#dan heng/reader

[chickenparm]

Bad Decision (Dan Heng/gn!Reader)

how we feelin about honkai star rail, gals and pals? i'm feeling pretty damn good.

anyway dan heng has me by the coochie. this MIGHT get a part 2, and if it does it will involve a reader with female anatomy so just keep that in mind so it isn't a jumpscare.

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AO3 LINK NEXT PART

Dan Heng/gn!Reader 2,415 Words - NSFW (Accidental phone calls, listening in when you shouldn't, m!masturbation, mild phone sex, awkwardness all around)

Dan Heng never calls. 

It’s not that he’s a complete recluse - he’ll message of his own volition, and answer your messages within an instant, so long as he isn’t busy. But unless it’s an emergency, he never, ever calls. 

It takes my attention away from other tasks. He explained once, when March brought it up. His habit of delivering his sentences lends itself more to if someone were reading from a dictionary, rather than explaining interesting facts about themselves. Facts that you squirrel away and covet, because you have a bad habit of making bad decisions, and Dan Heng is a very bad decision waiting to be made. 

Because there’s no universe where it would be a good idea to have the sort of feelings for him that you do. Sickening, clawing, creeping up your back and behind your rib cage every time he glances at you from the corner of his eye to share a look with you for any number of reasons. March’s antics, a frustrating informant, a quiet second after a quick brawl where he makes sure you’re unharmed. 

Maybe it’s for the best that it’s just you and March on this scouting mission this time. It’s been wrapped up nicely, nothing too out of the ordinary, leaving the two of you to stay in your lodgings for the night before returning to the Astral Express that lingers far above the atmosphere. At least, you tell yourself it’s for the best. 

March is a good friend, and will be dear to you always, but there’s a distinctly Dan-Heng-Shaped space next to you that’s been drawing far too much of your attention during your stay on this planet. 

It’s with the knowledge in mind that Dan Heng only calls when it’s something important or an emergency, that you sit up in bed when your phone chimes with the ringtone you’d set for him during a bored moment in the parlor car. When he’d humored you for a moment and sat right next to you on those long sofas while you scrolled through each sound you downloaded that reminded you of him. 

So, as you scramble for your phone and bring it to your ear, your breath hitches for a moment in panic. Because if Dan Heng thinks something is an emergency, then it’s an Emergency. No sound leaves you at first as you expect him to start speaking immediately, to not mince words, but nothing greets you beyond a quiet, steady rustling sound. 

It’s not fabric. Maybe a little wet, like the sound of skin against skin, and something suspicious brews in you as you hold your breath and just listen.

The first real sound you hear is a quiet exhale. At the very end it shakes, as if the owner of such a sound shivers a little. Then, the sound of more rustling, before the sound of Dan Heng spitting. The sound from before returns, and what once was vaguely identifiable is now unmistakable. 

Silently, you press your back against the wall the bed is pushed against, your hand over your mouth as you try not to make a single sound. You’re well aware that this is disgusting behavior; Dan Heng is having a private moment. Intruding on him in this way would cause irreparable damage to any sort of relationship you’d been trying to build with him. 

But how can you stop? The monarch of bad decisions, making the worst one of all without a second thought. Your eyes stare off, unseeing as you try to imagine what the other end of the line might look like. 

Dan Heng is on the Astral Express, there’s no doubt about that. The archives filled with cerulean light from the twisting blue pattern of its flooring, only blocked by the thin mattress of his bed and the books that are scattered around it. Would he be sitting up, curled in on himself while he seeks his pleasure? Or perhaps he would be sprawled across his bedding with his cock in hand and unashamed of what he’s doing. 

Dan Heng doesn’t seem the type to be embarrassed by it. Sure, everyone’s done it at some point, but you desperately want to know what he’s thinking as he treats you with another sound. A quiet grunt, his pace pausing for a moment and leaving the line silent before it picks up again and goes even faster. It seems he’s found something he likes.

Another breath, a sharp inhale, then a quiet moan that makes your toes curl and your teeth grit. And you’re not even there. What would he look like if that were your hand stroking his cock, memorizing exactly what he likes so you can drive him to the edge and pull him back from it. Over and over again, teasing him with a release you won’t provide until he’s shaking and flushed and begging for it. 

What a pretty sight it would be to have Dan Heng beneath you, looking at you through half-lidded eyes as you lean down and drag your tongue along him. Everything about him is pretty; surely his cock would be as well. Closing your eyes to the darkness of your temporary room, you imagine the arch of his back as he nudges the back of your throat. And through it all he would murmur your name pleadingly, just like he’s doing right now-

You gasp, eyes snapping open. All sound on the other end cuts out, and then a quiet swear before frantic rustling. Then, your name again, this time spoken imploringly and terrified. A question you can’t bring yourself to answer as you press your palm so hard over your mouth that your teeth dig into the soft flesh inside your lips. 

No one breathes, no one hangs up. Just a drawn out silence before he says your name again, so much quieter. Almost defeated, just before he nearly whispers, “Why didn’t you hang up?”

Whisper or not, hearing his voice is too much for your suddenly-overworked brain to handle. The phone beeps cheerfully as you hit the end call button and press your palms to your eyes. 

Dan Heng’s ringtone sings for you only once more, before the simple ping of a message arriving fills the room. It’s an admonishment, a suggestion for you to not return with March back to the Astral Express. Himeko and Mr. Yang have already been told that you’re a pervert for listening in on Dan Heng’s private moment. Pom-pom is already throwing your luggage into the incinerator as you lay in your bed and wallow. 

At least, that’s what you assume, because so far you’re only staring at the blinking yellow light on your phone that indicates you have notifications built up. 

For better or worse, Dan Heng is waiting. 

With shaking fingers, you lift the device. The facial recognition kicks in immediately, even in the dark, and you’re left staring at the home screen with a few icons, two of which have notifications. One for a missed call, one for a direct message. Foregoing the call, you open whatever it is that he has to spit at you. 

Please call me back.

Perfect. He wants to tell you in person what a freak you are. What a degenerate you must be to so crudely sit by and listen to something so personal. Clutching your phone until your fingers hurt from its edges, you try to push the memory of his quiet sounds from your head before calling him. The little grunt, the sigh, the moan, your name-

Your name. When he didn’t realize you were listening. In a moment of what should’ve been complete privacy, without knowledge of you listening yet, Dan Heng had said your name and your thumb sweats as you hit the call button. 

“Having second thoughts?” Is his immediate accusation, and you stammer for a moment because what do you even say to that? A questioning sound leaves your throat, and a huff of air breezes past the receiver on his end. “You didn’t hang up immediately. You must have liked what you were hearing, or you wouldn’t have continued listening to what I was doing.”

“I thought it was an emergency-”

“A likely excuse, except I can see the call’s duration. Eight minutes to wait for an emergency?” Dan Heng sounds uncharacteristically amused - which is to say not very much at all. But you’ve spent enough time in his presence to pick up on the little nuances, even if you can’t see the micro expressions he favors. 

Dan Heng has you pinned with so little effort. And he’s not even trying. You give in immediately, phone shaking next to your ear as you quietly affirm, “Yes, I did. Like it, I mean. I’m sorry, Dan Heng-”

“I’m not asking for an apology. It’s obvious we both have things to apologize for, so it equals out. You for listening in when you weren’t meant to, and me for shamelessly using thoughts of you to relieve myself. I think that sounds fair.”

Not when he says it like that. How does something so blunt still somehow get your blood rushing through your ears, warming your cheeks, and cause an ache to form in the bottom of your gut? Loudly, you swallow around your nerves and choke out a response. “That’s fair.”

“Then that’s settled.” Rustling again; is he laying down now? Has he redressed, or is he nude? Or perhaps he still has himself in hand, moving so slowly you can’t hear it. Dan Heng cuts your thoughts off precisely where he wants them - in the gutter. “Should I keep going? Would you like that?”

“...What?”

It’s such a rare sound for Dan Heng to laugh in any capacity. Even this is little more than a sound of amusement from under his breath, but you latch onto it anyway. It keeps you grounded to the moment as he asks again, “Do you want to keep listening? It’s a simple yes or no answer. If you say no, we won’t speak of this again.”

“And if I say yes?” You hate how breathless you sound, how excited. Because it’s a dead giveaway on how you’ve been feeling up to this point - no one gets this excited just to hear some guy touch himself over the phone, right? No one normal, at least. 

A moment of silence, stretching on for a little too long before that entrancing sound of skin-on-skin again, nearly agonizing in its slowness. Shakily, a breath rings out over the line, this time unmuffled and crystal clear. Something in you throbs at the prospect of it all. 

Dan Heng’s voice loses its evenness as he clarifies things for your addled brain. “Then you sit there and listen, and you do nothing else. Not until you’re back on the Astral Express.” 

“And… When I’m back?”

The earpiece sounds heavenly as his hum rolls through it, like he appreciates your questioning. It takes a beat for him to say anything, and in that span you get to appreciate the hiss he makes between his teeth as he goes a little faster. The side of your face is burning hot under the phone’s dormant screen; you’re nearly pushing it into your skull from your own excitement. 

“Then you’ll get to watch. And compare the real thing to what you’re thinking of right now.”

All you want is for him to keep going, to keep talking about the things he’s planning to do with you when you return. Would he be so welcoming to your own machinations? Dan Heng is no mind reader, but he’s not stupid. Surely he knows what’s going through your mind now, though maybe not the exact depths of the depravity. 

But you’re not about to enlighten him. Instead, you do what he expects, quietly listening and keeping your breathing measured as his groan rolls through the phone. Every urge demands that you reach down and take care of yourself too, but there was an implication to his words. Nothing else, he said. Only sit and listen, like you wanted to do in the first place. 

Dan Heng is surprisingly cruel, you think. 

Seemingly exhausted of his willingness to keep speaking to you, he simply… lets go. Dan Heng is quiet, though you can tell by the pitch of his sounds and the sudden urgency he takes while murmuring your name again that he must be close. The way he calls for you is like a taunt, and for a man so pacifistic, he sure is getting a kick out of causing you untold grief. 

“Dan Heng, please, can I-”

“No.” It’s grit through his teeth, like his whole body has tensed. Impending orgasm has a way of making even the more passive person into someone needy and demanding, and he exercises that right by urging you, “Say something. Anything. Tell me what you would do if you were here.”

“I’d watch, just like you want me to.” Bravado is easy to fake, and you’ve had more than enough practice over the months as a Trailblazer. Your voice is surprisingly even, “I’d kneel at the end of your bed and watch you touch yourself for me.”

A swear leaves him in a language you’re not familiar with. Only his tone suggests it’s something more than some plain declaration. Then, “When you get back, come straight here. Don’t talk to Himeko, don’t get caught up by Pom-Pom.”

“That eager for me?” You have no grounds to be teasing anyone, but he gives you this one chance to have a small victory. Only to bring it crashing down with his words forced through his tense jaw. 

“You have no clue. You’ll see.”

No response comes from you as your mind tries to smooth those words down into something a little more easily digestible, despite their deceptive shortness. There’s a lot to unpack there, and it’s impossible to do so when his breath is coming quicker and he’s moving faster. Your name leaves him one last time, just loud enough for goosebumps to raise across your skin at the knowledge of what he’s done. 

Of what you’d listened to, of what you just participated in. In the span of an hour, everything is different. This time tomorrow, you’ll be back on the Astral Express, and you’re not sure if that terrifies you or excites you. 

You’re not quite convinced anymore that Dan Heng is still a bad decision. 

[owlespresso]

bedtime stories I. Dan Heng. tags: fluff, literally sleeping together thank you to @yinyuedijun for peer reviewing this as an expert in the dan heng field. please go check out her work including 风月 | wind, moon

Puddles of artificial light glisten off the tiles which surround Dan Heng’s futon—or the mess of a thing it’s become.

Pillows and blankets bundle around him as he splays out on his stomach, tablet held in one hand, chin cradled in the other. He’s visibly rumpled, messy hair and worn expression at odds with the otherworldly beauty. He’s slipped off his mortal guide like a well-worn robe, tail snaking out onto the bedding from underneath a pillow that’s landed on the small of his back.

The robe he’s actually wearing has been shrugged off his shoulders, pale flesh exposed to your wandering gaze. Inky dark strands of past to expose the back of his neck, where healing bruises in the shape of your mouth mar his otherwise flawless skin. You only feel a little bad when you press your cold hand to his nape. 

He jumps, and glares. To offer him anything other than a smug little smile would be a lie.

“You look so sleepy,” you coo.

“I think I am plenty awake now,” he grouses, chiding. He lifts the duvet for you to climb under. anyways. 

“Don’t be mad at me—you’re just so sexy. I can’t keep my hands off of you,” you wheedle, settling against his side like an oversized cat. He runs a little cool, but you find it to be yet another charm point on the endless list. He smells good, too, recently out of the shower. You shamelessly press your face into his flank, right beneath his armpit, and nestle your cheek into the velvety down of his robe.

One of your greedy hands reaches over his thin waist to squeeze. You inhale him without remorse, practically purring as your fingers toy with the material of his robe, squeezing and rubbing the spot just above his hip. He huffs, but the sound is shaky, and he wraps an arm around you regardless, cradling you tight to him.

This, naturally, delights you to no end. There is no better place to be than hoarded close, huddled tight to him like a chick hidden beneath mother’s feathers. 

Unfortunately, even with your eyes closed, you can still detect the intrusive glow of the his screen. Peeking an eye open, ou see the artificial seaform light wobbling on the ceiling tile.

“Dan Heng,” you groan. It’s hell to extricate yourself from your cocoon, but you brave it, hefting yourself up on an elbow, shifting from your side to your stomach. Your touch glides up the smooth flesh of his forearm, and your forehead knocks into his shoulder.

“Just another minute, and then I will be done.” he promises.

“That’s what you said an hour ago, baby,” you murmur, thumb rubbing at the inside of his wrist. “All that blue light is bad for your eyes.”

Dan Heng, you know, is usually quite conscious of his health. Even should he remain awake through the graveyard hours, he’s sure to get an adequate amount of rest. Avoiding sleep, throwing himself into his research—it all points towards a single, dreadful conclusion. Something is bothering him, and he’s distracting himself in the most constructive way he knows how. 

And you could call him on it, but accusations have no place in his bed, among the soft duvets and the comforters he’s gradually filled the space with ever since the first night you slept together.

“Talk to me,” you murmur into his forearm, right beneath the round of his shoulder. You gently squeeze his wrist, urging it away from the tablet. 

Dan Heng considers you, but his eyes have gone soft in a way that lets you know you have won. A silent thrill of victory rushes through you when he powers it off and places it on the nearest counter, rearing out of his nest to do so, stood on his knees. It’s for only a moment, but he ducks back inside like a sunscorched wanderer dives for the shade. He wraps you both in pale blue and plush pillows, eager arms dragging you to his chest. You go willingly, happily, pressed to his bosom. Beneath you, his weary heart thrums a traveler’s beat. His tail, cool and gentle to the touch, twines around your thigh, then your calf.

Hands cramped from a long day of endless scrolling and searching settle, in the end, on dip of your lower back. 

“So,” you begin, once all of his fiddling and fussing has come to an end. “Have you been in the archives all day?”

“March and Caelus invited me to the dining car for lunch. I stretched my legs—and my hands every hour, before you ask.”

“Your hands are almost as important to you as they are to me, so you must take care of them well,” you declare solemnly, turning your head to admire his fine features. He gives a halfhearted eyeroll.

“I’m sure,” he says, curling his fingers against your back. He gazes down at you through half-lidded eyes, pale features washed by the starlight, illuminated by pale neon and blinking light. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you eat well today?” he asks, softer this time. “You forgot lunch yesterday,” he reminds you pointedly. You open your mouth, but he cuts you off, eyes narrowing. “A bag of chips is not a suitable lunch.”

“I ate well! Welt and Himeko were nice enough to help with dinner.”

There’s a pause, then. Something dissatisfied but otherwise unreadable flickers across his face, quick as a minnow. 

“I’ll help, tomorrow,” he says, more a vow than an offer. His expression brokers no room for argument. You hold in a laugh, shutting your eyes with a smile. 

“Only if you really want to,” you murmur, pressing your ear to his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat soothe the day’s leftover tensions and aches. “You’re not obligated—”

“I want to,” Dan Heng repeats, slower this time. More purposeful. His hands stroke up and down your back, thumbs spreading to squeeze your waist. You jump, just a little, and laugh, suddenly sheepish. 

“I’m glad,” You burrow your face into the crook of his neck, ears hot, cheeks ridiculously warm. You feel set adrift when you close your eyes. The waves are the steady rise and fall of his chest, his presence the depths, cool and clean. “ What would you like to make?”

“I had a few ideas—” Dan Heng begins. His voice, lastly, is the life preserver. You cling to it with warm hands and sleepy eyes. The waters lull you, but you keep your head above the beckoning grey, guided by the mere promise of another long conversation with him about nothing. "Tanghulu, maybe..."

[insult-2-injury]

Debts Repaid

Dan Heng x F!Reader

When a stubborn Dan Heng is injured in battle, you insist upon healing him. He's never liked debts, but being beholden to you wouldn't be the worst thing, he thinks. Not when there are so many ways to balance the scales.

AO3 Link, 4k, fingering, cock warming, dirty talk, p in v, light pain kink

~~~~~~~~

“You’re hurt.”

“Nothing to worry about.”

“I knew it!”

“Move aside, please.”

Despite the inherent lack of sincerity in his ‘please’, you allow Dan Heng to finally slip past your wide-armed defensive stance and into the safety of his bedroom. 

“I knew it,” you repeat, following him inside without much forethought. “I knew you’d been hurt the second you vanished after that fight. You act all humble and weird when you’re in pain. Let me see it.”

The tight-laced man, forever stoic, sighs and your existence seems to be well… nonexistent as he goes about his business as if you aren’t trailing him like a fly buzzing over his shoulder. Nothing new, really. The duality of Dan Heng is that regardless of his short, but not infrequent check-in texts when the two of you are separated, he avoids you on the Express like you’ve got some disease he’s reluctant to contract.

It’s just that you’re a healer. Your job in and out of combat is solely to make sure everyone stays alive and well, and if you can minimize unnecessary discomforts, well, it’s in your nature to do so. There’s just one person who complicates things. But Dan Heng and you have always had each other’s backs on the battlefield, so it should stand to reason that you should have each other’s backs in the more civil, quiet corners of the cosmos as well. 

“Come on, let me help. Then I’ll leave, I promise.” 

His eyes narrow over his shoulder. “I hear March calling for you.”

“Filthy liar. Where did you hurt yourself?”

“There she is again.”

You glower at the back of his head. “Oh, you’re a comedian, too, huh.”

“Something like that,” he says, forever impassive as he puts his things away with a well-hidden stiffness that belies the pain you can sense he truly feels.

“Fine, you want to go old-fashioned? Be that way.” When he predictably fails to provide the location of a first aid kit, you take it upon yourself to rummage through his lower cupboards.

He’s terrible at tolerating help, like he’s been hard-trained into an accepting solitude. And when he denies you, it’s automatic, a spring release that holds the cold weight of indifference. But you’ve seen him throw himself into the fray when your wellbeing is at stake. 

Dan Heng cares in his own ways.

Your fingers find the handle of a first aid kit.

“A-ha.”

“I said it was nothing to worry about,” a frigid voice says and you nearly leap out of your skin at how quickly he’s moved to stand behind you, the top of your head banging against a cabinet shelf hard as you swing to meet his downward gaze.

“It’s not nothing,” you grit out, rubbing the top of your scalp. “I saw you trying to hold your shit together, saw you make a break for the hallway the moment we got back. You’re stupidly stubborn, you know that? Stop saying it’s nothing.”

A strange bout of nerves creeps in as you scowl up at his towering form from where you kneel – the signature, flat, unamused slant of his lips, the glacial gray of his eyes not leaving yours.

His gaze narrows almost accusingly and, with an aching slowness, the tips of his fingers extend to graze the crown of your head. Not patting in condescension, not running through the strands there as you might have liked, just resting there at first, warming the top of your head. Until he draws those fingers together, clutches a small handful before releasing, measuring your reaction as he roots around the depths of your wide-eyed, questioning stare; seems to come to some conclusion before he backs away silently. 

Your jaw opens and shuts as your response speaks for itself, staying put for far too long to appear unphased, that same jittery feeling in the pit of your stomach as after a warp; except this time tainted with a sickening need to crawl beneath the spotlight of his gaze again. Perhaps nuzzle further into that strange contact. Never before has he touched you willingly; never without pulling away like it scalds.

With enough space to draw breath now, you leap to your feet, albeit on weaker legs. “So?”

“So what?” he says as if nothing has transpired, wincing as his clothes move against whatever wound is on his chest.

“Where is it, then?” You tip your chin up, determined now. “Your injury.”

He doesn’t reply, observing you, gaze steel and unflinching as he puzzles you out.

“I’m serious, Dan Heng, it’s why I’m on the Express in the first place. Unless you don’t trust my elemental process, which is totally fair. We can go another route, then, or I can go grab someone else. I just can’t in good conscience leave you here without at least knowing what shape you’re in.”

You trust him implicitly. Does it go both ways? Regardless, gone are the days you watch with an ache in your chest as he limps back to the Express with a tight-lipped grimace to tend to his own wounds. The crew says it’s fruitless, that he’s like an oyster snapping shut the moment you so much as look in its direction. Cold, dark, and mysterious, he might be. Impenetrable, he is not.

There are few things in life as hard as cracking through the exterior of the man standing before you, and few things that would be more satisfying. Dan Heng, you think, is an oyster worth cracking. And sometimes to crack the shell of a particularly tough one, you can’t ask permission.

“Your elemental process is sound, and you’ve never, to my knowledge, produced less than desirable results. You are highly capable,” he responds flatly after a time. “But I don’t care to be in the debt of others.”

“Enough of that talk. You won’t be in my debt.” You wave off his foolishness, feeling your cheeks heat, throat tighten a little at the compliment, however oddly phrased. “Do we need to draft up a legal document, something that will hold up in court? Or maybe Welt can tally up our debts, lord knows he’s looking for something to do.”

It is a victory when a tiny, amused huff punches from between his lips. “No,” he says after what feels like minutes, “no, that won’t be necessary.”

“Good. Besides, I don’t think Welt would approve of what we’re doing anyway,” you say before you realize how it sounds. Something flickers behind Dan Heng’s eyes. “I just mean talking silly debts.”

He nods, gives an acknowledging hum before turning away from you, allowing your heart to start beating again. “I suspect Welt would be too busy delighting in our collaboration to find much issue with talk of misplaced obligations.”

Dan Heng shrugs out of his jacket, movements stiff and jerky.

“I mean,” you blurt lamely, “if anything, I’d be in your debt. You’ve rescued my ass countless times.”

“Nonsense.”

You haven’t thought this far ahead, haven’t anticipated the inevitable intimacy of the situation. And it’s almost scandalous the way his black long sleeve shirt clings to his lean, athletic form – you should be feeling sorry for him, not eyeballing him like some degenerate. 

Dan Heng tosses his coat carelessly over the back of his desk chair. “Debt can be easily mistaken for ownership.” You’re quickly losing your nerve, fire blazing across your skin as his fingers find the hem of his shirt. You turn away quickly.

He continues. “It has a tendency to… complicate things.” He clearly has no reservations about modesty – you can hear the struggle as he draws his shirt up over his abdomen, unsticking it with an agonized groan from the unseen injury you can only assume is on his chest. “I don’t intend to own you, although it wouldn’t be the worst thing. But maybe you’re right, it’s best if we mutually agree to balance the scales.”

The air is thin, suffocating, and you have no capacity to process his words, suddenly, their meaning much too big to untangle.

Your thoughts spin in a hopeless broken circuit; shit. What are your intentions here? Hadn’t they been purely to help? Oh, you’d be kidding yourself if you said you weren’t endlessly intrigued by Dan Heng but this… were you eager to settle a debt just as much as him?

The pad of approaching footsteps has you spinning on your heel.

Dan Heng, shirtless, clad in nothing but his black trousers now, the lean muscles of his hard chest on full display. He takes in your clear, doe-eyed trepidation with nothing but a sharp calculation.

But the weeping crimson across his left breast shatters the hyperawareness of his proximity. You gasp at the three ragged, parallel claw marks, each about the length of a forefinger.

“I’ll be fine, my body heals quicker than most.”

“Doesn’t matter if this gets infected,” you exclaim. “You’re so frustrating. I’m going to heal you and then I swear I’ll pummel you right over again.”

He hums.

“You should’ve come to me,” you scold, too absorbed in concern to consider how close you are to him. “How were you even going to fix it at this angle, huh? Sort of just look in the mirror and hope for the best? You can’t do this again, Dan Heng.”

You don’t wait for a smart remark, pointing to the space where his bed meets the cherry paneled wall. “Go sit, I’ll grab a washcloth. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

At least he follows your instructions, albeit with an inclement downturn of his lips as you aid in propping him against the wall, grabbing a pillow for his head. He seems inherently uncomfortable with the fussing but says nothing of it, and you care little as you settle in beside him. The wound leaks, not a terribly worrisome amount, but enough that there’s an urgency to your actions as you dab around the claw marks.

“I’m so mad you,” you say after a time, trying to distract yourself from the way his eyes haven’t left your face since you started. “For not taking better care of yourself. I get worried when you disappear like that, you know. I don’t even want to ask how many times you’ve handled all this by yourself.”

“It’s easier that way.”

“To be alone?” Your eyes meet his and the intensity of his stare has you swiping the cloth a little too close. A groan of pain catches in his throat.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to–”

You trail off. His face is contorted beautifully, like he’s lost in some kind of strange daze as his eyebrows furrow, like he’s concentrating on the feeling. You sit back on your heels with a tumultuous sigh. “I need to disinfect. It’s gone untreated long enough that I don’t want to take chances.”

His eyes slit open, roll over to yours with a sardonic tilt to his brow that says haven’t we already agreed to this

“It’s just… it’s going to sting. A lot. Obviously. But the rest is comparatively painless.”

You bite at the inside of your cheek and his eyes fall to the nervous tic, his pink tongue flitting out to lick at his bottom lip. With a nod, his hand slides to rest innocuously atop your knee as he settles back against the wall.

“I trust you.”

A lump climbs into your throat at the unexpected honesty of his words. It’s not only the bleeding heat of his palm that has you dizzy, it’s the weighted significance of what he’s just allowed to slip into the light. A trust you’d rather die than break.

You nod back, watch the rise and fall of his chest to steady your own. What would the rest of the crew think if they knew where you sat, thigh pressed hotly against Dan Heng’s? Your heart pulses in rhythm to whatever strange tension is bridled amidst the growing silence, his hand resting upon your knee like a comfortable promise.

Okay.”

Tentatively, you swipe across the first lesion. He goes rigid and the strangled groan that comes out of him doesn’t sound entirely like one of pain, you think, the noise reverberating up your spine and worming its way into the back of your brain. 

You pause, allowing you both a breath, your palm sliding down his bicep and squeezing comfortingly, yet in the same instant, Dan Heng anchors his nails into your thigh. Hard.

You wait for him to unlatch from you, something anxious and excitable rising from the pit of your stomach. But he doesn’t release, his fingers scalding against the bare skin where your skirt has ridden up.

Whatever rationality you have left, you call upon it, legs squeezing together to assuage the flash of startling heat between them when his thumb swipes back and forth, like he’s the one comforting you. “Almost done,” you say, throat humiliatingly dry.

Not daring to meet the icy vortex of his gaze, you wet another cloth and clean him with quaking hands, pressing hard to remove the grit that has crusted around the wound. He jerks again, the lean muscles of his legs tensing against the sides of yours as his hips almost roll with the movement.

The silence is punctuated by your name, rasped out with an almost reverence, the tendons in his neck flexing as his head falls back against the wood. You stiffen in disbelief, and his hand goes back to kneading into the soft of your flesh. 

“Do you need a… um. Do you need a break?” you breathe.

“No, keep going.”

The aching pulse between your legs acts as gravity, his palm drawing a little further up your leg, lethally close to breaching the point of no return. You balance on that tightrope, a single glance revealing fully the effect you’ve had, as well, his arousal pushing intently against the confines of his trousers.

Not trusting yourself to speak, you finish cleaning the wound, something shockingly perverse relishing in a small way the audible clench of his jaw, nails digging half moons into your flesh as he rides out the sensations. You shudder at the twitch of his hand, like he’s restraining himself from providing some sort of relief to the insistent need between his legs.

“Well,” you swallow, “all that’s left now is the easy part.”

Your eyes lift to his and a dangerous change ripples through him at whatever he finds there. Deliberately slow, as if not to spook you, he wriggles a palm between your thighs, prying them gently apart for better access, tracing delicately along your trembling skin.

“You c-can’t.”

“I can.” He slides to cup you between the legs.

The sudden, bleeding heat of the pressure of his entire palm cuts off your protest in an exhilarating rush. Your head lolls forward. Placating fingers move to drag across the flimsy cloth barrier between him and your cunt, pressing accusingly into the space you’re most wet for him with a satisfied hum.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks softly.

“I just need to finish up h-healing, then we can–” Your tongue is too heavy to speak as he brushes lazy figure eights across the crotch of your panties, probing with a perfect pressure, solid yet tender, but not only for your benefit. He’s drawing pleasure from this, too, gaze mapping across your features like he can memorize every delectable crease at the corner of your eyes, every tiny flare of your nostrils as you utter vacuous objections.

“You are.” He nods grimly. “You said I should have come to you sooner. I wish I would have.”

“Just let me finish–” Fingers slide beneath sodden fabric to dip two fingers inside you with humiliating ease, a depraved squelch the only sound of your resistance shattering as your hips lurch to chase his touch. 

“It’s a shame that I kept my infatuations with you in the dark for so long. I could’ve had you some time ago. Don’t be mad at me,” he insists and a torn whine releases from your throat. “Consider this recompense for the lost time.”

The position is slightly awkward and his pumps are shallow in turn, but you concede to shamelessly grinding against his palm. You think you should feel some terrible guilt in the way you’re being driven by baser impulses, even while his wounds still call to be tended to. But the concern lies deep beneath the high of watching the enraptured look on his face at your display.  

Gently, he slithers his grasp beneath your thigh in order to lever your position up and over one of his legs. 

“That better?” he asks, fingers finding a more comfortable home again between your legs, rolling in a perfect rhythm across your clit.

You nod mechanically.

“Good,” he hums low, “that's good.” 

The subtle flush of his pale cheeks and his own labored breath as he gets off on the pleasure he’s giving you sends an exhilarating thrill down your spine, expanding until you’re drenching his fingers with a long, final whine.

“There you go.”

When your spasms dissolve into delicate flutters, Dan Heng drags his fingers from you. Mindlessly, you kick off your panties completely.

“I thought we weren’t talking debt anymore,” you catch your breath, heart slamming against your ribcage still. 

“Consider us even.” He inhales deeply, letting out a long, cleansing sigh. 

“I don’t think we’re even. Does that mean you own me?” Your eyes rise purposefully to meet his and there’s a long silence before he speaks, voice lower.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Debt is a scapegoat, you know, for the formidable pull between you. Deliberately unbalance the scales here and you’ll be inclined to return to each other for more. Not that you wouldn’t have anyway, but you realize this moment gives an excuse to provide an answer to the overarching question between you of what this was, what this could be. And you know you want more. It doesn’t stop at cracking his shell. You want Dan Heng.

“I need to heal you now,” you say and he just blinks at you. “Can you hold still?”

He searches your features before his head dips in a slow nod.

You reach down to pop open the top button of his pants, rewarded by the shaky sigh that fans across your face as he fully comprehends. You’re grateful he’d saved you the trouble earlier of removing his intimidating top layers. He doesn’t protest, settling back to watch with a hawklike precision.

You guide him out tenderly, his cock springing back against his belly, precum drooling, smearing across his skin. Aside from the gentle whirring of his database behind, the only sound is Dan Heng’s appreciative groan as you pump him twice, caging his legs between yours as you delight in the heated weight of him in your palm. 

The still glistening fingers he’d used to pleasure you with he slides across the tip of himself in small circles, wiping you off there, gifting you the sight of him mixing you in with his own beading arousal.

One hand wrapping his base, the other bracing on the wall beside his head, you raise your hips to position him at the soaking wet heat of your entrance. Palms seize hold of your waist.

“I’m warning you now, if this is what you want…” he grates, tone taking on a darker edge. “I won’t spare you my compulsions any longer. I’ve wanted you too long to be satisfied with having you just the once.” 

You smile at the admission, answer clear as your drenched folds envelop him with undue ease, the stretch exquisite as you bear down on him slowly, the both of you unable to do much more than share a shallow gasp. Dan Heng’s abdomen pulls deliciously taut as he’s taken inch by inch.

Your lips part, eyes flutter shut. There’s no going back, you agree. Not now that you’ve felt the needy throb of him inside you. “You’re going to have to hold still,” you repeat.

He pinches the hem of your shirt between thumb and forefinger. “Take this off.”

You smile, pull your top over your head, the movement jarring you atop him, tearing a hiss from between his teeth before he’s back on you. His greedy palms take the immediate liberty of exploring. sliding across your bare skin and you savor his focused infatuation for a moment before you gently tug his wrists away.

“Stay still,” you repeat. “I can’t very well patch you up if you’re moving all over the place.”

Dan Heng’s eyes darken on yours with a cold, severe impatience as he registers your intent with a tick of his jaw. He’d all but admitted earlier he likes his pain served hot; so he won’t mind you warming his cock while you put him back together, will he?

A long, calculating stare before he answers, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Of course.” His head falls back against the pillow, throat bobbing when you sit back to settle more comfortably onto his length, the ghost of a grimace upon his lips.

It’s a strange experience on both sides, the process of electro healing. Some say it’s an itchy, distressing sensation; some say it’s pleasant, the feeling of your skin knitting itself back together.

If you were to go by Dan Heng’s reactions, you’d say it’s the latter. Every bit of him is a live wire, tensed and vibrating as you guide your healing hands across each mark on his chest, electricity prickling and drawing stubborn skin back together. It’s a drawn out process, one that requires the touch of a patient hand in order to not leave behind scars.

It’s difficult work, made infinitely more so by the fixed state of tortured lust recycling between the both of you, stoking with each subtle shift of him inside you.

“You’re doing well,” you murmur softly, years worth of proper bedside manner taking hold.

His cock twitches at the praise, but otherwise he’s stone cold, jaw set, eyes seeming to fight in order to focus with a vicious intensity on the space you’re connected, like he’s tormenting himself with the sight. 

“Almost done,” you whisper, a bandage weaving its way into existence as you trace your index in a rectangle around his wound. “There shouldn’t be pain, but some people say they feel a bit of a phantom itch around the area, so I like to bandage over it regard–”

A hand threads into your hair and the world spins as you’re flipped with impressive speed onto your back, your head hitting the soft of his pillow with a gasp. His palm wraps the front of your throat lightly, keeping your head effectively trapped within his frigid gaze, almost daring you to try and look away as his thumb seeks the support of your ratcheting pulse.

Dan Heng kicks his pants off the rest of the way, wasting no time shoving your skirt carelessly above your waist before spearing himself into you again, his pool of restraint run dry by your teasing. “I should keep you here for good. Never let you leave this room.” Your legs wrap his waist as he spears into your folds, hitting a spot again and again that has your toes curling.

His lips slam against yours, tongue pressing in to better devour your cracked whimpers. You’re going to pass out, you think, can’t even seem to draw a breath as he spirals atop you. He pulls back to lick across the seam of your mouth, groaning appreciatively. “I hope you had fun. I have my proclivities. But so do you.” He leans into your ear; soft, even voice a contrast to the way he fucks recklessly into you, each thrust brutal and precise. “You did such a good job on me today. Nobody could have done it better. I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this–”

With a shattered cry, you climax, back arching against his as he pulls back to drink in your twisted expression. “Tell me how I own you,” he pants, breaths coming quicker,  “tell me who you belong to now.”

His mouth captures yours again, not even wanting of an answer, and even through the white hot heat of your release, you search out his lower lip with your teeth and bite down. The choked splutter that escapes from his throat is beautiful, his striking features twisting into a snarl as he picks up a devastating pace, driving himself into you with a ferociousness on his face you’ve only ever seen aimed at shared enemies.

His hand clutches a handful of hair at the crown of your head as he leverages himself to slam as deep as he can. Each stuttered jerk of his hips is bliss as he spills inside you, his head falling into the sweat damp crook of your neck as if he can’t hold it properly upright as he groans out a lengthy release.

Fingers comb through your hair and slowly you’re rolled over onto his chest as your breathing evens out, tucking yourself into his side, hand splaying across the bandage there. You look at him, feeling utterly spent, and are rewarded by a contented sigh when you smooth your palm across his stomach.

“So, how do we know if the score is settled?” you say and he huffs a small laugh.

“We’ve got time.”

You smile to yourself. In the meantime, it wouldn’t be the worst thing, you think, being Dan Heng’s.

[bluelockmaniac]

thinking about how your husband changes drastically when he’s had just a little too much to drink. his faint, whiny hiccups would escape his quivering lips, filling your ears with his intoxication as he leans against you. he reaches out to play with your hair, gently tugging at the strands and trailing undirected kisses along them as you bite your lip to suppress your giggles. he then brings his unsteady hands to your face, squishing your cheeks before pulling you closer, looking at you with glossy eyes—small hearts seemingly etched into his pupils.

"i wish y-you hic were mineee...."

"pftt—" you burst into a fit of laughter at his uncharacteristic neediness—you’ve always enjoyed it when he'd get drunk. after all, they say a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts. so, although he loves you an awful lot, he would never admit, while whining, how much he actually wants you. 

"i am yours though, sweetheart," you reassure him softly.

“oh, really? you are?” he raises his brows questionably, “well, that's good... i couldn't bear the thought of some other loser having you all to himself."

unbeknownst to him, however, is that you had recorded him during his moment of vulnerability. he was absolutely embarrassed and ashamed of himself when he had sobered up.

—

"y/n. delete that."

itoshi rin, kaiser, MIKAGE REO, barou, XIAO, kaveh, alhaitham, wriothesley, neuvillette, CHILDE, geto, megumi, BLADE, dan heng, dr ratio, aventurine, scaramouche

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[maopll]

"Dearest...I think that's enough"

"No its not"

And there goes another few rounds where you smother your boyfriends face with tons of kisses. He brought you many lipsticks and lip gloss, so it is only right you try to see the shade that matches, right? the shade, which makes his face feel even more ethereal. The only correct way to let people know that you're his and he's yours.

"Hmm... I think this shade suits your face better!" You moved the ones which made his face look more delightful. Shades of pink, red, coral, and all.

He did say that the number of kisses you gave him till then were enough, but deep down, he craved more. The way your soft lips felt against his skin left him breathless. The way areas where your lips left left a tingling and burning sensation, which, rather than being unpleasant, was more exciting

What was even more addicting was the way you would gently cup his face with your hands and attack his face ferverently. This was best for both of you. You get to have the ego boost after smothering or rather painting his face with your kisses, and he gets access to your unlimited display of affection.

"There! Now that's more like it you look like my lover now" putting emphasis on the word, you were grinning from ear to ear while admiring your masterpiece. When you tried to get up from his lap though...

"Now now dearest I think it is my turn to get what I have been seeking"

— WRIOTHESLEY, lyney, NEUVILLETTE, ZHONGLI, diluc, CHILDE, AYATO, kaeya, alhaitham, VIL, MALLEUS, azul, leona, DAN HENG, blade, JING YUAN, luocha, dr ratio, GEPARD, DIAVOLO, MAMMON, lucifer, satan, BEELZEBUB

wanna join the taglist ? feel free !

© 2024 maopll. do not copy, repost or modify my work in any form

[seelestia]

✧ i'll show you (if you'll let me).

⎯ there is a certain touch of beauty to witnessing a side of theirs revealed to you so naturally. it becomes as easy as breathing if you just let it happen... so, will you? ( or in other words, a way you enable them to be themselves. )

#STARRING. aventurine, dr. ratio, sunday, dan heng ft. gn!reader. { 4.2k words }

#TAGS. fluff, established relationship. more: minor spoilers for aven's backstory (described mostly abstractly), ratio is referred to by his first name, i called sunday a nerd (sorry), dr. ratio & dan heng are certified workaholics.

#P/S. i think i may have yapped a little considering the word count but i hope it ends up being a good kind of yapping. tysm for reading! ♡

© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

★ 〜 masterlist.

will you let aventurine hold you close when he sleeps? . . . whether it's an arm slung over your hips or his nose buried in your shoulder or fingers tracing shapes onto your skin. he doesn't ask for too much; only that you grant him the permission to cradle you in his arms, somewhere within his reach. it's a habit, he hopes you don't mind.

you have to wonder, though. considering the plenitude of pillows on the bed, why do his hands still seek you out? with all the credits he spent on those cotton-stuffed angels, you thought aventurine would relish them a bit more. but ah-ah, see? that is where you're wrong. sure, the pillows are extremely comfy but he always has a preference for things with much, much more value.

and the truth — well, his truth — is that even the softest cushions from oti mall couldn't compare to the privilege of laying his head on your chest, he'd say. especially when you brush his hair with your fingers - oh, one of the easiest ways to paradise. truly, the best value there is! can you blame a man for being honest and a little lovesick?

(“sappy,” you accuse. he pouts, offended.)

but aventurine has a flair for theatrics, you know that. his witty quips are as feather-light in weight as light-hearted they are in intent. but his touch - in the forms of kind caresses or rhythmic taps to a tune from his forgotten culture - lingers on your skin, with a yearning so heavy. you question whether it could be nostalgia or instead, silent awe at a reality he never imagined could ever be his.

(kakavasha remembers. clinging onto you for warmth like he once did to his sister, falling asleep with her prayers to mama fenge in his ears. the avgins believed gaiathra triclops to be the symbol of humility; so naturally, their prayers to her should also be humble, not too quiet but not too loud. all in moderation. for a frail child like him, those gentle prayers alone were enough to let him drift into a dreamless slumber and to ignore the shackles of reality if not for the briefest moments.

time passed. came a time where the melody he associated with slumber was no longer a soft voice lulling him but pure static, a noise to distract his mind from the chains around his wrists. they burned themselves onto his skin, searing, but he was already too familiar with the sensation to care. the mark on his neck was unwelcome, laughing at him, but he too laughed at his own pitiful reflection so what's the difference, anyway?

time passed again, the call of slumber then turned into clattering noises of chips doused in gold and dice thrown onto a surface. he thought it'd stay that way forever but before long, it morphed into up-and-down waves he couldn't decipher initially. they're gentle, faint like a human's breathing: your breathing as you allowed him to lie beside you for the first time, he realized back then. although he deems himself unworthy, an ugly grime on your pristine existence that still insists on cradling him — but despite it all, he finds this last melody to be his favorite so far.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

ticklish.

the sensation, minor yet still impactful enough, causes you to stir out of sleep. the light of noon greets your eyes and you become vaguely cognizant that the root of it all is the tufts of blond hair brushing against your neck.

there is a solid weight on your torso and a pair of slender arms loosely wrapped around your waist - but they're nothing you haven't grown used to. you comb your fingers through the messy locks licking at your skin, instinctively, and the fragrant scent of what you register as penacony's limited edition perfume kisses your nose.

“...ugh, what system time is it?” you let out a grunt, shifting around slightly to let your limbs breathe. you don't get an answer to your question, instead, aventurine's arms reestablish their hold on you. hooking you closer to him as if to wring out whatever proximity is left, if there is even any. his simple proclamation of “who cares?”, in a sense.

there it is again, that ticklish feeling. you feel soft lips grazing feather-like kisses against your collarbone. oh, he definitely isn't letting go just yet. truly merciless, a dozy morning thought accompanied by your tired sigh. the noise still comes out fond, however, so your feigned act of annoyance is fooling no one.

“it's warm, you know,” you grumble. but the yawn escaping your mouth right after betrays whatever stern image you're trying to adopt. not like you can ever be too stern with him. aventurine knows this, yes, and he gives you an A+ for effort each time.

“mhm,” he finally speaks, snuggling into your chest with no care about anything in the world, “g'morning to you too, lovely.”

his favorite mornings aren't his favorite if not thanks to your innocuous complaints and delightful attempts at pushing his pretty face away, no? a lazy grin graces the stoneheart's lips and eyes like exquisite gems, although sleepy, flutter open to gaze at you languidly. he takes the sight of you in then lets out a sigh - a fond noise just like yours earlier; the both of you really are two peas of a pod.

you must look a terrible mess right now and yet, the sight of you has aventurine smiling dazedly. “ah, what a spectacular sight. i really am the luckiest man in the galaxy,” he hums in approval. you want to roll your eyes but stops as he leans up to pepper (ah, one necessary correction: smother) kisses all over your face, arms dragging you closer to his chest like a cage. your eyes widen comically. what a nefarious trap, he has the advantage!

every remnant of sleepiness clinging to your mind evaporates. you squeal with laughter, shoving at his shoulder using the strength of a baby deer because no, you don't really want him to stop. he knows that too, of course.

“mwah, mwah, mwah—”

“pfft...! kakavasha, i can't breathe!”

(he has half a mind to pinch his skin, as if to remind himself that this is real. he can feel your giggles tickling his skin as if to tell him in return: yes, you are.)

will you let veritas pour his heart out after a long day? . . . well, that could count as too much of an overstatement. others say, “that man is like a brick wall!” some more dare to whisper, “doesn't his temper already exhaust whatever emotional quota he has?!” needless to say, everyone knows that dr. ratio is a man ruled by the mind, not by the heart. alright, that's quite true - but does that imply he has discarded the latter altogether? if so, then you beg to differ.

(not in the literal sense, of course! the heart is a vital organ of the body. saying otherwise would be akin to spitting on his shiny phd in biology... or his seven other phd's at that.)

the pedestal which the public places veritas ratio on reaches still great heights, even if it may not rival an ivory tower a member of the genius society resides in. it is so high up that mundane troubles of those below can't reach a genius like him, surely? well, as tall as he stands - somehow, the universe grants you a front row seat for a particular sight that proves otherwise.

if only they knew the doctor has a habit of mumbling these incomprehensible (more like barely intelligible) grumbles under his breath, striking a resemblance similar to a grumpy old cat. if you strain your ears hard enough, you might catch a “...this has to be it...” or “...i dare not think so...” from time to time as he roams around the room with materials in his hands.

(absurd, people would say. but you think it's extremely cute.)

veritas doesn't say it out loud - but you can tell by the hunch in his stiff shoulders, by the one or two sighs he huffs every six minutes - that he is itching to tell somebody of all the tomfooleries he has encountered today. of course, the topics he laments about vary; it's only when you hear him exhaling the loudest sigh that you get to find out.

mostly though, it's about his students and remarks on how they can further improve their performance — sure, he could phrase it a little gentler — but you still find it sweet that he cares. if not that, then it'd be about indolent colleagues, complicated formulae and more. on some days, he'll even let out an exasperated “truly mind-boggling! could you believe that?” to which you'd reply with an “uh-huh, go on.”

at the end of a ranting session, veritas takes careful note to leave a kiss on your person afterward. no matter where it is - on the lips, the cheek or your hand. no matter where you are - sitting on the couch beside him, behind the kitchen counter or across the room. the warmth that stays on your skin when he pulls away is somewhat tingly. appreciative, you think, especially when he looks at you with such loving eyes that his colleagues would be sure to retch in shock if they were a witness.

looks like you are right on the money; he has never discarded his heart, after all. so yes, to rephrase - will you lend veritas a listening ear when he needs it?

✧ a moment among the stars:

“...yet another headache.”

as unsubtle as ever, the doctor's complaint is barely hidden behind the guise of a mumble. those neatly styled violet bangs of his aren't doing an excellent job at concealing that frown strewn across his forehead either. veritas's posture is tense, a dead giveaway, as he goes over the piles of documents on his desk.

you cock an eyebrow upon seeing the stamp belonging to the intelligentsia guild on one of the papers. definitely work. it has been two system hours since he took a seat at the work desk, you concur, or lifted a finger to do something besides flipping through drafts. a mere glance at the stack of documents is enough to convince you that those researchers at the guild must really value veritas's input.

a perk of being a genius, maybe? the phantom of a weight lands alight on your shoulders. with a mug of black coffee in hand, you make your way to him. your footsteps are without a sound, only the noise of porcelain being placed down onto woodenware is enough to announce your arrival. “rough day at work?” you ask, peering down at his progress.

(a doctor's handwriting really is something. you resist the urge to squint.)

veritas doesn't seem to mind. if the way he smiles at the sight of you, albeit tiredly, is any indication. “hah,” he rests a hand on his temple and scoffs wryly, “so much grievances like you wouldn't believe.”

oh, he is teetering on the precipice of a tangent but stops himself. “...fret not, i'm fine. this is hardly something beyond my expertise,” he shakes his head, the motion causing his reading glasses to slide down a smidgen down the bridge of his nose.

you're too familiar with the self-assured bravado he puts on. you're quite endeared, actually. “okay, mr. i-require-no-rest,” you take the glasses off his face and he breaks into a frown. at the childish tone you're using or for having his reading glasses taken away, you don't know.

“why don't you take a little break?” you suggest. veritas sighs, “need i remind you that dilly-dallying is for fools who wish to waste their time?” and crosses his arms defiantly. he knows your strategy, he has come face-to-face with it several times.

“do you think a break with me is a waste of time?” you present him with a rhetorical question, quite the difficult adversary.

(and he keeps losing to it every single time.)

“well, that's—” the doctor nearly splutters, taken aback. “that's different if you insist on inserting yourself as a variable,” he infers, putting emphasis on the last part accompanied by an incredulous look.

“the answer is up for debate then,” you shrug with a cheeky smile. your hand then deftly lifts the mug you previously set down to your lips, veritas's eyes dilate in bewilderment. “so,” you hum at the rich taste of your handiwork, “wanna tell me about your day? haven't heard about the council in a while.”

“you—” he gasps in defeat, “i thought that was supposed to be my mug of coffee.”

(he has a slight pout on his face, but you dare not point it out lest it disappears in the blink of an eye.)

“our mug of coffee,” you take a few more sips with an innocent decadence. “all is fair in love and war, doctor.”

“i can never win with you,” he buries his face in his palm with a groan. you laugh heartily, a sound that chimes like quaint little bells in his ears - it elicits a reaction from his lips, for them to quirk up at the corners in the smallest of ways.

“regardless. . .” veritas relents and reaches for your free hand. you let him. “it seems a break wouldn't be so amiss, after all,” he then presses a kiss on the side of your wrist, affectionate.

(your heart skips a beat.)

will you let sunday regale you with facts you've never heard of before? . . . a man of eloquent words, no less a man of educated mind. you have no doubt that the books in the dewlight pavilion really aren't just there for show - not that you're allowed to browse through them at your own desire. a servant's voice would stop you in your tracks should your fingers ever brush against something in the family's secret bookshelf.

how mysterious.

but sunday makes it known to the staff that you, in particular, are allowed more access to the shelves - perhaps, not too much - but more than even mr. mccoy, at least. with the way you have to crane your neck far up to pinpoint the tallest height that the shelves reach, you wonder: has sunday gone through everything here personally?

your immediate answer is most likely. you know sunday fairly well; to have something that he hasn't scrutinized from the inside out in his possession will surely gnaw away at his psyche incessantly. not being in the know at all times is a looming fear for him. but of course, you have other ways to confirm the answer for yourself.

pick out a book from a shelf there, either intentional or purely arbitrary, and watch as sunday carefully traces his steps towards you. his curiosity is piqued, which topic has caught your interest this time? but he tucks it under proper cordiality. with a hand behind his back, he'd utter your name in the softest tone and ask the familiar question of “would you like to know more?” — asking for your permission to ramble, essentially — you find this tendency of his to be charming, so you nod each time.

(and he smiles when you do. a smile less refined at the edges, kinder and relaxed.)

the best place to start from is always the beginning. you think sunday agrees because he often starts by telling you the history and its origins before moving on to its impact on the galaxy, then his personal stance on the topic. it's a pattern, you notice, his ramblings have a pattern. and it's consistent every time, you might've believed he was reading off a script. and what's more? sunday is blissfully oblivious of it.

fascinating. you ponder: what kind of things you can do with this information? decisions, decisions, decisions. . . but ultimately, you opt for keeping it a secret like a treasure only you're allowed to see.

(that might be true in a way. you don't doubt that robin, his dear sister, is familiar with this side of him. does that mean he treasures you like he does her? your chest starts to feel a bit lighter.)

if you were to point it out, you fear you might never witness it again - goodness, to know that he has been displaying such foolishness or rather, what he viewed as an embarrassing freudian slip in front of you? his wings might as well resort to covering his face for good until the end of time.

as you listen to him talk (with such elegance at that), you can't help whatever tender look you have on your face. really, who would've thought the head of the oak family could be such. . . a nerd?

(you hope in secret that sunday will be more willing to show sides like these to you in the future. and that they're not a weakness at all, not when they're shared with you.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“it looks like you're fascinated by the dreamscape nursery rhyme this time.”

sunday spares the article in your hold no further inspection. one glance at the cover and walls of memorized information rush to the front of his mind. he looks familiar with it; could it be a part of his childhood too? but then again, everything found here is within his knowledge.

“i am,” you say with intrigue, “it got me ruminating for a while.”

you meet his gaze, stumbling upon yellow irises that glimmer akin to gold under penaconian chandeliers. you think you see a hint of affection in them, swimming around your reflection like a school of fish in a pond. it makes you smile.

he smiles back, oblivious to your thoughts but returns your gesture. he asks, “how so?” and you reply without delay, “i read through it and the morbid undertone took me by surpri—”

or at least, it's supposed to be without delay until you realize sunday has stepped closer in order to peer down at the page you're holding open. and suddenly, you're extremely aware of every minute detail like how his breath brushes against the side of your cheek and how his chest rumbles as he hums in acknowledgement.

(you flush in the neck and he perceives this reaction of yours with mirth.)

“my apologies,” sunday chuckles and pulls away, “i've simply forgotten the rhyme and wished to refresh my memory.”

“somehow, i feel that isn't the case...” you mumble accusingly. that seems to amplify whatever little amusement he gets from flustering you. “oh, my dove. i can assure you that it is,” he caresses your head, a little placatingly.

most times, sunday isn't so laidback about giving affection in public — since he has an image to maintain — so you assume the fact that the servants are out and about, leaving only you and him here, plays a role in his unusual boldness. you accept the gesture with a bashful pout.

“now, where were we?” sunday clears his throat, “ah, yes. some people have noted on the nursery rhyme's strange quality but still, it retains its popularity in penacony. it is also widely assumed that the hound resembles the bloodhound family while—”

you hold back an amused sigh, but it's more out of fondness than anything. he'll start from the history then the effect on the general public, as per usual, but you're not the only predictable one here. you'd listen to him anytime too, won't you?

(you do adore when the head of the oak family would put off his public figure mask around you. if only for just a while.)

will you let dan heng rest his head on your lap when it's just you two? . . . the sense of comfort it provides isn't something he can explain with words. as if he has ever been good with words in the first place. saying a sentence bereft of logical reasoning or witty remarks doesn't come easily to the express’ guard. neither does intimacy. . . but you know that already, don't you?

after all, it isn't a secret that dan heng prefers speaking with his actions. if to show one's intentions is the end goal, then actions are the fastest route to choose. words, although able to sweeten the trip like how a beautiful scenery can, will eventually lead to actions regardless so why take the extra step?

but you're different from him; you articulate what you think and what you mean. you're honest in ways that keep catching dan heng off guard without fail — just like the first time you offered your empty lap to him when his head was swirling in pain — but he supposes that is one of your charms. “words can be useful. we're not all born mind readers,” you told him once and he hummed, accepting of your perspective.

(“look at you two! opposites attract!” march chirped. he recalled shooting her a look of indignation and she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly in response.)

dan heng has learnt to grow used to your propensities - but by far, your shameless invitations are still one matter that can't be comprehended even with time. he cannot understand; how you smile as you sit on his futon in the archives (he doesn't mind), how you link gazes with him so effortlessly, how you pat your lap knowingly and say, “why don't you rest your head here?”

(he has to restrain himself from bursting into flames like a heliobus.)

sometimes, he'll accept reluctantly or he'll decline with an underlying tone of longing he doesn't want you to notice. because as much of a good hold dan heng has on nonchalance, he cannot deny that this particular gesture of yours has left a mark on him.

(it remains persistently.)

when he rests his head on your lap, he can't help but take a deep inhale - your fragrance fills his senses and he discards the selfish desire to keep it all to himself. your fingers are soothing as they thread through his hair gently. the feeling that washes over him is serene, almost comparable to submerging himself in the pure waters of scalegorge waterscape.

when overcome by such a tranquil state of mind, dan heng wonders what expression he might be making at that moment? he always keeps his eyes closed, so it's a shame he may never know. but you do, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so at peace before like he does now.

(perhaps, that's why you keep offering him this in the first place.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“someone looks tired,” you state with a pointed stare. the archives isn't a room too spacious and the only ones here are you and him. the target of your sentence is obvious.

but dan heng doesn't take the bait, barely looks away from the entry he is currently authoring. still, he spares you a glance and hums glibly, “are you projecting? if so, feel free to use my bed in the meantime.”

you let out a noise, something gibberish that conveys disappointment but it is effectively drowned out by the typing noises. “you haven't even touched the food i bought you,” your voice becomes mellow, “why don't you rest for a while?”

he isn't convinced, you think, since his fingers are still hard at work. the new info the team brought back must've been a lot if he's that focused.

“dan heng?” you try again, hopeful for the last time. you don't take him for a fool, of course, he'll know when he reaches his limit and have proper rest then. but would that really be ideal? a second passes and that hope flickers like a dimming light. but just an inch before the edge of giving up, the typing slows to a stop.

“. . .alright,” he murmurs. finally, after a good hour spent drawing patterns on his backside with your eyes, dan heng turns around to face you. he look tense, you note with abject concern.

“here,” you usher him to your lap, empty and conveniently so. dan heng shoots you a blank look - this isn't the first time you offered and this isn't the first time he reacted like that. you try to suppress a laugh, failing gloriously at it. “just for a little bit,” you utter through a stifled fit of chuckles.

dan heng shakes his head, not in rejection but in defeat. his eyes slip close, second nature, as he leans to situate his head on your lap. you welcome him with a hum and let your fingers card through his hair. a calm sigh falls from his lips like a water droplet in springtime.

“this. . . is nice,” he admits, sudden and unprompted. you nearly doubt your ears for a moment there. did he— “i don't hate it is, uhm, what i mean to say,” dan heng adds and it dawns on you that your ears are still working. his eyes are still closed, not that you'd expect anything else, he prefers to treat it as a shield from being face-to-face with embarrassment.

(or to avoid your ecstatic gaze. he can feel warmth rushing to his cheeks already.)

“i know,” you smile, brushing away a few messy strands from his forehead. he isn't an open book but you think you've read the pages enough to remember all the little details. “but thanks for telling me. i'm no mind reader but i think i can read yours pretty well.”

“i shall provide no further comment,” he holds back an incredulous exhale, yet his lips still curl slightly at the corner. you feel the teeniest desire to trace the curve of his lips with your fingertip but settle for silently admiring them instead.

“it's fine. i know the answer already,” you say, words dripping with affection. such a shame dan heng never looks up at you during a time like this. because if he did, he wouldn't have missed seeing the sheer fondness in your gaze that rains down on him in light showers. a true shame.

(one day, he'll gather the courage. maybe.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. ♡

[harmonysanreads]

How they carry you.

Classic princess style : Acheron, Kafka, Diluc, Zhongli, Neuvillette, Xiao, Arlecchino, Sunday, Capitano, Clorinde, Kamisato Ayato

Piggy back rides : Kaveh, Tighnari, Shikanoin Heizou, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Aether, Scaramouche

Throws you over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes : Alhaitham, Kamisato Ayato, Beidou, Yelan, Wriothesley, Blade, Stelle, Lumine, Raiden Shogun, Childe

Uses the power of Anemo : Venti, Kaedehara Kazuha, Wanderer

Carries you like parcel : Cyno, Dr Ratio, Clorinde, Stelle, Arataki Itto, Kafka

[iceunhie]

— KISSES OR KISSES? : honkai star rail

premise. testing out your new lipstick is no fun (normally), so what better way to make use of it by kissing your lover senseless? not to mention, leaving a little something behind.... (aka, lipstick kisses with them.)

ft. blade, dan heng, boothill, dr. ratio, aventurine !

warnings: feminine reader! reader is ultimately genderless but you may interpret this as fem!reader if you want, reader wears lipstick. nicknames hehe, boothill is his own warning, mid writing tbh, unedited

a/n. the lipstick trend does not escape me at all 😞😞 but this consumed me so now i write about it ijbol

MAIN MASTERLIST || PART 2 (sunday, jing yuan, gallagher, sampo, gepard.)

“what are you doing?”

BLADE ceases all functions. like, immediately.

you'd think he'd even stopped breathing once he'd felt the soft sensation of your lips on his, and the pretty sight of the normally aloof stellaron hunter covered in multiple lipstick kisses all over his face to his neck nearly makes the rest of his other comrades keel over from laughter. his silence is indicative of his rather unusual state of shock, the only indication a menacing furrow of his brows (to an outsider, they'd think he's plotting a murder spree, but you know him too well for that) that twitch and simultaneously react the more you kiss him everywhere on the face.

silverwolf will then relay to you that blade walked around for nearly 5 system hours covered in your... marks of ownership, kafka helpfully supplies, and was only made aware when firefly accidentally bumped into him, face exploding in red when she saw the audacious sight of blade covered in your lipstick. “er, blade.... your face is...”

—

blade has never known mortification quite like today, but the intense feeling of something akin to shame is vivid as he stares at himself in the mirror, glaring.

his face is a mess, to put it simply. trailing a hand on the red stains your lips left on to him leaves him with a smudged countenance, furthering the utter chaos that is his kiss-ridden face.

“...ridiculous girl.” avoiding the uncharacteristic way his fingertips feel hot, blade reckons this is probably why firefly stopped dead in her tracks and gaped, stared, and flustered.

clever as you were, and with your equal penchant for mischief, blade, the ever unsuspecting lover he is (he doesn't normally allow anyone to touch him, but you're not just anyone) had easily become the target of your new tricks.

“pfft, nice get-up, old man. got yourself a good day?”

....so that's what silverwolf meant.

DANHENG immediately scolds you, but not in the serious way he normally does whenever stelle wants to eat an origami bird or dives into trashcans or when march accidentally destroys one of the archive books, but in a way that only dan heng ever shows you. he's red, painfully red, and is struggling to face you because he knows that the smug grin you're holding has to do with the sight he'd glimpsed himself to be in moments prior.

unfortunately for him, for all his ways of trying fervently to remove the lipstick stains plastered all over his face, it only took march one look and a melodramatic gasp before the entire express knew, the conductor included.

—

“dan heng and [name], sitting on a tree-”

“k-i-s-s-i-n-g~”

my friends are all senile, dan heng thinks, rolling his eyes while avoiding himeko's friendly (read: eerie) smile. and he's already given up on trying to meet welt's eyes. (read: concerned but not surprised)

the reason? the rouge tinted matte lipstick generously spread all over dan heng's face, slightly smudged and spanning from his cheeks to his lips, nearing his neck.

he'd never tell, but a part of him—one that was reptilian in nature, a primal need of possessiveness—adored the show of affection you showered upon him. it was only right—he was yours, and you were his.

welt is sheepish, coughing lightly that all five heads of the express members turn to him (pom-pom included) “dan heng, is that your tail wagging?”

“....”

“....”

“....”

(a resounding click! can be heard afrerwards. oh, dan heng is so going to steal march's camera.)

the loud whir of BOOTHILL’s cooling system can't even keep up with how fast he's overheating, because one thing led to another and one look you gave made him weak in the knees and now his body is covered in your kisses, scarlet against the metal gray of his limbs. he no longer has a heart, but the rapid feeling of heat emitted by his body speaks more about his current mental state in more ways than one—he can't even form words because his brain chip is practically glitching itself up into overdrive, because your lips were so warm, soft and gentle and—

“...oothill? boothill? your circuits are—”

a startling sound that sounds just like a mini explosion reverberates somewhere in the tangle of wires near boothill's power source.

oh dear.

( p.s: no warp trotters were harmed, rest assured )

“[name]...” AVENTURINE’s voice falters when you press a soft kiss near his forehead, your lover closing his eyes as he lets out a soft sigh of joy — a bit like a peacock preening... but in any case! he certainly sees no argument being swayed by you, his dignity in shambles, yes, but when you were showering him with affection like this (which, in all honesty, aventurine did not think he deserved) leaves in in a flushed and tattered mess of a man, whose strings are wholly puppeteered by you and you alone.

you are everything; and aventurine certainly can't get enough. (he doubts if enough will even be enough someday) he's the lover who'd proudly want to flaunt such salacious marks everywhere, though his craftily built reputation as a stoneheart—blood sweat and commodity code and all—leaves him to hide your marks on him, as much as he'd like them to stay. (you are a weakness that aventurine keeps like an oath, and an existence that he'd do anything to keep.)

that doesn't, however, stop him from getting you to leave a kiss near his collar, discreet enough to signal his status as irrevocably, undeniably yours.

DR. VERITAS RATIO is actually the most calm and most normal (read: boring) of all the men above when barraged by your kiss attack. letting out a tsk that's more chiding and speeachless than actually annoyed, he casually pulls you away from his face, nevermind his rapidly heating cheeks, which is only made more humorous given his lipstick stained face.

“stop that. you're making too much of a mess of me, fool.” <- is visibly leaning to your face to allow said actions. you're not fooling anyone here, doctor. smh.

however, he does get pretty flustered when a certain blond gambler notes the new addition of a ‘tattoo’ right near his lower lip. “wow, doctor. seems you woke up on the good side of the bed today.”

he spends a whole day scolding you hoarse afterwards, whatever that may entail ;).

(as a way of petty revenge, he will make sure to kiss you senseless right after, until he's sure his own lips are swollen and covered in the warm red of your chosen shade.)

a/n: blog is running on queue as of today, so this post will probably come wayyy overdue lol but hope u enjoy nonetheless!

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[giamee]

🌐 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 '𝐍 𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘!

hsr men x f!reader .... SMUT!! 🚨🚨🚨

request ؛ ଓ @coreakin-sakarat What will the honkai star rail men play when yr having sex and who bottom or both and do they go rithm oh oh and do they use toys on u and what are their favorite parts of ur body to fuck

gia's notes ؛ ଓ i did this as more of me just... talkin abt what i think the hsr men are like in bed in order from least to most freaky in my humble opinion. i hope that you like it even though i didn't exactly hit every point u brought up :(

DAN HENG .ᐟ୨୧ starting it off sweet with him, i see dan heng as more of a bottom than anything... he's not super experienced, quite a tender lover, and i see him as remaining quite serious and stoic within the bedroom too. definitely more of a slow and sensual pace, just wants to feel it all with you <3 he's quite hesitant to try things out imo, but i reckon that you could convince him to try out using toys with some convincing! 1000% a thigh guy, really likes pulling out and painting your thighs with his cum as he watches them shake. presses kisses to your forehead as you come down from both of your highs. lowkey i get the vibe that the aftercare and the cuddling and falling asleep together is more satisfying to him than having sex. THIS MAN CRAVES SKIN TO SKIN!!!! he will interlace your fingers while fucking and kiss all over your face!!! a very sweet lover <3

GEPARD .ᐟ୨୧ this man SCREAMS pleasure service top to me. he could cum in his pants just by watching you i swear. he just wants to satisfy you as best as he can :((( your wish is his command frfr. he'll put you in whatever positions you want fully customisable experience just say the word. will sometimes pause midway through sex just to ask you if he's doing a good job and if it feels good with his big puppy dog eyes AWEE. i think he would probably be a little hesitant to try out toys, especially at first? his logic reverts to him assuming that he wasn't good enough at pleasuring you and so you have to revert to a piece of plastic... but be a bit dominant and show, don't tell, him just how good a vibrator can feel and he'll be a lot more on board with the idea <3 his whole mentality is just.. do anything to give you pleasure so if you're on the freakier side, this man is game! (PEG HIM) the little sadistic side of you gets a kick seeing tears well up in his eyes if you edge him just to hear his whines and moans... he might be a top but this man is a sub thru and thru. a bad bitch (you) tells him what to do and he listens!! anyways back to when you and him are fucking... this man is just utterly in love with your pussy, they way it gushes and clenches around him, and his absolute favourite position is any where he gets to just bury his face in ur tits while he's buried inside of you because everything is just so comforting and all of him is now surrounded by something so warm and soft... he's in heaven <3 so yeah he's a tits guy who would have thought!! no matter the shape or size HE'S PUTTING THEM IN HIS MOUTH <3 his thrusts get real sloppy at the end when he's about to cum too, starts babbling in your ear about how good it feels and how much he loves u. what a cutie pie

ARGENTI .ᐟ୨୧ to be honest? i had to think a bit about this one. to me, argenti doesn't really seem like the type to bring up using toys... but that doesn't mean that he isn't game if you mention it. he seems ... not passive exactly? but he just seems like the type to go with the flow with sex. whatever you're into he'll just be like shit i'm down let's go. not kinky per se, but he's definitely a passionate lover. very much wants to explore sensuality. ooh maybe he would be into some sort of wax play or blindfold type behaviour i take it back. would probably chuckle if you decide to get on top and place his hands on your hips to help you adjust to his size and set your own pace <3 very loving, wants to celebrate the beauty of your naked body and worship it in the name of adrila. so yeah if you've got a praise kink, HE'S YOUR MAN!!! you feel like the subject of a poem as he sings your praises, telling you how pretty you look and sound when you cum. like shiiiii that would be enough to make me blush <33 in terms of pace and stuff, i feel like he would be pretty standard? maybe on the slower side because of... you know... passion. it's nothing crazy but still a good time. he seems like he prefers to be looking up at you so RIDE THAT MAN!! maintain eye contact as you sink down on it. raise your hips back up ever so slowly and watch the slightest twitch of his brow as you swivel your hips, sinking back down on it ever so slowly. you might just see him blush. and just as the name suggests, the knight of beauty is a SIGHT to behold when he cums (probably inside).

WELT .ᐟ୨୧ yeah peepaw has got some EXPERIENCE to him lmaoo. he's got a sort of... cheekier? side to him. as an older man, though, he doesn't exactly have the same stamina as he did in his youth :( but that doesn't mean that he can't still get down and dirty with you!! quite the opposite actually. so his solution? he uses toys on you <3 he's more of a bottom but he is DEFINITELY in charge. his dirty talk OMFGG im giggling just thinking about it he would praise you and whisper such sweet words to you as he slowly splits you open on his fat cock, telling you how you're such a good girl for taking him so well, how you feel so good around him, all so he can feel you clench around him like a vice grip as he finally bottoms out <33 def would just have his hands around your waist as he moves you up and down his length when you're feeling weightless. but if he's in a more passive mood, he also LOVESSSS just sitting back and watching you struggle to ride him with a lazy adoring look in his eyes as he holds a vibrator to your clit <333 he'll coo at you as you start crying from the overstimulation, his hands wiping away your tears so tenderly and encouraging you to keep going just for him <3 a little bit of a sadistic side to him because he really does just love watching you squirm. another thigh and ass guy imo, really loves the way they jiggle as they slam down against his own thighs as you start to pick up the pace and ride him with increasing desperation. also loves watching them shake when you cum <3. so yeah as a no brainer i think one of his favourite positions would be reverse cowgirl. yum <3

BOOTHILL .ᐟ୨୧ now dont get me wrong this man FUCKS. since he's a cyborg does his dick count as a toy...? yeah fuck it let's go with it HIS BIOCOCK VIBRATES!! so the sensations on that will go CRAZYYYY. and then i'm thinking because of his synthesia beacon and stuff he doesn't exactly experience much sensation down there. so when you're having sex, what gets him off the most is just seeing your pleasure as you unravel. makes him feel good vicariously <3 so yeah definitely a missionary lover in my eyes so he can watch all your facial expressions and reactions as he hits all the right places, how your brows furrow and your eyes slide shut and eyes roll back in your head as he keeps up his unforgiving pace at juuuuust the right angle <33 but don't get me wrong he's no vanilla bitch either!! if he wants to be feeling more ... sensations he can and will make you just sit on his face for actual HOURS just eating you out to his heart's content. you'd think that his tongue is cybernetic too with the way it flicks across your clit at a borderline INHUMAN speed. but no he's just that good. some of ur most intense orgasms have been from him tonguefucking you like this, his head firmly sandwiched between your quivering thighs as you're basically humping his face as u ride out your high. and hey, he's not complaining <3 and then his smug shit-eating grin does NOT help at all when you're still trying to come back down to earth and he's sitting up wiping the slick off his face with that hungry look STILL in his eyes good lord i hope u can survive the night. this bastard has definitely ruined toys for you, they just don't feel the same any more <//3

BLADE .ᐟ୨୧ fucks hard. angry and/or jealous sex with him has just gotta be >>> 😮‍💨😮‍💨 he's on the rougher side and for MOST of the time will dom. and also tbh i don't really see him as being the type to use toys since he's more spontaneous in terms of having sex (public sex. he's got a high sex drive) but very very passionate for sure- lots of grunts and low moans right up in ur ear mhhhnrng. but also at the same time i feel like he would be quite emotionally detached from sex at first, seeing it as more like stress relief than an act of intimacy? and don't get me wrong, some of the best fucks of your life have come from him when he's just trying to release some pent up anger, but on the flip side there's a more vulnerable side to him, almost. one that's barely there any more from years of bitterness and resentment, but still manages to creep up on him on those late nights where he can't quite sleep. so if you're with him on those rare occasions, this is when you experience him not fucking you, but making LOVE. he won't talk, but he doesn't need to, not with the way he's holding you close to him and kissing you with something akin to desperation as he sinks into you and kind of just... stays there for a bit. it's oddly comforting to him, and if he's feeling especially weak he'll need some comfort- just to get him through the night. it's these nights where you take control more, setting a slow and sweet pace and kind of just... hushing him and whispering sweet words to him as you slowly let yourself grind over him, feeling the way he twitches inside of u <333 but yeah back to not vulnerable blade. a fan of quickies for sureeee (see: high sex drive) another tit guy because i am biased. the force of his thrusts in some dark alleyway or hidden corner will have them jiggling and threatening to fall out of whatever shirt you wear. and if he's got you lifted up in his arms, your legs wrapped around him as you're chest to chest with each other, he just can't tear his eyes away from your boobs. leaves bites on them, laves over them like a damn dog until they're coated in saliva and stiff and perked up because of how cold it feels when drying on your skin. if you're in doggystyle, you'll feel his hands clasp over them from behind, a few short and sweet squeezes to them before his blunt nails are flicking over your nipples just to hear you squeal <3

AVENTURINE .ᐟ୨୧ just like blade, he very much has two different modes. let's start with the freaky one bc that's fun. he's quite open to experiment with all aspects of sex- who's in charge, who's topping, toys, positions, you name it. he trusts you enough to do anything with or to you short of causing each other pain. so yeah he's a freak alright!! i feel like if you're in an established relationship, he'll feel guilty due to the amount if time that he spends away from you because of his job, and make it up to you by spoiling you with gifts... he loves to buy you new toys to try out as he sits back and just watches as you squirm and then writhe in pleasure as he slowly palms himself, eventually unzipping his trousers and jerking himself off until he cums all over u <33 definitely gets a kick out of seeing his cum painting your pretty face and how your tongue darts out to catch it before it drips onto the floor <333 or maybe he just strokes himself to stay hard, his eyes hungrily watching you as your own remain transfixed on his cock, the flushed tip disappearing with every stroke of his hand, the slick noises of his precum overpowering the buzzing hum of the dildo inside of you. and then when neither of you can handle the tension any more, dying to feel each other's touch, after you've cum a couple of times and are all nice and sensitive for him, then and ONLY then will he finally put it in, quickly setting a pace to fuck your brains out like a wild animal <3 lovessss doggystyle or the speedbump position because then he's all up in your guts and ur moans/screams of pleasure are just music to his ears. definitely the type to go a little feral bc... yeah. so yeah that's freaky mode! but like blade he has a softer side to him UNLIKE blade it is still definitely there and more accessible... but that doesn't mean he exposes it to you just like that either. but yeah if he's feeling more vulnerable emotionally, especially right after he wakes up from a nightmare while you're groggily waking up next to him, he just needs comfort. you holding him and stroking his hair, telling him how he's safe and how much you love him. if you've been together for a while and he really trusts you, he might even cry. almost begs you to call him kakavasha instead of aventurine, and you oblige. and then as soon as his name leaves your lips, he's kissing you hard, gradually letting them become tender as you undress each other with the utmost amount of care. it's love that motivates him, from what you can feel from his fingers tracing your skin and how soft his lips press against yours. he lets out a quiet moan as he sinks into you and basks in your warmth for a bit, letting his arms now wrap around your frame tightly, holding you to himself as if you would disappear any moment. and you hug him too, draw patterns on his back, stroke his hair and hum as you tell him how much you love him, listening to the sound of his shaky breaths as you slowly raise your hips, sinking back down inch by inch to hear him hiss. at first, he would still refuse to let you see his face when you have sex like this, not until you gently coax him to look at you, and you see the crystalline tears already escaping from his eyes. he's definitely the type to cry during sex like this- something so soft and tender that it's overwhelming to him for so many reasons- the vulnerability of it all, how much you love and care for him written all over your face, the way you squeeze against him so perfectly. and then he buries his face in your chest as you keep whispering words of affirmation to him and he cums so fast, deep inside of you and then he stays even when he feels himself go soft. just because it feels nice. and he falls asleep just like that, clinging to you, the person he loves.

JING YUAN .ᐟ୨୧ another member of team lazy but pussydrunk (him and welt have permanent memberships lmfao) whenever the two of you fuck it usually starts with him making you work for it. involving either you getting off by grinding on his thigh or riding him, desperately throwing your weight back onto him to even simulate the feeling of his powerful thrusts- all in vain as he merely sits there, looking up at you with a maddening smile and just WATCHING you... what a creep <3 but yeah he loves loves loves seeing how worked up and whiny you get for him to do something, anything, just for him to do the exact opposite, placing two firm hands on your hips to effectively get you to stop, and you whine again from the loss of friction. and he'll merely smile, telling you how you're such a good girl for him, getti my off from watching you get so so close, just to do it over and over again. orgasm denial and edging really are his two best friends fr. so he's not really a strict dom but more of a tease, you get me? i think that YES he will use toys. really gets a kick out of vibrating panties or a vibrator inside of you that he can remote control <33 just really enjoys when you're in public trying to remain composed (what a creep <3) keeps u constantly stimulated all day, finally making it up to you when you both get back home, fucking you properly as you're on the verge of tears and ready to cum any second. hmmm hear me out on this but i think his favourite place to cum would be your back.. like yeah finishing inside is cool and all but pulling out and cumming all over your back just drives him CRAZY and ready for another round... as soon as you recover <3

LUOCHA .ᐟ୨୧ LORDDDDDD he's like jing yuan but even WORSE. he's dangerous too because in his eyes, it isn't him or a toy but him AND a toy. this man will have u in his lap thighs spread legs hanging over his knees so he can keep them open as he has one hand gripping your chin forcing to look at yourself in a mirror, the other hand holding a vibe to yr clit <33 every time your eyes start to roll back he'll do a light slap to your face, forcing you to hold eye contact with him through the mirror, his feline eyes dancing with mirth at your already fucked-out expression. and then when he's sure that his gaze is holding your attention, he'll let go of your face, letting his hand snaie downwards until his hands are collecting your slick on his fingers before pushing into you, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek that contradicts how hard he's fingering you <3 squirting is not an achievement but the new standard with him!! that man is NOT relenting until you coat his arm and the floor (even the mirror) he really likes making you kiss him just after you cum- when your brain is foggy from the intensity of your orgasm, you can barely hear, let alone process what he's saying, and when u finally manage to connect your lips to his the kiss is just so sweet n sloppy, showing how worked up he is already <33 he's a little mean with it but you wouldn't have it any other way!! because that man knows what you need and will DELIVER. and he loves alllll of you. especially your pussy. and ass lol

DR RATIO .ᐟ୨୧ ok stay with me now cos this one's more of a scenario but!!! imagine that you haven't seen veritas in a while because you've both been busy but he messages you, saying how he'll finally be back soon!!! and ur just so excited that you can't contain it, and all those lonely nights are starting to tally up... your hands just don't do the trick any more and you finally cave, getting out your old reliable dildo to try and satiate your lust. trying your hardest to focus on veritas while you fuck yourself so that you'll be able to cum... pretending that it's his cock instead of some silicone... moaning out his name into your room with your eyes screwed shut to try trick your brain into believing that it's really him!! and it seems to work because you can feel that coil in you begin to tighten, and just when ur about to cum you feel a hand on top of yours, startling you out of your impending orgasm. and you open your eyes to see none other than the man who you had been fantasising about just now <3 and he's got this smirk on his face and a certain look in his eyes, and when you glance down you can see that he isn't exactly... unaffected from watching you earlier <33 i feel like he would degrade you a little, calling you such a stupid girl for needing to think of him just to even get close to cumming <333 and you'll whine and get embarrassed, trying to hide yourself with the covers, but deep down you know he's right so you peek at him from behind your lashes, batting them and begging him to help you as sweetly as you can. and how can he deny you when you're just so sweet and submissive for him? he'll be quick to take out his cock, slipping the head through your folds, letting it catch as it skims past your needy hole, letting the tip slap against your sensitive clit just to watch your whole body twitch as he chuckles to himself before bullying his cock into you. even after fucking yourself it's still a stretch, especially cos he has you in a mating press, his strong hands keeping your thighs pinned as he puts hisbweight behind his thrusts, really slamming into you until you're bouncing back against the mattress <33 a good hard fuck that hits all the right spots he needs to in order for you to cum HARD. but if he's feeling mean, he won't even oblige your request, instead being all smug and settling back on his haunches, goading you to keep going and make yourself cum without him because you're just so close, you can do it. watches your pathetic attempts to do so as you huff and beg him because you just can't without him <//3 and maybe if you beg hard enough he'll consider helping you out... even though it's just so entertaining to watch you keep trying. ironically enough, it's the way he calls you his sweet girl as he finally pushes into you that sends you over the edge more than any of your own touches did. and once you ride out that high, body no longer convulsing on his dick, he'll pull out of you just to flip you onto your stomach, then pull your hips up to meet his before fucking into you to make you really cum because of him this time <33

SAMPO .ᐟ୨୧ this man is MOST DEFINITELY an experimentalist!!! 1000% down for literally anything. you use toys on each other el oh el. the epitome of a switch. he'll top or bottom too, it's always a good time with him. definitely a freak. tbh i headcanon him as having a crazy oral fixation... if he's not sucking on your tits already then put your fingers in his mouth!! he'll have hearts swimming in his eyes, especially if you let them slide to the back of his throat until he gags and his eyes get all teary!!! definitely a sight to behold if u start fingerfucking his throat. or maybe just gag him with your panties, letting urself hear his muffled whines and moans as you finally free his cock and deepthroat him <33 oh god his whines and moans... get this man on twitter NEEOOOWWW. as a top he's definitely more goofy about it, not super strict. sex is about making sure you both feel good and just having a good time im his eyes.

GALLAGHER .ᐟ୨୧ ... this man... a certified freak. me personally im not into it but IF U LIKE ANAL THIS IS UR GUY 1000%%%. he def loves ur ass more than anything. the type to stick a finger in as he makes out with you or just let his finger tease the ring of muscle, circling it ever so slowly to feel u squirm while sat naked in his lap. when he eats you out he'll let his tongue drop a little lower to tease both of your holes. if u let him he'll eat your ass with GUSTO. and YES he's using toys on you you're not safe... buttplugs with the cute jewel on them and when you're in public he'll give your ass a slap or squeeze just to see your face change as you feel it press a little deeper into you... he'll have a vibrator fucking into your pussy as he's all up in your guts, laughing at the way you can't even form words right now. yeahhh he's a FREAK. oh and did i mention that he's an ass guy??

SUNDAY .ᐟ୨୧ ohohoho. this man has actual YEARS of pent up sexual frustration under his belt. his wings. whatever. he's a man who thrives off of control, and this is no exception in the bedroom. massive dom. both soft and hard. but more hard <3. really gets off on u calling him sir LAWLLL. lowkey i see him being into some real freaky bdsm stuff... cos hes got the whole sexually repressed catholic thing going on n all yknow. likes seeing u kneeled w your hands tied behind your back. you stripped naked while hes fully clothed and smiling so sweetly as he watches you try and get yourself off by humping his shoe. anything for that power imbalance with him hrrrrng. and if youre feeling a bit more bratty, touch his wings. preen them, blow air on them, even grip onto them HARD with your fingers and it'll get him all riled up. and then that sweet smiling facade will drop and youll see his eyes change into something a touch more feral as he pins u down and fucks u hard and properly. just to remind u who's really in control <3. the aftercare goes crazy, naturally. but then i also saw this post talking abt how hes a PEOPLE PLEASER and i agree 10000% so when he's feeling more soft, your pleasure is his greatest reward. a headrush mix of sweet praise and filthy degradation. telling you how you're a nasty bitch who's just so good for him... how you take him so well like the filthy slut you are.... and he's just so so composed during it all like an ANGEL EHFHWJFJE it makes ur head spin istg. yeah he's a freak in the sheets LOLL

IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ...... eat it 'til your teeth rot!

[ SMUT ] how the hsr men eat pussy!

alternatively, find my hsr masterlist here! ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

[areislol]

being transported into their world

►— pairings. honkai star rail men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. nothing really, not proof read 🙅🏻‍♀️, caelus is the trailblazer, romantic but you can see it was platonic if you want to! girls in the astral express are mentioned for a bit, i mentioned both dan heng and imbibitor lunae so don't mind that! mentions of self attempt/bodily harm for blade, boothill is ooc probably, spoilers of penacony quest, skipping herta space station (will be mentioned in other chapters though!), sahau (self aware honkai au)

►— synopsis. their beloved creator, the one who created many worlds, including theirs, had yet to return after thousands of years. but lately, they've been experiencing strange things, feeling like a heavenly, divine figure loomed over them. could it possibly be their one and only creator?

►— a/n. i've been thinking about a self-aware au but a honkai star rail version for a couple of weeks now after my reverse isekai'd genshin sagau series. also this may be a bit biased towards dang feng (imbibitor lunae) because uh i like him, maybe you can tell?

►— wordcount. 4.5k

part 2

for days they've felt uncomfortable, well, slightly. it only began to happen a couple of months ago when they felt as if something, no... someone was controlling their every movement and choice.

during their adventures, they felt an unsettling sensation creep upon them like a shadow in the night—a feeling of being watched, of a presence looming over their every move.

the presence was overwhelming, their body would stiffen, and they felt as if something like a heavy, invisible blanket was casted upon them.

at first, the passengers in the astral express dismissed it as mere paranoia, attributing it to the heightened tension of their journey or maybe the warping effects in the train. but as days passed and the sensation persisted, they couldn't shake off the unnerving feeling that they were not alone, that someone or something was observing their every action.

at times, they would catch fleeting whispers carried by the wind, faint voices that echoed in the corners of their minds. yet, despite their efforts, they could never make out the words, the words slipping through their grasp like elusive dreams.

as the feeling grew more pronounced, thoughts began to gnaw at their consciousness. who or what could possibly be speaking to them? why is it that every now and then they would feel a sudden boost and surge of power?

they knew deep down that the only being in the universe could make them feel that was,it could be no other than their creator.

the mere thought that their creator was dropping hints of their arrival was exciting. and only when the astral express crew noticed how each and every one of them felt the same exact things—looking around the moment they heard a voice, their body in sync as they tensed up... it was all too coincidental not to notice.

as they talked with one another and pieced the puzzle pieces together, using the information they found along the way travelling to each region, it all became clear.

it was a pivotal moment in their journey, the truth was revealed. in a flash of realization, they discovered that the presence they felt, the elusive voice they heard, was none other than their creator—the architect of their existence, the mastermind behind their trials and tribulations.

dan heng, himeko, welt, march and caelus had a hunch that it was their beloved creator, it couldn't be anyone else. everything added up, everything made sense. they acted like mad scientists, scurrying to their rooms and digging around every nook and cranny of their room, finding any evidence and papers that mentioned you, the creator.

as they all met up back on the train they carefully placed each and every newspaper and article about you. they had to make sure that it was really you. some of the articles that dan heng bought were from way back, thousands of years ago, he refused to tell anyone where he had gotten them from.

"in the vast expanse of the universe, where time flowed like a meandering river and galaxies danced in an eternal cosmic ballet, there existed a being unlike any other—a being known simply as a creator. born out of the primordial chaos, the creator was a solitary entity who traversed the endless void, seeking purpose in a universe devoid of meaning.

for millennia, the creator roamed the expanse, witnessing the birth and death of stars, the rise and fall of civilizations, and the ebb and flow of cosmic energies. yet, amidst the vastness of space and time, the creator found itself consumed by an overwhelming sense of ennui, a profound boredom that gnawed at their very essence.

then, the creator embarked on a journey of creation—a quest to fill the void with worlds of its own design, to sculpt realities from the raw clay of the cosmos. with a mere thought, the creator breathed life into barren planets, adorned them with oceans and mountains, and populated them with a myriad of creatures both strange and wondrous.

as creator delved deeper into their newfound passion, they discovered a love for the act of creation—a love that transcended time and space, a passion that ignited a fire within its soul. with each world it fashioned, each story it crafted, the creator found solace in the act of shaping reality, in the sheer joy of bringing something new into existence.

for six thousand years, the creator laboured tirelessly, weaving tapestries of worlds and galaxies, each one a testament to its boundless imagination and creative prowess. from the smallest blade of grass to the mightiest empires, the creator poured their heart and soul into every facet of creation, infusing each world with a unique charm and character all its own.

yet, amidst the infinite expanse of its creations, the creator remained a solitary figure—a godlike being adrift in a sea of its own making, forever yearning for companionship in a universe devoid of peers. and so, the creator continued their eternal quest, weaving worlds out of boredom and growing a love and passion for creation that would endure for eternity. and we, this universe, was crafted by none other than the creator, the place we call home. it is said that only after six thousand will the creator return to us, to watch over us once more."

the article itself looked worn, it wasn't signed by anyone, and no one knew who wrote it, or how they got the information. but it seemed plausible. millenniums... it has been well over six thousand years, it was about time the creator descended.

they had to be prepared, they had to tell the rest of their friends and families, the world. as much as they would like to keep the information to themselves they knew that you deserved a much better, bigger and more beautiful welcome.

sampo, gepard and luka were more than stunned and nervous, to say the least. their creator... was finally returning back? upon hearing the news from caelus they were sceptical at first, deep down they really wanted to see you in your glory, to finally meet the creator, but at the same time, it was nerve-wracking.

what should they say? what should they do in preparation and celebration? what gifts and offers should they give to you? nothing would do. they were positive that anything they bought, even if it got them in debt, would suffice. you deserved more than a measly couple of dishes and the most delicate and fitting garnets.

it was embarrassing really, their hearts racing as they tried their best to think of what to bring to your feet. but one thing they all had in common was their loyalty to you. if it was their life you wanted then so be it.

sampo is sampo, he was sure that his creator's glory and attractiveness were over the top, he would be sure to compliment you as many times as his mouth could allow, but he was sure that your beauty would be intimidating. no matter your looks your presence was more than enough.

gepard is nervous. his mind is full of "what ifs" and "what should i.." not even his sister can calm him down. every morning and night when he closes his eyes he's anticipating the day his sister barges into his room, yelling that the creator had finally descended. although he isn't quite sure of what to offer you he knows that whenever you need him, whatever you call him for he will be there in less than a minute, by your side or feet if you prefer.

whatever you ask of him, whatever favour you need from, he will never say no.

luka on the other hand is absolutely pumped to meet you! he had heard stories of you when he was a child, and from the stories told by the adults they described you as a kind being, who soon fell in love with the art, beauty and joy of creating. well, their most favourite was creating worlds.

he was absolutely sure that you would be the most kindest, heavenly person he had ever met, what was there to worry about now? luka knew that if he ever laid eyes on you he would fall in love no doubt, he would do anything for you. maybe you would agree to watch his wrestling matches?

jing yuan, blade, imbibitor lunae, and luocha are the most excited of all, sure, everyone is elated to finally meet you with their very own eyes. but them? oh lord... they all believe to be your worshipper, having heard tales of you from their parents, this alone caused them to be awe and love-struck with you.

they were a firm believer in you, you did no wrong in their eyes. all your actions and words were justified. they followed your principles, they made sure to announce their presence every time they came to your altar and placed down the most expensive jewels, dishes and gifts. (they had a shrine of you at home don't worry)

jing yuan was the one of the firsts to get hints that you were finally returning, the divine foresight fu xuan always looked so weary and cautious, but as time grew she began to be more... happy and elated, yet everytime he questioned her she was tense up and smile like it was nothing. and only when he pried did she say that she saw things, saw a blurred face, and heard a voice. "don't be alarmed... i'm here to tell you that.."

he made sure that everyone who worked under him and every prominent person knew of this, he began to make preparations of your arrival, he cancelled all meetings and plans, only focusing on you and your arrival. everything had to be perfect. he had even forgotten about the wanted criminal blade. jing yuan booked the most fanciest restaurant for a month max, he wasn't sure when you were coming, of course, so a month it was.

jing yuan prepared every entertainment and paid the orchestra, he wanted everything to be perfect, even the most minuscule details.

blade's loyalty was and is only for you and only you. he may be cold and stone-hearted (we all know it's false) but if it's you... whatever you ask for he will do it no doubt. he refuses to take orders from a stranger even if it is his friend, but if it's you? say no more. blade knew you were a kind soul, you needed protection from the other so-called "enemies" (he proclaimed it!).

he swore that you saved his life, years ago when everything was tumbling down, when his feelings got the better of him, he tried doing the unthinkable, as he blacked out he suddenly "saw" something.. a beacon of light, it was magical and airy, he tried his best to grasp onto the light but obviously could not.

it floated further and further away, and he followed it, his eyes glued only on the beacon of light. as it stopped moving, so did he, he continued staring at the light as it shrank into a ball, it didn't speak, it didn't look anywhere, it stayed there. suddenly he woke up, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. what was that?

sweat clung to his forehead when jingliu found him, concerned she rushed over to him, he refused to say a single word. he was left perplexed. what was the ball of light? why did he feel so at ease? why did it only appear after he...

he would make it his mission to meet you before the rest do other than the astral express crew and become your bodyguard, even if you deny his offer he will stick with you no matter what. of course, he would respect your boundaries but he knew that you didn't have the heart to deny anyone, especially your creation.

imbibitor lunae absolutely adores you, even if he was reincarnated the memories still pass on. and the tales being told by the grown-ups were famous around his area and still is. from the earliest days of his existence, tales of the creator had woven themselves into the fabric of his consciousness, painting a portrait of a being of boundless kindness and infinite compassion.

as a child, imbibitor lunae had listened with rapt attention to stories passed down through generations, tales of the creator's benevolence and the miracles they wrought upon the world. and in the quiet moments of the night, he would gaze up at the starry expanse above, whispering prayers to the creator, his heart overflowing with admiration and reverence.

when news of the creator's imminent return after six thousand years reached his ears, his heart soared with unbridled joy. in no time he set about preparing for your arrival, pouring his heart and soul into crafting the perfect gifts to present to his divine benefactor.

drawing inspiration from the tales of old, he fashioned intricate trinkets and tokens of his affection, each one imbued with his unwavering devotion and love. amidst the swirling maelstrom of feelings, one thing remained constant: his unwavering love for the creator.

imbibitor swore that once he felt or sensed a sign that would be arriving he would immediately act, he would be the first to meet and lay his eyes on your divine figure. slap him as many times as you want if you found it rude, he would only thank you.

luocha, despite remaining calm and composed on the outside, internally, he was freaking OUT. luocha found himself grappling with a myriad of conflicting thoughts and emotions. on one hand, he felt a profound sense of excitement at the prospect of meeting the creator, the architect of his existence and the source of all that he held dear.

yet, on the other hand, he couldn't shake off the nagging feeling of inadequacy, the fear of not being able to live up to your expectations.

his mind raced with a flurry of possibilities. what gifts would you appreciate? what could he offer to express his gratitude and reverence for the being who had breathed life into his world? with each passing moment, the weight of the impending meeting pressed down upon him like a heavy burden, filling him with a sense of anxiety.

despite his inner turmoil, luocha maintained a facade of calm and composure, determined not to let his anxieties show. with a steely resolve, he set about meticulously planning and preparing for your arrival, carefully considering every detail in his quest to find the perfect gift.

he even resorted to asking the children about what gifts he should bring, and yes, they did laugh at him but helped him nonetheless.

from ornate trinkets to rare treasures, luocha spared no effort in his search for the ideal offering, pouring his heart and soul into each carefully chosen item. yet, even as he laboured tirelessly to ensure that everything was perfect, doubts continued to gnaw at the edges of his mind, although one thing was for sure, if you didn't like any of his gifts he wouldn't be upset rather, maybe all you wanted was his whole body and life, and he would not hesitant once to give it up for you.

they all couldn't wait to meet you.

aventurine, sunday, gallagher and boothill are freaking out. horribly. mainly aventurine.. once the news had reached them from the astral express that it was possible (about 98%) that you were the comet arriving in a week... oh boy were they NERVOUS. everything HAD to be perfect. they had everything to thank you for, during their life and death situation they were lucky enough to survive—thanks to you.

it was only natural to return the favour, you created them, their personality, their arms, legs, their body, you sculpted their face, you made them. you made the very world they live in right now, the world they call home... they were sure you were by their side, making them make the right decisions and the right thing. aventurine? oh, the amount of MONEY he will spend buying everything he thinks you'd like, the fanciest, most elegant and most expensive shoes, clothing and accessories. he would rent out an entire week or months of work at a restaurant if you'd like to dine alone or with a couple of people. he knows his luck is a part of him, he can only pray that he'll meet you first with his luck.

sunday... just the sound of your name makes him tear up. he could've sworn that one time you spoke to him, your other-worldly echoing voice speaking to him directly about the loss of his dear sister. and here he stood in his room, looking out the window, and in the far distant a light shimmering as it swiftly dived down. a shooting star. he knows that with everyone getting the news they're all aiming to be the first to meet you, and trust me, he does want to meet you FIRST. the second you land he'll be there right with you and guiding you to safety—penacony.

but first, he must pinpoint where exactly you'll land. and with his power and influence he will most definitely try his best to find you and be sure to hide you from everyone else... he needs you, desperately.

gallagher and boothill have exactly the same thoughts. to present themselves good to you and spend every minute and second with you. but with everyone gossiping and spreading rumours about your arrival it's hard to be unique. everyone wants to be with you, everyone wants your favour. but they could never worship you as much as them. they had dreamed of this moment, it seemed unreal to meet their own creator but nonetheless, they clung to their hope and boy did it not go to waste.

boothill basically pauses any mission he needs to complete, that can wait. you are eternal. he's practically on edge with the fact that at any moment the comet would crash through and there you'd be, dozing peacefully.. like an angel. he won't hesitate to cause some trouble or initiate some violence if it means that they don't get to see you first.

gallagher on the other hand tries to stay hidden and in the shadows. of course, he'd like to meet you face to face but with the feeling of an overwhelming and looming divine presence, it's all too much. and if that's too much then what would he feel when you stand right before him? he's like an overprotective dog, fiercely loyal and clingy. even if you can't spot him he'll be right there, lurking and watching.

dr. ratio and argenti are absolutely and 100% loyal and would do EVERYTHING in their power to meet you, even a glance would do, anything to feed their curiosity and desperate need to know the creator. so when they get wind that you were supposedly descending down... they freeze on the spot, their breath hitches as their eyes widen. could it really be?

dr. ratio was always a curious boy, and he has you to thank for giving him consciousness and the opportunities to venture out and earn knowledge and eventually spreading his knowledge to his students (preaching i guess you can say). he's a bit biased when it comes to talking about you to his friends or students, and speaking your name in a more positive light, not that anyone minds, if anything they agree!

although he isn't much of a gifter or "i'll spend my money on you" he's more of a "anything you want just tell me". if you told him to drop his precious books to come and tend to your needs he would do it in a heartbeat.

to argenti you are the standard and epitome of "beauty". the beauty he has been searching for his entire life. he intends to shower you with compliments and roses freshly picked by hand unless you're allergic or not a fan of flowers, fear not! compliments should do! be ready to be bombarded with such positivity, compliments and gifts from the knight of beauty.

anything you wish for he will try his utmost best to get it done perfectly and quickly. "your hair looks so pretty like this..." say no more, he will always style it and keep it exactly like that! "my feet feel so sore from all the walking" ?!!? why is his dear walking anyway!?!? don't worry, he'll massage it for you! "ugh all this work is making me tired" move aside, let him do the honours!!

It was a long ride home from work, you were currently in an almost empty bus, glancing over the top of your phone you read the time. 11 P.M.

Was it that late already? You knew this office job would be the death of you. You never wanted to work at a place like this, the cubicle life bored you and it was just so... depressing. That was the only way to describe it.

You decide to pass the time by playing your all-time favourite game: Honkai: Star Rail. The soft glow of the screen illuminated your face as you began to grind relics and exp for an upcoming character. It definitely worked in keeping you busy and awake as time passed by slowly.

All was well, everything was fine. You had everything planned in your head. Get home as soon as possible, take a nice warm and rejuvenating shower, get five hours of sleep, go back to work and repeat.

The more you thought about your daily routine the more you realised how depressing it was, but what could you do? That job was the only one that was hiring and had average pay and things like that are rare, especially when you decided to live in the city which was your first mistake.

You were barely getting by in the city, the crime rate increased, there were more breaks in, pickpocketing and murder. But despite all of that you decided to rent an apartment where it was less populated, the rent in the heart of the city was way too high.

Pushing all those thoughts and information aside you let out a defeated sigh, leaning your head on the window as you continued to tap away on your phone.

If only life went just a little bit easier on you.

Everything was fine. The silence was comfortable and the low, soft rumble of the engine kept you awake, until a loud deafening crash jolted the bus, sending people flying and falling onto the ground.

Letting out a scream you grabbed onto whatever you could to keep you steady—the head of the chair in front of you. Although it didn't do a good job of keeping you still you couldn't care less, because as you lifted your head, your eyes caught something massive charging straight at you, and before you could react, a blinding light engulfed you, followed by an eerie silence.

When you regained consciousness, you found yourself tightly packed against something dark and rocky. Just great! Something had happened to the bus and knocked you out.

You looked around, it was pure blackness, like a void. Maybe this was what happened after death... Out of all things and especially the time too!

Feeling confused and scared you try to move your body to shift into a more comfortable position but due to the lack of space, you could barely even move an inch.

Suddenly, a crack was heard. And you froze.

Then another crack, and another, the darkness began to crack and splinter and not long after half of the egg-shaped looking ball broke in half as it fell to the side.

Shards of obsidian-like material fractured and scattered around. A large amount of dust, and shiny glitter-like specs flew everywhere, it was extremely dusty.

Unfortunately, you inhaled the smoke, coughing and sputtering, you waved their hand in front of your face, trying to dispel the particles as you squinted against the harsh light that slipped through the smoke.

As the dust settled and the steam dissipated, your surroundings gradually came into focus. You found yourself in front of... one, two, three, four, and... five.... wait.. what?

Right before you stood four male figures (with the other seemed to have a more feminine build), male figures that looked awfully familiar to you for some odd reason, just why was that?

You were confused and curious as you surveyed your surroundings, realizing that maybe this was death? You would've never guessed that "life" after death would look like this. It was very.... interesting.

The buildings that surrounded you were intricate and otherworldly. Dazzling celestial landscapes and luminescent structures piqued your interest as you slowly and carefully stepped out of what you assumed was a shell.

Its' architect and infrastructure reminded you of something, it seemed nostalgic—as if you've seen this exact building before. The more you observed and watched, your eyes tracing every precise curve and detail of the buildings your heart began to pick up its pace.

Your eyes searched every corner and inch, and finally, it landed back on the five figures you had spotted before and it wasn't until you caught sight of familiar faces that you were certain that you had to be hallucinating somehow after death.

There, standing in a circle, were figures that you could hardly believe were real: Caelus, Dan Heng, Gepard, and Bronya. It was unmistakably them.

Their presence, their unmistakable aura of reverence, left you no doubt.

They watched you, their gazes filled with awe and admiration as if you were the embodiment of some long-awaited prophecy (and in this case, it was).

You were in disbelief. Disbelief that you had somehow been transported into the very game they were playing moments ago, but now they were tangible, real.

It was a long silence, it was both comfortable and uncomfortable with their longing gaze. You remained still as you checked around your surroundings once again before settling your eyes back on the group of people.

At your gaze they felt a shiver down their spine, and the hair on their skin stood up.

"W—Who are you guys?!" You yelled, narrowing your eyes to see if it was truly the characters from the game you adored.

Dan Heng's breath hitched at the sound of your booming voice, your voice... it was just like how they described what you would sound like in the carved stones and ancient scrolls.

The more he stared at you the more he wanted to come to you, to kneel down at your feet and profess how long he has been waiting for this moment.

With his eyes trained on your figure, he steps closer, Gepard notices and swiftly stops him from moving any further with his arm. Dan Heng looks to his side, confusion strewn on his face.

Not a single word was spoken yet with a stern gaze and the shake of a head, Dan Heng understood. Now was not the right time.

Minutes passed by in complete and utter silence, it unnerved you. Why were they so quiet? So watchful?

Finally, after what felt like hours, the silence was broken just with a couple words.

"We have been awaiting your arrival, Your Gracefulness."

note: after 5 months WOW. i've been so busy with things i haven't had the time to really sit down and work. I'm so sorry everyone!

tags 🏷️: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @goldenglow149 @rhwm @urlocalheizousimp @saltylovetale-blog @toramune @oreo-ren @backintomykpopphaseagain @serenity-loves-red @flooofity @minteasketches @yurassia @chellazhef @fulldoves @kateybuggi @wanderingconstellations @mini-shower @160ccm @rosariashield @sickize @sarah22447 @dreamlessnight @gimmealmap @bebeluvs @caramelstarlight @sukiidreams @oceanist @achy-boo @alhaitie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @that-mom-friend @v-ish @merormerry @gojoulen03 @scarletttcrow @hadischara @kithewanderingme @keiqq @livelaughlovekuni @chirikoheina @wr1t3rfum1k0 @issacdaholi @yu-ulda @alysinbshsu @vanilla-sweets @your-local-reblogging-kazoo @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @seipaws @clavichordcleffa @uhhhiwassup @youdontneedyoknowlol @the-lazy-perfectionist @issacdarknight @lucienbarkbark @bizzybkd @obliviousariies2007 @coffee-seed

(if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter! if i forgot to tag you im so sorry!)

for those i've taged: if you do not want to tagged for hsr drop a comment or message me.

liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

[wakacchi]

Omake desu~(ㅅ´ ˘ `)

More of this on my ko-fi page here~!

[chickenparm]

Bad Decision (Dan Heng/f!Reader) - Part 2

if you read the gender-neutral part one, please note the addition of female bits for this part. they're mentioned by name only once, but otherwise there's not a lot of description for what's going on down there. this is part 2 of 2.

---

AO3 LINK PREVIOUS PART

Dan Heng/f!Reader 3,308 Words - NSFW (P in V, grinding, mentions of previous phone sex, FEELINGS)

Despite Dan Heng’s insistence, Himeko and Welt are far too akin to mother hens to ever let you slip onto the ship and not report everything that happened on the planet below. 

Shifting from foot to foot, you listen to the two of them go around and round with March before the conversation finally winds down to a point that you can feasibly say, “Dan Heng asked me to stop by so we could update the Archives for the Express together. I should probably go do that before I forget anything important.”

“That’s probably for the best. You’ve had a long week; make sure you get some rest.” Welt turns to speak with Himeko a little quieter, but his eyes follow you as you leave the parlor car a little too quickly. There’s something to be said about his perceptiveness, but you can’t be bothered with it when you know Dan Heng is waiting for you. 

The text that buzzed in your pocket in the middle of your conversation told you so. A quick glance in the middle of one of March’s tirades revealed it was only three periods; a reminder of his existence. Like you could ever forget, especially after what happened the night prior. Your hands are still shaking. 

There’s no point in knocking. He knows you’re here, you know that he knows, and you’re far too impatient to look him in the eye and see if your imagination from last night was as good as you suspect it was. The door slides open, then closed, and you lock it for good measure. 

Dan Heng sits at his chair, slouched with his phone in his hands. A quick glance at the screen reveals he’d been simply staring at the open conversation window between the two of you. On your entry, he drops the phone to the desk and grips the arm rests to push himself upright, looking over his shoulder. 

Once he realizes it’s you, he lets out a breath and loses a bit of that stiffness. Jerking off on the phone with someone tends to make you a little more comfortable around them, it seems. 

“How was your trip?”

“You and I both know we couldn’t give a shit about that.” You say bluntly, crossing the room. Dan Heng wanted you here, wanted you to listen, and then demanded you come to him. He made promises about what he’d do with you when you got here, and now that you’re in front of him, he’s stalling with pleasantries?

On any other day, you’d have basked in the opportunity to speak with him in any way possible. This time, there’s something new on the table; an irresistible offer that you’ve been pining over since you woke up with his face less than an inch from your own back on the space station. Now he’s looking at you, one elbow slung over the back of his chair, all but inviting you to make the next step. 

It’s five steps across the room, two steps up on the raised platform, and only a half-step to finish crossing the distance. Seven-and-a-half steps for you to stop short and lose your nerve. 

Dan Heng, with all his perception, picks up on your faltering almost as soon as you do. The chair squeals across the plexiglass flooring as he gets to his feet, nudging it out of the way so he can finish what the two of you started. 

Like a meteor, he crashes into you with grasping hands and lips that feel impossibly smooth compared to your bitten ones. The tips of his fingers dig into your upper arms, almost as if he expects you’ll try to run. Even if you wanted to, there’s no escaping the way his hands only loosen enough to wind around you and crush you against his chest. 

Against his lips, you murmur his name, but it’s muffled and completely disregarded. In fact, nothing seems to matter to him besides turning the two of you, then deftly winding a leg around yours as he shifts his weight and tips you backward. 

The mattress on his floor is as hard as it seems at first glance. His hand at the back of your head and the arm around your waist keeps you from hitting it any harder than you have to, but it still takes your breath away. Dan Heng gives it back to you as he meets your lips again, something desperate crawling out of him now that the first of what seems to be many steps has been taken. 

Dan Heng settles himself between your parted legs, your knees bracketing his hips as he kneels over you. From beneath, the pulsating blue light of the flooring casts his skin into something ethereal, otherworldly and barely conceivable. He pulls back, braced on his hands as he stares down at you in a single moment of quiet contemplation. 

“Still with me?” The words breeze across your cheeks as he speaks them, rolling across your skin and nearly evaporating before you have the chance to comprehend them. The answer is almost no, for the simple fact that you weren’t yourself for the span of time between him kissing you and him bringing the two of you to his spartan bed. 

But then you find enough of your faculties to breathe, to kick-start your thoughts and really take stock of the burning of desire in your gut. “Not going anywhere until you kick me out.”

“The others will start to get suspicious.” He leans in again, nosing along your cheek until he gets to your ear. As if he were telling some grave secret, Dan Heng warns, “We could just let them know we’re together, now. That’s simple enough.”

“Are we?” You respond, eyelashes brushing your cheeks as you close your eyes at the sensation. Every little exhale he makes is against the shell of your ear, and you almost think it’s simply his breath that’s caressing the shape until you hear the rustling of his movements. His fingers sweep along the arch before the featherlight touch of his knuckles drags down, down, down along the tendon of your neck. 

It’s not a denial that comes from you, just a simple question of where he thinks the two of you stand. You’ll go with it regardless; Dan Heng hasn’t led you wrong before, and you’re not about to start doubting him now, when you’re most vulnerable. His laughter is a rare treat, and even now as it curls beneath his breath, it feels like the presence of something incredibly priceless. 

“We are.” Dan Heng answers with ease and simplicity, like he’s so assured of all this. Like he hadn't panicked for a moment before you hung up on him the first time last night. Somewhere along the way, he’d pieced things together and sharpened his confidence into a blade that teases along your skin between the knuckles of his fingers, now. 

And that’s enough of an answer for you. With him, there are very few hidden meanings to his words. Now wouldn’t be the time to start; you’re meant to take his answer at face value. Turning your head, you ghost your lips along his cheek in a silent acceptance. What happens now is up to him, but the way his shifts to press his hips against yours makes it obvious enough that the two of you are on the same page, here.

There are a thousand, thousand things that he could do with you, now that he’s got his hands on you. You have no idea, he’d said over the phone, a lingering promise to show you if you’d let him. But the choice he makes is the simplest, the most easy at this point in time. With a slow grind of his hips, he presses against you and his moan shudders against your ear, so akin to how he’d sounded over the phone. 

Unfiltered, shot directly into your veins with the threat of addiction, Dan Heng repeats the same sounds he made for you over the phone, each accompanied by a roll of his body against yours. Each sigh, each moan, matched perfectly with the tone you remember vividly despite the slight static that accompanied it. 

Like he’d been practicing, like he planned this. Digging your nails into his shoulders, beneath the fabric of his jacket but above his shirt, you needle at him for answers that you’ll gladly match with your own if he asked. “How many times did you get off while thinking of me?”

“Too many.” A single laugh leaves him, tinged with cynicism, as if he’s in disbelief of himself for such an answer. 

Dan Heng, always so concise, hasn’t given you enough information. “For how long?”

“How many astral cycles has it been since you first boarded?” A question for a question, and while you were willing to answer them all, this one is a little obvious. Dan Heng keeps his cheek pressed to yours, the faint dusting of his eyelashes against your temple as they flutter with each of his movements. “I wish March hadn’t been there when I found you.”

At first, you don’t know what he’s talking about. What difference would it have made if she wasn’t there? 

But then the memory of his face so close to yours, not unlike how it is now as he pulls back to gauge your reaction through half-lidded eyes. Of March’s hand planting on his cheek to push him away and cheer about your newfound consciousness. The faint murmurs about CPR, the flash of his scent in your nose as the first real intrusion on your senses upon waking up. 

Whether it’s his idea of a joke or not, you still let out a quiet laugh and tug him back in for a kiss. A do-over for what he seems to think he was denied that day, though he’s had plenty of those since you walked through that door not so long ago. 

Words lose meaning when they’re murmured into each other's mouth, so you stop altogether. Only conversation through actions is what matters, and Dan Heng is particularly good at body language with how he makes it clear how badly he wants you. Fingers that once brushed against your skin gently grow greedy and seek more. Untucking clothing and pulling at zippers, revealing more and more until you’re laid bare beneath him and he can touch where he pleases. 

And that seems to be everywhere. The slope of your shoulders, your collarbones, the plane of your sternum and across your stomach. As if testing the give, he squeezes at your hips and lets out a pleased little sigh at what he feels there. Against your ear, his breaths come hot and heavy, an unexpected excitement starting to color them with each shift of his hands, each rock of his clothed cock against your bare pussy. 

Why he’s dragging this out, you’re not sure. It could be some sick form of delayed gratification, but you’re finding it hard to see any positives to it when your skin is starting to feel too tight and your legs itch to kick out, to press down against the thin mattress and buck up against him. Dan Heng is exploring you thoroughly, but not in the ways you want him to. 

Brokenly, you groan, “Dan Heng, come on-”

“I like to savor things I know I’m going to enjoy.”

Groaning and letting your arms fall from his shoulders, splayed out to your sides, you do your absolute best to coerce him into doing anything more than grinding himself against you and squeezing at every inch of your body he can feasibly reach without separation. “It’s not going to run out. This isn’t a one-time thing.”

Pulling back, he looks at you with eyes that are crinkled in the corners just so. Amusement of any sort is a good look for him, even if it’s at your expense. “Fine, but pushing me now will only make it worse for you later.”

“Then I’ll deal with that later.” 

Carefully, Dan Heng pries one of his hands from your hip, using it to work blindly at belts and sashes around his waist that you can’t be bothered to learn the layout of just yet. Eventually, after much practice, but it’s best to leave things to the expert for now. Against your lower stomach, the weight of his cock slaps wetly - he’s just as worked up as you are. 

“Alright. Later, then.”

Maybe there’s a little regret in not allowing him to at least get you ready. The rounded head of his cock bumps against your entrance, his hand hooks beneath your knee to spread you wider, and you’re given only a moment to recenter before he’s sinking into you with a swift, persistent push. 

And the sound he makes. Beneath his breath, rumbling, eyes fluttering shut, Dan Heng moans so prettily that you’re convinced you’re not dreaming. If only because there’s no way you could come up with a vocalization so striking on your own, no matter how good your imagination might be during lonely nights thinking of the man pushing deeper into you with each passing thought you have. 

Your arms that had been flung out to your sides search for purchase, finding it around the edge of the mattress, as your knuckles ache from the pressure of your grip. Dan Heng’s cheek presses against yours again, an attempt to comfort you with actions as well as words, “Take a breath. Give it a second.”

There’s an undertone to his words, a bit of teasing that suggests you might be regretting asking him to go so quickly. But the sharpness is exquisite, mingling with the sudden feeling of being stretched full. Shakily, you bring one hand to loop under his arm, splaying across his back as if he were stable enough to keep you anchored while also being the reason you’re out-of-body. 

Fingertips press between his shoulder blades, your nails dig into the glass flooring, and Dan Heng pulls back. His teeth find purchase on your neck, his fists bury in the blankets, and Dan Heng thrusts forward. 

And as soon as he bottoms out, one hand slaps over your mouth to muffle the sudden yelp that leaves you, undignified and embarrassing with its pitch. His thumb hooks beneath your chin, palm over your mouth, holding you still as he repeats the motion again and again, agonizingly slowly, as if he wants to make sure you feel every inch of his cock as he fucks you. 

Between leaving little marks of his teeth against your skin, he warns you, “If you’re too loud, someone’s going to come asking questions. Do you really want to explain to March why we’re in here together with the door closed?”

As if you’d bother to answer the door in the first place. Surely she’s not naive enough to misinterpret whatever sounds would come out of here while Dan Heng is very obviously preoccupied with you in particular. Matters aren’t helped when he makes a particularly sharp thrust, enough that his own breath leaves him in an appreciative exhalation. 

There’s a vague sort of awareness that you look like a mess. Sweaty, rumpled, writhing beneath him as he takes his sweet time working you open around him, each push accompanied by the increasing volume of your wet arousal, his skin slapping against yours, the quiet jingle of his accessories as his clothing shifts. 

It’s unfair that you’re so bare while he’s removed only enough to do what he needs. Surely the rest of his skin would be just as beautiful as what you’ve been allowed to see so far. Alabaster and smooth marble, impassive unless you knew exactly where to look. 

Instinctively, you note the little space between Dan Heng’s brows where they furrow together, the twitch at his jaw where his muscles tense. This is the closest you’ve seen him to coming undone, and it’s entirely attributed to the feeling of you clenching around him, the racing thoughts in your head bringing you to places that leave you treading dangerously close to the edge. 

So many questions begin to crop up in your mind as it works too hard and too fast, a direct correlation to the way his pace has picked up accordingly. With each consistent, precise impalement of his cock inside you, a new demand flickers through your mind before it’s gone again. 

Incoherence muddles any ardent words you’d like to speak. Ones that ask him to go harder, faster, give you more.  Bliss floods your veins as you lock your ankles behind his back and keep him close, keep him deep enough that there’s no chance you’ll go unfilled as your walls flutter, and then your entire being shatters until you’re little more than a pulse synchronized with his own stuttering pace. 

Maybe he fucks you for a thousand years in one go, or perhaps it’s only a few moments longer. But it still feels like an eternity until you come down to the feeling of each and every pulse of his release hitting inside. Dan Heng positively throbs inside you, fingers digging into skin wherever he can reach to keep himself from making the very sounds he warned you against. 

At the very least, you can hear the quiet whine under his breath as he exhales and shudders against you. It’s a small mercy you’re coherent enough to ferret that away, just as you did with everything else Dan Heng provided over the phone, and the encore he gave you as a treat for coming to him as swiftly as you could. 

The bed does nothing to cushion the blow as he all but collapses on top of you, resting between your thighs as his lips absently trace paths on your skin with minimal movement from his head. Occasionally, he’ll attempt to leave a mark, but out of laziness or exhaustion, there’s hardly enough force behind it to provide anything lasting. 

There’s time later, certainly, because you’re not going to let him get away with just the once. It’s obvious it goes both ways, with how his arms worm their way beneath you to attach himself, as if he still wasn’t buried inside you to the point of feeling his heartbeat just off-tempo from your own. 

Dan Heng’s breath is damp against your neck, mingling with the traces of saliva he left in his amorous wake. With your own weak limbs, you lift your hands to the back of his head and bury your fingers between thick locks, not quite tugging but not letting him go if he wanted to. 

Maybe you should say something. Solidifying whatever this was is probably a good idea, but if you focus hard enough, you can feel the slight pout of his lips as his cheek presses against your collar and he threatens to let his weariness take over. 

Dealing with matters the day after seems to be the running theme with this. With that in mind, you settle back onto the hard mattress and close your eyes. Shades of blue dance along your eyelids from the glowing floor, lending a cooling effect that soothes your singed nerves and lust-burned skin. 

Dan Heng isn’t one to leave things half-finished, and you know for certain that neither of you are finished here. How much is left to be done is anyone’s guess, but if it turns out to be an endless sort of project, well… You wouldn’t be so opposed. 

In time with your own, his heartbeat slows, his grip grows lax, and you try not to laugh at his expense. If he was up as late as you suspect last night, then he sorely needs his rest. 

Just a short one. 

[owlespresso]

Dan Heng who, while in his Imbibitor Lunae form, wraps his long tail around your waist or your wrist to keep you from getting lost in a crowd, or to prevent you from wandering off when the two of you have a task that needs doing. It's not an unconscious habit. He might try to play it off as one, though.

Dan Heng whose tail wraps around your ankle, whose scales slip over your bare skin as he snakes it underneath your shirt. Feathery tip making goosebumps shudder across your arms and legs. He curls it around your thigh whenever you lay together, twining entirely down your leg to your ankle.

[hunnieknight]

Could we have more mouse reader? They are absolutely adorbs <3

The mouse reader is actually a reply for a post from @//jymwahuwu, Please keep in mind their blog is 18+! So I won't tag the post here.

I posted it on my nsfw blog, but I can share the art here because it is sfw!

Plus some other rat/mouse reader sketch.

No lore, just drawing

[xurory]

WHINEY men who are extremely verbal in bed !! he can't help but let out his lustful moans whenever you ride him until he's absolutely fucked into oblivion :3 the way your cute lil' pussy wraps around his cock as he watches your tits bounce up n down. he's just soooo loud, and it's all for uuu <3 it's not everyday he gets to feel you like this, so he'd most likely go insane and whine under the slightest of your touch. "ngh... don't stop, please. keep goin-" you'd shut him up by shoving his face on your boobs :p his cutest whines would come out when you hop off his lap and suck his hardened cock. like, how could he not !? your mouth felt so heavenly and the way you suckle on his tip? makes him crave for u even more.

AVENTURINE, gepard, CAELUS, dan heng / KAZUHA, XIAO, thoma, LYNEY, kaveh, VENTI / ISAGI, chigiri / YUTA, megumi, GOJO / your faves !! :3

[maopll]

"Wait...you've been kissing the same spot!"

"You know very well why I am doing this dear"

It just started with a small information which you learned from some of your friends. They were bragging about how the moles and birthmarks in your body represent the places your past lover kissed you.

A harmless one right? you told it to your boyfriend and let's say he was feeling quite a mix of emotions then.

"I would like to see the places where you have those, you don't mind it, do you, my dear ?" Although his tone was gentle, his eyes were speaking a different tale. The emphasis on the word 'my dear' sent chills down your spine.

Not even a minute had passed from you showing him the moles and marks around your body, that he tackles them with ferverent yet soft kisses. As if he was trying to replace your past lovers trace with only his ...

"It is good to see that you had a past lover who clearly loved you a lot..." he looked at you through half lidded eyes

with a particularly rough kiss on the birthmark on your chest , he whispered

"But I'd rather you don't mention them again"

— wriothesley, NEUVILLETTE, ZHONGLI, diluc, CHILDE, AYATO, kaeya, alhaitham, VIL, MALLEUS, leona, AZUL, dan heng, BLADE, JING YUAN, luocha, dr ratio, sampo, diavolo, MAMMON, lucifer, satan, BEELZEBUB

tagging : @fictoculus @poison-demon @mitsvriii @pianopuppygirl @sleepy-waffle @falors @imhere2dosomething @moondrop-gummies @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

© 2024 maopll. do not copy, repost or modify my work in any form