EXPAND ON DAN HENG NIBBLING ON HIS S/O AND MY LIFE IS YOURS
“My Life is Yours”
Summary: Dan Heng teases his partner with playful nibbles and gentle affection. As he explores the unique ways dragons show affection, his actions are full of both mischief and tenderness. Through laughter and a touch of vulnerability, Dan Heng expresses his deep affection, promising that his life belongs entirely to his partner, and they share a mutual, heartfelt bond.
Tags: Dan Heng IL x Reader, Fluff, Light Teasing, Affectionate Teasing, Playful Nibbling, Intimacy, Romantic Confession, Soft Moments, Mutual Affection.
Warnings: Mild Physical Affection (Nibbling and Playful Teasing), Soft Language and Tone, but No Explicit Content.
The dim, golden light of the Astral Express illuminated the quiet library, where the faint rustle of pages filled the air. You were curled up in one of the plush chairs, your legs tucked under you as you read, utterly absorbed in your book. Across from you, Dan Heng sat with his own tome, his elegant horns catching the light like crystalline crescents. His vivid eyes occasionally flicked to you, watching the way your brow furrowed in concentration, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of a page.
A quiet smile tugged at his lips.
“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice a deep, soothing melody.
You looked up from your book, smiling softly. “More than comfortable. What about you?”
He hummed in response, closing his book with deliberate care. “I’m... content,” he admitted, his gaze steady but laced with a glimmer of mischief you didn’t quite catch.
As he stood and crossed the room, your eyes followed him, curiosity bubbling. Without a word, he settled beside you, the warmth of his presence immediately engulfing you. His fingers brushed your cheek, tilting your head to meet his eyes, which now sparkled with a teasing glint.
“Do you know,” he murmured, his voice low and almost conspiratorial, “dragons show affection in unique ways?”
Before you could respond, you felt the ghost of his lips against your neck. A shiver ran down your spine as he pressed a feather-light kiss just below your jaw. His sharp teeth grazed your skin, playful and teasing, sending sparks of electricity through you.
“Dan Heng,” you managed, a laugh slipping from your lips, “what are you doing?”
He pulled back slightly, his expression calm but his eyes betraying his amusement. “Exploring this... peculiar tradition,” he said, leaning in again. This time, his teeth gently nipped at the curve of your shoulder, a sensation that made your breath hitch. “Do you dislike it?” he asked softly, though he already seemed to know the answer.
You swatted at him half-heartedly, your cheeks burning. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I enjoy you too much,” he countered smoothly, his voice dipping lower. His nibbling became more insistent, tracing up your neck and along the edge of your jaw. Each playful bite sent a jolt of warmth through you, a mixture of surprise and affection.
“Dan Heng!” you protested again, laughter bubbling uncontrollably now.
He chuckled, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re so expressive,” he whispered. “I can’t help myself.” His hand found yours, threading your fingers together. “It’s fascinating—seeing you like this.”
Your breath hitched, the intimacy of his words grounding you. His lips lingered at your temple, where he pressed a gentle kiss, his nibbling now replaced by tenderness. “You know, in my past life, I was taught that everything a dragon treasures is theirs to protect.”
He leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes shining with unspoken promises. “And you... are what I treasure most.”
Your heart swelled, your earlier embarrassment melting away. “Dan Heng…”
He brought your intertwined hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. “My life is yours,” he said softly, his voice a solemn vow. “Every part of me—past, present, and future.”
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against the smooth line of his jaw. “Then we’re even,” you said with a smile, “because my life is yours too.”
Dan Heng exhaled a soft laugh, his composure finally breaking into something warmer, more vulnerable. He pressed his forehead against yours, his horns glimmering like ethereal ornaments in the soft light. “Then I suppose,” he whispered, his tone light but full of meaning, “I’ll just have to keep nibbling until you believe me.”
a relationship should be 50/50: i tell you you’re stupid for wearing a t-shirt in 2 degree weather and you accept my jacket when i wrap it around your shoulders. SIMPLE.
It’s been a while since I’ve requested, and what better time to come than now.
Thinking about reader that is always scheming. Harmless tricks on their lover, of course.
Like, “misplacing” Sunday’s clothes to a different side of the room just when he’s turned his back. (He forgot something in the bathroom, better go get it—and oh—his clothes are now 3 feet farther than before. Great.)
Like, “misplacing” Jing Yuan’s keys to a hanger on the wall near the door. His fault, really, he turned his back to reader after putting it down on his desk.
Like, “accidentally” writing a bunch of embarrassing (lovey-dovey, basically.) doodles of reader and Veritas Ratio on his whiteboard for his students who know about reader to see.
I have more of these ideas, but 3 is good to stop myself at.
Also, can you tell how much I like colored text? - SAHSRAU apprentice Anon
A Trick of the Heart
Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Fluff, Light-Hearted Mischief, Established Relationship, Affectionate Teasing, Domestic Antics, Romantic Comedy, Soft Moments, Subtle Banter, Mild Crack.
Warnings: Mild Embarrassment, Harmless Pranks, Very Light Language.
A/N: I think you like coloured texts, I'm not sure though. 🤷♀️
The room was unusually quiet for a lecture hall that had just been filled with budding intellectuals. The silence was not due to awe — not entirely — but rather from the growing smirks and stifled laughter spreading across the rows.
Ratio strode into the lecture room, white cloak billowing behind him, alabaster mask perched on the side of his desk. As usual, he swept in like a force of precision and purpose.
Until he saw the whiteboard.
At first glance, it was perfectly clean. Almost too clean. His students—sharp, almost worryingly observant as they were—kept shifting their eyes between him and the top right corner of the board. Ratio followed their gaze.
And there it was.
Drawn in permanent ink (of course it was permanent), a cartoonish version of him — eight degrees and all — holding hands with a starry-eyed version of you, surrounded by speech bubbles like:
"No, I don’t need a Genius Society membership... I already have you ♡"
“My calculations lead me to a 99.9% certainty: you’re adorable.”
He stared. Silent. Contemplative.
You, hidden just outside the door with a student accomplice, were biting your knuckle to keep from laughing. He’d scold you, surely — he had to scold you. But he’d secretly love it.
Ratio turned to the class, gaze like sharpened glass.
“Who—” he began, voice cutting, “—enabled this statistical anomaly?”
A lone cough in the corner. A stifled laugh. No one dared move.
You strolled in, twirling a marker cap between your fingers like a victory baton.
“Did you like it?” you asked, casually leaning on the desk. “I was just making abstract visualizations of your emotional regression curve. In love, I mean.”
He exhaled slowly. Then—smirked.
“Your methods are unorthodox. Borderline childish. Entirely beneath my academic standards.”
You blinked innocently.
“But effective,” he added, glancing at the board again, “in inciting affection.”
Sunday blinked.
He had definitely placed his coat on the edge of the bed. He even remembered smoothing it out.
So why was it now hanging from the back of the chair… across the room?
“...Strange,” he murmured, stepping away from the bathroom door. He adjusted the halo above his head, wings behind his ears fluttering slightly.
He approached the coat and reached for it.
And then paused.
The white scarf that had been draped on the dresser was now… not. It had mysteriously migrated to the top of a floating lamp, suspended like a prayer flag over the entire room.
He didn’t need to look. He didn’t need to ask. He knew.
"You're doing it again," he said aloud.
From the hallway, your giggle betrayed you.
Sunday turned slowly, golden eyes glinting with something between amusement and resignation.
“You know,” he said, picking his scarf off the lamp with careful grace, “for someone who insists they love me, you certainly delight in prolonging my dressing process.”
“You love the challenge,” you called, emerging from the doorway with a proud grin. “You’re all elegance and celestial grace — but let’s see you chase down a sock.”
One eyebrow arched. “You underestimate how much of my life has been spent retrieving what’s been lost. I will retrieve my dignity, too.”
As he walked past, you moved his coat again — just a few inches this time, barely noticeable. He stopped, turned around slowly, wings twitching with mock suspicion.
You smiled, coy. “Oops.”
Sunday let out a breath that was almost a laugh, the corners of his lips turning upward.
“Your spirit is incorrigible,” he murmured.
“But you adore it.”
“…Yes,” he conceded softly. “I do.”
Jing Yuan stood in the center of his office, robes draped elegantly, arms folded.
“I know I left my keys on the desk,” he muttered.
You sat on the couch nearby, feigning intense interest in a scroll that you’d picked up upside down.
“Hmm?” you asked, pretending to be engrossed in ancient Cloud Knight tactics.
“My keys,” he repeated, turning toward the desk again. “I placed them right here. Then I turned around for—what—five seconds?”
You tilted your head. “Are you sure it wasn’t ten?”
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. His long ponytail swayed behind him as he moved to lift up books, scrolls, even his little toy lion in the corner. Still nothing.
Then his gaze shifted… and landed on the hanger near the door.
The keys were dangling neatly from it, with the decorative tassel you had tied on them — the one that said “#1 Dozing General” in sparkling thread.
He stared. Silent. You were biting your cheek to contain the smile.
“Strange,” he murmured, strolling over with an exaggerated sigh. “You don’t suppose some mysterious spirit moved them, do you?”
“Oh, you know how sneaky those Luofu spirits are,” you said solemnly. “They’re probably after your title.”
He plucked the keys from the hanger and turned toward you.
“You know, the other Generals don’t have to deal with this kind of espionage.”
“They also don’t have someone who loves them enough to mildly inconvenience them for entertainment,” you said sweetly.
Jing Yuan walked over, leaned down, and kissed the top of your head.
“You’re lucky I enjoy your mischief.”
“You’re lucky I restrain myself from hiding all your belts.”
walking ahead of the others hand in hand. voices low. making fun of everyone else for walking slow when we know damn well we ran in front of them. they probably think we’re annoying. i think you’re lovely.
