IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND SINGLE?

IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND SINGLE?

Characters — Sanzu, Ran, Rindou

CW: Violence

SANZU

Now who in their right mind would dare to ask Sanzu this

He was indeed taken back by the boldness of the man who foolishly attempted to cross a line that he wasn't aware of

Takes a moment to glare at the person from top to bottom as the switches in his brain began to decide on what end the idiot deserves

Although the lingering pair of eyes weren't set on him, Sanzu could feel it prickling right under his skin. The meeting between Bonten and a business partner was dragging on for far too long. It never bothered him before, but it just so happened that he brought you along with him today. And because of the nature of his position, Sanzu had to be by Mikey's side and not yours. There you were standing oh so innocently in the corner, unaware of the filthy looks the businessman was giving you.

He grimaced, clearly not coating his annoyance well as the bearded man looks over at him, raising a brow.

"What's with the long face. The shipment is successful, we're bound to score a good one" His voice boomed. "Speaking of a good score," the man snickered, eyes landing on you once again.

Sanzu could feel a vein pop. Stay calm, stay calm. Mikey is here. This is work. He quickly glance over at his boss, it was evident that he too could pick up on the situation. Mikey changed the subject, earning him a confused look on the man's face as he once again failed to read the room.

"As i was saying. That chick you got over there. What's her business?" he pointed directly at you. "She got a boyfriend or something?"

There was a stiffening silence in the room that everyone felt. As if on cue, all eyes fell on Sanzu, who is now seconds away from slicing the man with his katana. "I asked if she is single. Is your girlfriend is single?" The idiot continues to taunt.

"Hey. You. Don't cross the line" Kokonoi spoke up.

A booming laughter erupted the room.

"My apologies. That bitch is one of yours?" The man laughs, eyes still glued on your figure. "You got a good one. How about you let me have a go at her in exchange of another de–"

A horrifying wail left him before he could finish the sentence as you witness the hand that was used to point at you, fall off in one swift cut. Polished marble floor now tainted in crimson red, the man immediately fell off his seat as he writhed in pain. His screams filling up the quiet room.

Sanzu jumped, landing on the table that was between Mikey and the idiot who is about to lose his life. His katana barely two inches away from the man's eyes, as he watched him desperately cling onto his handless arm, face contorting from the pain. He choked out a desperate cry, trying to find any sort of aid. But no one made a move. Nobody dared to go in between him and the pink-haired criminal. They all stared down at him with stoic eyes, as if everything that is happening was expected.

"Help.. P-Please..."

"Should i gauge out your eyes or sew your mouth shut? I've been itching to do this the minute you laid your pathetic eyes on what's mine." Sanzu's voice came out as sharp as his blade, his tone laced with venom as satisfaction plastered across his face.

You could see the man turn cold and eyes widen from realization. He shouldn't have underestimated these men, he shouldn't have walked into a tiger's den unprepared, and he shouldn't have toyed with something that wasn't his.

RAN

Commonly known for his calm facade, Ran prefers to keep his cool. However he could feel the impact of the question sending triggers right to his nerves. His stare remains impassive, now slightly unamused, but inside he knew his blood was boiling.

It's not that he doesn't trust you, of course, but he doesn't like how bluntly straightforward his co-worker was.

It was absurd for anyone to think that they have a chance with you. You are his and his alone.

He thought that it would be okay. To bring you along to one of Bonten's business parties since you have always loved going out with your boyfriend. You are fully aware this isn't an ordinary get together, it is with your boyfriend and his group of very dangerous colleagues. But you didn't mind, because when Ran is around you are sure nothing could go wrong. He always had things under control.

So there you were dolled up from head to toe. Even someone as cocky as Ran Haitani grew nervous after seeing how perfect you look in the silk dress. The hunch was proven right the minute his colleagues started showing up. It was their first time meeting you and the hungry eyes couldn't drink up enough of the person in front of them.

After a few drinks the atmosphere in the room became friendlier, you were enjoying the champagne as you made small talk to a man with bright pink hair, who conveniently sat on the sofa right next to yours.

Though he was still conversing with someone else, you could feel the shift in Ran's mood as he presses your body closer to his, fingers squeezing your sides ever so slightly.

"Yo Haitani. Give us a little space would ya. You brought a whole princess along and don't wanna share?" The man in pink suddenly spoke. Your eyes immediately shot wide open, shocked at the bold statement.

Even under the dimly lit lights you could see your boyfriend's eye twitch. Ran was always calm, his attitude, face, and expression goes in perfect harmony together as someone who is well composed. But this was different. No one has ever dared to cross his line, yet the pink-haired man didn't hesitate. Ran knew him too well, a man who he wanted to keep as far away from you as possible.

"Sanzu, a smart man like you should know your own place."

Sanzu's shrill laugh suddenly filled the room, making you flinch from his unexpected reaction. "For you to get this protective. But i understand." He chuckled, eyes flickering to your face. "So that's your lady ay? Is she single?"

And the switch in him flipped. His gun immediately drawn out, pressing directly at Sanzu's temple, threatening to but a bullet through him. The usual unfazed demeanor on Ran was no longer visible, replaced by an icy glare that made the hairs stand behind your neck.

"Keep blabbering about what's mine one more time and it will be the last thing you say."

RINDOU

Protective boyfriend Rin.

Rindou gets jealous easily. Yes, he might be mean to you (lovingly) but if anyone ever tries to get close to his girl the younger Haitani will not hesitate to bring them down, literally.

He is aware of how gorgeous you are, and how the gazes from his friends, colleagues, and even brother ahem Ran what are you doing at you always linger a tad bit longer than they are supposed to.

It was his mistake to leave you alone at Bonten's hideout. How stupid of him to even bring you here in the first place. The two of you were on a date before it got interrupted by the sudden call of his boss. It was an emergency meeting that left him no choice but to postpone the date, which explains why you were dragged along.

His boss has called him into a private meeting room, and Rindou promised that it would only take a while. So you listened and stayed put, because what other choices do you have? Your knees weirdly jumpy as you nervously waited for him. This wasn't how you expected your date to go, but his job was inevitable and you love your boyfriend so it didn't matter.

A sound coming from the door startled your train of thoughts and you immediately turn to look for him, but instead met the gaze of a man with silver hair. You could see the corner of his lips twitching up, curling into a sleazy smile, "And who might this pretty one be?" he asked.

Just before you could answer another person came through the door, and to your disappointment it wasn't the Haitani you wanted to see. "Oh hey sweetcheeks, didn't expect to see you here." Ran Haitani, Rindou's older half, greeted you with the same lazy look in his eyes that makes you shift uncomfortably.

"Hey Ran" you answered meekly.

"So the two of you know each other. Is she single?" The silver-haired man asked, eyeing you up and down.

As if your prayers were answered, out of the door came Rindou. It only took him one look to know what was happening. He glared at his brother, then at the other man.

"Hey Rin, is your girlfriend single?" His brother mocked, laughing at his own question.

He blinked a few times before his face twisted in clear annoyance and anger. It was seeping through him as he quickly approach your confused self. Rindou wasted no time to capture your lips in a messy, sloppy kiss which earned him a yelp of surprise from you. Pulling away from the kiss, he stroked your cheeks and gave a soft look of reassurance.

He then turned to the two men who were still watching, shooting them a warning glare. Though the cockiness in him quickly took over as his scowl expression turned smug. "No. We fucked last night"

comparing hand sizes with shinsou

pairing: hitoshi shinsou x gn!reader

tags: fluff, best friends, teasing

"your hands are so big…"

you mumbled as you pressed your palms against your best friend's hand, comparing the sizes of your two hands, while shinsou just leaned back and watched you, with an amused smile on his lips. 

"is this your way of subtly hinting that you want to hold my hand? because it’s quite cute…"

he teased, intertwining his fingers with you and pulling your hands closer towards him. 

I love your writing so much and you seem to always brighten my day! So, I just wanted to ask if I can, could you do a chubby manager where she gets bullied because of it and the teams stand up for her and help her. I have been having bad mental health days and this will really help me. But of course if you don't want to it's totally okay. Just asking for consideration! (If you do pick this can you do Karasuno, and Shoji and if you do one that's totally okay 👍) ☺️♥️

Hi there! So my full headcanon requests are currently closed BUT this request definitely hits home for me. I’ve always been tall and chubby and use to get bullied constantly for both. I’m really sorry you are struggling mentally and I hope this can bring you a little smile 😊

I’m going to put it below the cut because it might be triggering to some

TW: Bullying, fat shaming

Being Karasuno’s Manager:

Miss Manager gets bullied

for her Weight

Karasuno (guest appearance by Seijoh, Shiratorizawa and Date Tech) x fem! Reader (she/her)

Warnings: swearing, fat shaming, bullying, reader cries, threatening words, Tanaka thinking he’s a bad ass, Tsukishima taking care of it 💅

First off, Karasuno is B L E S S E D

Come on, 3 managers???

Ugh say less!

Hinata now thinks they are a super powerhouse

Suga says that’s not a real thing

Kageyama kicks Hinata for saying something so stupid 🙄

Anyways, you are a first year like Yachi

Actually Yachi dragged you into this because she was nervous

She had told you about this hot girl who had approached her and asked her to be the boys volleyball manager

You were a bit nervous to say the least

It wasn’t necessarily because your were athletic or didn’t know anything about volleyball

But, in the past, you’d been bullied about your size

And of course, these guys were athletes and they would be fit

To your surprise, however, they said nothing about your weight

Heck they didn’t even seem to notice you were plus sized

Literally all you had to do was breathe YN and these boys would faint 😂

Karasuno treats all their managers like queens and is super protective

They adored you, Yachi and Kiyoko so much and appreciated everything you did for them

You threw them a towel? Eternally grateful 🙌🏻

Filled their water bottle? Excessive thank you’s

Took detailed notes? Framed them and read them everyday

Literally it would be hard to find a more thankful team!

However, not everyone was as nice as Karasuno

You’d faced bullies in middle school and high school

Thankfully most of the people at your high school were pretty decent and nice

But when tournaments came around 👀

Well let’s just say not everyone extended a warm welcome

It was inter high and you were tasked with filling up the water bottles

Honestly, it was your favorite task because you didn’t have to deal with Hinata and Kageyama fighting or Noya and Tanaka peacocking in front of the other team 🙄

As you filled the bottles, you noticed a group of guys gathering behind you

You thought nothing of it, thinking that maybe they were waiting for the water fountain

After you finished, you moved out of the way, turning to smile at them

“You can have the water fountain now! Sorry I was filling up my teams bottles!”

The guys all stared at you with disgust on their faces before one spoke up

“There was no way we could get to the fountain anyways with you taking up that much space.”

The guys all burst in laughter as you watched them

At first, you didn’t think it was due to your size and maybe you were just in the middle of both fountains

“Oh I’m sorry. I would have moved over for you.”

The guys all just laughed as another one spoke

“Not like we’d have any space with your fat ass taking up both fountains!”

Hearing this worlds, your heart instantly sank

But those idiots weren’t done 😑

Because if there’s anything we know about bullies, it’s that they do so to make themselves feel better

And these dummies must have really been feeling like shit…

“Honestly I didn’t even know there were two fountains behind her she’s so big!”

“Damn she’s like a walking billboard for Karasuno!”

The guys laughed as tears began to fill your eyes and your lip began to quiver

These guys were jerks who were hitting every one of your insecurities

And worst of all, you were frozen as the tears began to fall

“Awe did we make the baby hippo cry?” One of the laughed

You tried your hardest to move but you were frozen, unable to run from the bullies

However 👀👀 as luck would have it, you weren’t alone

Because Yachi had been sent to help you

And she saw the entire exchange 😌

She quickly turned, running back to the gym to grab the guys

Kiyoko saw Yachi frantically running and asked her what happened. Panting, Yachi recalled the events

Instantly the atmosphere in the gym changed

Without saying a word, Daichi, Noya and Tanaka took off

The rest of the team following quickly behind

Even Tsukishima was moving quickly 😱

When they say you, still standing there and crying

Oh boy : D

I would not want to be those bullies right about now

Kiyoko and Yachi ran to you and hugged you

“Are you ok Yn?” Kiyoko asked as you shook your head and cried harder

Oof- someone prepare the burial grounds because it’s about to go D O W N

Daichi walked right up to them and got in their face, Suga, Tanaka and Noya right on his heels

“What the hell did you just say to our manager?” Daichi boomed as your head shot up to see the team right in front of you

“What us? Nothing we were just waiting for the water fountain,” one of the jerks said as Suga glared at them

“That’s not what we heard you were doing,” Suga spoke as Tanaka and Noya began to crack their knuckles

By this time, a crowd was starting to gather

Seijoh, Shiratorizawa, Date tech…

The whole gangs here!

And let me just say, they do not look happy

“We heard you said something to our BEAUTIFUL Manager. Mind repeating that…” Tanaka said, cracking his neck from side to side

The guys faces began to pale as Karasuno’s eyes burned with anger

You didn’t want anyone to fight because you knew that they could get kicked out of the tournament

“Guys hey it’s ok, let’s just go,” you said, wiping your eye as Kiyoko and Yachi grabbed your arm

“I think we need to teach these jerks a lesson!” Noya snarled

Nobody was going to stop this

Literally Kunimi was filming because he knew Karasuno was not to be messed with

Heck even Oikawa and Iwaizumi were ready to back Karasuno up!

And because jerks don’t know how to keep their mouths shut, they continued to fan the flames

“Come on guys, she’s huge! How can we not comment on that? I mean I felt the floors move when she walked here!” One of them chuckled

Wrong thing to say bestie

“Let’s take this outside!” Tanaka said, grabbing the jerk by the collar and pulling him towards the exit

The other bullies tried to intervene but were stopped by the wall of Date Tech

“Yeah you ain’t going nowhere,” Futakuchi smirked as Aone glared at the boys

The bullies rn 👉🏻👁️👄👁️

“Hey man let me go! Listen I’m sorry ok!” The one being dragged by Tanaka cried

You didn’t want anyone to get hurt or expelled from the tournament because of you

You stood tall, wiping your eyes as you left Kiyoko and Yachi’s side

“YN wait!” Yachi yelled as you approached Tanaka and the bully

“Tanaka please don’t! I don’t want you to get hurt or kicked out! Karasuno has worked too hard for this,” you spoke as Tanaka looked from you to the bully

He shoved the bully to the ground as he glared down at him

“You’re lucky city boy!”

You breathed a sigh of relief as Tanaka walked away, grabbing your hand

Unfortunately the bully and his now broken ego weren’t don’t 🙄

“I knew Karasuno was a bunch of wimps!”

Daichi, Noya and Tanaka turned around and were ready

“Let’s go city boy! Two hits, I hit you, you hit the ground!” Tanaka shouted

Before you could stop them, they tore down fr towards the boy

Your eyes widened in shock as you prepared for a fight

But thankfully, an Angel shined down from the heavens

An Angel in the form of one tall, rather salty first year

The king of comebacks, Tsukishima 💅

“A bunch of wimps? You’re the one picking on a girl who was filling up water bottles for her team,” Tsukishima spat as Daichi, Noya and Tanaka halted

Everyone turned to look at Tsukishima who had now walked over to the boy and was looking over him

“Where is your manager? Oh wait, you don’t even have one do you? Jealous much? Or maybe it’s because your pathetic asses can’t find any girls who are even remotely interested in being your managers.”

The bully glared up at Tsukishima was was now smirking

“Werent you that team who couldn’t even make it past the first round last time? Yeah that’s right you got your asses handed to you in straight sets.”

“Yeah well at least our team doesn’t isn’t known as being fallen champions!” The bully spat back as Tsukishima laughed, bending over and making eye contact with the jerk

“At least people know who we are, nobody even knows your name.”

“Yeah well-”

“And now that everyone does know who you are, I think they all want to crush you,” Suga added as the boy gulped, looking around at everyone who was glaring at him

“Gee I wonder who your first opponent is?” Oikawa interjected

“That would be us,” Ushiwaka said, arms crossed and glaring at the man

“Oh I’d hate to be your right now!” Tendo laughed, coming from behind Ushiwaka

The boy got to his feet as Tsukishima continued to smirk, everyone still staring at him

“Come on man let’s get out of here,” one of his teammates said

The bully just scoffed before turning around and walking away

Everyone watched as they left for their gym before turning to you

“Are you ok Yn?” Asahi asked as you nodded

“I’ll be ok thank you but you guys didn’t have to do that,” you softly spoke

“No way we were going to sit back and let someone say those things YN!” Hinata shouted

“Yeah that’s why we turned Tsuki lose on his ass!” Yamaguchi smiled

“Shut up Tadashi,” Tsuki said as he began walking back the gym

“Sorry you had to deal with that Yn. If you ever need help, don’t be afraid to ask,” Iwaizumi stepped up

“We are perfectly capable of protecting our manager but thanks,” Daichi growled

“Ok enough of that, let’s go,” Suga said, pushing Daichi back to the gym

Kiyoko took your hand and began to walk away when Ushiwaka stepped in your way

“I will crush them for you Yn,” he said, voice monotone and face passive

You just smiled wide before hugging him

Ushijima 👉🏻😐🫂

Everyone else 👉🏻😳😱

“What the hell Yn where is my hug? I was ready to mess up my spiking hand for you!” Tanaka cries as Ennoshita smacked him

You rolled your eyes before hugging the winged spiker

Tanaka, acting like he’s never been hugged by a girl before 👉🏻👁️💧👄💧👁️

“I WANT A HUG TOO YN!”

“ME TOO!”

“YN look what you started!” Daichi yelled as a line had now formed in front of you, all the guys wanting a hug

Don’t worry YN, he could never be mad at you for long 🥰

𝐘♡𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 ?

hanma shuji x gn!reader; fluff, comfort - 1.3k

request: can i request a hanma x reader where hanma defends the readers honor? don’t really have a plot for this, and id like it as a drabble, but whatever u see fits!

a/n/cw: thank you for requesting! i love to see hanma be protective over reader so this got a little (a lot) longer than a drabble LMAO. please enjoy! im quite proud of this sniff cw: reader gets uncomfortable with violence - reader's feelings get invalidated by a member of valhalla, it's implied hanma beats him tf up, descriptions of injury, violence, and blood - spoilers to valhalla arc!

cheers erupted loudly in the hollowed room that was filled with old, half-assed operating arcade machines. whistles rang out from the scattered men that huddled closely around the phenomenon occuring in the middle of the dirtied floor: former toman member and captain of the first division, baji keisuke atop his vice, viciously beating him to a bloodly pulp.

chifuyu matsuno—you had heard hanma mention the name earlier, the boy with blonde locks and teal eyes. however, from the beating his face was getting, it would be hard to recognize him at this point. his left eye had already swelled in on itself, while the right blossomed in darker shades of purple and red underneath baji's fist. his previously neat hair, now tousled and messed around from the impact of hits. his nose was unquestionably broken, and from the numerous cuts that scarred his face, stitches would be needed.

a spurt of blood spills from his mouth, and you jolt, tightening your hold on hanma's hand. currently, you were seated on his lap on his makeshift 'throne', your body close and nuzzled into his'. you flick your eyes away from the terrible sight in front of you, and hanma's eyes leave the scene to study you. worry washed over his expression. he licks his lips, and grabs your attention with a soft touch against your wrist.

“... you okay, baby?” hanma questions, large gold eyes glimmering with a solemn gaze. he knew that seeing such violent acts on an almost day-to-day basis was a lot for someone to handle—especially for someone who wasn’t accustomed to such a life.

this was a prominent reason as to why hanma never failed to ask for your consent; to completely confirm whether or not you would like to be present during such situations. your comfortability and safety was his number one concern. if that wasn’t fulfilled—then, everyone be damned.

though you look at him and nod once, and even try to smile. but hanma knows better; “if you’re not feeling well, i can take you outside. i’ll even stop this whole thing, yeah?” he comforts, pecking a kiss on your temple.

your eyes close at the feeling and sound of his voice and body so tight against your’s. you clutch his hand tighter and push your head into the crook of his neck in attempt to silence the sounds of loud yells and impacts of fist on skin. you hear chifuyu whimper loudly out of pain, and your façade breaks: a small tear runs down your cheek without notice.

hanma immediately perks up at the sight, eyes wide and alert, and thumbs reaching up to wipe the stray tears from your cheeks. you murmur quiet ''s okay''s and 'don't worry about me, shu'', but he shushes you consolingly, removing his valhalla jacket to wrap around your curled up figure—and hiding your wandering eyes from baji, chifuyu, and everyone else around. there was no need for you, or them, to see one another. not in this moment, while you were frightened and upset. all of hanma's attention now, was on you.

—until a boy from his left, decided it was a fun idea to stick his nose into you two's business. a loud laugh from beneath the make-shift stage of the arcade, and hanma's eyes shoot down to the guy who was staring at you; presumably, this entire time. hanma's eyebrow lifts at him, almost daring the boy to elaborate just what that laugh was about. you try to crane your head behind your shoulder, to see the cause of hanma's demeanour change, but he didn't allow it; a protective arm wraps around your torso and squeezes your side.

the boy poses his hands defensively at his leader's continued glare. "woah there boss, what's with the harsh look?" he chuckles, but hanma doesn't find it amusing. "i'm just saying, if your baby"—he spews the petname mockingly—"can't even handle a small beating like this.. then maybe you should find someone new."

oh? hanma almost laughs at that, in total fucking disbelief at this guy's audacity. 'he's got some steel balls, huh?' hanma's lips quirk into a open-mouth smirk, sharp canines peering through ever so slightly. his head tilts, then he tauntingly responds: "you wanna repeat that? ♡"

the guy clears his throat, a small jitter now notable in his movements. yet still, he stands his ground: "i just think it's nothing to cry over, talk about being a literal baby." a couple surrounding guys giggle over the comeback, while others stare at the guy with complete incredulity.

although you're not facing them, you can still hear all the comments being made about you. it was as if they all decided to just disgard you as a fucking human being with feelings and emotions. like an object placed on their leader's lap for show. you breathe deeply, as the tears in your eyes well up once more.

a vein in hanma's forehead twitches. 'his fucking loss.'

before you can even comprehend it, you're being placed onto the chair, no longer situated on hanma's thigh. above you, hanma's stands tall—his looming figure higher than anyone else in the room.

the laughter drags on for a bit, the boy seeming to enjoy the attention from his teammates, until the loud thud of a plastic cart falls onto the floor. the contents inside spill out, and some break into dangerous shards of glass.

hanma retracts his foot slowly, and begins to pace himself down the stairs. his eyes lock with the boy, who's face was gradually draining of colour. the teammates who previously laughed with him, scurried out of hanma's way to make room as he towered through the crowd.

"you," he pointed straight at the guy, his voice serious and low. a couple more steps, and he was now directly in front of him. a moment passes, and the boy finds himself nervously gulping at his actions—and for what's to come. a devilish smile decorates hanma's face, a dark and cool dim accentuating all his edges and shadows. "let's play, yeah? ♡"

before the boy could even think to defend or dodge, a swift fist flies straight into his vision, and a loud crack erupts at the point of contact: his nose.

the sheer force of the hit causes the guy to lose his balance and fall hard on his back. one of his hands shoot up to hold his profusely bleeding nose and the other stretches out towards hanma. rapid profanities spill from his mouth, as his eyes widen in utter fear and shock. "—jesus, fuck—what the actual hell man?!" he cries out, crawling away pathetically in hanma's eyes. "it was a fucking joke! shit-ow!.. y-you broke it.. i think you broke my fucking nose!"

hanma crouches down to his level, head tilting menacingly as he scans the brutal mess of the guy's face. "you needed the fix anyways," he decides, and loudly cackles to himself.

hanma's cold eyes narrow, and a dark feeling overwhelms those witnessing this. "don't speak to me or my partner like that ever again." he leans in, angling his head next to the boy's ear and whispers sharply: "or it's the hospital i'll be sending 'ya to.. kay?"

the boy nods quickly, his breath shallow as he stutters meaningless apologies. he's still bleeding, but hanma couldn't care less. he nods once, opting to wipe his bloody knuckles on the boy's jacket, before standing up and returning back to where he sat you down.

he stretches his wrists and shoulders, groaning at the stupid interruption. "are 'ya alright, baby?" he asks the moment he makes it back to you, his voice uncharacteristically soft. he squats down, his large body effectively blocking everything and everyone from your sight once more. "i took care of the asshole, he won't be saying jack shit no more."

you nod, a small smile—a genuine smile—appears on your face. you thank him, pressing your lips against his for a few moments, and pulling away only for him to chase your mouth for another. you giggle into the kiss, making hanma grin ear to ear.

hanma pulls away for air, quietly mumbling to you: "i've got you.. always, okay?"

taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @kazuhoya@gwynsapphire@sscarchiyo@reiners-milkbiddies@smileyswifeyy (send me an ask or dm to be added!)

reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3 !

lion tamer - jing yuan x reader (12.4k)

it's taken for granted you'll take the job that nobody else wants, whilst the general is indisposed. you just didn't expect things to turn out like this.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. chubby reader. reader is afab but no gendered terms are used. descriptions of raw meat (animals eating), food, pining, fingering, cunnilingus, coming inside. pet names including little bird, darling, little thing. reader is implied to be shorter than jing yuan.

This was a commissioned work.

It’s a quiet whisper, at first - gossip among the lower-downs of the Luofu. You hear it on the fringes and the edges, but you dismiss it as really none of your business; you’re already working harder than most everyone else thanks to the small matter of your far shorter lifespan, and you don’t intend to set yourself back by listening to idle gossip. You have other things to concentrate on; the busywork that you’ve been assigned to as a junior (very junior) member of the Seat of Divine Foresight. 

Really, though they call you a ‘non-administrative support specialist’, you know what you really are; a general dogsbody, somebody to pick up all of the pieces that others sweep by. Still; just getting a position here means you’ve outdone most people, and you hold in your heart the idea that you could get even further up this ladder of success if you simply tried hard enough. You’ve heard tell that even some of the long-life species haven’t managed to make it as far as actually working within the Seat itself, so really . . . you can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself. 

Which is why you choose to ignore the swirling rumour about your esteemed Arbiter-General until you’re called into a meeting with Yong Hai himself. 

(The General is sick, the rumours say. The General may not last another day. The General’s laziness has caught up with him, the General may not make it, and what will we all do then--)

“So,” Yong Hai says, all business. “You’ve probably heard about it already.”

There’s a flare of disquiet in your gut; that the gossip and the rumours you’ve been so steadfastly avoiding are true. You don’t know what the Luofu would do with General Jing Yuan; you cannot imagine the ship and the world without him, when he has been such a stolid presence - and the way that the general public will react doesn’t bear thinking about--

“Stop that,” Yong Hai says, with an amused look in his eye even as he fights to keep his mouth in a firm, commanding line. “It’s not as bad as people are saying. The General has simply . . . contracted something that he isn’t bouncing back as quickly from as we’d hoped. We’ve had to send him off to the Alchemy Commission for a few days, just to see if we can work out how to help . . .” The secretary catches himself, clearly remembering he’s talking to someone who amounts to little more than custodial staff. He coughs. “Anyway. It’s left us in a bit of a conundrum, and after some discussion, we think you’re qualified to handle it.”

You tilt your head to the side as you try and think what you could possibly do to assist in this matter.

You’re no healer; you’re no nurse. You can’t help them figure out how to cure the General, you’re not equipped to sit at his bedside and mop his feverish brow (your cheeks go hot and your face burns at the very thought of it). You certainly can’t take over any of Jing Yuan’s actual duties. The idea of you as any kind of military strategist is laughable--

“How can I help, Sir?” You ask, partly because that is what’s expected of you and partly because you really have no idea what use you’ll be in the situation. 

“Ah,” he says, and then he coughs again - he looks into the corner of the room, as if he’s begging someone to help him, and you remember that he and his sister are most often found together. But here, it’s just the two of you, and he has nobody to help him to break whatever news he’s going to break to you. You hope it’s not going to involve cleaning up a sick-room; you’re really not good with that kind of thing--

“We need somebody to tend to his home affairs,” Yong Hai says, eventually. “He . . . Ah, look, I’m going to come out and say it. General Jing Yuan has a penchant for taking in stray animals and the like, and he only even agreed to let himself be looked at on the caveat we had to promise to find someone to look after them.”

You think of the statues of lions that decorate the place, and you feel a trickle of cold sweat down the back of your spine. You hope desperately that the secretary isn’t implying that you’re about to quite literally be fed to the lions--

“Stop looking like that!” He says, exasperated. “All of them are perfectly tame, and you’ll be in no danger. He has a . . . lion that he’s incredibly fond of. Several birds. And . . . ah,” he looks embarrassed again. “He’s informed us he usually leaves out a veritable feast for any other neighbourhood strays on his balcony, and he was very worried that they weren’t going to be properly nourished whilst he was away.”

Finches. You can do that. Neighbourhood strays - cats and dogs, you suppose - are all very well. But the lion . . .

That doesn’t matter. Yong Hai seems to have reached the end of his meeting with you, to his tangible relief. He’s already bustling about his desk and looking longingly towards the closed door. 

“A new schedule’s been drawn up for you and sent to you already,” he says. “All of the relevant information should be in the attachments! Have fun, won’t you? The General is so very fond of his pets, you see--”

Your phone beeps as if it is punctuating his point; the secretary beams at you, and you get the distinct impression you are being told to put your best foot forward and roll with the punches. ‘Get on with it’, as someone without any manners might say. 

“Understood,” you say, and you force yourself to smile and look on the bright side of things even if you’re sure you’re going to have nightmares about being eaten alive by a lion tonight. This is a post that the General wanted filled personally! This is almost as personal as someone can get to the General, actually; it appears you’ll be working in his actual home! It’s a . . . a step up! A stepping stone!

You force yourself to ignore that it is actually very much a case of sticking the lowest ranked person (and someone well-known for taking on as much as they can with cheerful aplomb, due to your fear of ever really saying ‘no’) onto the job that nobody else wants to do. 

“I’ll do my best,” you say, and Yong Hai beams at you even as he gestures for you to go and get to grips with your new role. 

Well. 

You have no other choice then, really, but to Get On With It. 

You are quite frankly terrified the next day, when you turn up to your newest duty. The documents sent to you had instructed you to pick up raw meat for the lion from the General’s most trusted supplier before you went up to his chambers; apparently, birdseed and cat-and-dog food was kept there, but the lion’s appetite could not so easily be sated. You have to give yourself a pep-talk before all of it; have to convince yourself that running away from this new responsibility would be both awful for your career prospects and terribly cruel.

“Ah,” says the supplier, when you turn up and tremulously hand over your phone so he can see the attachments displayed on the screen giving you this new Meat Power, “So you’re looking after the waifs and strays and Mimi, then?” 

“Mimi?” You ask, your voice tremulous, and he laughs as he hands over two incredibly full buckets of raw meat. It’s a good job you’re not squeamish. 

“That’s the lion,” he says. “The General tried to name her Snow Lion after he realised she wasn’t just going to be a pretty little white housecat, but . . . Mimi fits. You’ll see!”

The concept of Jing Yuan attempting to adopt a pretty little white house cat and being saddled instead with a huge lion, and having to continue to refer to the powerful beast as ‘Mimi’ despite his best efforts, keeps you entertained right up until you’re outside the door to the General’s chambers and you remember that a carnivorous predator awaits you on the other side of it.

“Well,” you say to yourself, hoisting the buckets up and taking a deep breath, “there’s no point delaying the inevitable. If I get eaten today . . .”

And you let the pass-key you’ve been given float against the sensor, until the ornate doors to Jing Yuan’s chambers slowly part and admit you into the Arbiter-General’s inner sanctum. 

The first thing that you’re struck by is how it seems that the General left in a rush. The entire place, whilst not dirty, has an air of untidiness. You hear the cheeping of finches from the first room; excitement that their Master may have finally returned to play with them. You can’t help but feel sorry for them - from what Yong Hai has said, it may be quite a while before Jing Yuan is well enough to return to his home. 

There are touches of the General everywhere, now that you’re looking. Delicate flowers (you’ve heard he likes small, delicate things, and you can’t help the nervous tug at your clothing as you consider just how indelicate you find yourself). Ceramics and porcelain that you fear are so fragile they may shatter even under your gaze. An unfinished game of star chess, a coffee cup left half-drunk . . . That last one could fetch a fine price in the black market. You’ve heard those traders hawking ‘tissues used by Helm Master Yukong’ or even ‘a book enjoyed by General Jing Yuan’s protege!’. 

Before your mind can lead you too far down that dangerous path, though, the lady of the hour appears. 

She’s beautiful. 

You have to stop yourself gasping aloud. Any fears you might have had seem to fall to the wayside, unimportant, compared to the majesty of the lion before you; the pure white fur, the wise face, the mane that fluffs out from her. She’s pure white; lean, but perhaps with a little pouch at the tummy. Not a single snarl or tangle mars her fur, not a single speck of dirt upon her, like the false moon looking down upon the Luofu--

She sees that you’re holding two big buckets and seems to recognise them, because it’s barely a breath before her ears twitch and she pounces like a kitten, seemingly not realising that you are smaller than her owner and she is far larger than the average kitten is. All of the wind is knocked out of you as you cry out her name and are tackled to the ground. 

You find yourself beneath the warmth of her body, a sweet scent emanating from her fur as if the esteemed General regularly bathes and shampoos her. Delighted, she sticks her snout right into one of the buckets. A low, pleased rumble emits from her throat as she works her teeth over the meat--

You reach up, hesitantly, with the one arm that isn’t pinned by the great weight of her. Your fingers hover for a moment, unsure of what to do - is she like a cat? Does she prefer chin scratches or ear scratches?

You settle for a very light pet at the side of her mane, just by her face. Her fur is just as soft as you had thought she would be - a lady who is clearly incredibly spoilt. Well-cared for. You have another flash of a vision of Jing Yuan - combing her mane, tying a shiny ribbon about her neck to match the ribbon he wears in his own hair. 

Mimi pauses in her enjoyment of the food. Your breath catches in your throat, all of your senses on a sudden high alert - what if she didn’t like being touched like that? What if she’s about to mistake your hand for a part of the buffet you’ve brought her?

A moment that seems like an hour passes.

And then she leans into your hand with a pleased rumble-squeak-growl, her eyes closing in pleasure, and despite how your heart is beating and your legs are aching from the way she’s twisted them and trapped them beneath her . . . you smile. 

For the first week, every time you let yourself into Jing Yuan’s space, you are alone aside from the animals he keeps there. Mimi launches herself at you, but you’ve learnt to sidestep and laugh and ruffle her mane, offering her choice little tidbits to curl up and gnaw on her food whilst you see to the strays that congregate on Jing Yuan’s balcony. They had taken a little longer to warm to you, but after the second day when it became clear if they wanted the same food Jing Yuan usually prepared they would have to come to you, they had thawed considerably. You leave them to their devices, and finish off with the finches. 

They hop from place to place in their cage, cheeping brightly. Sometimes they hop onto your finger or your shoulder, looking at you like you’re the most wonderful being in the universe. Once one had hopped onto your head and you’d stayed stock-still for five minutes, afraid of disturbing it. 

After all of the pets and animals are fed, you’ve gotten into the habit of sitting with them for a little while. Curling around Mimi and stroking her mane and her tail (you’ve braided it, actually, and told her how pretty she looks with little red ribbons in her fur as she blinked at you her slow, lazy blinks). Listening to birdsong. Letting the strays rub about your feet and imagining the Arbiter-General himself doing all of these mundane tasks. 

It’s strange, to think of him as so . . . so much a real person. General Jing Yuan has always seemed a man of mystery and just a touch of romance to you; a long life species who has outlived almost everyone he’s ever worked with, who has steered the Luofu into glories and battled bravely and heroically against Abundance abominations for longer than you’ve been alive. The first time you’d met him, when you’d gotten your place at the Seat of Divine Foresight (before you’d quite found out how meagre your duties really were), you’d been utterly tongue-tied. 

He’d been charming, naturally. Smiling and charismatic and low and pleasant-voiced, saying how glad he was to have you aboard and how he hoped you would enjoy your time here. There’d been, perhaps, a flash of sadness in his eye at the knowledge you were a short-life species-- but you’d quickly tried to dispel that notion, scolding yourself for your own romanticism. Jing Yuan is your colleague, your boss - better to not harbour such idealism, to make him into a storybook character instead of a man. 

Still. It’s rather hard to imagine him out of breath, puffing and wheezing, after pulling the bucket Mimi had gotten her paw stuck in off of the silly lion’s foreleg before she sent herself into a panic. 

You think that the menagerie that he keeps in his private quarters have grown fond of you in turn. The task that everyone had seemed to find so onerous quickly becomes one of your favourite parts of the day; there is something to be said about the healing properties to the soul of having a lion roll over to show you her tummy and wiggle enticingly until you give in to her and give her all of the rubs and tickles that she so clearly desires. 

So for about a week and a half, everything chugs along; you fall into routine, and the animals recognise you in turn. They sometimes still crane their necks and heads hopefully around you to see if Jing Yuan is around (Mimi especially occasionally looks dejected at his absence, though her ears perk up once again as soon as she remembers the buckets you come bearing are filled with delicious morsels for her), but when it is just you they still seem somewhat satisfied. 

Nobody gives you any warning that Jing Yuan has returned to his own rooms. 

Which is why you walk into the main room with your buckets swinging on your arms, singing a silly little song you’ve composed for Mimi about how the meat is soon to be ‘delicious and yummy’ in her ‘full-up-tummy’, you’re so surprised to hear a velvet soft chuckle floating from the big circular sofa in the centre of it that you almost drop all of those delicious-and-yummy steaks and thighs all over Jing Yuan’s ornately tiled floor. 

You stare at the sofa, your cheeks going all-over hot, as a mass of blankets moves and shifts and a slightly ruffled pale head emerges from them.

The General himself. 

It’s obvious, looking at him, that he hasn’t been feeling his best. His normally tied up hair falls over his face in unstyled sweeps, there are dark circles beneath his eyes and a sharpness to his cheekbones that you have never noticed before. Instead of the armour you have grown so used to seeing him clad in, he wears civilian clothes; a loose shirt that shows off the lines of his throat, his collarbone. 

Despite all of that, though, he is still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. Your heart still skips a beat. He takes you in for a moment, his face scrunched up as if he is not quite awake; and then, a small smile spreads over his handsome face. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says, in that low, musical voice. “I’d like to know where the song has to go, after her tummy has been filled.”

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out, awkward, nervous, unsure of what to say. “I-- nobody told me you’d be back, I can leave, I didn’t mean to--”

He holds up a lazy hand, the smile still on his face. His eyes are half-lidded, his overall look almost indulgent.

“Please,” he says. “I’m . . . better, but not fully recovered. I’ve been given strict instructions that I'm not to lift heavy objects or do anything more than relax for at least another week. I’d be much obliged - if it’s not too much trouble on top of your own duties, of course - if you could carry on seeing to my . . . what did they call it?” Another small, secret smile. “Ah yes. My little zoo.” 

“I-if you’re sure . . .” You say, surprised to find when you say it aloud that you’re relieved. You truly have gotten attached to all of the animals, even in this short time. 

Mimi butts your leg, impatient for her food, her huge paw petulantly tapping upon the floor. Jing Yuan laughs again, and you feel your stomach clench at the warm sound as it fills the room. 

“Oh, she likes you,” he says, in delight. “I’ve never seen her be so patient with anyone but myself, you know.”

“She’s been friendly since I met her,” you reply, reaching down to scratch her behind her ears and to place the buckets somewhere she won’t make such a mess (though she’s actually a fairly fastidious eater, for someone with no thumbs; you suppose she’s so proud of her lovely white coat that she doesn’t want to risk staining it).

Jing Yuan hums in consideration, his smile not leaving his face, as he watches you pet Mimi and her affectionate head bump before she dives back into her food. As you move into the other sitting room - the one that the finches reside in - you hear more rustling, and as you gather the birdseed you’re surprised to see that Jing Yuan is following you, sloping afterwards determinedly. There’s a definite tilt to his walk - the walk of a man who’s been in bed for a week - and you can’t help but say something.

“Sh-should you be out of bed, General?” You wince at the slight admonishment in your tone, fearing he will think you’re scolding him - but Jing Yuan simply smiles. 

“I need to check on my sweet little charges,” he says. “Come now. I’ve been in bed for days. Let me wander about my own rooms without worrying your pretty head too much about it, alright?”

It takes all of your grace not to turn into a pathetic, embarrassed mess at the easy way he says ‘your pretty head’ - somehow, you manage to keep your composure, keep some measure of poise, even as inside you feel yourself turn to mush. 

He sits down upon a chaise by the birdcages as you reach in to fill the small bowls and scatter the feed, his eyes not leaving you for a second. He smiles when he sees a finch or two hop upon your hand to peck at the seeds and bits left in the crevices of your palm. 

“A true animal whisperer,” he says, watching one of the more inquisitive finches hop up to your wrist and your forearm to tug teasingly at your elbow-length sleeves. “They’re not too fond of strangers, either.”

“I have been feeding them for a week, Sir,” you say to him, with a smile at the finch as you urge it off of your arm and back to the rest of its friends. “They’ve gotten used to me.”

He shakes his head, his hair falling about his shoulders, and you’re struck with the thought that he and Mimi even look similar. You’ve heard the old adage about how pet owners and their pets grow to look the same, of course, but you’d never realised quite how true it was until that moment and the sight of Jing Yuan doing a motion you’ve grown used to Mimi doing. 

He follows, too, as you take food and water onto the balcony. As cats wind around first your ankles, and then his - as dogs wag their tails and lick at your hands. 

“If I were a jealous man . . .” He says, laughing. “They must see something truly special in you.”

“Me?” You ask, aiming for a tinkly laugh but landing on ‘incredulous’. “No, they’re just sweet creatures. All of them are.”

He’s unerringly patient with the animals; his big hands tender as they scratch ears and tickle chins. Seeing the great General being so delicate makes your heart turn over in your chest; his big, scarred hands in direct opposition to the delicate bones and the soft fluff of all of the creatures that mass here. 

“Don’t be so modest,” Jing Yuan says quietly in reply. “I’ve known some of these animals for years. If they didn’t think you were something special . . .” 

Your cheeks are hot again. Somehow, in the course of this conversation, Jing Yuan has gotten closer and closer to you. Out here on the balcony, under the warm false sun of the Luofu, there’s nowhere for Jing Yuan to sit and watch - so he’s stood close to you. Close enough that you can see the warm gold amber of his gaze, the fan of his lashes, the mole high up beneath his eye. You swallow, and the sound is almost indecently loud even with the background mewls and barks and purrs. 

“I’m glad that they found someone so able to do this for me,” he says, his voice still quiet. That single word, those single two syllables, somehow manage to be imbued with more meaning than you’d ever imagined they could be. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

“Just until you’re feeling a bit better,” you reply, cheeks still hot, throat still sore, heart still beating far too fast in your chest. You wonder what Jing Yuan is thinking as he looks down at you - if he has noticed your anxiety, the way that he seems to set you all aflutter. You hope he thinks it is merely because he is your superior, and not because it’s so very hard not to dwell on his looks and his warm voice and the surprisingly different persona that he shows when he’s doing this--

Jing Yuan is still smiling at you, from back on the sofa covered in his blankets with Mimi spread out protectively over his feet, as you foolishly wave goodbye and leave his chambers. 

You get to witness Jing Yuan’s recovery firsthand. The first few days, he is still unsure of his own limbs; he still slowly lopes around the rooms. Once or twice, you come in to feed the animals and he stays wrapped within his blankets, Mimi only leaving his side to demand some cuddles and some meat from you. 

Despite his illness, though, he always has time to talk to you. He always asks you how you are feeling, what you have been doing; he teases you for how the animals seem to recognise you just as well as him now. When one of the finches pecks at your cheek, he chuckles and says;

“Ah, wouldn’t we all like to give our little bird a kiss like that?”

You don’t know how to respond to that, ducking your head, muttering something unintelligible that wins another of his laughs. His words err on the edge of being flirtatious. Once or twice he compliments your outfit, your hair - how lovely you look today. You never know how to react to such things; you force yourself not to dwell on them, reminding yourself of Jing Yuan’s own looks and his position and trying to tell yourself not to get attached and that the General is merely trying to be polite. 

One afternoon, he asks you to sit with him and have tea. 

It would be rude of you to say no; not when he has placed two teacups before him, anticipating your acceptance, a plate of sweet treats in an amount that would be gluttonous even for him arranged with the tea service. So you try and gracefully position yourself across from him. You try and remember your manners as you take the cup by the handle, as you choose the least ornamented and sugary of the delicacies on offer--

(It’s hard not to remember being told not to indulge at all. You feel conscious of eating in front of him--)

“Have this one,” Jing Yuan says, as if he can read your mind, and he pushes towards you an intricately decorated little cake resplendent with sugar roses and ruffles. “It’s one of my favourites.”

Your mouth waters. You give him an embarrassed smile as he encourages you further, reaching over to pick it up himself and place it upon your plate instead of merely pushing it.

“Really?” You ask, trying to pick it up neatly. “It’s a bit more delicate than I thought you’d like. I suppose I imagined you liking things a little rougher--”

Your face goes hot as you realise what you just said, but Jing Yuan ignores the innuendo and simply smiles at you. 

“Ah,” he says. “I like things that are . . . delicate. Smaller than me. So lovely to observe and enjoy, don’t you think?” His gaze doesn’t leave your face. You have never considered yourself delicate - the curves that you display have put an end to that - but under his eyes, you can’t help but think of the breadth of his shoulders and his height and think how a man like him could make even you feel small and breakable. “What do you think?”

The little cake is sweet on the tongue, flavoured with a hint of something you can’t quite name. Your eyes widen in surprise. 

“It’s wonderful,” you tell him, swallowing the bite and enjoying how the taste lingers. “Truly.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” he says - and then, he reaches over the table. “You have something--” 

You go stock-still, embarrassed and shocked at the intimacy of the gesture, as he uses his thumb to wipe a smudge of icing from the corner of your mouth. He keeps your gaze the whole time. It is something a lover does - it is not something you’d ever expected General Jing Yuan to do for you--

“There,” he says, returning to his cake as if nothing has happened. “It would be a terrible shame if I couldn’t see all of your lovely face, after all.” 

He is always saying things like this; off-the-cuff remarks that, if he were not the General of the Xianzhou Luofu, you would interpret as being flirty. He mentions them when you have tea together, when he ropes you into playing a game of star chess (“Don’t think I will go easy on you because you are nice to look at,” he says, as he places the counters into their starting positions), when he watches you and Mimi and you and the finches and tells you that he cannot decide which is cuter. 

You see him get gradually stronger and stronger. No more limping. He is almost always dressed, now. His hair no longer falls in shaggy waves about his face. His dark circles dissipate, his voice getting somehow even deeper and more velvety. 

The unspoken reality that soon, Jing Yuan will be well and you will no longer have to take on this extra duty hangs over your head.

You find that the idea makes you feel sick. You are not only enjoying caring for the animals, now, but you’ve also started to look forward to seeing the General. 

Well.

That’s not quite it.

You have to be honest with yourself, don’t you? 

You’ve developed a crush on him. 

You can’t imagine not seeing him. Not being greeted with Mimi’s butts and her batting paws; not hearing the pleased chirps of his finches whenever they see you. Not enjoying tea with him any more, simply existing in this lazy golden time when you do not have to think about work or his position above you or anything other than the four walls that surround you and the multiple hearts beating within it. 

Jing Yuan brings it up first.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, coughing one day after the two of you have played a game of star chess that you were thoroughly destroyed during. “Well. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m getting better.”

“I’m glad to see it, Sir,” you say, forcing a smile to your face even as your heart falls into the region of your feet. “We were all very worried about you. Everyone is always asking me how you are and when you’ll be returning to work--”

His face clouds, a flinch so quick you almost miss it.

“Yes,” he says, a mournful tone to his voice. “I’ll soon be returning to work.”

You tell yourself sternly not to cry. This was never supposed to be permanent. 

“Then I suppose you won’t need me any longer,” you say, forcing a smile on your face. You are going to be gracious if it kills you.

“Ah,” Jing Yuan replies. “That’s what I’d like to talk to you about. I . . . we are all very fond of you, you see.” He motions to Mimi, who has come to curl beside you, her head laid against your knee. “I fear Mimi will riot if you were to stop bringing her all of those steaks, you understand. And who knows what she’d do, deprived of your song about her tummy?”

You squeak in embarrassment. Mimi lifts her head and gives you a slow, displeased look, much to Jing Yuan’s amusement. 

“Well. I’m very aware that it’s not part of your duties, and I’d be willing of course to pay you more for all of the trouble, but--” 

You see Jing Yuan falter for one of the first times; as if he is afraid that you are about to reject him outright. He coughs, trying to hide his anxiety, but it is an emotion you’re intimately familiar with and as such you recognise it for what it is. 

“We’re all so very fond of you,” he repeats. “Won’t you keep coming?”

You barely leave a breath before you’re happily agreeing. 

It’s not quite the same. 

You knew it wouldn’t be; you knew that you wouldn’t see Jing Yuan anywhere near as often, as he resumed all of the many duties that the Arbiter-General has to take on. Despite how unenthused he had seemed to be returning to his work, you knew that Jing Yuan took his responsibilities terribly seriously). 

Still.

You had thought you might see him more. Might still be able to drink a cup of tea with him, even if it could not be the same kind of slow, languid time the two of you had taken over it before. You’d thought that there’d still be time for a conversation or two. 

The reality is that you almost never see the General now. 

At work, your paths had crossed only rarely; now, hyper-aware of his presence, you realise that you see him almost never. Not at work, and not at his own home. 

You’re still excited to see the animals - for the finches to happily chirp at you as if they’re telling you about their day. One of them rides about on your shoulder, now, even when you go out to feed the strays. You’re still excited to tell Mimi what a good girl she is and rub her tummy and play with her (she’s inordinately fond of ribbons and the chasing thereof, like an overgrown housecat). 

But without Jing Yuan there . . .

There’s something missing. 

You still do your duties as well as you can - Jing Yuan has negotiated a hefty raise for you, all things considered - but you can’t help sometimes leaving his home feeling a little empty at the lack of seeing the General. You can’t help being disconsolate as you think about him - as you remember his flirty little asides, the way he’d looked at you across the room, the smile that played across his mouth whenever he did. You know he couldn’t really be interested in you, that he was probably like that with most people - but a secret little flame cannot help but burn in your heart even so. 

Days pass, quiet, lonely. You work, and feed the animals, and go home to your own empty quarters. You work, feed, go home, work, feed, go home--

Until one evening, when you’re just about to leave Jing Yuan’s chambers, when the door opens and the General appears. He looks a little red in the face; his breath comes in short little pants. You’ve never seen him so obviously flustered; usually, Jing Yuan fits perfectly up to his reputation as the Drowsy General. 

“Are you alright?” You ask him, rushing over. You’re touching him before you’ve thought through consequences; finger hovering over his pulse point, reaching up to feel his forehead to make sure he’s not running a temperature. Through the panting, he looks at you and smiles. 

“I’m afraid,” he says, still breathing heavily, his voice rasping. “I made up a little lie to be able to get back here on an errand that doesn’t really exist.”

“General,” you scold him. It’s not like him to shirk responsibilities. He laughs. 

“Yes, yes, I know, little thing-- but I had to see you. I wanted to see you again.”

You think he’s misspoken.

“I have to get back,” he says, and he reaches down - his hands upon your cheek again. You don’t know how to reply, what to say, what is going on. All you know is that you are there, and Jing Yuan is there, and something is happening. Fizzing on the air is a promise that something is going to change. “But . . . I couldn’t-- I needed to finally--”

Jing Yuan kisses you. 

It’s a kiss as messy and rushed as he is right now. A kiss that says that he has to hurry back, despite how much he doesn’t want to. You, unused to being kissed and even more unused to being kissed by handsome military leaders who feel a hundred times out of your league, do not kiss him back. He’s messy and wet, and his teeth clash against your lips as you stand there, feeling foolish and wrong-footed.

He realises you’re not kissing him back, and he stops - he draws back, his eyebrows furrowed. He opens his mouth to speak. 

He’s going to say it was a mistake, you realise. He’s going to say he thought you were someone else, that he was carried away in the heat of the moment. You and Jing Yuan? No. It couldn’t be. It’s absurd, it’s silly, nobody could ever believe it - and yet.

And yet.

Your heart couldn’t take his rejection.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out - and you push past him and out of the door and back towards the comforting ordinary normality of your own empty rooms. 

Despite your embarrassment, fear and all of those other emotions keeping you up all night, when you wake up the next morning you know that things will be worse the more you put them off. So you get dressed for work and you thank Lan that, when you walk into the Seat of Divine Foresight, Jing Yuan is nowhere to be seen. 

You hope he is hard at work, far away from you. You cannot quite face him yet. You haven’t properly said goodbye to your foolish dreams. 

You can’t shirk your other duties either, so at the ordinary time you stand up from your desk (you’ve somehow been saddled with the job of reviewing paperwork for grammar inconsistencies. You feel certain there ought to be software of some sort that does this job for you, but it had been laid here on your desk when you’d gotten to it and you were not in the habit of arguing about your duties), and you head to the designated supplier of raw meats for Mimi’s consumption.

“Oh,” says the supplier, the evening after Jing Yuan had finagled a way to see you. “He told me to let you know to go straight up today.” 

You frown, not quite sure why; you hope Mimi is alright. It feels strange to be going towards Jing Yuan’s home without your arms weighed down with buckets of meat, but you push forward even so. You hope last night - the awkward kiss, the way he had looked at you - does not sour things between the two of you. You hope that he isn’t about to tell you to never come back. Your heart makes a new home, somewhere in the vicinity of your throat, as you hesitantly knock upon his door.

A beat passes. Your mind helpfully provides you with all of the ways in which Jing Yuan could be about to fire you - or worse, let you down gently and admit that he had a moment of weakness. In that moment, you suddenly seem so much more aware than before of yourself - of the unfashionable curves, of the amount of space you take up, of how a man like Jing Yuan could surely not have really wanted to kiss someone like you - and then, he has opened the door and he is smiling at you and he doesn’t look angry.

Instead, upon seeing you there, a smile passes across his face; tugs at the corners of his lips, crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he says to you - and he reaches across the threshold and his hand brushes your cheek, as soft and tender with you as he is with his finches. “I’m sorry if I frightened you last night.”

“I’m sorry I ran,” tumbles out of your mouth. “I just . . . I didn’t think you-- and somebody like me-- and I was afraid--”

He lays a finger over your lips, still smiling. 

“It’s alright,” he says, in that low, smooth voice. “I’m sorry if I caused you undue trouble, little bird.” The pet name falls from his lips as easily as any other trifle, though it makes you feel hot and aware of yourself and flattered all at once. “Please come in.”

He takes your hand to gently urge you across the threshold, his touch still feather light. You think, as he does it, of all of the other things those hands have done; all of the battles they have waged, all of the strength that must be contained within them despite how gentle his touch is now. 

“I’ve asked someone else to take care of the animals,” he says to you, not letting go of your hand as he leads you through the front room. You realise with a start exactly where he is taking you as he approaches a door you have never had reason to open before. He looks at you, eyes keen and golden. “I wanted us to be alone. I would hope, little bird, if you do not want this . . .” 

“I do,” tumbles from your mouth. It is nothing but the honest truth. You let the crush that you’ve been trying to deny, the fear of Jing Yuan not liking you or finding you attractive, the anxieties of not being good enough, all wash over you, in favour of the beating of your heart and the feel of his hand on your face and the sight of his hand upon the doorknob of his bedroom. 

He turns fully so he stands before you. Hands come up, cradling your face; thumbs brushing the plump apples of your cheek, fingertips upon the soft flesh. He is smiling still, even as he dips his head lower, so low you can see the multitudes of swirling shades of gold in his eyes. 

“Promise me,” he murmurs, low and soft. “Tell me you want me the way I want you. No expectations, little one. Your career, your position, your everything - nothing will change if you do not want me as badly as I desire you. Honesty.” You realise a tear has escaped from the corner of your eye. You have never felt so . . . seen. So very much wanted. So sure of anything in your life. He wipes that tear with his thumb, tilting your face closer to him so that if you just angled your head differently you could kiss him. “Promise me.” 

“I promise,” you whisper, and Jing Yuan’s lips meet yours. 

This kiss is entirely unlike the one from yesterday; this kiss is slow, luxurious. Jing Yuan starts off gentle with you, his hand still cupping your jaw - his lips moving against yours in slow, indolent waves. He nips at your bottom lip with his teeth and wins a gasp from you, a hitch of your breath, as your own hands come up to rest lightly upon his chest. You feel his mouth curve into a smile against your own. 

“You’re adorable,” he rumbles, pulling back just enough that you can still feel his breath on your face. “Truly - you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this to you.”

“I--” You helplessly stare up at him. You can barely believe this is happening, as he pushes open the door to his most private of domains. “Really?”

He laughs again, gently taking your arm and urging you into the room. You are helpless to do anything but follow him - to let him slowly, slowly, slowly pull you beside him and onto his bed. 

“You really have no idea how . . . desirable you are?” He asks, voice low and husky, humming with want. His hand skims over your cheek, the nape of your neck, following the line of your jaw and your throat to linger over your collarbone. His eyes follow the path his fingers take, not moving from your form for an instant. “You really didn’t notice me staring at you, little bird?” He leans in, close enough for his breath to tickle your ear. His lips brush over the pulse point in your neck, making you squeak in surprise again even as it sends a bolt of heat to the space between your legs. “Imagining what you would feel like under my hands? Imagining what you would look like, divested of that maddeningly conservative uniform they make you wear?” Another kiss, this one with a hint of teeth. You realise with a hot flush of embarrassment mixed with want you have cried out at the sensation of the almost-bite. “Imagining how you would react to every touch I gave you?” 

“Sir,” you pant, dazed and amazed and hot and needy. “I-- I thought about you, too--”

“Oh,” he murmurs, as his big fingers slide over your body, feeling the ample shape of you through that same conservative uniform. His big palms brush the soft chub of your upper arms, the meat of your chest, the shape of your waist and over the curve of your hips, basely appreciating your body even beneath the fabric. “I’m sure they were no match for the utterly filthy things I imagined doing to you.” 

His thumb digs into the indent of your waist, tugging you closer to him so that you’re pressed tighter against his body. He smiles down at you, every inch the conquering general, and your heart beats in time with the pounding between your legs. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Wanting and hungry and lustful, like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever seen. It’s not a look you’re overly familiar with receiving - but oh, does it feel amazing to be on the receiving end of it from Jing Yuan. 

“Such a fragile thing,” he murmurs down to you, and you almost laugh, for you do not feel fragile - but Jing Yuan continues speaking, and you get lost in the dulcet tone of his voice. “So very mortal. So very ephemeral . . .” He sighs, dips his head and kisses you again, a flurry of pecks upon your lips as his thumb draws circles where it rests. “Will you let me make the most of having you, little bird? Let me show you how beautiful you are?” He smiles. “I have always had a weakness for delicate things.” 

He means it. 

Any time you have ever felt too big; ungainly, or ill-shaped - all of it falls to the wayside under the warm haze of being looked at and admired and wanted by Jing Yuan. You find yourself smiling up at him, aware you probably look as though there is not a thought in your head, but the General doesn’t seem to mind as he looks at you with hunger colouring his gaze. 

“May I undress you?” He asks, voice low and cajoling. His fingers tease beneath the neckline of your uniform, and it feels as though they leave a trail of fire everywhere they linger. You do not trust yourself to speak; you nod at him, your breath coming out in short little pants. He makes a soft noise of approval, before his fingers are working at buttons and fabric. Cool air hits your bare skin; your uniform is gently cajoled off of your body, tossed aside to be worried about later as Jing Yuan’s hungry eyes drink in every new inch of your exposed skin. 

He does not stop praising you as he does it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, as your top half is bared, as his eyes roam over your chest and his hands come up and squeeze the generous curve of them, palms rough against delicate skin. You shiver as his thumbs find your nipples, as they rub over them again and again until the buds stiffen beneath his touch and a soft whine escapes the back of your throat. “You’re beautiful.”

His tone is nothing if not worshipful. By slow, luxurious degrees, Jing Yuan helps divest you of your garments. As your underwear and bottoms are rolled down, as fabric bunches at thighs and knees, he does not stop murmuring sweet nothings about how soft you are, how beautiful, how lucky he is to be able to see you like this. 

About how he has been thinking about having you like this since the moment he saw you. 

“You looked so beautiful then too,” he murmurs, as your underwear is pulled from your ankles. He briefly gazes at it, the gusset saturated with your slick, and he smiles. “Ah . . . that little song, the nervous, shy reaction to realising I was there - the sight of you all soft-eyed and adoring with Mimi . . . I’ve never wanted to have my wicked way with somebody quite so much.” 

You’re bare beneath him, Jing Yuan slowly urging you to lay down upon the coverlets of his large bed. You suppose that it’s so large so that if Mimi desires to sleep with him, she can, but it alongside Jing Yuan’s own size simply helps you feel small and delicate and breakable in a way you never have before. 

“I wanted to know,” Jing Yuan murmurs, leaning down and brushing his lips over yours, teasing and feather-light. “If you would be quite so adorable, squirming and nervous and vulnerable, if I were to have you like this.”

Your cheeks are hot. Jing Yuan has not lost a single garment of his own, but you are entirely unguarded to whatever he wants to do to you now - bare of every scrap of fabric. His gaze lingering on your body almost makes you want to draw in; to curl around the exposed flesh of your stomach, to cover the pudge. 

Jing Yuan notices something in the way you hold yourself. He smiles down at you and cups your cheek.

“Don’t hide,” he breathes. “I want to see all of you, little thing. I want you to know how beautiful I find you.”

“I--”

He takes your hand in his, shifting so he is on his knees between your legs. Gently, he guides your unsure hand to the space over his own crotch. Even through the layers of fabric, you can sense the heat of him; the stiffness pushing against his trousers.

“If I did not want you,” he says, “why would you make me so needy, hmm? Feel what you do to me.” He presses your hand a little harder against it, a soft hiss of breath escaping him, encouraging you to not simply take his word for it. Your face hot as ever, you do so; give a gentle squeeze that makes him groan. “Ah-- be careful, sweet thing. I want to take my time over you.”

He lets go of your hand, gently urging you to place it back beside you. Your fingers find purchase in his sheets. You still cannot quite believe where you are; that it’s the great Arbiter-General leaning over you, looking down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen. 

“I-it’s not fair,” you say to him, your voice dry. “I’ve lost all of my clothes, and you’re still fully dressed--”

He chuckles. This time, when he bends down, there’s a slow, deliberate quality about him. He kisses your neck again; trails wet butterfly kisses over your collarbones, lower and lower to the swell of your chest. His hands come to cup the generous weight of them, even as his mouth floats closer and closer to your nipples, tightening and stiffening in anticipation. 

“I told you,” he says, murmuring in between flicks of his tongue against the buds. “I want to take my time over you.” He looks at you, eyes half-lidded. “Ah, you short-life species . . . You never learn patience. I have all of the time in the world to give you ecstasy over and over--”

People call Jing Yuan the Dozing General. As he applies his tongue to your nipples, though - as he suckles and nips and bites, as he kisses and squeezes until you feel dizzy with the attention he’s lavishing upon you, you realise that they are misinformed. Jing Yuan is not lazy or dozing - Jing Yuan merely likes to take his time over things. 

And oh, is he enjoying taking his time over you. 

You whine under his touch. You whimper and squirm, your cheeks flooding hot, your entire body prickling with tension and pleasure as his attentions upon your nipples send shockwaves of pleasure down to your sex. You feel wetness fair seeping out of you; slick rolling down your thighs, making a mess of Jing Yuan’s bed sheets. 

“Please,” you manage to get out, dry-voiced and wanting, after what seems like an eternity. “Please, Sir--”

“Jing Yuan,” He corrects you, a smile on his face as he continues to trail wet kisses over your bare skin. “What kind of man would I be if I allowed you to call me ‘Sir’ buried knuckle-deep in you, sweet thing? We are on even ground here.”

It’s hard not to think of him as the General. You are currently barely able to string a thought together, and he hasn’t even touched the place between your thighs yet. Still - you need him to touch you somewhere else. You need his attentions to give your chest a break (your nipples are sore, stiffened points - your skin slick with the wetness of his licks and kisses) and move to somewhere else. You force out, through your desire to genuflect to his status, his given name.

“Jing Yuan--”

“Hmm?” He asks, raising his head. His lips are swollen and pink, his eyes amused. “Do you need something, little bird?”

“Please . . .” A soft exhale, trying to work through the mass of sensations and needs that your body seems to have become. Jing Yuan does not stop touching even as you try and get out your words; still gently squeezing and toying with the weight of your chests. He’s smiling, enjoying watching you desperately work through the haze of your desire. 

“Your words,” he says, a maddening smile pulling at his lips. “Tell me what you want, and I promise I’ll do all in my power to give you it.”

“Please,” you say again, your brain fuzzy. His hands move from your chest now; big palms travelling over the curve of your stomach, your hips, resting there in a way that makes you almost lose all of your senses. “I want you to touch me . . . there--”

“Where, little thing?” He’s still smiling. “Here?” A gentle squeeze to your hips. “Here?” His palm roves over your stomach, the soft pouch just above your mound. You whimper again. “Ah. Come now--”

“Between my legs,” you whisper, voice tight and breaking with desire. “Jing Yuan, please--”

“Ah,” he laughs, dips down and kisses you once on the mouth. “You need only to ask. Spread your thighs for me, lovely thing.”

You do, utterly helplessly. Jing Yuan sighs reverently, moving further down so that he can bend his head to look at you. Your face burns under his scrutiny, fearful that he will find something lacking in your body even as his eyes greedily drink you in like you are the finest wine. He breathes deeply, and you hope that your scent is not off-putting - and then, his fingers are sliding slowly and surely up the soft plush of your legs and closer and closer to the space between your thighs and your heart is beating too fast and your breath is coming in short pants.

“Calm down,” he murmurs, and you keen as his hands reach your sex; as he uses his thumbs to spread the plump lips of your labia apart and the cool air hits your slick, heated core. “Ah, darling . . .”

There is so much in those two syllables. Hunger and desire and adoration, all mixed together as one. In another world, with another person, it might have made you feel self-conscious; but Jing Yuan looks down at you as if you are the most beautiful treasure he has ever had the good fortune to witness. 

He leans down, down - and you squeak as you realise what he’s about to do, surprised, but it does not deter him at all as he lets his tongue take a slow, luxurious lick down your sex. The base of his tongue presses against your clit, the pressure on the swollen hitherto ignored nub almost enough to make you come right there and then - but then he pulls back again, chuckling.

“Mm,” he says. “If I allow myself to sample too much of something so sweet, I’m afraid I’ll lose my composure.” He moves his hand instead; lets his fingers explore the length of you, fingertips brushing against your clenching entrance and dancing about your swollen clit. There is little pressure exerted on your sex; merely Jing Yuan’s slow, considering explorations. You clench your own fingers into the bedsheets in order to stop yourself writhing. 

“Lovely,” Jing Yuan says to himself. “Ah, you feel like velvet. Such a pretty thing; so perfectly made . . .” He sighs, even as the tip of his longest finger nudges against your entrance. Your hips move of their own accord, trying to suck him in and get him to put his finger inside of you, but he clicks his tongue with an amused chide; “Impatient,” he says. “Ah. You’re lucky you’re so irresistible--”

He slides his finger inside of you, slowly but certainly. You sigh, your lashes fluttering closed - his touch stokes all of those fires inside of you, of course, burning to fever pitch . . . but the sensation of finally having something inside of you has also made you realise how empty you felt before. It feels good, to have something to fill that pulsing space. Jing Yuan watches with rapt attention as he slides his finger half out, and then half inside of you again. 

You have had some experience, but you have never felt the way Jing Yuan makes you feel. 

“You take it so well,” he murmurs. “Look how pretty you look with something inside of you. Ah. I could spend hours doing this to you . . .”

You make a soft whine of discontent at the idea and he laughs, clicking his tongue even as he’s letting his second finger dance at your entrance ready to join the first. 

“No, even I do not have the patience for that right now,” he agrees. “Not when you feel so wonderful, little bird. Not when I cannot wait to see you come apart.”

The second finger; a slight scissoring motion as it enters you, getting you used to the size and stretch of two of his digits instead of one. The heel of his palm presses against your clit with every wet pump, sending frissons of pleasure to the tips of your toes; but he still does not rush himself. He still lets himself enjoy the feel of you clinging tightly to his fingers, the sight of them disappearing inside of your slick, drooling hole. 

“Does that feel good?” He asks you, deciding you haven’t spoken recently enough. “Tell me if you want me to go faster, sweet thing--”

“Please,” you say, ragged, breathing heavy. You can feel a tight hot ball of tension between your legs, rolling in your gut, threatening to overwhelm you. “Please, Jing Yuan, faster--”

“Very well,” he smiles, and he crooks his fingers inside of you to find your g-spot - causing your back to arch involuntarily, a whine of pure enjoyment to loose itself from your throat. At the same time, his thumb moves to play with your clit - to toy with the bud, to roll and to circle and to press against the swollen bundle of nerves. What already felt like electric shocks of pleasure move on; instead, they are lightning bolts, ricocheting up your spine and stopping just short of striking earth. 

“You’re close,” Jing Yuan says, and you are staring at his mouth. How a strand of your own gossamer-thin arousal is still glimmering at the corner. How his eyes are so focused on you that his gaze feels almost scorching. “That’s right. Let go for me, sweet thing--”

His soft entreaty pushes you over the edge, and the lightning strikes home as your peak hits you with all of the force of a storm.

His fingers work you over the crest of your orgasm, the two inside of you constantly rubbing against that spongy spot that makes you see stars, the big pad of his thumb roughly sliding over your twitching clit in circles and lines. As the waves come to a head and then slowly begin to dissipate, he slows his attentions too - until the slow strokes of his fingers fade out into nothing. He does not seem to care that you’ve soaked his fingers and his palm and the fabric he wears and his bed too - merely keeps looking at you, smiling, like you’re giving him the most precious gift imaginable. 

“Good,” he praises you. “But . . . I’m afraid that just that taste from earlier wasn’t quite enough, little bird. May I use my mouth on you?”

Who would ever believe this? Who would ever imagine little old you, on the Arbiter-General’s bed, as he looks at you and waits for your permission to fuck you with his tongue? You feel rather tongue-tied yourself - but you recall what Jing Yuan said earlier, about using your words.

“Please do,” you say, aloud, and Jing Yuan gives you that same smile that makes you feel like the only being in the whole universe.

“Thank you,” he says, sounding entirely like he means it - like it’s truly an honour for him to be able to serve you on his hands and knees. And then he has moved his body further down the bed, elegant and graceful and leonine, and his mouth is heading towards the slick-soaked place between your legs and his tongue is glinting wet in the bedroom and then he is on you, licking at you, hungrily devouring your sex like it is his last meal before an execution. 

You’re still oversensitive from his earlier attentions, and the sensation of the wet muscle of his tongue working over you almost pushed you into another early orgasm. Your fingers move from where they’re still clenched into the bedsheets to cling to his hair instead, pulling on the silvery pale strands as your back arches and you blindly cant your hips forward towards his mouth.

He groans aloud at having his hair pulled, and the groan sends vibrations all through your body that make you feel weak at the knees, your toes curling. His tongue continues its assault; back and forth, back and forth. Wetness drools from your sex and onto his face; you can feel the heat in his cheeks, the fan of his lashes against your bare skin. 

He twirls his tongue about your entrance, teasingly dips into it, as the channel of your sex constricts and pulses in an attempt to pull him even further in. He groans as your hands knit further into his hair, fucking you for a moment with his tongue before he seems to try and work his face further into your sex. 

It’s like he wants to engulf you; soft noises of pleasure keep falling from his mouth, interspersed with rumbling groans. He’s almost gyrating against the bed, you realise, your cheeks hot - grinding his crotch into the mattress as if he’s desperate to have some attention of his own. 

That sight makes your mouth go dry; all of the moisture in your body instead congregating between your legs to make a new home in Jing Yuan’s mouth and smeared across his cheeks. 

His tongue flicks across your clit and the noise that escapes you is almost animal; Jing Yuan says something, perhaps, or at least makes some kind of muffled noise from his position happily buried in your sex before he shifts his tongue just so and his mouth fastens around your clit fully. 

Sucking and licking, suckling upon the pearl like his life depends upon it; tongue occasionally just brushing under the hood, where you’re most engorged, and you can do nothing but cling onto his hair and pull at it as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt rips through your body.

You cannot put into words the way that you feel as Jing Yuan devours you. Your entire body feels, suddenly, as if it weighs nothing; as if sparkling lights suffuse your fingers and toes and you float into the stratosphere, white lights dancing behind your eyes in time with your whine (a whine so loud you’re sure everybody on the Luofu must have heard of it).

You come down, eventually, to the sound of Jing Yuan panting. The wet noise as his mouth separates from you, the pleased grin on his face as he uses his thumb to wipe his mouth of some of your slick. It’s a pointless endeavour, really; his face is so saturated with it you’re not sure if he’ll ever be dry again. 

“Darling,” Jing Yuan repeats, looking you in the eye, smiling like the cat who has gotten the cream. “You have no idea how much I enjoyed doing that.”

The words almost make you go over shy - but you push that to the side. There is no point, you decide, being nervous of a man who has now known you so intimately.

“In which case,” you say, breathlessly - your voice is still a little scratchy from the moaning and whimpering you’ve been doing - “Will you let me make you feel just as good?”

He looks at you for a moment, before he throws his head back and laughs.

“Why,” he says. “Of course I will.”

“Come,” Jing Yuan is murmuring, and he is finally removing his own clothes. Armour drops to the side of him, shirts unbuttoned and fastenings unhooked. His body is muscular and dotted with scars, befitting his status as a military hero; a light dusting of pale hair upon his proud chest, down into a trail to the vee of his hips. You swallow, your throat dry, trying to blink back the waves of pleasure that are still lapping gently at your shores in order to concentrate on what’s going on. His face is still wet with your slick, his hair damp with sweat and falling in messy strands over his flushed face. He looks well-fucked even without you touching him back, as if merely getting you to feel good was enough for him. 

His cock. It’s stiff against the hard planes of his abdomen, a thick, pretty specimen bubbling with precome at the flushed tip. He sighs, running his hand over it once, and your mouth practically waters at the way it twitches. It looks stiff and hard enough that you wonder if it hurts, to want so badly - but Jing Yuan looks at you and smiles, as he rearranges himself on the bed. Pillows are moved, and before you know it he has sat against them, propping himself up like an emperor upon his throne. His cock stands proud and wanting, and he gently pats his thigh as if he is calling an obedient animal to him.

“I don’t wish to hurt you, little bird,” he says - and again, you think of how it feels to be smaller than him. How he does not care about the flesh that spills from straps or curves over fabric. How he looks at you like the most beautiful thing in the world and calls you ‘delicate’ and ‘little’ and ‘precious’ and means them. “Come. Take a seat. As slowly as you need.” 

Despite how he has seen you so intimately, you cannot help but feel a little flare of fear as you approach him. He smiles, entirely at peace and at comfort with you going at your own pace, and you could kiss him for it.

“Touch,” he murmurs. “Don’t be afraid.”

With trembling fingers, you reach out; let your hand encircle his cock, get used to the width and the feel of him and imagine it inside of you. He pulses beneath your palm, a soft hum of pleasure falling from the back of his throat as you give it a cursory pump. He curses softly as your thumb rubs across the slit of his cockhead, the bubble of precome wetting the pad.

“Touch,” he says, with a smile. “But don’t get me too excited, little bird. I don’t want to come anywhere but inside of you.”

Your cheeks go hot at his easy profession; your tongue darts out to trace your lower lip. You’re used to the feel of him now; the heat that seems to stir beneath the surface of his cock, the veins that marble the side of his shaft, the ruddy pink of the head. Taking a deep breath, you spread your legs and let yourself readjust, straddling him. His own hands come up to cling to your thighs, sinking into the soft flesh there.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, as if in devotion, as if praying to an Aeon. “You’re beautiful.” 

His cockhead brushes your clit as you fit it snugly between the lips of your sex; you shift your hips, until it catches against your entrance and your eyes flutter closed. 

Your eyes are still closed as you begin to lower yourself down, so you feel every inch of him as he makes his home within your body. Your eyes being closed, of course, you miss the softness and the warmth that fills Jing Yuan’s gaze as he looks at you. The brief moment of sadness that passes behind his eyes as he remembers that you are a short-life species; that he cannot have all of the time in the world with you, to teach you pleasures the likes of which you do not yet know. The sadness he cannot spend his lifetime learning you by heart--

But you hear the soft murmur of your name, as he bottoms out inside of you and you take a moment to simply rest there with him buried as deep inside of you as he can go. You feel the way one of his hands slides up your spine to grip the back of your head and to pull you into a kiss as deep and adoring as anything else he’s done so far. 

Teeth and tongue and lips, whimpering and gasping into one another’s mouths until you do not know where he ends and where you begin, Jing Yuan somehow manages to murmur;

“Move whenever you want, sweet thing. Set the pace.” 

It does not, in the end, feel like either of those things happen. Instead, it feels as though the universe sets the pace for you; as if you simply know when to begin to move your hips, how to bend and angle yourself just so in order for Jing Yuan to hit all of the most sensitive spots inside of you.

One hand remains on your hip, helping you with the pace - the other remains on the back of your head, to allow him to kiss, as if he doesn’t want to let his mouth separate from yours for any longer than necessary. It’s a romance that you didn’t expect of the General, but it’s hardly one you’re going to complain about when his mouth feels so good and the constant nibbling of your lip and curl of his tongue against yours is distracting you from the mounting pleasure already starting to coalesce inside of you. 

There is nothing in the world for a while except Jing Yuan’s body underneath yours. His hands, his mouth, the feel of his shoulders beneath your own palms where you cling to him for leverage. You sweat and breathe and kiss and fuck as one, until the call inside of you becomes too much to ignore.

“I’m--” You pull back from the kiss to whisper, voice hoarse. “I’m going to--”

“Shh,” Jing Yuan says, kissing again. His own voice climbs in pitch, and you hear a shiver and a shudder in his syllables that makes you aware that he, too, is not far from his own release. His teeth nip at your lower lip as he half-begs into your mouth. “Please. Come again for me, sweet thing, little bird, pretty-- let me feel you--”

Your third orgasm crashes over you, your sex spasming around his cock, tight and hot and pulsing - and Jing Yuan groans into your mouth as you push him over the edge too, and you feel his cock spasm in turn. Ropes of hot release shoot inside of you; you had thought, earlier, that having his cock buried all the way inside of you was the extent of how full you could feel. 

You were wrong.

You bite at his lips, whining and half-sobbing, as the please encompasses you like a cloak of warmth. Jing Yuan groans in return, his hips making needy fast circles to chase the dregs of his own release. It feels right, for the two of you to peak together like this. For the two of you to chase every last drop of pleasure, entwined together and sweating and kissing and as close to one being as it’s possible to be.

Eventually, your breathing slows. Eventually, the kiss turns tender instead of frenzied. Eventually, you pull back from Jing Yuan with a foolish smile on your face and your cheeks hot and tears of pleasure (that you hadn’t even realised you had cried) rolling down your face like sparkling diamonds.

You stare at each other, the enormity of what has happened washing over you. Jing Yuan’s face is calm and serene, but his eyes are bright still, his cheeks still high in colour. 

You fear for a moment that he is about to dismiss you; that what the two of you just shared will mean nothing now that it is over. You fear that you’re about to go back to what you were before; a colleague and an employer, a General and a subordinate. But then, Jing Yuan lets out a deep rumbling sigh, pleased, as he collapses back upon the pillows. He opens his arms for you to dismount, his cock sliding slippery and wet outside of you, his come trickling down your thighs.

“Come here,” he murmurs, sounding tired but terribly pleased; the cat who has gotten the cream. He’s like a lion once more. You are helpless to resist his indication that he wants to cuddle, and so you let him pull you into his arms, let him manoeuvre you to lay against his chest until you can hear his heart beating. His fingers stroke your head, like you’re a sweet-tempered animal yourself. “Mmm. Rest with me, little bird.”

You let yourself. Your body is aching and sore from the orgasms and the sex, and you let your eyes drift closed, lulled by the comforting rhythm of his breathing. 

A sleepy kiss is dropped onto the crown of your head.

“Enjoy it whilst you can,” Jing Yuan hums. “Before we start having to make room for Mimi every night.”

shark week

synopsis: you forget about your upcoming period and you had no choice but to seek help from the school's gang leader

warnings: fluff! mikey is kinda an idiot but when is he not, he is the type of person i would scream at if im on that time of the month tbh, he asks too many questions, kinda oblivious to everything tbh

wc: 2.1k

notes: special thanks to kar and hailey for beta reading

shit. 

your eyes widened as an uncomfortable sensation leaked from your lower body. you grit your teeth in embarrassment, looking around the classroom feeling as if all eyes were on you and your shame. 

breathe. just breathe. you try to compose your breaths, cringing slightly as another uncomfortable sensation trickles down your private area. 

fuck. this was just the worst. 

with a shaky hand, you called upon the attention of the teacher who was teaching god knows what– math? history? you weren’t even sure at this point. 

“may i be excused?” the teacher gives you an unimpressed look before he rolls his eyes and gives an affirmation, going back to the topic at hand. 

you silently thanked the designers of your uniform for making the skirt a dark color as you briskly walked towards the bathroom and hurried into a stall. 

fucking hell. your worst nightmare came true. 

you were on your period, and you didn’t have a pad. 

the toilet paper on the side of the stall was empty on all stalls. it felt like the gods were punishing you for something that you weren’t even aware of. 

you looked at your watch. five more minutes until break time. then, you can maybe ask a girl from your class for a pad. 

five more minutes.

just five more minutes…

where the fuck are they?!

ten minutes passed and no one seemed to find the urge to use the comfort room. you swore you heard the bell ring around five minutes ago, but the hallway where the comfort room was is still quiet. too quiet.  

where the hell are the people?! you sighed. not knowing what to do. 

“ne, ne, ken-chin. we should get dorayaki after school!” you hear a voice chirp up and you immediately poke your head out the door, only realizing after that it was a male’s voice and you’d rather die than accept help from a man. 

you froze once you realized that the voice belonged to sano manjiro and you were now eye to eye with him as he stopped in front of the restroom door and tilted his head to the side in confusion. you wanted to ask what was wrong with him but you looked like a deer in headlights and he’s probably the one asking you that instead. 

“eh?” mikey asked in confusion, you slammed the door in front of him and planted your back against it, as if shielding yourself from him. you silently counted for a few seconds, counting until a hundred before you opened the door once more, hoping to not see the delinquent.

“what’s wrong with you.” you yelped, once you peaked your head out and saw that sano manjiro was still outside, but his right hand man was nowhere in sight.

“nothing.” you answered, still holding the door for dear life, not wanting to entertain the delinquent further. 

“it’s not nothing if you’re being weird in the comfort room.” a gasp escapes the blonde, a mischievous look overtook his features. you didn’t like where this was going.

“you need to shit, don’t you?” “what the fuck?!” you couldn’t help but say out loud, the laugh that escaped the gang leader’s lips.

“it’s fine (n/n)-chin, everyone needs to take a shit, i even took one before going to school.” you winced at the literal filth that came out of his mouth

“i don’t need to do that, sano-kun.” you say in a loud whisper, then sighed internally, there was only 10 minutes left for break time and sano manjiro was probably your last saving grace. 

“can you… call for a girl to come here?” mikey blinked his big black eyes in confusion at the sudden change in tone. “eh? why?” 

“just please.” you say in a quiet voice, wanting to get the situation over with. mikey looked at you with a concerned expression, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips were formed into a pout as he tried to decipher what was wrong with you before he gasped once more, his eyes lit up and a smile replaced the pout. 

“you need that don’t you?” that? your face portrayed a look of confusion and mikey reached into his pocket, searching for whatever that is. 

“my sister always needs this for some reason, and—” he pushes a safety pin on your hand “here!” you looked at the safety pin then back at mikey who looked back at you with a grin on his face. 

“what am i supposed to do with this?” you asked, looking back at the shining metal cautiously. 

“it’s to fix your skirt, right?” “what?” “your skirt is probably too loose, right? that’s why you’re so panicked?” 

“huh?” “am i wrong?” 

“yes!” “then what’s your problem?”

“it’s uh…just… please get a girl, i need help from a girl.” 

“eh? aren’t you being a little too sexis–” you couldn’t help but let out a whimper as a cramp made its appearance. “are you okay?” mikey cut himself off, asking worriedly. 

“just get a girl, please!” you yell, having enough of the exchange

“uh, on it! i’ll be right back in two minutes!” then he was off. he ran to the other side of the hallway, stopping by the corner just to give you a cheeky wave. you rolled your eyes but trusted his words. 

true enough, after two minutes you hear two pairs of footsteps get louder as they approach the door. 

you expected to hear the boisterous sound of mikey’s voice but was pleasantly surprised once you heard a soft knock on the door. 

“may i come in?” her voice was soft, gentle, and maybe even comforting. you let her in and you can see her short stature enter the restroom. 

“mikey said you were having –air quote– weird girl problems” you rolled your eyes for the nth time. 

“yeah uh… i forgot to bring a pad…” you mutter and emma nods understandingly before she pulls out her sanitary kit. 

“take whatever you need, my name is emma by the way!” you nodded and rummaged through her kit. you pulled out what you needed and gave emma an embarrassed smile. 

"the name's (y/n)... uh, thank you so, so much." you repeat before emma just smiles and gestures you towards the stall. 

you cleaned yourself up and felt relief as you finally stopped feeling conscious.

you exited the stall and emma was standing there, washing her hands, she perked up once she saw you through the mirror. 

“are you feeling better now?” you smiled back and nodded, “yeah, thank you so much! how could i repay you?” emma giggles and waves her hand in dismissal. 

“it’s no worries. promise!” she reassures you. “ah, i have to get back to my classes, but it was really nice meeting you, (y/n).” she waves as she leaves the restroom. 

you splashed water on your face, fixing your hair before you sighed, mentally scolding yourself for being so unprepared . 

you pushed the door opened, not expecting to see the blonde delinquent waiting for you as he leaned back against the wall. 

“oh, there you are! are you okay now, (n/n)-chin?” you nod, a bit confused as to what mikey was still doing there, he pushed himself off the wall with his foot and walked over to you with a smile. 

“i’ll escort you to class.” eh? “you don’t have to.” mikey shakes his head. “i want to, uh…” mikey looks away, a blush coating his cheeks. 

“emma told me what happened, i didn’t know it was your–” he coughs in embarrassment. “...shark week.”

you stifle a laugh. shark week, really? you wanted to tease him more but stopped yourself to not further his embarrassment. 

though you couldn't understand why was he the one embarrassed. 

"it's fine, sano-kun." mikey shakes his head before he pulls you toward the hallway leading to your classroom. 

"well uh… see you around, sano-kun." you bow slightly. "thank you for helping me with this, as embarrassing as it is.” 

“don’t worry about it, (n/n)-chin, and i didn’t really do anything… whatever, it’s fine. i’ll– uh… see you around!” mikey says, not giving you a moment before he runs away, waving as he turns the corner. 

you didn’t realize that you were smiling as you watched him go.

you didn’t hear from the gang leader for a while, well— he hasn’t really showed up to school in a few weeks and you didn’t really expect him to. it has been almost a month since your encounter by the restroom and he has made no move since then. 

not that you’d expect him to but it was weird that you never saw him again since that day. 

opening up your phone, you cursed once you opened the tracker on your phone and realized that you were about to have your period, but thankfully. you were prepared this time. 

the day ends with you sighing as you pack up your things and stood up from your desk, waving your friends off before heading out the room. 

“(n/n)-chin!” you hear someone yell and his voice was very familiar, a high pitched tone but instead of it sounding annoying, you welcomed the sound as you turned around. 

“oh, sano-kun, good afternoon.” you bow your head in greeting. mikey smiles at you as he walks alongside with you. 

“how’ve you been, i haven’t seen you in a while.” you asked, mikey shakes his head. “i’ve been okay, uh…” mikey moved his arm and you can vaguely hear the rustles of the plastic bag from the convenience store that he held. 

“oh, this is uh… for you.”  mikey handed you the black plastic bag, you looked at him confusedly. 

“uh…” you tilt your head to the side in confusion. mikey coughed, a blush forming on his cheeks. “it’s uh— things for your…cough lady needs—” 

you open the bag to see a few pad and tampon brands, chocolate, candy, even a few teabags. a folded note was also found tucked into the bag but before you could get it, the bag was shut close by mikey, who wasn’t looking at you. 

“open it when you’re at home, geez.” you looked at him with a raised brow before nodding. 

“oh…kay.” you smiled softly at the blonde before thanking him once more. 

“thank you, sano-kun…” “just call me mikey.” “okay, mikey.” the aforementioned smiles before nodding. 

“mikey!” you hear a deep voice yell, the both of you turned towards the voice and you could see his right hand man –draken, walking towards the both of you.

“we have to get to the shrine, the rest of the guys are already there.” draken stops in front of the leader then looks at you before taking another look. 

“holy shit, mikey. you didn’t tell me you were with her.” draken laughs. “you didn’t tell me you were with your little girlfriend.” mikey’s face exploded with red as he sputtered out in denial. 

“draken, fuck off. you go on right ahead. i’ll follow after.” draken laughs before he nods, still laughing at his leader as he walks away. 

“what was that about?” mikey shakes his head. “nothing, you don’t need to worry about, (n/n)-chin. i have to go.” you nod, smiling at him once more. 

“thank you again for this, mikey-kun!” mikey smiles a bit at your words as he walks away, when he was about to leave the school gates, he turns back at you. 

“(n/n)-chin, don’t let anyone else see the note, okay?” you were confused but remembered about the note he stopped you from reading. 

“okay!” you yell back, mikey beamed before he walks over to his motorbike and revs it up, waving at you as he rides away. 

you head home with no other agenda, plucking out a chocolate bar from the bag. 

the paper scraped against the back of your hand and you gasp in realization that you haven’t read it yet. with that, you took the paper from the bag. you scoffed playfully once you see that the paper was slightly crumpled and had a few erasures, but the message still managed to make you smile.

‘hi (n/n)-chan! i don’t know how to tell you in person but i like you. uh i hope these make your shark week more tolerable and if you’re free… here’s my number, we should talk sometime. xxx-xxxx-xxx 

ps: i didn’t know what to get so i asked emma for help.

—mikey’

you could feel your face flush at the letter and the next thing toman knows is that their leader suddenly stopped in his tracks and took out his phone. 

the next thing draken knows is that his left arm was stung from the impact of mikey’s unexpected punch. 

“the fuck’s your problem?” draken hissed as he rubbed his now bruised arm. 

“she messaged.”

the rest of the toman meeting was spent with the captains hyping mikey up and helping him in drafting his response to your ‘hey.’

notes: toman huddled up together with mikey's phone in between because they're discussing what to reply to "hey" is such a thought.