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mrmeowski · 12 days ago

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˚✧𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈…?✧˚

Synopsis: Curiosity often pushes us to seek answers to the unknown, but sometimes, those simple questions lead you down unexpected paths. What seems innocent at first can stir deeper emotions, and what’s shared may reveal more than anticipated. The question is, are you ready for them?

CW: Slight angst [Boothill], slight 2.5 spoilers [Jiaoqiu], suggestive

Word Count: 5.5k

Characters: 🧡༻✧ Blade [668] 💜༻✧ Boothill [627] 🧡༻✧ Dan Heng • IL [628] 💜༻✧ Dr. Ratio [880] 🧡༻✧ Jiaoqiu [776] 💜༻✧ Jing Yuan [993] 🧡༻✧ Sunday [935]

⋇⊰BLADE⊱⋇

"Can I… help you with the bandages, Yingxing?" His eyes shift toward you, a flicker of irritation crossing his gaze as he starts unwinding the bindings on his arm.

You stand in the doorway, watching him. He sits silently on the edge of the bed, half-turned toward the wall, his top discarded. Shadows play across his scarred skin, deep lines from past battles marring his form, history of his trials and rebirths.

To anyone else, this sight of him unguarded would be fleeting, barely a moment before he'd forcefully shut them out. But you aren't just anyone, and for you, he’s left the door ajar, though he denies it.

"I’ve told you not to call me that." His words are gruff, but they lack the bite he'd have with anyone else.

Ignoring his protest, you step inside, letting the door slide shut behind you as you settle beside him on the bed. The mattress dips slightly under your weight, and he tenses, though he doesn’t move away.

"So I take that as a yes?" A playful smile tugging at your lips as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

He huffs but doesn’t pull his arm back.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he mutters.

Feigning a pout, you slipped your arms around his waist, feeling the subtle hitch in his breath as your hands brushed over his skin.

"Oh, come on," you teased, nudging him gently. "Can't I care for my dear husband?" For a moment, he was silent, his jaw clenched as he stared at his hands, as if trying to decide whether to give in.

With a reluctant sigh, he handed you the bandages, though his voice still held a touch of exasperation.

"Fine. But make it quick." With a smile, you took the roll from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment longer than necessary.

His warmth radiated under your touch, and as you began to carefully wrap the bandages over his scars, your movements were gentle, almost reverent, tracing the lines of his past with a tenderness only you could offer him.

"You know," you murmured, "You don't have to do everything alone." He tensed, his gaze flicking to you.

"I don't need help," he said, but his tone had softened significantly.

You only smiled, pressing lightly on his shoulder to make him hold still.

"Maybe not," you replied, "But that doesn’t mean you can’t let me help anyway." A rare softness flickered in his eyes, and for a brief moment, he let himself lean into your touch.

Silence settled between you, a comfortable, unspoken understanding. And as you continued your work, you could feel his heartbeat—a steady rhythm beneath layers of pain, guarded by walls he let no one else cross.

When the last bandage was secure, you paused, fingers lingering on his skin.

"See?" You grinned proudly. "Not so hard to let someone in every now and then., hm?"

He huffed, turning his gaze away to hide the faint blush that crept onto his cheeks. But he couldn't deny his heart any longer, nor the warmth that had stirred within him since you'd come into his life.

Taking a breath, he lifted his hand, the wedding ring that decorated his finger gleamed faintly in the soft light of his room—a reminder of the promise you’d both made, binding him to you more deeply than any scars ever could.

His hand found its way to your cheek, rough and calloused from battle, yet gentle as it cupped your face. You leaned into his touch. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that is only known to you. Slowly, he leaned closer, his lips capturing yours in a tender, lingering kiss that spoke more than words ever could.

You melted into his embrace, responding to the quiet passion he’d held back for so long.

Between breaths, his lips hovered close to yours, and in a whisper that trembled with sincerity, he said, “Thank you… for staying by my side all this time.”

⋇⊰BOOTHILL⊱⋇

"Can I... wear your hat?" You asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of your voice.

You knew what they said, curiosity killed the cat, but really, it was just a cowboy hat, right?

You’d seen him without it on a few rare occasions, but never anyone else wearing it. Boothill was... particular about that hat—almost as if it was an extension of himself.

So when you found yourself sitting close to him on the old, worn sofa, his metal arm resting around your shoulders and pulling you in just a bit closer, the question slipped out before you could stop yourself.

For a moment, he was silent. You could see the faintest trace of color rise to his cheeks, darkening his usual calm expression with a blush you’d never quite seen before.

He chuckled, his hand reaching over to tousle your hair playfully, “Well now, darlin’,” he drawled, an easy grin spreading across his face, sharp teeth glistening, “What’s got ya so interested in this ol’ thing, huh? Don’t tell me you’ve gone and developed a taste for a dusty cowboy hat...” You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Oh, come on, I just want to see what all the fuss is about. It’s not like it’ll bite.” He tilted his head, watching you with a mix of amusement and something softer, almost hesitant.

“Ain't no ordinary hat, ya know," he muttered, that faint blush deepening as he looked away for a moment, “But if ya really wanna wear it... who am I to say no to a pretty thing like you?”

You watched as his hand came up slowly, taking the hat from his head. He held it for a moment, as though second-guessing himself, then handed it to you with an almost reverent care. The weight of it settled in your hands, and as you gingerly placed it on your head, his gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening.

“There,” he murmured, his tone lower, “Looks like you’re all set to join the rodeo now.” You laughed, adjusting the brim so it sat just right, feeling a rush of warmth at the way he was looking at you, like you’d just stepped right into his heart.

He shook his head, grinning as he leaned back, his arm still around your shoulders. “Enjoy every second now, sugar—ain’t every day I let someone else wear that ol’ hat of mine.” You turned to face him, feeling bold, your gaze meeting his.

“Guess that means you trust me, huh?” He chuckled again, that easy, lazy grin spreading across his face as he looked back at you with a glint in his eye.

“Trust, interest… somethin’ like that.” Pulling you in a little closer. His fingers trailed down your cheek, slow and lingering, as he let his thumb trace along your jaw. “Just means you might be in for a bit of trouble now,” he whispered, his voice low and warm, his gaze flickering to your lips.

The brim of his hat dipped, casting a shadow over your faces, and you felt his lips brush against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, but quickly deepened as his sharp teeth grazed your lower lip, pulling at it in a way that made your heart race.

Deep within something weighed heavy in his chest—a deep, unspoken grief that seemed to tug at the very core of him. The moment you wore that hat of his... it reminded him of her, of a time long ago, when he was still human, when he had something to protect—someone to care for. His daughter. The one he had lost, the one he would never get back.

His heart, once broken, was mended only by one thing: you. He pulled away slightly, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath ragged.

"I ain't the man I once was... but I’ll protect you, darlin'. With my life, even if it goes against everythin' I ever knew. As long as it's you... I'll do it."

⋇⊰DAN HENG • IL⊱⋇

“Can I… touch your horns?" Your voice barely above a whisper.

The very moment Dan Heng shed his human form to reveal the graceful, imposing figure of Imbibitor Lunae, an undeniable curiosity had settled within you. Those glowing horns, the soft fur trailing along his tail—they all seemed to call to you, sparking a fascination that you just couldn't ignore.

He glanced up from his book, his calm demeanor briefly faltering as a faint blush colored his pale cheeks.

“Excuse me?” His tone was guarded, but you could see the faint flicker of surprise in his eyes.

It was as if he needed you to repeat it, to confirm you’d actually asked what he thought you did.

You had always urged him to embrace his true Vidyadhara form. At first, he resisted, but your persistence wore down his resolve. Eventually, he relented, but only within the privacy of his quarters or the quiet of an empty Astral Express.

“You heard me,” you said, inching a little closer, fingers itching to reach out. “I just… wonder what they feel like.” Your gaze drifted to his horns, mesmerized by the gentle glow that radiated from them, casting a warm light across his features.

For a moment, he looked away, his shoulders tense. “It’s not... something I’m accustomed to,” he murmured, his voice low. His gaze returned to you, a quiet understanding in his eyes. "But… I-I suppose I can allow it."

He leaned down, bringing his face closer to yours, giving you an unspoken invitation.

With a him, you raised your hand, reaching out to trace the gleaming, curved horns that adorned his head. The moment your fingertips brushed against their smooth surface, he inhaled sharply, and a low, involuntary growl escaped his lips.

His book snapped shut in his hand, and his whole body seemed to shiver from the contact, the sensation reverberating through him. Surprised, you flinched, your fingers halting as you pulled back.

“A-Are you alri—”

He let out a strained sigh, his hand darting forward to gently capture yours and place it back on his horns, “Why’d you stop?” His voice was rough, with a hunger you’d rarely heard from him.

Wait... is he purring? Half-lidded, his gaze locked onto you, eyes softened by the warmth that has always there when you're around.

His horns weren't usually so sensitive to the touch, but perhaps it was because it was you—the one person who had grown so close to him, the one person he felt tethered to in a way he couldn't fully explain. His body seemed to respond to even the slightest touch, and the very air you breathed seemed to send him spiraling.

As you resumed tracing his horns, the low rumble of a purr rose in his chest, almost too soft to catch. You blinked, your breath catching as you noticed his tail slowly curling and swaying behind him, giving away his pleasure. The purr deepened, reverberating through him as he leaned into your touch, his control slipping.

And then, before you could react, he pushed you deeper into mattress of his bed. You felt his chest press against yours, his tail curling possessively around your waist, pulling you closer as he buried his face against the side of your cheek, his purr vibrating against your skin.

He brushed his nose along your cheek, purring with an intensity that left no doubt about his feelings. You felt his heartbeat echoing in rhythm with yours, and his arms encircled you.

There was no mistaking it now. He knew the moment you stepped foot into the Astral Express, the moment you entered his life.

His head rested against yours, the glow of his horns casting a soft light between you, whispering into your ear, “You’re mine...”

⋇⊰DR. RATIO⊱⋇

“Can I... touch your arm?” The words slipped out before you could even process them, and by the time you realized, it was too late.

You were constantly drawn to the unknown, to things that fascinated you—and today, Dr. Ratio’s arm, the one exposed by his rather bold style of clothing, had caught your attention.

You could feel eyes shifting to you, a mix of shocked and bewildered looks coming from the students surrounding you both. Among them, you could practically feel his sharp, glaring stare boring into your skull.

He sighed, clearly irritated, before passing the clipboard he held to one of the astonished students. He grumbled something under his breath, clearly struggling to keep his composure.

“Excuse us for a moment… continue with your project,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

Before you could react, he had his arm around your shoulder, guiding you swiftly out of the room and into a quiet, secluded hallway.

Once out of earshot, he released you, crossing his arms and fixing you with a stern, no-nonsense glare.

“Do you realize the kind of attention you’re attracting with those questions?” His brow arched.

You gave him a sheepish grin, scratching the back of your neck as you looked away.

“I didn’t mean for it to slip out,” you admitted, your voice light. “At least… not in front of everyone. But really, it’s tempting.” You glanced back at him, letting the playful curiosity seep back into your gaze.

He sighed, shaking his head slightly as he studied you.

“I can never truly understand what goes on in your head, [Name]. Nor how someone like you manages to be one of the best researchers here,” he muttered, sounding exasperated but almost... begrudgingly impressed. “You were always like this, even back when we were students.”

It was true. Back then, you’d always ranked either at the very top or just below him, your carefree demeanor had led him to believe you didn’t take anything seriously. You had an uncanny ability to get under his skin, and no amount of stern lectures ever seemed to change that.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, right?” You shrugged, clicking your tongue playfully, adding, “So, is that a yes or a no?” He gave you a hard stare, brow furrowed.

“You’re serious about that?” His frown deepened, and for a moment, he seemed genuinely perplexed.

You were a puzzle he could never quite solve—a Rubik’s cube with infinitely shifting sides, always challenging, always just out of reach.With a heavy sigh, he finally relented, unfolding his arms and extending one toward you.

“Fine,” he said, his voice resigned. “If this will put an end to your pestering, then go ahead.”

You couldn’t hide your delight as you grinned and reached out, fingertips brushing against the firm curve of his arm.

The instant your touch met his skin, a subtle shiver that ran through him, though he tried his best to keep his expression steady. His poker face remained composed, yet you sensed the faintest twitch in his jaw.

Every time you were near, there was this unexplainable spark between you, something that always lingered just beneath the surface.

He’d told himself countless times that he kept it well-hidden, convinced that his practiced, stoic mask shielded him from your perceptive gaze. But there were whispers—others had noticed how he’d look at you, and sometimes he wondered how long he could keep this under wraps. At least, he reassured himself, you hadn’t noticed… yet.

His arm was exactly as it's displayed—defined, solid, with the firmness of something sculpted. As you trailed your fingers along his bicep, you looked up at him, caught in that same sense of wonder you often had when encountering the unknown, that glint in your eyes like a spark of discovery.

He held your gaze, his own expression softening against his will. Somehow, the realization that he could inspire that curiosity in you made something inside him stir—a quiet pride, even if he’d never dare admit it.

“Done?” Arching a brow, though there was something almost gentle in his tone.

You couldn't resist giving his arm a playful squeeze—only for a surprised sound, almost a groan, to slip from him. His cheeks flushed a faint pink as he shot you a glare, yet neither of you moved, frozen in place.

A second passed in that charged silence before you broke it with a shaky laugh.

“A-Ahaha… I-I think that settles it,” you said, flashing an awkward smile as you tried to compose yourself.

He muttered something under his breath, flustered, “This is the last time I’ll indulge any of your whims.” Yet he wasn’t certain he could keep that promise.

“Oh, well, at least I enjoyed my privileges,” you teased, grinning as you attempted to brush past him to rejoin the others.

But before you could slip away, his hand gripped your arm, halting you.

“Since you’ve had your fill… I expect you’ll indulge my curiosities as well,” he murmured, voice low.

You tilted your head, looking up at him, but he didn’t move back. His hand lingered as he traced the curve of your cheek with a feather-light touch, his gaze intent.

“So?” he asked softly, his voice almost a whisper. “Is it a yes or a no?”

⋇⊰JIAOQIU⊱⋇

“Can I… touch your tail?” It was out of the blue to suddenly asked him fot his.

But really, who could blame you? His tail was just there, brushing against your legs with that irresistible fluffiness. It was practically begging to be touched!

Jiaoqiu’s ears perked at your request, and though you couldn’t see his expression entirely, you caught a glimpse of his grin hidden behind his fan. He had been waiting for this, teasing you by letting his tail drift closer until you could no longer resist.

“Oh my, aren’t you bold?” He purred, his tail slowly winding around your waist as he leaned in closer. “You do know it’s quite… rude to ask a Foxian such a thing, hm?” His tone was light, yet playful, and his words left you flustered.

Your face heated up, and you scrambled to apologize, “I-I’m sorry, Jiaoqiu! I didn’t mean to—”

“—For strangers,” he interrupted, his voice soft as his free hand reached out, fingers gently brushing against your cheek. His thumb traced a small circle, grounding you with his touch. “But you… you are no stranger to me.”

His voice was a low whisper now, an invitation that made your heart skip a beat. “Go on… touch it,” he urged, his words making your nerves flutter with a mix of excitement and hesitation.

You hesitated, fingers trembling as they moved closer to the soft, salmon tainted fur. Finally, you brushed your fingertips over his tail, feeling its warmth and softness.

His breath hitched, his fan lowering just enough for you to see his lips part slightly.

Each movements sent a shiver through him, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his ears twitched with your every touch. As your hands roamed deeper into the soft fur of his tail, he didn’t try to hide how much he enjoyed it.

But then again, he never really had been hiding it from the start, had he? It was you who had been oblivious to how he truly felt—how close he had always been to you.

His tail curled further around you, brushing against your body as if drawing you in. It wasn’t just his tail; his scent had already imprinted on you, marking something only the other Foxians could understand.

Even after he was gone, that trace of him stayed with you, lingering on your skin as if to remind others that you belonged to him.

“Feel free to touch me…” His voice was low, inviting, with a grin that never wavered. “I don’t mind.”

Was this what heaven felt like? You wondered, your fingers still lost in the softness of his tail, your heart racing as his words settled in the air between you.

Your gaze drifted to his ears, noticing the faint flush at the tips. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips at the sight.

Curious, you cautiously reached up, your fingers brushing gently against the soft, white fuzz inside his ears. His reaction was immediate—a slight quiver running through his body as his grin deepened.

“So this…” you murmured, your fingers lingering near the sensitive spot, “Is alright?”

His breath caught again, and he gave a slow nod, allowing you the freedom to explore. “That’s perfectly fine,” he purred, the words dripping with a quiet satisfaction.

He leaned into your touch, his cheek brushing against your arm as you ran your fingers over his ears. A contented purr vibrated through him, but then you felt something... wet?

You froze, confusion flickering across your face as you glanced down. He was nipping at your arm, leaving soft kisses on your skin.

"Jiaoqiu...?" Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as you tried to process what was happening.

He chuckled softly and for a moment, you couldn't tear your gaze away from his eyes. Though his vision was obscured, his golden irises seemed to meet yours through the half-lidded gaze he offered. Even without seeing, there was an unmistakable intensity in the way his eyes stirred with deep and raw emotions.

"When I spoke, you can touch antyhing... I was hoping for something else... [Name]," he whispered, his lips pressing a delicate kiss into your arm again, this time lingering just a fraction longer. "I suppose I need to be a bit more clear, hm?" His tail unwound from around your waist, and the warmth of his hand moved, sliding down from your cheek to gently grasp your hand.

His fingers intertwined with yours, his grip firm yet gentle, his touch holding an unspoken promise. The playful edge in his voice deepened.

"Why don’t we go to your residence, my little bunny?"

⋇⊰JING YUAN⊱⋇

"Can I... pet Snowmoon?" You ask, your gaze fixed on the lion sprawled lazily beside Jing Yuan’s desk.

All the while the general is hunched slightly over the mountain of paperwork. It’s rare to see him actually working, and you’d be lying if you didn’t occasionally wonder if he just pretended to.

Hechuckles, his eyes lifting from the stack of documents as he props his chin on his hand, watching you with that familiar, teasing smile.

“It’s not me you should be asking for permission… that decision lies with her.” He pauses, giving her a fond glance. “You know she has a mind of her own.” You grin, shrugging with a spark of confidence.

“Oh, please—she only acts so aloof because she’s around you,” you tease. “Animals tend to mirror their owners, after all.” He raises a brow, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, though he lets out another soft chuckle, his gaze warm as it lingers on you.

“Fine,” he relents, a playful warning in his voice. “But don’t go running to me if she growls.” You roll your eyes, standing from the sofa and making your way toward the lion.

The first time you met her, you were admittedly a bit nervous—after all, it’s not every day you come face-to-face with a lion—but any hint of fear quickly melted into awe. Her coat is as pristine as freshly fallen snow, her gaze a clear, serene blue like the depths of the ocean.

As you crouch down beside her, you reach out a tentative hand, stopping just before her nose. She sniffs your fingers curiously, then surprises you by licking them before leaning in, her soft fur brushing against your fingertips.

Her fluffy coat is even softer than you imagined, and you can’t resist a small, quiet “Aw” as you scratch the side of her neck. Her eyes half-close, and you feel the gentle vibrations of her purr against your touch.

“See?” You call over your shoulder, unable to hide your grin. “She’s just a big, fluffy kitten.” She leans in closer, enjoying your attention.

He leaning back in his chair with a feigned huff of indifference, “Hmph, don’t get too comfortable now." You can’t help but notice the slight pout in his features as he watches the scene unfold.

She is notorious for growling at him when he tries to get close. And yet here you are, someone who only occasionally visits his office, getting all the affection.

It’s unfair! But there’s also something undeniably heartwarming about it for him. As he watches you, a faint smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Two of his favorite things, together right before him. If he could freeze this moment, hold onto it, he would.

Time slips by unnoticed as you sit there, nestled against her, your hands combing through her fur. The big kitten has dozed off, her steady breathing and occasional soft purrs filling the quiet room.

You’d intended to move at some point, but every time you lift your hand just an inch away, she lets out a tiny, sleepy whine and nudges closer, demanding more affection. It’s hard to say no to her.

The thought crosses your mind that she really does resemble her owner in some ways. There are rare moments where he gets... needy. Although her insistence on cuddles is much cuter than his endless, persistent begging.

A low, familiar voice pulls you from your thoughts. “I think that’s enough." Arms crossed as he looks down at you, trying to maintain a serious expression.

There’s a slight frown and a hint of jealousy in his gaze. You smirk, raising a brow.

“Oh? I didn’t quite catch that. What was it you said?” You reply, a playful challenge in your tone.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, and steps closer. “Don’t make me repeat myself, [Name]. I think I’ve given you more than enough time with her.” She stirs, looking up lazily before resettling against you, as if she’s decided you’re staying right where you are.

With a soft chuckle, you glance up at him, “She seems to disagree, General.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to insist." He takes a few steps toward you, but his progress halts when a low, warning growl rumbles from the lion.

He stops in his tracks, momentarily caught off guard, a rare look of surprise flickering across his face.

You chuckle, shaking your head as you tease, “Aw, poor General. Looks like I’m staying here after all—”

Before you can finish, he moves in a flash, sweeping you up in his arms and lifting you away from Snowmoon’s side. His grip is firm, yet gentle, holding you securely against his chest. How can someone who naps so much move with such speed?

She rises and lets out another displeased growl, her tail lashing slightly as she watches you being spirited away from her side. You glance back at him, and it almost feels like a silent battle between a man and his lion.

His arms tighten around you possessively, and he huffs, “[Name] is mine!”

The lion stares for a moment, then flops down with a disgruntled sigh, clearly deciding the effort isn’t worth it.

He chuckles in triumph, settling back in his chair with you still cradled in his lap. Without a moment’s hesitation, he leans in, nuzzling his head against your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin. You shiver, feeling the softness of his hair brushing your cheek.

“Are you actually jealous of her?” you ask, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

He pauses, his gaze meeting yours with a glint of playful mischief.

“Jealous? Me?” He lets out a low chuckle, drawing you even closer, his arms tightened around your waist. “Maybe. But can you blame me?” His voice drops to a whisper, lips now close to your ear. “After all, I’d rather be the one keeping you all to myself...”

⋇⊰SUNDAY⊱⋇

“Can I... see your wings, S-Sunday?” you ask, feeling the name catch slightly on your tongue. After all the time you’ve spent calling him ‘My Lord,’ addressing him by name still feels foreign, as if you’re crossing some unspoken line.

His gaze lifts from his desk, and his eyes meet yours, expression unreadable. It's only been a few months since the two of you moved past mere formalities and into something deeper, but sometimes you still feel like a servant asking for a favor rather than a partner making a simple request.

“Pardon?” His tone is calm, yet curious, those small wings behind his ears twitching slightly.

“Your… other wings?” Your voice barely above a whisper. “I-I mean, if it’s alright with you, of course. I wouldn’t want to—” You stop yourself, feeling the awkwardness bubble up, regretting how impulsive your request had been.

He smiles, a faint chuckle escaping his lips as he observes you. “My dear,” he says, his voice soft and soothing, “Never feel shy to ask anything of me.” Slowly, he rises from his desk, each step deliberate as he approaches you. “Whatever you wish, I am yours to command.” There’s a quiet confidence in his steps, his gaze never breaking from yours.

His fingers tilt your chin up slightly, and his eyes soften, lips curling into a smile that always leaves you a little breathless. And as if it were the most natural thing, he shrugs off his coat, draping it neatly on the sofa beside you.

“Uh... w-what are you doing?” You stammer, trying to keep your composure as he slides out of his outer layer with a practiced ease.

“I thought it was clear,” he replies, voice rich with amusement. “You wish to see my wings, yes?” He finishes folding his coat, his gaze never wavering.

In a single, fluid movement, his two hidden pairs of wings unfurl, and you find yourself awestruck at the sight before you. Each feather fades from an ash-blue at the base to a rich midnight hue. That last pair was far darker, the outermost tips tinged in a shadowy, ashen black.

Though darker than expected for a Halovian’s wings, they exude a potent aura—divine, yes, but laced with an undertone of something almost… sinister. It’s mesmerizing and daunting all at once.

As you sit there speechless, he lowers himself onto the edge of the sofa, his thighs bracketing yours, his wings forming a slowly enclosing cocoon around you. His gaze is unwavering, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“Well?” Voice smooth as butter, his eyes glinting with intrigue. “What do you think?”

“T-They’re… beautiful…” You manage to whisper, captivated by the midnight elegance of his wings.

Almost instinctively, you lift a hand, fingertips itching to trace the delicate lines of his feathers, but you hesitate, unsure if your touch would be welcome.

Noticing your hesitation, his expression softens, and he tilts his head slightly.

“Go on,” he says quietly, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Feel free to touch them.” You reach out, hand trembling just slightly, and your fingers make contact with the nearest feather.

It’s softer than you imagined. You let your hand glide down one of the dark feathers, marveling at the subtle gradient of color and the warmth radiating from his wings.

As your fingertips brush against the soft feathers of his wings, a shudder ripple through him. A low sound escapes his lips, and you glance up, a hint of surprise crossing your face. His grip tightens around the cushion behind you, his knuckles whitening as if he could tear it apart at any moment.

You don’t notice the intensity of the effect your touch has on him, too caught up in the sensation of his wings, twirling your fingers around the delicate feathers.

Halovian wings are known to be sensitive, fragile even. But his wings, especially these two pairs that had been hidden away for a long time, are more so.

They’re darker than most, a reflection of the weight of his past actions, and he’s always kept them concealed, ashamed of what they’ve become.

When you asked to see them, a quiet surge of happiness stirred within him. To have someone, someone he holds so dear, ask to see this part of him… It was something he didn’t expect but longed for. And even more, when you found them beautiful, it filled a void in his heart that had been empty for far too long.

"My dear..." His voice drops a few octaves, darker than usual, as he watches you with half-lidded eyes.

You glance up at him, finally noticing the slight hitch in his breath, the flush creeping across his features. A sudden wave of concern floods you, and you start to open your mouth to ask if you’ve hurt him in any way.

But before you can speak, he leans in, his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that is anything but gentle. His hands move to cradle your face, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his wings fluttering slightly

You’ve always known Sunday to be a gentleman, always composed, always polite. But you had also know that there’s a side of him that’s far more… chaotic. His kiss is desperate, hungry, as though he’s been holding back for too long.

The moment his lips part, the air around you seems to grow thicker, charged with an unspoken tension. His breath, warm and steady, brushes against your skin as his voice, barely a whisper, slips from his mouth.

"My dear... do you wish to see something more.. pleasing?"

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#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr blade #blade x reader #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #dan heng hsr #dan heng x reader #dr ratio hsr #dr ratio x reader #jiaoqiu hsr #jiaoqiu x reader #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan x reader #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #hsr headcanons

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rockintapper · 1 month ago

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the

#straitjacket 🧥#jackhammer 🔨#booper 🐾#hamlet 🥪#mo 💜🤍#couch 🛋#rhythm heaven #rhythm heaven oc #stepswitcher #lockstep

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iysics · 2 years ago

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#thanks for voting!#I shall read beautiful rhythm now #poll is unpinned #sending love and flowers to all who voted you're real mvps 💜🌸

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whiskeyskin · 8 months ago

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Love and Longing

Premise: When Elminster delivers Mystra's blessing to reprieve Gale from the Orb's volitile nature, there's a certain something he's been denying himself for over a year and he's finally alone in his tent 👀🍆💦

• Gale x gn!tav • 18+ • E/M Rating

Gale's POV, reader referred as "you", no mention of specific pronouns or genitals, porn without plot, male masturbation, fantasising, oral both recieving, penetration, jealousy, love, longing, horny!gale, fluff, lemons, Astarion x gn!tav referenced, marking if you squint

1.9k words

Gods bless you @wizardblood for this gifset we gladly receive 🥵✨

Part 2 here, if you like that sort of thing?

A/N: Y'all are making me UGLY CRYY WITH JOY AT THESE LOVELY COMMENTS 😭😭😚😚 Thank you for over 800 notes!! You beautiful, thirsty creatures 😏💜

A/N: 1k NOTES?! 🥹🥹 I love each and every SINGLE one of you 😚✨

_____________________________

Gale looked down at the solid protrusion currently causing his bedroll to tent, attempting to keep his breathing even.

It had been what felt like an age since he'd allowed himself to indulge in arousal.

He lay under the blankets, naked as a babe, anticipation crackling in the air around him.

After removing the charm on his underwear to suppress such feelings, it had all come flooding back.

Especially with you around.

His attraction to you was undeniable, however much he thought it impossible; especially after his heartbreak with Mystra. Nevertheless, his feelings for you grew with each step you took, every kind word and all the good you sought to accomplish.

You'd spoken in his defense passionately when Elminster had delivered Mystra's word; the fire in your heart had rivalled that of Karlach.

You'd vowed that there was another way to be found. That you wouldn't allow him to sacrifice himself.

And he loved you for it.

Gods dammit, he did.

He'd fallen hard for you.

He tried to deny it, of course.

It wouldn't lead anywhere.

He had to die.

It was his destiny to end the Absolute, whatever the cost.

No matter stolen glances across the campfire. Ignoring the heated moment of magic between you, where you'd shown him how you felt for him.

Besides, you'd taken Astarion to bed multiple times since the Tiefling party. He couldn't compete with the sultry advances of the Pale Elf.

His paultry offerings of affection wouldn't stand a chance.

But still, a part of him envisioned what life could be like if it was spent by your side.

Hearth crackling, the day's sun swooping low in the sky across the water, two arm chairs and a bottle of wine.. candle light and the smell of strawberries, sweat and arousal. The sound of your voice against his ear, the feeling of your wet, ribbed warmth welcoming him home after a long and stressful day.

Gale licked his bottom lip, his breathing heavy. He reached a hand under the sheets, in the privacy of his tent, to indulge in thoughts of you.

Gods, he wanted to use his mouth on you, he wanted to drown in your heady scent. He would press kisses against your inner thighs, teasing and tormenting, languishing tongue and teeth.

Your unfettered arousal evident before him as he would glide his mouth up your sex, tasting your sweetness and salt. You'd moan his name and wind a fist into his hair, sending sparks through his scalp.

He took the tip of himself in his first fingers, pre-cum had already gathered between the slit and dripped onto his stomach.

Taking a deep breath, he began to gently pulse the head. He hissed as blinding pleasure seared across his vision and sunk low in his belly.

"Ahhh.." he exhaled, with a widening, sinful grin.

Finally, he could touch himself after all these months.

He gritted his teeth against another groan that tried to escape. The sensation of oanism foreign to him but welcome, thoughts of you flooding his mind, as he fell into an old, familiar rhythm.

Oh, you would moan so sweetly underneath him, as he filled you to the brim with his cock. You'd envelop him to the root, sensually clenching your walls around his girth.

Gale replicated the feeling by adding a second hand to squeeze, imagining you enveloping him.

He moved slow and deliberate, like you were taking him for the first time. Every rib of his fingers torture against his sensitive flesh. He pumped his hands in unison, along the thick, veined length of himself, building up the pressure constricting his erection, increasing the speed and fantasizing that he was entangled in your loving embrace.

He'd hold your legs aloft, parted just for him. You'd bray like a wild animal in heat, with the need for his throbbing length to ride you to climax.

One hand clumsily slid to cup his testicles, to massage them and drive him closer to the edge. His hips gyrated at nothing, rutting against the thought of you.

You'd climb to take control and ride him like a stallion through the night. He would hear the salacious slapping of your cheeks against his hips, as he'd watch you bounce yourself in wanton bliss.

He'd hold on to your waist, fingertips digging in hard enough to cause contusions.

He wanted to bruise you, claim you as his own. He wanted to sucker his ownership right over Astarion's bite marks.

He had no right to this ugly and repulsive feeling of jealousy, he knew this.. but he couldn't help himself.

They both vied for your attention and he couldn't stand that Astarion had tasted you when he hadn't.

He wanted to hear your cries as he fucked up into you, slamming your hips down on him harder. Gods, he wanted his name on your lips.

Gale licked the sweat gathering on his top lip; he imagined it was you tasting him.

He fantasied about you using your beautiful mouth on him. You'd cover his body in long, wet, trailing kisses before you'd take him in your mouth. You'd gorge on his cock until he couldn't breathe. Your skillful tongue needy to please him. Your hands wielding a very different kind of weapon, sheathing it entirely down your spectacular throat.

You'd look up at him through lidded gaze, his hard length completely engulfed. The contact would be searing, it would burn him to the spot, it would ignite his soul and turn him to willingly to ash.

There would be love and devotion in your eyes, blissful happiness in your heart.

Gale swallowed and shook his head from side to side.

He wanted to see you.

Wanted you to see him.

See him like this for you.

Helpless and desperate for just a moment of you.

He wanted you to look at him with adoring eyes that turn lustful, when you see him abusing himself, with your name on his lips.

Gale uttered the illusion cantrip and you appeared on your knees beside him. He gasped and smiled brightly at you. He knew it wasn't real but gods he wanted it to be.

You smiled back at him, infatuation shining in your eyes.

"Gale.." softly came the only word he'd been able to summon you to utter. It was warped but it was still your voice. It was still you.

He threw back the covers so you could see him. See all of him. Naked. So you could drink in the sight of him stroking his thick, alert and wanting cock to the thought of you.

"It's for you. Only for you. Going to come for you-just for you." He managed, his voice husky from lust.

"Gale.." You whispered, licking your lower lip and gliding your hands up your strong thighs. You cup yourself through your camp garb and palm yourself in circles, "Gale.." you moan, throwing your head back slightly as you ground against your hand.

His hips twitched unconsciously at seeing your image pleasuring yourself for his enjoyment. That you felt this joy together.

A rumble started to build behind his cock, it tightened around his belly and coiled itself around his legs. It rose through his chest, painfully electrifying his nipples to stiff points, as it wound it's way to the base of his skull. There it gripped him, held him, allowed him to go no further.

He whined in frustration. Gods he wanted to come, it had been so long, so very long.

"Gale..?" Came your voice, he looked at you and his stomach flipped uncomfortably in desire.

You looked spectacular; hair mussed, eyes glassy and wide, lips pink and swollen from lust. Still touching yourself through your clothes, rocking vigorously against the friction.

You placed a hand on your heart and threw your head back in ecstasy. His body began to violently tremble in anticipation.

Oh gods, you looked resplendent on the precipice of orgasm.

"Gale!" You whimpered, sweat glistening on your skin, "Gale.. Gale.. Gale.." you moaned between breaths, your image replicating the noises he'd overheard when you'd snuck into the forest, and committed to memory. The reckless abandon of your heady moans of pleasure. Your face tightened and released, your mouth falling open to gasp.

The desire at the back of his head suddenly pulled taut, every muscle strained, pressure swelling behind his erection. His eyes rolled back in his head, before he came undone.

He jerked and thrashed on his bedroll, trying and failing to keep his ministrations to himself. Thick spurts of cum shot over his stomach, chest and neck, as he came hard for you.

"For you-all for you-only for you." He whimpered, his jaw tense, teeth bared.

He pumped raggedly, squeezing every single drop of his seed from himself. It was almost to the point of pain but the pleasure balanced it perfectly to make the suffering delicious. His muscles seized and toes curled to their fullest extent, as he huffed out a breath and lay feeling weightless on the carpeted interior of his tent.

Gale lay there breathing heavily, sweat damp on his brow. His softening cock still pulsating with after effects, within his loose grasp, as his brain buzzed with static.

His heart felt twice it's size and his entire being was in total elated relaxation, with a doltish smile plastered across his face.

He could quite happily lay like this forever.

It had been so long.

He couldn't remember release being like this.

It was.. dizzying.. violent.. euphoric.. transcendent.. monumentous..

sticky..

cold..

uncomfortable..

"Oh no." Gale groaned, as he looked down on his masterpiece.

Your image had disappeared; there was no way he couldn't have concentrated through that kind of orgasm, even if his life depended on it.. and Mystra's eyelids, the mess he'd made of himself.

His cum lay heavy on his stomach and chest, spattered up to his neck and jaw. Hells, it was even on the floor!

He internally grumbled to himself.

This was the not so fun part of masturbation.

The sharp thud back to reality and the clean up.

He sighed. Well, that was short lived.

Lucky for a Wizard, clearing away the stains of his growing shame, was painless.

Gale waved his hand and the evidence of his debauchery disappeared.

He suddenly felt empty and hollow. The euphoria of release gone all too soon. Slumping back on to his bedroll and bringing the covers up against the chill, he frowned to himself, a cavernous feeling in his chest.

Gale waved his hand, using his last spell slot to conjure your image again.

You appeared laid down with him, tucked closely, your stunning eyes soft and content.

His heart ached; he wanted this.

It didn't matter how much he denied it, he knew what love felt like in the beginning and this was it.

This wasn't because of a covetous, lustful haze from the urgency of ejaculation.

It was comfort.

It was safety.

It was love.

And it terrified him.

More than the thought of ending as a small blip in the farest reaches of the realm. More than dying alone in excruciating agony.

Falling in love with you scared him because it meant that now, he had something to live for.

You smiled sleepily at him and readjusted yourself to get comfortable beside him.

"Night." You whispered, blowing him a slow kiss, closed your eyes and curled in nearer to him.

He stared longingly at your resting form; you looked so peaceful. Wet stinging burned his eyes and he sniffed dryly.

He needed to get to sleep.

He really should..

You'd only last a minute.

He couldn't bare the thought of opening his eyes again without you there, laying beside him..

Tears fell from his eyes and dripped to his pillow, as he shut them tight, "Goodnight, my love."

•°•°•

Part 2

Or.. I've got a Masterlist.. yuh know.. if you like this sort of stuff 👀😏

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #baldurs gate gale #gale x gn!tav #gale x reader #gale x you #gale smut #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gale x tav #whiskeyskin

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shadowdaddies · 3 months ago

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I would love an Azriel x reader where they are friends and they have a conversation and Azriel’s scars come up. And he talks about how he hates them and always tried to hide his hands. Then the reader says something about how they find them sexy because all the textures and bumps would feel amazing in the bedroom. Then Az just flabbergasted because he never thought of it like that

Hi! Thank you for the request, lovely. Sorry this took me so long, I hope it is worth the wait.💜

Your Touch

Azriel x f!Reader

warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, allusions to past injury

Cool autumn wind blew gently across your face, blowing strands of your hair to tickle your cheeks as you stepped outside to the training ring. It was a quiet morning, too early for anyone else to be up, or so you thought. The sound of metal brushing stone drowned out the birds’ morning chirps, drawing you toward the source of the disruptive noise.

Azriel’s dark form contrasted against the light morning mist, the Shadowsinger’s large wings folded tightly behind him as he hunched over his treasured blade. Eyebrows furrowed with focus, Az sharply dragged Truth Teller along the whetstone with more force than usual.

You were one of few who recognized the spymaster’s subtle tells, who knew when something was bothering him. The way he gripped his blade, scarred hands flexing with each purposeful stroke against the stone... With a flush you looked away just in time before hazel eyes flicked to you.

It was a practiced dance, a rhythm that flowed in flawless agony each time you caught yourself staring at your best friend. That tug in your chest that pulled you to find him in moments like this also let you know when he could feel you - your eyes on him, your presence - but you would not let him feel your longing.

He was the most thoughtful, loyal male you had ever known, and nothing was worth risking losing his place in your life. So you looked away, time after time, in hopes of keeping him around in any way possible.

“You’re up early,” his warm voice rumbled, snapping you from your spiraling thoughts. Forcing your gaze to his, you thanked the Mother for the cool breeze disguising the blush on your cheeks. You smiled, watching the gold in his eyes shimmer as he offered a small smile back.

“I could say the same to you,” you countered, willing courage into your bones and urging them forward to find your seat next to Azriel on the bench. His wrist flicked blade against stone once more, sparks flying as he huffed a tense breath. “Please be careful, Az,” you murmured, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. “You’ll cut your hand,” you added, nodding to his other hand which held the whetstone.

A short, humorless laugh escaped him, no hesitation in his reply. “As if they could look any worse.”

You both grew immediately still, hearts pounding now louder than the birds in the trees, Azriel’s words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. You tracked how his throat rolled, another tell of nerves, of what he’d admitted.

“Azriel,” you whispered, taking the opportunity of his pause to reach for his arm as you looked into his eyes. You could see the emotions warring within them, the deep tortures of his past swirling, same as those thoughts eddied into darkness itself. “Your hands are beautiful.”

His eyes shuttered at your words, body tensing but not moving away from your reassuring touch. “Do not feel pity for me,” Az gritted out, his chest rising dramatically with unreadable emotion. “I know the hideous scars I have bared my entire life. Do not pretend they’re beautiful when I know they’re not.”

Something sparked inside of you at his words, as if the Mother herself propelled you to take his hands more firmly in yours. The intensity in your gaze drew Azriel from his stupor, his lips slightly parting as he looked at you in wonder.

“I do not ‘pretend’ anything about you is beautiful, Azriel. I know you are. And your hands...” You paused, allowing your gaze to drift to where you held him, his palms laid gently against your fingers. You stroked the skin there, the grooves and ridges surprisingly soft against your own. Earlier thoughts of those hands, how they might touch you, incensed your mind, leading your thoughts astray - for only a moment.

Azriel cleared his throat, drawing your eyes back to his own where instead of those earlier emotions, now lay a hint of mischief. “My hands...?” he questioned, brows raised in intrigue.

No weather could disguise the burning of your cheeks now, no birds to drown out the nervous laughter that escaped you. “I, um... I think they are very nice,” you managed, dropping his hands and quickly shifting slightly away.

“They’re nice?” Azriel pressed, his curiosity only growing from your statement.

Breathless, you continued, something in your gut giving you the bravery to finally share a small part of what you felt for Azriel with him. “Yes, they’re... they would feel nice.” Panicked gaze finding his, you amended, “I mean, they do feel nice. Just now, when I held them.”

Azriel was now smiling down at you with an amused grin. “No, you said they would feel nice... What does that mean?”

Fumbling over words, none came to you. Feeling like a rabbit caught in a snare, you prepared to run when those hands found yours. Azriel pulled you close, holding you in place more surely than gravity as one scarred finger ever so lightly traced your cheek.

“Tell me where they would feel good,” he purred, voice low and commanding as you leaned into his touch.

“Everywhere,” you breathed.

Instantly, Azriel’s hands were everywhere, grabbing any part of you he could as the two of you frantically stripped each other of your leathers. Laying you down against the training mat, Az’s black hair fell around his face as he grinned and lowered his lips to yours. Soft but precise, he knew exactly what he was doing as your body became aflame beneath his.

Lips and hands trailed down your body, leaving reminders of your pleasure in their path before he paused above your pussy, so warm against the cool autumn air. “I want to hear how good this feels,” Az murmured, giving no explanation before his finger barely grazed your clit, sliding down to your core.

You had never felt more vindicated than in that moment, when reality proved better than fiction. Azriel’s warm breath fanned over your heat as he watched your reaction to his touch, finger slowly teasing inside of you before he added another.

Your mewls and gasps echoed through the open air along with his name, giving Azriel satisfaction as his wrist flicked and curled his fingers, working you as expertly as his blade. The moment his lips touched your clit, you were gone. Back arched off the mat, you felt the cool breeze against your sweaty, writhing body.

Azriel continued working you through your high, pulling his hand from your cunt to hold it in the light for the both of you to see. Studying the glistening coat of your slick on his fingers, Azriel hummed. “That is beautiful,” he murmured, before turning to lock eyes with you while he licked his digits clean, openly groaning at the taste.

Smirking up at him, you lunged to pull Az back towards you, eager to have your hands on him now, but the shadowsinger held your wrists, stepping back with a ‘tsk.’

“We’ll have time for that later,” he winked, tossing you your clothes. “Training starts in two minutes.”

Jaw slack, you prepared to argue with him when you heard the doors open, Nesta and Cassian’s voices echoing as you scrambled to get into your leathers before they could see.

“Gods, it reeks of sex in here,” Nesta groaned, silvery eyes scanning until they landed between you and Azriel. A brief smirk graced her lips before she muttered something that sounded like “finally,” smacking a chuckling Cassian on the shoulder and settling in on the other side of the training area.

You looked to where Azriel stood in the spot where he’d just worshipped your body, gaze not shying away in the slightest from his satisfied smirk as you calculated the time until training was over.

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