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[lorelune]

six drinks, first time

|| jing yuan x f! reader || E/18+ || drunk reader + adoring jin yuan + kink reveal || wc: 2.5k  || ao3 ||

Jing Yuan covets the fact he knows you better than anyone else. It’s unfortunate for him that plum wine makes you sweeter and more honest, revealing a piece of yourself he hasn’t considered. 

minors & ageless blogs dni

a/n: jing yuan has rotted my brain i need him so badly fr fr :salute: enjoy!!

CWs: drunk reader, engaged jing yuan and reader, possessive jing yuan, corruption kink, virginity kink, reader visibly blushes, light exhibitionism/threat of exhibitionism

It's rare for Jing Yuan to see you this way. So carefree, so weightless, so unabashed, despite the many bodies around you and looks that your display is inevitably drawing. Jing Yuan is too old to care for decorum in this setting, it's a party after all. Though he'll only nurse a drink or two during the evening, lest lose himself, he appreciates seeing his compatriots enjoy themselves.

He wasn't expecting you to partake as much as you have, though.

Jing Yuan has been counting your drinks— five, sipping on a sixth (some plum wine that he’s sure has a taste that will linger on your lips. He wants nothing more than to find out himself). You'll undoubtedly have a headache in the morning. He's less concerned about that (he'll treat you well, he always does, the lovesick fool he is). You rarely drink so much, usually just stealing sips from his glass and remaining sober by his side, so it's quite the treat for him to see you lose yourself in this way.

You cling to his arm, cheek pressed into his shoulder as you listen to Fu Xuan drone about a trivial bit of gossip. Jing Yuan entertains her, and you watch them both, entranced. Lips parted and a bit chapped, cheeks flushed, with a thigh thrown over his own. You're rarely so affectionate with him in public, or anywhere other than your home. You insist upon decorum, but after your third drink, it's been thrown out the window. You're practically in his lap.

At the thought, Jing Yuan tests his luck. It takes no effort for him to wrangle you over his thighs, and you throw an arm around his neck, pressing the other over his chest. You bear your weight into him. It's horribly precious of you.

Though your relationship isn't a secret, it's something you don't answer common questions about. Even if Tingyun tries to twist your arm for information on the general, you always skillfully decline (or, tell her off with equally flowery words. It's impressive to watch considering he's well aware of the other contexts you use such vocabulary and tone in— in war rooms at the side of long tables, or while sitting over his hips, smearing spit across his lips.)

You gasp at something Fu Xuan says. Jing Yuan squeezes around your hip. When your flesh gives way under his grip, Jing Yuan sees stars. It's so rare he gets to indulge in this way. He'll milk it for all its worth.

You're unaware of it— the gazes that you draw, from colleagues, foes, strangers. Jing Yuan is terribly attuned to it. You'd probably be alarmed if you knew the extent to which Jing Yuan is acutely aware of each wayward glance or longing look you receive. You have admirers. Your lack of public acknowledgment of your relationship (besides the engagement rings you both wear. Identical, cast in the same metal, sharing halves of the same stone) allows room for it.

Jing Yuan never lets them get far. For how little you both say of it, he isn't shy about standing closer to you than anyone else. Inviting you to the seat of divine foresight, whenever he bothers to actually be there. He asks for you on daily walks and you're the only other person his finches will eat from the hand of.

If an admirer of yours doesn't get the message after such clear signals, Jing Yuan takes a more direct approach. A hand on the small of your back, leveling you a gaze that screams 'I will be splitting you open on my cock the first moment you allow me' in an open market for all to see, or making eye contact with said suitor and provide them a particular hardened, venomous look that Jing Yuan's only been able to forge through time and his feelings for you.

He'd never considered himself a possessive man before you.

Look at what you've done to him, made him selfish and desperate at your hand.

Jing Yuan has little to lose. You've finished your sixth drink. He kisses your jaw— just a drag of the lips over the curve of it. He feels you give a full-bodied shudder, balling up his robe in your fist.

He’d never considered himself needy either, but with you, he is. He hides it well. He doesn't even think you know, though you could see it if you looked hard enough.

"Dearest," he speaks against your ear, only for you to hear. "May I take you home?"

You turn to pout at him. He's patient, horribly, perhaps to a detriment at times— but you're testing him.

"Noooo, not yet!" You whine. "The party's so nice and Fu Xuan's fun when she's tipsy."

You hide a giggle behind your palm, and you don't see the way Fu Xuan bristles behind you.

"Can I convince you?" Jing Yuan asks you. He squeezes your inner thigh. He'd put his hand to your skin directly if he could, if he didn't value your modesty—

(Though, perhaps he's been entertaining the thought of having you in a courtyard for the past half hour. Who is to say.)

You hum, thoughtful, "You will have to be very persuasive. I'm enjoying myself thoroughly."

"Noted. You know I can be."

"Hmmm... I'm listening."

Jing Yuan hums, "Such things would be better discussed in private. Take a walk with me?"

You frown, "I don't want to get up."

"I'll carry you."

"You wouldn't—" you flush at that. Jing Yuan cups your face so he can feel your cheeks heat.

"I would. Happily, in fact."

You shouldn't be surprised when he rises with you in his arms, only depositing you back to the ground when you squeal and squirm. You still grab his hand as you depart from the crowded party room. Jing Yuan feels each gaze that follows them. He rubs over the ring on your left hand.

Jing Yuan takes you to an overlook. The city is deserted so late. There's no need for his knights to be stationed so close to the celebration, considering the amount of soldiers teeming just inside.

He crowds you against the railing, slowly, leveraging you with a hand on your side. He'd never let you fall, especially when you sway with the drinks you've had.

"You've been so sweet this evening." Jing Yuan noses down the line of your throat.

"Am I not sweet every evening?"

"You are, of course." Jing Yuan could spend days, months— years even, telling you in all the ways. He's long since become accustomed to the unique heartache you give him— like a wound that never heals or a bruise that will never yellow. The only way to soothe it is with your words, your touch, your presence in his bed and by his side— and wrapped around his arm when you so cutely drink yourself into a stupor. "It's rare that I get to see you partaking in the way you have. It's lovely to see you enjoy yourself. I simply wish to enjoy you myself. If you don't wish to return all the way home, I happened to see a few spare rooms—"

"Jing Yuan!" You tug at his hair. He suppresses a moan. "That would be— indecent. And unbecoming of someone of your rank."

"My rank is unmoving and unchanging, regardless of any sweet sounds I could draw from you. But, I suppose, you are quite the shy thing, aren't you—?"

"You're awful." You say with no bite. You kiss him stupid and Jing Yuan feels stupid. He never feels undone or outwitted, but you silence him so easily. A few touches and he's nothing. "Scoundrel."

"And, you love me for it."

"Well, yes, of course." You assure him and nip at his bottom lip. "Enough to want to marry you, in fact."

"So, you'll allow me to walk you home and keep you from work tomorrow?"

"Why would you keep me from work?"

"I don't expect you to be walking with any ease when I’m finished with you." Jing Yuan, perhaps, desires to mark your neck as well. It's a rare thing, and when he does, he revels in the way you futz with your collar all day to try and hide them. He thinks he'll give you one that you can't hide, right over your pulse point.

"How do I know you're not just trying to get out of those meetings that are on the books for tomorrow morning?" You bat at his chest, a smile burgeoning on your lips. He's got you.

"I only wish to spend the rest of the evening pleasuring you." He lilts his voice and squeezes lower on your hips. "Does my lover not trust me?"

You bury your face in his chest and shudder. He chuckles, running a palm over your hair, cupping the back of your neck. So easily undone, choice words and you unravel.

"You make me think all these weird things."

"Weird how?" He asks, already cajoling you into linking arms, matching your stride.

"I— I've been having this thought and I can't get it out of my head." You avoid looking at him and Jing Yuan’s interest is piqued. 

"Will you share with me?"

"It's... embarrassing. And lewd."

"Dear," he presses your ring into your finger. "I have promised myself to you in all ways. If it's a desire you have, I want nothing more than to hear and indulge it."

"You're spoiling me."

"You're avoiding telling me what has plagued you so." Jing Yuan reminds you.

You pause and chew on your words.

Jing Yuan is... curious. Your desires are not a mystery to him. You've been forthright with your wants, and he has in turn, and very little has been vetoed. If anything, you've given him much to think about. You occupy his thoughts in a way that is probably distracting, but so close to retirement— he can let himself daydream about a future where keeping you in bed and flush to him is his only job.

"It's just that—" You shift from foot to foot. You're not far from home now, and you drag your feet. "That, you know? We'll have forever, and it makes me think about all the stuff from before that."

He hums. You've revealed fragments to him, unpleasant bits of the past you've moved beyond. 

"And like... What if— Just. Maybe. I think about it sometimes." You kick the metal and stone at your feet. "I think about you being my first. I'm gonna be with you forever, you know? I wish you could just unmake me, and take me for the first time."

Jing Yuan stalls. Almost stumbles. He catches himself by the barest fringes of his finesse because Aeons and stars, what the fuck did you just say—?

(He considers himself an expert in you. He knows your mood, the way your skin changes with the artificial weather and your favorite fruits, and how you best like them cut. He knows the ways to curl his fingers inside you to bring you climax within just moments or hours, if he so deigns.)

(Yet, he never knew this desire. Never considered it. Foresight means nothing when you obscure his vision in the same way a comet's tail bursts as it hits solid atmosphere— blinding and forged with wishes.)

"Jing Yuan? Are you okay?" You ask him, voice gone soft and timid. "Was that... bad?"

"No." Jing Yuan steels himself. He has much to consider. He must act. He scoops you into his arms and throws you over his shoulder.

"Hey!" You let out a little ‘oof’ and pound on his back. "What's this for? If you're upset with me, just say it."

"You didn't upset me at all." He runs a hand over the back of your thighs, his palm coming to rest over your ass. "The opposite, actually overjoyed. You've been so gracious, I couldn't possibly let you tire yourself out with a walk home, could I?"

He squeezes a cheek and feels his cock twitch at the squeak you let out.

He's going to ruin you, he decides. Perhaps not now, but another night. If you wish him to rewrite a poor memory, your first, he will. He wants you dead sober for it.

"... Why do I feel like you're thinking really hard?" you slap his ass and he snorts. "You're scheming. I can tell."

"Only planning, dear. I promise it's in your best interest."

It's all he thinks about as he sets you on the threshold of your shared home. He feeds you rice with egg and tuskpir belly and it’s all he fucking thinks about. He fucks you stupid and drooly and full into the sheets, and it consumes him.

He intertwines his fingers with yours as he fucks into you from behind. His cock hasn't even been this hard, he thinks, it almost hurts. You make the sweetest sounds below him, sticky tears clumping your lashes as you squeeze his hand back. Every thrust pushes you into the mattress. He's blowing out your back, surely. He knows the ache you'll have in the morning and he'll chase it away.

He presses his chest to your back, licking up your neck and stilling the cant of his hips. You breathe in time.

"I'll take you like it's your first time— I'd love nothing more." He licks over a high patch of skin on your neck. "We can even play pretend, if you'd like. Would you like to be a blushing virgin who's never taken cock before?"

You laugh, tilting your head back to bonk into his, "Sounds like you'd just like to corrupt my hypothetical innocence."

"And if I did?" Jing Yuan speaks so seriously that it stills you. He thinks of every set of eyes that looked at you that evening, every ogling glance that traced a figure that is only his. He bites down into the flesh of your neck, sucking a bruise so dark it'll last for days. "If I want to undo you and be the only one who's ever fucked you, seen you like this, would I be wrong to? I think that you may even enjoy that."

You let out a shaking breath. Your cunt squeezes like a vice around his cock and he groans into the mark he's branded on you.

"You're going to ruin me." You smother your voice into the sheets as he picks up his pace. The slap of skin is wet, you're drenched, it's filthy and Jing Yuan never wants it to end. Perhaps he should rethink his views on immortality.

"I am." He will. It's a promise, a vow that's sealed with the faltering rhythm of his hips and the way he spills inside of you. He eats himself out of your cunt, until you're cumming on his tongue and thrashing against the hold he keeps on your hips.

Jing Yuan feels so pleased when he finally lays down at your side after wiping you down. You doze, rolling into his warmth the moment he's under the covers.

He will ruin you. He will reshape you for him, if that's your desire.

He keeps a hand between your sticky thighs and pushes his spent that dribbles from your cunt back inside you.

[araneapeixes]

how about that hot girl summer

(pose credit to this awesome piece!!)

[morebird]

you notice wyll ravengard looking at you, what do you do?

[x3n0-is-loading]

bonus:

[agoldengalaxy]

baldurs gate 3 companion headcanons:

- gale talks in his sleep

- astarion once made karlach laugh so hard that she sprayed fire out of her nose

- shadowheart can and will hurt anyone on purpose, but if she accidentally hits someone/steps on their foot she secretly feels REALLY bad about it

- when karlach told gale she hadn’t read a book since primary school he nearly passed out

- wyll is an emotional drunk. he has cried about the stars being beautiful and about how proud he is of his companions

- lae’zel learned her favorite trick from some of the tiefling children: sticking her tongue out at people she hates

- when she thinks everyone is asleep, jaheira sings old lullabies. minsc and wyll are the only ones who have heard, but they don’t say anything because they don’t want her to stop

- the children love to put flowers in halsin’s hair. he loves it too, and will return the favor if they ask. he once did it to an unenthusiastic astarion, who ended up secretly liking it

- minsc takes the BEST care of his nails. boo’s too, obviously. he has let yenna paint them once or twice

- everyone has a lowkey crush on wyll

- when no one is looking, astarion likes to feed and pet scratch and the owlbear, making comments about how they’re the cutest ones there (besides him) and no one gets him like they do

- karlach asked wyll for dance lessons. she never quite gets the hang of it, but she has fun, and wyll is proud of her

- astarion and shadowheart pretend to hate each other, but gossip about everyone else when they’re not looking

- everyone actually really enjoys gale’s cooking but they’d rather die than admit that

- girls night: shadowheart and lae’zel are at each other’s throats with daggers. karlach is passed out on the floor. jaheira is drinking all the ale she can find. everything’s on fire. the next day they look back on this fondly

- boys night: halsin and gale are laying on the ground to look at the stars, stoned out of their minds. wyll and astarion are pouring their hearts out to each other. minsc and boo are making dirt castles. the next day they pretend none of it happened

[theoldkyokodied]

The Allegiance of the Ascended Vampire and the New God of Magic

[squidthusiast]

“I could listen to your laugh all day”

[the-phantom-peach]

Little Big Changes ✂️~

———

CONTEXT~~

A long forgotten short comic I did for pre-totk/post-botw domestic zelink

I love Zel’s hair symbolism especially after altering her status as a “princess”and becoming a Hateno grade school teacher. She’d most likely still maintain some insecurities but that’s what our lovely knight was made for <3

Semi-connected to my previous Signing Link headcanon, Link speaks here for the first time post-Calamity and gets super self-conscious. But of course Zelda doesn’t mind and is happy that Link growing more comfortable after the events of breath of the wild

[caffichai]

More art for Coldshot's Called Shot by my friend @fishing-lesbian-catgirl! If you like spicy content, go give it a read!

The final piece, at least for now! Somehow I did these in reverse chronological order, but I guess it worked out in the end

Hey, if you're here, check this out!

[lilybug-02]

Pain is a great motivator…

Part 26 || First || Previous || Next

—Full Series—

Meanwhile Toriel:

(Loud noises don't wake her up usually.)

Artist note: I’m so proud of this :))) I know it’s a lot of dialogue and reading, but dialogue is grueling work for me. I’m glad with the art and for the amount of pages I made in such a relatively short time span -w- page 5 was super fun to work on. A lot of blood, sweat, and hours here... :) The backgrounds were a big bore tbh, but I finished them! Yippie!

[tempo-takoyaki]

Happy Birthday Shizun! I hope you'll enjoy your gifts!

[machinerot]

[uselessnbee]

you know i think it would be absolutely hilarious if after some time Percy would get so fed up by Mr. D never calling him by his actual name so Percy would just decide to do the exact same thing to him and start calling him anything but Mr. D/Dionysus

like mr. D would be like "Hey Peter Johnson" and Percy would turn around and with a straight face be like " yes, Dave?" and everyone else is just watching horrified like wtf Percy? do you want to be turned into a cockroach????

or Percy would be talking with someone and be like " Derek told me-"

" who..?"

"you know our camp director? god of wine and all that?"

"......you mean mr. D./Dionysus "

"yeah Dylan...so anyways he told me-"

and then it would become this thing between Percy and Mr. D where they would always try to come up with the most stupid and outrageous wrong names to annoy each other as much as they possibly can

everyone is horrified at Percy and just waiting for Dionysus to smite him but Percy and Mr. D are secretely having a fucking blast

[hinamie]

u should think of tiny megu. To keep the stress at bay. You should draw him actually. Ooooo you wanna draw tiny megu getting the love he deserves so bad /j

he's with his 2 best friends

[butch--dean]

the confession (jensen's version) | the night we met

"In my mind, I was sitting there thinking that... you know, it was like this flashback—you know they say that when you're about to die your life flashes before you. In my mind, I was flashing back to Lazarus Rising and seeing him walk through the barn with the sparks flying and all of the sudden all of these clips in my mind of Castiel and walking into the lake, and all of these things that are ingrained in my memory and seeing this now character have to say goodbye, but also knowing that my friend was in there having to struggle with this as well and I just thought he did such an artful job and such an incredibly nuanced performance in that moment that I was really proud of." x

inspired by @drulalovescas's post | watch it on youtube

[nipuni]

Casanova sketches!