#Sap Wc

[shreddeddescent]

"surely hes gonna end the day that has lasted 16 chapters now" wrong. i needed one more cool down chapter. i think someones waited long enough.

[baurem]

cw: children, bakugo being a tired dad and then some wc: 604

with the soft patter of small feet and the door’s hinges quietly crying as it was pushed open, you feigned sleep. through ajar lids, in peeked your mixture of love, your husband and your own affections personified into something you both cradled and loved undoubtedly.

biting back a grin, you listened for the shuffling of your bedsheets as your daughter forcefully settled in between the spooning position that bakugo held you in. 

“papa..” your three year old called out in a whisper, her palm lightly tapped his cheek.  still in his drowsy in between, bakugo hummed roughly to let her know he was listening. 

“move over..” she whined as she pushed his shoulder to create more space for herself

“no, i was here first.” bakugo’s tongue languid with sleep but unmoving to your daughter’s attempts.

her little lips pursed like yours and her brows furrowed like his as she conceived a way to convince her hard-headed father to move. she turned her body to you, preparing to wake you up until a large hand interrupted her. 

“no, don’ wake y’er mama up.” his voice mellowed by fatherhood and patience. katsuki’s daughter turned with a pout at his whispered chiding, the same one he often wore against you.

  still, even while unconscious and in his grasp, he sought to preserve your sleep though there wasn’t a need for it (not that he should know). 

he lured her back with his hand splayed out on her tummy which earned yet another whine from her as she sat back into the tight space between you and your husband. 

she stared back with a disgruntled expression he knew all too well; cheeks puffed up, eyes narrowed that were still swollen with sleep, and a deep frown all at the lack of space her father provided. 

katsuki stared back, now more awake than before, but still just as adamant and stubborn as the red-eyed girl before him. 

“gotta use your manners if ya wanna be here.” 

after a beat of contemplation, your daughter spoke up, “papa..?”

“hm?” katsuki hummed, attentive.

“can you— can you pleeaase move over?” she asked, softer as to not disturb her mother. 

katsuki deemed it good enough since it was too early in the morning for a lesson. abiding by her plea, he shifted over which opened up the space for his little one. 

“mm.. thank you.” his daughter murmured as she squirmed into her place under the sheets and between her parents. 

katsuki hummed in a quiet response. his attention on the way her eyes fought sleep, nestled in the warmth and scent of her parents. once he’s sure she’s asleep, his attention shifts over to you.

“were you going to help at all?” he huffs. 

“i knew you had it.” you toss over to gaze to your family with a sapped grin at his discovery of your consciousness; your husband furrowed his brows at you like your little girl would when she didn’t get what she wanted and your daughter’s face squished on the pillow like his would whenever he came home from a long patrol.

katsuki saw you too in that moment, you think; with her hair disheveled in the mornings just like yours would be and the light snoring from her— the snoring you both vehemently denied though he insisted on it. 

he must’ve also been feeling that same swell in your chest too, the overflowing of love seeping out of your chest and into your throat. the kind of feeling that only mornings like these could bring out of you both; you, your husband, and the whole of you both combined snuggled in bed together.

“you always do.” 

[dollerinna]

I WANT TO F**K YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL .

( black noir x fem supe!reader )

summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)

warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’

first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!

The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.

Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.

A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.

On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.

It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.

Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.

Ugh, talk about creepy.

A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.

Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.

But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.

─────────────────

“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”

It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.

An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.

Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.

And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.

Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.

He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.

After all, good girls should never cuss.

Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.

He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.

Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?

Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.

Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.

Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)

Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.

Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.

With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.

“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.

Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.

Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.

Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.

Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.

He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.

The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.

However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.

─────────────────

Meanwhile…

“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.

Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.

“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.

As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.

“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.

True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.

Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.

Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.

Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.

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Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭

[clovermoters]

anytime, anywhere - lando norris x childhood sweetheart!reader

summary - lando fell in love when he was ten years old, heres small moments of that love over the years.

warnings - kisses, panic attacks, small amount of violence & lando being a SAP

wc : 8k

some music - work song, hozier | my love mine all mine, mitski | love of my life, harry styles | pov, ariana grande | super rich kids, frank ocean.

authors note - hi! as always, enjoy! reblogs & likes are always hugely appreciated!! lots of love, clove!

ten - the meeting

The fluorescent lights of the afterschool program shined bright as you were sitting at the snack table, quietly picking away at the food your mom packed for you this morning. It was 5:30, most kids had been picked up by their parents or siblings. Leaving you and four other kids left, one was a curly haired boy who was sitting not far across from you. Working away at his homework. 

You remembered he was in your class. Lando, you remember, was his name. He was quiet, and he sat far across the room from you, so you haven't spoken to him much since meeting him in september. 

One of the coordinators for the program, Allie walks into the room, having left minutes prior to take a phone call, she looks at you with a sympathetic look on her face before sitting down next to you carefully.

You already know what she's going to say 

“Hi sweetie, that was your mum” she began, taking a deep breath trying to keep her voice low. “Your parents are going to be a bit late today, your mum said dad will get here as quick as possible” she continued. 

This wasn't the first time your parents have called, they were late most days, you tried to understand that they have unpredictable jobs, with both your mum and dad being doctors at one of the top hospitals in the country. 

You huffed, nodding before pulling out a colouring book that was given to you by your teacher as homework, the same homework the brunette across the room was doing. 

Down the table, the other three boys seemed to have heard your conversation with allie. 

“Ooooohhh y/n’s parents abandoned her!” one of them taunts, the boys burst into giggles before Allie sends them a stern face. they don't let up. 

“Isn't this like the third time this week? They must forget about you alot” they poke while their laughter grows louder 

You see out of the corner of your eye, Lando looks up from his book, his eyes looking to you while your head stays down, trying to focus on your coloring.  

Tears prick your eyes as Allie sends them to the hallway, probably to tell them off, some more. The sound of your sniffles fill the room and Lando watches you wipe your tears with your sleeve before he stands up and makes his way across the room and places himself right next to you. 

“I like your colouring” he says shyly, like he isn't sure what to say. You turn to him, his green eyes looking into yours as he offers you a warm, genuine smile. You find yourself smiling softly back at him, like it was contagious. 

“Thanks, yours is okay” you giggle mischievously, looking down to see his work. His colours were slightly different than yours, but you both had the same idea with shades and detail, his jaw dropped in faux offense. 

“Hey! They look the same!” he says, you both break out into a fit of giggles, playfully chatting while you continue with your artwork. 

When Allie returns, she finds you two in a very in depth conversation about the movie you watched in class today. Crayons scattered around the abandoned colouring books, she smiled softly at the two ten year olds as she watched a special bond form between them. 

You chatted about everything, Lando told you about his newly found hobby in karting. How he wanted to try competing and was mostly excited to miss school for races. You told him small details about you, his attention never wavering as you spoke. 

You both chatted until the rest of the kids had left, leaving just you two and Allie, who was sitting quietly in the corner playing some game on her phone. 

“You should come to one of my races” he declares, “i'll let you drive my kart” you cringe slightly, frowning at the boy. the thought of operating the machinery scares you slightly. “When you win a race I'll go karting with you.” You say shaking your head at him, 

The door opened and in walked a lady whose eyes found lando almost instantly, lando had his back to the door since he was fully immersed in his conversation with you. 

“I think your mums here” you say as Lando whips his head around to see his mum. He smiled, getting up from his seat and hugging her tight. You felt your shoulders drop as you realized lando would now go home, leaving you alone. 

“Hi sweetheart, ready to go home?” she asks her son, who hesitates before he answers. Lando made eye contact with you, the girl he’d found a new friend in and felt quite sad to leave her here, when he got to go home. 

Looking at his mum, he shakes his head “no i wanna stay with y/n until her dad comes.” 

His mum looked at you, shrinking into your chair with all eyes on you. She had a sparkle in her eye as she watched him make his way back to you. She could tell her son had grown fond of you by seeing how he continued your conversation as if his mum wasn't there.

“so, if I win a race, you will come karting with me. deal?” he holds his small hand out, you smile, showing him a toothy smile that made his ten eight year old brain stop in time. Wanting to freeze frame it and paste it onto his eyelids. 

You shake his hand 

“deal.” 

Fifteen  - the unofficial first date

You were anxiously scuffing your feet into the asphalt of your local karting track. Lando had won his first karting race long ago, he was actually set to win his first series this year. But you two had never gotten around to getting you into a kart and on track with him. 

Since that day five years ago, you two had been inseparable. He took you to races on the weekend, and you had helped him catch up in school when he needed help. 

You even started going home with him after school and your parents began to just pick you up at Landos. 

Lando knew he liked you, he had known since he met you. Since your hand brushed against his when you both reached for the same crayon. Your smile was contagious and he swore you grew flowers wherever you walked. 

What started as a small elementary crush– over the years had bloomed into something bigger, something Lando couldn't explain just yet. 

Lando was so excited to show you karting, you could see it on his face. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet while he pulled you through the garage with his hand held in yours. You tried to ignore the butterflies that have made home in your stomach years ago when Lando started getting touchy like this with you. It started with his hand lightly brushing your shoulder in conversations, hugs that lasted longer than they should’ve while his head was tucked snugly in the crook of your neck. 

he leads you to a small single seater that you assumed was yours for the afternoon, “this is what you’ll be driving, i'll be in my kart with you the whole time” he explains, showing you how to control it and the proper steering technique, while throwing in a couple tips. His hand is still laced with yours as he tells you about his own kart. 

You loved seeing him in his element. Watching him race was your favourite thing. You admired his face as he spoke, the freckles you've grown to love topped with his curls that he was still learning to care for properly (after you had begged him too). 

“You with me?” he nudges your arm, shaking you out of your daydream. You nod 

“yeah, just zoned out a bit.” you reply, 

When you walked out in fireproofs and a karting suit, Lando felt like time froze, the world around him spinning to a halt as his gaze found you. He thought you looked beautiful everyday, but seeing you in a race uniform made his mind go fuzzy. 

His breath caught in his throat as he watched you walk over to him, holding a helmet and gloves. His green eyes sparkling at you, like you were the only girl in the world.  

He helped you with your helmet, his fingers brushing under your chin as he clipped the chinstrap, sending shockwaves down your spine. When you were secured he gave you a light tap on the side of your head before you both got in your karts, starting your engines. 

-

You were slowly getting the hang of the machinery, the kart vibrating underneath you as you took each corner with more confidence as you went, Lando staying steadily out in front of you. Turning his neck around to check in on you when you two would rush down the straights. You understood why he enjoyed this so much, the thrill of taking a corner slightly too fast, pushing the kart to its limit. 

You almost enjoyed it too much. 

The barrier came quickly, you hit a dead spot on the track, your kart skidding straight into the make-shift padded wall. When Lando watched the yellow flag fly out, he immediately felt his stomach drop, turning around to see you wobbling slightly in your kart. 

Stopping his kart safely off the track, his feet hit the ground as he sprinted to you, dropping in front of you, flicking his and your visor up, his eyes scanning yours frantically as he watched tears brim your eyes. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, his concern evident in his voice as he checks you over. “Where does it hurt?” you groan as he moves your arm slightly, cringing as your muscles contract from the sudden shock. 

“Im okay, just annoyed, im sorry” you huff, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, you knew how much lando wanted to take you karting and show you his world. And now you've ruined it by crashing. 

“No, no none of that.” he soothes, helping you out of the kart and back to the garage. Sitting you down and helping you take your helmet off. You looked adorable when he saw your messy hair from the balaclava. Lando had never wanted to kiss anyone yet, but at this moment he was coming very close to kissing you. 

It was like an itch that surged his whole body, the desire he felt to do all the things a couple does. He wanted to try them, with you. The hand holding while walking to classes, the nights spent wrapping in eachothers arms, he wanted all of you. 

 he wanted to learn what being in love was like, and he only saw himself learning with you. 

“Are you sure you're okay?” he asks cautiously, concerned that your adrenaline hasn't allowed you to fully feel any pain you might be in. 

“Yeah, i think i'll just be sore” you sigh, taking a sip from the water bottle he retrieved from the cooler for you, sitting himself on the floor in front of you. He's looking up to you like he's mesmerizing every inch of your face, studying every mole and freckle. 

Lando chuckles, “oh yea, you're gonna hurt like hell tomorrow” he jokes, you kick him lightly as you break into a fit of giggles, your laughs filling the garage with a sense of joy. 

The mechanics nearby smile at the two of you, infatuated with the way Lando acted in your presence. On a normal race weekend, he was focused, almost unable to see past the task at hand. With you, he was light, laughing, almost as if you showed him what happiness was. 

Your laughs die down and you catch yourself staring at the way his nose crinkled as he smiled. How his curls sit perfectly even after being smushed in his helmet. Your cheeks go flush while you fidget with the hem of your fireproof. 

Lando gaze locked onto you, he watches as your face focuses on your fingers, smiling softly before he stands up, offering his hand out to you. 

“c’mon, lets make my dad get us ice cream” 

You break out into a smile, linking your fingers with his before standing up, you two making your way to find Landos dad. 

Even though karting didn't go how he had planned, Lando felt today was a successful day nonetheless. Because he got to spend his day with you, showing you his other world he loved, the world he was building and working towards, imagining what the future would be when he climbs his way to the top, and he knew he wanted you to be right there with him when he did.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue” you say playfully as you walk with him towards the car, he just smiles, his curls bouncing as he strolls beside you.

“Anytime, anywhere.” 

Seventeen - bruise knuckles with a side of love  

The lights were dimmed as you walked into the house of your friend's house, music was pumping through the speakers providing background noise to the conversations you could hear flowing throughout the room. 

Your eyes scanned the room, looking for the familiar head of chocolate curls who you refused to admit was the whole reason you had come. Lando had been away karting for the past week and you haven't seen him, when you spot him, he has his back turned to you fully engrossed in a conversation with Max Fewtrell. 

Max's eyes catch your from over landos shoulder, a small smirk creeping into his face as he announces your entrance.

“ayeee!! There she is!” he shouts, landos head whips around, slightly confused to who Max is referring to, when he spots you, his eyes light up. You two lock eyes and it's like the world falls away for a moment as you take each other in. He noticed you had straightened your hair differently, training a soft curl at the end of your hair, framing your face perfectly. 

He's on his feet in seconds, making his way across the room to close what felt like a ravine between you. Mumbling a soft hey while engulfing you in a hug, it felt like coming home after a horrible day. His arms squeezing you softly as he tucks his head into your shoulder. You hug him back, closing your eyes as you both linger in the hug for a moment. 

You don't realize that it's been long until Max is next to you, he clears his throat loudly, startling you guys apart. He smiles, greeting you with a brief hug that has Lando sending him a slight glare. You failed to notice the brunette pinching his friend's side afterwards, max letting out a small whine. 

You told Lando how much he missed school, he shrugged it off with a laugh, you both knew he had given up on completing school. Joking that you were getting the degree for both of them. The three of you had always been close, going through schooling together since you were young. Though Max knew there was a bond between you and Lando that he would never be able to fully understand. 

You two understood each other without even having to speak, if Lando was upset with a race, Max often would text you as they drove home, you’d be waiting for them on the porch with snacks and a movie. Lando falling into your embrace before you settled on your own end of the couch, one of his favorite films playing on the tv. 

If Max looked over to you two, he’d see Lando absentmindedly playing with your fingers, he’d see you slowly running your hand through his curls, something you knew would calm him down 

You always knew lando needed comfort after a bad result, but you failed to understand that all he ever really needed was you. 

 “I'm gonna go grab a drink, do you want anything?” you ask softly, pointing to the small mini bar that was set up in the corner, one of the guests dramatically pouring non-alcoholic drinks as if you were in a club. 

“Monster pleasee” he drawls, smiling widely as if mimicking a little kid asking for candy. You roll your eyes with a smile before turning to Max, who shows you his already half drunk redbull. 

You turn away, sauntering your way to grab the beverages, lando and max watch you as you make your way. Once you're out of earshot, Max drops his smile before turning to smack lando in the arm. The boy yelps in pain, grabbing his arm with an unamused look on his face

“Oww!” Lando groans as Maxs face stays serious. 

“Why haven't you told her” he asked, leaving no room for bullshit. Lando and you had been dancing around the idea of a relationship for years, and he was tired of it. He was tired of seeing his two best friends hopelessly in love with each other and choosing to ignore it. 

“It's just not the right time,” Lando argues, his voice small. He tried so many times to tell you, to blurt his feelings out like a case of word vomit, to just scream i love you in your face. But every time, the words died in his throat at the possibility of you not returning his feelings. 

“Bullshit.” max counters “you two have been all heart eyes since we were what? twelve? I don't care whatever story you’ve run in your head, she loves you Lando and you both need to open your eyes and see it” he commands, sending a blow straight to Landos heart as he exhales with a sigh, his gaze fixed on you chatting with the boy handing out drinks. 

“What if it doesn't work out? I'm never here anymore max, how is that fair to her?” Lando says, a sense of longing evident in his eyes while he looks at you.

 Max’s offense crumbles slightly, but he didn't let up “she loves you enough to fight for it. She just needs to know you're willing to fight for it too.” he offers, you make your return, holding two cans of monster, the two boys staring slightly.  Like they had just been caught doing something they shouldn't. You frown slightly, your hand rising to cover your face.

“Do I have something on my face?” you ask worried, your hand rubbing along your features as you search frantically. Lando chuckles, lightly grabbing your wrists to halt your movements 

“No no,-” he breathes through a laugh, his touch sending sparks up your forearms  “you look beautiful” he said lowly, like it was only for you to hear. 

 You exhale deeply with a small laugh, sending him a soft, genuine smile that had Lando seeing double. 

This boy was done for. 

– 

The atmosphere had shifted since you arrived, the party was now in full swing as bodies filled the house, the base of the song vibrating underneath the floor. You and Lando were standing in a corner, your conversation light as you both nursed your drinks. 

Lando was explaining the new video game he and max had started playing when he was– quite rudely– interrupted by a boy approaching you, it was the same boy from the drink bar, whose name you learned was james 

“hi y/n, i just wanted to say that i enjoyed our conversation earlier. It's always a pleasure chatting with you” he smiles, one of those smiles that has a cheshire cat behind it, one that makes you slightly stiff next to lando. James didn't acknowledge landos presence, acting as if you were standing next to a plant pot. 

“Oh, thank you james.” you say, noticing lando’s eyes have turned to the black and neon can in his hand, fiddling with the pull tab. He's trying not to listen, but the way you shifted towards him slightly as James kept talking to you made him wary. 

“–hey you wanna get outta here?” James offers. 

Something in lando snaps when he sees the cocky smirk on his face.

“Woah,woah,woah, let's slow your roll here, mate.” he steps slightly in front of you, puffing his chest. 

“Last time I checked I wasn't talking to you” James barks back. his voice became louder as you hid behind lando. 

 “she clearly doesn’t want to be talking with you” he argues, you could see Landos fists balling at his sides. the monster abandoned on the windowsill behind you. Landos neck grows red as the anger bubbles underneath his skin. 

“Yk’what, why don't you let me and the lady have a conversation, yeah?” he says trying to push past Lando, his tone dripping with smugness. 

Oh that had Lando seeing red.

His fist connects with James' jaw, then his nose. Sending him to the floor, you gasp as James groans, before getting up and raising his fist. He doesn't have the time to think before Lando sends another blow to his chest, knocking him down for good. 

Two guests go to James, picking him up to place him on the couch as Max rushes over to you and Lando, his eyes falling to Landos hand.

“Shit mate–” he exhales, scanning the room for a way out “–c’mon let's go get some ice and fix that, you have to drive this weekend.” 

He leads you upstairs to a somewhat secluded bathroom, shutting the door as Lando sits on the sink, the pain from his hand evident in his movements. 

You haven't spoken since the fight, slightly shaken up from watching your best friend almost did beat the living daylights out of someone. You didn't want to think about what could've happened if James was able to land his own punches. 

You press toilet paper to his bleeding knuckles, and Lando hisses from the pain of you pressing on the inflamed flesh. Dropping his head onto your shoulder as max ruffles through the cabinet.

“score!” he exclaims, holding up a bright red first aid kit. He pulls out the alcohol wipes and hands them off to you. 

“m’sorry, this is gonna hurt” you say quietly before you clean the wounds, lando squeezes his eyes shut at the sting, his uninjured hand finds your waist, using it as a lifeline. 

Once the wounds are clean you begin to wrap his hand, your touch light as max hands you gauze, but nothing to secure it with. 

“Max, I need tape or something–” you mumble, focused on the task at hand. Lando watches as your tongue pokes out of your mouth while your eyes –which he's just noticing are slightly glossed over– are focused on carefully covering the wounds. 

Once Max makes his way to find you tape, you and Lando are left in silence, spare from the muffled sound of music still coming from downstairs. You were mumbling soft swears as the gauze would slip in your hold. 

“um- i'm really sorry–” lando breaks the silence, you look to him but he won't meet your eyes, “–i didn't like where he was going with that, but if you–uh..wanted him though, i understand” he says low, his eyes fixed on his lap while you look at him slightly shell shocked.

You scoff, almost like a laugh “you’re an idiot” he looks up, green eyes pouring into yours, hyper aware of the hold you had on his hand and his on your hip.

“Wh-what?” he breathes, confused. You send him a small are you stupid? look before saying what you’ve been trying to build the courage to say for years.

“I don't want him, god did you see his greasy hair?-” you roll your eyes, lando chuckles softly before you continue “i want you, you muppet”

Lando froze, he stared at you with nothing but admiration, you stood in front of him with a smile on your face, he swore he could’ve died right there. He exhaled deeply as a smile grew wide on his face, reaching both ears as he pulled you closer.  

“Thank god because i'm not sure what i would've done if you didn't” he whispers, his eyes flicking to your lips, tilting his head down slightly. You leaned in slightly, his breath fanning across your face before he locked his lips onto yours. 

The kiss was slow, but hard, like the crescendo of a musical piece. Years of longing being poured into it, your lips slotting together perfectly. Moving in sync as your free hand cups his jaw. He pulls you closer by his hold on your waist, humming slightly when you bite his bottom lip.

 The world seemed to have faded away as he deepened the kiss. His tongue swiping across your bottom lip, asking for access you happily granted. You kissed him until you were breathless, smiling against each other's lips, you swore you could see sparkles in landos eyes.

“ten year old me is so happy right now” he mumbled against your lips, smiling so wide as you giggled. You kissed him again, softer this time, drinking in the kiss that you had dreamt about for years.

You kissed him multiple times in that bathroom, the pain in his hand forgotten as his focus was solely on you. 

That was, until the doorknob jingled before Max opened the door, holding tape and a bag of ice. You step back quickly as Max halts his movement, it didn't take an idiot to put two and two together. Your puffy lips, landos slightly messy hair, and his poorly wrapped hand that had been perfectly wrapped when he left moments ago.  

All he did was smile, before handing lando the ice to hold to his hand. He hands you the tape before moving back to the door, lingering in it before he leaves.

“I am so, so, fucking happy for you both.” is all he says before shutting the door, leaving you alone once again. 

You turned to each other slowly, staring for a moment before you broke out into giggles. Once you both quiet down, you rewrap his hand, maybe stealing a kiss or two (or three) while you work, making up for all the time you could’ve been kissing him over the years. 

Lando watched you lovingly, thinking to the future. Yes he was scared, he was scared of what this meant with you in school and him racing. But he could see that you wanted this, you wanted him. if he had to die fighting to make you two work, he was gonna sure as hell try. 

Nineteen - through the storm

The crisp autumn air turned your nose red as you walked through the streets of London towards Max and his girlfriend, Pietras’ flat. It was Saturday afternoon and Lando was in Italy, it was Lando’s first year in F1, you two had been dating for two years now, and had your own flat in London you called home. 

Every race weekend, it became a tradition for you to watch qualifying and the race with Max and Pietra. Ordering pizza while you shout at the tv against anyone who dares to overtake your boyfriend. 

Opening the door you waltz in, announcing your arrival before shrugging your shoes off, placing your coat and bag in the mudroom. Your sock clad feet pad across the floor into the living room where Max had set up the broadcast. 

“How's he doing?” you ask, grabbing a blanket and snuggling into the couch. “He's doin’ fine but I'm not sure we're getting out of Q2” he answers, a sigh escaping his lips as you frown. Lando had told you the struggles he's been having recently with the car, not being able to find that balance he needs. 

The media knew it too, it felt like every time you checked your phone, someone had something horrible to say about the man you loved. You knew it was getting to him despite the brave face he put on. 

Your boyfriend was the type of person who wanted everyone to love him, the amount of scrutiny was eating at him while all he did was try his best in the car he was given.

 It wasn't his fault the car he was given was a tractor.

You watched anxiously as the timer ticked down, a minute left in Q2. Lando was setting his final lap, nibbling on your fingernails as he rounded the final sector, crossing the line to land in P14. his teammate Carlos sainz, landing in P7. 

You deflate, knowing lando wouldn’t be happy with himself, you knew him too well. After years of watching him in F3 and F2, you know what was running through his head and it killed you that you couldn’t be there with him. 

When he was home earlier in the month he told you one night how the one thing that scared him was people thinking he didn’t deserve his seat, this result certainly didn't help him with his self doubt. 

“He's going to be so upset” you mumble, turning your ringer on while you wait for his call. Another small tradition you had was if you weren't in attendance, the minute he had a moment alone, he was on the phone with you.

Max nods silently, Pietra sighing as she makes her way to the kitchen to order pizza for you all, silence stretching throughout the apartment as you watch the final moments of qualifying. 

As the commentators congratulated the pole sitter, raving on about the final laps that had been revolutionary all you could think about was Lando and how he was beating himself up over this. 

You could see the tweets now, the hate, the scrutiny that was going to flood your socials the second you looked, just as you went to pick up your phone, it vibrated from lando calling you, the goofy smile of his contact photo smiling back at you as you answered the call.

“heyy baby!” you say, walking into the guest room for some privacy, sitting down on the foot of the bed. The line was quiet for a moment before Lando responded with a soft “hey” his voice wobbled as he spoke.

“You drove really well lando.. don't beat yourself up over one bad quali” you say softly, keeping your tone light. Soft sniffles came from Landos end of the line, your heart squeezes as you hear him cry softly. Lando wasn’t a crier, so when he did, you knew he was close to his breaking point.

“I can't do this anymore,” he sniffles. “I don't even want to know what they're saying right now.” he cries. You listen to his broken sobs as tears escape your own eyes. You hated being so far away from him while he was hurting like this, he was alone and vulnerable and that made you want to scream. Wishing you could crawl through the phone and get to him. 

You debated telling his trainer, getting someone else in the room with him to make sure he was safe, but you knew he needed to let it out first. You’d tell Jon later, right now you needed to be there for lando. 

Landos breathing starts to become ragged as his sentences come out in short breaths, you hear the panic attack coming before it fully hits him, his voice was shaky as it grew quieter. His words dying in his throat before he could say them, you could hear his breathing becoming more frantic. 

“Lan, baby i need you to breathe for me” He was sending himself deeper into a panic and it only worried you more. You felt useless just listening while he struggled to find a breath.

“I ca- i cant” he chokes out, his sobs echoing through the phone as you begin to frantically text Jon. Your fingers shaking as you message the man, tears flowing down your face.

You: 911!

You: get to landdo now he's habvin a panic attack on the phone wit me 

You: please jon im panicjking myself listning to him

Jon: On it.

You keep assuring him through the phone, trying to say something– anything that will calm him down. Telling him to unzip his race suit, asking him what he can smell, see, hear, or taste. None of it worked, the boy was breaking down in your ears and you felt helpless while waiting for Jon to find him. 

You hear the door open on the other end, the phone falls to the floor as the murmurs of Jons voice filter down the phone. You don't hear much for a few moments, taking the time to compose yourself, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your landos hoodie. 

“hey y/n, he's all good now, i'll have you call him back in a bit. Are you okay?” Jons voice crackles through the phone after a while, you exhale a sigh of relief, clutching a hand to your chest. 

“Yeah… sounds good, thank you jon.” you say softly, hanging up the call.

You splash some water on your face before returning to max and pietra. The two noticed something was off with you immediately. 

“You okay? How is he?” Max asks slowly, you didn't say anything. He could tell something was wrong when tears flooded your eyes. Closing the distance, he pulls you into a hug as a sob escapes your lips, you clutch onto him while you cry. Tears pour down your face as you explain what just happened, Max listens with sympathy written all over his face. 

 Hes silent for a moment, before an idea pops into his head “Let's get you to italy.” he says, determination in his voice as he grabs his phone, immediately googling flights. 

“what- but i don't have anything packed- what if there's no flights” you ramble, slightly shocked he was so set on this idea, he shakes his head, finalized in his decision that you needed to get on a flight as soon as possible and he didn't care how.

“Go home and pack, you don't need much it's only a night- SCORE” he turns the phone around, showing you a flight to Italy “leaves in four hours, if we hurry.. we can get you there” he says. You two lock eyes, a new sense of determination blooming inside you. You needed to be there for Lando, and you were going to get there.

It all happened so fast, one minute you were packing clothes into a duffle bag, and now you had landed in Italy, the flight was quick, two hours from London to Milan. You sat in the cab, the streetlights fading by as you made your way to landos hotel. 

The hotel was beautiful, wishing you could've come on better circumstances, thinking back to all the times you and Lando would be talking late at night, hushed whispers about what it was going to be like once he reached F1, all the places you’d go together. 

You never expected what reality would end up being. 

You stood in front of landos hotel room, Jon was standing next to you. Since the phone call, you had asked Jon to stay with lando. Explaining to him why incase of an emergency, you wouldn't be available for lando. He immediately agreed and also offered to walk you up to the room upon your arrival. 

Once the door opened, and you saw him. His eyes looked drained, his hair was messy from him running his hands through it. When he locked eyes with you, they widened so big they could’ve popped out of their sockets. 

He stared at you for a moment, trying to decipher whether or not you were really here, actually in front of him at his hotel in Monza. Once he felt you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, it hit him. 

It hit him hard.

“Oh my god” he breathed as he melted into your arms, his emotions bubbling over again as tears escaped his eyes. He had never felt so relieved to be in your arms, not since that moment in a bathroom years ago, it was like you were an angel sent straight for him. 

He pulled away to get a good look at you, you were wiping his cheeks softly. He still couldn't believe you flew to him. 

“Are you actually here, or am I dreaming?” he asks, a wet chuckle escapes you both as you realize you're also crying. 

“Im here, i'm real” you smile, pulling him back into a hug as you smooth the hair on the back of his neck. “I couldn’t stay in London when you were here in this state. It would’ve killed me.” you sniffled. His hands wrap around you, holding on like if he’d let go, you'd disappear, and he'd wake up from this nightmare with you still in london. 

He pulled back, placing a soft kiss to your lips before mumbling many “i love yous” into your mouth as you kissed him back, soft and slow. Forgetting about Jon standing a few feet away from you two. He turns away slightly, letting you have your moment. 

You pull away echoing a soft “sorry” to Jon who just smiles softly, shaking his head in dismissal as Lando wraps his arms around your waist, activating his clingy-ness. 

You say goodnight to Jon as you and Lando head into bed, the events of the day taking their effect. Lando immediately wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your shoulder, placing soft kisses on the exposed skin before resting his head on your chest. 

“Thank you, for understanding me more than I do myself” he mumbles sleepily, his breaths even out as he finally looks at peace with his mind. Your smile is warm as you place a light kiss to his forehead before finally resting your eyes, having your boy in your arms. 

And when you wake up to a text message from Jon, attached is a video of you and landos reunion he recorded secretly, you smile, cropping the video properly to post on your instagram story.

Posted is a small 10 second clip of Lando realizing you were standing in front of him, then showing the hug you two shared. Rocking back and forth as intelligible murmurs are exchanged between you two. 

captioned for you, anywhere, anytime. 

Twenty two - a handprint on her heart

The sun was shining down on your face as you perched yourself on a lounge chair on the exquisite yacht you get to call home for the summer break. You sported a bright orange bikini as you read your book while you listened to the waves below you.

It was peaceful, until you heard the stomps of two smaller people, followed by the stomps of a bigger person. You looked to the door to see Mila and Athena squealing as they ran around the deck, followed by none other than your boyfriend, who was chasing them, pretending he was a sea monster. 

“Look! There's auntie, she’ll save us," Mila shouts as the two girls make a beeline for you. You quickly place your book down so the girls can climb on top of you, hiding from their overly enthusiastic uncle. 

“Ohh auntie can't save you now! She's on my side” he says playfully while you begin to tighten your grip around the girls, not strong enough to hurt them, but tight enough to where they would struggle to break free. 

The girls giggle as Lando ‘rounds the couch, the girls wiggling in your arms, sounding cries of betrayal while you laugh at the trio's antics. He makes it to your pile of laughter and starts tickling the two girls until they are breathless.

Once he ceases the tickles attack, you let the girls free. They hop to the ground, their baby feet bouncing off the deck as they make their escape from the tickle monster, but to you he's just lando. 

Lando lets out a sigh as he sets himself down on the couch next to you, placing his arms around your shoulder. You had been on this yacht for a week and he had already worked up a tan, he looked divine, the sun hitting his face perfectly as he turned to look at you before placing a kiss on your temple. 

“y’know, it’ll be nice when we have our own munchkins running around a yacht one day” he says, far too casually, as his hand traces your shoulder. You both knew you wanted kids, but also knew being twenty two, in the height of landos career was not the right time for either of you to even think about creating your own bundle of love. 

Before you could respond to him, Max waltz’s his way onto the deck, sunglasses propped on his face as he spots you two. “Don't you two look cozy” he jokes, acting like you two haven't been head over heels for each other since you were small. It was a running joke for years, Max loves to tease you two about anything and everything.

Today was no different 

“oi! LN,” he says, lightly smacking landos sunburnt shoulder, causing the brunette to wince. “When are you proposing, I've got bets placed man!” he says with a faux serious tone. 

You giggle at him, you had discussed this before, you had an list of milestones that you and lando wanted to complete in a specific order

Championship

Marriage

Kids 

“You act like we haven’t basically been married for years max” you say, playfulness evident in your tone as Lando pulls you closer by the shoulder. Lando knew Max was just joking, but deep down part of him did want to forgo the list years ago and just make you his wife.

He's known since before you were officially dating that he’d marry you, it was obvious to him, you were the only option. The only person he saw his future with, the woman he goes home to, the mother of his children, you checked all the boxes of perfection and he was anxious to put a rock on your finger to solidify it for eternity. Devoting himself to you completely. 

Lando observes as you and Max move onto a different topic, he observes every detail about you, the way your nose crinkles when you smile, how your freckles pop when you spend more time in the sun, the way you always manage to speak with a heartwarming smile etched onto your face. It made him dizzy the way he knew you better than he knew himself. You were his everything, there is no lando without you. 

“Lan baby, you with us?” you ask, noticing he spaced out slightly. Nodding he smiles, placing a kiss on your hand, interlaced with his.

“Yeah, just thinkin’” he says simply, thinking for a moment before he taps your shoulder, 

“Wanna go for a walk?”

– 

You walked down the side of the boat, your fingers interlocked as the sun casted a golden light on your skin. Lando rubbed his thumb over your knuckles as you walked to the edge of the boat, overseeing the mediterranean behind you. 

Lando is quiet for a moment, his eyes following the horizon while he thinks. You can see in his eyes he's piecing his sentencing together but struggling– after a while, he speaks up. 

“Max got me thinking,” he pauses, taking a deep breath “I wanna change the list.” 

Your heart stops, looking up at him to find anything on his face that says he's joking, you meet his eyes already looking at you, 

“Are you serious?”

He chuckles, running a nervous hand through his hair, “I've never been more serious about anything in my life baby,” you feel tears welling up in your waterline. “I've known my whole life that I wanted to marry you, I don't want to let a championship decide when.” 

He brings a hand up to cup your cheek, your bottom lip trembling while he continues. 

“You're it for me baby, I can’t remember what my life was like without you in it and I don't want to have to learn. You know me better than I know myself, I am hopelessly in love with you and there's nothing that will ever change that,” you were full on crying now, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts, 

“–loving you is my greatest achievement, no championship could ever come close to how i feel about you,” Lando feels a lump form in his throat as he tries to finish his mini speech before he becomes emotional. 

“Let's get married” 

You cry softly before you cry out a yes and Lando feels a surge of love flow through him. 

“Yeah?” he smiles so wide as you nod, tears freely flowing down both your faces as he pulls you into an earth shattering kiss.

He kisses you like you’re his last breath of fresh air— soft and sensual, holding your face with such gentle care like you’d break if he let go. 

You pull away for air, giggling into each other's lips, stealing more kisses as the sun begins to set over the sea. The air felt warmer as you kissed your fiancè, you kissed him again, and again, you kissed him so many times you forgot where you were. 

That was until Lando pulled away sharply with a gasp. “Wait here” he mumbles before he takes off running back into the yacht, you take a seat while you wait for him to return, slightly confused to where he ran off to. 

Moments later he comes back, hands held behind his back as he makes his way over to you, a cheeky smile spread across his tanned face. 

“I'm sorry, your actual ring is at home.” you choose to ignore that fact for the time being. “But I do have this,” he chuckles as he pulls a small ring pop from behind his back. 

You laugh at the small candy as he opens it, placing it on your left ring finger, placing another kiss to your lips, you throw yourself into his arms, returning the kiss in full force. 

“It's perfect, thank you.” you mumble into his mouth. 

He rests his forehead against yours, his green eyes pouring into yours— a window to his soul showing nothing but love for you as he pulls you closer, his smile giddy. “We're getting married!!” he exclaims, you both giggle as you revel in being newly engaged. 

You think back to when you were kids, before the fancy cars and extravagant races, you loved him before he made a name for himself, before the outside voices. When it was just you two on a karting track, nobody watching to see where he goes next. 

you will continue to love him in the highs and lows of his career, as he shows the world what he's truly made of. You will forever be there, holding his hand, being his first phone call. Continuing to support him throughout it all, believing in his dreams as they’ve now become yours. 

You will love him when it's over, when it's just you two in the quiet mornings, for when you have nowhere to be. When you're old and grey living in the countryside in London, hand in hand on the porch side of your family home, grandkids running around in the yard. 

Like a handprint over your heart, Lando had plastered himself over every inch of your existence. His love hidden in plain sight of places you’ve yet to even realize. you loved this boy with every fiber of your being, and you would love him in every universe, in every past life and through the next. 

You will love him anywhere, anytime. 

~~

i hope u enjoyed, thank u so much for reading <3

[mistyorchid]

Logan's Girl

Old Man!Logan x fem!reader

summary: A sentimental anniversary gift for Logan reveals your biggest insecurity—saying three vulnerable words. inspired by this ask :) warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, fluff, some suggestive elements (gets a little steamy you guyss), established relationship, age gap, reader is 21+, insecure!reader, pet names (baby, darlin', bub, doll), I'm a hopeless romantic. wc: 1.8k

This wasn’t you. It couldn’t be. The figure swathed in delicate lingerie has to be a figment of your imagination, a misty apparition in the mirror. Surely, you were staring back at a different woman’s face. You wanted to wrap yourself in something sheer, something to heighten the overwhelming feeling of sensuality that you had learned to love and trust.

It was unbearable to watch him leave the warm oasis of your bed every night. “‘M sorry, baby. Gotta take this shift,” he sighed. He ghosted the words happy anniversary against your lips before pulling a velvet box from under the nightstand. Logan marveled at how your eyes shined just as bright as the pearlescent necklace.

You blush as you remember how his strong hands gently traced your collarbones before fastening the dainty jewelry around your neck. The romantic gesture made your heart swell with pride in being his.

He had been somewhat of a lone cowboy before you met; indulging in alcohol and one-night stands in dive bar bathrooms. You managed to rope him in and cement his life in something tangible. Every time you heard the iron door rattle against the smelting plant’s walls, you prayed to the night sky to protect him from harm.

Logan chastised your insistence on feeling so immensely—he often joked that your emotional sensitivity was a hallmark of “your generation,” a crack meant to be salved and fortified. He knew, however, that your concern for his mental well-being stemmed from a place of genuine concern.

It’s been four hours since Logan crossed the threshold of your home onto the organic gravel of the earth. An unbearable void in your heart that called for him to return is soured by an uneasy wave of dread stemming from your current predicament.

It looks like the Hallmark Channel rented your bedroom for an intoxicatingly sweet, PG-13 love scene. Although, your thoughts bordered on NC-17. The sap didn’t stop there. A fresh trail of rose petals was scattered on the floor, leading from the front door to a glossy, heart-shaped box of truffles on your bed.

Skittish tendrils of insecurity creep up your body until a surge of warmth festers behind your cheeks. In the time it took to pace a hundred laps around the bedroom, two more hours passed. A harsh clanging sound reverberates against your brain. You pray that it’s a figment of your imagination, a temporary symptom of your shame-induced anxiety.

Logan haphazardly kicks off his boots while loosening his tie. “I’m home, darlin’!”

Shit. You're totally fucked. That is the plan, but hearing Logan’s heavy steps against the linoleum floor sends you into an irrational frenzy. Your body reacts faster than your mind, quickly darting around the room to turn off the lights and dive under the comforter. “Great,” you whisper into the sheets. The room is pitch black except for the warm flicker of candles artfully placed on the nightstands. You wonder if Logan would find the dimly lit interior sexy or off putting. Surely, hiding under the covers like a goddamn vampire would get him rock hard.

He knocks to the tune of Shave and a haircut—two bits, a classic rhythm almost as old as him. Geriatric fucker.

“You decent?” he inquires. Two years together, and he still asks permission to open a closed door. He raised your standards for how a man should act from the depths of hell to the gates of heaven. He’s unbearably traditional sometimes, and you love it.

You wonder, then, why you regret the scent of lavender that lingers in the air. It’s a fragrant piece of evidence that smells too much like I love you. It was easy to lose yourself in the warm embrace of his body, molding yourself to his wandering hands. This display of romantic affection was too sappy, even for you.

“Yeah, come in,” you exhale before burrowing into the warmth of your bed. Maybe if you sink deep enough you’ll be swallowed whole.

Logan’s brows quirk upwards as he surveys the room, unable to identify the source of your voice. You know it’s time to face the music when he flicks the light on, illuminating everything.

His feet crunch softly against the petals strewn across the room, progressing towards the edge of the bed. Logan plops onto the comforter, knocking over the box of chocolates. He winces as he strains his back to retrieve it from the floor.

Logan gently peels the comforter away from your shrinking form. “What’cha doin’ under there, bub?”

You meet his eyes with a sheepish turn of your head, preparing for a judgmental gaze that would validate your insecurity. Instead, all you hear is a gruff laugh pour out of his mouth. 

“Hiding,” you reply meekly. His insistence on staring into the depths of your fucking soul is not helping. Goosebumps rise along your form as Logan slowly pulls down the rest of the blanket, finally revealing the sheer babydoll dress that clings to your breasts and floats everywhere else. 

Logan lets out a low whistle. “Jesus,” he whispers, “This for me?” 

You cross your arms over the lingerie. “Yeah, but I’m embarrassed—”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he interrupts. Logan tugs on the end of the central ribbon until it loosens, revealing the tantalizing line of your cleavage. “Lady as lovely as you shouldn’t be embarrassed.” 

You’re quick to apologize. “I’m sorry. . .”

He stalls his hand as if he’s been burned. Your immediate reaction is to apologize again, but Logan silences you with an unabashedly needy kiss.

“Hush. I’m tryin’ to open my present.” He toys with the pearl looped around your neck, admiring how the smooth texture rolls between his calloused fingers. It serves as a familiar allusion to the duality your relationship provides—softness and raw grit intertwining to form an unbreakable union.

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling insecure under his shameless gaze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He drops the pearl charm and grazes your chest, smirking when he hears your breath hitch. It’s almost unsettling, how fast you unravel for him.

“How was work?” You inquire, hoping it convinces Logan to focus on your face instead of your exposed skin.

He hastily removes all of his clothes save for his boxers before tossing them onto the floor. “Same shit, different day,” he mutters. The days are long, the nights even longer. You never talked about the gruesome collage of wounds and overworked scar tissue that plagued his skin. Over time, he leaned into your healing presence, allowing himself to dissolve under the tender insistence of your care.

You giggle. “Miss me?”

Logan lovingly pats your hip with an outstretched palm—a familiar signal that he wants to take up prime real estate in your bed. The more, the merrier.

He shuffles under the covers and pulls your body parallel against his own. You shiver as his lips hover over the shell of your ear.

“‘Course I did,” Logan sighs. He draws comforting patterns along the length of your arm, effectively luring a subtle shudder from your parted lips.  “Heart’s poundin’, baby—You’re breathin’ awful fast. Gives me the impression this feelin’s mutual.”

The night is quiet, laced with an unspoken yearning. A wave of anxiety tells you to move, to seek shelter somewhere else, in someone else—an anonymous man who doesn’t know anything about you other than the fact that you’re a warm body. You bury yourself into Logan instead, feeding into the restlessness that radiates throughout your soul.

He hums into your neck. The sound is so domestic that your heart aches and blooms all over again.

Logan curses as he feels your hips subtly rock back into his sturdy frame. “I guess it is,” you agree. His palm caresses the strong curve of your jaw before turning your head towards him.

The hazel pools of his eyes have borrowed the depth of the night sky. He speaks in a reserved, yet ravenous tone.

“C’mon, darlin’. Gimme some sugar,” he mumbles against your lips. You comply, not because he ordered you to, but because his insistence washes away any feelings of doubt that sullied your mind.

An airy sigh echoes throughout the room, silently parting the air and ricocheting against Logan’s sensitive eardrums. He wraps his arm around your soft stomach, earning a faint whine. “Stop, Logan,” you plead. Cheesy anniversary gifts aside, one constant source of insecurity was your belly. Logan absolutely adored it, but you loathed the physical evidence of your sweet tooth.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says while shifting his warm palm to rest on your hip. “But don’tcha love it when you’re soft an’ I’m—” Logan pulls your ass flush against his noticeable bulge. “—hard?” He continues. You feel his smirk melt into the open expanse of your neck.

You allow yourself to be manhandled by Logan. It takes your breath away every time, cliche phrasing be damned. He uses his firm grip to turn you around until you’re face-to-face with his stupidly rugged . . . face. Ugh. You don’t know what’s come over you.

Logan’s warmth is all-encompassing. His hand wanders along your body before lightly caressing the back of your head to bring you further into his embrace. You let out a soft hum that vibrates against his chest.

A few minutes pass without any words at all. This is Logan’s comfort zone—intentional silence that gives him the space to communicate with action. The only difference now is that he indulges in quietude as a form of serenity rather than hostility.

“Hey . . .” he whispers. “You fallin’ asleep?” Each tender swipe of his hand flushes your cheeks.

“Mhm,” you affirm, faintly nodding. “I’m sorry, Logan. I really wanted to give you your present.”

He quickly kneads the tense folds of your furrowed brow. Logan exhales into the peak of your hairline. “Don’t worry, doll. ‘M tired too.”

You let out a sigh that’s deeper and more sustained than Logan’s. You don’t have to look down to know that he’s still hard. A tell-tale sign of his sensual pull towards you blooms behind his chest in a kinetic rhythm. He keeps you close, everywhere except near his bulge. What a gentleman. 

Your eyes open, quietly searching in the dark for the motivation to speak, to be faithful. As much as you adore Logan, you both find it difficult to verbalize your feelings.

“I love you . . .” you whisper, directed into the ceiling and stars beyond it instead of towards Logan. 

His palm finds your jaw again. He hovers inches away from your face, allowing your breaths to meet and interlace. An inaudible request to connect. 

The kiss is unbelievably earnest. You find shelter against the plush of Logan’s lips. He leans his forehead against yours, once again playing with the pearl necklace wrapped around your neck.

“I love you.”

You have matching smiles. The allure of rest is renewed once Logan lets out a loud yawn. Then, laughter fills the room.

The last thing you hear before succumbing to sleep is, “Happy anniversary, doll.”

His pet name for you is apt. Cared for, admired, cherished. 

Logan’s girl.

an: It's been a while. Thank you anon for sending in this lovely request. I decided to not include smut because I wanting to portray something a little more wholesome than usual. These are real lines of comic dialogue that also inspired me. "Lady as lovely as you shouldn’t ever frown." "Heart’s poundin’, Jeannie—You’re breathin’ awful fast. Gives me the impression this feelin’s mutual. Wanna bet?"

tag list: @bratscave @elflutter @fairiebabey @pointyxsole @scorpiosaintt @th3mrskory

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- light angst, explicit sex, oral ( f receiving) breed kink (it's me so lol) mating press, multi rounds, honestly cute, sweet and fucking emotional!!! WC - 10k

A/N- THE HAPPY END IS HERE! Sooo the beginning 4k words or so are VERY similar to the angst end, but don't skip them because I put a lot of little nuances and deviations! I hope you enjoy the happy ending and the complete end of this fic <3 I'd love to hear thoughts!!

<<<Part five (Sad end) - Playlist - Masterlist

Happy Ending (Sugu/Reader end!)

Suguru lifts you up into his arms, as tired students and sorcerers retreat tentatively, Suguru’s curses dissolve as if they weren’t there while all he can focus on is you, the guilt eating at his heart. Your unconscious body lolls in his arms as Suguru is speaking to his cult quickly, ordering them to stop and retreat for now, all while holding you so tightly against his chest.

Satoru waits for Suguru, staring at your face now, looking so oddly peaceful for what happened, he wanted to pick you up and bring you to Shoko, but Suguru had snatched you up so quickly he had no chance to. Suguru is carrying you around and murmuring his soft orders, not letting you leave his grip.

Satoru had a feeling this would happen, and he hates himself for knowing it and bringing you anyway, but you were okay with it - willing even - to save everyone, he admires it about a girl he hardly knows. To put yourself and a baby in danger to reach out to Suguru, it shows just who you are, it’s easy to see how much Suguru has fallen, when Satoru never thought Suguru never would feel that way again.

Suguru finally walks up, glaring at Satoru when he brushes back a lock of hair from your brow, itching to smack his hand off. “Don’t touch my wife.” Suguru’s words are husky, through his teeth, as Satoru’s blue eyes dart back to his, raising a white brow.

“You’ve really done such a great job taking care of her so far. Why don’t I carry her, I don’t trust you not to disappear, and Shoko is the only one I trust helping her.”

“Tch, you think I don’t even want to help her!?”

“Why? You left her.” Suguru snatches you up closer against his chest, violet eyes glaring now at Satoru, and you hang so limply he feels sick, like you’re just nothing in his arms, barely any signs of life aside from soft breaths.

“You won’t hold my wife in your fucking arms.” 

“Fine, then follow, now.”

Suguru never thought he’d listen to Satoru, but he does, following him now into Shoko’s medical set up, her brows raise as she sees Suguru for the first time in almost nine years, he notices how exhausted she is, all of the fun energy he remembers sapped away. He falters a moment, before carrying you inside, Satoru shuts the heavy door with an echoing bang.

“What’s happened?” Suguru delicately lays your unconscious frame, as Shoko sets to feeling your pulse.

“Energy blast from… one of my men.” Suguru gulps down it all, the fact that it’s even worse, that you were hurt by one of his by mistake.

He wants to kill that man right now.

But Satoru is fucking right - it’s all him.

“She’s pregnant.” Satoru mentions, as if it were so casual, and Suguru glares over at him. “Isn’t she?”

“Yes she is but it’s not your place to fucking say.” Satoru smiles just a bit, something about seeing his friend actually fucking caring about something for once, even if his ire is directed at him right now. Suguru looks at Shoko now, swallowing nervously as he speaks. “She is pregnant.”

Shoko sighs now, nodding and assessing you carefully. “Can’t be far along, she’s not showing.”

“Five weeks.” Suguru answers, quietly, as Shoko raises her hands now, and shuts her eyes, dark hair falling a bit over her shoulders.

“I can’t guarantee the baby will be okay, but I can save her.” Suguru’s heart shatters at her words, looking as the reverse curse technique starts working over you with the incandescent light.

“It’s all your fault. Why’d you fucking bring her here!?” Suguru walks up to Satoru now, smacking a hand as he brushes your hair a bit off your sleeping face, earning a glare behind white bandages.

“She asked to come.”

Suguru pauses. Are you that reckless?

“I told her no at first, but I thought she’d be the only thing to bring you to any of your fucking senses, have you stop killing my students, our friends.”

“I don’t have any fucking friends.”

Shoko scoffs, eyeing him with tired eyes now. “You did.”

“It’s not you all I wanted to eliminate, you simply chose to defend them, the weak,  pathetic…” He can’t say it anymore, what he called them, what he called you.

“Weren’t you the one who said it’s our job to protect the weak?” Satoru’s voice is quiet now, reminding him of just that, the time he felt that way, naive and young.

“You continue to lose all your comrades and friends, Satoru you may be the strongest but it’s not worth it - without them, there are no more curses.”

“It’s not your choice to change how the world is. You’ve gone so far, the only person I’ve ever seen you love since you… changed… is here.” Satoru’s words nearly make him fall over with the pain, the grief, looking at your still unconscious body, as Shoko focuses harder with her technique, the glow soft around you, hovering right over your tummy where a baby exists.

“Please just save her.” Suguru whispers now, and Satoru slips off his blindfold completely, blue eyes seeing right through him.

“You did this. If she doesn’t make it, it’s because of you.”

“I fucking know that!” Suguru shoves Satoru now, which merely earns a tired, sad little smile, while he grips his wrist before he lets Suguru strike him. “I know it, okay? I don’t even… fucking deserve her. I know it.” He’s close to tears as he shoves off Satoru, covering his face before he looks back at you.

It’s gone too far, god it’s all gone too far, hasn’t it?

How can he live with himself after what he’s done to you. He places a hand on yours, you don’t grip it how could you, limp and weak fingers, exhausted face growing just a little brighter. You’re exhausted from him, from the stress - god he left you in his bed, alone, naked and gleaming from your lovemaking.

Lovemaking, it was lovemaking.

You were his everything, and not once did he let you get treated or shown that way, what was just one time of worshipping your body when he didn’t worship or appreciate your soul? Your mind, your wishes, he barely knew you truly - he never gave you a chance to listen. Why couldn’t he just give you a chance, why couldn’t he be there for you!?

He hates himself.

He was going to kill them all, every single human for a better world, but to lose the only important thing to him, you, in a room with two people who loved him once, who cared for him once, and he never deserved any of it. Of your body, of your heart, didn’t deserve any kindness that you - rarely - bestowed upon him, your sweet pleas nor your desperate cries for more of him.

Now that he sees you, and it’s been a good twenty minutes, he’s pacing, his stomach sick and turning, his mind a tumultuous storm of moments where it all changed. Of moments where everything shifted, the life and family he thought he built all lost to a girl, who slapped him, who cursed him, who overtook his heart.

You.

“It’s not working.” He says after more time passes with no sign of anything from you in the quiet room, worried as Shoko sighs, shaking her head.

“I need more time with her, okay? Her body is already in a rough state.”

“What rough state!?”

“She has a weak will, and she needs to have some will to make it through this.” Suguru can’t stand to look then, turning away, his robes still dripping the blood of others, as the woman he loves is unconscious.

A weak will, because of him, he fucking knows it too- it’s all him that did this, that caused it, he wants to blame Satoru for putting you in danger, but it’s ultimately his fault. You begged him to stay despite having been forced into this, despite the horrible things he said and did to you, despite it all you still asked him. You still tried to break through, almost meeting your end.

You awaken suddenly as he contemplates it, with a startled gasp, sitting up, staring at an unfamiliar but pretty face of a woman in scrubs, a stethoscope around her neck. She smiles gently, you feel two men’s hands on you, Satoru’s holding one hand, Suguru the other, both staring up at you now.

“I’m sorry I put you in harm.” Satoru’s words are full of remorse, one of his blue eyes revealed is staring up at you, glimmering. “It was the only way but…”

“It’s okay. I chose to, it was the right thing.” He exhales in relief, as you look at Suguru now, torn between anger, relief and fear… and more, so much more brimming to the surface. “Suguru…”

“I ended the battle.” It’s all relief now, as you clutch him tightly, and all the love in your eyes makes him even more sick, how could you love him?

“It worked.” Your whisper makes him squeeze you so tightly you can’t breathe, before pulling back, glaring down at you.

“It was foolish, reckless-”

“You are not about to lecture her right now on being reckless.” Suguru scowls at Satoru’s words.

“Let’s talk while Shoko checks her out.” Suguru’s words are surprisingly soft, a way you’ve only heard a couple times, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Suguru…”

“Just a minute.” You nod, but something is tugging at your heart.

Satoru and Suguru walk to the other end of the enormous room, footsteps echoing while Shoko murmurs softly. “I’m Ieri.”

“Thank you for… saving me, Ieri.” Your own quiet name makes her smile a bit, as she looks at Satoru and Suguru. “They were your friends, weren’t they?”

“Hmm, I guess they were. Let me check this heart rate, okay?” You nod, eyeing the two quiet men, as your disoriented mind and sore body process what exactly had happened.

“I know you owe me no favors, Satoru… but can I ask for one?” Satoru frowns now, leaning against the wall, as you sit up with Shoko’s help and speak quietly.

“You stopped the attack, if you’re willing to give this up, I’ll do you any favor.” He says, making Suguru sigh.

He doesn’t deserve you.

He doesn’t deserve Satoru.

He deserves no happiness for what he’s done, the horror in your eyes, the fear of the unknown, the baby just barely growing that surely would not survive with him near you. You look at him across the room, with those sad, broken eyes - he’d never made you happy, not once - yet you truly tried. You begged him to fucking stay and what did he do, what did he cause?

“I am taking Mimiko and Nanako far away.” Satoru’s blue eyes widen now.

“And your wife, yes?

Suguru feels sick as he shakes his head. “No.”

“Suguru, are you fucking serious, what more does the girl have to do to be with you!? She almost died to save you, not just everyone.” Satoru’s voice is a hushed whisper, eyes narrowed.

“That’s just it, I’m no good for her, or the baby if it… makes it. Chances are with me and how devastated I make her, it won't.”

“Suguru, she will forgive you.” Satoru puts a hand on his former best friend’s shoulder, coated in blood, and Suguru doesn’t shove it off, he takes a breath instead, shaking his head.

“She will, and so will you, but I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve her and I never did.”

“So become the man she needs, you’re not too-”

Suguru laughs harshly, taking Satoru’s hand off now, holding it for a moment, a million memories of their friendship falling as his hand falls. “Both of you make excuses, but I see what I did to her.”

“She’ll be okay, Shoko-”

“She’ll never be okay. Satoru, I have to ask you…” Satoru shakes his head again, and eyes you now.

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking run, seriously!?” Suguru yanks him out of the room, out of your earshot now, Satoru crosses his arms, as the door echoes in the cold empty halls of the abandoned building they’d shielded Shoko in.

“Take care of her.” At Suguru’s broken words, tears feeling once cold eyes, Satoru falters, lips parting. “Take care of the baby if it… makes it.”

He glares, shoving at his old friend, who’s too down to not let him budge with the movement, forlorn look on his face. “You take care of them, become better.”

Suguru shakes his head. “I can’t face her. I can’t face what I’ve done, I need to go. Far, far away.”

“For how long!?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. I know it’s a lot to ask - but I also know I can trust you to take care of her.” Satoru’s furious, not at the thought of taking care of you, but the fact that Suguru is running, that he still even now can’t accept love. “You will take care of her better than I could.”

“You think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. She chose to come here, can’t you give her a chance?” Suguru peers through the door window, the thick pane of glass, sighing and touching it longingly, while Shoko checks your vitals. “Your family is in that fucking room.”

“I know, fuck… but she has a chance to be happy, to have that baby - the way it’s going? She won’t even get to with me. Please, for the friendship we had, take care of her. The girl I love.” Satoru’s own emotions make his throat close, while Suguru realizes just how deeply he loves you, more than he even could admit. But he didn’t choose you, no matter how deeply you begged him to, no he left you alone in that bed.

He can’t forgive himself for it.

He is not sure he cares about any other casualties, he wishes he did care more for that - he still sees humans as pests, he does not share Satoru’s view and maybe never will. But you so clearly need him to, and he realizes he’s too far in his own hatred still, you were that exception, that bright spot. You were the one regret he now holds, and he knows he loves you enough to let you go.

“Please look after her for me, Satoru.”

“Jesus christ, Suguru.” He swipes a hand through his long white hair, looking at you in that room, sighing. “Of course I will take care of her and the baby. But it should not be me.”

“Thank you.” Suguru puts his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, and for a moment Satoru sees him - the best friend he ever had, making what he thinks is the best decision for a girl he loves. He loves and feels, still deep down, and something breaks Satoru down then. “I went too far.”

He scoffs at that, sighing. “Understatement of the century. I will not tell her goodbye for you, though. You need to at least explain your stupid decision.”

Satoru walks back into the room, looking down at you now, you’re weak but alive, and he still senses two energies with his powerful six eyes. He gently holds out his hands, and you take them, using his help to stand, shaky now. “Are you feeling okay, sweets?”

“I’m okay.” You nod a smile just a bit, turning to Shoko. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. We’ll… give you two a moment.” She reads the room clearly, Satoru and Shoko have known each other so long it really just takes a look.

You watch curiously as they walk out, and Suguru has tears in his violet eyes, something you never thought you’d see, they glimmer and illuminate, his face so serious and sullen it makes you panic. “Did they say the baby-”

“No, no, for now it all looks fine. Shh.” He pulls you against his strong chest, and you fall apart, sobbing now, shaking your head and shoving at him, hating the mix of comfort and sorrow this man brings. “I know,” he whispers, as if to soothe you, only for you to be infuriated, feeling anger hot coursing through your veins.

You pull back, furious, chest heaving with the quickness of your breaths, your own cheeks covered in your tears now. “You know!? You know? You left me. You chose this over me.”

“I did. And that’s why I’m no good for you.” His broken voice and tired gaze stall you, not after all of this would he not fucking choose you again!? Not after carving his place in your heart entirely does he get to leave!?

You pause now, gasping at his audacity, feeling him tense, emotionally pulling away from you again. “What the fuck are you on about right now?”

Instead of the usual arguments, the back and forth, Suguru is just contemplative, listening to you before he speaks. “It was selfish, so selfish not to let you run when you wanted to.” You’re shaking as he cups your face, thumb tracing your cheek, brushing aside the onslaught of tears, exhaling and leaning low.

“So you’re selfish, what’s new?” Your angry whisper just makes him ache for you, god is there one moment he doesn’t? Is there one second in any universe he thinks he will live without you - he wants to do the right thing now, to let you go, but how can he, when you’re so deeply ingrained inside his fucking soul?

The one bright spot that he almost took out completely clings to him, and why should you?

 “I almost killed you.” He whispers hoarsely, you shake your head now, scowl firm on your tired, beautiful features.

“You didn’t just almost kill me, you almost killed everyone in the fucking city! Suguru, I’m fine, this is not even what you should be worried about.”

“Tch, are you!?” His grip on your waist draws you closer, while your head falls back, and you stare into a monster’s eyes - a monster you love. “Are you fine? You almost died.”

“I chose to come here, you can’t blame Satoru when I begged him to bring me. I had to try to save them, those innocent people!”

“It worked.”

You sigh, shaking further, burying your face against his chest, he’s covered in sweat and grime and blood from the battle, but you don’t care. “Are you done with this foolish effort?”

“I’m done.” You look up in shock, cupping his face now, and he leans so low, until your breaths mingle, hand shaking as it holds you.

“Thank God. Oh Suguru, thank God.” You pull him down for a kiss, full of all the relief in your heart. You’ve saved him, everyone is okay - glimpses of hope and something beautiful fill you with a light you’ve never had. He kisses you back so deeply, exhaling against your lips, deepening it and pulling you so tightly, his hard body enveloping yours.

“I should have told you.” He whispers, pulling back, lips almost against yours, nose brushing against yours.

You gulp, throat dry, in so much fear of what he’s going to say, what he’s going to do, his voice terrifying you in its intensity. “Told me what?”

Suguru cups your face with one hand, heart pounding as he feels it, so deep in his soul, finally ready to spill those words. “I love you,” you gasp then, and his heart hammers nearly out of his chest as the declaration spills from his lips. “Fuck I love you, love when you hit me, love when you called me out, love the fire inside you.”

His declaration makes your heart shatter, you want to be happy, but you feel it - his apprehension, his fear, his love.

Loves you.

He loves you.

“Suguru…”

“I love you and don't deserve you.” His broken voice and tears infuriate you as much as they deeply touch you.

You glare now, trying to hold it together, when you feel like shattering. “Don’t you dare do this, don’t you run!”

“Baby, this is how I can show how much I love you.” He cups your face with two big hands and long fingers, you’re glaring through your tears, gripping his wrists.

“Don’t you dare.” You whisper, teeth clenched, you feel it then, you feel him pushing you away, when he’s just close enough. “I won’t forgive you ever.”

“Satoru will take care of you both, better than I could, he’ll be good to you-” The shock of his words hits you like a wave, like what knocked you to the fucking floor earlier, the dread in your stomach.

“What!? You’re shoving me off on your fucking friend?” You shove at his chest now, but he doesn’t budge, even as you smack at it, he doesn’t move, doesn’t let go of his grip. “If you love me you’ll run away with me, we can start over.”

The desperation in your voice tempts him to no end, god he’d love it, but he knows how much you’d suffer, always. “I am leaving, starting over.”

“Not with me?” Your hurt pours through every word, and Suguru wants to bring you, god he does, but he knows it so clearly - he could never make you happy, but he sees it - how Satoru looks at you. Maybe he could give you what you deserve, as much as he selfishly wants you, as badly as this hurts to do or say.

“You’ll be better off this way. You and the baby.”

“Bullshit, it’s such bullshit Suguru!”

“It’s the truth, I love you enough to finally do this.” He brushes your hair back tenderly, you smack his hand scowling up at him.

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to abandon me after not choosing me - just to not choose me again!”

“It’s not that,” your sobs wrack your body, as he steps back, brushing back his tangled dark locks in frustration, the thick strands falling across his face as he watches the girl he loves shatter because of him, all over again. “I am choosing your happiness.”

“Why can’t it be with you?” Your broken whisper makes his heart break.

“How can I look you in those beautiful eyes and know what pain I caused, I can’t have you looking at the monster I am.”

“You’re my fucking monster, okay? Mine!” You shove him again, he just sighs, defeated. “I love you Suguru Geto. I do, despite it all, despite how completely fucked in the brain you were, I love you dammit. You can’t just leave me now, like I’m some damn pet you can’t take care of. I love-”

He’s slammed his lips again, desperate and hungry, and you fall into him, as his kisses grow more and more ardent, pulling back just to take a breath, hand slipping up your spine. The contact alone makes you shiver, tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, so much emotion in this one kiss you wish it would last forever, fingers clinging to the silk of his robes.

“Suguru,” you pull back, tears falling against his fingers, breaths making your chest rise and fall, as you cling to his robes, the blood soaking against your skin, enveloping it in red. “You’re mine, you don’t get to leave me.”

He whispers your name then, his own tears falling, against your lips salty as he hovers over you, exhaling shakily. “I don’t deserve you though, you or this baby, not after what I did to you.”

“Then you’ll earn it, you’ll earn the right of me standing by your side. You’ll become better, I know it, fuck I do. There’s more to you.” Your foreheads touch, while he finally breaks down then, picking you up in his arms now, your lips are angry, hungry, tugging with your teeth as he nips you with his. Your tongues messy and desperate while you drink each others’ cries in, echoing in the quiet room.

“I don’t deserve you, I don’t…” His whispers break you, a broken man declaring them hot against your throat, as he breaks down for you, and you bury your face against his neck, letting him hold you up like it’s nothing, clinging to him then. Feeling every bit of your soul drawn to him, despite it all.

“I need you goddammit, you don’t get to leave me. Us. I’ll beat the fuck out of you if you try, it’s not even funny you psycho.” He exhales, easing you down then, you’re dizzy with desire, with need, thrumming through every inch of your skin, as he leans back, eyeing you under lashes dripping with tears.

“How can you love somebody like me?” His broken whisper destroys any resolve you have left, you know all he has done to you, you can only imagine what he has done to others, but deep down you know one thing to be true-

You do love him.

“I just do, there’s no reason for it, there’s no reason for any human emotion, Suguru Geto. We just feel.” Your tremulous smile, amidst everything he’s done breaks him down, bit by bit, as his heart pounds for you, as his body aches for you, thoughts of ‘what ifs’ flowing through his mind.

What if he did let Satoru care for you?

What if he just left you now?

What if you fell in love, what if you moved on, and were so happy, and got everything he ‘thinks’ you deserved, leaving him alone forever - because he knows damn well he will never want or be with anyone else ever again. What if he had let you go, and had not gotten to see you again, hold you again, kiss your lips? Have you under him, on him, have you?

He almost just did that, one choice and he was going to push you away, when all you wanted was to be let in. He takes a deep breath, an arm wrapped tight around you, bringing you firm against his chest. “I don’t know if I can learn to live with humans, aside from you. I don’t know if I can lose all this hatred.”

“Then we’ll go, we’ll go away. And we’ll try, every day. Okay?” He nods then, you exhale and kiss him once more, the kiss is so different than any before, deeper than either of you have had, while he drinks it in, the girl he doesn’t deserve, the life he’s not sure he should get to have, because you love him.

Does he deserve that love, finally?

“You deserve love.” Your words speak to the questions stirring in his soul, and for the first time in so long, Suguru is crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tries to pull it together, holding you in a bruising grip as he just cries then.

Suguru crying.

He has not felt emotions since long ago in Jujutsu high, when he watched his loved ones die, when he lost faith in everything he knew, something he thought died that day glimmers and breaks free. The girl in his arms that he treated horribly who for some odd reason loves him, then he knows - he can’t keep going like this, he has to give everything for you.

“I’ll try, Princess.” His soft tone breaks you down further, so upset in your wracking sobs he pulls back a bit, swiping them off your cheeks with one hand, the other bringing you against his chest. “Calm down, please… take a breath.”

“You really stress a girl the fuck out.” He chuckles a bit, earning a punch from your little balled up fist while you sniffle. “You don’t get to laugh about it.”

“I know, I know.” He brushes your hair back gently, studying a face of a girl that’s been hurt too much, too deeply, but the joy of hearing you say it all overwhelms his senses. He sighs again, tilting your chin up, studying your swollen lips carefully, a thumb brushing across the thin and bitten flesh. “You really want to be with me? I’m giving you an out.”

“I don’t want your ‘out’. I want you, the real you too, not this bullshit cult leader crap. I want the boy who Satoru has fought so hard to get back, I want the boy I met, he’s in there, okay?” He looks away then, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if he is in there.”

“He is, and you know it.”

He wants to believe you, but he finds he’s selfish for not leaving you in that moment, for instead picking you up gently in his arms, bridal style - remembering that first night with you. The first time he touched you, and he knew how deeply he felt, that he assumed you must have powers, but you did in fact have them, they were just different than anything he’d ever seen.

He speaks it then, softly. “You’re not just human.”

“Suguru you-”

“You’ve got a power.” You roll your eyes now, infuriated at the annoying man you chose to fall for.

Well you never chose to. You just did.

“You will not even act like you don’t love a human-”

“Power to bring me to my knees,” he continues, in a husky voice, and when he presses you more tightly to him, lips an inch from yours, the world fades, everything fades but this singular moment. “The power to make me give up anything, do anything for you. Kill anyone who hurts you, even if it’s myself.”

“Suguru-” He cuts you off again, kissing you as he cradles you so tightly, you feel his strength even as his body shakes with his emotions, with his regret, with his need.

“I’ll never hurt you again. I swear it. If I do, you get to twist that knife in my fucking chest.” You shake your head, but he just reiterates it, softly.

“I wouldn’t be able to.”

“You have all the power over me. You’re my everything.” You take the hand wrapped around you, placing it on your tummy, heating up as his violet gaze drifts down to it.

“We are your everything, Suguru. Of course, Mimiko and Nanako too. We can be… a family. If you’re willing.” He nods then, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead now. “Then let’s get them, and find… a home. A new home.”

He exhales against your skin, nodding as he carries you out, and Satoru Gojo is leaning against the wall, blindfold off for once, arms crossed casually when he smiles over at you. You tap Suguru’s shoulder and he glares at you. “You’re awfully friendly with him.”

“You’re acting jealous like you weren’t gonna pawn me off on him. Let me down.” You glare up at him and he sighs, easing you down, Satoru’s lips quirk up at the corners, easing off the wall and walking over to you now, tilting your chin up. His eyes bore into you, gleaming with his own emotions.

“Are you alright? You okay to walk?” He asks softly, you nod then, reaching over to wrap your arms around his waist. He falters for a moment, as you feel Suguru’s death glare, holding you back then, hand resting at the small of your back, warm over your silk kimono. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but cry against his chest, and Suguru looks away then, stepping back for a moment. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“No, it was shitty okay? I knew the risk and-”

“No. Thank you, Satoru.” You look up, and his heart hurts when he sees your tears, as his friend avoids even looking at the two of you. “It was the right thing to do, and don’t you dare feel bad.”

He sighs in relief, hugging you again, lips pressed against your ear as he bends down. “You brought my friend back, I should be thanking you.”

You cry more, body shaking and so small in the strong sorcerers hold, as Suguru clears his throat. “You all are a little too close.”

“I can still take care of her if-”

“No!? I mean, no.” Suguru rubs the back of his neck, frowning as he wants to rip his best friend’s arms off. “I was… being…”

“Stupid?” Satoru and you finish, and Suguru crosses his arms now, glaring at the two of you.

“It wouldn’t have been the right decision, especially how you’re pawing at her. Let her go.” Suguru yanks you away, and you can’t stop the laugh that escapes, a sound Suguru never really heard from you, breathless, your soft smile lighting up a tragically beautiful face, one he’s kept upset.

“You’re jealous?” You ask, and he scoffs, glaring, while Satoru does not remove his hand, smirking over at him.

“You two are just too close is all. Conspiring this whole time?”

“Maybe so.” You look back to Satoru, smiling again. “We’re going away for a while, but… we’ll be back one day. Won’t we, Suguru?” You hold out a hand now, and he nods stiffly, Satoru sees it then, the love he so clearly has right on his face for you, and the love you have for him, as your hands entwine.

“We will be.” He gruffly repeats, and the three of you stand there for a moment, each hand is held by the two men as they glance at each other, wondering if it’s still there - the deep friendship, and fuck you truly hope it is. Suguru didn’t just need you, he needed him too, and you hope one day your psycho husband can work on his very shitty communication and open up.

“We would’ve had fun together, sweets.” Gojo teases one more time, before Suguru has you yanked up against him, scowling deeper at Satoru, while you giggle, against Suguru’s hard chest, resting your head for a moment.

“You think it would’ve been fun, him pawning me off huh?” You tease back, and are landed right back in Suguru’s arms, while he and Satoru walk out side by side, and sleep starts to tug at your body, still drained from the hit.

“Of course we would have, you wouldn’t have even missed him.” Gojo winks and you giggle, and you’re pretty sure Suguru is about to lose his mind, walking out then to see the wreckage, it takes your breath for a moment, Suguru’s shoulders slump as he takes in the chaos and destruction.

“Hey, we’ll do better than this.” You say softly, caressing his face, a thumb brushing over a sharp cheekbone. He nods then, sighing and shutting his eyes, as if he can’t take it all in.

“Satoru, thank you for… helping save her.” Satoru blinks in surprise - a thank you is nothing he thought he’d get. “I guess we may cross paths again.”

“I guess we might.” Satoru smiles at you both a little sadly, as if he’d gotten his friend back and he’s going away again, but also it’s a peaceful look, for the moment things are safe for Satoru’s students and friends. For a moment there is peace in his heart as he looks at the two of you. “You’ll have a baby by then.”

“Yes we will.” Suguru murmurs, nodding to him a bit.

“Name it Satoru-”

“No.”

Satoru pouts then, shaking his head. “You know, so ungrateful. I’m out of here, bye sweets.” He winks at you again and throws two fingers up with a grin, disappearing without a trace. You giggle at it, and Suguru keeps glaring daggers.

“You like him far too much.” You sigh, shaking your head.

“We just connect because we both love an emo bitch.”

“An emo… when you’re better, I’m beating the fucking attitude out of you.” Your tummy flips, and you bury your face again in his neck.

“You can’t even do instant transmission like Gojo, huh?”

“Instant… that’s an anime!? I have a dragon, that’s much fucking cooler than Gojo’s shit, hmm?” You just smile against his neck, knowing then, this is him. This is Suguru Geto, the man you lived to see glimpses of. As he’s summoning these giant curses, his rainbow dragon, sitting you right on there and smiling, eyes crinkling and making you melt.

You gasp as you all take off - it’s as if you are some Princess, with a psycho cult leader who loves you, as he pulls you against him, head against his chest while he tenderly brushes your hair back. The exhaustion starts hitting, the fact that you almost lost him, lost everything that you suddenly realize is so important to you, while he inhales the scent of your hair and you fly up.

“Dragons are pretty cool.” You concede softly, earning his chuckle, lips tenderly brushing against your temple.

“I’m sorry I left you last night, I’m so sorry.” You look up sleepily, fuck you’re exhausted, trying to focus on him now.

“I forgive you, Suguru.”

“Should you?” His whisper is soft when you lay back against him again, arms wrapped around his waist.

“Probably not, but I do. I just… want you to never leave me. Promise, please.” You whisper against where his chest is bare, the wind gently rushing across your faces, while he holds you nestled in his arms.

“I promise, Princess. I will never leave you again.”

*****

One year later

You hold your sweet baby Noa against your chest as Suguru puts Mimiko and Nanako to bed, they’re giggling and kissing all over her as they always love to do, but Suguru gently chides them. “Girls, you know it’s well past bedtime.”

“We can help mom with Noa though!” Mimiko crosses her arms, and you smile at her, brushing her hair back.

“I appreciate all your help, but Noa is going to sleep too.” You peek at her precious face, she looks a lot like you but has Suguru’s silky black locks already, too much hair for a little baby to have. And her eyes have the darkest lashes, just like her father, who ruffles both of the girls’ hair now, chuckling.

“Boba tomorrow from your favorite place if you don’t argue.” His sing-song voice works.

“Fine dad.” They say simultaneously, and then the girls kiss you all before finally bouncing off to their rooms, leaving you and Suguru to head toward the nursery, his arm around your waist as your bare feet pad across the floor.

“You always bribe those girls, you know.” He chuckles once more, a sound that’s much more frequent these days, opening up the door for you now, the moonlight filtering through the blinds, illuminating the pretty room, all decorated in pretty pinks and purple by the girls before Noa came.

“I mean, are you arguing the efficiency of these tactics?” Suguru teases, having gone from war tactics to bribery for time alone with you was something quite new to him, but it fit well. Everything felt…

Perfect with you.

With the girls.

With his sweet baby girl, who is already fast asleep against your chest, her pretty face serene as you brush a thumb against a chubby cheek, smiling tenderly, the moon casting shadows across your beautiful face. It fills him with so much tenderness it’s hard to even explain, the way you fit so perfectly, knowing you were the missing piece, filling the void he let grow too long.

Your love for Noa was beautiful to see, of course Suguru adores his little girl, but you were so devoted and constant, also in your love to his girls. Since you met them you were kind, but once you all left and moved out of the country and spent more time, you were fiercely protective and loving of them like they were your own, and the girls had even started calling you mom.

Everything felt too good, and sometimes Suguru wonders if he deserves any of it, any of this happiness, love or joy that you brought him. You look up at him then, a sweet smile on your face, and he walks up to the pretty little white bassinet, brushing Noa’s downy hair back and smiling.

“She looks milk drunk again.” He teases, you shush him, a finger to the lips, a smile on your face.

“She might be, but you know…” your fingertips drift down his chest, over the silk of his robes, making his stomach clench hot with desire. He's been dying to have you, but you two were waiting until you healed up after a bit of a rough labor. The look you give him now makes him ache for you. “I’m feeling very good tonight. I think I pumped enough to have a glass of wine?”

“Fuck…” You cover your giggle and he sighs, hands clenching against your waist too tightly, before releasing you with an exhale. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He exhales and takes your hand, gently tugging you so that you both shut the door quietly of Noa’s room, pressing you against the wall now, arms on either side of your head.

“You’re so excited for wine, Suguru.” You whisper, and you know you fuck with him, he knows you’re aware of the affect you have on him, when you look at him like that under your lidded gaze. “You haven’t gone without drinking, why are you so excited?”

“I’ve gone without drinking alright…” His insinuation makes your cheeks heat up, a blush in the dark, quiet hallway. Although Suguru did have a maids, a cook and a nanny to help you, the home was far quieter than it was with a whole fucking cult living in it. It was much more intimate, private, even though it was hard for you both to get time together alone.

A lot of times, you were exhausted, but you’re wide awake now. All you can do is think about how badly you want him, the most you all have done is months was him toying your clit till you came, and you sucking him down your throat last week when you two had woken up.

He’d been ready to ‘drink you’ last night when the baby started crying, and he’d waited for you to come back only to find you crashed in the rocking chair with Noa. He’d almost had that damn taste on his tongue, but he knows how devoted you are, and fuck he was too, but if he didn’t get to fuck her soon, he was going to lose his fucking mind. 

He tilts your chin up with two fingers, his hair falling softly against your skin as he leans down, eyeing your lips. “What wine do you want, Princess?” He asks, at your command, fuck Suguru is practically ready to kiss your feet if you just let him sink inside you again.

The entire pregnancy until right about the end he’d not left you alone, you were too beautiful, your tits leaking milk, your hips widening to have his baby, the roundness of your tummy, every single mark the baby left. He couldn’t stop devouring you the entirety of it, couldn’t control how sexy you were pregnant, and you’re so beautiful now.

“Some red wine, Sugu. Please.” The nickname always destroys him, he almost falters and just fucks you right in this hallway, instead trying to hold himself together and nodding, gesturing for you to follow.

You both walk slowly to the kitchens, where he opens up one of the wine fridges, and pulls out a bottle of your favorite, one you have had one sip on right after the baby as a little treat. Your cute little squeal of excitement makes him laugh in amusement, pouring you a glass as you watch the dark red liquid swirl.

“Don’t drink too much, you’re gonna be so wasted from like two sips.”

“Will not be! Gimme.” You snatch it up, fingers brushing against his, igniting sparks through the both of you, your eyes meeting his, dark violet in the dimly lit kitchens, he doesn’t let go until you pull back, taking a shaky breath. “Mmm!”

“Yummy?” He pours his own glass, eyeing you over it, the look filling your tummy with more heat than the wine pouring down your throat could, warming you all over.

“So yummy.” You step closer, sipping the sweet liquid, some of it slipping across your lips, and he groans.

“Fuck this.” He sets your glass down and you gasp.

“Excuse me, rude! I can’t have a glass after having your baby?”

“You can have a whole fucking bottle later.” You’re lifted right on the counter, making you so dizzy at how quickly he’s got you lifted, letting out a shaky breath when he slides up the silk of your yukata, watching goosebumps rise against your skin with every inch revealed. “I think I need a drink first.”

“Sugu- ah!” He’s bent down as you’re spread wide on the kitchen counter, kissing a hot messy trail up your thighs, cock throbbing under his robes, already leaking precum just inhaling the scent of your cunt. Your head falls back, revealing your pretty throat as you cry out, arching your hips. “F-fuck…”

“Gonna cum from my breath, huh? Pathetic.” You scowl now, kicking at him with your foot, but he just catches it, smirking up at you as he leans up, his lips a breath against yours, fingers brushing over your bare cunt, and groaning. “No panties, were you wanting this?”

“Of course I w-was, you think I wanted wine?” He moans, slamming his lips against yours, fingers running up and down your slit, your clit twitches when he focuses there, running in circles and making you close just from that. You cling to his silk robes, soft and thick under your fingers, while his tongue starts trailing across your neck, tickling and making you wetter.

“I can’t wait to fuck this perfect cunt again, make you remember that she’s fucking mine.” He’s back down between your thighs as your head rests against the cabinets, uncomfortable as the marble counter is cold under your ass, but all you can think is more.

“Show me then.” He moans softly, on his knees now, so fucking tall he’s counter height to your cunt, and your hands enwrap in his soft raven locks when he presses a hot kiss right against your cunt, watching as you jerk, breathing against you.

“Keep it quiet, slutty little princess, huh?” You nod weakly, fuck it’s been so long since he’s spoken to you like that, since he’s worshipped you like this, and you don’t think you can ever got this long again, not when his tongue laps at your honeyed arousal, making you scream out against your palm. “Fuck… taste your cunt, god she’s so wet f’me, huh?”

“Yes…” You weakly whisper, pulling your hand back just to slam it on your mouth again, the manor you live in is huge but you still don’t want to be that noisy, though it’s damn near impossible as his long tongue slides inside your gummy walls, curling up and making you almost cum from that. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Mnh…” He’s lost then, lost in your taste, in the way your cunt drools down his face, hot and sweet as he drinks it all in, slurping you up while you shatter for him, falling apart with every flick and swirl of his tongue. Your legs start to tremble and he grabs them, spreading them wider, and you can feel your orgasm building up, his teeth nibbling on your clit as you try to keep quiet.

“G-going to cum!” You whisper, but it’s too late, your cunt clenched around his tongue, walls quivering while he curls it up, his nose now hitting your clit, and you let out a muffled scream, eyes rolling back into your head as you cum. “Suguru!”

“That’s it,” he’s sliding his tongue out, sticking two fingers instead, you gasp at the thick, long digits in your cunt, untouched for months, the stretch making you hiss. Your hips are bucking against the counter while he looks up under dark lashes, licking your cunt off his lips. “Another, you can, can’t you princess?”

You nod weakly, and he’s curling those fingertips up against your spongy spot, making you blinded, back down there lapping at your clit and feeling you tighten all around him, that pressure a telltale sign that you’re gonna cum so much for him. “Ah!” You cry out again, biting your lower lip so hard while your head slams the cabinet and you gush down him, orgasm rocking you in waves. “Sugu, too much!”

“You can take more, won’t you be a perfect slut for me? You know you wanna cum again and again. Wanna drown me with all that cum, huh?” His words and their tone fuck you up almost as much as his breath on your clit, while he holds you there, his tongue flicking until your legs finally stop shaking and you collapse, breathing weakly, hands tugging at his hair, burning his scalp.

“Please, fuck me Sugu. God, I need it in me.” Your plea is not going to be denied, not when Suguru almost came from just licking you. He kisses you again, letting you taste your sweetness off his mouth, burying his hands in your hair before picking you up, and you cling to his neck, legs wrapped around him.

“You want it in you, huh?” You just nod weakly, letting him carry you to the room you two share, in moments he has the yukata untied.

“Want it, want it in me so bad- ngh!” Suguru has bared your skin to his gaze, your body swathed in moonlight, for a moment you cover up just a bit, your tummy isn’t the same, and he’s not seen you too much since, earning his glare, as he grips your wrists and eases your arms down.

“You’re as beautiful as the first moment I saw you, so beautiful you made me question if you had some fucking power over me.” He says softly then, easing your worry, a hand brushing over a glimmery mark from Noa, slipping over to your hip and gripping it firmly, watching you tremble in pleasure. “The most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen, got it?”

You nod weakly, swallowing emotions as you quickly untie his robes, revealing his toned, perfect body, your hands shake as they touch his chest, feeling his strong muscles under your fingers. “You’re beautiful, too.”

“Shh.” He picks you up now, cock hard and heavy, already leaking precum when he picks you up, lifting your thigh as you sink into the bed, over the dark purple and gold silk covers, the black canopy enveloping the two of you in darkness. The incense lit earlier still linger in the air, mixing with the scent of Suguru, which makes you need him even more.

“Please, please…” You never beg, he wants to smirk down at you and gloat his victory, but he can't. All he can do is slide his tip right on your slit, groaning as he presses in, feeling your heat wrapping his cock.

“Fucking feel you, so tight, god. Slutty cunt is soaked, all for me?” You nod weakly, and then he thrusts his cock all the way inside to the fucking hilt, and you can’t bite back your scream, thankful the room is so far from the girls now, as he watches you and moans, sliding out and back in. “That’s it, she wants it so much, she’s so fucking greedy huh?”

“Shut up and f-fuck me- ah!” Suguru glares as he does just that, and you would smile at getting him all mad if you weren’t close to cumming from being so full, so stretched by his thick veiny cock.

“Talking shit? You’re still such a brat, tsk.” He’s raised your thighs then, bending you in a way you don’t think you can anymore, pausing when you whine out. “Here okay?” He asks softly, for a moment, then when you nod his sweetness is over, and Suguru Geto is fucking you hard, sure strokes that fuck your brain up until it can’t even function.

He knows it too, as he fucks into you, watching you shatter for him, balls slapping against your ass so heavy, so full of his seed ready to pump inside your eager hole, and you’re begging to be filled by him as he moves. Harder and harder, pressing your thighs further against you until he’s got you in a mating press, and you’re clinging to his biceps, nails digging in.

“That’s it, cum again, let me fucking feel you milk me, huh?” He’s nasty like this, filthy words flowing from his lips like poetry, and all you can do is nod - a girl who once said ‘fuck you’ is now saying-

“Fuck me, fuck me, please, yes!”

And Suguru delights in it, making his pretty wife a mess under him, feeling the hips that are wider from having his babies, seeing your breasts squish, a little milk leaking from them, and then he loses it. “Perfect cunt, she’s ready for all this cum, isn’t she?”

“Mnnnhh - ah! Suguru!” You’re unable to answer when he’s holding your thighs up and slamming his cock until you’re drooling, incoherent.

“Asked you - hah - a question, princess,” he has the audacity to say, in between heavy breaths, all you can do is cry out, as he holds back then, just when you’re about to cum, making you whine out. “Answer.”

“You’re such a - ah! - dick I swear, just lemme cum!” You’re digging your nails in his back so hard you leave marks, and he hisses, but you just turn him on more, making him fuck into you brutally now, pinning you under him so you can’t even squirm.

“Answer me.”

“No!”

“Now.”

“Fuck- ngh! Yes, yes, lemme cum, fuck!” He slams his cock deep and rolls his hips now, letting you finally cum all around him, milking his cock with your greedy cunt, he leans down and kisses you, swallowing your every sweet cry.

“That’s it, she wants all that cum, huh?” You nod weakly, tears of pleasure sneaking from the corners of your eyes, and then he pumps you full, moaning and entwining his hands with yours as the cum pulses so deep, and the two of you struggle to catch your breath. “Fuck, princess, taking me so good, huh? Made for me…”

“Mmhmm…” You’re breathless and exhausted when Suguru pulls back, kissing down and across your chest. The two of you lay there for a while each recovering, laughing, and tickling each other’s skin with gentle touches, grinning.

It’s so perfect here with him in this moment. All of the pain feels like a lifetime ago, not forgotten, but long, long forgiven.

“I’m never going this long without your perfect cunt again.” He touches your clit, making you jerk, laughing as he sucks your cum and his off his finger, moaning and kissing you again.

“I don’t wanna go that long either.” You sigh, kissing up his cheek now. “You know, I was thinking…” you trail off, slipping kisses across Suguru’s sweat slicked chest, he moans, his cock so sticky with cum pulsing again just at that, while his hand runs up and down your back.

“Should I fuck you again, so you can’t think?” He raises an arrogant dark brow, and you narrow your eyes, making him chuckle. “What?

“Well… I was thinking we should visit him.”

“VIsit who? Fuck…” You kiss at the base of his neck, making him tug you onto him, straddling his waist, cunt still coated and dripping his white milky liquid pouring down his dark happy trail, pooling in his flat belly button. He rubs your clit again, watching your eyes dilate, your hips shift. “God, look at the mess you’re making.”

“Mmhmm, but I mean visit Satoru.” Suguru’s scowl makes you giggle, he’s unreasonably jealous that you and Satoru stayed friends. It’s occasional calls, but he’s always mad as fuck afterward.

“Why are we bringing up Satoru when you’re dripping cum on me?” He slips you down, grabbing your hips now, thumbs pressing against the lines that Noa left, eyes feasting on your pretty body. “Look at you, fuck you’re perfect.”

“Am not even.”

“You are so perfect. C’mere.” He yanks you down now, your hair falling across his chest, as he cups your face with one hand, the other making you grind on him. You cry out at the contact, earning his smirk. “Shut you up.”

“N-no! I think it would be good f-for you- you’re distracting me!?”

“Sure am.” You pull up and scowl, so adorable he melts like he always does, sighing as he stares up at you in the dark night. “Fine, we can visit him.”

“Yay! It’ll be good for you, your friend seeing you again. I know it.”

“Yeah yeah, we’ll talk about that after I put another baby inside you.” You gasp then, when he’s lifted you, dragging you right back down his length, filling you in one quick stroke, making you scream out, shaking as the burn hits, feeling so fucking good when he bottoms out in your cunt, loud, wet and messy. He bites that lower lip, lashes lowering, while you struggle to breathe.

“You use your cock to distract me, huh?” He answers with a smirk, slamming his cock up inside you then, you cling to his chest, while his hands drift you your hips, and your cunt is spasming. “No more babies yet.”

“Sure, Princess, whatever you say.” You both glare at each other, before they turn into faces of pleasure, before joking little teases morph into cries and moans, before he’s filled you up again, and again, until you’re collapsed against him, so weak and worn out.

You don’t believe him one bit when he’s waking you up and fucking into you, cumming inside you so much your tummy is full of him, not when he grips your chin with that feral look in his fucking eyes - no, Suguru Geto does want more babies, and you can’t say you mind. Not when having his baby was the best thing that happened, and not when you aren’t dying to give him more.

“I love you, Princess.” He murmurs, stroking you from behind, you gasp and arch your back, whining into his kisses.

“I love you, Suguru.” And you fall again, into the arms of a man that once was a monster, but now was simply…

Your Suguru.

Ahhh so if you read both ends, I hope you enjoyedd, if you only read this I also hope you enjoyed. I initially only planned the bittersweet end, but I enjoyed writing this SO MUCH. Thanks for everyone who stuck around and commented and shared your thoughts on this story. See you in the othersss <3

taglist 1 - @ur-1fav-girl @gradmacoco @arabellasolstice @saitamaswifey @uarmyhopeworldwide @makkiihehe @dabisdolly @juicu @meme848 @arcanedx @satxoru @jeon-blue @longlivegojo @satorusaysiloveyou @enhasrii @inthedarkshadows000 @shokosmokes @schlokki @ashdiamashi @socutesotall @staarflowerr @you-need-namjesus @pkcoleight @tasteofapplecider @erenspersonalwh0re @makingtimemine @boobsbeesbongos @sjstg3 @msniks @hhhhhhhikariiiiiiii @l1v1ngzomb1e @lilbxtchsyndrome @maddyhehehehhe @nanamiskentos @yenayaps @slamonwords @nonamevenus @sugurumylove @shibataimu @spicy-woodland-queen @nonamebbsblog @notyuralycat @beabamboo @satttanx @curlyhairkk @7thsthings @ziggy0stardust @slutlight2ndver

[sixeyesonathiel]

warmth waits here

artic fox hybrid satoru x bunny hybrid reader, fluff, 1.4k wc.

a/n: ik artic foxes are small but i promise i did this on purpose. he’s simply got that tall frame that makes the whole cute, fluffy hybrid thing a little more fun. honestly, the contrast is what makes it work! i just can't picture him as a super serious snow leopard—he's too silly and mischievous for that for me :P

the marketplace buzzes with early chatter, snow crunching under the boots of villagers wrapped in thick wool and fur, faces flushed with cold and laughter. the scent of spiced bread, pine sap, and roasted chestnuts curls in the winter air, curling through stalls adorned with ribbons, baubles, and hand-carved trinkets that shimmer under the pale sunlight. garlands of dried berries and leaves twist around the beams of merchant stalls, the gentle flicker of lanterns fighting against the crisp morning.

but satoru—tail high and white as new snow, ears twitching with every rustle of fabric and step—isn’t interested in trinkets or tarts. no, his pale blue gaze has already locked onto something far sweeter.

there you are.

nestled beneath a thick cloak two sizes too big, arms bundled with soft herbs and neatly folded cloth, your nose pink from the bite of the cold. bunny ears droop with the quiet exhaustion of someone who hasn’t quite woken up yet. your steps are soft, barely lifting from the ground, the pads of your feet muffled in plush boots. you move like a drifting snowflake, light and almost hesitant to land, the frost clinging to your lashes like sugar dusted on bread.

his prey.

“you always look like you’re about to collapse,” satoru calls, voice slow and syrupy like warm syrup, echoing slightly from his perch atop the wooden railing near the frozen fountain. one leg dangles, the other propped up lazily, and his fur-lined coat flutters just slightly in the breeze, pale strands of hair catching the golden morning light.

his words hang in the air, little clouds of teasing warmth.

you jump a little, surprised, then glance up, hugging your bundle tighter. cheeks puffed with embarrassment, ears twitching low. your eyes widen, lashes already dusted with frost. “i’m okay...” you mumble, voice thick with sleep, soft and small. your fingers tighten their grip on the herbs as if they might anchor you.

he grins wide enough to flash fang.

“mmhmm. you sure you didn’t dream-walk here?” he leans forward dramatically. “say, wanna trade your bundle for a pastry and a scandalous rumor about the florist’s cat?”

you blink up at him, bewildered. “…what?”

he’s already leaping down, landing with a fox-like bounce, snow scattering around his boots. his white tail flicks with satisfaction, brushing against the hem of your cloak in passing.

“too late. i insist. i, as your future husband, demand you rest those dainty arms before you crumple like a croissant.”

“you’re not—” your voice pitches up slightly, flustered. “you’re not my husband...”

“yet,” he chimes sweetly, already plucking the bundle from your arms with careful fingers. he sniffs it. “mmm. rosemary. calming. you sure you don’t make these just so you can be the softest thing in the square?”

“...this isn’t how people court,” you murmur, your hands hovering awkwardly, the absence of the bundle leaving your arms oddly empty.

“elaborate schemes. dramatic entrances. feeding you things with frosting. and occasionally stealing your laundry to return it folded with a single flower tucked inside. classic wooing.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

he pauses, this time his voice dipping lower, his teasing smile gentling as his ears lower just a fraction. “you look like you didn’t sleep again. nightmares?”

there’s something about his tone—soft, aware—that makes your ears twitch.

you swallow. the dreams had been full of shifting forests and dark water, thorns under your feet, voices calling out in languages you couldn’t understand. things that linger like smoke even after waking.

“…yeah,” you whisper. “just... dreams.”

“don’t make that face,” he murmurs, adjusting the bundle in his arms carefully like it’s something precious. he tucks it neatly into the crook of his elbow, one hand splaying protectively over the folded cloth before offering you his free hand. his claws are tucked in, his fur warm against the blue cuff of his sleeve. snowflakes melt instantly where they touch.

“c’mon. i know a place. it’s sunny. quiet. no nosey villagers. i won’t even flirt.” he pauses, tilts his head. “much.”

you hesitate. the chill nips at your ankles, the bustle behind you feels too loud, and he’s watching you with that look—playful, yes, but not insincere. he jingles the bundle lightly like a promise.

“…okay,” you say softly.

you take his hand.

his fingers curl around yours immediately, warm, protective. the pads of his hand brush yours, and you shiver, not from the cold. your ears flush pink. he says nothing.

he just walks with you, tail swaying in rhythm beside your boots, the snow crunching under every step. he holds your bundle with absurd grace, adjusting it when the breeze tries to nip at the fabric, fingers brushing a bit of frost from the top. the walk takes you beyond the village’s edge, to the lake where bare trees arch like sleepy sentinels. a crooked birch stands alone near the edge, its bark ghost-pale, branches catching the gold-thread light.

“tada,” he says, tone grand. he kicks snow off a flat rock, then shrugs off his coat and spreads it out with a practiced flourish. “for her highness, the sleepy bunny.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you whisper, but your lips twitch.

you sit. the rock is cold, but his coat is thick and still carries the scent of him—snow, cedar, something faintly sweet like frozen berries. he places your bundle beside you with a precision that borders on reverence.

he sits beside you, close enough to share warmth. shoulder to shoulder. then, without a word, he wraps his tail around both your laps, plush and snowy, a gentle shield. your bundle rests neatly at your side, exactly how you held it, herbs tucked safe under the folded cloth.

this time, you really don’t complain.

the world seems to hold its breath. even the wind softens, rustling only the tips of brittle grass peeking through the snow. somewhere in the distance, a single bird sings—low and tentative, like it, too, is unsure if it’s safe to speak.

you lean into him slowly, unsure at first, like a leaf settling on water. your head finds his shoulder, ear brushing against the fur of his collar, and stay there. he stiffens for the briefest second—he always does when touch surprises him—but then exhales, long and low. a curl of white mist leaves his mouth and fades into the cold air.

your weight is so slight, it’s almost imagined. but he feels every bit of it.

your lashes flutter, your eyes barely open now, lips parted in the kind of drowsy calm he never quite understands—how someone so soft can still make him feel like his chest is being split open.

he turns his head, just a little. enough to catch the way your nose scrunches faintly in the cold, how the tips of your ears twitch even as sleep edges close. the white fur of his tail flicks once, then settles again across both your laps like a quilt.

“you know,” he murmurs, his voice nearly lost to the hush of winter, “most prey run from foxes.”

his breath stirs a few strands of your hair. he doesn’t know why he says it. maybe because silence is dangerous when his thoughts start pressing too close. maybe because he’s a little afraid of how quiet his heart becomes when you’re near—like even that part of him pauses to listen to you breathe.

your answer comes slow, slurred with sleep. “maybe i’m just too tired.”

your head tilts more fully into the crook of his neck. the warmth of your breath blooms faint against his skin, like thaw spreading across frost. it lingers, and so does the thud of his heartbeat against the cage of his ribs.

he lets out a small huff of laughter—barely there. his grin softens into something quieter, more real. something that would slip away if anyone else looked too long. “lucky for me,” he says, almost under his breath.

he doesn’t move. not even when his arm goes numb beneath you. not even when snow begins to fall again, soft as powdered sugar. he just sits there, holding still like the world might shatter if he disturbs it. if he disturbs you.

and as your breathing evens out, warm and close, satoru finds himself watching the clouds shift above the lake—quiet, unhurried.

for once, he thinks, he doesn’t mind staying still. not if it means you’ll be here when he does.

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[mejaemin]

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖₊˚♡˚

valentine boy

˚ʚ jeong jaehyun ɞ˚

final day of my valentine’s day countdown!

wc ♡ 1.9k

summary ♡ it may be jaehyun’s birthday, but he still likes to celebrate you, and does so in the form of four love letters.

warnings ♡ suggestive, fluff, SO MUCH LOVE IT’S DISGUSTING, jae is SUCH a sap and SUCH a romantic in this, my heart hurts

lia's note ♡ happy birthday to my love, my light. i miss jaehyun so much, and he’s really so special to me. i couldn’t help but pour my heart into this, and i wouldn’t have it any other way

playlist 🎧 completely - jaehyun, best part - daniel caesar ft. h.e.r. , give you the world - steve lacy, sunny days - wave to earth

congrats to those who guessed jaehyun for day nine! @cigsaftersuh and @jae10velies are two very smart cookies 🌹🫶🏽

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖₊˚♡˚

when you roll over in bed, first thing in the morning, you reach your hand out for your boyfriend, only to be met with nothing. popping one eye open, the bed is empty, the bed made on his side. sighing, you sit up, waking yourself up to go find him, when you finally notice the envelope laying on his pillow.

letter one ♡˚₊‧⁺˖

‘good morning my sweet thing ♡ happy valentine’s day.. if i’m not back by the time you wake up and open this, i went to visit my parents for a little. we’ve got a long day ahead of us, but mom wanted to see me for a little since, her words, “your birthday comes first, yuno! come visit your mom before you spend the day with your girlfriend.” i would’ve brought you, but you looked so pretty and peaceful while sleeping, and it would’ve ruined my plan, so i left you home. on that note, i know you told me not to do anything for you today, but i can’t help it :( spoiling you is my favorite, and it’s how i want to spend mine our day, okay? now, once you’re ready to get up, there’s something waiting for you in the bathroom…’

the ending of the letter is quite ominous, but it leaves a smile on your face nonetheless. you tell him every year to let you do all the gift giving, fully ready to discard valentine’s day and put his day first, especially when the former was made as a way for companies to gain money. still, he insists on celebrating you at the same time.

getting up out of bed, you make your way to the bathroom to get ready. as soon as you walk in, there’s another envelope taped to the sink mirror. pulling it out of the way, you set it aside to get yourself ready. the whole time you’re washing your face, brushing your teeth, you have to stop yourself from smiling at the idea of what’s to come later on in the day. jaehyun’s always been a loverboy, to an almost poetic extent, and upon looking at the letter sitting next to you, you’re sure there’s more to come, and you can’t wait to read all the loving words he’ll say to you. once done, you take the letter and sit back down on the bed to read it.

letter two ♡˚₊‧⁺˖

‘now that you’re opening this letter, i’ll assume you’ve woken up then? good, because i’ll be back in the afternoon to start our day. i wish i could be there to get ready with you, watch you open your first gift, but since i can’t, why don’t you check the closet? i’ve picked something out for you that i know will look perfect on you. i can’t wait to see it on you, and confirm my prediction. i can envision it now, you’d look so beautiful in that dress, it’ll compliment you perfectly.. okay, i have to stop now, or i’ll have a problem. anyway, enjoy your outfit my love ♡‘

with a smile you go over to your shared closed excitedly, pulling the door open and flicking the light on to reveal a beautiful dress in your favorite color right at the front of your clothing rack. pulling it off the hanger you immediately get dressed in it, stepping back to look at it on in the mirror. it’s fits perfectly, complimenting your body shape in all the best ways. when you look back in the closet for shoes to pair with it, there’s another envelope on the floor that you must’ve missed.

letter three ♡˚₊‧⁺˖

‘you’re getting dressed now, aren’t you? i hope you like the outfit. if not, don’t worry, we can get something else when we go out, okay? don’t stress. now, i’ll be wrapping up with mom pretty soon, so why don’t you finish your routine, okay? do yourself up however you like, in whatever way makes you feel prettiest. i’ll love it regardless. when you’re done, there’s something out in the kitchen, okay? i love you so much, baby. enjoy.’

with a soft giggle, you sit down at your vanity and start putting yourself together. even in the letter, jaehyun always reminds you of how much he loves you, in every form that you can take. he always uses the gentlest and most loving language he can, holding your heart with the most care. his love is so strong that when you fix your hair and do your makeup, you don’t feel a need to try too hard, doing the bare minimum, and thanks to him, you feel good about yourself just like that.

with the final touches of your appearance done, you grab your phone off the charger and check it for the first time today before you do anything. without fail, jaehyun’s texted you a string of good morning messages and words of love. you of course send some in return, thanking him for the letters and lightly teasing him for being a sap. you share a laugh before you shut the device off, making your way to the kitchen where your jaw drops.

there’s an entire display on the kitchen counter, rose petals scattered over the granite with a full bouquet in the middle, a bundle of prada gift bags sitting next to it. there’s a teddy bear as well, and one final letter with a card propped open next to it, reading ‘will you be my valentine?’ with the most perfect penmanship. you snap a photo, sending it to him with your reply, an obvious yes, before opening the last letter.

letter four ♡˚₊‧⁺˖

‘again, happy valentine’s day my love! i hope you enjoy all the gifts i put out for you. i know what you’re thinking, by the way. you’re mad that i’m spending money on you when it’s my birthday, aren’t you? if i were to tell you i’m sorry, i’d be lying, and that’s just not something i can ever see myself doing to you. more than anything, today is a day of love, and i’d rather celebrate us than make it all about me. my birthday wish is to keep you by my side and love you forever, every inch of you, and it just so happens that the day of love is at the same time. now, may i tell you why i love you so deeply?

we’ve known each other forever, and i’ve seen you grow into a beautiful, beautiful woman, with a wonderful personality that can warm an entire room. your laugh is more beautiful than any song i’ll hear in my life, and your smile is so bright, blinding in a way that makes me never want to look away. i’d let my eyes burn to nothing if it means i can continue to see it. i love the way you carry yourself as well, so thoughtful and considerate to everyone around you. you have so much love and kindness in your heart, and i’m so lucky to be a recipient of it. i’ve learnt so much from you as well, and i’m so grateful for the person you’ve helped shape me into. you’re truly everything i’ve ever wanted and more. i’ll cherish every piece of you that you give me with my whole being, and i promise to never let it go. my love for you is unconditional, and i’ll trace every ridge, scar, or imperfection in your body with nothing but adoration because it’s all perfect in my eyes.

i’ll save the rest of my sentiments for when i can say it out loud, okay? save you some reading. for now, remember that i love you with everything i have. happy valentine’s day, my love, my sweet, my peach.

-your forever only, jaehyun ♡’

his words are so beautiful, and you have to get a paper towel to hold to the corners of your eyes to stop the tears from messing up your makeup. he’s always so shy about things like this, getting flushed in the cheeks and ears at even the most simple words of affirmation. you know he’s a romantic at heart, but it still blows your mind every time you see him take a pen to help convey how he feels. he always lets his true feelings out when he has pen and paper, and it makes you cry without fail every single time. he really knows how to touch your heart, his words so sweet and loving.

you’re busy unboxing everything, a pair of sunglasses and a new bag in your hands, still letting his love letter sink in. you’re so stuck in your own world that you don’t even notice that jaehyun returned until his arms wrap around your stomach, his chest pressing into your back. his lips press against your temple, then your nape, and your eyes flutter shut as your body leans into his.

“happy valentine’s day.” he speaks softly, spinning you around in your barstool so you’re facing him.

your arms reach around his neck, pulling him closer so you can leave a sweet kiss on his lips. “thank you, baby.” you give him another one, “and happy birthday to you.”

he thanks you, pulling you flush to his body. you stay there, encased in his strong arms for what could be forever, you don’t know nor do you care, because it’s warm, safe, and comfortable. his head rests on top of yours, one hand gliding up and down the side of your body, the other on the back of your head. he’ll kiss your crown a few times, soaking in your scent, before pulling away.

your hands are intertwined, resting in your lap. “now that we’ve celebrated us, can it be your turn now?” you smile up at him, and his face is full of love.

his cheeks turn rosy, and he nods. you’re immediately up and out of your seat, shuffling your way into your bedroom where you pull out a birthday themed gift bag and box, followed by a valentine’s day basket. he opens them, overjoyed to see a photo album with a collective of polaroids from the past year, along with a new vinyl for his collection. the basket has a bunch of candies and small trinkets, along with a stuffed animal of the animal you’ve always said represents you. his smile reaches his ears as he looks through all his gifts, and a billion kisses are left all over your face as a thank you.

even more happiness fills his eyes when you take his cake out of the fridge, lighting the silly cartoon candles and singing to him. when you finish, he’s very thoughtful as he blows the candles out. you share it together, small enough to have in one sitting before putting all your new items away to finally head out for the day. he continues to treat you the entire time you guys are out, buying nearly everything you touch and complimenting you for even the littlest things. he has so much love to give to you, and it’s not even because of the holiday, or his birthday. he conveyed it to you many times throughout his letters, that he’s constantly thankful for you and your presence in his life, regardless of the date or who’s being celebrated more. the love continues to show even when you go back home, wrapping up the day, when there’s yet another display on the bed that wasn’t there before, which he lays you down on and continues to give you all the love he has.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖₊˚♡˚

perm taglist: @chenlezip @coquettejunnie

[leyiorr]

i wonder what i look like in your eyes.

gojo ⋮ geto ⋮ sukuna ⋮ toji ⭑ how they see you and what you are to them.

¡! wc: 1.1k

¡! genre: tooth-rotting fluff, awful + contagious cases of lovesick men, you're literally their reason for existence

¡! an: i dropped this on another account but then abandoned it so its being posted here lolz!

☆ - satoru gojo ⋮ a nebula

when it comes to satoru, he's always been alone in his orbit. a level of his own. he's a god among the mortal race; both blessed and cursed to walk the earth. he's his own galaxy - the brightest and the boldest.

yet his galaxy is unbearably lonely. it's expansive, a cosmic canvas of infinite possibilites. it's an inky black celestial wonder, one that leaves a hollow feeling in his chest.

until he meets you, and you become the only being in existence allowed to orbit with him. you're his nebula, chaotic and disorted yet so effortlessly the most beautiful element of his galaxy.

you blaze in brilliant, radiant light; core searing it's permeant place in the midnight backdrop. you illuminate the space with shades of the deepest indigo and violets, mingled with wisps of turquoise and teal. crimson and oranges are vibrant in your centre.

the colour stretches into the void forming intricate patters, ones he finds himself untangling to better understand you.

in the silence of space, your nebula spoke volumes; comforting him at his worst, lulling his mind into dreamless sleep. your edges are softer, the colours more muted as you bleed into him. no one can tell where you begin and he ends.

you are so so small in comparison to the void, but so unbearably bright that you light it all with practiced ease. he tends to watch in awe as you decorate his solar system; nursing new stars to weave into his soul.

with you there, his universe becomes easier to live in, easier to navigate. you're a cloud of interstellar stardust - held together by the gravitational attraction of satoru's galaxy.

☆ - suguru geto ⋮ the artist

to suguru, you're the best thing that's happened to him. ever.

anyone who sees him with you knows. they know he's infatuated, enamoured. he's so far gone that people often think that he's been blinded by love, but he has simply never felt an emotion so intense.

with you he thinks he truly sees the world in all it's glory, innocent and pure. with you he traverses unpolluted by the atrocities of the world, you who colours his world.

he looks at you like you personally hang the stars in the sky when night rolls around, like you paint the sorbet sunsets by hand. he stares at you adoringly, as if you chose the colour of the sea and dusted white on the peaks of mountains to keep them warm.

he peers at you like you solely gift the flowers with their petals, dipping them in shades you deem beautiful enough. like you create the sand from scratch and lay it in pretty semi-lunar shapes next to the ocean.

he gazes at you like diamonds were invented in tribute to your tears, like you drew the prettiest landscapes alone in the quiet, before the age of humanity.

he studies you like you've sculpted the very shape of his heart - every ventricle and atrium handcrafted with your pretty fingers. as if his very existence was molded by you, hence why you fit so perfectly together; two pieces of a puzzle.

he could stare at you for hours and days on end, eyes full of love for the person who introduces him to a plethora of hues and tones that he imprints on the back of his eyelids when he sleeps.

☆ - ryomen sukuna ⋮ the breath of life

sukuna is not a good person. everybody knows that. he's taken innocent lives, sapping their energy like it's nothing. he's all-powerful; he stands amongst the deities - gods who have the capacity to bend fate to their will.

but after millennia of having everything under his rule, he's gotten bored. he has servants to order as he pleases but nothing they do entertains him. the god of death is bored, embarrassingly so.

until he acquires something known as a significant other, the other half of his soul as the humans say. you're his breath of life, a release of old, stagnant energy. it's as if you breathe vitality into everything you touch, all life forms flocking to you naturally.

you're so much softer than he, touch delicate yet profound, an ethereal caress that lights sparks in his eyes. he tends to linger quietly by your side when you walk in the garden he constructed just for you - though he would never tell you that.

wildflowers are coaxed into bloom with you around, their colours a testament to your nurturing touch. the dew-laden grass basks in your presence, gleaming a shade brighter than before. even the trees seem to gravitate toward you, branches reaching for you as you pass by, their leaves sighing in contentment.

sukuna's convinced the waves follow your pace, each push and pull matches your breathing.

you were the essence of renewal. his world had found it's pulse, it's rhythm, as you dance the unending dance of life in the centre. you sustain his beating heart, so sukuna's oddly content with merely watching.

☆ - toji fushiguro ⋮ a lover

toji sees you as not only a lover, but the lover. the only one he will have in this life and the next. there's no after you. it's a forever kinda thing.

something so simple as the title of 'lover' is so complex for toji, a man who's a veteran assassin, a man who previously had no regard for anyone else.

you're the only person toji promises to protect, to never lie to, to make happy for as long as his heart pumps and his chest rises with each breath. you're a miracle gifted to him by the gods - though he doesn't know what he's done to deserve it.

he's rough around the edges but with your standing as 'lover', you smooth him out.

he subconsciously thinks of you, always worrying for your satefy. you must be a deep ocean of the emotion known as 'passion' because he's willingly drowning, not even looking for shore.

toji looks at you like you're an extension of himself, the other half of him that the deities intended for him to find. he can't remember times before you or imagine a future without you.

he makes a deal of reminding you that you are his, just as he is completely and utterly yours. as his lover you hold his bloody, beating heart in your hands; he knows you'll keep it safe.

he stares at you like you'll disappear; like he's not even sure you actually exist. you love a man like him after all - that's a miracle in itself.

[ryescapades-archived]

congratulations on 1k! i'd like to request for slice one + bakugo katsuki / karasu tabito + sfw + prompt 19 "do that again" ! i love both of them so you can pick whoever :D

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 19 - “do that again.” characters: bakugou katsuki (mha) x gn!reader contents: fluff, established rs, reader is physically smaller, petnames, kats in his timeskip, ticklish!reader ^^ wc ~ 700

a/n: tysm for participating nonnie! first time writing for kats btw yeee (his timeskip appearance did something to me oughggk)

the sound of the door opening catches your attention, and your voice dies down as you swivel your head back to look at the source of interruption.

“oh? is your man back?” a crackly tone comes from the video call you’ve been doing as your friend’s teasing from the other side goes ignored. you spare them a quick look, “yeah, he is. so i’m hanging up now, bye!”

you don’t bother to listen to their complaints as you end the call, letting the screen fade to black before turning back towards the incoming person. a giddy smile grows on your face as you take in his form clad in that tight, dark compression shirt that accentuates all those delicious sinewy muscles of his, “katsuki! didn’t think you’d be back this early.”

your boyfriend doesn’t give you a response as he closes the door behind him, walking towards where you’re standing inside the joined bathroom, door wide open with a row of skincare products sitting back by the sink. you’re in the middle of rubbing some moisturizer on your skin when a pair of sturdy arms snakes around your waist, katsuki’s figure appearing in the mirror in front of you.

“how’s your day, baby?” you greet, fingers drawing the fragrant substance in circles on your cheeks as his head of blonde brushes against you. katsuki rumbles out a hum, “‘s fine. missed your cute ass the whole time, though.” he gruffly says, giving you a little pat on the side of your hips.

you snort slightly, already used to his random touches. “my friend just told me that you’re the biggest sap ever and i couldn't agree more, you know?” you say, throwing him a knowing look in the mirror. “that so?” he mutters back, distracted by the slow and methodical way your hand glides over your own skin.

“mhm,” you affirm, feeling him tighten his hold on you which causes a small grunt to escape from your lips. “you stink, kats.” you jest, scrunching your nose up in a cute way that had him almost squeezing the life out of you from cuteness aggression.

katsuki raises a questioning brow, chin now tucked on your head as his crimson gaze roves over your face. a thought seems to pass over his mind then, his head lowering to bury itself into the crook of your neck before he nuzzles deeper to take in your homely scent. “'m making you stink even more,” he huffs, breath hot against your skin.

“wait, katsuki–” your protest is cut off when you erupt into a fit of giggles instead. “stop that, hahah– it tickles!” you didn’t notice it earlier, but it has been quite a while since he had last shaved, courtesy of the nature of his job. the slight scruff of his stubble bristles on your neck, making you raise your shoulders to push him away from your sensitive skin.

you’re all the more unaware of how his eyes dilate as the gentle sound echoes around the walls, his ears directing towards the lilted tone of your joy. “do that again,” he breathes out quietly, going back to snuggle his face into the junction where your shoulder and neck meet.

you snort, still coming down from that split second of whimsy, “pfft– do what, katsuki?” you turn your head over to look back at him, a look of incredulous passing over your features as you try to read his expression. his vermillion eyes are heavily lidded as he looks down at you, gaze softening and lips tugging up at the corners to form a lopsided smirk.

not even one second later, you’re suddenly spun around and carried up onto the counter which elicits a stunned yelp out of you. he crowds into your space, standing in between your parted thighs as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “come on, sweets. let me hear it.”

“huh? hear what–” katsuki gives you no warning before his hands settle on your waist, giving you no mercy as he tickles you to oblivion.

your laughter now freely spills out, vibrating from your chest to his and resounding through the bathroom as he continues to draw out that delightful melody from your mouth. he can feel himself recharging from that alone, the weight lifting from his shoulders and all that prior fatigue from work quickly disappearing as his head swims in the aftermath of your glee.

fuck yeah, even if he dies right now, it wouldn’t be so bad because he gets to listen to the sweet sound of your happiness before he breathes his last.

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[catcze]

#WRIOTHESLEY — Have I told you how good you look? wc: 0.4 fluff, kisses, potentially suggestive but idk up to you, Wrio being so in love ! — Can't have you thinking that I'm anything less than head over heels for you.

It’s Nov 23 for me so!! Happy birthday Wriothesley <3 Thanks for being the sole reason I unarchived the blog before, and for being the reason i kept playing genshin 🩷

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

Wriothesley kisses you like a man starved, with his hands in your hair and his body against yours, pressing you into the plush of the bed— as if he can't get enough of you.

"Wrio—" You try with a giggle when you manage to get a breath, only for him to pounce on you once more, drinking the very breath from your lungs and savoring in the taste of your kiss. "Wrio!"

Finally, finally, he draws away just a hair. It's barely any distance, really. He's still close enough that his breath tickles your lashes, and the smoldering heat in his eyes is plain as day.

When he speaks, his voice is low and raspy, and the beginnings of a blush mar his cheeks. "Yes, sweetheart?" Wriothesley asks, and oh, those two words travel through you, making you shake.

The hold this man has on you— to make you react in such a way to just his voice. Unfair, really.

"What's gotten into you?" Your voice is breathless. Your lips a kiss-swollen smile and your chest heaving as you try to regain your breath. When Wriothesley takes too long to respond, enamored and enraptured and utterly besotted, you sneak a hand up to cup his cheek. Immediately, he melts into your touch.

"Just thought you look really good today. Have I told you how good you look?"

You roll your eyes. "You have. Probably a whole hundred times by now."

A wide, boyish grin graces his face and his eyes light up like stars when they look at you. "Just a hundred? Damn, I should really step up my game. Can't have anyone thinking I don't appreciate the amazing, show-stopping, breathtaking love of my—"

You push at his chest, blowing a raspberry, and cringing bad at how fucking corny this dweeb is. You can't believe that this lovesick sap is the guy you fell in love with (but at the same time, you can't imagine falling for anyone else.)

"Shut up, oh my goodness. You're awful! Just... go back to kissing me again or something."

And Wriothesley laughs, rich and quick, but it still has your heart stuttering. His face comes close, nose brushing yours and his eyes trained on the curve of your lips. His lips pull up in a satisfied smile.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

[rninies]

✮ lockscreen

౨ৎ veritas ratio x reader. fluff pure fluff, gn!reader, modern!au, ratio kinda shy ngl — wc: 348

notes. i love veritas sm

“am i your lock screen?”

“what?”

“am i on your lock screen?” you asked once more, leaning closer to veritas. he instinctively leaned back, hiding his phone behind his back. “what? why are you hiding your phone from me?”

veritas clears his throat, straightening his back. he pushes you using his free hand, phone still behind his back. “nothing. i’m not hiding anything.”

“you liar!” you exclaimed, crossing your hands over your chest. “i can’t believe you. i put you- well us, on my lock screen and you don’t? do you not love me?” you asked dramatically, placing a hand over your heart.

“stop, don’t be dramatic.” veritas scowls. “you’ll live. not being my wallpaper doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world.”

you gasped. “don’t say that! what if i suddenly disappear one day and your wallpaper is the only thing that reminds you of me? what if all the photos in your gallery suddenly vanished and your wallpaper is the only one in there?”

veritas' lips twitched. “you’re being ridiculous. none of that will ever happen.”

“remember that one time your phone suddenly switched off by itself and won’t turn on anymore?” you start picking your nails, ignoring the way veritas' face changed. “and all your photos and data disappeared?”

veritas sighs. “do you really need to see my lock screen that bad?”

“yes!” you stretched your hand out, patiently waiting for rin to place his phone on your hand. instead of doing that, he holds his phone before you, clicking the power button so it turns on.

his lock screen is a picture of you on one of your first dates with him. it was in an amusement park and you were wearing one of the headbands they were selling there. it’s a blurry picture of you since you were moving in that picture, but you can faintly see the smile on your face, remembering how happy you were when the date happened.

“aw, veritas! i didn’t know you were such a sap! do you love me that much?” you teased.

“shut up, y/n.”

[badslittlemuffin]

Katsuki x reader where they find out shes pregnant? OR Katsuki x reader where reader is moving in to his apartment for the first time? OR Katsuki x reader where he meets readers parents fir the first time?

A few scenarios for you to have fun with!

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST!!

bro i lowkey love all of these sm I wanna do em all ughhhh i wanna write em ALL but i think im going to go with the first one (if you make a request again with any of the others I will do it)

agedup!katsuki x reader, you and katsuki are like mid to late 20's, establish relationship (married), fluff galore, angst if you squint, katsuki being a sap, maybe a little ooc? but who cares

wc: 810

The sound of the front door opening snapped you out of your trance.

You stood nervously from your place on your and Katsuki's shared bed, making your way into the kitchen of your house. There stood Katsuki, his shoulders tense from the long day as he pulled off his boots and gauntlets—his hero suit covered in grime and soot.

His jaw was set, a deep scowl on his face as he ran his hands through his hair that stuck to his forehead. His eyes flickered up, meeting your anxious gaze. His face immediately softened, a small grin making its way to his face. He trudges over, his large hands finding their way to your hips as he pulls you close. "Hey, sweets..." He murmured, his head dipping down to press a gentle kiss to your head.

Your apprehensive demeanor must be obvious because he pulls back, his vermilion red eyes full of concern and confusion, meeting yours. His rough hand cups your cheek, "What's wrong, baby...?" he speaks quietly, his hand on your hip rubbing slow soothing circles. Your breath hitches as you look up nervously at the man.

"My...my period is late..." You whisper, looking away. He nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. "Have you taken a test...?" You nod quickly, your eyes meeting once more. "I haven't looked at it yet—was too nervous." His smile is tentative, his head moving to press another kiss to your forehead, but his lips stay there, the small stubble on his chin scratching your skin.

"How 'bout we go look together...?" He mumbles against your skin, his head dipping to meet your eyes. You take a deep, stuttering breath, your nod hesitant. He smiles slowly, his hand dropping from your cheek, interlacing your fingers. He tugs you gently back into the bathroom, his eyes falling to the test you had left lying facedown on the counter.

Katsuki's eyes drag back to you, his rough hands moving to your hips, lifting you up onto the counter with ease. You yelp, a small grin making its way onto your face. He smirks, resting his hands on your bare thighs, leaning in close, his breath fanning over your face, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your hands fiddle nervously with the string on your shorts as he grabs the test, his gaze still stuck on you.

"Want me to look first?" He grumbles, his voice deep and gruff. You nod hesitantly, looking away. He flips the test over, his breath hitching quietly. He grins, his free hand on your thigh, squeezing lightly. "You can look, sweets..." Your eyes fall back to him, slowly looking down at the test. Your breath hitched.

Two lines.

A million different emotions crash into you like a tidal wave—the most prominent one, joy. So much joy, almost overwhelming. You laugh breathlessly, a giant grin on your face as tears begin to fall down your cheeks. Your hands fly around his neck, holding him tight as you cry into his neck. He laughs quietly at your reaction, his hands wrapping around the small of your back, his head finding its way to the crook of your neck, his spikey blonde hair tickling your neck.

"We're gonna have a baby." You breathe out, grinning like a madwoman. He smiles, a genuine, wide smile. He pulls back slightly, "You're gonna be such a wonderful mom, baby..." His rough hands rub at your waist, but his words and tone are anything but. He presses his body close to yours, his lips engulfing yours. You melt in his arms, still smiling into the kiss.

Katsuki didn't outright say it, but you could feel it in his actions—he was overjoyed as well. He never told you, but the moment he had gotten his hands on you, the only thought ringing through his head was this day. The day he would get to see you as a mom. It was an emotion he had never felt before, but it made him feel so giddy inside, almost like he was a little kid again watching All Might fight.

Maybe that was a little cliche, but in that moment, he couldn't find it in himself to care. You were going to be a mom. He was going to be a dad. The thought both terrified and excited him. He knew there would be challenges you both would have to face, but you had both done it before, and you would do it again.

He pulled back, a goofy grin on his face as he looked at you adoringly, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing little circles on your abdomen. "And you're gonna be a wonderful dad, Katsuki." You smiled lazily, your head tipping back as you looked at him.

This was a feeling better than winning any battle or war, and he relished in it.

i absolutly suck at writing in the you/your pov cuz I usually write in first person, so if you see any I's or my's please point it out ripp

this was SO FUN to write UGHH I am such a sucker for sappy katsuki. anyways I hope you enjoyed reading this!!

[snailpebbles]

matters of the heart

chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader

summary: a three of hearts game revolving around secrets. not ideal for a secret relationship.

wc: 2k ish

tags: angst/fluff, some hurt some comfort, established relationship (yall are married), secret relationship, sorry i'm a sap and haven't written in ages :/

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Nobody knew you two were dating. It was better this way in both of your opinions! The Borderland is dangerous to all and doesn’t discriminate on who lives and who dies, a lesson you learned quickly. 

Chishiya is a private man, in and out of the Borderlands; as his wife, you know this. What is not widely known, ie. by nobody at all, is your relationship. Somehow the general consensus is that you despise one another all because your husband is a bit more teasing to you than anyone else. Neither of you try to refute these claims for many reasons: there can be no one using the other against you, Kuina, and the monstrosity that is the military (Niragi). To many this level of privacy and secrecy would strain the relationship, but not you. It took literally five years for you to even mention Chishiya to your family. 

They were not pleased, to say the least.

Leading into your current predicament, let us set the scene. Your visas are about to run out, so you both go out on the next run and by happenstance end up on the same team. With the way Chishiyas shoulders relax slightly, you know that being able to protect you is a relief to him. There have been far too many close calls and unknowns. Climbing into the car with the honestly obnoxious bunch, you both make the realization that oh! Tatta is here too! The pinkie that crept toward yours stays in place once remembering that the aforementioned boy has the observation skills of a dead duck.

The game, a level three hearts, is the one type Chishiya never wants to be playing with you at his side. Fuck. The concept is relatively simple and, if played correctly, could result in no death! Great, right? The objective is to tell who's a liar and who isn’t. Each player tells a secret or memory and the others cast their vote on whether it’s a truth or a lie. The option with the most votes is chosen. What’s the problem then? There is one player chosen secretly as a trickster whose goal is to get a unanimous incorrect vote - a truth is voted as a lie or vice versa. If this is managed, all the other players die. If it isn’t then the trickster will die instead.

The three of you walk into the old classroom and sit down at the desks arranged in a circle, all facing one another. Tatta is a nervous wreck but you quietly talk to him about random things, an effective distraction. If a small smile graces Chishiya’s face…well that’s no one's business. The other five players worry you - cocky young boys with quick tempers and two nervous wrecks. Lovely. The rules are explained and your heart rate ticks up, silently matching Chishiyas even as his body language says otherwise. 

“Player three, start!” The young boy with no eyebrows steps up to the podium and a timer of two minutes counts down. You pay attention to his tapping fingers, breathing, and where his eyes go. Being with Chishiya for as long as you have has certainly taught you some things. 

“Uhm..one time I uh, kissed a fish.” The snort that comes from Tatta almost gets you, but you cool your face. Hands tap a button and the counts tally in - unanimous truths. The alarm bells go off and your palms grow sweaty even though you’re confident that this weirdo did kiss a fish. His burning ears made it obvious. Your husband's dark eyes glance at you, the deep color so familiar that it’s calming. The slight nod of his head soothes any worry you had. The screen lights up green - all clear! The boy sits back down and another with a…tasteful mullet, takes his place. 

“I’m allergic to oranges.” He deadpans, fingers still and skin unchanging. Shit. The blond beside you watches his peripheral, decides he doesn’t like seeing the nervousness on your face, - at least not in this context - and tilts his tablet screen just enough for you to see ‘lie’ highlighted. The trust you have is unmatched so you don’t hesitate to choose. Tatta taps your shoulder and based on his sweaty brow, needs help. You share your choice much to the chagrin of the group across you. 

“You can’t do that!” Fish-kisser complains to which you recite the rules. Never once is it mentioned you can’t share answers so he pipes down real quick. Reality is brought back to you when the screen lights up red - fail. The rules never stated what happens when the player tricks the majority of you. The thought is sobering and you nervously look at Chishiya, only to see his eyes already on you. A tick mark appears in the corner of the screen and text flashes stating, “if the guessers fail three times, one randomized player will be disqualified!” The cheerful voice does not match the deadly rules, nor does it pair with the fear that flashes within Chishiya’s eyes. Already he was planning ways to get the both of you out of this unscathed, but now he has to factor in other peoples idiocy and randomization? A pinky finds yours and you hold on tight.

The next person steps up to the podium and is caught in a lie, ‘clear’ soothing the staccato of your heart. This trend follows for the next two boys and you expect the same for Chishiya, your curiosity that initially drew him to you in the first place making a show towards what he might say. His relaxed form stands at the podium, both mysterious and gloating with how his eyes ghost over each player.

“My hair is dyed.” Ah. He’s playing it safe. The more obvious the answer, the faster he can get you to safety and back in his arms - fail!

What?

The three boys across from you are laughing, laughing, as if they haven’t royally fucked up. Before you can stop yourself, you’re speaking up.

“What the actual fuck are you thinking?” While your voice may sound level, internally you’re having to restrain yourself from throttling someone. A white coat fills your peripherals and for a moment you’re tossed back to the days of visiting Chishiya on his lunch break, soft touches and pastries eaten in amicable silence in the garden. Truth comes back to you when his pinkie relinks with yours and Tatta begins to panic beside you, the two tally marks seeming to take up the entire screen.

“We wanna get outta here faster, so we might as well just get disqualified.” Mullet shrugs. The fact that they’re new is even more infuriating. Your eyes squeeze shut so you don’t snap at them, but Tatta has you covered.

“No you- you don’t want to be disqualified. Just play the game.” His voice is higher than normal, giving away his stress. Your tablet flashes at you, reminding you that it’s your turn now. The walk to the podium is heavy on your shoulders but your eyes meet Chishiyas and stay there, imagination offering escape in the memory of lazy mornings in filtered sunlight. The three boys totally ignore Tatta in the time it takes you to reach the podium.

“I’m married.” Tatta chokes on his spit and Chishiya looks the smallest bit surprised at your secret as if he isn’t the one you’ve devoted your being to. To emphasize the truth to this, you take the simplistic ring - a metal band with a beautiful pearl in the center - out of your pocket and slide it on your left ring finger. There was the slightest tan line that is now covered and the ring fits perfectly, the nights Chishiya spent secretly measuring your sleeping figures hand definitely having paid off. The proud smile on your face doesn’t hurt either as you can never seem to hide the joy of being connected to another person. It’s something Chishiya deeply admires and will whisper to you when he thinks you’re fast asleep in his arms. All in all, the truth option is the only one.

Therefore, when the screen flashes red and a tally is added beside the ‘fail’ text, your surprise is palpable. Tatta only manages a squeak of fear and the two random people look physically ill, Chishiya’s face a blank slate and the group of three laughing annoyingly at everyones reactions. The results make no sense until one of the ill people starts rapidly apologizing, having believed you to be the trickster and convincing their partner of the same. The three boys find it hilarious.

You don’t even notice your trembling until Chishiya is sitting you back down in your seat and his hand is gently rubbing your back, murmured instructions to follow his breathing being subconsciously followed. The apologies fall deaf on your ears. A faint hum fills them instead and now the urge to speak to Chishiya, your one love, is overwhelming. 

“I love you.” The truth is whispered only to the man across from you and the reciprocation meets your ears just as fast, but lacks the resignation in your tone. The gears in Chishiya’s mind are turning rapidly as the buzzing hum grows louder and the chance of your death seems larger than it mathematically is. The three boys laugh and Tatta panics and the ill people vomit, at least until Mullet has a smoking hole between his eyes.

Tatta gets up to the podium and says some obvious lie,  ‘clear’ flashing across the screen and the card collected.

You’ve calmed down at this point but your pinkie holding has escalated to holding his hand, your free hand even wrapping around his bicep. Chishiya only holds on tight so his heart will calm back down and he can regain control. He tells himself over and over that you’re okay, but the level of stress is the exact same as when he got the call of you in a car crash. Tatta has the tact of wonder-bread and the timing of gold. 

“Are you two married…?” He asks on the ride back, filling the stark silence now that one new guy is gone and his two friends will return to Beach much less eager to play. Both of you nod at the same time, fingers staying laced together even as you walk into Beach and past Kuina. She does a quadruple take and almost tackles Tatta, knowing that getting information from either of you would be like pulling teeth. As you pad up the steps to your room, neither of you miss the muffled screech of “Married?!” and the following thump of someone fainting. 

You shower together and fall asleep together, wrapped up in the other with hands pressed on pulse points and lips imprinting promises into the skin.

Sunlight streams in through the curtains and your eyes blink blearily, meeting Chishiyas focused ones where you lay curled up side by side. He looks borderline angelic, easily worth the devotion, in the morning light. Your eyes trail over the familiar lips of his face and curves of his torso, stopping where your arm is curled around that unfairly slim waist. You know you have bedhead and probably look as tired as you feel, but with the way his eyes stare so reverently, you could be convinced that you’re an angel worthy of devotion too. 

If a chair is kept under the door handle and a married pair stays in their room all day, that’s no one's business but your own. If vows are renewed after facing death, those promises will stay yours. If Kuina and Tatta spend that day gossiping with just about everyone…well that is everyone's business. Ann can only listen in mild amusement because she’s known - it was obvious when the only time she’s seen Chishiya truly smile was at you.

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a/n: hi I'm alive and while I'm not really in the aib fandom anymore, I saw a picture of chishiya and immediately went back to being down bad! so! here you go!

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- This is a VERY angsty, please do NOT READ if you want the Geto (alt ending) this is how it was always supposed to go but I will have the happy version in a couple days. Heavy angst, reader is injured, mentions of pregnancy, reader has a baby, bittersweet and emotional, explicit sex (not with Geto) oral (f receiving) and longing/yearning. I cried 10 times so be aware lol WC this part- 7.7k

This version is does NOT END Sugu/Reader- the alt ending will! This is a Gojo/reader/ambiguous end. SKIP IT if you want the Geto end.

<<<Part Four - Playlist - Masterlist - Happy ending/alt end

Sad asf /Baby it's NO Good Ending

Satoru lifts you up into his arms effortlessly, tired students and sorcerers retreat tentatively, Suguru’s curses dissolve as if they weren’t there, all while your unconscious body lolls in Satoru’s arms. Suguru is speaking to his cult quickly, ordering them to stop and retreat for now, while Satoru waits, staring at your face now, looking so oddly peaceful for what happened.

Satoru had a feeling this would happen, and he hates himself for knowing it and bringing you anyway, but you were okay with it - willing even - to save everyone, he admires it about a girl he hardly knows. To put yourself and a baby in danger to reach out to Suguru, it shows just who you are, it’s easy to see how much Suguru has fallen, when Satoru never thought he would.

Suguru finally walks up, glaring at Satoru’s hold with eyes gone black, swiping blood off his cheek as he walks toward him now. “I can carry my wife.”

“You’ve really done such a great job taking care of her so far. I’ll carry her, I don’t trust you not to disappear and Shoko is the only one I trust helping her.”

“Tch, you think I don’t even want to help her?”

“Why? You left her.” Suguru snatches you up, and you hang so limply he feels sick, sighing in anguish as he looks at your listless body. “Now.”

Suguru never thought he’d listen to Satoru, but he does, following him now into Shoko’s medical set up, her brows raise as she sees Suguru for the first time in almost nine years, he notices how exhausted she is, all of the fun energy he remembers sapped away. He falters a moment, before carrying you inside, Satoru shuts the heavy door with an echoing bang.

“What’s happened?” Suguru delicately lays your unconscious frame, as Shoko sets to feeling your pulse.

“Energy blast from… one of my men.” Suguru gulps down it all, the fact that it’s even worse, that you were hurt by one of his by mistake.

He wants to kill that man right now.

“She’s pregnant.” Satoru mentions, as if it were so casual, and Shoko sighs now, nodding.

“Can’t be far along, she’s not showing.”

“Five weeks.” Suguru answers, quietly, as Shoko raises her hands now, and shuts her eyes, dark hair falling a bit over her shoulders.

“I can’t guarantee it will be okay, but I can save her.” Suguru’s heart shatters at her words, looking as the reverse curse technique starts working over you with the incandescent light.

“It’s all your fault. Why’d you fucking bring her here!?” Suguru walks up to Satoru now, smacking a hand as he brushes your hair a bit off your sleeping face, earning a glare behind white bandages.

“She asked to come.”

Suguru pauses. Are you that reckless?

“I told her no at first, but I thought she’d be the only thing to bring you to any of your fucking senses, have you stop killing my students, our friends.”

“I don’t have any fucking friends.”

Shoko scoffs, eyeing him with tired eyes now. “You did.”

“It’s not you all I wanted to eliminate, you simply chose to defend them, the weak, pathetic…” He can’t say it anymore, what he called them, what he called you.

“Weren’t you the one who said it’s our job to protect the weak?” Satoru’s voice is quiet now, reminding him of just that, the time he felt that way, naive and young.

“You continue to lose all your comrades and friends, Satoru you may be the strongest but it’s not worth it - without them, there are no more curses.”

“It’s not your choice to change how the world is. You’ve gone so far, the only person I’ve ever seen you love since you… changed… is here.” Satoru’s words nearly make him fall over with the pain, the grief, looking at your still unconscious body, as Shoko focuses harder.

“Please just save her.” He whispers now, and Satoru slips off his blindfold completely, blue eyes seeing right through him.

“You did this. If she doesn’t make it, it’s because of you.”

“I fucking know that!” Suguru shoves Satoru now, which merely earns a tired, sad little smile, while he grips his wrist before he lets Suguru strike him. “I know it, okay? I don’t even… fucking deserve her. I know it.” He’s close to tears as he shoves off Satoru, covering his face before he looks back at you.

It’s gone too far, god it’s all gone too far, hasn’t it?

How can he live with himself after what he’s done to you. He places a hand on yours, you don’t grip it how could you, limp and weak fingers, exhausted face growing just a little brighter. You’re exhausted from him, from the stress - god he left you in his bed, alone, naked and gleaming from your lovemaking.

Love making, it was love making.

You were his everything, and not once did he let you get treated or shown that way, what was just one time of worshipping your body when he didn’t worship or appreciate your soul? Your mind, your wishes, he barely knew you truly - he never gave you a chance to listen.

He hates himself.

He was going to kill them all, for a better world, but to lose the only important thing to him, in a room with two people who loved him?

What has he done?

“It’s not working.” He says then, worried as Shoko sighs, shaking her head.

“I need more time with her, her body is already in a rough state.”

“What rough state!?”

“She has a weak will, and she needs to have some will to make it through this.”

A weak will, because of him, he fucking knows it too- it’s all him that did this, that caused it, he wants to blame Satoru for putting you in danger, but it’s ultimately his fault. You begged him to stay despite having been forced into this, despite the horrible things he said and did to you, despite it all you still asked him. You still tried to break through, almost meeting your end.

You awaken suddenly with a gasp, sitting up, staring at an unfamiliar but pretty face of a woman in scrubs, a stethoscope around her neck. She smiles gently, you feel two men’s hands on you, Satoru��s holding one hand, Suguru the other, both staring up at you now.

“I’m sorry I put you in harm.” Satoru’s words are full of remorse, one of his eyes staring up at you, glimmering. “It was the only way but…”

“It’s okay. I chose to, it was the right thing.” He exhales in relief, as you look to Suguru now, torn between anger, relief and fear. “Suguru…”

“I ended the battle.” It’s all relief now, as you clutch him tightly, and all the love in your eyes makes him even more sick, how could you love him?

“It worked.”

“It was foolish, reckless-”

“You are not about to lecture her right now on being reckless.” Suguru scowls at Satoru’s words.

“Let’s talk while Shoko checks her out.” Suguru’s words are surprisingly soft, a way you’ve only heard a couple times, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Satoru and Suguru walk to the other end of the enormous room, footsteps echoing while Shoko murmurs softly. “I’m Ieri.”

“Thank you for… saving me, Ieri.” Your own quiet name makes her smile a bit, as she looks at Satoru and Suguru. “They were your friends, weren’t they?”

“Hmm, I guess they were. Let me check this heart rate, okay?” You nod, eyeing the two quiet men, as your disoriented mind and sore body process what happened.

“I know you owe me no favors, Satoru… but can I ask for one?” Satoru frowns now, leaning against the wall, as you sit up with Shoko’s help and speak quietly.

“You stopped the attack, if you’re willing to give this up, I’ll do you any favor.” He says, making Suguru sigh.

He doesn’t deserve you.

He doesn’t deserve Satoru.

He deserves no happiness for what he’s done, the horror in your eyes, the fear of the unknown, the baby just barely growing that surely would not survive with him near you. You look at him across the room, with those sad, broken eyes - he’d never made you happy, not once - yet you truly tried. You begged him to fucking stay and what did he do, what did he cause?

“I am taking Mimiko and Nanako far away.” Satoru’s blue eyes widen now.

“And your wife, yes?

“No.”

“Suguru, are you fucking serious, what more does the girl have to do to be with you!? She almost died to save you, not just everyone.” Satoru’s voice is a hushed whisper, eyes narrowed.

“That’s just it, I’m no good for her, or the baby if it… makes it. Chances are with me and how devastated I make her, it won't.”

“Suguru, she will forgive you.” Satoru puts a hand on his former best friend’s shoulder, coated in blood, and Suguru doesn’t shove it off, he takes a breath instead, shaking his head.

“She will, and so will you, but I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve her and I never did.”

“So become the man she needs, you’re not too-”

Suguru laughs harshly, taking Satoru’s hand off now, holding it for a moment, a million memories of their friendship falling as his hand falls. “Both of you make excuses, but I see what I did to her.”

“She’ll be okay, Shoko-”

“She’ll never be okay. Satoru, I have to ask you…”

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking run, seriously!?” Suguru yanks him out of the room, out of your earshot now, Satoru crosses his arms, as the door echoes in the cold empty halls of the abandoned building they’d shielded Shoko in.

“Take care of her.” At Suguru’s broken words, tears feeling once cold eyes, Satoru falters, lips parting. “Take care of the baby if it… makes it.”

He glares, shoving at his old friend, who’s too down to not let him budge with the movement, forlorn look on his face. “You take care of them, become better.”

Suguru shakes his head. “I can’t face her. I can’t face what I’ve done, I need to go. Far, far away.”

“For how long!?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. I know it’s a lot to ask - but I also know I can trust you to take care of her.” Satoru’s furious, not at the thought of taking care of you, but the fact that Suguru is running, that he still even now can’t accept love. “You will take care of her better than I could.”

“You think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. She chose to come here, can’t you give her a chance?” Suguru peers through the door window, the thick pane of glass, sighing and touching it longingly, while Shoko checks your vitals.

“Please, for the friendship we had, take care of her. The girl I love.” Satoru’s own emotions make his throat close, while Suguru realizes just how deeply he loves you, more than he even could admit. But he didn’t choose you, no matter how deeply you begged him to, no he left you alone in that bed.

He can’t forgive himself for it.

He is not sure he cares about any other casualties, he wishes he did care more for that - he still sees humans as pests, he does not share Satoru’s view and maybe never will. But you so clearly need him to, and he realizes he’s too far in his own hatred still, you were that exception, that bright spot. You were the one regret he now holds, and he knows he loves you enough to let you go.

“Please look after her for me, Satoru.”

“Jesus christ, Suguru.” He swipes a hand through his long white hair, looking at you in that room, sighing. “Of course I will take care of her and the baby. But it should not be me.”

“Thank you.” Suguru puts his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, and for a moment Satoru sees him - the best friend he ever had, making what he thinks is the best decision for a girl he loves. He loves and feels, still deep down, and something breaks Satoru down then. “I went too far.”

He scoffs at that, sighing. “Understatement of the century. I will not tell her goodbye for you, though. You need to at least explain your stupid decision.”

Satoru walks back into the room, looking down at you now, you’re weak but alive, and he still senses two energies with his powerful six eyes. He gently holds out his hands, and you take them, using his help to stand, shaky now. “Are you feeling okay, sweets?”

“I’m okay.” You nod a smile just a bit, turning to Shoko. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. We’ll… give you two a moment.” She reads the room clearly, Satoru and Shoko have known each other so long it really just takes a look.

You watch curiously as they walk out, and Suguru has tears in his violet eyes, something you never thought you’d see, his face so serious and sullen it makes you panic. “Did they say the baby-”

“No, no, for now it all looks fine. Shh.” He pulls you against his strong chest, and you fall apart, sobbing now, shaking your head and shoving at him. “I know.”

“You know!? You know? You left me. You chose this over me.” You pull back, furious, chest heaving with the quickness of your breaths, your own cheeks covered in your tears now.

“I did. And that’s why I’m no good for you.”

You pause now, gasping. “What!?”

“It was selfish, so selfish not to let you run when you wanted to.” You’re shaking as he cups your face, thumb tracing your cheek, brushing aside the onslaught of tears, exhaling and leaning low. “I almost killed you.”

“You didn’t almost kill me, you almost killed everyone! Suguru, I’m fine.”

“Tch, are you!?” His grip on your waist draws you closer, while your head falls back, and you stare into a monster’s eyes - a monster you love. “Are you fine? You almost died.”

“I chose to come here, you can’t blame Satoru when I begged him to bring me. I had to try to save them, those innocent people!”

“It worked.”

You sigh, shaking further, burying your face against his chest, he’s covered in sweat and grime and blood from the battle, but you don’t care. “Are you done with this foolish effort?”

“I’m done.” You look up in shock, cupping his face now, and he leans so low, until your breaths mingle, hand shaking as it holds you.

“Thank God. Oh Suguru, thank God.” You pull him down for a kiss, full of all the relief in your heart. You’ve saved him, everyone is okay - glimpses of hope and something beautiful fill you with a light you’ve never had. He kisses you back so deeply, exhaling against your lips, deepening it and pulling you so tightly, his hard body enveloping yours.

“I should have told you.” He whispers, pulling back, lips almost against yours, nose brushing against yours.

You gulp, throat dry, in so much fear of what he’s going to say, what he’s going to do. “Told me what?”

“I love you. Fuck I love you, love when you hit me, love when you called me out, love the fire inside you.” His declaration makes your heart shatter, you want to be happy, but you feel it - his apprehension, his fear.

“Suguru…”

“I love you and don't deserve you.”

You glare now. “Don’t you do this, don’t you run.”

“Baby, this is how I can show how much I love you.” He cups your face with two big hands and long fingers, you’re glaring through your tears, gripping his wrists.

“Don’t you dare.” You whisper, teeth clenched, you feel it then, you feel him pushing you away, when he’s just close enough.

“Satoru will take care of you both, better than I could, he’ll be good to you-”

“What!? You’re shoving me off on your fucking friend?” You shove at his chest now, but he doesn’t budge, even as you smack at it, he doesn’t move, doesn’t let go of his grip. “If you love me you’ll run away with me, we can start over.”

The desperation in your voice tempts him to no end, god he’d love it, but he knows how much you’d suffer, always. “I am leaving, starting over.”

“Not with me?” Your hurt pours through every word, and Suguru wants to bring you, god he does, but he knows it so clearly - he could never make you happy.

“You’ll be better off this way. You and the baby.”

“Bullshit, it’s such bullshit Suguru!”

“It’s the truth, I love you enough to finally do this.” He brushes your hair back tenderly, you smack his hand scowling up at him.

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to abandon me after not choosing me - just to not choose me again!”

“It’s not that,” your sobs wrack your body, as he steps back, brushing back his tangled dark locks. “I am choosing your happiness.”

“Why can’t it be with you?” Your broken whisper makes his heart break, but he loves you so much, he just knows.

This is right.

“I can’t look you in those beautiful eyes and know what pain I caused, I can’t have you looking at the monster I am.”

“You’re my fucking monster, okay? Mine!” You shove him again, he just sighs, defeated. “I love you Suguru Geto. I do, despite it all, despite how completely fucked in the brain you were, I love you dammit. You can’t just leave me now, like I’m some damn pet you can’t take care of. I love-”

He’s slammed his lips again, desperate and hungry, and you fall into him, as his kisses grow more and more ardent, pulling back just to take a breath, hand slipping up your spine. The contact alone makes you shiver, tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, so much emotion in this one kiss you wish it would last forever, fingers clinging to the silk of his robes.

“Don’t do this. I can only forgive so much.” He sighs at that, as you’re sniffling, eyes fucking burning.

“You’ll thank me one day, if we meet again - how happy you’ll be without me.” He breaks away then, as you crumble, holding your stomach while the sobs seem fucking endless.

“Don’t leave me, please, not again, I can’t take it.” He looks back at you as he stands by that door, pulled between being selfish and selfless.

But only for a moment.

“I’ll love you till I take my last breath. You’re not just human, you are the most special thing that’s existed.” You collapse to the floor while he walks out, the world collapsing around you, the hope you had for just a moment crushed.

He will never choose you.

“Suguru go the fuck back in there, stop feeling sorry for yourself, what are you doing to that girl?” Satoru shoves at him then, but Suguru knows it, he can’t live with himself let alone be with you, cause you pain, ruin you further.

“A moment of pain in order to be free of me. She thinks she’s in love with me now, but it’s because of her being trapped. She just thinks she does, but I don’t deserve it, not worthy of it.”

“You don’t think you deserve it, so earn it. Just stop this bullshit.” 

“Satoru, thank you for not… giving up. But I can’t live with what I did, seeing it in her eyes every day. Please, just care for her.” Satoru glares and crosses his arms.

“Running away. You’re just running away.”

“Good bye, Satoru.” Suguru is gone, just like that, leaving Satoru to punch the wall in anger, and of course it starts crumbling with his strength, you gasp out in shock at the sound and he curses, resting his head for a moment.

He almost had his best friend back.

He walks in to see you so small and helpless in the big room on the floor, holding yourself in a hug, devastating to look at, when your eyes meet his. Satoru walks up to you then, sitting right on the ground, his legs crossed, brushing his fingers comfortingly against your shoulder. You’re shaking so badly, skin hot to the touch, he can even hear how fast your heart was.

“Sit up, sweetheart.” You do it with his help, you feel weak and devastated beyond repair, while he pulls you against his chest, holding you to him, letting you cry against his dark jacket, rubbing your back up and down.

“You don’t have to take care of me, S-satoru okay, I c-can do it alone. I have family that may understand-”

“No.” His word is firm, precise, you tilt your head up and look into brilliant blue eyes, lips pressed together. “I promised him and I won’t break it.”

“I’ll just be some burden to you. It’s bullshit, him leaving, bullshit.”

“Yeah. I know. But I will take care of you. Okay?” You shake your head, sniffling now. “I will.”

“I believe you, but how could he? After… I told him I loved him.” Satoru tenderly brushes your cheek, swiping some of your tears.

“He doesn’t believe he deserves it from either of us.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Satoru sighs.

“I don’t know. But for now, come on.” He stands carefully, picking your still weak body in his arms.

“I can walk.”

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you?” Your lips barely twitch, as you hold onto his neck.

“I guess so. I’m sorry you’re just stuck with-”

“Shh, it’s fine. Let’s get you somewhere you can rest.”

*****

One year later

You lay your little girl Noa down in her crib for the night, smiling as you touch her precious cheek, and Satoru leans in the doorway, smiling at the two of you. Her dark locks resemble her father, but aside from that she’s a spitting image of you. You look up at Satoru as you put a finger to your lips, signaling for him to be quiet, and he crooks his two fingers, asking you to come out.

“You can have a little wine now, she’s on formula mostly now, right?” He murmurs, as he takes your hand in his, and you pause - because it feels too good lately. God, he looks too good, after a year of living with him, having him hold you, hold your baby.

Satoru was literally her father, he helped you constantly, and you never paid for a thing, despite your frequent protests. Satoru went above and beyond anything you assumed when he promised Suguru that day - and the two of you have never talked to him since. The last Satoru found out, he moved to another country with the two girls, and the rest of the cult silently disbanded.

You miss Suguru every day, but Satoru slowly fills the void, the huge black hole he left when he abandoned you that day, and though you’ll always love Suguru Geto, as well Satoru, clearly, you also feel more and more for the man taking care of you. Even though you’ve fought it, for months after the baby it changed, how attractive you find him, hating yourself for it.

How can you pine away for a man never coming back?

But how can you move on after a love like that?

But you don’t realize Satoru can’t stop craving you, aching for you - also feeling fucking horrible. Suguru asked him to take care of you, and it was like he knew he would also grow to love you, but for different reasons than Suguru. He loves how funny, sarcastic and sweet you are. He loves how much you adore your little girl, and he loves her too.

He loves how you smile, how your cheeks get warm when he presses a friendly kiss on them, how the lights hit your pretty face. How sweet your scent is, how easy it is to be with you. Cooking together, taking care of Noa, just existing, you bring peace he didn’t know existed, as Satoru feels like a real home to you.

Satoru can’t imagine not coming home to the two of you, sometimes missions can last weeks, but you’re ready with a perfect meal and his favorite dessert. You’re always so happy when he comes home, hugging him tightly. The two of you hold each other, talking about Suguru at times, and how much you miss him, how much Satoru misses him.

Once last week you were crying, he had you against his chest, tilting your chin up, whispering the sweetest words. You felt all those body changes, the stretch marks, the extra skin, but he told you - ‘you’re gorgeous, okay?’ and you’d faltered, you almost kissed him, if not for your little girl crying.

You both had avoided each other that night after, he’d blushed furiously, as had you, but that was when something shifted, and the need grew more and more. Now looking at your joined hands, longing breaks through, but along with that so much confusion.

Could you be with someone else?

His best friend, that he left you with, did Suguru… expect this? Or would he be devastated, or would he even care? Did he keep tabs on you and the daughter he abandoned - for what he felt were the right reasons - or was it something he shoved far back. At times you were furious at Suguru for it, at times distraught, but sometimes you realize your life has become happy.

“Sorry…” Satoru pulls back now, that pink on his high cheeks again, but you take his hand back, shaking your head.

“I can drink a little wine, I’d enjoy some.” You smile and he exhales in relief, leading you down just one set of his elegant staircase. Satoru lived in a whole mansion honestly. But it still felt homey, it wasn’t like Suguru’s…

Suguru.

You loved him.

He left you.

And the man across from you pouring wine in your glass is beautiful, with his soft sweater and freshly washed hair, tousled just so, blue eyes soft as they study you carefully, you’re falling more, day by day. It’s not the insane madness, the brutal craziness of Suguru, it was something soft and sweet and beautiful.

“Want to watch our show?” He asks, and you nod, taking the glass from his fingers, they softly brush each other, sending trembles through the both of you, while your eyes lock, fingers staying there a moment too long. “Taste it.”

You take a breath, putting the sweet red wine to your lips, moaning at how good it is, a little drop on the corner of your mouth that he swipes away gently. You pause, as he stands there, leaning low, the huge house so quiet, your heart pounding in your chest, blood rushing to your head.

“Sorry.” He says again, clearing his throat, but you set the glass down, stepping up to him, so close, too close. Satoru’s hands ache to touch you, his lips die to touch yours. “Everything okay?”

“No. It’s not.” You sigh, hands slipping up his soft sweater, under that material, touching his bare chest and feeling it tense, a soft growl from his throat, when his hand entangles in your hair then.

“Keep touching me like that, and I will lose it.” His firm words, when he’s usually so sweet, just make you more excited, tummy flipping, clenched with desire.

“Lose what?” You touch him again, and his breath quickens, as he leans even lower, stepping you back, bit by bit, lips so close while you’re being pressed until the back of your knees hit the couch.

“The control. I can’t take you touching me.” He grips your wrists, and you turn him then, pressing him on the couch, straddling him, he gasps, as your own control fades to nothing. “You’re pushing me around, huh?”

“Maybe I am, Toru.” The nickname ruins him, as your lips crash against his, for the first time - and it feels far too good.

You never knew if you’d feel good again, the endless nights of crying for the man that left you, not once but twice, that put so much ahead of you, only to not even choose his baby, his friend, you. But you don’t hold resentment, no you still love that man, the one who ran from you all, but you feel good, Satoru’s lips are perfect, and for once you can let it go.

Just in this moment, let it all go, nothing but how perfect Satoru’s tongue feels against yours, as he’s so gently holding back. You’re grinding on him, earning his throaty moan, soaking wet when you feel his length, god you want him. You can’t stop it anymore, wanting the man who does everything for you and Noa, despite knowing how deeply connected he is to Suguru.

“God, I’ve wanted you,” Satoru’s kissing up your neck, as a hand grips your breast so gently, like he’s scared to hurt you, lips hovering on the shell of your ear now. “Tell me to stop, tell me I’m a bad friend.”

You shake your head, taking a breath. “You’re not, look at how good you take care of…. mmm, us… ah!” He’s nipped your ear with his teeth, moaning as he does, the sound igniting something inside you laid dormant.

“He shouldn’t have asked me.” He pulls back, a serious look on his face. “Now I’ve fallen, and fuck if I can stop if we go any further.”

You cup his face now, arching your hips just so, making him whimper softly, snowy lashes lowered as your heat hits him, rushing across his cock in those sweats now. His hands slip down to them, as he presses kisses on your breasts, swollen just a bit still from the baby, tempting him to no end.

“I’ve only… with him.” He pauses, blinking up at you in surprise, and you feel yourself flustered at admitting it.

“Shit that makes it worse for me to do.”

“It’s not… I… just wanted to tell you. I’m not the most experienced at certain things.” He nods then, swallowing, pressing up and watching your head fall back, making him throb harder with need.

“It’s been a year for me, so it’s been a bit, okay?” You blink in shock.

“You haven’t with…”

“How can I?” You’re kissing him more desperately now, feeling your body respond to every touch, every kiss, every brush.

“Please.” Your whisper ruins Satoru, he’s felt himself lose the will to stop, to rationalize it, but he can’t find rationale with you.

“Then we take it slow for you.” He lifts you off him, laying your back on that couch now, fingers trailing so delicately, it’s not rough, angry, brutal, it’s like he’s softly mapping your body, inch by inch, until he runs them up your thigh, parting them. “But make your decision, sweetheart, I won’t be able to stop.” His desperation is felt with every quick breath of yours, cunt growing slicker.

“I want you, Satoru… I have for… a long time.” He exhales, sliding down your body, sweet kisses on your thighs, thumb pressing your panties, and you cry out, covering your face then.

“She can’t hear you from down here, let go. Feel.” He’s kissing your thighs higher, hungrier as he slips down your shorts, tossing them, lapping at your soaked panties with his tastebuds, while blue eyes look up under hooded lids.

“Satoru!” You’re gripping his hair, so tightly it hurts, while he tastes it, the sweetness he’s been dying to for most of the time you’ve lived here. He fought it, so hard, but how can he not want you? When you look like that, feel like that, taste like this, it’s making him fucking feral, losing his strong control. “Sorry!”

“No, pull it.” He pulls your panties aside, studying your pretty pussy, you shyly almost cover your tummy a bit when he pauses you. “You’re beautiful, you were beautiful pregnant too.”

“Oh I, ah!” He’s parted them now, pressing a kiss to your bare, glistening cunt, and your body relaxes, while his hand covers your tummy.

“I thought it was so sexy pregnant, couldn’t say it.” He shakes his head, while tears of emotion and desire fill, he makes you feel so beautiful, so desired then.

The only time Suguru had done that was the last time.

One last time.

It feels so far away, so different, but you feel it in your heart - you love Satoru, you still love Suguru - fuck, Satoru loves Suguru still. But you both have to finally let him go, just a bit, and together you both do, as he’s delving into your slick, gummy walls with his long, talented tongue, all while studying you, so careful, watching every movement of your body.

There are no ‘i hate yous’ and there is no anger.

You just want him, and want him so badly.

You hate yourself for it, but at the same time, you deserve to feel loved, to feel happy, devoted as Satoru worships you, freely. He’s flicking his tongue on your clit in quick, sure flicks, as his long fingers sink in your eager cunt, hitting your g spot with just enough pressure you feel your orgasm taking you over.

“Satoru, oh my god I’m…”

“Cum, let me sip you sweetheart, that’s it.” He encourages softly, and you do, gushing all over his pretty face, he kisses you then, your taste swathed on his lips, desperate as you slip off his pants, stroking his thick, long cock, watching him whine over you. “Are you still sure?” He asks once more, tip against your entrance.

“I want this.” He exhales in relief, a hand entwining with yours as he sinks inside of you, no pain just a delicious fucking stretch, that has you screaming out, so loud he kisses you.

“Maybe not that loud, hmm?” He smirks, and you giggle - fuck you giggle all the time with him, don’t you? A far cry from the sad, depressed girl you were.

“Sorry, f-feels s’good…” He moans now, feeling your walls grip his cock, and he can’t take it, shoving your thighs up high, you gasp as he does, sinking deeper, tip against your cervix. He’s slow, letting you feel every fucking inch, as you spasm around him so close again.

“I’d love to put a baby in you, don’t you see, I’m horrible.” He rests his head on yours as his huge hands press up your thighs, and you gasp, clinging to the couch desperately as he works you. “I want all of you. I shouldn’t.”

He shouldn’t, right?

But how can he not.

He loves you.

With every stroke, kiss and whisper, you fall apart, dropping the last of your barriers for him, feeling the peak closer and closer. “You want that, Satoru?”

“God yes. You are so p-pretty pregnant, fuck… I shouldn’t have thought all those things…”

“Tell me.” Your whisper ends him, he’s slamming his cock, covering your mouth as your eyes roll back.

“Wanted you then, tits swollen, tummy so full, all I could think of was how I wanted to suck these pretty nipples, drink up all that milk from them.” He lets your thighs fall, they squeeze his hips, when he kisses a breast, bowing his back to do so, and your hands press into his strong biceps, as you whine out. “I’ve wanted you, sweetheart. Now I want you to cum on me.”

You’re done, with one more roll of his hips, you’re cumming so hard you can’t keep quiet, he’s gotta put that hand back on your mouth, watching your eyes roll back in your skull. He whispers as the orgasm rides over you ‘that’s it, sweets, there you go, so pretty’ as he presses kisses, letting you cum down, until he fills you up himself, so much cum.

He hasn’t been with anyone in a year.

How could he be, when you lived here?

You’re cumming with him again, tears falling as you kiss him, and he pulls back, frowning with worry. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m just really happy, Satoru.” Your tremulous smile ends him, and soon you’re in his bed, in his arms as he presses kisses on your shoulder. He sighs, addressing the silent thoughts while you both stare out his window at the night sky.

“Do you think he knew I’d fall in love with you?” You frown a bit, looking back at him now, your hand tightening over his.

“I don’t know. But Satoru, I love you too.” He kisses you softly, nuzzling your noses together. “You still love Suguru.”

“And so do you.” You nod then, and he swallows a bit, smiling now. “That’s okay, it’s okay to still love him.”

“Even though he’s an emo bitch?” Satoru snorts, as do you, through your emotions.

“Even though he’s emo enough for a whole 2006 band by himself.”

“With a god complex.”

“Well… I have that too.”

“I have curious taste.” He chuckles, and you turn in his embrace, brushing his soft white locks back, kissing him again, until the two of you fall back into each other, the entire night.

*****

Two years since you saw or heard from Suguru Geto

Suguru swallows nervously as he knocks on his old friend’s door - wondering if you still lived there. He was sure Satoru moved you in, why wouldn’t he? He knows you were in good hands, surely, but finally, he feels it - the draw to come back. He doesn’t expect you to forgive him, but he wants to see you, and to see his child for the first time.

He wonders, was it a boy or girl?

The door opens, and he expects his friend, only to have to look down at that face that’s haunted his dreams, his thoughts for two years. Your eyes are wide when you see him, as if you’ve seen a fucking ghost, and maybe he was to you, your mouth open wide as he hears giggling, tinkling like a little bell.

“Get here, you little brat!” Satoru’s laughing, running after a quick little girl with chubby arms flailing, and Suguru sees her then.

His daughter.

He looks back to you, opening his mouth to say something, anything, when he gazes at your body, and sees the changes.

You’re pregnant.

Satoru stops and picks up the little girl, grinning at you before he sees Suguru, then his own eyes widen, while the little girl just giggles waving at Suguru, not knowing who he was. How could she? His heart breaks into pieces when he sees her perfect face, she looks just like you, aside from already long black hair, silky and tied up in a cute little pony tail.

She’s precious, she’s perfect.

He feels it, what’s been missing, when he manages a little smile at her, and Satoru steps closer, while you’re still stunned, as you see him. You never thought you’d see him again, this past year has been spent living your life with Satoru and your daughter, and then you’d found out you were expecting. Satoru was oddly traditional, putting a ring on your finger one day.

‘You’re kind of married to my best frenemy but this will do for now’

He’d said it so casually you’d giggled, as he carried you to the room, the lovemaking was endless between you, but moreso it was the friendship- a beautiful friendship, truly. A partnership built on mutual love of Suguru at first, but of course it blossomed, until you were each other’s world, though you saw Suguru every day in your daughter.

Two years. No word.

He looks different, he’s slimmer and less buff, his hair is shorter and tied up, and he has some dark circles, but he’s as handsome as you remember. He clears his throat a bit now, rubbing the back of his neck, gone was the insanely commanding man, and replaced was one just a little unsure.

Your heart splits in half.

“Suguru, come in.” Satoru’s words surprise him, as he looks at you again, your hand on your tummy.

Is this how you looked pregnant with his daughter?

“Please come in, Suguru.” You whisper, and he nods, trying to placate a smile on his face as everything threatens him, to yank you in his arms, kiss you, press you against that wall. To tell you how badly he’s craved it, your taste, your moans, your pretty sighs, how he’s not stopped thinking of you.

But you’ve moved on, it’s clear as day with your bump growing, with how your daughter calls Satoru ‘papa’ then. He wants to be furious, but he caused it, he shoved you right into Satoru’s arms, and knew he’d fall for you, just like Suguru did. How could anyone not love you.

“Hi! Hi!” The girl says, and Suguru smiles at her, stepping closer, as she cups his cheek with her little hand.

“Hi there. I’m your parents… very distant best friend.” His soft declaration eats you alive, as you and Satoru eye each other for a moment.

“Play! Play!” Suguru chuckles, you’re not sure you really ever heard that from him, unless it was dark, mocking.

“Let’s give them a minute to catch up, clean up for dinner. You staying for dinner, Suguru?” Satoru asks, so casually as if they were just old friends, and Suguru almost breaks down.

He doesn’t deserve to be invited in.

He didn’t deserve either of your love.

“If you’d like me to.” He directs the question to you, and you nod a little, smiling tremulously.

“Please do.”

“Then it’s settled, be back sweetheart.” Satoru plants a kiss right on your lips, and you melt just a bit, before tensing, glaring at Satoru as he grins. “What?”

“You’re ridiculous!” He just chuckles, winking as he takes her to get cleaned up, leaving you with Suguru, who’s scowling at his retreating figure.

“He’s as annoying as ever.” You burst into laughter, before it turns to tears, and Suguru falters, holding a hand up, hovering near your cheek. “Fuck, I… I am so sorry I left. I’m sorry for it all.”

“It’s okay, just please, stay for dinner. Let us see you again. Let her meet you, please.” You’re a mess, and he hugs you against his chest now, feeling your tummy nudge him, your breasts against his chest, a mix of fury and understanding, longing and loathing.

 “Are you happy?” His question is simple.

You are happy.

But you missed him, fuck you missed him. But now…

“Suguru um, I…” You sigh, holding his hand, stepping back just a bit, and his other hand brushes aside your tears. “I’m happy with Satoru. I love him. I know you must hate me for saying this-”

“No.” He puts a finger to your lips, pausing, looking just how beautiful they are, how beautiful you are, you always were. “I saw how he looked at you the day you met, I knew this would happen.”

“Then why!? Then why!” You pull back, shaking your head, and Suguru looks away, jaw clenching.

“I knew he’d make you happy and I couldn’t. And I loved you enough to let you have it.” Your heart is shattered into a million pieces, the baby kicks in response and you cry out just a bit. “Calm down, please…”

“I just don’t get it, I don’t get you Suguru, maybe I never will. Are you back or just… visiting?” You’re swiping at your own tears.

“I’m here for a bit. I came to see you both. Well… all three of you.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Your daughter, she’s beautiful.”

“Her name is Noa.” You say, and Suguru can’t stop the smile from growing, brushing your hair off your shoulder.

“Love?”

“Love.” You touch his hand with a small smile. “Please stay for dinner, and… just talk.”

“I kind of want to kill Satoru even more than before.”

“Wanna take this outside then?” Satoru’s cocky grin meets Suguru’s eye roll - and you know this memory well from Satoru’s tales - of a basketball game with the two of them, over ten years ago now. But you see it.

They still love each other, even though Satoru has you against his side, possessive hand on your waist, and Suguru’s violet eyes glare a bit. “You took my wishes a little too far.”

“Should’ve been more specific, less emo.”

“Satoru I swear-”

“Hi, hi! Up, up!” Noa runs to Suguru, surprising Satoru and you both, as the little girl really only loves you two.

Suguru leans down, picking her up in his arms, grinning bigger than you’ve ever seen, as you barely hold it together, Satoru’s hand soothing on your back, pressing a kiss on your temple. “You’re mine, you know.” He whispers in your ear.

“Possessive, hmm?” You smile up at him, and he sighs, looking over at his friend and his daughter.

“Very, but… it’s nice to have him home.” Satoru’s words are only meant for your ears, as you glance at a man you loved, a toxic man - one who made horrible decisions - but you see it, his change, his genuine adoration of Noa then. And you look back at the other man you love, so deeply, and something about it…

Feels perfect.

Now if you read this after I warned you, I'll hear no complaining aha - if you're reading both, happy Suguru end will be VERY soon. If you just wanted the sad ending, I hope you enjoyed. It's bittersweet <3 This is how I intended it to end but so many ppl fell for our cult leader I'll have his own version. Ty for reading this~ if it's your chosen end, see you in my other ficsss!

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[lorelune]

cicatrix

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

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

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

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

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

“You should go see him.”

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

“Who?” You lie. You already know who.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Foolish?” You interrupt her with a laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

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

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

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

“I could take over.” Fu Xuan suggests.

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

“... Tasks can be delegated accordingly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fu Xuan says your name sharply.

“Yes?” 

“... I’m worried.”

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

(You’re so tired.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

Most of the data is slop to someone without training.

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

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

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

You’re used to the awe of it.

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

And you have been fixing it. 

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

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

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

You’re tired, maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You dream of Jing Yuan often.

Sometimes, these dreams are awful.

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

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

Sometimes, the dreams are pleasant.

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

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

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

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

Leaving only you to your work. Fixing. 

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

So, you tinker away.

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

Your head pounds.

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try to think little of it. Artisanship Commission. 

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

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

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

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

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

Odd.

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

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

The interaction leaves you with a vague sense of unease. 

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

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

And you mustn’t visit Jing Yuan.

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

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

Rations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t allow that.” 

“... Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

Yanqing’s eyes are shiny and wet.

Oh.

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cross your arms and try not to cry.

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

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

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

“No hello?”

“Fine. Hello.”

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

You don’t budge.

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

He hums, “You do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds embarrassing.”

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

“... Really?”

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

You don’t know what to think.

“I have to—”

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

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

You tap the pendant on your chest.

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

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

“... A week?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(“There are worse ways to die.”)

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

“Ideally, I wouldn’t—”

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

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

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

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

To save him from being swallowed by Mara.

And yet, you beg him to remember you. 

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow.

“Probably not.”

“I apologize.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s simply too pleasant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is not a dream.

“Oh,” you say, softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Cruel man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you miss it—?

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re pulling rank on me?” 

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

“… Are the gardens off limits?”

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

“... Really?”

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

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

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

Neither you nor Jing Yuan escaped unscathed.

“Do I need to prepare?”

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

“Did I wake up at all?”

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

You nearly moan. 

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

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

“I want it.” 

“A bath?” 

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

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

You don’t need to be persuaded. 

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

...

“How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Physically?”

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

“... Mentally? All over, Jing Yuan.”

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

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

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

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

“No, not at all.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod along, only half-there. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels heavenly.

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

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

“I’m filthy, aren’t I?” You ask.

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

“May I wash yours?” You ask. 

“You still have your body, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe later, for now you bask.

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

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

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

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

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

“... Pleasure, huh?”

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

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

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

“I was worried.”

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

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

Half-dead. 

Corpse-like. 

Steps from death’s door.

On your way to the grave.

Dead.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s hard.”

“I know.” 

The hands around you squeeze hard enough to bruise.

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

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

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

“What could I have said?”

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

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

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

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

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

(Don’t go. Please don’t go. Not yet.)

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

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

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

“Please—” 

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

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

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

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

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

Jing Yuan must see your eyes water. He softens.

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

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

...

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

And these aren’t typical circumstances.

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

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

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

You huff. 

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

It’s tortuous. It’s wonderful.

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

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

He locks the door behind you as you step inside. 

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

“Does ‘within reason’ include the nursery that outlander keeps in the Exalting Sanctum?” 

“Of course. Though I may assign you a chaperone.”

“Really? Would you send Yanqing with me for a quick run to grab a new shrub or two.”

Jing Yuan laughs, something rich and full that rolls over you like a fleeced quilt, “I figured that I would be your chaperone, dear. If you’d allow.”

“... You’re making this sound like a date, General.”

“Am I?” Jing Yuan smiles so honeyed, it makes something in your chest begin to crack. You lay your hands on his bare chest and hold your ear to his chest. He laughs when you do. “I’d like it if it was. If you’d have me.”

“Of course I would.”

You say it so simply.

You want to crawl into his body and live there, and break any spindly seedlings of Mara away with your own two hands.

Jing Yuan kisses you, walking you back into the door. His lips are soft, a bit chapped in a way that’s familiar and comforting. You run a hand up and down his chest, stopping to squish one of his ample pecs. You muffle a laugh into Jing Yuan’s lips as he stutters out a groan. Sweet, sweet man. 

“I missed you,” You tell him once more, hoping your words seep past the seam of his lips, down his throat and sink into his guts. 

Jing Yuan responds by pressing you into the door, using the warm line of his body to flatten you to the wood. His kiss verges on desperate, tongue insistent at the seam of your lips, hands tugging you close, close, closer. You yield to him, whining as his tongue licks into your mouth, the taste of him so familiar it makes you ache.

You tug at his hair and urge him closer, if that is possible.

His touch is searing as he breaks away, panting, eyes hot. Scalding. His hair is down, drying to a fluffy, untamed mane around his cheeks and shoulders. It’s charming. You thumb over his cheeks with a smile. He leans into your touch while giving you a soft smile.

“The reign you have over me.” He sighs. You don’t get a chance to question him— his thigh slots between your own and your breath catches with the contact.

You haven’t been touched in so long.

You cling to his shoulders and just barely grind on his thigh— as much as his hold on your waist will allow. Jing Yuan’s kisses trail from your lips to over your cheeks and down your throat. He stops at the juncture of your neck and shoulders, nosing into the spot.

“Such a lovely scent,” He hums.

“I-I bet I smelled horrible before, h-huh?” You laugh as he begins to worry a patch of skin. Tender and fragile, perfect for bruising.

“Hm, I wouldn’t say that.” His teeth graze your throat and your head falls back into the door with thud. Jing Yuan shields your skull with his hands a beat later. “You’d be surprised how many times we’ve shared a bed and you’ve reeked of your favorite brand of astral lubricant.”

“Jing Yuan!” You shriek with a laugh and bat at his shoulders. “You’re so cruel.”

“What, do you not like when I tease you?”

“Scoundrel.”

“I think you do like it.”

You missed bantering with him.

“I love you.” You tell him. He knows— you know this. Declarations of love are rare for the long-lived. At least so directly— to care so deeply is to damn yourself to a faster descent into Mara. Though, to live and deprive yourself of companionship and love is to be dead while living. There’s a tender balance between connection and detachment. Both you and Jing Yuan are intimately familiar with it and indulge together.

Jing Yuan bites down on your neck.

It hurts, enough that you jolt and squirm against his body. Jing Yuan holds you into place, sucking on the skin he’d sunk his teeth into. It’s higher on his neck than he’d usually mark you. 

(He’s leaving it to be seen. You are Jing Yuan’s, loved and held.)

(What a wretched man.)

By the time he pulls away, you’re panting. Tears have welled up on your lash line. It hurts and it hurts even more when Jing Yuan runs a high thumb over the quickly rising skin. You gasp and Jing Yuan catches your chin in the wide palm of his hand.

You meet his gaze, intense and lighting-vibrant. You’re panting with an open mouth. 

“How lovely.” And he presses a kiss to a corner of your mouth. 

Jing Yuan guides you to his ridiculously large bed (that could surely fit up to five bodies and a fully grown, white lion.) The sheets have been changed, though you have a feeling they’ll be dirtied again by the morning. 

It’s gentle, the way he hastens you higher up the mattress before giving you a light shove into a mound of pillows. You hook your legs around his waist, drawing him as close as he’ll allow. 

He massages the meat of your thighs. His gaze goes long, and a bit unfocused, though it's trained on you. 

(You wonder what he’s thinking. Jing Yuan is so careful, always so ginger and measured in his steps. Still, there’s a fire in him that you often overlook. It’s the part of him that keeps a lion as a housemate, raised a young boy into a champion, and... you suppose urged him to become the Luofu’s sacrificial lamb in the face of the Destruction.)

You gulp, throat bobbing. Perhaps, you know your General to be a docile, indolent man who prefers naps and board games too much else. Perhaps you have overlooked, or rather forgotten, that you once saw the Divine Foresight as a warlord, given what you’d read about him in the data banks during your studies on the Yuque. 

Jing Yuan’s hand drifts down your front. You’re still wearing your robe. Gentle touch peels it away, leaving you in just a pair of thin panties. They’re a soft, breathable fabric— the kind that will surely show your interest in the General. (You have a feeling Jing Yuan picked them out for that reason expressly.) 

Jing Yuan presses the pad of his thumb over your clit through the fabric. 

You aren’t expecting it, and arch your back with a squeak. His hand lays hot at the innermost part of your thigh, at the fragile skin where it meets your more sensitive parts. 

“I-I thought you said you’d go slow.” You squirm. 

“Of course.” Jing Yuan remains unmoving, applying just enough pressure to be maddening. “I intend to.” 

With how sensitive you are, you need him to be slow. Your body feels tender out of the bath— cooked and raw all at once. Your muscles still ache from your time in the tunnels and you feel... atrophied, if anything. 

Jing Yuan must know this, and you trust him to keep his word. 

He makes his way home between your thighs, laying over your front to kiss you once more. This is slow, every lick and nip thoughtful, every barely-there roll of his hips is intentional. You’re not sure where he finds the restraint. 

You pet through his hair, softening incrementally with each soft touch he gives you.

He pulls away, lips kiss-bruised and cheeks flushed. It’s cute to see the General so disheveled. He’d never look this out of it and starry-eyed outside of this shared bedroom. It makes you giddy. You smother his cheeks with kisses and let him muffle laughter into your skin. 

It’s all soul-splitting.

It’s good. The proximity is warm and inviting. You missed the richness of his bed, the scent of incense and the candles you stock the room with. You missed the roll of his muscles underneath your fingertips and the mirthful glint that flashes in his eyes whenever he thinks he has you on the ropes.

You were so scared of losing this.

It hits you in the chest, caving you in, breaking rib and bone. You were so scared— terrified that this dance you’ve become so adept at sharing with Jing Yuan would end before you were ready for it too. You know that you’ll both fall to Mara, it’s inevitable— but you don’t want it to happen yet. You’re not ready for the final flourish. You weren’t ready for Jing Yuan’s cradled, near lifeless body to be the dying gasp of the partnership you had.

You know it's foolish to think this way. Things— all things, are bigger than mortal minds. Paths cut by the stars, brushstrokes by Gods and Aeons that dictate the lives and destiny of all. You are one mind, one body, one tender spirit. You cannot fight against such forces. You will be crushed.

But, for now, you savor. Take each moment and be grateful even as it slips, honey-warm and molten, between your fingers to be replaced by another in the next instant, equally as lovely. Piled on each other. It is enough. 

You crush Jing Yuan to you, hard and fast enough that the wind is knocked out of him, “Please be more careful with yourself.”

I can’t lose you just yet.

“I will try.” His voice is a comforting curl over you. He strokes over your temples and forehead.

“N-No, you must.” 

You don’t know the words yet for what you want to tell him. The feelings are too large, too unmanageable. Maybe attuning to the Luofu’s quantum fields has rotted your brain. You’ve lost your words. 

With some cajoling, you flip Jing Yuan onto his back. 

Sitting up over his hips, you set upon his neck. First with soft kisses, just as he gave you, then with nips and stronger bites. Then a chomp below his jaw. His hips crest upwards, his hands spasming around your waist as he holds you steady. The sounds that leak from him make you want to crawl down his throat. 

You suck and bite at the mark until you’re satisfied, pulling away to see his pale skin bruising darker by the moment. You admire the popped blood vessels with what must be a dreamy expression on your face.

“Leaving your mark on me?” Jing Yuan asks, breathless and light. 

“It’s only fair.” You kiss his smile, sharing it, “Just as you did to me.”

Running your hands down his chest, you frown at the scars. 

“What if I joined the Cloud Knights?” You ask him. 

Jing Yuan looks a bit... surprised, “Why would you do that? Though, perhaps, giving up your position as Master Calibrator would be reasonable, given recent events.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” You watch the rise and fall of Jing Yuan’s chest with an ache in your own. “If I was stronger, I could protect you, couldn’t I?”

Tears well up in your eyes.

Jing Yuan opens his mouth to speak, you hear his inhale, but you cut him off, “I-If I was a fighter, or just a Diviner, couldn’t I help more? Could I— could I have stopped this? Or stop something horrible from happening in the future? I don’t want to see you hurt like this.”

It should be a bit funny, maybe, that you’re sitting on the waist of the half-hard Divine Foresight, in tears, asking him if you could protect him. A man treated as nearly infallible, a legend amongst people who so rarely have them. He has an eternal spirit gifted by an Aeon tied to his very being. 

And yet you, something of a mechanic and professional tinkerer, beg to protect him.

“Oh, [Name].” He says, mournful. 

You swallow down a sob and tears drip from your eyes to splatter on his chest. Your vision blurs and you rake your nails down his chest. More raised marks— yours struck on him this time. Jing Yuan winds a hand in your hair, strokes down your neck, tries to calm you but it's hard. You can’t catch yourself. 

“I’m s-sorry—” You tell him between gulps of air. You’re supposed to be being bed right now, fucked stupid and more brainless than you already are, but you’re crying and the panic welling up in your chest feels bottomless and vast. 

“No apologies,” Jing Yuan hushes you, rubbing away tears. “You’re alright. I understand.”

“You do?” You snort. It’s blotted out by a proper sob that you hide in Jing Yuan’s chest. 

“How could I not?” He rubs over your dark circles under your eyes, then the bruising around your hips. The softness around your waist that’s not as plump as it was a month ago. “Do you think I didn’t contend with traversing the tunnels myself and pulling you out by your scruff?”

“... You did?” 

He pauses. 

“Everyday.” Jing Yuan admits after a moment. Any admission from him is hard earned. 

“Oh.”

You blink, and cry all over again because you feel silly and foolish all over. He hushes you, petting over your cheeks, back, hips— anywhere he can reach. He’s good at soothing, knowing what strokes to provide and where. 

“Did you think I didn’t worry?”

“I—I don’t know,” You shake your head. “You had more important things to worry about, right? And— and you were recovering.”

“I asked to see you, you know.”

“... I was told.”

“What did you think that meant?”

“... I don’t know.” You don’t. “I just— I was being a coward. I was scared to see the extent of your injuries before the ship was repaired fully. I wanted— I wanted things to be okay. I didn’t want to go to the surface and see that Vidyadhara who saved you.” 

“... Dan Heng?”

“Sure.” Lizard. Fucker. 

“... You’re jealous?”

“No.” Oh, yes. Entirely. “I just— he got to carry you. I have to join the Cloud Knights and get strong enough to do so myself. It’s only fair. You’re mine, not some lizard’s.”

Jing Yuan looks startled, then his expression softens. 

You besmirch the not-quite outlander easily. You do not know him— you’ve heard whispers. Nothing from Jing Yuan, and you do not pry at his past (and he doesn’t pry at yours.) You know they have a connection from before your time on the Luofu. You don’t fully know its nature, but judging by the passing... grief that Jing Yuan wears, if only for a moment, you can guess. Infer.

(Something of lovers. Almost lovers. If nothing else, Jing Yuan cared for him very much.)

“You needn’t worry about Dan Heng, dear,” he gently. says. “Such things are in the past now. He has moved onto a different shore, and is quite happy on the Astral Express.”

“... He’s not coming to steal you?”

“No,” he laughs, looking mournful again. “I’m certain he has no interest in such things.”

He speaks so sadly. Not heartbroken, it’s not that fresh. He speaks through a wound with a type of melancholy that resonates in your chest like a minor chord. You resist the urge to say, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ 

“Do you wish he would?”

Jing Yuan pauses.

“No.” He shakes his head, “Not anymore. We have both grown.”

And he pets over your cheek before kissing you. You know he’s telling you the truth. 

...

Jing Yuan does not allow haste, and neither do you. Perhaps, you both are feeling fragile. You keep breaking each other open, only to help the other reassemble their pieces a moment later. 

Jing Yuan enjoys savoring physical contact, regardless of circumstance or propriety. He steals touches in public in a way that’s indulgent, but never overt. He licks into your mouth with the pace like cooling honey. Each does is meant to brand. You’re meant to feel it, feel him, for as long as the moment will allow. He savors you with hitches of his own breath, a desperation of his own bubbling under his surface. 

You can be a bit shy when he truly gluts himself this way. It’s so overt. It tears something in you, and reveals a squishy, softer center that you’re anxious to show anyone. Even a lover like Jing Yuan who has shown you time and time again there is nothing to fear, other than his own foolhardy decisions. 

Jing Yuan probably likes it when he gets to be this slow. Peeling back layer after layer of you, forcing you to luxuriate in the unfamiliar warmth, and be reminded that he is there and sturdy. 

Jing Yuan is laid between your thighs, your legs over his shoulder. His thick forearm is braced across your navel, your hand held in his. Your fingers are intertwined. His other hand pets at the back of your thighs as you shudder. 

You’re sensitive.

Jing Yuan eats your cunt with the pace of a man who has nothing to lose, no phases of the moon to observe, and something to prove. He laps at your center, squeezing your hand with each jolt of your hips against his mouth.

The stroke of his tongue is slow and unhurried. He’s enjoying himself, savoring your taste, humming and groaning when you inadvertently grind against his mouth. During a more routine fuck, Jing Yuan enjoys when you anchor yourself with a grip in his hair and fuck his face. Any impulse you could have to indulge in such a way tonight is quelled. His grip is unyielding on your hand. Your free hand is tangled in the sheets, occasionally shakily pushing Jing Yuan’s mane away from his forehead so you can watch him tongue fuck you with the pace of the lazy, sunbathing cat.

You drop your head to the nest of pillows behind you with a groan and throw your arm over your eyes.

Jing Yuan chuckles against your cunt and flicks his tongue over your clit. He sucks and you want to sob. He hasn’t let you built up to any release— it’s long form teasing, it’s torture. You can feel how wet you are between your thighs, sticky from your own slick and his saliva. You’re messy.

(This is how Jing Yuan prefers it anyways.)

Jing Yuan had made a point to tease you in your thin panties before putting his mouth on you at all. Stroking over the fabric, barely dipping his fingers under the thin, lace waistband. He kissed your covered pussy until you were almost tearing the sheets in your balled up fists. 

Jing Yuan still hasn’t put anything inside of you. You know it will be— tight. Jing Yuan has large hands and a proportionally large cock (that most Xianzhou Alliance gossip forums still undersize). Part of his slowness is necessary. 

The tip of a finger teases your hole and you kick at his back in surprise.

“F-Finally giving in?”

“I’m not giving in at all,” Jing Yuan pulls away from your cunt to speak, wet and sloppy around his mouth. Eyes half-lidded and so, so content. “I’ve never had anything other than the intention to open you on my tongue and my fingers. What gave you any other impression?”

“Bastard.”

He nips the apex of your thigh and you yip.

“Yours.”

You smile, stupid and a little love drunk, and stroke his hair, “Mine.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze darkens for a moment— something passes there. A thought you can’t read from him or glean anything from. The headiness of the moment temporarily breaks, and for an instant you think that something is wrong. You almost push yourself off the bed in a fit of concern—

But Jing Yuan begins the slow press of his finger into your cunt. 

You gasp and squirm, flinching almost. Jing Yuan bears his weight on your waist and keeps you in place as you do, intently watching your expression and parted, wet lips. You’re flayed. It’s just a finger, but it feels big. His fingers are big— a bit calloused, but softer than you’d think.

As he sinks the digit into you, you pant. He kisses your clit, encouraging you to open up for him, murmuring little words of praise that sit in your brain pleasantly but are hard to make distinct. You go slack into the mound of pillows as his mouth returns to your cunt, the single finger fully inside you, resting as you tremble. 

With a suck to your clit, he crooks the finger up.

It feels good. The spot is tender. Jing Yuan knows just where to apply pressure, the pace and angle are so, so good. He’s memorized this part of you. A month apart isn’t going to remove that knowledge. 

He teases you like this— never letting you rise too close to release. The roiling tendrils of arousal in your gut stay there, like stoked embers without tinder to light anew. You take it— you take what he gives you. You relish each touch, lick, and kiss.

“Jing Yuan—” You gasp his name as he removes the single finger to begin to stretch you with two.

Two is— it’s a lot. Normally, it wouldn’t be. Maybe, you’d beg for more, and beg for more faster. But now, two stings and aches on your insides. You claw at his hair and whine in the back of your throat. Jing Yuan hushes you and spits on his fingers, the extra bit of lubrication helping somewhat, but you’re tight and wound.

“Are you alright?” Jing Yuan asks as he massages the most sensitive spot in your cunt. He asks genuinely, not as a tease.

“‘S tight,” You squeeze out, wiggling your hips. 

“Am I being gentle enough?”

“Uh-huh,” You pet over his forehead. “Thank you?”

“Of course.” Jing Yuan chuckles. “Does it feel good?’

“Y-Yeah,” You whine as Jing Yuan curls his fingers, thumb pressed against your clit and rolling the pearl of itl. “I-It’s unfair.”

“What’s unfair?” 

“That you make me feel s-so good,” You don’t know how else to articulate it. The feral thing in your chest crawls over your body once more, and jerks your hips for more of his touch. You urge his fingers deep, wordlessly beg for more pressure against your cunt.

“You’re so sweet,” Jing Yuan coos, rising to his knees and taking one of your legs with him. Your middle falls open. It feels... vulnerable. You feel exposed and sliced. Your stomach churns for a moment. You nearly ask Jing Yuan to stop.

(Except, Jing Yuan has fucked you enough times to know that you don’t enjoy the physical vulnerability of your sensitive core. It sets you off. He knows that you prefer to cuddle with his massive hand against your belly. He knows you even wear clothes that provide some protection, billowing fabrics and belts. You’re a sensitive thing.)

He slides his broad hand over your belly, and presses down as he leisurely pumps his fingers in and out of your core. The pressure of it burns— scalds you and your arousal feels white hot. He’s prodding you from the inside and the outside, and you feel something bubbling up.

“You’re close,” Jing Yuan says with a catlike smile. “Would you like to come?”

“P-Please—”

Jing Yuan hums, slowing, almost ruining the impending crest, but clicks his tongue and continues. It’s a farce, a little game he’s playing, and much to your (enjoyed) frustration, you’re his other player.

“I would love to hear you beg,” Jing Yuan croons, leaning over your form, bending your leg at an angle that is unfair in all regards. “But, I’d also like to be kind tonight. I think you deserve it— you need it, don’t you?”

“I—” You do. His hand quickens and with his other, he braces behind one of your knees. He ducks down to retake his place between your thighs, eating your cunt with a persistence and vigor that has your eyes roll back in your head. He drills your insides with a deep, steady rhythm that. Maybe could get you pregnant.

Who's to say. 

“I’m—” You gasp, ready to beg regardless of what Jing Yuan wants or expects from you. You want to give him everything. 

“That’s it. Let go.” He beckons you and you break. 

Your orgasm slams into you. The teasing and playful edging made you sensitive and like a livewire. When you finally cum, you choke on your own breath, eyes rolling back into your head, and you shove your face into a pillow to muffle the half-sobbed moans that spill from your lips out of your control.

Jing Yuan continues his ministrations through it. Dutifully. Unyielding, even as you twitch with oversensitivity and wisps of exhaustion.

He gently lowers your trembling leg with a sweet smile. He pets you like a cat.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, softened in a way you only get to see. 

“Thank you.” Your words slur as he settles beside you, tucking next to you. 

He’s hard— so hard that there’s a wet patch on his bottoms from pooling pre. You can feel the length of him against your thigh, and you reach for him. You should really grab some oil—

Jing Yuan stops you with a gentle hand on your wrist. 

“Slow, remember?” He reminds you with a grin that is mischievous. “Let’s take a break, just for a moment.”

“Are you sure?” You look down. 

The bulge of him makes your mouth water. 

“Entirely.” He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to your wrist. “How about a quick snack, hm? I can fetch some fruit to cut.” 

“... That would be nice.”

“Would you like peaches?”

“P-Please.” Your voice is watery and small. Jing Yuan looks smitten to hear the tone. “... Meldberries too? And apples?”

“Of course,” Jing Yuan looks happy. Relieved. Deflated in a way that makes you realize that he had been so tense before. Since you met him in the gardens, haggard and exhausted.

(You’re in his bed, sated and watery and being taken care of.)

“Can I come to the kitchen with you?” 

“Are you sure you can walk?” Jing Yuan teases, thumbing at your trembling inner thigh, littered with fresh bruises.

“I can now—” you huff, playfully indignant. “We should bring some back. For... later. When I can’t walk. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully?” Jing Yuan tilts his head, eyes half-lidded and amused. 

“Oh, don’t act so innocent!” You laugh and headbutt him lightly. If you had more energy, you’d play fight with him and ruffle the sheets up more than they already are. “I’m sure you’d like me immobile by the time you and your ridiculous cock are through with me.”

“... Ridiculous cock?” Jing Yuan can’t hide the laughter in his voice, or the flush on his cheeks. “So cruel.”

“I— I forgot how big it is.”

“I’m still covered, dearest.”

You gesture, panicked, below the covers to the bulge and still growing wet spot, “Your dick is close to the size of my forearm, Jing Yuan. I can see it without... seeing it.”

“You’re so complimentary.” He practically giggles. “So sweet. I had forgotten how sweet orgasm makes you. Or, is this your fatigue talking?”

“... Both? I missed you.” You say, using your un-held hand to pat Jing Yuan’s covered cock with a smile. “Missed this too.”

Jing Yuan almost squeaks at the unexpected contact. He apparently is just as sensitive as you. He hides his light blush in your neck, and you can’t help but laugh, and think about how sweet the peaches will be when cut by your lover’s hands and shared from the same plate.

...

Jing Yuan keeps his word. The early evening stretches into late evening, every touch and sensation coaxed and unhurried. Slow-stretched sugar, lest it shatters. 

In the kitchen, Jing Yuan cuts you a plate of peaches while you rest on his lap, watching the hypnotic carving of his knife with half-lidded eyes. He feeds you slices on a small fruit fork while sending off a message or two from his jade abacus. He carries half a dozen other fruits back to his bedroom and prods you for a more substantial meal order at some point. 

You finish off the last few slices while draped in his robe, dazed from your previous high. You feel— out of it. Raw and scraped out. Not much different from how you felt during your time in the utility tunnels, but instead of feverishly working, you’re in the warmly light room of your lover. His warm hand is splayed on the small of your back, rubbing little circles. 

You want to ask him:

“How do you do this?”

And Jing Yuan, mirthful, would say:

“Do what?”

And you would say:

“This.”

This: 

The way your mind resists fullness, empty by familiar nature. You’ve been cored, like the apple Jing Yuan dutifully cut and fed to you. Your thighs continue to shake. You’re bruised, marked, all his, in a way that cows and strokes the feral part of your mind still half-convinced this is all an elaborate illusion.

How could any of this be a fabrication? When Jing Yuan is so warm behind you, happy to bask in your presence while you bask in his. Jing Yuan’s contentment is infectious, it always is— but so quickly, he has stripped you of your ability to parry it. You can’t hold concern. You can barely hold your body upright. You want to fall into him, ask to take more, and hold him until you simply can’t anymore.

You do not ask Jing Yuan how he undoes you. Predicting the conversation seems— easy. Too easy. (Probably because calibrating a machine meant to sustain a civilization for weeks on end does damage that’s yet to be fully healed. Prediction is a symptom of overuse, divination a side effect. A cumbersome one.) You can imagine the way Jing Yuan would dance with his words, effortlessly sparring in a way that you simply couldn’t keep up with. You are already disarmed. You need his candor, and nothing is more honest than the General’s body.

“Come here.” Jing Yuan beckons you into the sheets to lay with him properly.

(It’s uncanny how he can predict your needs like a diviner himself.)

You follow his direction and let him tug you into his side. Your cheek rests over his chest, soft and a little rounder than it was when you first met him. He’s gained weight since then— which is good. He’s always been bulky under his uniform and regalia, toned muscle from centuries of training and sparring. But there wasn’t much else to him— he used to skip meals if it was too inconvenient to eat. If you were sharing a plate, he’d offer you a larger portion.

It was something so slightly self-deprecating. At first, you hadn’t noticed it. Jing Yuan is not a proud man, he is keen and clever in all regards— but his ego has stayed in check for as long as he’s been Arbiter-General. He commits this quiet act of self-harm, so miniscule that most wouldn’t bat an eye. His lack of appetite was a manifestation of some burden— as he will continue to live and slowly waste away, why should his body not as well?

You’d like to think you’d broken him of his destructive eating habits. Or, at least contributed. Warm meals, arm-in-arm snacking on street foods at night. Vendors are always happy to give the Divine Foresight a free treat, even if he offers them strales every time. He eats well around you, and you know it extends farther. He takes lunches with Yanqing at least once a week. There’s a stash of homemade honey oats and dried apricots stowed in his desk. 

You are glad he eats. That he is full. 

You appreciate the feel of him under your fingertips, how he has softened and grown a bit less worn during his own leave. He deserves a vacation. Maybe, you’ll sit on his cock and beg him to fucking retire with the promise you’ll be happy to stay that way for as long as he pleases if he does. Anything to keep him this lax and soft. You want to commit it to memory, but you still feel fuzzy.

“Enjoying yourself?” He laughs as he speaks, busying himself with the tacky skin on the nape of your neck. He pets you there.

“Yes.” You grab his chest, thumbing dangerously close to his nipple. “You feel nice.”

“I’m glad.” Jing Yuan says, tone curling and smitten. You feel drunk with it. He hums. “You seem a bit lost. May I guide you back here?”

“I don’t think I am.” You pout. “I’m here.”

“Are you sure?” 

“... Fairly sure.”

“May I try anyway?” Jing Yuan asks. “It would make me very happy too.”

There’s no harm to it, really.

“I’ll be good.” He adds and holds your wrist so tenderly in his palm. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

Jing Yuan drags the thin skin of your wrist over his lips, kissing the flesh as he does. It’s reverent, slow as he promised. He peeks up at you as he does, a curtain of his silver hair almost obscuring the warm gold of his eyes. There’s want there, so caramelized that it makes you ache. 

Jing Yuan rolls you, so that he’s above you, sitting over your hips. It’s— not too heavy. The weight of him is comforting if nothing else. The heat of him is grounding as he hovers over you, nosing at your jaw, nipping bruised skin. He licks the brutal bite he left earlier and you yip. You don’t have it in you to chastise him for it— you— you maybe like it too much to do so. 

Like this, it’s easier to notice how Jing Yuan wants. How his hand is sliding between over your sternum, between your breasts, down the soft line of your belly and navel, and back up again. It’s slow, radiating a yearning that sinks down into your organs heat from a hearth. He thumbs over the line of your throat and kisses you.

He’s more insistent now, licking into your mouth immediately, keeping his rhythm slow and actions drawn out. 

Jing Yuan pulls back just enough to speak, warm breath over your lips, “You’re doing so well.”

You feel warm in your cheeks and tug him closer. If only you burrow in his flesh bones, flush the marrow out to replace it with yourself. You’d do it if it meant keeping him upright for longer. 

“I’m right here.” Jing Yuan hushes you, gathering your wrists in one hand. You hadn’t realized desperate little keens were leaking from your throat, soaking the room. Jing Yuan doesn’t seem to mind. “No need to fuss. You’re alright.”

“You’re sure?” You ask, you feel out of your body. 

Jing Yuan knows this and he tethers you to him with a kiss and firm touch, “I’m sure. You trust me, don’t you?”

“So much,” you admit. 

Jing Yuan looks down at your softly, expression beginning to shatter. He is a difficult man to work with— he wears many faces, several hats, and speaks in riddles more often than not. To receive his honesty is— a fucking gift. You want to hold it in your hands and swallow it. His hair falls over his face as he peers down at you, thumbing over the lines of your throat.

“You’re so good.” He says gently, quiet. Like it’s a secret for the two of you. “You’d do anything I’d ask you to right now, wouldn’t you?”

You nod, then think about what he asked. You still would. Probably. Maybe give him some grief along the way, “As long as you’re not too mean about it.”

“Oh?” He teases. He teases, even now. Even when your core is exposed and you’re bare and he’s stalling despite being hard against your thigh. “You’re still so sweet when I’m a bit mean. I think you enjoy it.” 

A broken, nearly-pathetic noise drips from your lips. You clutch at his arms and try to bury your face in the sheets. Your face feels so warm, it's making you dizzy.

“No need to be shy,” he sounds smitten, a smile bleeding into his tone. He kisses you with it, again and again until you’re breathless and stupid once more. He pulls back until you’re nose to nose, hand drifting to the apex of your thighs. 

You squirm, bucking your hips, urging him closer. 

“Patience, love, I’ll give you what you need.” He tells you and kisses the corner of your mouth. You believe him.

Jing Yuan settles himself between your thighs, holding them open with his own. He is not a small man, and it leaves you very exposed. More exposed than you would like, and it makes something in you writhe. Jing Yuan hushes you, soothes you as he’s so good at doing as he drenches his fingers in oil.

(The first time you fucked, you did not do this step. Oil and any type of lubricant was skipped, and you paid the price the next morning with a bit of light bleeding and an ache that would send Jing Yuan to the Alchemy Commission to fetch some specialty painkillers. He was very apologetic the morning after, guilt-ridden even. At some point, he started carrying little vials on his person and insisting lubricant be used regardless of how impromptu of a lay it was.)

(That is all to say that Jing Yuan’s cock is huge and has the capability to break you.)

He presses a finger into you— it goes in easily, slides with the aid of lubricant and your own slick.

“Oh,” Jing Yuan breathes, gaze drifting from your parted lips to the finger he sinks into you. “You’re so wet.”

You want to be snarky. Of course you are, he’s already had you on his tongue earlier in the day— now, he’s been teasing you, playing with you, and being sweet with you. How could you not be? It’s the only natural response to your lover treating you in such a way.

However, you do not get a chance to show him any sass as he crooks his finger upwards and rubs the pad of his thumb in a familiar pattern, little circles over your clit. A gasping moan spills from your lips and Jing Yuan holds you down with his free hand on your hips. He pets you when you shake and yearn for more too quickly. 

“‘S okay?” You ask.

“Very.” Jing Yuan smiles, beaming, almost purring. “I’ll tell you if it isn’t.”

“Okay.” You nod, feeling wrung out already. Beads of sweat rise between your breasts and drip down your skin. 

Jing Yuan must notice too, as he ducks forward to lick a firm strip over your tacky skin, groaning as he does before moving to one of your nipples. He kisses around the bud, nips just enough to make you fuss, before wrapping his lips around it. He bites, sucks, and groans into you as he does. 

You pet through his hair, scrapping your nails down his neck and back. Marking him however you can.

Jing Yuan pulls away from you, panting, and kisses you hard on the mouth. It’s a clash, really. Harsher and more desperate than he usually would give you. He’s usually not this messy, but your teeth clack together awkwardly and you swallow around the discomfort. Jing Yuan is quick to correct himself, deepening the kiss more sweetly as if to apologize. 

He slips a second finger inside your cunt, next to the first, drenching your hole in slick and lube. It’s— messy. It is wet. The sound is obscene, even if Jing Yuan is being slow and gentle with your most delicate parts. Arousal pools in your gut, and want makes you feel like a sinking puddle, spreading out over the sheets like you’re going to absorb into Jing Yuan’s lavish mattress. 

You open up for him, relax with the contact and let him take care of you as he wishes.

He presses another finger into you— this one stings, despite the preparation and slick drenching you down your thighs and the sheets below you. He moves slowly, kissing your cheeks and hushing you when you whine. 

“I’ve got you,” He smiles, and drags his lips over your cheeks. It’s reassuring, and something blooms from the base of your spine up to your throat. He gives you playfully chomp over the apple of one and you let out a little laugh. It bubbles up out of you and Jing Yuan shares it with his own deeper one.

He fans out his fingers inside you, slowly, with each thrust. It’s measured, practiced. Despite the time apart. 

Jing Yuan is hard against your leg. You can feel him, though Jing Yuan is still wearing his own robe and silks which simply will not do. Tugging, you drag it off him, and push yourself half up. You attempt to reach for his cock, you want it— him. But Jing Yuan stills his fingers inside you, clicks his tongue, and knocks you back into the mattress with a gentle (albeit firm) shove.

“Not yet.” He scolds, though there’s no bark behind it. 

You frown. “But I want you.”

“And what if I want you too?” Jing Yuan asks.

It’s something he’s never raised directly before.

He’s made such a fact known, however. You know he wants you. Jing Yuan was happy to complete a number of courting gestures, prior to becoming something of an official couple. He keeps you close, he is kind to you, he even tells you a secret or two. He fucks you like he loves you and wants you close. He leaves marks all of you, from your neck, all the way down to even your ankles and calves on occasion. He shares drinks with you in his gardens, offers you a place in his bed and somewhere in his heart, even if you’re still (after decades) understanding where that is.

But, so rarely does he state that he wants you so plainly. 

Want is dangerous. Yearning and all. Yearning must be a passing emotion if one is to resist Mara. If anything, Mara is accumulated and rotting yearning. 

Jing Yuan has lived a long life due to how he copes with yearning. 

To admit to it— it is an act of vulnerability. To admit a weakness, a thing that could tear him full of undying roots and strike him down. It is the danger of the Divine Foresight finding a partner and becoming coupled. It invites such feelings. 

You had assumed Jing Yuan hadn’t entertained such notions directly. To give them time in his mind could bring rumination. Which— could easily go sour.

“... You want me?” 

Jing Yuan tilts his head cutely, “Yes, of course. Was that not obvious?”

“I inferred,” You feel sticky and sloppy as Jing Yuan withdraws his fingers. 

He climbs off the bed, only for a moment. He shucks off the last of his clothing, leaving him bare. Candle light casts shadows over the contours of him. His cock looks— painfully hard. As he climbs back into bed, it bobs, swollen and dark red at the head. Almost purpling. It’s slick with pre that is still beading from his slit.

“... Can I suck you off?” You ask, a bit entranced. “Please?”

“Not now,” He tells you with a laugh. “Later, if you ask me nicely again.”

“Okay.” You can do that. 

Jing Yuan huffs out another laugh with a shake of his head, “Insatiable thing.”

“I missed you.” You tell him. Your voice is watery. Your own admission.

Jing Yuan flips you by your midsection, coaxing you to raise your hips enough to sandwich a few silk pillows between your hips and the bed. His hands linger over the bruises on your hips, then slide down the swell of your ass to the backs of your thighs. He pets you until you’re relaxed, boneless.

He parts from you over for a moment, rummaging through a nearby cupboard for oil. You hear him slick his cock. The sound makes you squeeze your thighs together and bury your face in the sheets. 

Jing Yuan surprises you by pressing a finger into you from behind. A sound rips from your throat as he finds your sweet spots, adding another finger quickly, then a third. You’re drenched between your thighs, so slick you feel drunk. Jing Yuan positions your legs a little wider and settles between them. 

“D-Don’t aggravate your injury,” You remember, beginning to push yourself up. A moment of lucidity as you can sense Jing Yuan lining him up. “Not on my account.”

“I won’t.” He promises, running a hand down your back from tailbone to nape to coax you back against the mattress. He presses a kiss to the base of your spine. “Always so caring and diligent.”

“I—” You cut yourself off as the head of his cock teases your folds. Rubbing. “Jing Yuan—”

“I want you.” Jing Yuan tells you, doubling back, bumping against your clit as you moan. 

“Y-You can have me,” You want to see his face, rub his cheeks. “You do have me. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Damning yourselves.

Can’t the General be selfish in lieu of his looming retirement? Can’t the Master Calibrator enjoy the company of others, and not the mechanical hum of a God Ship?

“I have you?” Jing Yuan asks, beginning to push into you.

You can’t reply— you can’t. Despite the prep, and oil, and arousal all together, it’s still tight. Jing Yuan is thick enough that it’s outlandish, and you’re feeling every inch of that girth as he enters you. You clutch your balled-up hands in the soft sheets near your head. You try to keep your breathing even but it’s hard. Jing Yuan pets down your sides, leaning over your back, whispering little words of praise and encouragement as you take him. 

“You’re so lovely. Look how well you’re doing.”

“You’re going to take all of me.”

“I’ll be gentle. I’ll be good to you.”

He is, and you don’t mean to cry, you don’t, but you do when he bottoms out, and you can feel him so, so deep, it’s in your throat. The heat of him inside you is searing. You’re changed. You’re being carved out by him anew, and he wants you. 

“You h-have me,” You tell him. You scrambled a hand behind you, shaking as you brace yourself against the bed. You manage to get a handful of his head and drag him down over your back. “Jing Yuan, please have me.”

You’ll beg for it; shame has been lost.

You want to stay here. In his bed. By his side. You want him to want the same with you. Not with old flames. You don’t want Jing Yuan to deny himself pleasure in the face of duty, as if the two cannot exist. As if rules cannot be bent or changed by the hand that rules them or the Calibrator who tweaks the vessel that you both live on. Things change. It is the nature of life and starshine.

Even with the Xianzhou Natives' lifetime, they are bound to grow, endlessly. 

Jing Yuan pauses above you, stills so deep in you. You’re worried for a moment you’ve crossed a line. That your desperation has spurred him away, rather than closer. It terrifies you. It grips you so hard that it feels like your heart could shatter to pieces.

(Your worry is misplaced.)

Jing Yuan lets out a shuddering sigh, pulling out almost completely. You panic (“no, no, no, don’t, ‘M sorry”) and nearly flip over to try and recover the situation. However— you’re mistaken.

He groans as he slams back into you, curling over your back, gathering you up in his arms, and rolling his hips. He’s scraping the insides of you. You’re raw. 

“N-No apologies,” His voice breaks. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Y—You offer me yourself so sweetly. I only feel guilty that—” 

He cuts himself off with another deep thrust that punches a broken sound out of you. Tears begin to drip down your cheeks.

“No guilt—”

“I feel guilty,” Jing Yuan punctuates his words with a cant of his hips that has you going slack in his arms, ragdolled by pleasure, “that you think you must beg to be had. I feel immensely guilty that you could have any doubt toward me as a lover.”

He guides you back down to the bed, steadying himself with a searing palm on the back of your neck and a hand leveraged on your lower back.

You really won’t be able to walk tomorrow. 

“I don’t doubt y-you like that.”

(It’s less about some nebulous insecurity you keep as his lover, and more about the solid knowledge that Jing Yuan is so careful with his connections. You cannot believe yourself to be the exception.)

(Sometimes, you doubt that he has any tether to anyone. Like he’s waiting to die. No matter how fond he is of you, that this will supersede it. It damns his well being. It damns the future. But, how steadfast does it make the present? You’d like to think its enough for him to keep you as company due to legitimate desire and care, rather than balming of some wound as your insecurities tell you it could be.)

In retrospect, you’ll feel foolish for thinking so little of Jing Yuan’s feelings toward you. 

He grabs you by your cheeks in one hand, craning your neck back to face him the best you can on your tummy. He levels his face with yours, nose to nose. Eyes alight. He looks... almost angry. Jaw tight, seated and still inside you to the hilt. You’re full— bursting at the seams, but you have enough lucidity to focus your vision and see how pained he looks. Pained and enraptured, loving and loved. He’s bound up with it, the same way that you are. 

“If I could, I would keep you in this bed. If not this bed, then the gardens I would follow you into your tunnels and learn the harmonies and chords you know, even if I couldn’t keep a tune. I would keep you full like this. I would cut you stone fruit whenever you’d like something sweet.”

It’s a declaration. It might as well be a proposal.

You don’t get a chance to reply. Your breath is knocked out of you, like every thought and fear and insecurity that you’ve been shouldering. Jing Yuan fucks you with the full force of his hips, thighs bracketed with your own. It hurts— barely. Enough that you’ll feel it for days and carry a limp for just as long. 

His pace is quick and deep. He’s not chasing— he’s creating. Marking a spot inside you that’s just for him. Only him. It makes you feel giddy and stupid and you laugh through the tears streaming down your cheeks. It’s— all a lot. Jing Yuan keeps you tucked so close, pressing you into the silks sheets. He breathes through his mouth, panting against the back of your neck , sucking more marks into the skin, darkening the preexisting ones. Claiming, in a way that feels different from the hickeys he had given you in the past. 

You sob as he tilts your hips up. He drills downward, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. You’re— you’re going to explode. The friction of the pillows below your hips isn’t enough to come,but Jing Yuan drilling your insides is getting you close to something. It feels like a peak you’re not meant to climb, and you sob at the sensation. Like you’re free falling.

Jing Yuan holds you closer, wrapping an arm around your midsection, and the feeling disappears.

He sneaks a hand to your cunt. First he feels where you’re joined. The sticky, sloppy mess of pre, slick and lube that you’ve made. You’ll need another bath. Maybe two. He runs gentle fingers along the seam of your cunt, where he’s slowed his thrusts so he can feel where you’re practically tethered together. 

“Taking me so well,” Jing Yuan is breathless. He rubs your clit, bracing himself over your front, and fucks you so wonderfully that your vision begins to darken at the edges.

It’s unfair how quickly he gets you to your peak, touching you like this. He knows your body, and you squeeze down around him with a cry as you crest. Your cunt clamps down as the knots in your gut unfurl. You jolt back with the sensation, overwhelming and all consuming. Jing Yuan moans behind you, a beautiful sound you want to have so committed to memory so that even when you’re riddled with mara, you’ll remember the sound. 

Jing Yuan doesn’t chase his relief, he lays over your back like a blanket as you shake through the aftershocks of your orgasm and fucks you slow and deep. He only hastens when you let out a warbling little sound, something hurt from your bruised insides making themselves known.

He quiets you with a soft, dragged out whisper of praise. He thrusts harder— faster— and moments later there’s a gush of warmth in your guts that makes your eyes roll back into your head. You want to come again, and you can’t help the temptation to reach down and get off, just once— more.

Jing Yuan nearly growls as you do. He bats your hand away, flips you so you’re belly up. Your hips are raised on the mound of pillows and it hits you what he intends to do.

To have both of you.

He throws your legs over his shoulders. Your thighs shake around his cheeks as he gives them a quick kiss, before diving into his meal. He moans and groans into your cunt, out of breath from fucking you still, but no-less diligent. He fucks his cum back into your with a thick finger for a few thrust, just barely— you’ll be too sore and he knows it. 

He eats his release from your cunt. It’s— debauched. It’s so, so much and you can’t do anything other than writhe and tug at his hair. Your hips hurt, but you still find it in you to grind against his mouth. It’s— one of his favorite things. He likes to be used sometimes. This is one of his favorite flavors, when his tongue is inside of you and you drag him closer by his hair and let the friction bring you to orgasm, however long it takes.

You, truthfully, do not have much left in your body to chase this. 

Jing Yuan must know this, or he is feeling similarly— or both. Probably both. You’re too floaty and gone to tell. You’re still crying as he moves to your clit, licks and sucks until you fall apart on his tongue once more, full and sated with him. 

Both had by each other. 

You fall into the bed sheets as you finish, dragging a sweaty Jing Yuan closer. So close. He keeps you closer still, over his chest, cheek pillows on the swell of his pec (breast) and a dusting of silver hair. You’re shaking from the high— so is he. You feel like you’re going to fall into a million pieces.

(It reminds you, briefly, of how it felt when you first dropped into the utility tunnels, after the calibration apprentice went Mara-Struck. How you felt so— alone— gone. How fragile you felt sprinting through the tunnels with the knowledge that your world was being torn apart by forces beyond your control.)

(You felt small and helpless.)

The feeling is quickly extinguished— or maybe made to feel pleasurable. Jing Yuan practically purrs underneath you, petting you, stroking over your new bruises and marks. You keep a hand buried in his hair, petting over his cheeks. Staying lucid— is hard. The last thing you clearly remember was hopelessly fond, adoring, gold eyes, gazing back at you so lovingly, that they could remake you.

Perhaps, they already have.

It’s sometime later, in one of Jing Yuan’s gardens. This one is nestled, lush, in the large courtyard in the center of his home. A pond gurgles with the bubble of fat fish that swim near the surface of the water. You fed them earlier and they’re still looping, searching for an extra snack.

You lay some distance away from the pond on a blanket that Jing Yuan has designated as your ‘outside blanket’ as it is particularly large (tall enough for him to sprawl out on and more than wide enough to fit the both of you) and thick. Your head is pillowed on Jing Yuan’s arm as he is curled toward you, legs tangled with your own. It’s late afternoon, and the General is taking one of his beloved naps. You’ve taken to combing a hand through his hair, scratching along his scalp and behind his ear and contenting yourself with the little sighs and almost-purrs he lets you. 

It is good to rest.

Your leave has, overall, been quite restful. Mostly. Aside from the times that Jing Yuan cannot keep his hands of you and you end up fucking whereever is convenient before retiring to your (now shared) bedroom. The bouts leave you tired and worn, but in a satisfying way. Jing Yuan has been particularly dutiful and attentive post-fuck, always handing you chilled water to sip and offering a treat. Sometimes a fruit or a candy he has apparently been stashing away. He gives you as many kisses as you can bear, and you return the gesture as much as you’re able.

Jing Yuan has become... handiser. Needier. You’d say clingier, but as much as he tends to cling when he’s around his estate with you, it never feels overbearing. He indulges in closeness with you in a way that feels shameless in the best way. 

It’s the same in public. You’ve gone to the night markets, once or twice to indulge in street foods, and Jing Yuan is equally as touchy, albeit it’s more subtle. A hand on your lower back, standing behind you while he orders with an arm wrapped around your waist. You hold hands when you walk, or you loop an arm through his elbow if it's particularly crowded. He did these things before, but they seem more... necessary. Like he has to keep you close. The contact he shares with you is firmer. Richer, even. He’s always been intentional with you, it's his nature, but now his actions have taken on a different shape. Intentionally showing want, rather than showing closeness.

It creates both a softness and an edge to him that you are thoroughly enjoying.

There’s softness in how lax he is next to you, dozing the afternoon away after completing the bare minimum of work for the day. His cheeks are rounder, and a bit rosy. It’s warm today. It’s the softness of skinship, how you’re both seeking out each other’s barest parts, even if it's only for a moment or two of skin-to-skin contact. It’s how his care is so explicit these days. 

The edge of it is how the General is anxious, perhaps. It’s a possessive flavor that Jing Yuan has, perhaps, always has, but is simply more apparent now. His touches in public flaunt the fact that you’re clearly a couple, nevermind what gossip magazines and street whisperers will say. It’s the consistent marks he leaves on you— those visible hickeys on your neck, down to the dark, sore ones he leaves on your inner thighs and the softness of your stomach. It’s the way he commissioned a set of earrings, one for each of you to wear. 

(He had looked a bit melancholy, just for a moment, when he first presented you with them. Like a memory had surfaced but then was quickly let go and set adrift in favor of the present.)

The set is crafted with gold connected with a flat, rectangle of stone that dangles down from it. The stone is red, inlaid with gold veins. Some alloy that was probably mined on an asteroid— a rarity. They’re beautiful. You hardly know what to say when you receive yours; Jing Yuan had presented you the gift while already wearing his. 

Marking each other as each other’s. 

It’s brazen— and you like it. The beast of feeling that tore you to shreds in the utility tunnels feels far away, lately. Your extended leave has been good and you’re... grateful Jing Yuan has been quite official (and strict) about keeping you away from work.

You run the pad of your thumb under his eye. The skin is delicate, wrinkled just the slightest. It’s a tragedy, for many reasons, that you both are long-lived and cursed with Abundance. You’d like to see the crow’s feet Jing Yuan would have, if his skin did not keep itself so elastic and young.

Apparently awake, Jing Yuan grabs your wrist and brings it to his lip. He sets upon you with a lazy smile. His eyes open, just halfway, and he looks at you, so adoring.

“Are your thoughts entertaining?” Jing Yuan asks, gentle as he holds you closer. “You seem quite lost in them.”

You hum, kissing his jaw with a drag of your lips, “Not lost. Just reflecting.”

Jing Yuan hums himself, nosing into your temple. Then your hairline, where he leaves a line of kisses in his wake. You shudder with the feather-light feeling.

“Would you like to share?” Jing Yuan asks. “Or, perhaps take a rest with me? Though I am very appreciative of the head massage, I do believe you could use a rest. Unless you wish to take a stroll, and turn in early?”

“A stroll sounds lovely in a bit. I don’t mind sharing, though,” you answer. 

Jing Yuan smiles against your skin. You wish it could brand you, “I’m listening, whenever you’d like.”

You gather your words for a moment. It takes— a second. A long one. The Dragon Lady says that you’re experiencing some lasting effects from being attuned to the Quantum fields for too long in the wake of the Stellaron Crisis. She seemed confident your impairments would heal but your mind is that of a mortal. It will take time.

Jing Yuan is ever patient with you.

“I suppose I’m grateful,” You tell him. “I am glad I have a space in your life, and I am grateful that you show it to me in the ways that you do. I would be— very sad, if I was not by your side, I think.”

It is a simple way to put something much larger.

Jing Yuan seems to understand regardless.

He takes a deep breath, then squeezes you to his chest. It forces the air from your lungs in a way that makes you light-headed.

“How kind are you.” Jing Yuan sighs, nuzzling into your hair. “To think of me so sweetly, without prompting. I’m very fortunate to have you as a lover. I hope you know that.”

“I try to remind myself.”

“Do I need to remind you more myself?” Jing Yuan asks, his smile turning a bit mischievous. He rolls himself over you, caging you. “I’m happy to.”

“You’ll spoil me!” You laugh and bat at his chest, slipping your arms over his shoulders, locking your hands behind his neck.

“I quite like having you spoiled.” Jing Yuan contends with a cute tilt of his head. “I should resolve to spoil you more, actually. Do you have any ideas on how to do so? I’m happy to listen.”

“Jing Yuan—” You huff with an uncontainable grin. Your heart is going to burst from your chest. You would let it. You’d let Jing Yuan take its place. You practically already have. 

“I think,” Jing Yuan whispers in your ear, breath warm and sweet. “I ought to keep you in bed for the afternoon, perhaps pause the plan for a stroll until later in the evening. Starfire flies have been gathering in one of the gardens near the Exalting Sanctum— what do you say to a post-coital jaunt?”

“I mean—” You flush and bump your nose into his cheek, like a cat giving ample affection. “I don’t think I’ll be properly spoiled if I can still walk after you’re through with me.”

“So, I’ll carry you? That’s doable.”

“No— I mean— You can—” 

“I’m teasing you,” Jing Yuan murmurs with a tone so sweet and warm, you could melt into the soft blanket and soil below you. “Whatever you’d like. We can decide along the way.”

You smile.

“Yeah,” Your chest feels tight and warm and lovely all at once. Jing Yuan pulls away, and the earring that twins your own dangles, catching the falling sun in its veins of gold. “I’d like to decide along the way with you.”

It means more than this instance, it’s encompassing. To be long-lived and coupled is to tread the shallows of what could be Mara. To wear the mark of another is to dare to swim closer to the roiling beast of Abundance that none of the Xianzhou Natives can truly outrun.

But you think that, perhaps, you and Jing Yuan will be alright until that day, whenever it may be. You will spoil each other, hold each other, and take your steps while extending a patient hand to the other if they’d like to take it. You’ll listen to echoes together and learn to forget them. You’ll harmonize with stardust and Jing Yuan will play his games of many dimensional chess until he (hopefully soon) retires.

The smile that grows on your face is warm like a hearth, honeyed like a spiced tea, and kind. It splits the both of you open, and Jing Yuan kisses you like he can’t help but to do anything else. You don’t lose your grin, and you give it to him against his lips, laughing together as you share breath.

It’s sweet and lovely, you think, as Jing Yuan touches your foreheads together. You have this, and you’ll be happy to have this for as long as Fate and Aeons allow. You think that Jing Yuan will be happy too— with a coveted smile so kind given to you and a bed, shared. 

You bask in it— this. The gardens and the heat of him and the warmth in your chest, for however long you’re given. 

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