#whatever other ships include him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heartpiratedrabbles · 2 months

Text

Emotions

Prompt: You leave an argument only to be Shambles back into a tense situation

NSFW

Trafalgar Law X Fem Reader

“Not now.” Law gripes out, gripping Kikoku as he brushes past you. It had been a long day trying to gather information, tracking down pirates to get their hearts. It was a big plan and it was taking longer than he’d like. When he came into his room, he hadn’t been expecting to see you there, arms crossed with a scowl on your face.

“Then when Law? When will you have time to even talk?” Your voice rang through the room of the submarine as you follow him deeper into the room. He promised you 2 hours. 2 Hours that had come and went without so much of a word from him. You had been waiting in his office for most of the day before migrating to where you knew he’d end up so late at night, even Bepo had come to check if you were alright.

You were beyond frustrated at this point, you hadn’t even been the one to suggest the 2 hours, it was Law’s idea after he himself realized how long it had been since the two of you had been alone. You weren’t even fully expecting him to stop his work entirely, whenever he was on the ship he’d be looking over maintenance or other work that had piled up, and you thought maybe he’d just let you be with him while he shuffled through it all. It was certainly better than the past couple of months where he’d banned anyone from bothering him unless it was important.

Fixing up Straw-hat had really shook him, and while he tried not to show it, you knew he was throwing himself into being busy non-stop to not think. Keeping everyone at an arm’s length, even kicking you out of the bedroom the two of you had shared for so long.

He made it clear he wasn’t breaking up with you, but honestly at this point you had little faith in anything, he couldn’t even keep his promise to spend some time with you, the promise he made of his own accord.

“Just leave me alone.” His short and curt words were getting on your nerves. You wanted to be understanding, he had a lot on his plate, but you can count the times you had talked to him over the past month on a singular hand, and that was including this awful interaction. He set his beloved sword down, leaning it against the wall by his bed while he shrugged off his coat. “We can talk tomorrow,” He glances at you with a furrow in his brow, hands gesturing you up and down, “About whatever it is,” He grumbled some more unintelligible words out at the end but all you could hear was ringing in your ears.

Your chest heavy as you tried to take a shaky breath in while turning away from your captain. You didn’t see his head perk up in concern at the noise of your breathing, nor did you see him notice the tears springing up at the corner of your eyes. “Fine. I’m going out tonight.” You tried to sound confident, not wanting to show him a weak side, but your voice came out wavering and weak.

“What? It’s already midnight. The only thing open are pubs.” His voice was a little harsh as you started making your way back to his door. You didn’t drink often, but your throat was beyond dry, and the banging in your head from heavy emotions was getting on your nerves. You didn’t even bother to respond to Law as you reached for the door. “You’re staying here tonight. That’s an order Y/N.” Law stood up, annoyed and angry, not understanding why you were acting this way. It was out of the norm for you, and Law couldn’t handle anything not normal right now.

You heard his words, a tear escaping as you felt something boil up inside you into a weird calm compared to how cold and alone you felt moments prior. “Then think of a punishment for when I get back,” Your tone low and even as you stepped out into the hallway, making your way to the deck.

Law watched as his door shut, there wasn’t a slam nor was it left open. It was eerily normal how you had closed the door and it sent a shiver down his spine. First you yell at him the second he gets back, nearly crying and telling him you’re going out drinking and now this? He couldn’t make sense of the sudden mood changes but it unnerved him, getting on his nerves easily. You had openly ignored his orders, you knew how cruel his punishments could be, cleaning the bathrooms by yourself for a month, only using a rag to clean the entirety of the deck, even re-organizing all the medicine before having to do it again in another ludicrous way.

Law stood there in the middle of his room, frozen as his mind raced. His own chest tugged at him and felt tight as he thought about you going off to drink somewhere. By yourself at that, everyone else had either found a pub already or were asleep, maybe you’d find some crewmates? He felt a lump in his throat form as time was ticking, he couldn’t place the emotion he was feeling and it angered him more than anything else.

Your throat felt tight, but seemed to loosen with the cool night air as you walked closer to the edge of the ship. You could see some tavern lights on from where you had docked and gripped the railing as you stepped onto the gangway placed for convenience. But just as you were going to continue you felt a familiar breeze rip through the air, before you could even blink you were shoved against a wall in the room you had just left a couple of minutes prior.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The angered voice gritted through teeth as a forearm shoved your chest further into the wall, another hand gripping your hip.

You blink for a second to get your surroundings before your own anger unravels, “Trying to go out for once. Captain.” The venom hitting Law as you hardened your glare up at the taller man. His face becoming tight at your wording, the only time you’d call him captain was in front of others, it was his own demand at the beginning of the relationship, but behind closed door you never uttered the title.

You watched as his eyes raced over your face, emotions slowly changing at the recognition of what you had said. You didn’t move, didn’t try to get away, you just stood and stared back up at him with an unmoving face. His fingers digging deeper into your hip before he bared his teeth, “Disrespecting my order.” It was the only thing Law could muster out, not wanting to point out the hurt he felt, “What were you expecting?”

You attempt to suck in a deep breath, calming your mind before responding, “Didn’t realize I was trapped on this vessel Sir.” Your eyes never moving away from his, ignoring how the arm just over your chest was starting to restrict your breathing slightly. “Thought a couple of drinks and some fresh air might be nice considering how long I’ve been aboard.” The lump in your throat forming again as you try to even your voice out again.

The hard line you were attempting to draw between Law and You was getting on his nerves, he’d barely heard your second sentence, too focused on you refusing to call his name like normal. He peers down at you, your hardened face-tinged red from anger. The tension in the air thick enough to cut. Law feels a growl erupt from his throat as he grips your face, tilting your head up before forcefully taking your lips.

You feel the grip on your hip tighten again as you’re taken aback by the sudden motion, gasping before feeling his tongue snake into your mouth. Your mind heavy with anger, but head swimming from the kiss. You attempt to fight the urge to kiss back but give up, instead wrapping an arm around Law’s neck forcing him closer as you fight his tongue with your own. Your other hand pulling at his hair harshly while you attempt to explore his mouth.

The hand on your hip loosening just enough to venture around you, gripping your thigh as you instinctually jump up, pressing your chests together, his other hand supporting your back as he walks towards the bed. The attempt to throw you down fails when your legs tighten around him, refusing to relinquish his lips or hair from your grasp. You feel a huff from him as he throws the both of you onto the mattress, teeth hitting each other as you tighten you grip on his hair.

A couple of tears escape your eyes, and you aren’t sure whether it’s from lack of air, or your emotions. Law takes the initiative to pull back from the kiss, a harsh bite to your lip as he pulls away, eyes opening to see him staring at you still. He narrows his eyes at you, “What did you call me?” The hushed breathing and low tone of his voice giving you whiplash on what you’re feeling.

The anger of wanting to knock him upside the head and walk away while the pleasure of staying and filling every desire in your mind, “What?” You snapped out, barely hearing him talk. Your arms are loosely hanging around him, your hand stinging from how tight your grip was on his hair earlier, before he repeats his words slowly, a leg hiking higher up to nestle itself against your crotch. Eyes tearing into your soul as you actually comprehend his words. You scoff a bit, fighting your body from grinding down for some wanted pressure, “Captain, Sir. That’s what I called you.”

His eyes turn dark and an unpleasant scowl appears on his face a hand quickly wrapping around your neck as he veers closer to you. “Y/N.” He growls out staring a hole through your head, “Say my name.” It finally ticks in your head what’s going on and you can’t help but to feel a little better getting him angry.

Tightening you arms around him to bring him in for a subtle kiss, glancing down at his lips before looking back into his eyes, “That would be disrespectful… Captain.” The hold on your throat tightens a bit before he bites at your lips, trailing down you jaw as he draws closer to your ear.

“Disrespectful...” He tch, leaning back to stare down at you, taking in the sight as your hands falls back around your head. A euphoric feeling washing over you as the pressure around your neck increases. Your eyelids hooding over while your mouth falls open slightly, your fingers hooking around the blanket underneath you. The small gasps escaping you while your head becomes light and heavy at the same time. The snarl on Law’s face transforms into a smirk, “I see how it is.” His voice still low as he releases his hold on you, watching you squirm slightly to catch your breath, “You’re enjoying this.” He gestures slightly, his knee rubbing against you again before he unzips your jumpsuit.

The heavy gasps as your brain starts to think again, your body tingling as his hands brush against your now exposed skin, stripping the suit off your arms, “Cap-tain~” The smallest whimper coming out before he snaps his head back up to you.

“Still with that?” He leans down clearly annoyed at your insistence, peppering kisses against your stomach leading down. Your hands go to cover your breasts, while you hush yourself from any noises you were letting out subconsciously. Your hips rotating as the rest of your clothes are taken off leaving you bare.

Your knees and thighs coming together in the little amount of time Law is no longer between your legs. “That is your title after all,” The hush tones leaving your mouth as you see Law glare at you. His hands running up your legs, brushing against your sensitive areas, glancing up to see you hold back.

“Is that how you’re playing?” He growls towards you, the touches making your body shiver as you attempt to keep eye contact with the one towering above you. You nod slightly, and just as you’re about to say it again he grips your wrists pinning them above your head as he slams his lips against yours again, biting enough that you taste blood.

You groan into the kiss, pushing into the feeling while he slips a leg between yours, hooking one of your own around his hips. A quick pull of your leg catches him off guard as he falls on top of you, just enough that you can feel the tent in his own pants.

“Y/N.” He breathes out, his eyes begging you to call for him. When he realizes you won’t stop this game of calling him captain, he rips away from you. You let a frustrated moan escape you before quieting down, not wanting to give Law a sense of control here. “If I’m your captain even here,” His words drawl out, his back turned towards you while he walks towards a chair in the corner of the room, “Then you can come and please me yourself.” He sits down, unbuttoning his shirt before leaning back and staring at you from his spot.

You lean on your elbows, staring at the man in front of you with anger boiling in you again. “Excuse me?” You bark out, not believing the sight in front of you. Law glances up and down, a smile playing on his lips as he sees your anger rise.

“Well? Your Captain told you to please him.” His taunts making you all the angrier. He shifts his legs, leaning his head against a hand while watching to see what your next move will be, “Are you refusing an order Y/N?”

You grit your teeth. This isn’t what you wanted, you wanted him to get angry enough to ravish you into oblivion. The satisfaction of annoying him enough to play into your hand feeling greater than the anger you felt earlier in the day.

He taps his fingers on the arm rest while he stares at you. He’d never been comfortable with exerting power between the two of you while alone. Yet here he is, pushing your buttons as you bite your own bruised lip, thinking of your next move. “Well?” His singular word rang through the air, pissing you off even more.

Sitting up, shooting a glare at him. Your swollen lip between your teeth throbbing before you let out an anguish sigh. Law lets a chuckle out as he watches you make your way to him, straddling his legs while wrapping your arms around his neck. Kissing his neck gently while rotating your hips.

Law stares down, watching the movements your body is making, holding a curse as you push his shirt off his shoulders, dusting kisses over the skin of his chest before coming back up. Raising your hips so your breasts are right in his face, you can hear him take a breath in.

His hands go to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer as he takes a nipple in hi mouth. Your hands run over his scalp. His hands going inward, spreading you apart as a finger traces your entrance. You feel the bastard grin into your breast as he quickly shoves two fingers in, your hands going to his shoulders to stabilize yourself, the tug of skin between his teeth when you arch your back slightly.

He releases your nipple, now sensitive and cold in the air before glancing up at you, “Already so wet for your captain.” He curls his finger inside you, hitting a spot that made a moan escape you. You attempt to sit back down, but his hands hold you up, fingers sinking deeper into you at your movement. He takes your neglected nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking the bud until it’s hard.

“L-Law,” You let out, body shaking slightly.

He scoffs looking up at you again, “Now you want to play nice?” He stands up abruptly, you wrap you arms around his head, expecting to fall but instead smother him in your tits while his grip on you keeps you up. His fingers still pumping inside before feeling the mattress once again.

You bounce slightly while you look towards Law who has a dark look in his eyes, “What happened to calling me Captain?” You watch as he unbuckles his belt, whipping his dick out while he stares down at you. You don’t respond as he grabs your legs, pulling you to the edge of the bed, lifting one of your legs to rest on his shoulder.

You let a whimper escape when you feel him rub his tip against your clit, “I’m not going easy on you.” His warning tone hits you as he leans forward, the stretch of your leg as he gets close to your ear, “Think of it as your punishment for leaving.”

Your own mind to shrouded in pleasure to remember why you left at the moment. He takes your lips before sheathing his entire length inside you, once again he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue down your throat, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

He moves a hand back to your throat, enjoying how your tongue spasms while trying to gasp for air, the brutal pace stretching around him. Your moans only muffled by his own mouth before he hits the bundle of nerves inside you, sending a wave through your entire body. He pulls back, releasing his grasp to look at your panting body, simultaneously relaxed and twitching.

Looking down briefly before pulling out, quickly flipping you over, lifting your ass up to plunge back into you before you could even think about what was happening. One hand going down to tease your clit while the other snaked around your throat, pulling your back against his chest while he nips at your ear and neck. “Who am I?” Your mind numb when he pulses a squeeze on the sides of your throat.

He does a rougher thrust into you, letting you moan out before he asks the question again. Your eyes lull to the side, seeing him out of the corner, “L-Law.” You moan out, your hands going to support your self and the arm around your front. He lets out a satisfied hum into your neck, his movements becoming gentler.

You catch up on your breathing right as he moves his hand away from your neck. Your own hands going to his arm, pushing it back, “Law, please~” You surprised moan takes him back for a second.

He spins both of you around, sitting on the bed with you on top, feet trying to get a hold on the bed frame as he continues to fuck up into you. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other was still being held to your neck by you. “And why should I do what you ask?” His question dips a bit, a nip on the back of your neck sending you to cloud nine.

“I’m- so close,” You pant out, sweat covering both of your bodies as you admit the heat building inside you, “Please, Law. I-“ You let out another breathy moan as his hand returns to the spot that deprives you of air.

The weightlessness you feel becoming overwhelming as you feel the erratic thrusts. You arch your back, Law moving his hand up to your jaw, twisting your face to meet his, drowning out the moans while your body pulses around him in a death-like grip. You feel him groan before holding you down with the arm around your waist.

The subtle grind of your hips milking him empty, feeling his chest heave against your back before catching your breath. The room humid and hot, Law’s hair stuck to his forehead with sweat before he shifts onto the bed, pulling you down with him.

His head rubbing into the nook of your shoulder while he hugs you close, “I’m sorry.” The muffled voice shook you as you melted into his touch, “I forgot about our date.” His stern yet weak voice sounding like an angry kitten as he refused to let you go.

You hum in agreement, “Didn’t realize you knew what you did wrong.” You shift your body, trying to get his softening cock out of your abused hole to enjoy the needy cuddle from the man below you. Instead, his arms grip you tighter, a small thrust into you to keep you in place.

His lips pushed further into you, more of a means to muffle himself, “Figured it out along the way.” You huff out slightly at his pouting, once again trying to get loose.

“I won’t leave Law, but it’s hot and we’re both sticky.” He murmurs to stay put a little longer as he turns to his side, bring you with him. It can’t hurt to indulge him a little longer.

#One Piece #One Piece X Reader #One Piece Smut #Trafalgar Law #Law X Reader

1K notes · View notes

wri0thesley · 7 months

Text

lion tamer - jing yuan x reader (12.4k)

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

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

This was a commissioned work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A moment that seems like an hour passes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The General himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well.

That’s not quite it.

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

You’ve developed a crush on him.

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

Jing Yuan brings it up first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not quite the same.

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

Still.

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

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

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

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

But without Jing Yuan there . . .

There’s something missing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think he’s misspoken.

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

Jing Yuan kisses you.

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

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

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

And yet.

Your heart couldn’t take his rejection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He lays a finger over your lips, still smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He means it.

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

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

He does not stop praising you as he does it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jing Yuan--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why,” he says. “Of course I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#writing #not sfw text #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x reader #chubby reader posting #commissioned work #hsr x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr posting

1K notes · View notes

reginaldqueribundus · 11 months

Text

the Sarek family is hilarious to me because you have so much drama in one place. there have got to be at least 3 like, holo-documentaries or whatever about them. how could you not?

you have Sarek, the patriarch: one of the UFP's top diplomats, who knocks up a Vulcan princess then goes “hrm I am ambassador to Earth therefore I should marry a human” and he does, upsetting all sorts of the worst kinds of people on his home planet and causing racist hate groups to try to blow him and his family up multiple times, and seems honestly more put out by his son joining Starfleet than his other son becoming Vulcan Moriarty

Amanda, the matriarch: an accomplished educator and quite possibly the only well-adjusted member of the family, but when her son Spock shows up on her doorstep after growing a beard, having a mental breakdown and apparently murdering several medical staff she still shrugs and hides him in the family mausoleum

Sybok: Amanda's stepson from the aforementioned princess fling, who becomes an antiestablishment criminal mastermind with an edgelord fake name, hooks up with a hot space pirate, finds religion, starts a cult, takes an entire colonial government hostage sparking a diplomatic incident involving three galactic superpowers, and hijacks a Starfleet ship to the galactic core to find the Vulcan Garden of Eden, where he dies fighting god in hand-to-hand combat

Michael, a traumatized human girl Sarek brings home from a work trip, who joins Starfleet, becomes their first-ever mutineer, goes to prison, saves the Federation from a war most people think is her fault and gets “killed” in a highly classified, very suspicious incident involving an experimental starship and a series of red lights that appeared across the galaxy like a divine omen (oh, and returns 900 years later to solve the dilithium crisis, kill the head of the Emerald Chain and save two entire star systems including her siblings' homeworld)

and last but not least Sarek & Amanda's one-of-a-kind hybrid baby. Spock, who gets accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy, tells them to go fuck themselves when they're racist about it, runs off to Starfleet instead, gets so famous his arranged marriage falls apart resulting in him publicly strangling his own captain to death except not really, steals the Federation flagship twice, invents time travel, saves the entire planet Earth, dies and comes back to life, goes into his dad's line of work and achieves peace with the freaking Klingons as his opening act, then after a long successful career suddenly dips to go do extremely dangerous underground activism on one of the most paranoid authoritarian worlds in the galaxy to unify the Romulans & Vulcans who've hated each other for over a thousand years — and he isn't around to see it but it eventually works. then he fucks off with the VSA's high-speed prototype ship full of the most dangerous substance known to science and gets sucked into a black hole of his own creation, never to be seen again. and this is just the stuff that's public knowledge!

then you dig into the novels where Sarek's ancestor basically makes out with Zefram Cochrane 5 seconds after meeting him and Amanda tells the press her husband has a huge cock

I love them

#star trek #amanda grayson #spock #michael burnham #sybok #a post by me™#1k #s'chn t'gai family

2K notes · View notes

prying-pandora666 · 1 month

Text

I don’t know how to say this tactfully, but I’ll do my best.

If other fans online have convinced you to see the gentle, optimistic, empathetic, fun loving, whimsical, forgiving, wise beyond his years genocide survivor, as a sexist, racist, xenophobic, abusive, pro-colonization, sexual assault perpetrator who doesn’t care about anyone else and doesn’t understand trauma…

You have been LIED TO.

Please just think for a moment!

ATLA was banned in China from the beginning for a reason. Because they didn’t want anyone empathizing with a character based on Tibetan monks. Why? Because they are an actual oppressed and persecuted minority IRL. Their religious leader lives in exile. Their second most important spiritual figure is the youngest political prisoner ever taken (and to this day no one knows if he’s alive or dead!). China has actual prison and labor camps. Tibetan people get sent there for “re-education”.

Can you please think about what these “fans” are saying when they stomp all over this allegory in TLA and try to frame Aang as the oppressor?

Do you really think it’s appropriate or these people who call Aang all these horrible (and inaccurate) things are being in anyway fair when they call Aang “white coded”???

Even without the real world context, Aang is explicitly the only survivor of a genocide. The last of his people. He has lost more than anyone else in the entire franchise. There’s a reason he clings so hard to Appa.

Do you think it’s fair to compare a 12 year old misreading signals and trying to kiss a girl who already consensually kissed him before, and immediately backing off and giving her space when she says no, to rape?

Tweens and teens miscommunicating and trying to comfort each other with kisses, only to realize that’s not what their friend needed and immediately backing off is the same as having your body violently violated against your will? The same as having your “no” ignored?

How do you think this makes survivors feel? To see people use their experiences as a shield and cudgel for ship discourse? It certainly upsets me as someone who experienced intimate partner violence, let me tell you! And I know I’m not the only one.

And how is it in anyway feminist or pro-Katara to ignore her own agency and deep love she shows for Aang? Yes, that includes her own crush on him! It IS reciprocated!

Lastly, you don’t need to demonize Aang to ship whatever you want to ship. Please understand that the majority of these takes are bad faith and born out of bitterness and insecurity over a friggin FANON SHIP.

And none of it is necessary! You can ship whatever you want! You don’t need permission or excuses. You can just ship them! You can make your case for why you like another pairing better without misrepresenting what happened in the show and what these characters are like, let alone what they represent.

There’s already plenty to work with in the show as it is! Otherwise why bother?

I’m imploring fans taken in by persuasive and manipulative metas to please just think about it. Get off social media and rewatch the show for yourself thoughtfully.

It doesn’t need to be like this.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #Aang #pro aang #anti Aang hate #Kataang

667 notes · View notes

steveshairychest · 1 year

Text

It's mermay so I'm having so many thoughts about siren Eddie trying to lure captain Steve off his ship, but he doesn't realise that Steve is deaf.

Steve knows about Eddie; he's had to stop quite a few of his men from jumping overboard to be with the beautiful siren. He spends so many days just leaning on the railing of his ship, gazing down at Eddie with a triumphant smile because he knows Eddie can't affect him, well, with his singing that is. He definitely affects Steve in other ways. Steve nearly toppled overboard just last week because he was too busy watching Eddie twirl a sword he no doubt stole while lounging on a rock, his gorgeous black tail glinting in the sun.

Eddie gives up trying to lure the captain into the sea after a month, but that doesn't mean he stops visiting the ship. He starts getting bolder. He throws stones in the captain's general direction to get his attention before proudly showing off the big fish he caught, only to get a confused sort of laugh from the man. He expected at least a clap or a thumbs up.

One morning, he spies the small boat that is usually hoisted up high on the side of the ship, in the water and he climbs inside, his tail too long so it hangs off the side while he waits. He nearly gives the captain and crew a heart attack when they finally pull it back up and find him lounging in the small boat with a rather large knife and lazy smile.

"I think you dropped this." Eddie grins at the captain, his sharp teeth causing several crew members to step back. He holds out the knife that he saw the man clumsily drop into his waters months ago. He is feeling generous. He'd normally keep treasures like that for himself.

"Thank you." Steve says with a soft smile. The warmth of his fingers shocks Eddie when he gently grabs the knife from his hand.

Eddie watches curiously as Steve turns to one of his crew mates, hands her the knife and then starts talking with his hands, well, that's what Eddie assumes is happening because the girl nods in understanding and rushes off to do whatever the captain said. He turns back to Eddie with a bright smile but Eddie can't stop staring at his hands. What was that?

"My name is Steve. What's your name?" Steve says the words out loud and with his hands, it both confuses and intrigues Eddie.

"Teach me that." He rushes out and points at Steve's hands, completely ignoring the captain's question.

Steve tilts his head in confusion, his brows furrowed and his eyes focused on Eddie's lips. His stare makes Eddie feel squirmy and he curls his lip to reveal sharp teeth to show Steve he doesn't like the attention. The captain doesn't get the memo and just stares harder.

"Talk slower. I can't hear you." He points to his ear and suddenly everything makes sense. Why Steve wasn’t affected by his song, why he didn't hear the crew screaming in the night when they were attacked last week. Eddie had almost been ready to climb aboard to wake the sleeping captain but the girl with the short hair had gone to fetch him just in time.

Eddie grabbed the edge of the small boat he was in and leaned closer to Steve, he was very aware that if the crew let go of the rope he'd go crashing back down to the sea but none of them moved. All their eyes watched the strange exchange between their captain and the siren that had been following them like a shadow.

"Teach me how to talk to you. I want to learn." And he does. Something about this human intrigues him. Why else would he follow him across the sea? If he were anyone else, Eddie would have slit his throat and dragged him down to the depths by now, but this captain is special.

He's decided that Steve will be his and his alone. Eddie always gets what he wants and what he wants is to learn Steve inside and out. Which includes learning this new language.

"OK, I'll teach you." Steve says with a nod.

Eddie smiles triumphantly, his sharp teeth on full display. "Great. Lessons start now." He looks pointedly at the space across from him in the small boat and Steve only hesitates for a moment before awkwardly climbing in.

"Tie it off and get back to work." He yells out to his crew without taking his eyes off Eddie, whose long tail is curled behind Steve. They sit in tense silence, Eddie's long nails tap tap tapping on the side of the boat before Steve sighs and says, "We'll start with the basics."

"Whatever you say, Captain."

The language is hard and Steve often laughs at Eddie when he angrily shakes his hands when he doesn't get the sign right.

But Eddie's determined to get it right because he's now one step closer to getting what he wants, and what he wants is Steve all to himself.

#MERMAY ANYONE ?!?!?!#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie #stranger things s4 #i didn't proof read this soorry #hoh steve harrington #siren eddie munson

3K notes · View notes

pierregazly · 8 months

Text

to live for the hope of it all (part 2) ꨄ charles leclerc smau

charles leclerc x fem!reader / mick schumacher x fem!reader

pic credits: pinterest

link to part 1 | link to part 3

all the love on part 1 was so sweet i just had to get started on part 2 as soon as possible. originally this was only going to be a charles x reader but i like drama and i like mick sooo... it also may seem obvious about what's gonna happen but i have no self control and this is prob gonna be a multi-part xoxo

mercedesamgf1

tagged georgerussell63 and lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, carmenmmundt, lewishamilton, and 2,683,222 others

mercedesamgf1 no one tell toto why we needed both his drivers for individual photoshoots... it had absolutely nothing to do with their hands... nothing at all

view all 6,782 comments

username ur telling me yourusername takes over and all of a sudden we're getting this kind of content??? stay with us forever y/n pls

lewishamilton i thought you were taking pictures of my tattoos...

mercedesamgf1 i see tattoos, do you not, sir lewis? lewishamilton please stop calling me sir lewis every time you acknowledge me

mickschumacher im telling toto because i wasn't included in the photoshoot

mercedesamgf1 next post is an admin loves mick post i promise 🙏

mickschumacher

liked by yourusername, roscoelovescoco, mercedesamgf1 and 785,450 others

mickschumacher special thanks to yourusername for always getting my best angles

view all 7,656 comments

yourusername we've discussed this. you don't have bad angles.

username mick is so golden retriever boyfriend-coded, i ship him and y/n so hard

username hoping you get a real seat in 2024, even if it's not for mercedes 🙏

roscoelovescoco missing's ya mick's

liked by yourusername

yourusername

tagged mercedesamgf1

liked by arthur_leclerc, pierregasly, mickschumacher and 360,420 others

view all 3,455 comments

yourusername oh monza my heart and soul... honoured to be spending a gp from the other side of things for once

arthur_leclerc red always fit you better... broke my heart with this post y/n 💔 yourusername mercedes spoils me too much to give them up

username did anyone realize charles and y/n had unfollowed each other??

username im so sad... i really thought they'd get together by monza username we all delulu around here

mickschumacher knew it was gonna be more fun having you hang around the garage with me

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, yourusername and 1,340,592 others

charles_leclerc monza is special thanks to you. thank you all for coming to milan today, you are the best.

view all 9,455 comments

username 🇮🇹❤️

username mother in the likes??? they still dont follow each other omf

yourusername race your heart out charlie

liked by charles_leclerc and 5,665 others

username omg omg omg

username mother is mothering pls get back together (even platonically pls)

f1wagsofficial

liked by username, username, username and 95,691 others

f1wagsofficial rumour has it charles_leclerc and yourusername were seen talking earlier today in the paddock... apparently charles sought her out and one of my dm's said they swore they heard the ferrari driver apologizing profusely... guess that means things are on the mend?

username im sure whatever the fight was about isn't worth tossing out a 22 yr friendship anyways lol

username none of us have any right commenting on this lol

username does this mean y/n and mick ARENT gonna be a thing??? cuz girlypop looked so happy every time she was with him...

username they were also totally snuggling up to each other in some of those photos ppl were posting on twitter like...

yourusername has posted a story

liked by charles_leclerc, mickschumacher, pierregasly, and 2,698 others

taglist

@needtokeepfeelingsincheck @sassyheroneckgiant @sillyfreakfanparty @leclercdream @allywthsr @bladestark @adoxra

(please feel free to reach out if you'd like to be tagged for any/all of my works. i apologize if the tag didn't work, some usernames it wasn't working for!)

#charles leclerc x reader #mick schumacher x reader #charles leclerc x you #mick schumacher x you #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 x you #charles leclerc imagine #mick schumacher #charles leclerc #f1 #smau #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #charles leclerc smau #mick schumacher smau #f1 smau

2K notes · View notes

cinnamonest · 3 months

Text

Genshin x Reader - Silent Treatment

Okay so this was for an anon a while back that requested Childe + silent treatment, so 1) I got carried away and wrote the same prompt for several others, and 2) I lost the original screenshot of the ask I was going to post this with, sorry anon, but I have the content for it at least :’)

(includes: Childe, Xiao, Albedo, Heizou, Cyno, Kaveh, Kazuha, Xingqiu)

//this is mostly very lighthearted but there's still implications of yandere content. Some mild pain, Childe’s contains very mild nsfw, there might be indicators of fem reader somewhere in here, Kazuha’s and Xingqiu's are a little darker so both of those are at the bottom

Childe

“Hey.”

The second time he said it, he waved his arm to catch your attention, as if under the impression you somehow didn't hear him, despite being trapped to the confines of the same small room.

One little bedroom, far too small at that, a temporary lodging whilst on the ship’s return voyage home. Four days, which you were about halfway through at this point.

You were thoroughly convinced it was some sort of trial imposed upon you by a higher power. The sort of grueling test of perseverance so common in tales of legendary heroes, through which they'd become stronger, or reach some well-earned reward for their virtue.

Unfortunately, you had a feeling no such reward awaited you.

“Hey…”

The third time, it was more like a whine, he slouched over in the chair on the other side of the room before, after another moment of pause, setting aside whatever oh-so-important paper he was reading (those identically-masked soldiers were always handing off important things he was supposed to sign, but he never looked over them for more than a few minutes), and walked over to where you sat, needle in hand, mending his clothes after he got them torn for the umpteenth time, no doubt doing something completely unnecessary, after very specifically requesting he be more careful, and— well, it was one of many reasons why you were so very irritated.

He waved his hand directly in front of your face. “You spaced out or something?”

You clenched your jaw, exhaling a huff of frustration through your nostrils before jerking your head away, returning to your work.

He bent his knees slightly, crouching down to get at eye level with you, but you kept your gaze fixed, refusing to make eye contact.

Even though you kept your gaze to the task in your hands, he was still directly in front of you, and thus you could still see his face go through the stages of reaction. First a slack-jawed confusion, then eyes widening with realization, and then — much to your dismay — you saw the corners of his mouth turn upward into a sly, eager grin.

“Are you ignoring me?”

You gritted your teeth, eyebrows furrowed, poking the needle through one side of the cloth before reaching around to pull it through, making sure the action was harshly done and thus conveyed your frustration.

Which was, predictably, taken as a confirmation.

“Awww. That's so mean.”

His tone was obnoxiously gleeful, playful even — you were hoping for a negative response, not whatever this was. You tried to conceal any reaction yourself, knowing he'd only be satisfied if your irritation showed on your face.

“But, you picked a really bad person to try that with, you know. I'm pretty good at being annoying if I want to.”

The immediate retort that came to mind — that he could be very annoying even when he wasn't trying — took all your willpower to refrain from speaking aloud. You grinded your teeth.

“Hmm…”

You didn't like that sound. He was contemplating something, that couldn't be good for you.

His hand latched onto your wrist, forcing your work to a halt — at least he had the decency and forethought to specifically grasp the needle before yanking the whole thing away from you, setting it on the bedside table. Likely messing up your handiwork, you thought with ever increasing frustration.

Before you could move away, the mattress shifted and bounced with the sudden added weight as he moved onto it behind you, grabbing you by your arms, pulling you back against him. His arms wrapped around your body, firmly pinning your own arms to your sides. He then rested his chin on your shoulder — you could feel the smile on his face as the side of his face brushed against your neck.

Ah. So that was the tactic. The message, unspoken as it was, was clear — he had no intention of letting you move until you spoke to him.

You clenched your jaw and closed your eyes, refusing to give in.

A minute or so passed that way, likely testing your reaction, waiting to see if you'd give in so easily. The unfortunate thought occurred to you that he would probably be disappointed if that alone worked, that he probably wanted you to make it more difficult, and was likely enjoying the challenge. Perhaps you should have put a bit more thought into the plan, but it was too late now.

Your body stiffened as his hands met your bare skin — one reaching up your shirt, the other maneuvering underneath the waistband around your hips, groping at the sensitive flesh beneath. Your jaw clenched, and your hands balled into fists, the discomfort no doubt evident on your face, but you maintained your silence.

“Oh, wow. You're pretty dedicated to this, huh.”

You hated the fact that he sounded amused, more or less a confirmation that he was in fact enjoying this. Dammit.

You bit your lip, trying to focus on looking around the room — not that there was anything to really look at — and not the sensation, nor your increasing desire to give it up for the sake of strangling him. He continued the discomforting motions for another few moments, but soon gave up, slouching forward against you and returning to holding you still in his arms.

…And then, nothing. At least, for a moment. Only his arms wrapped around you, and the quiet, only dispelled by the low sounds of the ocean outside.

And then—

You squealed, lurching forward as a sharp pain shot through your shoulder. Your back arched and you jolted as you tried to squirm, only held back from doing so by the iron grip holding you in place.

You tried to turn your torso around, struggling against the grip, sputtering in near disbelief as you attempted to speak, voice quickly going shrill.

“You—you just— did you just bite me?!”

Rather than give any response, he merely pulled you to lean to your other side, bringing his mouth up to your opposite jugular, taking a dramatically deep breath, no doubt just to elicit a reaction.

And admittedly, it worked. “No no no, don’t you dare—eek!”

You squealed again as his teeth sank into your flesh once more, keeping a firm biting grip for just a second before releasing you again.

You began to squirm, trying to pull yourself away. “That— the hell? I was already talking to you, you little…!”

“Mhm. I know.” He pulled you back effortlessly despite your efforts to pull away, resting his head on your shoulder, nuzzling the side of his face to yours. “I just wanted you to make that noise again.”

A low, grumbling noise of irritation came out of your throat. You finally went limp, resigning yourself to your defeat.

“Fine!” You sighed. “What is it?”

He paused.

“…Eh?”

You could hear the confusion in his voice. You sighed.

“You were trying to get my attention, remember? What were you going to tell me?”

“Oh. Uh…”

There was another pause. A few seconds of quiet passed before he finished—

“I actually don’t remember now.”

You closed your eyes and let your head fall forward, saying a small prayer to the gods that this ship sank and took you with it.

Xiao

“I'm going to get food for you. Do you have anything particular you want?”

With those words breaking the silence, you now had your chance to carry out the intended act of spite you’d spent the last hour planning in your head. It had been quiet for some time, making it a bit difficult to exercise said plan. Your captor was perfectly content with silence itself, which meant that this was, perhaps, not the best tactical approach, but you didn’t exactly have many tools of conflict at your disposal, so this expression of resentment would have to do.

Clenching your jaw, you exhaled in a frustrated huff, turning onto your side to face away from him. After a few moments of pause, he spoke again, seeming to not understand your lack of response.

“…I was asking you a question. I need to know what to bring back.”

Still, you didn’t reply.

You heard him shuffle over to you, feet brushing against the cold stone floor, before you felt his hand grasp your shoulder through the blanket, giving you a light shake.

“What do you want? You need to tell me.”

“…”

A few more seconds of silence passed. You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel the staring on your back as he seemed to slowly piece together the significance of your current behavior.

“…You are doing this on purpose.”

He gave his conclusion as if it needed to be said aloud, apparently less immediately obvious to him than it was to you. After a few more seconds, in a similar tone, he drew another conclusion.

“You’re upset.”

If not for your current effort of silence, you would have made some snarky comment about his brilliant deduction skills.

But you said nothing. Your eyebrows furrowed. Part of you did want to lash out, to express your irritation verbally, but you forced yourself to stay silent. More seconds of silence passed by.

Taking your lack of reply itself as confirmation, his next words took on a tone of increasing frustration.

“This is pointless. What do you accomplish by ignoring me?”

“…”

“You will die without food.”

“…”

“…Stop that.”

“…”

A minute of silence passed. The adeptus was seemingly uncertain of how to proceed, perhaps confused to your whole purpose with the effort of silence.

And then, you jolted at a sudden sharp pain as the cartilage of your ear was grasped and subsequently twisted.

“Ow ow ow!!” You bolted upright, jerking your head out of his grasp, clasping a hand over the now-sore ear as the momentary pain began to ebb away.

You glared, narrowing your eyes. “Was that necessary?”

He folded his arms, an equal look of displeasure on his features, and with a deadpan voice, replied—

“Yes.”

You waited for anything further he had to say, but it seemed that was all he had to say. You sighed, slouching over.

“…I dunno. Just get me whatever’s easiest for them to make.”

He folded his arms.

“Why didn't you just say that then?”

You merely shrugged, not having the energy nor the desire to explain any concepts of human social phenomena — a process that was always frustrating and time-consuming — on this day in particular.

After a few moments of pause as he looked to the ground, he looked up at you again, eyebrows furrowing.

“…Don't do that again.”

You nodded, exasperated, and closed your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I won't.”

You opened your eyes, turning your head to look at him, only to be met with an empty room, only the faintest trace of color, like a flickering light before it faded.

And thus, you sighed, laying back down in bed, resolving to try and conjure up a new tactic.

Albedo

“Hey, do you mind turning that light off?”

It was the first time he had spoken to you since your earlier fight. Well, perhaps ‘fight’ was not the best descriptor — it was more like you getting upset over something trivial and whining, only to get increasingly upset when he gave only his typical dry, snarky replies, ultimately ending with you turning your back to him — but nonetheless. It seemed he thought that enough time had passed that you would be over your petty anger.

He would find that assumption to be incorrect, and as childish as it was, you felt some satisfaction by remaining silent from where you sat upright in bed. You rested your head against your hand, turning your gaze out the window.

“Hey, ___,” he said your name again, trying to gain your attention. “The light, next to you.”

Still, you didn’t reply, this time closing your eyes as if to block him out, this time turning your body away from him and towards the window instead.

“…Ah. I see.”

You waited for him to continue, to press you about why you were upset so you could resume your earlier ranting.

But then, there was only silence.

You waited another moment. And another. And another.

But he didn't say anything further.

After a minute or so had passed, you slowly turned your head, confused by the lack of the reaction you had desired.

Seeing you turn in his peripheral vision, his motions of whatever he was working with paused as he turned his gaze towards you, tilting his head. “Mm?”

The bastard had the audacity to smirk at you. You glared, jerking back to turn away from him again.

…And more time passed. You waited. Minutes turned into an hour. And then another. You picked up a provided book to read after the boredom became unbearable, deciding that as long as you still gave him a cold shoulder, he'd still get the message.

…And even more time passed. A third hour. The sun fell and set and it grew dark, moonlight — and the light you'd still neglected to turn off — illuminating the room.

And then, finally, around three and a half hours after your initial interaction, after you were already lying down for the night, you heard the distinct sound you'd come to recognize as him putting the various tools away into a drawer. Then footsteps that pattered around the room, putting a few other things back into their proper places, the rustling of clothes being removed, and finally, the footsteps came close.

The mattress shifted and creaked as he climbed into bed next to you — finally turning off the lamp as he'd requested. He leaned over you, turning the blinds shut, and then, laid down in bed.

…And then there was only quiet.

The irritation swelling in your chest finally boiled over. You bolted upright.

“…Ugh! You— you…!”

“Oh, and here I was worried you were developing a throat cold.”

The dry-humored reply only served to infuriate you further.

“Why didn't you say anything?”

He didn't bother sitting upright himself. You could make out his form, but perhaps it was a good thing you couldn't see his face, as it was certain either a smug or unbothered expression that would only anger you further.

“My patience exceeds yours. It was just a matter of waiting.”

Your fists clenched so hard your hands trembled. You opened your mouth, but before you could give a spiteful reply, the sheets shifted as he sat up alongside you. His arm reached out, wrapping around your waist, and firmly pulled you back down to lie side-by-side.

He took a deep breath in, a heavy sigh out. “I'm pretty tired now, though. I understand you have some complaint to make, but I’d prefer you save it until tomorrow. Is that alright?”

Your eye twitched. You crossed your arms, turning your back to him.

“Jerk.”

“Mhm.” His arm reached over and pulled you close, your back pressed to his chest. “Goodnight.”

You huffed, pouting, but nonetheless—

“…Goodnight.”

Heizou

“Hey, so, I noticed there’s no food made or anything… it’s fine if you’re tired,” he raised his voice just enough as was appropriate for speaking to someone from the next room over. “I can go pick something up.”

The ever-upbeat tone to his voice only irked you further. Normally, you would have had food made yourself by the time he’d been home — now he’d been back for half an hour, and had finally walked into the kitchen to grab something, seeming to notice your act of protest. You’d been hoping he would immediately suspect something was wrong, but of course, he was too optimistic for that.

“But, if I’m going to do that, I need to go now,” he continued, as he made his way back into the living room, “before all the stalls close for the day.” He came to stand directly in front of where you sat on the couch, huddled with your blankets.

You said nothing, keeping your gaze turned to the floor. He tilted his head at your silence.

“…That good with you, or…?”

Several more seconds passed. You huffed, turning to the side.

Thus, it finally seemed to click with him.

“Oh dear. Cold shoulder.” Much to your irritation, though, he only sounded amused, not genuinely upset. “What might that be for?”

You gritted your teeth, pulling the blanket over your head, just leaving enough space for you to see. You could still see him from your side as he sauntered over a few steps, leaning over against the wall as he continued.

“I’m being serious, you know. I don’t know why you’re upset… although I suppose forcing me to figure it out is the intent, of course.”

Every word that came out of his mouth only made you angrier. The audacity to sound so smug, a playful sort of dramatism he always seemed to carry in his voice. It irritated you to no end, especially in moments like these.

And to make matters worse, you could see him smile in your peripheral vision.

“I know you probably intended this to make me upset or something, buuuut, you’re really just giving me a challenge to figure out.” You didn’t miss the cocky expression on his face. “And that’s kind of my thing, you know?”

…You supposed he was right about that. Dammit. You probably should have thought about that before deciding to go through with this… but it was too late now. You merely shifted around, pulling your knees up to your chest, hoping your frustration showed on your face.

“Will you talk to me if I get it right?” He only waited for a single second before seeming to realize the futility of the question. “Ah, well, I guess asking that is pointless. Hmm…” He put his hand up to his chin in a pensive pose, speaking aloud as much to himself as to you. “If you just wanted me to get you something, simply telling me would be the more logical course of action.”

Your mouth pulled into a taut line with your irritation. You waited, listening as he continued his deductions.

“You don’t have any complaints that have gone ignored or anything… and even then, you’d probably just remind me if there was something I’d forgotten to fix.” He stood back upright, beginning to pace around on the floor. “Besides, this sort of behavior generally indicates that the other party has committed a specific transgression. If you just wanted something, this would be an impractical way of going about your goal.” He nodded, as if confirming the thought to himself. “The whole silent treatment thing is generally just a means of communicating displeasure, so that the offending party is forced to acknowledge their transgression.”

You pulled the blanket fully over your head, flopping down onto your side in exasperation and frustration, listening to him go on. At this point, his analysis was starting to feel humiliating, the description of it more or less a reminder of just how petty and childish it was. You felt a burning sense of embarrassment in your chest as you curled up into a ball, hugging your knees.

“There are two major factors to narrow it down — an active or passive transgression,” he continued, “and if the former, was it something I said, or something I did? Hm…”

You heard his footsteps make their way around the room as he spoke.

“You were talking with me normally this morning, and I didn’t notice any hostility then, so it would have to be something occurring just within the half hour or so since I came home, or—”

And then, he stopped mid-sentence.

“Ah.”

The tone of voice of that single syllable was immediately recognizable as realization. You felt a surge of bitterness come up in your chest again, and although it was embarrassing, you were still determined to get your point across.

“You forgot,” you finally muttered. Your voice came out incredibly whiny and petulant, but at this point, you just dealt with the nagging sense of shame.

“I know, I know. I said we’d go take a walk and get some food when I got back, right?” You heard his footsteps draw closer, coming over to you, and the couch cushions shifted with his weight as he sat down. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay? It was just a busy day, is all.” He reached over and rested his hand on your head through the layer of blanket. “I’m not going back on what I said, I just forgot. We can still go, we have time.”

You slowly sat up, pulling the blanket back down and uncovering your face. Your face felt hot, you looked down to the ground, unable to bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“…Sorry,” you murmured. Now that it was over, you felt horribly embarrassed by the whole stunt you’d pulled. You buried your face in your hands.

“Aw, don’t be upset. It’s fine.” He stood up, smiling, extending his hand out for you to take. “Come on, the lines will get long in just a few minutes.”

Now, you were actually quite grateful for his cheeriness. Still flustered, but humbled, you grasped his hand, letting him help pull you up. “Okay.”

“Mm.” He took a few steps over to the door, turning the knob, before coming to a halt. You saw the expression on his face waver, the smile twitch. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped short, closing his mouth again and taking a deep breath—

“I won’t talk to anyone.”

You gave him the assurance before he could ask, your voice quiet, as if by speaking softly, the matter itself could be more easily swept away once you were done addressing it.

He let go of the breath he’d taken, exhaling as his shoulders relaxed. For just a second, there was some discomfort in his expression, but it was gone within a moment, replaced with another playful smile.

“Ah, thanks.”

And thus, he turned the handle, pulling you out into the fresh air, and the many faces of strangers you’d learned to pretend didn’t exist.

Cyno

“I'm going to head out in just a minute. You can come with me, if you promise to behave well.”

You grinded your teeth. The choice of words was irritating enough, but you were primarily angered by the mere notion that being able to go outside — such a simple, basic right — was somehow an earned privilege.

No matter. You were already determined to ignore him anyway. You chose not to respond, returning to the book in your lap as you sat on the bed, refusing to turn to face him where he stood a short length away.

Sure enough, after a moment, you heard his footsteps on the stone floor, gradually coming around to your side, leaning over to try and look at your face.

“…Did you hear me? I was saying—”

You huffed, turning yourself away from him.

There was a pause.

“Oh.”

It didn't sound particularly bothered, only mildly surprised — perhaps that itself irritated you even more.

You saw him tilt his head out of the corner of you eye, white strands of hair brushing against his shoulder. “Isn’t this rather pointless? Communicating your emotions would be faster and easier if you just verbalize it.” After a pause, he added, “You can't keep this up forever.”

He crossed his arms, waiting for a response, but after several moments, received none.

He sighed. “Well, suit yourself, I suppose.”

You were not expecting, however, what came next — the book you were focused on was suddenly torn from your hands. You almost verbalized the ‘hey!’ that ran through your mind, only catching yourself just in time to stifle any noise, but the irritation and surprise surely still showed on your face as you looked up at him in bewilderment.

“What?” He tilted his head. “The obvious course of action here is to do things to upset you into speaking. You have to give it up at some point.” He shrugged. “I might as well expedite that process.”

You inhaled, automatically preparing to retort, but snapped your jaw shut as you caught yourself before you spoke once again. Your hands curled into fists.

He held the book under one arm, quickly reaching over and grabbing the two others sitting on the table beside the bed. “Alright… hm.” He turned his head, scanning the room. “I'll take all your reading material, and leave you alone with nothing to do while I'm gone. That's… maybe eight hours. You’ll have a good deal of time to reflect on your choice, at least.”

Your mouth pulled taut in an expression of displeasure. You didn't like the thought of such boredom.

He made his way over to the nearby desk, scooping up the remaining books into his arms before turning towards the hallway door. He turned his head back towards you.

“Unless you change your mind.”

He then began taking steps towards the door — slowly, deliberately so. It was infuriating that he responded with such calmness, and far more so that he was so easily able to completely overturn your attempt with barely any effort, without even being affected by it at all, and above all, most infuriating that he knew you'd give the exact response he anticipated.

And you did.

“Wait, wait—”

He came to a halt, but didn’t bother turning his head back to look at you. “Yes?”

Your hands balled up into fists, you were so irked by his words and demeanor, but nonetheless, you told yourself, you had no choice. You weren’t about to endure the alternative.

“…Fine…” You stood up, looking to the ground in embarrassment and frustration as you stomped over to where he stood. “I’ll go.”

He gave you a nod. “There, see, that was a much easier way of going about this.” He then took a few steps back towards the desk, depositing the books that had been used as leverage in your bartering as he added, “don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes, displeasure scrawled on your face. “…I guess.”

You stepped out of the room before he did, waiting for him to exit before following behind him, since you didn’t know exactly where you were going. For a few moments, you merely walked in silence. You didn’t know if he intended to address the matter again — hell, you never knew what he was thinking — but after a minute or so of silence, you got your answer.

“You know, if I were as spiteful as you were being, I might have rescinded the offer entirely,” he said, voice ever so blunt and monotonous. “And forced you to stay in there with nothing to do.”

You grinded your teeth, narrowing your eyes as you looked over at him.

“…Are you trying to get me to thank you?”

He didn’t miss a beat in his reply.

“It would be appreciated.”

You crossed your arms, puffing your cheeks out in a petulant pout, which seemed to get your refusal across well enough. He shrugged.

“Well, it was worth a try.”

Another minute passed. You took a turn down a dark hall, which seemed to prompt another thought to his mind.

“And in the future, you should probably be aware that such a strategy is rather weak. It’s very easy to turn around on the one using it, as you just observed.”

You huffed in irritation. “Yeah, yeah.”

“It’s actually very similar to a common flawed strategy used by beginner card players. You see…”

You sighed in exasperation, pressing your palm to your face as you prepared to tune out the following hour.

Kaveh

After the second time calling your name with no response, you finally heard him get up, walking over to where you lay in bed. You clenched your teeth, irritation exuding off your form in waves, so you hoped, at least.

As soon as he got closer, you huffed, closing your eyes, waiting for him to speak, and he did.

“Hey…”

Which you used as your cue to turn over, rolling onto your other side so that your back faced him.

There was a few seconds of pause before he pieced your actions together.

“…Are you mad at me?”

His voice was soft and pitiful-sounding, so much so you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt.

That momentary guilt was, however, almost immediately replaced with another surge of irritation. No. You knew exactly was he was doing, it was intentional, and you weren't going to fall for it.

He walked around to the foot of the bed, leaning over to look you in the eye.

“Hey—”

But you averted your gaze, pulling the blankets up over your face, turning over onto your stomach.

There was a moment of pause. His tone shifted.

“…Hmph. Fine.”

With that, he turned on his heel, stomping back to the desk at the other side of the room, and sat down, huffing as he resumed his work. You could hear the bitter irritation in his pencil scribbling, much heavier-handed and harsher than moments prior.

You waited for him to say something more, thinking his resolve to walk away from being ignored wouldn’t last long, but to your surprise, after some time passed, he still managed to stay quiet.

And more time passed, and then some more. You’d initially begun ignoring him around ten-thirty or so, and now, you confirmed as you peeked out from under the blankets — having almost fallen asleep — it was well past midnight.

Finally, your attention turned back to him as you heard him put the pencil down. He stood up (you did not miss the harshness with which the chair was pushed back), walked (with heavy footsteps) over to the floor lamp at the side of the room, and turned it off, leaving only the moonlight to cast light through the room.

But rather than coming over to bed, he only made his way back to the desk, dramatically slumping back down into the chair, putting his forearms on the desk before slouching forward and burying his face against them.

And then, there was only silence. You waited, but nothing happened.

It wasn't exactly difficult to figure out the intention. On one hand, your immediate thought was that it was petulant, but then again, you felt a twinge of guilt realizing you were more or less the instigator here (even if it was only in reaction to him annoying you earlier), and that your course of action wasn't exactly mature either.

Well, you supposed the right thing to do now would be to at least try and reconcile. You sighed.

“Kaveh.”

That time, you were the one who only got silence as a response. Turning your own act against you, you guessed.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and, having been a bit hesitant the first time, fully committed to resolving the situation. You tried again.

“…Kaveh.”

….

After a few more moments, your voice took on a tone of frustration, which you tried to suppress for the sake of your goal of conflict resolution.

“Kaveh. I know you can hear me. Come on.”

He didn't lift his head, so his response — thankfully giving one, at least — was not only in a bitter, pitiful-sounding voice, but also muffled by fabric.

“What.”

You sighed. “Look, I… I'm sorry, just… come to bed, okay? Let's just forget this.”

Ugh. Although you still figured it was the right thing to do, you realized with disappointment that you were giving in yet again, as you tended to be the one to do. You resolved to be a little stronger-willed next time… then again, you always did that too.

“…No.” Even in the dark, you could see him — albeit only in the form of a vaguely red-white-blonde lump — shift around as he spoke, bitterness in his voice. “You obviously don't want me over there. I'll sleep here.”

You reached up to pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation as the defeat settled in. “No, I… I do. Please?”

Once more, you only got silence, even after waiting for half a minute or so. Finally, you took a deep breath, in and out, and — after a moment of hesitation to ask yourself if you were really going to do this, to which you determined it was for the best, regardless of what it did to your pride — swung your legs over the side of the bed, feet brushing against the cold floor.

Your footsteps shuffled against the hardwood with each of the very few steps it took to get from the bed to the desk. You could see him fidget as you approached.

In what you hoped would be perceived as affectionate, you bent your knees just enough to be at the same level as where he sat, an awkward positioning, but just enough to reach out and wrap your arms around him in an embrace.

“Come on. I’m sorry, okay?”

There was a few moments of quiet, and for a second, you thought maybe you would have no success, maybe he really was that upset. But then, he lifted his head, still speaking in a blatantly upset tone of voice.

“…Only if you tell me why you were doing that in the first place,” he muttered.

You sighed. “I dunno… I was just upset about everything from yesterday, and… look, it doesn’t matter.” You smiled, although you weren’t sure if he could see it. “Let’s just go to sleep… come on, please?”

There was a moment of pause, but finally, he stood up, huffing in residual stubbornness as he walked over to bed, falling flat on his back. “…Fine.”

You were too tired to be annoyed at that point, instead walking over, taking your place next to him. You decided to try and take the high road, so to speak. “…Sorry for ignoring you.”

You reached out and put your hand on his head. He turned, pulling you close, burying his face against your chest.

“…No, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, muffled by your clothing and flesh. “You’re right… let’s just forget it.”

You hummed in agreement. You were going to leave it at that, but after a moment, you felt him shift. He propped himself up on his elbow to speak.

“Hey, wait, what time is it? I was gonna show you the thing I was working on when you wouldn’t talk to me… I can still—”

“It’s one in the morning. PLEASE go to sleep.”

You both stiffened as the muffled voice came through the wall. Several awkward seconds passed.

Ah… you forgot how little privacy this place gave you. You raised your voice just enough to ensure you were heard.

“Sorry, Alhaitham…”

You heard him sigh and turn over on his side of the wall.

“Yeah, yeah.”

More silence as the seconds ticked by.

“I’ll, uh, show you tomorrow.”

“…Yeah.”

And with that, he finally laid back down to sleep.

Kazuha

“Ah, look at how bright it is. I didn't realize it would be a full moon tonight.”

He had a soft, blissful expression. He was one of those people that always seemed to find a great deal of joy in simple pleasures of life… depending on the circumstances, it could be either endearing or annoying.

At the moment, it was very much the latter. If you weren't so mad, you'd feel bad about what you were about to do.

It would certainly work, seeing as he was talkative by nature, always making little comments as you went about your day. You'd already tried to make your displeasure very clear — ever since you'd begun setting up camp for the night (in the middle of nowhere, where you now spent the majority of your time), you'd given him curt, cold, one-word replies, and the irritation was certainly audible in your voice.

He turned his head towards where you sat cross-legged on the ground, a wide smile on his face. “We should go for a walk, since it's so bright.”

The very last thing you wanted to do was more walking after having spent the entire day doing just that. You clenched your jaw, slouching over and resting your head against your hand.

A few seconds of quiet passed. After realizing you weren't responding, he leaned over to better look at your face, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, is something wrong?”

You huffed a heavy breath, jerking your head away from him.

“…Oh.” You could see him smile in your peripheral vision, albeit now an awkward, uncomfortable sort of smile. “You’re, ah, still upset about earlier, I take it?”

You didn't respond, maintaining your silence.

“…I'll take that as a yes… haha…”

The laugh was as forced and awkward as his expression. He stood silently for a moment, as if hoping it would be a very short effort and that you'd break your silence, but you did not.

“...It seems you really know how to find my weaknesses.” He gave you an awkward, sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head. “This is bothering me more than I would have thought it would… but that's your intention, I imagine.”

You didn't really have any particular direction to take this effort — you didn't have anything you wanted to accomplish with it or anything, it just seemed the only way you could think of to express your frustration. Now, you weren't certain what to do — your only real course of action, you supposed, was to keep it up. You kept your silence. He moved to sit beside you, just a short distance away.

Silence followed, only disrupted by the crackling of the small fire beside you and the wind weaving between the tall grass. He kept up the same cheerful-but-mellow voice as always, the one that so very much got on your nerves whenever you tried your best to exude negativity, which he always seemed to shrug off effortlessly, perpetually unbothered.

Yes, your snide, sometimes even mean comments, your cold tone, your disgusted expressions, those never seemed to bother him at all. He just laughed and smiled and carried on as he always did.

With this, on the other hand, it seemed you’d finally found a weak point. You resisted the urge to grin, quite pleased with having found a greater success than you’d even expected.

Meanwhile, his own smile continued to falter, twitching right alongside his arms.

“If there's anything I can do that will make you… not do this, I'll gladly do it. You just… you know, have to tell me.”

You saw his fingers curl, straining the fabric as they dug into his thighs with such force and strain that they began to tremble.

But for a few minutes, he did nothing. Perhaps he was just waiting, giving you time to see if you'd change you mind, or maybe he just couldn't decide how to proceed. You kept your gaze focused on the scenery, the blades of grass as they waved back and forth in the breeze, the reflection of the moon wavering in the pond off in the distance. As irritated as you were, the landscape was admittedly quite serene.

You were brought out of your focus by the rustling sound as he stood. You remained still, but your heart began to accelerate as he took a few steps towards you, his ever light-footed way of walking barely making a sound, maneuvering behind you before slowly sitting down.

He shuffled forward, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you back. Once your shoulder blades touched his chest, he tilted his head forward, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

You fought the urge to squirm. You didn't like the quiet. Something about it, in that moment, was ominous, suffocating, as if some innate instinct was telling you something was wrong.

When he finally lifted his head, he spoke directly into your ear, breath warm against the flesh.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

The sudden quiet, low voice sent a chill down your spine. You found yourself going stiff, eyes widening.

His grip tightened, squeezing your waist firmly enough that it began to hurt.

“…I don't like doing that… it makes me feel really weird, you know…?”

It grew tighter. His fingers began to dig into your sides, ten small points pressing with painful force. You stiffened, body reflexively arching forward to get away from the pain, but they only dug in harder, pulling you back.

“But,” he continued, voice low and quiet, so soft yet somehow so chilling, “I really don't like you doing this.”

Your heart felt as if it were pounding out of your chest. Your breathing grew quicker.

He tilted his head downward, resting his forehead against the back of your neck. The final words came out wavering, almost a whisper.

“So… you’ll stop this, won’t you?”

You swallowed. Your response came out instinctively, the dread you felt having easily defeated your stubbornness.

“O-okay,” you stuttered as you spoke, “I'm sorry, I didn't… I didn't mean to make you…”

The pain came to an abrupt stop, his entire body relaxed with a heavy sigh of relief.

“Ah, haha,” this time, he squeezed you in his arms only enough to convey affection. “I was worried for a moment there.” His voice immediately shifted back to its usual timbre, soft and soothing. “I’m glad you weren’t too upset.”

You shook your head, eyes still wide with fear, needless to say struggling with the psychological whiplash of the rapid shift in the atmosphere.

If he noticed your stiffness, he didn’t say anything, instead opting to affectionately rest his head on your shoulder, leaning his face against yours. “Well, it’s probably too late to walk anyway… and you’re probably tired, too. Hm…” he paused for a moment, then lifted his head, tilting it up to the sky. “We can appreciate the beauty of the night while being sedentary, though. Say, are you familiar with the constellations?”

You struggled to give a verbal answer. “A-ah, well, I…” You swallowed.

“Ah, that’s alright. I know them very well. Right now, hmm… see that one directly above us?”

He started to point up, you let your gaze follow his direction as he began to ramble on about this and that star. Most of the time, you found that soft-spoken but avid enthusiasm rather endearing — although in that moment, you found it a bit difficult to appreciate.

“And a little to the right, those four that form a bit of a square shape, that’s—hey, are you cold?”

“Mm?” You gave your best attempt to smile, knowing he could at least see the side of your face. “I, uh, I guess… why…?”

“You’re just shivering pretty badly,” he replied. “You should have said something. Here…”

He leaned backwards, grabbing the blanket atop your shared makeshift sleeping bag, pulling it over and wrapping it around the both of you, covering you from the night wind that, in reality, barely even did anything to alleviate the sweltering summer heat.

“That better?”

You nodded. “…Yeah.”

“Mm, good. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

Once you nodded, he wrapped his arms around you again, pointing back up at the sky and resuming his lesson.

Xingqiu

“There’s a yearly festival going on tonight.”

You were already irritated, but the cheerfulness in Xingqiu’s voice when he came bounding into the room certainly did not help.

He quickly made his way over to where you sat, leaning over to the side to better look at your face.

“It’s one of the most exciting ones the harbor holds, in my opinion. We should go!”

Silence. You said nothing in reply, only curling your fingers into fists, clenching your jaw and looking down at the floor.

A few seconds passed as he processed your response, or rather, lack thereof. Given the dispute that had taken place a few hours ago, you were certain it wasn’t difficult for him to figure out.

“Ah… aha… surely you’re not still upset about earlier, are you?” He tilted his head, the smile on his face unwavering. “Come on, this will be fun. It’s only for a few days, so we should really make the most of it.”

More silence. Even though you didn’t speak, you didn’t try to hide the spite and irritation on your face.

He then crouched down to get face-to-face with you. His smile was still there, but his eyebrows shifted to an expression of displeasure, the top and bottom halves of his face seemingly misaligned.

“You’re not going to let some silly little disagreement ruin your whole day, are you?” He reached out, patting the top of your head. “Come on, now, you’re more mature than that.”

You almost snapped at him, but you held your tongue. You had become increasingly aware of the subtle ways he seemed to manipulate your thoughts and feelings, slipping in little choices of words to have very specific effects, like with the last thing he’d just said. It irritated you to no end — much more so how often it worked, only for you to realize it later on.

But not today. You were going to be firm, resolute, not let him influence you, so you told yourself. You huffed a heavy breath, crossing your arms and jerking your head out from under his hand.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his expression shift — his eyes narrowed, his smile fell, and you heard the soft -tch of disapproval as he stood upright — only for his face to shift back to a pleasant expression as quickly as it had fallen to an unpleasant one, a degree of composure worthy of being called a honed and trained skill.

He sighed, overdramatically so, holding his hands out palm-up at each side and shaking his head. “And here I was trying to do something to make you happy. Oh well.”

He turned on his heel away from you, facing the door.

“How unfortunate. I suppose I'll just have to go by myself.”

He began to walk towards the exit, each step deliberately slow, an unmistakable smugness to his eloquent, dramatic way of speech.

“Of course, I'm sure my father will ask where you are...” he sighed again, shrugging his shoulders. “I'll just have to tell him that the spouse he found for me is so very disagreeable.”

You clenched your teeth. You could feel it coming, knew exactly what the next words out of his mouth would be. You nearly trembled with how hard your muscles tensed.

He paused his steps right at the edge of the door, and without bothering to look over at you, in a voice just so perfectly quiet, he added—

“I'm sure that will have a positive effect on your family’s standing with mine.”

You clenched your jaw. There it was. The one card he always held, an instant defeat.

“Wait…”

The word came out of your mouth on impulse. You winced at your own failure, but it wasn’t as if you had much of a choice.

Then he decided to turn around.

“Oh?” He tilted his head, cheerfulness returned to his voice and expression. “You’ve changed your mind?”

You shuffled over to where he stood, keeping your gaze to the ground. “…Yes. I’ll go.”

“…”

There was a pause. His eyes were half-lidded, the look on his face and the heavy tension in the air making it obvious what was expected of you.

But again, choice was not a luxury you had. You swallowed your pride.

“…Sorry for… being like that.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, that? It’s no big deal, really. I’m not upset at all.” Then, he extended the same hand out to you. “You’re ready, then?” He smiled, this time seemingly back to a genuine cheer. “I already have a route planned out to get us to all the best spots in one night.”

You nodded, taking his hand in yours.

“Sounds great.”

#kaveh w the uno reverse card #genshin impact x reader #these were really fun to write #id like to eventually go back and do other chrs as well #also I need to make more xq content...#i feel like ive said that before but i need go actually do it aaaaaaaaaa #hes my baby boy

474 notes · View notes