Grabbing an overworked switch by the collar and finally giving her the relief she deserves, ordering her into position, guiding her through scenes she has played out for others so many times but never gotten to experience for herself.
LILY HIII ITS 🌟 ANON!! thank u sm for writing my requests seriously i appreciate u sooooo so much <3 your writing scratches an itch in my brain while im swamped with preparing for finals (which start tmr RIP LMAO)
ahh but anyway… jing yuan! i think you can tell by my requests that my favourite thing to read/explore about him is his vulnerability, so for my next request what if we go spicy mode?!?!
ehhem, jing yuan and s/o’s first times with each other :3
because i personally think that with how he is in canon he’s never been able to get close enough with anyone to get to that level of vulnerability
again thank u so much for writing my and everyone’s requests!! you make me wanna go right back to writing after my exams are over HEHE
but make sure to take care of yourself and don’t burn yourself out 🫶🫶
(☀️ ANON HI!! congrats on the diploma and good luck with your internship, you got this!! rooting for you from these little notes!!! also, you can’t bite me if i bite you first CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP-)
First Time (Jing Yuan x Reader)
A/N: Hi again 🌟anon! :) Thank you for your kind. :) I’m sorry this request took so long. This request was a little intimidating for me. Jing Yuan has been a comfort character for so long, and I’d never written anything spicy for him before. I wanted to make sure it fit him: vulnerable, intimate, intense, but still grounded in who he is.
I hope this captures what you had in mind. Thank you for your patience and enjoy. 💙
MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact)
Tags: MDNI. Soft Smut. Sexual Intimacy (Not Explicit). First Time Together. Consent-Focused. Romance.
Word count: 1882
⋆ ✦ ⋆
Lanterns flicker in the corners of Jing Yuan’s chambers, casting warm golden light across the room. Tea sits untouched beside him, cooling, forgotten. He’s usually the one filling silences with wry comments or gentle observations.
But tonight he’s quiet.
Too quiet.
Jing Yuan sits beside you on the sofa, posture deceptively relaxed, but his hands are oddly still. His thumb brushes once against his own palm—a tell he doesn’t realize he has when he’s thinking too much, when the weight of something sits heavier than he’d like to admit.
“Are you alright?” you ask finally, voice soft in the stillness.
His eyes lift to yours. Golden, warm, and nervous, in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times. In a way that makes your chest tighten.
“Of course,” he says. Too quickly. Then, with a quieter breath and a self-deprecating smile, “Mostly.”
You’ve learned to hear the space between his words. The things he doesn’t say. The careful distance he maintains even when he’s close.
There had been a shift earlier.
When your hand accidentally brushed his and he didn’t pull away, when he lingered instead of retreating, when he looked at you just a moment too long and you felt the weight of everything unspoken settle between you.
Today feels different.
“I’m not accustomed to this,” Jing Yuan says finally. His voice is low, gentle, but trembling faintly around the edges. “This kind of closeness. The kind that matters.”
Your breath softens. “Jing Yuan…”
He smiles. Faint, self-mocking, almost apologetic. “Don’t look at me like that. It makes it worse.”
“Worse?” you echo.
“Mm.” His eyes flick briefly to your lips and back, and you feel the air shift. “It makes me want to be brave.”
Warmth spreads through your chest, slow and aching.
He reaches for your hand but stops halfway, hovering in the space between you. Waiting, always waiting for permission he never assumes.
“May I?” he asks quietly.
You nod. “Yes.”
His fingers curl around yours, warm and careful, and he exhales unsteadily. Like the touch grounds him. Like he’s been holding his breath for longer than he realized.
“This is ridiculous,” he murmurs, thumb gliding slowly over your knuckles. “I’ve faced mara-struck soldiers without flinching, commanded armies, made decisions about life and death…” His voice trails off, softer now, almost vulnerable. “But you… you unsettle me.”
You laugh quietly, and his mouth twists. Fond, shy, wanting all at once.
“What about me scares you?” you ask.
He leans closer. His forehead almost touches yours.
“That the moment I touch you,” he says in a whisper that feels like a confession, “I won’t want to stop.”
Heat rises in your cheeks, spreads down your neck. Your pulse jumps.
“Then don’t stop,” you say.
The look he gives you is equal parts disbelief and hunger. Raw in a way that makes your stomach flip.
“Say that again,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower. “Slowly.”
You swallow. “Don’t stop.”
The breath he lets out is almost a groan, rough and unsteady.
He cups your cheek and leans in as though he’s giving you every chance to pull back, every opportunity to change your mind.
You don’t.
The first kiss is gentle, testing, his lips warm and careful against yours.
The second is deeper, more certain.
The third breaks you both open. Slow and warm and desperately wanting.
His other hand slides to your waist, hesitant at first, fingers barely pressing, then firmer when you sigh softly into his mouth.
You feel the exact moment he stops holding back quite so tightly. The way his hand flexes against your side. The way his breath hitches.
“Still alright?” he whispers against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you.
“Yes,” you breathe. “More than.”
“Good.” A soft, breathy laugh. “Because I’m not doing very well at restraint tonight.”
The sofa is too small, too confining for the way you’re gravitating toward each other, so he pulls you gently onto his lap. Slow, careful, hands guiding your hips as he watches your expression like he’s memorizing every reaction, every flutter of your lashes.
His forehead rests against yours, breath mingling.
“I want you,” Jing Yuan says softly, honestly. “But I need you to tell me if I should slow down. If anything is too much.”
You nod, cupping his jaw. “I will.”
“Promise?”
You smile. “Promise.”
His eyes flutter shut briefly, and when they open again, there’s something darker there, something that makes your stomach clench with heat.
Jing Yuan kisses you again. Deeper this time, less restrained. His tongue brushes against yours and you gasp softly, fingers curling into his hair.
His hands glide along your thighs, your waist, always pausing at new territory, always giving you time to breathe, to adjust, to say yes or no.
You feel the moment he loses himself a little more. His breath catching audibly, fingers tightening on your hips, a low sound escaping his throat that he tries and fails to suppress.
“Ah,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice threaded with amusement and something breathless, “it seems I’m not nearly as composed as people believe.”
“You don’t have to be composed with me,” you say, and you mean it.
His eyes soften, go molten. “Dangerous words.”
“Why?”
“Because I very much want to believe you.”
He pauses then. Completely. Goes still in a way that feels deliberate, grounding.
His thumb strokes your cheek.
“This is your first time, isn’t it?” he asks quietly. “Truly?”
You nod, suddenly shy under the weight of his gaze. “Yours too.”
He smiles. “I thought so. You look at me the same way I look at you.”
“How’s that?”
“Like you’re afraid of wanting too much.”
Your breath stutters. “…And you?”
“Oh.” His voice roughens. “I want everything.”
He kisses you again, and you feel the change when the moment tips from nervousness into something warmer, heavier, inevitable.
His hands are no longer hesitant. They guide, explore, learn the shape of you with a focused intensity that makes you shiver.
He pulls you closer, fitting your body against his, and the heat between you builds like something ancient waking. Slow at first, then all at once.
“Jing Yuan,” you whisper, and his name on your lips seems to undo something in him.
“Say it again,” he murmurs, voice rough.
“Jing Yuan—”
He kisses you harder, hands sliding under the edge of your clothing, warm palms against bare skin, and you gasp into his mouth.
“You’re sure?” he asks again, pulling back just enough to look at you, to search your expression.
“Yes,” you breathe. “I’m sure.”
He stands then, lifting you with him and carries you the few steps to his bed. He lays you down carefully, following you down, caging you in with his arms.
For a moment he just looks at you, golden eyes dark and intent.
“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly, and it doesn’t sound like flattery. It sounds like fact.
Your face heats. “So are you.”
He laughs and ducks his head, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “Flatterer.”
“It’s true.”
“Mm.” He nips lightly at your skin and you jolt, gasping. He soothes the spot with his tongue and you feel him smile against you. “Noted.”
Clothing shifts. Buttons come undone. Fabric slides away.
Skin meets skin.
The first touch is electric. His chest against yours, warm and solid. You both freeze for a heartbeat, just breathing, just feeling the newness of it.
“Alright?” he whispers.
“Yes.”
His hands explore your body slowly, sliding along your ribs, the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine. He kisses your neck, your shoulder, the hollow of your throat, and everywhere his mouth goes, heat follows.
You arch into him and he makes a low sound against your skin, half-groan, half-sigh.
“You’re so warm,” he murmurs, almost wondering. Like he’s discovering something precious.
When he finally moves against you, slow and careful, you both gasp.
You arch into him, breathless, and his hand flexes on your hip.
He groans softly, forehead dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. “Ah—you feel—” He doesn’t finish, just breathes shakily, trembling slightly. “I didn’t—I didn’t know it would be like this.”
You thread your fingers through his hair, holding him close, grounding him. “Jing Yuan…”
“I know,” he murmurs, voice rough and unsteady. “I know.”
And then there is just this moment. The slide of skin, the catch of breath, the quiet sounds neither of you can quite suppress. He moves carefully at first, watching your face, adjusting when you tense, slowing when you gasp.
But as the rhythm builds, as you both lose yourselves in the heat and closeness, his control frays.
His breath comes harder. His movements less measured, more instinctive. You feel the tremor in his arms, the tension coiling in his shoulders, hear the low, rough sounds he can’t hold back anymore.
Your name falls from his lips, and you pull him closer, nails dragging lightly down his back.
He shudders, hips stuttering, and the sound he makes is broken and beautiful.
“You—” he gasps, voice cracking. “You’re going to ruin me.”
You pull him down into a kiss, deep and desperate, and he groans into your mouth.
When the tension finally crests, breaking over both of you in waves, he holds you through it. Arms wrapping tight around you, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
After, you’re curled against his chest, his cheek resting on your hair. His heartbeat is still fast under your ear, his breathing still uneven.
“…You’re trembling,” he murmurs.
“So are you,” you whisper back.
A huff of laughter vibrates through his chest, warm and genuine.
He presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there. “Careful,” he says softly, “or I’ll start thinking you like me flustered.”
You smile against his skin. “I do.”
He actually blushes—you feel the heat of it.
He pulls you closer, one hand sliding up your back in a slow, soothing caress, the other tangling gently in your hair.
“Thank you,” he whispers against your temple. So quiet you almost miss it.
“For what?”
“For trusting me with this. With you.” His voice is soft. “For choosing me.”
Your throat tightens. “Always.”
Then, quieter, more vulnerable, he asks: “Was I… alright? For your first time?”
You lift your head to look at him properly. “More than alright, Jing Yuan. You were…” You trail off, searching for words, then settle on honesty. “You were perfect.”
A slow, lazy smile curves his lips, and his eyes go soft and warm.
“Good,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, one hand sliding up your back in a slow, soothing caress. “Because I fully intend to improve with practice.”
“Jing Yuan!”
“What?” he asks, entirely too innocent, though his hand is already tracing patterns on your skin that make you shiver. “Did you think one night would be enough for me?”
He leans down and kisses you again. Slow, deep, already building heat again.
“I’m a patient man,” Jing Yuan murmurs against your lips, “but not when it comes to you.”
His hand slides to your thigh, gentle but possessive, and you feel his smile when you gasp.
“Besides,” he says, voice dropping lower, teasing, “I believe I promised to be thorough.”
⋆ ✦ ⋆
A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. :)
content: making out, fem!reader, kinda top!veritas, just making out
okay so we all know veritas is a genius. he will show you how kissing works. he will lead, he’ll guide you where you place your hands, lets you feel the emotions he pours onto you through the kiss. things might escalate the moment you let out a sound, a moan, a whimper. anything that will rile him up and escalate his desire to feel your body further. he’d slide his hands under your shirt just to cup your tits, massage them. literally just feel your skin that has been blocked by your shirt and you’d just try to catch your breath while mimicking his mouth’s movements and reciprocate the kiss. perhaps there’s no more teaching in baby steps but learning through the experience itself since both of you are so lost in thought at the moment, just feeling each other until the both of you are out of breath and you’d remember what you were here for.
can you imagine having a heart to heart with them and you confess your guilt of how you want to also be skilled, or maybe your guilt of how you are too skilled, so that you both can fully enjoy kissing each other?
can you imagine the reassurance kisses, the ones where you take it slow, walking them through it—walking you through it, teaching them—teaching you, praising them—praising you?
nothing does it for me like the ‘surprise! this character that you thought was a beta or maybe even an omega is actually an alpha and they’re really really into you. good luck!’ omegaverse trope
