#*AGGRESSIVE KITH*

[minhosimthings]

MONAAAAAAAAAAA

MY STARRRRR get it cause your name's astra

[blooming-cecilia]

missing venti hours again

[retroaria]

boyfriend rin headcannon queen?

a/n: holy shit how have i gone this long without making rin bf headcanons??? thank you anon im gonna give you a kith 💋

˚｡⋆❀˖° BOYFRIEND RIN ˚｡⋆❀˖°

❀ Itoshi Rin x gn!reader | all characters aged up 18+ | SFW

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 🐢 -aria

pre-boyfriend!rin who is much less intimidated by his feelings for you than people may expect. he understands how he feels and he accepts it, but no way in hell is he telling you about them. he tries to push them down as far as he can for as long as he can. doesn’t want the distraction and is a little insecure about how he’ll be as a boyfriend.

pre-boyfriend!rin who goes out of his way to introduce himself to you, help you out with stuff, get things for you that you need, but not without complaining (as if he isn’t giddy at the thought of just being around you). “Seriously, you can’t do this on your own? If you’re going to hurt yourself doing it then just let me handle it.”

pre-boyfriend!rin who gets jealous and possessive as if you’re already his partner. tries to get your attention on him instead of others without showing how he’s feeling. always makes it a little too obvious though, especially when he literally grabs your arm and pulls you away. “That guy’s a loser, just stay with me and he won’t bother you.”

pre-boyfriend!rin who invites you to hang out just to sit and talk in his room, invites you to his games and practices, gets defensive about introducing you to his teammates, and proceeds to act as if all that isn’t couple level interaction. rin finds solace in the thin line he walks between acting like you best friend and acting like your boyfriend. he likes the way he gets to act in regards to you without actually having to explain himself or his feelings. however, the thought that you aren’t actually his and could be taken from him at any time is enough to push him past his comfort zone and lead to his confession.

pre-boyfriend!rin who lets his feelings build up to an unbearable point and only then does he confess to you. his confession comes off a little passive aggressive. he isn’t sure how to explain how he feels without saying that you did this to him or you did that to him and he had no other choice but to fall in love with you. he unintentionally rambles on during his confession, drawing it out a bit too much because he isn’t sure when to stop, and he could honestly go on forever about how much and how deeply he feels for you. slowly but surely his tone becomes more affectionate and he shuts up in a moment of embarrassment awaiting your response.

boyfriend!rin who so quickly loses the tough guy act once you guys start dating. the beginning stages of physical touch and intimacy hit him like a semi truck and he can’t help but melt into a puddle any time he gets to be in your arms. he slugs over to you after practice and games, still sweaty and heaving, and plops himself over your shoulders. tries his best not to put all his weight on you but just enough for him to feel cradled. he swears laying in bed with you is some kind of mind control ritual that you perform on him because how else could you get him to so easily open up and share a piece of his mind with you? the stillness of the night, the softness of the sheets, the comforter, and your skin against his; it makes him feel so safe he doesn’t even let the words that come out of his mouth process in his brain first.

boyfriend!rin who takes you on very sweet and simple dates. likes sitting by the water with you, walking along the beach or at the park. he likes aimlessly kicking a soccer ball around with you in his backyard while you guys talk. dates with him feel more like hangouts, but sometimes he does like to put in a little extra effort to make it something special.

boyfriend!rin who has absolutely no wandering eye or intentions of being with anyone else. remember how difficult it was for him to just be with you? nah, no way is he doing that again. plus he’s got the best partner in the world so it’s not like he would ever want to risk that. because of this he would let you have a lot of say in his appearance. his haircuts, his clothes, even the body wash and cologne he wears. obviously he still wouldn’t let you choose something that he doesn’t like, but he wants you to like all of it too and he doesn’t mind catering to your preferences on him. you’re the only person he’s trying to impress and he wants you to feel confident about that.

boyfriend!rin who secretly wants everyone to know you’re his but also doesn’t want to make a spectacle out of you. he tells his teammates about you, occasionally will post about you, and he comments on all your posts. I can’t imagine him doing a hard launch, but he’s not afraid to mention in interviews or in conversation that he is in fact taken and in love.

boyfriend!rin who greatly appreciates the advice and support that you give him. he’s got some issues he needs to work through, and he feels so lucky to have you by his side. not judging him or scolding him for acting the way he does, but instead teaching him love in new ways and guiding him towards better understanding of others and behavior. he really starts taking things more seriously when you’re around, specifically in regards to separating his attitude on the field and off the field. he holds you like water in his hands and he wants that to help him learn how to show others and himself that same tenderness when necessary.

boyfriend!rin who is very possessive but not over protective. he lets you go out and dress up and look hot for the whole world to see. he trusts you with his whole heart and the idea of someone trying to hit on you while he isn’t there doesn’t scare him. he does hate when people hit on you while he is there though, it makes his blood boil. he goes into predator mode and literally forces you to cling to him like you’re his cub. he’s definitely the type to fight with other guys in your instagram comment section, would stop after you tell him that it’s kind of embarrassing though lol. god forbid someone from a rival team makes a comment after seeing you at one of his games, he’s literally devouring them on the pitch and then probably trying to beat the shit out of them after.

boyfriend!rin who purposely puts things on the highest shelves in your shared apartment so that you have no other choice but to ask him for help. he reaches up and grabs whatever you need, handing it to you with the stupidest smirk on his face.

boyfriend!rin who always needs to have some point of contact with you when you’re together. he isn’t big on pda at all and would cringe if you tried to be excessive about it, but he will admit he just needs your hand in his almost all of the time. if not that then he’ll opt for placing his hand on your lower back or on your thigh.

boyfriend!rin who is so whipped that he looks through your socials and his personal pictures of you multiple times a day when he’s away for games. he genuinely gets homesick for you and hates the feeling. calls you when he wakes up in the mornings and before he goes to bed at night, and of course is texting you throughout the day. he’s not a gimmicky guy but he loves getting you little souvenirs from the different countries he visits. his gifts are always tasteful and he knows what you like so don’t worry.

boyfriend!rin who is the best gift giver! he’s so doting and attentive that he knows you like the back of his hand and never fails to surprise you with items, trips, events, etc. that you absolutely love.

boyfriend!rin who is super freaking awesome and cute and im only writing this bc i feel weird ending the post on something random lol. all hail rin itoshi. the rin stans have convinced me!!

LOOOOORD forgive me i know it’s been like a week since my last official post but im a working woman, a single mom who works two jobs who loves her kids and never stops with gentle hands and the heart of a fighter im a survivor bro yall wouldn’t understand. anyways im trying to get back on my regular posting schedule bc i have so many requests to fulfill so stay tuned aria nation - peace out ✌️

[stvllioner]

I know you did somno headcannons but what about pro hero’s and villains fucking the reader to sleep. Like just a tired reader who feels so safe and good that they doze off during sex. (Twice, Aizawa, dealers choice)

                twice | aizawa | dabi x [fem]reader

warning(s): sexual content, semi-somnophilia (?), fingering, p in v penetration, groping, cuddling, side position, mating press, fingering cum back into you (🤭), pre-established relationship.

read more: masterlist | adult masterlist | drabble masterlist

a/n: ughhhhh i hope these werent redundant! i actually had a bit of a spark to get this done so here it is. 🥴 thank you, anon!

                     jin bubaigawara.

sweat breaks onto his forehead, but his pace slowly and surely comes to a rhythmic pace.

hard, accurate, but all so slow and gentle at the same time. the sounds that Jin's cock manages to draw out of you makes him want to speed up, but quite frankly you two had been at it since early this afternoon.

after spending time away from each other proved that not only does distance make the heart grow fond, it was everything in his right to prove that.

you mewl feeling his hand shift to grope your right tit as your languidly laid on your side, eyes fluttering and hips trying to fuck yourself on him. his moans and grunts are ever so present in your ear as its aggression softly lulls you to sleep, the type of lewdity that you missed from the days you two were separated for. he chuckles, breathlessly, as he looks at you trying so desperately to cling onto consciousness when everything in you was battling to do the opposite.

a soft 'shoo' slips it's way between your teeth and barely escapes your plump and bruised lips (from his kithes). once his hand that was once fondling your breast instead move to press it's large palm onto your lower abdomen, successfully making you painfully aware at how deep he reaches.

in a shameless bit to finish yourself as you were right there, your hand dj's your clit and does the job for you. it takes only but a few more thrusts for you to freeze and tighten up around his cock, a pathetic moan sounding from you as you finish. he wraps his arms around your waist and knocks his hips more ardently this time, wanting to finish, too. just the thought of you using him to get off was the kick-start to his own climax he was chasing.

soon enough in your now sleep state, the welcoming feel of his load paints your skin. he's biting, kissing, and muttering all sorts of praises of, 'i love you's' into your skin as you safely dose off into his arms.

you two would just do it again tomorrow if need be.

                     shouta aizawa.

with your thighs pressed so firmly to your chest, and hands firmly pressed to the back of your knees only from the strength of your lover's hands.

it was cozy the way he was sloppily fucking himself into you. there was a squelch from each impact that would've embarrassed you if you were new to this. your gummy walls were almost too tight for his comfort, but Aizawa was never one to complain much. a grunt is all he combats the frustrated energy with as he attempts to speed up pace.

his eyes are glued to where you two meet; eyes so entranced at how pretty your pussy looks when it expertly takes his cock that he has to remind himself to look up every once in awhile to check on you to see if you were okay. dont get him wrong, he didn't think you were fugly or anything, his mand simply wanders in lust if he can't help it.

as his eyes trace it's way to your face as it gets on its journey to search your eyes, he can't help but notice your pretty lashes seem to stare back at him instead. he gives your hands a reassuring squeeze to check on if you're still with him, delighted to hear a distinctive—very slumber like—hum in acknowledgement. he's quick to swoop down and plaster a kiss onto your parted lips, tongue finding its way to pry at yours.

the intrusion has your eyes fluttering open again and focus starting to align itself with him. it's as if you regaining attention brings you to a full stop, mouth falling open and hips bucking him as you squeeze your eyes shut.

"cumming, cumming...!" you whimper. the short notice dully noted as you take your hands from underneath his and pull him into your body instead. he abandons the pose from earlier to let you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in with nowhere else to go.

tirelessly he emptied his spunk into your cunt, and shamelessly does he snuggle himself into you as he relaxed against your body.

he'd have to switch to a better position soon, but tonight you'll sleep being full of him.

                   touya todoroki.

"you tired?"

is heard through your sleep like state, body fueled with pleasure and drowsiness fighting tooth and nail to pull you under. you defiantly hum, "no", your brattiness bringing a smile to Dabi's lips.

he had just pulled out of you, wet length pressed against your bum and your half naked body snuggled into him. in an effort to entice him once more, you try grinding back into him, the gesture earning a playful spank from him. you whimper in protest.

"one more..." you lazily lift your head as you try reaching behind you to find his length. he half-heartedly chastises you with the call of your name, swatting your hand away despite your efforts.

he pulls you closer though (somehow it was possible) and he wraps his arms around your waist. he presses his face into your hair, inhaling your musk and closing his eyes in comfort at the familiarity of it all. his free right hand starts to roam your free skin, hand tracing the skin of your hip and thighs, surely taking it's time to get where it needs to.

unmistakenly you can still feel everything. his calming warmth, his calloused hands and his half-baked boner. you chuckle seemingly at the conclusion but quiet when his hand finally finds his way back between your thighs. you slightly open your thighs to help with his venture, softly humming at pressure of his digits palming your still slick folds.

your mouth drops open as he softly massages your pumpum, taking it's time with toying your nerves. he hums lowly when he withdraws to look at his digits glisten in the moon-lit room before taking them to his mouth and sucking on them for himself. it's sickening how his eyes roll back instinctively as he could never get tired of your taste, now wanting nothing more to fuck you again for the nth time tonight. instead he takes his hand back to insert two fingers into you, and smirking at the moist sound that comes from it.

some of his cum from the last round spilled out and it made no sense for it to go waste. he notes the way you slowly drift back into slumber and doesn't prolong the process. with utmost care, he stuffs the load back into your willing cunt. after a few pumps his hand finds itself wrapped around his abandoned cock and aligns his swollen tip to your hole. in the most gentle way possible, he thrusts himself in and reclaims his hold around your body again as Dabi drift off to sleep.

all rights reserved © do NOT steal, alter, translate or copy this work.

[hp-hcs]

OKOKOK SENTENCE 9

maybe theres a party in the slytherin common room and reader gets absolutely shitfaced

so being a flirty drunk they start chatting up a random dude (lets just say cormac bc hes always the bad guy) and boyfie theodore <3 gets jealous nd pulls them into his dorm nd hes all like

"I'll carve out your tongue if it’ll stop you from flirting with anyone else."

but reader still being drunk asf is just like :] snd gives him a kith and tells theo how pretty he is

poor baby just cant stay mad

HOW DARE YOU (be so cute?) — yandere! theodore nott x gn! drunk! hufflepuff! cutie patootie! reader

warnings: underage alcohol consumption, teen partying and drinking, threats of violence, aggression, possessive/obsessive behavior, jealousy, general yandere tendencies

please enjoy my attempts to see how many ridiculous near-rhymes to ‘cormac’ i could come up with

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Yeah, yeah. Gryffindor’s playing Ravenclaw this weekend, you know. Maybe you can come out and…show your support.” The boy you’d been talking to all night leaned in close, resting one hand on your hip and letting the fingers of the other brush over your collarbone.

You honestly couldn’t be bothered to remember the boy’s name when you had a plastic cup of White Wyvern in your hand. It was something dumb, you remember that. Cognac, Corsac…?

“Y/n?” CarMax asked, trying to regain your attention. “You gonna cheer me on, sugar?”

“Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah,” you grinned, taking another sip of your drink. “I’ll get all decked out in red ‘n gold, jus’ for you.”

Tarmac grinned back and tightened his grip on your hip, tugging you a bit closer. “Maybe I oughtta give you my spare jersey to wear to the game then, huh? Wouldn’t you like to have my name across your back, little badger?”

(You shrugged noncommittally at that, not quite sure how to express to Shellac that literally no one wants the name Cornsack written across the back of their shirt.)

“Oh, I see. You want me to be your good luck charm, huh?” You teased, resting a hand on Callback’s forearm.

Rickrack smirked and opened his mouth to reply when a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder from behind.

“McLaggen. You’ve got two seconds to get your hands off my partner before I cut them off.”

Trashbag paled, hurriedly snatching his hands back and holding them up in surrender as he whirled around to face the newcomer. “Woah, woah- calm down, Nott,” he chuckled nervously. “We were just talking. No harm, no foul.”

Theodore stared back at him with an unamused, dead-eyed expression.

Hackeysack swallowed nervously. “Uh…yeah. Yeah. Well, I uh…I think I’m gonna get going now, Y/n. See ya at the game.”

Theo interrupted you before you could even respond. “I assure you, they won’t.”

And with that, Theodore wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders and dragged you away from Radioshack.

~~~

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb, darling, I’m not in the mood.” Theodore pushed you up against the wall of his dorm, one hand with a possessive death grip on your hip, and the other tightly grasping your jaw to hold it still. “I swear to Salazar, Y/n, I’ll carve out your tongue if it’ll stop you from flirting with anyone else.”

Whatever reaction Theodore was expecting you to have to those threatening words, you drunkenly giggling and kissing the tip of his nose was not one of them.

“You’re so pretty when you’re jelly, baby,” you gave him a dopey grin, reaching out to fix his rumpled shirt collar and smooth your hands across his chest. “You’re always so pretty.”

His heart melted and he let go of your jaw with a sigh, running his fingers through your hair and leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Merlin- what am I going to do with you, love?”

“Cuddle me?” You asked hopefully, a sweet pout on your face.

Theodore whined. “Shit, darlin’- I’m trying to be mad at you right now.”

“But cuddles, Teddybear!” You pouted further, tossing your arms over his shoulders to pull him into a hug. “Why would you wanna be mad when cuddles are an option?”

“I guess I can’t argue with that logic.” He conceded slowly, resting both hands on your waist and rubbing small circles into your sides with his thumbs. “Alright, fine. We can cuddle.”

You grin proudly at your incredible drunken convincing skills, disentangling yourself from your boyfriend to clamber onto his bed. “C’mon!”

“Hold on, hold on,” he laughed. “I need to find you something to sleep in that isn’t your party clothes, love. Here,” he tossed something at you as he finished digging through his dresser.

You caught the item, unfolding it to reveal his Slytherin quidditch team captain jersey, complete with NOTT written out in a big bold font. You snorted and glanced up at him.

He gave you an innocent smile as he stripped out of his own clothes and climbed under the covers next to you. You rolled your eyes fondly, changing into his jersey and lying down beside him.

“Goodnight, darling,” he murmured against the top of your head as he wrapped his arms around you.

You grinned into his chest. “G’night, Teddybear.”

You fell asleep cuddling Theo, in Theo’s bed, in Theo’s clothes, with Theo’s name written across your back. And as long as you didn’t think too hard about how your boyfriend was absolutely going to kill Hazmat McLovin tomorrow, then all was quite well in the Slytherin dorms that night.

[lorelune]

O4O: part ii

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || omega 4 omega, hurt/comfort || wc: 11.5k  || ao3 ||

After your swift departure following his heat, Jing Yuan copes with your strange behavior. He only hopes you will crumble, so he may catch you.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

✨O4O masterlist✨ // part i - part ii - part iii (part 1 & part 2) //

notes: ohhhh mommy jing yuan how you continue to captivate me. this piece has been so fun to dive into!! and has gotten longer than anticipated :'^) though o4o was a planned two shot, it will now be in three parts!! please enjoy this part and all the goodness of caring kind and patient mommy jing yuan <33 thank you soo much to @ofmermaidstories, @owlespresso, & @honeyedgifts for beta reading and providing invaluable feedback. KITH!! now ENJOY!!

CW: a/b/o, omega jing yuan, omega reader, reader with afab anatomy and referred to with they/them pronouns, a burgeoning mommy jing yuan, hurt/comfort, sick fic, angst that WILL resolve (i prommy), author-cooked omegaverse lore, one threat of spanking, a single named OC, medical environments, past dan feng/jing yuan/yingxing

Jing Yuan remembers his first heat startlingly well.

It occurred only a day or two after he presented. He’d been Jingliu’s apprentice for less than half a decade. Fresh-faced and young, soft in his cheeks with youth. His scent had sweetened rather suddenly while out in the field with his fellow Cloud knights. His normally neutral aroma turned to something balmy and honey-like in the space of an afternoon. Jing Yuan had felt tender in the days leading up to this change, however, he hadn’t thought anything of it.

He was raised by two betas, after all. They had not bothered teaching Jing Yuan the signs to look out for when nearing the precipice of presenting and the symptoms of an impending heat. Jing Yuan hadn’t understood why the aggressive scents of sweat and musk that clung to the bedclothes and sleep sacks of his fellow recruits bothered him so much. He hadn’t understood why his chest and inner thighs ached, despite not being bruised or overworked by Jingliu’s training exercises. He did not understand why a few of the squirrelier recruits in his company seemed to follow a few paces behind him after their afternoon exercises, lingering around the communal shower as Jing Yuan washed himself.

Jingliu, however, was a coupled alpha with a very kind, loving omega mate. And the moment Jingliu smelled Jing Yuan, freshly bathed and without the reek of sweat on him, she quarantined him to a private quarter with as many blankets and pillows as she could find.

Jingliu was not an affectionate master. She was rather cold and rarely gave Jing Yuan any type of leniency during his training. She did not know restraint, she knew mastery and passion like they were her lovers and not the chipper Foxian that Jing Yuan would one day come to call one of his most beloved friends.

Yet, as Jing Yuan ripened and his first heat rolled over him, Jingliu was outstandingly kind. She stayed with him in his nest of scratchy, ill-suited blankets and scented him as gently as she knew how. Wrist-to-wrist, nosing at his sweaty temple tentatively. She saw to him until Baiheng could arrive and take up the task. 

Jing Yuan can still recall hazily watching Baiheng and Jingliu exchange scents at his bedside, caressing each other so tenderly in a mere greeting. He remembers thinking:

“Will I be held like that one day?”

The thought was violent back then. Jing Yuan had not yearned in such a way before and he immediately assumed such a deep desire for intimate companionship surely had to come from his heat-addled mind.

Jing Yuan now knows that this assumption is wrong. 

He had been held kindly, one day, by Yingxing and Dan Feng who tended to him so well. The kindest mates, sweet in their own ways, though always sharp-tongued. They both carried attitudes, but Jing Yuan didn’t mind the teasing and prodding they exchanged. The banter was half the fun. Jing Yuan knew that it would one day end, as Yingxing was short-lived and Dan Feng would’ve (should’ve) outlived Jing Yuan. 

(It did end, but so differently than he expected. Yingxing, an abomination torn asunder that barely recognizes Jing Yuan as an old, scorned friend and not a lover. Dan Feng— now Dan Heng— he who wears the face of the man Jing Yuan loved but who cannot ever give him the same things. He who will never want the same things.)

Jing Yuan carried (carries) his broken heart well. What’s done is done. Jing Yuan never expected to be loved again, cherished or held like something to be cherished or held. Gentleness, he gives to others when he can, though he would never expect to receive it. 

Maybe he craved it. 

How could he not? 

Regardless of secondary gender, everyone needs care.

In the throes of his heat, he craves the presence of a lover and companionship so deeply it makes him feel sick. His heats now are nothing like this first heat, where Baiheng wiped his brow with a cold rag and whispered to him kind praises like a mother would. They are nothing like the many he shared with Yingxing and Dan Feng, who fought over the best ways to please and sate him.

His heats now are lonely things. They are seldom more than a grudge match between the repetitive stress injuries in his arms and the knotting toys he keeps at his bedside and his motivation to be fucked and knotted by a false phallus made of silicone. His heats are unpleasant, truthfully, and if it wasn’t detrimental to his health, Jing Yuan would take an abortive medication before each one and stop them from occurring at all.

Until recently.

You somehow snuck your way close to him (he invited you to do so), and offered him the thing he had craved for centuries without a second thought. No expectations, no transaction. Your earnestness had always been a point of attraction for Jing Yuan. Sincerity as a turn on. You offered him your presence, body, scent and a smile for nothing more than an assurance that he wanted you.

And, of course he did. Jing Yuan is not a proud man, and he will admit his faults readily. And whether it’s a quirk of biology, his own psyche, or some combination of the two, he wants you.

And now he has had you.

And yet, you left him and his bed cold. 

...

Jing Yuan worries in the days that follow his heat. Post-heat makes him antsy and anxious in a way that is uncommon for him. He alternates between pacing the courtyards in the middle of his estate and burying his face in the linens and pillows of his nest, soaking up as much of your fading scent as he can. He lives in the robe you had favored. He brings the wide, silk neckline of the garment to his nose frequently to inhale the strongest smell of you that lingers there. 

He feels, notably, a bit pathetic.

It isn’t like him to stew like this even in post-heat. Usually, he’ll be on edge and fatigued, spending a day or two in bed before returning to the Seat of Divine Foresight to catch up on paperwork. It’s unpleasant, but not unbearable, and he doesn’t carry the same pit in his stomach that he does now. 

His palms sweat during the day hours. He sleeps poorly. 

It doesn’t help that you hardly contact him during the days that follow. He received a single text from you, just after you had left so abruptly: 

[name]: i just got home safe. i apologize again. i hope you are well.

And nothing beyond that.

Jing Yuan assumes your own heat had hit. This is the most logical conclusion, as occasionally one omega’s heat can trigger another’s. It explains your erratic behavior and the scent-blocking patches plastered to the side of your neck. And Jing Yuan supposes it is fair for you to want to be home, near your nest your instincts would urge you to. 

However—

(Jing Yuan is pathetic and a bit petty, and cannot deny that he is upset that you didn’t think to ask him to be your heatmate, after you so diligently and tenderly cared for him.)

Jing Yuan is not used to the conflict between his omegan urges and his own sense of reason. It makes him feel sick with a headache during the final day of his post-heat. He can’t even enjoy his usual tonic of ginger, lemon, and lyran root without a roll of nausea. His post-heat finishes with him alone (naturally, it seems, as it always is) and with a tummy ache that would flatten him were he a weaker man and not Arbiter-General. 

...

Jing Yuan does not expect you to appear at your weekly, scheduled lunch. He assumes you are in the throes of your heat. He assumes you are—

(Suffering alone, in an empty nest probably. Or, had you contacted someone? There’s an insecure murmuring in the back of Jing Yuan's mind that worries you had flagged down someone else to keep your company. Maybe an alpha coworker from the Sky-Faring Commission. Maybe a sensible beta acquaintance who can keep an eye on you, but never get too close. Perhaps, you had hired a handsome, pay-per-heat alpha to warm your bed. Jing Yuan hasn’t indulged, but there are plenty of services on the Luofu that offer a catalog of vetted alphas to knot and sate a needy omega.)

It’s an easy spiral to fall into. One Jing Yuan worries himself in until your next lunch.

His worries turn to confusion upon arriving at his terraced garden to find you already at the gate. You idle, bouncing on your toes with a basket thrown over your arm. Jing Yuan can smell the aroma of freshly baked bread and rich, warm butter emanating from the basket. It mixes with your... scent beautifully. It soothes something in him instantly. 

You give him a timid wave and a soft, “Hello, Jing Yuan.”

(Something in him aches.)

Jing Yuan assesses you quickly as you, together, set up the picnic for the meal in silence. Your neck is bare, soft, and unblemished. Not a single bite mark peaks above your collar which provides Jing Yuan with so much relief, that he almost sighs aloud. You seem well-fed, cheeks filled out and soft. Most interestingly, your scent is not heat-stricken. There’s not a hint of pre, post, or standing heat on you. The only difference to your scent is the taste of smoke that lingers in the back of his throat, something charred and acidic. Displeasure. Anxiety.

This all leaves Jing Yuan with more questions than answers, however he asks none during the meal.

Perhaps, Jing Yuan is feeling fragile. Your relationship feels tenuous, despite the seemingly consensual, pleasurable intimacy you so recently shared. Regardless of that, you sit across from him at the low table, picking over your plate quietly and nipping at the skin around your cuticles when you’re not. You can barely meet his eyes as Jing Yuan makes surface-level small talk. 

“The weather is lovely today, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

...

“This bread is wonderful. What bakery did you pick up from?”

“The one at the edge of Aurum Alley. With the striped banner in the window.”

...

“How is Yukong and the Sky Faring Commission these days?”

“Just fine.”

...

Just fine.

It’s stilted and odd. You are clearly aware of the tension, with your shoulders drawn up to your ears and a half-scowl fixed on your pretty lips. Jing Yuan does what he can to parry around it, and draw out what he can from you gingerly. He doesn’t wish to pry at you; he knows it won’t do any good with you this guarded. He’s never known you to be anything other than earnest, so it is easy to conclude that your current demeanor and behavior are based within some type of discomfort.

He does not want to worsen it.

Lunch ends quickly that first week. You do not linger, only offering a quick goodbye before escaping him through a back entrance to the gardens. You offer him a single, fleeting look that echoes a pain Jing Yuan isn’t sure he has a name for yet. It makes something in him shudder and fracture, the soft-hearted omega in him begging the rational, sensical parts of him to chase you down, drag you by your scruff into his nest and explain yourself.

However, Jing Yuan does not. Instead, he leaves you with a melancholy smile on his lips and worn lines under his eyes.

...

Over the next few weeks, your lunches follow the same pattern. You arrive first, act cold and sad during the meal and leave promptly without lingering once it is over. Your scent remains acrid, varying sometimes to sickly sweet in a way that makes Jing Yuan nauseous. You hardly touch your food and offer him little in the way of conversation. Or information. Or anything remotely in the same realm as the soft closeness you had shared in his nest, or the lilting banter you exchanged before. 

Jing Yuan bides his time and does what he can to put you together, outside of your scheduled, weekly meetings.

He reviews your social media for any new postings (there are none). He is keen to take note of any others’ scents that linger on you during your lunches (there are none that are unusual). He even trails you to the evening markets a few times. You’re sullen even then, picking veggies and fruit with a darkened expression. Tired and cold. 

It is perhaps... invasive for Jing Yuan to keep such an intense eye on you. He can accept that. It seems like the wiser option than prodding and poking you and your off mood when you clearly want to spend the least amount of time with him as possible. Jing Yuan knows he must maneuver about your relationship carefully. 

And truthfully? This is unknown territory to him. He is cautious. 

And ultimately? Jing Yuan surmises that you will come to him before he must prod you. You are honest and Jing Yuan is certain (certain) that it must be very difficult for you to hold your tongue and fester the way you are. He resolves to allow you to wallow for a bit longer, before stepping in. He’ll examine you more closely then and find the weak points in your facade if necessary. He’ll lance through them then, and some type of catharsis will follow. The outcome of which he hopes is favorable. 

(He hopes that it ends in companionship. Coupling, if he is to dream. He’ll take scraps as long as it is you.) 

This behavior of his could, theoretically, destroy your relationship. 

(Dan Feng never liked prying. He was a very private person who was so, so careful with what he shared. Even with his mates. Inversely, Yingxing was far from private. He complained and groused about anything and everything that rubbed him the wrong way. There were times when Yingxing would attempt to contain his poor moods, though this was rarely successful. It would inevitably lead to an evening-long outburst between the three of them. Explosive anger and sadness would fade into a sweetened dusk as they shared Jing Yuan’s nest, comforted by the warmth and lack of space between them.

What destroyed their relationship was the unnamed thing that Yingxing and Dan Feng shared that did not include Jing Yuan. 

Jing Yuan never minded it. Both Yingxing and Dan Feng operated in their own unique niches on the Luofu, as High Elder and a rare short-lived genius, and they found a special type of kinship in that. Jing Yuan was not jealous within their polycule.

Perhaps he should have been.

Dan Feng’s brooding anxiety was a quiet thing. Like a storm out at sea, writhing as one looked on it from the shoreline. Something to watch out for, to run from, to seek high ground away from, but so distant that it was easy to dismiss. 

Dan Feng feared Yingxing’s inevitable, looming death. Dan Feng loved so deeply and he would lose it so soon. Jing Yuan felt similarly but tempered the feeling. Dan Feng, despite his many meditations and mantras, did not.

Dan Feng had been given so little that was truly his in his lifetime. To have the life of a lover ripped away by something as trivial as biology incensed him.

Yingxing entertained Dan Feng too much. Spurred on things too large for him to truly understand. It’s belittling to say, but Jing Yuan believed it then, and believes it even more in retrospect. Yingxing researched and fed Dan Feng’s hope and anxiety in tandem. He kept Jing Yuan in the dark near the end, with lust-filled nights, a fat knot, and a well-cared-for nest. 

When Jing Yuan pressed the two of them about their shared absences, their oddly timed visits to Scale Gorge and peculiar demeanors, he was pushed away. Shut out. It made him hurt and shake and only the two of them could put him back together in those instances. To be squeezed between them, fucked out and full, would soothe any wounds their distance left. Temporarily. They’d only be more distant the morning after and the cycle would begin again. 

For all of his sharpness, Jing Yuan was unable to stop them in the end

Truly, how does one stop the mighty storm, born from the sea and the volcanic belches beneath its surface? Jing Yuan is only a man. To be caught in the ocean’s swirling undertow and the sky’s gales would have been a fruitless struggle. Treading water in the calm sea was hard enough. Under the tempest Dan Feng and Yingxing birthed? Jing Yuan could not bear it. He did not know how. The mutually-assured destruction that the duo brewed was not meant for anyone other than each other.

Jing Yuan wonders if his own aches had pushed the two away from him and closer to each other.

Was it guilt they were both too stubborn to name? Or, something worse like dislike or even hate? Did they only tolerate him, by the end, when they were too engrossed in their plans to achieve immortality to care about their omega anymore? Was Jing Yuan’s long-faded claiming bite a burden to them? 

Jing Yuan tries not to dwell on it. It makes him too sad.

He will not deny the effects that their departure had on him. He is tentative to entertain lasting bonds like the ones he once had. He rejects every suitor. He is far too careful in sharing his burdens with those who do care for him. He dances with his words and feelings better than any street performer in Aurum Alley. 

He worries for you because he has created some type of bond with you, and he worries that if he pries, you will run off and away from him, into a storm that he cannot weather, only to be swallowed by it.)

So, Jing Yuan is careful.

...

Things boil over exactly a month after Jing Yuan’s heat. 

It is sooner than expected, though you are a tender-hearted thing. Perhaps Jing Yuan should’ve suspected that you would break within your own turmoil sooner rather than later.

On this day, you are not early to lunch. You are absent from the gates at the appointed time. Initially, Jing Yuan thinks you perhaps went in without him (you never do, always waiting to walk in step with him), though you are not any place in the garden when he does enter. The low table is bare as he steps under the gazebo and settles himself onto one of the silk pillows.

Jing Yuan can’t help but be nervous, rubbing at the scent glands on his wrist without thinking of it. As the minutes tick by, his unease grows like an oily bubble in his chest.

(You haven’t sent him any messages indicating you wouldn’t be here. You haven’t ever been so late before, never left him idling like this without any sort of communication. Your silence seems to speak more than anything else you’ve said to him in the past few weeks.)

(‘I don’t want to see you anymore, Jing Yuan.’)

Before Jing Yuan has further time to catastrophize, the back gate to the garden opens with a slam. It shuts far more quietly a moment later. You stand next to it, fumbling with the mechanical latch.

As your scent bleeds over the garden, Jing Yuan stands without thinking. His own spiral shatters.

Your scent is sour. Like something rotten, like a fruit ripened and laid with the eggs of insects. It’s far more alarming than the off notes that your scent has carried recently. It’s sickly sweet, earthen, and fleshy in a way that is startling and putrid. The sweet warmth of it is gone, not even a layer of it remains as you mutter to yourself, continuing to struggle with the gate, visibly panicking.

You speak before Jing Yuan can further acknowledge you, “I’m s-so sorry to be late. I-I got caught up with something in the Alchemy Commission, and the Starskiff tram— it filled up and I had to catch the next one, and then— I missed my stop? I’m sorry—”

You run a hand through your hair and tug.

Jing Yuan must attempt to soothe you, yes? He keeps his voice even and low as he says, “It’s alright.”

You do not look well, Jing Yuan realizes as he nears you. Your appearance matches your scent. Sweat soaks your temples, running in rivulets down your neck to visibly soak the collar of your innermost garments. Your pupils are pinpricked, gaze far away even as you (attempt) to speak to him. Your lips are chapped, chewed raw. The petal-softness looks almost busted open on one side from the abuse.

You scowl at him and shake your head.

“It hardly is.” You mumble. “I—I didn’t mean to make you wait. Or worry— if you did. I’m sorry to assume.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Jing Yuan approaches you carefully, slowly, the way one would approach a frightened, soaked kitten. “How about we sit, hm? I’ve already poured us both water, and it looks like you could use some.”

You open your lips to protest, and the bloody scab at the corner tears. Fresh scarlet bleeds over the puckered flesh and you turn away from him, just enough to paw at the wound obscured.

“I’m sorry.”

Jing Yuan’s heart breaks a fraction.

Your unwellness strikes something in him, and a white-hot dread burns from the base of his skull, down his spine, and settles in his hands and lower core. It is the physical reaction to the lucid understanding that something is clearly wrong. He can’t quite parse what, but he knows he needs to find out. Mend. Do something because if he has to hear the broken inflection in your voice for much longer, he will shatter. His nerves and resolve are more frayed than he thought. 

With his voice soft and gentle, he says, “I appreciate you thinking of me, however, you truly do not need to apologize. If you’d like, you can continue your apologies once we get you into the shade and get some water in you. It’s already chilled. I’ll pour you a glass. How does that sound?”

It’s a belittling way to speak to you. He knows this, yet cannot stop the way his tone sweetens and lightens. It feels— natural, instinctual. It makes his mouth feel dry and tacky because—

(God, when was the last time he allowed himself to respond to his own anxiety and need to care in this way?)

(Will you be receptive to it?)

You stare at him, scowling and wet-eyed, “It— sounds f-fine. I can pour the water, though.”

(Perhaps.)

Jing Yuan steels himself, “Would you let me? I’d very much like to.”

“I always p-pour it though,” you sniffle. “You don’t need to.”

“I’d like to.” 

He would. 

Jing Yuan offers you his hand, palm up and inviting.

(He anticipates a rejection. There’s an afterimage, a fragmented memory of Dan Feng scolding Jing Yuan for this flavor of soppy vulnerability. Yingxing once laughed in his face for this type of sober-minded, sexless tenderness. They didn’t mean it to be cruel. They didn’t know how it bruised part of him so deeply that centuries later, his hand trembles the slightest bit as he holds it out to you with the same feelings warming his chest down to his toes.)

You take his hand.

Jing Yuan feels himself relax, if only a little.

He guides you back to the table, rubbing his thumb along the meat of your palm. He deposits you next to him at the table, rather than your usual spot across. You don’t seem to mind, you’re too focused on immediately fussing with the pillows and mats below you. Jing Yuan idles, watching. 

You’re so uncomfortable in your own skin.

It takes you a while to settle. You shift from your knees, to cross-legged, then back to your knees. The pillow you’re atop clearly isn’t to your liking as you wobble on top of it, frown deepening as you try to get comfortable. You don’t look at him— or you won’t look at him, he isn’t entirely sure. 

Jing Yuan pours each of you a glass of water and sets yours close to you.

“Drink?”

“Not yet,” You shove at the pillow between your legs. Your voice pinches. “I— I need a moment.”

“Take your time,” Jing Yuan assures you. 

(He will not let you hurt for long. He can’t.)

You push and pull at the cushion. Your thighs quiver as you barely manage to hold yourself up to try and sit more comfortably. Jing Yuan watches you, taking note of how your body seems to struggle with its own weight. When your outer garment spreads open around your legs and he gets a peak of your inner layers, he can see that you’re soaked. Though, there’s no scent of slick on you. He presumes it must be sweat. 

Poor, poor thing.

You gnaw at your bottom lip, teeth digging into the wound that’s already there. It weeps blood, a little smear of it dragging onto your chin.

That’s enough.

Jing Yuan snatches your water glass up. Gently, he presses the rim of it to your lips.

“Drink, please.”

It’s a gamble, truthfully. This much proximity and care could scare you off. It could make you turn tail and run, really. But, Jing Yuan needs this, he thinks. He needs to show you he cares in a way that is tangible and touchable and maybe then—

(You will understand the depth of his feelings. Maybe, you’ll even learn you can lean on him.)

You look over the top of the glass at him with widened eyes, “I—”

“Perhaps it will help you settle. You look quite dehydrated.”

“B-But I feel gross, I don’t want to drink anything.”

Jing Yuan implores you, “Will you try?”

“I don’t want to.” Your tone edges to that of a petulant child, fists balling up over your thighs. “I-I don’t know if it will help.”

Jing Yuan hums thoughtfully. “It certainly won’t hurt to have a small sip, would it?”

“... Probably not.”

You flash him a teary look before jolting your gaze away from him, blinking rapidly.

“For me, then?” Jing Yuan asks. “Just a little sip. If it makes you feel worse, you don’t need to drink any more. But, I really do think it will help.”

“... Okay.” You concede.

Jing Yuan expects you to take the glass from him. You have been careful not to touch him since his heat after all, and with how cagey you are, this hardly seems like the exception. And yet, you wrap your hands around his own that hold the glass, and tilt it back to sip. He follows the motion, careful to make sure you don’t choke. 

Jing Yuan watches you take a small sip, then another, then a third, and suddenly you throw back the glass and take a gulp. 

It soothes something in him.

He’s careful to keep the glass tilted just right so you do not drown yourself. You take large sips, water spilling from the corners of the glass, down your chin. Jing Yuan feels soothed as you finish it, allowing him to pour you another. You shake like a leaf next to him as he does. 

“Slower with this next one,” Jing Yuan urges. “Would you like me to help you again?”

“I—I— No. You shouldn’t.” You shake your head. A moment later, you lay forward, face down on the table, bracing your forehead against the wood and hiding your face from him. Your arms wrap around your middle. “You shouldn’t have to.”

You curl in on yourself.

“But, I’d like to. If it would help you and make things easier.” 

Jing Yuan moves to pet the back of your head but pauses, just before he does. He hovers there, considering, assessing—

He can’t be entirely sure what state you’re in. It’s clearly not heat, nor is it pre-heat. Perhaps you are ill regardless of your heat cycle, but he hadn’t noticed any other symptoms other than sweating, a clear fever, and your rancid scent. He cannot be sure any type of contact, intimate or otherwise, will be wanted, let alone welcomed. 

He takes a chance.

(Jing Yuan remembers that you are a soft creature. Fragile and craving. You need contact, even if you think you don’t. Jing Yuan will remind you of this.)

He sweeps any hair off the back of your neck and lays his palm flat over the nape of it. His fingers wrap around the sides of your throat, just barely, and squeeze. Not enough to cause discomfort, just applying enough pressure that you can both be grounded in it. Jing Yuan nearly growls when he feel the absolutely torched state of your scent glands—

You keen. It’s a warbling thing and tension leaks out from you. Like a half-built home, you collapse in on yourself. You sniffle a moment later and press your face harder into the wood. Jing Yuan— he can’t have that. Seeing you hurt hurts him. He coaxes your head up as much as he can and rubs at the skin of your neck. Not near your scent glands, they’re too sensitive, even with the barest touch. He leaves them alone as a concern to sort out later. 

You allow him this contact. You even lean into it and toward him as he pets you. Your shoulder bumps into his own and Jing Yuan can feel the heat coming off of you in waves. He hates this. He hates seeing you in pain, suffering, and he wants to fix it, but biding his time is the best option. He must be coaxing and gentle regardless of how he’d like to heft you over his shoulder, take you back to his nest, and make sure you are safe and well-cared for. It would help. Whatever state you’re in, suffering alone can’t be helping you. But being too rash could scare you off so easily. 

You shiver beside him. Poor, poor thing. Your eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. He squeezes your neck reassuringly. Instantly, you’re hiding and burying your face in your hands.

“Jing Yuan,” you say softly. “You must stop being kind to me. Please.”

“I don’t think I can, dear.” His tongue slips and his heart aches. What a foolish idea for you to have. “Why do you not want me to be kind to you?”

“Because—” You chew on your words and shake your head. “I— I haven’t been good to you. I’ve actually been shit to you, and— it’s not fair for you to be so kind to me when I have been so vile.”

‘Vile’ is too strong of a word. Too cruel to yourself. You’ve been avoidant, yes. Unwell and dealing with so poorly, entirely. But vile? Hardly. Though your actions stung, he doesn’t hold the previous weeks against you. Especially in this moment, where his concern far outweighs any other feeling he carries. Any other pains you’ve caused him can be addressed later. There is more to parse. But nothing that takes precedence now that you are beginning to crumble.

“I disagree.” Jing Yuan says your name, sweet on his lips and aching between his ribs, “Please do not speak of yourself so poorly.”

“But it’s true,” your voice wobbles. Your shoulders shake. “I deserve it, don’t I? You are too kind to me, Jing Yuan, but I have been cruel to you. I left you in post-heat. I continue— to see you and pretend everything is fine, and that we’re fine, and that I’m fine even if we both know that something clearly isn’t. Yet, I-I’m too much of a fucking coward to say anything to you. I k-keep withholding things from you. I keep messing up and I hate that I’m doing it. I feel awful, lying to you and keeping you away. And yet, you are still kind to me—”

A sob breaks your last word and your hands fly to cover your mouth.

He says your name again, voice threatening to break, “It’s alright—”

“But it’s not!” You snap. “I-I care about you so much, Jing Yuan. I really do and I keep messing up. And I-I don’t know how to fix anything. I’m sorry.”

Jing Yuan collects himself and makes a series of decisions very quickly. It’s necessary. Your scent is putrid. Angry and rotten now. And Jing Yuan can’t bear to watch you struggle like this anymore.

He acts. It’s a flurry of motion in which he snakes his arms around your waist. In a single heave, he pulls you into his lap. He hauls you close, against his chest your legs thrown over his thighs. You fight him, just a little. A bit of squirming and a shove or two at his chest, but he isn’t perturbed. His arm stays securely wrapped around your middle as he tugs you closer still. You push against his shoulder with a frown.

“Jing Yuan—” 

He tilts your chin up with a wide palm. You startle when you meet his gaze, almost cowering. 

“I will not sit here and listen to you berate yourself any further for my sake,” Jing Yuan levels his gaze. He will be stern. He thinks you need it. “Do you understand?”

You bare your teeth at him, “I’m being honest—”

Jing Yuan reaches up and tears one of the scent-blocking patches on the side of his neck off and tosses it aside. His scent radiates. It’s concerned, worried, hurt but the achy kind of pain. Bitter and wind-whipped. You stiffen as his scent mingles with yours. There’s a sharp quality to his own scent that makes you cower just a bit, sinking further into his lap and the support of his arm wrapped around you.

“You are being incredibly harsh to yourself,” Jing Yuan tells you, softening his voice. He pets your cheeks and watches your eyes begin to water once more. “It doesn’t serve me, and it certainly doesn’t serve you. I know that you are upset, I have been able to smell it since the moment you entered the garden. I would like to help, but I can’t if you focus on being cruel to yourself, rather than telling me what is hurting you so badly.” 

“I—” You swallow and wring your hands in your lap. Your words fade off and you only nod. 

Tears slip down your cheeks anew. Before you have a chance to try and wipe them away, Jing Yuan ducks his head lower, closer to yours, and swipes the tears away with his thumbs. You sniffle when he does, meeting his eyes, only to look away quickly and fix your gaze on the ground. Your shoulders stay slack, though.

(A sign of submission.)

Jing Yuan will take it. He adjusts so that you’re fully bundled in his lap and he buries his nose in your hair. Ideally, he would drag you to lie down in the piles of satin blankets and pillows but Jing Yuan thinks better of it. He’s unsure he’d be able to get up if he were to get tangled up with you. The instinct to nest feels too intense to not heed if he were nestled any closer to you and the soft cushions. 

You shiver against his chest. Whether it’s fever or nerves, it is hard to tell. You almost vibrate, sniffling and allowing Jing Yuan to tend to your cheeks. You even let him press his lips below each of your eyes.  A little sob cuts off as he pulls away from you. He squeezes around your waist.

“Will you tell me what is going on?” He asks, voice hardly above a whisper.

You gather yourself, then nod. Your cheek squishes against the plate of armor on his chest and you bear into him. It doesn’t even seem like you’re doing so on purpose.

“I m-messed up,” you tell him quietly. “Really bad.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” he assures you. 

“But, Jing Yuan, it is bad. Even if it’s fixable, I don’t even know where to start.”

“That’s alright,” he replies. “I’d like to help, but I can only do that if you tell me what’s wrong. What happened, dear?”

It takes you a moment to gather yourself. You grab one of his hands and cradle it in both of yours. Sweetly, you rub at the meat of his thumb and over his palms. You glance up at him as you do.

“I was foolish.”

Something in him cracks. 

“Do not insult yourself again, or I will put you over my knee.” The words fly from Jing Yuan’s mouth without any forethought. “Do you understand?”

It’s too far— it should be too far— but it’s clearly not as you squeak and nod, compliant. Something to be addressed... later. One thing at a time.

“I—” You nod your head erratically. “I understand. I won’t. I promise.”

“Good, dear.” He is brazen enough to lean his nose into your temple. You lean into him with a wet hiccup. “Please continue.”

“Okay,” you say. “I—I messed up while I was helping you with your heat. Like, really messed up. I d-didn’t mean to, but I didn’t take my suppressants the entire time I was with you.”

Jing Yuan barely keeps himself from stiffening up.

“I see,” he breathes. “Do you take the variety of suppressants that need to be taken daily?”

“Uh-huh,” You nod with a gulp. “I u-usually take them at night, right before bed. But I didn’t even think about them while I was with you. I was... having such a nice time that they completely slipped my mind until the morning I left your home. I started to feel a little weird in the shower, and my scent got all muddled, and I remembered.” 

“I see,” Jing Yuan replies with a nod. “You did not smell like heat the following week if I recall.”

“I t-took an abortive heat-onset p-prescription I keep on hand,” you tell him softly. “I have a bottle of it that was prescribed by a healer I see at the Alchemy Commission. I have... severe heats. It’s better to stop them at all costs than to weather one.”

You haven’t ever told him this before. Your own heat cycle was always something private and kept to yourself. It makes sense, really. You were under the impression he was an alpha until relatively recently, and you had no reason to share the intimate details of your cycle and its apparent difficulties. 

You continue, “My sup— sup— suppressants aren’t a great type, I think? They work well, but they need a high dose to do so. Going off of them cold turkey, even f-for a short time has r-really messed up my heat cycle. I’ve been taking them consistently again, but it’s still a-awful, Jing Yuan.”

Your voice wobbles and breaks when you say his name, and you bury yourself in his chest. You hide there and Jing Yuan can’t help but to huddle over you, rubbing over your arms and waist and hushing you. The urge to soothe overtakes him. 

“It hurts, hm?” He speaks the words into your ear, and you shudder and nod profusely. Your scent is spiking, sweetening next to the rot. It’s better, at least by a fraction.

“Y-yeah. It’s so much. I keep getting little fevers and think I am going into preheat. Then—then I feel sick, like properly sick, and I think that I’m getting heat sick. I— get heat sick really easily, so it always feels likely and then I’m worried I’ll have my full heat and be sick. So, I—I take more of the abortive medication.”

“Each time you believe that you’re approaching your heat?”

You look down at your lap, shame clouding your eyes, “Y-Yeah. I know it’s bad. It keeps making me ill. My cycle just won’t even out— I feel so stupid— I shouldn’t say that. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I—I just don’t know what to do.” 

Your last word shatters you and you bawl into Jing Yuan’s neck.

He lets you. He brings his knees up, boxes you into him and lets you scent him feverishly. Jing Yuan so badly wants to scent you back, but he is ever-aware of your own inflamed scent glands and thinks better of it. It would bring you more pain than relief at this point. Instead, he does everything else he can think of to ease you. He lets you nose into the scent glands on his neck, open-mouthed and panted between labored breaths. His hands run up and down your back and arms, smearing his own scent all over you.

“It’s alright,” He, instead, assures you through your panic. “Thank you for telling me.” 

“Of course,” you hiccup and rub your cheek against his. “I just want it to stop.”

Of course, you do. Jing Yuan feels awful that you’ve been suffering and struggling and he hasn’t lent a hand this entire time. He feels— a bit foolish himself for not putting together that this was why you have been so avoidant and reclused recently. 

“I know,” he replies gently and cajoles your face away from his neck. You start crying harder and with your full chest when you don’t have direct contact with his scent gland anymore. Poor thing. He rubs under your eyes and softens his own. “It’s been scary, hasn’t it?”

“Mhm,” You turn into his hand, seeking him. God, Jing Yuan is going to crumble along with you.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to weather this alone.” He says gently. “I’d like to try and help you, if you’ll let me.”

“... Only— and I m-mean only, if I am not burdening you.” 

“You are not a burden to me.” You could never be. Jing Yuan speaks seriously and presses his lips, now chapped and dry with his worry, to your forehead. He lingers. “Even if you are struggling, it does not burden me to help you. It is much more of a hardship to think about you suffering alone or watching you suffering alone in the present. I would very much like to help— perhaps with a visit to the Alchemy Commission is in order firstly. How does that sound?”

“B-but, I already tried to see a healer today.”

He hums, “Is that why you were a bit tardy?”

You flush and nod, “Uh-huh.”

“What did the healer say?”

“They didn’t have a proper healer available for a walk-in, since they said it wasn’t an emergency,” you reply. “J-just an apprentice. He told me to get bed rest and try to take some time off of work.”

“Sound advice,” Jing Yuan nods, but notes the fact that you’re still soaked through with sweat and severely unwell. “However, I’d like it if we got you in to see someone for a full exam.”

“They said they were all full today— no appointments.”

Jing Yuan hums, rubbing over your ribs, “I have a personal healer at the Alchemy Commission. I am sure she will be able to make some time for you.”

“... Are you sure?”

“I’m certain.” Using his perks as Arbiter General hardly ever is appealing these days, not anymore. It would be a good use of status to get you into an urgent appointment for what is increasingly becoming an emergency with a physician he trusts. 

“... As long as it doesn’t cause any trouble,” you chew your lip and settle back into him. 

“You are not trouble,” he reminds you simply. “I only want to help relieve what is so clearly troubling you. Do you trust me to help?”

He asks you directly. Something is emerging between the two of you, he can tell and sense it, even if he doesn’t have a name for it yet. He knows that he will need your explicit trust to hatch the strategies that he wants to. You must trust him if he is going to take care of you well and properly, in the way that he is almost certain you will need.

“Of course.”

Of course, you trust him. You press a kiss to his jaw and linger there. Your neck, with your inflamed scent glands (are those hives rising up over top of them?), bared to him. 

Jing Yuan could cry.

You don’t fight him anymore. There’s no bite in you now, just the afterburn of tears and the last dribbles of them that soak down your neck and jaw. Jing Yuan can’t help pressing a few kisses to your burning cheeks. You let loose a warbling whine that breaks the stillness of the garden. Jing Yuan wants more of it, more of you, but there is work to be done first.

You tuck into him as he takes out his phone. It soothes him to see you there, burnt out, but soft-lipped against his chest. He pets over his cheeks as he shoots off a few important messages. 

...

The Alchemy Commission is quick to accommodate the General and the omega that the public will come to presume to be his mate. They tend to move heaven and earth when he requests anything of them (The last two High Elder’s have been quite fond of him, and that bias persists throughout their delve.) He has never been so happy to be in their good graces.

With haste upon your arrival, you are situated in a spacious exam room. It’s perfectly quiet; it’s the one they always keep Jing Yuan confined to when he requires attention. He’s glad they afford you the same care. It’s quite necessary. 

You’ve wilted on the journey over. Though Jing Yuan offered to arrange a house call so you could rest in the comfort of your home, you shot down the offer immediately and without debate.

(“My ne— my house isn’t presentable.”)

It’s fair. A cagey, sick omega rarely wants a stranger in their home.

Besides, the atmosphere of the clinic seems to soothe you— both of you. The exam room is outfitted with a long line of cupboards and jars for dry storage. Various mortars and pestles for mixing and grinding of remedies sit on a bench. There’s even a small stove made of black rock to be used if a medication requires heating. The smell of dried herbs and medicinal oils permeates the air, and each lungful settles something in him. It reminds him of the many nights he spent bothering Dan Feng while he concocted the High Elder’s pearl panacea for his patients. It brings Jing Yuan back to his own bouts of illness, when Yingxing would chide him for being reckless while slathering his chest and the bottoms of his feet with minty salve.

Your scent dulls with the environment as well. The white noise of rushing water, just beyond the delve, surely helps relax you too.

(You still do not look well. Jing Yuan tries not to fixate and spiral on the fact that you are so deeply unwell, as it will not serve him further than working himself up. He instead keeps close to you, bearing your weight as you lean into his side and slump. You burn beside him.)

You only perk up when Jing Yuan’s healer enters.

His healer is a silver-eyed Foxian named Lei Huiling. As she enters the exam room, a gentle wave of budding jasmine flowers and rock sugar follows. It’s a gentle scent, clearly of an omega. It’s non-obtrusive, but still calming. Jing Yuan has always appreciated its quality, and he can see that you do as well as you sniff toward her and relax a degree. 

She bows politely, “I apologize for any sort of wait.”

“It’s alright.” You reply, voice crackling and parched. “Thank you for making some time for me.”

“It’s my pleasure.  I am happy to accommodate any request of the General. The Divine Foresight owing me a favor is an added bonus.” She gives a snaggletooth smile with a tilt of her head. Despite your condition, you stifle a laugh. 

Jing Yuan appreciates the levity. 

“The General is good for them.” You tell her. Your voice is crackling and dry.

It makes Lei Huiling’s brow furrow. “The General is an honorable man, you think?”

“I know.” 

You squeeze Jing Yuan’s hand. It’s painfully heartfelt and vulnerable. Jing Yuan doesn’t think you’d reveal your affection with such ease if you weren’t so terribly beaten down.

Lei Huiling seems to sense this as well. She wheels up a chair and situates herself across from the two of you. “I know a bit of what you’ve been struggling with based on your intake information, along with the General’s messages. Could you describe it to me as well? As much detail as you can provide.”

Lei Huiling’s words make you look afraid. You look trapped, ensnared, and Jing Yuan wishes you wouldn’t. It’s the mixture of both guilt and fear that twists your pretty lips and has you mincing in the round, pitted chair you are sitting in. This is frightening for you, all of it, he knows. To have to bear details of something you’ve been so diligently trying to cope with (and hide, but that can be addressed later) clearly is causing you distress.

You squeeze his hand. Jing Yuan squeezes back with more force, and takes to rubbing his thumb over the back of yours. Only then do you begin to explain.

Your explanation is largely the same as the one you provided to him earlier. You do, however, add a handful of (concerning) details.

(“I-I took my abortive medication... maybe eight times. I know that’s too many—”)

(“I’ve been avoiding social s-settings, yes.”)

(“I don’t have much of a pack.”)

(“I haven’t slept well since this has all started.”)

Each admission sends Jing Yuan into a minor panic. He is so, so grateful he carries an extra scent patch on his person and was able to reapply his after tearing it off earlier. The last thing he needs is for you to be aware of his own spiral and machinations through his storm-charged scent.

“It must have been very difficult to go through what you have so far.” His healer gives you a sympathetic look. “Given your symptoms, I’d like to complete a standard exam, if that is alright with you. It would give us a baseline and establish the best ways to proceed to get you feeling better. Does that sound alright?”

You nod, “I’m o-okay with that. Can Jing Yuan— um, can the General stay?”

“Of course. He is welcome to stay for the exam if that would make you the most comfortable. I would like to check the cortisol levels in your slick, however, and that will require you to disrobe while we collect a sample.”

You eye him, think for a moment, then reply, “... He can leave for that part.”

Jing Yuan laughs and scents you with his wrist, “As you wish.”

He doesn’t enjoy leaving you alone, even if he’s only idling in the hallway outside of the exam room. The door is thin and draped with woven curtains, so the sounds inside are muffled, but he strains to hear you regardless. Never mind the various whispers and looks he garners from the various staff who see him keeping watch over an (his) omega. He needs the confirmation that you are—

(Okay.)

...

His healer taps through a tablet with a schooled expression but regards you warmly.

“So, let’s go over things. I will say, that the results of your exam and the few tests we ran are not all that surprising. Your slick does contain a high level of cortisol. You have severe pain in your major scent glands, which is indicative of internal inflammation and imbalance within your pheromonal system. It seems like your fever is lower than it has been, however your temperature is still not within normal range. These symptoms can be attributed to withdrawal symptoms for your specific suppressants.”

“... But, I’ve been taking my suppressants again. On a good schedule too.” You sound like you’ve been kicked. 

Jing Yuan doesn’t mean to, he swears. But, maybe, he shoots the healer a sharp look. Maybe.

She takes it in stride, “You have been, but sadly this type of suppressant isn’t very efficient at regulating after an intense withdrawal. I have not prescribed alyan root-based suppressants in many, many years due to this unfortunate quirk. I also believe your symptoms have been compounded due to overuse of your abortive medication that you took when you felt your heat was beginning. It’s a bad cocktail, though you have done well in trying to get you and your cycle back to a healthy stasis.”

“How do we start to remedy things?” Jing Yuan asks.

You look nervous.

“Really, there are two options, in this case. The one that I would recommend first is that we titrate you down on your current suppressants, until you are fully off of them. I’d prescribe a regulating medication as well to ease your symptoms while doing so. Once you’re titrated off, you can go through a heat. ”

You flinch like you’ve been slapped.

Lei Huiling continues, “... This option would be my recommendation. The best way to help your body recover is to allow for a natural heat cycle to re-establish. We can look into suppressant types and abortive varieties that are gentler on your body, and less prone to the types of side effects you’re experiencing, following your heat.”

You stare at your lap.

“... Is there anything else we can do?”

“There is only one other option that could be potentially viable. I can double the dose of your current suppressants and your symptoms should stabilize within the next several weeks. The downside of this is that, given that you take suppressants in the alyan-root family, the already high, necessary dose typically leads to difficult heats down the line, whenever your next occurs. Heat sickness is a given, and with your personal history and disposition to develop heat sickness already, I wouldn’t recommend this option.”

“I see.”  You sound like you’re about to cry. “I can understand why.”

Jing Yuan, who hasn’t spoken hardly at all, finds his voice carefully, “May we have a moment?”

“Of course.” She nods to him and offers another look. “Would you like a warm blanket? I can fetch one for you in the meantime.”

“... Yes, please.” You reply.

You’re quiet until Lei Huiling returns with a linen blanket, perfectly toasty. It probably isn’t a good idea to swaddle you in something so warm when you’re already feverish, but Jing Yuan concurs that you need the comfort in this moment. He wraps it around your shoulders and lingers.

“Would you like me to step out as well—?”

“No.” You interrupt, rapidly shaking your head. “... Please stay.”

Of course. Of course, he will.

...

You decide to proceed with the first option. 

It is not a decision made easily, even though you agree with Lei Huiling’s assessment that full cessation off of your suppressants is the best course of action in the long run. This decision is made with trepidation regardless. Lei Huiling procures several prescriptions (a tincture of dian orchid nectar, a tea of ginger and myrel root, some tablets that can be dissolved under the tongue that she specifies tastes like apricots, but aren’t made of them—) and writes a detailed, surprisingly legible course of treatment. Her phone number is scribbled at the bottom for you. 

You receive the piece of paper with shaking hands.

Lei Huiling prepares your first treatment right in the exam room. It’s a regulating tincture that smells almost too sweet as she unscrews the bottle and shows you how much to dose with the glass pipet (two-thirds of the way full) and where to eject it into your mouth for best results (the corner, under your tongue without touching your lips or tongue to the pipet.)

Jing Yuan commits the details to memory as you smack your lips with the taste. You grimace cutely. 

You leave the Alchemy Commission in a daze. Jing Yuan keeps you steady with a hand on your lower back, lingering and keeping you walking in a (mostly) straight line. 

He has— much to think about. To ruminate on. The bevy of information he received during your visit and the path forward to remedying you requires careful consideration. There are plans that need to be made, and relatively quickly. The sooner and more keenly Jing Yuan can make them, the sooner he can provide you ease—

(This is under the assumption that you want him involved in your heat.)

He thinks you do. He could be wrong. He could. However, given the way you lean into him, and scent his bicep every few steps, he doesn’t think he has much to worry about. Even if, perhaps, it will take you some time to come to this same conclusion. 

He is willing to wait.

There’s a little shop a few blocks down from the Alchemy Commission clinic that is selling noodle jelly bowls, iced and hot. You must be feeling better, as when you pass by the size, your eyes widen and you slow your already-slow pace. 

Jing Yuan orders you a bowl to split (iced, you need the cold—) and you settle at a table, tucked in a little courtyard, away from the midday foot traffic. You poke at the desert with a frown, spooning up some of the sweetened puffergoat milk that swirls at the top of the bowl. 

“I’m sorry.” You glance up at him, then back down at the bowl. 

(Ah, there it is.)

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“That’s hardly true. If I had remembered to take my suppressants during your heat, we— I— we wouldn’t be in this situation. I wouldn’t have hurt you and I wouldn’t be hurting like I am. I wouldn’t require all of this... excess attention. And for that, I apologize.” 

“... I accept your apology.” Jing Yuan acquiesces. “Though, I do find it unnecessary.”

“But you shouldn’t find it unnecessary. I know— I know I have been inattentive to you and hiding this from you. It’s not fair to you. You should be upset.” you exclaim, angrily shoving a mouthful of bright green tapioca noodles into your mouth.

“It doesn’t please me that you hid your situation. However, I understand why you did. You were afraid, weren’t you?”

“I mean, yes. I am still frightened, but that’s not an excuse to hurt you. And as a result, you now have to deal with all of... this. Which you don’t, I want to assure you, Jing Yuan. I appreciate your concern and help and presence, but I am capable of handling t-this on my own.”

You gulp. Jing Yuan didn’t think you would be so stubborn. 

“You speak as if I’m pulling teeth to simply be in your presence,” Jing Yuan says softly. Your hands ball into fists on the tabletop. “Do you think that?”

“I mean... maybe to a degree? Under current circumstances. You just c-care for me, and keep caring for me, and it must be hard, right?”

“It isn’t.” Caring for you has been the easiest thing he has done in centuries. He probes, “Why would you think that?” 

“Jing Yuan,” you steel yourself and look at him. Into him. “Y-You care for so many, so much already. You are the helm of the godship and bear its burdens as your own. You are as dutiful a general as you are a person, and I can only imagine the effort that is required of you, unrelentingly, at the helm of this vessel. I struggle to find my lapse in judgment and its consequences as anything other than another load for you to bear.”

He stares at you. You stare back. He folds his hands into a steeple and rests his chin on them.

You bring up a logical, fair point. It’s a valid concern to raise, and one that he has already considered. The Luofu is in peacetime. Looming threats have been accounted for and there are always several sets of eyes scanning for any potential new calamities waiting to happen. There are contingency plans, written out in various forms, and backed up across six different systems. Jing Yuan doesn’t exactly derive pleasure from his current duties as general, but there is a satisfaction in knowing that he has ample safeguards in place and is confident in his own abilities to handle unexpected scenarios in stride.

Over the seven centuries that Jing Yuan has been the Divine Foresight, he has become used to the vigilance and protection the Luofu requires. The care he extends to the Luofu is... almost a burden. If he were less duty-bound, it would be. 

The fact of the matter is that caring for you is not something he is duty-bound to do. He is not sworn and expected (beyond social convention) to be kind and caring to you. The careful, fledgling connection of something more vulnerable and adoring is his choice to have, keep, and hold. The softness that you share with him is just for him, and the care he provides to you is just for you. 

He does not think that telling you this fact so simply will satisfy you.

Instead, he steeples his hands, sets his chin atop them and asks:

“Dear, why do you see caring for yourself as an innate burden?”

You freeze, like you’ve been struck under the belly of a storm. Like you’ve been caught. 

“I don’t.”

“I’d implore you to reconsider. I do not know you to be a liar.”

“I— it’s not that simple.”

“It could be, couldn’t it?” 

(If you were honest, like he knows will allow you to release the painful-looking tension wound in your shoulders. It would ease you.)

You stumble over your words, chew them, and look close to tears. Jing Yuan does not falter or waver, not yet, not yet—

“It should be my job, shouldn’t it?” You say softly, down, through the bowl, shooting the sentiment down towards the Luofu’s core engines. “I shouldn’t need anyone to look after me, especially not you. E-even if it would be nice. And I like when you do.”

Jing Yuan thinks about what you divulged in Lei Huiling’s exam room. Your lack of a proper pack, thin familial connection, infrequent scenting— It all paints a clear picture of someone who has taken every opportunity to bear their burdens alone.

(It makes sense, then, why you offered yourself up to be Jing Yuan’s heatmate without hesitation. You intimately know the suffering of a lonely heat and you didn’t want him to struggle in that way.) 

“You are very capable, I can hardly think otherwise,” Jing Yuan itches to reach out for you, but not yet— “But, what if I want to care for you?”

“... You want to?”

“Yes, I would.” 

“... Just during my heat?” You ask, looking up at him demurely. It’s a submissive gesture, one that clearly portrays this insecurity that you shoulder. “Or, after too?”

All of it.

“However you’ll have me.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“How would you have me, though?”

“All ways!” You sniffle and your eyes shine. You’re reaching your limit, close to cracking. “I like that you care for me, Jing Yuan. I just don’t want to cause you any trouble or make you feel like you need to.”

“That’s one of the reasons why I enjoy caring for you so much,” Jing Yuan confesses. Now, he reaches across the table and sweeps his wrist across your own. Your scents mingle. “Because, it is wholly my want and my choice to care for you.”

It all slots together for you then. 

Your expression morphs first to one of relief, then intense sadness, followed by grief that makes your lip wobble. You are sharp, sharper than you seem often, and he knows that your own revelations hit you deep in the chest. Your warm scent goes to cloves and cinnamon and you look so, so sad. 

Your bowl of dessert soup is forgotten as Jing Yuan ushers you into his lap, turned away from any passerbys, covered and protected from any potential, curious eyes. 

“Do you believe me?” He asks, nosing at your neck to emulate a scenting. His touch is ginger and careful. He wouldn’t dare aggravate the ache there any further.

“I-I do.”

And he knows you do. He knows based on how you cup his jaw and barely resist kissing him on his lips. You’re too shy to in public; your eyes dart left and right to ascertain if it's a safe action. Jing Yuan makes the decision for you and presses a firm kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m glad you understand.”

“Uh-huh,” your voice goes weepy and weak. It stirs something in him, an unnameable thing he doesn’t know what to call still, but its presence feels just as familiar as it is intriguing. “T-Thank you for being patient with me.”

“Of course.”

He considers his next course carefully, choosing indulgence in the end. It’s something you both need after today.

Jing Yuan ensures that you are nestled close to his chest, beneath the curve of his chin. He pushes the tip of his index against your lips. It rests on the seam. You make a sweet, confused noise in front of your mouth. Jing Yuan only hums in reply, bundling you up a little closer still. It’s not the best venue for this, but he has never been known for his propriety in casual settings anyway. You are more than hidden enough. Only the ochre and violet lily thickets will be witnesses. 

He pushes his fingers into your mouth.

You startle, just barely, as Jing Yuan strokes your tongue with gentle motions. He watches how your lips part around his calloused fingers, how you shift your gaze from his eyes to his fingers, then to his eyes once more. It’s hopelessly endearing. Your trust is such a precious thing to covet, he only will treat you well. 

Your eyelids droop a moment or two later, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes as he rubs the pads of his fingers along your gums, feeling the ridges of his teeth. Your scent still tinges with sickness but the blooming, plush quality of it is unmistakable.

“Is this alright?”

You nod, bashful. 

He reminds you, “You may always tell me no or reject any advance, same as I can to you, understood?”

You nod again, cheeks warm as he thumbs over them. He knows you must know these things, but he wants to remind you. You do well with reassurance. 

Pheromones are present in spit, just as they are in sweat and slick. The amounts differ per body fluid, but in your current state, your saliva is potent. The small amount that leaks from the side of your lips is fragrant, spinning the scent of you around him. 

Jing Yuan allows himself to be content and a bit smitten.

He whispers to you, lips against your ear,  “What will the people of the Luofu think, hm? Their General with an omega in his lap, toying with them in public.”

You look up at him hopelessly, but do not bite his fingers. You are so good, so so good.

Jing Yuan only pulls his fingers away when he notices the uptick in the pedestrian activity in the streets nearby. It’s rush hour, and the sun will set soon. As pulls his fingers from your mouth, drenched in spit (and your pheromonal musk that comes with it), you flush and tuck your face against his neck. He can feel the heat of you still, a reminder of what must be remedied and tended to. 

You sense this as well, kissing his jaw fleetingly. 

There will be more, he knows. Your heat will come sooner rather than later, and there will be ample time for hidden tenderness in the comfort of your nest (which he is sure will be a splendid thing to lounge about, should you permit him entry.) Desires will be sated, and Jing Yuan will, if allowed, wet his palette with the scent and feel of you. There will be time to enjoy you, and for him to be enjoyed by you once more. Jing Yuan does not know what you will ask of him explicitly, or what you will need, but he is happy to ample his way to understanding. Morsel by morsel, bite by bite, you yield to him as he does to you. 

(You are no alpha to own him, he reminds himself. You lay no claim on him, his soul is untethered to yours, and the relief of that is immeasurable. The connection laid between you will be built in teeth and touch, but in a different way than the ones he was once so familiar with long ago.)

Jing Yuan finds himself almost eager to learn. 

[ihavenoideawhatiamdoingjustgay2]

Arlecchino x femreader where y/n is really annoyed and is kinda a bitch to arlecchino but they make up in the end😋 perchance a bit suggestive

But it even Rains on Mars

Genre : Argument(?)

Summary : Your Husband comes to check on you and the children, such a shame that you're in a horrible mood.

Notes : Argument, fem!Reader, Reader is being a bitch, author is sleep deprived, release me I wrote this in a day, fluff, happy ending, accidental abuse, HEAR ME OUT, READ, you kith, established relationship, Arlecchino is done with your shit lol, Rated M for Mature

Word count : 1,456

Thank you for the request:D

My Masterlist

Link to AO3

You leaned against the seat, feeling hot tingles envelop your body. You nearly ripped the pullover off of you, leaving you in a dress. The clothing piece made its acquaintance with the otherwise clean floor. You rubbed your tired eyes and yawned, going over to rub your head rigth after. And those headaches...for how long have you been awake for now? And you swore if-

A loud 'thud' came from the house door, effectively opening the one of the drawer room. The drawer room where you were in. You sucked in some air, slowly, moving to close it.

"Children, where's your Mother?", she asked two passing boys who, like the little snitches they are, pointed rigth to your room. You didn't see it, of course, but the sound of her heels was telling. You were out of there quickly.

"Dear, what were you-"

You swerved rigth past her.

"-doing in the store room?"

Her voice turned into a confused whisper as she watched you walk to the opposite side of the house. Or rather ; hotel. The two boys looked at eachother, then went up into their room as your Husband followed you.

You meanwhile threw yourself on the couch, looking at the silent hearth.

"You do not seem" she locked the door from the inside "...content."

"I'm perfectly fine actually, thank you for your sweet concern.", your foot was tapping against the floor. She blinked, leaning against the glass door.

"That didn't seem enthusiastic."

You side eye her "Says you.", you moved towards a small mirror on the wall, to focused on reapplying your lip gloss as to notice her stalking towards you. "Could you stop your shoes from the slurring? You're ruining the marble..."

She was rigth in front of you when you turned, with her figure towering over you. "What is going on?", she asked, surprisingly soft, her thumb stroking your bottom lip. "You usually aren't this passive aggressive."

You slapped her hand away, walking far away from her. "I'm not."

"Oh, but you are.", she fucking huffed in her know it all way. "You are obviously avoiding me and the thing that is messing with you." She leaned against the coffee table.

"Do I have to repeat myself? Are you dense? I'm perfect." You saw her eye twitch, her pupils were glowing, but you made no move to look away, even when it started to hurt. So she gave you the courtesy, shaking her head.

"Go take a walk, or a nap,", she went to unlock the door, leaving you gaping. "I'm not gonna do this while you're acting like a child."

"Oh FUCK YOU, Arlecchino.", you shout, slipping past her into the hallway. You didn't see the flames nearly devouring her hands, untill she grabbed your arm to turn you around, you ripped it out, to mad to notice the sligth burn.

"For Achons sake, I'm your husband. You don't talk to me like that."

"Well, tough luck I guess!", you cackled.

Suddenly, her posture changed, as if she had been pricked with a needle and she looked up towards the kids Quarders. There was a slit, eyes. It closed shut the moment she spotted it.

Her attention turned back to you then. She huffed, pulling on her hair a bit.

"Go outside, take a breath" you took a few steps back as she came closer, but that did not stop her from grabing your shoulders and pulling you in to press an aggressive kiss to your forehead. "Don't do anything that'll piss me of even more.", she warned, before letting go off you to tend to the children instead.

You chuckled. This was absurd.

"I'm going outside! Not because you told me, but because I want to!"

"Sure, dear.", she called, waving you off.

You huffed again. "How dare she..." you ripped the door open, dark clouds greeted you, but you decided not to take a jacket with you, instead you slammed the door shut as somewhat of a goodbye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not taking a jacket with you was stupid, walking so far out that you were able to see the whole of Fontaine was, despite its beauty, even more stupid. The most stupid thing you did however, must've been walking around with that dumb burn scar, the people of Fontaine had looked at you with pity, whispering untruths about your husband. Well, she won't mind that they suspect her beating her wife and what not. You wanted to tear them all apart.

You however had the luck of finding your way to a small Fatui station. Most had been under your and Arlechinos care, so, they let you jump onto the wagon and took you back to the Hotel. But not withouth a conversation and or updates. You were clinging to the scrap blanket they had given you as you made your way into the training room, the only room you were hearing noises from. You slowly pushed the door open, watching your Husband demonstrate how to attack several weak spots. Or on how to get someone on their back to threaten them. Or rip out their spine. You bit your lip, wiggling the shivers from your body away as you watched her muscles move, she had taken of her jacket.

Then, she found you. You looked away, hearing how she told the kids to practice on eachother or the dummies. "Hello there beautiful.", she lifted up your chin, pecking your lips. You looked at her, confused and she dropped the act.

"It's for the children they were...worried."

You pulled your hair over your shoulder, playing with the wet strands. "I'm sorry...I was just-"

"Not here." she interrupted, to then look you up and down."You look like a wet cat."

"You don't like it?"

She looked you up and down again, then grabbed her jacket and led you to the guest bedroom, which you two had established as yours. They just stored some replacement clothes, make up, shampoos, perfumes- so just about everything. You were sitting on the bed as she rummaged through the clothes.

"You were unreasonably mad."

"I had my reasons."

"And what were those reasons?", she leaned against the drawers.

You huffed. "I didn't sleep enough... I was mad because the children were screaming into my ear again-"

She rubbed the space between her eyebrows. "You are still to lenient on them, you need to be strict."

You pressed the middle of your hand with your thumb. "I was just overwhelmed and stressed and...you were caugth in the crossfire.", she pulled out a shirt of yours and a pair of her pants, folding it at the end of the bed. "Esspecially considering that there could have been...better ways to deal with it..."

She moved behind you, buttoning your dress open. "I just don't like that the children saw us...among that one insult.", she snapped your bra strap against your skin.

"Eep! Arle!", you turn around, see her smile. Sadistic fuck.

"Come on, that didn't hurt.", she said, her hands found their way to the lace of your bra, trailing it all the way to your front. "I really don't want you talking to me like that."

"I promise I'll never call you dense or say 'fuck you' again."

She hummed close to your ear, before suddenly pushing you down into the bed. "You're lucky that you're my wife, you know", she slowly took of your dress "I would've killed anyone else for daring to look me into the eye for too long." You were only in your underwear now, and she took you in, her hands stroking over your legs, your thighs, hips, she licked her lips. "You're very lucky."

You lean on your elbows. "I know.", you shiver from being cold, but you knew she'd take care of that soon. "I'm honored that you learned to love me and that you won't kill me.", you chuckle.

She leaned over and you felt her comforting warmth. "Oh, don't be so sure about that." she kissed her way down your throath, fumbling with your bra as you chuckled. "Woman, I'm serious, I'm gonna eat you up."

"You better!", you smile, buckling into her touch.

Sometimes you asked yourself what would've happend if you didn't meet her. Would she have been colder, more cruel? What about the children? She turned you around, kissing up your back, finally getting to your bra. What about you? Where would you be? Somewhere in Inazuma, trying to atone for your father's sins? She turned you back around and you saw her in golden ligth. Her messy hair, reflecting the sun, those beautiful red crossed pupils. You chuckle, pulling her close, kissing her. But what did it matter, really?

[wingedqueenlynx]

They Are Finally Done! My Sweet Little Fucks Are Complete! 💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡

They also have lil magnets in one of each of their hands, so they can hold their lil bits and each other's hand (briefly ;<;)

And possibly the best feature of them is this

Glow in the dark paint baby! It's very faint on the orange but very bright on the greens XD

And Now I Can Finally Do This!

💚Kith🧡

RAAAAA THEY GIVE ME SUCH CUTENESS AGGRESSION!!!!

I love them so much 🥺

[deusvervewrites]

Kith and Kin: Y'know, I was rereading Haigha and I just kinda had a funny thought. Miruko in this AU would TOTALLY be into analysing Quirks simply because she doesn't have a team to do it for her.

Like, I can just bet that during Izuku's and Momo's internship that the two would eventually start doing an in depth analysis of Momo's Quirk and Miruko just chimes in "All that training won't mean shit if you don't have enough lipids, Now EAT!" and just orders what would be considered an obscene amount of food for anyone else.

Over the course of the week, Momo is relunctant because she's polite, but that quickly fades away as she realizes she has more available to create with!

While with Midoriya she would also be giving him videos of Heroes and Villains with Quirks for him to analyse while also recounting her early years and giving her perspective of what quirks do what.

I dunno, I kinda want more than Miruko being the 'Battle Bunny'.

On the contrary, she's good at on-the-fly analysis because she's the Battle Bunny. She moves so fast and fights so aggressively that she has to be able to suss out the enemy's capabilities as soon as possible. We even see some of that in her fight against the high end noumu.

In short, yeah you've nailed her

[imaginespazzi]

Nivi I gotta say I am REALLY liking what I’m seeing from muscle mommy (Azzi Fudd) from yesterday. The shots will start dropping no doubt, but she is being aggressive defensively and getting more comfortable offensively every minute that she is out there. I just know Paige smothered her with kisses after that game. The Bueckers to Fudd AND Fudd to Bueckers connections were like a shot of adrenaline in my eyeballs.

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME SMOTHERING HER WITH KITHES

But yeah, my girl looked really good and I think those shots are gonna fall tomorrow and she's just gonna be great. Also she just looks so free and happy out there and like she's just happy to be playing and that's all I really wanted this year for her.

[melobin]

idk I feel like anton gives me sucker for older girls vibes ✨ like he’d def have a fat crush on one of his hyung’s female friends and would be soooo precious and shy and I just,,,, the cuteness aggression is real but also.. wanna give him a kith cus he’s so big and broad 😞

agreed !!! but also .. anton is the kinda guy to have a crush on his friends girlfriend. especially when she’s older than him !!! you’re just so pretty and mature and he’s heard you moan through the wall on countless occasions, he actively listens out for it. thinking about anton who gets flustered everytime you talk to him !! flushes when he calls you noona, everyone just thinks he’s a little shy around you, nothing important. but in reality he’s got a giant crush on you and has fucked his fist to the sound of your moaning one too many times !!

[rustystars]

yeah looking through the tag sooooo many posts being like Aw look at this found family :) look at them all bonding :) man i hate to tell you but In The Game. which you supposedly played. curly was literally complicit…. he’s not gonna be handholding with anya going Awww let’s get an abortion & be friends forever. he’s going I Know Him he’s not a bad guy, we’re not defined by our worst actions, just let me talk to him. this is not a story in which jimmy is some sort of all corrupting force like they are both just men not taking responsibility. & even if she told the others pre crash like why are you assuming it would be any different? daisuke would get freaked out & ask curly what to do, & follow his lead. nothing would happen. swansea has no real power to change anything he might get more aggressive towards jimmy but there’s no real reason to think he wouldn’t follow status quo. like none of these men are going to rise up & slay the evil monster they’re all going to go Wow that sucks & move on. & then you scroll & it’s drawings of anya being demure or whatever like she wasn’t acting like that out of fear? man what game did you even play. tumblr brained moment to go But what if they kithed :) like yeah okay. of course your takeaway is Wowwee new white men to ship

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Ea spoilers nothing real specific

KMDDHFHRHRYEVEHESUDV AAAAAHHHHHHHHH

HWJSYEGE

AAAHAHHHHHHH

Some of the Hush fans are going to be so happy

I have to admit not where I was expecting it to go like that (not upset not at all I love them and had a suspicious feeling it was going to happen) BUT HUSH IS SO FUCKING SOFT FOR DOC

HE JUST WANTS THEM TO BE SAFE 😭😭😭

I'm normal I promise please 🙏 I just want to give him a kith on the forehead and wrap him up in soft things because he deserves everything nice the world has to offer. I'm putting him in my jar of people I need to shake due to affectionate aggression

[lailoken]

Hello Lailoken! how can someone who's 'new to all this' tell if the entities they’re contacting in visions, dreams or any other 'otherworldly journey' are, indeed, fae to be trusted, or if it's just 'tricksters' and they’re being intentionally misled, or meant for harm? Are there any signs? what's your experience with discerning spirits' intentions? (divination aside, I feel any divination done by myself to try to unravel this would be 'tainted' or come untrue, but do correct me if I'm wrong! I also don’t want to depend on other people’s skills on divination to be able to do this safely...)

This is honestly a rather dense subject, but I will do my best to respond to some points you brought up here.

Firstly, here are some tips to keep in mind when attempting this kind of work:

— Learn to identify when and how you are experiencing legitimate numinous communications to begin with. Once you feel confident that you're dealing with real contact, then you can begin to work on parsing out what feels hinky and what feels trustworthy. Working on meditation, dream recall, divination, and other such techniques can do a lot to help you strengthen these skills.

— Use/develop wards that can be put in place when attempting to interact with spirits. Someone could write a whole monograph just on warding techniques, but suffice it to say that you're going to want to be proficient in warding before attempting to work with most spirits. At the least, I think it's important to have wards in place against physical harm, psychological contamination, and deception, as these are the main things one generally has to worry about if interacting with a dangerous spirit. Learning to employ these wards when divining is also an important part of how you learn to trust more in divination for looking into this sort of matter.

— Keep close track of your interactions and suspected interactions with spirits. Doing this helps to give a more "fleshed out" sense of the Wight in question, by allowing you to look over the record of their behavior. This also helps with identifying any possible lies or inconsistencies put forward by the spirit.

— Set clear boundaries with any spirits, and be wary of wights who disregard or consistently push those boundaries. Sometimes, spirits can help push us to grow and evolve, even if it's not always comfortable. But just like mundane relationships, numinous relationships that demonstrate a consistent pattern of forceful and/or manipulative behavior are troubling.

There are also certain red flags I think are worth watching out for when attempting to work with spirits:

— Have caution if a spirit always seems to say exactly what you want to hear. Having a good relationship with your Spirit Kith is a wonderful thing, but I tend to be untrusting of a spirit who consistently reflects back exactly what I'm hoping to see—particularly if said spirit is always clamoring for my attentions.

— Beware of consistently confusing or contradictory communications. Spirits can be coy or even downright confusing, but that isn't a red flag in and of itself. After all, numinous wights experience the world very differently from us, and their attempts to communicate can become "jumbled" when passing through the lens of our conscious understanding. Whats more, they sometimes speak in riddles for their own reasons. But if a spirit tells outright lies, or if they seem to pull you every which way based on cold whims, that's something worth being concerned over.

— Be on guard if a spirit starts out by acting very gentle and affable with you, but becomes progressively controlling and aggressive over time. Abusive humans have a tendency to show their true colors gradually as a way to draw in and then trap potential victims, and this same tactic is often seen with spirits as well.

— Suspicion is in order if you tend to become fatigued, dizzy, and/or confused when/after interacting with a spirit. To be fair, these experiences can be a normal part of spirit work, in general, for many people—especially if you're new to it. But if it's pervasive or extreme, or if you start to also experience pain, then it's usually worth being wary. The same goes for other troubling physical symptomology, but these are the most common symptoms I've come across.

— Something isn't right if bad things frequently happen in relation to the spirit. If you've been having terrible nightmares ever since the spirit came into your life, that's concerning. If you or your loved ones always seem to become sick or injured when you do something to displease the spirit, then that's worrisome. If you've been experiencing continual hardships or traumas since the arrival of a spirit, that's alarming. Especially when these things somehow funnel back into you giving the spirit more attention and energy (asking them for solace and protection, for instance.)

[nite-puff]

bad news: I lost the battle with my own incompetency. and i couldn’t get a big nice drawing done for my guy’s birthday.

good news: WE GOT A MATCHING SET OF THESE LITTLE BITCHES.

happy birthday to my blorbo of all time! the main target of all my love and aggression. the dummy. love him.

and he gets his birthday kith too!

[jellisdraws]

WIP Whenever

It’s been a while since I posted anything from my Cyberfantasy WIP so…

The helm was a vision straight out of the last century of star cruisers , retrofitted into something more functionally modern. It's dated darksteel panels were accented with rust red ironwood, and a full suite of leather chairs and stations sat vacant on either side of the conically shaped room. In the middle of the room where an old timey captain's chair may have sat, a 12 foot tall, 8 foot wide inky black egg shaped pod was welded into the floor, it's sleek sides seamed with glowing strings of runes. Past the navigation egg, the circular front viewport glowed with the purple hue of the light spilling from the Gate, the traffic ahead of them mere dots of black with their own aetheric glow of main thrusters, slowly idling their way forward, waiting their turn to warp. Wires and cables humming with magic running out of the base of the pod disappeared under the floor panelling - Was that… mahogany? - and reappeared where they linked into the various navigation and control stations across the bridge. Advancements in cognition-enhancing alchemy, magics, and technology like Jack’s own implanted cyberbrain now allowed the entire suite of operating systems for a starship like this one to be controlled by one person- a fact not lost on the starlining corporations.

Now that Automaton Intelligences were calling for equal treatment as kith, and even the corporate funded governments were having to give way in order to appease their constituents both organic and manufactured, it was far cheaper to just maintain the fewest employees possible and focus on guild busting tactics. Paying for stimulants, overtime and legal payouts when things went wrong was far cheaper than paying a living wage and hiring Shipboard AI to supplement helmsmen. The pilots guild was more or less a full fledged insurrection anymore, hijacking, blockading and destroying Corpo ships across the Unified Systems. They supposedly maintained sleeper representatives across the various starliner companies, those willing to quietly recruit new guild members or crash starships into trade hubs in firey protest. Split between the Corpos bearing down on them and the Guild’s aggressive recruiting tactics, every pilot and helmsman Jack had ever met had been either stupefyingly boring or batshit insane. She hoped this one counted among the former.

(Rest under the cut)

A voice floated out of the Comm rune on the egg, “Hey, just a heads up we’re about T minus 16 minutes to warp. Not to put too much pressure on you, but non essential systems will be going down as we warp, standard procedure, and they wont be back on till we’re headed into final approach.”

“Right.” Jack said, edging around the pod, trying to get a view of the person inside

“It's weird you know, I don't remember logging a request.”

Jack froze, waiting for alarms, waiting for the doors behind her to open, but the voice continued, “ Sometimes I forget about the small stuff though, or maybe it's an old one- glad they're finally sending someone to deal with stuff like this,” The voice was dreamy- like their attention was largely elsewhere- which Jack supposed it was; flying large scale starships was consuming work.

She finally scooted in front of the navigation egg, peering through the layers and layers of projected information and glowing sensor displays on the glass of the viewing window into the beautiful reflective eyes of a mermaid. She smiled dreamily at Jack as she floated gracefully in the suspending fluid of the egg. She was around 4 feet tall, with a slender feminine torso covered in opalescent white scales that shifted into a curling, ridged neon yellow seahorse tail. Her pale green curls were trapped beneath a pair of headphones she had pulled around her neck- the cord of which disappeared into the top of the egg. Her eyes were the color and quality of mercury, sitting prettily in a heart shaped face. She had a prominent tattoo of an incredibly buff orcish man in a navy cap and not much else along her sternum. Down the sides of her neck and collar Jack could see her gills filtering. Jack had to remind herself to look the woman in her eyes.

“Hi there,” Jack said.

“Yeah, hi,” returned the dreamy voice through the pod, though Jack couldn't see the Mermaids lips move, “Feel free to do what you need to do, We got about- oh… just under 14 minutes now.”

“Right. I don't suppose we could speed that up?” Jack asked

“Speed it up how?”

“Most ships have thrusters I believe, they are used to provide thrust. I would like there to be more thrust.”

“Oh.”

Jack unfolded the titanium blade from her hand and pressed the tip into the glass of the navigation egg with what she hoped was a menacing click, her black eyes meeting the Mermaids mercury ones, “Im hijacking the ship.”

“Oh, Okay.”

“‘Okay?’ What the fuck do you mean, ‘Okay’?”

“I was acquiescing.” the mermaid said.

“I just told you I was stealing the ship. Why would you acquiesce to that? Who says acquiesce anymore?”

“I dunno. Protocol I think.”

“Protocol says to agree to hijacking?”

“Yeah.”

“I need to be through the Hyperlane gate as fast as you can get us there…?”

“Madolyn.”said Madolyn the mermaid.

“Madolyn, hi. My name is-”

An explosion rocked the cabin as the doors in the rear blew open with a wild squeal and cracking of metal and ceramic, with a shower of blue and purple arcane sparks. The Corprobots began to force their way through the exploded doors, kicking and twisting burning out of their way.

“JACK GATHOWAY YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND NON COMPLIANT.” came a loud tinny voice followed by a short burst of gunfire.

Jack yelped and ducked behind the egg as bullets ricocheted around the cabin, struggling to flatten herself against the convex surface.

“Now please Madolyn!” She yelled

“Just feel free to call me Maddie!” she said cheerfully, righting herself in the tank and pulling her headphones back up around her ears. She began to wave her hands fluidly though the fluid, and the ship responded instantly. Jack felt herself pressed firmly into the smooth hard surface of the egg as gravity shifted in response to the acceleration. An echoing crash and the sounds of cursing revealed a corprobot had fallen off of it's feet and tangled the legs of the others.

Jack looked frantically in front of her, the aetheric glow of the gate was huge and all encompassing, trying to stay stuck behind the egg as Maddie swung the starliner in and out of traffic, avoiding the ships trundling there as she continued to accelerate towards the gate.

“Stay where you are!” came a corprobot voice, and then more gunfire, Jack hissed as a ricochet skimmed past her forearm, slicing the skin like a red hot razor. The bots were spreading out, making the precarious cover she had found increasingly tenuous. Between the shouting and gunfire she could hear Maddie cheerfully speaking to someone,

“Thats right Raxxus Control we have been spacejacked, and the culprits are accelerating us directly into the Gate!” A pause, “Nope, it does not seem like re-establishing control of the vessel will be possible.” She gave Jack a thumbs up, and Jack returned the gesture with a weak smile.

A Metallic hand grabbed Jack by the ankle and ripped her out of her hiding spot and she yelled, swinging and kicking, slamming her knife repeatedly into the torso of the corprobot holding her, the aetherium infused titanium sinking into the thick ceramic armor over and over until the bot fell in a shower of purple sparks. More gunfire from the bots- TING! A bullet lodged itself in her metal leg, she almost could have laughed until another one took her in the shoulder and she spun over the controls landing with a bone rattling THUNK on the other side of the defunct console. Maddie was still speaking,

“That's right, we are a passenger vessel, so firing on us is out of the question unfortunately. Eject them? I don't have the authority to do that sir, Im so sorry. Listen we’re about to hit the Gate, it's been lovely to talk to you- what was that? Collision?”

Jack’s eyes widened as she turned to look out the front viewport to see the prow of Starsailer emerge from the gate, followed by its masts and sails, a huge galleon from the ancient days of spacefaring, it's Draconic figurehead looking as surprised to see the Starliner as they were to see it. Maddie hewed the ship hard to port, but it was too late. Jack felt it shudder beneath her before the impact came and she was thrown across the room. She slammed hard into the ceiling, navigation egg, floor, egg again. As the starliner bounced off of the hapless Starsailer’s shields and directly into Raxxus Station itself, metal and glass and ceramic buckled as the momentum of the ship ground it further and further into the Gates’s superstructure. Jack felt the shuddering reverberations of arcane explosions before she saw them, massive roiling purple flames being ejected out of the gate with increasing intensity as the starliner crashed into it before the momentum of the spinning structure caught them and flipped the disintegrating ship entirely and the purple aetheric glow overtook all.