my patchwork time with you
koi birthday fic bc stupid koi deleted his blog. mdni gn reader, smut, soft smut, reader is called gege. reader does not have any described physical characteristics other than having human anatomy and hair. (banner is mine!!! do not use)
The Seat of Divine Foresight is always busy. Stacks of paperwork, incoming calls and resumes to look over, and people sending in fan mail despite the mail chain to the Seat of Divine Foresight not being open to the general public.
Jing Yuan feels a migraine come on, he wants to be home. With you and mimi, eating dinner and indulging in a game of starchess as the false night descends upon the Luofu.
Today is not a day you should be alone, and Mimi is only decent company—you love your lion daughter (you spoil her and jing yuan teases you endlessly about it)—she cannot talk to you nor entertain you how he does.
Thankfully, today’s quota is smaller than other days, and the poor staff have to watch as the General runs out of his office (but walks to the starskiff. A general cannot run lest the public panics. But he does pay the pilot to travel faster to get home.)
You’re not surprised that the house is empty today. You spent your morning slowly, and now a gentle sunset envelops the Luofu.
A feijixiu rests on the couch (Jing Yuan’s, judging by the size), and you wrap it around yourself and open the sliding doors, facing the gardens.
You settle on a cushion, and usher mimi closer, letting her rest upon your lap.
“Spoilt.” You coo at the lioness, ruffling her mane whilst she purrs under your hand.
“I think I treat her quite well, and it is Qingzu that does most of the spoiling in my stead.”
“Back already?” You don’t bite back the fondness clipping through your tone.
Your gaze is pinned on the lush garden, filled with cucumbers and tomatoes, bitter melon and squash, and some garlic cloves and spring onions.
His shadow joins yours, and mimi clambers into both of your laps.
“I didn’t want to keep you waiting. I’ve been away for far too long.” Jing Yuan whispers. He is tired, and his voice is soft, no longer veiled by the faux confidence he tries to muster in his office or in public.
“We’re long life species, I’m used to waiting.”
Jing Yuan looks at you, then stares into the horizon, and leans onto your shoulder.
“And we have survived for longer than most. Can I not cherish this moment with you?”
He scratches behind Mimi’s ears, watching as she blinks slowly, one eye then the other.
Stubborn fool.
“You won’t let that go, will you?” You keep your gaze pinned on the finches outside, squabbling and chirping before settling against Mimi and orbiting around you.
Writhing in your lap, Mimi narrowly escapes and bounds to join the finches, wreaking some havoc in the garden.
“Never. If I forget a single thing, you will mope even more than you are now.”
You whip around to gape at him, his cheek against your neck, and you pout, “I do not mope!”
“And this is the first time you deem me worthy of your gaze. You were moping.”
You huff, indignation crawling up your ribcage and settling in your throat. “Cheeky.”
Jing Yuan turns into your neck, kissing the underside of your jaw before settling you into his lap awkwardly.
“You’re in my shirt.” He tugs the feijixiu, hands holding you down as you shrug.
It was on the couch, warmed by the sunbeams and smelling like him. It tempted you.
“You say that as if it offended you.”
You twist in his grasp, haphazardly straddling him and craning your neck upwards to meet his gaze.
“And if it did offend me?”
chuckling awkwardly, you tilt your head and avert your gaze, before undoing his ponytail. A distraction. You straighten the crimson ribbon out, and tuck it under your hair, a sloppy attempt at tying your hair up.
His hands envelop yours, relieving the tension in your arms and letting cool air circle around your neck once more.
"Distractions are futile efforts, dear."
"What was there for me to say?" you pout, “The feijixiu was warm from soaking in the sun, and it's yours."
"Such simple reasons." he teases.
It's easy to fall into such a rhythm with him. Watching the false sun set as night takes over the Luofu, and watching as the stars around the ship flicker past. Occasionally a starskiff hovers over the ship, or maybe a glimpse of the silver rails, before vanishing into the cosmos.
When night descends, and your nose starts to run, he cajoles you to join him inside, and to close the sliding doors. He places you onto a cushion in the living room, and plates a light meal in front of you, paired with a cup of immortal's delight.
Tonight is quiet. Yanqing had ran off with Yunli, and they're probably sparring and staying at Petrichor Inn (you and Jing Yuan agree, the competition is good for him. Huaiyan thinks Yunli is too stern with herself, and the two compliment each other well), and Mimi growls as she plays with the finches, who fear her no more than they fear a common worm. Which is to say that Mimi is the least threatening presence in their lives.
You pluck a book from the pile of gifts Jing Yuan had left you, peeling back the ribbon and undoing the bow that holds the dust jacket together.
It must have been left over from some holiday or birthday; each one is still in its wrappings, you telling Jing Yuan that you "have no idea when I will finish these, so its best to keep them safe and tucked away until I can." And you have flown through them, reorganizing your bookshelf with Jing Yuan, even installing another shelf and ladder to safe floor space.
The first one was a popular danmei by "veggie bun does not eat veggies," and the other was a self publicized book by someone under "Princess Homebody."
then was the array of encyclopedias about foreign life forms and fungi, and some bound articles of Amphoreus (published by Dan Heng, of course, following the actualization of Amphoreus as a planet. You have some of his works in your personal library).
You tuck yourself into the couch, curled against a plush of your lover that you purchased on a whim.
At some point, Jing yuan joins you, his jade abacus alight as he goes through his tasks for the next day, and any pressing updates about the ship. Despite the Luofu never having four seasons as other planets do, and always being so temperate regardless of where in the cosmos it lands, Jing Yuan is a furnace. a furnace that smells like immortal's delight, incense, and something so distinctly him.
You’re easily ensnared by him, his scent cloying around you…
"bathtime." Jing Yuan pokes your side, taking your falling book out of your hands and placing a bookmark in between the pages.
You startle. rubbing your eyes and checking the clock nearby. 11 PM, or 23 system hours.
"You just want me to strip. You're not sly.” You rasp.
“Oh, I was caught. Indulge me at least?”
You allow him to guide you to the bathroom (not without scolding him for letting you rot on the couch for so long, and for being so damn cheeky), and you sink into the tub, where a bath bomb is almost done fizzling out. He must have left in order to set such a romantic scene up, the sap.
This soft affection, the way he knows you inside and out has your stomach coiling, warmth filling your chest at how simple it is to be loved by him. Falling was hard at first, Jing Yuan too accustomed to the cold dance of politics and was fragile in your hands (you equally so, but you wanted him bad enough to get over it), but you are grateful for such a silly song and dance early on.
Jing Yuan must have one of your braincells with how well he pampers you. It’s easy to see that he enjoys such things, but everyone else is aware of it being your influence. If it was anyone else he would go about it whilst grumbling.
Calloused hands wash your back, massaging the sore muscles whilst a conditioner (a gift, from Fu Xuan you've kept hidden away for a few years) sits in your hair.
He whispers something you can’t hear, but you feel his chest against your back and the way the timbre of his voice settles into your ears, like honey dribbling into the center of a raspberry. You hum and lean back into him, feeling his soft laugh when you fail to respond.
“Shall I wash yours?” You turn in his arms, watching his bangs flatten against his forehead, and droplets of water and soap cascade down his jaw.
“If you insist. Thank you.”
You turn, facing his back now, and you pour a large amount of shampoo onto your hand. His hair is long, far longer than yours. You dig your fingers into his scalp, massaging it and lathering soap as you run your hands through it.
“It’s still so soft.”
“I have you to thank for it. It’s far too difficult to do this sort of thing on my own. It doesn’t feel this good.”
“You just like me spoiling you rotten.”
“Is that so bad?”
You soften, hands pausing as you rinse the ends in warm water.
“No. It isn’t.”
The water drains eventually, and you’re pulled out of the warmth (only to be brought back into his arms).
Jing Yuan is so gentle and firm.
You’re guided out of the tub, patted dry by fluffy towels, and a soft shirt falls over your head, enveloping your frame.
“Kiss.” You lift a finger, gesturing to your lips.
“Needy.” But he obliges you, like always.
One peck, then two. Another under your jaw, where you hold back a sneeze from his hair tickling your nose.
“You’re so cute,” he scrapes his teeth against your lip, “might eat you up.”
Jing Yuan ushers you into bed, one hand spreading your thighs, and the other pinning your hands above your head. You feel it press against your leg, gasping as this thigh brushes against your core.
“May I?”
He’s heavy against you, the room narrows to just him and the sound of his breath.
“Y-yeah. Please—“
It hits you why he was so relaxed when dressing you only a few minutes ago. He dressed you with the intent to undress you, to have you like this.
You fight against his grip to peel back the lapels of his robe, hands shaking as he mutters senselessly under his breath.
The rhythm is so familiar—if he’s feeling extra mean, he might use the ribbon in his hair to tie your hands to the bed post, and offer his thigh to satiate your needs—otherwise, like tonight, he’s so slow, rocking into you gently and kissing every inch of skin as you take him in.
“hurry up, slowpoke.” You huff, eyes red and watery (oh he hates those sad eyes of yours… but he is big. You still are unaccustomed to it, barely able to take him in and needing days to recover).
“and who told you to rush into this? it ends so poorly each time… one would think you enjoy the pain.” Jing Yuan croons, pinning your hips down and going still inside you.
“I don’t. It just hurts, real bad a-yuan…”
and who is he to deny his beloved?
it’s a pattern that repeats often:
You get teary during foreplay, overwhelmed and overstimulated, then he strikes. And you beg and plead until he’s painfully hard inside of you.
Jing Yuan feels you tense around him, once, then twice, and he shudders.
“you… you feel really nice.” Ah.
And the secret side of jing yuan. He can be such a whiny little brat…
“p-please… please stay still… you’re perfect, absolutely perfect—“ he whispers into your ear, biting the flesh gently.
You wail, turning into the plush pillows and sobbing into them. Tears soak the silken sheets and dribble on your chin with every gasp of air and choked sound your lover’s movement has you producing.
“Breathe, I have to turn you around, okay?”
’N-no, no don’t—“
You can’t help but be clingy with him—you have to see him lest you panic and have nothing to cling to, nothing left.
“Gege… please?” Jing Yuan kisses you slow, tongue gently prodding between your teeth and tugging you closer.
Your breath is stolen in an instant, your legs thrashing against the bed as you grab at his hair, trying to take him deeper and have him closer (because you lost count of the times you almost lost him. Of the times he let himself go for the sake of everyone else, but would rarely come back to you, perhaps out of shame of disappointing you, or fear you would think of him differently for it. You would never, though. Because at the end of the day it’s Jing Yuan, the same person you would sneak out of the barracks with to get berry pheasant skewers in Aurum Alley, or haul him to Jingliu and Baiheng when he ignores orders. Again).
He pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his tongue and your lips, and his thumb presses down on your lips, poking at your tongue.
"gege." Jing Yuan groans in your ear, hot breath tickling the hair at the base of your neck, "gege please."
and Lan help you, you whimpered.
He leans back, satisfied with your dumbstruck expression, his thumb meeting your warm tongue.
Miraculously you manage to stay still in such a state. His thumb in your mouth and gaze pinned on you, like you're nothing more than just a conquest, some trivial puzzle he solved.
You scramble as he hoists you up, your body on the pile of pillows behind you (that he insists on keeping…) and his weight leaning wholly on yours, your knees pressing against your shoulders as he thrusts into you.
"enjoying yourself, aren't you? you like when i call you 'gege'. [name]-ge."
You shudder and shake your head. This is just like one of those stupid immersias Baiheng was fond of.
"Your body seems to disagree. You’re flushed, so warm all the way down to…" he takes his thumb out of your mouth, and a resounding 'pop!' fills the room as he uses the saliva coated digit to trace your cheek, down to your chin and jaw, neck, collarbones and down to your chest… "here. You're burning up, sweet thing.”
Electricity fizzles under you fingertips, indistinguishable from his ability and the pace he sets.
“I-I’m not—I-it’s—“ You howl, scrambling to grab onto him as he gives a particularly harsh thrust.
“Sh, don’t start. You’ll hurt yourself.” He coos, his thumb, still slick with your spit, presses where his cock is lined up with your hole. It’s wet, you’re soaked, the robes under your bodies (discarded, long forgotten) darkened in color and drenched in sweat and slick.
Your jaw slackens, breath ceasing and chest heaving.
“don’t—Jing Yuan don’t—please—“
He laughs, bending over you and pressing you further down and burrowing into your warmth.
“And why not? Gege makes such cute noises when they beg, don’t you?”
A firm press against where you’re joint has you sobbing
“no more, i cant do it a-yuan—“ you cry, thighs pushing together in an effort to make him get off.
He’s deep now, but not all the way in, you clench around him, groaning as he pushes deeper and deeper. He drags you against him, once, twice, until you feel him in your throat when you gasp for air.
“Gege is so pretty like this, don’t be shy, open up.”
You part your thighs and lips, practically drooling when he nips your bottom lip, tugging and licking the skin.
Closer. part of your being is fused to him, him being incomplete with you.
You let him carve you open, body aching as he gently cradles you and viciously remolds you into his liking (but never too far. He knows you. So well).
He pulls out and you cry, rising to follow only to be winded by the force of which he pins you down and has his way.
“i-i’m close—close, a-yuan—“
Jing Yuan pulls out, admiring you, hands squeezing down on your soft flesh, “pretty,” he pants, sweat slick against his forehead and dripping onto you, “so pretty gege, and mine too.”
He bites on your shoulder, and pushes himself in, thrusting and pressing hard on your core, fire alight in your gut.
You flounder, moving to push him off but also coax him closer as your orgasm takes you, chest heaving.
“one more? please gege… for me?”
and how can you say no to those warm amber eyes? you cant!
your chest shudders with a sob, and you tug his hair and coax him back. oh well. you have the day off tomorrow anyway.
