”I’d like to tie you up.” A laugh bubbled out of Wei Wuxian at the unexpected words, and he turned further in his spot to lean over the table and so get closer to his husband. Ink and paper were quickly forgotten on the floor. ”Like with your ribbon? I liked that,” he said, grinning up at Lan Wangji, who was sitting perfectly straight as always. ”No. Properly.”

“We have to get up?” Wei Wuxian prompts him. Lan Wangji nods. “Jiang Wanyin said the Wen Clan will be brought in to the conference.” In his arms, Wei Wuxian stiffens. He shakes himself out of Lan Wangji’s hold, sitting upright and brushing his hair back from his face. Incongruous with his love-kissed body and the golden light shining over his skin, his eyes sharpen. A glint, dark as obsidian, replaces the dreamy clouds of a moment before. Lan Wangji mourns the simple happiness, even as he leans in to look at those eyes. “We should go,” Wei Wuxian says. His voice is soft rain, the promise of an oncoming storm. Hanguang-Jun shocks the Four Great Clans by standing beside the Yiling Patriarch and performing a ritual to prove that Wei Wuxian remains on the righteous path. If only every problem could be solved by so simple an act.

Jiang Cheng has gradually acquired several new, interesting markings - and new, interesting ways to use them.

“All you need to do is be a good boy. Can you do that for me?” With Lan Wangji’s eyes covered, Wei Wuxian cannot help but take note of the way it highlights his other features, such as the gentle slope of his nose, the sharp angle of his jawline, and his plush full lips, just waiting to be kissed. “Yes,” Lan Wangji replies, a beat quicker than usual. He tilts his head up in a silent request. “Wei Ying?” Wei Wuxian crawls up Lan Wangji’s body until he hovers above him, close but not enough to touch. Despite still being fully clothed, Wei Wuxian can feel Lan Wangji’s bare skin radiating heat. “What do good boys say when there’s something they want?” “...Please.”

Huaisang ran his fingers up over Mingjue’s thigh and abdomen, smoothing in slow circles as he spoke, “Just relax, Da-ge. I’ll take good care of you.”

The first time Wei Wuxian sees Lan Zhan naked in the Cold Spring behind Cloud Recesses, she's totally blindsided. Lan Zhan is meditating, tips of her hair trailing through the water when Wei Wuxian arrives and starts to strip down. Her eyes are closed, and her tits are floating in the water in front of her. Several things strike Wei Wuxian in quick succession. Five times Wei Wuxian notices how absolutely enormous Lan Zhan's tits are, and one time she does something about it: A fill for a prompt in the MDZS/CQL Kink Meme.

Jiang Cheng has no explanation for the way rope quiets the noise in his head, the endless imprecations his own internal voice hurls at him. He settles on his own couch, ties himself up, and reads.

When Song Lan comes back to the dorm room for the evening, he finds a present on his bed wrapped up just for him.

Wei Wuxian is ready, waiting. The front and back doors of the Jingshi wait open, allowing the early summer breeze to pass through the house, bringing with it the scent of the flowers from the back garden. He has rope, crimson and smooth and well-worn, coiled in a neat pile. He has tea, perfectly brewed, the lightly flavored (nearly tasteless) kind that Lan Zhan likes, waiting in a pot with a warming talisman. There’s a comb, fine-toothed of carved white jade. There’s fruit, for later, perfectly ripe. There’s a small knife with a curved blade, still sharp as anything but stained with years of sap. There’s the garden, lovingly tended and fully in bloom in waves of pinks and purples and whites. There’s him, lounging against the frame of the back door, limbs sprawled about in the languid way that looks careless to an outsider but is actually carefully choreographed to put as much of himself on display as possible. He’s technically fully dressed, red inner robe and black outer, but the black outer robe is unbelted, half-hanging off one shoulder, and he’s decidedly not wearing trousers. His bare feet poke out the red folds, pale against the wood of the Jingshi deck. Or: Rope bondage as the deepest expression of affection.