justformemes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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bakerstreet2020-08-24 05:03 am
justformemes) wrote in bakerstreet2020-08-24 05:03 am
Entry tags:
Sexy sniffles
The Sex Pollen Meme
This is a highly sexual and somewhat dangerous meme! Many if not all options are potentially triggering. Please use your best judgment before participating.
1. Comment with your character, putting their name, canon, and any prefs (e.g. women only, not #4, AU, aged up, etc.) in the subject line and/or comment.
2. When other characters tag in, they'll use this handy RNG (1-9) to pick an option from the list below.
3. Have fun, sex peeps up, ???, profit.
Options:
1. The Slutty One: When you're sprayed with this pollen, all you wanna do is bang. All inhibitions go out the window—if you don't get some orgasms pumping out, your whole world is gonna end. Seduction, debasement, that's what this option's all about. Do whatever it takes to get that sweet, sweet satisfaction.
2. The Violent One: This pollen makes you wanna bang, sure, but it also makes you pissed as fuck. Everything's painted in red—the anger's overwhelming. Whoever you see next? That's who's taking the full force of your assault. You don't know if you wanna punch 'em or kiss 'em, but something's gonna happen.
3. The Soulmate One: There's only one person the pollen is driving you to find, driving you to romance, driving you to be with — biblically. And maybe it's not someone you want to be this attracted to, but your mind/body/spirit—everything's saying yes. Even if your sensibility alone says no. Time to hunt out your soulmate and convince them this is destiny.
4. The Touch-based One: This pollen works a tad differently from the others. Instead of dousing an individual and making them need, it waits until they've touched someone. It could be the slightest brush of fingertips, it could be a kiss from an already willing lover. Whatever it is, the pollen's activated, and there's no going back. Every touch feels a little bit better than the last.
5. The Possessive One: This sex pollen is the lovechild of options 2 and 3 — a pollen that makes you crazy about that one particular person. You've gotta have them, protect them, own the moment. There's no one you'd rather be 'sharing' this with, and no one they're allowed to. Jealousy and need taken to the highest level.
6. The Snuggly One: The lightest of all the sex pollens, this variety just asks for some good, snuggly fun. Not necessarily vanilla, but definitely kinder. A hug can be just as good as a handjob if it's from the right person. Kinda.
7. The Hallucinogenic One: Whooooa, man. This is a trip. Nothing's looking quite right, the sky is purple, the ground is pitch black, and the person in front of you looks like your latest wet dream. This pollen clogs the mind and leaves its victim feeling high and confused. What a predicament.
8. The Animalistic One: Speaking of dulled down thought processes—this pollen has removed all of them. Nary a one remains, because now you're pure animal, living in the moment, looking for a mate. Your ability to speak in more than hisses and growls and monosyllabic conversation's been compromised. Let's hope it passes.
9. Wild Card: Mixup, mashup, do whatever you like.
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He closes his eyes at the feel of Wei Ying's hands moving along his back. He thanks the layers of clothes that would prevent Wei Ying from feeling the scars of the lashes he had received so many years ago. His uncle would not assign punishment to Wei Ying. Possibly to Lan Zhan. But he doesn't care. He tightens his arms around Wei Ying and buries his face deeper into his shoulder.
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"Well, maybe he wouldn't try to assign me any punishment, just glare at me until I was forced to let you go," he says, rambling. "I'll admit, those days in the library with you were... boring, but at least I got to spend a lot of time with you. Do you remember the picture I drew of you?" He doesn't remember all of his previous life, but the time in Gusu is one of his treasured memories.
With Lan Zhan practically breathing against his shoulder and neck, Wei Ying shivers, and shifts again, feeling the faintest stirring of something. Something he doesn't want to think about. "Too bad whatever this is didn't strike while you were in the Jingshi. Then we could have laid down, which might be more comfortable. I'll probably put your legs to sleep if I stay in your lap like this."
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How could he forget? Miraculously, the drawing had been one of those things that hadn't been burnt up when the Wen family attacked them. It had been hidden in one of the books his brother had snuck out. The drawing now has a new home in one of Lan Zhan's personal books in the Jingshi. One, he hopes, Wei Ying hadn't run across yet. He nods against Wei Ying to answer his question.
He's still not ready to let go of him yet, even as he rambles. He does make a good point. Lan Zhan clamps down an arm around him and reaches for Bichen, picking up the sword as he stands. Yes, in the Jingshi, he would be able to comfortably hold Wei Ying close to him without needing to sit so upright. He takes a few strides toward the doors.
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"I can walk, you know," he grumbles, half-joking. "Where are we going?" It's pretty obvious, even to him, since it was the mention of the Jingshi that motivated Lan Zhan to stand, but he'd still like confirmation. "People will probably see us, if you try to walk out of here carrying me."
At least it's not a bridal carry, which might be even worse.
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He pauses and sets Wei Ying on his feet again. Already he feels bereft at not having Wei Ying in his arms. It's almost childish how much he wishes for that touch again. He eventually lets Wei Ying go and stands straight, one hand behind his back, looking very much like the Chief Cultivator, despite his ears burning as red as the ribbon in Wei Ying's hair. Eventually he nods and reaches for the door, sliding it open for them to step outside.
Lan Zhan steps onto the path and starts his way toward the Jingshi, meticulously recalling what he had encountered over the course of the day to have him crave this kind of touch so much. He had always been in control of his emotions, always had a tight control. Almost always. The rare moments when he did not involved...well...He looks back to see if Wei Ying was following along.
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He follows Lan Zhan, staying half a step behind him, just to keep an eye on him. Something was clearly affecting him, and that had Wei Ying somewhat worried. "Looks like the juniors are diligently keeping everyone away," he comments, as they head up the path to the Jingshi.
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A blessing. Sizhui had always been so very diligent when given instruction. And he's glad that he wouldn't ask any questions. As they make their way up the path into the Jingshi, he remains silent, nodding only when Wei Ying mentions that the Juniors have done a good job. He pauses, looking at Wei Ying, wondering if it is contagious. He wouldn't wish to put him in danger.
His fingers twitch on Bichen, wanting to just reach out and hold him again. Instead, he presses his lips together and continues up the path until he could walk into the Jingshi.
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"At least whatever this thing is it's not making you talk," he teases, as they reach Lan Zhan's home, and Wei Ying takes the initiative to open the doors. It's where he spends most of his time, so it's not like he's actually entering without permission.
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It is, as he feels, as much Wei Ying's home from all of the time he spends there and how Lan Zhan more than willingly welcomes him in. He follows Wei Ying in and quietly shuts the doors. Yes, he's lucky that whatever affliction had settled over him hadn't made him talk. He walks over and sets Bichen down on its stand and moves to stand before Wei Ying, itching to hold and keep him in his arms but not without Wei Ying initiating it once more.
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"This seemed to make you better earlier. Let's see if it helps now."
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"Mn."
Lan Zhan leans and nuzzles his face into Wei Ying's neck, his shoulders sagging in relief. His arms lift and come around Wei Ying's waist, holding him close once more. He leads them toward his bed so that they could lay and make it more comfortable. He doesn't lay them out yet, more focused on satisfying the need to inhale and feel the warmth of the man in his arms, alive and well, here, and...not his. His grip tightens a little.
He would be happy no matter how Wei Ying stays in his life as long as Wei Ying stays in his life.
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Tilting his head to the side, he hums a few notes from that song he still doesn't know the name of, but know as well as he knows his heartbeat. "Hey Lan Zhan, let me take off your headpiece. Maybe that'll help a little."
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The soft laugh is another balm that he hadn't realized he craved. He had missed that laugh for so many years. To hear it again had brought a gladness to his heart at first. Hearing it now in this quiet moment in the Jingshi adds another layer and Lan Zhan feels his heart crave Wei Ying again. He knows his heart yearns for Wei Ying and yet he doesn't know when would be a time when he could express the wish within him. With everything they had gone through...then again, Wei Ying did have a faulty memory at times.
With their song on his lips, Lan Zhan almost could drift off standing like this. When his headpiece is mentioned, Lan Zhan pulled back a little to give a single nod, bending his head a little to let Wei Ying take it off easily.
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Finally, when the pins are free, the headpiece gone, and the topknot undone, he combs his fingers through those silky locks. It's perhaps the only time he'll ever get to do this, so he's going to take advantage. "Ah, Lan Zhan, your hair is so beautiful," he says, voice soft, not really paying attention to what he's saying. "If only I could do this for you every day."
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He holds onto Wei Ying as skilled fingers move to take apart the meticulous parts that comprised his his headpiece. They’re patient, gentle. Something that easily melts away another layer of stiffness in his shoulders. This is something almost as intimate as letting one’s partner receive the hair ribbon or bathing together. Or, as he had imagined a few times, dressing each other in the morning and readying each other for the day.
After a brief dance to set down the complicated hairpiece, he feels the soft brush of Wei Ying’s capable fingers stroking through the long locks. He closes his eyes at the intimate gesture, burying his face more in his shoulder and listening to what Wei Ying was murmuring. Until he says it.
Reluctantly, he pulls away and looks at him. Is he teasing? A joke? He searches his face for any sign of a prank.
“Every day?”
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Realizing what he said when Lan Zhan pulls away, his cheeks flush scarlet, and he has to glance away. "It's a pain to take down, all those pins, it must be nice to have someone help you," he says with a nervous laugh, reaching up to rub his nose. He wants to do that, help Lan Zhan comb out his hair at night and let go of the duties and burdens he carries daily. "But there's probably a rule about that, right?"
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There isn’t. He lets Wei Ying talk about how nice it would be to have someone help him with it. The nose scratch and askew glance with the red blush tell him that he is embarrassed to have been caught saying that.
“Only if that person is Wei Ying. Only for me.”
It isn’t a direct confession but Lan Zhan’s voice is almost as quiet as Wei Ying’s was earlier. He wants to return to holding him in his arms, have him brush his fingers through his hair again. Allow him to brush away the day with each sweep.
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"You can't just say those sorts of things without warning, Lan Zhan! My heart can't take it." He returns to running his fingers through Lan Zhan's hair, even though it's been smoothed out already. "No one else, huh? Has there ever been anyone else?"
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The laugh almost deters him to pull away. But there's a sense of comfort in cuddling against Wei Ying that overpowers that. The rigidity in his body relaxes even more at the fingers that run through his hair again. This is a sensation that he likes.
"Mmn. No one."
He never connected with anyone the way he connected with Wei Ying. After Wei Ying's passing, there were offers that were sent to Gusu; families pleading for Hanguang Jun to court their daughters. He rejected every single one. There was only one person he could truly claim as his confidante.
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He knows how painful it was, knows about the scars, and seeking out rumors of his return. But he truly did not want Lan Zhan to be alone; he deserved better than that. At least he's here now, and there is something. A potential.
"I'll help you with this every night," he says. "If you'll have me."
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He nods against him to confirm he would have Wei Ying help him take apart his headpiece and comb out his hair in the evenings. Lan Zhan lets him go reluctantly and moves towards the bed, sitting down on it and looking up at him.
"I did not want anyone."
He knew he trusted no other than Wei Ying since the moment in the cave, that his heart had already been stolen by someone who was willing to be so shameless in order for him to cough out the stagnant blood. Lan Zhan already misses the feeling of Wei Ying in his arms. He hopes that he will understand that he did not want anyone because he only wanted one person.
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"Was it that you didn't want anyone or you only wanted one person?" Wei Ying asks.
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Whatever tension was left in his shoulders melts away when Wei Ying helpfully crawls back into his lap and lays his head on his shoulder. Lan Zhan raises his arms around Wei Ying's waist and holds him close, feeling like he's come home again.
"I only wanted one person," he admits, quiet against his shoulder. "No one else."
No one else made him feel the way he did; no one else brought forth emotion as easily as Wei Ying; and no one else he would ever want than Wei Ying.
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"There's never been anyone else I wanted, Lan Zhan," he says, finally lifting his head. "Only you."
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It is a fact. Something he would never refute. He lifts his head when he feels Wei Ying lift his head. He looks into his eyes when Wei Ying admits there had never been anyone else he's ever wanted. Lan Zhan is momentarily stunned when he admits that he wanted him too. Lan Zhan's grip tightens around him as he feels his heart soar at that. He tilts his face up toward Wei Ying.
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