Grimdark_Dandelion

Mer!Kaiser



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    And Mu Qing should know better by now. Should know that he might be able to beat Feng Xin with a sword in his hand or with the right biting curse on his tongue, but like this, naked underneath Feng Xin’s still fully clothed body…

    Mu Qing lost as soon as he’d gotten in bed with him.

     

    (Or: Feng Xin makes Mu Qing come on his big dick three times before Mu Qing can even blink.)

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    20 Dec 2024

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    Pei Ming had better grovel at his fucking feet to make up for this. Honestly.

    .

    (Who wouldn't jump at a chance to dual-cultivate with the two Gods of the South?)

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    16 Dec 2024

  3. Public Bookmark 62

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    Mu Qing’s keen eye for detail and sharp tongue brought him so much success in the beauty industry. Yet, surrounded by those who consider themselves like-minded, he finds he’s never felt more alone.

    Mu Qing watches from the other side of the gym; the stretch of toned muscle, a drip of sweat that trails between his shoulder blades to absorb into the elastic of his waistband, the flex of his hands as he reties his hair. He tilts his head back for a sip from his water bottle, and when he looks back, the man has put on the ugliest sleeveless muscle hoodie Mu Qing has ever seen.
    Absolutely hideous. The colors are so obnoxiously bright Mu Qing could see them from space; the cut is nonsensical and obtuse while very clearly designed purely to show off the very shoulders and back Mu Qing spent the last several minutes appraising from a distance. All of the residual anger Mu Qing just worked off resurfaces directly into his dick.

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    14 Dec 2024

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    It happens too fast. One moment Feng Xin has Mu Qing's wrists pinned to the column, and the next, Mu Qing has slipped his wrists free, bunched his fists into Feng Xin's robes, and slotted a muscled thigh between Feng Xin's legs. Feng Xin freezes, face close enough to count each one of Mu Qing's eyelashes. Blood rushes south. Some little voice in the back of his head quips that he's going to develop a specific interest in Mu Qing's thighs if this keeps happening. A second little voice assures him he already has.

    Feng Xin ignores all of that, just as he does every time, and especially ignores how Mu Qing's tongue wets his lips before he speaks.

    "Hm? I thought you would be bigger than that." Mu Qing shifts his thigh slightly, subtle, but the pebble tossed into Feng Xin's pond creates waves instead of ripples. "Just this? The fabled, mighty tool of Ju Yang…." Mu Qing leans closer, his breath teasing Feng Xin's lips as he speaks. "...Turns out to be nothing more than a dull knife in a sword's sheath."

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    12 Dec 2024

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    “It’s been six years since your former rink mate was barred from competing, and several outlets have reported Xie Lian is planning to announce his return to competition next season. Do either of you care to comment?”

    You would think by now, after years of dodging any and all inquiries on the subject, reporters would have learned not to ask these kinds of questions.

    Feng Xin glances to his right, sizing up the other's reactions.

    Mu Qing hasn’t properly smiled in years. Feng Xin bites his cheek — instead of punching Mu Qing in the face the way he wants to — turns back to the front, and thinks fuck it.

    Every skater is replaceable. Retirement always looms. But pissing Mu Qing off? That’s forever.

    “I think,” Feng Xin says, leaning closer to the microphone in front of him with a wide smile, “they should ban Mu Qing next.”

    Sometimes, Feng Xin still says the wrong thing, Mu Qing still has trouble letting go, and Xie Lian wonders if it ever could have been different.

    Sometimes, everything you’re looking for is six years behind you. And sometimes, it can be found right where you left it.

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    11 Dec 2024