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Dankovsky will prove that it is well within his own capabilities to have casual sex with Burakh, without succumbing to a massive heart attack.
Even if he has to die to do so.
Even if he has to die several times.
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“Now, lean back and open up.”
Something ripples behind Burakh’s blank look and Daniil’s breath catches in his throat. A twitch at the corner of Burakh’s bloody mouth, like he can tell.
“Have it your way, oynon,” he says. “Make it quick.”
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Daniil thinks again of molten glass, of the Lines he doesn’t understand, and the tunnels of blood he fears he understands the consequences of far too well.
There isn’t a day earlier he could have Burakh. Tomorrow, if it ever comes, will be too late. This is it. Two lines intersect, then go their separate ways.
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Diluc pinched the bridge of his nose, right where his migraines used to start. “To be clear, you slept with the Grand Master, Lohen, Rosaria, and God knows who else, all because you thought that I had maybe, one time, several years ago, slept with Varka? Did I get that right?”
He would try to make it sound unbelievably stupid.
Kaeya goes on a bender.
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since when by DFP
Fandoms: とんがり帽子のアトリエ | Tongari Boushi no Atelier | Witch Hat Atelier (Manga)
22 Mar 2026
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Olruggio and Qifrey, the morning after.
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Flins was surprised by how much he enjoyed it—Illuga vulnerable, utterly at his mercy. It occurred to him that he could do anything to him right then, use him however he pleased, and Illuga could do nothing about it. The thought lifted the hair on Flins’s neck with an unexpected frisson of pleasure. Oh, what fools desire made of men.
Flins and Illuga and an average night at the lighthouse.
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Illuga was familiar with the Lightkeepers’ rules and regulations, and while fraternization was not strictly outlawed it was frowned upon. No one would bat an eye at a roll in the hay on the eve of battle or in the brittle silence after a funeral banquet. But to do so again, and again, and again…
Well. It simply wasn’t done.
So Illuga was going to stop doing it.
Any day now.
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The Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers stood with a knife in hand and a small, self-satisfied smile on his face. It was a familiar sight, but one made strange by the circumstances; he stood in a bright, clean kitchen, and he was wearing an apron.
How to keep the wolf from the door, or five times Childe fed him and one time Scaramouche returned the favour.
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“You’re trembling,” Robin says, sitting up a hair to touch her lips to his chin. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of little old me?”
“I—I ain’t,” Boothill protests, as she leaves a trail of kisses down his jaw, over the metal plating of his throat. “I just—don’t want to hurt ya none.”
Robin lays back. If Boothill were a godly man he’d be thanking someone right ’bout now. She says, “Then don’t.”
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“Is it always like this with you?” Aventurine asked. “Starting riots, setting fires, escaping by the skin of your teeth?”
Still sorta annoyed, Boothill grumbled, “You’re makin’ it sound like a bad thing.”
Aventurine laughed so suddenly he seemed to almost surprise himself. “A bad thing? Hah! Not at all.” He ran a hand, shining with gold, through his hair. “Not at all.”
After a hostile takeover gets a little…hostile, Aventurine needs to lay low for a few weeks. Luckily, Boothill’s willing to lend a helping hand.
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“But…” Argenti paused. There was something kinda funny about his expression. “My friend, why are you naked?”
“Huh?” Boothill stared harder at Argenti, who wasn’t meeting his eyes. “It don’t exactly count, do it?” He gestured at the smooth metal surface of his body, mostly submerged in the water. It ain’t like he had the usual parts folks were shy about.
A look passed over Argenti’s face that he didn’t quite get. It was almost…offended? Then he said, “How can you say that?” and Boothill heard the offence loud and clear in his voice.
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There was a strange silhouette outside, wide at the top then narrow, like an arrow pointing to the sky. The silhouette was floating, that’s what made it difficult to decipher.
A cool, clean feeling swept through Childe, and he suddenly didn’t feel the agony of his body at all.
“It’s you.” His voice cracked, came out barely above a whisper.
The silhouette was a man, hovering a few feet above the ground, hands raised at his sides to steady himself. His face was as pale and bloodless as the moon. In a soft, musical voice he said, “For fuck’s sake—where are your clothes?”
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“It’s not pinching, is it?” Feixiao said. He felt her fingers hook between the straps and the bare skin of his thigh. “Moze, look here. See how there’s a little give?”
Moze rallied himself and looked down. Feixiao stared up at him, past the silicone cock jutting out from the harness. She tugged at the strap and said, “See?”
It was all Moze could do in that moment to maintain eye contact. Speech was well beyond him. He managed to nod.
Feixiao prepares a get-well-soon present for Jiaoqiu.
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Aki looked at him, then really looked at him, for the first time that evening. “Hang on,” he said, in a tone that made distant alarm bells sound in Shinjiro’s head. “Is this…doing something for you?”
[Prompt fills for NSFW Akishinji Week]
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So, maybe it was Shinjiro’s fault. He was the one who’d mentioned he didn’t have any pictures of Aki, but Aki was the one who had to make it into a stupid game of oneupmanship, as usual.
Picture for a picture, Aki texted him. Send me one like the one I sent.
Series
- Part 4 of kiss the cook
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turns out none of the great poets have written about this feeling by DFP
Fandoms: 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game)
23 Feb 2025
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“You accepted my proposal. We made a verbal contract.” Mydei unfolded his arms as his chest began to heave. “You drank my liquor and said you would have me!”
There was a distinct ringing in Phainon’s ears that seemed to be the sound of his brain rattling loose in his skull. What in Kephale’s name was that last bit? They had drunk together only the once, more than a year ago.
And actually, for that matter, what the hell was that first bit?
Phainon is somehow the last to learn that he's engaged to Mydei.
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“To be clear,” Mydei says, frowning, “you want me to put my armour back on, because…?”
Phainon shoots him a look. “You said you would humour me.”
“Just trying to understand the appeal,” Mydei grumbles. Standing naked over the bed, he’s beginning to feel a draft, but he supposes he won’t feel it much longer.
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“If you were truly a man,” Mydei declared, at top volume and apropos of nothing, “you’d fuck me in the ass.”
“Wuh—? Huh?” Phainon fumbled his wooden training sword and nearly dropped it.
This was not how any sane person started a conversation. They were in the public training hall, for gods sake, where Kephale and all their children could witness Phainon having an aneurysm.
Mydei issues a challenge Phainon can’t refuse.
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Ryuki’s heart rabbited in his chest as his stomach curdled. He’d been here before, a thousand times. The dark cathedral, fear alive in his body, so thick and cloying he choked on it. Date looking at him calmly through the mask.
“Drop the gun,” the man repeated, annoyed this time. “And kick it to me.”
Ryuki sent Date one last, hopeless glance, then clicked the safety on, dropped the gun, and kicked it.
It skidded forward a measly two feet.
Into the baffled silence, Ryuki said, “Um. Should I kick it again, or—?”
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It didn’t help that Shinji was so—himself, all the damn time. He cooked Akihiko’s favourite foods, and snarled at him for not properly rinsing protein powder out of his glasses, and when they were on the couch watching TV, he’d lay his hand across the nape of Akihiko’s neck, trace soothing circles against his skin with his thumb.
Akihiko could get hard just thinking about Shinji and now that he was around him all the time—after months apart—he was supposed to do what, exactly? Remain somehow chaste and sane at the same time?
Akihiko tries (and fails) to have sex with his boyfriend.
Series
- Part 5 of kiss the cook