#DATA MY DARLING DATA

[youngpettyqueen]

"Data to Counsellor Troi-" screaming so loudly

[lonely-night]

Janeway/Seven in 6.08 “One Small Step”

[buttercup-barf]

My baby doodled in Magma a bit ago... She likes whoppers.

[lavendernarwhal72]

I MET BRENT SPINER

[image ID: Brent Spiner, an older white man, standing next to a short white woman with short purple hair, a choker, and yellow sweater with a comm badge pocket and pip buttons on the black collar, she’s smiling super wide, they’re against a blue photo background. end ID]

[elizabethrobertajones]

Been playing my fem au ra alt for a week or two now and I'm really starting to enjoy the fem ra actions and motions as maybe the second least way too overtly feminine or cutesy to femroes, who I feel are entirely neutral about the whole thing unless it's an emote that only has 2 genders. She actually startles me when she does a generic emote in a cutscene that's really femme because just running around and stuff she is delightfully neutral.

(Playing way too femme characters feels pretty dysphoric for me, I noped out of hyur and miqo and lamentably viera.... I can play, like, male character, lala or femroe and fem au ra I guess :P)

[quillheel]

[ storm; a raging storm outside, where sender insists receiver stays in ] (to wally from home; right i get the muse for the one that can't move, but at least home can shut its doors and protect him from the thing in the woods--)

Like a thunderclap to a small dog, Wally cannot stop moving.

Usually, Wally liked storms. He liked the low sound of thunder and the blinding light of lightning, even if the boom between air & between atoms sometimes startled him, his focus was one of awe enraptured. Rain pattering on the world like a hundred thousand marbles, evidence of reality, evidence of stability, evidence of the world changing in different; wonderful ways. Usually, Wally liked to watch and wait for a storm to pass. Usually, he’d sit — mostly quiet, aside from occasional murmurs to Home — and draw in his little spot perhaps on the porch or next to a window. Usually, it does not rain at night.

He feels as though he is forgetting something important. A thread tugged at the ridges of the seam, like bewilderment, like torture. A thousand miles of downpour. A thousand miles of fiber weaving unto fiber weaving unto-

He feels as though he is forgetting something important. What was it again?

— It makes him antsy. An actor forgetting his lines from just off-stage, he peers out from the spaces he can to watch the dark rain, how he can barely see it at all. Home’s insistence upon keeping him in does not help, and abruptly the entire house feels sinister by sheer virtue of what was being kept away ( inability to tell the difference between locked out, and locked in )

Home was not the problem. Wally was.

He feels as though he is forgetting something very very important. If he looked closely enough, maybe he could see it between the floorboards, like a shivering, terrible, oil slick black hand guiding a prop, like a snake writhing just loud enough to hear it, hear the hiss when he stepped on the right panels. Like being caught in a bad dream, Wally cannot shed the feeling that something bad is about to happen.

When Wally is afraid of something, he likes to remind himself that it can’t hurt him. He does not know what he is afraid of. Maybe that’s what he’s forgetting.

“ What’s wrong, Home? “ he asks, sat in his rocking chair after wandering up and down the halls as though seeking a breach in the wallpaper itself, in the plaster. The nerves don’t leave him, and he’s just a few minutes away from getting up again. “ I always draw outside. Why can't I go...? "

An inquiry that loiters on the edges of the anxiety that pervades, that Home is trying to protect him from, that Wally does not understand, was not meant to understand.

If he stared closely enough at the gaps between the floorboards, maybe he could see it. See what Home was trying to keep out. A basement that does not exist.

He does not want to see, but he has to know.

[mageless]

Please please please I need this to have 10,000 notes

Data, Star Trek The Next Generation

[dawnled]

tag post #2 ( character tags ) !

[devllipriv]

wrapped :3

also here's my top 100 songs:

[antirepurp]

the absolutely Tragedy of 4 4 the ultimate bitch of a glitch pokemon being yellow exclusive when the old man glitch is red/blue specific. unacceptable absolutely unforgivable can you imagine what we could have had

[sportsboos]

Webinar Studio Review – Limitless Webinar App 

[beatcroc]

200

aka ''who do you play in ringracers'' well, 1, the whole fucking roster at once, 2, every most extreme/polarized/minmaxed edge of the stat layouts, and 3, mecha sonic specifically.

everybody give it up for 100 hours of ringracers

[lovingjingyuan]

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

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

Aventurine

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

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

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

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

Jing Yuan

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

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

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

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

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

Bladie!!!

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

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

Sunday

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

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

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

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

Boothill

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also gonna update now

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Omg I love your writing can you please do a smut fic for Bruce Wayne’s wife asking him to be rough with her like asking to be spanked and chocked because he keeps treating her like she’s fragile and refuse to be rough in bed, she’s really small in stature so he’s always been scared of actually hurting her but she finally convinces him to finally be rough with her. Please ❤️❤️

GRRRR FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ON THIS ONE ABSOLUTELYYY

Sorry this one took a while to write, just had a major snowstorm recently that made a tree fall on the powerlines to my house. Currently running on mobile data to write this bc I won't have wifi till Sunday😀

Like You're Made of Glass

Bruce Wayne x Wife! Reader

Smut and a bit of fluff mixed in.

Alsooo!!! As per the request, the reader is depicted to be quite a fair bit smaller than Bruce, but if anybody wants a Plus Sized reader fic, Im totally down! We love body positivity over here, no matter who you are💜

"Come on, Bruce," Your voice is barely more than a soft, seductive whisper as your arms wrap around his broad, toned shoulders, "I'm not made of glass, you know." Bruce has been at it for hours at this point, the posture of his back absolutely suffering as he continues filling out paperwork at his desk. You would honestly be lying if you said it wasn't attractive, though: driven men are just so... Admirable.

Bruce couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that, despite barely glancing up from his patrol reports as you hug him from behind. "No, you're not," Your husband agrees softly, his voice, albeit slightly gruff from disuse over the past few hours, filling the study air with such a soothing melody. "But you are my wife. And, as far as I'm concerned, a certain Mrs. Wayne vowed that she would keep herself safe from any potential threat the night before we got married. That does include myself, for your information."

A soft huff falls from your lips at that, the sound echoing through the, otherwise silent, secured office. "And, as far as I'm concerned, a certain Mr. Wayne vowed to do anything for my happiness on our wedding day," The tease leaves your mouth as it finds it's way to his neck, the sound slightly muffled as you press soft, loving kisses to his tense muscles. "You promised a unicorn, if I wanted it."

He really couldn't help but crack a soft smile at that, which was a rare sight from the, otherwise stoic, Batman. A deep breath and slight sigh escapes his mouth as the pen leaves his hands and rests on the piles of milky, white papers. Bruce couldn't help but let his head fall to the side slightly to rest upon your cheek, which is still burried into the crook of his neck.

"I did promise you a unicorn," He agrees yet again in an even softer tone. That was the tone he used when he considered caving to his darling wife's pleading (which he almost always did). "And your happiness," Bruce adds after a moment as he lets his weary eyes flutter closed, breathing in your familiar and comforting scent.

“But happiness isn’t just about unicorns and fairy tales, Bruce,” you respond, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. The warmth in your eyes contrasts the cool sterility of the office, sparking something intense in the depths of his dark eyes. “It’s also about being able to live fully in every aspect, even between us.”

He furrows his brow slightly, processing your words, but he can't deny the heat rising from where your bodies almost touch and how it made his pants feel just that bit tighter. You have a way of igniting feelings he'd long buried under layers of duty and responsibility. “I just… I want you safe,” he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

“I know you do,” you assure him, reaching out to trace your fingers along the strong line of his jaw. “But sometimes, I need you to let go—just a little. You don’t always have to protect me. I’m not a delicate flower needing shelter from the storm. I can handle more than you think.”

A flicker of uncertainty dances across his sharp features as he considers your request. His instincts scream at him to be careful, to treat you with the utmost caution. It feels impossible to shake the weight of years spent fighting villains and guarding against any potential harm. But then again, you’ve never been one to shrink back from challenges.

“And what exactly are you suggesting?” he questions, half-teasing, half-serious, lifting an eyebrow. The tension in the spacious office thrummed with electricity, and his heart raced in anticipation of your answer.

Your lips curl into a confident smile, emboldened by a newfound sense of liberation. “I’m saying… I want you to be you,” you say, your voice steady and full of promise. “The true you. Your passion is part of who you are, Bruce. Embrace it—embrace me. Let’s shake things up a bit.”

He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, the playful challenge hanging thick between you. “You mean you want the Batman?” he asks, his voice lowering further, laced with a darker edge that sends a thrill coursing through you.

“Exactly.” You lean closer, your breath fanning over his skin, whispering sweetly, “I want you to show me how much you can handle without worrying if it will break me.”

Bruce studies you closely, weighing the implications of your daring invitation. What if he lost control? What if he did hurt you, despite knowing you were more than capable of taking care of yourself? But then again, this was another side of you he had never truly explored. This vulnerable yet fierce woman in front of him—the perfect blend of softness and strength.

“Alright,” he finally concedes, his deep voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. “But if I lose myself—”

“You won’t,” you interrupt, capturing his gaze with yours. “Trust me. Just let go.”

In that moment, the barriers that had always kept him restrained began to crumble. He leaned forward, capturing your lips with his, the kiss igniting a spark that felt both electrifying and intoxicating. The gentle brush of your mouths transformed into something deeper, more fervent, an unspoken promise exchanged in the heated embrace.

The tension of the day melted away, replaced by the rhythm of inspiration and passion. As you pulled him closer, your body pressed firmly against his, the world outside ceased to exist. Time stood still in the sanctity of the study as both of you surrendered to the moment, determined to reveal the hidden depths of your love for one another.

Bruce's hands found your waist, gripping the soft fabric of your shirt as he deepened the kiss, seeking to possess and protect all at once. There was urgency in his movements now, a storm brewing beneath the surface that had long been contained. Your heart raced at the primal energy radiating from him, and you could feel the anticipation thrumming through every fiber of your being.

Breaking the kiss, his breath was heavy and warm against your lips. "You want me to be rougher, then," he murmured, almost as if solidifying the agreement into existence. "Is that what you really want?"

You nodded vigorously, feeling your cheeks flush with a mix of excitement and desire. “Yes, Bruce. I’m ready. Just… take care of me afterward.”

With that affirmation ringing in his ears like a battle cry, Bruce transitioned effortlessly into this new role — the man beneath the mask, the guardian who had finally allowed vulnerability within the sanctuary of your shared intimacy.

He pushed you back until the desk met the small of your back, a flash of surprise dancing across your features. But before you could second-guess yourself, he captured your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. His frame loomed over yours, an embodiment of strength and restraint, the very image of the Batman you knew.

“Remember,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, “if it gets to be too much, you tap out.”

“Okay,” you whispered, anticipation flooding your veins.

With a quick motion, he brought his other hand down, delivering a sharp smack against your thigh that sent a jolt of electrifying pleasure coursing through you. You gasped, not from pain, but from exhilaration, your body instinctively arching to welcome him deeper into your world. A thrill spread through you as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Good girl,” he praised, another spank following, each strike sharper yet tinged with the tenderness of his touch. You squirmed beneath him, relishing the balance of pleasure and pain, the way that every strike lit up your skin and left a burning mark of his possession.

“More,” you urged, desperation coloring your tone, and he didn't hesitate to comply. Each slap echoed throughout the office, a rhythm punctuated by your soft cries and the heat radiating from Bruce’s body. He watched you carefully, assessing your reaction, the fierce protectiveness never fully disappearing from his gaze.

As the strikes continued, he leaned down and captured your neck between his fingers, applying just enough pressure to send a thrilling rush through your body without choking you. “You’re doing so well for me,” he murmured in that deep, gravelly tone that made your heart race even faster.

His actions intensified the fire within you, igniting a need that warped your perception of time and space. As he toyed with your neck, whispering praises and encouragements, your body responded instinctively, hungry for more of him, more of this exhilarating freedom he was giving you.

“Please, Bruce,” you gasped, your voice almost pleading. It felt like a confession, one that laid bare more than just the physical hunger you craved. “I want everything you can give me.”

A growl rumbled in his chest at that, a sound so primal and beautiful that it sent shockwaves through your entire being. A wicked grin crept onto his face as he transitioned from teasing strokes to something far more feral. He released your wrists, only to shift his grip to your hair, his fingers curling around the strands tightly yet tenderly.

“You asked for it,” he warned, a playful glint in his eyes before leaning forward, claiming your mouth with his again, the taste of you igniting the raw side of his nature. The kiss held none of the gentleness he usually afforded you; instead, it was possessive, driving, demanding.

As he did so, one of his large, calloused hands made it's way beneath your skirt to gently tease the skin of your thigh. The warm appendage slowly traveled up your leg, cupping the mass of your hip while his fingers slipped beneath the stretchy elastic of your panties. They were the pretty, lacy ones he picked up on his last big work trip out of the country.

The warmth of his lips was soon missed, however, as they trailed away from your own. But before you could whine at the loss of contact, his mouth trailed down to your jawline and neck, sucking and biting deep, purple marks into your delicate skin.

You didn't even have a chance to let out a small whimper at the assault on your neck before the sound of fabric ripping could be heard throughout the lavishly-decorated room. "Bruce!" You complain with a soft pout as you feel the reminants of the lacy cloth slipping down your thighs before landing in a small pile of shreds on the carpet floor.

"My deepest apologies, Mrs. Wayne," Bruce didn't bother to lift his head from your neck as he gave that shit-eating grin that you seldom see. He wasted no time in trailing his ring finger along your slick heat, collecting some of the moisture previously accumulating in your panties before trailing the digit up and around your sensitive bundle of nerves. "They're replaceable."

It didn't take long for your hips to be twitching softly, your husband's index and middle fingers tortuously and slowly trailing back to your weeping hole. His warm, calloused thumb moved to rub soft, languid circles on your clit as the digits slid their way inside of you, his lips never ceasing their attack on your, now bruising, neck.

"Baby-" Your whines were shortened in record time as Bruce used his free hand to cover your mouth, squeezing just enough on your jaw to get the point across. The slight stretch of his thick, long fingers inside of your cunt was divine: you almost couldn't help it.

"Speak when you're spoken to, beautiful," his voice was barely more than a rough whisper as his lips moved down your chest, removing the hand from your mouth to undo the first couple of buttons on your blouse. "I wouldn't want my wife out of place, would I? It's not safe for Batman's woman not to listen when given instructions."

His tone was almost enough to send shivers down your spine as your hips twitched yet again as his fingers pumped at a quickened pace, scissoring your gummy walls open to eventually accomodate for his girthy length. Almost immediately, your thigh is met with yet another loud 'smack!' in the otherwise quiet office. "Fuck, Bruce..." A soft whine escapes you, filling the air with your husband's favorite melody. He'd let you off the hook for speaking... This time, at least.

It felt like forever that Bruce spent eagerly fingering your dripping cunt, but that was to be expected. Even if he agreed to let go for the night, he could never risk seriously hurting his beautiful wife by not prepping her correctly. But, eventually, you felt that oh-so familiar tightening sensation in your stomach, your clit burning with pleasure as your husband rubbed at the sensitive spot.

But, then, he stopped.

Bruce had never denied you an orgasm before. In all honesty, you thought you were going to cry as he pulled his fingers away from your cunt, the muscles now clenching desperately around nothing but thin air. Before you could so much as make a pout, he was holding his two fingers to your lips, the digits gleaming with your own fluids. "Suck."

And, for a moment, you laid there as you processed his command. The gesture seemed so obscene but, god, you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on nonetheless. So, you gently parted your plush, kiss-swollen lips for him and embraced the pallete of the liquids created by none other than your weeping, aching hole.

Bruce let out a soft, pleased hum at that, pushing his fingers completely into your mouth before slowly unbuckling his belt with his unoccupied hand. You couldn't help but notice that it was tour favorite belt, the one with your initials engraved into the metal clasp currently making it's way to the carpeted floor of the study.

As always, you felt your heart give a soft flutter at the sight of your husband's hard, leaking cock as he freed it of his boxers, letting them fall down to his ankles before stepping out of them and allowing then to join the pile of scraps you once called your favorite panties. You were so entranced by Bruce you hadn't even noticed that youd stopped sucking on his soaked digits.

'Smack!'

Yet another echo came from the soft skin of your thigh as his free hand came in contact with it, the lewd sound bouncinf off of the filled bookcases. "Did I ever tell you to stop?" The tone he used was one you very rarely got to hear, usually reserved for the scumbags he interrogated during the dark Gotham nights.

It was hot.

You shook your head slightly as you looked up at those beautiful, blue eyes, now darkened with what could only be described as feral lust. This, yet again, earned a soft hum of approval from your husband. "Good girl..." He praised in a soft whisper, his unoccupied hand reaching to carefully align the tip of his length up with your heat. "I want you to tap out if it's too much. I need you to tap out if it's too much.

And before you could even utter another whimper, Bruce was sinking his girthy cock into your wet folds. He wasted no time in plowing himself into you, the hard slapping echoing through the study so loudly that you worried if one of the kids were to walk by, they'd have a horrendous image of their adoptive parents burned into their skulls. But all of those thoughts vanished as Bruce shoved his fingers even further down your throat, just barely leaving you enough room to breathe without a significant struggle.

If you had the ability to, your head would be falling back and your jaw would be slack in utter ecstasy. The most you could do for the moment was moan around your husband's thick fingers while he plowed into you, the mahogany desk creaking slightly from the pressure below. In all honesty, you were convinced Bruce would break the desk before he was through. Even then, it didn't seem like he had any intentions of stopping.

"Such a good girl for me..." This was so much different than the Bruce you were used to. Your Bruce held you as close as possible while whispering declarations of love and claiming that you're the best thing to ever happen to him. This Bruce wasn't holding you like a porcelain doll, but instead keeping himself at the best angle to ram into your pretty pussy as hard as he could. "That's my pretty little cunt, isn't it?"

The best you could do was let out a pornographic whine around his fingers, spit dripping down from the corners of your stuffed lips and making it's way down tour flushed and heated cheeks. Despite his literal decades of experience, it took all of his effort not to cum right then and there with your warm, gummy walls milking his length.

Pound after pound.

Slap after slap.

For what felt like eternity, that's all that could be heard. At this point in your sexual adventure, Bruce was determining that he much rathered ramming into your tight little hole when you were still partially clothed. It gave him something more to imagine the next time he saw you in the office and didn't have the chance to bend you over his desk.

And, for the second time that night, you felt that firey, knotted feeling arising in the pits of your stomach. As your fingers reached up to gently tangle your fingers into his, now messy, hair and give it a soft tug, the most you could do otherwise was give him a pleading look, silently begging for him not to rip away yet another orgasm in one night.

At first, Bruce debated edging you at least once more. But when he finally looked into those gorgeous eyes, now hazed over with need, trust, and love, he decided that the rest of the teasing could wait for another night. "Are you going to cum, beautiful?" His voice is ragged and interrupted by a soft groan as he speaks. "Is my pretty little wife going to cum all over my cock?"

While you nodded desperately, still begging for your release to be granted, he kept his pace steady while giving a soft nod, the hair on his forehead sticking slightly with the sheen layer of sweat forming. Within moments, your gummy walls were clenching down around his thick length like there was no tomorrow, covering his shaft with the milky fluid that splashed up onto his pelvic bone and thighs slightly. "Bruce..." Your endless whimpers of his name were bately audible over the thick digits still shoved into your mouth.

As Bruce's hips began to stutter and his groans became more prominent, you wrapped your sore and achy legs around him. "Stay," You whimpered as he removed his fingers in favor of wrapping his arms around your shoulders, almost hugging you as he kept you pinned over the mahogany desk. "Give it to me. Don't pull out. Don't you fucking dare pull out."

That was all it took for Bruce's face to be burried in your shoudler, letting out a low moan as his cock painted your insides with his sperm. Even after he came, your husband still moved slowly in and out of your weeping cunt, prolonging the ecstasy of both of your orgasms as long as possible. Had the two of you ever talked seriously about kids? No, but he could pick up a Plan B in the morning.

"Fuck..." Was all Bruce muttered into your skin before peppering your skin in light kisses, each one trailing upward until his lips met yours in a soft, loving contact. This was the loving husband you were used to. When he finally pulled away and helped brush some of the hair now sticking to your forehead from the sheer layer of sweat covering your body out of the way, he only had three words. "I love you."

Masterlist

[azen13]

I loved your recent Dan Heng posting so so much!!! I’m not the original requester however

Reading it made my mind wander into how Dan Heng would react to a darling who is just so smitten with him (even his more awkward habits) that they recognize his yandere behavior and tease him about it while also kind of playing into it?

My mind keeps running through ideas of a darling that shows up to hang out with him all the time and is just over the moon when he hovers around them in a possessive manner…

Plus I think darling might also be just a teeny tiny bit obsessed with Dan Heng as well (I know I am 🤭)

I’m cutting my ramblings off here because I could go on all day about the ideas this glorious man springs into my brain but I don’t wanna subject you to them all hehe

— Dan Heng Anon

CW: Yandere Themes, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Cuddling, Sleeping Together, Kissing

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Anon, I genuinely love this idea so much! I can definitely see the vibe. As I said in my other post about Dan Heng, I think he's relatively subtle in terms of how he expresses his possessive tendencies: a hand on your shoulder; a command clothed as a suggestion; a redirection of your attention back on him.

But when you start feeding into his behavior?

The first thing that happens to him is that he practically short-circuits. You show up to his room one night, pillow and blanket in hand, face dim with fatigue but eyes shining with mischief. Your room is too warm, you complain. He hasn't even processed what you've said before you slip through the doorway and plop your bedding near his, fluffing up your pillow and arranging your space how you like it.

You fall asleep almost instantly; the next morning, you proclaim you slept better on the hard flooring of Dan Heng's room than any night in your soft bed.

Dan Heng stays up the whole night, studying your face like an astronomer, trying to understand the way you seem to orbit around him. Maybe the forces of attraction have finally gone in his favor, drawing you close to him.

As the days pass, he begins to reciprocate your signals. When the Astral Express splits up on missions, he ensures you're always with him, regardless of how March and the Trailblazer pout. He'll send them a flat, unimpressed stare, your hand and his tightly intertwined. Himeko and Welt notice, but don't say anything. They underestimate Dan Heng's love, the true gravity of the situation is much stronger than they perceive it to be.

In public, Dan Heng manages to keep it together, though you make it difficult with how you cling to his side. He can't help but want to be protective of you when there are strangers sidling next to you. Any chance he can get, he makes sure he's walking closer to the center of the road.

In the privacy of his room, though, he becomes much more clingy. Night after night you arrive at his door and make yourself at home on the floor, and each night, you sleep a little closer to him. Soon enough, your hand is squeezing him as you dream; then his arm is looped around your shoulder; two pairs of legs tangled together beneath mismatched bedsheets; his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the faintest traces of perfume.

Then you don't show up one night.

Dan Heng spends hours waiting. He's normally not very fidgety, but tonight his foot taps a frantic tempo against the floor, eyes glued to the door.

Eventually, he gets up and heads to your room. The lights are dim, but he can see a sly smile playing on your lips like Cupid readying another arrow to fire at his heart. You've done it on purpose, and it both amuses and annoys him.

With a huff, he walks over to your bed and hoists you up into his arms. You make no move to get out of his grip, eyes sparkling playfully; you're just as entranced with him as he is with you, two stars orbiting each other.

Unceremoniously, he plops you down on his makeshift bed in the data bank, settling beside you. His arms loop around your torso, pulling you close. "I don't appreciate your prank," he grumbles.

You can't help but laugh. "I'm sure you don't." It's amusing to see Dan Heng pouting. His expression is relatively neutral, but you can see sulkiness in his eyes, feel how he squeezes you a little tighter than most nights.

"I want you to stay with me."

You smile, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I will."

[zhongrin]

stupid hormones

© zhongrin | 2024  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley, neuvillette

✼ tags ┈ minors dni, fem!pronouns + fem!bodied reader, period, period blood, reader wears reusable pads (zhongli), cyom2c / choose your own method to cum (lmao) (zhongli), fingering (al haitham), p -> v (wriothesley), oral (neuvillette)

✼ a/n ┈ disclaimer: my period hormones wrote this, i am innocent 😇 

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

the scent of your blood was strong, but the scent of your arousal was even stronger.

fresh out of his shift at the wangsheng funeral parlor, zhongli silently closed the front door behind him and soundlessly walked towards your bedroom. he leaned onto the doorway as he observed you sitting on your favorite recliner sofa, gasping as your hips grounded against your knuckles above the clothing, the soft surface of the pads providing minimal stimulation to your swollen clit.

your breath hitched when you felt his gaze, and the whimper leaving your throat made the corner of zhongli’s lips twitch.

“oh, darling….,” he crooned, slowly stalking closer towards your needy form.

“it’s the hormones,” you whined, and his corresponding chuckle made you paw on his pants, “help me…”

“if you ask nicely,” your husband's hand cradled the back of your head, lightly scratching your scalp, the tips slowly trailing down your nape.

“please help me cum…”

“there you go. good girl…,” a smile and a pleased huff later, you were pushed back onto your favorite chair, and you thanked your past self for having enough sense to lay a towel under you beforehand. you watched eagerly as he kneeled and carefully slipped your panties away, eyes drooping in adoration at the sight of his feast, “tongue or finger, sweetheart?”

you breathed your answer in a half moan, and you thought you saw zhongli smirk before he started his second shift — pleasing the wife is his primary job as a husband, and he never failed to take it seriously.

“you’re a lot more sensitive when you’re in such a vulnerable state. i suppose some of those erotica novels of yours has a speck of informative value.”

al haitham fully understood that it was one of your weakness when he talked like that, in that slightly condescending baritone, all the while his fingers are so deep inside your cunt, hitting that specific spot. hence, the way your walls spasm right after and the way your slick gushed along with the dark red liquid didn’t faze him.

with a hum and slow, careful movements of his fingers, he helped you ride down your climax, before placing a soft kiss on your forehead, waiting for bliss to clear out of your glazed eyes.

your period hormones sometimes made you a lot more insatiable than usual, and al haitham preferred to keep you sated and not groaning every five seconds due to cramps, so this two-birds-with-one-stone solution was a routine he didn’t mind integrating into his life. your period calendar was equally memorized along with the akademiya’s meetings, events, and deadlines in his head.

“…. more,” you mumbled with a pout, and he held back the urge to snort.

“of course you want more,” the words slipped out of his lips just as his fingers got back to work, but he stopped his movements when you grabbed his wrists, “what now?”

“not that… i want…,” your gaze strayed to the bulge pressing against your side, and he smirked in approval.

three birds with one stone. how outstandingly efficient.

wriothesley had always thought you would eventually drive him insane one day.

maybe that day was today.

“just one round, please?” you mewled, dainty fingers rubbing against his abs under his rumpled dress shirt before tracing a vein up his aching cock, trying to guide him into your needy pussy.

“sweetheart, you sure about this?” his breathing came out in short pants, icy blue eyes narrowed and shimmering with lust. the hand palming your thigh gently grabbed your wrist, halting your movements temporarily, “you’re not hurting, are you?”

“it’ll hurt less when you fuck me properly!” you huffed, “or what, are you turned off by all the blood-”

his hands loosened his hold over yours, an amused grin showing his slightly crooked left fang stretching his lips, “of course not.”

a few shuffles and guiding murmurs later, you whine and keen as your arms shook against the dining table of your shared home, one of your beloved’s hands palming your sensitive mounds as the other supported himself against the furniture, his hips sensually moving as he bullied your sweetest spots. rather than disgusted, the way your slick and blood coated his skin seemed to make him snarl in excitement, like a wolf on a hunt.

“you see, love,” he panted right against your ear, savoring the debauched noises falling off your lips, “dunno why… maybe my brain has associated blood with the adrenaline rush in a pankration match…”

his calloused fingers rolled your nipple, pinching lightly before his whole hand palmed the plushness, the gentleness a contrast with how his shaft rutted into you, your hips desperately pushing back against him in turn.

“but the sight of them really…,” a grunt, a hard thrust that made you momentarily see stars, and you felt yourself inch steadily closer and closer into that euphoric release, “… really gets me going.”

“ー ah, no worries, when you get too sore tonight, i’ll make sure to massage you thoroughly…”

you had a feeling you just fed this man a forbidden fruit.

whenever he was faced with an unexpected situation, neuvillette always tried to be as calm and sensible, his mind inwardly telling himself to control his emotions.

unfortunately, no matter how much his willpower was, there was no way his dragonhoods wouldn’t rear their heads when faced with so many stimuli at once.

“mmm, neuvi, please, oh please- i n-need you so so bad-”

he grunted at the desperate murmurs whispered against his lips. the iudex’s gloved fingers gripped the scandalous exposure of your thighs as you hovered above him. your needy pheromones nearly made his eyes roll and goaded a moan out of him; so much so that his fangs poked against the bottom of his lips, his draconic features glowing. you were bloodied, and he knew that you were uncomfortable, yet you were clearly so turned on and ready for him.

you were delectable, that's what you were.

“you smell so good, my dewdrop."

he hummed, guttural and deep as he kissed your cheek, before flipping your position so he was the one on top. deep purrs rumbled in his chest as he took his coat and let them crumple onto the floor, before his arms locked around your thighs to spread them open and his tongue wasted no time to delve into the creamy mess of your cunt. with how pale he was, the blood stood prominent against his skin and his dress shirt, but just for this once the gentleman’s decorum was the last thing he had in mind.

he had a meal to savor and a wife to care for.

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