#gentle intimacy my beloved

[newtsnaturethings]

hipbone kisses

#trigun #vash the stampede #meryl stryfe #vashmeryl #trigun stampede #trigun maximum #newtsdoodles #gentle intimacy my beloved #here’s to hoping this stays up or else it’s the back up wip with clothes lol #cw nudity #notsfw

[starstrike]

Mithrun's desire as an SA analogue

TW discussion of SA and detailed breakdown of aesthetics evoking SA. The way I discuss this is vivid in a way that may be triggering, though there is no discussion of actual sexual assault. Just survivor's responses to it.

People relate to Mithrun and see his condition as an analogue for a few different things, like brain injury or depression. And I think all of them are there. But I also see Mithrun's story as an SA analogue, and Ryoko Kui intentionally evokes those aesthetics. I think it's a part of Mithrun's character that a lot of people miss, but I very much consider it text. This is partially inspired by @heird99's post on what makes this scene so disturbing; so check out their post, too :)

So to start off with, the demon invades Mithrun's bed, specifically. There's even a canopy around it, which specifically evokes this idea of personal intrusion; the barrier is being pulled apart without consent or warning. The way the hand reaches towards Mithrun's body from outside of the panel division makes it almost look like the goat stroking over his body. It's an especially creepy visual detail; similarly, the goat's right hand parts into the side of the panel as well. It's literally like it's tearing the page apart; but gently. So gently.

Mithrun is in bed. It is his bed that the demon is intruding on. He's in a position of intimacy. The woman behind him is a facsimile of his "beloved" that he left behind; the woman who, in reality, chose Mithrun's brother. He is in bed with his fantasy lover, who is leaning over him. While this scene isn't explicitly sexual, it is intimate. And it is being invaded. The goat lifts Mithrun gently, who is confused, but not yet struggling.

The erotics of consumption and violence in Ryoko Kui's work(remember that the word 'erotic' can have many different meanings, please) are a... notable part of some of her illustrations. I would say she blurs the lines between all forms of desire: personal, sexual, gustatory and carnal, in her illustrations in order to emphasize the pure desire she wants to work with and evoke to serve her themes. Kui deploys sexual imagery in a lot of places in Dungeon Meshi, and this is one of them.

In this case, horrifically. The goat's assault begins with drooling, licking, and nuzzling. The goat could be enjoying and "playing with" its food. But it can also be interpreted as it "preparing" Mithrun with its tongue as it begins to literally breach Mithrun's body. The goat also invades directly through his clothing; that adds another level of disturbing to me. There's nothing Mithrun can do in this moment of violation. Mithrun is fighting, but he is fighting weakly, trying to grip on and push away when he has no ability or option to. All he can do is beg the goat to stop. And it doesn't care. This all evokes sexual assault.

The sixth panel demonstrates a somewhat sexual position, with Mithrun's thighs spread around the goat's hunched over body. In the next, the goat pulls and holds apart Mithrun's thighs as he nuzzles into him. The way the clothing bunches up looks a bit as if it has been pushed up. It has pinned Mithrun down onto the bed, into Mithrun's soft furs and pillows. It takes a place made to be supernaturally warm and comfortable, and violates it. It's utterly and intimately horrifying. To me, this sequence of positions directly evokes a rape scene. I think Kui did this very explicitly. These references to sexual invasion are part of what makes this scene so disturbing; albeit, to many viewers, subconsciously. It makes my skin crawl.

This is also the moment the goat takes Mithrun's eye. Other than this, the goat seems exceptionally strong, but also... gentle. It holds Mithrun's body tightly, but moves it around slowly. It doesn't need to hurt Mithrun physically. But in that moment, it takes Mithrun's eye. Blood seeps from a wound while an orifice that should not be pierced is penetrated. This moment, the ooze of blood in one place specifically, also evokes rape. That single bit of physical gore is a very powerful bit of imagery to me.

Finally; it is Mithrun's desire that is eaten. After his assault, Mithrun can find no pleasure in things that he once did. He is fully disassociated from his emotions. This is a common response to trauma, especially in the case of SA. It's not uncommon for people to never, or take a long time to, enjoy sex in the same way again; or at all. They might feel like their rapist has robbed them of a desire and pleasure they once had. I think this makes Mithrun's lack of desire a partial analogue for the trauma of sexual assault.

Mithrun's desire for revenge was, supposedly, all that remained. Anger at his assaulter, anger at every being that was like it; though, perhaps not anger. Devotion, in a way. To his cause. I don't know. But the immediate desire to seek revenge is another response to SA. But on to Mithrun's true feelings on the matter.

This is... So incredibly tragic. Mithrun feels used up. Like his best parts have been taken away. Like he's being... tossed aside. This certainly parallels the way assault victims can feel after being left by an abuser. Or the way assault victims feel they might be "ruined" forever for other partners. These are common sentiments for survivors to carry, and need to overcome. In the text, it's almost like Mithrun feels the only being who can desire him is a demon who might "finish devouring" him. That that's his only use. It's worth noting that Mithrun trusted the demon. Mithrun's world was built by the demon, and Mithrun, in that way, was cared for by the demon. I think this reinforces Mithrun's place as a victim.

There's also something to be said about Mithrun as a victim of his own possessive romantic and sexual desire. The mirror shows him his beloved just dining with his brother, and it infuriates him. He doesn't know if the vision is real, nor if she has really chosen his brother as a romantic partner. The goat then creates a whole fantasy world where she loves him. As Mithrun's dungeon deteriorates, she is the only person that continues to exist. Mithrun continues to have control over her. And that is the strongest desire the demon is eating, isn't it? There's something interesting there, but I don't know what to say about it.

In conclusion, I think Mithrun's story is an explicit analogue for sexual assault-- though, certainly, among other things! The way the scene plays out and is composed explicitly references sexual violation and invasion of the body. His condition mirrors common trauma responses to sexual violence. And, at the end, he finally realizes he can recover.

Let's end on a happy Mithrun, after taking the first step on his journey to recovery :) You aren't vegetable scraps Mithrun. But even if you were-- every single thing in this world has value. Even vegetable scraps.

#Mithrun #mithrun dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi #ren rambles #dungeon meshi meta #tag later #I refuse to post at prime time look at my dunmeshi meta boy #tw sa #sa tw #this is literally 1200 words slash 6 pages if I added citations and a proper essay format as well as an introduction to Mithrun's character #and general introduction of the text itself #this could literally be an academic paper #lmao #ren meta #rb this plsss i want ppl to read my essay

[simonrillleyyysss]

Rough sex Simon this…rough sex Simon that….what about soft sex Simon?!

Simon who holds your hand, who softly brushes your hair out of the way to see your pretty face and place kisses on your forehead. He holds you so gently, as if you were porcelain. (This could probably apply to everyone but I feel like it really sticks to Simon’s character 🫶)

Soft Simon has been rotting my brain as of late, XoXo 🫶💋

thank you for your request, nonnie!! (✧ω✧)

sometimes, all he needs to do is just unwind, come down and be treated humbly and dotingly by his beloved, and what better way to do that than gentle sex?

his bare cock brushing against the skin your thigh while your lips locked together in a tight kiss, large palm encasing the side of your face as his tongue moved rhythmically against yours, listening to the bed squeal beneath him, listening to your soft little giggle.

‘gonna need a new-‘

a soft gasp as his tugged down your bra, flesh of his tongue circling around the perky nuh, humming lowly beneath his breath, he holds you so hesitantly—thumb gently rubbing against your cheek in an act of comfort, shushing you softly, brushing loose strands of hair away from your gaze.

‘don’t need anythin’..just us, awhrite’?’

he’s so comforting when he finally sinks himself in, gently soothing you with pecks across your collarbones and jaw—cock nestling itself familiarly inside your velvety cunt, just admiring how gorgeous you were, sprawled out on the bed lazily with messy hair, sweaty and covered in little purple grazes, lipstick smudged and vibrant red kiss marks surrounding the flesh of your breasts.

the way his cock brushed against your cervix had you melting into the cozy sheets with a whine, legs wrapping around his structured hips; watching the mammoth lean himself right down into you to nestle his head in the crook of your neck—hips rocking back and forth fluidly, not stuttering or stopping.

you didn’t even have to speak, the intimacy of the moment said it all. from the way he gently held the curve of your ass in his rough hands like dough, or the way you gasped and wept into his shoulder, it spoke a thousand words, he had your name on his tongue like a chant,

a prayer only the most devout could utter as you clenched around his cock, cunt fluttering as simon groaned out, emptying his cum inside you, standing up slightly taller to brush his hands against your stomach—holding your jaw in his hands before placing a soft kiss onto it.

‘tired?’

‘mmmmh.. check argos’ websitefor those beds..’

#ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost is babygirl #💞} riley speaks<3 #simon ghost riley x reader #💞} riley rambles #ghost simon riley #simon riley ghost #simon riley fanfic #simon x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #afab reader story #simon riley smut #ghost simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfiction #ghost x gf #domestic ghost x reader #soft sex #🎀>ghost! #ghost x female reader #dilf ghost #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley headcanons #💞} anon answer!

[ttodorokiii]

animal (m)

synopsis. Bakugou can be an animal when it comes to fucking you sensless.

warnings. explicit sex, kissing, unprotected sex [BE SMART IRL AND WRAP IT!] biting, obsessed bakugou, he is so lovesick :((, but he’s very horny, rough sex, he fucks you between a door n him, strong bakugou, borderline yandere bakugou 😵‍💫🫡

note. hihi I’m back! Plz send asks because I missed y’all so much n also warning, this is messy n cringe. PLZ SEND THIRST ASKS ANYTIME OR JUST ASKS TALK TO MEEEEE! share feedback!

*not edited*

Katsuki has no self control when it comes to you.

You are irresistible to him, he is so helpless when it comes to you. What is it about that gets him so hot and bothered, just one look at you? He’s hard.

You get him so horny without doing anything at all, you’re washing dishes? He’s mesmerised by you, with the way your hands work, the way you’re so focused on doing them.

It gets him. He feels so dumb, he should feel disgusting at himself for being so horny about the most normal things you do.

It’s disgusting, but he can’t control it. You’d be so embarrassed if you could hear his thoughts, you’d leave him.

He’s so addicted to fucking you, feeling you in the deepest and most intimate way he can, your lips, your nose, your damn e/c eyes, that seductive gaze you give him.

You’re the most sexiest woman he’s ever laid his eyes on,

If only people knew just how much of a whore their beloved number two hero, dynamite is for his woman. They’d find him pathetic. He doesn’t give a single fuck though.

You are his. He could fuck you forever and he wouldn’t get tired. God, he loves you so much.

Katsuki isn’t good with words or let alone expressing his feelings out loud, he is obsessed with you, he’s so crazy for you but he is unable to express it.

Unless it’s through intimacy.

So that’s why he’s pounding into you like a dog in heat, breathing so loudly into your ear as you yelp, breathless, his large palm holding the back of your neck so you’re looking straight into his wild ruby eyes, clouded with love.

“Fuck! love you s’much princess!” Bakugou confesses into the shell of your ear, his voice rough and husky, you can’t respond because the high of the pleasure is too much for you to handle. He knows your body so well.

He knows your spots. Your man knows how to fuck you so good, you whimper, your nails scratching on his skin, he’s so strong, holding your legs effortlessly when you lose yourself into him.

He feels so good inside you. You’re sure you see stars right now.

He pounds into that spot once again and you moan out loud, digging your nails once again into his flesh. Bakugou moans too, it spurns him on more, the man is a stallion, holding you in place while rutting into you feverishly.

“S-So good, suki!” You praise your husband. Bakugou grands your nipple and gives it a gentle pinch, driving you insane.

“My baby, fuck… love you so fucking much.” He presses his lips impatiently to yours, his kiss is passionate, swallowing your breath.

“‘m gonna fuck you so good because you deserve it baby, I love you so much.”

He is so passionate, so gentle yet rough. You could never get used to his touch truly, it still makes your skin ignite, just one touch and your body’s on fire.

“My princess.” He finally stops kissing you. “Hope you have the energy because we’re not going to sleep tonight.”

#bakugo smut #katsuki smut #bakugou smut #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha x reader #mha #yandere bnha #yandere bakugou #yandere katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x poc!reader #mha smut #bnha smut #yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere mha #katsuki x reader

[cubarsis]

—stubble | m. guiu paz

synopsis : helping Marc shave turns into something more.

fluff, suggestive, mentioned accidental cutting while shaving

requests open🎀

MARC LEANED IN TO KISS his girlfriend, the anticipation building with each passing moment. Their lips met in a tender embrace, and for a blissful instant, time seemed to stand still. Marc felt the warmth of her lips against his, the softness of her touch sending shivers down his spine.

Lost in the sweetness of the moment, Marc deepened the kiss, his heart swelling with love for the woman in his arms. He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her closer as he savored the feeling of her lips moving against his.

But just as the kiss reached its peak of passion, Marc’s girlfriend pulled away with a playful giggle, her fingers lightly brushing against her lips as she tried to stifle her laughter.

As he looked into her eyes, Marc couldn’t help but feel a twinge of hurt at her sudden withdrawal.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, his voice tinged with concern.

“Why’d you pull away, amore? C‘mon don’t be like that now? I need my after practice kisses.”

But just as he leaned in, his girlfriend playfully turned her head away, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Marc Baby, your stubble is so itchy,” she exclaimed, her laughter bubbling up between her words.

He had been so caught up in the romance of the moment that he hadn’t even considered the prickly sensation his stubble might cause. He touches his chin and jaw, noticing the hair growing in his face just now.

Her boyfriend’s frustration melted away into mischievous determination as he playfully lifted his girlfriend up and threw her over his shoulder, her laughter ringing out as he carried her towards the bathroom. Yet he is careful she won’t hit her gear with how high she hangs over his shoulder.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

she protested between giggles, her fingers lightly tapping against his muscular back as she tried to wriggle free.

“I’m taking matters into my own hands,” Marc declared with a grin,

his eyes sparkling with mischief as he entered the bathroom with his captive in tow.

Once inside, Marc gently set his girlfriend down, her laughter still bubbling up as she looked at him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

“So, you want to help me shave, huh?” Marc asked, reaching for his razor with a playful twinkle in his eye.

His girlfriend nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Oh does my Marc still cut his face when he shaves ?,” she replied, her voice filled with teasing tone as she caught him red handed. „I‘d love too, though.“

So his beloved squirted his shaving gel on her hands, rubbing it between her warm hands into foam and lathering his handsome face in the fluffy sensation. Not before pressing a quick peck to the bridge or his nose.

As Marc‘s woman carefully guided the razor along his jawline, she leaned in close, her fingers lightly tracing the contours of his face as she helped him navigate around his stubble.

With each stroke of the razor, Marc felt a sense of closeness and intimacy growing between them, their laughter mingling with the sound of running water as they shared this simple yet intimate moment together.

With a mischievous smirk, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a teasing kiss. Lifting his girl up by the back of her thighs onto the bathroom counter and squeezing his hips between her legs.

His girlfriend responded with a soft giggle, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of his jawline as they shared a playful moment of affection. Kiss after kiss pressed to Marc‘s soft lips while his hands sneaked beneath her shirt, rubbing up and down her sides.

But soon, the gentle kissing intensified, their lips moving together in a passionate embrace.

Caught up in the heat of the moment, Marc set aside his razor, his focus shifting entirely to the woman before him. Their kisses grew deeper, more urgent, as they lost themselves in the intoxicating sensation of each other’s touch.

With each kiss, the tension between them grew, their bodies pressed together in a fervent embrace. Marc’s hands wandered, tracing the curves of his girlfriend’s body as she melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she deepened the kiss.

The feel of her lips against his, the warmth of her touch, sent waves of desire coursing through Marc’s veins, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. They were consumed by their passion, their bodies moving together in need for intimacy before she pulled away .

„Mhm Marc, you‘re so eager today, but we need to finish, yeah ? I cooked dinner for my special boy.“

As Marc finished shaving with her, he turned to his girlfriend with a grin, his face smooth and stubble-free once more. “There, all done,” he announced proudly, his eyes shining with satisfaction.

His girlfriend smiled back at him, her heart swelling with love for the man standing before her. “You look great,” she exclaimed, reaching out to gently stroke his cheek with her fingertips.

Marc leaned into her touch, feeling a rush of warmth and affection wash over him. “Thanks to you,” he replied, his voice filled with gratitude as he pulled her into a tender embrace.

“But we aren’t done yet, I need so much more after dinner,“ earning a thump to the head, Marc chuckles into his girlfriend‘s neck before making their way into the kitchen.

hectorth 2024

#ɞ 𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 #fc barcelona x reader #fcb x reader #marc guiu fluff #marc guiu imagine #marc x reader #marc guiu x reader #Marc guiu paz x reader #marc guiu #pablo gavi x reader #pedri x reader #joao felix x reader

[lorelune]

dreamer's envy

|| dan heng x reader || E/18+ || first time, comfort, lore || wc: 13.4k  || ao3 ||

Dan Heng is haunted by the memories of a man he no longer is. You are all to willing to help him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: ahhh!!! beloved dh... df... yx... this fic is a bit of a love letter to reader insert character studies and ship fic. making my two faves kiss on the mouth fr. thank you so much to @yinyuedijun for beta reading along the way!! hope you enjoy 💗

CW: reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and afab anatomy, previous dan feng/yingxing, descriptions of gore, descriptions of intimacy issues, author-created lore (plot crafted prior to penacony release), interpretations of HCQ lore, multiple characters experiencing post-trauma

NOTE: this piece is written in two points of view. one is from dan heng’s perspective, where the “you” he is referring to, is you, as in the reader. the other perspective is second-person pov where the narrator ('you') is dan feng. in these portions, 'you' have a cock and the assorted anatomy. these portions are written in italicized text.

Your hands shake. Your thighs tremble. Yingxing lays between them, your cock nestled in his mouth. It’s not sizable enough to hit the back of his throat, but Yingxing, ever the sensitive man, still has tears pricking the corners of his eyes. You stifle a moan into your hand, hastily slapped over your mouth.

Yingxing will not have it.

A strong, calloused hand grabs your wrist and yanks it. He pins your hand by your side, intertwining your fingers. He pulls off your cock with spit-slick lips and smiles. 

“Beloved,” Yingxing speaks in a purr, soft and gentle and comforting against your ears. “You know I love to hear all of those sounds of yours. You’re not getting shy on me, are you?”

There’s a hint of mischief to his voice. You huff and kick at his back.

“Hurry up,” you snap at him. There's a bite to it; you mean there to be. Yingxing only looks amused by your tone— the only one on the entire Luofu who could possibly look joyful, when met with your distinct ire.

“Can’t I take my time?” Yingxing asks, licking from your balls, to base, to the head of your cock. You’re— wet. Leaking pre down your shaft. “May I undo you, my flower?”

“You’re an awful man. I will have you imprisoned.”

“You’d never.”

“You’re right, I’d do worse.” You have so many ideas brewing behind your eyes— ways to punish this wretched man for toying with you. Treating you so kindly and with such humor and wit. There is no one else like him— no one else in your many, lonely years who has lanced you in the way that Yingxing has. How treacherous of him, to steal your heart. 

“You’ll have to tell me all about the ways you’ll punish me,” Yingxing hums, pushing the tip of your cock against his lips. It’s obscene. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle. “After you cum down my throat, though.”

Yingxing, that bastard of a man, takes you into his mouth against, bobbing his head, sucking and running the flat of his tongue over the bottom of your cock. It’s too much, all at once—

And how prettily you moan when you become undone (again) under this wonderful, awful man—

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng wakes up with such a start, he nearly vomits. He does dry heave, snatching the conveniently placed trash can nearby and dropping his head inside to sputter. Spit dribbles off his lips and falls in globs to the bottom of the basket.

He sets it aside and rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes.

Again.

Again, again, again— he has these dreams all too often. Of a life that is not his, of a lover that couldn’t possibly, ever be his. They’re visceral, vivid— as though Dan Heng is experiencing them in real time, and they’re not some awful figment that clings from a past life.

They plague him, simply. He hates every moment of them.

The pleasure of them feels poisonous. That man is not him. Yingxing— is not his. The body that writhes and gasps is not his own. He’s an onlooker, a distant stranger looking in on something intimate and dead. It’s torture, really, but Dan Heng is an expert is quiet endurance, so he copes. 

He stands, still wearing day clothes, and drags himself from his sleeping bag on the floor. His companions on the Astral Express all stated their initial concern with his choice of lodging and lack of a bed, but they’ve since calmed. Everyone on the Express has their quirks. It’s like how March sleep walks, Stelle occasionally glows from her chest, and you only sleep once every few weeks and never in your own room. Dan Heng enjoys his spot in the Archives due to the various motors and machinery that lay under the floor. It’s warm, far toastier than any other room, or bed for that matter. 

(He is not Dan Feng. However, Dan Heng cannot deny that his more draconic instincts are somewhat intact.)

Dan Heng throws on his slouchiest sweater, threadbare and worn, and wanders to the parlor car. An hour or so of pacing usually cures him of any antsiness, and he can nurse a cup of tea while he walks too.

This night, however, you sit in the parlor car as well. Dan Heng slows as he sees you.

You’re— an enigma to him really. Everyone on the express is a bit of a misfit, but you are a newer addition to the bunch, and he and the rest of the crew are still grappling with your oddities. 

Dan Heng has, since the moment he first met you, accepted he would never fully understand you. He made peace with it, moved on and has kept his distance except when necessary. It is better this way.

You’re staring, side-long, out of one of the wide windows of the car. Your chin is perched on your palm and your perpetually blood-shot eyes are half-lidded. Dark circles are punched beneath them. You look like shit. You always look like shit, and you have assured the crew that this is normal, despite March’s initial fretting. 

When you notice him staring, a kind smile curls on your lips and you wave, good-natured.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty. Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine.” It’s not the first time you two have met like this. The Parlor Car is empty, except the two of you and the dimly glowing whale fixture that hangs from the ceiling. It feels familiar, much more comfortable than the... unwelcome familiarity of his own dreams. “I’m just fetching a cup of tea.”

“Ah, a night cap?” You hum, and crack your neck. “Sounds needed. That last dream of yours was wild.” 

Dan Heng frowns, “I’ve asked you before to quit that, please. It’s invasive.”

“I would if I could,” You shrug. “But, I can’t. Besides, your dreams are loud, Dan Heng. I’d be unable to ignore them even if I was at the back of the train.” 

“Can you at least not mention them?”

“I mean, I can not. But... they clearly upset you, don’t they?” You tilt your head, eyes soft. “Would you like to talk about them at all? I don’t mind listening.”

“They aren’t your concern.”

“I’m aware of that, but that doesn’t stop me from caring. I know they’re distressing.”

“You’re prying.”

“I’m asking, Dan Heng.” You sound a little desperate. Standing, you pass by him, in the direction of the passenger car. “You can say ‘no, my fellow Nameless, I would like you to never speak of me and my upsetting sex dreams,’ and I won’t ever mention them again. I don’t mean to be a thorn in your side, but the past is easier to bear in the present if you can lean on folks.”

Dan Heng is silent, stewing and stirring under his skin. 

By the time he has a reply formulated, you have left the parlor car. The only sign that you’d ever been there to begin with is a patterned knit blanket left where you were sitting. 

Dan Heng snatches it up before he can convince himself not to and returns to his room to add it to his ground-bound nest.

...

Welt had found you outside of a space station, idling around a refueling station. You’d been wearing a dirty utility jumpsuit with the emblem of some IPC-owned subsidiary screen-printed on the pocket. Your eyes had been glassy and far away. When Welt asked if you were alright, you had smiled and told him, “Actually, I’ve never been worse.”

The Express loves strays. It’s ultimately what he, Stelle, and March are. Welt to some extent as well, especially considering his several layers of mystery. Himeko has the disposition of a kind leader and the heart of a mother, and for all of Pom Pom’s fretting, they are always interested in a new face aboard the Astral Express, for however long they choose to be there.

It’s sensical that you were given a shower, a hot meal, and a room before you even fully understood what you were signing up for with the Express.

Dan Heng was, notably, wary of you. It was the way you looked at him after the first night you slept on the Express (one where he had predictably been plagued with images of a body that wasn’t really his being fucked and loved in a way Dan Heng couldn’t conceptualize his actual self receiving). There was clear concern etched in your expression, however you never voiced it. Not at first.

It was only after a few weeks that March pointed out you hadn’t slept since your arrival that you revealed your hand.

A bloodline blessed by the Aeon of Dreams, Sacha. 

Dan Heng had heard of the Aeon, distantly. A seldom-traveled path, one for those with imagination run wild and a penchant for long naps. There were whispers that the Aeon was asleep, constantly. Otherwise, dead. Regardless, you bore the Godbeing’s blessing in some way.

You revealed this during a routine coffee break, just before Welt, March and Stelle descending to a little sandy moon. Perched on a chair, legs curled over your chest, you’d laughed when March pointed out your lack of good sleeping practices.

“I don’t need to, so I tend not to. It’s a difficult habit to break.” 

You had explained to Dan Heng and Himeko that you and your kin, a race descended from a small planet from a dead solar system, all bear this blessing. No need for sleep and—

“I perceive the dreams of others.”

Dan Heng had questioned, immediately— “Perceive?”

“That’s the best way to put it.” You meet his eye and you look slack in your shoulders. Unbearably calm and tired. “What you dream, I experience along with you. The more I focus in, the more vivid it is.”

(Dan Heng is horrified and doesn’t speak to you for a week.)

After some significant, quiet panic, Dan Heng had politely asked you to not perceive his dreams if you could help it. 

You’d told him you’d do your best.

And Dan Heng— appreciates the effort. Even if it's clear it's not working. You are so often up when he rises for his customary tea and jaunt, and tend to prod him a little. At least stop him to chat for a moment or tea. You’ll sneak in a cheeky comment or two, usually, but they’re so quick Dan Heng can’t do much more than blush and stumble over his next sentence.

You look highly amused and soft, those nights.

You never ridicule him, which he appreciates. More often you look pleasantly neutral, as if trying to emulate the aura of a familiar house plant near a skittish black cat.

(Dan Heng knows he is the skittish black cat.)

It’s— too much really. Dan Heng would rather bear it alone, take his cup of tea and do his laps, but he also can’t find it in him to tell you off too harshly. You tend to favor the parlor car, anyway. You get lost in the stars and galaxies they traverse easily. It would feel cruel to ask you to sequester yourself to your room simply so Dan Heng can brood more effectively.

Dan Heng does not know what to do about his own haunting (arousing) dreams, nor does he know what to do with you and your unfazed smiles.

...

You straddle Yingxing’s lap, thighs tense as you roll your hips. Your lover’s length grinds inside of you, stroking something small and hot and so good you could get drunk on it. You chase the sensation, selfish. Your hands are braced behind you, on Yingxing’s thighs as he is sprawled below. 

His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a knotted mess. A hastily ripped piece of fabric binds Yingxing’s wrist together and secure to the stained wood of the bed frame.  You were kind enough to carefully pull out his favored hairpin (a gift, one you commissioned him to make... for himself. Without his knowledge. Yingxing was moderately huffy about it until you tucked it into his hair yourself.) and set it aside. 

Yingxing is not a weak man, but you are a Dragon, and therefore keeping him restrained and tethered is not difficult. Usually, you allow Yingxing the privilege of carving out your insides at his leisure and pace. There’s a sweet torture to it you have found yourself having grown fond of. 

There is no other soul, mortal or otherwise, short-lived or long-lived, that you would allow to exert such control over you. Yingxing is an exception for you in so many ways. How dear this (foolish) craftsman has become to you.

“B-Beloved,” Yingxing’s voice is tight, strained. There’s sweat beading on his temples. “Might I persuade you into moving?”

You hum. Your tail wraps around his leg, from ankle to thigh and squeezes. The feathered tail flicks at Yingxing’s tense muscle and he jolts under you. A glittering laugh leaks from the corner of your mouth.

“Persuade me then.”

“Y-You’re not making this easy, are you?”

“I told you I wouldn’t. And you still agreed.”

“I thought the great Yinyue Jun would grant me some mercy at least. Excuse my wishful thinking. I thought that my dearest husband would forgo being a brat for at least a single night—”

You scoff.

You roll your hips, slow and deliberate. Yingxing’s words are cut off, killed in his throat as his eyes roll back into his skull. Keeping your core tight, you bury his cock in your hole to the hilt. You’re flush together, panting. It’s a tight squeeze, it always is. But the slight burn is familiar and welcome as you throw your head back and moan.

The sound is sin. If any of the Preceptors knew what this man did to you, he’d be drowned in Scalegorge within the day. 

Yingxing curses in a tongue you don’t know— it’s his mother’s language, he once told you. He tries to buck up into your heat, but you hold him down and steady. Clicking your tongue and racking your nails down his chest. Thin welts rise in your wake. Yingxing lets loose a choked gasp as you slide down on his cock. The stretch is so, so good. You crave this ache. You fantasize about it when you surely shouldn’t. It haunts your—

Dreams?

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng wakes up so hard it physically hurts. He gasps, muffling a half-there sound into his pillow. It’s shameful. He feels out of his mind as he flips onto his stomach and ruts into his nest of blankets. The friction is dry, scratchy, and barely enough. However— the phantom sensations of a dead lover crawl over him. Nostalgic and tragic and nauseating.

He comes with a sob that he prays no one hears. He stains the front of his boxers as he grinds his oversensitive cock against the wet fabric. It’s too much. He’s too sensitive. It hurts, but Dan Heng doesn’t know what else to do.

He feels ashamed as he sits up and runs a hand over his face. 

It’s usually not this bad. Usually he can will away any arousal with logic. Reminding himself that the pleasant touch and face he remembers is long gone and was never his to have to begin with. Only on a few occasions has he woken up disoriented enough to forget himself to actually get off.

He needs to shower.

Dan Heng blearily leaves his room with his towel slung over his arm. The showers are on the other side of the passenger car. Dan Heng turns the spray on the highest heat, cooking himself as much as he can bear. There’s a latent energy in him that always swirls, begging him to push and pull the water around him, harness it for even a moment—

Before Dan Heng can entertain such things, he exits the spray, flushed bright red with his towel around his waist. 

As he exits the shower, he finds you. 

You’re perched one of the plush couches, tucked into a nook in the passenger car. Your signature blanket is not with you. You look— like shit. Dark circles stamped but your eyes look alight.

Dan Heng freezes as you notice him.

“... You alright?” You ask him.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure, bud?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

”You’re patronizing me.”

You stumble, “I don’t— I don’t mean to. That was just—”

“Please do not—”

“A lot.”

Your cheeks are flushed as you rub at them. Your gaze flits up to his then averts to the floor. You look... shy. It’s an expression he’s never seen you wear before, even when you were pulled onto the express filthy and in a heavily patched jumpsuit. 

Something in Dan Heng’s chest squeezes. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels entirely too exposed. He’s not fully dry, and he can feel droplets of water dripping from his hair down to his shoulders. His throat bobs as he gulps you watch the movement with rapt attention. 

He coughs.

“I asked you to refrain from viewing my dreams.”

“That one was loud.” You frown. “Incredibly loud. Like banging pots and pans, fireworks and explosives kind of loud. I couldn’t have ignored it, even though I very much want to. I’d love to give you your privacy, Dan Heng, but sadly the intricacies of your mind happen to make your dreams essentially unignorable.”

“Must you comment on them?”

“... I heard you crying after.” Your expression looks uncharacteristically torn up. Your lackadaisical smile and humor are nowhere to be found. “I was worried.”

“I can assure you, I am fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I do, regardless. The whole Express does.”

“I appreciate it. Though, it’s unnecessary.”

“Of course. Sure. Because you’re the paramount example of ‘not needing care’.”

“I’m self-sufficient.” This time, he frowns.

“You are.” You stand up and walk toward him. “‘Sufficient’ implies adequacy, not prosperity.”

“What are you implying?”

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, “That you, Dan Heng, seem like you could use some help. I won’t pry at your past, I’m aware it’s not my place to do so— however routinely having uncomfortably vivid sex dreams about a man who you clearly have complex feelings about, probably isn’t good for you. There’s an inevitable amount of strain. One that I think that you’re ignoring.”

“What help do you think I need?” His voice remains level, but your proximity has him wriggling under his skin.

“... I— could be a decent listener. I have all the time in the world. I’m always around at night.” You struggle to meet his gaze, but after a moment, your usual, easy smile erupts on your face. “Or, would you prefer more... direct assistance? I could help with that too.”

“Speak plainly.”

“Was the last time you had sex with the man in your dreams?”

Dan Heng’s throat closes up. The cloudhymn that are under his skin thrum and encircle him, for just a moment. Your eyes widen at the colors and hum of it and jump back. You almost stumble. The surge of power and energy shakes the passenger car. The whale-shaped light fixtures dance above you. 

Dan Heng swallows.

“And if it was?”

You look at him, really look at him, and your eyes soften. Your center looks wide and vulnerable despite the churn in the air, “Then, do you think it could, perhaps, be helpful to add some more recent, pleasurable memories for your dreams to play with?”

Dan Heng flushes so quickly, he feels faint.

The instinctual cloudhymns around him die in an instant. He retreats, a firm grip remaining on the towel around his waist to keep it in place. He mumbles out a hasty ‘goodnight’. 

He is unsure if you hear him.

... 

In the days that follow, neither Dan Heng nor yourself, bring up your proposition. 

The next morning, you look expectedly exhausted, but do not prod or pry at him any further. You sit at the long table for breakfast and munch on a piece of bread and some jam while Himeko goes over your next destination. 

The few times you look at him, your smile is lazy and easy, however you turn away quickly. 

You continue to skillfully avoid him. 

Dan Heng— feels a bit bad about it. Maybe a lot. If he enters common spaces like the parlor car or dining car, you quickly leave after a peripheral greeting. You must be doing so as to not tip off the rest of the crew that there’s some amount of… tension between the two of you. Under different circumstances, Dan Heng would have appreciated the purposeful discretion, however something about it irks him. 

The Express’s next destination is a repurposed space station at the edge of a solar system. A false sun, powered by a Stellaron— something to that effect. Stelle’s bodily composition is of some intrigue to the scientists looking to craft a replacement, while other factions wish to harness the Stellaron more directly than a not-so-distant source of light and heat. 

Himeko’s engineering expertise is being requested, along with Welt’s understanding of Imaginary energy. March wants to go due to the complex system of bioluminescent algae that teems in the space station’s plentiful aquaponics infrastructure. (“It looks so pretty! I need photos!”)

There are very few reasons for Dan Heng to accompany them; the party’s already full. There are even fewer reasons for you to join, who, despite all of your assurances, looks particularly haggard and worse for wear. Both March and Himeko mother hen you into staying aboard the Express to keep Pom Pom company.

Dan Heng should make an excuse to leave as well. Something in his gut tells him it would be best to keep his distance from you.

(It would be easier that way.)

However, Dan Heng finds himself waving goodbye to his companions as they dock at the small port. Pom Pom has requested at least a single treat from their excursion while they wave exuberantly from his side. 

You stand on Pom Pom’s right, lazily waving as well. Your shoulders are slumped.

As Pom Pom aways to dust the fixtures in the parlor car, Dan Heng faces you and speaks without thinking.

”You should rest.”

You blink owlishly at him. “… That’s not necessary.” 

”You don’t look well.”

”You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

”I am being serious.”

”So am I.” You roll your eyes and shrug. 

You attempt to walk away from him, but Dan Heng finds himself reaching out to grab your arm. His hand wraps around your forearm securely, firmly. 

You still, wide-eyed.

”You can sleep, can’t you?”

”… I mean, yes?” You frown, glancing at his hand then back to his face. 

“Would it help?”

”Help what?” 

Dan Heng deadpans. “You’re exhausted.”

”… Dearest Dan Heng, I am always in this state. I apologize if my withered countenance has caused you grief. I am fine.”

You attempt to wrench your arm from his grip, but he doesn’t let you go. Your frown deepens. 

“Being intentionally daft isn’t wise.”

You stare at him, “I’m not being ‘intentionally daft.’”

”I beg to differ.”

You mutter something in a tongue that Dan Heng doesn’t recognize. “What’s your deal? I apologize for getting into your business previously. I have been trying to give you ample space and shut out your dreams to the best of my ability. Is that not enough?”

”No.” No, no, no— that’s not really. It. Dan Heng isn’t sure what it is, but at this moment, his mood has little to do with your knowledge of his horrible, awful, persistent wet dreams, but something else. “I’m not upset at you for that.”

You stare and your hands ball into fists, “So, you’re really pestering me over my well-being?”

”Yes?”

”Aeons, Dan Heng.” You say his name in a croon and it makes him shudder. He wants to scream. “It really isn’t a big deal.”

”Is it straining you to not… perceive my dreams?”

Your expression goes blank. “I mean. Yes. But, it’s not a big deal—“

“You look awful.”

”You can’t have both.” You are clearly frustrated. Dan Heng’s grip is unrelenting. “I can’t— I can’t attempt to block out your silly sex dreams without a not-insignificant amount of effort. I’m either going to be very keyed into that pretty silver-haired man who you clearly wish was in your bed, or I’m going to look a bit more worse for wear. The latter, Dan Heng, does not bother me. Fretting over me isn’t going to make me less worn down.”

”And you just… don’t care that you’re tired?”

“I’m always tired.” You smile then, the same lazy, curling quirk of your lips that you so often wear, ever since the Express dragged you aboard from that rest stop. Dull-eyed and wearing a filthy utility jumpsuit. “I don’t want to cause you all any additional grief. I wish you wouldn’t worry about me.”

Dan Heng doesn’t know what to say.

“... That isn’t your choice.” The words feel paltry, half-there.

You pull your arm from his grip, thumbing at the spot where he held you. Your soft day clothes have rumbled under his grip, “That’s hilarious, coming from you, Dan Heng.”

“This is different.”

“How so?” 

“Because—” Dan Heng clicks his tongue. Something— something simmers just under his chest. Something bigger than himself, salty like the sea and heavy like green stone that writhes as you stare him down. “Because my dreams are my business. The man— men— in my dreams are my ills to carry. They should not affect my present. You shouldn’t be affected by them.”

“Well, crazy, but I am—” You go nose-to-nose with him and huff. Dan Heng backs into a railing behind him, back curving. “Because I don’t like seeing you in pain—”

Something kicks Dan Heng’s shin and he hisses. You jump away from him with a stumble, looking down at a glowering Pom Pom. Their tail twitches.

“No fighting in my parlor car!” Pom Pom huffs. “Does Pom Pom need to get Miss Himeko’s ‘get along’ shirt?”

“That’s not necessary,” Dan Heng rushes to say.

You’re already walking away, out of the parlor car with a shake of your head and one last wistful look.

...

You tear your heart from your chest.

It is expectedly painful, even if you braced for it. Even if in your deepest meditations, you simulated the pain of such a loss with cloudhymn to prepare for this moment, on the off chance you would need to lose your heart from between your ribs and give it to your beloved. So few of Long’s scions retain the ability to rebirth with multiple hearts— only a handful of high elders, really. You can imagine what they will say about you, think about this act you’re committing.

Sin. And a painful one.

The blade in your hand clatters to the ground as you hold your heart in your own palm. It’s large— a dragon’s heart. It will not fit in the chest of a mortal. 

(But, you will make it fit.)

Yingxing is— is— he’s dead. He’s a corpse on the ground below you. One of his arms is missing, while the other is twisted at a most unnatural angle. His star silver hair is a tangled knot in the dirt, Yingxing’s favored hairpin shattered somewhere in the foreground. The color is no longer pure. It’s a dirty scarlet. A mix of your beloved’s blood and Shuhu’s. 

Yingxing’s eyes are half open and dull. Purple turned bruised-petal lilac. His lip is split and blood trickles from the corner of his lips,

This is not to say anything about his middle which is—

Not really there.

It makes inserting the heart easier. You think so anyway. Your hands shake (they never have before, not like this) and you cry (you have not cried like this before) as you shove the heart into Yingxing’s necrotic chest. You have to further break his ribs to shove your heart into him. Cloudhymn spins around you— a storm, a gale for you. It dulls the screams from your younger companion begging you to stop. A beast roars in the distance, above it all. The sound makes the air tremble and split. Your ears would bleed, were you a weaker species. 

(A necessary sacrifice— she— she was already dead. Past saving. You only have two hearts. One which is yours and one which is now—)

Yingxing’s.

Your beloved flinches. Lurches as unnatural growth burgeons from him. He wails on the ground as magics spin within him. You are doing the most unholy thing to him. But, you must, right? You cannot lose him. You cannot lose Yingxing. You have given everything, always, as every self, to your role and its meaning— can you not have this one thing? May your beloved not stay by your side, however unfair and painful the circumstances?

Unblemished, ghostly pale tissue regrows from Yingxing’s body at an alarming pace. It rejoins his upper and lower halves together as he screams. 

Yingxing’s hands wrap around your neck and you’re shoved into the dirt. You are not expecting the force and the impact, even less so. The air knock out of you and the cloudhymns shudder. The magics are thinner for a moment, you could see your other companions if you chose to. You could see how many Xianzhou cloud knights have fallen to the beast you created.

You ignore them.

You ignore them all to look up at your beloved. Eyes now a wild red, teeth glimmering white and stained with blood. His hair has darkened, silver turned dark, like it had been dipped in thick, viscous oil. Yingxing bares his teeth and screams at you. 

“WHAT DID YOU DO!”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, DAN FENG!”

—!

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng awakens to a silent Astral Express. The trainship is still docked and it’s running on ancillary power in the meantime. 

It’s entirely too quiet. All he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

He scrambles to grab at his own chest— there’s no gaping hole. There’s no— there’s no blood on his hands (not real, material blood anyway . Various parties would beg to differ as to if he has any actual blood on his hands. But, the past is the past, isn’t it? These dreams are the afterimages of the life of a deadman. That’s all they can be. The man that chases him across the universe bears a different name and a younger face. The man who will always make time for him on a Godship, so very far away, may use his name ‘Dan Heng’, but is that who he truly sees when he looks at Dan Heng?)

Dan Heng dry heaves into his hands.

He barely manages to crawl to the little bathroom attached to his room to puke his brains out. He hasn’t had much of an appetite over the past few days, and most of what comes up is water, pile, and half-digested rice porridge.

By the time he withdraws and flushes, wiping his hand over his mouth, he feels winded. Disgusting. Sweaty and entirely too wet. 

Shower.

Dan Heng methodically grabs his few supplies and walks across the silent Astral Express to the showers. He could take a bath— maybe it would help. March keeps minty bath products out and available that are so strong that they tend to pull any of the Express’s passengers out of a funk if used. There’s a little basket of them in the tiled common area of the baths. There’s a hand-written note in March’s perfect scrawl that says “Please take one❤️!) 

Dan Heng snatches a few before picking his favored, individual shower. There’s a little atrium before entering the shower itself, where he sheds his drenched bedclothes and hangs them, along with his towel. He turns on the shower and idles for a moment, listening to the dull roar of it.

Water splashes onto him in droplets. There’s a (dormant. Dormant. He swears it’s dormant) instinct to ball the errant water up and toy with it with cloudhymn. The pearl that idles in the center of Cloud Piercer has many different ways to harness its power beyond a weapon of steel that—

(Isn’t his, is it?)

Dan Heng wants to vomit again. He steps into the spray before the nausea overtakes him.

The spray is cold— he usually takes cold showers, regardless of if it’s after a particularly intimate dream. He prefers cold water. He enjoys cold baths, but they’re a luxury he enjoys only once in a while, and usually for the better part of a day. He’ll stay submerged for what would be a worrisome amount of time (if he didn’t bear the spare parts of imbibitor lunae) and, despite his assurances, worries the rest of the crew. As sedentary and reclusive as Dan Heng can be, camping out in the baths for the better part of a day causes a stir amongst the express.

They’re a treat, a bothersome one.

Now, he washes himself thoroughly. It’s a mechanical and rhythmic thing. It soothes him. His breath comes steadier.

Dan Heng hasn’t had a dream that unpleasant in quite some time. He has always had the more gruesome— of tragedies beyond this knowledge. But, they’re rarer. He is haunted more frequently by memories of pleasure and that almost makes the shadow of Dan Feng more cloying. The gruesome are just that— gruesome. He has put together pieces of Dan Feng’s sin, though he refuses to touch the Archive’s documents ported from the Luofu on the subject. 

Ignorance is bliss and Dan Heng feels knowledgeable enough. The breach between his own memories and Dan Feng’s is less solid than it once was. Dan Heng will more than likely find out with time.

It despairs him for a moment as he turns off the water and towels off. He feels— more lucid. Better. 

He’s surprised that you haven’t sought him out.

There’s— no way you didn’t perceive that dream. Dan Heng can’t be entirely sure what you mean when you call a dream ‘loud’, but he knows the very real pain he felt during it could constitute as such. He listens closely as he dresses in new bedclothes. The Express is still quiet aside from machine hum.

Dan Heng could check on you. He thinks about it. Your room is just past Stelle’s and considering you weren’t in the parlor car, you’re probably there.

You shouldn’t have seen that. But, it’s not like Dan Heng can help it, right? 

The tangle of feelings within Dan Heng writhes as he exits the showers. It grows even more unruly as he notes a change in the parlor car.

Resting on one of the plush seats is a hastily folded blanket, a still-steaming cup of tea, and a small, folded note.

Dan Heng approaches and reads.

DH

i’ve noticed you like my blankets. take this one. it’s one of my favorites.

have some tea and rest if you can.

— [name] ╰(*°▽°*)

The penmanship is shaky, and clearly quickly written. None of the paper’s folds match up with each other. There’s a spill of tea on the coffee table that looks half-wiped away. 

Something heavy settles in Dan Heng’s gut. He gathers the blanket, the tea, and your note and heads back to the archives with a pit in his chest.

Like he’s still missing a heart.

...

Things come to a head a few days later. The rest of the Astral Express crew is still sorting things on the space station, and you and Dan Heng only have so much space to dodge each other.

And, truthfully? Dan Heng stopped avoiding you the day before yesterday. Now, he is actively (read: passively but passionately) trying to seek you out. This involves listening keenly for when you leave your room, but lately, those trips are few and far between. And always occurring while Dan Heng is asleep. Pom Pom confirms this, looking increasingly uneasy at the clear tension between the two of you.

Dan Heng— doesn’t know what to do. He is good at running from his problems. He put Cloud Piercer through— Blade’s chest any number of times and hopped to the next planet more times than he cared to think about. He ran from the shackling prison, the Luofu, and its General without looking back even in a cursory way. Dan Heng finds sentimentality to be a new feeling, a new fixture within his person and does not know how to handle it. He does not want to run away from you— he wants to run toward you.

The blankets of yours (three in total) are in his nest. He paces the passenger car each night hoping you’ll reveal yourself. He hovers outside of your door, hand poised to knock, but he never does.

He does not know what he’d say. 

Dan Heng does not have confidence in his words in that way. He can speak well— it’s an overhang from Dan Feng, and he is grateful for it, but on more than one occasion, March has (rather explosively) shouted at him for being so... blank-faced in the heat of an emotional conflict. The two of them occasionally do butt heads, usually when March is attempting to run headfirst into a situation without proper forethought, and those encounters have ended with March tearfully screaming at Dan Heng to just be “honest with his face!” 

His lack of expression is also an overhang for Dan Feng. 

No matter how well-crafted his sentences and well-spoken his words, Dan Heng cannot connect them to how he feels... effectively. It’s disjointed. Like armor made with incorrectly sized plates that cannot possibly be pieced together. Clothing created with a misdrawn pattern, never able to be sewn in a wearable way. 

If he were to face you, he is certain he will not be able to voice how he feels.

He can at least— do something. Give you something, since you seem so hellbent on leaving him special tea blends you’ve stashed away and BLANKETS. 

(Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?)

Dan Heng stops trying to run from you. He resolves to do something or say something because it's better than the widening rift that’s currently being run through the Astral Express, between the two of you. 

Dan Heng gets his opportunity in the late evening. He’d— feigned sleep. Intentionally. A deep state of meditation for long enough that you might think he was enjoying a dreamless night of sleep, however, he’d only be idle, waiting for sounds of any of your activity in the direction of the parlor and meal car. 

Dan Heng hears your door slide open down the hall as he sits upright, cross-legged in his nest of many blankets and pillows. Your steps are quiet, the lightest pad against the flooring outside. He strains to hear you.

He does notice, however, how you move even slower as you walk past his door. So clearly intentionally trying to keep quiet for his sake.

Dan Heng waits a few minutes until he’s certain you’re either in the Parlor Car or Meal Car before uncrossing his legs and bounding from his room. He means— to be more put together about this. But, he’s nervous he’ll miss his chance, and you’ll retreat, and be gone for longer—

Dan Heng finds you in the meal car, poking over cold dinner leftovers with a sullen expression. Your brows are heavy, eyes dull. You look— awful. You always look awful, he’s sure you’ll assure him, but now you look bad. You look ill. Unwell. The oversized shirt hanging from your shoulders billows in an uncomfortable way. It has too many undone buttons, leaving a deep v, exposing too much of your chest.

You look up at him, eyes widening.

“I thought you were asleep.” You say softly, putting down the tongs you had been using. You didn’t bother picking up any food, your little bowl is entirely empty. 

Dan Heng opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He snaps it shut a moment later.

Your eyes soften and you sag. You look like you could melt into the Express’s floor at any moment. Your eyes radiate... pity. 

“Did I wake you? I try to be quiet.” You laugh, looking sidelong, out one of the many windows. “Sorry about the fuss. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dan Heng is frozen.

You idle, only for a moment, holding your breath, before shaking your head minutely. It— it makes his palms sweat. You try to shuffle past him. Dan Heng is blocking your only exit, and you attempt to side-step him as he gapes at you, unmoving. Unsure.

Dan Heng grabs you by the forearm as you pass.

He holds you there. Steady. His grip is firm and unyielding. Maybe too tight, based on your sharp intake of breath as you wobble in place. Dan Heng steadies you with his other hand. Without— thinking, his palm lands on your ribcage and you jump with the contact.

You stare at him, wide-eyed. 

And you face each other.

“You’re avoiding me.” Dan Heng speaks first. His words feel sure, but there’s a sticky feeling in his chest.

“... Perhaps.” You smile easily, despite how worn you look. “It seems like you have a lot on your mind. I didn’t want my presence and what it entails to burden you, dearest Dan Heng. I apologize if that wasn’t clear.”

“What do you mean by your ‘presence and what entails’?” 

You look like you’ve been punched. Dan Heng feels ill. 

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Please be straightforward. 

“Kind Dan Heng, I am—” 

“Please, explain yourself.” Dan Heng feels— frustration bubble up into the back of his throat. It’s acidic. He looks from the grip he has on your arm to your face, lingering on the chapped lines of your lips before meeting your eyes. “Why do you think you would burden me?”

You look at him sadly, “I thought we’ve been over this.”

“We haven’t, to my knowledge.”  Dan Heng frowns. You look like you’ve been slapped.

“I apologize.” You shouldn’t be. “Dan Heng, don’t I know too much?”

He locks his jaw. 

You continue. “You’re an incredibly private person. I don’t want to know about a past you’re clearly not comfortable sharing. I cannot help what I am able to perceive, however I can create some distance between the two of us, so as not to suffocate you with the fact that I know about your dirty laundry without your expressed consent.”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry. 

You’re an unbearably earnest individual. As mysterious as you make yourself, you don’t tend to lie. You’re blunt in a way that’s disarming, heart flayed open as if rended with a short, sharp blade, on display for anyone who would like to view and poke at it. 

“I apologize for communicating that more effectively,” You add more softly. You place your hand over his, the one bracing your arm. You squeeze. “It must be hard to bear those things, and you’ve made it clear you wish to do so alone. I want to respect that and you, Dan Heng. My door is always open, but I thought it might be easier for you to not... be reminded so easily, by my presence.”

Your eyes are wet as you look away from him, to the floor. You take the smallest, most guarded intake of breath. It looks like you’re trying not to cry.  

Dan Heng feels something cold and large in his chest. Big enough to swallow him whole. 

He says your name, even and unwavering, with the weight of the sea behind it. You glance up at him, straining to give him your same lazy, forced smile—

And he kisses it off your lips.

It’s not an action Dan Heng thinks about. You’re almost close enough to feel each other’s breath regardless. One moment, he is staring at you with his own frown, and the next his lips are on yours, tilting his head to search for the best angle. The force of the action has you stumbling back into the wall behind you. The hand he kept on your ribs moves to your waist, bracing you.

It takes a moment for you to react. A startled little (whimper, a whimper) sound gets muffled by his lips as he cradles your jaw. Deepening the gesture. You react and— return it. Moving your lips against his, leaning into his grip. 

Only to freeze, and shove at his shoulders a moment later, “W-Wait.”

Dan Heng pulls back, panting.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell him. There’s an urgency in your voice like you’re scared. You nervously run your hands up and down his arms. Dan Heng doesn’t even think you’re aware you’re doing so. “I— I offered sex to you seriously, but— don’t just take my affection because you want to close the distance. There’s other ways to be intimate, you know?”

“I’m aware,” says Dan Heng. Your lips are just barely kiss bruised. He wants to make it worse. It’s an easier expression of the gulf in his chest that writhes with your closeness. “However, I want to fuck you.”

The dullness of your eyes is stolen as they widen. Heat rises in your cheeks. You’re stunned speechless.

...

Dan Heng wants to eat you.

As in, he wants to have you in his mouth, under his teeth and tongue, and get you in his gut so you never go away again. It’s— a draconic instinct. Something carnal and old that could swallow him alive. It is another overhang from Dan Feng. Such bloody impulses aren’t... uncommon for Dan Heng. However, he has learned to temper them with training, combat, and more recently, some expression of cloudhymn.

Never sex, however. Because your initial guess was correct. Dan Heng has not ever had sex, and the last time Dan Feng had had sex, he is fairly certain was a teary, bloody affair with a half-dead, bloodied Yingxing. 

This encounter, however, is very different.

There is no swirling Scalegorge and broken, coral-lined streets. There is no sand grating against his knees over Yingxing's almost-corpse. There is no tempest of his own making, cracking the sky in two, and tearing the world asunder.

Rather, there is his nest of blankets and pillows, and your soft body below him. He straddles your waist, protecting the curve of your thighs with his own. The lights of the Archive’s room are dim, the machine hum below is lulling background noise and comforting. And you— you’re warm— not cold or bloodied. Your eyes are soft, but keen in a different way from the man in the echoes of memory. There’s no sharpness to you, not in your words or your presence.

You’re gentle as you cup Dan Heng’s jaw and drag him closer to kiss him.

“You’re thinking pretty hard.” You murmur against his lips. “Are you sure you want this?”

The question makes him— angry. He still doesn’t know how to voice it, so instead he pressed you down into the floor. A bodily expression.

Your hands tangle in his hair and stroke at the lower curve of his skull. It’s gentle, rhythmic and lulling. It’s nothing like—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears at your scalp, hands wound into your long hair. His cock is buried in your throat, bullied there at your request. He’s seated so deep that your nose is buried in the bristly, silver hairs at the base of him. His scent is intoxicant, musky and unclean. Instinct tells you it’s impure, but you have learned that’s conditioning.

You want to swallow him whole.

You swallow around his cock as Yingxing grinds into your throat. You gag, you always do, but Yingxing ignores you in favor of fucking your face with more vigor. The sounds that drag from you are obscene. Ugly things, guttural sounds. Tears drip down your cheeks, spit down your chin—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You kiss him softly, pliant beneath him and snake a hand lower, easily. It’s practiced. Like you’ve done this a hundred times. The rhythm of intimacy seems easy. You palm over his increasingly hard cock and smile against his lips.

“Does it feel good?” you ask, voice soft and curling. 

Before Dan Heng can reply, you’re licking up his jaw, to his ear. You nip and suck and Dan Heng can’t help the way his eyes roll back in his head. He groans, rolling his hips against your hand. The friction is dry, but it’s something. Something new and different and not an arousing nightmare. But an arousing reality.

He moans at the contact. The sound startles him.

You seem pleased as you hum against his ear and kiss down from his most sensitive spot, lower, licking over skin with practiced motions. You nip at his collarbones, laughing under your breath when Dan Heng twitches with the pressure of it.

Dan Heng feels— thoroughly disarmed. The feeling grows more intense as you coax him to flip your positions in the next moment.

His back hits the mound of pillows softly. You cradle the back of his head as he moves and massage his scalp.

It’s— the care of it that feels different. There was clearly care between Dan Feng and Yingxing. Too much, in Dan Heng’s opinion— (they shared the kind of care that tore history asunder, love so brilliant and cloying that it could only bring sticky destruction). The kind you give him is different. There’s a warmth in your gaze which is foreign. Yingxing held passion and a brightly burning heat that would surely burn itself out too young. Branding heat.

Yours is tender, the warmth of a hearth you stacked and lit yourself. You beckon him closer with a smile on your lips and hands tangled in his hair. You tug on it, with the barest edge of pain. Dan Heng likes it. 

Your knee slots between his thighs, something to grind onto. He can’t help the way he yearns for more contact, and seeks the friction. His pants are too tight, but he doesn’t want to remove them yet.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears off your clothes. Your finest robes— the ceremonial ones, silks with intricate embroidery and beaded with perfectly cut crystals— are in tatters by your bedside within moments. Yingxing’s want is unyielding. The lips that move against your own are so much, and so good. You crave it. Yingxing licks into your mouth and you moan loud enough for your entire home to hear. Never mind your attendants and preceptors. 

Let them talk. Let them gossip. You have never cared for legacy regardless.

Yingxing rips away your undergarments. Gossamer things, thin and mostly see-through. You’re already hard, leaking, aching for touch. Yingxing spits on his palm and strokes you. He doesn’t stop as you squirm. You’re not used to touch, especially not like this. No matter how often Yingxing takes you like this, your body cannot fully acclimate quickly. 

It takes a moment.

Yingxing uses this to his advantage. He holds you like he has something to prove as he swipes away pre from the head of your cock and licks it off his thumb. He looks smug, smitten, vibrant, and enthralled.

“How many times can I make you come tonight?” Yingxing purrs, voice rough and silken all at once. You feel your cock twitch in his hand. He smirks. “What if I break you?”

“I’d throw you through a window.” You snap at him.

“You wouldn’t.” Yingxing rubs down to the base of your cock and plays with your most tender parts. You try to kick him and he catches your ankle. Yingxing, the bastard he is, presses a kiss to your ankle. Reverent. “You like it when I break you.”

“You’re terrible.”

“And I’m yours. And I’d like to make Yinyue-Jun cry tonight.” 

It’s— humiliating the way he speaks to you sometimes. He adores you. He loves you. And for that reason, he knows he can get away with goading you on and shoving you around as he does. He knows intimately what it all does to you. The way your cheeks flush and your cock leaks down its shaft are enough of an indicator. No one sees you bare. Just— him.

Just him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng starts to remove your clothes. 

You seem surprised when he does. You try to take over the task yourself, but Dan Heng bats your hands away.

He wants to do this.

Dan Heng is methodical with each button and overly careful. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, noting how it hastens as he works on the last few buttons. The garment is pushed off your shoulders and discarded into his nest.

Seeing you bare is— vulnerable. Surely. You attempt to smile but— Dan Heng sees the cracks in it. As lax as you try to be, this is something different for you as well. Another mystery woven into you that Dan Heng wants to pick apart.

He rubs at your hips, up your ribs and to your chest. You gasp with his touch, leaning back to brace yourself on his thighs. It exposes you more, and— gives him more room to indulge. He cups your breast and steels his resolve when you whine.

Dan Heng has never done this. He wasn’t sure he ever would. It feels foreign and odd to touch you this way, but Dan Heng likes it. The heat that rises in your cheeks when he pinches your nipples. The soft puffs of breath and the sweat of arousal that’s growing on your temple. You roll your hips down onto his clothed cock, seeking the same contact he does. 

There’s a tumble to it then. The task of disrobing continues, and you end up entirely nude on top of him, while Dan Heng is still fully clothed.

“... Is this more comfortable for you?” You ask. You aren’t... shy about your body. But there’s an unfamiliar squirm in your upper half that Dan Heng reads as discomfort.

You’re exposed. He is not.

“Somewhat.” Dan Heng lays his hand flat over his navel. He imagines what his cock would feel like inside you and he nearly blacks out.

“Why?”

Dan Heng thinks for a moment—

(It’s because Dan Feng liked power. He loved the games where he could have all of the power and control in his hands, and those where it was torn from him as well. He reveled in both. This— want is an afterburn. One that is not Dan Heng’s. Just like every other thought of intimacy and sex that Dan Heng has ever felt—)

“Dan Heng,” You breathe his name and pet his cheeks. You’re closer now, chest to chest. “Can you tell me why? It’s okay if you can’t.”

“It’s too complicated.”

“... Could you try to tell me, still? We have time.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“You can. After.”

Dan Heng frowns at you. He wants to tell you that— he wants it now. And that patience is something he has in spades but you are testing the limits of. Your poking and prodding, he wants to toss it aside in favor of the literal you in his lap.

He wets his lips as you look at him expectantly. You stroke over his cheek, soothing him as if he were an angry kitten.

“I like that—” Dan Heng starts, and his words die in his throat. What he wants to say—

(“I like that I can see all of you, while not revealing any of myself.”)

You seem like less of a mystery like this, bare and sweaty over top of him. There’s less of you that you can obscure. You’re not hiding from him, dodging him, or flaying him open with honesty while so much of you remains tucked away. You cannot hide your own arousal. Your cheeks are hot with it, your pupils dark and dilated, and your lips are licked and wet. 

“Hm?” You hum, a devious smirk stretching over your lips. You grind down onto his cock, with enough pressure that it almost hurts. His eyes roll back into his head. “Can’t you tell me, Dan Heng? Why do you like hiding the way you do?”

Dan Heng stills, opening his eyes to blink at your incredulously.

“... Why do ‘I’ hide?” Dan Heng asks. His tone is rude. He internally slaps his own wrists then forgives himself, because in the next moment, you have your palm over his cock, gripping the length of him through the fabric of his pants. You flick your thumb over where the head is concealed and look smitten with the way his hips jolt.

“I am not a fool.” You toy with the button on his trousers. “Dan Heng, the Nameless, who hides and hides and hides. And feels so infinitely bad when a single card in his hand is revealed. The shame you carry, doesn’t it burden you?”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry, “I—”

“You can hide like this. I won’t stop you,” You hum, still smiling, still lax in the shoulders. You run a hand up his navel, over his shirt, careful to retain his frail modesty. “Perhaps a bit bashful, yes. But, you’re hiding. How can you crave intimacy when you’re seeking it from behind a veil? Dearest Dan Heng, I will indulge you, because you are dear to me, but will it be fulfilling—?”

You prattle on.

Dan Heng is... seething. Quietly and carefully. Because, you are not wrong. There’s truth to your accusations. You speak no lies, yet the way you’re... delivering the truth is frail and in fragments. Your own eyes look hazy. Your touch grows shaky. Your voice is too soft around the edges for the sharpness of your words. 

Dan Heng—

He knows that look.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You have never had sex before. 

You’ve read about it, because your Preceptors made sure you did when you were young. This was in the case that you were raped, that you would know what the experience was, so it could be reported in an appropriate and timely manner. 

Your exposure to sex beyond that was minimal. Though Vidyadhara copulated, it was not for the sake of procreation. It was based in pleasure, supposedly. You had learned that the humans and foxians of the Xianzhou had sex for the sake of pleasure and power which... you cannot understand. You don’t endeavor to understand it, as you have all of the power that you need. 

(You are naive for this, you will learn in time.)

The first time Yingxing implores you to have sex, you know the rote motions. You assume— that since he is a human, this is what he wants from you. You let Yingxing push you down on your own mattress, and you lay there. Yingxing speaks as he disrobes himself, then tends to you.

Each layer of clothing he removes from your body feels like you’re being cut with a knife.

You haven’t let any attendants dress you since you learned to adeptly use Cloudhymn to assist yourself instead. You frequently wear three, sometimes four, layers of silken clothing, even when you are around your own home. 

No one sees Yinyue-Jun bare.

And yet, Yingxing peels back each garment without much reverie. He undoes metal and mother-of-pearl clasps with a dexterous flick of his fingers and a dashing, sharp-toothed smile over his lips. 

You look down at his own chest when he pushes away the final layer. Your skin is milky, untouched cream. You’re too skinny, the muscle you have is wiry without enough fat. You watch your own chest rise and fall— so quickly. Too quickly. 

When you look up at Yingxing, whatever smile he had worn is gone. He wears concern so transparently over his brow as he cups your cheek. His lips move, and you do not hear him. Your own lips still move, an instinctual reply even if you do not register your own words. You can predict what you’re saying.

(“I am fine.)

(“There is no need to worry about me.”)

(“You are foolish for worrying about me.”)

Yingxing softens after you speak, and thumbs over your lips. The pads of his fingers are rough. You can feel the heat callouses, born of friction and incidental burns. It’s so much different from your own flesh, constantly-healing, pure and so rarely bruised.

Yingxing deftly falls to your side, and scoops you in his arms. He smells like iron and smoke. You’re stiff at his side. 

He speaks directly in your ear, nosing the shell of it, “As much as I would love to bed Yinyue-Jun, I can recognize when I need to be a gentleman about it.”

“... Pardon?” You swallow. Your voice is foggy in your own ears.

Yingxing’s hand settles on his hip. He pulls back just enough to look at you, nose to nose, violet eyes soft in the amber sway of candles in the room. 

“Yinyue-Jun is very brave, for a virgin.” This time, Yingxing smiles like a menace. You punch his back and he seems unperturbed. “Let’s take our time. You have plenty of it, and I have enough to show you how to enjoy this well.”

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng understands, then. 

In a smooth motion, he raises his palm to fit over your mouth. You stop speaking beneath it, and you snatch his wrist up in your own grip.

“If I am hiding, then so are you,” Dan Heng says. There is no waver to his voice anymore. “And you are terrified.”

You freeze above him.

It’s enough of an opening for Dan Heng to knit his legs with your own, and drag you down into his nest. He wraps his arms around you, chest-to-chest (covering you, hiding you himself, keeping you safe and sating that fanged, draconic howl in his chest that will never fully quiet). You remain stiff in his arms, eyes wide and you’re not smiling. 

Your gaze flickers up to his and holds it, unrelentingly.

“I don’t mind doing things scared.” You tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Will you enjoy it if you’re scared?”

“... Maybe less, but it’ll feel nice.” You shrug, nosing at his jaw. “I like you, Dan Heng. I wouldn’t have offered sex if I didn’t want to have it.”

Dan Heng locks his jaw. He noses down your jaw, down your neck, to the juncture where your shoulder meets it. The flesh is tender. You have your free arm draped carefully over your chest, covering your most exposed, vulnerable portions as he tries to do the same to you. Your breath is soft, bated as he hovers.

“I don’t want to have sex with you if it will only feel ‘nice’,” Dan Heng says into the hollow of your throat. 

“How demanding.”

The bar is on the fucking ground. “I do not think so.”

Dan Heng slides a hand lower, between your thighs. You’re only wearing shorts, soft amiri-cotton that sparkles in the lowlight of the archive’s room. It’s a thin garment. It takes nothing for Dan Heng to cup a hand over your sex. With dexterity and focus, he presses his middle finger closer. The seam of your cunt is wet, even through the fabric.

“Are you scared or nervous?” He asks.

“Hm, what about you?”

“Do not dodge my question.” He squeezes over your cunt and you clutch at his shoulders with a gasp. “Just answer it.” 

You consider his question, and open your mouth like you’re going to attempt to parry him, then close it again. Your lips are smooth, petal-soft as he thumbs over them, urging them to stay closed until you have an answer. 

Dan Heng struggles with eye contact, but forces himself to stare you down. 

“Both?” You ask behind his finger. There’s a hint of mirth behind your words.

Dan Heng frowns, “How can it... be enjoyable for you?”

“... That’s a good question.” You look far-off for a moment, not there in his nest. “Not quite sure, but I’m sure I can.”

There’s an implicit ‘I have before’ that you do not say. However, with the way your head falls limply to the side in his grip, Dan Heng immediately knows he hit one of your rare soft spots. He— he immediately regrets it. He’s in uncharted territory that he strong-armed his way into. And he— he doesn’t know the way out. He’s a sexless virgin who masturbates once every three months and his most emotionally (and sexually) charged relationship is with the living ghost of a man insistent on killing him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing does not remember much of his youth.

Dan Feng knows this intimately. 

The short-lived have expiring memories that seem to muddle the old over time. Dan Feng cannot understand, as his memory is pristine and clear from the time he emerged from the ancient sea in a jade-colored egg.

Yingxing remembers the Zhuming, vaguely, and then remembers arriving on the Luofu. He vaguely remembers his first meeting with Baiheng, and sleeping on a little cot in her tiny apartment while he worked his way up in the Artisanship Commission. Lucidly, these are his earliest memories.

Outside of lucidity, Dan Feng knows Yingxing remembers more.

Occasionally, something will make Yingxing remember his unpleasant, smallest youth. The loud boom of the Luofu’s biggest fireworks. A snarling dog. Splintering wood. The scent of burnt hair.

It makes Yingxing stiffen, tense, and draw up in himself.

Dan Feng has done his own research early on. In his adolescence, Yingxing was nothing more than a scrappy refugee with nothing to his name.

Yingxing’s home planet, a lush-planet... abundant in jungle lands and river systems, was plundered by abundance. Borisins. Most of its population was wiped out. Yingxing escaped due to good fortune, luck, and no doubt sacrifices he couldn’t remember.

He understands Yingxing’s passion and revulsion much better after he learns these things. 

It all enrages Dan Feng.

Yingxing’s fragmented memory, which continues to weather with time, can only give him the basest impulses when faced with something that makes him remember that frightening time. Even if he cannot remember in the mind, then he does in the body.

Dan Feng does not tell Yingxing that he knows. Yingxing is too proud a man— he’ll take offense and cause trouble. Dan Feng thinks it is better that he himself hold the knowledge, and soothe him how he can. Dan Feng can stew within himself, hone Cloud Piercer, and cut those who slighted his beloved. 

It is something beyond duty. 

An expression of care, one that tastes briny and bloody on Dan Feng’s fangs.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“Can I help?” Dan Heng asks.

You blink at him. He strokes down your cheek. You hum and press your lips into his palm.

“Can you?”

“I— I will,” Dan Heng stammers. “How can I make this less... scary, for you?”

Can he?

Your gaze penetrates him. It’s something sharp, seeking. Looking for his weak spots for a moment. You’re searching for danger in him.

You soften and cozy up closer, a moment later.

“Just... take your time, and I’ll take mine.” You kiss him, and speak against his lips. “It’s easier if we both can ease into it.” 

Dan Heng nods. He... he wants to fuck you. He will.

...

You pick each other apart. Bit by bit, piece by piece. 

It is a slow affair, one neither of you truly lead. You spur Dan Heng on, and he follows. 

He guides you when he can, when it feels natural and normal. You seem content in those moments, more relaxed and soft-eyed.

You do not wear a full facade all of the time, but Dan Heng now knows that you are careful to keep yourself skillfully hidden. 

Dan Heng finds this out, intimately, while he is between your thighs, tongue against your slit. He laps at you, in the motions you describe. Your hands are buried in his hair, directing him with your grip and the gentle grind of your hips against his face. It is— heavenly. Your thighs around his ears, the scent of you. He left a few pointed bite marks on your thighs, which you had yelped at.

He enjoyed giving them.

You fall apart against his mouth in a way he hasn’t seen before.

It’s— so good to watch. When he looks up at you, you gasp, you whine, and throw your wrist over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re letting out. Each gasp has Dan Heng earnestly trying to wring more out of you. He watches your eyes roll back as you crest. Your thighs clamp around his skull and a broken sound rips from your throat. He guides you through it, then moves to your hole, lapping at your essence until he’s sure he’s drenched in it.

You pull him up for a kiss, and lick into his mouth. Your hands shake as they pet over his cheeks and jaw. Against his lips, you tell him— “you did so well”, “that was so good”, “thank you” —

The praise is almost unbearable Dan Heng has to hide his burning face in your neck to escape the vulnerability of it. 

You pay it no mind, and just laugh at him, smothering your lips into his mused-up hair.

It’s— it’s good. It’s good and soft and nothing like the dreams he’s carried with him for fair too long.

“Did you enjoy that?” You ask him, forcing him to look at you.

“I did.”

“Good.” You’re smitten with the answer and rub at his waist. You’d— clawed off his shirt at one point. Bare to each other. Dan Heng only has on his final layer of underwear that is increasingly tight and wet, with a growing patch of pre on the front.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” You ask. Your hand, gentle, slides down his front, between your bodies to rub over his cock. 

Dan Heng— struggles to find words as you tease the head of it with the tip of a finger. The smile you wear is devilish. 

“Maybe later—” He manages. “I want to— be inside you.”

He wants to be closer.

You look content with that, and pet him some more.

“In due time,” You kiss his cheek. “Will you allow me to be cruel, and make you wait a little longer?”

“It’s not cruel.”

“Okay, mean then.”

“You’re the furthest thing from mean.” Dan Heng frowns. He bites your cheek in retaliation without thinking and you squirm, pinned beneath him. A laugh bubbles from your throat, and Dan Heng can’t help but twin the sound. 

“So kind.”

...

Time stretches out, between languid kissing and the feel of your bare bodies so close, the night and day cycles the Express regulates do not seem of consequence. It’s the most relaxed Dan Heng has been in recent memory. You make it easy to be so.

You have no expectations when you touch him, other than the easy exchange of heat and spit. 

By the time Dan Heng has your legs wrapped around your waist, cock against your hole, he’s light-headed. He wants, so much. The image of you laid out before him, bare and covered in various marks of his, will be with him for years. There’s nothing lazy or unfocused about your gaze now, there’s only desire, so hot and needy that it makes Dan Heng’s throat feel tight.

You flex your hips, pushing the tip of his cock against your clit. You both gasp.

“Please, Dan Heng?” You say smugly as you play with the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I—” The words die in his throat.

He strokes up and down the flesh of your stomach. Your muscles are relaxed, soft. You’re no longer playing a role, he thinks. You’re here, wanting, edging toward begging him. The head of his cock is purple from strain and prolonged arousal. 

He presses into you slowly.

You are stretched, and Dan Heng isn’t particularly large, so he does not see any strain cross your features. If anything, there’s relief. If you were relaxed before, you’re boneless now, taking as much of him as he will give you.

Dan Heng fucks you in earnest then, under the glow of the Archive’s many machines and fixtures. You grab at his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Dan Heng didn’t think he shared Dan Feng’s proclivity for pain, however the way your nails wrack down his back has him throbbing from inside you.

By the time he spills inside you, he’s gasping, sobbing with each thrust because it is so much. Closeness— like this— that’s real and tangible and in his grasp and within his body (only his, no one else’s) feels so vibrant and violent, it cleaves him open. He comes with a broken sound muffled into your throat, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh there. You let him, spasming with the pressure and letting out your own half-cry with the pain. Dan Heng fucks you through his orgasm, until he can’t support his weight on his knees, and he falls on top of you.

You let out a little ‘oof’, and then laugh, wrung out and happy. 

Dan Heng cherishes the memory.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You are most tired, but you must continue to move forward.

Despite your aching rear and scratchy eyes, there are duties to attend to. Never mind that your husband is in your bed, knocked out, regardless of whatever regenerative cloudhymns you could give him. Yingxing is mortal, and no matter how much of you he consumes (figuratively), it only slows his aging, never stopping it completely.

Yingxing will die, long before you do. And that is if he dies of old age and not the diseases and maladies of the short-lived. Or some violence that you and the rest of the Quintet will be unable to protect him from.

This will not do.

You enter your study with sweeping, loose robes. You tell your attendants to leave you be. Your ritual obligations are not until the evening. Until then, you will be confine yourself in your study and continue to pour over the scrolls, documents, and books you have been able to find. It has been hard to procure some of them— having Sanctus Medicus texts brought to the home of the High Elder would be treasonous. It has required careful planning to amass the library you have, and you are diligent in keeping it hidden. Even from your lover.

He would not forgive you, were he to know.

You have never been selfish, not once in your life. In any of your lives. You have lived for your people, the Luofu, and a dead Aeon that you remain the after-image of. You have played the part well, smiled when necessary and remained cold enough to rarely stir dangerous interests. You have healed many without complaint.

As you settle into your nest of pillows and blankets, and pick up your newest scroll, you don’t feel that guilty. You will let yourself have this one thing. If nothing else in any of your lifetimes, this one fucking thing will be yours. 

You unfurl the scroll with a yawn. It’s a text, an old one, from the High Elder that followed Yubie. They lived a short life for a high elder, two hundred years. However, they were a prolific scholar. Most of their works have been hidden away with time, as some are downright blasphemous and utilize the Abundance in a way that both the Vidyadhara’s high council and the Luofu’s Charioteers could not tolerate. 

This particular one has not seen the light of day since that High Elder’s time. It is titled:

[The Twin-Hearted Dragon Theory: The Permanence and Abundance’s Coalescing] 

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“What a weird one.” You say with a yawn. Dan Heng can hear your voice through your chest, where his cheek is pillowed on your bare chest. He— there’s a spot of drool that’s cooling unpleasantly. He blinks awake and rises off you, to rub the stickiness away, blushing furiously.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It was cute. You were sleeping good, for once.” You tell him and muse up his hair. “Besides, you’ve gotten me far messier than that.” 

You both are messy. Dan Heng can feel the stickiness on his softened cock, and he imagines you’re leaking between your legs. He sneaks a hand between your body and gently feels along your thighs to confirm his suspicion.

You gasp when he grazes your core. You— you are dripping. Cold, too. It must be uncomfortable. Dan Heng frowns.

“Don’t worry about that.” You assure him, voice shaking. “We can clean up in a little bit.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“Maybe,” you hum, unsure. “I don’t mind it, regardless.”

Dan Heng raises himself up off of you, and braces his hands on your inner thighs. He’s warmed with the combined heat of the Archives, his nest, and you. You’re chilled under him and— Dan Heng. Can’t have that. He can’t totally trace why, he pulls a blanket up and over your bodies. 

You let him arrange you as he sees fit. He brings you to his chest, and fits your head under his chin. He tangles your legs, indulges in the contact and tries to transfer some of his volcanic heat into you. You look content as he does, nuzzling into his throat. 

Your own eyelids droop.

“Are you going to sleep?” He asks. 

“... Probably not.” You say with a yawn.

“You look tired.”

“I am,” You nod and push closer. “But, I don’t need to, and it’s hard to get myself to sleep. It’s more trouble than it's worth, trying to sleep.”

Dan Heng doesn’t think before speaking. “Has it always been hard?” 

You pause, breathing even and slowly, “Not always.”

“Why did it get harder?”

You choose your words carefully then, despite your evident exhaustion. Your brow droops, and you rub at Dan Heng’s sides. Your thumbs skitter over his ribs.

“How much do you know about the Kin of Sacha, Dan Heng?” You ask. “It provides context. I’d hate to bore you.”

“... Very little. The databanks only has limited information.”

“Oh, you looked for me?” You nip at his jaw, playful, even as Dan Heng prepares a nervous rebuttal. You soothe his distress before it can get anywhere. “I’m kidding— and it makes sense there’s not much about us out there. There aren’t that many of us to begin with.”

“... How many?”

“I’m not sure, truthfully. Probably less than a thousand. Maybe half of that. Unless Sacha has... awoken to bless more. But I doubt that.”

You rarely mention the Aeon who provided you your sleeplessness and dream-seeing. You even more seldom mention anyone you knew prior to your time on the express.

You sign, “Typically, the Kin of Sacha work as mystics or laborers. Some societies we encountered saw the Aeon’s gifts as a psychic boon to be cultivated. Others, like the one I was raised in, saw the Kin as a well of infinite, tireless labor. You learn quickly under those expectations that even if you could sleep, it’s more ideal not to.”

Conditioning, then.

Dan Heng thinks back to when he first saw you at that rest stop. How you’d swayed on your two feet, eyes glassy and far away. How long they took to focus. How the embroidered logo on your breast must’ve belonged to whatever company you’d been under the employ of. Pieces fit together, and Dan Heng feels slightly sick.

“You don’t— need to be like that, now. You should sleep.”

With your hands braced on his chest, you lean back to look at him. Your gaze is soft, unguarded. You look almost plush with it. 

“... I guess I should.”

(I guess I could.)

That’s all it takes, really. You nearly collapse back into the nest, and Dan Heng settled himself to be curled around you. If— If he still deigned to manifest his Vidyadharan tail, perhaps it would be curled around you both. 

But, Dan Heng does not manifest any tail. You do not need to stay awake. You both rest under the filtered, soft light of the Archives, and that is all you must do. 

#lore writes #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #hsr x reader #SOUP!! COOKED!! #the format of this story was so fun to write hehe #enjoy loves <3

[ozzgin]

Hai, beloved....❤️✨

I've liked your blog for a long time and I came here to make a request With the six Handsome Yokai, muehehe ~

With fem reader who is the wife of the Yokai (separately) and is a woman who turns out to be a beautiful and elegant Oni please...❤️💋

Of course! My apologies for the delay, it always takes some time to get back into the mood for a certain story. This will be a yokai harem week hopefully. :D I'm very glad you're still around, Strawberry. 💕

Yandere! Yokai Harem AU: Oni! Reader

Featuring the six demon boyfriends - now husbands! - and a female oni reader.

Content: female reader, monster romance

[Main Story] [Character Guide] [Boyfriend Headcanons]

Murasaki

Murasaki needs time to accustom himself to any change in the relationship. You've gotten so close that you now wear his wedding ring, but strangely enough, he will be somewhat distant and shy in the first month after marriage. Mind you, he married you specifically because he cannot envision his life without your presence in it. Yet every time he glances at you, his cheeks burn in embarrassment, and he quickly looks away with a huff. It feels different. You're as beautiful as always, except now you bear the title of his wife. It's an intimacy he's never experienced before, making him nervous. Murasaki does not like uncertainty. How do people get used to it? Additionally, he will be extra protective and particularly caustic towards potential threats. You've had to hold him back from slashing a mere passerby once. "What're you looking at a married woman for? The road is straight ahead, asshole!"

Kiritsubo

Kiritsubo has always been a clingy and affectionate partner and you didn't think it could get any worse. Then you got married. On one hand, it has certainly helped his struggle of feeling insecure and inadequate. Can you blame him? You're stunning, often catching the eye of demons and humans alike. It was difficult to imagine someone like you would be pleased to have him as a partner. Yet here you are by his side, wearing the ring he's given you to tie the knot. He couldn't be any happier. A newfound sense of pride has flooded his entire being. Perhaps he is meant to be yours, after all. On the other hand, he's glued to your side even more so than before. You're married, which means you're basically one, right? It means you can be even more intimate. "Oh, you're preparing a bath for us? I can't wait!"

Suma

"Beauty and the Beast" is a fitting comparison for your relationship with Suma, and not just appearance-wise. You're elegant and well-mannered, while the yokai man is, well...nonchalant is one way to describe it. He is loud, carefree, and unapologetically violent. He loves fighting almost as much as he loves you. In the eyes of most people, you're an unusual pair. Despite everything, Suma can be very gentle, especially when it comes to you. And if he does get too enthusiastic, you're thankfully not as frail as one would believe. You are a powerful oni, after all. He's the kind of guy that will shout "This is my wife" so the whole perimeter knows not to mess with you.

Yuugiri

Yuugiri might just be the perfect match for someone of your status. He is equally good-looking, with androgynous features and distinguished manners. A perfect, charming husband according to many. He knows exactly how to sweep you off your feet and loves to spoil you with compliments. The snake yokai is very proud to have you as his wife. The downside to this is that he can be extremely jealous. If he suspects someone is trying to flirt with you, know that he is already planning their demise. He'll flash you a confident smile while pondering ways to torment the bastard. Don't worry, he will be equally ruthless if someone tries to get close to him instead.

Sakaki

Ah, Sakaki. Your very own gloomy husband, plagued by doubt and fear. Once again, an intriguing pair to outsiders. The depressed, melancholic yokai and his gorgeous, bright oni wife. Yet this is the very reason the demon has fallen in love with you: you're the light in his darkness, the hope in his despair. He proposed to you in the way most expected of him: a ring in one hand, and a noose in the other. "It's you for eternity, or death. You may seal my fate." Life with him won't change much after tying the knot. Although he might get a little more confident now that you have made things official. "Excuse me, you're flirting with my tomb partner. We'll be sharing a coffin one day; you don't stand a chance."

Sekiya

Sekiya will take forever to propose to you, mostly out of fear. Despite your best attempts to reassure him of your love, he is still very much crippled by the fear of rejection. What if you say no? What if you change your mind at the very last moment? You're an alluring, charismatic oni that could easily find someone better than him. His chances are slim. Thankfully it will tone down once you're officially married. He might even come out of his shell and dare to be a little more assertive. "That's MY ring on her finger, j-just so you know", he'll warn, proudly. (It was a jewelry maker asking you what style you prefer)

#yandere yokai harem #yokai harem #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #oni reader #yokai x reader #monster romance #monster husband

[catscidr]

I come with more brain rot that occurred to me during my shift.

Xiao being so so nervous to hold your hand with his gloves off. Please kiss the emos hands. He's so scared he's gonna hurt you, but he also wants to make you happy. I personally thing he has sharper canines so the look like fangs, kisses when he mentions them are maditory. He might Telenor away the first few times but after that he might pick up and try and get more kisses.

Scaramouche doesn't know how to complement people. His Kazuha voice line is proof of that. He will try so hard, bur they just come out so wrong. Please teach him how, or ask Nahida to help him. He does love you he's just gotta figure out how to say it.

sharper canines Yes but also xiao with longer and sharper nails…. xiao-with-more-birdlike-design-characteristics my beloved ueueghghh..... anyways moving on

start by taking off his gauntlets first n then kiss his gloved hands to get him used to it! help him get less nervous about handling you by doing small things like that, interlocking your fingers together (still without the gauntlet) and, when he’s finally almost to the point where he’s comfortable ditching his gloves, suggest wearing his gloves in his stead!

there’s still going to be a barrier between your skin and his, so, using his logic, it should be fine! plus the added intimacy points because you’re wearing his gloves….. they might not quite fit but it’s the thought that counts anyways

ooh and when he gives you the green light to hold hands without any gloves… give him so many smooches he’ll forget why he was nervous in the first place ♡ and it opens up a whole buncha new things you can do together! like now you can do each other’s nails! (or just his, if you’re not the biggest fan of manicures)— either way, he’ll still come to you to file his talons nails

he could do it himself by either using the nail file you got him, or by going out to clear some monster camps without the help of his spear, but he prefers the gentle way you handle him instead ♡

scaramouche my beloved. my awkward, maladroit, clumsy, beloved. he knows what he wants to say, and he's so sure of himself that he can say it, but as soon as he opens his mouth it’s like he just…. short circuits.

it's something he never wants to admit, but when he notices that you stopped smiling as much as before when he started... trying to compliment you? because he just ends up confusing you, and eventually frustrating you with the strange "insults" he ends up throwing your way? he can't stand it

but you catch on easily (because he's easy to read once you get used to his attitude), and gradually just play up the act of being hurt whenever he tries to compliment you

he eventually drags his feet to nahida for help, but she already knows why he's scoffing more than usual because you went to her for advice. but she still helps him and pretends she doesn't know why he's asking her "how to compliment people without making their smile droop immediately"; and when he goes to use his newfound skills, you beat him to the punch by complimenting him instead

needless to say, he knows how to compliment you now ( ͡º ꒳ ͡º) will he do it? ehhh, give him some time and eventually he will ♡

#ooh to hold them gently n give them a gentle forehead kiss before watching them flush from the attention ahhHH #i wanna smooch them saur bad ueueue my boys..... #thank u once again krow for the good brainrot #m gonna hop on genshin and stare at scara n xiao for an hour now #୧ ‧₊˚orderup! #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x you #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao fluff #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff

[heartmii]

TOA 00

✮⋆˙apollo x male!reader

!warnings!: male reader but can be seen as gn, angst, mentions of blood.

✮⋆˙ this was honestly a fic idea i had for a while but since toa isn't really that popular, i figured it wouldn't do too well so instead here's a one-shot! Has been continued !

✮⋆˙ next

✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙

"nonono.. beloved..." the god whispered as he dropped onto his knees beside your bloodied body. his hands trembling when he reached out to touch you.

your eyes were shut when he arrived at your spot. an opening deep in the forest behind his temple. after he'd set the sun and, his sister took her shift, he would then meet you here. here, where he learned of your body, and you learned his. here, where the whispers of intimacy stayed between two souls. here, where, apollo, the all-powerful god, submitted to a mortal and allowed his body to be used for love.

now, in the shadow of his love, was only grief. for as long as you love, grief will one day be in its place. a game of chance. it is said love is a fool's emotion as only a fool would jump into a game knowing the outcome would be a loss.

and perhaps, the god was the biggest fool of them all. loving a mortal promised nothing but loss, yet, when your eyes flickered open and connected with his, a fool was what he became once again.

his heart thumped against his chest. grief soon turned into hope. although your eyes were weak, and your skin was paling. you were alive. breathing. death had not claimed you, there was a chance you could live — a chance he could save you.

"apollo." even on your deathbed, his name would roll off your tongue like honey. he was worshipped, and his name was said many times a day by mortals wishing for his blessings or his wisdom.

but, your call for him was different. when you called for him it wasn't for him as a god, there was no expectation behind your words, no secret goal. if you did expect anything, if there was a goal, it was nothing more than simply just the presence of apollo. you would say his name gently as if you didn't want to scare him off, a reminder he could let his guard down around you.

there's a difference in being valued for what you could give versus being valued for who you were. something apollo could not comprehend until he met you. "what is it, beloved?" he murmured, his attempt to be gentle with you in your fragile state as his cheek leaned into the hand you had outstretched towards him.

your thumb rubbed circles against his skin. "I've been waiting for you." apollo swallowed down a sob. he could hear it in your voice, how hard it was for you to speak full sentences. broken breaths in between each of your words.

quickly, he answered before you could speak again. "i know, love, i know. it was my father's doing. he dispatched hermes to distract me... he knew i was coming to see you..." he let out a shaky breath, "my father punished you to punish me."

zeus's cruelty was nothing new to apollo. his father had been cruel to him his whole life. it was the whole reason he began the revolt against him alongside hera and poseidon in the first place. to be liberated from his father's tyranny.

they'd been found out, of course. hera had already received her punishment. she was to be suspended into the sky wrapped in chains. all of olympus winced as she cried through the night but no one dared to help her out of fear of their "mighty" king.

he wasn't supposed to hurt you. never in a thousand years would apollo have done any of this with the knowledge that you could be caught in the crossfire between him and his father. this wasn't how their game went. zeus had never gone after his lovers before. but dammit, he should've known better. he should've known his father would make sure to break him down. come for his every weakness. now, because of his carelessness, you are a pinch close to death. practically drowning in your own blood and only being able to use the tree stump behind you for support to stay upright.

the longer apollo's eyes stayed on your struggling figure, the foggier they became. "oh, im so, so, sorry." he choked out, the sob he swallowed down earlier forcing its way back up his throat. "this is all my fault."

he felt your thumb swipe at tears he wasn't aware he'd been shedding. how could you still be so gentle with him after he had put you in this situation? so attentive even though you were the one who needed the most attention?

And your eyes, they bore into his with the same amount of warmth as always. "hey.. its okay...we'll be okay." you mustered up a smile and, for a second, apollo believed your words, that everything would be okay. because your superpower was making him - everyone - feel like everything would be okay.

reality hit him with a strangled cough coming from you. he jumped, immediately, blinking away the rest of his tears as his hands helped to support you, your blood coating him. his breath quickened. every second you were falling further into the embrace of death. he was wasting time moping instead of helping.

apollo trembled as he went to press a hand over your wound. "let me heal you."

"no," you denied. it was all you could say with the little bit of strength you had left.

a helpless cry left apollo's lips, his tears flowing once again. your answer did not surprise him. in fact, he expected it. in all of your meetings with apollo, you never failed to mention that you cherished the value of a mortal life. to value which is rare, and what is more rare than a mortal life with the only promise that it would one day end.

apollo was a god. he was never born to die but born to continue living and changing as time allowed. life meant little to him, he'd taken many lives without much thought just as much as he created lives.

that was normal in the life of a god but, you were not a god. only a man. a fact that was being painfully made apparent more so now than ever.

power coursed through apollo's body and, yet, he could not get himself to use it. you were just a man. a man who got a god to submit to your will. you taught him the value in life, the value in you. in turn, he could not disregard your wishes as he could anyone else. he hated it. apollo hated how he loved you so much, he couldn't be selfish. how even when you were slipping through his fingers, he stopped himself from healing you because he knew you would be unhappy if he did, and he would be dammed if he was the reason for your unhappiness.

it was childish to believe that at the doors of death would you change your mind, abandon your humanity, and beg him to save you. "is this really what you want..." he asked. a plead, his last attempt to bargain with you.

you didn't answer his question. he preferred that. it left room to wonder, pretend there was a chance at something else. instead, you reached behind his head, pushing it forward until it gently bumped against your own. you didn't speak at first, opting to admire the face of your lover one last time.

“you're so beautiful..." you breathed out through your staggered breath.

apollo scowled at your words. Not finding the humor in your inappropriate timing for a compliment. “really? that's what you have to say right now." he frowned, his lips jutting into a familiar pout.

“it's true," you hummed, bumping noses with him.

he allowed you to indulge in your affections, scrunching his nose in response. a pointless attempt at gaining some type of normalcy within the situation. yet, the reality loomed over him. he could not shake it off as easily as you. “you’re dying and your last words to me are going to be something I hear from everyone.”

your laugh was music to his ears. soft, like your voice, but full of joy. the type of laugh that could light up a room and have even the gloomiest laugh along with you. he needed to savor it. to imprint the sound in his mind for the days he needs the encouragement to keep going. you found laughter even in a moment like this.

"it's only a matter of truth," you said, eyes flickering to his lips followed by a tilt of your head. when your lips brush, you murmur against his lips. "besides, wouldn't you miss hearing it from me the most?"

his stomach flutters at your words. of course he'd miss hearing your praise. not just for his beauty, but for anything. he held you in the highest regard, like you were a god yourself. but, it was easier to pretend he didn't care, and instead leave those words unspoken.

he settled for angling his lips to meet yours and disregarding your previous question. "you're being ridiculous." apollo mumbles, ignoring his aching heart.

then there is only silence as the two of you lean in to close the gap between you. like a magnet pulling you forward. when your lips touch, there's an immediate desire. your teeth smacking against each other, your hand pulling apollo's head in closer, deepening the heated kiss as much as you could. he didn't expect to feel droplets on his cheeks. you had cried. the realization made him want to weep.

you had nothing to lose, so you gave it your all. one last time.

the pull away was hesitant, and even then, your lips still ghosted one another's. forehead's touching, your eyes met. "i love you," you declared as if it was the first time you had confessed.

"i love you too." a silent goodbye hidden behind the desperation of his words.

you sighed contently as your expression softened and your eyes shut with a smile. apollo wanted to speak, to yell at you to keep your eyes open. keeping them on him until you couldnt anymore instead, he chose not to speak. the look on your face didn't let him.

you were happy. happy to accept your fate. you showed no signs of regret, no anger, no guilt, nothing that would keep you on this earth any moment longer. dying happily. who was apollo to take that from you?

his cries and begs would only put stress on you. you didn't deserve that. your death had to be just as beautiful as your birth.

so, apollo continued to sit there, watching your breath. how after a few seconds, it would begin to slow down, and the little tufts of warm air he felt against his cheek gently came to a stop. the cool air of nature taking its place.

your body was heavy against his. cold too. he didn't care, he would hold you until you were warm again. soon, as the hours went by, he would have to bring upon another day. a day that you would not get to be apart of.

until then, he would hold you under the moonlight one last time

they were caught. after making it onto the ship and successfully snagging caligua’s stupid sandals, they were taken by surprise by a horse. It was ridiculous. as piper laid out cold on the steed’s back, apollo made conversation about his demise. It was a nerve racking walk to the emperor’s throne room. caligua wasn’t merciful and apollo wasn’t sure of the whereabouts of meg and jason.

as a god, he thought he saw everything. but as lester, the surprises were never ending.

they made it to caligua’s throne, apollo’s eyes immediately scanning how many enemies were in the room. he wasn’t shocked to see the loyal attendants of caligua, nor was he shocked to see meg and jason trapped beside him.

but when his eyes settled onto the person beside caligua’s throne, apollo wanted to throw up. his heart thumping against his chest making him lose his breath. It was you. how was this possible? you died in his arms. In Ancient Greece.

reading the shock on his face, you dared to give him the smile he loved most as you stood behind the enemy. with a tilt of your head and a wave, you greeted him, “hello apollo, long time no see.”

#ꨄ𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝ꨄ #pjo x reader #pjo x male reader #trials of Apollo X reader #pjo hoo toa #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus #pjo #trials of Apollo #apollo x reader #apollo x male reader #Percy Jackson X reader #nico di angelo x reader #nico diAngelo X male reader #heroes of olympus x reader #male reader

[sunandflame]

OMG, saw your message. I'd love a Rengoku x fem!reader first kiss outside his house drabble would be nice. Also a little bit of body exploring as they kiss...wild it out, please. Thank you❤️

Warnings: fluff, suggestive Word Count: 882 Pairing: Kyojuro x Fem!Reader

Sweet Lips

For days you had given him signs, for days you had done what any woman would do, so their beloved one would kiss them. Maintaining eye contact, staring repeatedly onto their lips and so much more. You had done all these things. Giving him all the signals so your boyfriend would initiate the first kiss, but Kyojuro was blind to all of them.

This made you doubt whether your Hashira boyfriend was really that intelligent, but you knew better. Of course he was. He was one of the smartest people you ever met, he was just a little bit dense when it comes to intimacy as it seems. You immediately felt guilty for thinking that way, it was just so frustrating that you needed to sigh.

“My flame, is everything alright? You seem upset.” 

Of course he had noticed your exasperated sigh. How could he not? “Oh it’s nothing…” You hung your head and didn’t dare to look at his face. The two of you were on a walk, so it was easier to hide your blushing face. You didn't like lying, but you couldn't tell him the truth either. Suddenly you felt his warm hand around yours. His face was dangerously close to yours. 

“What are you hiding from me?” He looked at you with his large and beautiful golden-red eyes that always fascinated you.

“It’s-” nothing. Was it really that? You wanted to be kissed by him so badly that your whole body burned and longed for it. I want you to kiss me! These were the words you wanted to scream, but you couldn't bring it out of your mouth until he came even closer to you. “K-Kyojuro-san…” You looked up at him with a flush on your face and you didn’t know what came over you but you shyly dared to place your lips at the corner of his mouth.

He looked at you with wide eyes and you felt the embarrassment taking over. Oh god, what have you done? What if he didn't want that at all? “Kyojuro, I’m sorry-” But he didn’t let you finish. You didn't know what happened, but suddenly you found yourself pressed against a tree and your face in his hands. 

“Will you allow me to kiss you back?”

Without hesitation, you nodded, already closing your eyes. It was gentle at first, just a soft peck, and yet it felt like a blessing. Something like relief that made the butterflies dance in your stomach. He let go and kissed you again and this time a light sigh escaped your lips that stirred something in both of you. It encouraged him to slowly nudge his tongue against yours. A dance of tongues ensued and you felt the heat and desire flaring up and literally making your knees weak.

You clung to him. Your hands sought support on his broad shoulders because his kisses became more demanding and his lips now moved from your lips down to your neck where he placed open mouthed kisses, tasting you. God, that feels so good. Kyojuro seemed to enjoy it too, especially when your hands moved from his shoulders up, reaching into his soft blonde waves.

“Kyojuro~” Your sigh turned into a moan and you heard him respond with a groan. His hands moved impatiently to your lower back where he pressed you against his blazing hot body.

You liked it. And you wanted more.

Eagerly, your hands pulled at the top of his uniform so you could snake your fingers under the shirt, where you placed your hand on his abs and spread your fingers. A slight gasp escaped him but he seemed to enjoy it, so your hands didn't pull away and continued to caress him. It was beguiling to explore him in such a way.

But it wasn't just your hands that wanted to explore. You felt his big hand moving up, cupping your breast.

A few things happened at the same time. A moan escaped his throat as your fingertips brushed his nipple and he automatically squeezed your tit that also made you moan. Gods, you were so wet down there that you were sure you would be leaking into your pants soon.

It was captivating getting closer to each other this way and getting to know each other in such an intimate way and yet-

“Kyo-” You tried to come up with a sensible sentence, but it was hard when he was kissing you so hungrily. “Kyojuro.” Your index finger was on his lips and he looked at you in surprise. His hair was disheveled and his cheeks had a reddish glow. All indicators of his desire for you.

“Did I do something wrong?” His eyes were now wide as he looked at you slightly unsettled. It was just as much the first time for him as it was for you. “No, no, but I think we should stop here or continue somewhere else. Somewhere where we don't risk getting caught.”

You gave him a small smile to reassure him that he did nothing wrong.

“Oh yeah, that would be a problem.” He smiled back, resting his forehead against yours. “We definitely should move it somewhere private. I am itching to find out if you taste this sweet everywhere on your body.”

#divider by cafekitsune #sunnys work #demon slayer #demon slayer drabble #kimetsu no yaiba drabble #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny drabble #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro x you #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x y/n #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x you #rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku smut #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku x y/n #rengoku kyojuro x y/n

[jtl07]

There's a story behind each trinket, each wrapper, each pebble and Beatrice learns to always turn out Ava's pockets before putting her clothes in the wash. While the machine rumbles, she'll have Ava explain each one, allow herself to lean into Ava's side as she plucks each item from Beatrice's palm. (When they get to the end, Beatrice leaves her palm open and sometimes, Ava will take her hand. And Beatrice will want - Ava; will want to ask what kind of story Ava thinks they'll have, how many chapters, how many novels will it span. It's the same part of her that wants desperately to hear forever from Ava's lips.)

Art for pocketful commissioned from the ever incredible, the incomparable @princington

(More thoughts - about Prince, about their art - below the cut)

Prince has done so many wonderful works of art for the Warrior Nun fandom, especially their fanart for fanfics - there have been countless times I've discovered a new beloved fic through their art. It's even more special when it's your own fic - it's like looking through someone else's eyes, and when it's an artist like Prince, it's nothing short of awe-inspiring. So when I was thinking of getting art commissioned for pocketful, I knew it had to be Prince.

They were very kind and easy to work with, and they took one of my favorite moments I've written and made me fall in love with it all over again. I mean, look at their expressions! If you've seen Prince's work, you know that they have an extraordinary ability in drawing emotion in such a heartfelt way. I love the fondness, the intimacy, the devotion. I just - [goes off to flail and squee for 10 minutes]

And then there's the physical closeness, how Ava's almost in Bea's lap, how indulgent Bea is as Ava is pointing out the different items in her palm (I love that there's a leaf!). There's so much to love in this - the contrasts and "them"ness in their posture, in their clothes. Also the way Bea has her hand tucked between her thighs makes me think about how she tries so hard to keep her hands to herself, yknow? (That theme was one of the things that made me want to write this particular fic to begin with.) And gosh, how comfortable they both are here, in this humble, gentle space they've carved for themselves. It's incredible, seeing this scene like this.

Prince, we're so lucky to have you - thanks for all you do and for sharing your amazing work with us. I'm going to treasure this for a very long time <3

#everyone say thank you Prince!!! #gonna go and squee and cry and flail and all the things for the rest of the night #the rest of the week oh gosh #avatrice #avatrice fic #jt writes fic

[rosedom]

Venti my beloved with A, D, I, K, M, V

Did I go to the max? Yes. Is it because Venti is literally my favorite and I'm madly in love with him? Also yes

-🌙

"you have summoned VENTI for the event . . ."

A/N : I AM MADLY IN LOVE WITH HIM TOO !! i can't believe this is my first drabble with him ,, i need to spoil my precious more . . .

✦ㅤㅤA = aftercare (what he’s like after sex, what he needs from his partner)

venti's the absolute SWEETEST during aftercare ,, no matter what happened—even if it's himself who's left all doe-legged and weak—, he'll fuss over you (but please fuss back, he deserves it !). he'll run his fingers through your hair, always needing to touch you in the aftermath. as you're busy running a damp cloth between his legs, he'll be humming, soft, a gentle melody that reminds you that he's here, that's he's happy. after sex, he's always happy, content: that's all you need.

well, that and a bath. it's not proper aftercare with venti if the two of you don't end up swaddled in the hot, bubbly water of a bathtub. he'll always end up in front of you, his back pressed to your chest with your own thighs bracketing his; he'll turn around, too, try n' bathe you and lather you up with softly scented soaps. it will be quiet between the two of you save for the gentle movements of the water and his quiet humming. bathtub cuddles until the water starts to get cold . . . then toweling each other off, dressing each other, and ultimately falling into bed with one another: all part of venti's ideal aftercare agenda.

✦ㅤㅤD = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of his)

baggy pants and tight tights = perfect leeway to hide a plug. i don't even care: venti is SUCH a sweet lil' anal whore (in the best way possible). i'm not a fan of this word, but there's no other way i can describe how terribly he loves playing with his other hole. there's been many a time where he's kept a plug—small, for when he's out n' about—nice n' snug, a heavy weight in him that he feels as he lounges about. he won't wear it when others will be near, no; but for when he's around windrise? when he's out where nobody will find him? yeah<3

poor guy has definitely gone through a few too many boxer-briefs, tho, the most of them all ruined with his slick when he plays like this . . .

✦ㅤㅤI = intimacy (how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect !)

a poet in the streets and a poet in the sheets. though he may not be in charge, here, venti's still endearingly romantic. he's got an obsession with your heartbeat, too, always trying his damndest to press close to your chest to hear the steady—or labored, depending on if it's your cock thrusting up in him or your fingers—beating of your heart. and even when venti's half out of his mind with pleasure, he'll still find a way to murmur sweet nothings to you: it's all, "I'm—I'm so lucky to have you," and, "i love you, love y—mm !"

as long as he can hear you in any way, he's content: sex-loopy and happy in your arms.

✦ㅤㅤK = kink (one or more of his kinks)

i see a lot of fics talk about a worship kink, but i don't really see it in the way it's commonly portrayed . . . see venti as being a tease about it, of all things, but he would never say, "won't you worship your god?" he would never put himself above you in that way.

but i'm not done. no, not at all. really, he'd melt with body worship—the type he doesn't ask for, but the type you readily give. he'd flush so prettily if you kneel at his feet, tenderling holding and kissing up his tender calves; his blush'd spill down his throat and chest, body so pink in his embarrassment, as your kisses travel higher, higher. he revels in the body worship—only if it's of your own volition—, in the soft presses of your lips against his skin ! it's not a power play, in this way. it's a tender devotion—the same one he shares for you.

and, less poetic: size kink. this guy's body is simply so small. anybody would be large next to him, in him. there's jus' something about a deity's submission . . . somethin' so sweet to me <33

✦ㅤㅤM = motivation (what turns him on and really gets him going)

the littlest of things can get venti's heart beating, but the thing that gets him most, time and time again, is your voice. he's so used to being talkative, for holding up the conversations (which are in no way one-sided ! don't get me wrong ! venti and you are just like that yapper x listener duo<3), that whenever he hears your voice, he always gets lil' butterflies swarming in his belly, a small typhoon of love and lust. especially at night, when he's cuddled into your side as you're dozing off, and you're talking back to him in that sleepy n' raspy voice . . . mmm, you almost know not to talk past 10 because if you do, he'll definitely jump your bones.

he swears he could write sonnets about your voice alone—but, first, he needs you to fuck him silly !

✦ㅤㅤV = volume (how loud he is, what sounds does he make, etc.)

the absolute loudest in bed. you're making him feel good, and he wants to make damn sure you know it (and maybe half of mond while he's at it). it only makes sense that he'd be able to be played like an instrument at that. it's simple: different things make him make different sounds !

for example, suckling at his cock all soft n' sweet makes him gasp, makes each breath leave him shakily . . . his sounds of overstimulation are always hitching cries, these sweet things that come crawled out of his chest. and, god, he always makes the prettiest lil' whimpering whine when you slide in that first finger, right up to the knuckle in his quivering cunt. no sounds of his are truly comparable—they're all gorgeous in their own right, after all—, but my favorite may be the whine he does when you're fucking him, balls-deep and with your own cockhead bumpin' his g-spot, and you reach down to his taint, to his unused lil' hole, all empty n' twitching as his cunt gets all your attention ><

no matter what play you do—nipple, cock, cunt, ass, thigh-grinding, clothed, whatever—, venti is not secretive with his sounds. good thing he's the anemo archon; elsewise, you'd have to have three foot thick walls to prevent him from disturbing your neighbors.

i may have pushed forth my own kink agenda a bit too much . . . haha, oopsies. i'm starting to fall off in the intimacy category 'cos there's only so much i can say without being repetitive between each character/ask o(￣┰￣*)ゞ

6 APR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 EVENT 】 #holy moly holy holy yhoylhlyyy barbatos #alphabet #sub genshin #genshin smut #sub venti #venti smut #dom reader #i'm probably gonna start slowing down on these and post some more of my normal fic format drabbles ! #got an entirely self-indulgent omegaverse one to post to ao3 soon <3

[vampireimiko]

Embrace of The Evening

warnings, none !! just sweet fluff teehee

note, OKAY SOO this was requested, but I COMBINED two different ones cause they seemed so similar to me 🫶🏾 (and speaking of requests, mine are open🙈)

In the cozy shared space with Neuvillette, you were busy spreading garlic butter on sliced bread to accompany the soup you had prepared. Mid-task, you felt a pair of hands sneakily wrap around your waist, gently trapping you between the counter and their warm embrace. As a delightful shiver ran down your spine, you recognized the familiar voice of the culprit.

"Hello, beloved," Neuvillette whispered into your ear, planting tender kisses along the curve of your neck. Unable to contain your giggles, you surrendered to his affectionate touch, your neck proving to be a particularly sensitive spot. Every time Neuvillette came home, his first instinct was always to come find you, his lovely wife, and love all on her.

"Why hello there," You playfully responded, feeling his presence and attention heightening your senses. "I'm just putting the finishing touches on dinner."

As Neuvillette continued to lavish your neck with affectionate kisses, a contented sigh escaped your lips. The tantalizing scent of the garlic butter mixed with the aromatic notes of the simmering soup created an ambiance of warmth and intimacy. His hands, now tracing gentle circles on your waist, conveyed a sense of familiarity and love that made your heart flutter.

With a playful glint in your eyes, you turned slightly within his embrace, allowing your fingers to dance along the edge of his collar. "You know," you teased, a mischievous grin forming, "I might need a little assistance here. Could you pass me that bowl of grated Parmesan, darling?" Your request was accompanied by a soft chuckle, a playful reminder that even in these stolen moments, there were still tasks to complete.

Neuvillette obliged with a warm smile, retrieving the bowl and placing it within your reach. "Of course, my dear," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of playful obedience. You couldn't help but admire the way his eyes sparkled with a mixture of affection and adoration.

As you carefully sprinkled the Parmesan over the soup, you stole a brief moment to steal a quick kiss from Neuvillette. The taste of garlic butter lingered on both your lips, a delightful reminder of the shared moments you cherished. "There we go," you declared, surveying your culinary creation with satisfaction. "Dinner is ready to be enjoyed."

Neuvillette's fingers entwined with yours, his touch a reassuring anchor amidst the whirlwind of emotions that his presence always brought. "Shall we dine, my love?" he suggested, his voice a soft melody that resonated deep within you.

With a nod and a warm smile, you both moved towards the dining table, hand in hand, ready to savor not only the delicious meal but also the tender moments that made your shared space truly special.

"How was work today?" you asked, your tone filled with genuine concern as you picked up your spoon and blew on it, cooling down the soup. You were well aware that Neuvillette's role as Chief Justice often brought along exhausting and demanding days. The weariness etched on his face told you that today had likely been one of those particularly taxing days.

Neuvillette settled into his seat across from you, his expression softening as he met your gaze. He let out a sigh, a mixture of fatigue and relief evident in his eyes. "It was quite the day," he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of his responsibilities. "We had a particularly challenging case that required hours of deliberation, and the decisions we make in the courtroom weigh heavily on my mind."

You offered a sympathetic smile, empathizing with the weight he carried. "I can only imagine how demanding it must be," you replied, your voice soothing. "But I want you to know that I'm here for you, always. Whether you need a listening ear, a warm meal, or just a moment of respite."

Neuvillette's gratitude was palpable as he reached out and gently squeezed your hand. "Thank you, my love," he said softly. "Your unwavering support means the world to me. It's moments like these, shared with you, that give me the strength to carry on."

As you both began to enjoy the comforting warmth of the soup, the atmosphere shifted from the busyness of the day to the serenity of the present moment. The clinking of utensils against the bowls created a soothing rhythm, punctuated by the occasional exchange of glances that spoke volumes without the need for words.

"I'm truly lucky to have you by my side," Neuvillette murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. "Your presence is a balm for my weary soul."

A tender smile graced your lips as you replied, "And I'm lucky to share my life with you. We'll weather these storms together, and brighter days will come."

With a shared understanding and a reaffirming touch, you continued your meal, each bite a testament to the unwavering bond that anchored you both amidst the challenges of life. In your shared space, surrounded by love and support, you found solace and strength, ready to face whatever tomorrow may bring.

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; 𝐑𝐀𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇, 𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐀𝐘 !! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥) 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !!

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

#spirits works 🤍 #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x fem!reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #x black reader #black!reader #genshin x black reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin imagines #fanfiction #fem!reader

[pascalispretty]

Leading Blindly

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1966

Warnings: Reader is a sex worker, loss of virginity, Mando has a huge dick, woman on top, reader has a size kink, blindfolds.

Summary: A young Mandalorian seeks relief for the first time at a Canto Bight brothel.

A/N: My entry for Day Two of @absurdthirst's Kinktober - the prompt was 'Loss of Virginity'. I'm picturing an early 20s Mando here, but imagine what you like! My thanks as always to my beloved @misscharlielulu. (ao3).

The blindfold hadn’t been the strangest request you’ve ever received. The client had requested you specifically according to Lenera, the madam, as she helped knot the fabric tightly over your eyes. A Mandalorian she had whispered, almost in awe. You had waited in your room for the client, the heavy footfall signalling his arrival long before he spoke.

From sound alone you couldn’t gauge much; the heavy thumps of his armour as he set them down, the voice that sounded young even with the modulation provided by the helmet, the sharp inhale of breath when you pulled your silky slip up over your head to let him look at you.

His touch, when it came, was gentle but faltering. A virgin, you suspected. Everything spoke of newness and uncertainty, from the difficulty he had in articulating what he wanted to the hesitancy in the hand he rested on your waist.

Eventually he had agreed to lie back on your bed, his head propped up on the stack of plush pillows while you straddled his lap.

It’s how you find yourself in the Mandalorian’s lap, one hand resting on his abdomen as you slowly grind down on him.

“Don’t worry, Mando,” you whisper softly as you unfasten his pants. “I’ll take good care of you.” His breath escapes him in a hiss as your fingers slide beneath his waistband and wrap carefully around his cock. Even without your sight, there’s no mistaking it; he’s huge. You can barely wrap your fingers around the width of him, and the length is just as impressive.

In your years of working in the finest Canto Bight establishments, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen his equal on a human, much less such a shy one.

“Oh,” you whisper, trailing your fingertips down the length of him to better gauge just how big he is. “You’re so big.” For most men, it would have been nothing more than an ego stroke; for the Mandalorian, it’s just the truth. And unlike most men, who would have received such a comment with delight, the Mandalorian beneath you squirms.

“I- I didn’t know. Is it- Will it be a problem? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Instead of proud or aroused, he sounds embarrassed.

“Oh, you sweet boy,” you murmur, and he squirms again beneath you. “I can show you how to make it easier?” He whines when you make your offer, his gloved hands gripping harder at your hips.

“Yes, p-please,” he manages. It’s such a pity he won’t take the helmet off; you want to kiss his forehead and tell him what a sweetheart he is.

“You may need to take one of your gloves off then, Mando. Whichever hand is your dominant one.” Your fingers are still wrapped around his cock, stroking lightly. The thick weight of it in your hands practically making you drool. Certainly you can feel yourself getting wetter, slick pooling between your legs and making your thighs feel sticky.

His hands leave your waist, and you hear him slide one of the soft leather gloves off and drop it onto the bed beside him. With his glove off, he touches your waist again with new hesitance. You wonder how often he does this; has the chance to touch another person, with no barriers between you. It’s such an unexpected feeling of intimacy from a mere brush of the fingers, and your cheeks grow warm.

“You- you’re so soft.” He says, and the marvel in his voice is so endearing.

“Thank you, sweet boy.” With reluctance, you let go of his cock in favour of dragging your fingertips up the insides of your own thighs, gathering the slick smeared down your skin. You hold your fingertips up for his inspection, turning them to try and show the wetness glistening in the low light.

“The more aroused a woman is, the wetter and more relaxed she is. It’ll make it more comfortable, especially with what you’re hiding.” You tease gently, leaning back a little on his lap to try and give him a better view between your legs. With your own fingertips you part your folds, putting yourself on display for him.

“You see this, sweet boy?” You ask, tracing lightly over your clit and managing to make yourself shiver. “You want to make sure this gets plenty of attention. And if you have time, you should use your fingers inside too; it helps to open the muscles up.” He sucks in another breath, and you wish so badly you could rip the blindfold off and look at him, helmeted or no.

“Would you show me?” He asks eventually.

“Oh Mando, you’re so polite,” you say lightly, drawing a light circle around your clit. “You’ll spoil me for all my other clients.”

As far as you can tell, he watches intently as you play with your clit, showing him how to start slowly and softly, the signs a woman might make if she’s enjoying herself. The closer you get to coming, the more you feel him starting to squirm beneath you, and for one moment you wonder if you should stop, lest he finish too soon, before even getting inside of you.

“Keep going. Please, please don’t stop,” Mando whines at you – he must have noticed your hand starting to slow. “I want to watch, please-” The soft sincerity in his voice is what sends you over the edge, your free hand steadying yourself on his abdomen as you come. His hands clutch tighter at your hips, so hard that you hope he leaves you a mark to remember this encounter by.

When you get your breath back, he dips his ungloved hand lower.

“Can I?” He asks, and you nod enthusiastically before he can even clarify what it is that he wants. You moan loudly when he dips his fingers just barely into your cunt, a low groan rumbling through him as he feels just how wet you are.

“Oh, that’s it, sweet boy,” you murmur as he carefully slides one of his fingers into you. It presses deeply inside you, so much farther than your own can reach. That familiar heat starts to build again in your core, flames licking your insides as his finger brushes past an electrifying spot within you. You start to rock your hips, fucking yourself on his finger. He soon responds in kind, matching your pace as his gloved hand clings to your hip.

“Another, another,” you beg breathily after a moment. His fingers are thick, but you know his cock is so much thicker; you want to be as prepared as you can be. You whine as he slides the second finger in, your muscles easily flexing to accommodate him. Still riding his fingers, you bring your palm up to your mouth and spit, before wrapping your hand around his cock again.

He groans at your touch, his cock throbbing in your hand, and you can’t take it any longer.

“Mando, sweet boy,” you pant, his fingers still working inside you. “Are you ready?” No words escape him, just another low groan as he slides his fingers out of you. He’s breathing raggedly, even through the modulator of the helmet, and you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock. “I need you to tell me, sweet boy.”

“Ye-yes,” he manages. You notch the head of his cock against your opening, your muscles straining to accommodate the blunt, weeping tip. Slowly you ease yourself down onto his cock with tiny flicks of your hips, impaling yourself gradually. Beneath you, Mando is doing his best to hold still, to resist squirming for fear of hurting you.

“That’s it, sweet boy.” Your time with him so far tells you he enjoys being praised. “You’re making me feel so full.” With the first few inches of him buried inside you, you get braver with your movements, taking more of him with every downstroke.

By the time he bottoms out inside of you, you’re so full you can barely breathe. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this full, not even when that pretty Twi’lek socialite had paid you to let her fuck you with her fist. You rest your hands on the planes of Mando’s chest, your fingertips flexing as you try to adjust.

Your client isn’t much better off than you are. His breathing filters raspily through his helmet, his hands clinging to your hips as he tries to ground himself. When he gives a tentative thrust upwards, you moan loudly, the sound completely unfeigned.

Between the two of you, you set a relatively slow pace. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s made that much clear, and you expect he also doesn’t want to end things too quickly. His first attempts to meet your movements are erratic, but he learns to follow your rhythm, rocking up into you as you ride him. His gloved hand remains anchored to your hip, his bare hand begins to roam over your body, cupping one of your tits and squeezing carefully.

Mando braces his feet on the mattress behind you, allowing him to push somehow deeper inside of you with his thrusts. You tip your head back and moan, trying to recall when you had last experienced this much genuine pleasure with one of your clients. It’s not long before you start riding him in earnest; you don’t expect him to last long no matter what you do, but you want to enjoy his masterpiece of a cock as much as you can.

It’s not long before his thrusts become more erratic, his breathing coming harder from beneath the helmet. You try not to be too disappointed, instead quickening the pace, fucking yourself harder onto his thick cock.

“I’m- I think I’m gonna come, where…?” He eventually manages between low groans, and you arch your back as pleasure races up your spine. You won’t come, not so quickly, but it still feels delicious to hear the Mandalorian sound so utterly wrecked beneath you.

“Wherever you like, sweet boy, wherever will make you feel good,” you practically purr at him, your fingertips digging a little harder into the fabric of his clothes. His movements become clumsier, his hand squeezing a little tighter at the flesh of your tit. It’s not long before he comes inside you with a sharp groan, an almost pained sound; you hadn’t expected him to last nearly this long.

Even before he’s finished riding out his climax, you feel his seed start to drip out of you, forced out by the sheer size of him. You give him a moment, letting him catch his breath. He doesn’t relax though; even as his cock is softening inside you, the bare hand on your tit disappears, only to come back to your hip once again gloved.

Carefully, he lifts you off him, ignoring the come dripping out of you as he sets you on the bed beside him. With the blindfold on, you’ve no way of gauging just how much of a mess you’ve made, or what kind of state his clothes might be in. You listen silently to his movements as he stands and begins to put his armour back on; the soft clips and buckles, the heavy tread of his boots as he steps back into them.

“Am I- do your clients normally say thank you?” He asks eventually. You’re so taken aback by the question that you can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a client quite so polite as you, Mando.” You’re in no hurry to move; you lounge back on your bed, legs spread obscenely. “Come back sometime; I’m dying to see how much of that cock of yours I could fit in my mouth.”

Tag List:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction

[jeannineee]

eeek! saw that you're taking requests and whilst reading one of your headcannon's about our beloved bat boys... wondering what you think it would be like bathing with each of them 😏😇😅🤤 fluff and nsfw content, and all!!! like i imagine a sort of gentleness in maybe Rhys (?) massaging your scalp while shampooing or something, but then a sort of ferocity as he grabs your hips and pulls them flat against...

OKAY YOU GET IT!! RIGHT? hopefully lol!!!!is this too much??? UGH

anyways

love, love, love how you flow with words. seemingly so natural, as if you know each of the boys personally and thoroughly. obsessed with it.

this is my personal love letter to you, thanking you for putting your work into the universe for us all to devour and enjoy and smile like a fool at. you are amazing!!! thank you!!

First of all!!! This is so sweet of you, anon!! The feedback I’ve been getting for my works lately has been so kind. I love all of you!!

Friendly reminder that my requests are OPEN.

Anyway!! Nsfw under the cut (18+ please)

Bathing with the Batboys…

Rhysand

It’s an almost daily ritual with him.

Whether you’re showering, or in the bathtub, he enjoys doing it with you.

This male practically PURRS when you scrub the shampoo into his scalp.

He loves giving you massages in the bathtub, too. Rubbing away the tension in your neck, your shoulders, your back.

He revels in the soft moans and gasps that fall from your lips.

You definitely use baths as an excuse to touch his wings.

He pull you into his lap as you wipe the washcloth on his chest, his shoulders.

You’ll “accidentally” graze his wing, earning a hiss from him.

“You cruel little thing,” Rhys tells you, but makes no move to stop you.

So you continue, swirling your fingers around the spots you know to be sensitive.

And then Rhys can’t take it anymore, grabbing your hand and guiding it to his throbbing cock.

“Look at what you’ve caused, darling.”

You smirk, wrapping your hand around him, stroking him slowly. “Seems like a ‘you’ problem, Rhysie.”

He gives you his signature feline grin in response, before lifting you from the tub, and carrying you to bed.

You won’t be walking for the rest of the day ❤️

Cassian

This man loves being babied, can’t tell me otherwise.

He turns his back to you in the bathub, giving you full access to his back and wings.

It’s not just the fact that touching his wings is stimulating, it’s also that there is a lot of trust that comes with Cassian being in such a vulnerable position with you.

The sounds that come from him, when you massage his back?

When YOU TOUCH HIS WINGS? Good luck!!

He loves washing your hair, and actually likes braiding it, too.

He’ll pull your back flush against his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“I’m naked, Cassian.”

“Exactly.”

He will pepper kisses along your exposed skin, smiling to himself as your breaths come in quicker.

He wraps his strong arms around your waist, calloused hands moving to cup your breasts.

“So perfect,” he murmurs, circling your nipples until they form hard peaks.

He’ll keep one hand on your breasts, the other sliding down your stomach, stopping just above where you need him.

When you turn to glare at him, he shamelessly grins in response. “Ask me nicely.”

“Cocky bas—oh…” your words are cut off the moment his fingers start circling your clit.

He’ll draw at least three orgasms from you before taking you to bed. Or the counter, or the wall, if you’re both particularly impatient.

Azriel

LOVES the intimacy of bathing with you.

He showers you with affection, both as you bathe him, and he bathes you.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” he’ll mutter as you massage his scalp, his eyes focusing on the concentration in your face.

It takes a while before he’ll let you touch his wings, but when he finally allows it, it becomes a regular occurrence.

You’ll sit in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as the water gently steams around the two of you.

You’ll not-so-subtly trace a finger along the membranes of his wing, squeezing your legs together at the string of curses that leave him.

His tone of voice turns you into a puddle.

“Keep it up, sweetheart. See what happens.”

You ABSOLUTELY keep it up, tracing and teasing his wings.

Azriel has lots of self-control, but the second you decide to drag your tongue along his wing?

He bends you over the edge of the tub, hands caressing the backs of your thighs.

He’ll take his time teasing you, with his tongue, his fingers.

Then, when you’re begging, he’ll finally give you what you want.

Definitely smirks to himself at your wobbly legs afterwards. (But absolutely carries you around till you can stand on your own.)

#acotar #acotar headcanon #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #smut #acomaf #female reader #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #Cassian acotar #Cassian x reader

[veampa]

Hey! Can I request smut headcanons or even an nsfw alphabet, if you're up for it, with Sebastian? Thank you in advance! Feel free to ignore this request if you don't like it. Have a nice day! <3

Yes of course! Thank you for this request<3

Sebastian Michaelis smut!alphabet!

Credits to- @the-coldest-goodbye for the template

Gender- gender neutral

Character(s)- Sebastian Michaelis Warning in tags!!! Do tell me if i forgot any ~MINORS DO NOT INTERACT~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)- Gentle. Very fucking gentle, he knows the human body is delicate so of course after re-arranging his beloved's gut's he'll be soft with ya.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)- Your hair, he loooooves playing it and making it all perfect for you, he pulls it when yous are fucking. HEAVY hair pulling kink, His favourite body part for him is his mouth (lips especially) the amounts of things he can do with them ;)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)- eating it.. Yours obviously, it ties in with his mouth being his favourite part of himself.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)- Wants you to use one of your toys on him (will NEVER say that though but oh my goddddd he thinks about it so much)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)- very.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)- any position in front of a mirror, reverse cowgirl, doggy, standing up? anywhere he can see you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)- serious for the most of it, might crack a few jokes or teasings here and there.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)- fairly groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)- depends, its a mix of both, if its more of a rough session then he's gonna be less romantic, if its more of a soft session he's so much more romanticcccc, leaving soft kisses all over your body, praising you, being ten times more gentle, cuddling you during it maybe.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)- masturbates to you once a week? maybe a little more? he's a busy guy afterall taking care of the earl isn't a spacious job.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)- Enjoys a primal prey type of thing, he likes how small you feel compared to him, but he ADORES body worship just worshipping you in general, marking you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)- his chambers :p or yours.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)- you teasing him or speaking back.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)- anything to do with other demons cough cough..claude.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)- giving. He loves having his face shoved inbetween your thighs. Mwah. (Plus serving you..huge serving kink whether its him serving you or vice versa).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)- mostly fast and rough, but can be slow and gentle if you are in more of the romance mood.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)- doesn’t like them but still does them, much prefers a longer session but he’s busy, and if one of you are sexually frustrated or what not he’ll do it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)- yes.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)- alot. Bro doesnt get tired (he overstims you SO MUCHHHH).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)- He doesn’t, he much would prefer if you would just use him to get you off! Hello his fingers and thighs are right here!! He doesn’t use them on you but can understand if you use them on yourself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)- alot, normally yes but sometimes depending on the matter he wont.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)- fairly quiet, a few grunts or moans here and there but nothing much.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)- wore a maid dress once (after hours of you begging). Never again.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)- rocking eight inches, curved upwards slightly with quite some girth.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)- a mix to be honest.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)- he just doesn’t

#minors do not interact #mdni #black butler #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis smut #black butler smut #tw smut #tw hair pulling #tw marking #tw rough #tw overstim