#hua!writes

[gutouhua]

pairing. zhongli x f. reader

wc. 2.7k+

rating. explicit

tags. sort of canonverse, zhongli has ruts & dragon fangs, reader hails from mondstat, mentions of mates/mating, mentions of eating animal meat, zhongli is a perv for reader, zhongli calls reader ‘pet,’ age gap (reader is early-mid 20s, zhongli is biologically in early 30s), mentions of zhongli’s previous sexual relationships (dubcon), power dynamics, cervixfucking, overstimulation (sort of), zhongli wants to breed reader, pussydrunk zhongli, unprotected sex (pull out method)

a/n. MDNI! see end for notes

Zhongli had imagined it over a million times—taking you across the table and fucking your pussy. He knew you’d smell good down there, had scented it like a pervert in the days before your period—familiar lily mixed with strong musk and a tinge of metal. It made his fangs itch from the need to sink into your soft thighs and tongue at your slick folds.

Zhongli rutted in early spring, when trees blossomed and bore fat fruit—juicy peaches hanging heavy on thin branches. Sometimes he’d walk by them and look at them with an almost forlorn gaze. A deep ache in his body.

He wished that there was someone who would satiate his needs like seeds did to trees or bees with flowers. They mated with each other, year after year in a frenzy—a haze of powdery yellow spilling on every surface of Liyue Harbor. Zhongli didn’t have allergies, but even if he did, he would still love and envy the pollen.

It had been a long time since Zhongli had someone like that to spend his seasons with. A mate.

He’d drink copious amounts of lily bulb tea each spring to keep himself from fucking the first person who said yes to him, and would take himself into his hands with a furious passion every morning and night—even during work breaks—to relieve himself.

And it worked. He successfully passed multiple centuries of ruts like so, although it wasn’t always easy. As Morax, he was volatile—could pass for the Pyro Archon herself, Murata, but he tempered himself over the years, learning to be the composed man he was now.

But then you appeared, and the fire flared. Hutao’s newest intern—the first in nearly a decade, fresh. A slight little creature (although most people were small compared to Zhongli), and eager to learn about funeral services from Liyue’s very best. It was the first time you’d been to Liyue, so far from your home in Mondstat, and everything and everyone interested you.

I wonder if there’s a way to breed two creatures together to create an actual cocogoat. It’d be cool—Qiqi would be able to drink actual cocogoat milk, not that cheap substitute that Baizhu makes for her, and we’d be able to eat the meat. It’d taste good, right?

Zhongli chuckled, eyes soft on you. That would be a sight to behold. He didn’t mention that he’d been alive when cocogoats still roamed the Bishui Plains—a story for another time.

And then came the questions about himself.

Why are you so red, Zhongli-xiangsheng?

His rut came early this year for some reason, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. The lily bulb tea would suffice until he had a moment for himself.

But you had to make it difficult. So difficult for him.

Nothing, he murmured.

You grinned, stepping closer on tiptoes so your eyes leveled his chest. Soft rise and fall—imperceptible unless face to face like you were.

It doesn’t seem like nothing to me, Xiangsheng.

Zhongli fought the urge to inhale your soft scent. Sweet, powdery like lilies and dusk and something tender he wanted to bite—

—And he tasted blood in his mouth to stop his fangs from descending onto your exposed neck, nearly shook from the force it took to not bend you over his desk.

It would leave a mess. And Hutao would add it to his tab.

Even now you tempted him with coy glances, a bare shoulder, and sometimes a lingering touch in the space between his cuff and gloves—sharp like the sting of the formidable Raiden’s electro bolts.

“Do you want to know what I learned today, Xiansheng?” You had taken to calling him that instead of his mortal name one day. Zhongli wasn’t quite sure why, but he liked how it sounded on your lips.

He smoothed an invisible wrinkle from his suit and shuffled the papers on his desk while shifting to hide the stiffness in his pants. “Pray, do tell.”

You leaned forward, settling your weight on the heavy oak table. “I heard you’re rutting right now.”

Zhongli nearly choked on his tea. “What?”

“Rut, heat, season—Hutao told me.” You shrugged as if the topic was something mundane. “She said you rut every spring, but that it’s unusually strong this year for some reason. Something about the aura around you, I think. Why’s that?”

Because of you.

“Not sure,” Zhongli said.

“She also told me about that tea you drink.”

He nearly dropped his cup of tea. Damn the woman. Spilling all my secrets. And there wasn’t a single thing he could do—he was on her payroll.

��What about it?” he asked, trying for confidence.

“Lily bulb tea,” you continued, scrutinizing his cup, “apparently it helps calm you down and dampens the urge to fuck.”

Zhongli’s dick hardened.

“So does it?”

“What?”

“The tea. Does it help with your urges?” You jerked your head at the drink, curious.

Not when you’re around.

Zhongli had imagined it over a million times—taking you across the table and fucking your pussy. He knew you’d smell good down there, had scented it like a pervert in the days before your period—familiar lily mixed with strong musk and a tinge of metal. It made his fangs itch from the need to sink into your soft thighs and tongue at your slick folds.

He wasn’t sure what to say, but finally decided on: “Not really.”

You cocked your head to the side and bit your lips, Zhongli’s eyes following the pink tongue that peeked through. He wanted to bite them too. They’d be soft and break easily with a little bit of teeth—like almond tofu.

“Oh. Then what’re you going to do about it?”

“The usual.” Tea, masturbating, some rough fucking. Archons knew he’d need it tonight—some sort of distraction from you. He’d have to visit Madame Fang for an escort. She was used to his proclivities—would have someone able to take him.

“The usual? And what would that be?” Zhongli could almost picture you with a pen and paper in hand, a student eager for information.

He groaned internally. Now he was imagining you in a short skirt, stockings, maybe thigh highs—the fat of your thighs spilling from the top of the elastic. The image nearly had him spilling in his pants.

“I don’t think you’d want to know the particulars,” he said, his voice a soft rasp. He shifted again. “It might scare an innocent little girl like you.”

“Innocent?” You huffed. “Little? I’m a grown adult xiangsheng! I’m over the legal age—and actually much more than that. You can hardly call me little or innocent.”

“But you are,” he said indulgently, as one would towards a spoiled pet. “I am immortal, have fought and survived the Archon War. Tell me, pet, can you say the same?”

He was playing with you. Of course the two of you knew you couldn’t compare to him.

“But at the very least, you cannot consider me innocent. I’ve experienced enough things,” you muttered, annoyed.

Zhongli arched an eyebrow.

Before you knew it, he grabbed your wrist, pushing you onto the desk in one fluid motion—papers scattering to the floor like spring pollen. Zhongli pinned your hands over your head to keep you in place, and knocked your legs apart to slot his large frame between you.

“W-What’re you doing, Zhongli?”

He smiled. And there it was: his name always slipped out when you got serious.

Xiansheng.

What?

Xiansheng. He moved closer, spreading your legs further apart as he drew closer to you. You could feel your stomach pressing tightly against the cotton of your suit with each breath, your chest straining against buttons. Don’t be so impolite when your boss is trying to school you.

Xiansheng.

Good girl, he rumbled. You were so curious about the specifics of my rut—what I do to satiate my needs. Shall I show you? They say firsthand experience is the best way to learn.

His voice was heavy, hot against your ear, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when he darted a tongue out to lick the delicate shell of your ear.

So sensitive. I wonder if it’s the same in other places. Shall we find out?

Hutao had ordered him to be careful with you—a family friend. Your family owned the most successful funeral parlor in Mondstat, and they sent you to Hutao to learn how she conducted her business in Liyue. Zhongli had agreed. He could keep his hands to himself.

But then you showed up on the steps of Wansheng funeral parlor, and he knew he was fucked.

Do you want it, he whispered, I need to rut, but I always ask for permission.

Jealousy reared its ugly head. He’d done it with others—for decades, maybe even centuries, and it made sense, you couldn’t expect celibacy from him and yet…the thought of other people touching him made you want to rake your hands down his back, gouge, and suck every inch of his skin so others would know he was taken.

That he was yours.

What will it be, pet?

You nodded, eyeing the bulge in his pants. He was big. It was obvious, and it’d probably hurt. A tight fit.

Zhongli smiled—sharp teeth, predatory. I need words.

Yes.

No sooner did you give your permission did he slip your blazer off your shoulders and loosen just enough buttons to push your blouse up and over your head. You wore cotton—a simple white bra, and he wondered if you wore a matching set today.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out: you were already unzipping your pants, sliding stiff fabric down your legs, uncaring if it wrinkled. You’d have to remember to take it to the cleaners.

But later—now, you canted your hips forward, not caring about anything but the man in front of you.

So needy, he murmured, and wet.

His scent intoxicated you, his weight a delicious pressure against your skin.

Zhongli rocked against your clothed pussy, pleased to find you wet. You soaked through the cotton fabric, leaving an imprint in the shape of your pussy on your panties.

Fuck me, xiangsheng, please—I need it.

The scent of your arousal grew stronger with each tap against the wet spot. Heady, mind-numbing, as if a drug was coursing through his bloodstream. The amber of his hands grew darker, a deep, gorgeous fossilized hue, and his pupils thinned—they slitted into a sharp, almost feline countenance, predator to prey.

You would have me? he asked again, stars pulsing in his eyes. In his earlier days, before he was an archon, he had taken people without knowing what it really meant. The shame and guilt of it had made the act feel dirty for a long time—he went nearly fifty years without a single partner to help him through his ruts.

He would not make the same mistake with you.

Just fuck me.

He groaned, pulled your panties to the side—white cotton—and pushed himself into you, the entire length. It was tight and it burned as you struggled, walls stretching to accommodate his dick.

Feels so good, he grunted, you’re so tight, fuck. He lost himself in your tight heat, centuries of manners and poise melting before you.

He moved slowly at first, dragging his length out so that nothing but the tip remained inside before thrusting back in.

You shifted backward, trying to adjust to him. Soft pants, shallow—eyes squeezed shut to focus on each heavy stroke in and out of your cunt. When you started moving against him, seeking friction for yourself, Zhongli sped up. Kept most of his cock inside you with each stroke, prodding around for your sweet spot.

When he finally found it, earning a cry and squeeze around his cock that nearly made him cum, he smiled. Right there, pet?

You gasped, struggled to answer: Yeah, yeah-right there—

He continued to thrust, imprinting your insides with the shape of his dick, hitting that sensitive spot with almost boyish eagerness, but it still wasn’t enough to—

—You reached down to where his dick is splitting you apart and try to rub your clit, the hard nub aching for attention, but Zhongli pushed your hand away.

Allow me.

You almost whine—denial twisting your stomach into a tight knot, leaving your clit wanting, but he didn’t make you wait long. Deft fingers rubbed circles on your clit, grinding, until it swelled enough for him to pinch, hard.

Zhongli, please—

What did I say pet, he hummed and bit your earlobe in admonishment.

Xian-Xiansheng—

You were begging now, pleading—tears dripping from your face like fresh paint on canvas.

Please, xiansheng, please, I need it.

What do you need? He thrust forward, the head almost kissing your cervix.

Need…

Need what? Use your words, pretty pet. Another hard thrust, this time he touched your cervix. Half pain, half pleasure. Lines slowly starting to blur—was it because of his dick or your tears? You couldn’t tell.

You shook your head and fisted your hands in the collar of his suit, wrinkling the fine material as you dragged his face towards you to claim a kiss. Harsh and unyielding, a faint taste of iron between each ragged breath. Now you’d have to take two suits to the cleaners.

Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you’d forgotten how you even got into this situation in the first place. Something about lily bulb tea, alone time…and ruts…heats. Heat—were you the one in heat or was it him?

But it didn’t matter, all you knew was that:

Need to cum.

Zhongli’s pretty lips curled. And so you shall.

With one hand on your hips, he slammed his hips against yours in a punishing rhythm while his other hand battered your clit, thick fingers flicking the hard nub repeatedly until you felt nearly numb from the overstimulation. He felt you tense beneath him, hips rolling incessantly, your cunt gripping him so tightly he knew he was close.

Cum for me, he demanded, almost growling, give it to me.

And you obeyed—gave yourself over to the pleasure, moaning from the waves of pleasure washing over you.

Zhongli groaned as you contracted around him, each tight draw from your pussy taking him closer to his own release. Hips stuttering, he felt his fangs slip through, throbbing from the desire to taste you, bite you, mark you—

—Breed you.

It was messy, each time he pulled back and saw the amount of slick that coated his cock, his mind grew fuzzier, almost stupid. Zhongli couldn’t remember the last time he felt pussydrunk—

You bit the side of his neck as another orgasm ripped out of you, and this time Zhongli let himself go with a harsh growl, pulling out right as he cummed, thick ropes of sticky cum defiling your stomach. It was dizzyingly maddening: his cum moving with each shaky exhale, dripping onto your pussy, and Zhongli thought it was such a waste that it wasn’t inside you, filling you up. Some of it covered your clit—a glistening pearl. He fought every fiber of his being to not bend down and lick it. He didn’t like sweet things, but you were an exception.

“Did you learn a lot?” he finally asked after your breath had steadied a bit.

You were still coming down from your high, barely able to form a coherent sentence. “What?”

“I was teaching you,” he chuckled, voice husky. “Were you a good student? Paying attention?”

You thought about it for a moment. Looked at his disheveled appearance, his golden eyes, the wrinkles in his suit, and found it lacking.

“Not enough.”

“I am in agreement.”

Hutao narrowed her eyes. “You fucked him.”

“And what if I did? It’s not like you’ll fire me,” you replied lightly.

Hutao groaned. “I knew you wanted to fuck him, but I didn’t think you wanted to do it that badly. It’s not exactly good for my business, and you know he’ll stick to you for the rest of his season, right? That’s how it works for him. He doesn’t share.”

“Well good. Because I don’t either.” You wouldn’t have chosen him anyway if he liked to share. “But wait—what do you mean ‘not exactly good for your business?’”

The Wangsheng Director grinned at you. “Look at him: one of the most eligible bachelors in Liyue. Didn’t you notice that we have a large number of young clients? They come to Wangsheng because of him. I don’t care who Zhongli fucks as long as they give me their money—it keeps my beloved Wangsheng as the most profitable funeral parlor in Liyue.”

“Of course you would say that.” You laughed and thought about all the times your parents praised Hutao. “No wonder my parents sent me here to learn from you.”

Hutao winked. “Of course! Making money is the second best thing I’m good at.”

“What’s the first?”

“Death.”

uhhh i wrote this one about six-ish months ago too...been busy with zine work but hopefully when I'm done I can write more reader insert smut :') (also sorta tried a new style of dialogue lmao back when I wrote this)

Murata, also known as the God of War and the Lady of Fire, was a Pyro Archon and a member of The Seven who presided over Natlan.

先生 - xiānsheng. Has two main definitions: the first is teacher, the second is mister (Mr); gentleman; sir. Both suit Zhongli very well in this fic ;)

Dried lily bulb【百合】 is usually recommended in TCM (traditional Chinese medicine) clinics to treat coughs, dry throats and relieve heat. (But IRL, this doesn’t actually help with the horny feels LOL.) 

Zhongli as Morax has darker brown/amber skin tone on arms, so I chose to depict this in the fic as skin darkening when aroused. I also put a photo of something similar on an actual body. 

[bishy437]

he won

bonus:

[biboomerangboi]

Hua Cheng essentially cockblocking himself for possibly all of eternity will literally never not be the funniest thing MXTX ever wrote.

Xie Lian was pretty much completely in love with him the second he saw those lanterns (and completely oblivious about it) and then we get the wonderful first kiss underwater moment and Xie Lian is basically drawing hearts around Hua Cheng every time he sees him. While like quietly dying cause he literally has no idea what to do with it. Like at this point he doesn’t even really understand that he is head over heels totally gone for this man.

Until Hua Cheng is like I have a beloved I just haven’t won them over yet. Which he thinks is perfectly reasonable because his self esteem is the worst and he doesn’t understand how he could have won Xie Lian over yet. (He’s only on step 22 of his Marrying Dianxia 3000 step Master Plan ((that he debates throwing out on a regular basis because he doesn’t deserve to even dream about wanting Xie Lian)). So course he’s like yeah I have this wonderful noble beautiful beloved I just haven’t won them over yet wink wink nudge nudge.

But Xie Lian is like oh of course obviously I don’t deserve nice things and fuck I actually wanted him so badly I’m actually in love with him and now I will resign myself to never being happy for his sake. (Their combined self esteem is truly a so low it’s a hole in the ground which is hilarious because they think the other person is to good for them and unattainable forever because they literally have the same neurosis.) So he starts boxing up his feelings forever constantly wanting Hua Cheng and feeling guilty about it and literally dying inside because he wants Hua Cheng like he’s never wanted anyone.

Like essentially books 3 and 5 only happen because Hua Cheng has now cursed them both by saying he has a beloved because Xie Lian believes he isn’t wanted and therefore any nice thing Hua Cheng does is just him being nice and not Hua Cheng pulling out steps 23-34 of his plan thinking he still hasn’t won Xie Lian over. (He has he so has but he shot himself in the foot so badly it’s painful to read).

Like thank the Gods Hua Cheng is so unhinged and created the cave of 10000 Gods cause Xie Lian would literally be at his own wedding to Hua Cheng still convinced he wanted someone else and this was in fact a thing they were doing to solve a case together otherwise.

Like he needed something that unhinged to put 2 and 2 together otherwise he never would have caught on he’s Hua Cheng’s beloved. Meanwhile Hua cheng is like 🥺 he’s going to think I’m a weirdo now and I’m only on step 50 of the plan 🥺 like the two of them wouldn’t have been fucking nasty 2 books ago if he just kept his mouth shut and didn’t cockblock himself so violently.

[mossymage]

coping with 800 years of yearning with karaoke

[red-pearl-white-flower]

“How many times?” Xie Lian asked, wide-eyed, utterly captured. Nothing had ever managed to bespell him so thoroughly and so quickly, save perhaps for the art of the sword. The way San Lang looked at him, like he was the focus of his attention, the focus of his entire being, was addicting. “How many times have you married me?” “Four.”

On the matter of safety, aka my very own amnesia extra!

[imagine-to-be-a-pike]

"wingman pei ming" "wingman xie lian" what about wingmen Hua Cheng. Look, I believe that mu qing and Hua Cheng They became "friends" in their own way. Like they are both bitches so the viper won't kill the viper. And well, Hua Cheng is like ,,You're hopeless, I'll teach you, don't bother gege with this. "

It ended with a whole series of events like "are you sure?" "who here has a husband? Just do it. "

Spoiler: don't take seduction advice from a man who built 10,000 statues of the man who caught him as a child, is weirdly obsessive, and at the very end he proposed and then was like heheh Just kidding. Especially if you have zero relationship experience. And he too, because he's been looking for that one guy for 800 years.

Them fr:

(btw feng xin thinks they are planning an attack on his life)

[qifreyplushie]

SORRY EVERYONE I GOT CAUGHT UP IN WRITING ANOTHER FIC LOL... please take this crumb in the meantime <3 I shall be done soon i think....

[hyeesong]

[tempo-takoyaki]

Transmigrator!Hua Cheng AU (aka SVSSS x TGCF AU) | I mean technically it's an AU but I wrote it in a way that would make it fit as HC's POV throughout TGCF, so AU or theory? Take that as you will | Warning: Canon Compliant Violence, Suicide ideation, Implied non-con (not between Hualian and never actually happens here)

"A Tale of Three Princes" was Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s latest novel. Unlike his previous success, Proud Immortal Demon's Way, ATTP (as it was called by the fans) was a renowned  masterpiece. Far from the stallion novels Airplane readers had been used to, ATTP was more akin to one of those classics that would be taught over and over again throughout  the centuries. What made it so peculiar though was the narrative device used to tell its story.

ATTP was not in fact a single story, but three, set in the same universe, centuries apart. The three stories were updated one after another daily, by chapters of ten thousand words (as Airplane readers were used to). Which meant that the readers had no idea how each story ended before being swept up into the next...

Which also explained why Zhu Qiang did not know any of the three endings when he got reincarnated into ATTP.

It had been just another terrible day for Zhu Qiang when he died. He had found a quiet spot in his school's stairwell to unwind and read the latest update of ATTP when his bullies had found their way back to him. He had put up a good fight, maybe too much, as he could still remember losing his footing and falling head first onto the stairs. When he had opened his eyes, it was not to the stairwell's ceiling, or even a hospital, but a busy street where people in ancient clothing looked at him strangely.

After a few minutes, he had put two and two together relatively quickly. He  had transmigrated in none other than the second story of ATTP, also called the Xianle Arc. As for which character he was supposed to be... He had no idea. When he had asked the system about it, it only flashed him a [System has encountered an error. System update…] which was not helpful in the least. Despite his more introverted personality, he had no other choice but to ask around… And the answers came relatively quickly: “It’s the monster child!” “Get away you fiend!” “Disappear!” With a sigh, he came to the realization that unlike many of those popular transmigration novels, this life wouldn’t be too much different from his previous one.

He hadn’t been the best looking guy back in his hometown, at least from what he knew, and people had always bullied him for it. This time around, he had no mirrors or phones to confirm what others said, but he supposed he wasn’t much different. (Though to be fair, even back in his previous life he had always carefully avoided mirrors and photos, he couldn’t even recall what his own face actually looked like). Once the system had finished its update, it tried to give him some helpful directions to survive, like where he could find food or shelter, but any questions about what character he was supposed to be were left unanswered. (All that he knew was that he was about ten years old). However, he finally got access to his stats (after days left to his own devices) and he almost choked on the spot.

“MINUS THIRTY-SIX ON LUCK?! WTF?!”

The reason for  these god-awful bad stats? A passive skill called Eye of Misfortune which reduced his own luck by a hundred points, and the one of surrounding people by fifteen percent. Completely unfair… But it explained people’s glares and insults. Again, with no mirror to look for, Zhu Qiang had no idea of what that Eye of Misfortune actually looked like. But at this point, he had understood that the best way to stay on the down low was to hide it. Usually, those types of novels would then introduce a special ability only the protagonist could have to solve his main issue and become a total badass… But asking the system about it, for the very first time, it seemed to express an actual tangible emotion.

[System apologizes. There has been an error. UV003 has no special ability attached to this vessel besides Eye of Misfortune and Demonic Heritage.]

Ah, yes Demonic Heritage. Another passive skill that actually was useful, unlike the other, as it made him less receptive to pain by fifty percent. He supposed it was linked to Eye of Misfortune in some way… But again how could he know when he’d apparently spawned out of nowhere with a backstory he wasn’t aware of? As time passed, the hope of bettering his life slimmed down until it seemed barely believable. 

He had no parents to take care of him. No home to find shelter in. No prospect of finding a job with his “deformity” as people called it… Only two months went by before he called it quits.

If he hadn’t died in that stairwell, he probably would have jumped from the rooftop of his school. He wasn’t afraid of death, he had hoped for that prospect for many years prior to reincarnating. But reincarnation hadn’t been kinder to him. It hadn’t offered him a life he could change, one he could better to prove he was worthy of something, anything. The system flashed him warning signs, but fuck it, he was tired. So tired of playing into God’s hand. 

[Major Event Activated: The Last Parade of Xianle.]

At the top of the castle’s wall, he could remember the first chapter of the second story of ATTP. “His beauty was beyond compare, his stance the one of a mighty warrior, and his gaze behind the mask: determined, fierce, and maybe even sly in his own childish way.” (Chapter 2 of A Tale Of Three Princes) He was too tired to go on, but if he had to go one last time, he wanted to see the prince, his favorite character, before doing so.

Once he saw him in his golden clothes, Zhu Qiang took a step beyond the edge and…

…

[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Great things must be said three times! You have successfully changed the plot "The Star of Bad Omen" into "A Fateful meeting"! Character role changed from "Canon Fodder" to "Side Character". +100 B-points!]

… Uh?

He was cradled into a pair of strong arms, holding him tight against embroidered robes despite his dirty appearance. He heard the sound of a wooden object hitting the floor, and he looked up. There, with the most gentle eyes he had ever seen…

[New Character Unlocked: Xie Lian, Prince of Xianle. Second protagonist of A Tale of Three Princes.]

Zhu Qiang wanted to strangle the system with all his might. Finally, finally he knew which character he had been transmigrated into: THAT ONE STUPID KID WHO KILLED HIMSELF DURING THE PARADE OF XIANLE, CURSING THE ENTIRE COUNTRY IN THE PROCESS. WOW. That one child who had no name but haunted the entire second plotline of ATTP. Never named but always present, the curse of the city, the failure of its inhabitants, a character full of symbolism but no actual practical utility to speak of… No wonder his luck stat was so low and the system did nothing to make up for it!! He was born to die!!! 

That alone, pissed him off enough to reschedule his suicide at a later date. If he had to die he wanted it to be by his own hands and his own choice. If the system wanted him dead, then it was no better than his bullies back in his previous life! Besides, he was already laughing in its face, because he had been held by the Crown Prince of Xianle, a beauty amongst beauties, the most perfect and fascinating character ever written (in Zhu Qiang’s own biased opinion as a 16 year old).

What happened afterwards though was embarrassing to say the least. First he had been found out by Qi Rong (that bastard traitor, he had always hated him even when he was only a reader) who had beaten him to a pulp (he was so thankful for Demonic Heritage at that moment), then Xie Lian had saved him (yay!) and he had taken care of him (double yay!) and then he and his subordinates had asked him questions (fuck).

“What’s your name?” He doesn’t know. “What does your mother call you?” Uuuuh people said his cursed eye was red so maybe… “Hong…Hong-er?” “How cute!” Nailed it. “Where are your parents?” Damn, he wishes he knew! “I… ran away from home.” “Poor boy…” He would have felt awful if it weren’t for Xie Lian’s gentle hands and his soft smile. Any lie in the world was worth it if it allowed him to see him. He was however, feeling very uneasy in the presence of Feng Xin and Mu Qing, Xie Lian’s two closest servants and friends who were eyeing him as if he had a bomb hidden under his clothes. Especially Mu Qing, the last chapter of ATTP about Xianle he read implied that Mu Qing was about to betray the prince, and so Zhu Qiang (now renamed Hong-er) didn’t trust him one bit.

But even so… After that awful cultivator told him he didn’t deserve to live (and god did he already know that)... Xie Lian took him in his arms and said he wasn’t a monster. No matter how ugly his sobbing was, no matter the reason for his misfortune, Xie Lian, unafraid of him, held him and told him he was not a monster… that was more than anyone had ever done for him in two lifetimes. And for the first time in a long time, Zhu Qiang cried.

He already knew he was a curse on legs, and so no matter how thankful he was, he couldn’t extend his stay. He knew what sort of character he was, if he did, things would only get worse for Xie Lian from then on. And he didn’t want that for him… And then Xie Lian ascended.

It was a miracle that he stayed alive for so long. His saving grace? Not Xie Lian’s temple he had built himself and took care of. No. It was beating the other street kids like they had beaten him up before. Hey, no judgement, those weren’t modern times, the worst that would happen is some other kids coming back to get revenge and then he could whoop their ass over again. Uh? He was an adult beefing with kids? That’s a detail, system, buddy! Let him enjoy this miserable life of his that had not improved one bit in three years besides that!

[+32 exp point. User has obtained a new success: Child Beater. Congratulations… (-_-)]

Now it’s just making stuff up. Anyway, life was going, that was it. Every day was the same: go in the fields to get a flower for the crown prince’s statue (not only did it make him happy, it also raised his Faith stat!), pray, take care of the temple if need be, take leftovers from one of the big houses in the neighbourhood, beat other kids up when they came to provoke him (or steal his food), go back to the temple to pray (again), clean it up (again), steal food (again), beat kids (again) and sleep where no one will see him (...again). It was fine the first year. The second, it had become redundant, the third, he was wondering what the heck he was doing. Beating kids raised his stats slowly but surely, but becoming stronger wasn’t his goal. What he wanted… And that was it, he didn’t know what he wanted. And after three years, doubt made its way in the cracks of his broken heart: he lived so he could spite the system for attempting to kill him… But was it worth it? 

Xie Lian was a god now, and with his shitty luck, was he going to live long enough to even see him for the upcoming civil war? What was the point of it all in the end? He wasn’t supposed to live. He had never been meant to live at all… So why…?

“If you don’t know what to live for, then live for me.”

[Class upgrade: Beggar -> Soldier. Skill update: STR +15. DEF +13. CHAR +5...etc]

[New passive skills acquired: Blade of Xianle, doubles the amount of exp gained from killing humans. Demonic Heritage II, the might of your ancestors give you +20 to your Strength and Speed.]

[Major event coming soon: Land of Tender, Land of Loser.]

Reading about the Land of Tender had been excruciating. One of the main criticisms towards ATTP was how downright cruel some chapters were towards the main three princes. Each had one specific traumatic event that would shape them up for the rest of the story, their own fall from grace. In the case of Xie Lian… It had been the Land of Tender.

Unlike his previous novel Airplane hadn’t romanticized what happened at all. It was so raw and so awful many readers had considered dropping the story right here and there, Zhu Qiang had been one of them. It was the start of the fall of Xianle, marked by this cruel beyond humanly possible event.

Now, standing straight with his sword in hand, Hong-er faced the flowers. He couldn’t let them close, he knew what would happen if he did. It’s the exact reason for why he had followed Xie Lian in the forest to save Qi Rong even if he hated him. If he gave up, if he wavered for just one moment… Never could he forgive himself.

And then the flowers changed appearances, and laughing, they took the face of the Crown Prince.

Back when Xie Lian only used to be a character in Zhu Qiang eyes, he admitted he looked at some fanarts or some skimpy fics about him, sometimes even watched videos imagining it was him. Face with the real deal, he had vowed himself to never see him again as some sort of forbidden pleasure. And yet those flowers had seen right through him… Maybe they had all been right, his bullies, his parents, his teachers, the villagers, everyone… Maybe he was a monster.

“You’re not a monster,” he had clinged onto those words for years. But his palm against the white skin of his prince, he felt his devotion waver. He thought it was faith, he thought it was fate, now… he wondered, hadn’t it all been in the name of lust and obsession? When Xie Lian left, and he asked for him, he reminded himself of why he shouldn’t have gotten closer in the first place: he was a jinx.

Mu Qing kicked him out of the army after this event. There was no point in arguing with him. No matter how Hong-er told him he was the one at fault for abandoning the prince, the only acknowledgement he got from him was a slap to his face and his insignia snatched out of his hands. And back to the street he was. He wasn’t beating kids anymore, no point to that, he would destroy them at the first occasion. His stats were high thanks to how much he had killed (Paper men, he reminded himself after washing the blood off his hand, paper men). There was the epidemic too. Since he was immune, he got recruited to take care of the transport of the ill. The grotesque faces made him want to puke, but it hadn’t been the worst he’d seen at that point.

He saw Xie Lian one last time. And then another time, his eyes closed, holding the pagoda… And then Xianle fell. And he was back to beating kids up to protect the temples he rebuilt.

“I’ll never forget you!!” His one reason to hold on in two lifetimes.

He died in Xie Lian’s temple, stabbed by Qi Rong, not without smashing his head in retaliation. Heavens, he hated that guy. He laughed low and quiet, the system flashing his health bar lowering and lowering. And then… As he had expected it, everything faded to black.

[GAME OVER. 2/3 life left, start again?]

Wait… HE HAD SPARE LIVES???!!

[Class update: Soldier -> Malice. Base stats changed from Human to Ghost. Passive skills still active: Eye of Misfortune, Demonic Heritage I, Demonic Heritage II, Blade of Xianle...]

[To continue…?]

(I don't know if I'll do it in multiple parts or not, if you like it I'll continue. Other than that, here's the tweets that started it all:)

(I added one of the replies mentioning that it could explain why his writing is so bad because I hadn't thought about it when I made my first tweets, but looking at his writing in adaptations and comparing it to how modern chinese students write... You can see similarities.)

If you enjoy the concept you can add onto it in the replies, the reblogs or send me asks!

[gutouhua]

𝖌𝖔𝖏𝖔 𝖝 𝖋.𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗, 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖆 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖙𝖞!𝖌𝖔𝖏𝖔 x angst and lowkey toxic authority/subordinate fwb relationship, 18+ mdni, (trying to get back into writing, just a mini practice); hair pulling part is inspired by @/suguwu's yakuza itoshi & shidou reader drabble i reblogged recently <3)

Gojo stills remembers the feeling of his wings getting clipped.

The sharp, decisive blade shearing through snowy feathers. Two crimson lines spurting bloody ichor. A cold hand against the searing heat.

It was not supposed to happen like that.

You, standing behind him. An execution. Your righteous sword heavy in your callused palm. A tortured expression—as if your wings were being cut.

He can still remember it now even as your two palms press against the raised pink scars, nails running up and down his back.

“Slower.”

But he didn’t—

“I said slower, Gojo,” you hiss, voice rising as he cants his hip deeper inside you. “I can’t—“

“You didn’t say that last time I was inside you, General. Why the change in heart now?”

Your hands slid up his neck, cupping, possessing, before finding purchase in his white shock of hair and tugging hard against his scalp to force his eyes to meet yours.

“I said, slower, Gojo,” you gasp even as you try to steady your voice. “Listen to your superior or I’ll punish you.”

Wild eyes pierce your command, the blue crystalline from lust. But he only thrusts harder into you, forcing his cock to kiss your womb. He liked seeing you suffer beneath him—at least when you let him.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to punish you as well. See that pained look on your face again.

“Then punish me.”

[sunderwight]

Hualian Idol AU where instead of the statues the big reveal of Hua Cheng's longstanding amorous fixation on Xie Lian is all of his self-insert "my mom sold me to One Direction" style fanfics located in the depths of some boyband RPF archive.

[biboomerangboi]

Hua Cheng is just so iconic to us because he is in fact a tumblr girlie. Notebook filled to the brim with sketches of his blorbo. Info dumps galore. Maximalist fashion to the nines. Outfits based on accessories. Has all of the genders under one big shapeshifting trench coat. Hates the ruling class. Excuses every problematic thing his blorbo does and stands by them in the group chats. Insane reaction to people who dislike his blorbo and says mean things about them, burning temples is the doxxing of his time. He belongs on here with us.

[via-the-cryptid]

tgcf au where hc’s true form is Wu Ming. it’s what he looked like right after he died, and even if he reinvents himself, even if he’s gained more strength and power from the Kiln, he still can’t grow or change but so much without involving shapeshifting. his canon form is the one he built for himself, the one he created with the intention of becoming an entirely new being (not weak or helpless, like he used to be before he sculpted a new identity), but it isn’t his true form. his true form is still that bony little waif of a soldier, the one that tried to so hard to help his god but couldn’t truly fix anything in the end.

and now, imagine just how much xl is going to lose his mind when hc inevitably shows him this true form (after much hesitation, but hc really can’t deny his beloved god anything and he would never want to, even if he’s practically ready to dissipate from the shamefulness of that awful body). think of hc changing into the half-starved ghost of Wu Ming, not expecting xl to even remember the ghost — let alone recognize him — and then think of just how hard xl is going to cry when he realises that Wu Ming is still here and still following him after all.

[disgracefulthings]

Hualian Cooking AU where Xie Lian owns a cooking YouTube channel where each video starts with Xie Lian in a pristine kitchen, but by the end of the videos the kitchen is a complete mess and at least one thing is on fire

Many React channels watch and make fun of his cooking, some wondering how his food hasn't killed anyone, but one channel doesn't

Hua Cheng owns a popular React channel where he is known for verbally destroying people when they do stupid shit, the exception being Xie Lian, who he praises in every video he makes (even when he's not reacting to him) and even tells his audience how much he wants to try Xie Lian's food

Cue collab

[shadowgale96]

Alternate meeting idea between hualian where XL accidentally finds HCs ashes while scrap collecting in an area that had once been his shrine, and HC is on a hellish crusade to catch the trash that dares handle his ashes when it’s for his gods hands alone.

[whatmattersisyou]

Hua Cheng is the Simpest of Simps™ and I, as a simp myself, get him so much. Loving someone the way he loves Xie Lian is terrifying and also amazing. Been there, done that, still doing it and I don't wanna do anything for the rest of my life.

His love is in the big gestures but also in the smol things.

It's in the 10k statues but also telling Xie Lian to cry out if it hurts. it's in sacrificing his unlife so that Xie Lian can live and thrive. It's also in being the most sincere person he'd ever meet.

It's in the gentle way he paints Xie Lian, in the soft, delicate brush of hands at the Gamblers Den. It's in wanting to protect him without caging him in. It's in allowing Xie Lian to be himself, and be there with him.

Don't fight me on this cause I don't have the spoons, but I believe that love is a choice. And Hua Cheng has been making that choice for 800 years and will make it for the rest of eternity.

It's all-encompassing and it is so, so scary. When you love someone like that, you have so much to lose. Yet Hua Cheng always chooses love and I can't respect him more for that.