🐉

And your one and only Boothill stood in the doorway, hunched over with strands of hair stuck to his face. Although he did not have proper lungs anymore, old habits die hard. His chest still heaved, uneven and shaking. As stoic as he was, he seemed more broken down than you thought.

You stood up from your chair, brushing eraser dust from your pants as you approach him slowly. The lights in your office were dimmed, only the glow from Boothill’s eyes and a few lights illuminating you both. His crosshairs faded away as you approached him, you hesitate to put your hand on his shoulder. He notices.

“Too- too scared to put your hands on me, doc?”

His stutter wasn’t just because of a broken voicebox, but also due to his emotions. Damn to such organic things. His head raised slightly, hair covering his face enough to cover most details. But he still stared at you with those unreadable eyes.

His emotions have become much more different, and much more difficult to decipher now. You couldn’t tell if he was scared, or enraged. Possibly a mix of both. Fuck, you were an engineer, not a therapist. But you still try to brush away a few strands of his hair, tucking them behind his ear.

And at that moment, he crumbled to the floor. The loud squealing of rusted metal combined with a rough impact made your head hurt. But he simply sat there in front of you, one arm still remaining on the doorway, both knees on the floor, and his head faced away from you and tilted down. His body tremored heavily, sobs wracking his body with no tears.

He had no more tears left to cry, the ducts in his eyes being barren for years. It was the simple inability to do such a human thing- to cry- that made him feel worse. He really did lose himself.

You kneel down in front of him as well, boots squeaking on the floor. You look at him through his matted hair, through those metal eyes. And all you see, is a scared young man, who’s seen too much too soon. Your expression is tired but gentle, difficult to see, just like his.

You reach out for him once more. He flinches. You bring your hand back for a moment, before he grabs it roughly. His grip quickly softens though, rubbing against the skin he gripped in a silent apology which you accept. He brings your hand to his cheek, his grip loosening before his hand drops to the floor.

He’d shut down soon, and you can repair him then. But for now, you simply sit there with him, your hand gently rubbing his cheek. His eyes close slowly, and his head leans into your palm and weighs heavily upon it.

“Y’know,” he mumbles with a broken voice, “My papas used t’ hold me just like this.”

“They did?” “They did.”

The silence in the room thickens after you both speak. You don’t want to remove your hand, so you shift yourself and Boothill into a better position. You lay farther back, using an empty box as a cushion. Boothill rests on your chest, your hand remaining on his cheek the whole time. He hums.

He hums a quiet, cautious tune. An old one that you don’t recognize, but it seems like Boothill knows it very well. He mumbles a few words to the lullaby before his fans go silent, and his body fully slumps against yours.

Old habits do die hard.

Not skin deep, yet your armor’s been torn through along with the skin and flesh, you think to yourself, holding your tongue between your teeth. Arguing back against his flowery words and scolding him wouldn't do much good when you're so angry from worry. He had tried to avoid your touch and aid when you first ran up to him after he returned to your city. It was evening, the sun was setting and no one else had seen him approach. You ushered him into the forest he crawled out of, making him duck and lay down, in a way letting the canopy of the tree branches overhead trap him to the mossy ground. His shoulder to his claws was dripping with sticky blood, his scales slick with it and glistening in the light of the fire Argenti so graciously started for you. Your house wasn't too far off, and you think to yourself how much more towels you'll need, water and ointment too.

“I hope you have nowhere else to be. You won't be going, else you want to make this wound worse on yourself.. No- I command you to stay” you told him as calmly as you could once you stepped away from his shoulder, glaring up at the dragon before you. His neck bent so his head could be closer to you, eyes like emeralds stare back at you. It looked as if they grew damp from hurt, shame moreso, your tone has stung him greatly, more than your words. 

“My rose has been angered, I am sorry.. Anger does not suit you” he says, so apologetically you already know what's going through his head. He's already taken all the blame on his wings and shoulders. “I should've tended to my own wounds, like a knight should be capable of. But I've grown selfish… I will do better next time.. Will you forgive me?” The large carriage of his head lowers itself down, sits on the ground, and the large horn in the middle of his forehead still glistens with dry red blood, turning gold and red in the firelight. Your anger dissipates rather quickly, like a fire drenched in water, even if it desperately wanted to burn it no longer had anything to consume to feed its hungry flames. 

“Argenti..” you start with a sigh, wiping your hands with a dry towel as you take steps towards his cheek. His eye follows you cautiously, sliding his head a few steps away, still not letting you touch him as he remains at his most vulnerable. He craves your touch, but he will not let himself be selfish. “Argenti” you say, more firmly this time and hurry to place a palm to his cheek. “... there's nothing to forgive, maybe not- besides this stubborn attitude of yours.. But no, there's nothing to forgive.. But you also have to listen to me too. Your pain brings me pain, even more so when you hide it away from me..” You tell him as your hand strokes his bony, dragon cheek. 

“My… You speak no lie.. Yet I still apologize all the same, for my own peace of mind at the very least” Argenti speaks after a huff rumbles through his throat and through his nose. Warm hands find purchase on the side of his head, one arm extending to find his shiny mane, now disheveled and dirty, but you run your hand through the course locks and press your forehead against his bony cheek. He purrs at the gesture, closing his eyes. 

“Promise me, my great dragon-knight, that you won’t hide your wounds from me?” you ask, giving your words a little lilt, lifting the tension that permeated in the air. He picks up on this easily, but recognizes the importance of the question, and even greater responsibility of his eventual response.

“.. I promise..”

Boothill:

You thought the earth was cracking underneath you once a tremendous shake made you tumble to your feet. So many terrible things ran through your head as you held your hands out to break the fall. There was a large crashing sound accompanying the shake of the earth and a roar followed soon after. That last sound you knew all too well. You weren’t sure what you should be worried about first, yourself, the guy that fell next to you or the idea that it was Boothill who was on the receiving end of a beating. IPC has been swarming the areas lately, looking for something they hid under pampered words or straight up refused to say when asked directly by a few bold individuals.

Getting your bearings together, you made way for the distant hills, the sandy dunes opening up before you like a city of their own, giant rocks stretched out into the belly of the sky like enormous spears. You raced through, following the traces which the sand didn’t swallow up yet, the spillage of oil and blood leading you straight to him. He was sitting on his haunches, his metal plating chirping with each small and irritated movement he made, his nose smoking with pale wisps of hot breath. Bending his neck he picked up the separated limb of his fore leg, the limb separated at the elbow with a few screws bent in the place where it was clearly torn away. There was oil leaking from his chest and sand was sticking to both oil and blood that was coating his body in various places.

“What happened to you? Boothill!” your pace quickened as you caught sight of th giant drake, his eyes focusing on you when his head swiftly perked up in response to your voice. His giant limb was let down to the ground with a thump, and he huffed again to show his irritation. 

“Ugh- you shouldn’t have come out all this way, there as well might be more of those fudgeheads around ‘ere” Boothill spoke, lifting up to his three legs.  

“As if you would let any of them run off. Have they charged at you first? Is that why they’re here, for you?” you shot back, your expression anything but pleasant, your brows meeting tightly at the middle and the corners of your lips falling down as if anvils were hooked onto each one. “Are you hurt?” 

At that, Boothill let out a rough and quick exhale through his nose, shooting out smoke before he bent his neck down again to meet your fierce gaze, swaying a little with the absence of one appendage. “Hurt? Me? You need not worry about that, little one, nothin’ can hurt Boothill” He is in your face when he says it, his nose right before you as his visible eye looks as if it were about to challenge you, you - his brave human companion, to a duel. But there's sadness too. 

You stare back, biting back the tongue that sought to scold him immediately after such a response and instead you reach your hand out to touch him. He moves out of reach, falling back onto his haunches. “It is cold out ‘ere at this time o’ night.. You should have waited till morning came. I would still be here” he says as he pushes some thin dry branches and an old looking, fallen tree together with his nose, sand dropping from his mane in a fine rain as he moves about, lighting a fire for you. 

“I know you won't let me get cold.. Now, let me see what this is. They tore your whole arm out?” you approach the fallen limb that had sunken into the sand due to its weight alone. inspecting the connecting spot, what you’d call an elbow. Wires were cut messily, torn and now dirty with dust and other grime. The screw lay next to it, bent and useless.  “Don’t you have a spare screw on you somewhere?” the wires could be dealt with, at least made to function steadily until you can get replacements.

“Hm- yeah, I got some on me, they should be up on the side. Can’t out here without backup. I was gonna do them on my own, but the forking arm get falling out, I couldn’t get the wires to connect - those are too fine of details for me” Boothill ranted as you already paced up to his side, waiting for him to finish his speech and lay down so you could reach up to a handle that was at the side of his stomach, pulling it down after a twist to reveal a compartment. Mostly mechanical replacements were found inside, and you managed to find a few screws and a deer skin rag for the dirt on the connection. 

“Shouldn’t have charged into that battle. I just know you’ve been too stubborn to move away - wait for a better opportunity at least..” There was no use telling him otherwise, and besides, what’s done is done. “Lift it a bit for me, Boothill, I need to clean it out before I can even attempt to put it back on”

He does as you ask, and now, with his own steely limb in his maw, he can’t say much to you. All he can do is huff and puff at your words as you subtly lecture him on staying safer through expressed words of sadness and worry. You were worried, he has always been hotheaded and you’d rather not have him depart this world because of it. 

“Just.. Please, think before you dive into a fight. Yes, you’re skilled and powerful, flashy, yes, yes - all of it, but think of the people that..care for you. Of me..”  You told him as you were sliding the screws into their respective places, connecting his fore limb to his body. This time you are met with silence instead of a hot aired huff. If you were to say anything more, you’d only be repeating yourself, so you said no more and worked wordlessly.

“There..” You hopped down from his shoulder, carefully stepping lower before jumping to the ground. The distance was small, but it still made you grunt when you landed. The fire had died down by then, hot coals sparking and whispering to each other. 

“Might it be I should be thanking you, darling...?” Boothill had laid his head down as you worked, listening constantly to your surroundings although he feigned sleep. 

“Not before you try moving it. Come, give it a go” you urge him gently, stepping back as you wipe your hands at the side of your thighs. The drake before you rises, balancing his weight all on one side before testing his reconnected leg. His movement is sluggish, choppy even but he succeeds in flexing the claws, taking a few steps and laying back down where he once was.

“Gah… so much today surely exhausts the soul, don’t ya think… mmm.. Thank you for fixing me up, darling, if it weren’t for you I’d be wandering like an ol’ street dog, heh..”

You walk up to the front of him, sighing softly as the adrenaline had long since left room for the ache to settle in your body. Looking up at him from here, you felt nothing short of a kitten between the front limbs of a great mountain dog, a wolf really. One would say the word ‘beast’ best suits him, but he is nowhere near as cruel as one. For all the heart they cut up and plucked from him, they had failed to take away the good nature of his soul.

Boothill notices your silence and sees your faraway gaze and before you can stumble a step, his nose comes up to press against your chest, cautiously almost as if a mere touch would curse you. Wordlessly he asks you questions. In response, your arms go out and flush against his warm snout, your body weight relying on him to keep you upright and he doesn’t move as you give him this odd hug. He wishes he could hug you back, and he could if he meant to crush you.

“Just be careful.. okay?” you mutter, your heavy lidded eyes going up to meet his, his pupil focusing, staring before the heavy eyelid comes down to hide it away, like a curtain. 

“Fine… I’ll do my best, but no promises - you know how the world is.. out there.."

Not skin deep, yet your armor’s been torn through along with the skin and flesh, you think to yourself, holding your tongue between your teeth. Arguing back against his flowery words and scolding him wouldn't do much good when you're so angry from worry. He had tried to avoid your touch and aid when you first ran up to him after he returned to your city. It was evening, the sun was setting and no one else had seen him approach. You ushered him into the forest he crawled out of, making him duck and lay down, in a way letting the canopy of the tree branches overhead trap him to the mossy ground. His shoulder to his claws was dripping with sticky blood, his scales slick with it and glistening in the light of the fire Argenti so graciously started for you. Your house wasn't too far off, and you think to yourself how much more towels you'll need, water and ointment too.

“I hope you have nowhere else to be. You won't be going, else you want to make this wound worse on yourself.. No- I command you to stay” you told him as calmly as you could once you stepped away from his shoulder, glaring up at the dragon before you. His neck bent so his head could be closer to you, eyes like emeralds stare back at you. It looked as if they grew damp from hurt, shame moreso, your tone has stung him greatly, more than your words. 

“My rose has been angered, I am sorry.. Anger does not suit you” he says, so apologetically you already know what's going through his head. He's already taken all the blame on his wings and shoulders. “I should've tended to my own wounds, like a knight should be capable of. But I've grown selfish… I will do better next time.. Will you forgive me?” The large carriage of his head lowers itself down, sits on the ground, and the large horn in the middle of his forehead still glistens with dry red blood, turning gold and red in the firelight. Your anger dissipates rather quickly, like a fire drenched in water, even if it desperately wanted to burn it no longer had anything to consume to feed its hungry flames. 

“Argenti..” you start with a sigh, wiping your hands with a dry towel as you take steps towards his cheek. His eye follows you cautiously, sliding his head a few steps away, still not letting you touch him as he remains at his most vulnerable. He craves your touch, but he will not let himself be selfish. “Argenti” you say, more firmly this time and hurry to place a palm to his cheek. “... there's nothing to forgive, maybe not- besides this stubborn attitude of yours.. But no, there's nothing to forgive.. But you also have to listen to me too. Your pain brings me pain, even more so when you hide it away from me..” You tell him as your hand strokes his bony, dragon cheek. 

“My… You speak no lie.. Yet I still apologize all the same, for my own peace of mind at the very least” Argenti speaks after a huff rumbles through his throat and through his nose. Warm hands find purchase on the side of his head, one arm extending to find his shiny mane, now disheveled and dirty, but you run your hand through the course locks and press your forehead against his bony cheek. He purrs at the gesture, closing his eyes. 

“Promise me, my great dragon-knight, that you won’t hide your wounds from me?” you ask, giving your words a little lilt, lifting the tension that permeated in the air. He picks up on this easily, but recognizes the importance of the question, and even greater responsibility of his eventual response.

“.. I promise..”

Boothill:

You thought the earth was cracking underneath you once a tremendous shake made you tumble to your feet. So many terrible things ran through your head as you held your hands out to break the fall. There was a large crashing sound accompanying the shake of the earth and a roar followed soon after. That last sound you knew all too well. You weren’t sure what you should be worried about first, yourself, the guy that fell next to you or the idea that it was Boothill who was on the receiving end of a beating. IPC has been swarming the areas lately, looking for something they hid under pampered words or straight up refused to say when asked directly by a few bold individuals.

Getting your bearings together, you made way for the distant hills, the sandy dunes opening up before you like a city of their own, giant rocks stretched out into the belly of the sky like enormous spears. You raced through, following the traces which the sand didn’t swallow up yet, the spillage of oil and blood leading you straight to him. He was sitting on his haunches, his metal plating chirping with each small and irritated movement he made, his nose smoking with pale wisps of hot breath. Bending his neck he picked up the separated limb of his fore leg, the limb separated at the elbow with a few screws bent in the place where it was clearly torn away. There was oil leaking from his chest and sand was sticking to both oil and blood that was coating his body in various places.

“What happened to you? Boothill!” your pace quickened as you caught sight of th giant drake, his eyes focusing on you when his head swiftly perked up in response to your voice. His giant limb was let down to the ground with a thump, and he huffed again to show his irritation. 

“Ugh- you shouldn’t have come out all this way, there as well might be more of those fudgeheads around ‘ere” Boothill spoke, lifting up to his three legs.  

“As if you would let any of them run off. Have they charged at you first? Is that why they’re here, for you?” you shot back, your expression anything but pleasant, your brows meeting tightly at the middle and the corners of your lips falling down as if anvils were hooked onto each one. “Are you hurt?” 

At that, Boothill let out a rough and quick exhale through his nose, shooting out smoke before he bent his neck down again to meet your fierce gaze, swaying a little with the absence of one appendage. “Hurt? Me? You need not worry about that, little one, nothin’ can hurt Boothill” He is in your face when he says it, his nose right before you as his visible eye looks as if it were about to challenge you, you - his brave human companion, to a duel. But there's sadness too. 

You stare back, biting back the tongue that sought to scold him immediately after such a response and instead you reach your hand out to touch him. He moves out of reach, falling back onto his haunches. “It is cold out ‘ere at this time o’ night.. You should have waited till morning came. I would still be here” he says as he pushes some thin dry branches and an old looking, fallen tree together with his nose, sand dropping from his mane in a fine rain as he moves about, lighting a fire for you. 

“I know you won't let me get cold.. Now, let me see what this is. They tore your whole arm out?” you approach the fallen limb that had sunken into the sand due to its weight alone. inspecting the connecting spot, what you’d call an elbow. Wires were cut messily, torn and now dirty with dust and other grime. The screw lay next to it, bent and useless.  “Don’t you have a spare screw on you somewhere?” the wires could be dealt with, at least made to function steadily until you can get replacements.

“Hm- yeah, I got some on me, they should be up on the side. Can’t out here without backup. I was gonna do them on my own, but the forking arm get falling out, I couldn’t get the wires to connect - those are too fine of details for me” Boothill ranted as you already paced up to his side, waiting for him to finish his speech and lay down so you could reach up to a handle that was at the side of his stomach, pulling it down after a twist to reveal a compartment. Mostly mechanical replacements were found inside, and you managed to find a few screws and a deer skin rag for the dirt on the connection. 

“Shouldn’t have charged into that battle. I just know you’ve been too stubborn to move away - wait for a better opportunity at least..” There was no use telling him otherwise, and besides, what’s done is done. “Lift it a bit for me, Boothill, I need to clean it out before I can even attempt to put it back on”

He does as you ask, and now, with his own steely limb in his maw, he can’t say much to you. All he can do is huff and puff at your words as you subtly lecture him on staying safer through expressed words of sadness and worry. You were worried, he has always been hotheaded and you’d rather not have him depart this world because of it. 

“Just.. Please, think before you dive into a fight. Yes, you’re skilled and powerful, flashy, yes, yes - all of it, but think of the people that..care for you. Of me..”  You told him as you were sliding the screws into their respective places, connecting his fore limb to his body. This time you are met with silence instead of a hot aired huff. If you were to say anything more, you’d only be repeating yourself, so you said no more and worked wordlessly.

“There..” You hopped down from his shoulder, carefully stepping lower before jumping to the ground. The distance was small, but it still made you grunt when you landed. The fire had died down by then, hot coals sparking and whispering to each other. 

“Might it be I should be thanking you, darling...?” Boothill had laid his head down as you worked, listening constantly to your surroundings although he feigned sleep. 

“Not before you try moving it. Come, give it a go” you urge him gently, stepping back as you wipe your hands at the side of your thighs. The drake before you rises, balancing his weight all on one side before testing his reconnected leg. His movement is sluggish, choppy even but he succeeds in flexing the claws, taking a few steps and laying back down where he once was.

“Gah… so much today surely exhausts the soul, don’t ya think… mmm.. Thank you for fixing me up, darling, if it weren’t for you I’d be wandering like an ol’ street dog, heh..”

You walk up to the front of him, sighing softly as the adrenaline had long since left room for the ache to settle in your body. Looking up at him from here, you felt nothing short of a kitten between the front limbs of a great mountain dog, a wolf really. One would say the word ‘beast’ best suits him, but he is nowhere near as cruel as one. For all the heart they cut up and plucked from him, they had failed to take away the good nature of his soul.

Boothill notices your silence and sees your faraway gaze and before you can stumble a step, his nose comes up to press against your chest, cautiously almost as if a mere touch would curse you. Wordlessly he asks you questions. In response, your arms go out and flush against his warm snout, your body weight relying on him to keep you upright and he doesn’t move as you give him this odd hug. He wishes he could hug you back, and he could if he meant to crush you.

“Just be careful.. okay?” you mutter, your heavy lidded eyes going up to meet his, his pupil focusing, staring before the heavy eyelid comes down to hide it away, like a curtain. 

“Fine… I’ll do my best, but no promises - you know how the world is.. out there.."

"This isn't as funny as you think it is," Boothill grumbles, peering down at the wires carefully wrapped and knotted around his torso. It's a little different than how you'd do shibari on a normal person, but given the decreased risk of hurting him somehow, you indulged yourself.

"It's pretty funny," you tell him, admiring the vivid colors contrasted against the deep steel of his chest. You picked red wires initially for this, but then you found some fancy gold looking ones without the rubber coating and you couldn't resist. "You look good."

He grins, practically preening under your gaze, basking in your attention. You grin back, leaning over to kiss him and laughing when he nearly unbalances in his eagerness to kiss back.

"Want me to do your legs now?" You ask as you pull away, a hand on his cheek to help keep him steady. He hums confirmation as he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I thought you were gonna do my arms?"

He opens his eyes to look at you through his lashes. The wires around his torso are decorative, accentuating his pecs and the sculpt of his abs. You admire whoever built the shell of his body. They have great taste.

"We can do arms first if we don't have you kneeling on the bed," you tell him as you ogle. "I don't want you to lose balance."

You push him back to lean on the headboard, spreading his legs and eyeing his thighs, imagining how they'll look bound in wire.

"Yeah," you hum, your voice coming out raspy. "I like you like this."

His cheeks flush as he smiles at you, giddy adrenaline making his fans whir to life to cool him off. You reach out your hands, pleased when he takes them without hesitation, and pull him towards you.

"Alright! Arms behind you, handsome." You order, sliding off the bed to grab the spoons of wire you'd painstakingly wound together, gold glinting against red. He's already sitting in the middle of the bed when you look up, rolling his shoulders as he holds his arms behind himself.

You practically swoon, your heart racing as you're nearly overwhelmed with how much you love him. Aeons, he's perfect.

You drop a kiss to his temple as you climb on the bed behind him, cooing a sweet, "Good job, baby. So good for me."

He sighs at the touch, soft and happy, and you can hear the machinery in his chest working as the praise makes him preen and sit a little straighter. "You're gonna make me blush," he teases, grinning wide and eager.

You laugh as you begin wrapping his arms in wire, positioning them so his hand can rest on the opposite arm's elbow. It's not necessary to check that the wires aren't biting into nerves or circulation, he doesn't really have those, but it's habit, and you like going through the motions. It feels like taking care of him.

You secure the wire, testing the bindings to make sure you did everything right, then lean forwards and hug Boothill from behind. You rest your chin on his shoulder, running a hand from his neck down his chest, tracing over the wires until you reach his hips.

You consider yourself very, very fortunate to be wealthy, because it means you can afford to spoil your boyfriend. It means you could afford to help him get a cock that he can actually feel. Several, actually, including one with a cum mechanism built in.

That's the one he's wearing now, a pretty deep red model that curves up at the tip. You wrap your hand around it, thick enough that your fingertips can't touch, and slowly stroke him. He nearly swears and you giggle at the replacement words his beacon imposes on him, too distracted by the fake precum leaking down his cock to tease him about it.

You give a few more strokes before you're moving to sit in front of him, wire in hand. You guide him to sit back against the headboard again, then settle between his thighs. You use the wire to bind his calves to his thighs, leaving him spread open and at your mercy.

More precum leaks down his cock and you croon, bending down and licking a wet stripe up the underside of it. Boothill whines and you can't resist taking him fully into your mouth, bobbing you head and enjoying his moans.

"This isn't as funny as you think it is," Boothill grumbles, peering down at the wires carefully wrapped and knotted around his torso. It's a little different than how you'd do shibari on a normal person, but given the decreased risk of hurting him somehow, you indulged yourself.

"It's pretty funny," you tell him, admiring the vivid colors contrasted against the deep steel of his chest. You picked red wires initially for this, but then you found some fancy gold looking ones without the rubber coating and you couldn't resist. "You look good."

He grins, practically preening under your gaze, basking in your attention. You grin back, leaning over to kiss him and laughing when he nearly unbalances in his eagerness to kiss back.

"Want me to do your legs now?" You ask as you pull away, a hand on his cheek to help keep him steady. He hums confirmation as he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I thought you were gonna do my arms?"

He opens his eyes to look at you through his lashes. The wires around his torso are decorative, accentuating his pecs and the sculpt of his abs. You admire whoever built the shell of his body. They have great taste.

"We can do arms first if we don't have you kneeling on the bed," you tell him as you ogle. "I don't want you to lose balance."

You push him back to lean on the headboard, spreading his legs and eyeing his thighs, imagining how they'll look bound in wire.

"Yeah," you hum, your voice coming out raspy. "I like you like this."

His cheeks flush as he smiles at you, giddy adrenaline making his fans whir to life to cool him off. You reach out your hands, pleased when he takes them without hesitation, and pull him towards you.

"Alright! Arms behind you, handsome." You order, sliding off the bed to grab the spoons of wire you'd painstakingly wound together, gold glinting against red. He's already sitting in the middle of the bed when you look up, rolling his shoulders as he holds his arms behind himself.

You practically swoon, your heart racing as you're nearly overwhelmed with how much you love him. Aeons, he's perfect.

You drop a kiss to his temple as you climb on the bed behind him, cooing a sweet, "Good job, baby. So good for me."

He sighs at the touch, soft and happy, and you can hear the machinery in his chest working as the praise makes him preen and sit a little straighter. "You're gonna make me blush," he teases, grinning wide and eager.

You laugh as you begin wrapping his arms in wire, positioning them so his hand can rest on the opposite arm's elbow. It's not necessary to check that the wires aren't biting into nerves or circulation, he doesn't really have those, but it's habit, and you like going through the motions. It feels like taking care of him.

You secure the wire, testing the bindings to make sure you did everything right, then lean forwards and hug Boothill from behind. You rest your chin on his shoulder, running a hand from his neck down his chest, tracing over the wires until you reach his hips.

You consider yourself very, very fortunate to be wealthy, because it means you can afford to spoil your boyfriend. It means you could afford to help him get a cock that he can actually feel. Several, actually, including one with a cum mechanism built in.

That's the one he's wearing now, a pretty deep red model that curves up at the tip. You wrap your hand around it, thick enough that your fingertips can't touch, and slowly stroke him. He nearly swears and you giggle at the replacement words his beacon imposes on him, too distracted by the fake precum leaking down his cock to tease him about it.

You give a few more strokes before you're moving to sit in front of him, wire in hand. You guide him to sit back against the headboard again, then settle between his thighs. You use the wire to bind his calves to his thighs, leaving him spread open and at your mercy.

More precum leaks down his cock and you croon, bending down and licking a wet stripe up the underside of it. Boothill whines and you can't resist taking him fully into your mouth, bobbing you head and enjoying his moans.

ever since that night you couldn't forget argenti. how could you? unknowingly, you spent the night in a vampire's castle and lived to tell the tale - although you haven't exactly told anybody. the whole experience was one that you needed time to think about. a bit of questioning and asking around had led you to learn of the tale of “dracula”, the nickname locals had given to the local legend of a vampire that lived somewhere within the woods. a place you had been to, unknowingly. the tale had stemmed from rumors of people seeing a cloaked figure in the forest and occasionally in the morning, bodies of animals with sets of twin puncture holes in their necks.

the thought alone made you shiver. but apparently nobody could confirm the existence of “dracula”. nobody but you. although, you never planned to tell everyone about your encounter. from what you had been told (and experienced) argenti meant no harm. he seemingly only ever drank from animals and such, never harassed the locals and even helped you in your time of need. argenti had that whole night to attack you and he hadn't, he was an incredibly accommodating host that made you think he clearly meant no harm.

and so here you were.

something had compelled you to deliver a “thank you gift” of sorts to the vampire. in honesty, you had no clue what he would even like, let alone where to start thinking about what possibly it could be. so you gathered up a few items and a written thank you note in hopes that he’d appreciate the sentiment at least. most likely, on that night, if argenti hadn't found you and took you back to the castle, you would've died of hyperthermia or got lost and succumbed to hunger or whatever else lurked out in those woods. the least you could do was give him this.

the only time you had seen the route to the castle properly was in the morning after. the walk back lead by a peculiar stranger argenti asked to lead you home - a tall fellow, his hair was long, split in two monochrome colors and wore a red neck scarf. you vaguely could recall certain landmarks that you hoped would guide you, but that proved to be more of an optimistic idea when all those landmarks blended very well into the scenery.

luckily, finding a castle wasn't too hard when you got close enough. spotting it in your peripheral was all you needed to look up and use it as a focal point, heading in that direction. this time you were smarter. you had left in the morning, the sun was still high in the sky and so hopefully, you could get there and back unharmed in the light. using what little you knew about vampires, you reckoned that he probably wouldn't be awake - or at least probably wouldn't answer the door.

fortunately, it wasn't too much longer until you saw the cobbled paving that led toward the set of grand oak doors. the castle looked even more stunning in the light. you quickly paced over to the door and left the gift right outside before turning to make your journey back. you truly hoped that he at least appreciated the sentiment or the effort to thank him for what he did for you. now you just hoped you could remember how to get back home.

argenti woke at sunset. occasionally he wouldn't sleep the day away, instead opting to maintain the upkeep of the castle but when you can't go out during the day, you're very limited on what to do within that time.

he went about his routines before deciding that a quick “hunt” was needed to satiate his hunger. donning his cloak, he pushed open one of the grand oak doors at the entrance and was prepared to depart until he saw something on the ground.

a wicker basket of sorts, covered with a velvet cloth and an envelope laid on top.

gently, cautiously, he picked it up and brought it inside. argenti placed it on the closest available surface before investigating, starting with the envelope. picking it up he opened it and began reading the contents.

a small smile graced his lips upon processing the words you had written. and that smile became greater upon seeing your name signed at the bottom. soon he placed it to the side carefully, a memento to save forever. argenti then proceeded to peel back part of the velvet cloth to see the contents.

in complete honesty, argenti was overjoyed. it was rather heartwarming to him that you went out of your way to make a gift basket and walked all the way back to his castle to drop it off. the sentiment was very much appreciated.

admittedly argenti had been rather closed off toward locals and people in general. one slip up, one mistake that led to him being exposed as a vampire could mean a stake to the heart for him. he'd never willingly hurt humans anyway but he wanted to be safe. but something was telling him that you could be an exception.

sure he wouldn't tell you right off the bat, you were still practically a stranger - although he wasn't aware that you had figured it out. he didn't trust you that much. but out of everyone he'd met, you probably would be the only one he could ever confide in should the two of you choose to develop a friendship. well you and that dear friend of his he asked to escort you home.

and so he decided to leave you a note of his own.

one that you found outside your door in the morning. an invite. one back to his castle for a more formal dinner.

ever since that night you couldn't forget argenti. how could you? unknowingly, you spent the night in a vampire's castle and lived to tell the tale - although you haven't exactly told anybody. the whole experience was one that you needed time to think about. a bit of questioning and asking around had led you to learn of the tale of “dracula”, the nickname locals had given to the local legend of a vampire that lived somewhere within the woods. a place you had been to, unknowingly. the tale had stemmed from rumors of people seeing a cloaked figure in the forest and occasionally in the morning, bodies of animals with sets of twin puncture holes in their necks.

the thought alone made you shiver. but apparently nobody could confirm the existence of “dracula”. nobody but you. although, you never planned to tell everyone about your encounter. from what you had been told (and experienced) argenti meant no harm. he seemingly only ever drank from animals and such, never harassed the locals and even helped you in your time of need. argenti had that whole night to attack you and he hadn't, he was an incredibly accommodating host that made you think he clearly meant no harm.

and so here you were.

something had compelled you to deliver a “thank you gift” of sorts to the vampire. in honesty, you had no clue what he would even like, let alone where to start thinking about what possibly it could be. so you gathered up a few items and a written thank you note in hopes that he’d appreciate the sentiment at least. most likely, on that night, if argenti hadn't found you and took you back to the castle, you would've died of hyperthermia or got lost and succumbed to hunger or whatever else lurked out in those woods. the least you could do was give him this.

the only time you had seen the route to the castle properly was in the morning after. the walk back lead by a peculiar stranger argenti asked to lead you home - a tall fellow, his hair was long, split in two monochrome colors and wore a red neck scarf. you vaguely could recall certain landmarks that you hoped would guide you, but that proved to be more of an optimistic idea when all those landmarks blended very well into the scenery.

luckily, finding a castle wasn't too hard when you got close enough. spotting it in your peripheral was all you needed to look up and use it as a focal point, heading in that direction. this time you were smarter. you had left in the morning, the sun was still high in the sky and so hopefully, you could get there and back unharmed in the light. using what little you knew about vampires, you reckoned that he probably wouldn't be awake - or at least probably wouldn't answer the door.

fortunately, it wasn't too much longer until you saw the cobbled paving that led toward the set of grand oak doors. the castle looked even more stunning in the light. you quickly paced over to the door and left the gift right outside before turning to make your journey back. you truly hoped that he at least appreciated the sentiment or the effort to thank him for what he did for you. now you just hoped you could remember how to get back home.

argenti woke at sunset. occasionally he wouldn't sleep the day away, instead opting to maintain the upkeep of the castle but when you can't go out during the day, you're very limited on what to do within that time.

he went about his routines before deciding that a quick “hunt” was needed to satiate his hunger. donning his cloak, he pushed open one of the grand oak doors at the entrance and was prepared to depart until he saw something on the ground.

a wicker basket of sorts, covered with a velvet cloth and an envelope laid on top.

gently, cautiously, he picked it up and brought it inside. argenti placed it on the closest available surface before investigating, starting with the envelope. picking it up he opened it and began reading the contents.

a small smile graced his lips upon processing the words you had written. and that smile became greater upon seeing your name signed at the bottom. soon he placed it to the side carefully, a memento to save forever. argenti then proceeded to peel back part of the velvet cloth to see the contents.

in complete honesty, argenti was overjoyed. it was rather heartwarming to him that you went out of your way to make a gift basket and walked all the way back to his castle to drop it off. the sentiment was very much appreciated.

admittedly argenti had been rather closed off toward locals and people in general. one slip up, one mistake that led to him being exposed as a vampire could mean a stake to the heart for him. he'd never willingly hurt humans anyway but he wanted to be safe. but something was telling him that you could be an exception.

sure he wouldn't tell you right off the bat, you were still practically a stranger - although he wasn't aware that you had figured it out. he didn't trust you that much. but out of everyone he'd met, you probably would be the only one he could ever confide in should the two of you choose to develop a friendship. well you and that dear friend of his he asked to escort you home.

and so he decided to leave you a note of his own.

one that you found outside your door in the morning. an invite. one back to his castle for a more formal dinner.

“But, I want you to,” you try lightly. “And it’s your birthday.”

Birthday. As if his birthdays meant anything anymore. Argenti has had hundreds by now. Still, you always manage to make him feel like the most important man in the universe.

He laughs. “My birthday is two months away.”

“Early present,” you conclude firmly.

Then, you lean forward and wrap your arms around his shoulders. His skin has been bloodless since the day you met him, but there’s something so beautiful about it’s near translucency. It’s iridescently white and brilliant, and it’s like pearl silk when his hair spills over his shoulders.

Speaking of which, his hair smells of cherry and coconut.

Hmm, hmm. He’s used your shampoo—not that you mind. Not at all. He uses it because it is something to remember you by when he leaves for extended voyages. And it’s cute.

“C’mon.” It comes out as a childish droning low whine as you hit his shoulders gently. “I see the way you look at me when I get hurt. It'll be good for you.”

Argenti appears sheepish, though he indulges in your hand that cards over his scalp. His fangs poke from behind his bottom lip.

He glances away for a moment. His eyes have traced down to your neck, and he almost abandons his willpower to taste your skin.

“Just a teensy weensy bit.” You pinch your fingers together for good measure.

“It will not be ‘teensy weensy,’” Argenti explains softly. Although his voice falters for a moment, his hands do not tremble. “I will not be able to stop myself. You have always been tempting.”

“Aww.” You bop him on the shoulder. “You’re worried about me?”

“Well, of course. I do love you.”

Your heart falters. You’re sure he can hear how your blood stutters in your veins. He’s said it those words again—how many times? Almost everyday—and it still manages to fluster you.

How you managed to score this dude was beyond you. Maybe the ‘tempting’ part of you was the friends we made along the way.

You giggle like he’s smacked you over the head with his giant spear and caused a concussion. That’s what it feels like, at least. He makes you feel dizzy, but in a good way, like you’re being spun around and around by a lover when you return home after a long day.

Your fingers are still pinched together. “Just a little bit.”

You see him swallow.

He fidgets with his fingers for a moment.

He’s staring at your jugular, and though he appears apprehensive, there’s something clouding over his gaze.

He can’t say no to you. It goes against all of his moral principles.

“If it will make you happy.” Just a taste. He’s set in his ways, now. He’ll prick your neck, allow your blood to wash over his tongue, and then he’ll pull away.

And he really does love to make you happy.

“Hell yeah, it will.” You press your chest to his. “All yours.”

Oh, goodness. He swallows harder, and his hands that are usually confident with how they move, are suddenly hesitant now that they rest on the sides of your face. His hands are free of his gloves, and though his skin isn’t warm, you enjoy the callouses and marks that rub against your flesh.

Dutifully, you push his hair behind his ears.

You’re jealous of how lovely he is.

“Are you certain this is–”

“Yep.”

His brows knit together. “But this–”

“Argenti.”

He smiles apologetically. “I just want to make sure this is something you want, and not something you are doing for my sake.”

You sigh.

Then, you press your lips to his. You don’t let the taste of him distract you, however—and you know that’s secretly what he’s plotting by how his eyes flutter shut.

Argenti appears disappointed when you pull away.

“I want you to do this.”

Uh oh. You’re in for it now. You know that look.

He wants to. He does. He’s wanted to for a while now. But it is selfish of him to drink the blood from your wounds, so he instead ignores the desire.

Now, he can’t ignore it any longer.

His lips press to your cheek first. Then he moves to your jawline, painstakingly slow, but still considerate with how he dotes upon you. Maybe he’s trying to coax you from making the worst decision of your life. Wouldn’t be the first time.

You hum, pleased.

His nose is cold when he buries his face into the side of your neck where the throbbing arteries lie beneath thin supple skin.

And you smell delicious. He smells every throb of your veins as your heart pumps in your chest; that metallic earthy smell, like soil after the rain, and dew on rose petals.

Suddenly, you grow nervous.

He notices.

He tries to reel back, but you lock a hand behind his head.

Still, he tries, “you’re uncomfortable. I won’t–”

You’re excited. Your legs are jittery. The adrenaline rush is exhilarating, and sugar flows through your veins like hot ash.

Your skin feels set alight. You’re burning to the touch.

The scent of you is too much. He pinches his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to control himself.

“Bite me.” You feel his lips bump against your neck. “C’mon.” He lets out a stuttered gasp against your skin. “Do it.”

His will is not strong enough.

He wets his lips and they then part to allow sharpened canines to dot along the skin above your veins. He knows each and every path beneath your flesh. He knows where danger lies. He understands your fragility, for he was once the same.

He steers clear of the artery, as enticing as it is. It’s wrong; and he could very well hurt you beyond repair.

Your heart stutters when his fangs slice through your skin.

And it hurts. Of course it hurts, and Argenti knows as such. His other hand that is not trying to hold you still rubs along the other side of your throat soothingly. The pinpricks of his teeth are slow and deliberate. Perhaps it would hurt less if he was quick, but the sharpness stirs hot on your flesh anyway.

You try not to voice your anguish. Instead, your fingers curl firmly into his hair.

He lingers with his teeth lodged into your vein.

It’s uncomfortable, especially when you feel something hot and wet trickle from the puncture wounds and slip over his cold teeth, but you’ve never felt so alive.

His teeth pull away with a wet pop and you shiver.

You’re bleeding, rightfully so. It’s not a major wound—he’d never. You knew he’d never—but with how sticky the holes were growing, you would be convinced otherwise.

Gingerly, you felt a warm tongue swipe over the wound.

That hurt, too. You hiss then, and you feel Argenti wince against your skin.

The damage is done.

“I’m fine.” And you are. You’re practically jumping out of your skin. “Keep going.”

After a pause, his tongue cards once again over the fresh blood spilling from the wound. It doesn’t help the fire in your veins when he slots his lips over the punctured skin and begins to suck. The noises are alarming at best, and you can hear him swallowing.

It hurts.

But it’s good.

You stiffen in his hold.

Argenti stops for a moment to pepper sticky kisses over your wound. You’re sure it’s stained in the shape of his lips. Stupidly, you giggle at the idea.

He continues to indulge and he’s slow. Maybe he’s hesitant, or maybe he’s savouring you. You’re not sure.

When you’re sure he’s finished, Argenti’s bloodied teeth scrape lower along your neck until his fangs sink into the junction of your throat and your shoulder. Somehow, it hurts more.

More bloodied kisses that make your skin stiffen. His tongue draws over your flesh again.

Both the wounds are still bleeding when he decides to add another to your body.

This one hurts even more. You can tell because his teeth don’t sink in cleanly. The other side of your throat has that arterial vein you know he wants to get to. You also know he wouldn’t ever. He’s inching dangerously close to it, though.

He’s sucking and sucking and you smell copper in the air and you’re stomach is churning and your neck is covered in blood.

Your hands slacken from around his head.

The fourth puncture wound comes over your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter for a moment.

He’s not stopping.

In fact, he hasn’t even opened his eyes to check on you. He’s way too absorbed in your taste to notice your slackening grip on his shoulders.

His tongue grazes your shoulder.

“Argenti.”

He doesn’t even hear you. You move your hands to push him away, but your arms tremble. You’re growing weaker with every second.

Oh, God. This was a bad idea. You’re good at making those.

You hit his shoulders weakly.

“Argenti.” It comes out strangled and weak.

His teeth pop out of a new wound. He hums.

You’re already dizzy. Weakly, your arms wrap around him and grip loosely onto his clothes.

As sexy as this is, and because you feel like the main character in some cheesy vampire story, the stupid primal urges in your brain to survive shut down the idea of laying there, taking it, and letting him ruin your neck until you fall unconscious.

Argenti finally understands just how strong you smell and is horrified at what he’s done when his eyes finally refocus on you.

He lays you down properly on the couch and rushes to get a first aid kit.

When he comes back, he’s mumbling strings of apologies. He looks forlorn, because he’s betrayed himself, and you.

You don’t think it’s appropriate to comment on how the blood around his mouth is almost enough to make you jump on him. Only issue is you’re not sure your bones can support your weight at the moment.

The alcohol stings as he tends to the punctures, but not as much as his teeth did.

You sigh, but it’s happy.

Argenti looks at you. Guilt is smeared over his face like a thick paste.

“You look just as beautiful as the day I met you,” you murmur to him. Because that day had been a wild day. Not only did a giant man with flaming red hair stop to offer his sincerest compliments on how radiant you were—dressed in flip flops and pyjama pants because you were simply hosing your front lawn—with two squirrels at his feet and five birds resting on his shoulders.

If Argenti could blush, you figure he’d be bright red by now.

Instead, he lets out a shaky laugh. “You flatter me so. I know nothing more enchanting than you.”

The wounds have stopped bleeding now, and he makes sure to clean each one thoroughly. He expresses no concerns about a stitch job. You’re relieved at that one.

Weakly, an arm raises to push his hair behind his ears again.

That alone takes all of the strength out of you.

“You okay?” you ask him.

He looks confused at your question. “Fret not, I have had my fill. It is you who I’m worried about.”

“I feel alive.” It’s partly true. As woozy as you feel, it’s like warm sugar still lingers in your veins. “That was great. I bet you enjoyed it.”

Argenti’s grin turns crooked. “Very much so. Perhaps too much. I’ve hurt you.” His fingers rub over the tender skin surrounding the puncture wounds. “But, you are as sweet as I thought you’d be.”

“I’m so in love with you, dude.” Very appropriate thing to say. Maybe it’s the blood loss. Amazing pet name, too.

Still, Argenti flusters. He clears his throat for a moment and his fingers still around your neck. “Words cannot convey how often I think of you, or better yet how often I long to hold you.”

He behaves as if this is his first confession of many to come.

Oh. Your heart is racing in your chest.

Arms much too tired to move, you instead pucker your lips obnoxiously.

Argenti eagerly leans down to kiss you again. His lips are still bloody, and the scent and taste of metal makes your stomach twist for a moment, but it’s him. It’s him and how gentle he always is—and how can you still be so gentle when you’re enraptured in cutting holes into your partner’s neck? Beats you.

“Still so sweet,” he whispers against your lips. “Is all of you this sweet?”

You kiss his cheek. “Wanna find out?” You’re happy to play pillow princess for an hour.

Love is of the highest devotion to him. Everything he does for you, from simply holding your hands, to sex, it is all an act of devotion from him. You are equals with Idrila in Argenti’s eyes, and he will make sure to cherish you, and make sure you know just how much he adores you.

So it comes to no surprise that sex is a very, very lengthy activity with him. He wants to– needs to– take his time, he needs to love every inch of your body, worship every inch. He ghosts his fingers over every inch of exposed skin, from forehead to chest, from stomach to your waist, and so forth. Every little shiver and sound from you is like a sweet sonnet, it only adds to his mounting arousal.

It takes at least an hour for Argenti to get to the point. He needs to make sure he’s paid attention to every. single. inch. of you. He’ll go over your body with his hands, whispering all sorts of praises, before going over your skin with his lips. Peppering your body in soft, tender, fleeting kisses. If he can get you to cum without any penetration, then that’s perfect, too.

He doesn’t do this to tease you, of course. As stated before, he simply needs you to know how beautiful he believes you are. No matter how much you beg or whine or plead, he will not stop this routine. Sex just feels incomplete without it.

However, once he’s satisfied with his exploration, he follows your every order obediently. Your pleasure is his pleasure, it does not matter if it doesn’t mean any stimulation for him. As long as he gets to hear you moan, feel your touch, he’s happy. So happy.

On that note, one of his favorite things to do is give you oral. He’ll eat you out until you’re crying if you so wish, suck you off until you beg him to stop. Your taste is divine to him, it’s a true reward, and nothing can compare to it. A lifetime in between your thighs sounds lovely, and if he could, he would. When he can, he does his best to look up at you, his beautiful emerald orbs wide, glossy, studying every little detail in your face. There is no sight more enticing than his handsome face, stained by your slick and your cum. 

In fact, Argenti takes such great pleasure in oral, that he tends to cum while giving. Normally, he cums prematurely, enraptured by the sounds you make, the way you taste. Sometimes, you catch him rolling his hips slightly, but other times he is still. Most times he is still fully clothed, there’s a certain pride that bubbles in your chest to know you’ve made him cum untouched.

He loves to finger you or stroke you off, too. His hands, despite being a knight, are very soft. His fingers are long and slender, nails trimmed perfectly. He sits you up on his lap as he starts his ministrations, slow, and hypnotizing. And, of course, he whispers all sorts of saccharine words in your ear. “You’re doing so good”, “You feel so good, my heart…”, “Just once more, hm? Please?”

He will also follow any position you wish. If you want to be on top? Gladly. You want him on top? He’s climbing on top of you with a warm smile. Penetration is one of the highest acts of devotion, he believes. It brings you both closer, metaphorically and physically, and the feeling of his slender cock inside of you never ceases to amaze. Or, the feeling of you within him is enough to make him cum prematurely again.

We’ll get to top Argenti in a bit. When he bottoms, he prefers to ride you. He loves to see you, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. And Aeons, is the view incredible. His lips parted, his body flush, a blush spread across his cheeks, the tips of his ears, and his shoulders, silky soft hair splayed over his shoulders. It gives him some semblance of control, being able to choose the pace at which he fucks down onto you. However, if you guide him, he doesn’t mind either. Buck your hips up into him, he’ll whimper.

He also likes Missionary when he bottoms and tops, as mentioned previously, he prefers to see you. Hell, a mating press would be just fine to him. Both ways, again. Any way he’d take you, he’d love you to take him. And if you want to ride him, go right ahead! He won’t control the pace, unless you give him permission.

Now, when Argenti tops, he loves missionary and even the mating press. Mirror sex is always on the cards, he will take you any position, as long as he gets to see your beautiful face. But one of his personal favorites is spooning. While he can’t necessarily see your face, it is the closeness that allows him to ignore his own rule. He’ll nuzzle up to your neck, mutter sweet praises, kiss at your skin, and simply enjoy himself. There is no better feeling than his body pressed up against yours, as close as he can possibly be.

He is also vocal! Very, very vocal, but not loud. He moans, whines, whimpers, and even mewls. Doesn’t matter what he’s doing. You could be sitting on his face, and he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from moaning. Little breathy sighs even when he’s feeling you up escape his lips, he’ll moan directly in your ear when he fucks into you, or whine and whimper when you suck him off.

He does exactly as he says he will, and what you allow him to do. Never more, never less. He’s so insanely fair with you, and he lets you be as unfair as you want. Sometimes he can feel a little pent-up and sexually frustrated, but he never asks you for anything, which is… a little unfortunate. He’s good at asking what you want, the communication doesn’t lack there, but he’s very bad at asking about his wants. It’s a guessing game, or more of, he never really has any wants, aside from making you see stars.

Argenti acts like every little service you let him do to you is the most blessed thing. He also has a bad habit of thanking you with every little act you let him do, whether it be eating you out, or you edging him. Going down on you? “Thank you, my love.” running his thumbs over your nipples? Thank you, a million times over, dearest.” Sucking him off to the point of overstimulation? “Thank you, thank you– ngh…– thank you…”

© sentoooo, 2024 | masterlist | kofi | star header by roseschoices | sfw blog

⎯ Aventurine

Rest assured, AVENTURINE has all sorts of dirty thoughts running around in his mind. Some are jokes, he’ll bring up fucking you on the poker tables, but he never really means it. That one is far too outrageous for even him, he doesn’t want to damage his and your reputations. As much of a celebrity he is, there are certain things he likes to keep away from the media, and that includes you. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop the press from spreading rumors that he does, in fact, have a partner.

However, one of his fantasies isn’t far off from that idea. There’s something so scandalous about having you pressed up against the window, stripped completely, as he fucks into you. What are the odds someone were to look all the way up at his apartment, at that specific window? Will they see you? Will they see him? It sends a thrill down his spine, just to think about it. 

It’s not as if anyone would recognize you from that far up, and the same goes for Aventurine, but it’d be something to fan the flames of the rumors, no? It’s not like his apartment is public knowledge, thank Qilpoth. But being able to show you off like that, at your most vulnerable, in the most intimate way possible… and all his.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

VERITAS does not allow himself to think of such lewd thoughts throughout the day. It is inappropriate for someone of his position, and as much as he loves you, he doesn’t wish to distract himself. When he’s off work however, and especially when he has time with you, he doesn’t mind indulging in your fantasies. Your fantasies are his, he believes, and he’d do all he could to keep you happy, no matter how lewd it is.

However, you’ve noticed one thing he particularly enjoys is throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom, before keeping you on edge all night. It’s an artform that he’s perfected. Every lingering touch, every disapproving stare when you beg for more, as if you’re just so impatient. And yet, he praises you. Every single word goes straight to your core, causing you to whimper and shiver under his touch. And he rewards you with more praise, all while you feel as if your sanity is holding on by a thread.

If he finally has a day off that night? Good luck. His job isn’t exactly easy, you know, and a lot of times he feels particularly stressed… and what could make him feel better? That’s right. Indulgence. He wants you to be a trembling mess, perhaps even a crying mess, to be so reliant on him for your orgasm while he enjoys whatever he can. He buries his head between your thighs most often, feasting like a famished man, yet always pulling back when your moans become too loud.

⎯ Boothill

BOOTHILL doesn’t have many fantasies, not now, anyways. Especially sexual fantasies. He’s got all he wants when it comes to you, to taste you whenever he wishes, play with you how he likes. He likes to focus on your pleasure above his, even if he got his cock installed, sometimes he forgets he has it.

However, one thought has plagued his mind ever since he first saw you bare. He curses himself for always coming back to what he knows is destroyed and gone, and yet, he can’t help but see it so clearly. To make love to you; yes, proper lovemaking, as much as he’s grown fond of the feverish way he devours you, he wants to take his time.

He pictures you riding him under the stars of his home planet, out in the plains. To feel the warmth of your skin against him, how the moon bathes you in its ethereal glow. He wants to enjoy the night of Aeragan-Epharshel, and he can only wish that he was human again. To feel you around him, the way your thighs would press against his sides, your hands on his chest. This thought has been the only one to make him wish he had still been human, still been alive, or had simply met you earlier.

⎯ Gallagher

GALLAGHER is a simple man. Any fantasy he’s had is already fulfilled, he likes to think. Someone to come home to, someone to jack off to (as crude as it is), someone to simply hold. Yet, tonight, he finds himself dreaming of you.

Oh, what a torturous week it’s been. Every shift has been excruciatingly slow, from dealing with petty theft (how is that possible within a dream?) to chatting with regulars in the Dreamjolt Holstery. Both of his workloads have doubled in size, it seems, and he was finally starting to feel the effects of stress, something he swore he never dealt with. Yet, in those stray moments in the storage room, his mind finds its way to you.

To have you naked, spread on the bed, waiting for him, it makes him bite his lip. Sure, when he gets home, he can always ask… but there’s something intimate about you knowing he had a bad day, that he needs to destress. He imagines all the ways he would take you, doggy, prone, have you ride him til you see stars… Perhaps he could text you and get the conversation going, but that would lead him to be distracted at work.

⎯ Sunday

As virtuous as SUNDAY is, he cannot help but let his dirty thoughts get the best of him. For so long he had been neglecting his sexual needs, deeming such impure thoughts a sin and an obstacle to his pursuit for true order. And yet, of course he couldn’t push such thoughts away. As your relationship progressed, his thoughts only became more wild and unrestricted– or at least, as ‘wild’ as a man so vanilla could get.

It’s only natural for a man so tied to order to like the idea of relinquishing control. Not that he’d voice it, of course. He was head of the Oak Family, and was expected to keep up his appearances as such. No one needed to know that in his head, he was submitting to you so easily. He enjoys being underneath you, able to relax while you handle everything else. Even if you were simply riding him, it’s something that feels freeing. He doesn’t have to be in control all the time, especially with you. This is his way of saying he feels safe, even in such an intimate manner.

He finds it hard to tell you, of course. He trusts you, but admitting that he likes something like that? He’s never talked so lewd before. To come up to you, bring up the conversation, and say he wants to try being pegged? He blushes at the mere thought. It’s not that you would say no, he isn’t afraid of rejection. He simply can’t fathom the words coming from his mouth. He doesn’t enjoy feeling pathetic, either… knowing that he’d be putty in your hands as soon as the tip pressed in.

⎯ Argenti

ARGENTI, who submits to your every whim and desire, does his best to not act on his own. Because of his vow, he does his best to curb all indulgences, sinful or not. However, with you, he believes there is room for leeway. He can’t deny you, especially when the mere thought of you stirs up such delicious ideals, especially when you tell him all you’d like to do with him, and to him.

And that's when his mind wanders. When he’s alone, his mind occupied with thoughts of you and only you, he finds it hard not to touch himself. And so, he does, palming himself through his trousers as his breath becomes ragged. You’ll be back soon, he thinks, and it sends a shiver down his spine, making his cock twitch. What would you do if you were to catch him? Praise him? His cock twitches again, precum leaking through his trousers, as he continues to rub himself. Or perhaps you would scold him, how dare he do something so lewd. Without you. He can’t help the moan that falls from his lips.

He wants you to catch him, every single time. He leaves the door unlocked, sometimes leaving it open a crack, keeping his legs spread, angling his body towards the door. He does not mean to, but he tends to flaunt himself. It’s all he feels he can do as he waits, and waits, and waits. He needs you to see him before he makes a mess of himself, so proudly, all for you. You have caught him a few times, and you don’t disappoint when you do. Sometimes you do scold him, punishing him by deciding to finish the job yourself, only to leave him on the cusp, over and over and over, making him plead and beg you for more with such a beautiful face. Glossy eyed, flushed cheeks, raw lips, it’s wonderful to have such a pious knight at your mercy.

⎯Sampo Koski

You can never evade SAMPO, nor can you evade what dirty thoughts linger in his mind. He loves to tell you all he wishes he could do, either over the phone, over video, or in person. and he never ceases to get you hot and bothered. It’s simply the way of such a coy man, always eager to please and be pleased. Your satisfaction is guaranteed.

Of course he isn’t tame. When he’s horny, he has too much energy to spend, and it causes him to get antsy. He can’t focus until he gets off. So why don’t you help him with that, as much as you can? He’d like a little something he can keep with him forever, that’ll keep him going when you’re unavailable. So why not film your own porn with him? He introduces the idea with such fervor, beaming as he asks.

That becomes a habit. After a couple thousand watches, he decides he needs more. You can’t tell if he’s doing this to perfect his filming technique, or if he actually does just want more, or even both. The first one you two filmed wasn’t exactly the best, with his phone set up on the bedside table with the lamp as a stand. The shot wasn’t exactly perfect, but he could still see you riding him, and your moans were as clear as day. The second one is clearer, capturing your entire body as you rode his face, also with pristine audio of your moans. Do you see a pattern? It’s unclear if he likes to listen to it more than he likes to see it, as most of the time he is on the run. It doesn’t stop him from trying to film different positions, though.

⎯ Jing Yuan

Of course JING YUAN has all sorts of fantasies running around his head about you. When he’s just so bored with his duties, how can he not think of you? A little excitement keeps him wide awake in hopes he’ll be able to act on some of them when the day is over. Or, perhaps he could call you in to keep him company? So many options, he thinks, so little time. For now, he’ll have to keep himself occupied.

He’s not necessarily the most perverted man, but some of the things he conjures up makes him feel that way. Such a prestigious figure answering to his base desires, something about that is so lewd to him. From the outside, he seems calm as can be. But inside his mind, he sees you on your knees underneath his desk, his cock in your mouth, cheek pressed against his thigh as he pets through your hair. That’s not the only thought in his mind, however. To have you sit in his lap, or grind against his thigh as you do your best to quiet your moans, pausing when someone dares to enter his space.

One of his favorites, however, is dismissing everyone from the Seat of Divine Foresight, calling you in, having his way with you on the desk. Perhaps it is tame compared to the others, but there’s a certain thrill of it. The Cloud Knights that stand guard, would they know? Or perhaps they would assume it’s official business. Most people know of your relationship with the General, but sometimes a good reminder is needed. He’s not a jealous man at all, but sometimes the way people’s eyes linger on you irks him ever so slightly. To have you laid back on his desk, legs hooked over his shoulders as he sinks as deep as he can into you, not making an effort to hide your pleasure at all.

⎯ Blade

As stubborn as he is, BLADE doesn’t necessarily have fantasies. Unless you can count dying. What do you expect from a man like him? When he wants something done, he gets it done, and that includes sex. If he’s out on a mission where you can’t accompany him, then he does his absolute best to not think about his urges until he can get his hands on you again. Sure, he’s had his fair share of fantasies when he was Yingxing, but as Blade? Does a man like that deserve to have fantasies?

He only starts thinking about it when you ‘criticize’ him for it. When you share your fantasies with him, the most you get back is an ‘mh’ and a contemplative look. Is it wildly unfair that he doesn’t have such lewd fantasies? No. But you kicked up enough of a fuss about it and it made him start thinking. It was a blessing and a curse. Suddenly, he couldn’t stop thinking about your body, how you feel against him, your smell, every single part of you was suddenly put under such an alluring light. Senses within him that had been dormant for so many years suddenly reawaken.

Blade finds himself balling his fists every time he is away from you. He is suddenly more irritable and aloof, even anxious. For about a week every other month, a certain vision can’t leave his mind. You, naked and pressed against him, clinging to him as if he was your only lifeline. He has you seated on his cock, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips to keep you there, as he takes all he can from your lips, swallowing every little moan as if he truly owned them. Something about having you simply seated on his lap, begging for more, doing your best to try and move yourself while he pushes you back down with a grunt, it makes his cock ache. At the same time, he can’t see himself being that patient, he’s always been so eager to ravage you.

⎯ Luocha

LUOCHA is quite forward with his fantasies and you. He sees no reason to keep them to himself, the worst that could happen was that you weren’t into it, right? He doesn’t find himself fantasizing too much, however, his mind normally on his travels and his coffin. When he’s with you, however, his mind is alight with all sorts of scenarios, some as innocent and sweet as candy, and others scandalous and lewd.

One of his favorite things to indulge in is shibari, tie you up in such pretty patterns, and have his way with you. He quite enjoys the control he has over you, for a man so complacent to your whims. His favorite way to tie you up is the butterfly harness, the way it frames your build so perfectly, emphasizing all his favorite parts of you. Not only that, but it’s versatile, giving him the choice to tie your arms back, or leave them be. Sometimes he chooses not to, enjoying the way you feel him up so desperately, doing your best to coax him to let you cum. Other times, he enjoys tying your arms back, simply helpless underneath his touch, like the teasing asshole he was.

With you tied up, something he does quite often is drag you along his cock, laying beneath you almost leisurely while you moan and beg for more. He looks damn near angelic underneath you almost every single time, unbothered, his hair only slightly messed up, and a soft blush dusting his features. You can beg all you want for him to be inside you, and all he’d do is tut and say you were doing just as good like this, why would he need to do more? You hate his cocky demeanor when you're just so close to orgasm, and he’s so adamant on dragging this out.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

Needless to say, JIAOQIU likes to turn up the heat in bed. Sex with him can be as gentle and leisurely as you want, or as rough and fast as you’d like. All you need to do is ask. That sly smile has never done you wrong, aside from perhaps a couple of love bites and claw marks down your back. He has always been fond of such things, finding that it felt as if it was in his nature.

He does his best to leave your skin untouched, especially the areas where people could see. But a curiosity always lingered in him, on those days where he had been yearning for your body the most. When he has no time to pamper you in all the ways he wants, when he can only admire your beauty from afar. His eyes drop from your face to your neck, and wonders just how beautiful that soft skin would be if it brandished his mark. Could he stain such beauty?

Of course he can. And if he were to, he’d expect full well the same treatment. He’d love to mark you up, allow others to know you are his. But he wants the same, as well. He feels insatiable, while your relationship is known, he wants people to know that you are his one and only. And that he is all yours. He strays from such visible places because of your professions, knowing that it isn’t exactly… in the dress code. Such a shame, he thinks. You’d look even more stunning with such a mark.

⎯ Moze

MOZE enjoys cleanliness above all. The less mess, the better. Condom on during sex, with a washcloth ready at any moment, he tends to come prepared. Needless to say, he’s an aftercare king. He has a shower ready after you two come down from the afterglow, and pampers you in his own special way each and every time. He’s not necessarily the most gentle during sex, but that doesn’t mean he’s too rough, either. Just enough to make your legs shake.

And… he’d quite like to bathe you after he’s caught you, as well. What a thrilling thing, chasing after a mark that just so happens to be his partner. Because you know, wherever you go, you can’t hide from him, on any of the Xianzhou Alliance’s ships. Even if he doesn’t know the layout of some, he will find you. It’s a chase that could last all night, for all he cares. The thought of it makes him shiver, and he can only hope you feel the same.

When he’d finally catch you, he’d haul you back to your place and make you wonder what he’d do to you, such a successful hunt should be rewarded, no? It’d be hard to keep calm in his arms, knowing that you’re in for a long night, one where you’ll inevitably end up sore. If you were to indulge, he’d make sure to do something different, every single time. He wouldn’t want this to get stale, after all. He likes the thought of you squirming in his arms, trying to get off somehow, with no idea what he’d bestow upon you that night. With consent, of course.

⎯ Dan Heng

As DAN HENG is a Vidyadhara, there’s not necessarily a lot that gets him off (yet). After all, they reproduced asexually, and for a while, he really had no sexual urges, or anything of the sort. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t set an example, however. He’s grown fond of watching you pleasure yourself in any way, shape, or form.

It started when he caught you masturbating one night, too shy to ask him for help, yet the urge was too strong to simply ignore it. It was stress relief, in a way. Needless to say, it ended up in a long talk about your own needs and his, and yet… he encouraged it. It sent heat straight to his belly and made him feel things he didn’t know he could feel. Just because of the night, his mind tends to wander when he has too much freetime on his hands, or when the express is quiet. It’s excruciating for him…

And so, he starts gifting you all sorts of toys. To experiment with, of course. He likes to watch you use them most of the time, from vibrators, to dildos, sleeves, anything he thinks you’d like. He prefers to watch most of the time, from right behind you, or from the edge of the bed, as if he were any closer, he’d be interrupting something. On the rare occasion you’d invite him to help, he does everything with such hesitance, everything still new to him. It is wonderful to watch his cheeks flush when you moan a little too loud.

⎯ Gepard

If you were to ask GEPARD if he had any fantasies, he'd blush and fluster and stutter over his words, before vehemently denying that he had any, no matter if you two were just dating, or married. It’s hard for the captain of the Silvermane Guards to admit what he’s into, aside from taking care of you.

What he doesn’t tell you is that secretly, he quite enjoys being at your mercy. For everything he’s done for you, he’d like it returned in equal amounts. He wants to be spoiled, in bed, outside of bed, whatever you can do for him. Who knew that the captain you’ve come to know and cherish would just love giving up his control? It is the ultimate trust to him.

There’s nothing he won’t do for you (except tell you his ‘darkest desire’), so go ahead, pamper him! Pull out the strap and watch his cheeks flush, he would find himself unable to deny it. Spoil him the way he spoils you, do all the ‘hard work’, and he’s putty in your hands. He moans low and quiet at first, too embarrassed to hear such a lewd noise come from himself. When he really gets into it, however, you can see his body relax, and he opens his eyes, watching your face as he allows all sorts of moans to spill from his lips.

⎯ Caelus

CAELUS is kind of awkward at sex. He’s not necessarily the best, but he’s not the worst, either. He likes to make things fun, who said fun can’t be sensual? Of course, he has all sorts of silly and stupid ideas floating around his head, and he’s not afraid to share them, either. Half the time you can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious.

Three stupid little sayings have stuck, however. His most favorite one to blurt out? Stack donuts on it! And as time goes on, he becomes more serious every single time he says it. To the point where he’s begging you to. It’ll be funny, he assures you, and hey, you’ll get a good treat out of it! So, are you surprised when you walk into his room and he’s sitting there, with a box of donuts, after he had talked about it all day? No. You shouldn’t be, anyways.

It’s more like game night than anything, really. You’re astonished at how he’s actually able to stay hard with all your snickering and giggling. He seems to be proud that he’s convinced you, and you’re really only at two donuts. And when you can’t stack anymore, he’s whipped out a can of whipped cream. For what, you ask? All he does is point at his tip, and you get the idea. What had been a joke (you thought), turned into perhaps the best head he had ever gotten.

⎯ Welt

Gentle and experienced, WELT doesn’t let his mind stray too far when he thinks about you. He sees it as intrusive, as much as he loves you. He does his best to be careful, to be as gentle as he can with you. Especially with the knowledge that you were a virgin. You two had talked in depth about what would happen if you were to have sex, and he had assured you he’d take good care of you.

After all, who else would be better? He does his best not to think about it, as you do, because you yourself had been feeling some type of way recently, and suddenly talking to him about it after you just had a conversation like that was nerve wracking. What would you do? What would he do? You tell yourself there really is no need to be shy, that you can just… ask. That’s all it would take.

He takes pride in it, of course. He allows himself that much. When you find yourself underneath him with his cock fully seated inside of you. The way he shudders and moans is almost pitiful, perhaps he is sensitive because he never quite imagined you’d be this warm and tight, and it has him near whimpering. Was he this old already? Or perhaps he has been out of practice. He does his best not to dwell on it, and when you're ready, every thrust has him whining. He grips at the sheets so hard, his knuckles turn white. It’s magnificent, really. To have a man with so many accomplishments under his belt moan so loud because he gets to take your virginity.