hi, i'm gifty — an aspiring comic/manga artisthere to share my worlds through fanart & fanfic 💕mostly To Be Hero X + HSR (may include/be a lil OC spice 👀)⭐
Ashveil is the complete package of drama: romantic, dramatic, and theatrical. He loves making extravagant entrances, exaggerating and emphasizing certain emotions or past events, and reciting dramatic lines at the perfect moment. He's incredibly flamboyant.
He easily blames himself when things go wrong, even if he wasn't involved. Ashveil unconsciously carries a tremendous sense of responsibility that ends up being projected onto almost everything around him.
He's secretly a fashion lover. He enjoys watching fashion shows and following clothing styles that go against everyday casualness. Still, he only yearns for cool clothes, since he doesn't have much money for it.
He's very protective and possessive, though he hides it well. He doesn't like sharing the people he loves with others, nor does he enjoy having them constantly at risk or far away from him. He would never openly admit it, but he's much clingier than he lets on.
His love language is acts of service and quality time. Ashveil automatically volunteers to do things for you, adopting a gentlemanly posture that practically screams: 1. Opening your door with an exaggerated bow and a corny wink, murmuring seductively, "Ladies first," 2. Offering you his coat while saying, "Take my coat, my love. You're cold, aren't you? I can't let you get sick, can I?" when it's raining, 3. Dramatically declaring, "Your eyes shine brighter than a thousand stars... you're more important to me than Juliet was to Romeo... or whatever that famous romance was called. Either way, I'm saying I love you!" during dinner after the two of you have just run from a pack of stray dogs Ashveil had confidently tried (and failed miserably) to calm down.
He's self-destructive. He barely eats, doesn't sleep properly, isolates himself from others... and even if you try to help him, he still won't make room for you, smiling softly as he says, "I'm fine. No need to worry about me... actually, how about we go get your favorite ice cream instead?" ...A smile that doesn't hide his melancholy nearly as well as he thinks it does.
Ashveil is actually terrified of upsetting you and losing your affection. Because of that, he tends to suppress his own needs and focus almost entirely on yours, sometimes avoiding conflict altogether if it means keeping the peace.
He's very, very cuddly. He loves falling asleep wrapped around you, especially when you're the little spoon. He enjoys burying his face into your neck, holding you tightly, and simply existing in your warmth for as long as possible.
Ashveil respects boundaries immensely. If you establish one, he won't cross it under any circumstances.
He turns into an abandoned puppy whenever you're upset with him, desperately trying to understand what he did wrong and attempting to soften your annoyance with pitiful expressions, dramatic apologies, and embarrassingly cute faces.
He absolutely loves having his hair played with. You could braid it, style it, brush it, or just absentmindedly run your fingers through it for hours, and he'd happily let you.
Ashveil blushes easily, though he desperately tries to hide it by clearing his throat, adjusting his shirt collar, or looking away with an awkward smile. He attempts to appear calm and collected... and fails miserably every single time.
He would become deeply attached to you. Not in the sense that he'd lose his independence, but rather because he'd grow so accustomed to your presence that imagining a life without you would become almost unbearable. If he ever lost you, he would somehow continue living... but the grief and guilt would slowly consume him. His smile would never be quite the same again, and he would most likely never love anyone else.
Ashveil is deeply attached to the past. Memories, photographs, old stories, worn-out belongings... they're all incredibly precious to him. He treasures the memories of his companions and believes he has a duty to honor them. Because of this, he struggles immensely with moving on. Instead, he quietly carries his suffering, convinced that letting go would somehow mean abandoning the people he lost.
He's extremely hard on himself. Whether helping the families of fallen Galaxy Rangers or investigating missing and murder cases for complete strangers, Ashveil gives far more than his best. He has an almost unhealthy tendency to pour every ounce of himself into helping others.
He believes pain gives meaning to his life. Deep down, Ashveil convinces himself that if he suffers enough, perhaps the mistakes he made in the past will somehow be forgiven. Yet no amount of suffering ever lessens the guilt he carries. Without realizing it, he constantly seeks redemption through self-sacrifice, altruism, and enduring more pain than anyone should.
He's empathetic, humorous, and considerate. Conversations with Ashveil are naturally pleasant because he genuinely pays attention to what others think and feel. He listens carefully, adapts to the other person's emotions, and rarely makes a conversation revolve around himself.
Ashveil has a soft spot for children and animals. Besides dogs, he also likes kittens because they are small and fluffy.
Ashveil longs for peace and comfort. But even more than peace, he longs for a world where his companions are still alive—where injustice no longer exists, where needless suffering has disappeared, and where people no longer have to lose those they love in wars and battles.
He likes sitting near windows during long trips.
His handwriting is surprisingly elegant.
He's very sentimental about promises. If he says, "I'll come back," he'll do everything in his power to keep that promise.
He constantly wonders if he deserves to be loved as much as you love him.
🔴 [NSFW WARNING]
Ashveil has a knack for the predator-prey dynamic. He would certainly find it exciting to simulate a kind of hunt with you at night, where you have to run, hide, and do your absolute best to avoid being found. He loves the adrenaline rush of the chase, the anticipation that builds with every passing second, and the thrill that comes from finally catching you after a long pursuit. And of course, after finally capturing you, he definitely wouldn't let you escape again.
He's fond of biting and leaving marks, especially around your neck. To him, they're quiet reminders that you're his, a subtle manifestation of his possessive side.
Ashveil is, by nature, gentle and genuinely concerned with your enjoyment. He would take things slowly at first, kissing you tenderly and making sure not to hurt you or rush anything. However, he's also incredibly attentive and would adapt easily to your desires, eager to fulfill them and make sure you feel just as cared for as you make him feel.
He's an eater.
Ashveil groans easily and has a hard time suppressing sounds of pleasure for very long. He's naturally expressive, no matter how much he wishes he could keep his composure.
He would never admit it, but he's actually touch-starved. He craves physical affection far more than he realizes and absolutely melts under your touch. He especially loves being teased, becoming embarrassingly needy when you deliberately draw things out just to see his reactions (e.g. while you're riding him or giving him a handjob). Before long, he'd be quietly whining and muttering in an almost pitiful tone, "Please... Y/N... don't be so cruel to me." His pride tells him to keep his composure, but his body betrays him every single time.
Omg I love these 🥺 now I'm imagining Ashveil holding the tiniest fluffiest kitty in his palms and looking at it with utter awe, holding back from squealing so he doesn't wake it
as a mandatory part of your post-grad program, you're required to log 200 hours as a teaching aide—which would’ve been fine, if you had any say in who you were working with.
instead, you're assigned under professor jing yuan: esteemed war historian, charming bane of the faculty lounge, and the one man who makes grading ancient battle essays feel like a tactical skirmish of your own.
★ featuring; jing yuan x f!reader
★ word count; 12.6k words
★ notes; welcome to part one! this takes place in the luofu campus of xianzhou university, where the reader is a senior graduate student on the cusp of completing her degree~
MASTERLIST ✧ READ ON AO3
I. A (NOT-SO) TACTICAL RETREAT
You weren’t meant to be here.
The original assignment was to shadow Professor Ying in the literature department—a comfortable, quiet position where you’d spend most of your time buried in books and chasing poetic metaphors, close-reading rhymed stanzas like they held the meaning of life. That was the expectation. That was the plan.
But somewhere between administrative mishandling, departmental reshuffling, and what you now suspect was a clerical error left to rot uncorrected, your file ended up on Professor Jing Yuan’s desk.
You didn’t even know he took teaching aides. Most of his lectures were rumored to be self-contained and independent. Maybe even untouchable.
Now you sit in the back of a cavernous lecture hall that smells faintly of chalk and dust, scribbling frantic notes about ancient war strategies while Professor Jing Yuan sketches battle formations in sweeping, confident strokes on the whiteboard.
Your pen can barely keep up.
“Logistics encirclement,” “passive resistance formations,” “Sky-Faring Enforcers.” You underline terms in your notes like you’re planting flags in hostile territory, planning to Google them later and pray for footnotes. The names come fast, the dates blur. It’s all so large, so steeped in legacy and consequence, you feel like you’ve shown up to a war reenactment with a library card.
Jing Yuan's voice doesn’t help. It’s calm and steady, the kind of voice you trust even when you don’t understand. He talks like he’s walked the paths he’s teaching—knows these stories not as facts, but as decisions someone once had to make.
You try not to stare, but fail spectacularly.
He’s taller than you expected; taller still when he moves. His hair is pulled back into a loose tail, strands of silver catching the overhead light when he turns. His sleeves are rolled up, cuffed carelessly, and you catch the edge of an old scar ghosting the inside of his forearm.
His coat hangs on the back of his chair like a flag surrendered at half-mast, and his posture is entirely too relaxed for someone discussing high-casualty engagements and tactical collapses. You almost forget he’s describing events soaked in blood.
You hadn’t planned on being so attentive. But now that you’re here, the world you were trained for—the poetry and delicate metaphors—feels thin by comparison. It’s only your second day, and you feel like you've already sat through half a semester's worth of material.
You’ve barely spoken in class. You’ve mostly kept to your corner, quiet and watchful, like a misfiled document waiting to be retrieved. You’re not even sure if anyone else knows why you’re here. You certainly don’t.
But then—
Jing Yuan calls out, and your name lands like a pebble breaking the surface of a too-still lake. He follows up with a question, and it's a miracle you even catch it.
“You’re familiar with the Siege of Ardent Vale, aren’t you?” The professor asks resonantly.
You swallow thickly as your heart misfires. He doesn’t even look at you—just flips a page in his notebook as if it’s natural to say your name and ambush you with a question like that.
And now half the class is glancing at you, curious and expectant.
Your voice is softer than you want it to be. “Uh, it's where General Haoran ordered a tactical retreat that's still being debated to be an act of treason to this day.”
Jing Yuan nods without pause. “Good. Then you’ll understand why the general’s retreat wasn’t a failure—it was a calculated sacrifice.”
It’s not a compliment, but it lands in you like one anyway. Thank gods you actually bothered to go over the two-hundred page reading he emailed you this morning. The lecture resumes and the world starts to right itself. Yet, something in you seems to have tilted just a few degrees off-axis.
You stare at your half-filled notebook and realize you haven’t written anything since. You’d been holding your breath. You don’t know why.
When class ends, you linger.
Your hands are slow on the zipper of your bag. The last to stand, the last to move, like inertia has taken root in your spine. You glance toward the front of the room, where he’s gathering his notes with unhurried precision. The classroom empties around you like sand draining from an hourglass.
You’re not sure what you’re waiting for—until you remember the time card.
The slip of paper feels flimsy between your fingers as you approach his desk. It’s a mundane task. Routine. He’s supposed to sign off your weekly hours so the department can track your contributions. You’d meant to drop it off without ceremony. Now it feels like a pretense.
He notices you before you speak.
You hold out the time card like it’s a peace offering.
“Ah,” he says, and it’s not quite a greeting. He takes the paper from your hand, glancing over the numbers with the same attentiveness he gives to maps and casualty reports. His pen scratches softly against the corner of the desk.
“Everything in order?” he asks.
You nod. “I think so.”
The silence stretches.
He doesn’t hand the paper back right away. Just rests it on the edge of his desk, fingertips still grazing the corner like he might anchor it there. He looks at you, now fully—no pretense of distraction.
Those golden eyes of his remind you of those lions carved in temple stone: half-asleep, all-knowing. He looks at you as though he already understands the shape of the question you haven’t asked yet.
Your breath sticks behind your teeth. You can’t name what you feel, only that it’s too much for the narrow distance between you.
Jing Yuan finally nudges the signed card back toward you with one finger. “Let me know if the hours change.”
You nod again. It’s the only thing that seems safe.
You take the paper and slip it into your bag like it might wrinkle if you move too fast.
You don’t look back when you leave. But all through the day—when you sit in the library, when you wash your lunch thermos, when you try to reread the notes you’d scribbled—it stays with you.
Not the words. Not the moment.
Just the way Jing Yuan looked up like you were supposed to be there.
Like it wasn’t a mistake at all.
The café smells like cardamom and warm bread, and the door chime rings out as you push it open, a little breathless from half-jogging the last block. The air inside is golden with late afternoon light, caught in the leaves of the hanging plants and the steam curling from ceramic mugs. You spot Jiaoqiu instantly—no one else has hair like that, long and peach-soft, tucked lazily into a half-knot like he just rolled out of a dream.
He’s already claimed your favorite booth by the window. There’s a croissant on a plate, torn neatly into halves, and he nudges one across the table the second you slide into the seat across from him.
“You’re late,” he says, voice mild, eyes just a little too knowing.
“I was in a war,” you mutter, dragging a hand down your face. “Mentally. Strategically. And then I got hit with a pop quiz from a man who talks like he’s personally lived through four dynasties.”
Jiaoqiu blinks, slowly. “So... you’re telling me your new job is time-travel.”
You stare. “He called on me. By name. In front of the entire class.”
“Was this before or after you fell in love?”
You toss a sugar packet at him.
Your best friend catches it midair, smug. “I’m just saying. You’re glowing.”
“I’m mortified.” You sink into your seat and take a too-big bite of croissant to muffle the noise you’re pretty sure is your soul detaching from your body. “This was supposed to be literature. I was prepared for stanzas and symbolism, not high-casualty engagements and dead generals.”
“And yet,” Jiaoqiu says, tilting his head with mock-gravity, “here you are. Survived the siege. Braved the great halls of strategy. Emotionally wounded, perhaps. But alive.”
You narrow your eyes at him, but you’re already smiling. “I hate that you’re not taking this seriously.”
“I’m taking it very seriously,” he says, all calm sincerity—until the mischief flickers at the corner of his mouth again. “Just not in the way you want me to.”
The two of you lapse into a familiar rhythm after that—sips of coffee, flaky pastries, the kind of conversation that loops and winds like a lazy river. Jiaoqiu tells you about his med school rotations with the kind of offhand grace only someone wildly competent and chronically underslept can manage. You talk about those pests in your apartment, and missed laundry cycles, and the way one of the undergrads in Jing Yuan’s class looked at you like you’d committed war crimes for getting the answer right.
Eventually, though, it creeps back in—the anxious hum under your skin, the question that’s been rolling around your brain since the semester started.
“I still don’t get it,” you say, tracing the rim of your mug with your fingertip. “How I even ended up there. I was supposed to be working on poetry, Jiao. I had a plan.”
He leans back against the bench, arms stretched out like he’s anchoring the entire booth. “Yeah, well. Maybe the universe decided you needed a bit more bloodshed.”
You make a face. Jiaoqiu chuckles.
Then, more gently: “Maybe it’s not a mistake, you know. Maybe it’s just a reroute.”
You glance out the window, where the sky is streaked peach-pink, like his hair. The thought settles somewhere in your chest—still foreign, but a little less unwelcome.
“You really think that?” you ask.
Jiaoqiu shrugs. “I think you’ll make it meaningful, wherever you land. You always do.”
You don’t say anything for a moment. Just sip your coffee, warm and a little bitter, and try to believe him.
You triple-check the office number before you knock.
Jing Yuan’s email was short. “Stop by this morning when you're free—let’s get you started on grading.” Just that. No smiley face or further elaboration. Not even a signature.
You tell yourself it’s a normal request. Reasonable, even. But your heart doesn’t seem to care about reason. It’s already doing that off-rhythm thing it does when you're called on unexpectedly in class or when your dissertation adviser uses phrases like “reassess your direction.”
Still—you go. Because it’s your job. Because you need this assistantship to keep your funding. Because your name already ended up on the wrong file, and backing out now would feel like letting the wrong choice define you.
You raise a hand and knock twice.
There’s no immediate answer, but you hear voices inside. You hesitate, shift your weight. When no one tells you to come in, you crack the door open and peek in carefully.
Jing Yuan’s office is brighter than you expected—sunlight cutting across stacks of annotated books and meticulously arranged models of warships. A collection of plants of varying shades of green sits along the windowsill, and they look cared for, well-tended to. The professor himself is seated at his desk, sleeves rolled up, fingers laced in front of his mouth like he’s pondering the meaning of life—or a particularly difficult chess move.
Across from him sits a boy.
He can’t be older than fifteen, maybe sixteen at most, all sharp eyes and a serious expression. His hair is long and pale gold, tied back neatly. He looks like he belongs on a fencing team or in a school for gifted prodigies—not in a university professor’s office.
They both look up when you step inside.
“Ah, there she is,” Jing Yuan says, voice warm but unhurried. “Come in.”
The boy sizes you up immediately, not unkindly—just with the open curiosity of someone who doesn't think he needs to explain why he’s here.
You linger near the door. “Should I come back later?”
Jing Yuan waves the idea off with a tilt of his hand. “You’re on time, and Yanqing was just leaving.”
The boy—Yanqing, apparently—rolls his eyes. “You always say that when you want me to stop winning.”
Jing Yuan’s mouth twitches like he’s holding back a smile. “A good general knows when to retreat.”
Yanqing stands, slinging a sports bag over one shoulder. “You’ve definitely been hanging out with academics for too long. You used to be cool.”
Yanqing sighs but turns to you before heading out. “If he makes you grade multiple-choice by hand, complain to the department. It’s a trap.”
You blink, not understanding how he can possibly know that. “Noted.”
Then he’s gone—just like that—leaving the office a little quieter in his wake.
You take the seat across from Jing Yuan, still a little off-balance from the encounter.
“Is he—?”
“Not a student here, no,” Jing Yuan answers, already reaching for a folder. “He’s much too young to be in college. However, I’ve known his family for a long time.”
There’s no further explanation. Just a calm slide of papers across the desk toward you.
“Here’s the rubric,” he says. “Most of the essays won’t follow it. That’s half the battle.”
You pick up the folder and scan the first page, heart still slowly decelerating.
“I’ve never graded for military history before.”
“Good,” Jing Yuan says. “You’re less likely to let nostalgia cloud your judgment.”
You glance up at him.
He doesn’t seem like someone you could ever catch off guard. And yet… there was something softer, just for a moment, when he spoke to Yanqing. Not gentle exactly, but familiar. Like someone who knew how to be responsible for another person’s well-being.
You wonder what kind of man that makes him—what parts of that softness, if any, he shows to students. Or if it’s only visible in moments like this, when the door is shut and he forgets to perform being unapproachable. Not that he's much of that either way.
You flip the folder open again. “Is this all of them?”
“For now,” Jing Yuan says with an encouraging smile. “Let’s see how you do before I trust you with the full onslaught.”
You try not to grimace. You also try not to overthink why that made you feel a little proud.
Subject: Re: Graded Essays (Batch 1)
From: Me
To: Jing Yuan
Date: Tuesday, 10:14 AM
Hi Professor Jing Yuan,
I've left the the first batch of graded essays on your desk (rubric applied, comments included). Please let me know if any of them made you want to revoke my assistantship.
Sincerely hoping none of your students write to the Chancellor about me
P.S. One essay compared ancient siege tactics to online gaming strategy. I didn’t dock points for creativity, but I did question my own existence.
Subject: Re: Graded Essays (Batch 1)
From: Jing Yuan
To: Me
Date: Tuesday, 11:02 AM
Hello,
Thank you for the thorough grading. You’ve managed to strike the rare balance between mercy and mild academic intimidation. Well done.
As for the siege/gaming comparison—don’t question your existence. It’s a generational phenomenon. At least they weren’t trying to sell me a crypto pyramid scheme disguised as a thesis on empire-building (this has happened).
I’ll review your notes in full today. Unless you hear otherwise, assume you passed the test.
— JY
P.S. You may be entitled to financial compensation for psychological distress after reading these papers. Check with HR.
Subject: Re: Graded Essays (Batch 1)
From: Me
To: Jing Yuan
Date: Tuesday, 11:45 AM
Professor,
I appreciate the reassurance, and the HR tip. I’ll submit my trauma claim immediately—would you recommend “excessive passive voice” or “unexplained references to Machiavelli” as the primary cause?
Also, not to alarm you, but one student believes your class is secretly a metaphor for late-stage capitalism. I didn't have the heart to tell them it wasn’t.
P.S. Your plants looked happy this morning. What’s your secret? Is it war crimes?
Subject: Re: Graded Essays (Batch 1)
From: Jing Yuan
To: Me
Date: Tuesday, 12:07 PM
Ah, yes. The Capitalism Conspiracy student. They also referred to siege towers as "vertical expressions of socioeconomic anxiety." I nearly gave them extra credit for commitment.
And no—no war crimes in the plant care. Just sun, water, and unflinching honesty. Plants appreciate consistency. People, I find, are more complicated.
Keep the essays coming when you're ready. You're doing well.
— JY
P.S. If you ever do submit that HR form, let me know. I’d like to include a supporting statement titled: “The Emotional Toll of Watching Students Cite Wikipedia Without Shame.”
You drop by Jing Yuan’s office later that week to return another stack of graded essays. Despite not being able to interact with him much outside the usual lectures you assist with, that email thread from a few days ago was enough to bolster your confidence a little. There’s a skip to your step as you approach his door—which is already ajar when you arrive, but the Professor is not at his desk.
Instead, he’s crouched near the windowsill, scowling at one of the plants like it just insulted his ancestors.
You pause in the doorway. “Should I come back when you’re done interrogating the ficus?”
He glances over his shoulder. “It’s not a ficus. It’s a Dracaena marginata. A fine, resilient species. Or it was, until about three days ago.”
You step inside, amused. “Looks more like it’s staging a slow, quiet rebellion.”
The plant in question is, in fact, not doing well. Its once-straight stalks are drooping slightly, and a few of the leaves are browning at the tips. You can practically hear it whispering help me in chlorophyll.
“Sunlight’s good,” you say, setting down the folder on his desk. “But this one’s rootbound. See how it’s curling at the base? It needs a bigger pot.”
He frowns, lightly touching the edge of a leaf. “I bought it a new ceramic pot last year. It was hand-painted. Expensive.”
“You bought it art, not space,” you say, kneeling beside him to inspect the plant more closely. “They like to stretch out.”
There’s a pause. Jing Yuan watches you for a moment like a siege leader waiting for an opening. Then:
“…You garden?”
It’s not a question you expect, but it’s nonetheless welcome. You nod, pulling a loose leaf free and tucking it into your sleeve. “I’ve got a balcony garden in my apartment. Helps me think.”
“That explains the bonsai-level precision in your grading.”
“It would also explain why I noticed when your Dracaena is crying for help.”
That gets a quiet laugh out of him. It’s low, a little tired, but real.
You reach for the pot instinctively, gently rotating it. “If you’ve got an extra container and some soil, I can help you replant it. Or you can let it suffer quietly in the name of aesthetic minimalism.”
Jing Yuan considers this. Then stands. “Give me a moment.”
He disappears into the adjoining storage room—who has a storage room in their office?—and returns with a clean terracotta pot and a small bag of soil.
You blink. “You were ready for this.”
“I prepare for many things,” he says mildly. “Plant crises among them.”
Together, you settle in on the office floor, scooping soil and untangling roots like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You talk about nothing in particular—the heat outside, a student who cited Sun Tzu and SpongeBob in the same essay, Yanqing’s latest complaint about Jing Yuan supposedly cheating his way out of their most recent chess match.
At some point, you glance up to find him watching you. Not in a way that feels invasive. Just… interested.
You clear your throat and look back down. “You know you can name it something more inspiring than ‘General Shu’ now.”
Jing Yuan hums. “I thought it was fitting. Resilient. Stubborn.”
You pat the soil around the base of the newly potted plant. “That explains why it was dying.”
He chuckles again, softer this time. “I’ll let you name it, then.”
You freeze. “Really?”
“Consider it compensation. I suspect this plant now belongs to both of us.”
You look at the little thing, now sitting straighter in its new home.
You smile. “Okay then. Let’s call it Commander in Leaf.”
There’s a long pause. Jing Yuan’s expression goes carefully blank. Then—
“I take it back.”
But he doesn’t. And the plant stays in his office.
And from then on, so do you—more often than before, under the excuse of checking on its progress. But sometimes, you don’t even bother pretending anymore. The plant’s recovery has become a shared mission.
Jing Yuan is at his desk when you arrive with the intention of dropping something off. The Professor is reading something on his tablet, and he doesn’t look up right away. Instead, with absolute solemnity, he lifts a hand and salutes the windowsill.
“Commander in Leaf,” Jing Yuan says. “Still holding the line.”
You pause in the doorway, blinking. “Did you just… salute the plant?”
“Of course,” he replies, deadpan. “He’s earned it.”
You glance at the potted Dracaena, now thriving in its new pot. “I didn’t realize we were running a fully militarized photosynthesis unit.”
Jing Yuan gestures at the neat little placard resting beside it—carved from a scrap of wood, inked in neat calligraphy: Commander in Leaf. Beneath it, someone (probably him) has scribbled in smaller letters: Current status: maintaining strong morale.
You try not to laugh. (You fail.)
“Tell me you don’t do that when other faculty stop by.”
“I do,” he says calmly. “It’s a good way to find out who I shouldn’t share committee duties with.”
You step closer, pretending to inspect the plant seriously. “Well, I’ve been keeping a care log, if you're interested.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Have you?”
You pull a folded scrap of paper from your bag and read off:
Day 1: Showed exceptional resolve in the face of partial shade.
Day 3: Stood tall during unexpected drafts.
Day 5: Fought off one fruit fly. Took no casualties.
Day 9: Received verbal affirmation. Responded with photosynthetic vigor.
Jing Yuan sets down his tablet, clearly trying not to smile. “Have you considered publishing?”
You shrug. “I’ve been advised to reassess my direction.”
He chuckles at that, but there’s something softer behind it too—quiet appreciation, a flicker of something he doesn’t name. You place a tiny watering can you found in the campus gift shop on the side of his desk, one he eyes with abject curiosity.
“Figured the Commander might appreciate the upgrade.”
Jing Yuan studies it, then glances at you. “You’re enabling him.”
“I’m nurturing morale,” you say. “There’s a difference.”
And then—for just a moment—his expression shifts. Gentle. Fond. Like he's not just looking at a joke between colleagues anymore, but something growing beneath it.
Something worth tending to.
The steam curls around your face as you lean over the bubbling pot. Red broth on one side, bone broth on the other. A perfect yin-yang of culinary comfort. Jiaoqiu’s already dropped half the fish balls in, muttering under his breath about the soul-crushing nature of med school exams.
“I swear, if I see one more mnemonic about cranial nerves, I’m going to lose my actual nerves.”
You try not to laugh as you scoop tofu into your bowl. “Which one’s the ‘some say marry money but my brother says big brains matter more’ again?”
“That’s all of them,” he groans, dragging a ladle dramatically across the broth. “All twelve. Living in my head rent-free.”
“Sounds crowded in there.”
“You have no idea.” He glares at the simmering pot like it personally betrayed him. “My coffee budget is bigger than my rent. The library staff know me by name. I may have hallucinated an anatomy diagram giving me a thumbs up.”
You grin and offer him a slice of lotus root like a peace offering. “That’s the med student experience, right? Caffeine, despair, and aggressively highlighted textbooks?”
“Don’t forget emotional repression,” he adds, biting into a fish cake. “Anyway, you look good. Suspiciously good. What’s going on over there in the land of tragic poetry and military strategems?”
You pause, mid-stir. “It’s been… weirdly okay?”
Jiaoqiu raises a brow. “Okay? Hey, blink twice if you’ve been replaced.”
You toss a mushroom at him. “I mean it. Jing Yuan’s—” You stop, chewing on the words. “—surprisingly easy to work with. He’s smart, obviously, but not the ‘talks over you and steals your points’ kind of smart. More like the ‘lets you flounder on your own and then makes one comment that solves everything’ kind.”
He narrows his eyes with a subtle nod. “That sounds… vaguely hot.”
“It’s not,” you say way too quickly. “He’s just—good at what he does. Calm. Thoughtful. Weirdly into plants.”
“Uh-huh,” Jiaoqiu says, dragging out the syllables. “And do you always bring up your professors at hotpot, or is this a new kink you’re developing?”
You shove a ladle of noodles into his bowl to shut him up. “I’m trying to vent here!”
“About a professor you lowkey admire and keep accidentally bonding with over greenery.”
You glare at each other for a second before dissolving into laughter, the kind that makes you tear up a little and clutch your stomach.
Eventually, Jiaoqiu leans back with a satisfied sigh. “Okay. So maybe med school hasn’t completely wrecked me. This was a good call.”
“Hotpot heals,” you agree.
“It really does heal,” he says, quieter now. “I’ve missed this.”
You poke at the broth with your chopsticks, always grateful for his company. “Me too.”
Subject: Slide revisions for Monday
From: Me
To: Jing Yuan
Date: Saturday 6:57 PM
Hi Professor,
Attached are the updated Week 5 slides. I rearranged the treaty discussion to come before the maps, and trimmed a few of the citations that were threatening to become sentient. Let me know if it’s structurally sound or if anything still feels haunted.
Also: question four might be too spicy for undergrads. I stand by the phrasing but am prepared to be talked down.
Hope you’re enjoying your weekend and not, I don’t know, reorganizing your succulents alphabetically.
All the best.
Subject: RE: Slide revisions for Monday
From: Jing Yuan
To: Me
Date: Saturday 8:21 PM
Hello,
Structure looks solid. I made two margin notes, both minor—one redundant citation and one slide where the background image appears to be a JPEG of despair. Excellent work overall.
Re: question four. It is a bit incendiary, but I admire the confidence. Maybe save the academic provocation for Week 6. Let them breathe.
On the subject of breathing: I wasn’t reorganizing succulents (though they could use it). I was reading. Found something… uniquely on-brand for this correspondence:
“Flora as Archive: Botanical Symbolism in Pre-Exodus Military Texts.”
Dense. Ridiculous. Potentially cursed. Naturally, I thought of you.
Let me know if you make it past page five without losing your will to live.
— JY
Subject: RE: Slide revisions for Monday
From: Me
To: Jing Yuan
Date: Saturday 9:08 PM
Professor,
Your faith in my tolerance for cursed material is… flattering? Concerning? Unclear.
I skimmed the abstract. I have questions, the first being: who writes a thirty-page metaphor about turnip cultivation and post-conflict identity? And the second being: why is it kind of compelling?
Also, for the record, that JPEG of despair is a historic mural fragment. I spent twenty minutes photoshopping the cracks out. I’m choosing to interpret your comment as affectionately brutal.
Will report back once I emotionally recover from this plant propaganda.
Subject: RE: Slide revisions for Monday
From: Jing Yuan
To: Me
Date: Saturday 9:44 PM
That mural fragment is effective—if the desired emotion is melancholy existential drift. Still, I commend your editing. The cracks are barely visible.
Glad the turnips spoke to you. I suppose there’s a fine line between madness and brilliance. Or at least between absurdity and your inbox.
Enjoy the descent into leafy symbolism.
— JY
Two months since the semester started, your workload decides it’s time to blossom into a full-grown monster.
Between juggling your assistantship under Professor Jing Yuan, keeping pace with your regular course load, and trying to carve out coherent progress on your dissertation, you’re starting to feel like one of those historical figures who attempted a three-front war. Spoiler: they never win.
Jing Yuan isn’t exactly demanding—at least not in the traditional sense. He rarely gives direct orders, but his casual suggestions tend to multiply into tasks that somehow land squarely on your to-do list. A guest lecture outline here. A batch of annotated readings there. The occasional deeply cursed archival article on botanical semiotics in military treatises that somehow, maddeningly, ends up being... useful.
Meanwhile, your own classes don’t pause for breath, and your dissertation committee’s emails are starting to read less like check-ins and more like distant threats in polite academic language.
You’re not drowning yet. But you’re definitely treading water with a stack of books on your head.
Which is the main reason why you slip into the campus greenhouse, where the door clicks shut behind you with a soft hiss. Warmth folds around your shoulders like a thick cloak—humid, tinged with the scent of loam and crushed stems. You let yourself breathe for the first time all week.
The air is golden. Not just from the lamps, but the hour—late enough that the sun threads through the glass in ribbons, catching on leaves, pooling against the tiles. You step lightly, careful not to disturb the quiet.
And then, in the corner, past a curtain of broad banana leaves—you spot movement. A glint of silver-white, not mechanical but alive, shifting as someone bends low over a planter bed.
Jing Yuan.
His coat is folded neatly on a bench. He wears something simpler now—sleeves rolled to his forearms, dark fabric dusted with soil. His gloves are peeled halfway off like he started removing them and got distracted. You can see the way the light catches in his hair, bright against the foliage, and the gold of his eyes when he glances up.
You hadn’t expected him here.
He doesn’t seem surprised by you. “Evening,” he says, as though this were routine, and you both belong here, quietly orbiting the same sunlit corner of campus.
“I didn’t think anyone else came this late,” you say, still hovering just past the herbs.
He gestures without looking up as he smooths out the soil at the base of a plant. “These don’t wait for office hours.”
You make your way over, the soles of your shoes silent on the damp stone. There’s a long planter in front of him—lavender, mint, and something else you can’t quite name.
“What’s that one?”
He glances at it. “Scutellaria lateriflora. Skullcap.”
You blink. “Is that the one from the cursed plant paper?”
His expression twitches, clearly amused that you recall. “The very same. Though I promise this variety won’t inspire an existential spiral. Unless you steep it improperly.”
You squat down beside him, close enough to smell the greenery, and just a little of him—clean, herbal, something sun-warmed.
“Are you always this poetic about tea?”
He hums, brushing stray soil from his wrist. “Only when I think someone’s listening.”
The silence that follows doesn’t feel heavy. If anything, it feels… held. Like both of you are aware of it and choosing to let it stretch.
He glances sideways. “When I was freshly inducted into the military, stationed out west, the field medic used to grow this in cracked pots behind the barracks. Said it calmed the nerves. I didn’t believe him until he gave some to my superior before an inspection and she started smiling at clouds. That Master of mine hardly ever smiled at anything.”
You bite back a laugh. “Sounds dangerous.”
“Terrifying,” he agrees.
There’s something in the way he says it—offhand, but with an undertone that feels oddly personal. Not quite nostalgic. Not quite casual, either, but you appreciate the fact that he trusts you enough with that piece of himself either way.
You nod, gently. “You talk about those days sometimes. Like they’re far away and close all at once.”
Jing Yuan doesn’t respond right away. He looks at the plant again, brushing a thumb along the rim of the planter. The movement pulls his sleeve just enough for you to glimpse the faint scar curving along his forearm—old, pale, out of place in a space so gentle.
“Some things grow where they shouldn’t,” he says quietly. “Doesn’t mean they didn’t belong there.”
The words settle between you like pollen. You’re not sure what to say to that. You’re not sure you need to.
He stands, brushing off his palms, the motion fluid. “You’re welcome to help yourself to the skullcap, by the way. Though I’m not liable for any poetic side effects.”
You look up at him. “You think I need calming?”
“I think you’re the kind of person who’d try it just to prove it doesn’t work.”
That gets a smirk out of you. You don’t deny it.
As he heads for the exit, he glances over his shoulder. “Try not to start a revolution in here. The basil’s still recovering from midterms.”
And then he’s gone—coat in hand, a soft echo of steps fading into the evening.
You sit for a while longer, listening to the greenhouse breathe, your fingers trailing along the edge of a leaf as if it might answer back. And maybe you’re considering what turnip metaphors and medicinal tea have to do with feeling seen, and why you haven’t quite stopped thinking about that faded scar of his.
The next day, you’re expecting a quiet office when you head to Jing Yuan’s door—a folder of notes tucked under one arm and your brain already cycling through exam revisions. Instead, you find two undergrads you recognize from Jing Yuan's afternoon lecture hovering outside, looking like they just escaped something mildly inconvenient.
“He’s not in,” one of them says, clutching a half-finished iced coffee. “A note in there told us he’d be in the faculty lounge if we needed him.”
They give you that look students give teaching aides—half pity, half solidarity—and shuffle off. You hesitate a beat, then turn toward the lounge.
The history department’s faculty lounge is tucked behind a nondescript wooden door with a plaque that reads STAFF ONLY in fading gold letters. You knock twice before pushing it open and stepping into a room that somehow smells like old books and even older coffee.
Jing Yuan is there, of course, lounging like he owns the place. He’s leaned back in a battered armchair, coat draped over one armrest, silver hair catching the afternoon light. He lifts his gaze when you enter and gives you a lazy two-finger wave.
“You found me,” he says. “You’re getting better at that.”
You open your mouth to respond, but someone beats you to it.
“Gods, can you not flirt with your assistant in front of the rest of us?” The voice is sharp, unimpressed, and belongs to a petite woman with cotton-candy pink hair and the energy of someone who’s never lost an argument. She’s curled up on the couch with a mug that reads I WARNED YOU.
You recognize her as Professor Fu Xuan.
Jing Yuan doesn’t even flinch. “Who’s flirting?”
“You, constantly,” Fu Xuan mutters, before turning her attention to you. “You poor, brave soul. Blink twice if he’s making you carry the exam load.”
You blink. Twice.
“That’s what I thought.”
Before you can recover, another woman rises gracefully from a nearby armchair. Her dark green hair is tied back in a neat twist, and her grey eyes are warm behind gold-framed glasses. She offers you a small bowl with individually wrapped candies.
“Don’t let her scare you,” she says kindly. “I’m Yukong. You look like you could use something sweet.”
You take a candy, half out of politeness, half because you haven’t eaten since morning. It tastes vaguely like rose and citrus, delicate and grounding.
“Thanks,” you say, a little overwhelmed. “I didn’t expect—”
“A small army?” Yukong finishes for you, smiling.
“You get used to it,” another voice adds, smooth and unbothered. You turn and see a man leaning against the bookshelf, flipping casually through a thick volume without actually reading. He has platinum blonde hair, tied loosely back, and green eyes that give away absolutely nothing.
“Luocha,” he says, not quite bowing. “You must be the one keeping our dear general from turning into a full-blown recluse.”
“He does that anyway,” Fu Xuan mutters, blowing on her tea.
“I’m just here to go over the exam revisions,” you manage, glancing at Jing Yuan like he might rescue you from whatever this is.
“Of course,” he says, rising from the armchair and stretching. “Come on, we’ll take the corner table. Ignore the others—they thrive on chaos.”
“That’s slander,” Fu Xuan calls out.
“That’s true,” Yukong corrects, gently.
Luocha chuckles and disappears behind a newspaper.
You follow Jing Yuan to the far end of the lounge, still holding the candy. It’s strange—being here, surrounded by people who know him as more than just a professor. It makes him feel a little more human, and for some reason, that’s both comforting and dangerous.
Banishing any unnecessary thoughts, you settle into the chair opposite him, placing your folder between you. It’s strangely quiet in this corner, despite the low hum of faculty chatter around you and Fu Xuan loudly proclaiming that if one more student confuses “Sun Tzu” with “Sun Wukong,” she’s going to eat her own syllabus.
Jing Yuan pulls out a copy of the exam from a slim folder, annotated in a neat, looping hand you now recognize from your inbox. He flips it open, tapping a question midway down the page.
“This one,” he says, voice low and even, “asks students to compare the leadership strategies of Commander Yushi and General Heizen during the Exodus conflicts. Too broad?”
You glance at it. “A bit. They’ll just regurgitate what we covered in lecture five.”
“Which is unfortunate,” he sighs. “That lecture was supposed to make them think.”
“Half of them were barely conscious,” you remind him. “You said ‘dual-pronged encirclement maneuver’ and someone in the front row started drooling.”
He chuckles under his breath. “True. You proposed trimming the essay section. We could cut question five. I won’t miss it.”
You flip through the pages. He really did design the entire thing himself—questions layered like tactical puzzles, some straightforward, some clever enough to make you pause and think, Wait. That’s mean. It’s a good exam. Annoyingly good.
As you jot a quick note in the margin, you glance up at him. He’s leaning on one elbow, watching you work with the kind of patience that doesn’t press, just… waits. His eyes are warm and a little sleepy, like the afternoon light has started to soak into him, and the soft gold in his gaze reflects it.
There’s that tiny beauty mark under his left eye you’ve never really noticed until now. His lashes are unfairly long. And his voice—still murmuring something about a possible bonus question—is the kind that sneaks into your bones when you’re not paying attention. Smooth. Low. Like warm tea before bed.
You blink.
Oh no, you think, with a brief internal panic. Is this how it starts?
“I’m not saying we have to keep the trick question about forged supply manifests,” he says lightly, still watching you. “But I did go to the trouble of disguising it as a logistical analysis. I’m proud of that one.”
You exhale, grateful for the distraction. “Fine. Keep your sneaky logistics trap.”
“I knew you’d understand.”
You scribble “Q5: CUT” in your notes just as Yukong passes by and sets down a small dish of ginger candies between you both. “For concentration,” she says, and pats your shoulder with such sincerity it nearly undoes you.
Across the lounge, Fu Xuan is arguing with a vending machine. Luocha is still pretending to read.
“Do you usually hold meetings out here?” you ask, trying to sound casual.
Jing Yuan shrugs. “My office gets too quiet sometimes. The lounge is… alive. Easier to think when people are talking about unrelated nonsense nearby.”
“Is that why you dragged me into the chaos?”
“No,” he says, smiling now. “That was just a bonus.”
You roll your eyes and try not to look directly into the sunlight pooling over his hair.
You really, really get why students throw themselves at his RateMyProfessors page now.
You were fine before, totally unaffected.
And now?
Now you’re thinking about things that have nothing to do with military history.
Focus, you tell yourself, flipping to the next page in your folder. You’re here to revise the exam, not psychoanalyze your supervisor’s face.
Still, the corners of your mind itch with the question you don’t want to look at too closely. You scrawl a note about formatting consistency just to drown it out.
Jing Yuan takes one of Yukong’s ginger candies without a word and pops it into his mouth like it’s some ancient rite. “Question nine,” he says, voice a little muffled, “do we like the phrasing? ‘Assess the ethical implications of fabricating casualties in war records—’”
“Sounds like you’re goading them into starting a campus debate club.”
“Isn’t that the dream?”
You snort. “Your dreams are chaos.”
“They’re very well-structured chaos,” he replies, then frowns at a smudge of ink on the corner of the page. “You know, I designed this whole exam with the intent of provoking deeper thought. Stirring unrest in the soul. That sort of thing.”
You lean back in your chair. “So basically, you want them to suffer, but elegantly.”
He taps the exam. “Academically suffer.”
You both laugh, and it’s easy in the way that most things with him have become lately. The weight of the lounge fades, backgrounded by Fu Xuan’s lecture on historiographical incompetence and the clack of Luocha’s polished shoes as he walks past humming something vaguely ominous.
You glance at the clock. Time’s slipped by.
“We should wrap this up,” you say, but your hand doesn’t move to close the folder.
He notices. Of course he does.
“You know,” Jing yuan starts, quieter now, “you’ve been doing a good job.”
Your eyes flick to his face, uncertain.
“Managing the assistantship. Handling your own coursework.” His gaze is steady, kind. “Even keeping up with my overcomplicated exam drafts. I believe not everyone who's been unceremoniously thrust into the wrong department can handle all this with the same amount of grace.”
You shrug, suddenly aware of how warm your ears feel. “It’s… been a lot.”
He nods. “I imagine.”
And there’s nothing grand about the moment. No swelling music. Just sunlight on polished tile, the echo of faculty voices, and a long look from the professor who’s never raised his voice in front of you, who listens like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You gather your papers. “I’ll send the revisions by tonight.”
“Don’t rush,” he says as you rise. “But I’ll look forward to them.”
You’re halfway to the door before you realize you’re smiling.
Me: Jiao...
Jiaoqiu: what happened?
Me: I think I understand now.
Jiaoqiu: what exactly are you understanding at 4pm on a tuesday
Me: Why students are weirdly obsessed with Jing Yuan
Jiaoqiu: ah.
Me: He’s—
Me: Warm eyes. Calm voice. Good posture. Intelligent but not condescending. And the emails make sense now. They’re part of the charm offensive.
Jiaoqiu: i see. you’ve developed an awareness of your supervisor’s aesthetic qualities.
Me: HE GAVE ME CANDY
Me: Well, Professor Yukong gave us the candy, but he gave me one himself too
Me: He also thanked me. Sincerely. Like a real person. Not a professor-shaped cryptid.
Jiaoqiu: was he wearing that coat again? the long one?
Me: Uhh, he wasn't, but it was hanging on the back of his chair.
Jiaoqiu: just confirming the visual.
Me: He has a beauty mark under his eye. Did you know that?
Jiaoqiu: i do now.
Me: And he smells like rain and maybe some kind of medicinal herb and I feel like that should be illegal in academic spaces
Jiaoqiu: i mean, they let me into med school. the bar can’t be that high.
Me: He made a skullcap joke
Me: Botanical skullcap
Jiaoqiu: the way i don't even know what in the world that is
Me: He said he wasn’t liable for poetic side effects
Jiaoqiu: that’s either flirtation or an extremely specific form of mentorship
Me: What do i DO
Jiaoqiu: nothing rash. nothing career-ending.
Me: I keep rereading his emails like they contain subtext
Jiaoqiu: do they?
Me: Maybe.
Me: I can’t tell. They’re so calm. TOO calm.
Me: I think he could talk me into planting an herb garden on the moon and I’d just nod and ask about soil quality
Jiaoqiu: honestly, that tracks
Me: Jiaoqiu
Jiaoqiu: look. you’ve had a long day, you’re a little enchanted, and you’re tired. this is a potent combination.
Jiaoqiu: sit with it. don’t panic. just… notice.
Me: You’re no fun
Jiaoqiu: i’m the right kind of fun. the kind that keeps you from embarrassing yourself in front of your professor-crush
Me: He is NOT—
Jiaoqiu: skullcap, rain, and calm emails
Jiaoqiu: not a crush at all
Me: I hate how reasonable you are sometimes
Jiaoqiu: you’ll thank me at graduation
You don't see him for a few days. Which is fine. Healthy, even. Distance. Perspective. Emotional regulation. Jiaoqiu would be proud.
So when you finally do spot him again—across the corridor, carrying a stack of books and talking to a first-year—you have exactly two seconds to remind yourself: professionalism.
He notices you immediately. Of course he does.
“Hey, there,” he calls, with that same infuriatingly composed tone and a smile that's too warm for comfort. “Do you have a moment?”
No, your brain screams. I’ve had too many moments already.
“Yes,” you say, like a normal, rational adult. “What is it?”
You catch up, walking beside him now. He smells like rain on stone and, faintly, dried basil. You are not thinking about that. You are thinking about exams. Revisions. Your future. Commander in Leaf.
Yes. Focus on the dracaena.
By the time you’re in his office, that becomes a little easier—mostly because the aforementioned plant is right there, perched on the windowsill in a spot of prime sunlight, looking suspiciously healthy.
“Look at him go,” you say before you can help yourself.
Jing Yuan follows your gaze. “I’ve been misting him in the mornings. It seems to be working.”
“Diligence suits him.”
He smiles faintly. “He’s doing better than some of my students.”
You snort. “Don’t let him hear that. You’ll spark an insurrection.”
“Commander in Leaf would never.”
The two of you share a brief look, the kind where something unspoken but light passes between you. And then the moment ends, and he’s pulling out a printed copy of the revised exam.
“I tried to balance the military context with a few of the more… symbolic prompts,” he says, handing it over.
You skim through it, grateful for the distraction. “Number four’s going to make someone cry.”
“I did wonder if it was too cruel,” he muses. “But they’ve had two weeks to prepare.”
“Academic cruelty builds character,” you mutter, deadpan.
He hums in agreement, his gold eyes glinting just slightly. You don’t dare look too long. Not with the sunlight catching in his silver hair. Not with the faint scar on his forearm visible today, a quiet reminder that this is someone with more layers than he lets on.
And then, softly: “I appreciate all the work you’ve put into this.”
“It’s part of the job,” you reply quickly.
“Yes,” he says. “But you do it well.”
You nod, uncertain what to say to that—what to do with the way it makes your chest feel a little too full. You glance toward the dracaena again, like it might save you.
It doesn’t.
For the next twenty minutes, you pretend to reread the same paragraph on the exam sheet while the silence stretches. Jing Yuan doesn’t fill it. He rarely does. His silences are never heavy—just still. Like something has settled, not ended.
Eventually, you speak. “Do you ever miss it?”
He glances up.
“The field,” you clarify. “Before all this.” You gesture vaguely to the office, the syllabus-covered corkboard, the stack of ungraded papers like a small, judgmental monument to academia.
Jing Yuan leans back in his chair. The sunlight catches at the edges of his hair, silver turned almost gold. “Sometimes. Not in the ways people expect.”
You raise a brow.
“I don’t miss the orders. Or the politics. Or the cold.” His fingers drum once against the table. “But I miss the quiet moments. The calm between chaos. Sitting in the brush, waiting for dawn, and realizing you still remember the name of the flower growing next to your boot.”
You don’t expect that answer. You don’t expect how much it stays with you.
“Is that why you started gardening?”
He gives a small shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe the plants started growing in spite of me.”
You glance at the dracaena, upright and glossy-leafed in the window. Commander in Leaf, steadfast as ever.
“He’s come a long way,” you say.
“He had good guidance,” Jing Yuan replies, and though his eyes are on the plant, you feel the words land somewhere else entirely.
Your heart does a very annoying thing.
“Anyway,” he says after a beat, pushing his chair back with a soft creak, “I’d say we’ve got a solid draft now. Unless you have other edits?”
You shake your head. “No, it’s good. Pretty balanced.” You add, “Almost disappointingly so. I expected more trick questions.”
“I’ll save those for the final.” His tone is dry.
You stand, smoothing your shirt automatically. “Thanks for looping me in.”
“Thank you for being looped.”
The reply makes you smile—helplessly, almost.
As you turn to go, he calls your name. You pause, hand already on the doorframe.
“If the Commander ever starts looking droopy again,” Jing Yuan says, “I’ll know who to call.”
You nod. “He’s tougher than he looks. You both are.”
He tilts his head. There’s something unreadable in his expression—not solemn, not quite soft. Just… present.
You leave before you can overthink it.
You didn’t plan on running into Professor Fu Xuan.
You just wanted a quick lunch—something solid to ground you after spending way too long noticing the warm timbre of Jing Yuan’s voice instead of focusing on actual exam logistics. You end up at a tucked-away dumpling stall behind the philosophy building, a personal favorite, quiet and slightly out of the way.
Fu Xuan’s already there, halfway through a steaming bowl of noodle soup and eyeing you over the rim of her cup.
“Fancy seeing you out in the wild,” she says. “The aide emerges from the general’s office.”
You blink. “That makes it sound like I’ve been stationed there.”
“Am I wrong?” She gestures to the empty seat across from her with a flick of her chopsticks. “Sit. You look like you’re still digesting something complicated.”
You do sit. And to your surprise, she pushes over a bamboo steamer. “Pork and chive. I don’t share these lightly.”
“You don’t do anything lightly,” you mutter.
Fu Xuan smirks. “True.”
There’s a lull as you both eat, and then she says, “So. Jing Yuan.”
You pause mid-bite. “What about him?”
“You tell me. You’re the one he trusts enough to help rewrite his midterm.” She sips her soup like it’s a perfectly timed dramatic pause. “You’re also the one currently wearing a very conflicted expression.”
You wipe your mouth with a napkin that suddenly feels too thin. “He’s… fine.”
“‘Fine’ is the most suspicious word in the language.”
You sigh, leaning back a little. “He’s good at what he does. Smart. Weirdly thoughtful. Doesn’t crowd people.”
Fu Xuan gives a snort. “No, he broods from a comfortable distance. Very scenic.”
You glance down at your food. “There’s a reason he keeps that distance, right?”
That gets her attention.
“I mean, he listens. He remembers things you say. But I don’t think he lets people in.” You pick at the edge of your chopsticks. “It’s not just about professionalism. It feels older than that. Like something that stuck long after it was supposed to.”
Fu Xuan’s expression shifts—less teasing, more thoughtful. “He’s not a bad man. He’s just someone who’s lived through more endings than beginnings. You’d know that if you looked closely.”
You do. That’s the problem.
“Anyway,” she adds briskly, “don’t make those eyes at him unless you’re prepared to see it through. He’s not built for half-measures.”
You bristle. “I’m not making eyes.”
She raises both brows, unimpressed. “Then you’d better tell your face that.”
You glare. Fu Xuan passes you another dumpling.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she says, but her voice is gentler now.
You both fall into silence again. Outside, campus life carries on—students laughing, bikes whirring past, spring trying to force its way through lingering chill.
Eventually, Fu Xuan taps her chopsticks once against the edge of her bowl. “Still. I haven’t seen him this animated about course planning in years. So whatever you’re doing... keep doing it. Just don’t lose yourself while you’re at it.”
You nod. It’s not a promise, exactly. But it’s something close.
It’s late.
The kind of late where the campus forgets it’s alive—hallways hushed, the library glowing like a last ember, vending machines buzzing like distant wasps. You told yourself one more hour, just until you finished the last essay question on a mock exam you prepared for yourself. That was two cups of coffee and half a pack of mints ago.
You should be heading home. Your body knows it. Your bag’s already slung over one shoulder, keys in hand. But instead, your steps drift—not toward the exit, but down the corridor that passes the history department. Familiar territory by now. Not on your way, not exactly. But close enough to pretend.
You don’t expect him to be there. It’s almost midnight. The building’s cold. The corridors echo with the kind of quiet that usually only follows snow or grief. But still—something tells you to check.
The office door is ajar.
And there he is.
Jing Yuan’s hair is put up haphazardly, the lamplight casting a quiet halo behind his head. He’s leaned over his desk, one elbow propped as he reads through a stack of papers with the slow patience of someone unhurried, even this late. His coat is folded over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up. The warm gold of his eyes shifts slightly when he notices you in the doorway.
“…Burning the midnight oil?” he asks, voice low and warm as ever. The kind of voice that could lull even the most caffeine-wired grad student into sleep.
“Could say the same to you,” you say, stepping inside. The door shuts softly behind you. “I was studying at the library. Figured I’d check on Commander in Leaf.”
He glances toward the plant in the corner—green, lively, unmistakably proud in its new pot. “Still standing. Though I suspect he’s angling for a promotion.”
You smile. It’s automatic now, the way banter slips between you. Like water finding the grooves already carved into stone.
You nod toward the stack of papers. “Grading?”
“The midterm,” he confirms. “Figured I’d get ahead of it before the weekend. It’s not as bad as I expected.”
“You mean they actually listened to our review slides?”
He hums. “A few of them, anyway. One of them referred to the Heavenly Kings of Wuwang as a ‘well-dressed disaster cult,’ which… technically not wrong.”
You laugh, dropping your bag by the door. “Do you want help?”
He looks at you for a beat too long, eyes flicking down to your slightly wrinkled sleeves, the shadow of fatigue under your eyes. “You should go home.”
“I should. But I won’t.”
He says nothing, just gestures to the second chair near his desk. You take it.
For a while, you grade together. The silence is companionable—no background music, no clacking keyboards. Just the faint scribble of red ink and the occasional mutter of disapproval from either of you when a student tries to cite a fictional general as precedent for wartime tax reform.
It’s only when you glance over at him—when the light hits just right—that you notice the scar along the inside of his left forearm. Faint, but long. Old, but not forgotten. You’ve never asked. He’s never told you.
You don’t mention it now, either.
Instead, you say, “You ever get tired of it? Teaching, I mean.”
Jing Yuan’s pen pauses mid-mark.
“Sometimes,” he tells you eventually. “But I like seeing which parts they remember. What sticks. What they misunderstand in interesting ways.”
You nod, understanding more than you want to admit. You don’t ask if he’s talking about the students.
After a while, you find yourself reading the same sentence three times in a row.
“You’re tired,” he says.
“So are you.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Doesn’t mean you should be.”
He exhales, slow and even. “You’ll make a very kind professor one day.”
“Kindness doesn’t get you tenure.”
“No,” he agrees. “But it keeps you human.”
You don’t realize how long you sit there, papers forgotten, silence stretching. Not tense—just full of the kind of things that don’t need to be said aloud. You catch yourself watching him—his steady hands, the way he rests his chin in his palm, the quiet gravity of him.
And you wonder, not for the first time, when this stopped being just an assistantship.
You’re in the department office, waiting for the ancient copier to finish spitting out the last of Jing Yuan’s annotated lecture slides, when you decide to check your TA hours.
170 out of 200.
You blink at the number on your spreadsheet like it might change. It doesn’t. You’ve been diligent about logging every hour—lectures attended, exams proctored, papers graded, a few mildly deranged office hours. It shouldn’t surprise you. You’re nearly there.
You feel… weird about it.
You’d expected relief. And part of you is relieved—fewer commitments, more time for your own coursework, your looming dissertation. But there’s another part of you that lingers. That doesn’t want to check the final box just yet. The part that’s gotten used to the rhythm of those quiet mornings in Jing Yuan’s office, sipping tea while parsing Warring Alliance era strategy memos. The part that’s started to anticipate his dry comments and rare, unexpected smiles.
You shake yourself out of it, grabbing the warm stack of papers from the machine.
Back in the shared TA office—a cramped but surprisingly functional space Professor Yukong somehow wrangled into existence behind the college’s back—you set the stack of papers down and pause.
Something’s on your desk. A small, folded bundle. It wasn’t there this morning.
It’s wrapped in soft linen, tied with a bit of twine. No name. No note. Just a familiar, earthy scent curling upward. You untie it carefully.
Inside is a small bunch of dried skullcap—the same herb you spotted growing in his plot at the greenhouse.
You stare at it for a second, a little dumbfounded. Your first thought is, Did he just leave this here? Your second thought is worse: Did anyone else see this?
A gift, technically. But not the kind you can laugh off or easily categorize. It’s thoughtful. Personal. Quiet. Not the sort of thing a professor normally gives their assistant.
You sit down slowly.
Maybe he left it as a joke. You had poked fun at him for being into medicinal plants. Or maybe it’s a peace offering—your last meeting had been… intellectually heated. Or maybe—
Your phone buzzes.
Jiaoqiu: just checking in.
Jiaoqiu: how’s your day going? have you eaten something that isn’t instant noodles?
Me: Hey, I only did that during undergrad
Me: Also… Jing Yuan left me herbs.
Jiaoqiu: What kind of herbs are we talking? Romantic gesture or assassination attempt?
Me: Skullcap. Dried. On my desk. No note.
Jiaoqiu: So… romantic assassination. Got it.
Jiaoqiu: Want me to counter with a medicinal bouquet and a handwritten card that says “Talk to her, coward”?
You don’t reply immediately.
Your eyes flick back to the bundle. He’d mentioned it once, in the greenhouse. A quiet offer tucked between jokes about turnips and revolution. Back then, it felt like a kindness. Now, you’re not so sure what it feels like.
You’ve logged 170 out of 200 hours. Thirty left. Maybe less. Then it’s over. Someone else will sit in that chair beside him, revise his lecture slides, edit his exams.
You’ll go back to your classes. Your dissertation. Your own little world.
So why does it feel like something else is beginning, just as this chapter is supposed to close?
Jiaoqiu: btw did commander in leaf make it through the cold snap??
Jiaoqiu: i have this theory he’s absorbing all your suppressed emotions
Me: He’s thriving actually
Me: New growth and everything
Me: Better adjusted than me
Jiaoqiu: ok so he’s the emotionally stable one in this situationship
Me: It’s not a situationship
Me: He just left me a bundle of medicinal herbs on my desk
Jiaoqiu: ah. the classic “here, soothe yourself” move
Jiaoqiu: brutal. tender. textbook.
Me: He just gave me some skullcaps
Me: ..which we talked about once, like, months ago
Jiaoqiu: oh no
Jiaoqiu: he REMEMBERED a SMALL DETAIL
Jiaoqiu: you’re doomed
Me: Shut up
Jiaoqiu: never
Jiaoqiu: also: how long until you hit 200 hours?
Me: 30 to go, maybe less
Me: then that’s it. new TA, new semester, everything resets
Jiaoqiu: ...you okay?
Me: I don’t know...
Me: It’s like... It’s ending. But it’s also not.
Me: Like I’m supposed to be wrapping up a job, but instead it feels like I’m standing at the edge of something I don’t have a name for
Jiaoqiu: emotions.
Jiaoqiu: you’re standing at the edge of emotions. they’re terrifying. i respect that.
Jiaoqiu: want me to come over and bring aggressively flavored ramen?
Me: Please.
Jiaoqiu: say less
You don’t mean to pull away at first.
It starts with little things. A quieter tone when you speak to him. Choosing to stay behind and tidy up the lecture hall instead of walking with him back to the office. Opting to eat lunch in the shared TA workspace, even though you know Jing Yuan usually takes his in the garden courtyard behind the department.
It feels responsible. Professional. Healthy, even. You’re nearing the end of your hours—just under thirty to go. Soon, your time as his assistant will be over. He’ll request someone else next term. And you? You’ll move on, return to your thesis, maybe pick up another departmental job. That’s the way these things go.
So you draw the line early. Just enough to avoid the sting of missing something before it’s gone.
Jing Yuan doesn’t comment. He never has been the type to call things out directly. But the shift doesn’t go unnoticed.
You see it in how he pauses, just barely, when handing you papers. How his eyes flick to yours when you walk in, and then back to his desk before you’ve settled in. How he thanks you more often, in small, unassuming ways—like leaving a fresh cup of tea at your elbow without saying anything, or gently replacing the pen you snapped between your fingers during grading with a sturdier one from his drawer.
Once, you find Commander in Leaf repositioned on the windowsill beside your usual seat, basking in the filtered light. A silent reminder of something shared. A joke you no longer make.
Even the emails change. Not in content, but in tone. Still warm. Still punctuated with occasional dry humor. But more deliberate. Like he’s carefully preserving what remains.
On a Thursday afternoon, he passes you a stack of prefinal drafts without looking up.
“You’ve been making great time on the grading,” he says. “Thank you.”
You nod. “Of course.”
He watches you from the corner of his eye as you sit down, but he doesn’t press. Just goes back to marking answers with his usual steady hand.
The silence is companionable. But not quite the same.
And as you glance at the hours left on your timesheet, you wonder if you’ve made the space too wide. If it’s possible to miss something that hasn’t even ended yet.
You hand him your timecard on a quiet afternoon, the department office door clicking softly shut behind you. No ceremony, no lingering goodbyes. Just the two of you, like always—though this time, the space between you feels more final than it ever has.
Jing Yuan accepts the card without a word at first, his fingers brushing yours briefly in the exchange. He glances down at the total hours—200/200 neatly inked in your handwriting—and then back up at you.
The look on his face is hard to describe. Not surprised, not even disappointed. Just… sad. A quiet, unassuming kind of sadness that doesn’t sit easily on his features. His usual calm composure is still there, but this—this is something else. Something more human.
He recovers quickly, because of course he does. The corner of his mouth lifts into a wry half-smile.
“I see you didn’t pad your hours with invented emergencies,” he says. “I was starting to think you’d start making things up. ‘Accidental syllabus combustion,’ maybe. ‘Commander in Leaf went rogue.’”
That earns a faint smile from you. “Commander in Leaf wouldn’t betray us. He’s too loyal.”
Jing Yuan chuckles, then leans back slightly in his chair. “I suppose that’s true. You’ve trained him well.”
The silence after stretches for a beat too long.
Then, with a small nod, he says, “You’ve done well. I hope the rest of your work treats you a little more kindly. You’ve earned it.”
You nod, not trusting yourself to say anything else. You thank him. For the opportunity. For the patience. For everything.
You mean to say more, but your throat tightens before the words can form. So instead, you leave.
And you don’t come back.
You avoid the history department for the rest of the semester—not out of pettiness, but preservation. It’s easier this way. Easier not to walk past his office door and wonder if he still keeps the same tea stash. Easier not to run into Professor Yukong, who always had sweets tucked in her drawer for you. Easier not to catch Professor Fu Xuan’s narrowed eyes and her sharp-tongued comments that somehow still carried a note of reluctant fondness.
You miss all of it. But you keep your distance. It’s what you chose, after all.
And then graduation arrives.
It comes cloaked in the usual chaos—ill-fitting gowns, last-minute speeches, cords that won’t sit right, and students buzzing like the summer’s already begun. You move with the tide, hood slung neatly over your shoulders, name card clutched in your slightly sweaty palm.
You don’t expect to see him. Not really. The ceremony’s enormous, and the history department graduates early on. You assume he’s long gone by the time your name is called.
But later, after the recessional, as you’re navigating a sea of photo ops and teary-eyed classmates, you catch a flash of silver hair near the edge of the crowd.
Jing Yuan stands under one of the shade trees, away from the noise. A few faculty still linger nearby, chatting or clapping former students on the back. He’s holding something—probably a program—and he’s not in academic robes. Just his usual dark button-up, sleeves neatly rolled, and that calm, unreadable expression. He wears the scar on his forearm, not quite like a badge of honor, but something he doesn't bother keeping a secret. Like it was always a part of him.
Regret blooms in the back of your throat when you remember that you never once asked about it.
But you can't pay it much mind when his yellow eyes find yours, making you freeze.
Jing Yuan lifts his hand in a small wave. Not beckoning, just... acknowledging. And then, like always, he gives you the chance to decide.
Somewhere in the crowd, Jiaoqiu is probably scanning faces, phone in hand, ready to shout your name. He'd come all this way just to cheer you on, stepping in for your parents with that easy, unshakable loyalty of his—even with a mountain of exams waiting for him by the end of the week.
You should go. Return Jing Yuan’s gesture with a polite wave, a quiet goodbye. It would be the sensible thing. Clean and uncomplicated.
But your feet are already moving.
You don’t think. You just go.
The shade under the tree is cooler than you expected. Closer now, you can see he’s tired—creases around his eyes a little deeper, hair pulled back a bit less carefully than usual. But his smile is soft.
“Congratulations,” he says, quiet enough to drown in. “I meant to send a message, but this seemed better.”
You nod, words caught somewhere in your chest. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Professor.”
His mouth curves slightly. “I’m very good at showing up when I’m not expected.”
You almost ask why he came. Almost. But instead, you say, “Thank you. For everything.”
He glances at the program in his hands, then back at you. “I should be thanking you. I’m still finding things in the office that you organized without telling me.”
That gets a smile out of you, small but genuine. “Somehow I knew you’d never notice until I was gone.”
He exhales a quiet laugh, and for a moment it feels like nothing’s changed.
Until it does.
He looks at you a little too long, then says, “I kept cultivating the skullcaps in the greenhouse.”
You blink, surprised. “Really? Until now?”
He nods, almost sheepishly. “Made a surprisingly decent tea,” he adds with a quiet chuckle. “Though I can’t say it helped my sleeping habits.”
Your lips twitch, unsure how to respond to the unexpected admission. You wonder, for just a moment, if he's saying it to bridge the growing gap between you two, or if it's just an offhand comment like so many others he's made. Either way, the words settle between you like a lingering warmth.
You smile, feeling a hint of nostalgia tug at you. “Tell Commander in Leaf I’m proud of him.”
“He misses your pep talks.”
Then, he pauses, real and full of the unspoken.
“If you ever want to come back,” Jing Yuan says carefully, “there’s always a place for you.”
Your throat tightens. “I know.”
You both know you won’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But as you turn to leave, you hear him call out, just once. The way he says your name reminds you of the first time he did in class, soft yet resonant. Enough to make your heart ache for something that wasn't even there to begin with.
You look over your shoulder, he’s smiling again. That same soft smile, gold eyes warm despite the distance.
“Be well.”
You nod. “You too.”
And this time, you really go.
The Lit Department’s post-graduation celebration was supposed to be the culmination of everything you’d worked for. You'd dressed up, laughed with your peers, toasted to your future, and enjoyed the camaraderie that had become familiar over the past few years. The music was loud, everyone’s smiles seemed just a little too bright, but it was fine. You were supposed to be fine.
You even managed to have a good time, at least for a while. You wandered through conversations, shared some drinks, and even found yourself laughing at the absurdity of being a part of something so transient. The thought of moving on, of never seeing these faces again, was supposed to be exciting, but there was an underlying emptiness to it all—something you couldn’t quite shake.
You found yourself excusing yourself early, mumbling something about needing to check on your plants or pretending to have a deadline to meet, something that would get you out of the door and away from the questions of “What’s next?” and “Where will you go now?”
So you left.
By the time you step into your apartment, it hits you—the silence, the fact that you didn’t really feel like celebrating anymore. It’s not the career prospects or the future you’re afraid of. It’s the realization that this chapter has ended, and with it, the strange feeling that something you never really had is finally gone.
You’re drunk. It’s been a while since you’ve had this much to drink, so the buzz makes it harder to shake the feeling of having left something unfinished behind you. Something that was never really yours to begin with.
Before you can think, your fingers are already tapping in Jiaoqiu’s number. He answers groggily.
“What's up?” His voice cracks slightly. “Is anything wrong?”
“I’m fine,” you slur, even though you know you’re not. “I just—Jiaoqiu, I don’t get it. I don’t get why I’m—” you choke on your own words. “I’m still thinking about it, about him. It’s just stupid, right?”
You hear him shift on the other end, his voice more alert now. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. What happened?”
“I thought I was fine,” you continue, voice breaking as tears blur your vision. “I thought I was—God, I thought I was fine. I had this whole plan to just go, graduate, and move on. But knowing that... that was it, that's where it all ended, I just…”
Your voice falters.
“He doesn’t even know. I never said anything, Jiaoqiu. I never told him, and now it’s over. It’s over and I can’t even…” Another sob escapes, and you bury your face in your hands, feeling the sting of missed words, missed chances.
You hear him let out a slow breath. “You knew it was ending. You knew this wouldn’t last forever.”
“I know,” you whisper, feeling the ache in your chest. “But I didn’t expect it to hurt like this. It was just... nothing, but now it’s everything. And now I’ll never know what could’ve been. I’ll never know if I could’ve said something. Or if he even cared.”
“I know it feels like that right now,” Jiaoqiu says, his voice steady, but soft. “But I think you’re putting a lot on something that wasn’t really yours to carry. It’s okay to let go. You don’t have to hold onto it anymore.”
You choke back a sob, wiping your tears away furiously. “I know. I know, but it’s not that simple.”
You fall silent for a moment, only hearing the soft hum of the phone against your ear.
“I should’ve told him,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “I should’ve said something. Maybe I wouldn't feel so fucking torn up if I did. But I never got the chance, and now it’s just… over.”
“Maybe you’ll get that chance someday,” Jiaoqiu says gently, the words careful but sincere. “But you’ll be okay. You’ve always been okay.”
You laugh bitterly, wiping your eyes. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But for now, I’m just an emotional mess, huh?”
“You always are, but you’re still my favorite mess.”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head even though no one can see you. “Thanks, Jiaoqiu. I’ll survive. I always do.”
After the call ends, you sit in the silence of your apartment, still aching, but feeling just a little bit lighter. Even if you couldn’t say the words to Jing Yuan, even if you couldn’t let him know what had been growing between you, you had to accept that it was over. It had to be.
But for now, all you could do was let the tears flow, and let time do what it does best.
a/n: HELLO!! i am so so sorry for the long hiatus... my mental's been pretty trash and i swear i will get back to everyone's asks as soon as i'm able 😭 anyway, so i'm actually not fully caught up with the current story yet (i only finished 4.1!), but everything i've seen of him thus far has already wormed its way into my brain. he occupies an embarrassing amount of my thoughts... he's my current favourite... he's so fine... the following are headcanons conjured up by yours truly at ungodly hours of the night~
tags: headcanons, mostly angst but some fluff (i can't help myself TEEHEE)
wc: 1033
1. nicknames and intentionally distancing himself
from what we've seen and heard from him in-game, he tends to default to "kid" as a nickname for everyone around him (from yingxing to the trailblazer) which i think is his way of isolating himself, whether he does so intentionally or not.
i mean, who can blame the man? he's several amber eras old and his immortality isn't even the type that some other long-lived species are inflicted with. everyone who once knew him is either hunting him down, dead, or almost. so when he meets someone new and calls them "kid", he's setting a kind of boundary between them —but he's also using it as a reminder to himself to not let himself grow to close. "don't bite off more than you can chew."
aka, first base him either calling you by your name, or another nickname that's personalised to you. although, be prepared for that to take a while... old man's heart has been through a lot. he needs to get to know you for a while (and know that you're not going anywhere) first, okay? patience is key!
2. queer-platonic / unlabelled relationships over straight-up dating
on a similar note, his self-isolating tendencies would also bleed into his perspective on relationships. i don't think ashveil would ever go out of his way to find new people for any kind of companionship —everyone he currently is friends with kind of stumbles their way into his life. on top of that, he also only lets them stay because he feels some sort of obligation/duty to protect them (i'm specifically thinking of how mr n ended up in his custody —rappa found him and left him with ashveil)
if he were to let himself get close enough to someone to even consider a relationship, i think it'd have to be with a person that makes the give-and-take feel completely natural. say for example, you pop up out of nowhere and start helping him left and right wanting absolutely nothing in return like the acts-of-service final boss that you are... i think he'd genuinely freak out, LOL. "is this some kind of new multi-level marketing scheme by research society of happy smiles or something??"
you'd probably need to fool him into thinking he's able to repay the numerous "favours" through what always ends up being roundabout ways of further entwining the two of you together. that, or ease your way into it and slowly show him that all that you do for him is a byproduct of shared company. outsmart the detective! i'm sure mr n would love to be in on it too~
side note, i think the trope of "two people who don't know how to take care of themselves learn to take care of each other" would work so so nice with ashveil HEHE
that's also why an unlabelled relationship would also work better —he'd be absolutely terrified of "tying you down to him" in any sense. with how the burdens of "la mancha" still hunt him down, he'd never want anyone he cares about to be caught in that crossfire. that could be literal, given how vicious his bounty hunters are, or figurative. he can't offer any certainty on how long he'd be able to stay in one place, much less fulfil the duties of a romantic partner.
aside from probable commitment issues, i also think that he (read: projecting aro headcanons okthxbye) might feel that platonic relationships don't fulfil him any less than romantic ones do. any kind of companionship is just as valuable to him, and whatever care he feels goes beyond labels of platonic or romantic. just know that that "care" and his loyalty is never ever in doubt!
3. more on his "flare-ups"...
a/n: i can't lie, this aspect of his character is why i've got such a soft spot for him ok?!?! as a chronically ill person myself, reading how he struggles and deals with his flare-ups in his character stories almost had me in tears... insert that one meme of denji from chainsawman going "oh, he just like me fr!!!"
pretty much all we actually know of his flare-ups is that they're really violent, which is why he puts himself in freezerjail, but allow me to headcanonise further...
while we're not really sure what exactly the shadow in his arm is "eating" of him during these epsiodes, it'd be fair to assume that this shadow is smart enough to capitalise on whatever ashveil is feeling. i think the more he gets attached to someone, the more the shadow literally eats him up. what could possibly be tastier than pathetic yearning? his flare-ups become more frequent, which gets whoevers' attention that he (and the shadow) is craving, and thus begins a really painful cycle. the only way to end it is to push them away, which eats him up in a different way. oh ashveil, you poor poor thing...
the freezer is also another hurdle to work through... those of us with chronic pain can absolutely sympathise with the psychotic methods we develop to keep our symptoms at bay, but it really does take another fresh pair of eyes to see just how insane we treat ourselves. with all the kindness and compassion you have in your heart, please show this old man gentler ways to manage his pain —ways that don't involve holing himself up all alone and overwhelming his pain with freezer-burn numbness.
defrost this guy with a warm hearty meal, i think he'd be endlessly ravenous after a flare-up. it's very pertinent that you don't judge him for it, i bet he does that himself already. "consuming selfishly just like the shadow in my arm, is there even any distinction between us?" here's a secret mr n will probably clue you in on: mr ashveil actually gets fuller quicker when it's your cooking compared to dogdash orders. maybe he can taste how your food was thrown together with consideration for his wellbeing (and convenience of what's already in your pantry), and that's what makes it more satiating? whatever it is, just be prepared for him to ask for seconds, thirds, and maybe even fourths.
ᯓ★ thank you for reading! likes and reblogs appreciated, please do not reupload to other platforms! DO NOT FEED MY WORKS TO AI!!!
telling your fwb that you're going on a date w some of my
favs!
includes: Itoshi Rin, Fushiguro Toji, Jing Yuan, gojo (seperate, not in order)
summary: you tell him you're going out on a date to see his reaction. includes fem! reader insert. slightly suggestive - honestly borderline smut, some possessiveness, one mention of cheating but it's a joke
note: characters n reader have mutual feelings, mostly acknowledged. i'm thinking of making this a series so drop your fav characters please! minors, blank and ageless blogs dni
↳ITOSHI RIN
his initial reaction was to just roll his eyes at you.
"you're not funny. who would even go out with you?"
by now you're used to rin being an asshole. he's got a smart mouth and he knows what to say to get on your nerves. so you keep it to a simple, "not you, apparently," to shut him up.
and it does, for only a few minutes.
"why am I only hearing about this now?"
it's ironic how suddenly he's so in your business, unhappy with how you didn't tell him beforehand. rin tries so hard to keep himself in check, not giving you the reaction you wanted. but it devastated him; on his bed, in nothing but a pretty bra and a pair of panties, talking about some other man?
no, rin was not having it at all.
you almost snicker when he says you shouldn't be going out with 'other guys' because you two were having sex. but his argument quickly dies down when you remind him of the first rule he set when you started your nightly- and sometimes daily- sessions: "we're not exclusive"
he thinks of pushing you down the bed, getting his hands all over that pretty body of yours. you won't resist, that he's sure of, but he can't risk seeming desperate, especially not in front of you. that's pathetic.
he mumbles a few things along the lines of 'whatever' and 'let him fuck you with his micropenis'.
but rin is petty, he really is. at least when it comes to you. so he quickly turns to the silent treatment - as if he wasn't mostly silent. he wouldn't text you or respond to your calls for two whole days, which is more reaction than you would have liked. a lot more.
until you were out with some girl friends and you receive a notification.
Rin [2:34 pm]: how was the date.?
once you tell him it was a joke, and how he took your bait like a fish, it's safe to say he was less than pleased. the first thing he does is to invite you over. and as absurd as it is, he tells you to go to his place that very minute. which you don't mind too much.
rin made sure to remind you that no matter who you run to, he'll always be the only one who can please you so good. he's the only one who knows exactly how make you quiver and cry in little time. afterall, your pussy has long since been molded to remember him. aching for him every minute you wake and every second you sleep.
rin made sure you know your place. under him. no other man.
↳ SATORU GOJO
gojo knows he's lucky, he really does. no woman took him the way you do. no woman understood him the way you do. no woman excited him the way you do, in all ways a man could be excited.
so when you tell him that? it's safe to say gojo was about to burst.
of course he is. you're his girl, whether you like it or not - which you do. you can't just go to another sleazy man when you have the strongest himself wrapped around your finger. that's unfair. and your reason? because you wanted to settle? heck, he'll 'settle' for you. he just needed some more time. can't you give him that at least?
"oh? with who?"
"he's not a sorcerer, i don't think you know him."
first of all, why would you assume he doesn't know anyone who isn't a sorcerer? that's rude. although he doesn't, it's still rude. and why would you even go out with a non-sorcerer? what could be so special about him that gojo can't offer?
but gojo can't let you go. call it what you want, he's not planning on letting go.
he's not a jealous man. he's the strongest, he has everything a man could want. jealousy is a feeling he's yet to meet. but now it burns in him. although gojo's eyes were ice blue, now they're burning. and the hottest fires always burn blue.
as if second instinct, he's quick to pull you onto his lap, earning a yelp and a wide-eyed look. it's enough to know he's getting what he wants. his fingers reach for that clothed, soft spot between your legs. his long fingers begin to move, slow and steady, making your hips moves softly to the rhythm he's created, begging for more fritction.
his lips ghost against your ears, not exactly touching the sensitive skin but touching it all the same.
"i don't think i know him, no. but i'll make sure you forget him. you don't need a guy like that."
↳FUSHIGURO TOJI
he stared at you for a few seconds, his gaze unreadable. toji is no fool, and he won't play your little game. especially not by your rules. toji is not bound by law, jujutsu, physical limit, or society. he won't let you mess around. not when he's so desperate to see you, albeit afraid of the commitment. not when he left his entire life, slowly becoming the perfect man so he could give you everything.
"what a silly joke. you know i'm not that dumb, don't you?"
he knows he's right when you stop for a fraction of a second, trying to contain your pretty smile. you deny, telling him that you're completely serious. you wanted a relationship, and you wanted to finally be able to be at 'peace'.
"oh really?" he quirks a brow, a look of clear amusement on his face. "that's too bad, i don't think women who cheat can find peace."
"it's just a single date, toji. i'm not cheating on him."
"not yet," he flips you around so you're laying right under his bulk form. you giggle, and it confirms his suspicions further. you were just testing him. good, he'll make sure this stays just a joke.
"hmm? are you jealous, toji?"
"of who?" he's quick. he's smart. and he won't let you mess around like that without getting something in return. he leans in, close to your neck. one of his hands find your waist, softly caressing the skin with calloused fingers. "we both know who you'll actually be with tonight."
↳JING YUAN
the general was in love with you. absolutely, utterly, completely in love. he couldn't admit it, not to you or to himself. but as your nights with him turned from one while you're drunk to more than he could possibly count, you infatuated him. you invaded him, corrupting his thoughts and time and feelings.
yuan wasn't sure if he was right for you, although he knew you were right for him. he didn't want to jump into a relationship he was unsure could last. yuan didn't think he could give you what you want, and you sure as hell wouldn't back down from what you deserve. that's why he admired you so much. you weren't easy. you won't allow him to bend you to his liking. you were a challenge he enjoyed.
"hmm? who's the lucky gentleman?"
jealousy was obvious, clear as day. disdain dripped from his usually sweet words. yuan was not taking the news too well, and it shows despite his soft smile.
"kaoru," you say a name he doesn't know. "do you know him?"
"i don't recall someone with such a name," he confessed, his eyes narrowing in thought. he tries but he doesn't know anyone wit that name. "is he good looking?"
you smile a little at his reaction, pleased with the jealousy he's showing. "i don't know. he's not my type, but i'm exploring options."
"what am i then? an option?" you almost snicker at the amount of petty in his question. he wants to confirm his worth, make sure that he's above comparison to you.
"don't be cruel, yuan," you give him the satisfaction of an answer. "it's not like that."
yuan tries to convince you to stay, kissing all over your neck just how you like it, reminding you who you're with and how you need not find another man because it is yuan you belong with. before he knows it it's heated, and he finds himself craving you more than ever.
"i want you," he whispers, one hand tangled in your hair and breath ragged.
"i'm yours to take, yuan."
usually, that's enough for him. but jealousy thrums in him and he pushes a little of you, his expression dark but it's not lust this time. "you're not," he breathes. his eyes study your feverish eyes. "you're going out with another man."
your eyes widen, you were so lost in him you forgot.
"shut up," you pull him towards you, mouths meeting in a lewd kiss. "it was a joke. "
[game spoilers, a teensy sad + optimistic, jing yuan has lots of feelings snifle]
the air smells different to jing yuan now.
jing yuan’s vision flashes with little fragments of memories as he watches his pupil swinging his sword in succession with each time he counts out loud.
he sees yanqing’s habit of not squaring his shoulders or how he tends to follow through with his swing rather than stilling himself, and he can almost feel a soft hand on his shoulder saying, “still yourself… a swordsman is not sloppy with practice, or they will be sloppy in battle.”
the words come to him from an almost distant land, as if they had rode on the wind for years and years just to find him.
“still yourself…” jing yuan looks down at yanqing with the same look jing liu had when she was training him, as if she lives and breathes through him in his memory. he reminds yanqing to remain controlled and calm, but maybe he’s also uttering these words as a reminder to himself.
jing liu is not here. reminiscing won’t change the present - but he grasps on tightly to those memories as if they were still happening.
“like this, general?” yanqing’s voice is like a soft melody that pulls jing yuan back into the moment, and he breathes in the air of the now - it smells different than he remembers it as a child. it has no scent of strife, no scent of turmoil or intensity.
jing yuan smiles at his pupil, his eyes glimmering with the gentlest look of melancholy, hope, and adoration all at once. he feels yanqing’s urgency to grow, his need to become stronger, taller, bigger…
jing yuan feels that desire in his soul, as if this boy has caused him to come out of himself and view his past fragmented memories in real time.
he sees himself in yanqing, so he’ll tell him everything he wished he heard from his master back then.
he sees himself in yanqing, so he’ll guide him.
he sees himself in yanqing, so he’ll love him.
he’ll watch him grow, and grow, and grow until yanqing develops into the man he has always wanted to be.
“that’s perfect,” he nods back at his pupil, smiling and admiring the moment as if he wanted to frame it forever - keep it close to his heart, display it all over the walls of his mind.
jing yuan takes in the smell of the autumn air again and realizes - these are the winds of peace.
2023 SAETOSHIS. do not copy, repost, or translate.
𝓭𝓲𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓻𝔂 . . . he just wont leave me alone I LOVE JING YUAN
“dove…are you sure about this? i-i mean we can get caught…”
“don’t tell me your nervous, general?”
he was really nervous right now, but his excitement rivaled it. giving him a handjob in a room where anyone can walk into was scary, but it made him even more eager. if they were ever caught the people would know how much of a slut their general
“you just need to stay quiet” aeons knew how loud he can be, singing your praises as he gets lost in the feeling. “easier said then done…” at least he’s aware of how loud he can be. when your hand wrapped around his cock he was already letting out a sigh, head falling back in the wall as his body leaned against it.
“remember baby, stay quiet” with one last warning you started moving your hand up and down his cock. it harden in your closed fist, slit starting to leak with pre cum and he let out low moans, was he even trying to hide his sounds? jing yuans hips bucked into your fist, cock going in and out, slicking your hand up with his pre cum
his low moans turned louder as you continue to play with his cock. the more he fucked himself into your fist the closer he got to cumming, knot in his lower stomach tightening and his legs shaking. moaning out praises of how well you treat him filled the air, someone can most definitely hear him.
he knew he was getting louder so he tried concealing his sounds in the crook of your neck, teeth biting at the skin to ground him. “be a good boy and try to be more quieter” the way you said it so nonchalantly had jing yuan whining into your skin. he was slowly breaking down into a puddle of mush just from a hand job, and here you are being composed and teasing.
it’s not fair, but it feel so good to be controlled and jing yuan loves it. loves how he’s getting closer to making a mess the faster he fucks into your fist, loves the kisses and praises you give to his cheek as you bring him closer to loosing his sanity. and he loves when his cock is finally twitching and releasing his fluids.
it paints your hand in milky white and he watches as his cum leaks down your hand and onto the floor below. he can see his legs twitch and buckle slightly, that’s when he realized he couldn’t keep himself up that he had to lean his body weight on you. “did so well for me, general” hearing you say this makes him close his eyes and bask in the aftershock, your hand slowly milking his cock to help him ride his high.
he thought he this would be the end, thought he would have to go back to the piles of paper sitting on his desk. but those sweet words you say makes him forget all about them, maybe he’ll even forget about the paperwork all night long since he knows how greedy you are. “are you up for another round, general?”
the way you say his title in such a condescending manner has his cock already hardening. the thought of you milking him dry is all he can think of. he’s very certain everyone will be hearing him now
After a long day he wants nothing more than to just come home to his wife and rest with her. But his wife has other ideas for him to destress and who is he to say no to her?
also my requests are open, please send in some stuff and i will write, most things welcomed <3
Jing Yuan
Being the General of the Cloud Knights; his job is very difficult, especially with his young retainer Yanquig who loves to do anything that involves swords. Be it battle, be it spar, but after the day of constant running around, Jing Yuan, especially since he couldn't take his afternoon nap.
Arriving home after the long hours of the day, he was greeted by his lovely wife, who had a smile upon her face. His hands latched on her waist as he dove in for a kiss nearly melting in her embrace.
Your laugh had reached his ears as he buried his face into your neck after his welcome home kiss. "My general, how was you day?" His lazy grin was etched onto his face as he began to lightly press kisses against your exposed neck, making you shudder a bit.
"I missed my darling little wife all day, I couldn't even get you out my mind," your cheeks burned at his voice right next to your ear made a shiver go down your spine, and his eyes took notice. "Hm, it looks like you got something on your mind, mind telling?"
Your breath hitched in your throat as you took his hands into yours, a flustered expression upon your face as you looked up at him, his lips still curled into that lazy teasing grin.
"It's been quiet a bit since we've been married, and I just wanted to know if..." Your words died on your tongue as you looked to the ground before speaking up once more. "I wanted to know if you'd want a child... with me?"
"Oh, is that all?" Your heart sank as you slowly nodded from his tone, "Well, I thought you were going to break some bad news to me," His hands slipped to your hips gently rubbing through the fabric. "Well, come let's go then."
And that's how you ended up in bed with your husband's fingers sliding in and out of you prepping you for him. His hand clasped around your throat as he pressed his lips to your neck, three of his fingers just sliding in and out of you.
His voice whispering in your ear as you felt yourself clamping down on his fingers. "And when we have a child, maybe we could have more?" Cause he knew, if you were going to bare his children, he would enjoy seeing your glow with your swell belly wanting to just fill you up once your child popped out.
"Maybe we could also adopt Yanqing and give him a few brothers and sisters, yeah?" His eyes looked down to see where your slick and cum soaked his fingers after letting you cum twice on his finger and hand. "Well, here, let me just fill you up now." He turned you to face him as he pressed his lips against yours.
His fingers spread your folds open as he moved his hand that was around your throat to guide himself in, before pushing his fat cock into your wet hole.
You were already shaking and panting for air after your second orgasm on just his fingers alone, his fat cock was stretching you out once more. "I will never get used to this feeling..."
His hands went to your hips as he began to pepper kisses against your exposed chest, his hips thrusting up to bury himself more into your dripping hole.
"You want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Look how cute you look with that expression, I wish you could see yourself," he chuckled as he brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear pressing his lips to your already bruised lips.
"Just a bit more and I'll fill you up nicely before we go again after all, I just want to watch my cum drip out of you when we are done."
Welt Yang
It is absolutely no secret that Welt Yang is the father-like figure of the chaotic trio, with his wife being the mom, and Himeko being the wine aunt. Exploring the Xianzhou Alliance with Trailblazer and March 7th without his wife was a handful.
Welt wanted nothing more than just go back to The Astral Express and sleep wit his wife. But what is she doing here now with Dan Heng at her side and is that...?
Welt shook his head as he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your cheek, "How and why are you here [Name]? Are you okay? Any injuries or bruises?" His worried face made you giggle into your hand as your pressed your lips to his to quit his babbling.
"Shh, I'm fine. I'm a bit sad you underestimate me though... You hurt me," Welt's eyebrows furrowed as he opened his mouth to retaliate but was cut off by Dan Heng. "Mrs. Yang was with me, she is perfect fine and safe."
You let a giggle fall past your lips as you wrapped your arms around Welt, as one of his arms held you against him taking in the scent of your perfume making him just want to drown in your warm hold.
But ultimately Welt sighed out, and motioned for you and Dan Heng to follow after him, "I'll take you where me and the other two are staying. I'm pretty sure you two need some rest after your little journey to catch up with us."
After arriving to the place where they were staying Dan Heng went with his two chaotic friends shared room, and you were left to bunk with your husband.
When you turned to him after you locked the door he just sighed out after seeing that glint in your eye. "Indulge me?" He smiled a bit as he placed his cane nearly the door and moved to kiss you as clothes slowly came off.
His hands gently groped at you body, his mouth moving across your skin as he breathed in your lovely scent that seemed to drive him insane. You giggled as you slipped off the edge of the bed and gently took his cock into your mouth making him groan lowly.
Your tongue licked his slit as one of his hands went to the top of your head and gently scratched at your scalp the more you took him into your mouth.
Your hand moving down to massage his balls as abruptly bucked his hips upward forcing his dick down your throat as he muttered an apology as he gently pushed you off of him and pulled you up.
His lips pressed against your as he pulled you on top of him as he laid back against the bed, his lips not bothering to part from yours. His hands on your hips as you gently reached down and guided his cock against your folds before lowering yourself down as his cock pressed against the deepest part of you.
You shuddered above him as you parted from the kiss and pressed you hands against his chest as you began to bounce on him. "I-I think it time... for us to have our own little chaotic child."
Welt sighed heavily but his little smile didn't falter as his hands helped you with your bouncing. "If that's what you want, who am I to decline my wife?"
Your eyes softened as you leaned down and kissed him once more, unable to stop the warmth that spread throughout your body as he accept your little proposal.
this took way longer than need to post, my bad lovelies
cw; jealous!jing yuan, unprotected sex, semi - public sex (in his office), teasing, gentle yet firm jing yuan, baby / pregnancy talk
important; reader is referred to as: wife, princess, dear, sweetheart, as well as usage of she/her pronouns once or twice
note; i promise i'll get to my requests now lmao, just had to get the horny out of my system with me being suddenly so comfortable with writing for star rail characters.
wc; ~2.500
“dear, can you come to my office real quick? i … need some help with some documents.”
the excuse jing yuan put out there was probably the most unbelievable one he could ever have come up with. help with documents? please, he was always known to never need any sort of help with any work related stuff. you rolled your eyes at his obvious attempt to get you into his office for something that is clearly not work related.
“what’s up?”, you asked him once you closed the door behind you, as he opened up his arms, so that you could come to him and give him a hug. the way he made you feel absolutely comfortable sitting on his lap despite being in his office at the commission made your heart flutter – you simply never thought to be able to relax this much being here instead of the comfort of your home.
“nothin’ really. just missed you”, he grumbled, softly stroking through your hair as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “is it wrong of me to miss my beautiful wife?”
you giggled, head leaning on his shoulder as he slowly caressed his way down to your ass, hand gently massaging over the clothed skin… before he suddenly slapped your ass, making you squeal in surprise.
“what the…? what’s wrong?!”, you asked him, heart racing in shock, voice rising a couple of octaves in surprise..
“mhm, nothing, dear. however, shouldn’t i be the one asking that question?”
you were absolutely confused about what was going on – you couldn’t remember a thing you possibly did wrong.
“so, what was going on with you and that trailblazer from the astral express, hm? dan heng, wasn’t it? you were quite close with him throughout their stay, dear”, he expressed his problem; finally it all clicked.
you just had tried to be a good host for your guests of the express; after all, they were the ones helping on xianzhou without asking anything in return. after the situation had been cleared, jing yuan had invited the trailblazers to stay over and rest properly before they would go on their way to continue on with their travels.
you just didn’t realize that you had been spending an awfully lot of time with dan heng, who shared some of his very detailed notes about previous travels he made with the express after you asked him for some. you had always been curious about the world outside of xianzhou and the fact that dan heng had such a detailed databank filled with notes and memoirs had you impressed.
they had left only yesterday so it kind of made sense why he only brought it up now.
“i was just trying to be a good host, jing yuan. that’s all, i promise”, you replied, “were you jealous?”
you couldn’t help the giggle, just finding it very adorable that a powerful man like jing yuan and your husband of many years still managed to find moments where he felt jealous and protective over you. only little did you know that he was planning on showing off who you really belong to, even if his so-called competition was already on another planet.
“what if i was, dear? isn’t it normal for me to be protective of my gorgeous wife? i have many enemies, darling, it’s an instinct of mine”, he chuckled before he lifted you up onto his desk, standing right between your legs which you instinctively wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck.
you softly brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “i’m not saying anything against that. in fact, i find it endearing how you still can find situations to be jealous about me”, you giggled, pulling him down closer to you so that you could kiss him.
“mhm, yeah, sure”, jing yuan rolled his eyes.
it took you by absolute surprise when the general of the xianzhou luofu pinned you onto his desk, hands over your head and a confident smirk on his lips as he saw the shock in your face. “aww, dear, don’t be scared. it’s just me after all, it’s just your sweet husband. don’t you love it when i get rough with you, dear?”
“i hate it when you’re right”, you grumbled as a reply, “you could’ve been a bit gentler, though.”
“i thought i was more than enough gentle back when we had our honeymoon? thought you didn’t want me to be soft and careful with you any longer?”, he murmured into your ear, having you shiver in excitement for what was expecting you.
but it also had you worry about the other employees at the luofu; after all you hadn’t locked the door to avoid someone just barging in. and now jing yuan was initiating something that you would consider a very complicated situation to explain.
“don’t worry, dear. no one would even dare to come in without knocking. but doesn’t it sound enticing? the thought of someone seeing you how i horrible treat my lovely wife when i ravage her and make her feel good?”
your eyes fluttered shut, the image of him fucking you on his desk were all you were picturing now, how filthy his mouth had become over the years you two were together and married – not that you were complaining, not at all. nodding, you agreed to his suggestion.
“good girl”, he mumbled, placing a gentle kiss underneath your ear, a spot you always had been very sensitive about, before he slowly untied the knot that held your dress together and pulled it off your body and lowered his head to tease your body with his sweet and innocent pecks over your shivering skin.
“you are so beautiful, dear. i love you so much”, he praised you and stopped with his kisses as he reached your panties, standing back up to slowly as he pulled the fabric off your legs. “but don’t forget why we are in this situation in this moment. don’t think i have forgotten about the way you spent more time with that trailblazer than your husband.”
you couldn’t help rolling your eyes in annoyance, eyes widening as he suddenly grabbed your cheeks with just one hand, forcing you to look at him. “don’t give me that attitude, love. i don’t like how bratty you have become recently and i think it’s time i remind you who you belong to and who is in charge”, he snapped, no longer was he your dearest husband who’d treat you so sweet and like you were his most treasured possession (which you were, there was no doubt in that.)
no, now he was just the strict general of the xianzhou luofu who would not let you talk back to him in any way.
and for some reason, this visual of him being in absolute control was turning you on; quite a lot.
“mhm, dearest, you’re so ready for me already. have you been anticipating that i would initiate something?”, he chuckled, leaning back down without breaking eye contact as he softly started teasing you with his lips on your thighs, softly caressing them with soft pecks before he reached your entrance.
the moment his tongue was playing with your clit, you squeezed your eyes shut, moaning his name and grabbing a handful of his hair to pull him in closer; to have him do more than just teasing your sensitive bundle of nerves.
“ah, ah, ah. none of that, dear. don’t think that just because i’m feeling nice right now, you get to do that. hands off of me”, he said, voice authoritative and not allowing any sort of back talk.
you simply did not know what to do with your hands, now that you were forced to pull them off from his locks; usually he would allow you to touch him all you wanted. jing yuan knew that you loved being close to him whenever he would make you feel loved and cherished with his not-so-gentle actions; so not being able to touch him had you quivering around, which he – obviously – did not like either.
“dear me, you really are testing my patience today, are you not?”, he grunted, stopping with his mouth on your clit as he pinched your nipples, having you jolt in surprise. “do. not. move. or i swear to you, you will regret it. i might just go ahead and open that door for everyone to see what a pretty little slut you are for me. but you would like that, wouldn’t you, dear? you would love to let everyone see who the only man in your life is that can make you feel so good.”
before you could reply, you felt two of his fingers pushing inside; unable to hold the moan coming out of your throat with your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. he was very fast to pick up a pace moving his fingers in and out of you, just as he was stimulating your clit with his other hand’s thumb.
“mhm, you’re already so ready to take me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
you nodded, you were so light-headed that you were unable to reply with words as he would have preferred for you to but he didn’t say anything.
as he was curling his fingers inside, you whined, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your release and the thoughts of someone watching him fucking you with his fingers had you even more excited.
“get up”, he suddenly stopped, keeping you so close on the edge and went a step back before he grabbed you by your hips and had you standing against his desk with wobbly legs. “turn around and hold onto the desk.”
once you did, he pinned you down onto the desk, your body shivering at how cold the wood was against your naked body.
unable to see him any longer, you didn’t know what was going to happen or when. you could only trust your hearing; and you could hear him unbuckle his belt and just after a couple of moments, you felt his tip teasing your entrance. the anticipation of when he was going to push in had you on the edge.
“look at you being to impatient for me to fuck you, dear. so adorable”, he mumbled, gently stroking your hair out of the way and with one swift thrust, he was buried deep inside of you. you almost let out a scream in shock, but it was muffled by his hand covering your mouth before he started setting a fast and hard rhythm, the hand unoccupied was holding onto your hips, as he fucked you, relentless.
“dear, you feel so good, so tight and warm around my cock”, he praised you, the hand on your hips suddenly off your body and you felt a stinging pain as he spanked you once more.
“but don’t forget that this is still a punishment. you didn’t, right, sweetheart?”
tears were burning in your eyes and you held yourself back not to let him win over you; doing your best not to let those tears roll down your face.
the way jing yuan was grinding his cock inside had you absolutely in a state of total bliss – body no longer responding to your brain wanting to piss him off even more. maybe that was for the better, after all. maybe he would just finally stop teasing you so much and finally reward you by giving you the sweet release you have been waiting for ever since the first time he spanked you.
“you’re getting impatient, aren’t you, baby?”, he asked, voice breathless and strained in exhaustion.
“mhm, no. i’m okay”, you attempted to piss him off, which was not met very happily by your husband. “feels good, though.”
“your body is telling a different story, dearest”, he groaned. “i can feel you clenching down on me whenever i try to pull out, i can see how you try to hold back those pretty tears of yours because you just feel so good, don’t you, honey?”
when his pace quickened, you couldn’t stop the moans coming out, neither could you stop the tears rolling down your tears as the stimulation got too much to bear. “aww, does my princess want to come?”
you could only nod vigorously, hands digging into the wood of his desk to steady yourself but it was no use – his rough and erratic thrusts were too much to handle.
“oh, sweetheart”, he cooed, “i’m going to come, i’m so close, so, so close.”
“fill me up. please”, you begged; the sudden want to give your husband the baby he wanted for quite some time now surfaced – you weren’t sure if you were ready for this or not before but for some reason, it suddenly felt right.
“are you sure, princess?”, he mumbled. “we don’t have to.”
“yes, for god’s sake, yes”, you cried, moving your hips against his as he slowed down. “fill me up with your cum, jing.”
“oh, sweetheart”, he groaned, feeling himself get closer to his release as his thrusts lost their rhythm, and with a long groan and a string of curses, he came inside of you, making you feel so warm and full with his cum, even making you come with a cry, body shaking vigorously and tears rolling down onto some of his documents that were just underneath your head.
“shh, it’s alright, sweetheart. you’re safe, you’re okay. you did so well for me, dear”, he comforted you, staying buried deep inside of you as he tried to calm down from his high.
“i”m so proud of you, dear. i’m sorry for acting so foolishly childish about dan heng. i obviously know that everything is fine between us, but for some reason, the situation was somewhat infuriating for me. i don’t understand it myself, if i’m being absolutely honest, but i will work on my jealousy, yes?”, he apologized, as he pulled you up from underneath him on your desk.
“it’s alright, jing. i’m okay”, you smiled as he grabbed your dress and put it back on you. “i love you.”
he smiled back at you before he suddenly yawned making you laugh.
“hey, this all is exhausting. i think we should both just head home and sleep”, he suggested with a grin as he tied your dress, grabbed your hand and pulled you out of his office, calling out for his secretary to clear out his schedule for the remaining day as he was now taking the day off.
you could only hear his secretary sighing in annoyance, shooting her an apologetic smile and pointing to her phone so that she knew to check her phone soon before you were pulled away by your husband to return to the safety of your own home to sleep – or maybe to finally try for that baby you finally agreed to.
So it's time for some bullshit- for some reason, I wanna see Jing yuan (my luck on getting him was so gooooood im so happy just thinking about it 😍) have a lover who owns a bakery :D minors gtfo there will be smut later (cuz it's me lol)
It's a small, humble shop tucked away in the corner of the Central Starskiff Haven, yet every day, without fail, lines would form from opening to closing time. Customers would wait patiently to order the most popular item on the menu: a dozen salted egg custard buns, piping hot from the steamers.
You serve and serve, always keeping an eye on the clock so you can greet your most favored guests. And they arrive like clockwork: Yanqing, who eagerly bounces toward you just as you close the shop temporarily for lunch, and Jing Yuan trailing behind him with a lazy smirk on his lips.
The young lad never fails to thank you every time with a larger-than-life smile that makes his eyes crinkle around the corners, skipping away with several fresh buns in hand.
His mentor, on the other hand, doesn't disappear as quickly. He helps you set up your small break table, placing your lunch on top, and flits about the kitchen to whip up a pot of freshly brewed jasmine tea before seating himself across from you. And he listens intently at your stories about your customers: the one who always seems to lack spare change, the one who is currently celebrating the birth of a child, the one who seeks some stress relief from the labors of the artisanship commission through food, the one who flirts constantly with you to both your amusement and annoyance. (Jing Yuan's eye twitches just the slightest at this particular one, so you quickly change topics).
Whenever you think to stop your stories, which must be so much duller compared to his grand tales of warfare and negotiations, he gently grabs hold of your hand and presses it his cheek, tilting his head to press kisses to your knuckles. A silent encouragement to keep talking. So you do, regaling him with tale after tale until your lunchbox is empty and it's time to reopen.
He helps you clean up the table and packs away your lunchbox for cleaning, sets aside the empty teapot, and heaves a great, resigned sigh. You laugh at the dread in his eyes of returning to the Seat of Divine Foresight, so you grab the back of his neck to pull him in for a deep kiss, licking at the bottom of his lip for good measure.
When you pull away, you're both gasping for air, a small string of saliva connecting your mouths together still. Yuan stares at you, hearts in his eyes, and pulls you in for another kiss. Then another, and another, until he's tugging at your shirt, whining for you to close the shop for the day and return home with him.
The ache between your thighs begs for you to agree, but you know better than to give into his whims too easily. Especially knowing that the reward will be all the sweeter with patience. So with one final kiss to his addicting lips, you send him off on his merry way, a promise to reunite later on lingering in the air and in both your minds as you reopen your store, already sighing at the long queue beginning to form, and Jing Yuan returns to the Seat of Divine Foresight, eagerly anticipating when he can leave once more.
(again it wouldn't be me without some horrible smut- everything up to here is gn!reader, so plz do not read further than this if fem!reader is not your thing. Again, it's fem!reader from this point on- you have been warned)
"Be patient, you said," Yuan hisses into your ear, thrusting harder into your sore cunt. He moans, deep and hoarse, right by your ear, and you squirm in his grip. But he shuts it down immediately, forcing your head deeper into the pillows. "I've been patient. Don't you think I deserve a reward?"
Each word is emphasized with a powerful thrust of his hips. You would've smacked your head on the headboard if he didn't have such a tight grip on your hair as he took you from behind.
"Yuan," you heave, but whatever you want to say is brutally fucked out of you. His hips slam the air out of your lungs, and you have to scrabble onto your wobbly arms to catch your breath. That is, if he doesn't push your head down into the pillows yet again.
"Hold... hold still," your lover whimpers above you. "Just a little... more-"
Yuan angles himself, and suddenly, his cock is hitting deeper inside you. You swear he's reaching your cervix, and you yelp. He's close. You can sense it even in your lust-fueled haze.
Yuan's thrusts increase in speed and ferocity, sore cockhead ramming repeatedly into your sensitive spot. You squeal and cum hard, legs shaking from the force.
He moans, hips jolting against yours as he spills inside you. It's hot and so filling; if you weren't so cockdrunk, you could've felt it in your belly.
He huffs, pants warm on your ear. You feel him press kisses on your skin before his hands gently wrap around your midriff, lifting you up and turning you on your back. You gaze up at him blearily: ruddy cheeks, heaving chest, hearts in his eyes. He smiles at you gently before collapsing on top of you with a hearty guffaw. You wheeze at the solid weight of him, and jokingly slap at his arm before succumbing to his whims.
You nuzzle into his neck, and you swear that he purrs at your touch. "You seemed like you enjoyed yourself~" you can't help but tease.
He hummed in agreement, turning on his side to grin at you. But it quickly disappears into a childish pout. "We could've been 'enjoying' ourselves much earlier if you just came home with me..." he grumbles.
A sly smile crosses your lips, and in an instant, you pounce on him. When he turns on his back, you jump into his lap and grind on his softened, sensitive cock, moaning at the stimulation on your sore clit. He groans, hands flying to your waist to keep you still.
"Then let's just enjoy ourselves now~" you whisper in his ear, sliding up until the tip of his length catches on to your hole.
And Jing Yuan, the mighty general of the Xianzhou Luofu, does nothing but throw his head back and moan as you send him to another high.
Hello. This is my first time using an askbox(?) So please forgive any mistakes
How would you see Jing Yuan react with a tired/stressed out female s/o who just started to let go of self care and has been too critical with herself (Physically and Mentally). And also been more recluse even with him?
Can I ask both sfw/nsfw head canon (if this is the right term hehe)
And umm I don't know if I saw correctly in hour masterlist that you have indications of anons. If so can I be ☕Anon?
Thank you so much!
synopsis. taking care of his stressed female s/o!
warnings. uhh smut at the end i guess cuz nsfw hcs are included!!
author's note. YEAH OFC U CAN BE ☕ ANON!!! oh my god no more writers' block guys guess whos ready to rumblewrite!?!?!?!
pairings: jing yuan x fem!reader
sfw hcs first whipeee!!!
he won't let that shit slide tbh, like he always tells you to give the best, you should be at your best, and that isn't what you're going through rn.
and if it's srsly to the point you even stop coming to bed, which is usually the case very sadly, he will take matters into his own hands. even if it means he has to take work away from you
like he knows you work hard, and you love your job and stuff, but when you start to prioritize work over yourself? that crosses the line.
and whenever he sees or hears you continuously critiquing yourself, he will tell you you're doing great in 50 different ways.
and while yes, he likes to laze around more rather than working cuz he probably gives all the paperwork to his assistants, he would help you out with your job if you really won't budge
is especially mad when the deadline is weeks away too, like damn calm down its deadline is in 2 weeks
nsfw hcs AAAA
ok so ive mentioned before he'd be a lowkey bully in bed BUT. but. he would be all about your pleasure if it means you'll stop stressing out, or stop with doing work thats in 2 weeks cuz cmon.. 2 weeks is alot.
or atleast he tries to be somewhat 'gentle', can't help being so big that your tight pussy can't handle yk? just loses himself when he's inside
like whenever he's like fucking you to make you feel good he has to remind himself that he shouldn't be like just doing for his pleasure and sake alone
ANYWAYS. likes to eat you out the most honestly, and especially when you are stressed cuz he KNOWS you love it when he eats you out
and knows you like it when he praises the HELLL out of you
oh and any position where he can see your pretty face reacting to how deep he's inside is just fine w him, just as long as he gets the chance to see you and your cute pussy sure
probably would sit you on his cock while he does your work for you :D!!
probably grunts and groans more than whine and moan, like he's just that kind of man when you stressed as hell yk?!?!!?
just wants to focus on you the entire time of having sex, and always asks if you want more rounds cuz like he doesn't wanna break you like he'd usually do haha
no but srsly he'll try his best to be gentle, every little sound you make counts!!
quick post again to keep up with my upload sched on here!!!
jing yuan x femdom!reader
nsfw themes (STRAIGHT UP SMUT BAYBEE DONT BE A MINOR). read at your own risk.
english isn’t my first language, so please don’t mind the grammatical errors. (っ◞‸◟ c)
⪩ jing yuan can be a little bratty, so our trailblazer decided to punish him.
TERM DIRECTORY
◖y/n: your name
◖e/c: eye color
◖h/c: hair color
➜ jing yuan: ╰(▔∀▔)╯ y/n
➜ jing yuan: y/n y/n y/n y/n y/n
➜ jing yuan: y/n °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
for the past few hours...maybe two hours, your phone had been blowing up constantly from a certain military general. even as you continued on with your mission, your phone was consistently vibrating from the constant messages from jing yuan, who was here to annoy you.
the general quite knew you were out running errands that's related to your mission, but luckily for you (and not so for him), you were almost done with your errands...and finally, delivering the last package, you grabbed your phone, reading a big fat 99+ next to jing yuan's name. he really did spam you.
➜ y/n: what
➜ y/n: i'm literally busy, why are you spamming me?
➜ y/n: i told you to call me if it's an emergency
➜ y/n: you can't just spam me bc youre bored
➜ y/n: i miss you too but wtf
in truth, you really found it adorable. but you just wanted to scold at him for a bit. it didn't actually bother you, but you liked seeing him whine and act all cute over text.
➜ jing yuan: hi lmfao
➜ jing yuan: i just miss you. are you done yet? come home
➜ y/n: hmm
➜ y/n: yeah... i got something for you. a gift.
➜ jing yuan: woah really? bet
really, you just had something mischievous and dirty hidden in your sleeve...
...entering the premises of the general's headquarters, you find him seated at his desk filling out some paperwork. the moment you had entered, you could see that his eyes lit up, despite the fact he was quite a few distances away from the main entrance. you see him getting up from his seat as he walks over to you with open arms.
"y/n!" he greeted, welcoming you home. you could see yanqing formally bowing to you in the background.
"hello," you then murmur in his ear, "stop what you're doing. now."
jing yuan blinked, puzzled as you both embraced each other. he tilted his head, murmuring something back.
"eh? of course. what is it?"
"come with me."
jing yuan would blink before nodding, turning to yanqing and gesturing him to put away the paperwork. he then looked back to you, following you down the corridor, which lead into the bedroom that you both shared.
once the doors had closed behind you, you could hear jing yuan look at you with curiosity.
"eh? am i in trouble? look, i get so bored that i need to spam yo—!?"
you grab the man by the shirt before forcing him down to your height, your lips crashing against his. you didn't spare the man a single second to speak at all, as your free hand rummaged down towards his crotch.
"you brat," you curse, playfully biting against his lip as you slowly lead him to the bed as you two made out. you could taste the blood that protruded from the very minor injury you caused against his lips, "shut up and behave."
jing yuan was such a tease. sometimes he was a brat on purpose so he could be dominated by you like this in the bedroom, but this wasn't something he intentionally planned. but also, he didn't mind it either. he loved this side of you. he loved that you were basically wearing the pants in the relationship when it came to your guys' private life.
"y/n," he murmured, finding himself to fall backwards onto his back against the bed as you straddled him. he breathed heavily, embracing the familiar warmth of your hands as they were going towards his crotch again. you were undoing his pants, immediately taking what belonged to you. and rightfully so.
"shut up. did i say you should speak?"
jing yuan had a mischievous look in his eye as he shook his head, obeying your very command. he watched as you undid his pants successfully, before inviting the tip of his already-erect length into your mouth. you wasted no time.
"this is your punishment for annoying the shit out of me while i'm out working," you say, kissing the sides of his throbbing member, "now you're not allowed to work."
"fuck," he grunted as you took him whole again, breathing heavily. your hot mouth definitely had made his head swirl, causing him to not really think properly at this moment. you were already mindfucking him, and you didn't even do anything but have a little sweet taste of him.
"you're speaking again?" your free hands came to mess with the jewels that hung underneath his length, occupying your mouth with his member once more. you were punishing him, and even if he came, you would keep pleasuring him despite how sensitive he was feeling at this very moment.
jing yuan bit his lip, wanting to apologize, but he couldn't. instead, he breathed, clutching his fingers against the bed sheets of his mattress as you practically sucked the life out of him...and he finally gasped, his legs twitching as he felt the sensation of releasing his seed inside of your mouth just reaching at the top.
and you knew it.
so, you continued, guiding your tongue up and down against this skin, welcoming the blossoming of his sticky, hot liquid that immediately burst into your mouth. you swallowed every drop, but you didn't stop either. this time, you had nearly forgotten about the command that you gave to jing yuan, especially when he had started saying your name quietly.
"y-y/n...w-wait... ah— i just, please—"
but that didn't stop you.
and you welcomed the taste of his climax once more, swallowing every bit and drop that left his erect member. jing yuan was tired, but you didn't plan on finishing him...not just yet. you wanted your own fun, too.
licking your lips, you undid your pants and lifted your shirt, letting jing yuan admire the sight before him. he wanted to reach out to grab you, but he knew you didn't properly give him the command to touch you. instead, like an obedient puppy he was now, he watched you.
as you straddled him, you placed his erect member inside of you. you gasp quietly, sighing with relief as you felt your walls separate, welcoming the familiar, throbbing member that intruded inside of you. shifting your hips, you began to ride him, holding him steadily as you immediately began to pick up the pace.
"gh—" you heard him breathe against your shoulder, his arms wrapped around you as your rode him. you were rough, and boy did he like that. he was into it, and he adored this side of you.
you felt his tongue, teeth and his lips trail up and down against your neck, leaving marks of his love all over your skin. you were fucking him silly, and he could no longer think.
all he could truly really think about...was you at this moment.
but you were already in a good mood since you were practically mind fucking him, so you decided to reward jing yuan a bit. you gestured him to change positions, allowing him to take you from behind instead.
holding onto the headboard of the bedframe, you allowed jing yuan to thrust and to pump inside of you. you felt every inch of him hit deeper into your area, and it felt too amazing that you were beginning to fill the bedroom with your own moans as well. luckily, the walls were thick, so the both of you could be as loud as you wanted.
it wasn't long until jing yuan had practically came inside of you, but you knew his limits as he was ready to do it over again—because you were going to make him do it. the both of you spent the entire night just fucking each other silly, avoiding work for the day, and just basically filling you up with his seed. an unintentional breeding, but also...breeding you.
he didn't really learn his lesson, truth to be told. he would just annoy you to have these sessions again.
You’d been staring again, but surely it was the only time he'd noticed, losing count of how many times he'd nearly nodded off in place today. You’d been summoned a few hours ago to help navigate the piles of outstanding paperwork on his desk. Why he insisted on the anarchic method you weren’t sure - everyone else had adapted to digital systems - but what General Jing Yuan wanted he got, even if it meant you had to spend what was supposed to be your free afternoon trying to catalogue the mess into some sort of logical order.
“Ah, yes, I...” You round up the last pile on papers on your desk, trying to look preoccupied. “I was admiring your… hair ribbon.”
An amused grin crosses his face, his palm cupping his chin as he leans forward. “My hair ribbon.”
“Mm. It…” You swallow, paperclipping the pile together before placing them down on the desk. “It contrasts nicely with your hair. I was thinking about what colour would work with mine.” You tug a piece of your hair forward, as if you were musing. This is the worst lie that has ever come out of your mouth and he knows it. He must know it.
“I see.”
“Well, if that’s all I can assist with, General, I’ll take my leave.” You stand then, already thinking how therapeutic it'll be to scream into your pillow about this interaction once you're safely back in your quarters.
“No, that’s not all.” Jing Yuan gets to his feet and strides over in what feels like two steps – those long, lean legs of his - and you’re frozen in place as he draws near. He’s a good head taller than you, his collar pretty much level with your eyes, and your heart is thudding at the proximity. Can he hear it?
“What else can I assist you with, sir?” You keep looking straight ahead, watching his Adam’s apple bob in a swallow. There’s no way you can look up at him in the face right now without your cheeks flushing an intense shade of red. Why does he have this effect over you?
“I was just thinking about my hair ribbon and how… distracting it’s been for you this afternoon.”
“I wasn’t distracted, sir. I just got lost in thought for a moment, that’s all.”
“Ah, you think I didn’t notice the earlier looks? You must be aware your pace of work has suffered from it.”
You drop your gaze to the desk. “I apologize, sir.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret – I’ve also been thinking what else it would look good against.”
“Oh?”
Suddenly, one hand grasps your chin and tilts your head up to meet his copper-eyed gaze, before the other encircles around your wrist and he holds it up against his chest. Your eyes widen, before he leans in and whispers in your ear, his breath feeling hot.
“Mm. I think it would contrast nicely against your skin, tied tightly around your wrists.”
“Tied…” you repeat, your breath catches in your throat.
“Suspended above your head, perhaps, as I trail kisses down your sweet neck.” He presses his lips just below your ear in a chaste kiss, before he gently nips your skin between his teeth, causing you to shudder. “Shall we see?”
HSR Characters When You're On Your Period Hcs PT 2!
RAHH PT 2 WITH MORE CHARACTERS SINCE YALL LOVED PT 1 SM
🥀Cw: blood, periods, afab reader, mentions of period sex and smut, non-sexual nudity in himekos, mentions of cramps and headaches
🥀Pairings: jing yuan x reader, welt x reader, himeko x reader, gepard x reader
🥀minors dni with the nsfw portion
JING YUAN
the minute that jing yuan senses any form of discomfort from u, complete and utter chaos ensues
once he realizes ur on ur period, he immediately takes the day off work to pamper u senseless (much to the irritation of fu xuan)
jing yuan will carry u wherever u need to go, pressing kisses to the top of ur head and whispering softly to u
hes very mindful of ur emotions when ur on ur period, and is great at communicating how he feels and asks u to do the same so that he knows when its ok to poke fun at u and when u want him to just take care of u
he'll switch between joking around with u and trying to make u laugh and taking care of u depending on what u need from him at the moment
JING YUANS HANDS ARE DEF HUGE AND HE GIVES THE BEST MASSAGES LIKE SIR-
if ur feeling tension or pain in ur stomach or back bc of cramps expect him to give u the best massage of ur life
he can and will cook for u <3
he will let u lay with mimi, and loves silently watching the two of u just relax together big cat go brrr
jing yuan will rest with u if ur havinv a headache, turning off the lights and running his hand over ur back as u take a nap
if u need ANYTHING during ur period, say no more bc jing yuan will get it for u
hes has no problem with going to a store and buying pads, tampons, medicine, or anything else u need
when it comes to period sex, jing yuan is always dtf
he def has a size kink, hes fucking huge after all and when ur on ur period and ur so sensitive hes going feral
i feel like he would enjoy mating press in general, but when ur on ur period he especially enjoys it bc he can see how blissed out ur face is and he loves seeing ur blood and slick in a messy ring around his cock as he brings u to ur orgasm again and again
HE LOVES HOW SENSITIVE U ARE AND ABSOLUTELY WILL TEASE U AB IT, IF U GUYS HAVE TO GO TO SOMETHING FORMAL YALL KNOW HES GONNA BE TEASING U MERCILESSLY
thinking ab jing yuans large hand gripping ur thigh, trailing higher and higher to press where u want him, so close but yet so far as he whispers the filthiest things in ur ear. eventually, his hands reach ur pulsing core, pressing down against ur clit through your undergarments and watching u squirm as he circles the sensitive bud, ur pussy is so wet from blood and arousal and he just cant help but want u...
WELT
welt is totally the type to help u track ur period, he is always super prepared for when u start ur cycle and always has products ready
he is a smart guy, he knows a lot ab periods and how to deal w them and is super reliable when it comes to comfort
he also cooks for u, and would bring u breakfast in bed!!! i also feel like he'd be the type to read to u, say for example ur exhausted with all of ur cramps and wacky hormones, he'll lay in bed with u and read ur favorite book to u while the both of u eat the food he made for u
welt probably already has a stash of period supplies for u, but if u ever run out he would prob just go to himeko to get more supplies for u
welt prob has headaches of his own with all the stress he goes through on a regular basis since hes a trailblazer, and would be super comfortable to just lay with
if ur hormones r being wacky and ur upset or anxious ab something, he is a really great person to vent too cuz hes an outstanding listener and always adds good input
if ur having cramps, he already has a heating pad or ice pack ready for u
welt is the type to make u both a pillow fort to watch movies in and read in while ur struggling with ur period, so that neither of u can be distracted
if u ever get blood on the sheets/on ur clothes while sleeping, welt is never grossed out or disgusted. he understands its a regular bodily function, and will give u a reassuring hug before going to wash the sheets /clothes for u
welt is always very careful during sex, and that also comes in during period sex
he wouldnt ever want to seriously hurt u, and would be very careful during period sex
hes constantly asking if ur ok and if ur comfortable
i think welt would really be into missionary cuz its a pretty intimate position for him and he gets to see ur face and know how hes making u feel
EYE CONTACT!!!! HE IS ALWAYS MAKING EYE CONTACT
will not hesitate to go down on u and eat u out while ur on ur period, he will lay a towel beneath u two for cleanliness and then proceed to eat u out like a starved man, working his tongue and licking ur clit until ur seeing stars
pull his hair hard, it will catch him off guard and make him groan against ur pussy
hes really good at aftercare as well, brewing u some tea and running a bath and he'll give u a massage as well
welt would probably be the first to suggest period sex, esp if u had cramps bc orgasms can help w cramps
overall, supee caring and loving
HIMEKO
listen, she's prepared too
himeko has a lot of period products cuz she also has a period (duh) and likes to be prepared and is always willing to share w u
if the two of u are synced up, she will totally be fine with just being lazy all day and laying with u in bed
she enjoys admiring u and the both of u will have relaxing days doing ultimately nothing
himeko would brew coffee for u if ur tired, and would nap with u if u genuinely wanted to sleep
she would give u massages and would prob want one in return, she would def want ur shirt off tho so she can admire ur body while she massages u
she'll press kisses to wear ur having cramps while gently and soothingly running her hands up ur thighs
if ur hormonal, himeko is good to talk too bc the both of u can vent ur stress together and lean on eachother
if ur sad or crying himeko will kiss away ur tears, whispering to u softly and telling u stories ab the worlds shes visited to calm u down
now if someone MADE U CRY.... theyre getting their ass beat
if ur having cravings, she will go to any world u want to get the food u want i feel like she would be the type to have super bad cravings so she always has a stash of comfort foods locked away for the both of u to eat
cant cook for shit tho 💀 she can only brew coffee
yall will bathe together u dont have a choice- she will wash u and u can wash her, she'll sigh and hum softly as u run ur hands through her red curls-
when it comes to sex in general, himeko is either pretty rough or pretty vanilla there is no between
i feel like she'd lean on the vanilla side of things when ur on ur period, esp if shes on her period as well
she has a mommy kink, and loves to "take care of u" during period sex since the both of u are practically insatiable do to hormones
LOVES TO EAT U OUT UNTIL UR OVERSTIMULATED AND WHINING FOR HER TO STOP
I ALSO FEEL LIKE SHE WOULD BE A HORRIBLE TEASE AS WELL, TYING U UP AND ONLY PRESSING A VIBRATOR AGAINST UR WET CUNT AND TELLING U TO COME ONLY FROM THAT STIMULATION BEFORE SHE EVEN ACTUALLY TOUCHES U
she has a lot of toys, and will use them on u since ur so sensitive
a sadistic part of himeko enjoys seeing u cry from pleasure and overstimulation during sex, she definitely wants to ruin u
"aw, ur getting so worked up sweetie" she coos softly, running her fingers against ur wet slick. she pulls back, revealing her hands covered in ur blood. she proceeds to lick them dry, moaning from ur taste as the delectable and filthy act makes u whimper below her...
yo i went off for a second there anyways-
GEPARD
tbh ur prob one of the first people hes ever been with, i feel like he wouldnt have a lot of experience in dating but would try his best, he knows ab periods from his sisters but isnt super knowledgeable on them
when u first tell gepard ab ur period, he would probably instantly hug u
he would ask serval ab anything he didn't understand, and she would tease him mercilessly ab being a simp for u💀
gepard is often super busy with his silvermane guard duties but will take time off to care for u
if ur having cramps or need any supplies, he will go and buy anything and everything that u need to feel better
hed prob buy like 20 boxes of pads/tampons cuz he didnt know how much u neeeded, hes confused but hes got the spirit <3
HE CAN COOK I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL malewife behavior AND WILL COOK FOR U
MAKES U ANYTHING U WANT
if ur the type to workout and go to the gym when ur on ur period to help with cramps, he will accompany u!!!
gepard just wants to make sure that ur comfortable and happy
i feel like hes anothe person whos big on giving massages, he'd blush a little and fumble at first cuz he'd be afraid of hurting u but would be really good at it over time
gepard would play u music if u were tired and needed a nap, or would hum for u softly its so adorable
he understands that u dont say everything u mean when ur on ur period and that ur hormones can make u upset some times so if u guys ever argue he never takes it personally
if hes confused ab something he probably wont say it unless u ask him ab it, he doesnt want to seem stupid or incompetent in ur eyes
hes trying his best!!!!
if gepard heard that orgasms can help with cramps, he would def offer to help u
to yk, ease the cramps. no other reason. totally not cuz seeing u sensitive and needy turns him on...
gepard is SUCH a pleasure dom, he always puts ur needs before his esp during period sex and will make u climax from his fingers a few times before even thinking ab fucking u
would be hesitant to eat u out, but i feel like he'd really like it if u rode his face
gepard would also like u riding him in general, and he is another sucker for eye contact- seeing ur eyes roll back in pleasure from sensitivity only makes him harder, he will start thrusting into u faster, so eager to please u<3
he really enjoys aftercare as well, he'll press soft kisses all over ur body as he wipes u off with a towel and preps a nice bath for u both to enjoy <3
URGEHHRHEHEH THIS WAS SM FUN TO WRITE! i still feel like shit lmao. im considering writing a pt 3 to this if anyone has anymore hsr characters they'd like to req! hope u enjoyed!!
Beyond All-Knowing (EWTG - Special Chapter 1) Jing Yuan x Reader
MASTERLIST
Author's Note: This has been in my drafts for like idk 5(?) months or 6 months (Teya if you're reading this, pls dont read this bc this is def someone else's personality smh ASOINDJADKANDAK :crocodile: :pensive:) I'm just happy this is alrd posten I aint doing this again jk jk
Synopsis: When you and Jing Yuan were sent to a mission to attempt testing some experimental medicine to mara-struck soldiers but it seemed to have a different side effect.
Genre: SMUT (ITS NOT ME, I THINK ITS SOMEONE ELSE SMH)
WC: 3.4k
"S-s-so! Miss Y/N would you like to…" One of the physician's assistants was about to ask you something when Jing Yuan interrupted.
"Would she like to what?" Jing Yuan rested his back at the wall and caught your attention.
"Oh! Jing Yuan, you're here!" You happily replied, the assistant looked like he was upset because of the sudden appearance of the honored one.
"Y/N why won't you finish getting the herbs so I can finish my share of work." Jing Yuan sighed annoyingly and walked away.
A few hours later.
“Jing Yuan! I got the herbs you need, as ordered by Sifu… Although I found some weird new herbs growing too and I plucked them out.” You said opening the door to his bedroom-slash-laboratory like, carrying a basket full of herbs and other berries that can be eaten for snacks.
“I’m so frustrated about making herbal medicine, shouldn’t we just pass this responsibility to the physicians?” Jing Yuan rants as he faces the bane of his existence, making herbal tea.
“Well, you are, in fact, a candidate to be the successor of Sifu, you must be all-knowing Jing Yuan.” You sighed and explained to him.
“Let me just give you these herbs…” You added and quickly left the room since Jing Yuan doesn't like to be bothered that much especially when he's studying herbs and medicines.
After roughly 3 hours and a half, Jing Yuan has finally finished making 20 identical vials of very concentrated experimental cure against mara.
You and Jing Yuan were assigned to a mission where you'd fight against mara stuck soldiers and force them to drink the vial after being revived in battle. It was hard but Jing Liu knew that there's no pair in Xiaozhou Luofu that can execute this mission with no flaws, she knew her students better than anyone.
You and Jing Yuan took your leave and headed to cloudford.
"Don't you find it odd Jing Yuan, there's no soldiers around here." You said and sighed as your eyes wandered above and beneath every box in the area and not a single mara struck cloud knight was to be found.
"Yeah, it is weird. I wouldn't be even surprised if we were to be ambushed right now by the enemy." He said and laughed as if the two of you would get defeated by a rookie assassin.
"Say, Jing Yuan, I'm quite curious if you're fancying someone… Perhaps I want to know what kind of ladies you are into. I think it's a privilege to know the future general, the successor of Jing Liu, what's their type, hehe." You said and laughed as you jumped box after box, playing around the area and stopped after you spotted something.
Jing Yuan was quick to follow you and sneaked behind you.
"I'm more curious what made you ask that question suddenly… Hmmm, let's see. I would probably love someone that's a carbon copy or someone who shares the same discipline and characteristics of Sifu." He held his chin with his hand and then wrapped them around your waist and pulled you closer and whispered something to your ear.
"You see, that's the enemy." Jing Yuan pointed out a mara struck soldier sitting in the middle, it appears to have an abnormal behavior compared to other cursed soldiers.
You and Jing Yuan disappeared in a second to ambush the cursed soldiers quickly to force their revival and attempt to use the vials Jing Yuan had created earlier.
Except everything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
You and Jing Yuan were completely unaware that the cursed soldiers' abilities had mutated, therefore they wouldn't act the same as the others.
Instead of being revived, the mara struck soldier has self-destructed in front of you and Jing Yuan and a flash of light has appeared between your eyes.
Little did you know that, that flash of light was just to blind you temporarily and is something that you should not worry about.
"Jing Yuan!" You shouted.
"Y/N, there's a chance that we may have been inflicted with the curse-" Jing Yuan didn't hesitate to drink one vial of the experimental cure that he made because he knew that it's better to be safe than sorry. At that moment, he was quite confident about his knowledge on herbs but he was wrong in one thing.
As a matter of fact, Jing Yuan did not create a cure at all. It was something different.
You were too slow to stop him from doing so and before you could dash towards him, he had swallowed the entire vial already.
"Don't worry about me Y/N, let's just… stay here for a moment." He said and sat on a nearby corner, you thought that he sounded like he was tired and assumed that it was probably because of the flash of light that appeared.
"Then I should also take this vial-" You said but Jing Yuan stopped you from doing so.
"No, if anything goes wrong with me because of the medicine. You would be the one to carry me back in the city and therefore a proper diagnosis can be made.
Jing Yuan's body temperature began to rise a little and he has sweat profusely. As a response, you took one of your clothing that covers your front and used it to wipe Jing Yuan's sweat which made him have a good view of the cleavage of your lovely soft breasts.
Jing Yuan has realized that he may have created an aphrodisiac instead of the cure earlier. He was too vulnerable to speak right now because of his blood rushing somewhere else in the bottom of his body because of the beautiful sight that he is currently blessed with right now.
"Is the vial not working?! D-damn, Maybe you need more. I'll get them for you Jing Yuan." You attempted to find the vials but his manly arms had captivated your entire body, preventing you from finding the vials.
Due to Jing Yuan's weakened state, you managed to break free and grabbed as many vials as you could gather. You thought that if he doesn't want to drink more of it, he might be still under the control of the curse.
So you opened 9 vials and poured them in your mouth and kissed Jing Yuan to force him to swallow the vial.
You wrapped your tongue around his as you were exploring every bit of his mouth when you felt his arms wrapped around your body with one hand traveling its way slowly to your head, pulling you closer to him.
The two of you shared a passionate kiss together with saliva mixed with the vials stringing out from both of your mouths.
Your cheek heated up after the kiss, somehow you still have no idea what the vial contains and felt aroused.
Jing Yuan gently cupped your left breast and you let out a gasp and moaned a little because of his actions. He squished it a little and tried to feel your hardened nipple.
You kissed him again and said in a very seductive tone.
"Let's do this somewhere private like your bedroom or your office~"
"Does my office sound good to you, hm? Darling?"
You nodded and kissed him again and he carried you in a bridal way back to the city.
—
"What happened to Y/N? Is she injured?" The physicians asked when Jing Yuan walked towards his office.
"She's not, just tired. I'll take good care of her." Jing Yuan said as he held you tightly and pulled you closer to him. You realized how huge of a man Jing Yuan is and you're about to be dominated by him.
He enters his office with you and locks the door as he places you in his bed. Jing Yuan started to remove his clothes leaving his pants, making him half naked. You blushed, admiring seeing his toned body and you knew that you are also the only person seeing Jing Yuan like this. You imagined your hands going on his six-pack abs while kissing him.
"Like what you see?" He joked about it.
"No, I love it." You smirked and replied.
He joins you in bed and kisses you.
"Should we continue where we left off?" He said in a seductive manner and you just turned yourself on top of him and pushed him down in bed to just kiss him.
His hands traveled on your thighs, grasping it and pulled your tight skirt up, exposing your soaking wet panties.
You got up from your kiss and were about to remove your clothes but Jing Yuan stopped you from doing so.
"Allow me to strip you naked, love~" He said in a very deep tone, it felt like he was begging you to make him see every inch of your skin.
He got up and trailed his hands from your breasts to your waist, down to your ass.
He kissed your cleavage hardly enough to leave a hickey in the middle and smelled your body. He kept on kissing your breasts as he began to unbutton your clothes.
Jing Yuan was a few moments away from seeing your lovely soft breasts, his tongue has been aching to lick and play with your hard nipples.
He looked at you for a moment before pulling away the cloth covering your precious pearls and he was stunned and astonished by how delicate your breasts are.
He kissed both of your nipples and played with it. You sat on his hardened crotch and began to grind against it.
Jing Yuan whimpered from your sudden movement.
"Hngh~ I want to be inside of you-!" He said in your ear.
You grabbed one of the vials again, the faintly sweet aphrodisiac that brought the two of you into this and poured it down your breasts to lure Jing Yuan.
He was shocked and immediately grabbed your boob and sucked and licked on every drop of the vial that has been boosting up his sex drive while you continued to grind your soaking pussy against his hard bulge.
Jing Yuan grabbed the tiny piece of clothing that's covering the last of the remains of your dignity and broke it leaving you completely naked against him.
He pulled his pants down and whispered "You ready love? This might hurt a little~" He smiled and kissed you.
You nodded because you haven't had a glimpse of how huge his penis is until you did.
"W-wait!" You said but you felt a sharp pain as his thick cock slowly made its way inside you.
"F-fuck, you're so tight love-" Jing Yuan, whimpered as he tried not to move a lot in order not to hurt you.
"The thought of S-sifu might actually knock on your door right and o-or even little Yangqing coming over, asking if you could p-play with him- The thought of us getting caught in a position like this makes me so h-horny!" You said and moved up and down to adjust yourself but it still hurts a little.
"You're so beautiful, love" Jing Yuan placed his head on your neck and began to kiss and bite it while he had one of his hands on your back and the other one was playing with your boob.
"Should I unlock the door?" Jing Yuan jokingly reached out on the door of his bedroom but you struggled to reach for his arm and attempted to stop him from doing so and you felt like his penis as thrusted inside-out of you within those seconds except it no longer hurts.
You wanted to confirm that something felt really good and you bounced once again and felt the tip of his penis hit your upper walls that helps stimulate your clit.
You rode his penis slowly and created small moans.
"I love to hear you create louder sounds like that, princess." Jing Yuan said and began to fuck you.
"Oh gosh~ Jing Yuan, you're so good~ You're hitting a spot, you're making me feel good-! Gosh! You're going to make me cum!" You said as he held on your thighs tightly and fucked you good, he admired your round breasts bouncing up and down.
He carried you with his cock inside and went outside his bedroom.
"Where are you taking me?" You asked but he said nothing. He began to wall you on his office door and pound you hard leaving these sounds across the walls of the room.
"Y-you're going to create suspicions with the workers!" You said.
"Exactly, moan my name loud or I'll stop fucking you" He ordered and you just began to moan his name out loud.
"Jing Yuan! You're so good! It's so hard, big, and strong~ Do it harder!" You moaned out loudly and he kept on pounding you harder, enough to make the walls shake.
On the other side of the wall, Yukong was the first to notice what on heaven's sake was happening in Jing Yuan's office. The other workers had taken notice of it but they just blushed and remained quiet because they have high respect for you and Jing Yuan and should never speak anything bad towards the two of you.
"Knowing Jing Yuan, I think he wants to show off his ownership against the people fancying Miss Y/N. I'm pretty sure you're well aware that Miss Y/N is a very beautiful lady and being under Jing Liu just makes her one of the most respected women in this place." Yukong stated to some of her workers.
"Kindly avoid passing through the hallways of Jing Yuan's office or get your salary deducted" She added and the workers nodded.
Some of the workers that had a crush on you were even jealous and were very curious to see your womanly face in bed.
But they can't do anything even courting you because as they speak, you are being marked as a part of Jing Yuan's territory that no man has the courage to step foot on.
—
"God darling! You're so good! Can I plant my seed for you?" Jing Yuan asked as he attempted to catch his breath because he's been pounding you non-stop and a knot is beginning to form in his lower abdomen.
"Yes! Give it all to me! Plant your seed for me!" You moaned out and kissed him.
"I'm going to give you my children Y/N! I want you to stop training under Sifu and be my wife. I'll swear to protect my wife until the end of time and carry my duties as a husband whilst being the general." He said and began whimpering.
"So the woman that you've been fancying for so long~ was me?" You said and he just kissed you hard with his tongue exploring every bit of your mouth.
"Y-yeah!" He continued to whimper while thrusting his cock inside and outside.
"Y-you almost slipped away from my fingers! The assistant of the physician was about to ask you out- I've been wanting you for so long but I never had the courage to do so!" Jing Yuan added as he hardly pushes his big and long cock, destroying you, stirring up your insides.
"I'm going to make you mine" Were the last words that he said before finishing inside of you.
Jing Yuan doesn't pull out as he wraps his arms around you and spoons you in bed in front of him. You could still feel his pulsating member throbbing inside of you while he brushes your hair and you curl up in front of his toned chest getting ahold of his manly smell.
"It's gonna be so embarrassing when I come out of your office later" You said and buried your face more onto him, cheeks heating up.
"Who said you'll come out here? You're not going to come out of here until my cock calms down. Let's just… take a rest for now." He said hugging you to sleep.
—
"Jing Yuan, you aren't slacking off with my task aren't you?" A familiar voice was heard behind the doors.
Jing Yuan's eyes immediately opened and he stood up naked, trying to find a robe he could cover himself with temporarily.
It's Jing Liu, he could never mistake her voice.
"Hey-" Jing Yuan opened the door a little but Jing Liu grabbed the handle and opened the door widely.
"You're… quite different." She said,
"I was really tired yesterday and the task you gave me took everything outside of myself" Jing Yuan firmly stated as his words hold double meanings.
"Go prepare yourself… I'll get Y/N in her room" Jing Liu took a deep breath and began walking away when Jing Yuan grabbed her arm.
"I… I'll get Y/N, err… we were having bets yesterday and had a little fun with the task you gave me." Jing Yuan lied which Jing Liu obviously knew and decided to play it off and have it his way.
"Whatever." She says.
—
"Y-Y/N! S-sifu's waiting for us-" Jing Yuan frantically tapped your cheeks in an attempt to wake you up. Your body was wrapped in his blankets due to the mess you made last night.
Your drowsy eyelids open a little and you see the majestic form of Jing Yuan on top of you.
"Jing Yuan, I'm too sore to even stand up- Gosh, you're so handsome" You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.
"Y-Y/N, now's not the time for this-" Jing Yuan pulled away as the blanket began to unravel.
"You had it your way last night!" You said and pinned Jing Yuan in bed.
Jing Yuan looked away as you began to remove the blanket leaving you completely naked and used it to tie his hands at his back.
"Look at me, I only want you to look at me" You said as if you were a witch manipulating him, he immediately obliged and looked at your heavenly body.
As if a few moments ago he was panicking within the presence of Jing Liu, he was immediately focused on you.
You positioned yourself on his pulsating member and caressed his chest slowly with your soft fingers.
"Y-Y/N, l-let me touch you" Jing Yuan begged as his hands were struggling to be free.
"I guess you need to ask for it" You said as you slid your glistening folds up and down on his cock, enjoying the whimpers that Jing Yuan was creating.
"Y-Y/N, please let me be inside of you! Slide it gently and slowly-" Jing Yuan said followed by a loud moan when you inserted his member inside of you faster and roughly.
You gasped.
"That feels good~" You said in his ears before kissing his neck as you indulge in his hard member.
Jing Yuan takes this opportunity to attempt unraveling the knot that you made on him, making sure that you won't notice a bit.
You stared at the ceiling with your mouth open wide and tongue out near Jing Yuan's mouth, your breath has become short and it becomes faster as each thrust goes by.
He felt so special that you consented into offering yourself to him.
And at last, he finally untied himself.
Jing Yuan stared at you enjoying yourself on top of him, he loved how your hands were traveling and your fingers tracing his body.
"I'm about to cum-" You said as you bounced your hips a little faster until you felt your hands on your back.
"You're having the fun all by yourself" He smirked and grabbed your waist and fucked you rough and faster on that moment.
You uncontrollably moaned as you felt like your cum was induced and wanted to feel it again to make sure that you weren't rushed into doing it.
"Cream me" You whispered to his ear.
"I know." He replied back and hugged him tightly, nails burying at his back as he continues to fuck you rough in bed and make sure that you're filled of his cum until you're full and leaking.
—
"Where are your students?" Yukong asked Jing Liu.
"I supposed they're training somewhere together, they do not wish for me to be involved" Jing Liu sighs as she knew exactly what the two of you were doing.
—
A month after, Jing Yuan immediately asked for your hand in marriage which you happily agreed to. He couldn't wait any longer to make you his wife.
He wanted to make sure that everyone sees you as his wife and you get the treatment you deserve.
Then one day you don't know how to break the news to your husband that there's going to be a new family member that's currently residing in your womb <3
I don't think Jing Yuan is the type to go fast or be rough; no, he takes his time; he cherishes every second with you taking his time, every touch of his fingers, tracing every curve, or gently kissing every part of your body. The only time he has ravaged you till you couldn't walk was when he gets highly pent up or can't shake his anger and comes storming into your room, wrapping his hand firmly around your throat and demanding you submit to him.
When he knows his day is just sitting in his office doing paperwork, he'll have you sit pretty in his lap, his fat cock stuffed deep inside of you, a hand underneath your shirt, idly rolling his thumb over your nipple while his pencil scratches at the paper. He doesn't mind if you square him now and then when in fact, he loves the feeling of his cock stretching you out every time you move. However, you better cease your misbehavior when he places a hand on your leg, this husky voice whispering in your ear, asking for your patience.
You're just so cute; The General can't help but shower you in praises when you're desperately grasping at the sheets, bracing yourself as you're about to cum on his cock.
『 " Yes, you're being so good today.~ Do you like when I'm deep inside you like this? Hehe~ your mews are so cute. Keep being a good pet, and I'll give you a nice reward, pretty thing."』
However, his biggest kinks are pet play and breeding. He'll have a nice collar made with the finest materials fitted right around your neck. He'll make sure it's snug, comfortable, yet strong. It at least has to be durable enough to take a few tugs.
His pet play kink was one of his more recent kinks, a deep feeling of desire that was unlocked within him; when he saw you gazing in the mirror inspecting the new choker you bought, his eyes widened when he saw the lace cloth around your neck. Somehow you looked more irresistible, a thought he never knew was even possible. But the proof was there the heat was beginning to pool in his loins, and his animalistic desire to stake his claim over you drove his feet forward, his smile sweet yet borderline predatory, his golden eyes focused on your nas as he stocks forward his hands caress your naked collarbone his fingers dancing across your delicate neck. You felt your lover's teeth graze against your earlobe.
"Are you trying to seduce me?"
Jing Yuan doesn't prefer to pull out. He'd instead push you one final time to reach as deep as possible before filling you. He likes the feeling of your walls milking him dry. He's almost addicted to it, possibly even having your cock warm him after you both cum. Though he would never do this without your consent, of course, he'd always ask politely to cum inside you before you fills you up.
The idea of staking his claim on you with his cum never fails to arouse him deeply. One of his most favorite sights is his beloved pet laying in his bed, nesting in beddings of the finest silks, their tummy having a noticeable bump, and his favorite Ivory and gold collar around their neck.
Imagining your belly round and swollen with his child does things to him that he can't describe he would not mind having a kid of his own even though kids are quite... troublesome; he's sure he'll have something planned( perhaps even going overboard).
He whispers about how good he'll take care of you. He'll make sure all your weird little cravings and needs are met. And make sure you don't lift a finger. To worship your aching body every day that's overrun with hormones.
His absolute most favorite things in the world are being inside you and napping. And words cannot describe how happy you would be to wake up to your mouth worshiping his cock. A sleepy smile appears on his face as his hand gently pats your head. Jing Yuan will spread his legs and grab a fistful of your hair to prepare himself to move deeper into your mouth.
And he will give the same treatment to you. Consensual, of course. When he wakes up before you, Jing Yuan will touch and grind against your naked body. Preparing you for his cock to sink itself inside when he holds one of your legs up.
A sleepy Jing Yuan will wrap his arms around you, a hand dipping into your pajama bottoms, sliding them off. His hard cock nuzzles in between your thighs. You felt his stiff pulsating shaft barely rub against your sex. Before those hands continue to your hips lazily, he rolls his hips sucking air into his lungs. While his teeth sink into his bottom lip, your plush thighs feel amazing around his precum-slicked shaft. You are still peacefully sleeping; however, that only makes you more irresistible.
Jing Yuan's face would be buried into your shoulder, muffling his moans. Focus solely on how your wettening sex ground deliciously against his moving rhythmically against your body, trying desperately to listen to any of the slightest noises your bodies make together.
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