to close it with little to no sound, but when you turn around and look up, you find Aemond there, standing in front of the large windows of the room with a glass of whiskey in his hands.

“I–I’m sorry, I’ll leave—”

“Hey-no, no!” he cuts you off quickly, his good eye wide in surprise and fear before he gestures for you to sit, “Don’t, I mean… you don’t have to leave.”

“I don’t wanna disturb you,” you huff nervously, your grip tightening around your glass as you look at him with an equally shocked expression, “I’m so sorry I just—”

“Stay,” he says, and you can see how he swallows his words nervously, his walls crumbling slightly the longer he keeps looking at you, “The room is big enough for at least twenty people so… we’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure—” “Just make yourself at home,” he replies, giving you a small smile before he turns his back to you to stare out of the window, watching the snowfall.

You know he is waiting for you to approach and sit on the loveseat in front of the fireplace but you go and stand in front of the other window on the opposite side of the fireplace from where he is standing, sipping on your drink to distract yourself from thinking about him, which is nearly impossible because you can smell his bitter and cold cologne from here.

You glance at him, finding him nursing on his whiskey; it has been too long since you have seen him so put together and… beautiful. He is wearing an all-black outfit, dress pants, and a black long-sleeve shirt which he has undone the first button. His hair is neatly brushed and he has pulled his locks in his signature halfway-up way that brings his face out more.

You drag your eyes to his hands, clattered in simple silver rings, watching his fingers tap the metal against the glass before you see him turn his body in your direction slightly. His eye meets yours for a second, and suddenly you are the girl who would jump with joy with one of his texts, the girl who would love feeling him breathing her scent in — it terrifies you, the power he holds over you.

“This was a bad idea—” you say, shaking your head but before you get the chance to walk away he grabs your wrist firmly, pulling you back a bit, “Aemond…”

“Don’t leave,” his voice breaks a little, his thumb caressing your pulse point as he looks at you the way he used to do when he would ask you to stay at his place, not wanting you to leave him for even one second.

“We can’t do this again, Aemond,” you say, tears burning your eyes when you look at his face, your heart clenching when you find him in the same situation; teary-eyed and trembling, “We shouldn’t because I can’t go back to the place I was months before—”

“We don’t have to, just listen to what I have to say, okay?” he lets go of your hand, putting his glass on the table in front of the loveseat, “I didn’t have the chance to say anything, you… you cut me off so out of the blue—” “Out of the blue?” you ask, voice dripping with shock and anger, “Out of the fucking blue, Aemond? Ignoring me when we were with your siblings, acting as if I didn’t exist when we were somewhere that we could run into someone you knew! And-and,” you chuckle in sadness, wiping that one tear that slips your eye, “You kept me your little secret while you would tell me that I’m your world, I’m gonna show you off to everyone, you sounded like you were obsessed with me but you couldn’t even hold my hand in front of your brother!”

“Because I couldn’t stomach the idea of you leaving me!” He shouts back, dropping his hands to his sides as he huffs out an angry breath, “I-I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it, and it terrified me so I thought it would be best to—”

“To what? To plan a fucking trip on my birthday and ignore my texts and calls for a whole week? Yeah? Or maybe you thought it best to act like I was a nobody to you when I tried to hold your hand in front of your friends. Which one is it, Aemond?” you step closer to him, craning your neck to look into his eye better, “So? How did it feel when your worlds merged and you lost me? Oh, wait, you didn’t lose anything because you couldn’t care less about me—”

“I care!” he raises his voice a little, fisting his hands to keep himself composed and not touch you the way he likes, “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I-I went through the worst thing you can imagine after you left me—”

“Don’t put the blame on me when everything happened because of you and your obsession with keeping me “all to yourself” while you barely looked at me when others were present!”

“Stop! Stop, stop—” he finally reaches up and cups your face in his hands, pulling you in even closer as he leans down to look straight into your eyes, “You’re right, I fucked it up, I…I ruined everything because I didn’t know how to handle my feelings. That… That trip was spontaneous, and I never forgave myself for doing that to you. My head…it gets really messy sometimes and I feared I would ruin the only good thing that’s ever happened to me, and I did, I ruined it.”

“You can’t excuse your actions—”

“I’m not!” he brings your face closer to his until you are only one breath away, “I… I’m sorry, for what I did to you, and-and I am going to therapy… because I thought I might somehow redeem myself.”

“You can’t expect me to take you back, not after what you put me through,” you rest your hands on his, gently pulling them down, letting the tears fall freely on your cheeks. 

It has been a long time since you held his hands in yours, and you can feel the itch in his skin as he tries to fight off the urge to wipe your tears. Maybe he has changed as he says, turned into a better man but you can not be sure, not after the hell you went through and managed to pull yourself together afterward.

“I’m not expecting you to take me back, but please know I deeply regret what I did, and I hope you give me another chance…”

You nod absentmindedly before dropping his hands and stepping away from him, walking towards the door as you try to muffle the sob that nearly escapes your throat, and with one last look at him, you open the door and leave the room.

Resting your back on the closed wooden door, you take a shaky breath, trying your best not to cry your eyes out in the hallway, but it is impossible; how can you not sob when you have been waiting to hear those words for so long? It does not matter if he is genuine or not, you just need to listen to him say he is sorry for what he did.

Now it feels like a weighted blanket has been lifted from you and you can breathe again.

Maybe he is sorry, maybe he is not, but there is something within you that makes your palms sweat. You bite your bottom lip, trying to shake the thoughts of him away, but the way he looked at you, how enamored he seemed… after all, many people close their eyes on logic when it comes to the person their heart is beating for.

It does not matter if you regret this the next day or not, you need to feel him, you need to know how it feels to be loved by him again; so with one last deep breath, you open the door and slam it shut before marching toward where Aemond is sitting — under the Christmas tree with a cigarette in his hand and an ashtray resting next to his hand.

“Wha–” you don’t let him finish, you kneel down in front of him and grab his face into your hands tightly, slamming your lips to his.

He moans, falling back on the ground with a soft thud as his free hand roams your back, feeling the soft silk fabric of your dress beneath his fingertips while he tries to find the ashtray with the other while never breaking the kiss.

“Mmm-are you sure?” he manages to ask between the kisses, finally putting out the cigarette. Now both of his hands come to rest on your waist, holding you close as he waits for you to answer.

“It doesn’t matter if it’ll be the last or the first of many, I just need to feel you,” you mumble against his lips before closing the gap again, letting the savory taste of your wine melt against his bitter whiskey and smoke.

The kiss is unlike anything you have shared before; it is passionate, late lovers reuniting, full of emotions that have been left unexplored yet so familiar and welcoming. It must be the alcohol in your system, but his hands on your body set your skin ablaze, and for the first time in a long time, you feel desperation in his movements.

He sits up quickly, his lips moving in sync with yours before he licks your bottom lip, asking for entrance and when you part your lips, he pushes his tongue in, tasting the wine from your mouth directly while his hands come up to rest on your back, one hand reaching to push the strap of your dress down, caressing the skin with such delicacy that it makes you melt beneath his touch.

He breaks the kiss, looking down at your face as both of you pant and cling to each other before he gently lifts you and switches your positions, lying you on the carpet next to the Christmas tree, humming in delight when you spread your legs to make room for him.

You reach up to pull him down again, lips sealing in another breathtaking kiss. He holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head while he kisses you back, groaning when you wrap your legs around him and rock your hips up, rubbing your clothed core against his growing bulge.

He pulls back and trails his kisses down your jaw to the column of your throat, going lower with each kiss before he reaches your thighs. Aemond waits for you to give him the green light and when you nod he pushes your dress up to your hips, prepping your inner thighs with kisses and bites before he grabs the waistband of your underwear and pulls the fabric down dropping it to the side.

“Aemond…” you sigh when he wraps his fingers around your thighs and spreads them further, leaning in to lick a stripe from bottom to top, ignoring your shocked gasp as he starts feasting upon you — seems like you were not the only one who has been craving intimacy lately.

He flickers your clit with the tip of his tongue, his chin rubbing against your wet folds. He hums when he hears your little whines and sighs, spurring him on even more to go faster and drive you closer to your peak. 

Your hand goes to his perfectly shaped hair, tangling your fingers in his soft luscious locks. He opens his mouth and sucks on your buzzing nerves, dizzying your brain and clouding your mind with each lewd sound he makes.

He loves the way you push his head down and rock your hips up; he deserves this, to be smothered with your scent and taste, and he would die a happy man if you kept squeezing your legs around his head.

With a newfound determination, he pushes his tongue inside you, thrusting the steady muscle in and out while he reaches to play with your clit with his thumb, drawing fast and firm circles as he brings you closer to the edge of the euphoria.

You moan his name loudly, throwing your head back as your lips fall apart and your body as well, shaking in his strong grip when you come on his face, gushing your juices out with a cry, mind going blank as you shut the world out and focus on the waves of ecstasy that rock your body.

Aemond wipes your release from his face with his sleeve, crawling on top of you with a soft look in his eye before he bends down and pecks your lips while he fiddles with his belt and pants, unzipping them and pushing them down to his thighs, sighing in relief as soon as his cock is free from the tightness of the fabric.

“You’re too far away,” you whine and reach for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and nodding quickly when he gives you a few seconds to rethink this, “I want you, please…”

“Don’t beg, sweet girl,” he whispers, lining up his cockhead with your entrance, gently rubbing it up and down to gather some of your wetness before he starts pushing in slowly, “ I’ll give it to you, you don’t need to beg for anything, ever.”

You missed him; the closeness, the proximity, the way his cock always fills you so deliciously. Now with his cock inside you fully, he pulls you in for a kiss, moving inside you with shallow thrusts while his lips steal the breath from your lungs. 

He picks up his pace, his hips snapping to yours repeatedly, his cock reaching deep inside you. You arch your back, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt as you break the kiss suddenly and moan out loud. His hand goes down to your thigh, lifting it higher a bit so he can reach even deeper inside you, fucking you faster and rougher, pouring his regrets into each thrust and snap of his hips.

“Look at you,” he breathes, the hand that was holding your leg up comes to cup your cheek, forcing you to look into his eyes as he gazes down at you, “So beautiful, so so gorgeous, fuck—”

You gasp, thighs quivering on the side of his hips as he brings you closer to the edge, him not being far behind either. He looks down at you so… lovingly, as if he is trying to memorize every up and down and lines on your face, counting your lashes and carving the shape of your lips in his mind while his cock throbs inside you.

You both reach your orgasms together; it is warm and slow, a heat that comes from the deepest part of your core and spreads like wildfire inside you, the same applies to him. He shakes and groans your name in your ear, burying his face in your neck as he drops his weight on top of you, hips thrusting slowly as he comes inside you, filling you up with every ounce of his being.

Aemond raises a bit, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking down at you as if you hang the stars in his gloomy sky, and perhaps you do.

He finally pulls back, his soft cock slipping out of you with a wet sound and you watch him tuck himself back before he helps you up, handing you your underwear before he stands and holds his hand out for you.

Hesitantly, you take his hand and try to stand up on wobbly legs, but he is fast enough to steady you with his palm on your waist, tightening his grip on you when you bend down to pull your panties up, straightening your back before you look at him.

“I… Thank you.” is all you can say, giving him a small awkward smile before you step forward toward the door, but for the second time tonight, he grabs your wrist and threads his fingers through yours, leading you to the door himself, “What are you doing?”

“A second round never hurt anyone, right?” he asks hopefully, a small smile playing on his lips, “I can’t just let you go without giving you a proper orgasm on my bed.”

“Aemond, we can’t, what if someone sees us?” you ask, your heart beating so hard against your chest you can hear it in your ears, but Aemond doesn’t seem to care as he drags you toward the rooms upstairs, “Aemond!”

“Then let them see,” he shrugs and guides you on the stairs, and to your unfortunate luck Alicent and Aegon are coming downstairs, but Aemond pays them no mind as he leads you past them, ignoring Aegon’s shocked gasp and calls for his name.

Maybe he has changed, maybe.

[lorelune]

O4O: part iii // PART 2

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

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

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is not easy to watch.

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

It’s still only taking the edge off.

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

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

“Too warm?” He asks.

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

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

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

“I’m sure.”

He’s certain.

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

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

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

He’s there though.

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

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

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

He chuckles, “Why is that?”

“Because.”

“‘Because’?” 

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

“Could you enlighten me?”

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

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

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

“Am I now?”

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

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

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

He preens.

It won’t be very long now.

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When did it start, dear?” he asks. 

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

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

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

Jing Yuan covets that trust. 

He will take good care of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slick is beginning to soak your nest beneath you.

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

Jing Yuan observes.

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

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

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

“O-Of course— I can.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He says your name softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s a lot—”

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

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

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

Jing Yuan can’t have that. He can’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M-Maybe. It’s a lot—”

“It’s not a lot.”

“But it is.” 

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

You blink at him, chewing your lip.

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

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

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

“Very sure.”

“O-Okay.”

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

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

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

“You can’t be certain.” 

“I can be.”

“But you— can’t—”

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

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

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

He’ll pick those apart later. 

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

You don’t make him. 

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

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

...

Your heat rages.

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

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

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

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

You’re becoming less lucid. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(This is already so overwhelming for you.)

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

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

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

“Please—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You, however, welcome them.

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

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

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

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

“Can I touch you here—?”

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

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

(He wants to feel you.)

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

A watery, desperate sound is muffled into his neck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Inside?” he asks.

You nod, vigorous and eager.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whine, “I k-know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re debauched.

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

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

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

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

Your chest heaves as you come down from the high.

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

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

You bundle up together in your nest. 

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

“Certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

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

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

“‘So much, Jing Yuan.”

“I’m glad.”

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

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

You lean into his touch, flame to flame.

...

Jing Yuan is putting off fucking you.

Because it is not what you need right now.

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

It is still somewhat daunting. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I—“ You grind your teeth. 

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

“Be good.”

”I-I’m— I’m trying.”

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

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

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

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

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

Jing Yuan presses his fingers into your mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows.

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

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

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

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

“Y-you have been—”

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

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

You eye him warily. 

“… N-No knots?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Mother.)

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

Moderately unnecessary.

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

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

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

“One more,” he tells you. 

“... ‘S more?”

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

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

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

He pushes the last of his fingers inside you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His cock twitches, he nearly blacks out.

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

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

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

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

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

“I— ‘re s-sure?” 

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

“... Full.”

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

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

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

You cry out his name, watery and endless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it for me, baby.”

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

“Once more, please?

“I’m good— f-for you—”

“For who?”

“... For— Jing Yuan?”

“Try again, dear.”

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

“Once more. I know you can do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

Having another omega as a heatmate helps keep one floating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shudder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is embarrassingly close embarrassingly quickly. 

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

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

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

”So good, b-baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He comes down your throat with a cracking moan.

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

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

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

He feels himself growl, cowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This makes you pause. 

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

Desire looks good on you. Neediness, even better.

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

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

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

He peaks at your cunt while he does so.

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

You stir. His scent must have changed.

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

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

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

You nudge your nose against his cheek.

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

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

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

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

He concedes; you make it so tempting to.

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

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

“Perhaps.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“The moon makes me fragile.” He admits.

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

His worry is misplaced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You moan together.

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

“Want you—” You say against his lips.

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

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

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

He shushes you with a kiss on your forehead.

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

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

“More than my hand.”

“You!”

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

A shattered sound comes from your throat and you squirm.

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

Oh, he can.

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

He will, he will, he will.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jing Yuan kisses your swollen clit with a teasing smile.

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

“... If you think so, mommy.”

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

“Uh-huh,” You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes a moment, then two, then three—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He bears his weight down and folds you in half.

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

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

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

And—

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

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

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

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

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

“P-Please!”

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

There’s such certainty in your mutual desires. 

Jing Yuan can’t— he can’t bear it— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breathe catches, eyes wide. 

“Mama is spoiling me.”

“Mommy is giving you what you rightfully deserve.”

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

A morsel, all his own.

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hide in his neck and whine.

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

“Why’s that, dear?”

“It’s... u-um, too dirty?”

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

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

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

“‘Fun’?”

It’s hard to keep himself from teasing you.

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

He relents and sets down the book.

“Would you prefer a different story, dear?”

“... Y-yes, please.”

“That can be done.”

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

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

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

“P-Please, mommy?”

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

“Of course, dear.” 

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

It’s a reprieve for him too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a precursor at the very least.

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

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

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

Jing Yuan swallows, his mouth feeling dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s quite excited for whatever comes next. 

...

Your heat ends after nine days. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(One thing at a time—)

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

“And how do you think that is?” 

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

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

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

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

He nods, conceding easily. “Of course.”

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

“Take your time, dear.”

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

Thank Lan.

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

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

“I would agree.”

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

“I feel similarly.” 

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

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

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

“You want my mark?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I’d prefer it that way.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad.” 

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

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

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

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

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

He squeezes you.

It’s not easy to confess. But he—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re ‘slure?”

“Entirely ‘slure’.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, so much. 

//💦🌺💦//

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

They’re entertaining, if nothing else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You like it very much.

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

Jing Yuan is always pulling strings.

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

You can see that weight more easily.

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

It’s been good to explore.

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

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

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

Jing Yuan wants matching pajamas.

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

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

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

You smile to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Such a possessive creature, really.)

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

“F-For me, or for you?” 

“Either, or. Which would you prefer?”

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

He teases, “How brazen.”

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

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

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

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

“T-That sounds good to m-me.”

“Does it now?”

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

“And so it will be done.”

... 

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

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

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

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

Like you’re omegas. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

Nights with Jing Yuan are your favorite.

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

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

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

You just need him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You soften for him. How can you not?

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

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

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

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

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

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

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

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

“Just you.” You tell him. 

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

“That’s all?”

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

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

“My baby is so kind.”

“Just for you.”

“Just for me?”

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

thank you for reading 🩷

[lostintransist]

Death is Not Always Kind | Part 3

Part 1 here.

CW: Asking for death, implied threats, men (derogatory)

AO3 | Death Masterlist

They have gone. Leaving you alone with instructions that food will be delivered to the door and to not wander. K left you an empty notebook and a series of pens. N nodded once to his bed and shut the door behind him. They shut you in this new cage but left the door unlocked.

You take your days; lining the empty pages with lines a hint of a breath between them as you fill one side diagonal and then the other horizontally. Six pages front and back filled with nothing but lines, a prison for the ink you have wasted. The pounding at the door becomes near constant. You have ignored the food. They are not here to force you.

The words begin to crawl out of you, filling the larger spaces you leave between your lines. You think yourself a dragon, breathing out poison and setting the world ablaze with the hate in your soul. You would say the fires of hell but you have found hell is cold, sterile, white and leached of color.

Exhaustion steals you into sleep more often as your weary body cries for nutrients again. On the fourth day someone opens the door. This man is large. Tall, not as tall as K, but broader by half. A dark hood with bleached weeping eyes stare at you.

“Come.”

He turns and walks from the room. Something about the command pulls you forward. This is a man that will end you. No morals, twisted even as they sat in N and K, would prevent him from granting you release.

He walks silently, massive boots landing without even a puff of air as he displaces the atoms that live between his foot and his next step. You cannot match his silence despite the slight existence of your body. The slap of your feet against the cool laminate follows you as you follow him.

Men drift to one side as they move too and fro, all with some unknown destination. They nod and murmur a quick colonel, eyes categorizing you as not a threat before they pass. Some eyes linger though, the lascivious thoughts clear. Boys, failed by society, found release only in the stolen space within bodies that could not be human. For if they were human, if they were real, men would have to grapple with the baseless violence that marked them as beasts and not as men in fact.

The doors change. Where once the spread out openings were closed tight with solid pieces now windows peaked out at you between the walls and built into the doors. At a door like all the others the man stopped, and you behind him.

A key appeared from a pocket and disappeared into the same after its job had been completed. He opens the door for you, this colonel pulls his second power move by gesturing that you enter first. Stepping through you flick your eyes across the wall of filing cabinets, all shut tight. His desk is neat to a fault. You reach out and touch a pen laid neatly at the end of his matte black desk mat.

No nameplate sits on his desk to identify who he is. The colonel stares at the askew pen before lifting his eyes to you.

“Why do they keep you?” His voice does not rumble as you expect for one of such size. You had expected the growl of a bear but found the voice of a mild-mannered shark instead.

“They won’t kill me,” you reach forward and tap the pen again. It slides but does not roll as the clip lays in the way.

“Why?”

If you knew that you would be freed of this electrified meat suit. Instead, you reach forward and tap the pen again.

His hand shoots out, holding your wrist tight, nearly to the point of pain. Looking up you stare into beautiful blue eyes that should not belong to the reaper.

“Will you kill me?”

“Can you only speak of your demise?” He muses aloud before letting your wrist go and leaning back in his chair. It squeaks against his weight. “No. Krueger and Nikto are some of my best. If I take you away who knows what they will drag home next.”

Wish that you were a witch to drown in your sorrows. Before thinking better of it you skirt the large desk, using all your might to spin the chair so you can settle on your knees between his thighs. You stare up at him, mournful, as your cheek rests so close to his groin that you can smell the sweat of the day collected in his creases.

“Please,” tears you have not shed in years start, “Please kill me.”

He stares down at you, dead eyes unwilling to bend to your request.

“What does death hold that you cannot?”

“Peace,” you sob into the seam of his pants.

Hands pull you upward until you are nestled nose into his hood and arms around his neck. That is how K and N find you hours later. The colonel had worked around you, firing off emails and answering men as they entered his office. He had shared food with you too. Bits of his meal from his own fork pressed to your lips with the expectation of bending to his will. You do. Thinking later you decide it must be the gentleness of his touch, those killing hands holding you gently, that pulls you back ever so slightly from the edge that you crept toward.

K busts through the door, ignoring the unspoken demand to knock and wait.

“König you have something of ours.”

The heat of his gaze sweeps over you, displeasure tasting the air.

N steps through before shutting the door tight.

“I grew up hunting rabbits for my Nonna,” König, as they called him, rests a hand on your back. “We did not keep them as pets, locked in cages.”

They stiffen, catching the message that is beyond you.

“Send her in the morning. Rabbits must have a purpose or they need to feed the pot.”

N surprises you by snarling at his commander.

“She will not play whore for you König.”

König’s fingers tighten on your ribs.

“I have need of a secretary, you have a rabbit in need of watching. You will share or I will grant her request.” All signs of civility disappeared from his voice. Despite your cries for death you shivered.

K and N do not need to share a look to reach a congress. N blinks and K nods.

“Up kaninchen, they will wish to ensure you are well,” he flexes his thigh beneath you.

You stand slowly, already missing the warmth of his body that had seeped into your bones.

“Bring her dressed next time,” he says to them by way of dismissal.

Looking down at your too-large shirt and tightened sweats you frown. You suppose toes should not be out if you are to work in the colonel’s office. Did you want to work in his office? Did you have a choice?

Following your keepers back to your room you let them prod at you and answer their questions. No, he did not hurt you, no he did not touch your body in a way you did not agree to, yes you ate today. When you are delivered to the showers you clean your body perfunctorily, pausing only once to notice that your breasts have started to return. When you return to the room you share with N, K at your side, you find the mattress empty. N has settled himself across the cot you used, light breathing the only indication of life.

“I don’t want it,” you snap at both of them.

“It is our failure that has brought the colonel’s attention to you, the least we can do is upgrade your resting hours,” K pushes you toward the bed. His hand is firm, but not unkind. “Morning comes early.”

You lay down, glaring across the room at N as S kills the lights and leaves you to your nightmares.

Likes are amazing! Reblogs are better (that lets your followers see what you like.)

Part 2 | Part 4

Death Masterlist | Masterlist

@meinemauschen

[beseeingyouinmydreams]

I’m struggling really hard with the mess surrounding Liam and everyone screaming he’s to blame he took the drugs. People don’t just pickup drugs one day and decide to become an addict. Shit pushes them over the edge and drugs become a coping mechanism to drown out the emptiness and pain. The shit that happened to him in the past and the people the egged it on and abused him and used him. It adds up. Yes he took drugs on his own but he was so far gone a long time ago and drugs were an escape from a life he wasn’t happy in. I’m so sick of humans screaming that persons to blame when mental illness and drugs take a life. People do not often just decide drugs are fun and start taking them for fun. Mental illness is often created due to past trauma and experiences and He suffered tremendously in a very large open way. He was bullied at a young age and then torn down constantly while being on a global stage/platform. The pressures he was under from external sources; managers, labels, teams, parents, cyber bullies and fandoms and pseudo managers at the end were more than most people will ever know. And anyone that knew anything about him knew how much pressure he put on himself. When your world starts falling apart left and right and those pressures increase and nothing outside of you brings you fulfillment or peace … the fact that he lived as long as he did is honestly a testament to his strength. His demise was honestly a time bomb waiting for years. He had his parents who cared I’m sure but every single person in his life was always after him for whatever he could give and he being the people pleaser he was never could say no, having yes men give into your every whim when you’re struggling so much is tragic. This world has so many fuckn issues. The way we treat each other in general, the way we treat ourselves, the way people blame and tear down people with mental illness and addiction issues is sickening. You hand them vices then tear them down for using them. You build celebs to unreachable highs then tear them down and give them no allowances for being human. I will go to my grave disgusted by the people around him who took his life. The people in his life who used and failed him are absolutely to blame as well. Period.

Losing Liam has deeply affected how I view humanity. I’m truly struggling finding a bright spot in the world we live in a place of hope. ( esp now with trump running the country into the ground and all my work I’ve killed my self for the last two years seeming more and more like a waste). I don’t know how humans change for the better at this point, how this world changes for the better when everything I see lately seems so damn bleak and humans with no compassion or care for others.

I don’t know who I’m ranting to no one out there is gunna read this and care. It won’t change anything but I needed a place to rant so 🤷🏻‍♀️😒🤦🏻‍♀️

[sweatersstyles]

I can already tell that today is gonna be too much for me 😔

[osarina]

wow i’m actually in such a foul mood right now

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[cuteniaarts]

Fanny, my sweet, beautiful girl

17.11.2012 – 14.04.2019

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[mycomori]

even though my dad is pretty chill now somethings i have interactions w him that just fucking baffle me like??? what are you on

[voulezloux]

.

[oreo-creampie]

“𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤”

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫! - Ghostface gangbang (with one Michael Myers mask)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: celebrity!reader, guards! Toji, Sukuna, Choso, Satoru, Suguru and Kento, reader has healing abilities, knife kink/light cutting, no blood since reader heals, light bondage with chains, ghost face with one Michael Myers mask gangbang, you have tits for this, titty fucking, face/pussy slapping, pain kink, praise/degradation, pain kink, fingering/anal fingering, ass eating, face fucking/cock sucking, handjob, pussy slapping, toys, double/triple penetration, anal, hair pulling, spitting, spitting water in your mouth, cum swallowing, creampie, choking

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 14 minutes - 4k (of mostly nasty smut)

Oreo: this has reminded me why gangbangs are my favorite

Your phone lights up with a text, your Mom sent you a link. Opening it brings you to a page with a bright bold red header where it proclaims ‘Single for 1 year?! She can’t seem to get a date and goes to dinner alone!’

You scroll to see the attached picture of you surrounded with by your guards. “Oh! There is a trashy tabloid going around talking about my dating life. Apparently I was alone last night cause all six of you don’t count!”

Toji shrugs a large shoulder, “Who cares if it looks like you’re single, they don't need to know the truth.” The end of his blunt casts a red glow on Toji’s handsome face.

You sigh and click on the appearing text bubble, “My Mom is caring otherwise she wouldn’t have sent me to link to it. Along with; I won’t judge your choices, though I am worried about you not pursuing a relationship. Are they just not for you or did something happen?” A large warm body presses you against the cold glass railing of the balcony. Warm large hands squeeze your hips.

You look up into Sukuna’s face, your head resting against his chest. “What are you gonna tell her?” Toji nudges Sukuna’s arm to get him to take the fat blunt.

Looking out at the city below. “I’m sure as hell not saying that I’m fucking all of the personal guards they hired for me and that y’all cock-block any dating opportunities that come my way.”

He grabs your hair yanking your back holding the blunt to your lips. He sneers, “We do plenty of sharing between each other. Who else could you need.” Sukuna pulls the blunt away, and you blow a large puffs of smoke into the night’s sky.

Toji adds on, “‘Side we all cuddle you, take you out on dates, we switch out who sleeps in the bed with you. You had six different valentines.” He leans against the glass railing. Tugging on your robe’s ribbon causing it to fall open.

Satoru announces, “Oo someone tweeted what if she is fucking one of the guards. She close, but it isn’t just one, you’re too much of a cock hungry whore for only one.” Leaning up against the glass on the other side of you Satoru joins Toji in fondling your soft breasts. Swirling his soft thumb over your nipple, getting it hard.

You’ve been waiting all day to be sandwiched in between your guards. With one pressing their hard cock into your lower back while two play with your tits. You slowly inhale the harsh smoke from the blunt that Sukuna holds to your lips.

Suguru looks at Satoru’s phone then lightly hits Satoru’s shoulder.“You should unlike it they’re gonna think it’s you, that choice is up to her, if she decides to make it.” Taking the short blunt from Sukuna to puff on.

Satoru rolls his eyes before removing his like, “Ok ok.” Sukuna roughly smacks your ass and steps away for Satoru to sweep you off your feet.

You think about it aloud, “If they got a screenshot of that then my actions with all you are going to be heavily analyzed.” Spreading your fingers out on his chest, looking up at him as he carries you to the sex room. “Especially with you, going out the two of us is gonna be seen differently, tea channels are gonna have a field day.”

Satoru smiles, “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy seeing some of the shipping content out there.” A few of your fans had created some fanart of your guards and you. Which you saved to your phone.

He points out, “This will only give them a little fuel for their ships.” He kisses the top of your head and you’re wondering if you should play into it a little.

You admit, “Is is a bit fun to see. And who could blame me, especially with how unprofessional three of you were from the start, my pussy didn’t stand a chance.”

You dig your painted nails into Satoru’s chest, leaving bright pink lines. “It’s mostly your fault, you were the first one.”

Satoru teases you, “The way you were practicing drooling over me after I unbuttoned my shirt a little too cool off had me wanting to put your pretty mouth to use and I’ll do it again.” You bite his chest, his hold doesn’t waver but his pace does as he moans.

Sukuna walks past and pushes the door open, “Let’s go ahead n’ tie her up with some chains.” When Satoru carries you throug.

Kento and Choso have a ghost face mask on. Are they all going to be wearing one? Your pussy hopes they do.

Satoru drops you on the bed, straightening you out on your back, folding your legs by your side. Kneeling at the edge of the bed to kiss your wet cunt. Gliding his tongue in, you slip your hands into his soft white hair.

Suguru walks up, mask on and with the Michael Myers one in hand. Which Satoru pulls away to grab when Suguru nudges him with it. “Happy early Halloween, it’s close enough right? I figured why not do something a little seasonal.” He climbs onto the bed and yanks you into the middle by your hair.

Kento gets on the bed next to you, his hard cock swinging, you love how he’s so heavy he hangs. His voice is soothing, “What do you think about this?”

You gently grab Kento’s thick cock swirling your thumb on his cockhead. “I wanna be gangfucked till the sun rises or I pass out.” You kiss the freckle close to his pre-cum dripping slit you adore.

Satoru praises, “‘Course you do beautiful, we are gonna fuck your pretty ass stupid.” Satoru straddles your neck and part of your face. When you look down all you see are his balls.

He squeezes your fat, soft tits together with his cock in between. “Pour some lube on her tits for me Choso.” His balls are so close to your face. Lifting your head up to lick and suck on Satoru’s nuts.

Choso joins you on the bed whilst reminding you. “You’re safe word is melons remember to say yellow if you need us to slow down, and red for a break.” He grabs your hand, pouring lube into your palm. Then guiding your hand to his cock for you to stroke.

You hold your other hand out for some lube to jerk Kento off. Choso then squirts a generous amount onto your breasts. It slowly drips until Satoru smears it with slow strokes of his cock.

Satoru groans, “I want to cover her in cum, her beautiful face, soft tits, squishy thighs and her gorgeous cunt.” Slowly fucking your beautiful soft breasts. Whilst enjoying your warm mouth on his soft balls.

Jerking Choso and Kento off, swirling your hand slowly along their cocks. Swiping your thumb over their heads and keeping your pace steady.

Sukuna groans, “I’m fuckin her beautiful, sofa ass into a gapping mess. Seeing her in that skin tight gown all night, I know y’all know what I’m talking about.” Two different hands spread your legs apart, one rougher than the other. “Makin’ her ass look like a delicious peach.”

Arching your hips down from the sudden intense vibrations from toy on your clit. Laying your head back on the bed with a loud moan. Another hand presses on your stomach keeping you still.

Your thighs tremble, and your cunt quivers when you feel a wet tongue swirl around your tight asshole. “Nnnn! Plug your cum inside my ass when you’re done.” Moaning as he quickly pushing his tongue in to you. Both of your holes clench as you feel two small, smooth warm metal balls of Sukuna’s tongue piercing.

Satoru ruts his hips faster, gliding his long cock between your soft fat breasts. Squishing them together with his large hands, his groans are loud and breathy.

You love hearing all of them groan, moan, and whines as they enjoy themselves. If they weren't there you could masturbate listening recording to the sounds they make when they cum.

Whining, “It’s too much!” The pressure is intense, you’re unable to pull your hips away they follow your clit with the toy.

You can hear the jiggle of chains as the bed dips with someone’s weight.

“But I just started, how could it be too much already?” The condescension dripping from Suguru’s tone has your cheeks burning. “Besides isn't this what you wanted?” Suguru slowly swirls the toy increasing the pressure till it borders on painful.

Toji says, “Go ahead n’ tie the chains around her tits and neck.” Satoru smothers you with his balls by sitting on your face. Wrapping your breasts by coiling the chains around them once. Then moving back wrap it around your throat. He tugs on both ends squeezing your neck and tits.

Kento grabs your wrists, using your hand to get themselves off. Kento’s guides your hand slower, as he massages your breasts. His gentle touch is always a wonderful contrast to how rough the other’s get.

“I can't believe I'm getting off on this, I've become a dirty old pervert for your beautiful tits and soft pussy.” It made Kento’s cock rock hard seeing the chain wrapping around your tits, squishing the plump fat, whilst restricting some blood flow. You had corrupted him.

Choso groans, “Your hand feels so soft on my cock.” Grabbing your fist to keep it still so he can fuck your hand. Gently rubbing your hard nipple with his thumb,

Satoru pulls the chains again strangling your cry and pulling your body taunt. Your hands pause as you try to focus on not squeezing Choso and Kento.

“Don’t yank on her too hard, the chains are already harsh.” Kento drags a finger along the chain wrapped around your breast, feeling the soft fat spilling over.

Satoru eases up, but keeps the chain tight around your throat. Smacking his long, pale cock on your face whilst you suffocate. Rubbing his cock head along your lips, his pre-cum tastes so sweet. Opening your mouth, Satoru glides his cock in quickly.

Choso grabs the chain from Satoru’s hand, “Deep breaths.” He waits for you to catch your breath. Peeling up his mask to softly kiss you, sliding his tongue past your lips when you moan.

Satoru groans stroking his cock next next to your face. “The camera is recording what a whore you are. We are going to show you tomorrow, have you ride a dildo, and play with your asshole while you watch it. How does that sound?”

Choso lifts his head, holding his cock near your face. “Can you deep throat my fat cock with your pretty mouth?” You kiss his cockhead before softly licking up the mess up pre-cum. Then taking him deep into your mouth with a loud groan. Fondling his large balls with one hand.

Satoru jerk his fist faster watching you suck Choso off. “You’re such a good lil’ cock sucker. Are you getting off having Choso’s fat cock in your mouth while Sukuna eats your ass.” You groan to respond, closing your watery eyes.

You switch in between licking and sucking on one cock to pay attention to the other. Resting your tired hand on the bed, before giving up on moving your head too. As Choso and Satoru turn your head from side to side, taking turns fucking your mouth.

Kento slides your hand off his cock to rub himself against your plump, soft breast. “I’ll give you a massage after being a good girl for us tonight.” Nudging your fat with his fat cock head, smearing pre-cum on you.

Kento guides your hand back to his cock. “Before we take the chains off I want to take a picture of you laying here looking sexy covered and dripping cum. I can’t get enough of seeing you looking fucked out.” It’s one of the main reasons he got hooked on joining in on the planned gangbangs Satoru would get the other’s in on.

Two thick fingers into your dripping wet cunt with a soft squelch. “Look at this, she’s already soaking wet, you’re a depraved whore say it.” Toji’s deep voice is unmistakable. Your soaking wet pussy quivering around his thick fingers as the pressure and pleasure build in tandem.

Satoru nudges your cheek, smearing some pre-cum on it. Choso glides his cock out with a loud pop. “I’m a depraved whore, I love being a dirty slut please use me to help you cum.” Turning your head taking Satoru’s cock. He smacks your lips then sets a quick and merciless pace, gagging you with his long, veiny dick.

Suguru rubs your clit a little faster, easing up on the intense pressure. Working with Toji to get you off while Sukuna enjoys himself with your ass. Holding out three fingers prompting Choso to grab the near by bottle of lube to pour some onto them.

Your ass stretches for three thick probing fingers that can reach deeper than his tongue can. Scissoring his fingers apart rough, pumping them quickly, making your body slightly bounce.

You’re getting off on how six muscular masked men are entertaining themselves with your ass, cunt, clit, tits, hands and mouth. You’re hoping they trap a mixture of their cum inside you with a plug.

Toji points out, “I think she’s gonna cum n’ so fucking quickly. I don't think she should cum yet. No reason why other than fuck her.” Suguru lifts the vibrator off your clit as Toji glides his fingers out.

Sukuna keeps playing with your ass, it’s enough that you can taste that sweet peaking orasgamic high of cumming.

Sukuna mocks you, “You’re a dirty slut, look at that! The bitch kind of came anyway.” some creamy cum drip from your small quivering hole he sneers, “Looks like you only ruined it for her.” He pinches your sensitive clit making your hips jerk back. Stuffing some of your slick into your ass with each pump of is thick fingers.

Toji states, “She deserve it for being a filthy whore.” Someone smacks your cunt, once, twice, you stop counting after the fourth. Trembling you have to fight the urge to twist your hips away as your cunt stings.

Choso croons, “Are they being mean to your pretty cunt?” He leans down “She was good and took all those hits we should let her cum.” Satoru pulls his Michael Myers mask up to spit on your face.

Suguru holds the pulsing toy to your stinging, throbbing clit. The sweet pleasure easing some of the stinging pain. You focus on each quick circling motion of the toy eager to cum.

You’re begging them, “I wanna cum! Please lemme cum! I wanna make a mess!” Whining as the three thick fingers in your ass glide out.

A pulsing thin toy nudges your wet hole, which easily gives for the toy. It’s size getting thicker the more you take. Till you reach a thick knot that won’t slide in easily. Causing him to have to use a little more force.

Arching your hips, your eyes sting with tears as your ass throbs from taking the thick knot. “I hope that fuckin’ hurt dumb lil slut, I wanna see and hear you crying! Your ass looks so hot taking all of it. I wonder,” he tugs on the toy’s short stumpy handle. The knot isn’t budging, tugging on your ass, too thick to slip out like his fingers did.

Your thighs are burning as they tremble. A large hand on your stomach keeps you from moving too much. They are all working in together to keep you from getting away.” Choso straddles your neck fills your mouth with his cock. Abandoning the chain leash as he grabs your hair and fucks your throat.

You can’t tell who wraps your hand around their thick cock but you don’t care. You too drunk off the overstimulation to focus on moving your hand. So they jerk them off, swirling your fist, swiping your thumb over their cock head. They’re so warm and heavy in your palm, you want them inside any of your wet holes.

Your moans creating pleasurable vibrations that make him messily rut his hips. “Nnnn when she moans goddamm, I wanna cum in her mouth.” He fucks your moan faster, gagging you when he gives you all of his cock. Choso is so much thicker than Satoru, making it harder to deep throat him.

Satoru suggests, “Let’s play a game she has to guess whose fucking her from the back. Then she can cum.” Choso glides his cock out, Kento let’s your hand go, Suguru lifts the toy off your clit causing you to whine.

Choso carefully gets you on all fours, then orders you, “Keep your eyes forward you can suck Kento and I’s cocks but don't cheat by peaking.” He moves over for Kento to kneel beside him. Just having their large cocks in your face shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does. You feel like such a dirty, cock hungry slut.

Holding both cocks, moaning as you give Kento attention. Closing your eyes and enjoying feeling his thick cock slide along your tongue. His head nudging your throat, going deeper till you’ve taken every inch.

You hold your head still letting Kento enjoy the wet, tight warmth of your throat. As it squeezes him, your body softly jerking as you gag.

Kento moans, “Nnnn fuck me that feels so gooood when you take me just like that. You’re so beautiful, nnn,” bobbing your head, quickly taking Kento’s fat cock. “wrapping you pretty lips, hhhhn sucking me off like you need my cum.” Gliding him out with a loud pop and kissing beneath Kento’s cockhead.

A cockhead too fat to be Satoru’s lines up with your cunt. Your thoughts linger in between Toji and Suguru when you don’t feel Sukuna’s piercing beneath the large cock head.

Kento slowly rocks his hips, slowly fucking your wet mouth. Causing spit to drip down your chin which smears onto his balls when they brush against.

A cold knife drags along your cheek, causing you to tense up then squirm. The cut heals seconds after he creates it. One, two three and fuck! You’re so full of someone’s thick, veiny cock.

You’re sandwich in between Kento, Choso and one of your guards. The thought of that is getting you. toy for them to fuck until their balls are empty.

Clenching the fat cock whilst listening for a single groan or any vocal indication of who is fucking you. As they slide the knife across the bottom of your back.

If they would groan once you would know if it’s Toji or Suguru. You focus on the way their fucking you to try and decide between the two. It’s hard to focus for too long, whoever it is hitting your soaking wet pussy in a perfect, eye rolling, toe curling and pussy clenching angle.

He grabs the short handle of the toy vibrating in your ass. The thick knot slides in and out of you a little easier after your asshole got used to it.

Slowly glide the blade along your thigh and stuffing the toy in deep, the vibrations pulsing stronger than before. He made it intense, you swear you can feel it in your cunt.

Smacking your cheek with a large hand, the strike is to quick for you to get a good judge off whose hand it is.

Kento’s pace is getting sloppy, as he ruts into your mouth a little faster. His broad shoulder curling in as he trembles. His tight tensing up as he bites his bottom lip. Thick warm cum spurts into your mouth, he tastes so sweet, it’s so thick and creamy on your tongue.

Stuffing his cum into your throat with a messy thrust then gliding his cock out. “Thank you darling, l needed that.” Choso moves over as Kento leans down, grabbing your throat. His thick fingers pressing the chains into your neck as he lifts you up to kiss your forehead.

You can’t glance behind you in time before Choso stops you from breaking the rule. As Kento gets off the bed slowly pulling off the mask, and taking a seat to watch.

You whine, “Not fair, moan once! Say anything!” You bounce back, pressing your ass and thighs flush against him. The thighs pressing against your’s are thick, with muscles too hard to be Suguru. He is incredibly well built, but Toji’s muscles are something else.

The muscles of his arms, thighs and abs had a harsh rigidness the other didn’t. His body feels like a greek statue that’s has life breathed into it. With a waist that feels too damn slutty.

You whine, “Toji!” He grabs a handful of your ass and the roughness of his hand lets you know you’re right. Your body roughly rocks forward with his next harsh thrusts.

Toji groans, his deep voice sounds so damn good when he’s getting off. It’s a smooth, deep sound that is the cherry on top.

You’re squirting on Toji’s far veiny cock. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The toy vibrating in her ass fuck I can feel it. Fuck it’s like her pussy is a vibrating toy clenching me. So fuckin’ wet!” He pumps the in your ass in time with thrusts, his strength keeps the toy’s knot from catching.

His fat cock twitches slightly, and the pulse in his veins feels like he’s throbbing inside you. “Nnnn I want someone to fuck his cum into me. Please lemme cum on your thick cock too.”

Sukuna declares in confusion, “Was that cheating?!”

Satoru defense your case, “We only said she couldn’t look back, using her body to feel up Toji isn’t against the rules. Meaning our chain bound slut gets to cum on our cocks tonight.”

“You’re going to bully her anyway.” You glance over at Suguru, a blunt between his lips, and his dark hair pulled back. With a few locks of his bangs framing his handsome face.

He winks, snuffs out the blunt and pulls his mask on. “Let’s switch.” Toji slowly glides his cock out smacking your cum dripping cunt with the flat of the knife.

Toji groans, “Her slutty lil’ cunt looks so good dripping my cum.” He dips his head down and glides his tongue in. “What a messy pussy squirting on me like that.” He stretches your hole apart to see how his white cum looks against the pink insides of your pussy. Before walking off, the blunt that Suguru ashed out on his mind. Passing the knife to Sukuna.

Choso grabs the chain leash and says, “Wrists behind your back.” He carefully binds your wrists, making your bsck softly arch, pushing your bound breasts forward.

Sukuna roughly yanks the toy out of your ass. Replacing it with a different one, the wildly vibrating model made after his cock. He orders, “Sit up, let Choso get underneath you so he can use your pretty cunt to get himself off whilst I double stuff your ass.”

Sukuna smacks your ass, grabbing the long chain between your neck and shoulders. Yanking you upright before you can move for yourself.

Choso leans back on his heals, thighs spread apart letting his heavy cock hang in between. “I want her to myself when y'all are done.” He gets off the bed and takes the blunt Toji passes.

You ask Choso, “What are you planning for me handsome?”Watching him jerk his cock slowly. His cock with it’s far head, upward curve and two puffy veins is pussy watering. Especially when he slides his hand down and his heavy, long cock start to droop. He’s perfect cock is so heavy, long, and thick.

You’re folding at the sight Choso with his ghost face mask on, his broad muscular chest, hard abs, and thick, pale tattooed arm. Choso looks good manspreading, his thighs are perfect to ride.

Sukuna stuffed ass with his fat cock makes it nearly impossible to listen to Choso explain, “You want some ghostface roleplay, how can I tell your pretty self no? I'm going to chase you around then pin you down and fuck you at knife point for a happy early Halloween.”

You look up at Sukuna’s masked face when he loudly moans, “You’re right, fuck n’ I thought she was like a toy before hand. But this, her vibrating double stuffed ass clenching my cock is gonna make me cum too quickly.”

Suguru climbs into the bed laying down and holding his cock up. “Let me feel our slutty mama’s pretty whore pussy on my fat cock. Sukuna holds a knife to your throa, taking the moment to himself to roughly fuck your ass.

Suguru strokes his cock, watching as the tears slip down your cheeks. Your pussy is dripping Toji’s cum as Sukuna pounds your ass. “She looks so hot when she’s helpless.”

Sukuna grunts, “It’s not enough, I wanna break her, fuck her ass till she can't move..” Sukuna digs the knife’s tip into your throat, blood slowly trickles down before he eases up.

Satoru chimes, “Tell me whose cum taste better, Kento’s or mine!” Whilst joining Sukuna, Suguru and you on the bed.

Kento passes Satoru a water bottle, his cock already half hard. “Since you like spitting so much you can spit some water into her mouth first.“

Sukuna encourages, “Fuckin cry you stupid sexy lil brat!” He slides the knife across your throat, over your shoulder and down your side. He drags the knife in a swirl over your cheek, your healing keeping up with as fast as he can cut. The stinging like the cut is fleeting, reigniting when he smacks your cheek with the large knife.

Sukuna drops the knife to folds your legs by your sides. Stopping with his cock balls deep and the toy still vibrating inside you. He makes you take Suguru’s thick cock in your sore sensitive cunt quickly.

The combination of their cocks and the toy stretching the skin between both holes taunt. They aren't moving and you’re already on the verge of overtimulation. Suguru slides his soft hand up your stomach towards your breasts.

You look down at Suguru, you can't get over how hot they look in their mask. “I want all six of you to stage a break in and then use me wearing these mask for the festive Halloween season is over.”

Suguru croons, “You’re such a dirty slut for us. You want it even rougher and nastier don't you?” You’re squirming on Sukuna’s and Suguru’s fat cocks. Rubbing Sukuna’s cock piercing inside your ass.

Suguru strokes your clit with his thumb. You’re still so sensitive from squirting on Toji’s cock. Both holes quiver clenching Suguru and Sukuna large cocks.

Sukuna lets both of your legs go, grabbing the near by knife. Gliding it along the harsh chains leaving imprints on your soft breast. Dragging it up the supple curve, Sukuna presses the tip into your sensitive nipple making you squirm.

Satoru drinks some water, squishes both cheeks with one large hand then spits water into your open mouth. The second you swallow it and open your mouth for more Sukuna yanks your head back.

“Hurry and pour it in her mouth.” His rough thrusts are slowly picking up pace. He can't wait any longer, your soft wet ass is clenching his cock begging him to fuck you.

Sukuna’s cock is wonderfully punishing. Stretching and slamming into you with toe curling, body quivering strength. You love how Sukuna fucks you like a toy.

Satoru pours water into your mouth, some of it trickles down your chin and neck as you do your best chug. Whilst Sukuna drags the sharp blade along your soft nipple. You choke and before you can regain your breath Sukuna is shoving over Suguru and Satoru is stuffing his cock in your open mouth.

Spit drips down your chin as he roughly fucks your throat. Gagging you and crooning “Aw she’s crying how fuckin’ hot, look up at me.” You do your best to look up at Satoru’s white mask, his bright blue eyes not covered by black fabric.

You get glimpses of a feral, hungry and playful looking in his piercing blue eyes. You would beg for him to keep fucking you till his balls can't make anymore cum if it wasn't for his cock in your mouth.

It feels so good to have three handsome masked men roughly fucking you. You’re their cum and cock hungry slut. It’s the only thought going through you head.

The wooden frame of the bed groan in protest as they roughly fuck their hard, throbbing cocks into you. Suguru’s fondles your sore breasts, squeezing your side gently. Whilst mercilessly fucking up your sensitive squelching pussy.

You’re quickly losing the ability to think. Why should you anyway when all you need to be is their cock drunk whore.

Suguru brings up, “Let’s place bets on long she can last before the six of us are too much for her. After Choso we can pass her down the line until her slutty ass n’ cunt can’t handle anymore cock n’ cum.”

Oreo’s m.list

[alittleemo]

.

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

One day in 2019, I had pain so bad I went to the ER.

My gut felt like there were red hot needles and knifes being stabbed into it. I felt nauseous. I felt faint. I very nearly threw up.

It was not the first time I felt this way but it was the worst I’d ever felt. I’d been getting increasingly bad pain for over a year and I had gone to countless doctors trying to determine what it was.

The doctors at the ER — thankfully — took me seriously. They determined I had a severely infected gallbladder and the only way to save my life was to have surgery to remove it.

I still had to give consent before the surgery.

I remember being terrified. I was alone. There was no one to help me. And somehow, even though the only course of action I could take was to consent to the surgery the fact that I had to before they could take action made it all the more terrifying. The consequences of the surgery would mean I would live, but I’d never quite be the same. I felt cheated by my own body. Why was it this way? Why couldn’t I be healthy? Functional? Why wasn’t my body working with me?

The nurses, doctors, and surgeons there were all incredibly kind to me.

One surgeon in particular — the one who ended up operating on me — said something that will stick with me for the rest of my life. “Your body is there to help you. Sometimes, when part of the body is no longer helping you, the best thing to do is cut it away. You’ll be so much happier after the surgery. You won’t be in pain anymore.”

I think about that a lot.

I think about it a lot when I see trans men begging for help to get top surgery and are met with resistance or well meaning but ignorant messages begging back to not “mutilate” their body.

I think about my surgeon, who was so kind to me and knew what to say when I was scared and crying and alone in my hospital bed.

Your body is there to help you.

Sometimes, when part of the body is no longer helping you, the best thing to do is cut it away.

You’ll be so much happier after the surgery.

You won’t be in pain anymore.

I hope you get your top surgery.

I hope you will be so much happier.

And I hope the pain will end.

[chuluoyi]

my boyfriend will kick your ass !

- fushiguro megumi x reader

it's a date gone wrong when you get into an argument with your aloof boyfriend. but will he save you when it counts?

genre/warnings: tw. street harassment, catcalling. hurt/comfort, arguments and reconciliation, protective!megumi and fluff !

note: i miss my emo boi :(

general masterlist

“Stay back!”

This is an utter plot twist. When you came out of your apartment today, all dolled up and ready to go on a date with your boyfriend, you never imagined you’d end up cornered by two creeps in a deserted alley.

“Easy, girl,” one of the guys in front of you cackled, lips curling into an unsettling sneer. “We’re just trying to get to know you better!”

“Listen— My boyfriend is super scary, you know!” you barked, willing yourself not to shake. “Now you better not come any closer or else—!”

“Or else what?” the other creep mocked with a snort. You gripped your umbrella—now your makeshift weapon—tightly, pointing it at him as a threat.

“Or else my boyfriend will be here in any minute and he’ll kick your ass!”

It was a partly a lie you hoped sounded convincing, because how could Megumi suddenly show up and find you in this dingy alleyway... right after both of you had a petty disagreement in the middle of Shibuya's shopping district?

Oh lord, how you regretted raising your voice and running away from him earlier.

"You are late!" you scolded him heatedly as he yawned, showing up twenty minutes later than your agreed time. "Can't you at least text me beforehand? I'll match your time if you do!"

Megumi sighed, fixing you with a blank stare as he scratched his head. "My bad. I overslept. I rushed here so didn't think of it."

It was so easy for him to say, and you would've understood if it was the first time, but you had noticed this pattern over the past two weeks. Whenever you asked him out for dates, his face always soured, and he didn't bother to be on time. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was reluctantly agreeing.

And by this point, you thought you knew better and that was really it.

Finally, you blurted out the burning accusation: "You never realize it, but it shows, you know? You never seem happy when we go out together."

He exhaled in exasperation, green eyes darkening at you. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly that."

It seemed he had run out of patience. Standing your ground, you braced for his next words. But the glare he sent your way and the words he spat pierced your tender heart more than you thought—

"You're always nagging. Can't you stop being annoying just once? What a pain."

Perhaps he was right, you were annoying him all this time and dealing with you was a pain. You could imagine it if you were in his place, but you couldn't handle the very implication that you had done so, and you screamed at his face:

"So be it then! Fushiguro, you are the worst!"

—and ran off with tears in your eyes, deserting him altogether.

You knew you weren’t exactly a model of maturity, but in your defense, it stung deeply that he saw you as annoying and a pain. What girlfriend wouldn’t be hurt by that?

Anyhow, you loitered near the Shibuya station afterwards, and at first you heard some catcalls you didn't really pay mind to. But when those two guys started whistling and edging closer, it hit you—you were their target.

You quickened your pace, turning down several corners, only to find yourself trapped in a dead end. Just how much worse could your day get?

"Aha, the girl says she has a boyfriend!" Creep #1 snickered, turning to Creep #2 with a smirk, before pretending to scan the area. "But I don’t see him?"

"Miss, I swear we’re not up to any trouble," Creep #2 chimed in, his eyes gleaming with a predatory delight. "Won’t you be our friend? You’re too pretty to be alone—this is Shibuya, after all!" he said, eyeing your legs and whistled. "And ooh, have I told you that skirt suits you well?"

These guys were straight-up perverts!

"Get lost!" you yelled, your fingers trembling as you swung the umbrella at him when he tried to close the distance. "Can’t you just leave me alone?!"

You were at your wits' end, and it was clear this situation wasn’t going to improve with them still blocking your way. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and decided to do the only thing you could.

In hindsight, a stupid move—

You barreled towards the two of them with your umbrella—managing to push past them. For a moment, you thought you had a chance and ran as fast as you could—

"Ack!" —until you tripped and crashed on the ground.

You rose and immediately winced, looking down at the site where it hurt the most. Oh, you had scrapped your knees badly.

"Ahh, miss! Don't be too hasty~!" you heard the second guy's sing-song voice, and you really wanted to cry. Why did this have to happen to you?

"Don't come c-closer!" you stammered, backing away as they approached. Your whole body shook, desperately trying to think of ways to save yourself. "Or— I'll scream!"

"Whoa, whoa, wait just a minute! Why don't you just—"

You really thought you would scream, until suddenly the familiar scent of mint filled your sense and a strong arm pulled you from behind, and a broad back shielded your view from them—

"What do you need from her?" Megumi's voice boomed, his eyes glaring at the two men who had been harassing you. His breathing was ragged, as if he had run all the way here. "Fuck off."

At that moment, you couldn't help clutching his sleeve, hiding behind him further as you kept trembling. Megumi sensed it, and turned over to have a look over you—

You looked disheveled, spooked, and his eyes widened when he saw the blood trailing down both of your knees.

"Hey man, your girlfriend practically asked for it! Just look how she is dressed—"

Before you could process what was happening, Megumi had yanked the man by his collar and thrown a punch at him. You yelped and immediately got a hold of his arm to stop him further. "Megumi!"

The other guy quickly caught his friend, who spat out a string of curses, his lips bloodied from the punch.

"Fuck. Off." Megumi glowered at them, and they finally got the message, scurrying away in hurry. The moment they did, he faced you again and you finally let out a sob, throwing yourself into him. His body was warm, his heart pounding hard— yet it meant reassurance for you.

"Are you okay...?" his voice was noticeably softer as he wrapped his arms around you and returned the hug. "Did they touch you—?"

Megumi froze when he felt his chest dampen with your tears and heard your sniffles, your figure shaking like a leaf in his embrace. A wave of guilt washed over him, realizing how scared you must have been. Instinctively, he held you tighter.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry," he muttered, his breath warm against your ear. It was as if there was an invincible knife that twisted his chest when it dawned on him what you just got into. "I'm here now, okay? You're safe now."

If it weren’t for his harsh words earlier, you wouldn’t have run off. He kept shushing you, his own heart breaking at the turn of events.

And when you nodded against him, he knew he had to make it up to you somehow.

Later, Megumi tended to your minor injury while crouching down before you, as you sat on a bench near the convenience store where he had picked up the first aid kit.

Your eyes were swollen, your outfit was dirtied, but you ignored the curious looks from passersby. Still shaken, you kept your gaze fixed on your lap.

You recoiled when the disinfectant touched your torn skin, tears welling up again in your eyes. "Ow..."

"It'll hurt just a bit," Megumi looked up at you worriedly, seeing you struggling to hold back tears. He gently blew air on your wound. "It’ll be over soon."

Megumi noticed how you were uncharacteristically quiet. Between the two of you, you were the chatty one and he was the silent listener. But now, you were completely silent, and he knew it was definitely not a good sign.

And so he thought it was a good time to finally explain himself. With a sigh, he began. "I... was on back-to-back missions last week."

You glanced at him, both surprised and confused.

“I was so burnt out— that’s why I’ve been oversleeping lately. Sorry for not meeting you on time.” Megumi applied the ointment to your knees, and you stiffened from the sting. He blew air on them again to ease the discomfort.

"You never told me," you pointed out.

“Yeah, uh, sorry...” he winced. “It’s so... lame. I’ve been exhausted for a week straight whereas Itadori bounces back so easily. Stupid, I know.”

"You... didn't tell me because you don't want to look uncool?"

As soon as you worded it that way, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Megumi remained silent, looking down, and you knew that his silence was a definite yes.

Totally stupid. But exactly how Fushiguro Megumi was always wired. A part of you was exasperated, but also forgave him for it.

When he met your gaze again, he finally saw the light returning to your eyes. It was a relief to him, so he let out a small sigh and put on a strained smile.

"How did you find me anyway?" you asked quietly.

"You didn't pick up my calls. I was worried. And then I ran around until I heard your voice." His eyes narrowed into a frown. "Did they do anything to you?"

You shook your head, and Megumi let out the breath he had been holding, gripping your right hand in his. "I’m glad."

You brushed away the trace of tears on your cheeks as he finished applying band-aids to your knees, awkwardly fiddling with your fingers.

"Sorry for being annoying," you mumbled softly, not meeting his eyes, feeling yourself so small all of a sudden. "Will totally happen again though."

"You..." Unwittingly, he cracked a smile at your blatant remark. "Just... don’t run off again, dummy. Do it where I can see you."

He ruffled your hair gently, then intertwined your fingers with his. "And sorry... for getting mad at you too."

Your cheeks felt warm, so you looked away, puckering your lips together. "...I'm hurt. You have to make it up to me."

He hummed, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "Let's go have that shaved ice you’ve been craving then."

“Huh? You remembered! But you don’t like them?”

“You like that kind of sugar dump, don’t you?”

Hand-in-hand, both of you traversed the Shibuya shopping district together. Your eyes were still puffy, but you were smiling and talking his ears off again just like you always did.

“I told those pricks my boyfriend will definitely kick their asses,” you giggled to yourself, swinging your joined hands in joy. “And you really did~”

“What are you talking about…?”

Sometimes you were beyond his comprehension. Sometimes you were also cute beyond comparison.

And Megumi thought... he liked you the best this way.