Hsr X Reader - Tumblr Posts

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.”

Could I request Dr Ratio and Aventurine being given a cat plushie of themselves made by their partner?

♡: Dr.ratio, aventurine x gn!reader, petnames (dear and doll), reader is drunk in aventurines part, kinda short I'm sorry :(

a/n: I adore these 2 so much I wanna eat them.... I hope u enjoy anon

dr. ratio

- before getting into a proper relationship the great Dr. Veritas Ratio expected many surprises, after all this was his first relationship.

- in secret he reads books about romance and observes the types of gifts normally given to one another; flowers, sweets, accessories. he isn't a fool, he knows you well but still something like this... he wasn't expecting.

Veritas stood still, eyes used to logic and reasoning, solitude and knowledge glaring into the small little plush sitting in your open palms. As he processes this he makes a quick realization; the lovely blue fur, the scowl of the face, the golden accents and the book in the cats mouth wasn't just picked randomly no, it was him. A blush spread across his face as he picks up the plush to get a better look. you're bright smile begins to fade as his silence continues but before you could properly frown a cough rumbles from the man's throat. "The craftsmanship on this plush is amazing, dear. I..." he praises your work a slight smirk on his face before he looks away from you the evergrowing blush on his face getting darker by the second. "I do appreciate it... and I suppose it is adorable." he says pacing over to you and leaving a kiss on your cheek before scurrying off, hiding the Dr. catio plush behind a book. Later in the day you don't fail to notice the way his eyes dart to the cat then to himself in the mirror, his expression almost instantly matching the plush.

aventurine

- like his fellow IPC Co worker, aventurine also expects many surprises in this relationship. he's always been terribly lonely so this new gamble of love is something he's loving so far.

- and this surprise is definitely one of things he loves about you. none has ever even dared to think of him like that, to take the time to make something that looks like him? it has his heart racing.

Aventurine was almost suspicious when after a late night doing his rounds at a local casino you called him up and asked to stop by because there's an emergency he simply needs to come help with. He could tell this wasn't life threatening by the way you'd giggle after every few words but nonetheless he'd comply to your orders and before you know it you hear a few gentle knocks at your door. As the power of a brand new open bottle of wine flows through you your feet stumble to the door and swing it open to meet the man you simply adore. "Aventurineee~! you actually came!" you slurred slightly with a grin and with your free hand you gently took his arm and lead him onto the nearby couch. "Well hello to you too doll" he smiled as let his body be weightless as you plopped him onto the couch. before he could ask what the emergency was you began talking. "sorry for calling you out of nowhere but I have a gift!" you stay speedwalking to your kitchen and grabbing a wine glass for him before pouring him some. "now wait heree~" and once again before you could speak you ran to your room and back out again this time with a small plush. he pulls down his glasses and allows himself to observe the plush you've brought him closely. when he takes it from your hand you plop down next to him and begin pointing out every detail. "lookie here! I made the pupils card suit shapes! since your eyes are so beautiful I made sure I made them justttt right" you said nuzzling into his shoulder more almost like love was pouring out of you. the smile on his face never seems to fade but he does go silent, letting you rant about whatever details you please but his mind goes somewhere else, the fact you love him and all the features he's resented this much to preserve him forever.

He's so pussydrunk that he fucks you so fucking good that you're just too blissed out to even comprehend his praises. He babbles about how good you're to him, how you're taking him and how beautiful you are. Fuck, he just loves how your warmth is wrapped around him. It's so good, he loves being buried deep inside of you, feeling your warm gummy walls wrapped so tightly around him, practically milking him out. He's just in love, so in love. He loves everything about you, all the way to your tight n' warm cunt that flutters around him whenever the crown of his cock would kiss your womb with every thrust he made. Your sweet, sweet moans were music to his ears. He would die happily like this if he could.

—— AETHER, DILUC, albedo, zhongli, childe, xiao, THOMA, gorou, KAVEH, tighnari, cyno, dainsleif, baizhu, ITTO, KAZUHA, GEPARD, luocha, luka, dan heng, JING YUAN, sampo, welt

He's the one who makes you a dumb, babbling, cockdrunk for him. He has your face flushed into the pillows, tears forming in your eyes, cheeks flushed and drool coming from the corner of your lips. You were babbling incoherent words, but he found it cute that you were too overstimulated, too cockdrunk to even comprehend anything. It's not like he minded, afterall, that pretty little head of your don't need to think about anything except for his cock that continues to ram inside of you, mixed cum leaking out of your hole and staining his cock. Your walls were squeezing him so tightly while he gives another slap to your cheek, making you jolt forward a bit and yelp from the sensation of his slap. He's so mean, he would slap your ass to keep you awake, pull your hair, and leave bruises on your hips..but it's not like you minded anyway. Afterall m, you're his cute little cockdrunk slut <33

—— SCARAMOUCHE, abyss!aether, kaeya, AYATO, ALHAITHAM, dainsleif, HEIZOU, TIGHNARI, XIAO, cyno, DAN FENG, BLADE, jing yuan

CAN U FUCKING BOTS STOP POSTING FUCKING LINKS W THE IMAGE BEING A FUCKING GIRL FLASHING ME WHENEVER I BROWSE A FUCKING TAG OH MY GOD?????????

This has to be one of the best things I’ve ever read

I really like your headcanon were the reader is in a relationship with both jing yuan and blade

Can you do a headcanon were the reader got really injured from a fight and it got so bad that they can't get out of bed because of the injuries but them there are two very sexy husbandos taking care of they beloved reader, like...yk getting what they need, helping them take their yucky medicine and showering the reader with love and affection (god i'm such a simp 💀).

Angst in the beginnig and fluff in the end (because i love happy endings :))

But anyway that's it please take your time and have a great day/afternoon/ night (also i love your blog ;b)

(Please forgive me if i wrote something wrong english is not my home language 🥲)

-> information. jing yuan x gn! reader x blade. established relationship. polygamous. spoilers for blade's real name: he goes by yingxing here because why not. uh, slight suggestive(?)

-> word count. 1312.

it happened way too fast for anyone to process it. one moment blade saw you deflecting an attack from your opponent and the next moment, he saw your weapon slipping from your grasp and your body tipped forward. 

he saw red. flames of fury came alive in his stomach. blade clenched the hilt of his sword. he rushed forward and easily killed them, seething with rage at how they were responsible for your state. 

blade forgo his surroundings. his current priority was you and only you. there were still cloud knights fighting for their lives and blade knows jing yuan is somewhere out there, on the battlefield. the general is probably on the frontlines or doing something else, it’s none of his concern at the moment. 

blade sheathed his weapon, swooping you into his arms and sprinted to where the medics are. he mentally thanked the general for proposing to bring them with them for the battle against the monsters of the abundance. 

it didn’t took him long to arrive at his destination and the medics got to work. he lingered nearby, watching with bated anticipation as they tended to your injuries scattered across your body.  

“they’ll be alright after some rest. please keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t move around when they wake up,” one of the medics informed blade. 

his shoulders loosened and he heaved a sigh of relief. “will do, thank you.” 

~

your eyelids fluttered open to the calming sensation of someone brushing their fingers through your hair. you slowly blinked your eyes, waiting for your vision to become clearer. you looked around, able to recognize that you were in your bedroom. it seems you had survived the intense battle, much to your relief. 

“how are you feeling, my dear?” jing yuan murmured, attentive golden eyes situated on you. 

you attempted to sit up. seeing this, jing yuan was quick to aid you and he rested the pillow against the headboard while he slowly maneuvered you into a sitting position. “what happened to me?”

the general smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “bl- i mean, yingxing told me you sustained a life-threatening injury. if you didn’t receive medical treatment soon, you could have died.” 

you remained silent, unsure of what you should say. “... i’m sorry.” 

“you idiot, why are you apologizing? it’s not your fault that you got injured.” 

the two of you raised your head, to see yingxing leaning against the doorway with a tray held in his hands. his dark blue hair was pinned up with a hairpin jing yuan gifted him a few months ago. the sight of yingxing wearing an apron with the classic words “KISS THE CHEF” doesn’t help with how sharp his glare was. 

yingxing entered the bedroom. he placed the tray on the bedside table and your heart fluttered at the sight of him making your favorite dish. he sat by the edge of the bed, leaning forward to place his hand on your forehead. he furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips, as if he was displeased with his discovery. 

“you have a fever,” he stated. 

“maybe they got it while their body’s trying to recover from the injury,” jing yuan pointed out, running his calloused fingers along the knuckles of your right hand. 

yingxing grumbled something under his breath. something along the lines of “i can’t believe i’m dating two of the most irresponsible people in this world.” you watched as he grabbed the bowl of hot piping chicken porridge and a spoon before turning towards you. he waited, looking at you expectantly and you innocently smiled at him. 

“i’m an injured and sick person. shouldn’t you be feeding me?” you questioned. 

his left eyebrow twitched. “you’re insufferable, you know that?” 

you chuckled. “but you love me.” 

“unfortunately.” 

“hey!”

“if he doesn’t want to feed you, i’ll gladly do the honors-” 

“jing yuan, get out.” 

~

you spend the next week being utterly spoiled with your two handsome lovers. jing yuan had took the entire week off, declaring how your recovery progress would speed up if he were to accompany you. yingxing on the other hand, merely flashed him a disgusted look and kicked him out of the bedroom. at this point, you weren’t sure how many times the poor general had been kicked out like an unwanted stray dog. 

“no! i don’t wanna!” you whined, starting to throw a fuss. 

much to your chagrin, you were given medication to take for your fever to subside. it was tough trying to sleep with how you’re sweating non-stop. yingxing took the time to purchase the necessary medications and of everything, it has to be something bitter. you loathed the taste of bitterness, your lovers knew that. 

yingxing closed his eyes, mentally counting to five and prayed to whatever aeons for patience. “(name), you have to drink this if you want to recover quickly.” 

you huffed your cheeks, crossed your arms and looked to the side. “no thanks. i’d rather deal with this myself.” 

the man was about to snap, his patience wearing thin but an invisible lightbulb went off in his mind. yingxing drank the medicine from the small spoon. he reached out, grabbing your chin and forced you to face him. 

you struggled. “let me-!?” 

the moment you opened your mouth, yingxing took the chance to kiss you. unlike jing yuan’s gentle, slow-paced and loving kisses, yingxing’s kisses are fast-paced, rough and intense. it never fails to make you feel like you’re floating. you whimpered when he pried your lips apart and that was when you tasted something bitter. 

you wanted to pull away but the way yingxing bit on your bottom lip and the way he expertly kissed you leaves you putty in his arms. you couldn’t help the way you keen when he further deepened the kiss by sucking on your tongue, making you gripped onto his shirt for support. he broke the kiss, leaving a string of saliva that broke when he moved away. 

he smirks at the sight of your dazed look. “i guess all you need is for someone to kiss you breathless.” 

needless to say, the poor man got slapped in the face for his actions. jing yuan had the time of his life laughing and wheezing his lungs out when he saw the hand imprint on his lover’s left cheek. 

~

while yingxing is responsible for feeding you and ensuring you take your medications, jing yuan is responsible for your needs: changing your clothes, bringing you whatever you requested. the general is extremely soft when he’s around you. whatever you want, he will do it without fail. currently, he is changing the dry towel placed on your forehead with the intention of replacing it with a new one. 

he hates it when you’re in pain. jing yuan may be the infamous and strong general, but he hates how he can’t do anything when you’re currently fighting against the fever.

he turned to leave, having changed the towel when you weakly grabbed onto his shirt, holding him in place. he looked over his shoulder and saw you were barely awake, looking at him with your signature pleading eyes. 

“jing yuan… can you lay with me, please?” you begged. 

and oh, he was nothing but a weak man when it comes to you. 

he smiled. “of course, my dear. anything for you.” 

jing yuan got into bed, making himself comfortable on your right side. he chuckled when you snuggled against him, resting your face on his chest. he comfortingly patted your back, watching as you began to fall asleep and enter the land of dreams. it didn’t take him long to join you either. 

when yingxing saw the state of you two sleeping peacefully, he fondly smiled and even took a picture on his phone, wanting to keep it for memory’s sake.

note: hello anon, sorry for taking so long to get to your request... but i hope this is to your liking. i know you mentioned how both are tending to the reader but uh, i ended up writing this so... i hope you don't mind HSHSHSHS i included some funny moments as an apology :3

taglist: @seivsite @yunxi-11085 @seiiblue

PART 2 PART 2 PART 2 ITS HERE

dan heng being bad at feelings, the sequel.

started writing this pre-1.3, so i am once again emphasizing that i am making shit up. (well, 1.3 dropped while still working on this and the TB mission was rather lacklustre, so i'm gonna half ignore it).

sorry for any typos/mistakes/whatever, most of this was written at dubious hours of the night.

contains. mild-moderate canon divergence, dubious jing yuan shenanigans, dh being somewhat down bad. i dropped a bit too much spice in, so it is no longer “mild”. take that as you will.

7.5K words. THIS IS SO FUCKING EMBARRASSING.

here's the first part in case you haven't read it. you're still not the trailblazer.

tags: @akhiran @cypunk-0 @fiona782 @seelelovesbronya @bleakqblake @xiaos-poems

this place is not a place of honour. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here…nothing valued is here. Below 15, DNI. Go away.

the next day, you awoke to a feeling of emptiness at your side. any part of the bed that your limbs weren’t splayed upon was long cold with dan heng’s absence. you were alone, still left in the nest of sheets and pillows he arranged himself. it couldn’t have all been some kind of fever-dream, could it? 

no, any such possibility was dashed when you looked at the messages on your phone. one unread, left two hours ago. 

with the ellipsis and all. oh, the self-inflicted misery. (does he really consider every single person his enemy?) you sighed, swinging your feet off the side of the bed to get up. if you knew him well enough, then you already knew the next little while was going to be tricky, to say the least. it was obvious what his plan was from the beginning, with him abandoning your side at the sun’s first rays: avoidance. 

and avoid you, he did. in the denouement after phantylia’s attack, he still had to be around you, but the stiltedness he carried with him was palpable. he made a point to stand as socially acceptably far from you. it was almost like he was acting like a ghost solely to you. elusive, non-communicative, only seen out of the corner of your eye. perhaps leaving you with the lingering feeling of being watched, and ultimately gone before you could even call his name. in fact, he quite literally ghosted you. he wouldn’t even respond to your messages.

once the day after the final events rolled around, you thought that maybe he would have had enough time to finally be able to face you again, but no. apparently he elected to confine himself to the archives the moment he returned aboard the express. however, this didn’t deter you from going knocking on his door. 

"dan heng?" you tapped on the sealed door. your ear was right up against the frame, listening intently. 

whatever shuffling was coming from within fell still at your voice. 

"dan heng, i know you’re in there. i just heard you stop moving." 

there was more silence, then followed by a sigh. "did pom-pom not relay my one request?" 

"no, they did. told me that i’m not allowed near the archives."

"yet you’re still here…" his voice was strained, and distant from the door. he must have been sitting either at his desk or on his thin, messy futon. beyond that, it was hard to imagine what he was doing in there, or even what he looked like. it was surprising. you thought he struggled to control his form, but it seemed no problem when he wasn’t with you. so was he the regular old dan heng sitting in there? or the vidyadhara that laid next to you that night? 

"you really think i’m gonna listen? i never do." you squared yourself further towards the door. "now, c’mon. we’re already talking, so can’t you just—" 

"n-no, i can’t," he cut you off. "i… i’m sorry, but not here, and not like this." 

"can you at least tell me why you say you can’t be around m—?" almost as if on cue, in came an angry pom-pom inbound like a squishy freight train. 

"hey! what did pom-pom just say?!" they cried. "can’t you follow one simple rule for the time being?"

as pom-pom ushered you away from the archives with weak thumps to the back of your legs, you grunted to yourself. you were tempted to chuck them in the opposite direction, but alas, such a thing was not in the cards for you. after all, it would be wise to not tempt fate with the conductor. things seemed like they were going to be more difficult than you anticipated.

░░░░░░░

early the next morning, long before either march or stelle would rise, you shuffled your way into the parlor car in search of food. if it was going to be anything like yesterday, you were anticipating being the only one in the parlor car. however, to your surprise, there was another person present when you silently closed the door behind you—dan heng. he was in his regular appearance of shorter, fluffy hair and his regular attire. you sighed as quietly as you could, staring at the back of his head that leant on his wrist, propped up on the table. seeing him staring dejectedly at the food was a sorry sight.

the unspoken tradition you had with him was that when the whole express wasn’t eating together, it’d always be you two sharing your meals together. it began when you first joined the express—after dan heng himself, but before march. left adrift as a vagrant amidst the stars, you were all too familiar with the feeling of loneliness. it was always at its worst when you managed to gather together enough scraps to resemble the meals you used to eat in your old home. to you, when possible, meals were something that should be shared in the company of others. so when you first saw dan heng sat alone on your first proper morning aboard, you saw part of yourself in him. a part that you wanted gone, now that you had a new home. so you sat yourself down next to him, your own food in hand. you were met with some minor (albeit polite) resistance, but you being the stubborn ass you were, would not have it. you knew your persistence was risky, but it paid off. not long after that, he would wait until you were sitting with him. 

so to see that sight left you saddened, but also vehemently annoyed. normalcy was out the window thanks to this baffling, self-imposed restriction he had against you. as quietly as you could, you stalked up behind him. moving as lightly as possible felt like it was the only way possible to get closer to him. it wasn’t like he developed a sudden allergy to your presence or something, was it?

you were successful in thwarting his pre-occupied senses as you reached the velvet couch. but maybe you were too successful, because he almost leapt out of his skin when you planted yourself down next to him. you leaned against the table and spoke. "how about us talking if it’s over breakfast?"

he did manage to calm down, but not by a lot, and not enough to give you a reply. his expression was still frazzled as he struggled to keep himself in place. 

"can you please tell me if i’ve done something wrong? i don’t understand why we’re suddenly like strangers again," you said, reaching out to put your hand atop his one that was clenched at his side. but he snatched it away before you could feel the warmth of it.

"it’s my fault. you’ve done nothing," he said. "but please, i need some time before i can talk to you properly."

he turned to get up and leave, but you caught him by the sleeve. "w-wait, by why?" you trailed off, voiced far weaker than intended.

the look he gave you was weird. it was a jumble of confused emotions, but the most you could make out was nervousness. you had no idea what that light flush could have meant for you. his mouth parted to make some sort of reply, and you could have sworn you the glimpse of sharpened canines. "since when have you had fangs in this appearance?" you blurted out after doing a double take.

his eyes flared wide open and a hand flew over his mouth. "s-since never." with that, he slipped from your grasp. "please excuse me."

you watched incredulously as he walked out of the parlour car and back towards the archives as if he had wooden knees. you had no idea what just happened. rejection, you supposed. but considering how he was that night, it made no sense. nothing about this made any sense. 

whatever it was, it was slowly eroding your patience, leaving you biting the inside of your lips in irritation. it’s true you were doing some type of avoidance when his alternate form was finally revealed, but it was nothing of this calibre. it was almost impossible for it to be the case with dan heng, but if this really was some kind of petty revenge, he may as well have whipped out a steel chair after you knocked shoulders with him.

░░░░░░░

your shameful failure of an interaction left you in need of recuperation. you hadn’t felt that irked and downright baffled since one of herta’s curios fell on your head. so now, you were blathering a ranting tirade at stelle and march over some snacks, all in the parlour car. "i swear to whatever aeon’s listening, he’s turned emo or something." you folded your arms across your chest, sinking down in your plush chair. 

"like he wasn’t before?" stelle mumbled, not looking up from whatever gacha game she was playing on her phone. 

"eh, not really. he does have his moments, though." march shrugged, grabbing a single chip. "but yeah, i’ve never seen anything like this. it’s so weird, he almost never avoids you like this!"

"hence why i’m so confused."

"things seemed to get pretty tense between the two of you after he had his magical girl transformation," stelle added while shovelling a handful of chips into her mouth, still not looking up. "then maybe… the day after phantylia, he got even weirder."

"yeah, like, he won’t go near you for some reason, but he keeps staring at you so longingly and sighing like you’re the last cookie in the jar and he’s been told he can’t have any more!" march said with the melodramatic flourish of a swoon.

"that one sounds like it’s based on real experiences." stelle cast her a sideways glance, to which march let out a sniff and wiped away a dry tear.

"just how much has he been doing that?" you muttered, unable to comprehend. 

"a fair amount from what i’ve seen. he’s looked like a kicked puppy every single time," march said. "well, as much as dan heng can look like a kicked puppy." 

"not that he’s particularly talkative, but i’ve tried asking him about it. was only met with howling winds of jarilo-vi’s everwinter storm." stelle placed her phone down on the table and sat back with her arms crossed. "but now, he’s just being straight up weird. (y/n), what’d you do to him?"

"yeah, i mean, he won’t even eat in the mornings if you’re there!" march cried. 

your nails dug into your knees as you looked at your lap. you could feel a heat creeping onto your face as you recalled him so close to you. his words still rung in your head. if they were true, then what the fuck was he doing now? "i—i don’t really want to say, since it’s between him and i," you said. "but some pretty… significant things happened, i guess."

march suddenly drew in a comically loud gasp. "DID HE FINALLY CONFE—" she began, but you clapped your hand over her mouth before she could finish. 

"must’ve," stelle said, leaning forward with her hands on the table loosely clasped in front of her. 

"it wasn’t… exactly like that." your voice was low. your attempts to protect your dignity were feeble at best. it’s true, he never explicitly told you he has feelings for you in the classic format of ‘i like you’, but… who were kidding, it was a confession in all forms except literalness. you grabbed at your face, hiding the creeping heat behind your hands with a groan. 

"no, it was totally a love confession. he’s been head over heels for you for a while now! even when i first met you two, it was so obvious he had a big ol’ crush on you. how’d you not notice it?!" 

"cuz they’re denser than dan heng." stelle deadpanned, staring right at you.

"if you’re going to be making indirect insults about me, at least do it to my face," a familiar voice muttered from somewhere a distance behind you. in walked dan heng, eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. he was once again in his normal appearance. stelle immediately squashed you down beneath the square table, leaving you only to look at everyone’s legs. 

"oh, so the elusive dan heng finally graces us with his presence, huh?" you couldn’t see march’s face, but you knew she was making a half-lidded, unimpressed frown at him—the certified march classic.

"i’ve had a lot of information to collate and put into the archives, so i’ve been busy—" his words stopped short. from around the bend of the chair’s edge, you could see him inch closer to the table. 

"been busy what? you just stopped talking." march sounded confused. 

"is that… (y/n)’s scent?" his tone was far sharper, but his wording sounded unsure. 

"are you calling them stinky? that’s kinda rude, isn’t it?" march frowned. 

"huh? no, of course not!" he sputtered. "it’s just v-vidyadhara senses. they’re quite acute." there was the shuffling of some fabric. he must have crossed his arms.

"well i say it’s cuz you’re going heehee-silly-delulu with your big fat crush on them." march chimed in. your eyes widened as you frowned. why were they both baiting the literal dragon?

the only sound that came out of dan heng was something like an indignant cry that was cut-off at its head. "i… i do not—"

"you don’t like them? alright, keep telling yourself that," stelle said. 

"…what hand does (y/n) have in this? they were just here, weren’t they?" he took a few steps towards the table. you imagined him with a strained look on his face, fighting to keep his composure like he yesterday. as he was stood right in front of you, you felt yourself shrinking back. it was maybe only seconds until ground zero—until everything hit the fan. "because that’s their scent nearby…" he changed his footing just a touch, and the second you saw the tips of his fluffy hair peak down past the table, you launched headlong into him. not by your own volition, but because a heeled boot slammed into your lower back, jetting you forward. your face collided with some part of his legs (of which was not very soft), sending you both in the same direction with simultaneous cries. there was a significant thud when dan heng hit the floor, and your head knocked into something bony.

your eyes cracked open, rubbing your forehead with a groan, but all sounds fell silent when you realized you were hovering between his knees. you stared up at him with wide eyes and a stifled breath, where he met your owlish gaze with his own. in other words, you were almost right between his legs. both of your faces lit like infernos, but neither of you moved. a grand total of two seconds passed before the vidyadhara features came out. it was quick—his horns rose from his head, and his hair spilt over his shoulders. his tail appeared behind him, laying still. even his clothes suddenly swapped out on him. his chest rose and fell as his breath seemed to quicken. 

"s-sorry," you swallowed thickly. in almost an instant, he dug one of his clawed hands into his arm. he clambered to his feet, unable to look you in the eye.

"wh-what the hell was that?" his voice cracked.

"fuck, that was my bad." stelle said from behind you. 

"ngh, you… please excuse me," he quickly turned and strode back towards the archives, still holding onto his arm. you hadn’t moved from the floor when you watched the passenger cabin’s door close behind him. 

"what the heck, stelle?!" march cried, startling you.

"holy fuck, i’m so sorry. i did not think it’d go like that," stelle said. when you looked back over, she was leaning back and had raked her bangs back, hand still on her forehead.

"how did you think it’d go?" you groaned, unsteadily raising to your feet once again.

"i dunno, but not like that."

"why’d he suddenly change like that, i wonder?" march tapped her finger to her chin, looking off to the side. 

"cuz he’s down bad." stelle looked very confident in her answer. 

you almost choked on your spit.

"he’s down bad, but then he keeps running off 'cuz refuses to let himself be so."

"what kind of a theory is that?!" march huffed.

"a simple observation. mr. yang says i’m perceptive, so i have final authority on all judgements ever made." stelle crossed her arms over her chest, face seldom making any expressions. "and i say exactly what i said."

you stood with your head hanging in your hands, burning with embarrassment. things couldn’t keep going on like this. if this was the new dynamic, then how were any of you supposed to function while you’re out trailblazing? how were any of you supposed to function even just normally? that was it. you raised your head until your eyes lifted from behind your hands, a new resolve filling your blood. maybe jing yuan might know something. 

░░░░░░░

managing to secure a time to speak to jing yuan was unbelievably easy. then again, you should gave guessed it’d be. over messages, he told you that since he’s been doing nothing but resting, he’s incredibly bored—someone to see or speak to is more than welcome. and so, it quickly was organized that you could stop by a planned location in aurum alley to see him.

the time soon rolled around, as long as it took. during the day, as expected, there was no sign of dan heng having any interest in interacting with you normally, much to your growing irritation and mild chagrin. even march and stelle were shaking their heads and clicking their tongues in disapproval. 

it didn’t take long for you to get there. you agreed to meet him in a small, secluded area, just out of the way of eyes that might seek to pry into the general’s private business. it was a bit into the early evening. it wasn’t too hard to find him sitting at his table since he wasn't exactly the most conspicuous person out there. the golden artificial sunlight poured in from an oblique angle overhead, coating the tucked-away courtyard in a honeyed light. once he saw you approaching, jing yuan cast you one of his usual sleepy, cattish smiles. 

"um, hello," you spoke, pulling out a seat next to him. 

"and to what do i owe the pleasure?" there was almost a purr in his voice. "tell me, what is it you wished to speak about?" he leaned forward, resting his head on his wrist propped up on the table. "or did you simply come here to chat with me because you felt like it?" he made a closed-eyed smile laced with mischief. 

"ah, i’m sorry to disappoint, but it’s because i’m having a bit of a dilemma." you scratched the back of your head with an awkward laugh. "please hear me out on this one, but it’s about dan heng." 

"oh, dan heng? what about him?" jing yuan tilted his head. "as it stands, i’m afraid you might know him better than i do, unfortunately. so i don’t know if i would be able to provide the best of help for you." there was a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips, making you bite your own. 

"it’s, ah, a little more about him as a vidyadhara, i suppose. i’m not sure if he has anything in common with his previous incarnation, but i thought there must be something there." 

"well, i can say his obstinance seems to have certainly survived reincarnation."

"it’s thriving," you huffed, at which jing yuan lightly laughed. 

"so is that the root of your problem? him being too stubborn on something?" 

"that’s about it, yeah." you pressed your lips into a line. "he’s been avoiding me for… reasons i won’t divulge… and i don’t what i can do to get him to talk to me again." 

"you don’t need to put it like that. i can tell he really likes you," he said, the trace of a smug grin on his face. after you coughed loudly, he continued. "he’s rather obvious if you know what you’re looking for. but anyway, what happened between you two? if i’m allowed to know, that is." 

you swallowed nervously. should you really be revealing everything like this? you did it anyway. "one night, we said a few things of… i guess questionably romantic nature to each other, and he reacted in a way that i think was influenced by some sort of… vidyadhara shenanigans."

jing yuan looked at you with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. "go on." 

"he hauled me off to his bed and then got uncharacteristically affectionate. he had a back-and-forth with self-doubt once he realized i was really confused by it all, but i told him it’s fine. i mean, i even pet his horns out of my own volition and stuff." it was all coming out at this point. "then he eventually drifted off and then pretty much declared his feelings in his half-sleep. but even though i told him i’m fine with him doing whatever he was doing, he still decided to run off the next morning. i’ve tried to talk to him repeatedly, but he won’t reply to my messages and he almost freaks out every time i’m in his vicinity. i don’t get it!" 

"mm, that’s quite the situation on your hands there," jing yuan hummed. there was a mischievous spark in his eye, and you weren’t sure if you liked the look of it. "now, i couldn’t tell you the specifics, but if you say he got ’uncharacteristically affectionate’, then that’s definitely some old vidyadhara response. they can get very protective over the things they love." 

your gaze dropped somewhere in front of your as your face prickled with heat at his words. 

"but now, i’d wager he’s stuck in some sort of self-imposed battle of will against himself."

"and how would you suggest i get him out of it?" 

"i suppose there is technically the option of waiting this out," he glanced at your face. you looked embittered at such an inane suggestion, making him laugh. "or you could simply make him lose the battle, since it sounds like he’s set on taking it ad infinitum, if needed." 

"small issue… i’m now allowed near the archives," you sighed, leaning yourself back. "it’s hard to simply go there with both the conductor banning me as well as dan heng refusing to open his door." 

"hmm…" jing yuan shifted his hand beneath his chin. "might i do something a bit uncouth?" 

"uhh, okay." 

"come here for a moment." he slid himself next to you, turning to face you a little more. with a slight frown, you turned towards him as well. "now, i can’t guarantee his reaction to this, but—" he suddenly pulled you closer toward him and placed his head in the crook of your neck—the same side dan heng had his. one hand snuck its way around your neck and held the base of your neck ever so gently, while the other looped around your back. you had to fight a shudder when you could feel jing yuan’s lips ghost over your neck and shoulder. "if i do this, it may be enough to knock him from this cycle of his." 

"wh-what?" you strained out. 

"he’ll be able to tell i’ve been with you. and by the places i’ve been in contact with you…" he said, voice low. his faint breaths were cool on your shoulder. you couldn’t suppress a slight shiver. "…it should be enough to grant you access to… the archives, was it?" 

"y-yeah." you blinked a few times. your brain had been reduced to a single cell bouncing around inside your brain like a shitty maraca. 

jing yuan finally pulled back, assuming his original pose. "please forgive me for that… but you’ll likely see why i did it." he still couldn’t help but wear his usual small grin for the second part. "i’d now recommend that you find him again, and try to keep his attention long enough for him to notice you were with me. vidyadhara’s senses of smell are perceptive, so it shouldn’t be long. well now, you’d best get back then." his stupid grin was even wider and even smugger. his gaze wasn’t condescending, but read more as if he were thinking just wait and see.

"i… guess i’ll be going then. th-thank you, general." you made an awkward bow as you hustled back the way you came, hyperaware of the air brushing against your shoulder. it all felt incredibly foreboding… but that was to be expected when you were about to enter the dragon’s den. 

░░░░░░░

your plan was flawless:

1. jing yuan does his shit

2. go back to the express. 

3. bait with bubble tea to get the door open. 

4. "talk" to dan heng long enough until he notices jing yuan was up to something

5. ???

6. profit. 

just as detailed, to further your chances of getting that door cracked open, you decided to buy a bubble tea. a classic milk should have sufficed, since he tended to favour the more simple things. the chances of him actually opening the door to take it were already slim, but desperate times called for desperate measures. knowing him, he’d simply make you leave it at the door, which was a problem. so there you were, stuck on an express couch, plotting. (or, perhaps more aptly, chewing your nails in nerves). as you sat there, in waddled pom-pom, looking mighty chuffed for some unknown reason.

"hm-hm-hm! dinner of pom-pom’s own creation will be ready in just over 20 minutes!" they declared, puffing their stuffed chest. they waited for any reaction, but no one looked up at them, making them deflate with a scowl. "stelle, (y/n) you go tell everyone," they grumbled, shuffling back into the passenger cart and beyond. 

"wait, what?" you looked up—you hadn’t even noticed them. 

"we’re on messenger duty," stelle said from her seat. she was placed upside down on the couch, hair grazing the ground while she played her usual gacha games. 

"can i try and deal with dan heng?"

"i mean, sure." she looked over at you. "but what’re you plotting?"

"my entry into the archives. i come baring gifts." you motioned towards the untouched bubble tea sitting in front of you. 

"i’ll leave you to it. i’ll go tell march and the others then." she chucked her phone elsewhere on the couch and got up, wandering towards the passenger car. you followed shortly behind, offering in hand. 

it was a short walk. you knew you were being dramatic, but you couldn’t help but grow more and more nervous the closer you drew to the archives. you had already weathered so many rejections, so it’s not like this was going to somehow have a worse result. perhaps it was because you put too much on this. you’ve gone to a rather large effort just to have a slim chance of getting him to open the door—speaking of, you were already there. 

you raised your hand to knock on it, but before you could even lay your hand on it, dan heng spoke from inside. "what is it, (y/n)?" he was once again somewhere further off in the room, speaking with undecipherable emotions. 

"um." your voice cracked, making you cringe. "pom-pom said dinner’s ready in 20." 

"ah. thank you," he said plainly. it still kinda stung, being back at what felt like the stage where you were only acquaintances. 

"i also got you something." you tried to cast another line. 

"you can leave it at the door." 

you flopped your head against the door. of course he said it. "i’d rather give it to you now. it’s some bubble tea. the ice is melting." there was no response. you couldn’t tell what he was doing. "c’mon, it’s not like you’re sick or something." 

"hah, more like lovesick," stelle called as she walked past behind you. 

"stelle!" dan heng cried indignantly. he sounded closer to the door. "i am not—"

"if you’re not, then open the door." she simply kept walking. 

you were stood with wide, unblinking eyes and an open mouth, watching her jacket pass through the cabin door until you were left alone in the hall. the door suddenly slid open a little. you jumped, turning to stare up at him. as usual, there was a strained look on his face that he was trying to suppress. "see, i’m not—" he looked out and around for stelle, but she was nowhere to be seen. instead, he simply sighed. 

you tried to swallow your heart beating in your throat, but it still hammered away. "hi." 

he closed his eyes, leaning his head on the inner door frame. "hello," his voice sounded tired. tired with himself. "please forgive me for how i’ve been acting. i know it’s not fair to you. it’s just…" 

"i know, you need more time. you like to say it," you muttered with a slight, strained grin. "by the way, here’s your tea. it’s just your usual order." you held it out it to him, and he looked down at it with softened eyes. as he went to grab it, his fingertips brushed over yours. he seemed more startled than you, but after a moment’s hesitation, he placed his hand back over top of yours.

"i haven’t been completely honest with you," he said. (that was certainly one way of putting it).

you held your breath, as if making a single noise could suddenly startle him back into the archives. 

"i… since that night, i haven’t known what to do with mysel—" he suddenly paused, frowning the tiniest bit. he leaned forward, seeming to concentrate on something with closed eyes. once they opened again, his pupils had constricted into slits, and he was staring intently at you. uh oh. 

"wh-what is it?" 

"where were you before this?" he took the tea from you and placed it somewhere next to the door frame inside the archives. 

your stomach flipped. was this really going where you thought it was? "um. i was wandering around aurum alley." it wasn't a lie. "why?" 

"that’s not all. what else?" he took you by the arm and drew you into the archives. it was an uncharacteristic mess in there. low-lit, and with clothes, books and items were strewn all over the place, perhaps as a reflection of his state. you watched the door close behind you, and when you looked back, there stood dan heng with his full vidyadhara look on display, right in front of you. uh oh. 

he stepped closer to you until you could feel the warmth of his body radiating off of him, then grabbing hold of your shoulders. it was a tight grip, but not enough to hurt yet. he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and drew in a long but quiet inhale. "what were you doing with jing yuan?" his voice was low, almost with a slight growl. as he spoke, his arms had wound around shoulders, so he was holding the back of your head, just like jing yuan was. only far harsher than the other’s ghost-like touch. 

yes, this was going the direction you thought it was. "we—we only met to talk about something," you sputtered out, your heart in your throat again.

"then why do i smell him on you, as if you were doing something more than just talking?" with a free hand, he took your jaw and turned your face towards him. he was only inches away from you, gazing at you with narrowed, dimly-glowing eyes. "why go to him when you have me?" 

you frowned, eyes wide. "huh? what do you mean i have you? you’ve refused to speak to me normally ever since the morning after you hauled me to your bed. besides, i-it’s not what you think." 

but your words were lost on him. "no, this won’t do." his voice was barely a murmur. he seemed to be living in his own version of the world. dragon-brain was back, evidently a fuller force than ever. you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t him drawing you even closer, placing his head in the crook of your neck and nuzzling. your face lit like an inferno as some kind of noise escaped your lips. it was really back to the nuzzling. only with surprising fervour, this time. he nestled his face into your neck, exhaling small sighs against you. his nose and lips brushing against your skin was almost ticklish, but you weren’t laughing when his tail snaked itself around your hips, twining itself down one of your legs. 

"d-dan heng?!" you cried when he suddenly lifted you with his hands clasped beneath the backs of your thighs, assisted by the tail. he had his mouth placed right over top of your collar bone, watching where he was going from over your shoulder. "dan heng, put me down!" you had to hold onto his back and shoulders for stability. 

he gave you no reply, only taking you back to his mussed futon. similar to his bed at the inn, the blanket was strewn in a way akin to the base of a nest. stray pieces of clothing made up the rest of lack-lustre structure—you could have sworn one of your own old shirts you’d forgotten somewhere was poking out from beneath a different article. dan heng sat himself down in the centre of the futon and brought you into lap. your position was a bit awkward as you sat perpendicular across from him. both your legs went one direction while your torso was turned to face him. he sunk his head into the crook of your neck again, drawing in more, shorter inhales. 

"seriously, wh—what are you doing?" 

"he’s still on you." he said against your shoulder, warmth breath making you shiver. there was a slight growl in his throat again. 

"even after that?" as you spoke, he tilted your head away, exposing more of your neck. "hey, w-wai—ah!" you made a cry of pain when a pair of fangs suddenly bit down into your shoulder. it wasn’t hard enough to draw much blood, but more than enough to hurt. you shuddered with some ungodly, almost harrowed noise when his tongue glided over what would blossom into a bruise. his arms and tail wound tighter around you, as if you might slip away at any second. he moved on, this time toward your jaw, peppering it with desperate kisses. you tried to say his name as he trailed down in between his own rapid-growing breaths. he was panting once he reached your shoulder, his kisses sloppy. in some work of miraculous dexterity, he had readjusted your seat on him until his waist was slotted between your legs. all the while, one hand was in your hair angling your head for his best reach, the other around your back. you had to hide your face in his hair when he had began making small vocalizations, something like tiny whines. 

you said his name again, this time louder when he trailed his fangs back up your shoulder. right after he left a hot kiss on your shoulder, he bit down again. you seethed in pain, trying to push his head off, but you were only met with purrs. even though he didn’t seem fully aware of what was going on, those purrs had to be weaponized against you. he shifted to another part of your shoulder, mouthing another kiss on it, but before he could bite, you grabbed his horn.

"dan heng!" you yanked his head back, surprising him. but instead of some sort of pained cry, he let out a heady moan. to your surprise, that noise slipping from his mouth seemed to restore his lucidity in an instant. his dilated eyes shot wide open and his hands flew to cover his mouth, almost sending himself backwards in the process. his face burned with embarrassment, colouring his cheeks and pointed ears in a bright crimson. you huffed, but didn’t remove yourself from your position. in fact, you anchored yourself down by locking your ankles behind his back if he were to try and push you off.

"(y/n) to dan heng, can you hear me?" you said, almost tempted to knock on his forehead. 

"i-it happened again," his voice was quiet in horror. 

"hey, i need you to listen to me before you clam up on me again." you brought one hand to the side of his face, gently making him look up at you. he jumped at the contact, sending his hands further up his face until they were covering his eyes. 

"please forgive me," he rushed out.

"look at me," you said softly, placing one hand on top of his to move it to the side—one of his faintly glowing eyes glanced at you. "i’m more happy to make out with you, but we need to talk first."

he made a strangled groan of embarrassment in answer, moving his hand back in place again. 

"are you listening?" 

he nodded.

"alright, the whole thing with jing yuan was me asking about you," you said. "i thought he might know a bit about you as a vidyadhara and your behaviour, so i went to ask what i could do to get you to let me into the archives. his idea was a less than tactful, but i guess it worked. that’s why ‘his scent was on me’, as you say. he only stuck his head on my shoulder for a bit because you’d be able to tell and then demand an explanation or something." 

his fingers had parted to show his eyes again, and they were staring in bewilderment. 

"so, i’m sorry for doing all that to you." your voice was soft. "i just wanted to see you."

"no, i should be apologizing. i have no control of myself and i haven’t been fair to you." he lowered his hands to hovering somewhere over his chest. "i was saying before… since that night, i have been an embarrassment. all i’ve wanted to do is steal you away and… smother you in affection until you returned it. the feeling was so intense that i didn’t trust myself around you, so i hid. i thought if i waited, it’d calm down, but it really only made it worse."

your heart swooned then and there, lighting a fire in your cheeks. "o-oh… so if i did return it, then you wouldn’t act like a lovesick ghost anymore?" 

"hey." he frowned, but his face soon fell back into the same flustered expression from before. "but to answer you, maybe after a while. i could also just get worse… but i really don’t want to subject you anything you don’t want." while he couldn’t meet your gaze, he still leaned his head into the palm of your hand. with a sigh, you held his jaw and angled his face to look at you again. 

"how many times do i have to say i don’t mind? you can’t seem to fit that one through that thick vidyadhara skull of yours." you did actually knock on his head this time, making him wince.

"i—i don’t know, i just get embarrassed." he hid face his face against your chest, face a shade redder and his ears drooping. "you also always look so shocked. i don’t want to do that to you." 

"that’s only because you tend to forget any kind of warning," you said with a light laugh. "truly, i like it—when you give me warning, that is—because i really like you too, stupid." 

his breath audibly hitched, and he raised his head back up. "t-too? but i’ve never said—" 

"are you kidding? you don’t need to say it when the aeons and their grandmas know. even march says it’s obvious. you’re seriously worried about that after you’ve made out with my shoulder sloppy style? by the way, what was with the bites?"

"ngh, don’t word it like that." his tail that was still tangled around you thumped against your back indignantly. "…and the bites are a weird territorial thing. i’m sorry if they hurt." he leaned his head against you, running his thumb over one of the marks.

"dragons…" you sighed with a smile. "you’re lucky you’re so cute." you pet his hair, and he leaned into your touch.

he moved his chin so it was on your collarbone, looking up at you with softened eyes. there were almost stars of reverence in them when he gazed at you. "i love you."

"wait, wha—" you began, but he swallowed the rest of your words when his lips were upon yours. he pressed himself up against you, his hands gently holding the sides of your face. as he kissed you, there was a faint rumbling and vibration coming from his chest—he was purring.  

he pulled back again, leaving you a little short of breath and a lot dazed. you’d always thought it’d be you that had to kiss him first, not the other way around. he began to leave another trail of kisses starting from your lips to your jaw, this time leading toward the other side he had already been. your hands fell from their place on him and inched onto his back while his lips were on your neck. one hand slipped into his back window, and he suddenly gasped. his back arched into you, almost knocking you over. he panicked, and his tail constricted behind you like another set of arms to catch you. 

"what was that?" you laughed, trying to re-steady yourself. 

"your hand was cold. i don’t know, i guess i have a sensitive back," he huffed. his ears were angled down and a flush was heavy on his face. you couldn’t really articulate what it was about him, but you were suddenly overcome with cuteness aggression. you leaned your weight onto him, sending him backwards onto the futon and—perhaps somewhat out of revenge—hovered yourself over top of his hips. he stared up at you with widened eyes and a held breath, frozen and waiting for your next move. 

"you said i need to return your affection, didn’t you?" 

he swallowed and nodded the tiniest bit. 

"so let me have some fun too, my beloved." you placed a hand on his cheek.

"wait, you heard—i actually said that?" it almost looked like steam would start rising from the top of his head at any point. 

"heard it loud and clear." you smiled to yourself, leaning down and managing to get your fingertips into his chest window—only for the door to slam wide open. 

"hey, it’s dinner! what’re you two even doi—!" march called, leaning her hand on the doorway. you and dan heng leapt off each other, landing on the opposite sides of his futon. march stared in silence for a long while before lolling her head back. "jeez, finally! anyway, can you two wait until after dinner? pom-pom’s ‘bouta blow a gasket waiting for you two."

"w-we’ll be there in a minute," you said, trying to readjust your collar to try and hide dan heng’s bite marks. 

"don’t be long!" march said as she strode back off down the hallway. a couple beats passed and you looked over at dan heng. by some miracle, he’d managed to swap himself back to his human look, but he still looked disheveled as he went to stand back up. 

he held a hand out to you and pulled you up, pausing for a moment. he glanced at the bite marks on your shoulder that still peaked out, made some sort of strained sound and then removed his coat. "they don’t need to see that," he said as he strung it around your shoulders, fixing the collar so it hid the marks from sight.

"i’m wearing your coat. march saw us before. if she learns something, it’s guaranteed to be said," you deadpanned. "they’ll know."

instead of giving you a direct response, he took your hand in his and lead you out of the archives, looking at you with what was probably meant to be a neutral expression. his light flush and knitted eyebrows betrayed him though. "can we at least pretend we have dignity?"

"i mean, sure, but it’s not gonna do anything, looking the way we do. now c’mon, don’t wanna keep the conductor waiting." you walked off with him in tow. 

he only made a small groan in response again. 

𝑜 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝓂𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃 ⑅ ۫ .

ᕱ⑅ᕱ ۪ ۫ 〜 ꒰ gepard landau x f!reader. nsfw — mdni . . . established relationship / public sex ( in an empty corridor ) / reader is clingy n' needy n' also a bit of a tease :3 / u call him ‘captain’ / he calls u ‘angel’ + ‘sweetheart’ / finger suckin’ ♡ / quickies / unprotected sex / creampies / read to da end for a silly littl surprise ^_< ꒰ྀི 1.8k wc

𝒸𝑜𝒸𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈 . . . geppie ໒꒰ྀི∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩꒱ྀིა dis is honestly jus’ vv self-indulgent oopsie . . it is also ! my first honkai piece eeee @ . @ i hope u enjoy :3 as always , feedback + rebloops are supa appreciate C: okiz baiii-!

gepard tastes strawberries and cream on your tongue as you pull him into an empty corridor at qlipoth fort, smells sunshine on your neck as you giggle in between cheeky kisses laid over his lips, his forehead, his jaw.

“hey, hey… someone’s going to catch us.” he chides you gently but to no avail, because when you whisper over his cheeks that you don’t care if someone sees, and that you just missed him so much, and that you might die if you went another hour without him, he can’t fight the shy laugh that bubbles in his throat, nor the pretty shade of pink that dusts his ears.

and that pink spreads to his cheeks, down his neck; it turns a deeper shade of rouge when you lean your weight on him and fist at the fur of his collar, breathe soft little noises into his mouth for him to steal and make a home of in his heart. “gepard…”

you sigh his name like that— with that delicate lilt to your voice— it sounds a bit like a dream to him, and he knows it all too well; knows it from all the late nights your toes curl and tap over his broad shoulders, from all the early mornings his fingers and lips have spent pulling honey from in between your legs.

it’s a noise so sweet, so pretty; he thinks himself to be a sinner with how something so innocent and angelic makes his blood run hot and cock throb with need. 

“yes?” exasperation laces his words and the stifled groans that follow when you kiss along the heavy vein of his neck, press your clothed pussy into his sinewy thigh and find his cock already half-hard, twitching and leaking pre from the love you slather over him. he’s inhaling through his teeth when you can only bring yourself to whine in response to his question, tug weakly at the zipper of his slacks; and before you do anything else to weaken his heart, he mumbles into your hair, breath thick with a burning desire that he tries to shove back down his throat, “not now, angel— c-christ, i’m still on duty…” 

a set of metal-plated fingers wrap around your hips, squeeze gently in a silent beg when you stumble back into the wall and curl your fingers into his coat almost woefully, tugging him towards you as best you can to feel more of his warmth. “n-no! no— promise it’ll be quick, please, need you so bad…” 

and against his will, gepard finds himself twisting like a sunflower at the sound of your voice— pitchy and petulant little pleas travelling straight to his cock, to the twitch of his fingers as they dig just a tad more forcefully into your flesh. “sweetheart…” your lover inhales sharply, squeezes his eyes shut to keep from looking into your own; for if he does, he’s afraid he just might give in to your salacious whims. “my guards will notice i’m missing.”

“even if they do, no one can question you about it, right, captain?” you whisper over his lips, squeeze your legs a little tighter around his thigh in an attempt to gain more friction where you need it the most.

“you… you never play fair, do you…” a chill flits down his spine at the name you call him and his head falls forwards to bump against your own, brain clouded with lust and a certain dizziness that makes him feel as though he might faint. 

“pretty please… ‘m already so wet for you, just look,” he follows your gaze to where his thigh has been pressed up against the hot apex of your legs, and the sight of your slick staining the crotch of your panties and white of his pants has him releasing a shaky exhale.

he’s losing his war against the sun.

because the captain of the silvermane guards is famously uncompromising, stubborn, loyal to his job and perhaps to a fault, yet, when you look like this— dusk falling overhead through the stained glass to cast a halo over your head and make visible the hearts in your eyes, when you look as stunning as you do with the sun glowing from your chest, gepard feels like his bones are being seared, his muscles burnt into dust by the heat you envelop him in.

“god, you’re gonna kill me…”

even so, he doesn’t think he minds dying at your hands when it’s like this. he’s admitting defeat before he even realizes it; with your fingers tugging at the blonde that curls around his ears as he hikes up the skirt of your dress with one arm and hooks the back of your knee over the inside of his elbow with the other. and then you’re sighing— all dreamy and blissed out when he hastily pulls his cock out from his slacks and taps his throbbing head over your clit before gliding his length along your soaking folds.

it’s too slow— how he inches into you, pushing his hips back and forth once, twice, three times until your pussy swallows as much of his cock as it can, until the sharpness of his hipbones rubs against your own. and it’s so wrong, so lewd— the position he has you in, his entire body weight caging you against the wall, broad shoulders hiding you from view should any passersby turn the corner and be met with a sight so incredibly… debauch.

you paw desperately at the breastplate of his armour as he fills you up, your tight ring of muscle stretched to accommodate his girth, and no matter how long he takes to prep you, no matter how wet you are, there’s always that initial dull ache that rips through your groin when he pushes into you. it has you lurching into his chest, little sobs of ’s so big, ’s too much pressing hot on his ear.

and, oh, gepard is just so sweet, cradling the back of your head to keep it from hitting the wall as he shushes you softly, “shh, it’s okay, you’re okay— y-you gotta be quiet.” his gentle nature only makes you keen further, makes your legs tremble in his hold and your voice crack from how pitchy your whines get; he’s left with one last option to prevent the two of you from getting caught.

before he can let another sound rip from your throat, he’s tearing off his glove with his teeth, grinding his molars against the worn leather as he pushes two of his fingers past your open mouth, pressing down on your tongue to silence you as best he can.

his assertiveness makes your mind fog up with submission— it has your toes curling at the low baritone of his voice as it drills breathy groans into your ear, your heart feeling the reverberations of the growl bubbling deep in his chest— because, fuck, when you lick and suck at his fingers like that, it shreds away all the remaining patience he has, wears it thin until there’s just one thread left.

“b-baby, you’re all the way in here…” pulling off his digits with a little pop, you whisper through slurred words and bring a palm to your navel, his own hand following suit. he presses down lightly, enough to have you gasping from a blossom of pleasure, enough to have your gummy walls oozing slick around him and clamp down tightly to suck his length in even deeper. he’s so deep— you swear he’s in your womb, and just imagining his cock nestled there, throbbing and leaking hot cum to mark you with a proclamation of his love makes the blood boil blue in your chest, course through your limbs and to the aching twitch of your fingers. “feel you in my tummy, gepard.”

“o-oh, god…”

and that’s when the last thread snaps.

gepard doesn’t think there’s anything else in this universe that makes him lose sight of his cool like you do, because as soon as you’re saying those words in that sinfully sweet voice of yours, he’s given up on letting your little cunt adjust to his size. instead, he’s panting and groaning and fucking up into you without warning— hips ruthless enough in their thrusts to lift your tippy toes off the ground, leaky head of his cock grinding into the spongy patch of tissue that has you wailing out and hiccuping over your cries. "g-gepard!"

it’s almost feral, the way he silences you with his kisses, dipping his tongue into your mouth to explore the sweet concavities, a growl ripping from his throat with each draw of his hips as he grinds into the most sensitive pleasure points lining your wall and rolls his crotch into your neglected clit— his ministrations coax pretty noise after pretty noise from you that he swallows with his own, drawing them down deep into his heart. 

when you begin to hiccup on shallow breaths and your bambi eyes glaze over with honey, gepard realizes he’s worked you up to that soft, dreamy headspace; the words tumble out of your pouty lips before you have a chance to think them through— all slurred and lilted like a sweet dance— because you’re drunk on his cock, and terribly in love with him, and all that. “you’re gonna make me cum.”

you drawl out shakily as he continues to rut up into you, make a mess of your pussy as lewd slapslapslap’s ring through the empty corridor. and when you moan over his mouth and chase after his lips, gently tugging on them and whining a little k-kiss me, gepard, wanna kiss you when i cum, it’s too much.

it’s so much, because it’s only been a short while but the dreamy look in your half-lidded gaze and your pitchy voice send a glow of mind-numbing pleasure through his entire body, down from his chest all the way to his cock— and just like that, he’s cumming alongside you— thrusts sloppy and jerky before he plunges into your completely. spurt after spurt of creamy white ribbon fills your womb, flushing your limbs full of a tingling warmth only he can give you.

your cunt spills his thick seed; it oozes down all sides of his cock, down his balls and to the floor, and in your hazy comedown, your light panting breaks off into a lovely little peal of giggles. “you came s’much… ’s all for me, mhm?”

“mhm… all for my pretty girl,” the sweet sounds you make endear your lover all the more to you; it’s evident by how he smiles tiredly into your hair, sucks in his cheeks in a failed attempt to keep from blushing so much, straightens the bows in your now mussed ponytails, rubs his nose sappily over yours— one way and then the other.

your post-coital bliss ends far quicker than either you want it to, for the clang of metal hitting cobblestone and a disgusted gasp from the eldest landau has your eyes going wide, gepard’s face flushing a deep berry as he stutters over his words and tries to reason.

“ugh, gepard, get a room!”

🦈 Do you potentially write for Blade from hsr? If so I'd like to request some hcs with a male s/o because I can't find any Blade x male readers anywhere.

Yes I do take hsr requests and I honestly haven’t seen enough hsr x male reader fics out there so send requests :]

Dr. Ratio: the worst thing about idiocy is that you can't explain it to an idiot.

Y/n: damn, it must be hard to explain it to yourself then.

Dr. Ratio: what?

Y/n: what?

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter seven: In which March 7th joins the crew and asks why you have special privileges

Warnings: possibly ooc

You never expected to stumble upon the frozen chunk of ice that contained a familiar someone that you knew would become March 7th. She laid there, under the layers of unforgiving ice, naked and asleep.

For a brief moment, you wondered if you could just leave the ice to melt on its own, but shrugged the last minute and decided against it.

It was easy to just clip the ice out of existence and get the girl to safety, draping her in a comfortable quilt to protect her dignity and to keep her warm— you noticed she felt surprisingly soft for a girl frozen for god knows how long.

No one questioned you when you brought her in to the express and took her to your room, having known you long enough to trust you.

“She’s stabilizing.” Himeko told you as she finished examining her. “She’ll probably wake up in a few hours more or less.”

“That’s good.” You said as you observed the girl’s sleeping body, now dressed in some loose, soft colored nightgown that covered her entire figure.

“Where did you find her?” Himeko asked.

“Inside a block of ice.” You replied. “Eternal ice, specifically. Interesting, right?”

“Indeed it is…” She trailed off. “Any estimate of how long she’s been trapped in there?” She asked as she wasn’t there to observe the ice to know a timeline— it’s a miracle in itself that this girl was still alive after such a dangerous situation. She wasn’t a corpse, she didn’t bloat, didn’t bruise, and no signs of frostbite at all.

“Probably a long while. I haven’t seen eternal ice for a good few decades since I was born.” You answered, deliberately leaving out the detail that it was on the Aeon Fuli that you’ve seen traces of it last. It wasn’t your place to divulge that, and you too didn’t know the full story.

“Where’s Welt?” You inquired, changing the topic.

“He’s currently making some arrangements with Herta for our next stop.” Himeko replied. “Oh.. that reminds me,” she paused, as if uncertain. “I received a message from the IPC in regards to you— well, not quite. It’s your wanted poster.”

“Took them eight years to air out my dirty laundry outside two galaxies?” You frowned. “Lame.”

“Since when did you find out about this?” She looked at you with an incredulous look, remembering that your bounty was exactly a whopping 69 million credits. (Nice)

“I have no idea why they’re airing it this late here but I found out about it during my trip in a galaxy with a friend— I got famous there for killing IPC personnel using chairs.” You confessed with a casual shrug, you don’t miss the way she seemed taken aback, as if that was beneath you. Could she do anything about it?

No, not really. Because aside from you being basically this place’s patron deity since you vored the original one on accident, Himeko was just that kind of person. The kind who would just… get it.

“Also, it wasn’t unwarranted.” You sighed, throwing your hands up like that white, scuffled combination of a cat and a monkey to emphasize your exasperation. “They attacked me first. Walked around some old bar like they owned the place and tried to shoot me while I was trying to cheer on my friend.”

Himeko nodded. “I see.” She had enough common sense to figure out that people were basically asking for it— she’s however thankful that you’re at least not as destructive as she initially thought you would be.

She’s of course, wrong. But she doesn’t know that yet.

Emphasis on yet, because killing corporate employees with a chair wasn’t exactly the worst thing you did using a human projection. Does she have to know about what you did to Gopher Wood a few years ago while pretending you were just some bellboy in Penacony? No she doesn’t.

She didn’t need to know about the town you accidentally turned into Yharnam 2.0 around six years ago in some distant galaxy either. Granted, what transpired there wasn’t exactly your fault, but merely a result of people trying to foolishly communicate with your Aeon form without a transmission.

And thus, they were free of their ignorance. The exchange was that all of them went insane from gaining the “insight” needed to see you, observe you.

Himeko doesn’t need to know any of those things, or the sense of regret you felt by not being able to help them in the way they needed.

In the midst of your surprisingly quiet conversation, the unconscious girl woke up, and your face is the first thing she sees.

“Hello.” You smiled, gently taking her hand with your own. “Finally awake huh? You’ve been asleep awhile.” You said.

“H-hi.” Her response is weak, groggy. Himeko is quick to help her drink water for her parched throat, in which the girl accepts with little complaint. She almost coughs and you patted her back gently to ease her, telling her to slow down as she doesn’t let go of your hand along the way.

“Himeko, can you please get Pompom? She needs some soup.” It felt strange for you to be ordering her around with you easily forgetting you are technically the highest person in the train.

“I’ll get her something easy on the stomach, don’t worry.” Himeko merely smiled at you, complying with what you told her as you stayed with the girl.

“So, how’d you get in that ice?” You asked after a few moments, of course you already knew the answer, but you still let it out anyway.

“I… don’t know.” She told you. “Who are you?” Himeko said she’s stable— well, physically. You’re not sure how she is mentally.

“A stranger for now.” You smiled. “You should rest, you’re not exactly ready to get up just yet.” She nodded wordlessly at your words, and laid back down.

It doesn’t take her long to sleep.

“Welcome aboard, March 7th.”

——————

“Himeko, why does [Name] get to get out without contacting us for weeks but me and Dan Heng have to inform you of our whereabouts?”

Himeko paused with calibrating the navigation system as March put on the question.

“Well… despite how they look, they’re one of the senior members of the crew.” She began. “Don’t worry, they know their way back no matter where they are and where we will go.”

It’s a vague answer and March can tell, though, she doesn’t pry any further. You’ve been around in the express for longer than her or Dan Heng, so she chalked it up to you being the more experienced lot.

“Where are they right now though?” She pondered, and Himeko chuckled.

“Seems that someone is worried.” There is mirth in the navigator’s voice, March pouted in response.

“They’re all alone, of course I’m a little worried.” She said.

“I see. Not to worry, they’re fine, they’re just on another planet right now visiting a place.”

“Sigonia… IV?” Himeko pressed on the panel to show the state of the planet, and March almost blanched. “Wow, it’s…. dry… in there.”

“It’s a desert planet. [Name] was there before, they’re just finishing up in establishing a space anchor so we can head there whenever we’d like.” Himeko explained. “It was added recently to our navigation system around 12 or 13 years ago, and it’s inhabited mainly by two clans. You can ask Mr.Yang or Dan Heng if you’d like to know more about the planet. [Name]’s taken a liking to it.”

“Okay… what are other places that [Name] likes?” She’s curious now, despite having travelled with them for over four months, there wasn’t much that she knew about the mysterious astral express member at all.

“There is another place… they attended the university of Veritas Prime for a while before they quit because they got bored.” Himeko lightly laughed, recalling the memory of you going back to the train after spending a good portion of a year in the university, with you rather childishly stating you’re dropping out because you hated writing a thesis.

“Mr. Yang told me about that place once.. apparently it’s super prestigious.. and [Name] just quit because they got… bored?” Frankly, March was a little.. in disbelief.

While she couldn’t remember her past, she had enough common sense to know that academies like that simply aren’t places where you could just.. dip without a single regard.

But unfortunately, you were… well, you.

“That’s not.. really all there is to the story, even I’m not sure what actually happened, but it’s better for us not to question [Name]’s choices.” Himeko sighed, shaking her head.

“Okay…. Are there any other places that they like aside from a school and a desert planet?”

“I’m… not sure.” Now even Himeko was wondering what you actually liked aside from the things they already know. “I think they mentioned a tavern at one point. Though it’s not exactly one for a vacation spot.”

“What do you mean?” March tilted her head, curious.

“Let’s just say that it’s the kind where bounty hunters often linger around, at least that’s what they told me.” Himeko said without missing a beat, March shivered. “It’s alright, they said most of the people there are well acquainted with them.” She laughed lightly.

“That’s not exactly helping.” March sweatdropped.

“Oh! Looks like they’re done properly establishing the anchor.” Himeko chimed, Sigonia IV finally having a proper route for the express members to properly jump into.

March frowned, her questions haven’t yet been answered. What she got were vague, not pointing to anything personal about you.

Perhaps another day then. Or maybe when she’s braver, she’d ask you herself.

————————-

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, part VII, part VIII, Part IX…..

Interlude: one, two…..

Special chapter: (tba)

That’s a wrap for the long awaited chapter 7– I know we didn’t have much of the reader acting here, but I also want to explore the POV of other people and how they perceive you because I think it’s important—

I promise you’ll see the reader in action in the chapter that follows this :))

(Links will be updated in a few hours)

hello! looking for a sunday x reader fic where reader is like known to be the aeon of dreams but is actually the aeon of control? also she kinda turns herself human to befriend sunday, and when the final battle begins, she like swoops him up and turns him into her emanator. tyia!!!

hi hello i’m a new hsr writer ^w^

blood in my veins (yandere! blade)

cw: gn! reader, heavy violence, blood, yandere obv, he breaks into ur house and watches u sleep edward cullen style, please lmk if i made any mistakes cuz english is not my first language T^T

it would be a gross understatement to say blade was obsessed with you. every single mannerism of yours, all your quirks, they were all the subjects of his deranged obsession. shattering your window and stepping into your dark room, he would sometimes dare to even sit at the edge of your bed simply to watch the silent rising and falling of your chest in your sleep. somehow, blade couldn’t contain the smile growing on his face knowing you would never know he was there in the first place.

of course, given the shattered glass on the floor of your room and slightly tacky drops of blood on the foot of the bed, you knew someone was there while you were asleep, but you didn’t know it was blade of all people. the man got some kind of sick adrenaline rush knowing you were none the wiser to his lethal obsession with you. he’d use your distress over your loved ones disappearing to get closer to you, feigning comfort and care. soon, blade would be the only one left.

no one else was in your life, only the man you now considered your boyfriend who had oh so much blood on his hands for the sake of winning your love in a one-sided game. he viewed himself as the winner because he was the one who ended up with you, but can you really have won the game and played fairly if you had just killed the opposing side to start with?

you can’t escape, to put it bluntly. he physically cannot die so no matter how far you run, he will always catch up. it’s how blade shows he loves you, and you wouldn’t leave anyway now, would you? at least knowing even more people’s lives would be at risk if you did. reassure him you won’t leave with a kiss, because maybe then he’d stop his merciless murders of the people close to you. but that’s just wishful thinking, isn’t it?

恋の予感 (yandere! jingliu)

cw: gn! reader but mentions of a necklace idk, probably ooc, yandere, violence, stalking, i love women, super short just like me

someone as broken as jingliu never thought she’d have or deserve love like that which you gave her. it was something real, palpable, when her past loves hadn’t been. where there were unfeeling words of reassurance, you replaced it with real action and a tangible sense of love. she would do anything to protect you, even if it means the end of her own life.

from the very second you looked at her, she could tell you were the one. nothing, and i mean NOTHING would keep you away from her. she's crazed with a tendency to kill, that much is clear.

maybe that's partially why she wears a blindfold, so she doesn't see you with anyone else because she knows it wouldn't be pretty if she did. her sword is the only way to your heart, after all. if jingliu has nothing else, she has you to watch ever so silently from the deepest shadowy corners, assessing each one of your smallest movements. nights like these, she finally takes off her blindfold just to witness your beauty.

the sight of you makes her hand tremble on the sword she always carries with her, making her wish she had said something to you instead of silently stalking and taking some of your clothing items, jewelry, you name it. a necklace of yours is wrapped around her neck, and she's never letting it go. not until you're hers and hers alone.

blinded by the lights (yandere! sparkle)

cw: gn! reader, yandere obviously, she’s fuckin crazy but we already knew that, implied/vague mental illness, descriptions of gore

a thousand faces, a thousand personalities. once she finds the personality you’d taken a liking to, she’ll stick with it until the day she dies. sparkle isn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination, she’s deranged and unhinged, she lies just to watch the chaos that ensues over something that may have never existed in the first place.

for even the most innocent of people, thinking she’s cute and harmless is a fatal mistake. for you, she’d gladly make sure she was the only other person in the whole galaxy. if that’s what it takes for you to finally realize that she’s the only one for you, so be it. the stage lights can be unforgiving, but she knows how to make it look natural and even normal when she puts on this show of love and affection.

sparkle’s dainty hands would be stained with tacky blood as she cups your face in said hands, smearing the substance on your cheeks as she coos and compliments how adorable you are when you’re this scared. a soft blush would dust her cheeks as she explains in gruesome detail all the people she hurt and killed just for you. that way, you’ll understand that this is for the best. it’s not like escape is feasible either, she’ll find you and drag you back no matter how far you run.

her pigtails were messy and matted, her clothes tainted with yet more blood. just how many people had she killed? using the same hands she used to end so many innocent lives just to spell the simple words “i love you! <3” in blood that slowly dripped down the wall she was writing on. all this, just as a reminder that your girlfriend isn’t going anywhere.

you’re bad for me (yandere! firefly)

cw: violence, gore, yandere

such a sweet girl, soft and quiet. behind the scenes, firefly is a killer who wouldn’t hesitate to end a life as proof of her love for you. her cotton-soft hair would be tacky with blood and viscera, pale face covered in smudges of the same half-dried blood with hearts in her beautiful eyes.

outwardly, she’s the most innocent looking in appearance of the stellaron hunters. out of a woman who used her dead-looking eyes and seductive voice to control those around her, a tall man who can’t seem to die and lives for the rush of battle, a seasoned hacker who would rather be playing her gacha games, yet firefly was still the scariest out of the other three. the scary part only comes in when her smile contrasts the blood splattered on her skin and clothes, tears welling up in her eyes.

piloting a large mech suit so no one sees her face, she would sometimes even dare to end lives right in front of you. as long as you never notice it’s your lover, she wouldn’t hesitate. she’s a bit of a loser-yandere, a blushing and clumsy mess when you’re around. only when she’s jealous do her homicidal and violent tendencies resurface. firefly gets jealous easily, so realistically, her more shy and cute nature is a bit more rare than you might think.

her violent personality melts away whenever you’re near her, barely even managing to speak to you before she’s blushing wildly and stumbling on her words. she hates that part of herself, wishing she could just keep it together.

beautiful liar (yan! sunday)

CW: yandere obv, NO spoilers included for the end of penacony quest :), light violence, stalking, dreamworld shenanigans

sunday isn’t much of a stranger in the realm of violence disguised as love. he only keeps tabs on your every move because he cares for you, don’t you understand? being around all those people wasn’t good for you anyway, it’s for the best that sunday is one of what is now very few people in your life.

it’s a dream within a dream, a front that refuses to explain itself and only becomes more sinister the more you look into it. careful not to look for too long at crowds in the golden hour, you may spot a familiar halo peeking out above the heads of bystanders for a split second before it disappears. his views on the whole world are tainted, so love is no exception. what ultimately started as a pure love became so twisted by his need for control that it was unrecognizable.

you turned his life upside down, and he wanted to keep you in this dream. unfortunately, you have no say in the matter. jealousy is sunday’s weakness, roughly pulling you away from people and seething as he does so, all while trying desperately to keep his composed exterior. he knows damn well his power over you is exaggerated in this dreamscape, that’s all the more reason to keep you here.

and yet, the night is still too short.

oh, how i love you (yandere! stellaron hunters)

cw: all characters separate, spoilers for penacony quest, violence, yandere, stalking, obsession

currently listening to -> shut up, we don’t care - syris

KAFKA •

her love is something violent and horrific hidden behind a pretty mask. she knows she’s a beautiful woman, but she’s already got such a large bounty over her head that it barely matters to her anymore. what’s just one more kill to bring you closer to her? she’s a traditional type of yandere, obsessing over even the smallest detail related to you, memorizing everything from the exact tone of your hair and skin to every single reaction you’ve had to everything she’s ever said or done. everything you like or dislike, she has it memorized. she’d send gifts to your location, though deranged in nature. she’d send you severed and bloody, half rotted limbs torn from her victims with hearts carved in them and your initials together. she knows she’s dangerous, as if the multiple guns and katana she keeps on her person at all times wasn’t enough of an indicator of that. anyone she wants erased from the equation will be gone in an instant, and she would only hesitate for a second to betray her comrades for your sake.

BLADE •

oh, bladie. oh dear, sweet, bladie. how can someone possibly be even more violent than kafka? well, blade doesn’t even try to hide it. he relishes the fact that you’re scared of him, half the time he smiles at all is the deranged giggle he lets out as blood splatters all over his body and clothes. it would clot in his long hair, and he wouldn’t even bother to wash it out until it begins to rot. he doesn’t want to gross you out, just to remind you that you belong to HIM. someone talks to you for even just a little too long, they’ll be gone before the end of the day. he doesn’t enjoy killing in front of you, he doesn’t want his poor baby to see how violent he can get, but he at the very least implies such violent acts of love and passion to you with the blood on him. he’s a stoic man, but he still manages to smile every time he ends another life out of passion for you. he can’t die, so it’s not like it matters if you try to fight back. he will always be back, and you just can’t run from him.

SILVER WOLF •

she chooses the stalker, parasocial route. seeing as she’s a hacker who just views life as a game, this is no different. how much of your affection can she win? how long until you block one of her accounts, and how long until she just begins to stalk you from another one instead? everything from your social media accounts to your damn search history, she has access to it all, so don’t try posting for help because she’ll just delete it. you don’t know how she does it, every time you deactivate an account and make a new one to make it harder for her to find you, she always does. she’s saved all the pictures you post, hell, she’s even made alternate personas just to talk to you sometimes. it’s creepy. she gave up the act of pretending she didn’t always want to see you on her timeline pretty quickly when she realized her obsession with you.

FIREFLY •

to die three deaths is nothing compared to seeing you with someone who isn’t her. never again would she allow herself to be far from you, always only feet behind you in crowds even if you didn’t see her. if someone dares even look at you the wrong way, they can say goodbye to their life in a matter of seconds. such a sweet and innocent girl, never failing to keep her darling close no matter the consequence. don’t you understand, it’s only because she adores you with all she has. her fellow stellaron hunters will simply excuse her actions, chalking it up to a show of affection. once she has you in her arms, she is NEVER letting go. even if she has to be forceful with it, anything for you. absolutely anything. she would never reveal her true identity as a mech-girl to you, because that would only complicate things. as far as you know, your girlfriend is the only one around anymore because all your loved ones seem to just disappear after you talk to them.

ᯓ✿ kiss ya with a knife

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hi..yan jiaoqiu…

ˋ°•*⁀➷ yandere! jiaoqiu x gn! reader

°˖➴ listening to: slay !! - kiraw & 6arelyhuman

₊˚ yandere, drugging, kidnapping, violence, written before character release, also written while i’m so cold i can barely feel my hands :/

this cook is absolutely using the trust you placed in him to get you all to himself. once everyone you care about has cut you off or simply ghosted you, that’s when he seizes his opportunity. jiaoqiu would often cook for you, so a small dessert to make you smile isn’t conspicuous at all.

that’s what makes it perfect, smiling innocently as your vision grows blurry and dark, the spiked dessert he had given you starting to take effect. the cook would feign concern, carrying you back to his home and simply telling anyone who asked that you were quite sick and he needed to keep a close watch on you.

you’d wake up in his bed, a chain on your ankle connecting to the intricately carved bed frame. you felt weak, drained of all energy as you looked around the dark room, seeing that same foxian you trusted, watching from the corner with those intimidating yellow eyes.

What if what if the reader is married to danfeng and then some miracle happens and they have kids but but but... Then the ykyk happened and then reader is left alone and then the kids died bcs they got killed bcs people dont want them to be like danfeng (???) So reader is alone and sad now but then she meets dan heng but he doesn't wanna be with her bcs he's not danfeng so reader is alone for their entire life yeyeyeyeyeyeyeyeyyyyy (i dont know how to write fanfics so if anyone wanna write this 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭)