#blade (hsr) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunnynova · 2 months ago

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LET ME IN YOUR OCEAN, SWIM

𐙚⋆.˚ - Pairings: Blade, Dan Heng, Anaxa, Phainon, Mydei (seperate) x Fem!Reader 𐙚⋆.˚ - Warnings: Multiple Orgasms/Several rounds, Pussy eating, Fingering, Pet names, PnV, Creampies, filthy tbh, rough sex, dirty talk, praise?, degrading? spitting, cockwarming, marking? choking kinda ? aphrodisiac usage in Anaxas (all I could think of?) 𐙚⋆.˚ - Words: 5.1k

𐙚⋆.˚ - A/n: This content is 18+ MNDI. I hope you enjoy it! Requests are open!! I want it to be known as well all of my fics are written with a plus sized reader in mind - but that doesn't mean you can't read it with a different body type! I do not mention hair textures/color same with skin tones. I do try to be as inclusive as possible. Not proofread either. 𐙚⋆.˚ - Notice: You can filter your content in the event it is not for you, under blog settings if any of tags used you will not see content relating to this. MINORS, AGELESS, BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. UPDATE YOUR PROFILE BEFORE INTERACTING OR FOLLOWING.

You weren’t sure how it started, maybe it was the teasing brush of his fingers under the dinner table, or the way he’d whispered filth into your ear in passing, voice rich with promise. But now, your wrists were bound behind your back, the leather biting softly into your skin as you straddled Blade’s lap. His cock sat heavy and full inside you, stretching you so deeply it ached, in the most delicious, maddening way.

He reclined like a king on his throne, arms tucked lazily behind his head, chest bare and gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat. Those sunset hues raked over your trembling body, half-lidded and brimming with heat. That smirk, gods, that wicked smirk, curled at the corners of his mouth like he already knew just how wrecked you’d be by the end of the night.

“Go on then, baby,” he rasped, his voice rolling like thunder low in his chest.

“Been whining for my cock all day. Let’s see you work for it. take what you need. Such a greedy little thing," Blade taunts, voice a low rasp against your ear. "So desperate for my cock, you don't care about anything else."

Your legs were already trembling from the relentless grind, thighs aching as you tried to keep pace, to stay steady. The stretch of him inside you was near overwhelming, and every motion, every slow, downward grind of your hips sent waves of pleasure rippling up your spine. You moaned softly, breath stuttering as your walls clenched around him.

His gaze darkened.

��There you go,” he murmured, finally reaching up, fingertips skimming up your sides before curling around the soft weight of your breast. He thumbed your nipple, circling it slowly, then pinching just enough to make you gasp.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that. Such a good girl when you're desperate for me.”

You whimpered as your hips stuttered, sinking down onto him again with a wet slap. He was so deep it felt like he was in your throat, and the drag of him inside your soaked cunt sent sparks dancing across your vision.

“You’re not getting help until I feel you fall apart,” he growled, tightening his grip on your tit as he sat up slightly, nipping your collarbone with his teeth. “And even then… fuck. I might just keep watching. You look so fucking perfect like this. Fucked-out. Shaking. Begging.” His voice rasped, laced with a lustful tone.

Blade’s hand left your chest just long enough to reach beside the bed, fingers curling around his phone. He flicked open the camera, switching to video mode without missing a beat. “Yeah... I need to remember this,” he muttered as he hit record, holding it up to capture your flushed, ruined expression. “Don’t stop, baby. Show me how hungry you are.”

He slammed his free hand down on your ass with a sharp smack, the sting radiating through your body and making your walls flutter around him. The sheer force of it knocked you forward, a sharp gasp falling from your lips as your forehead dropped to his shoulder.

“Please, Blade,” you choked out, voice thin and high. “I can’t, too much.. please”

His eyes flicked up, full of smug amusement, his phone still recording. “Is that right?” he mused, tongue flicking over his lower lip. “Didn’t you say you needed it so bad earlier you’d do anything for me?” He clicked his tongue, slipping the phone aside. “Tired already, and I’ve barely touched you.”

He set the device down, then reached around and untied the binds at your wrists with deliberate slowness. The moment they fell free, he gripped your hips hard and flipped you with practiced ease, pinning you beneath him before you could even gasp.

The loss of control made your breath catch.

“Brace yourself,” he murmured against your throat, his cock still buried to the hilt inside you, pulsing with anticipation. “You’ve had your chance to ride me, now it’s my turn to ruin you.”

His mouth found yours, devouring you with a kiss that tasted like lust and triumph. One hand laced with yours above your head, the other gripping your thigh and hitching it up, opening you wide. He pulled back just enough to meet your dazed gaze, his voice low and reverent:

“You’re not walking tomorrow, doll. But gods help me, I want you wrecked.”

A smirk curled at his lips as his hands came to grip your waist. Holding your body in place as he began a relentless pace.

The headboard slammed against the wall as your cries grew louder, the room thick with the sound of skin meeting skin, breathless moans, and his low groans right in your ear.

It was going to be a rather long night.

—

You’d only meant to assist in a simple energy-enhancing elixir. That was the assignment. But one misstep in measurement, a droplet too much of a rare herb with latent aphrodisiac properties, and now the air in the alchemy room felt thick, like molten honey clinging to your skin, every breath laced with heat and desire.

Your body trembled, flushed from the inside out, and you barely had the clarity to steady yourself as Anaxa pressed you over his cluttered desk. The wood was cool against your feverish skin, but the relief was fleeting, especially when his hands found your thighs, stroking upward with an excruciating slowness.

"You're burning up," he murmured, his voice deeper than usual, heavy with restraint and want. His palms were rough from handling vials and tools, but they moved over your soft skin reverently, memorizing every inch. When he lifted your leg and placed it on the desk, spreading you open further, a shaky breath escaped your lips.

Then his fingers found your slick folds, parting them to slide between with maddening ease.

“Fuck,” he rasped, dipping one finger inside you with a slow, deliberate curl. “You’re dripping, sweetheart. I barely touched you.”

He watched your back arch, his eyes hooded, devouring the sight of you writhing under his touch. “So wet for me already… so ready. You're like a flower trembling open under the sun’s first kiss.”

“Anaxa…” you whimpered, turning your flushed face toward him, eyes glassy with need. “Please. It’s too much, I need you. I feel like I’m on fire.”

A low, pleased chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned over you, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder. “My love,” he purred, “the last thing I want to do is hurt you. Let me take care of you. Yeah?”

His fingers moved with more purpose now, two sinking inside and scissoring open, brushing expertly against that spongy spot that made your thighs tremble and toes curl. Your breath hitched, nails digging into the wood of his desk.

“There we go,” he coaxed, his voice velvet and grit. “That’s it, thats my good girl. Just like that.”

When he slid his fingers free, glistening with your arousal, he brought them to your lips with a smirk. “Taste yourself for me, yeah?”

You sucked his fingers in without hesitation, your tongue swirling around them eagerly, and the dark look in his eyes nearly made your knees buckle.

As you suckled, he undid his belt with one hand, pushing down his trousers. His cock sprang free,thick, flushed, and already leaking. He hissed through his teeth at the sight of you, lips wrapped around his fingers while your hips subtly rolled against the air in anticipation.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, guiding your hips into position. “Ready for me?”

You nodded, whimpering your assent, but that wasn’t enough for him.

“Say it.” he breathed, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you.

“I’m ready, Anaxa. Please. I need you inside me.” You cried out, the desperation dripped off your voice in waves.

And just like that, he snapped.

He lined himself up, the thick head of his cock brushing your soaked entrance before slowly, deliberately, pushing into you. Inch by inch, stretching you open, dragging a guttural moan from deep in his chest,and a strangled cry from your lips.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” you gasped, forehead pressed against the desk, legs trembling.

Anaxa groaned, head tilting back. “You’re so fucking tight. Gods, the way you grip me, like your cunt was made for me.”

His thumb returned to your clit, drawing tight, deliberate circles that had your walls fluttering around him, clutching him deeper. His other hand wrapped firmly around your waist, pulling your hips back against every hard thrust.

The room echoed with wet, obscene sounds,the slap of skin, your mewls and moans, the throb of shared desire amplified by the lingering effects of the potion. Your body felt electric, every thrust sending sparks up your spine, your nerves raw and alive.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “To feel me like this? Deep and hard, filling every inch of your needy little hole?”

“Y-Yes,” you cried, voice trembling. “I wanted you. I've always wanted you, Anaxa..”

He groaned as your walls clenched around him again, his grip on your hips tightening. “Fuck, don’t do that, baby. You’re gonna make me come, and I’m not done with you.” He leaned forward, chest pressing against your back, lips brushing your ear.

“It’d be a shame to end this now, wouldn’t it? When we’ve barely scratched the surface of what I want to do to you.”

His cock throbbed inside you, thick and pulsing, and his movements slowed,just slightly,enough to drag out every second, every breathless moan. His fingers didn’t stop moving on your clit, and it was too much. You were unraveling. “Anaxa,I'm-!”

“Let go for me,” he murmured, voice like smoke. “Come on, doll. Let me feel you fall apart.”

And when your climax crashed into you it was violent, soul-shaking, you cried out his name like a prayer. He followed you moments later with a strangled groan, grinding deep as he spilled inside you, breath catching in his throat.

The room was still, again. Heavy with the scent of sex and alchemical oils. Your chest heaved as you lay against the desk, limbs trembling, heart pounding in your throat.

Anaxa brushed your hair gently from your face, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “Are you alright?” he murmured, voice quiet now, low with concern.

You nodded, lips parted as you caught your breath. “Yeah, I just didn’t think today’s lesson would turn into that.” you laughed a bit as you tried to catch your breath.

He chuckled softly, as he rested his head against your shoulder. “We’ll call it an experiment in practical alchemy.”

You snorted weakly, unable to help the smile tugging at your lips, even as your legs refused to stop shaking.

—

Mydei had lost so much, too much. The grief, the blood, the burdens he bore had hollowed parts of him, left him starved for something warm, something anchoring. And that anchor was you. He clung to you like salvation, like he’d drift into the abyss without your body pressed to his. At night, he was never far, always buried deep inside you, cockwarming with his face nestled into the crook of your neck, your scent his lullaby, your cunt his comfort.

One arm slung possessively around your waist, the other lazily cupping your breasts as he whispered soft, broken things against your skin.

But this? This was different.

This was worship.

Because Mydei would never kneel for anyone. Never bow. Never submit. Yet now, here he was, on his knees before you, his mouth hot and hungry between your thighs as you sat like a goddess on his throne. Yours now, it seemed. The power shift made your skin tingle, made your core throb. It made his mouth water.

Your thighs were thrown over his broad shoulders, heels digging into the tense muscles of his back as he devoured you like he’d been starved for days. His tongue was relentless, slick and deep, lapping up your arousal with obscene enthusiasm. The room echoed with the wet, messy sounds of him feasting on you, slurps and growls and the occasional gasped praise, incoherent and ragged: “fuck, so sweet.. s’perfect.. can’t get enough..”

Your head lolled back against the velvet lining of the throne, your body arching, quivering beneath his mouth. Every drag of his tongue, every suck on your clit made your back bow, your hands fly to his hair. You gripped his golden strands tight, guiding him with desperate, breathy pleas.

"Mydei.. please, feels so fucking good," you moaned, voice cracking as pleasure shot up your spine. Your hips bucked forward when he sucked harder, sharp and unrelenting on that aching bundle of nerves.

He groaned, almost feral, his fingers bruising into your thighs as they trembled around his head. "Gods, Princess, look at you. Trembling from just my mouth. Let me hear those sounds. I need them."

The words were muffled, smothered by your slick and his determination. But you heard them. Felt them. Your fingers tugged tighter as you rolled your hips against his face. He moaned again, the vibration sending shockwaves through you.

And then, you gasped. Sharp, high-pitched, your whole body twitching when two of his fingers slid inside your fluttering, dripping hole. They curled just right, just so, and your thighs clenched around his head like a vice.

"Yeah, right there, Mydei! fuck, don’t stop," you begged, voice cracking, eyes rolling back into your skull.

He couldn’t hear you anymore, not really. His head was spinning. Your taste coated his tongue, your scent filled his lungs, your cunt clenched around his fingers so tight it made his cock throb and twitch helplessly in his pants. He hadn’t meant to finish. He really hadn’t.

But when you cried out his name, when your slick gushed around his fingers and your thighs spasmed against his ears, he came. With a guttral goran, shamefully untouched, his release soaking into the fabric of his pants as he fucked you through your orgasm with tongue and fingers with a desperate need to drown in you.

He was panting when he looked up at you. His cheeks flushed, chin wet, lips red and swollen. His eyes were glassy, ruined, drunk on you. And when your gaze met his, just as hazy, just as fucked out. He let out a soft, breathless laugh.

“Well,” he murmured, voice hoarse and reverent, “suppose we can finish this properly once I get out of these damn pants.”

His cheek rested lazily against your thigh, one hand still cradling it, thumb stroking the soft skin there. “C’mon, princess. Let’s get cleaned up.”

But neither of you moved. Not yet. You stayed like that tangled, flushed, trembling lost in the afterglow, in each other.

—

Phainon’s tongue drags up your slit again, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the last taste before a kill. His nose brushes your clit, and you twitch under him with a broken gasp. Your thighs try to close, but his arms keep them locked open, biceps flexed, forearms solid as stone. He’s already pulled two orgasms out of you. You’ve cried, begged, sobbed his name, and he’s still hungry.

Your voice is hoarse. “Phai.. please..”

“Please what, baby?” His voice is dark, taunting. He curls his fingers again. “Please don’t stop? Please ruin me? Tell me what you want. Come on baby wanna hear ya”

You don’t answer, your voice dying on your tongue as he curled his fingers just right making your mind go blank.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think so.” He grins, teeth dragging lightly across the crease of your thigh. “You’ve got more for me. I know your body better than you do.”

“Mmm,” he hums. “You said you wanted to come again. So I’m making sure you do. Gotta get this pussy ready.”

“For what?” you gasp.

He pulls his mouth away just long enough to meet your gaze. His lips are shiny, chin soaked. His eyes burn straight through you, “For me.”

You try to pull away, but he drags you right back into his mouth. His fingers dig into the plush of your thighs hard enough to bruise, pulling you down like he’s drowning in you. His mouth latches onto your clit again, tongue flicking in a brutal rhythm that makes your vision blur.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ good, baby. I could stay down here forever.”

You try to catch your breath, chest heaving. “You already have. I can’t feel my legs.” You breathed out, although it sounded more like a laugh.

He chuckles against your skin, licking back up with an almost lazy motion. “Then you’ll stop runnin’ from me.”

“I can’t, I can’t take it” you stammer, thighs trembling.

“You will,” he growls, pausing only to spit on your pussy before slapping your clit with the flat of his tongue. “You will, baby. Give me another. I wanna feel you fucking break on my tongue.”

As if his voice was like the law, your orgasm hits like a crashing wave. You cry out, your whole body shaking under his mouth as you soak his chin. He moans into you, licking you through every twitch and clench, groaning as if he’s the one coming.

By the time he pulls back, his face is wrecked. Lips swollen, chin shiny, eyes glazed with hunger. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. He looks high. Feral.

Then you see it, the bulge straining hard against his sweatpants, twitching. Leaking.

“Get on your stomach,” he says suddenly. Your muscles are barely functioning. “Phai..”

“I’ll move you if I have to princess, come on.” He spoke as he pats your thigh with a chuckle.

You roll over slow, weak, trembling. He pushes your back down with one hand, keeping your ass raised. He peels down his sweats, cock springing free. It was thick and veiny, already beeding with precum at the tip. He runs it through your folds, dragging it up and down your overstimulated pussy with a groan.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, voice like gravel. “So fuckin’ wet. So ready for me.”

You scream into the pillow, arms shaking. The stretch is insane, unforgiving. He gives you no time to adjust, already pounding into you with deep, brutal thrusts, hips slapping hard against your ass.

You moan weakly, trying to gather yourself, but your body is boneless. He lines himself up and sinks slowly inch by inch, each achingly blissful inch. The stretch is too much, no, it was perfect. You whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “You’re too big..”

“You always say that,” he groans, voice frayed as he bottoms out. “Still take every inch like a good fuckin’ girl.” He pulls back and slams into you hard. You cry out, body jolting, already sensitive and raw.

“You feel that?” he growls in your ear, hips slamming against yours again. “Feel how deep I am? This pussy knows me.”

“Take it. All of it,” he growls, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip. “You asked for this. You said you wanted me to fuck you dumb, remember?” You nod desperately, choking on moans.

“You love it,” he sneers, dragging his cock out to the tip before slamming back in, right to the hilt. “This tight little cunt’s fuckin’ made for me. You come on my face, you take my cock, and you beg for more.” Your fingers claw the sheets as his hand leaves your hip to deliver a sharp slap to your ass, the sting making your eyes tear.

“Fuck.. Baby, you sound so pretty when you cry. Makes me wanna ruin you all over again.”

You sob into the mattress, but it’s not from pain. It’s too much, deliciously so.

“You hear that?” he pants. “That sloppy little sound? That’s how hungry your pussy is for me. Sucking me in like you never want me to leave.” He leans over you now, chest to your back, his voice hot and dangerous in your ear.

“Tell me it’s mine.” You moan, barely audible.

“Louder.” He growled. He wanted to hear you.

“It’s yours, Phai Ah-yours.” You cried out as your breath hitched in your throat.

“Say it while I’m buried in you.” He thrusts deep again, cock grinding right into your sweet spot. You cry out, voice cracking. “It’s yours! All yours, fuck! don’t stop!”

He groans, dragging his teeth along your neck. “That’s it, baby. My fuckin’ girl.”

He flips you over with no warning, manhandling you like you weigh nothing. Now you’re beneath him, his body caging yours, sweat dripping from his brow as he slides back in, deep and slow this time. His eyes never leave your face.

“You good?” he asks quietly, breathing rough against your cheek. He knew he was being a bit rough. You nod, tears still in your eyes. “Please, keep going.”

He kisses your lips messy, tongue curling into your mouth—before he starts fucking you again. Harder now. Purposeful. Like he’s chasing something. Like he wants to fuck his name into your bones.

His hand finds your throat, thumb under your jaw. Not squeezing. Just claiming. “You take it so good,” he grits out, watching your tits bounce with each thrust. “You were made for me.”

Your mind was a mess, head thrown back, your words barely coherent. Just babbles of his name, singing it like it was prayer. And fuck was it music to his ears.

He lowers his mouth to your neck, biting hard, marking you. His thrusts grow messy, erratic. You feel him twitch inside you, hips jerking. “I’m gonna come,” he pants, voice nearly desperate. “You want it? You want me to fill you up?”

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Yes! fuck, yes, Phai! Fill me up Ngh!”

His thrusts become erratic, rough, deep. He slams into you one final time and holds there, cock pulsing as he spills into you. He shudders, mouth open against your shoulder, panting like he’s just been dragged back from the edge

His groan is broken, guttural, as he buries himself to the hilt and spills inside you. You feel it, hot, thick, deep and your own orgasm rips through you again, triggered by the sound of his moan and the stretch of his cock pulsing inside your fluttering walls.

“You fuckin’ ruin me,” he growls, voice cracked, almost pained. “Every time.” You’re both still for a moment, bodies twitching, sweat clinging to your skin. He brushes your hair back from your face, eyes still wild but softer now.

“You good?” he murmurs, voice low. You nod slowly, dazed. “Yeah..Just, Holy shit. What got into you?” A crooked grin tugs at his lips. “Don’t fall asleep yet.” You blink up at him, eyebrows lifting. “Why?” you ask breathlessly.

“Because you’re not done,” he says, shifting his hips. “And neither am I.”

—

Dan Heng was hot tempered, questionably hostile at times, but when it came to you? He was always a blushing mess. With you, he turned shy, uncertain, his confidence unraveling under the weight of his affection. The first time you mentioned wanting to be intimate, he had blinked at you like you’d spoken in an entirely foreign tongue. His hands clenched in his lap, ears tinged with scarlet, eyes darting to anywhere but your face.

It wasn’t reluctance. He wanted you. You could see it in the way his gaze lingered on your lips too long, in the way he sometimes flinched when your hand brushed his, like the contact physically startled him.

He just didn’t know what to do with the need burning under his skin. But with time, with whispered encouragement and soft patience, Dan Heng shed his nervousness like molten armor.

And once he did, he became devastating.

He knew every single thing that made you tick, every single nook and cranny of your body. That alone made him dangerous. Your body, your sounds, the way your eyes fluttered when he kissed just under your jaw, the delicate shiver that ran down your spine when his breath warmed your ear.

He’d approach you quietly, sometimes catching you off guard with how fast he’d close the distance. Strong arms slipping around your waist from behind, the rough heat of his palms pressing into your skin, his lips brushing your neck just so, where your pulse fluttered beneath your skin, quickening the ache that curled low in your belly. That subtle spot where the softness of his mouth made your knees tremble, and your breath hitched, trembling with need.

More than his hands, more than his mouth, it was his voice gravelly and warm that ruined you most.

“Look at you,” he whispered one night, voice thick with desire as he settled between your thighs, the subtle musk of his skin mixing with the sweet, salty tang of your arousal. His fingers ghosted up your inner thigh, brushing over the delicate skin until you trembled under the featherlight touch. “Such a pretty little dove. Dripping wet, and I’ve barely even touched you.”

Your cheeks heated with embarrassment and anticipation, your panties clinging damply to your folds, the slight pressure already unbearable. He hadn’t even removed them yet, but the slick heat pooling between your legs begged for more. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and full of hungry promise.

“Use your words, my little dragon,” he murmured, breath fanning over your skin, warm and intoxicating. “Tell me what you want.”

You squirmed beneath him, thighs trembling. “Jus’ wan’ you, Danny.. want you to touch me.”

He smiled a slow, wicked curve that sent shivers crawling down your spine, and leaned in to press a heated kiss to the corner of your mouth. The taste of him is rich and addictive. “Good girl.”

The words settled inside you like fire.

His hands slid beneath your shirt, fingers tracing the curve of your ribs, sending sparks wherever he touched. Slowly, reverently, he peeled away your clothes, the faint rustle of fabric the only sound in the quiet room. His palms warmed your skin, kneading your breasts as his mouth descended, lips sealing around your nipple. His tongue flicked and teased, gentle but insistent, and a soft sigh escaped you, fingers threading into his thick, silky hair.

He lingered there, worshiping your body like a sacred offering, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

Then, moving downward, he left a trail of wet, hungry kisses—a path of fire across your belly, the soft pulse of his tongue tracing your hip bones. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, holding you open as he lowered his mouth to your slick folds. The taste of you, sweet and salty, filled his senses, intoxicating and pure. His tongue circled your clit with slow and deliberate flicks, while his fingers spread your lips wider, exposing every inch to his skilled touch.

A moan tumbled from your throat, raw and unguarded, your hips arching involuntarily toward him. His groan vibrated through the room, a low rumble of satisfaction as he savored your response, his mouth and hands worshiping your trembling body.

You writhed beneath him, hips grinding softly against his mouth, desperate for more. He encouraged it, his voice thick with need as he whispered your name, coaxing every shudder, every gasp.

He didn’t stop until your legs shook and your breath came in ragged gasps, your body unraveling under his devotion.

Only then did he rise, lips pressing tender kisses to yours, the lingering taste of your essence on his tongue making him dizzy with desire. His hands cradled your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he murmured, “So beautiful. So good for me.”

You kissed him back, soft and needy.

Without warning, you felt the heavy heat of him pressing against your entrance, thick and pulsing. He slid inside you inch by inch, slow and deliberate, watching your face for every flicker of pleasure and hesitation. Your hands clung to his broad shoulders, your breath catching as he filled you completely—deep, hot, and endless.

He stayed still, letting you adjust, savoring the way your body clung to his.

“You’re taking me so well, my love,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion. “So tight around me... like you were made for me.”

His movements began slowly and measured and so very deep. Languid thrusts that sent delicious fire rippling through you. Every drag of his cock inside your warm, slick walls made you gasp, your breath hitching in time with the slow, agonizing rhythm. His mouth was everywhere, licking your neck, nipping at your collarbone, and planting bruising kisses on your shoulder.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pulled you flush against him. The scent of sweat and sex filled the room with a heady, intimate perfume that bound you to him.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his voice cracking with need. “Can’t get enough of you. I want to stay inside you forever.”

His praise tumbled from his lips in a torrent now, each word a caress against your skin as he stirred you from within. “So soft. So perfect. I love you.” His voice was raw, vulnerable, bared to you entirely.

You cupped his face between your palms, brushing your lips over his in a messy, desperate kiss.

“I love you too,” you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. “More than I know how to say.”

Dan Heng’s hips moved faster, harder, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure exploding through your nerves. You were tangled together, body and soul, riding the edge of bliss. His fingers slid between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing slow, steady circles that sent waves crashing over you.

“Come for me,” he urged, breath hot against your ear. “Show me how much you love me.”

Your release shattered over you in a torrent of heat and sound, your body clamping down on him as your cries echoed through the room. Dan Heng’s own growl of your name was rough and desperate, his hips stuttering before he spilled deep inside you, trembling and spent.

He didn’t pull away.

Wrapped around you, the two of you caught in the quiet afterglow, skin slick and sticky, breaths mingling in the dim light. His face was buried in your neck, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your back. The scent of sex and sweat and something infinitely tender surrounded you.

“I don’t know how to say everything I feel for you,” he murmured against your skin. “But when I’m like this, with you, I hope it’s enough.”

You kissed the damp curls at his nape, fingers threading through his hair.

“It is,” you whispered. “It always is.”

I hope you enjoyed! Requests are open.

Do not plagiarize my content. Do not repost my content, or translate it either. Do not post my content on any social media. Do not steal my content or feed it into AI.

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lowkeyren · 8 months ago

Text

—reject me not!

in which : when your sudden confession catches blade off guard, his response comes across as a rejection. though he realises his mistake, and tries his best to make things right. (...it gives the whole hq a headache)

slight humor, idiots in love, mutual pining, misunderstanding, you tease him w/o realizing (n he gets back at u hehe), reader is a stellaron hunter, stellaron hunters wingwomen!!!, art by @/kkuekkue on x. reblogs are appreciated! please enjoy <3

wc: 4.2k // hm secret santa? HOHOHO @mikashisus, rayray!! u might pull ur hair out at some parts idk :joy: happy reading n merry christmas my little elf xx

"i think i like you."

the words leave your mouth quicker than your brain can second-guess them.

blade freezes mid-step, his back visibly stiffening. when he turns to face you, his sharp, cold eyes betray a fleeting glimmer of surprise, perhaps, or confusion —but it disappears as quickly as it came.

he stares at you, his eyes widening just slightly, the faintest crack in his carefully maintained composure.

but then, his lips part, and all he gives you is a single, flat response.

"i see."

two short, dismissive words. not a smile, not a frown —just two clipped words. you tilt your head, expecting some form of elaboration, but instead he just turns on his heel, his coat swishing behind him as he starts to walk away.

(what you don’t see is the way his hands curl into fists as he walks off, how his steps falter just around the corner, or the way he presses a hand against his chest to steady the sudden, overwhelming ache blooming there.)

…must this guy really be so blunt?!?!!

you sigh, a little laugh escaping despite your current situation. of all the possible responses you could’ve imagined, ‘i see’ definitely wasn’t one of them. you shake your head, a part of you wonders if elio is watching, silently laughing at your predicament right now.

it’s fine. really. you should’ve known better than to think he’d say anything different.

though the big problem now is, blade knows about your silly crush on him, so facing him in the future is going to be a total nightmare that you’re not ready to accept. you can already feel the embarrassment creeping up like it’s going to suffocate you.

“where's [name]?”

blade steps into the base. silver wolf, tucked in the corner, engrossed in her console, raises a hand in greeting without looking up. blade nods in acknowledgment, before replying to kafka, "i went ahead of them," his voice sounds a little more strained than usual, before quickly turning to make a beeline for his room.

but kafka, ever perceptive, senses something’s off. she tilts her head with a smirk, "bladie, did something happen?"

he denies it with a quick shake of his head before slipping past her. having no other option, she resorts to… unconventional methods.

with a flick of her wrist and a soft, almost melodic whisper, she purrs, "listen to me.”

the moment those familiar words hit his ears, a wave of calm washes over him, and against his will, he halts mid-step. "now tell me what happened, will you?"

he sighs and he rubs the back of his neck. “take your time, bladie.” after a long pause he speaks again, "[name] said they... they liked me."

kafka watches him closely, a grin slowly spreading across her face. "and then what happened, hmm?" she teases.

out of the corner of his eyes, he sees silver wolf perk up at his words, but he pays her no mind as his thoughts are too tangled in what he’s about to say next, the words barely scraping past his throat.

...

the next hour consists of him being ‘lectured’ by his fellow coworkers.

he tries to tune out the barrage of teasing, but something about “bladie, that's not how you reciprocate,” to “ain’t no way bro fumbled that badly,” managed to stick with him, unfortunately. (he looks over to firefly standing to the side, but she only giggles and shakes her head at him.)

but really, how was he supposed to tell them that he panicked? that he was so stunned by your confession, so overwhelmed, that he could barely form a coherent sentence? that his awkward, dismissive reply wasn’t rejection, but a pathetic attempt to mask his own vulnerability?

the thought of you avoiding him, of thinking he doesn’t care, makes his chest ache with a pain he hadn't experienced for the past few centuries.

blade makes a mental note to find you as soon as possible. he doesn’t know how to explain himself, not entirely; words have never been his strong suit, but somehow, some way, he’ll make it up to you.

later, you return to the base, your steps hesitant as you walk in. the moment you enter, the group falls silent, all eyes snapping to you. there’s an awkward stillness in the air, like they were caught in the middle of something. your gaze sweeps over the room, and it lands on blade. when you lock eyes with him, a flush creeps up your neck, and you quickly avert your gaze.

"excuse me!" you blurt out and almost sprint to your room.

...do they all know?! this has to be the most embarrassing day of your life.

you agreed to meet kafka at a bar near your current mission to discuss your next task. the magenta haired woman had mentioned it casually when you’d asked, cryptic as usual, only revealing that the task was important but leaving out certain key details —such as conveniently leaving out the part about blade being there too, of course.

(“bladie,” kafka’s voice took on a singsong lilt, her playful smile unmistakable as she glanced at him. “you’re going to use this chance to make it up to them, ‘kay?”

blade only kept his eyes trained on the entrance, silently waiting for you to arrive.)

running late, your prior mission having dragged on longer than expected, you found yourself hurrying to the bar, weaving through the sparse but lingering foot traffic of the evening.

after what feels like hours, you finally make it to the bar. stepping in, your eyes scan the room for kafka, when suddenly, a man steps right into your path.

the man smiles warmly, though you could tell he’s had a few to drink tonight. his tone is friendly, with just a hint of flirtation as he strikes up a conversation, casually asking if you’d be interested in grabbing a drink sometime.

he’s polite, respectful even, and there’s nothing about him that feels overly forward or aggressive —just a man who’s trying his luck, that’s all. still, you can't help but feel a slight annoyance at the timing.

as you try to figure out a way to decline his invitation, you remain oblivious to blade’s gaze —specifically, how it's fixed on you, or rather, more pointedly on the back of the man’s neck.

“you’re going to snap his neck if you keep looking at him like that.” kafka’s voice cuts through the tension, her tone teasing as she watches the exchange from the side.

“i don’t like what he’s doing,” blade mutters, his voice low and filled with an edge that suggests far more than just mild annoyance.

kafka chuckles softly to herself, already knowing where this is headed. it’s not an outright confession of jealousy, of course —he would never admit to something as petty as that, and she knows better than to push him on this one.

nevertheless, she still catches it, her lips curling into a knowing smile. even if blade would never call it jealousy, it’s enough to push him into doing something completely out of character —something he’ll never, ever do (until now).

kafka notices immediately. her eyes widen just a fraction before she sets down her wine glass with a graceful motion, amusement dancing in her eyes. and perhaps to make sure he doesn’t look too foolish, she decides to play along and help him act the part.

a sharp clang of glass hitting the table catches your attention. your brows knit in confusion; you glance over instinctively, your eyes meeting kafka's for a brief moment. her expression is unreadable, but the faint curve of her lips makes you wonder what’s really going on.

curiosity pulls your gaze lower, to the drunk figure slumped over at her table, seemingly drunk, his head resting heavily on his arm. the spilled drink pools on the floor beside him, glinting under the dim light.

at first, you only catch a glimpse of dark, tousled hair, streaked faintly with deep crimson at the ends —so strikingly familiar it makes you pause. then, as your eyes trace over the sharp line of his jaw and the stiff set of his shoulders, realisation dawns on you.

wait a second.

your jaw nearly drops as you piece it together. the man lying there, seemingly drunk out of his mind, is none other than the last person you would want to see right now.

blade.

your gaze darts between him and the polite man still standing awkwardly in front of you. blade, on the other hand, never lets his guard down, so this... state of his? unprecedented.

apologetically, you offer a small smile to the man before rushing to blade’s side, urgency in every step as you push past the tables, heart hammering in your chest.

blade’s eyes subtly flicker over to you as you approach, and you can almost sense the slightest shift in his demeanor, the thought of you giving your time to someone else, especially someone so... ineffectual —grates at him.

he swallows the ugly feeling down his throat. perhaps he’s let this irked him more than it should. but it’s too late to back out now that you’re standing right beside him, the weight of your presence making the tension in his chest only more pronounced.

as if on cue, kafka’s voice breaks the silence, “as you can see, [name], our dear bladie here has gotten himself a bit... roughed up,” she says, casually catching the wine glass that had been teetering on the edge of the table.

her lips curl into a playful smile as she glances at blade, whose jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “drinking doesn’t seem to suit him, wouldn’t you agree?” kafka continues, her tone light but unmistakably amused. her eyes flicker between the two of you, as if she’s thoroughly enjoying the situation unraveling before her far more than she should.

you blink, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected scene. your worry only deepens as you shift your attention back to blade, who remains uncharacteristically silent, his head now resting on his arm as though he really had overindulged.

“blade,” you say softly, your voice carrying just the slightest edge of concern. “what happened?”

before he can answer —or before he’s forced to lie —kafka chuckles, waving a hand as if to dismiss your worry.

“oh, nothing serious. he just got a little too carried away with his drink.” she leans back in her chair, a sly glint in her eye that you’re too preoccupied to notice. your gaze falls back to blade, his hair slightly tousled.

without thinking, you reach out, gently brushing a strand strand from his forehead. his eyes flutter open at the contact —those striking, sharp eyes you’ve always found yourself drawn to, dark yet you can’t bring yourself to look away from.

you notice the faint redness creeping across his cheeks and the line of his jaw, down to his neck. his skin hot to the touch under your fingers. “you’re warm,” you murmur softly, assuming the alcohol is to blame.

if only you knew the warmth searing through him has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with you.

“ah,” kafka hums, pulling you out of your thoughts. “it seems something urgent has come up that needs my attention.” there’s an unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes. “i’ll leave you two to it.”

you glance at her, startled. “wait, what about—?”

“don’t worry about it,” she interjects, already getting up from her seat. “the bill is already on my tab.”

well, that wasn’t what you were about to ask anyway!

a sly smile curls her lips, and she tilts her head ever so slightly. “hmm, it’s rare to see him like this. [name], you’ll take good care of him, won’t you?” her tone is light, but the underlying implication is clear, leaving you flustered as she turns on her heel, striding off, leaving the two of you alone.

blade leans heavily against you, his tall frame making it an awkward challenge to keep him upright as you guide him out of the bar. one arm is slung over your shoulder, while his other hangs haphazardly against his side.

his head is tilted forward, strands of his dark, crimson-tipped hair brushing against your cheek, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him —whether from his predicament or his proximity, you’re not sure.

you shift your grip, looping an arm around his waist for better support, and his body tenses slightly under your touch. for someone playing the part of drunk so convincingly, he’s strangely aware of your every movement, his hand tightening just faintly on your shoulder when you stumble over a crack in the pavement.

“blade,” you murmur under your breath, trying to shift his weight more evenly as you inch forward. “you’re not making this very easy, you know.”

casting a glance his way, you’re met with a low, almost lazy hum in response. his expression is nothing short of a hazy indifference, though you swear you catch a flicker of clarity in his eyes —a brief, focused intensity that seems out of place, before he looks away.

you can feel the heat of his breath against your temple as he wavers with every step. the night air is cool, but the warmth radiating from his body is undeniable, pressing against your side in a way that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. the closeness between you feels almost intimate in a way that will surely have you screaming into your pillow later that night.

as you continue down the empty street, blade’s mind races; this is his chance. he knows it. he should say something now, anything, to make it clear —to tell you how he feels. (and how it’s been eating at him for longer than he cares to admit.)

this is it, the moment he’s been waiting for, but all he can do is breathe in the scent of your skin and the warmth of your touch. the sensation is all too familiar, like the pounding in his chest —but this time, it’s not from the heat of battle.

just how much longer he has to deal with this utterly insufferable feeling?

it’s worse now, because as you navigate through the halls of the base, he’s beginning to wonder if this is what it means to care for someone —to be vulnerable.

“here,” you say softly as you stop in front of the door to his room.

he doesn’t want this moment to end.

you glance at him then, finally meeting his eyes, and the look in them knocks the breath from your lungs. they’re hazy, yes, but there's a sharpness beneath the mask of drunkenness, a quiet intensity that makes your heart beat a little faster.

you clear your throat, breaking the silence. "do you need anything else?"

"no," he answers, almost reluctantly. "i’ll be alright."

a twinge of disappointment surges through you. right… it was foolish to expect anything different. he’s already rejected you, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous for thinking it would be any other way.

you stand there for a moment, the silence between you growing thicker with each passing second, before you force yourself to nod, your voice soft as you try to mask the heaviness in your chest.

“goodnight then."

just as you turn to leave, you feel a sudden pull on your hand, your wrist tugged back with surprising gentleness.

"wait," blade suddenly says, and this time, there's no mistaking the sincerity in it. "thank you.”

his bandaged hand rests over yours, and a soft breath escapes you; flustered, you open your mouth to respond, ready to brush it off.

"oh! It's no pro—"

but you’re cut off before you can finish. he raises your hand, pressing his lips to the back of your palm in a soft, lingering kiss.

"—blem..."

your voice falters slightly as a rush of warmth spreads through you. every nerve in your body seems to spark awake all at once, making you hyper-aware of the spot from where his lips brushed against your skin. you freeze, your breath caught in your throat, unable to do anything but stand there, your hand still resting in his.

then, as if nothing happened, he steps back into his room and shuts the door behind him, leaving you standing there, still processing the unexpected moment.

safe to say you got little to no sleep that night. you roll over, staring at the ceiling, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. it feels ridiculous, embarrassing even, how many times you've replayed that scene in your head every time you close your eyes.

you couldn’t help but smile to yourself like a fool.

(“so bladie, how’d it go?” / “...”)

you hadn’t even planned on leaving the base today, let alone stepping foot into the brightly lit chaos of an arcade, but silver wolf had insisted —no, nagged, until you caved. and somehow she’d managed to drag blade (of all people) along, her smug grin all too telling as she pushed the two of you together and skipped off to “go play some gachas”

now, you stand awkwardly by blade’s side, the flashing lights casting a colorful glow over his impassive face. it’s hard to ignore how out of place he looks, his dark coat, sunglasses, and the mask covering his lower face a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere.

yet, somehow, he doesn’t seem to mind the sharp sounds of arcade machines beeping nor the kids screaming in excitement. he just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you fumble with a stack of game tokens.

“you look thrilled,” you mutter, a sarcastic tone in your voice as you glance at him. it’s strange, though —there’s something oddly endearing about the way he’s standing there, the dark lenses of his sunglasses reflecting a faint outline of your own face. you catch yourself staring for just a moment too long, wishing you could see beyond the lens, wishing you could read his eyes—

you shake the thought off, it’s all just wishful thinking.

behind the shield of his sunglasses, blade’s eyes tracked your every subtle movement, almost unconsciously. he caught the way your expression softened as you turned toward the claw machine, how your lips curved ever so slightly when your gaze settled on that… thing.

it was maddening, how effortlessly you held his focus, how even a trivial moment like this could stir something deep in him. he told himself it was nothing, but the tightening in his chest said otherwise.

he wasn’t one to indulge in sentiment, yet something about the way you stared at that silly plush made him restless, made him want to do something about it, if only to keep that smile on your face a little longer.

would your smile grow brighter if that plush were in your hands?

“let’s go.”

“to where…?” you asked, glancing back at him, the curiosity evident in your voice.

he didn’t answer immediately, but you felt the familiar tug at your hand once again, gentle and insistent, as his gaze slips toward the claw machine where you had been staring earlier.

it’s not hard to imagine the scene as a sweet little moment, with him focused on the claw machine, trying to win you a plush like a doting partner would.

with a soft click, the claw tightens around the plush, and before you can react, it’s being lifted out of the pile, swinging toward the prize chute. you can't help but stare as he pulls the soft toy from the machine with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

(you pocket the rest of the tokens. guess he won’t be needing those… for a first-timer, he sure got lucky —must be beginners' luck, huh?)

you blink, slightly impressed. “wow, you’re good at this,” you remark, unable to hide the surprise in your voice.

without a word, he hands the plushie to you.

you tilt your head slightly, a bit unsure. “for me...?”

“it's yours. take it." he looks to the side; suddenly thankful for the mask —if it weren't for that, you'd surely see the crimson tint creeping up his cheeks right now.

you hesitate for a second longer before reaching out to take it, your fingers brushing against his, a tingle of heat pulses through you, leaving your hand feeling strangely warm.

“th-thank you," you manage to spit out, and your eyes dart away, suddenly very aware of how close he is. surely, this isn’t good for your heart!

the twilight sky stretches wide, the clouds are heavy, and you’re looking oh so earnestly at him. his heart beats a little faster, louder now, as if his body knows exactly what he wants but refuses to let him act on it.

but then, he blinks —once, twice; snapping himself back to reality. he can feel the space between you growing smaller, your presence growing closer.

his eyelids flutter shut instinctively.

and then, the soft press of your lips against his cheek.

a soft sigh escapes him, and his eyes crack open. if you could see his expression right now, you'd catch the vulnerability that flashes in his gaze. he swears he can feel the warmth of your kiss in his very bones.

though not quite the kiss he imagined… it was something. (re: you got his hopes up)

the shock of your own actions hits you like a wave. you swallow thickly, “sorry —i'll go find silver wolf.” avoiding his gaze as you fumble with the tokens in your hand. "i… i’ll pass the extra tokens to her."

without waiting for a response, you turn and hurry off, your pulse pounding in your ears, praying that the ground would swallow you whole.

that night, you lay in bed, the plushie clutched tightly in your arms. the softness of it contrasts sharply with the rush of confusion filling your chest.

why was he being so kind to you? after everything, after the way he rejected you just a few days ago, it made no sense. his actions felt contradictory.

you try to push the memory of the kiss out of your mind; impulsive decisions… often lead to mortifying outcomes. though when you glanced at him afterward, you could’ve sworn his ears were tinged with red, just peeking out from beneath his hair. nevermind, it’s probably your mind playing tricks on you.

blade, who’s as cold as the frost-kissed dusk, walks beside you through the lively festival, his dark coat a striking contrast to the vibrant reds and greens around you.

the faint scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider fills the air, mingling with the sound of distant carolers. he doesn’t say much, but there’s something about the way his gloved hand brushes yours, intentionally or not —that makes the chill in the air feel less biting.

you swallow, focusing on the festive stalls ahead, the decorations glittering in the night. “you don't have to stick around, you know. i can manage by myself.”

his steps slow just slightly, and he turns his head toward you, finally speaking. “you think i’d just leave you here?”

the words catch you off guard, and you fumble for a response. “i-i just meant—”

“relax.” he interrupts, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips; his hand grazing yours again. this time, his fingers linger for a moment longer, almost as if testing the waters, before retreating back into the safety of his pocket.

your cheeks flush, and you pretend to be deeply interested in a nearby stall selling hand-knit scarves. just then, his voice cuts through the festive hum. “last week… when you said you liked me,” he starts, and your breath catches.

you whirl back to face him, your heart pounding. “don’t worry about it! really, i—”

“i wasn’t rejecting you,” he says, with an unexpected gentleness in his gaze. “i like you too, [name].”

blade removes his coat, the fabric warm against the cold air as he drapes it around your shoulders, pulling you closer. you stumble, your hand instinctively pressing against his chest to catch your balance.

you look up at him, your breath quickening, as his face draws closer, his eyes locked on yours with that familiar intensity. you let your eyelids flutter shut, lips trembling, heart pounding in your chest as the space between you narrows.

but instead of the kiss you were anticipating, you feel the gentle warmth of his lips brush against your forehead.

your eyes snap open in confusion, only to meet his smirking face. oh... this asshole!

“what?" he teases, his tone deceptively casual. “you seem pretty eager,” his voice drops an octave, hand gently tilting your chin as he leans in just close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin.

you glare up at him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. the way your lips quiver, unable to hold his gaze for long; the fact that he actually adores that flustered expression on your face... well, that’s when he realises. he’s too far gone.

what a dumbass lmfaoo

MASTERLIST.

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