#yuan my beloved and beautiful

[gothambelfry]

2, 3, 25 for chuuya aaaaaaand, 12 for yuan!

CHUUYA

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

He’s sooo sweet. Like when he’s not in combat or near Dazai he’s so incredibly gentle and kind. Getting lunch with Kenji & the shaved ice for kyouka & how soft he gets talking to kouyou… he grew up so rough but is still so sweet.

He’s also just so funny. I love his funnies.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

Asagiri made him too strong he can’t have fun >:(

jk. it’s that fucking DHC outfit so genuinely i can’t stand looking at it

(^ I love him so much i can’t pick anything real 😭)

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

*seeing the helicopter scene on the dash, having not met him when i first watch it years ago* hey who’s this guy. He seems awesome.!

Cut over a year later and i would kill for him and kill myself for him he’s the most important thing everrr and his story is beautiful and ohuahhh

————-

YUAN

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

- 1 year younger than chuuya & shirase

- she works for the Special Division for Unusual Powers! Both out of a slight distain for abilities but also it allows her to keep tabs on Chuuya (<- they’re besties again in my head)

- she still wears her hair up in a bun that looks like a rams horn & helps take care of Suribachi

- Shirase owes her money. She has not and will not forget this and intends on collecting.

- Major shopaholic. Makes Chuuya buy her fancy things.

- situationship with dazai when they were 19 & they have a deal that if either of them let it slip to anyone they just have to die gen srs it would be the end

- trans woman & bisexual

- MAJOR cat person. Has three of her own.

- met kouyou once and although she still has major beef with the mafia, does like kouyou & trusts her around chuuya

- would like to be a mom one day just in general but also to give a child the life she & the sheep never got

[fairsweetlonging]

the svsss extras are actually so insane, one moment you're reading about the heartbreaking past between shen jiu and qi yue and about trauma and cycles of abuse, about luo binghe mourning shen yuan and staying with his body every day for years, about shang qinghua being offered the chance to go home and not taking it because he was miserable and lonely, and then the next tianlang-jun is trying to set zhuzhi-lang up with shen yuan and encouraging him to bride-steal?? and then shang qinghua is ordering mobei-jun to make him noodles while fantasizing about writing a danmei peak lord orgy?? cottagecore bingqiu?? everyone thinking shen qingqiu got pregnant with luo binghe's child??? og pidw fans apparently being qijiu and binggejiu shippers?? hello what??

[shizunitis]

Shen Qingqiu. Thoughts?

oughhhoiuuuuggggghhhh. shizun. SHIZUN hnnnGgGgn shizuuun. Shizun… Shen Qingqiu. shizun.. i miss shizun..

[threnodians]

it’s like they know that i’m sick because they’ve never all been on the express at once 🥹

[otaku553]

just curious, what are the chinese characters for your ocs names? since the romanizations dont convey tone and meaning haha

Here they are!

Their approximate meanings are heaven-bestowed or sent by the heavens for tianci and bountiful growth of thankfulness or gratefulness over time for xieran

Let me know if these don’t seem quite right, I did make up xieran’s name and I do not have much experience choosing Chinese names lmao

The two of them share a last name but I don’t know about the last name yet

[chiyoso]

okay if theres suddenly a surge of hsr masterlists

yes, im fixing it

haah—look at the Arbiter General go.... ima write abt him soon enough ffs

[squiddy-god]

HSR men and manhandling

Manhandling HCS pt one?

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Ok so this is actually just because i have lust in my heart lmao- this came to me in a dream so buckle up, i am definitely willing to do more characters because i have thoughts- reminder that i often write smut from an afab perspective but that its gn! Because i am a trans man so ftm reader you guys are my faves <3 this is for everyone tho. These are lowkey long-

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN ♥︎

ARGENTI, BOOTHILL, DR RATIO, JING YUAN��

Cw: smut, suggestive content to just straight smut, man handling,dom!/top characters. Established relationship, biting, no pronouns (afab anatomy), implied chubby/bigger reader, PDA, slight exhibitionism, mentions of bath sex,mentions of oral (m & f receiving)  Description of touching hair (no texture described), aftercare is given even if not fully described  i have so many thoughts 

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Argenti 

Ok hear me out-

He doesn't do it on purpose, argenti to his core is a gentle lover

But he's a knight of beauty and quite strong, throwing around a huge spear as if it was nothing, effortlessly defeating monsters in his pursuit of beauty

And until you, he traveled alone, you are truly a blessing from Idrila and who is he to refuse such a blessing. 

Argenti naturally just waxes poetry to everyone and everything, it ramps up with you, it's more tender and loving. The other thing is that he's more physical, kissing a lock of your hair, the back of your hands, embracing you, dancing with you etc. this is where the problems is (its not a problem i NEED this man)

Argenti doesn't often show physical affection with anyone besides his beloved (you) so he sometimes forgets his strength, and while he could NEVER dream of handling you in any way except with tender care and the touch of a gentleman 

He ends up manhandling you. 

Argenti also loves you with everything, sex is special, its connection, it is devotion 

And he is DEVOTED 

Gently grasping your hand and waist to pull you into his embrace simply so he can admire you? The force is enough to (literally) almost sweep you off your feet

Drawing your body close to his, the music drowning out the noise you make as he moves you to dance with him. 

It's like you weigh nothing to him, he can simply move you however he wants.

Often sweeps you off your feet because he forgets that most can't just sweep you into one arm while the other cradles your face. 

What's hot about it is that he is literally manhandling you with such a tender expression you almost forget the way his hands grip your hips as if argenti is trying to commit the feeling of your plush body to his memory (he is) 

Argenti is a giver in the bedroom, but the manhandling continues 

Asks before he does literally anything- can he move your hips up? Can he kiss you? What do you need from him? 

But once he has your consent on permission THIS MAN FOLD YOU IN HALF

If he's giving you head/eating you out? Consider your legs PINNED DOWN, once you tell him that he can finally have a taste he is dragging you across the soft sheets of his bed and DIVORCING your legs. 

His favorite position for eating you out is him sitting on the bed with your legs slung over his shoulders and a bruising grip on your hips and thighs holding you up like its nothing, he likes it because it makes it so easy for you to look up at him while he maintains the most loving eye contact you have ever received. 

Back to Argenti folding you in half- he will be balls deep in you panting and huffing while he's practically slamming into you, his hands grabbing at any part of you he can reach, tummy, thighs, love handles- anything. He let out a breathy moan asking to move you “just a bit” and when you nod your head with a whine he's dragging you closer and throwing one leg over shoulder before leaning down to ask for a kiss, practically pressing your knee to your shoulder. 

Always is so shocked at how sore you are despite the fact he was bending and folding you like origami- he truly doesn't realize just how much he throws you around.  

Boothill

It wasn't intentional…at first

Once he realizes just how much he man handles you (and how hot and bothered it gets you) it is 100% intentional 

He is a menace and is unashamed of anything

His metal body is a lot stronger than a human body is so there is a lot more that he can do

Boothill is unashamed, he dosn’t give a fuge who sees, in fact- a more possessive side of him is very happy to see the the stares he garners with his hands around your waist practically dragging you along with his long strides

Boothill’s two favorite activities include pulling you towards him by the waist, and holding you there when you try to squirm away as he bites and nibbles your cheeks

Traveling with boothill is dangerous so shootouts with ipc and any other bounties he's hunting aren't uncommon, neither are hasty escapes where he hoists you up and slings you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes

Honestly him throwing you over his shoulder isn't uncommon even if it's not for a hasty escape

Oh the cyborg sees you talking to someone he thinks is getting a little too friendly? He doesn't care how much you protest he is dragging you away 

Back to the shootouts, if he sees your gonna get punched, shot or otherwise harmed he is pulling and pushing you all over the place like a ragdoll after all his reflexes are a lot quicker than yours so 

Another one who likes to dance (did you see those moves) and he’s not even sorry as he pulls you against him to dance, laughing as he moves you. 

The more boothill knows you like being manhandled the more he does it- sometimes it's really just to tease you

Pinning you down in your cair before letting you get up, all while hes laughing at how flustered you get

Boothill’s manhandling isn't so much about folding you in half but more so keeping you there- 

He loves to throw you onto the bed- after he's hauled you off from a far to friendly chap, or a gunfight he will throw you onto the bed as you bounce slightly 

This mostly happens once you are both safe from a bounty or gunfight- artificial adrenaline pumping through the tubes he calls veins and it has him itching to have you 

Pinning your hands above your head and kissing you with a little too much teeth

Dirty lip biter

He bites his lips when he's pissed off (often) and when he kisses you (also often) so you should both invest in chapstick because your lips are bit to high hell by the time boothill pulls away

Big big fan of fucking you against a wall- might as well put this metal bod to work in his opinion, and what a better way to use it than to grab fistfulls of thigh and ass while your legs rest on his cold hips? 

Its perfect because he only needs one arm to hold you up, the other free to roam and pinch where he wants 

Chronic ass slapper

If he sees an opportunity to smack your ass he. Is. taking. It. 

You alway know because you hear the clink of his boots and the accessories against him and the loud wolf whistle he lets out.

Dr.ratio 

The good doctor is somewhat oblivious 

He acknowledges that sometimes he dose move you in a way that would be considered manhandling but is mostly unaware of the effect it has on you

The difference with ratio is that so much of  his manhandling is in a domestic way, 

Oh he needs a mug for his tea and you are doing something in front of the counter where the cabinet is? Prepare for a stong hand on you waist and he moves you to the side like you are little to no obstacle

Oh you are getting swept up in the crowd? Fear not for veritas places a hand on the small of your back to guide you with him as he practically cuts through the crowds. Really its more of pushing you but really whos complaining?

Personally i am a fan of men who are closet/secret FREAKS and veritas ratio is a freak

I think hes rather possessive in the sense that while he is wholly confident and secure in himself and you- afterall why would you leave him for some idiot 

It is a small irrational feeling that plays into the fact he is quick to annoyance and anger 

The temper of the dr is well know tho very rarely directed at you 

It is moment like this that hes more hands, his hand a death grip on your shoulder or the plush softness of your waist as his words cut harshly to the person getting to friendly 

You are HIS idiot (affectionate) 

One of the best (read: hottest) things to watch him do is sculpt. I hc that beyond stone and marble ratio also dables in clay and pottery (im bias)

Watching this man wedge clay is an ✨experience ✨, his thick toned arms that flex with earth movement, the way his back is pulled taught and his palms press the clay against the surface.

Hes practically leaning over it and grunting (wedging clay is an arm workout) . I mean how could you not watch that slack jawed wondering when it's your turn? (i'm gonna write suggestive ration on the wheel) 

IN THe BATH?? Not enough ratio bath sex in my life tbh but this man is aughhhhhh

Ratio likes his baths, warm relaxing water and a good book? Perfect 100 points. Having you with your back pressed against his chest? Extra credit 

Dr ratios love languages are info dumping and acts of service change my mind. He likes to be useful, a deep seeded need to help people, and especially you. He likes to wash you in the bath, from washing your hair to scrubbing you clean he wants to help so just relax into putty in his arms 

He doesn't hesitate to turn and maneuver you however he needs to scrub and clean you and he manhandles you because you're a bit slippery. His grip is more firm (when is it not?) 

One thing he does slightly unintentionally is turning your face/head to face him/look him in the eyes. His hands grab your jaw or squish your cheeks as he turns you to look at him making sure you are paying 100% attention 

Same with kisses, a firm hand at the nape of the neck pressing you further into him. 

Guess what? Its your turn because this touch starved man is grabby it isnt a want he needs to be grabign at anything he can rach his hands practically kneading your soft flesh while you get flipped and folded. 

This man is a dr…he knows all the angles that make you writhe and he intends to exploit them even if he has to pull out and fold you in half before pushing himself back in 

Big fan of pressing down while kneading your stomach right where he knows his cock is so deep inside you 

Jing yuan 

The lazy general 100% dose it on purpose, hiding behind that warm grin despite his actions 

Most of the time he is very gentle, but there are times when his work becomes rather taxing and he needs a small break 

The small break being waiting for you to walk close enough only for his strong arms to wrap around you and pull you down into his lap where you will NOT be leaving 

This is his main form of man handling, pulling you into his lap and holding you in his iron grip

Big fan of naps and he will often pull you into the optimal sleeping/cuddle position whenever he gets the chance to

Oh your arm is falling asleep? Don't worry he just picks you up and maneuvers you to basically lay on top of him

He lights the weight of your body, his very own weighted and heated blanket 

He plays the fool but there is a distinct twinkle in his golden eyes when he sees the way you grow flustered whining about how your in his office and-

But it doesn't matter to him because he needs this- so just stay in his lap a little longer 

He's even worse in bed- his work keeps him busy so he feel that he needs to compensate by absolutely rocking your world

Really it depends on the time of day- ironically you get manhandled more in the mornings when he wakes up hard and absolutely aching for you

In the mornings when you are both still sleepy he drags you closer to him, kissing up your shoulder and neck until he has you begging for him in that morning voice he finds so irresistible, 

Wastes no time spooning you, letting out a groan as he slides inside you and rocks you against him- his hands have a firm bruising grip on your hips as he rocks you against him with force 

One hand remains on your hip to keep up the punishing pace while the other holds your jaw so you twist to kiss him- and he cant get enough, he slams you back against him rougher and rougher until you are both satisfied and he is all but forced out of your shared bed. 

The second is at night when he has you on top of him, riding him while his hands grab your ass and thighs, throwing your weight around while he looks up at you with the same lazy grin he always has

As if he isn't bouncing you along his length just waiting for you to stutter from the burn in your legs- all an excuse to pick you up and pin you back against the bed under him- 

All an excuse to be able to leave open mouth kisses against your skin while he has his fill of your pillowy softness 

In summary he knows exactly what he's doing and he knows exactly how riled up you get when he uses just a little of his strength on you. 

Don't let the drowsy grin on his face fool you. Menace through and though 

[lovingjingyuan]

I wonder: How would hsr boys react to someone trying to take pics up ur skirt? This is an unhinged thought that I’ve thought to long, please cure this weird thinking.

Characters: Avneturine, Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday, Boothill

Aventurine

When Aventurine caught sight of a creepy man attempting to take inappropriate photos under your skirt while you were dress shopping for clothes, he was appalled and disgusted. 

“Check this green dress out. It’s like the color of an aventurine. I think it would look dashing on you�� He threw in a little wink with his words, while deliberately trying to divert your attention away from the unsettling situation. 

With a reassuring smile he added, “this one's on me, spend freely.” He presented you with the beautiful dress on a hanger, while planning on taking you to the evening ball hosted by the IPC for the executives. 

Oh but he makes sure in the background he discreetly makes sure to contact someone from the IPC technology department to delete every piece of data, wiping everything off that creepy man’s phone. He also arranged a few of his IPC bodyguards, instructing them to follow that man so he can deal with him ‘personally’ later.

Jing Yuan

(Husband♡) Jing Yuan is a gentleman. He doesn’t want to concern you with these, wanting to save you the embarrassment and tainting your mind of peace. What truly astonishes him is the fact one of his very own staff members working at the Seat of Divine Foresight is involved in such despicable behavior. Towards his lover too!

“Ahem ahem,” he clears her throat, catching your attention. “Love, could you spare a moment and help me sort out these files?”

As you approach him he slickly wraps an arm around your waist pulling you into his embrace. He just can’t bear the thought of anyone seeing you in such a vulnerable way. Anyone that’s not him :( he loves his darling too much for anyone to be ogling at you. 

Without any sort of explanation he sat you down on his chair and covered your lap in a blanket. You’re confused and puzzled by his random action but he’s fuming in anger under his facade smile. 

He’s determined to address this issue in the most “legal” way possible. If he could.

Bladie!!!

He would either glare intensely at the point to the point the creepy man would delete the picture out of sheer intimidation. Orrrrr, Blade might just go over and greet them with his sword. As simple as that 🤷‍♀️

His glare alone is a death sentence, especially when he’s protecting his beloved. He loves you very much; just has a hard time expressing it!

Sunday

How could anyone commit such sinful and absurd acts, escapilly towards his beloved! He frowns upon any lewd or disrespectful behavior. Sunday would be absolutely speechless and consumed by fuming rage and disgust, staring at your offender. 

Regaining his composer, he approaches you with a mask smile hiding the intense emotions he felt, “Just a moment,” he says, glancing at you. “We mustn’t  be late for our outing my dear,” He extends one hand out for your hand. Despite his calm demeanor, his other hand clenched tightly behind his back. 

He averts his gaze directed towards the man behind you. “Please report to the BloodHound they will like to meet with you,” he says, his voice with strained restraints. 

Sunday hurriedly leads you away. Although Sunday may be a forgiving priest he had limits which that man crossed. He;s immensely disappointed that something like this would occur in Penacony’s dreamscape where everyone is supposed to be and feel relaxed in the hands of The Family. And he’s more upset it occurred to his beloved. 

Boothill

he will confront and make a scene cause you're his darling.

Boothill wants to spit out the most profound language but his system won't let him. seeing a man taking pictures of his darling? Fudge no! unacceptable!

"Muddle Fuger, what are you doing?" he tries cussing out the creepy man startling the man with their phone under your skirt.

"Son of a nice lady! What the heck are you doing to my girl?!" He makes a big scene, causing the man to panic because everyone turns their attention to this scene.

he's ready to whip out his revolver and protect his darling. Maybe after this he would take off his hat and put it behind your bum to cover you up as you two walk back from the embarrassing situation.

------------------

I finally finished exams! blah blah blah. I'm bored af summer and I've been play wuwa! I love PGR Roland so I played cause it's from Kuro games. And omg Geshu Lin!!! He looks like Jing Yuan thats why I like him.

Avneturine Rant: Also I can't help this but I'm becoming obssed with Avneturine. I showed my friend an edit of him. she said he's so fine cause she like white blonde men. I'm starting to fall so inlove with him now! Same level of love with Jing Yuan. I can't Aveneturine is too charming. Didn't like him much at first but god his backstory and that mini anaimation how could I be so Blind! Same situtaion with Jing Yuan.

Also gonna update now

[jingyuans-precious]

the moon was still out, getting ready to greet the morning sun in a bit. your lover came home not too long ago, finding you fast asleep in your shared bed. even though he was tired, he did not want to miss out on an opportunity to admire your beauty, tracing your delicate face with his precious fingers. gentle enough not to wake you up, yet so loving that even in your sleep you managed to nuzzle into his touch.

“my beloved, you’re so incredibly beautiful” he whispers quietly as he continued to caress your face slowly.

“you know.. i would give you everything you would ever want and more… but you always say you only want me” he muses to himself quietly, reminiscing to the times where you said you only wanted him and his love and affection.

“but even then, i will still give you the entire world, just because you deserve that and more. even if you insist you only want me and my love, i will work endlessly to give you everything you deserve. my beloved, i hope you won’t scold me too hard for that when we wake up together in a few hours.” your lover says quietly with a grin on his face, blinking slowly, like a feline.

“though i know i may not always be the best at showing you affection, i hope you will let me make it up to you tomorrow, darling mine. we do have some lost time to make up for after all. but for now i shall rest”

as your lover dozes off, he imagines what romantic activities he will do with you when you two are awake. though not before pulling you against his chest, just so you could hear how his heart beats for you only, even in your sleep.

— ALHAITHAM, NEUVILLETTE, WRIOTHESLEY, AYATO, Diluc, Sylus, Jing Yuan, Zhongli, Kaeya, Aventurine, Zayne + your faves ♡

a/n: wrote this while dozing off yesterday, don’t know if i like it :]

[crystallinestars]

Taking Care of Them

Short scenarios about Argenti, Aventurine, and Jing Yuan receiving much-needed care and comfort from you. Pure fluff, a little hurt/comfort for Aventurine's part.

I took some creative liberties with Aventurine's character since we still don't know everything about him yet, so this is simply my interpretation of him.

This isn't proofread because my brain is fried from writing.

--------------------

🌹 Argenti:

As a Knight of Beauty, Argenti is a highly skilled fighter who puts his very life on the line to vanquish his foes. Usually, he defeats his enemies with grace and style, but even the refined Argenti sometimes sustains injuries.

In his most recent battle, Argenti made it out practically unscathed, save for a few scrapes and bruises that marred his handsome face. That was how he found himself obediently sitting on your bed while you treated his wounds.

“I apologize that you have to see me in this state,” he murmurs, guilt darkening his expression. “I did not want to cause you worry.”

“No need to apologize,” you brush off his concerns with a smile. “Now turn this way. I’ll clean the scratch on your cheek,” you said as you gently turn Argenti’s face to one side to reveal the shallow, red gash on his cheek.

Argenti complies without hesitance and sits perfectly still as you dab at the scratch with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. It stings, but the Knight of Beauty unflinchingly tolerates the burn with a small smile on his face.

He can tell through the delicate and careful way you clean and dress his wounds that you care a great deal about him. Your touches were gentle so as to not cause him unnecessary pain, yet no less thorough. It felt nice to be touched so tenderly, to be cared for in such a loving manner.

Your heart is beautiful, he thinks. To possess such a caring and loving heart, you must rival the beauty of his beloved Aeon Idrila. Argenti truly believes that you are a wonderful and beautiful person, both inside and out.

As you finish patching up the last wound and pack away your first aid kit, Argenti turns to you and gives you a radiant, sincere smile from the heart.

“Thank you…” he softly says as gently takes one of your hands and kisses the back of it, “You have a dazzling heart—so pure and gentle. I feel like the luckiest man in the universe to have the privilege of receiving your care and affection.”

His words may sound over-the-top and perhaps even fake, but he truly means them. Every single one. Even if you don’t entirely believe him, the amused smile that his flamboyant phrases elicit out of you is all the reason he needs to keep them up.

“You’re welcome. Just try to be more careful next time. I’ll love you no matter how you look, but I hate seeing you hurt,” you murmur in reply and lean in to kiss the band-aid on his cheek.

“There. A kiss to make it all better,” you giggle as you pull away.

The little gesture catches Argenti by surprise, but he can’t say he didn’t like it. In fact, he enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would.

With a small chuckle, he pulls you close to kiss you fully on the lips. If you don’t take his word for it that he feels incredibly lucky to have your love, then perhaps his actions will convey the sincerity of his feelings for you.

🦚 Aventurine:

All his life, Aventurine has faced hate. Hate for being Sigonian, hate for being a dog of the IPC, hate for acting exactly the way that’s expected of his kind. He played into people’s perceptions of him. Why waste time trying to correct their views when they won’t change? It’s easier to just act according to their expectations and hide who he really is behind this playful and sly mask.

Only with you does he let his carefully crafted façade crumble to reveal his vulnerable self.

Aventurine is very good at acting like everything is fine when the world is against him. Perhaps to an extent, he truly believes that life is all about fighting battles on his lonesome. He can use others and get used as a tool in return, but the only one he can trust is himself. It’s the only life he’s ever known.

However, you’ve known him long enough to tell that the hate and isolation get to him, no matter how much he pretends that they don’t. When he comes home one night after a particularly awful day, it doesn’t take long for you to figure out that he feels down.

Aventurine smiled and teased you like usual, but he spoke less and clung to you more than usual. He hugged you from behind and kept an arm around you no matter what you were trying to do, almost as if he was seeking comfort from your physical presence.

Turning to face him, you glance into his tired eyes.

“What is it, darling? See something you like?” he teased, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

“Hmm, no,” you hummed. Extending your arms forward, you wrapped them around Aventurine and slowly pulled him into a hug. “I don’t see something I like.”

Aventurine is momentarily stunned by your unprompted action, but he quickly recovers.

“Oh? How come? Am I not appealing enough for you?” he quipped, resting his chin on your shoulder and returning your hug. Unlike your tight hug, his arms wrapped around you in a loose hold, as if he was uncertain how to go about it.

“Quite the opposite,” you softly chuckle, “I don’t see something I like, but I do see someone I love,” you whisper and turn your head to look directly at Aventurine’s face.

A beat of silence passes as Aventurine processes your words, before bursting out laughing.

“That was painfully corny, even for you!” he chuckled.

You scoff but don’t say anything in response, simply continuing to hug him tightly. Slowly, carefully, you card your fingers through his blond hair before moving lower to stroke your palm along his spine in soothing circles.

Aventurine’s laughter dies down, his initial mirth now replaced with something fragile and vulnerable as he falls quiet. He won’t ever share what burdens him, but you don’t need to know the details to provide him comfort. If he doesn’t want to tell you, then you won’t pry. At the very least, you’ll do all you can to support him and remind him that he’s not alone.

Being wrapped up in your warm embrace, feeling your gentle caresses—it all felt unfamiliar to Aventurine. It’s been so long since he felt the tender and loving affection of another person. It took a while, but eventually he relaxed and allowed himself to lean into your body, burying his nose into the crook of your neck.

Silence lingered in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something soothing in not having to talk. It was freeing to not worry about pretending to be okay or be pressured to talk about the things that trouble him.

That hug—that simple act of human affection—made him feel safe and protected in your arms. When you leaned back slightly to plant a tender kiss on Aventurine’s forehead, something inside him snapped and he had to hold back tears. Burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, he clung tightly to you while you continued to rub slow circles along his back.

“It’s okay. It’ll all be okay, I’m here. You’re not alone…” you whisper, hugging him tighter.

Being wrapped up in your warm hug, feeling your affectionate kisses and gentle words is something Aventurine never knew he needed until now. Just for this moment, he lets his walls come down and bares his wounded self to you with the hope that you can soothe his pain if only a little.

And you do. With whispered reassurances and loving caresses, you ease his hurt, even if just temporarily. He is safe, you promise. He will always be safe in your arms.

🦁 Jing Yuan:

Jing Yuan is notorious for disliking the abundance of paperwork and other leadership tasks he has to take care of on a day-to-day basis as a General of the Xianzhou Luofu. Despite his woeful sighs about how tedious it is, and how the work never seems to end, Jing Yuan still accomplishes all his duties in a timely and precise fashion.

Jing Yuan is a hard worker, you are well aware of that. Which is why when he snuck out of the Seat of Divine Foresight to come spend some free time with you, you offered him to rest on your lap. And who was he to turn down such a tempting opportunity?

Sitting outside on the veranda with Jing Yuan’s head resting on your lap, you softly ran your fingers through his fluffy, white hair, marveling at how silky it was. It was as soft as it looked.

“I could get used to this,” Jing Yuan said with a sigh, relaxing into our touch. His golden eyes were closed as he enjoyed the sensations of your fingers combing through his hair, gently massaging his scalp and soothing any tension he felt.

Chuckling, you looked down at him, mirth dancing in your eyes.

“Really? I wouldn’t mind having you as my lap cat like this more often. Why not come see me every day and get pets?” you tease him as you lightly poke his cheek.

Jing Yuan cracks open one eye to give you an amused look.

“Being your lap cat sounds like a wonderful idea,” he sighs, “Laying on your lap and getting pampered sounds like my ideal life.”

Both of you burst out laughing at the ridiculous notion of Jing Yuan being a lap cat, your spirits lifting as the mood brightened even more.

“Ah, but if you ever want to take a break and relax, you’re always welcome to see me,” you say in a softer voice this time, resuming running your fingers through his tresses.

“I’ll keep your invitation in mind,” he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he relaxed into your touch once more.

The minutes pass in a comfortable and serene atmosphere, with you pampering Jing Yuan with affectionate caresses, meanwhile, the man listens to you talk about your day. You both knew that after this he would have to go back and complete the mountain of work waiting for him, but for now, you were content to spend this little bit of time with your beloved.

Under the warm sun and gentle breeze, with his head resting comfortably on your lap, Jing Yuan felt himself growing drowsy. His eyelids became heavier, and his body didn’t want to move from his position on your lap.

Noticing the General grow sleepy, you fought the urge to tease him. If you pointed out his sleepiness, he would most likely apologize and put a stop to this tranquil moment by getting up and heading back to work. He already saw you less than either of you wanted, simply because work kept him busy. Moments like these were a luxury.

Keeping quiet, you gently massage his scalp until his breaths even out and become deeper, seeming to have fallen asleep. His expression looked so serene and vulnerable, something that very few people have had the chance to witness. As his lover, you were privy to this sight more than most. You watch over him with a small smile on your face, gently tucking away a stray strand of his hair.

Thinking he was asleep, you lean down to press a lingering kiss to his forehead, but as you straighten, you notice Jing Yuan peering up at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

Growing flustered, you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up with a blush.

Jing Yuan only laughs in response, but his laughter quickly turns into a contented purr as you shut him up with another head massage. Whatever teasing remark he had prepared, immediately died on his tongue as relaxation washed over him and he felt sleep take hold of his mind again.

“It’s ok, take a nap. I’ll wake you up in a few minutes,” you murmur, willing Jing Yuan to finally get some rest. You could tell he wanted to protest, but with a light brush of your thumbs over his temples, he released a sigh of defeat and conceded.

“You certainly know how to take advantage of my weaknesses,” he chuckled, voice a little hoarse from drowsiness.

Despite his initial reluctance, Jing Yuan fell asleep fairly quickly. The continuous days of endless work had left him exhausted, but your tender pampering and sweet company were just the respite he needed.

“Sleep tight,” you whisper, gracing him with another sweet kiss on his forehead.

[sillygoofyqueer]

hiiiiii so about crow!au and jiuyuan...🙏

i was thinking, after shen yuan has finally made it to the CQM, both for the protagonist and hopefully to cultivate a true human form, it's only logical to keep an eye on the scum villain, you know, to make sure that he isn't going to be filleted into a tender piece of crow meat!

but while shen yuan thinks he's being super inconspicuous, sitting on the roof, shen qingqiu has slowly started to look forward to seeing the crow when he comes back. it's always there, and overall a quiet and gentle creature that doesn't bother anyone, but does seem to like hanging around shen qingqiu's house. maybe in his head shen qingqiu starts to think of it as "his bird", and he starts leaving it bits of food (not obviously, but more like he "accidentally" forgot to bring the dish back inside). he starts getting protective over it too, like one time maybe yue qingyuan comes by and sees the bird, and tries to make it sit on his hand or smth, and shen qingqiu gets all huffy bc "it's just a bird it can't hear you, it won't come to you!"

shen yuan starts to notice that shen qingqiu's mood seems to improve around him (which, huh???), so he plays it up a little bit by flying down from the roof to the porch railing when shen qingqiu comes home, or cawing to him in greeting. shen qingqiu sometimes reaches out his hand to perch on, but though shen yuan never does, it doesn't make sqq angry (sqq knows how difficult trust is to earn), until maybe one day shen yuan surprises them both by perching on his arm, and oh well guess he's the scum villain's bird now??

YEEEEESSSSS JIUYUAN MY BELOVED!!!! Shen Jiu literally just takes Crowyuan with him everywhere after that, with the bird perching on his shoulder or on his arm, or in his lap - there have been many occasions where SY hasn't been able to get comfy so he hops into SJ's lap and uses the man's robes as a nest of sorts. This happens the most at peak lord meetings, because of course SJ takes SY to the peak lord meetings, it's his emotional support crow, and SY sometimes pops his head up from beneath the table and squawks (mainly at Shang Qinghua, who seems petrified of this bird). It gets better when he cultivates a true form because SJ is far too attached to him to let him go at this point, so he just has this beautiful crow guy following him around, clinging to his sleeves and hiding behind him like SY did in crow form before. Of course, he still tries to get comfy on SJ's lap and...listen, SJ lets it happen so it can't be that weird, right??!!? He doesn't like chairs!! They're uncomfortable against his back, and stools just don't cut it for him, so he often sprawls along SJ's legs and reads during a peak lord meeting - nobody quite knows what to say, and they definitely don't want to piss off SJ, so they just kinda let it happen. (Also, if they're enjoying the eye candy, then why would they try and stop it from happening?) Yue Qingyuan is half upset that he's being replaced by a BIRD, and also very pleased that SJ now has a close friend. Also SY just builds mini nests EVERYWHERE, like, all over the peaks, and god forbid you try and touch them because it will mean your death. He gets super mopey when he finds out that his nests have been touched because of course he knows, and when he's mopey EVERYONE knows about it. I like to think that SJ immediately throws all decorum out of the window at the implication of someone upsetting HIS bird...person...thing...WHATEVER!!!

[esthercore]

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will

Jing Yuan struggled to maintain his calm and collected demeanor as the woman before him leaned forward, her chest deliberately emphasized, eyelashes fluttering in a vain attempt at seduction. Every exaggerated gesture disgusted him, her desperation like a bitter taste in the air. He found it distasteful, yet kept his smile measured, polite.

He had grown accustomed to this treatment over the years—being the most sought-after man in all of the Xianzhou Luofu came with its burdens. But even after his marriage, the shamelessness of these advances still left a bitter taste.

At first, his admirers had stepped back, respecting the vows he had made. Yet recently, the unwanted attention had returned, with men and women alike shamelessly vying for his gaze once more. It was disheartening—more disappointing than surprising.

The moment his duties were done, Jing Yuan wasted no time in leaving his office. Yanqing had already taken over the smaller tasks that might have kept him working late, fully aware of how desperately the general longed to return home.

His heart raced as he hurried inside, shedding his shoes with practiced ease before quickly changing clothes and washing his face. He glanced at his reflection, making sure he looked presentable, eager to be back in his lover's warm embrace.

Jing Yuan cleared his throat softly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he slid the kitchen door open. His eyes were immediately drawn to the familiar figure inside, their silver hair catching the soft light akin to halo as they moved gracefully around the kitchen, preparing dinner. Their frame, though delicate and fragile with age, held a beauty that never failed to stir his heart. To him, they were the most beautiful in the entire universe, always has been, always will be.

As Jing Yuan drew closer, he couldn’t resist the temptation to surprise them, gently wrapping his arms around their waist from behind. A delighted giggle escaped their lips, the sound as melodious and youthful as it used to be.

His heart swelled at the sound, and he nuzzled his face into the crook of their neck, breathing in their familiar scent. They hugged him in return, their embrace tight and full of love, as if time had never touched them at all.

Yet, amidst the warmth and laughter, Jing Yuan found himself struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to break through his calm exterior. He kept up the strong facade, though his heart clenched painfully as he noticed how much lighter their body had become in his arms.

His sweet lover was wilting before his eyes, slowly fading away, while his own body remained unchanged, untouched by time. The cruel reality that they could slip away at any moment, any day, heck, any second at this point, hung heavy over him. Without thinking, he clutched them tighter, as if holding them closer could keep the inevitable at bay.

Alas, this was the curse of his long-lived kind.

But, of course, they noticed. They always did. Despite Jing Yuan’s countless years of life, his sweet lover seemed much wiser in such moments, their intuition sharper than his own.

"Hey now," they chided softly, their voice warm with affection. "I thought we talked about this. You’ve got so many years ahead of you. You’ll get over this, chin up, young man." They scolded Jing Yuan as if he's a child, chuckling to themself for the last words.

But their gentle words weren’t enough to stop the tears dripping down Jing Yuan’s cheeks. His voice wavered as he tried to speak, the sobs breaking through the calm he had worked so hard to maintain.

"H-how could you say that?" he whispered, his throat tight with emotion. "My life ends with yours... What am I without my beloved?"

He held them closer, trembling as the sobs grew heavier, his heart aching with a grief that felt all too familiar. Losing them would be losing half of himself—no, more than that. They were his only salvation after everything he had already endured—the fall of the quintuplet, the chaos of the endless hunt, the countless lives lost along the way.

In all that pain and devastation, it was their love that had kept him anchored, their presence that had made his immortality bearable. Without them, the weight of eternity felt unbearable.

Seeing the depth of his sorrow, his lover turned gently, their own eyes glistening with unspoken understanding. They wrapped their arms around him, pulling him close with a soothing embrace. With a careful touch, they guided him to a chair, they settled themself on his lap, curling up against him with a comforting warmth. As they nestled into him, their arms encircling him in a protective hug, Jing Yuan felt the weight of his emotions begin to ease.

In that intimate space, surrounded by their presence, he was finally able to let go of his grief, allowing his tears and sobs to flow freely. Their closeness, their steadfast love, became his refuge, a gentle balm for his broken heart.

His sweet, sweet lover, once so insecure about their fleeting lifespan, had feared every day that Jing Yuan might one day leave them or cheat on them once they aged. The one who had rejected him hundred times before finally going out with him, taking so long to trust in Jing Yuan's loyalty now held him close, with no trace of the fears that once consumed them.

They had taken years to fully trust him, and in return, they had found the strength to care for him with a depth that spoke of enduring love. The roles now reversed where they had once sought comfort and reassurance, now found them as the steadfast pillar supporting him through his grief. It was a testament to their journey together, from insecurity to unwavering devotion, a journey that had woven their hearts together in a bond unbreakable by time or sorrow.

As his tears gradually subsided, Jing Yuan’s grip on them softened. He leaned in to place a tender peck on their forehead, a silent thank you for their unwavering support. With a gentle sigh, he watched as they rose from his lap to return back to prepping the meal.

Resting his chin on the table, Jing Yuan’s gaze remained fixed on them. He followed every motion with a deep sense of admiration, memorizing the way their hands moved, the way they interacted with the ingredients, everything. He savored this moment, knowing how fleeting and precious it was, and held onto the image of them, capturing every detail in his heart for as long as he could.

Soon, the food was ready, the aroma filling the room with warmth and comfort. They plated Jing Yuan's meal with a practiced hand, setting it down in front of him with a loving smile. As they settled into their seat, prepared to join him for the meal, a sudden realization seemed to strike them.

They paused, a thoughtful expression crossing their face as they remembered something important.

"Honey, can you be free this weekend?"

"For you? I try, but why so?"

"I think it's time for me to pick my grave stone"

And the tones rolled back again

i tried to improve my writing, i hope you guys liked it ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[gay-dorito-dust]

haii! :33

can i request boothill and argenti (seperately) with a shy gn!reader who gets flustered easily? whether it would be through words, physical touch or stuff like that

thank youu!! ^_^

Jing yuan:

Smug bastard.

Acts like he wasn’t the reason you were flustered to the high heavens from brushing his hand across your waist.

‘Are you alright my dear?’ He’d say, faking innocence as he intentionally held your face in his hands, softly caressing your cheeks as he felt them gradually grow warmer with every stroke of his thumbs. ‘You’re feeling rather warm here, should I get you to a doctor?’ He adds with a knowing smile.

‘N-no. I’m fine.’ You’d say, unable to form actual thoughts as your mind was heavily focused on a plethora of things, from the way that his hands held your face as though it were porcelain, to the way he caresses your skin felt like kisses in their own right.

The acclaimed dozing general raised an eyebrow as his smile only grew more mischievous. ‘Are you sure? You’re really heating up my dear, I wouldn’t want you to faint on me now,’ he then leaned in close, chuckling upon hearing you gasp a the close proximity, whispering. ‘Unless that’s your intention.’

Jing Yuan thoroughly enjoyed being the reason you were flustered and found your reactions addictive, so much that he would start doing things where he got to see that reaction as much as possible.

Touching your hand

Brushing shoulders

Sitting really close to you/ ‘accidentally’ falling asleep on you, etc.

However if you were to ever express that you wanted him to stop, he will as he understands that you might not want to be made to fluster all the time. He’s not a dickhead and respects you greatly for giving him the ability to start living life again.

Argenti:

This man speaks from the bottom of his heart, there’s not a single lie to be found in his words, and it was due to that undeniable truthfulness that left you more flustered then not.

‘I only speak the truth my beloved rose.’ He says softly as he held your hands in his own all the while maintaining eye contact, which didn’t help you in any way shape or form as you felt your face practically burst into flames and your heart going at a mile an hour the longer you stay in close proximity to him.

He smelt of roses and chivalry, which was odd as you didn’t think chivalry could have a smell, but with Arenti anything was seemingly possible.

‘You are the beauty that I’ve been seeking and now that I have you, I have no doubt that I will love you for eternity should it be allowed of me.’

Boom, you’re dead and on the floor as you stare up at the ceiling as Argenti was quick to move to kneel at your side, face full of concern as his face hovers over you all the while his hair acted as ruby red curtains, forcing you to solely focus on his extremely pretty face. He looked like an angel in that moment and you somehow still found it in you to get even more flustered upon gazing at his face.

He’s genuinely concerned about you whenever you got flustered, his heart and soul were just so pure that he wasn’t really clicking onto the fact that he was the reason you were constantly flustered.

‘My dear flower, what’s wrong? Have I hurt you somehow? Should I seek medical attention?’ - him.

‘No, I’m okay. Just give me a few minutes…or an hour.’ -you, flustered to the high heavens and embarrassment for making him worry.

Boothill:

Smug bastard 2.0

The moment you shown him how easily flustered you could get, it’s over for you as you’ve given Boothill ammunition to keep finding new ways to flustered you on the daily.

Your reactions were his drug and he’d gladly overdoes on them if he could but that might be going a bit too far, however he didn’t care because you being flustered from almost anything he did had become everything to him.

So he would nuzzle his cheek to yours.

Playfully nibbles on your earlobe, shoulder, neck, arms, lips and takes enjoyment in your squeals and attempts to get away from him, only to be pulled back in.

Kissing your lips constantly, even more so in public.

The teasing is never ending with Boothill.

He’s relentless, unyielding and extremely brutal in his teasings that you may as well be permanently flustered. However if you were to shyly give this gremlin a taste of his own medicine by boldly kissing his cheek, he’s suddenly silent and a little fluttered.

He just loves smothering you in love and will continue to do so as nothing else mattered to him in that moment more than you and the effects he had over you.

[lorelune]

O4O: part iii // PART 1

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || omega4omega w/ milfy jing yuan || wc: 17.6k of 37.3k || ao3 ||

You are on the precipice of your heat. Jing Yuan must cope and navigate his desires, both old and new.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

💦���� this piece is apart of SPRING FEVER: an omegaverse collab! 🎀💦

✨ O4O masterlist ✨ // part i — part ii — part iii -> PART 1 (here) & PART 2

🩷 extended author's note

❣️ please note! part iii of o4o is separated into two posts here on tumblr. part 2 can be found linked above and at the end of this post as well. part iii is up as a single chapter on ao3 additionally! ❣️

notes: oh my god. loves. we made it. through blood, sweat, tears, a move, an irl relationship coming and going, WE MADE IT!!! i'm so excited for y'all to read and enjoy :'^) this piece would not have been able to be completed without the help of beloved betas (no a/b/o pun intended) @ofmermaidstories, @aimfor-theheart & @harmonydove. truly could not have done it without the feedback and encouragment :'^) all that said, please note the disclaimer above, stick around for part 2!!

CW: omegaverse, omega reader, omega jing yuan, top jing yuan (in this part) milfy jing yuan, mommy kink (both explicit and implicit), cry baby reader, fisting, knotting toys, biting, hurt/comfort, sickfic, past dan feng/jing yuan/yingxing, author-created omegaverse lore

— 💦. ݁₊⋆❀˖°🎀°˖❀⋆ ݁₊.💦 — 

It’s sometime in the past, during a sizable gathering on a private veranda near the Artisanship Commission. The evening has whittled into night, the breeze temperate and only a bit balmy. The air teems with the scent of freshly-fried food, liquor, and company.

Casks of plum wine and amber mead sit scattered across the many tables poised across the pavilion. Even at this hour, the space is filled with lively folks, clustered into groups. Folks from across the six Commissions gather, energy rising into the late evening. Cups have already been filled, emptied, and then filled again, several times over. 

Jing Yuan enjoys it. It’s reminiscent of bygone times, with enough newness to not feel chafing or make him overly melancholic. 

The folks that mill around him and the other Charioteers are not his peers that he trained with as a young Cloud Knight, or his closest companions as a member of the High Cloud Quintet. They are mostly workers employed closely to the Charioteers. All of whom deserve a night out to destress. It’s ‘good for morale’— that’s what he had told Qingzu when he said the gathering would be held at the Seat of the Divine Foresight’s expense. She couldn’t find it in herself to scold him, as she more than likely knew that the General would secure her her own personal bottle of favored strawberry liquor as an unspoken, off-the-books bonus. 

Qingzu is nowhere to be found now. Some of the guests have taken to roaming around the pavilion, spreading out amongst its ponds and large stone and crystal statues. They’re beautiful at night; Jing Yuan wanders this area often. He enjoys the stillness of it. The lushness of this particular garden lends itself to being quite private as well.

Not so much now, as Diviner Fu slaps her hands on the tabletop. Her scent mixes with the honeyed mix drink that she’s been nursing. She whinges at Yukong, something about budgeting and the maintenance of the Matrix, and how ‘having one Master Calibrator is hardly sufficient’, which Yukong doesn’t seem to be disagreeing with, but Yukong’s lack of total, enthusiastic validation seems to ruffle Fu Xuan sufficiently. 

It’s cute to watch, Jing Yuan cannot lie.

He himself is fairly sober thankfully. With all of the scents swirling, it would likely be overwhelming if he were to add much alcohol into the mix. He has been sipping a small amount of wine, but nothing more. He’s a weepy drunk after all. And he would rather have that intimate knowledge remain safely with him, and not shared amongst the Commissions as a fresh piece of gossip.

(He plans to save his tears, if any, for his nest. Camaraderie tends to make him misty-eyed once it is over and he is alone again, naturally. The absence of companionship must be weathered accordingly and privately.)

As Jing Yuan opens his mouth to tease the imbibed Master Diviner, a firm hand lands on his shoulder.

”C’mon, it’s gettin’ late.” The hand pats him. “We gotta get you home, baby.”

There’s a moment of incredible stillness where the entire company of his table (the Charioteers, all of them—) stare at whoever is behind him, agape. It must look quite funny. Jing Yuan pauses with the warm contact. The scent of sunshine heat and the wood embers of low burning hearth surround him.

He turns and sees you.

Jing Yuan recognizes your face from the Sky Faring Commission’s roster, but can’t put a name to it. He does not know you which makes all of this more comical. 

(You are not anyone to him, not yet.)

You are, however, quite cute. Jing Yuan finds himself a bit distracted and charmed by the shape of your lips, the wideness of your eyes. You stand, poised with an arm offered to him, wearing a look of abject horror.

The scents behind him begin to sour. This is… not just bold, but stupid. Judging by your expression and such casual language, the lackadaisical offering of your crooked arm was not intended for him. There’s a flush on your cheeks and a haze in your gaze; he assumes you’re as drunk as the rest of the party.

Jing Yuan smiles.

“I suppose it is about time I turn in for the evening.” He rises with a stretch and a yawn that’s at least half legitimate. “How kind of you to offer me a hand.”

You stall for a moment, visibly mentally stumbling as you stare up at him, scent sweetening, “I’m so sorry—“

”What’s there to be sorry about?” It’s a bit cruel to speak to you like this, he knows. All eyes of the party are on the two of you and this blunder, and Jing Yuan causing more mischief is not in great form. “I am happy to have an escort home. Shall we?”

He links his arm with your own.

The veranda is left behind, more than one of the Charioteers (and your companions?) squawking at you as you depart. You stay tense near his side until the sounds of the party fade into the night. When Jing Yuan sneaks glances at your face, you have the look of someone who swallowed something bitter and rotten. Your scent remains sharp, tart on the back of his tongue, even as you near quiet neighborhoods and his estate.

He stops you outside the gate and plies you with a sweet smile.

You immediately bow, bent fully at the waist, “G-General, I apologize— deeply apologize— I mistook you for someone else and h-have made quite the fool of myself. I apologize for any inconvenience I’ve caused.”

”None of that now, please. You’ve not been an inconvenience in the slightest. If anything, I should be thanking you as your interference allowed me to escape that party a few hours earlier than I was expected to be there for.”

”… I-I—“ You raise yourself up as Jing Yuan tilts his head down to you. Even at your full height, he’s still quite a bit taller than you. Wider in the shoulders and with a more honed, straight-spined posture. By comparison, you almost cower, hunched a bit as you look up at him, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “If you’re certain, General. I never meant to cause any trouble.”

”You did not cause any trouble— at least not for me. Though, I may suggest limiting your plum wine consumption when around your superiors.” He says with a cheeky smile. 

There’s an indignant, watery look your eyes take on. You shift on your feet, and your scent ripens like summer fruit (an omega, clearly. Jing Yuan suspected as much.) The attention he gives you, though paltry, has you preening.

“I-I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, General. Thank you for being understanding, and I swear it won’t happen again.”

“I’m sure.” Jing Yuan chuckles. Given how you’re swaying on your feet, the hangover you’re sure to have the following morning will perhaps keep you from over-indulging for a while. “Would you like an escort home? It’s quite late.”

“General, t-that defeats the purpose of me walking you here, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps, but this was an accident, wasn’t it?” He hums. “Though I am grateful for a late-night companion, it wasn’t a necessary measure. You, however, may benefit more directly from a guide this evening?”

“No need, General.” You shake your head. Your scent goes bitter, just barely, the scent mingling with the blooming flowers of his garden just beyond the gate. “T-Though I am grateful for your kind offer, I’ll be fine getting home on my own.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t like your answer.

(It seems like a poor idea. A young omega, not wearing any scent patches or protective clothing, wandering in the night while a glass or two too deep in their cups. It feels foolish to let you go off alone.)

“Are you certain?” Jing Yuan implores you. 

“More than.” 

Your smile is transparently pathetic.

You walk away that night. You leave Jing Yuan outside the gate of his estate with only the wisps of your scent left, clinging to the well-trimmed bushes and vines that crawl the stone and metal walls of his estate. Jing Yuan swears he carries the smell of you with him that night as he enters the manor and readies for bed. As he flips through a book of poetry by candlelight, he feels almost certain your scent has come along with him. It rolls into his nest. 

It is the first way you linger with him.

— 💦. ݁₊⋆❀˖°🎀°˖❀⋆ ݁₊.💦 — 

There is much planning to be done following your trip to the Alchemy Commission and the revelations that come with it. 

Jing Yuan handles most of it. At the behest of his own gentle pressing, you allow him to do so. Despite the various supplements and tinctures you are given by Lei Huiling to control your current symptoms, you are still not in the greatest health. You maintain a low-grade fever and stay fatigued in the days that follow your visit. Keeping you rested (and preferably not stressed) for your impending heat is vital. 

Jing Yuan sorts through the necessary clerical work. A few weeks of time off is secured for both of you. It is to be a ‘shared sabbatical’ on paper. He knows that this will only further the rumors that you are his taken mate, but he doesn’t exactly... mind that. The rumor mill has already been thoroughly fed and stirred with how often you two have been seen in public together lately. Jing Yuan thinks that you have been too out of it to notice the attention, more often than not. And when you do—

(You cling to him a bit more when you do notice many eyes on you. You find comfort in him so explicitly—) 

Jing Yuan certainly won’t do anything to dissuade public opinion, not unless it becomes necessary. It’s something to mull over.

Fu Xuan gives him an earful about ‘taking good care of you’ and to call her if you need an ‘alpha of virtue and good standing’. Jing Yuan knows that won’t be needed, but teases the Master Diviner about her chivalry regardless. As thanks for her generous offer and penance for his impish behavior, he bestows on her the mantle of Acting Arbiter General in his absence. Fu Xuan seems plenty satisfied with this. 

Yukong is agreeable and seems... quite pleased with the recent developments of your coupling. Her tail swishes happily as Jing Yuan relays to her via hologram that you will be out for a not-insignificant length of time for medical reasons. She congratulates him and then chides him in the next breath.

(“I better see you court them properly following this, General. If I catch them sporting any claim without a matching couple’s charm on your wrists’, you will be receiving the scolding of a lifetime.”)

Jing Yuan takes her threat seriously and writes himself a note to secure the necessary colored threads and blown glass beads to construct the courting bracelets. It may be a good post-heat activity to do together, he thinks initially. However, perhaps, he would prefer to keep your bracelet design from you until it is completed and it can be gifted to you properly. There’s a fair amount of decorum in courting that Jing Yuan has forgone, somewhat tactlessly, up until this point. It would do you both well for him to recall some of it and, as Yukong suggested, court you once this heat has passed. 

(Jing Yuan likes the sound of it so, so much. Even if his own courting instincts are under-used and unearthed these days.)

In the meantime, Jing Yuan takes care to assist you in preparing for it.

The markets are abuzz when he returns several days in a row, purchasing and pocketing little bags of sweets and dried fruit. A few hard cheeses and seed mixes as well. Anything that he can find that he thinks you may enjoy and is easy to eat during the lulls of it. He takes a trip or two to the compounder in the Alchemy Commission to fetch the litany of medications and supplements Lei Huiling had prescribed. Each vial and bottle is labeled clearly with dosages, penned in his own hand. 

Jing Yuan prepares a number of blankets, bed linens, and clothes for your nest as well. His own nest becomes overstuffed with them, but he hardly minds. He takes great care each evening to remove his usual adhesive scent-blocking patches and scrub the area free of any potentially sticky residue. It’s a diligence he rarely carries for the activity of washing that area, as it hasn’t been particularly relevant that his scent be so easy to spread. Now he finds himself washing and rinsing the skin at least twice. He massages the glands on his neck as well; Baiheng always had said that scent releases easier than way. 

Jing Yuan’s nest has never smelt so much like… himself. The petrichor and charged air wrap around each linen, with the sweetness of honeysuckle just a touch behind it. Omega’s scents tend to be sweeter or spiced. Jing Yuan hadn’t fully realized that his leaned toward the former. Sleeping each night in a proper, scented nest of his own does feel lovely. Indulgent, even though Jing Yuan has a suspicion that this will become routine in time. He doesn’t mind procuring the wealth of blankets and pillows smothered with his scent, and equally wouldn’t mind having some drenched in your scent as well.

You have admitted that you are having trouble getting your own nest together, but Jing Yuan hopes that his offerings make it a bit easier. He thinks that they do. Your scent always brightens and goes gooey on the sides of his palette whenever you receive a bundle from him at your door. 

You have not yet let him enter your home.

It makes sense. If an alpha’s home is their den, an omega’s home in its entirety is something of a nest, even beyond the bedroom that it usually is made in. You had seemed woefully uncomfortable when Lei Huiling had pointed out your dysregulated nesting behaviors. It can only be interpreted as something akin to shame to Jing Yuan. He knows you are preparing in your own ways, readying your space for someone to share it with you.

You tell him, explicitly, that you will handle the procurement of any necessary toys or lube. You say so with hot cheeks and can’t meet his eyes (even though you’ve shared a bed once before and he has had his tongue in your cunt. He finds the display endearing.) You also tell him that your little home, tucked away in a pleasant corner of the Luofu’s northern floral district, is also outfitted with scent locks on the doors and windows, so there shouldn’t be any leaking of heat smell. 

Dutifully, you meet each day during lunch. You take the tapered dose of your suppressants and a regulating tincture with a full glass of water that Jing Yuan helps you drink (you do not need his help, but you like it. Jing Yuan likes giving it to you.) Your plate is always clean by the end of your lunches, though sometimes it takes an hour or two for you to get through the meal. Your appetite waxes and wanes.

By the time you reach your final, smallest dose of your suppressants, you can hardly make yourself eat. You look at Jing Yuan warily after swallowing down the pills, mincing and shifting on your knees beneath the latticed gazebo of the favored garden. Wisteria drips from frames nearby, casting petal-shaped shadows.

“I’m nervous, Jing Yuan,” You tell him softly. “Really nervous.”

“I know,” he tells you. He has known since the day you left the Alchemy Commission with a parcel of medicine. Your scent hasn’t lost its sour edge, never entirely. “Does it reassure you, knowing that I’ll be there?”

“... I think it scares me a little more, knowing that.” You swallow. 

Jing Yuan tilts his head inquisitively and brushes hair away from your face. He leans down close, so your breath mingles, your scent in his mouth. The flavor and taste of it provide him such a wealth of information. You know this; it disarms you. You have nothing you can hide from him, just as he most enjoys.

“Will you tell me more? I intend to help ease your heat for you, not make it more stressful than it already is.”

“… Will you think less of me if I tell you?” 

“No, not at all.” He assures you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

You shiver with it and nod. 

“I’ve... never shared a heat— my own heat before,” you confess and squeeze the hand of his that you hold. He assumed as much. “Never with an alpha, omega, or beta. I’ve always spent them alone with minimal relief. I’m not sure what it will be like to be so out of my mind and around another person. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if I speak or act out of turn while I can’t make sense of anything other than... heat.”

Jing Yuan hums thoughtfully, “Do you remember how I acted, during my heat?”

“Of course.”

“And how was I?”

“... You were lovely, as you are now.” 

“Thank you,” he steals a proper kiss from you and pulls away without allowing you to chase him. “Did you scorn me then, for not being fully lucid? Wouldn’t that have been cruel?”

You stumble mentally. Jing Yuan watches it in your eyes. 

“I-I mean, I didn’t. Of course not. And yes, it would be cruel.” You frown at him. “But, I think mine are worse than that, Jing Yuan. I’m in pain more often than not, rather than aroused. Half of the time, I end up on the bathroom floor because I get so nauseous. And even if I don’t get so sick, and I am, um, yearning, let’s say— I’m not very experienced, even outside of my heat cycle. I’m very grateful for your help, but what if it’s all just... too much in the moment?”

Jing Yuan lets you finish before kissing you.

This kiss is slow, deep, and reverent. Consuming. He means it to be, he needs you to feel it. Words rarely fail him, but this is part of his strategy, to coax you into feeling and breathlessness in tandem with sweet words. You mewl beneath his touch when his tongue darts out to taste your lips. 

He pulls away with a heavy breath.

“You are not too much,” Jing Yuan reminds you. “I am very capable of handling you, in whatever state that is, especially during your heat. Whether that is sickness or ‘yearning’, I will be there to ease you. I cannot offer you a knot, or the solace that comes with that type of coupling, but I will be there in all other ways.”

“... What if you get overwhelmed?”

“We will deal with that if such a thing occurs.”

“Okay.” You sniffle and concede, burying your face in his unmasked scent glands.

He hoists you closer and pets you. Contact like this has become commonplace over the past few weeks. It soothes both of you, calms the fractious omega in you, and the antsy, overbearing omega in him. It drenches you in each other’s scent.

“Dear?” He asks once you’ve calmed in his arms. “May I clarify a few things?”

“Mhm,” you pull away just enough to look at him in the eyes and cup his face in your two soft hands.

Jing Yuan already knows the answers to the questions he is poised to ask you. However, you need to know he knows. He needs to soothe the frayed nerves that will surely follow.

“You noted your own inexperience earlier, and that you’ve never shared a heat. Have you ever laid with anyone, heat-addled or otherwise?” 

There’s a pause. You tense up, flushing and struggling to meet his gaze, “I-I haven’t— not other than you, during your heat.”

Something in him cracks, unfurls, and wants more of him. He feels glutinous. 

“I am your first?”

“... Yes.”

“... When I touched you during my heat, were those your first times being intimate in those ways?”

“Y-Yeah, I hadn’t g-gone that far before.”

“I see.” Jing Yuan cannot help the coy smile that breaks over his face. You look ready to combust. “I’m honored to be your first. I’ll be sure to take good care of you, hm? As you deserve.”

You nod up and down, looking like you’re ready to squirm out of your skin, “... ‘Honored’? It doesn’t bother you?”

“Not in the slightest.” Actually, he’s elated. Ecstatic. He had a hunch, but he wasn’t entirely certain. The confirmation has his belly swooping, heating. He grins. “I will get to deflower my omega. I can imagine no greater privilege.”

His slip of the tongue is somewhat intentional. Maybe a little devilish, depending on your reaction. 

‘My omega’.

It may be a step too far— in which case, he can do damage contro. Perhaps not backpedal, but clarify. However— that becomes clearly unnecessary as your gaze darkens. Your pupils widen. And for the first time since that awful day in his garden, your scent is fully sweet.

“‘My’ omega?” you say, softly, like if you speak too loudly the phrase and its meaning will disintegrate. “Your omega, Jing Yuan? Be sage with your words, please.”

He is being, perhaps, a little bit less sage than he should be. But he is being honest. And his honesty is something he covets giving to you.

“I am being truthful.” He nudges your cheek with his nose. “My omega, if you wish to be.” 

Your expression shatters, revealing something that is only his to see. With scent blooming like honey and hearth fire, your eyes go wide, your lips tremble. It’s sweet, innocent even. Your gaze is so tender, it soothes something in his chest that he’s just beginning to name. He wants to hold you to his chest and keep you there. It’s hard to understand. But he wants you to be his. 

You swallow, slow and audible.

“Only if you’re mine too.”

Oh, by Lan, he wants to be. 

(And Jing Yuan hasn’t wanted to be anyone’s in so long.)

(His energy and vigor have belonged to the Luofu, so nothing like the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae or the events surrounding the dissolution of the High Cloud Quintet ever happens again or, if something so disastrous were to occur again, that it would not be so deeply mishandled. It’s paramount. He has a beloved apprentice to look after. He has the gardens he tends and his birds to feed, but there is a distance with all of it. It is parts of him doled out, not his whole. Jing Yuan has not been whole since he saw Yingxing’s eyes carved with Shuhu’s insignia and Dan Feng mutilated into a man that couldn’t be called wholly different or the same.)

And yet—

He wants to sink his teeth into your neck. Over your pulsing, inflamed, undertended scent gland. He wants you to bite him until he bleeds, so everyone knows that the Divine Foresight has someone to hold again, however potentially fleeting.

“I am yours,” he answers. The unhindered, airy quality of his own voice throws him off. He relishes it as yet another new thing that you’ve brought out in him to be shared.

You brighten and launch forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders so tightly. His arms find their way around your waist, squeezing in time with your sweetened laugh. The sound (that could make flowers bloom and dough rise) soothes the thing in him that is wanting. You kiss him like the sky kisses the sun at noontime. He bring you closer still, trying to sink in your skin.

Jing Yuan, for all of the preparations needed for your heat, is unafraid of its difficulties. You are his, and Jing Yuan must get you in a comfortable nest and assure that you are cared for. Your heat will boil over any day now, it’s only a matter of time.

And Jing Yuan is excited.

...

Your pre-heat symptoms rise on a thankfully brisk morning. Jing Yuan receives a text from you just as he awakens in his own nest:

[you]: could you come over? my fever is back.

Jing Yuan doesn’t bother responding; he hits the ‘call’ symbol next to your name on his jade abacus.  Shifting upwards, the white linen covers he’d been under slides down, falling around his waist.

You pick up on the second ring. “Jing Yuan?” 

”Hello,” he speaks warmly. “How are you feeling?”

”I’m okay. S-starting to feel kinda gross.” He can hear the grimace in your voice. You thump around on the other side of the call. “I-I think I have everything ready though. As ready as it can be. If y-you’d like to come over, you can.“

”I’ll be there as soon as I round up a few things myself.” He tells you. “Is there anything last minute that you would like me to fetch?”

”I-I can’t think of anything— I need to check my lists though.” There is more thudding through the speaker. “I—I— can I text you?”

Your bumbling is hopelessly endearing. Jing Yuan smiles, “Of course. I will see you soon regardless, hm?”

”Yeah, I‘ll see you then. And Jing Yuan?” you say. “T-thank you, so much.”

The warmth of your words fills his chest. His own scent blooms, soaking into his nest and the walls of his bedroom. He wants to hold you so, so badly.

”Of course.” His tone sounds rich in his own ears even as the call disconnects from your end. 

…

It only takes Jing Yuan an hour or so to finish his own final preparations. The necessary bags are packed and hooked on his elbows as he makes his way toward the flower district. It’s early enough that there is little foot traffic to ogle the Divine Foresight playing pack mule, which he is grateful for. It would be an unwelcome distraction. 

His fixation is on you.

Jing Yuan makes a single stop on the way (having not received any messages from you in the interim) to grab a box of treats that he thinks you will enjoy. He balances it in his hand, flat on his palm, and unlatches the little metal gate to your front yard.

Though Jing Yuan hasn’t been inside of your home, he has been outside of it several times during the past few weeks. Jing Yuan has dropped off a number of items for you to keep in advance of your heat— scented items, and his own clothes and toiletries that he would be remiss to not have during the throes of your heat but will more than likely forget the day of.

He’s glad he has had the foresight to be intensely... intentional about your heat.

It has steadied you, he knows. The days where you’ve simply sat, side-by-side or with you tucked into his lap, seem to soothe you more than any of the Alchemy Commission’s prescriptions have been able to. He knows you appreciate the space that those moments provide. He figured it would, and built the time to see you in that way into his schedule because he had a hunch that slowness was what you needed most (in opposition to the burn and speed that a heat necessitates.)

He’s been careful with you. Not that he’s treading too carefully around you, but he does treat you gingerly. Careful touches that he has learned that you don’t mind (a hand on your waist, his lips on your cheek), encouraging you to take the same from him if that’s what you wish. He always asks before initiating any further intimacy. Despite the fact that you’ve shared a bed and will do so again, he knows this helps you feel safer about the exchange.

It helps him too, really. 

Heats, by their nature, tend to feel out of control. Even if one is medicated and informed and knowledgeable, they can still be so unpredictable. The phenomenon of heat cycles is, of course, something produced by biology and therefore affected by any number of other factors beyond the physical. Jing Yuan still isn’t sure what caused his own heat to trigger early. The lack of control doesn’t truly bother Jing Yuan— one cannot control everything even if they keep it within their gaze after all — however, the care and intentionality steadies him just as well.

From the way you’ve described your previous heats, they have always been chaotic things and painful to endure. Doing what he can to ease that, especially ahead of time, calms something in him.

He knocks on your door only once before you open it. His heart aches when he sees you.

You’re already sweating (poor, poor thing), pupils half-dilated despite the golden morning sun slanting toward you. Your scent curls around him, sweet more than sour, warm more than acidic, but something unpleasant wading underneath. He softens and smiles.

“Hello,” he says to you. You haven’t spoken yet, only blink at him owlishly.

“Hi,” you reply softly back. Cutely, you mince in place. “... Would you like to come in?”

“I would be very happy to.”

It’s the invitation Jing Yuan had been waiting for, truthfully. He doesn't want to crowd you, not now, not when things can progress at whatever pace you’re most comfortable with, safely. 

(That may change. Jing Yuan has prepared for that and shall use his hand and force if necessary. Tenderly. For your own good.)

Jing Yuan follows you inside your little home and takes it in as you futz with a small, glowing panel mounted next to the door. A scent locking system; it’s one of the pricey ones based on the glance he takes at the interface. You tap around on it a few times and Jing Yuan watches.

“Dear?” he asks.

You startle and jump a few inches off the floor, hand on your chest, and turn back to him, “Uh-huh?”

“No need to be nervous,” he says gently. “I understand why, but there’s no need to hold onto those feelings. Would you be able to show me how to operate your scentlocking system? In case I need to.”

“Oh— okay. Yes. I can.” You shake your head from side to side.

Jing Yuan grabs your hand as you poke around the panel, “I-It’s really simple. This screen lets you lock individual windows and doors— I-I have a courtyard in the back that has a sliding door that needs to be locked too. This other screen—” you tap around more, the interface follows. “Lets you lock and unlock all of them at once. There’s also this button which will let you vent scent if it— it gets to be too much. I-I have a remote for it near my nest t-too.”

“That’s good to know.” It’s a useful feature. An expensive one. Briefly, Jing Yuan wonders how you can afford it with your salary at the Sky Faring Commission. “Though I don’t believe it will be necessary, it’s nice to know that the option is there.”

“It’s... nice to have, I suppose.” Your hand falls from the interface. There’s a trace of something festering and sad on your face, but you shake it off and tap your clammy cheeks. “S-sorry about that, I f-feel so weird about everything. Like I’m two seconds away from crying at all times. It’s awful.”

“Heats can be overwhelming.” Jing Yuan reaches for your hand and squeezes.

You squeeze back and nod, a bit solemn. “... Can I show you what I’ve prepared, and maybe, my nest?”

Jing Yuan can’t help but light up at the suggestion, nodding with a little more vigor than he expected himself to. “Absolutely. I’d love to see.”

You give him a proper tour, starting in your small foyer, and then to the living room. There’s a plush-looking, rounded chaise lounge in the corner piled with a few blankets that Jing Yuan recognizes. A round pillow rests among them, embroidered with a content-looking cat face. A basket sits on the ground next to it, stocked with a number of snacks, drinks, and adhesive heat pads among others. 

Your kitchen is well-stocked too. At least a week's worth of meals and snacks are already prepared and packaged up in neat boxes, stacked in your fridge. This was Jing Yuan’s doing, mostly. There are services for this type of food preparation, specifically for heats and ruts. It was easy for him to place a quick, albeit indulgent order. Despite the abundance of sealed meal boxes, he can catch a glimpse of a few irregularly-shaped containers that must be filled with your own cooking.

You’ve always taken comfort in the familiar and your little treats. It’s endearing you’ve made an effort to have some personally prepared for the two of you as well.

The courtyard you mentioned is small. There’s enough room for a few petite garden boxes, one growing clusters of herbs and another with lush wind violets and poppies. Otherwise, there is only a low table and two sitting cushions. A gurgle trills in the distance, rushing water from one of the freshwater aqueducts that line this section of Luofu neighborhoods. 

You quickly enter back inside, and dash to re-enable the scent locks. It’s a bit hard to watch. Your anxiety is palpable, in the way you move and regard him. There’s a tremor in your hands and in your tone as you sputter out a few nervous quips to him. 

Jing Yuan would like to ease you; it’s his most central goal.

He slides behind you with a heavy sigh and wraps his arms around your waist. It’s a good fit, one that feels secure. You feel so lovely to him as he bumps your cheek with his nose.

“Dear,” he keeps his voice in a low purr. “May I kiss you?”

You swallow audibly and your stiffness drains out of you. Like a stopper has been uncorked and you sag against him.

“P-Please—”

And so, he does.

Turning you in his arms, he presses his lips to yours while cradling your jaw. Warm fingers stroke down your cheeks and trace the line of your jaw. Your hands, still shaking (poor thing), grip the fabric of his shirt with enough force to drag him closer. 

It’s good. It’s sating. The sensation of closeness like this is something you both need, even if you’re still learning the steps of how to seek it with each other. The contact you’ve shared in the weeks leading up to your heat has been mostly chaste, meant to comfort more than to arouse, and it has served its purpose well. Physicality has gotten easier for you in some ways, he knows. He feels it in the way you stretch on your tiptoes to be closer to him and let out a soft sound against his lips with hardly any hesitation. 

Jing Yuan relishes it. 

Sliding his fingers down your cheeks, tracing your jaw, he kisses you in a way that denotes hunger but doesn’t entirely satiate. It’s a morsel of something larger, to be explored in pieces, lest you become overwhelmed and weathering your heat becomes even more unpleasant than you predict it will be. He pulls away and you gasp for a breath or two, tilting your forehead up to his with a whine.

“Jing Yuan—” It’s light and sweet, the way you speak. You steal another kiss and Jing Yuan laughs into it. His hands slide to the back of your neck and it’s only then that he feels your fever. 

“Oh.” He presses his lips firmly into your forehead. You’re warm there too. Too warm. Poor thing. “Is it starting to hurt, dear?”

You preen under his attention but still look uncomfortable as he asks. You shift from foot to foot. “A-A little. Nothing too bad, but I know it’ll get worse.”

Certainly. He hums. “May we continue the tour, then? Afterward, we can focus on getting settled.”

You peek up at him shyly, “T-The last thing to see is my nest. D-do... you want to see it?”

“Of course, I would,” Jing Yuan assures you. “Would you show me?”

You nod, more enthusiastic and energetic than you have been in weeks. Clasping your hands together, you guide him past your living room and a half bathroom, to a door that he knows must be for your bedroom.

“Give me a moment.” You squeeze his hands. “I-I just want to make sure things are p-perfect.”

He squeezes yours back. Of course.

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be right here.”

A look of relief passes over you before you dart inside your bedroom and gently shut the door behind you. There’s an immediate rustling and assorted thumping, which Jing Yuan can’t help but chuckle at. He knows the feeling, and he’s certain that you have probably been futzing with your nest almost constantly. 

(A satisfactory nest is a very important thing to show a mate, after all.)

And even if Jing Yuan isn’t an alpha, and he cannot give you any of the things that an alpha would expressly be able to provide during a heat, your instincts will tell you to complete some of the same gestures. Showing him your nest, how well-prepared you are. Jing Yuan has no doubt that you’ll be rolling over to show him your soft belly once you are more comfortable and settled with his presence. 

“Okay.” You stick your head out from the crack in the doorway. “I-It’s ready. Come see?”

You offer him your outstretched palm. His heart flutters as he takes it.

Your bedroom is... somewhat unexpected. Jing Yuan is not entirely certain what he expected from the space, something cozy, something homey, but there’s such a level of detail and diligence that Jing Yuan is surprised you managed the space all on your own.

(It makes his heart hurt, thinking of you like that.)

The windows are covered by thick-looking curtains, made lighter by a sheer inner curtain that hangs secondarily. They keep all the sun out of the space. Your bedroom seems intentionally low-lit, the only lighting sources being a few lamps and a strand of string lights around the corners of the room. A round, friendly-looking lamp sits on a bedside table, oscillating several colors in a slow, steady rhythm. A vanity is tucked in a corner, though its contents seem to be entirely packed away. The little bench that accompanies it is stacked with blankets, all in a well-folded pile. 

Your nest itself is resplendent. 

Your mattress is large— almost as big as his is, which he hadn’t expected. It’s piled with familiar-looking blankets and articles of clothing. There’s a central point to the nest, where pillows are stacked behind for comfortable lounging. A few doughy-looking plushies have made their home in your nest as well. One looks like a round, sugar-white cat. He recognizes it as a plushie made in his own likeness— like they sell in the markets. He can’t help but think it is overwhelmingly sweet for you to not only have one, but keep it in your nest.

At the end of your nest and bed is a chest, covered in a plush fabric. It looks soft to the touch. On the bedside table, you have stocked a basket with little snacks, electrolyte drinks, various medicines, lube— anything one could need for a heat.

You stand beside your nest, practically shaking as you bounce on your toes. You wring your hands as you watch him take in your space, little by little. 

Jing Yuan takes ample time, examining your space, but not entering any further than the doorframe. He would not want to slight you or make you uncomfortable in a space that is so truly and deeply your own.

“S-So?” You ask softly, kicking the ground. Your house slippers have little cat paw patterns on the tips of the toes. “What do you think?”

Jing Yuan sighs your name with a smile that radiates all the way from the base of his spine, his sternum— somewhere deep and true and real. Your scent is so thick here, so intensely you. It’s not mixed with anything other than clean linen and the herbal soap you must use in the shower. It’s nearly pure. It’s indulgent for him to open his mouth and take your scent into the back of his throat. 

He can only regard you with warmth, “It is a very lovely nest. You have done so well.”

You soften instantly. If you were capable of turning into a warm puddle, you probably would’ve. Jing Yuan can’t help but preen; he knows how to pick and choose his words well. It is one of his greatest skills. 

Relief looks sweet on you as you all but collapse in the side of your nest, face first.

“Thank you,” you whine, muffled into the linens. “I tried very hard.”

“And it shows.” Jing Yuan barely restrains himself from bouncing on his toes. It’s so cute. You’re so cute. He needs you in his mouth. He holds himself back. These things must proceed gingerly, even now.

You whine once more. Your legs kick up and you cross your ankles. “You’re going to kill me, Jing Yuan.”

He gasps, something fake and theatrical. “I could never do such a thing,” 

It feels like a part of him is shedding. It’s welcome. 

Sweetly, you turn your face to look at him. You do look awful— really. It will only worsen from here, and Jing Yuan has every intention of tending to you properly.

“May I join you?” he asks.

You tense. Jing Yuan does not move.

Nests are the most intimate, vulnerable place for an omega. They are deeply personal spaces and are meant to be safe. Always safe. And Jing Yuan has put together, over the months and weeks of growing closer to you, that this type of closeness and space-sharing in your own nest is difficult. 

As quickly as you entered his nest for his heat previously, you don’t share that enthusiasm about Jing Yuan entering your own. 

He expected this much. It only stings a little. Not enough to bruise.

It takes you a few moments of inner turmoil before you truly look at him again. Soft and sad in your eyes. You bunch the linens of your nest in your fists and haul yourself up enough to sit. Tentatively, you pat the spot next to you.

“You may.”

Jing Yuan is so, so careful when he sits next to you. He moves slowly, keeping his posture softened. Your scent, under the heat-sick, swirls with anxiety and want in equal parts. It’s reassuring as much as it worries him. 

You take one of his hands and bring it to your face. Gently, reverently, you hold his wrist to your jaw and scent him. Jing Yuan helps you a moment later, twisting the appendage so his scent is smeared on you.

“Thank you,” says Jing Yuan.

You scoot closer to him, wrapping yourself around his bicep. “Thank you, Jing Yuan.”

It’s enough. Something has cracked and Jing Yuan can’t help but indulge it as you both descend into the soft expanse of your nest. Your scent overtakes him, and Jing Yuan breathes it in through his mouth. 

...

Several things require discussion before you lose your complete lucidity. One of which is sex.

This has been talked about before. Several times over the last few weeks, but you and Jing Yuan came to the conclusion to speak again on the day your proper pre-heat began in order to have both of your most current thoughts on the matter.  As much as you’ve shared with him in the past (that you haven’t shared your heat before, that you are not at all experienced with sex, that you have specific preferences that, at the time you shared this, were too embarrassed to disclose to him, regardless of the privacy of Jing Yuan’s garden.)

You are clearly more open now. You lay between his legs, a hand intertwined with his. 

“Can I show you my t-toys?” 

“Of course, I’d like that very much.”

Jing Yuan won’t deny that he’s been curious about the more specific flavors of your preferences. 

You shuffle on your knees to the end of the bed, leaning over the edge of your nest, to the chest below. Hastily, you place several silken sacks on the bed.

Jing Yuan shuffles along with you to examine them.

It’s not a large collection, notably. In the number of toys or the size of any of them. It’s maybe three dildos, a singular (albeit sturdy-looking) wand vibrator, and a set of pressure cuffs for the wrists and ankles, meant to stimulate your scent glands with friction. The box for those clearly hasn’t been opened. Overall, all of the collection looks fairly new. 

Jing Yuan cradles one of the phallus-shaped toys in his hands. It's similar to the others in your collection— not huge, but not small either. And notably—

It isn’t knotted.

None of your toys are.

This concerns Jing Yuan instantly, though he doesn’t voice it overly. 

Craving a knot is one of the most expected desires to manifest during a heat. Among nesting urges, cravings for safety, and safe company is the explicit want to be full. Stretched. The pop of an alpha’s knot into an omega’s hole during heat is a unique, singular type of ecstasy that most omegas deeply enjoy. A toy doesn’t produce quite the same intensity of sensation (it lacks body heat, blood, and the all-important personal, intimate connection, after all—), but it’s still sating enough. Enjoyable, in Jing Yuan’s experience, and certainly better than nothing.

Heats without knots are incredibly difficult to bear.

It’s already been established that your heats are difficult; Jing Yuan wonders if the lack of knotting toys is a cause of your difficult heats, or a symptom of them. It seems vital to surmise this in your case. 

“Dear?” he asks, gentle and easy. “I’d like to change into something more comfortable. Is that alright with you?”

You nod, “O-Of course. I put your things in one of my drawers.”

You tell him this so easily like you don’t know how it makes his heart flutter so wildly. 

True to your word, the clothes he has been stockpiling are folded neatly in the top drawer of your dresser. Jing Yuan pulls out some soft, breathable lounge clothes and a favored robe of his and sets them aside.

You clear your throat. “You can change here, if you want.”

“Hm?” Jing Yuan is surprised by your willingness. “How forward.”

“I-It’s not like I haven’t seen you bare before. I’ll be seeing you that way again soon.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to force yourself into sharing space when you’re not ready to,” Jing Yuan reminds you.

“I know that.” The bed creaks as you adjust within your nest. “What if I want to see you bare?”

“You do?” Jing Yuan makes himself sound a bit more incredulous than he actually feels. Exclusively to make you squirm. He indulges, just a little. As a treat.

“I— of course I do!” you exclaim. “A-and not just because I’m starting to feel my pre-heat. I t-think you’re very pretty, Jing Yuan.”

Jing Yuan has been called many things, over his centuries. Handsome, attractive, beautiful, gorgeous, stunning— but so rarely pretty. It implies things that don’t match his stature. He’s always been tall, especially for an omega. Broad, with muscles built from Jingliu’s rigorous training (even if these days, they are buried under a layer of soft, peacetime pudge that Jing Yuan finds himself very comfortable having). His skin bears the scars of a thousand battles, and nearly as many wars. His voice has always been deeper, more gravel than ichor.

Yet, you call him pretty. And tend to call him pretty, or beautiful, or all manner of compliments that imply him to be softer and more dainty than he, to his own eyes, is.

He finds it endlessly charming. Attractive of you, to view him in such a way and express it to him.

Jing Yuan can’t help but smile as he begins to pull away his everyday garments. “How sweet of you. I’m flattered.”

“It’s the truth,” you tell him with a whine.

It’s true, at least to you. He can feel your eyes boring holes into his back as he strips, trading his cloak and lion-headed pauldron for soft, nearly sheer loungewear. They match yours fairly well, in both weight and color. Though yours are soaked through, and already smell of sweat. Jing Yuan imagines you slept in them. 

“Would you like to change as well?” He asks.

“... It’s not necessary—”

“What is necessary and what you would like do not need to be mutually exclusive,” Jing Yuan reminds you. You’ve discussed this previously, how your comfort and wants are paramount, as is communicating them effectively. “I will ask again, would you like to change?”

“I would— but,” you frown at Jing Yuan as he sits back into your nest again, pulling you into his lap without a second thought, “they’ll just get dirty again, really quick. I don’t know if it’s better than just toughing it out.”

“I don’t think toughing it out is worth it,” Jing Yuan says. “I’m sure, if necessary, a load or two of laundry can be done during your heat.”

“... I guess, yeah.” You sound more assured. You stretch to press a kiss to his jaw. Jing Yuan purrs with the contact, giving you a squeeze.

You let Jing Yuan pick out your outfit.

He does not have to cajole you to allow him this specific display of trust. Jing Yuan simply asks you and you nod, quietly eager in how you direct him to the specific drawer you keep your softest, comfiest house clothes in. The outfit he chooses is complimentary in color to his own, though the fabric is somehow softer than his. More worn, more loved. Older, surely. Something you’ve had for a long time. It’s, perhaps, not the prettiest or most chic set, but he imagines that it must be a favorite of yours.

With a little plying, you settle back into your nest, with Jing Yuan between your legs on his knees. He plays with the bottom hem of your shirt. Your skin is so hot where it brushes against his fingers. Pre-heat is descending on you quickly. 

You keen below him, as to remind him.

“I have a few questions for you,” he asks. “Are you amicable to that?” 

“Uh-huh,” You nod, running your tongue over your rapidly chapping lips. He imagines that you don’t have much true lucidity left. It’s best to take advantage of it while you still can. “I have some for you too.”

“Oh?” 

“You start though.” Your words slur as you reach forward to squeeze his wrist, over the scent gland there. So tender with him.

“Alright.” Jing Yuan smiles, something sharp and cat-like. “Would you like me to fuck you?”

You freeze. 

“... W-What?” Your cheeks grow hotter, eyes wide. It’s so damn cute.

“During your heat. Would you like me to fuck you?”

“L-Like— With the toys, right? That was the p-plan?”

“Not exactly.” He hums. He runs his fingertips just under your top in soothing little circles. “I meant myself, with my own anatomy.”

“Fucking me with your—”

“My cock, yes.” He laughs lightly. Your embarrassment is rich, and he is... perhaps being a little mean to present an earnest question in such a way. He is indulging, just a bit. He doesn’t think you mind as you cover your face and peek at him from between his fingers.

“I— I mean— Do you want to?” you squeak. “I f-figured that you wouldn’t be interested in that type of s-sex.”

“That’s a fair assumption to make.” He muses. Male omegas, in his experience, do tend to prefer being penetrated, rather than doing the penetrating themselves. This is the most common perception as well. “However, I would like to fuck you. If that’s not something you would enjoy, that is alright as well. I wanted to ensure that I offered it as an option to you.”

You stare at him.

“You... want to fuck me?”

“Badly, yes.”

“... Maybe this is rude but— Jing Yuan, have you f-fucked someone like that before?”

He has. Several times, though it has been a while. Though Yingxing had no proclivity or want to bottom, Dan Feng enjoyed it on occasion. Typically receiving from Jing Yuan, rather than Yingxing even. Yingxing had the sizable cock and fat knot of a virile alpha, and Dan Feng, as a Vidyadhara with no secondary gender, lacked the anatomy to take such girth easily or comfortably. Jing Yuan’s smaller, knotless, omegan cock was much more to Dan Feng’s preference.

Jing Yuan enjoyed the times they shared. It was a specific type of intimacy, different from being penetrated. There is, innately, some dynamic of power at play. Jing Yuan doesn’t mind being on the higher end of that if it’s you who he’d be with. After much thought, Jing Yuan thinks he’d like it very much.

“I have, though it has been quite some time. I may be out of practice, but I would very much like to.”

You stare at him. Really stare at him, before biting your lip. A sigh shakes from your chest.

“I... I would like that a lot, too. I-I think it would be really nice even.”

Jing Yuan feels the soft thing in his chest open its maw like it needs to eat you so lovingly. Hold you as he is now.

“I think it would be very nice as well.” Getting to fuck his Omega. He shudders at the thought, lewd as it is. It will be your first time experiencing penetration to his knowledge. He’ll make sure it is good for you, as you so deserve.

“I think so too.” Your scent goes spiced, warm, on the back of his tongue. Jing Yuan savors it. 

“I cannot give you a knot.” He reminds you gently. 

Jing Yuan knows you know this in your right mind. Even in pre-heat, you have the sense to know that he is an omega. The poking he’s doing now is mostly for his own benefit, something to approach delicately.

You stiffen below him, going tense in your shoulders. Jing Yuan expected this to some degree.

“That won’t be an issue.” 

“Can you tell me more?”

“... Y-yeah, I can. I suppose it’s relevant.” You scrub a hand over your face. “I j-just don’t like knot. So, you not having one will be totally okay. Better, actually.”

“I thought as much,” he says gently, cupping your cheek with his hand. You lean into the touch. “I noticed that none of your toys have the ability to knot.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m sure you know that will make your heat harder, right dear?”

“I-I know— I just—” You turn away from his hand. “I really don’t like it, or how it feels. Even during heat. I’m u-used to toughing them out without a knot, so it’ll be okay. Promise.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t believe you; he really, really doesn’t. There is more there that you aren’t saying. It feels cruel to pry in a moment so tender. He feels a bit guilty as he resolves to probe. 

“As long as you are certain.” He says. “Can you tell me why you dislike it?”

You look at him warily.

He continues, “I want to know so I can help you the best I am able to while you’re in the worst of your heat. You don’t have to tell me, I would never make you. Though, I would be honored to know more about this preference of yours.”

“You’re— you’re so good at that.”

“At what?”

“Saying the right things. You’re too nice.”

“It’s easy to be kind to you.”

You whine and grab one of his hands, squeezing. 

“I-I don’t like— how it feels to be stuck with something in me. Even with a toy, and n-not an actual alpha— I don’t like it. It feels bad. And it makes me so uncomfortable, I freak out most of the time. It’s not worth trying, especially during a heat.”

It makes something in him ache. 

Jing Yuan dips down to hug you with his own squeeze.

You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and continue. “It feels worse to try and take a knot from a toy than it does to not have any knot at all. I’m used to it, so you don’t need to worry. I made sure all my toys don’t have a knot at all, so I can't get knotted by accident.”

“You are very diligent.”

“I have to be.”

You shouldn’t have to be. Even just speaking about this, Jing Yuan can tell it’s difficult. That it is tiring and painful to do, and yet you are. He appreciates it immensely, and the new insights you provide him are invaluable. 

“Dear,” he says sweetly, pressing his lips to your forehead, and then sitting up once more, “Thank you for telling me.”

“O-of course.”

“It’s not so scary, telling me, is it?” 

“N-no, it’s not. You’re not scary at all.”

He feels soothed. His fingers play with the seam of your lips, dipping just barely inside to chase the heat of your mouth. 

“I’m very glad.” He withdraws his fingers and grabs the bottom hem of your shirt, returning to his original task. “May I?”

“Uh-huh. P-please.”

Good.

He peels your shirt off. It is, notably, sweat-soaked and a bit tacky to the touch. You’re bare underneath, your chest immediately spilling to the sides. You half-cover yourself superficially with your arms. It’s quite endearing, really. 

He helps you slide on the new garment, this one with buttons in the front. He undoes each one reverently. You stay still and pliant under him. Your breathing evens out, and your scent is more warmly content than it has been in the entire last month. Your gaze is softened, gooey. 

He says your name, honey-sweet on his tongue, “Do you trust me?”

“I do.” You say without hesitation.

Jing Yuan steels himself, coaxing his own scent into something more milky and kind.

“I may need to make calls of judgment during your heat while you’re not fully within yourself.” You’ve already spoken about this before, but he reiterates it now. As bluntly as he can manage, nursing the unbearably tender, soft, special thing that has begun to blossom between the two of you. “I will take good care of you, I swear.”

You look like you’re going to cry. “... Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Just— no knots.” You tell him once more. “And d-don’t be too far away for too long. It’ll make me sad.”

“Easily done.” Jing Yuan pauses. “Some of the decisions I may need to make may make you uncomfortable in the moment. I promise that I will only make these decisions if they’re entirely necessary.”

Your pleasure and comfort are the most important things, after all.

“I understand. I trust you, Jing Yuan.” And you kiss him.

It’s not chaste, this kiss. He can feel you shake as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, leaning into and licking at his lips to taste him. The musk of your heat isn’t too overpowering yet; this is still you. Fully aware and present and wanting. 

When you pull away, you look struck in the best way. Soft-jawed.

Jing Yuan can’t help but kiss you quickly a few more times. Over your nose and cheeks. You nearly shriek with laughter, and it makes something in his chest ache like a well-worked muscle. Satisfied and growing. 

Jing Yuan pulls away, stroking over your face.  “There is something I would like to ask of you.”

You blink at him. “O-Oh?”

Jing Yuan must choose his next words carefully, hovering his fingertips over the (still) inflamed scent glands at the hollow of your throat. 

This is something that you haven’t discussed in all that much detail previously. 

Your scent glands and their relatively consistent inflammation concern him. 

Lei Huiling, during a few of the interim checkups that you had attended, commented on their poor state several times. It’s not normal for one's scent glands to be so flushed. You always seemed to brush this off. 

However—

Jing Yuan would like to scent you properly. And you would, probably, like to scent him properly, which is very difficult to do with your scent glands puffed up and so painful. 

”Would you be amicable to me massaging your scent glands?” He asks.

You still and frown.

”… Why?” You ask warily. “D-do I smell bad?”

”Not in the slightest.” To make you sure of this, Jing Yuan skillfully licks around your scent gland with a flat tongue. 

Tasting you like this makes his head spin in the best way, but there’s still something acrid and unwell about your scent. You jolt in his arms and let out a cry. 

“I’d like to be able to scent you properly during your heat, and in your current condition, that’s not possible without causing you pain.”

You swallow and frown more deeply. “Y-yeah, but massaging them would hurt really badly too.”

“Has anyone ever massaged your scent glands before?”

”N-No.”

That seems unlikely. Jing Yuan can’t help but press a bit. “Not even your mother or father?”

You grimace, your upper lip curling. “None. Never them, especially.”

(Interesting. You rarely mention your parents, but when you do it is always with a hint of disdain and bitterness. Something to prod at later, when there isn’t a more pertinent priority.)

Jing Yuan hums.

Truthfully, Jing Yuan’s own parents never showed him that type of specific care when he was a kit or cub. They were both betas, after all, and though they have their own scent glands and olfactory systems, betas don’t require the same type of tending that omegas and alphas do. They didn’t know what to do with Jing Yuan most of the time, especially after he presented.

He was very lucky that his Master and Baiheng so quickly took him under their wing in that way.

On more than one occasion, during or following a long campaign, Baiheng would need to press and massage out his stuffed-up scent glands. The common wisdom is that an excess of cortisol and adrenaline can cause them to become… clogged, for lack of a better word. Understimulation leads to festering inflammation. Baiheng always seemed to know when Jing Yuan would need a session of careful touch and would sit him in front of her lap, and roll out his scent glands one by one. Neck, wrists, and even inner thighs if his scent, by her nose, was sour enough to warrant it. 

It did hurt, back then. It still does when Jing Yuan must massage his own out, though this is a rare occurrence these days.

As much as it hurts, the relief that follows is more than worth it. In this case, both immediately and in that you’ll be able to be scented properly. By him.

He can’t force this, he knows. But perhaps he will suggest heavily, lightly coerce. It is unlike him to be so heavy-handed but perhaps this issue warrants it.

(Truthfully— entirely truthfully, it has been bothering him for some time. You’re his omega, aren’t you? He can’t scent you fully, even if he wants to. Not without causing you enough pain to yelp or cry out, and it digs at something angry and soft that lives in his guts. It’s been something he has wanted— needed to address.)

His hands curl into fists, simmering.

“I’m sorry.” He kisses your forehead and lingers. “It will help. It will make this all easier.”

“B-But it will hurt.” 

“It will. And then you will feel so much relief. It will be worth it.”

You don’t seem convinced as you huff out a sigh. “Everything already hurts enough— d-do I need to? I’ve been okay before.”

“You haven’t had a nestmate like this before,” he reminds you. “It hasn’t been problematic before, though no one has been attempting to scent you, don’t you think?”

You huff again but don’t reply. You bury your face in his neck with a grumble.

Jing Yuan doesn’t push, not for a moment or two. You stew in place. 

“I guess.” You admit after a while with a sniffle.

It’s then that Jing Yuan has enough of an opening to maneuver you between his legs. In his lap where you so rightfully belong. His arms wrap around your middle and he hooks his chin over your shoulder.

Surrounded by your scent, even as off as it is, Jing Yuan still relishes burying himself in it.

“I know it is frightening.” He begins, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “And I know that you already are uncomfortable and in pain. I would not suggest putting you in a state of further discomfort if I didn’t think it would be to your benefit.”

“I k-know.” You sniffle once more and rub at your eyes.

“I will be gentle with you.” Jing Yuan speaks quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. Not even the finches and sparrows that teem in your courtyard bushes will catch his words. “I want to take care of you.”

(Please.)

That makes a sudden, strangled sound bubble up from you. Something between a sob and an unintelligible word. You lean back into him and nose at his jaw, the best scenting you are capable of doing. 

“O-Okay,” you say into his skin, tasting the salt there. “Okay, okay, okay— y-you can. But, please be gentle. I— I know I need it but I know it’ll hurt and that’s so scary—”

He shushes you, plies you with sweet words and reassurances, and settles back into your bed further. Back against the headboard for stability, with you still braced over his chest. The soft garment he wears has fallen open over his chest and he can feel you seeking out his warmth there as you both settle and adjust into the best position.

Despite all of his confidence, he knows he may need to restrain you during this process. It isn’t pleasant, not with how under-tended you are.

(Jing Yuan knows that such touch can be pleasurable— so pleasurable and lovely. Once this pain has been exorcized, there is something beyond that to covet.) 

Jing Yuan examines your right wrist first.

“Do you know how this works, dear?”

“... The massage?”

“Mhm,” he hums. Your scent gland is raised on your inner wrist. An outcrop of slightly bulbous skin, undoubtedly hardened and hot to the touch.

“Not really.” You hesitate. “... I did watch a porno or two when I was younger that had scenes of scent gland massage, but that’s the extent of my experience and education.”

Jing Yuan chuckles and kisses the back of your hand. “This will be quite different.”

“I know. The clips were all so horny. I don’t think that their scent glands actually hurt.”

“More than likely not.” Jing Yuan says gently. “May I tell you what I intend to do?”

“Y-You may.”

Jing Yuan has gamed out his next move at least a dozen times over the last month. By the Arbiter, he (somewhat guiltily) fantasized about rolling out your scent glands even during his heat. Even back then, they hadn’t been in great condition. Despite all of your trepidation and discomfort, he does know that this can feel good in the end. For both of you, if he proceeds thoughtfully. 

“I’ll massage out each of your scent glands, one by one,” Jing Yuan explains. “I’ll start with your wrists, then your primaries at your neck, and lastly the scent glands on your inner thighs. I’ll allow you small breaks if you ask or I feel it is necessary, but it will be easier to do this in one go, rather than stopping and starting.”

“I understand.” You nod and gulp audibly. “... Are you okay with doing this?”

“More than.”

As much as Jing Yuan would like to bring you comfort and pleasure, this is necessary pain. Not a chore necessarily, but something unpleasant that serves a greater purpose. He is skilled in completing tasks like this if it means the future will be easier and better for dozing.

You nod and settle back into him. Craning your neck, you kiss his jaw.

...

It is more unpleasant for you than Jing Yuan expected it to be. And more unpleasant for him by proxy.

You are so, so sensitive. He did anticipate a low threshold for direct touch on your most precious parts, including your scent glands. However, you are still more sensitive than he originally surmised. He makes due despite this. 

You are doing your best, in his lap. But even with the least sensitive ones on your wrists, you breathe through your teeth.

Jing Yuan has lathered the skin there with a soothing, cooling oil he procured himself from the Alchemy Commission. It is doing something, undoubtedly, but still. You are on edge, bowstring tense, and barely holding yourself still in his lap. He can tell from the forced way you inhale and exhale, and the subtle shake that it hurts. 

Your scent has gone sour. So acrid it makes Jing Yuan’s eyes water.

The massage forces more of your scent out and into the room. It’s almost suffocating, as much as Jing Yuan finds comfort in your scent and preens to be surrounded by it— this is overwhelming. Manageable, but overwhelming. Jing Yuan makes a point to nose into the back of your head, whispering encouragement.

“You’re doing well.” 

“Thank you—” Your voice sounds cracked and frayed already. “— Hurts.”

“I know.”

He kisses below your ear.

Jing Yuan only stops his attention there when the scent gland feels softer to the touch. Less angry and less stuffed up. There’s been some kind of release, though it seems you haven’t registered it yet. Or can’t feel it over the soreness.

You shake out your wrist with a sniffle.

The next one goes much the same way. Jing Yuan keeps his touch firm and steady. He can’t go too quickly, lest the contact lose effectiveness.

You writhe in his lap with a whine, “Ow.”

He lays his forehead on your nape and squeezes you. “It’s hard, I know.”

Your wrists will be the easiest, he knows. They are generally the least sensitive scent glands on most anyone. Their function is for the most casual scenting, like that between platonic packmates and family members. Perhaps scenting one’s home as well. The scent glands of your neck do the most work, so there’s a chance that they will hurt the most. 

Jing Yuan’s current assumption is that the glands on your inner thighs will be the worst by a significant margin.

He finishes up your second wrist and presses a few apologetic kisses to your shoulders. Your skin tastes salty with sweat, far too hot. 

“W-Water?” You ask.

Jing Yuan stretches to fetch you a bottle off the side table. The top of the bottle is a sip top, which you suck on with a darkened expression. 

“I know that this is difficult.” 

“It sucks, Jing Yuan.” You rub your eyes. “N-no breaks, you said, right?”

“No breaks.” He confirms. It’s for the best, but the way you look so crushed and pained is so hard to ignore. Jing Yuan, were he a weaker man, would have stopped then and there to bundle you up and tend to you in a way that is less painful. One that feels less violent. 

He is not weak, though.

Your water bottle is set aside and Jing Yuan readjusts you in his lap. You’re slouched lower, so your head is pillowed against his sternum. Your legs are bracketed by his own on the outside, bent at the knee.

Jing Yuan lathers his hands with more oil. The herbal scent mingles with the scents of the room uncomfortably, but he pushes through it. He must. It’s that simple. He steels himself.

The primary glands on your neck nearly jut out from where they rest under your skin. They always have, to some degree. These scent glands are the most vital, the most precious and important. They’re the center of the olfactory system. 

Technically, there are two glands there— a primary and a secondary. The primary produces your scent, a unique mix of pheromonal signatures that radiate both your mood and personhood. The secondary one serves a different function. It’s smaller, maybe the size of a peach pit. This gland exists exclusively for claiming bites. It sits just under the skin and rises even closer to the surface during a heat or rut. It becomes engorged, flushed with blood and plasma, perfect to be bitten.

Jing Yuan will admit that he is no expert of biology, but Jingliu did give him a rather forceful lesson on anatomy following his first heat. Baiheng gave a more nuanced, kindly-spoken one after, that was more beneficial for his omegan sensibilities. They gave him enough to get by, more than enough. It helped when Yingxing first wanted to claim him, and both he and Jing Yuan had to explain to secondary-sexless Dan Feng what ‘claiming’ was for someone of their biology.

Pheromones live in all bodily fluids— blood, semen, slick and spit. When one’s bite is laid on another's secondary gland, and teeth puncture the skin and bear into the gland itself, a claim occurs. The mixing of one’s pheromones with the core of another's pheromonal system. It alters the one who is bitten. Their scent changes and their body will respond to their mate on a deeply biological level. An innate sense of knowingness and comfort. It’s permanent.  

(Well, somewhat. Xianzhou natives regenerate and persist in such a way that after a few centuries, claiming bites tend to disappear if not refreshed. It happened to his own. Though Jing Yuan swears his scent still hasn’t returned to whatever it was prior to being mated, though the half-moon scar that he once had has long since faded.)

Claiming bites can be exchanged in this way between alphas and omegas, omegas and alphas. Some betas, even, can receive a claiming bite and actually have it take. Alpha-to-alpha and omega-to-omega bites take, but differently. 

To be bitten by someone of the same secondary gender is an indication of submission. 

For alphas, it tends to be the manifestation of aggression within a pack. The physical mark of vying for control within a unit. For omegas, it’s still submission. Less based in aggression, and more in establishing a pecking order.

(In either case, it’s rare for alpha-to-alpha and omega-to-omega claims to occur. Packs function fine without such brazen displays of submission. It’s archaic for the Xianzhou, something left over from the world of myth that they left behind.)

Still, the concept exists. It’s a whole sub-category of immersia pornography. In the living world, Jing Yuan knows it happens occasionally regardless of fads and favor. Baiheng once told him that Foxian mothers claim-bite their kits and cubs, to make sure their scent is always on their young.

(Jing Yuan has to still himself when he remembers this, in this instant. Claim biting you like a mother would be—)

He is grateful the smell of your pain is strong enough to cover the flare of his own scent and the slick that he feels leak out of his cunt. 

“Are you ready?” he asks. He rubs around your scent gland, smearing oil.

“Uh-huh.”

You don’t sound confident. Your throat bobs with a gulp.

He presses down over your right gland with his index and middle finger. Unyielding and resolute—

You jolt. A wretched sound tears from the back of your throat as you arch away from his touch, away from his chest, and squirm away. It’s involuntary, clearly. 

Jing Yuan drags you back with the arm that’s still tucked over your belly. He rolls his fingers over the gland in small circles. It— it hurts you. He knew this. But it's worse now that you’re in his lap, gasping for breath as he continues his ministration.

Your legs kick out as he pushes harder. 

“Jing Yuan—”

You grab his forearm with both hands. Your eyes water, your scent is—  scrambled. Pained and sour and unpleasant on his tongue but it’s hard to parse all of its nuanced notes. It’s more than pure pain and for that reason, Jing Yuan knows that the pain you’re experiencing will be worth it. He hushes you as he pulls away, tending to the next one.

Your head thumps against his chest with a whine, “Wait— I— D-do you have to?”

Your begging tugs at something in him. He still shakes his head and nuzzles your temple.

“I do.”

Sounds tumble out of you as he presses, slicking the skin and digging it. The second gland on your neck is equally as tender. He tries to be gentle while applying the necessary pressure, but it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference for you. 

You push at his hand, shaking your head.

“Hurts!” The word rips from you and you pitch forward, folding over yourself.

Jing Yuan hushes you, murmuring gentle apologies (“I know, I know.” — “I’m sorry, dear. Be still for me—”) that he is unsure if you fully hear. 

You barely hold back tears as he circles the gland. 

When he pulls away, you are a wreck in his lap. A soppy, shaking little thing that is both attempting to squirm away from him, and seek him out for comfort. You nose into his scent gland while shoving at his arm that still lays in a tight band over your ribs.

He leans into you, kissing over your cheeks where he can.

Intentionally, Jing Yuan left you without your pants. You’re only in a pair of cotton panties that, upon a brief look, don’t have any sort of wet stain on the gusset. Completely dry. This makes sense given your current pain and brewing heat sickness, but it still makes his insides twist.

(The kind of touch he’s giving you now can feel so, so good if given time, care, and future opportunity. He’d like to help you get there.)

Jing Yuan cajoles you as needed, even as you sputter and protest in his lap. To stop now would be dire, and there are just two more spots to go now. The two scent glands on your inner thighs. These ones he can’t see swelling under the skin. There’s enough flesh and pudge there to disguise any visible cues of your rough condition. 

Jing Yuan smooths his palms over your inner thighs, avoiding your scent glands on the first pass—

“Wait—” You gasp, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away. “W-wait, no, Jing Yuan—”

“Just a little more to go.” He attempts to placate you with a kiss on your shoulder. 

It doesn’t work. You flinch as your breath shirks in a ragged inhale. “No, no, no— not there, no, no more—”

“Dear, it’s alright—”

“P-Please, those ones hurt the w-worst. Don’t—!”

Genuine, unrestrained distress bleeds into your tone as a sob shatters out of you. Jing Yuan aches, hurts down into his chest and heart and tummy because hearing you hurt is uniquely bad from just watching your discomforted facial expression and body language. 

You knock your head back into him, skull thumping heavily against his sternum. Flailing for a moment, before you fully pitch forward and away from him.

You nearly manage to crawl away, but Jing Yuan is able to wrangle you by the waist before you can. In a swift motion, you are returned to your previous position against his chest. He twists his legs and ankles with yours and holds them open like that. The position is— straining. For both of you. But it’s secure and forces your tender glands to be fully exposed even as you stutter and shake your head.

“No, no, n-no,” you sob and shake your head. “No, no, please. I-I’ll do anything else, just n-not this. P-please—”

Jing Yuan takes a steady breath and squeezes you. Hard enough and close enough that he hopes you can feel the thundering of his heartbeat against your spine.

“I know it hurts.” He hushes you. “I know you don’t want to, but you have to, okay? You will feel so much better when it’s done.”

“I-I don’t care—!” You choke on your breath. “I-I don’t, I don’t— I don’t care if my heat is w-worse— I can’t—”

“You can.” He assures, resolutely keeping his voice firm. “You can, and you will. I know it is hard, and it hurts. You’ve done so well so far. You’re so close to being done. Can you keep being good for me, just a little while longer?”

You pause then. Ragged breathing is the only sound to disturb your dimly lit bedroom. It takes you a moment to collect yourself as you try so hard to catch your breath enough to speak while rubbing at your wet cheeks.

“I— I can be good— f-for you. J-Just for you, though, okay?”

For him.

“Good. Thank you, dear.” Jing Yuan coos, voice so soft and silken that he hardly recognizes the quality. (Good for him, you’re good for him, always so good and kind and soft and small—) 

He places his hands gently over the glands. He feels their heat, then. It makes sense that these would hurt the worst, they’re more than likely the least most under-tended of the lot. Excess oil drips over the roundness of your innermost thigh as you shake. Still in tears, but calmer. 

“I’m going to start now,” whispers Jing Yuan. “Okay?”

“O-Okay.”

You tense and brace yourself.

When Jing Yuan pushes down and circles, you bawl. It’s a violent sound. It shakes the gentle, soft atmosphere of your room as you immediately try to pry his hand away from the gland.

He snatches up both of your wrists with his free hand, gripping them together. The pressure he exerts there is almost too much, but he doesn’t falter. He can’t—

“Be good now.”

“S-Stop—!”

The word cracks with a sob. 

It’s too much, he knows. You’re pouring sweat down your neck and back. You can’t close your mouth with how frantically you are breathing. Snot pours down from your nose. You beg, ceaselessly, regardless of the little praises and reassuring words that Jing Yuan gives you.

The last, deep pressure applied has you going rigid in his lap. Your teeth snap shut with an audible clack and you all but scream behind them. It’s too much, Jing Yuan knows this, he can feel and smell how this is too much for you, but he locks his jaw and keeps himself steady. He must.

By the time he pulls away from the gland on your right thigh, you’re all but collapsed. In on yourself, burning, tunneling to your core as you wheeze.

You shake. Like one of the delicate ginkgo leaves that litter the stone paths of his gardens. Like the wavering surface tension on the water of the stream that runs so close to your home. Like a fragile, little thing in his lap that has been so close to breaking for so long, and is too close to wholly shattering.

(Jing Yuan knows your heat will bring this for you. It’s a quiet knowledge. One he operates with at the core of his planning and strategizing, but doesn’t talk about with you openly. Not unless you asked. He is so deeply aware of how close you are to breaking and how much this scares you. He has already resolved to ease that burden however he can.)

“I’m sorry.” Jing Yuan can’t help apologizing. His own eyes— feel wet. His chest aches and he wants to squirrel you away into the depths of your nest and to his chest where he can quell your pain and lick your wounds for you. He wants to lick at you until you’re whole and well again.

“N-No.” You protest again. Weakly, you nudge the crown of your head into his chin. “You d-don’t gotta be. You said you h-have to, right?”

“I do.”

You nod, understanding. Speaking must be hard for you like this.

Jing Yuan gathers his resolve and bundles you, somehow, closer. You don’t fight him much anymore, only twitch and recoil as he wets the skin over your last scent gland with oil. It nearly shimmers in the low light. 

You collapse against his chest, curling your fingers into his robe.

He kisses your forehead. “I’ll be as quick as I can be.”

You take a wobbling inhale and rub around your eyes, but nod all the same

(It’ll be over soon, then Jing Yuan can— do something. Something else that isn’t causing you such a great amount of pain—)

For your final scent gland, he begins by digging in with his knuckle, hard, into the center of the mass. You muffle a scream into his chest, hands beating against his sternum. It hurts him, he’ll probably be bruised, but he doesn’t truly care. He’s not even sure that you’re aware you’re striking him. 

You mumble a stream of “make it stop, make it stop, make it stop—”s as he continues his touch, pressing more firmly and deeper into you. Your scent is— still muddled. Changing by the minute and it coats his throat like condensation. Suffocating. But he continues because he must and you’re so close.

Jing Yuan fully grabs your thigh, leveling his hand so that the heel of his palm is over your scent gland.  With the strength of his arm behind his touch, he bears down and into you. 

The sound that comes out of your mouth the next moment is inhuman. Wounded and pained and sharp, but there’s a gasp of breaking relief at the end. It’s a barely there wisp, but Jing Yuan hears it. You scramble, shaking so hard that he’s afraid you’ll truly break like a piece of porcelain.

He slows down his touch, easing off little by little until he’s rubbing over the scent gland with just enough pressure to be firm without bruising. You— you’re a mess. It’s endearing to see you in such a state as the pain of the massage fades away. Your eyes are red-rimmed and wet, around your mouth and nose is shiny with spit and snot. Your legs still shake where they cross over his lap. You sniffle and rub at your face.

Jing Yuan takes his palm, cupping your cheek to hold you again his chest, over his heart and breast.

You relax.

So does Jing Yuan, bit by bit as the adrenaline wears off. You need a moment, he knows, to collect yourself, and come back into yourself. He’s happy to let you ground yourself on him. Your breathing becomes more even and your eyes regain some clarity. 

You peer up at him.

“... Water?”

Jing Yuan fetches you the nearby bottle wordlessly. You down half of it in a single swallow, and nearly gulp down the rest of it before Jing Yuan gently reminds you to slow down. You comply simply, so soft and pliant like this.

You sniffle. “That was a-a lot.

“I know. You did very well.” Jing Yuan tells you with a squeeze. “I know it was not easy.”

“... It wasn’t.” You sound wilted as you speak. “W-Will you have to do that... again?”

“I will.” He’s honest with you. “But now that you’ve had them... expressed in such a way, it shouldn’t be painful going forward. Just sensitive.”

Gingerly, he thumbs over one of the scent glands on the side of your neck. You stiffen, gasp, and then half-moan with the contact. Your legs go rigid and stiff, and a moment later you’re blushing so heavily, that Jing Yuan is worried you’ll go light-headed.

You buried your face in his chest once more.

“How did that feel?” He asks.

“Sensitive, like you said.” You give a muffled reply. “But not bad. Kinda’ good.”

“Good.” 

Jing Yuan sighs, letting out a tension that he didn’t even know he had been carrying. He squeezes you closer, relieved, and wrung out himself. A purr hums out of him, one which he doesn’t quiet or hide. 

You chirp to it, nuzzling into the line of his throat. Not fully content, but much closer than you had been before.

— 💦. ݁₊⋆❀˖°🎀°˖❀⋆ ݁₊.💦 — 

In the weeks after the pavilion party, you only cross Jing Yuan’s mind a small number of times. 

Though your encounter had been quite endearing, and you quite cute— you certainly aren’t the first person to embarrass themselves in front of him. As... comforting as your scent had been as it clung to him in the hours after, it is, ultimately, a fleeting thing. 

Jing Yuan accepts this and moves on. It’s better that way. He meets many people, constantly, all the time, and rarely do they linger with him on a personal level. The connections he keeps are few, and he prefers it this way. 

(Forgive him for guarding his heart.)

The next time he encounters you, it’s during business hours.

He has a meeting with Yukong, a standard check-in, and for once he decides to go to the Sky-Faring Commission in person, rather than one of his usual hologram meetings (if it’s to escape the paperwork grind for just a little longer, why not?)

It’s midday, and the Commission is bustling with activity as Yukong leads him to the center console. Things are routine, there are no disasters, and no peculiar deviations in data and activity. All anomalies and oddities are accounted for and are being monitored as needed. It’s a relief, even if Jing Yuan expects it.

What he doesn’t expect is to see you flitting from desk to desk around the Commission. 

Across the wide control room, you have a tablet tucked into the crook of your arm. Your lips are pursed as you tap around it, making conversation with a coworker. You smile when you speak. It’s charming to watch. It’s mundane and he didn’t expect it. He didn’t expect to see you and be intensely reminded that you are quite the cute thing.

You jump when a different coworker, a foxian, slaps her hands on your shoulders. You turn around, clearly indignant. Though Jing Yuan is too far away to hear you clearly, he can imagine the tone. His chest feels warm as he watches.

“General?” Yukong asks him, tugging his attention back. “Would you be amicable to take a tour of the upgraded sections of the delve?”

“I’d be delighted,” he says smoothly. Yukong excuses herself to put together a few things, and Jing Yuan makes himself comfortable with his hands behind his back, surveying the Palace of Astrum—

His gaze is brought back to you. Your foxian coworker chatters with you, having gathered your hands in her own, rocking the two of you in an odd, but friendly dance. The foxian catches his attention. She has downturned ears, the kind that some from the Yaoqing have, where they blend into their hair. This foxian has snowy, loose curls that ring around her face and jaw, draping into a long style down her back.

This must’ve been who you mistook him for during the party. Jing Yuan laughs to himself with a shake of his head. 

(It is an oddly poignant reminder that, for all the courtesy and kindness you showed him, you meant that closeness for someone else. Friend or otherwise. There’s a melancholy with this understanding, this truth.)

The foxian’s tale swishes and her head jerks toward him.

You turn around, gaze sweeping the room, and then clearly, it lands on him.

And oh. It’s sweet. He can see the embarrassment in your cheeks as the foxian attempts not to split her side from holding in laughter. 

Despite your surprise, you wave at him. Good-natured albeit nervous. 

It warms something in him.

He nods to you and waves back. Your smile sweetens like sun-warmed honey.

...

Jing Yuan notices you plenty after that. You’ve been in his orbit for quite a while, haven’t you? Nearby, flitting around the Sky-Faring Commission under Yukong’s watchful eye. You’re often by the foxian’s side while she conducts her most important business. A helpful, sweet-smelling shadow. 

(She confides to Jing Yuan that you’re something of a pup to her. Your family isn’t on the Luofu. They aren’t from the Luofu. You came here, all by yourself, a decade or so ago. She took you under her wing and when she notices Jing Yuan’s subtle interest, she gives him a firm, but well-meaning talking to about his intentions.) 

It’s odd, more than worrisome when he first hears this. It’s unusual for an unmated omega to move without a pack or family unit. It’s not an unheard-of occurrence, but it’s usually not advisable. It’s also odd that you never wear scent patches.

You’re a curious thing.

Jing Yuan develops a quiet, but certainly present fascination with you. He tries to not seem too obvious. Only Yukong really notes his interest in you, and that’s due to how protective she is of you. His interest in you does lead him to visit the Sky-Faring Commission in person more often if only to catch a glimpse. Observe. 

(Decide if indulging his inkling feelings toward you is worth any of the potential disasters that could come with it. )

It’s a low-burning thing.

He hardly speaks to you when he visits the Sky-Faring Commission anyway.

This isn’t entirely on him; you tend to scamper off after exchanging just a line or two of pleasantries. Your voice trembles and you look up at him with a reasonable amount of trepidation and anxiety when you do speak with him. 

It is all surface level. 

(At least, at first, it is. Jing Yuan doesn’t push further, and neither do you. You don’t even notice that he is probing you at all if he is to guess.)

Something shifts, one early morning.

It’s long before most of the Sky-Faring Commission is in for the day. Jing Yuan prefers meetings during this time if he is to attend them in person rather than through a hologram. There tends to be less fuss about the Divine Foresight's presence in the Commission so casually this way.

Yukong is already there when he arrives. As are you. You’re the only two in the Palace of Astrum, he assesses.

The two of you are tucked away in a corner, away from what Jing Yuan has identified as your own desk. Instead, you are seated on a plush bench, while Yukong kneels in front of you. Some of the hologram saplings that sprout from the metal floor obscure his view as he slowly circles closer.

The massive looms outside the Palace hum. It’s the only sound other than muffled sniffling— your muffled sniffling.

You sob, Jing Yuan thinks, as you cover your face with both hands.

“I-I’m sorry—” You say, barely loud enough for him to hear. 

“It’s alright,” replies Yukong, voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s a difficult time.”

“I should— I s-should be better than this, Madame Y-Yukong.”

She berates you for speaking lowly of yourself in her next breath, but her voice is gentle. Kind. The exact words are lost on Jing Yuan.

As you fully come into view, his breath catches.

You’re crying.

Big, round tears drip from your bloodshot eyes. They wet your jaw, darkening a spot on your outer garment where it lays over your thigh. You’re weeping, really, shaking in your shoulders as Yukong rests her hands on your knees, rubbing circles there.

Jing Yuan knows he’s intruding. He can’t stop himself from stealing a glimpse of the moment.

He feels... almost dirty about it. He’s captivated by your tears, your countenance, the way you grip the clothes over your chest and fight through a sob to tell the Helm Master “how foolish and daft and stupid you are”. It’s doing something to him. 

(An awakening really.)

Affectionately, you’re a bit pathetic, and he wants— he wants you. Lucidly and fully. 

Before the thought can consume him whole, he clears his throat.

The two of you jump. Yukong hastily rises and stands between you and himself. He can see your shadow, and how you have ducked to hide your face.

“General,” Yukong nods. “I apologize. I didn’t realize you had arrived.”

“I’m a bit early.” He shrugs, good-naturedly. “Is everything alright? It appears I’ve come at a bad time.”

Your scent clings to him again, this time sad and low, like the smell of embers as they hiss and lose their glow in late-evening mist. 

Yukong speaks. “It’s alright, General.”

“I apologize—” You push yourself up and sway, daring to meet his eyes from around Yukong. You looked like a kicked puppy. And Jing Yuan has latent, though present instinct—

(He wants to take you away, somewhere safe—)

“No need,” he replies easily. “May I suggest rescheduling our meeting, Madame Yukong? My morning can be rearranged accordingly. I’m happy to procure a snack if you need some time.”

“I—” 

Yukong cuts you off. “That would be much appreciated, General. Thank you. I should walk this one home, and then I’ll be available from then on, if that’s sufficient.”

“More than.” He looks at you when he speaks. “Whatever you need to do.”

You look like you intend to fight Yukong on this. But, Yukong deftly hooks her arm with yours and leads you from the Palace of Astrum with a slow, measured stride. She waves goodbye and urges you to too. You look back at him, still tear-stricken, ashamed, and crumbled, and wave. 

“Goodbye, General. T-Thank you.”

He’s left alone then, with his thoughts and wisps of your unhappy scent swirling in the air. 

Jing Yuan— well. He should get breakfast. A treat always does him well. First, though, he leans his forehead against a nearby pillar and runs a hand down his face. 

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

What are you doing to him? How are you doing this to him? He feels like a pervert. He— can’t decide if he wants you in his nest or his bosom. Both? It’s— a lot to sort through all at once. Something to ponder, truthfully, something to take his time with. He’s already been taking his time, and this is just another variable, another angle to account for. 

He steadies himself (as he is so good at doing.)

This encounter solidifies the thing he has known but has had... trouble acknowledging. 

He is enamored with you, at least a little. Perhaps a lot. At least, potentially a lot, in a way that makes him feel young and perverted and reminds him that he needs to continue to take his time. Step evenly toward you with small paces. He still can’t place if you like him, to be truthful. It’s another thing to suss out. 

He gives himself time. 

Perhaps he can obtain your phone number. 

— 💦. ݁₊⋆❀˖°🎀°˖❀⋆ ݁₊.💦 — 

“Earlier,” says Jing Yuan, “you said you had questions for me?”

“Oh yeah. I did.”

You start to perk up from your cradle in his arms.

Following the scent gland massage, you had promptly fallen asleep on top of him, limbs tangled with his own. Jing Yuan can’t say that he minds, but the weight of you has him dozing off as well.

It’s good. And given that your pre-heat will surely be metastasizing into a full heat at any time, more than welcome. Any amount of rest he can secure for the two of you makes him feel more at ease. Your body clearly needs more time to settle, your scent still is muddled but slowly clearing up. 

You sit up over his hips and brace yourself on his chest. Blinking, slow, like a sun-warmed cat showing an owner its trust and affection. Jing Yuan cups your cheek and you lean into it with an omegan chirp from the middle of your throat. You really aren’t all that different from a content cat.

“What did you want to ask?”

“It’s just one question, really… It might be kind of invasive.” You hide your face in his big palm. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’d still like to hear it still if you’ll tell me.”

You peek at him under your lashes and smother your lips against his hand. You collapse onto his chest and bury your face in his scent gland. It’s easy then, to lightly wrestle you to the side of him and get his arms around your waist. This position feels safest, the most secure. 

You must feel the same as you nuzzle closer. Always so sweet with him, even if you are frightened.

“I... I wanted to ask about your old mate... mates,” you say so softly. “You don’t have a claim bite, but I read a few things that make it seem like you were mated at some point. You know that I haven’t really been with anyone other than you. And I guess I’m curious about what you’ve experienced... and what you’ve gone through.”

He hums.

Jing Yuan knows there have been rumors. Ancient, archival tabloid articles from the days of the High Cloud Quintet, speculating on the relationship status of “The High Elder of the Vidyadhara, Imbibitor Lunae”, “The Short-Life Furnace Master of the Luofu”, and “The Xianzhou’s most promising young Lieutenant strategist”. 

They weren't so careful, hiding their affections back then. Yingxing didn’t care about his personal reputation, despite his known arrogance. Dan Feng welcomed contention from the preceptors and the public. And Jing Yuan had yet to learn all of restraint’s gentle dances. He knew some steps, but not enough to keep all of the throuple’s more... risque trysts from showing up in the next day’s forums and newsstands for an incredulous and gawking public, try as he might.

Despite all of the evidence, none of them ever addressed their mating in any official capacity. Privacy and all. Jing Yuan has parried the rumors now for years, even with the perception that he is an alpha. Given the... mostly detached way that he (publically) handled the exile of both of his once-mates, the whispers have fallen away in current times. More often, there will be a blurry photograph of him in a night market near an innocuous shadow with wild claims about him taking some mysterious partner.

It doesn’t bother him. It never has, really, but now he is laying in your nest and you ask him so gently, kindly, with a wrinkle between your brows, the conclusions you’ve drawn do give him a bit of anxiety. 

“That’s a fair question to ask,” begins Jing Yuan. “I understand your curiosity.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” You nearly interrupt him. “Only what you’re comfortable with. It’s... not an easy topic, I imagine.”

“It’s not.”

You nose into his jaw, gooey. “Take your time.”

He does. It takes a moment for him to collect him and decide what to give you in this moment, if anything. He wants to, but his heart is still delicate in these deep, seldom-touched places.

“You are correct in that I was once mated.” He tells you, burying a hand in your hair. “Neither of them have any claim on me, and they haven’t for some time. My mating bite faded centuries ago.”

“‘They’?”

“Two,” he clarifies. “One alpha and one vidyadhara. I’ve rarely coupled after we parted, and when I have, it hasn’t been anything lasting.”

Nothing more than highly confidential hookups and heavy-petting sessions to scratch an itch that Jing Yuan struggles to reach himself. He rarely feels the need.

“... And they’re... gone?”

“Something like that.” 

‘Gone’ is perhaps the most appropriate word for what happened to Yingxing and Dan Feng. Not broken up, not dead, just gone. Their Identities were replaced.

“... I’m sorry.” You squeeze him. “That’s so hard.”

“It’s alright.” 

(It isn’t, not fully, but Jing Yuan made peace with the wounds the two of them left a long time ago. It does not rot anymore. Only aches on occasion.)

“It’s still hard.” You nose into his scent glands. “I can’t imagine experiencing the loss of a mate.”

“It’s not something I’d wish on anyone,” he replies honestly.

“They were your firsts?”

“First everything.”

“Oh.”

You nuzzle closer to him, your scent blooming and mingling with his own.

“No need to be sad on my account.” He squeezes your nape. “It happened a long time ago.”

“‘Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt anymore,” you remind him. You adjust to perch in his lap, cupping his cheeks. Your eyes are sad, still bloodshot from your tears earlier. “Thank you for trusting me to be close to you. It means a lot. And thank you for being close to me.”

His heart aches in the best way. 

“Of course.”

Then, he kisses you. How could he not?

🎀💦 CONTINUED IN PART 2!! →

[impactedfates]

Letters Unsent - Genshin + HSR Boys x GN! Reader

★ Summary: After their death, you find a letter. A letter he wrote. A letter he wrote for you, a letter he wished he could’ve given to you personally. A letter describing his feelings.

☆ Characters Included (Separate): Diluc, Wriothesley, Cyno, Argenti, Jing Yuan + Gepard

★ Genre/Trope: Angst + Hurt/No Comfort

☆ Warnings: Major Character Death (Not the Readers)

★ Extra: Angst is fun, angst is nice :)) // Might make another part with different characters if this does well // Not fully proof read // Motivation came back cuz of sad tunes/hj

He said he'd be back, that it'll be quick. Despite your worry, you knew he was strong, so he'd be able to protect himself right? So you trusted him. Trusted him so much that when his co-worker showed up to your door with an expression you couldn't exactly read, you were confused. It was about him but...he was fine right? Then why were they telling you he had passed? The injuries he sustained was...to much for his body to handle? The healers couldn't help him? But...he said he'd be back...you were snapped out of your thoughts when they handed you a letter with your name on it. "I think he knew he wouldn't be able to make it...so...he wanted you to have this...even if he couldn't hear your answer"

"To My Dearest,

If I'd ever be lucky to even call you that. Although this isn't ideally how I wanted to do this. I believe I can only get these things on paper, it's much too difficult otherwise. I was never good with words so I hope this alternative is alright for you.

Ever since the day I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were different. Not in a bad way. It took me way too long to figure out the reason for this was due to the fact I loved you.

I loved seeing your smile.

Hearing your laugh.

Loved the small talk we had that would end up with me taking you home. You made me feel something I didn't think I would ever feel, and I'm unsure if I even deserve it.

If I even deserve you.

Whether or not you feel the same way, I hope we can stick together as long as time allows us.

Sincerely

Diluc."

"To Y/N

Hope you're doing well, life in Meropide is still as dull as ever. Well, unless you decide to visit, you really do light up the room when you come by don't you? Or maybe that's just for me.

Anyways, preferably I would be telling you this in person, but more work has piled up. That's also why our little tea sessions have to be put on hold for now. Don't worry, as soon as this all clears up and I investigate this one area, then we can go back to the usual.

I have this one blend I think you'd really like!

Anyways, enough beating around the bush.

I like you.

Like like you.

I love you.

So much.

I can't even begin to describe how much I love you, and even if I did I feel you'd be gagging at how cheesy I was being haha!

But really, I love you so much. I want to be with you, of course I understand if you don't feel the same. But Sigwinnie would have my head if I postponed this confession any longer.

I hope to see you again after my work.

Yours Truly

Wriothesley"

"Hello Y/N

I never thought I'd be writing this kind of letter in my free time. Unfortunately for me, it seems as though fate likes making things harder for me and whenever I want to even try to talk to you about this, it's much more difficult than it was when I practised in the mirror.

Or...

Well...

Practised to Tighnari.

We can ignore that for now though as I'm still trying to put this all together in words.

I would let you borrow my TCG set, you can use it as you please and I'd even let you touch my limited edition cards.

If that's not making any sense then how about a joke?

How does a fruit confess?

They say "Olive You"

.

.

.

Get it, because an olive is a type of fruit, and olive sounds like "I love"

.

.

.

I love you"

"My beloved rose

As much as I'd love to tell you all these words in person, my search for Idrila is still ongoing and I am unsure when I'll be able to see your beautiful face once again.

Ever since my eyes laid on your beauty, I thought I had found Idrila herself, but once I got to know you. Even if you weren't the Goddess, you could almost rival her.

The sparkle in your eyes.

The pretty little smile.

Your wonderful personality.

All those things you think are flaws? I love each and everyone of them. They are not flaws to me and it pains me knowing you think of yourself like that.

Once we meet again, I want to make sure you know how deserving you are of these words, how your 'flaws' aren't flaws and how much I love every bit of you.

Though I am aware I find many things worthy of praise. I want to let you know that you're different.

I don't just want to praise you, compliment you. I wish to love you, hold your hands and protect you with my life, no matter what it takes.

I love you so much, and if I could be so lucky to call you mine. Well, I think I'd be the happiest man alive.

I will return soon,

Signed

Argenti"

"Morning, Afternoon or Night

I'm not too sure when the Cloud Knight will give this to you, or when I'll give this to them. Whatever the case, I won't beat around the bush too much.

I love you.

Nothing could compare the feeling in my heart when I see you.

The smile that will never fade as long as you're there by my side.

You are just amazing. In all my years of living, never would I have thought to have met someone as perfect as you.

Even Fu Xuan herself can see just how enamoured I am for you, although for her. She's been using it as an advantage to do work.

'If you finish now you can see them quicker'

'How would they feel knowing that you're not working?'

'Stop dozing off or they won't come to see you ever again!'

I must admit, they all do work. Even if in hindsight, not only would I still see you even with work uncomplete, I'll see you plenty of times and more to come but I don't think you care all too much about my sleep.

But I digress.

I hope this letter finds you well, take as much time as you need to consider my words and think about your own feelings.

I'll be waiting where I always am.

Jing Yuan"

"Dear Y/N

Aeons this is embarrassing. But it would be even more embarrassing if Serval kept teasing me about this. I've been putting this off for so long, worried about how you'd react.

Your answer.

And if this would change your view on me...but you're not that kind of person. I know you're not. And after a bit of thinking, to save me from stumbling on my words. I decided to write a letter.

Serval should be the one giving this to you, so I hope she didn't say anything to you, I would nearly die of embarrassment if she did. Anyways!

So...I know it's probably not much hoping Serval wouldn't say something actually, knowing her, she gave it away with one sentence but...

I like you, a lot. More than you could ever know.

And I'm more than happy to talk to you about this in full once I'm back from my mission.

I can only pray you feel the same, but even if you don't.

I hope we stay friends.

Until next time,

Gepard"

WOOO FINALLY GOT THIS DONE AFTER FOREVER.

Sorry if any characters are OOC, I tried my best with writing what I think they'd write in a confession letter, but I hope you enjoyed this anyways!

[circinuus]

guys, I need my husband jing yuan to come home to our shared house, actually.

Thinking about sitting in front of the vanity, ready to rest for the night, already clad in only your inner robe. Hair flowing freely, with hair oil in hand and a flower-carved traditional comb in another—a rare gift your beloved got you in one of your anniversary celebrations, amongst other trinkets from your courtship gifts and whatnots eons ago.

While you reminisce sweet youth and the love both bittersweet and cloying throughout the years you went through together, your husband comes home, weary and with heavy steps. He smiles at you, tiredness laced in the curve of his mouth, but a smile nonetheless, "A-(Name), you're still awake?" You give him an exasperated smile, standing up with your hair loose, then you let him fall into your warm embrace. "Welcome home, husband." You smell like sandalwood and fresh laundry, and he thinks he was a madman for being able to disentangle himself from you just that morning.

The Arbiter General is a sleepy, oversized cat. He nuzzles to your neck and hair, and you let him. He takes a deep breath, savoring your presence as you silently chuckle, reaching up to undo his hair tie. It is somewhat of a popular topic gossip like to indulge in. General Jing Yuan is a romanticist, and the rumors ring true. By no means he is a hard headed traditionalist, but in his years, only his parents and you have ever meddled with his hair and the ribbon he uses to tie it up. Pale, fluffy mane flows down through your fingers, among the strands also the red ribbon now loose in your hand. You step back to sit yourself on the edge of the bed. Your husband hums, content on resting his head on the crook of your shoulder—such scoundrel. A scoundrel and a shrewd man that you've fallen deeply in love with. His hands circle around your waist, pads pressing against your soft skin on top of the thin material, tracing your spine. "Husband," your voice is a soft warning, but you both know it was uttered in a half hearted sentiment. Jing Yuan chuckles, breath against your neck, "Yes, my heart?" and just like that, you lost. With a huff, carding your fingers through his hair.

It must've been a long day, you think. You find solace in his slow breathing, the steady and calming heartbeat that is pressed against yours, singing a synchronized tune with your own. Careful hands lather themselves in hair oil, gently straightening the unruly silver mane that is your husband's as he hums and purrs in your hold. You've always thought them beautiful. Bashful and longing gazes in your youthful eyes, wondering how it feels to run your hand through, if they are soft and thick, or delicate and easy to comb through. How it feels to hear his heartbeat or hold him in your arms like there are only you and him in this world. How it feels to have those piercing golden irises gaze at you with affection and fond endearment. Unbeknownst that he too, longs for that which mirrors your warm affection when his gaze lands on you.

Jing Yuan tightens his arms around your waist, loose hair now cascading down, smelling of sandalwood. "Husband," you try call him, voice soft but beckoning.

"I've combed your hair. you need to change and clean, then rest." He only gives a grunt in a mix of slow breathings, pressed to your chest.

"Husband, A-Yuan."

His reply comes in the form of a small snore. arms still persistently locking you in place.

So like always, you simply smile exasperatedly, silently discarding the heavy metal ornaments and belts, shoes on the floor. And when he settles among the soft silk sheets with you embracing him, his hand splayed on your stomach and face against your collarbone, you press a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Good night, baobei."

extras. I don't speak chinese so I'm grasping air but ughfgfhhhh so I've been obsessed with wuxia lately and the amount of domestic married shenanigans in that genre is insane. but anyways, I think chinese terms of endearment are neat and I also think people from xianzhou should use it a lot. they have to.

you call your husband "husband" or "my husband" or general jing yuan in public, a-yuan in the company of close friends or with him alone, and baobei, when it's really really really just the two of you or you're in your shared house, and you both are being disgustingly romantiromant

jing yuan is more disgusting (affectionate) and will find any chance to call you his wife/husband. will use "wife/husband" and "my wife/my husband" in public. I think he's the type to really like using "I think my wife/husband is waiting for me." and "I can't let my wife/husband wait any longer." to escape matters that are not important but without sounding rude. then he'd seek you out and mayhaps nap just a bit on your lap, with your hands carding through his hair, just a while.

I think he'd also call you cheesy names like "my little sparrow" or "my peony" or "my loved one/àirén"---in which that usage happens to only be restricted for married couples. even if fu xuan was there and you happen to visit or cross paths. look he's just really proud of his spouse.

when addressing you normally among friends or informal settings, he might use a-(name) like you do to him

in a romantic mood or in private, he'd use something more disgusting unironically like my heart/my everything

I need to marry him :(

footnotes.

a-yuan/a-(name) [1]: It can be used for friends, family, or close acquaintances. For example, "A-ying" (阿瑶) is a friendly way for Jiang Yanli to address her younger brother figure Wei Ying (from the series Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation), indicating a bond between them. From what I understand, this can apply for lovers too

baobei [2]: Literally means “treasure” or “precious thing,” and by calling your other half 宝贝, it shows just how much they mean to you and that you value them. In terms of tone and cultural context, it's a bit more cutesy and is close to the English equivalent “baby” or “sweetie."