#golden star pupil

[qrcatfinder]

[soramachaii]

okay but why does this cat remind me of panther 💀

[astraystayyh]

the premise : u apply lipgloss on felix because ofc he suits glossy lips except it takes an emotional turn???? because felix is perfect sorry. this is fluffyyyy and the sanest reaction to this man being ur bf (and these pics. these pics....)

“lixie, stay still,” you giggle, body nestled between felix’s legs. He's leaning against the bathroom counter, hands propped on the sleek ebony marble as you apply a shimmering lip gloss to his lips.

“but don't you wanna know what changbin said to me?”

“of course i wanna know what creative pickup line he used on you today. of course i do, baby,” you smile and he rolls his eyes at the sarcasm dripping from your tone, his tongue poking against his cheek before gliding in (fake) annoyance over his lips.

“but…” he muses, tilting his head to the side, his hands finding your waist once again (they've been away for two minutes too long).

“but when your mouth moves i can't technically apply lipgloss to it.”

“maybe you're just a bad make-up artist,” he teases, before quickly planting a kiss on your temple. “kidding baby. you're the very best at everything you do.”

“you're actually incapable of being mean,” you laugh heartily, your thumb swiping across his chiseled jaw.

“i am very much capable of being mean,” he pouts, his eyes widening slightly, golden light spilling into his pupils— it refracts into an arrow delving straight into your heart.

“you can't say this in the softest voice and expect me to agree.”

“i am very much capable of being mean,” he repeats, only this time his timber is many many octaves lower. his voice reverberates straight through your stomach, a deep melody orchestrating the untamed butterflies in your stomach.

“this is the equivalent of a kitten throwing a punch to me,” you pull his face closer, and he shakes his head, mouth shut tightly as you reapply the glitter infused gloss on his lips, going delicately over his cupid's bow. his eyes are boring onto you, yet you don't shy away from his gaze. it is a kind one— like a blanket knitted with love thrown over your body.

“done,” you whisper, hands trailing up to his hair, blonde silky locks akin to threads of sunlight. you think he must be favored by the stars— how they stored the sun inside every component of his being for him to keep safe.

“you have the prettiest lips,” your voice is suddenly hoarse, thumb grazing slightly over his lips, ones shaped like a heart— akin to the one freckle he has right underneath his eye.

it wasn't enough for him to have the kindest soul, no, love needed to be etched onto his skin too.

“felix,” you rasp out his name.

he catches your tears before you sense them falling, swiping his thumbs delicately on your cheek. “angel?”

“you're an idiot.”

“am i?” he brings you to his chest swiftly, your nose buried in the orange blossoms and sea notes of his skin— your home, the one you'd recognize in blindness, in despair, in safety, in love.

“i wanted to apply this lipgloss on you because shimmer would suit your angelic lips and then we'd make out. but you just had to be so beautiful and pure that it makes me wanna cry.”

“I'm sorry,” he says and you giggle, more tears spilling from your eyes.

“see, this is what i mean. why are you apologizing. this is so silly and you're so perfect and i can't believe you love me.”

“well i do,” he leans away, kissing your forehead tenderly. the sticky lip gloss lingers on your skin. “i love you so much, angel. i will only ever love you.”

“promise me?” you ask in a feat of vulnerability almost foreign to your being.

“i promise.”

you believe him.

“thank you. please don't put this lipgloss near anyone else or it'll make them cry too.”

“i think that's just you baby,” he grins, his thumb swiping over your thigh comfortingly, then, his nose brushing against your own. “kiss?”

you close your eyes, a sigh of relief, of longing escaping your body. “please.”

to be loved by felix— maybe you're the one favored by the stars after all.

[maiko-san]

Catnap + Dogday x Reader ( Part 5 )

<<< Part 4 , Part 6 >>>

Relationship : Fluff

Warning : ⚠️ Mention of blood / gore, human experiments ⚠️

Plot : You were sleeping until you woke up and realised you weren't in the infirmary anymore

Catnap has made his decision, he decides to pay you a visit. Even if it is just a mere minute.

This is the only time he disobeyed The Prototype, surely his god would understand, right?

He had pleaded The Prototype to spare you out of all humans in the facility.

The Prototype accepted it but he won't assure about your survival during the massacre. Whatever happens to you will be Catnap's responsibility.

How about he convince you to join him? To be in the team and follow The Prototype?

It makes Catnap feel happy at the thought of the person he loves joining the team.

Just you and him, might even Dogday if he ever joined the group.

Wait...What if you refuse? Surely you wouldn't, right? If you refuse then he will force you. Yeah, definitely because he wants you safe.

Even it means dragging you down to the deepest and darkest of the Playtime Co, just to keep you safe.

As soon Catnap reaches the infirmary, he peeks his head in the room only to find it empty.

"...Star?"

You weren't in the room, where could you have gone to? Then, his nose picks up a familiar scent.

No...it cannot be.

His pupils dilate as he quickly crawls through the vents and makes his way towards the laboratory.

.

.

.

.

.

You hear voices around you which causes you to wake up.

All you see was the white ceiling instead of the colourful ones, you tried to move your body but you couldn't.

"You're finally awake"

You turn your head to the source and see one of the higher ups, a man in lab coat. You've seen him before but where...?

.....

If you remember correctly, you've seen him in the organisation chart and also on the papers you always work on.

"Dr. Sawyer...?"

"Oh, so you know me... interesting"

In his hand, he held a clipboard. He jotted something on the paper before looking down on you.

You are confused.

What's happening?

Where are you? What is this place? Why are you....here?

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions on your mind. You are in the Bigger Body Initiative programming room"

"Bigger...Body Initiative?"

"We've been monitoring you for quite a long time, now. It's quite hard to find someone that is compatible with our program. We have finally found a suitable host for our newest mascot, you are...perfect"

"Host...m-mascot? W-what are you saying?!"

You have to escape. If you stay you will never know what they will do to you!

Then, the metal doors before you open and came in a doll....

An angel doll with a pair of wings and a golden halo on top of her head, the doll is very beautiful like an angel as it is.

"All the children needed now is an angel to protect them, guide them and help the Playtime Co flourish. Your personality will become handy and guide the children to a better future for the company"

Every word he's saying, you don't like it one bit....

Dr. Sawyer leaves the room, saying you should get accustomed to the doll first.

You begin tugging on the belt on your wrist but they are too tight. You stare up at the ceiling above you.

You cannot escape....

You don't have anything on you to help you escape.

You slowly take in your surroundings, there is a table next to you full of operating equipment, which makes you pale.

Are they going to dissect you and sell your organs?!

Hell no!

"Help! Please!"

You cried out for help, though your voice fell into deaf ears. Tears start pouring out from your eyes, is this how you will die?

Plap, plap, plap.

Your ears pick up a pitter patter on the floor, you look down only to see a plush version of Catnap staring up at you with its beady black eyes.

Did...the plush just....moved?

Then, it tilts its head causing you to flinch in surprise.

The plush begins to climb on the table and hops on to you, you begin to panic and close your eyes, waiting for the pain to come.

Clack!

The straps on your wrists were loose and you open your eyes to see Catnap plush gnawing on the leather strap on your ankle.

Freeing you.

With your hands free, you quickly unstrap the belt on your other leg and hop off the bed. You walk over to the door but it won't open.

"F*ck!"

You begin to look around and notice a vent but it's high up, you can't reach it even if you climb on the table.

What are you going to do?!

You feel a soft tap on your ankle and you look down to see Plushnap, nudging your leg before pointing up at the vent.

You told it you can't reach it.

Then, Plushnap does a throwing motion before holding out its tail and stretches it with its paws.

It doesn't take you long to know what it was thinking.

Now, you hold Plushnap with your strong hand as the toy wraps its tail tightly around your wrist.

"Are you ready, buddy?"

*nods*

You give your best swing and throw Plushnap towards the vent as it tail stretches like a rope, the toy grabs hold on to the vent door as you begin to tug on its tail.

The vent door snaps open as you watch Plushnap crawl into the ventilation system, before you know it. You feel yourself being hoisted up.

How can a plush pull a full grown adult?!

Once you enter the vent, you feel arms dragging you and your face slams into rough fur.

That smells like lavender.

"Catnap?"

"Star....are you alright?"

You pull yourself off from the tight embrace and meet face to face with Catnap.

Before you could question him, he bites the back of your gown, holding you like you are a kitten and begins to crawl fast through the vents. ( you were so close to slip out of the hospital gown since it's just a piece of thin cloth )

"Catnap! W-what's happening and what is this place?!"

"....Not now, must.....get you... somewhere safe...stay quiet or...they'll hear us .."

Even though Catnap crawls through the vents fast, he doesn't make too much noise thanks to his soft paws and being lightweight unlike the other smiling critters. He was built to be silent so he doesn't wake up the sleeping orphans while he does his patrols in the night.

You look through the gap of the vent doors to see people in lab coats.

Who are these people? You know they have a science department but....these people are.....different.

Then, your eyes widen when you pass a vent door. You see a dissected body of a child....

Your hand slaps your mouth, you were horrified at the sight. Next to the dissected body is a bloody toy that has organs in it.

Are they...putting human organs into toys?

What kind of madness is this?

Are they...no, are they using the orphans for sick experiments?!

All the sudden, the alarm went off.

"Did they know?!"

"....No"

"Containment has been breached. Experiment 1006 has breached containment. All personnel please evacuate immediately and go towards the nearest evacuation centre, this is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill"

Catnap then tosses you over his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Hold...me...tight...."

The feline slams his paw on the vent door and jumps down on the ground.

You see people running around and being attacked by....the toys.

Your eyes widen in horror at the sight of the toys biting and clawing onto the scientists, tearing and pulling on their skin. You could see flesh and muscles, even bones!

There's so much....blood.

Suddenly, something covers your face and it was a mask. You try to pry it off but something doesn't let you do so.

"Must...wear mask..."

Catnap said into your ears, you see a thick cloud of red smoke coming out from his mouth and it begins to fill the entire hallway.

Some of the scientists begin to drop down after they inhale the red smoke. You watch as the toys begin to bite down on their motionless body like a pack of hungry hyenas.

You were breathing heavily at the horrific sight, the small toys had come to life and kills everyone.

You can hear bloodcurdling screams in the distance, some were calling for help.

Catnap's eyes look at your form, he can see your pale face through the mask and your entire body shaking like a leaf. He has to do something, he didn't expect it happen now.

Maybe ...using the red smoke on you could help you...just a little whiff.

He can manipulate your dream, yeah. He makes sure that everything was a nightmare.

Yes, he will do it.

"Catnap?"

You feel the mask loosen and the smell of the red smoke begins to enter your airway. Then, you start to feel drowsy and the next thing you know.

Everything turns black.

A/n : I'm sorry for not updating for a long time, I had a writer's block for the past days. I apologise for that 😭. I know this is a short chapter and I will do better next time, I hope this stupid a** writer's block goes away soon.

For those who send me asks, I will answer them soon.

[randomshyperson]

Favorite Star - Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Summary: During halftime at the Golden Globes, two guests find an empty room. Or the one where Lizzie's dress is driving you crazy.

Warnings; (+18), semi-public smut, bottom!Lizzie, dirty talking, implied secret relationship, just sinful. | Words: 1.437k

A/N-> This is actually fluff because I'm a sweetheart and Lizzie's face after losing another award made me very upset. And as the saying goes, the devil works fast but fanfic writers work faster.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

You've been teasing her.

All day, even before the awards began, you filled her cell phone with selfies and short videos of getting dressed in your attire - A dark green suit that hugged your body just right and was chosen to match her eyes, giving plenty of material for every rumor that has been circling about the two of you. Then on the red carpet, with intense stares and hidden smirks in her direction that your Agent probably wouldn't approve of. When you finally greeted her, you even dared to whisper how breathtaking she looked next to her ear and Lizzie should have won an acting award right there for covering the way her body shook at the compliment. 

The Golden Globes party was as full as usual, and it was blistering hot and tedious. She still had to deal with an annoying host, and when the break finally happened, Elizabeth wasn't the only one who breathed a sigh of relief that the performance had been interrupted.

She made her way through the crowd towards the toilets, offering polite smiles to any of the known guests she crossed glances with and somehow, perhaps because she caught your eye before standing up, Lizzie knew you were following her.

Her heart leaped in her chest when she felt her wrist being gently grabbed. She caught a glimpse of your dilated pupils before you took the lead, holding her hand and guiding her into the first empty room you could find.

You let go of her hand to wrap your arms around her waist, a gentle push to have her against the closed door. Lizzie was still blushing because she was sure Meryl Streep had seen the whole thing.

Your lips were on hers in the blink of an eye, and all she could do was sigh, her eyes closing on instinct. Fuck, she missed this. It seemed like forever since you last kissed, Lizzie was almost beginning to think she'd imagined it.

When you broke apart, you were a little breathless, your eyes shining in her direction filled her stomach with butterflies.

"Hello, gorgeous." You greeted her with a smile, your hands stroking her sides. "Lizzie, this dress is... fuck."

She blushed at your affected tone of voice, smiling shyly. Her hands went to the collar of your dress shirt, and she stared back at you with the same intensity.

"I'm glad you like it." She whispers even though the room is empty and the noise of the party outside is enough to drown out the sounds inside. "Do you know what the best part is? How easy it comes off..." She teases naughty an inch away from your lips, pleased with the shaky sigh that escapes you. Your hands tighten a little more firmly around her waist and Lizzie bites her lip before instinctively thrusting her hips towards you. The cue is answered immediately - You grab her dress to put up a little so your thigh can fit between her legs, giving her something to grind against. But instead of giving in completely, she’s all too aware of where she is and the short time you both have before the end of the break. So Lizzie fiddles with your tie. "We can't. Not here."

You pout, the hands on her hips giving a tentative pull, forcing her to grind down into your flexing thigh, and her determined gaze falters into an aroused expression, the blood flowing not only to her cheeks but down her body, at a speed that makes her gasp for air. The hot knot on her lower belly making her dizzier by the second.

"Why wait, when you want it so badly?" You challenge back as if you knew how about the ache between her legs. You lean in to attack her collarbone with kisses that turn her into a panting mess, struggling to keep her eyes open. You gently bite the most sensitive spot behind her ear that you have learned to memorize and Lizzie lets out a soft whimper, her hips thrusting forward on instinct.

But there's movement outside. Footsteps and a soft bell. Break time is about to be over. Lizzie grumbles, the firm hands on your shoulder pushing you gently.

"We have to go." She says, but you don't let go, you pull her face to yours and kiss her hard. Your tongue makes her knees go weak and the only support is your thigh between her legs. She whines again, wishing she wasn’t wearing a dress at all. "Baby, they'll notice-" She manages to pant between your firm kisses, but she's grinding against you with a little more frenzy in the next second. Your hands move under her dress and Lizzie lets her face fall into the space of your neck, unable to care about the lipstick staining the collar of your shirt.

She choked on a moan when suddenly, your fingers reached forward - you just pushed the fabric of her already ruined panties aside and sank them inside her without warning. The throaty moan that escapes her is muffled on your skin.

It's ridiculous how helpless she is; riding your fingers in chase of her climax in near despair. And you're not gentle either, your thrusts are deep and quick inside her because you can't afford to prolong this and the second warning bell will ring soon. The cameras will be turned on again, your chairs will be empty, and more gossip about a possible relationship between the Marvel stars will surface in the media.

But Lizzie is coming hard against your hand, so she can't care about any of that right now.

It's one of the quickest orgasms she's ever had in her life, but she doesn't have time to feel embarrassed about it. You remove your hand to suck your fingers clean as she tries to breathe normally again, her hands gripping your shoulders so she doesn't slip to the floor due to her shaky legs.

You turn your face to her next, kissing her intensely and Lizzie moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. You smile as you break away.

"I kinda wanna skip the party and take you home, Miss Olsen." You let her know sweetly, and Lizzie lets out a short, breathy chuckle. 

But the second bell rings, and the cameras have been turned on. She curses quietly, and you help her to stand up properly.

"Come on, let me help you with this." You ask, your hands pulling her face to lessen the mess that has become her lipstick as she tries to do the same with you. 

But she knows, she knows for sure that her worn-out dreamy expression, the mess in her hair, will give away what she’s been up to. And that not only the other guests, but the fans will know too.

She swallows dryly, tugging at your hand. "They'll know."

You hesitate before giving her a small smile. "Is that so bad, Lizzie?"

She takes a deep breath, her lips cracking into a small smile. "I just... hoped to share the news in a different way."

You absorb her words for a moment, trying to ignore the warm happiness blossoming in your chest. Lizzie wants to go public. You steal a glance at the door before looking back at her and sighing. "Okay, I have an idea."

The whole thing goes very quickly; you pull your cell phone out of your pocket and take a picture of your lipstick-stained shirt collar. She looks at you with a frown.

"What...?"

"Well, you're not on Instagram so this is as good as it gets." You explain, letting her see the photo and the small caption that simply read “a good-luck kiss from my favorite star”. Lizzie felt her face burn, and she giggled nervously. This would cause some commotion, she could already imagine Twitter going insane trying to guess who you were talking to. Knowing her fans, they probably already knew.

She stares at you to say; "Your agent is going to kill you. Not only that, they'll drown you with questions when we are out of here."

You chuckled, offering her a wink. "It was totally worth it."

She approaches again, stealing a short kiss before touching the door handle. "I'll fix my makeup, you go ahead."

You pout. "But my picture was so nice..."

Lizzie rolls her eyes with a laugh. "I never said you couldn't post it." She teases, and it's her turn to give you a wink before walking out the door.

This woman is still going to be the death of you. Honestly.

[teamatsumu]

At any given moment, i am thinking about Apex Alpha!Ushijima.

Not just alpha. But apex Alpha.

It’s pretty clear even from a distance that Ushijima is like no other alpha around him. Taller than any of his fellows, undoubtedly broader, he takes up space in a way the others fail to. His face is set in a perpetual blank look. Something in his expression screams ‘watch out’.

He also has an excruciating presence. When he enters a room, the scent of every other alpha pales in comparison. Even before he presented, Ushijima had an aura about him, so no one was surprised when he presented not only as an alpha, but an apex.

Shiratorizawa is proud to have an Apex in their ranks, considering how rare a breed they are. Ushijima is a star pupil, a star athlete. Shiratorizawa’s golden boy. The alphas revere him. They can’t even bring themselves to have a jealous streak when it comes to him. All that exists is envy. And the knowledge that they can never be him.

And the omegas. Oh lord. The omegas throw themselves at his feet. Often figuratively, and sometimes even literally. An apex alpha would be the ideal mate. The very pinnacle of the food chain. Any omega who he ended up with Ushijima would be the luckiest little thing on the planet. What a rare luck it would be, bagging an apex alpha as your mate?

Imagine how the school reels in surprise when Ushijima sets his sights on you.

You are, by no means, special. You are not a prime omega. Your scent, while undoubtedly omega, is light. It is not an omega scent that reels alphas in with how rich it is. Your stature isn’t particularly impressive for an omega either, though it isn’t bad. There is no way to describe it. You are just….. ordinary.

So you are confused as all hell when the king of alphas, an apex, presents you with a delicate bracelet one day. He had always been friendly with you, and you assumed it was just him being kind to the students of Shiratorizawa as part of his makeshift pack. But this, a thin, shiny chain with a single heart-shaped charm, made his intentions clear. This was a courting gift, there was no two ways about it.

You saw the apex alpha smile for the first time when you accepted his gift. And it solidified the fact that you accepted his advances.

Being courted by an apex alpha was also an interesting experience. Different to other alphas. His gifts were extremely personalised, stuff that he knew you needed or would be very useful. He was a man of few words, but his actions were glaring, they seemed to scream his intentions at you loud and clear. His aura and scent were so strong that there wasn’t even any need for him to scent you or your things. Five minutes in his presence meant that everyone would know where you had been for hours afterward. Despite being so physically huge, his touch was gentle and comforting. And slowly, you grew so attached to him that it hurt to be without.

Overtime, you realised that a lot of what ushijima did was not his status but rather just him. He was naturally so firm yet gentle. His gifts being so practical was just how his mind worked. Being a good person and a good leader was not because he was an apex, but because he was….. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It was so easy to love him. And to choose him as your mate. He was truly the ideal. And every second of every day you were grateful that he had chosen you, for whatever reason, to be his omega.

Just the thought of Apex Alpha!Ushijima is so near and dear to me. If anyone can be an Apex, it’s him.

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 !! | sagau xiao, childe, zhongli x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: uhm. obsessiveness? yandere if you blink a couple times? cult themes... the usual deal with this au

⤷ [ you, the benevolent and kind overseer and creator of teyvat, has descended upon this world in mortal flesh, with a presence that is overpowering, omniscient, and so impossibly pure. ෆ yet, one day, you come into the cathedral with a gash on your arm, dripping with shimmering golden ichor that spilled from your veins. there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring. ]

— sagau!xiao noticed you immediately. it would be hard not to. since the beginning, he had always heard it.

your sound. a beautiful one, a heavenly one. a chord struck him, somewhere in his chest, and he found himself panting on the ground, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

like a electric charge - one that leaves you startled, tentative, with the tips of your fingers still tingling from what happened moments prior. a buzz in your veins that thrums along with your heartbeat.

he didn't deserve to see you. not with what sins he had committed. but xiao was selfish. he wanted to, with his tainted body, he wanted to praise you, scrape his throat raw with his voice.

and so he did.

his face brightens as you step into the cathedral, dressed in ceremonial robes as per usual. you look ethereal, why would you not? your eyes are warm as they fixate on him, and he can feel his heart skip a beat and words die in his throat. he kneels before you orderly, readying to lift his head when something catches his attention - that is, the coppery scent of blood.

blood?

a droplet splatters onto the dustless floor. melted gold.

xiao's already stood up before he realizes it. his eyes are blown wide, his shrunken pupils sharp, like a cat's. "who. who did this to you?" those words take all the willpower in him to speak. his mind is swirling, racing, thinking up of every single possibility, vision scattered and blurry as unbridled fury teems within him.

"it's nothing. some civilians have begun rioting in the city, saying that i'm an imposter. all i did was show them a little bit of my blood and they all started singing praises, so the issue has been resolved." you shake your head with a soft smile, like this matter isn't anything to concern himself over.

it is.

he hates it. how he feels so fucking powerless, how he couldn't even stop this simple event from occurring in the first place. it's his fault. it's his and everyone else who dared not believe your words. your word is the truth. it is the undeniable laws of the world, what maps the stars and what lays the land.

he'll have time to ingrain that within everyone's minds. even if it means time away from you. but that's not the issue at the moment. he turns to search for bandages, but sees the already-healing wound slowly closing up as your skin mends together.

there's a knife at your side, coated in something that shimmers in the rays of light coming from the high, color-tainted windows.

something in his heart decides, seeing your reserved smile.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

very well.

then he'll just have to eradicate every last one of them. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!childe had, to be honest, never cared all that much. why would he, to the person who had abandoned him into the cold, dark, abyss? yet, the smile on your face. it's bright. so bright it burns him. was there a day where he could smile like that?

no, no. he couldn't. that's an expression only reserved for someone as beautiful as you. as pure as you, like a blank, unblemished canvas, with the world as its paint. it's a level of resplendency that no one on this cursed universe could ever hope to accomplish.

a god in flesh, living in a tainted world. a walking contradiction that he had grown to call the thing that allowed him to keep living. something that spurred irony, you who broke all forms of the logic he had made to keep himself sane. perhaps that was why the heart he'd locked away has suddenly begun aching again? is that why he feels so warm from your divine prescence?

"childe?" you call out his name into the vast, empty hallways, glancing around for the familiar sight of a tuft of ginger hair. he hears you at once, rushing to your side with a grin on his face.

"your grace??" he bows at the sight of you, unable -to contain his excitement as he quivers in place, the smile on his lips tugging upwards even more than its current extent. "yes, what's-"

he stops abruptly, his voice faltering as he catches the scent of something iron. one familiar on the battlefield, a liquid that'd paint the surroundings a beautiful red.

his heart pounds. the thrill of a battle? no, that can't be it. if that was the case, how come it felt like he was slowly suffocating on his unspoken words?

that's when he catches the sight of the poorly wrapped bandages encasing your forearms. and the shimmering ichor that's soaked through the hastily wrapped cloth.

he moves to grab your arm, but curses himself out as he quickly changes direction and tightly holds your wrist, his expression more pained than yours, despite you being the one suffering with the injury. "what... your grace, what is this?"

he hates your knowing smile. he hates it. (oh, but does he? could he hate anything that is of you?) it just reminds him how you're all too far for him to reach, a purity that he does nothing to maintain. "there was a riot in the city against the church. luckily, they all quieted down after i gave them a glimpse of..." you trail off, ending your incomplete sentence with a sheepish smile. the rest is self-explanatory, anyway.

his vision trembles as his pupils shake. "haha, you...?" fuck. fuck fuck fuck, just whose idea was it to allow you near a knife? how did you get your hands on that?? which stupid fucking bumbling idiot allowed for this to happen?

it's his fault. he should've been by your side. curse the fatui, curse them all, how could they possibly dare keep him away from your holy being? the guilt that churns within him, is that why he remains mute as you step away, gracefully walking to meet with the other retainers?

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

no, it's fine.

it will all be fine.

cutting off their tongues won't be enough. cutting them up until they're a dismembered, bloody mess isn't even close to what you've suffered for the sake of humanity.

yes, he'll make them realize that. they'll pay with their blood a thousand times over. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!zhongli had his breath taken away by you before he even saw you, before the two of you had even exchanged words. your presence - it was so simply alluring, a saccharide charm that just drew him closer and closer.

sweet. yes, it was a familiar flavor upon the tongue that had long since tasted the many marvels the world had to offer. like a warm cup of tea, made from the sugary extract of flowers, how the sensation of it seemed to bloom upon your mouth.

ah, how should he put this. perhaps you had procured the blossom in his heart instead? stems, leaves, buds, a floret that'd only appear when you were in his gaze. a steady thrum that ran throughout his body with every stolen glimpse he took from your attention expertly.

perhaps, was this what he felt all those years ago?

did it matter? his soul was resolute, now, and it glowed gold, just like the blessed blood that flowed through every vein and lay in every vessel within that beautiful, beautiful you.

yes, ichor... just like the splatter of it on the ground...? a pang of fear strikes him - has something happened to you while he was away? he should've none better than to trust those good-for-nothing other cultists, who spend all their time babbling about your gloriousness yet turn a blind eye to whenever you require assistance!

no, he had to calm himself down. this wasn't the moment where he should grow frustrated. first, he must confirm the situation... he's planned this out to the every plan b, c, d, e, and so on, so how come he's still feeling so anxious?

there you are, upon your throne, busy conversing with a fellow archon, the one as free as the wind. funnily enough, you were the one that tied him down like a shackle.

"ah, zhongli. are you alright? you're breathing quite hard." you tilt your head, averting your gaze from venti's sparkling eyes and instead fixing them on the usually stoic man's jumbled expression. his shoulder's heave as he resists the urge to collapse at your feet.

"what... what are you... you're hurt?" stained bandages peek out from just below your silk sleeve, a sight that cannot possibly be missed from his attentive gilded eyes. "why didn't you tell me? i-i'll call one of the healers so they can-"

"zhongli, there's no need for that." with a hand, you gently signal venti to leave the scene, which he does, with obvious reluctance. a silence gesture that resonates with appreciation deeply within him. "this was of my own accord."

"your own accord?"

"unbelievers decided to throw a riot, and there wasn't much i could do except...well, don't they say that seeing is believing?" how come you don't look the slightest bit pain? where is your self-pity? your frustration? "anyhow, i'm not in a good state. please leave me for the time being, i don't plan on receiving any more audiences tonight."

he bows hastily, yet each movement is still finely crafted with minuscule adjustments that have taken him thousands of tries to master. he does as you say, and his strides are quick and long. it won't take a genius to see that his facade has crumpled, with the clear agitation that's spreading across his features like a wildfire that devours all in its path.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

he'll change that. every thrum of the golden markings running up and down his body seem to pulse in unison with his heartbeat, which is raring like he's recently returned from the battlefield.

who would've thought he'd so quickly return.

this time, of his own will. he'd be sure that these fools of this world would learn the truth of your paragon. ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) please save me the delulu has returned and iTS NOT LETTING GO

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

[honeykaes]

le sacrifice du sang

vampire!neuvillette x reader II 2.6k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, vampire au, set in 17th century esc france, blood, biting, ritual sex, self harm (neuvillette cuts his wrist for the ritual), soulmate, xenophobia, praise, creampies, monsterfucking adjacent, unedited

synopsis: for decades the village has been thriving despite the vampiric armies ravaging throughout europe. Cast aside for being an outsider, you are deemed as a sacrifice to a vampire lord to stop the attacks in the region.

Night seemed endless. Most days you would barely see the sun bright outside under the sky. All you could do was sigh, shifting on the soft sheets of the grandiose bed you rested in. A long chiffon nightgown covered your form and rested right at your ankles. You balled your fists on the ornate patterns of the comforter of the bed, golden and navy threads showing off just how much it was worth.

You turned your head to the stained glass window seeing the sun hiding behind the horizon and stars beginning to peak out in the darkening sky—the multicolor light pigmented in blues and purples reflected on the ground as its shadow grew signaling the fleeting light.

Part of you is surprised you're up so early in your new sleep schedule but another part of you questions why you’re even alive right now to look outside the stained glass window. Three weeks ago you were set to die, yet you have lived in the lap of luxury.

All because of him.

Vampires have been ravaging Europe for a few decades now, causing an all-out war in some regions of the land. Your family insisted on heading there despite it, as traders would surely flourish against the nobles desperate for supplies and your nativity allowed you to follow them. 

Trying to settle and trade in Europe began in disaster as xenophobia grew rapid—war, fear, and prejudices clouding their judgment. You lost your family very early on when you arrived in Europe, losing a lot and trying to scour and try to collect wherever you could to mourn and live. France became the best option to live in since the fighting was beginning to cease in the country.

In the southeast part of the region, you settled in a village. You remained there for five years, trying to make ends meet as a seamstress. You always wondered why vampires didn’t attack and slaughter you and the rest of the village as you heard others had faced. The village had not seen an inkling of the dissipating war around it, and you later discovered why.

To appease the vampiric lords and ladies of France, human sacrifices were commenced—one to save all. You weren’t completely sure who the lord of this area even was, yet you were about to find out after the Judge of the town deemed yourself as the sacrifice.

You begged, you pleaded, you cried but no one in the town so much as pitied you. In their eyes, you were an outsider; someone even more worthy of being sacrificed than “one of their own”. Bullshit is what you wanted to say but you didn’t have the power to defy it.

That man eventually collected you after, the lord of the southern region of France—Monsieur Neuvillette. When he descended, in navy and black, you thought he was an angel and thought the village already killed you thinking he was an angel instead. 

He didn’t seem human at all. 

Long white hair cascaded down his back and lowly tied towards the end with streaks of gradient blue flowing through it. His lavender eyes, pupil slit, and irises glowing, drinking up every unconscious tick and stubble expression in your body and face. His face was stern, but his eyes seemed kind.

He asked you one question that night.

“What is your name, dear?” 

You answered as his eyes softened, lifting his hand to your eyes to cover your gaze

“Then, (Y/n). I’m sorry circumstances have brought us here.”

Darkness was all you were faced with. In a way, you thought death had arrived, only to wake up in a beautifully decorated room in a château when you awoke.

Neuvillette was kind albeit stoic during your time in his château. Many nights, you’d have dinner with him—his eyes just on you as he quietly drank his silver chalice filled with the iron-rich stench of blood from someone who wasn’t you.

Those nights he would reveal more information about himself and you’d do the same. He told you how he was a lord and has been “in this state” for several millennia. He told you about the rise and fall of empires and even vampiric ones history had all but forgotten. 

Neuvillette also discussed how most of the sacrifices ended up working as servants in the château who he called “Melusines”. 

In the second week since your “sacrifice”, he also mentioned another vampire lord living in this château—Lady Furina. He talked about how eager she was to interact with her subjects, including yourself but he had told her to stay away from you for now as her bloodlust was unpredictable.

But one slip of the tongue had changed the casual conversation into something more serious.

“...She is not to bother you, yet. Not before you are turned at the least.”

Your eyebrow furrowed, lips parting hearing him say those words. Turning? Turning into what?

“What do you mean by that…” you questioned. He placed his chalice down, closing his eyes briefly to collect his thoughts before crossing his arms.

“I apologize. I have neglected to inform you about this since I wanted you to get adjusted to your new life here first,” he murmured. You clenched your jaw, trying to read his stoic expression but it was the same as it’s always been. 

“I admit I played a role in why the Judge had chosen you specifically. When you first settled in the village, your scent informed me that you were my mate. My soulmate,” he replied. You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing in shock. 

“Smell me? Soulmate? What does that even mean, Neuvillette?! I thought vampires only were interested in other vampires and humans were seen as food. That’s why there’s a war in the rest of Europe after all,” you shouted. He did not flinch at your raising pitch in tone. He gave a small humorless laugh at your words.

“That’s not exactly true. A curse befalls vampires and those with vampiric natures in more than one way than ‘evolving’ from their human characteristics. The same people many see as food can be the only chance to find their mate. Whether unconsciously or not we are always searching, our body craves the touch and affection only our mates can give us, soothing one might say, the soul,” he revealed.

You look down at your plate, half-eaten cake on it before gently pushing it away. There was a pause where no one said anything, but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat thumping rapidly in your chest.

“...Are you scared? Do you need some time to process this? We can save the rest of this conversation later,” Neuvillette discussed. You swallowed, trying to ease the dryness that caught your throat suddenly but refused to look him in his eyes for now.

“H-How would this process work exactly? I’m guessing vampires and mortal humans don't mix well,” you muttered. Neuvillette sighed, grunting in agreement.

“Well. There’s a ritual in a sense to create a bond between each party’s body and soul. The ritual entails copulation and when my fangs pierce your skin in the process. It will signal to both your body and soul that your bond with me has been found and eventually your physiology will adjust into something more like me.”

“...Something that of a vampire,” you whispered, looking up at him. He silently nodded as silence befell the two of you for now. Neuvillette let out a heavy sigh, but the corners of his lips curved into a small smile to try to ease the pain you were faced with.

“I recognize this is a lot for any human to face, so please take as much time as you need. There is no rush, so process however long it will take,” he said, rising from his seat and leaving you alone with the crackling fire in the dining room. 

It had been a year since that night he revealed himself as your soulmate. A year to finally process and accept your fate. You chuckled to yourself finally seeing the sun’s light completely disappear and the moon rising brightly in the sky.

Tonight you would mourn your mortality.

A knock at the door snapped you out of your thoughts and memories before you called out they could enter. Neuvillette walked in, wearing his own nightgown falling to his ankle, body completely covered in the white chiffon fabric. He stood by the door still, letting you have your space that was resting on the bed.

“Are you sure you are ready? We can wait later to do this. I can wait,” Neuvillette murmured. You flashed a shaky smile before sighing.

“Yes. I am Neuvillette. I promise,” you replied. Neuvillette walked over until he was in front of you, long fingers clasping gently as your chin before lifting it up. Your lips parted in shock gazing into his eyes that softened.

“I’m going to ask one more time, are you sure you’re ready,” he asked, voice low and husky. Your body trembled at the tone of his voice before you slowly nodded your head—you could hear your eardrums echoing out the beat of your quickening heart. 

You slowly lifted your nightgown off and the fabric pools on the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable to his gaze and touch. He followed, letting his nightgown fall onto the floor. His body was more muscular than you thought based on the attire you usually saw him adorning in the halls. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks.

Neuvillette softly smiles leaning in to press his lips against your own. He soon is on top of you, the bed creaked as the weight of two bodies pressed against it. His lips were soft, easily molding on your own while ever so often a sharp pain would poke at your bottom lip. 

“If I’m being honest, I never thought I would experience this. You don’t know how long I waited for this...how I longed for you,” he whispered, as his lips eventually left your own, settling in the nape of your neck. Your body trembled as Neuvillette let his fangs graze against the sensitive skin while his hand traveled down and squeezed the plush of your thighs. 

He finally finds your cunt, cupping his hand at it as he continues to nipple and his along your neck. He soon applied pressure and your hips instinctively began to grind trying to get a lick of friction to brush against your needy clit. Feeling you grind on his hand made Neuvillette chuckle before he opened his eyes admiring the slick now clinging to his palm.

“So pliable under my touch, I’m glad you're enjoying yourself,” he whispered in your ear, hearing another moan rip from your mouth. He soon shifted his position; his thumb now firmly pressed against the nub of your clit pressing tight circles on it. Your form began to twist and your hips shifted as Neuvillette’s hand followed every movement, not budging his focused ministrations once.

His other thumb brushed against your pebbled nibbles, relishing in the way your body jolted from the various sensations. Your breathing became heavy, feeling your entire body flutter inching closer and closer to your high.

“Neuvillette. Neuvillette…I’m—” you groaned out before suddenly Neuvillette completely stopped. You snapped your eyes open in surprise, looking over at him perplexed as his gaze softened and lips tugged in a smile.

“Why did you stop…?” you whispered, puzzled by his actions. Neuvillette leaned in to kiss your forehead while cleaning the slick clinging to his fingers on his thighs as it smeared.

“I needed to make sure you were prepared for me. The ritual unfortunately cannot work if you lose yourself to my fingers, mon cœur. Unless you preferred to wait as I asked earlier,” Neuvillette hummed. You bite your lip, in embarrassment as Neuvillette grasped his cock.

It’s thick, and long and the only vein you could see ran along the base of it. His cock curled up and twitched every few seconds, eager for attention. He let out a grunt, pumping his cock a few times as his tip—flushed pale pink—budded with precum. He rested his length against your slit, letting it slide up and down and gathering the arousal drooling out of your cunt. He let his tip tap against your stimulated clit causing you to shiver before he nestled it against your entrance once more.

As he pushed the tip inside of you, he leaned down, capturing your lips once more before sinking his cock further inside of you. Your nails harpoon against his broad back and you widen your legs wider trying to adjust to his length. Your walls burned at the stretch, trying your best not to tense up as he descended further inside of you.

Finally bottoming out, he slowly slid out before plunging in once more, thrusting with meticulous but strong strokes. Your body moved to his pace, bed beginning to moan and creak while hitting against the wall. 

He grunted louder in the kiss, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to contain himself. He leaned up as you tried catching your breath, stammering his name as his breathing became heavier while his thrusts became faster.

Neuvillette parted his mouth to let his fangs elongate before they buried themselves in the nape of your neck. You yelped, sucking a sharp breath in as the pain of his bite throbbed and shot throughout your entire body. You could hear him gulp and moan, sucking the river of blood pouring down at the wound while he continued to rut inside of you.

“Neuvillette…” you whispered out. It was strange. The pain had somehow subsided and your body felt much lighter and aware of his touch and thrusts, trembling in newly found sensitivity and pleasure. It was as if the bite was an aphrodisiac.

Were all bites like this or was it because he claimed to be your soulmate?

He lifted his head, lower face bloodied from the meal he was indulging in—your humanity. His tongue seemed longer, letting it rest against the wound before taking a long stride up to lap up the rest of the blood dripping from the punctures.

Your walls fluttered down on his cock as your writhed, Neuvillette continued to buck—desperate to sink even further inside of you. He sucked a breath in, struggling to keep up with his pace as your walls continued to cave and clamp down.

Neuvillette's hands find themselves beneath you, squeezing the globes of your ass before lifting your bottom half in an attempt to plunge deeper inside of you. His eyes narrowed watching his cock stretch and disappear in your cunt.

“That’s it…you're almost there. Let me see you come undone. Let’s begin our lives together for eternity in the darkness…” Neuvillette muttered, clenching his jaw tight. You squirmed, tears pricking your eyes as you finally reached your high—body shivering and back arching while calling out his name repeatedly. Your walls quivering from your climax were enough for Neuvillette to follow.

He snapped his eyes shut, hips flattering letting ropes of his thick cum shoot inside of it. He slowly thrust, pushing it deeper, trying to nurse his body down from his high. A trial of his essence managed to leak out, and travel to your inner thighs despite his cock still plugged inside of you.

“Just one more step…please bear with me and stay away,” Neuvillette whispered, placing your hips down on the bed once more. His nails, sharper than before, quickly shut themselves on his wrist—his blood dripping down his forearm. Your eyes and body felt so heavy, your body feeling like your heart was slowing down before you noticed him hovering his injured wrist above your mouth.

Droplets of blood trickled down your chest and chin before finally landing in your open mouth.

As you swallowed, your eyes widened feeling an unknown rush flowing throughout your body replenishing your once tired body so suddenly.

“It…it doesn’t taste like iron, but as if your blood is the purest spring water…”

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・767 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・felix x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, established relationship, they're in love your honor, pt. 2 of me being very normal about paris lix

𝟬𝟮:𝟮𝟭 — The stars hang over your heads like rice wine dripping into a navy basin. Paris sprawls over your shoulders like a stretching sphinx. Yet the world, in all its rare, tranquil beauty, does not exist.

Nothing exists except for you. You, with your hood pulled over your head and the drawstrings tightened so the fabric scrunches around your wind-bitten cheeks. You, with a few strands of hair escaping from the cotton ring, catching on your eyelashes as they flutter, slipping between your lips as you speak. You, you, you.

Sometimes, Felix experiences something strange. It happened when you walked into the kitchen with puffy eyes and terrible posture, a spot of toothpaste on your chin. It happened at the sight of the warm smile you gave the barista as you ordered at your favorite cafe. It happened when he found you faceplanted into your keyboard at 3 A.M., the last fifteen pages of your research paper comprising nothing but the letter ‘g.’

And it happens now, as you recount the embarrassing situation you found yourself in that afternoon, sporting a smile that splits your face into two. Not down the middle, but slightly off to the side, the way it does when you’re really laughing.

Cue the telltale signs: an explosive blossoming in his chest, a mounting tightness in his throat, a feeling like he’s been ripped out of his body and, from a distance, finally recognizes himself for what he is.

A mortal man tasked to contain the galaxy that is his love, every sun and moon, every asteroid, every scrap of space debris belonging to you.

How he hasn’t yet burst at the seams is beyond him.

“I complimented the cab driver’s ass,” you say.

He blinks at you. “What?”

“I was trying to—”

You’re overcome by a breathless giggle, your interlocked hands swinging between your bodies.

“I was trying to thank him. Merci beaucoup, right? And then he looks at me like I’m crazy and drives away, and then it hits me.”

“Oh.” Felix says, and he, too, starts to smile, his mirth melting his face like a spreading flame. “Oh, no.”

“Merci beau cul,” you sigh. “I told him merci beau cul.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“A Freudian slip?”

“No wa—”

Your expression goes suddenly contemplative.

“Maybe, actually.”

His bark of laughter echoes around the empty grounds, accompanied with your insistence of you should’ve seen that thing, babe. He takes your word for it.

Your jetlagged adventure reaches climax some ten minutes later. You let go of Felix’s hand to run the rest of the distance, heels kicking up puffs of dust. The land silhouette sinks away, replaced by golden speckles that trickle into his field of vision until they’re all he can see.

At the hill’s pinnacle, you stand in silence. The strands of hair floating around you prior now thrash in the wintry winds, and you’ve swapped your wild grin for a stupefied gape. Your eyes glisten like mirror lakes, the city before you reflected in the pools of your pupils, cordoned within the shores of their lids.

There it is again. That familiar feeling of being torn away, of being crushed by the tonnage of his amour. He opens his mouth because he needs to, because he’ll burst at the seams if he doesn’t, just barely keeping the tremble in his voice at bay. 

“Can I take a picture of you?”

You look at him, confused.

“Only me?” He nods, and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Just trust me.”

And you do, with everything in you.

You turn your back to the nightscape. He positions himself a few feet away and slots his eye against the viewfinder. The lighting does you no favors with how it plunges you into shadow; you do Paris no favors with the radiance of your smile. Click.

Soonafter, you drift back to his side, plant a soft kiss to his cheek. He gazes at the live preview without a word, clutching his camera as tightly as if it's a piece of a shooting star.

Gently, you dust a finger beneath his chin. He lifts his eyes to meet yours, discovers your face meager centimeters away.

You will never know what you do to Felix, not to the fullest extent. But there are times, he thinks, when you have your suspicions, and this is one of them.

“You okay?” You whisper, your hand lifting to the curve of his cheek, and he slides his own around your wrist, the plush of his thumb nestling over your pulse. 

“Yes,” he whispers back, an understatement of prodigious proportions.

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© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support.

[bcyhoods]

hi! can I please request the prompt “caressing the other's cheek softly, hoping to wake them up that way” with steve and shy!reader? maybe it’s their first time waking up together and he’s just so in love?

thank you for the req nonnieeee <333 need him in my bed immediately, thanks! | 0.5k gn!reader

Steve can’t seem to put his finger on it.

Maybe you were born with some sort of super power. Like you’re able to induce serenity with just a touch of your fingertips, a timid press of your lips to his cheek. Or it could be something spiritual. Something about your souls being intertwined due to something living in the stars or the color of your aura or something.

He doesn’t really know. Waking up to you in his bed for the first time makes his brain all fuzzy.

The sun spills in through his blinds and covers every inch of your exposed skin in golden warmth. Your hair is wild, splayed out over his pillowcase — which he’s sure now smells like your shampoo. You’d slowly inched apart from each other during the night, but your hand still rests over his torso, accidentally bunching up the material of his shirt around your fingertips. The longer he lets himself look at you, the harder his heart thrashes around in his chest.

He doesn’t really want to wake you, but he so desperately wants to talk to you. With a tentative hand, he trails up your arm to cup your jaw. His thumb gently passes back and forth over the swell of your cheekbone, reveling in the softness of your skin. A blithe grin hijacks his mouth once he sees you beginning to stir.

“Hmm.” Your hand is gone from his torso to grasp onto his own hand, still just barely caressing your face. You blink a few times, adjusting to the brightness filtering in when you see his face. Warmth settles on his freckled cheeks and paints his skin pink, and it only gets deeper when you give him your own sleepy smile. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” he answers, voice raspy and deep.

He’s looking at you like he can find an answer in your eyes. You might have the entire universe hiding in your pupils. Definitely something akin to stardust shines in them, he swears.

His attention makes you feel lightheaded and your skin burns beneath his touch. You squeeze at his fingers and pucker your lips to fruitlessly keep your nerves at bay, but it produces a kind of upside-down grin that makes him beam and chuckle. You giggle and ask, “What are you doing?”

“Nothin’. Just wanna look at you.”

“Ugh,” you groan and roll your eyes, but the wide smile on your face reveals your secret. Steve Harrington makes your stomach flutter and makes your heart beat so erratically that you can feel it thump and shake against every inch of your body. That’s why you’re quick to shield your face with your hands, muffling your nervous giggles in your palms.

“Oh, stop.” Peeling your hands away from your face, he brings them up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, unceremoniously. The smacking sounds make you laugh, and when he notices, he makes sure to kiss them louder. He stops the assault on your hands to cup them together and press them against his chest.

His heart beats as quickly as yours does.

“I liked sleeping with you,” you tell him with a gummy smile like it was confidential.

“Yeah?”

You’re immediately recognizing the double entendre, but he’s too lovesick to notice. You consume his every thought, it’s impossible to get his mind working accurately. So instead of teasing you, he whispers

“I liked sleeping with you, too, honey.”

[qrcatfinder]

[casualhedonists]

“slut!” ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

pairing: academy!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: nsfw (18+), sub! and possibly virgin!coryo, handjobs, edging/orgasm denial, degradation, name calling (reader calls coryo a slut) very mild dacryphilia, also v mild corruption kink, overstimulation, also reader gets coryo to taste his own cum idk what else to call it <3

a/n: thought abt calling coryo a slut and this happened <3 i have nothing else to say for myself

“Slut.”

The word slipped from your lips, smooth like honey.

“What?” His eyes darted to yours. Your hand, nestled in his pants, slowed its movements, and his lips parted in a plea.

“You heard me, Coryo. I said you’re a slut.”

You didn’t miss the ragged breath of air that he exhaled, or the twitch of his cock as you stilled your hand entirely. He whimpered, red faced in shame.

Poor thing. Poor, desperate Coriolanus Snow.

“Who’d have thought? The academy’s brightest star, the golden pupil, putting out on the first date.”

His eyes squeezed closed. You hummed.

“What did we say about that? Eyes on me.”

He obliged.

“This is a date?” He breathed after a beat, brain playing catchup.

“It’s whatever you want it to be, handsome.”

Your hand moved faster as you saw him get more comfortable with the pace; you couldn’t be having that. Not when he’d started to pick up a very vexing little habit of deliberately contradicting any point you made in rhetoric class, glancing over at you with a self-congratulatory grin that had you aching to make him cry.

You'd asked him over to study, which he'd almost fallen for. Led him to your couch, made him believe you'd let him take whatever he wanted, then flipped the tables.

“That feel good? Is it too much?”

“Mm.” Was all you got out of him as you picked the pace up, thumb pushing over the tip.

“So wet for me, Coryo. Like a fucking girl.”

“Don’t-"

“Oh? So you want me to stop? Okay.”

Your hand stilled again, moving your hand as if to take it out of his pants.

“No. What? Don’t… don’t stop. Keep going.”

“You know, nobody’s gonna believe you’re as well-bred as you claim you are with manners like those.”

You'd overheard Highbottom's taunts once. Kept it to yourself, but made the occasional low blow of your own when he pissed you off. His eyes shone in an angry defiance. You stood your ground.

“Please.” He looked at the floor.

“Please what?”

“Please, keep going.”

You smiled.

“Good boy.”

When you spoke the words, he visibly relaxed, but a frown etched across his face when you wrapped your hand back around his cock, but didn’t move it. He looked down, then back at you.

“What?” You blinked innocently.

“You’re not… please. Don’t be fucking mean.” He repeated pathetically.

“I don’t know, Coryo. My hand’s getting a little tired.”

“Because you’ve been edging me for half an hour.” He gritted. You laughed, cruel.

“So dramatic. If you’re gonna be ungrateful like that, then fine. I won’t move a muscle.”

He sighed, ragged and heavy. He didn’t move.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy now. All I’m asking for is a little bit of effort. Fuck my hand, Coryo. You can do that, can’t you?”

His blue eyes bored into yours, but you weren’t falling for his tricks. Your free hand gently turned his chin to you, and you moved in, soft kisses peppering his jaw.

You squeezed the base of his cock a little, enough to make him pull in a sharp breath.

“Move.” you commanded, voice no louder than a whisper, but harsh.

He obliged. Slowly, at first, shame all too clear on his face, but he noticed the look on your face when you glanced down to see his hips rocking up, fucking into your fist under his pants, and lost himself a little more.

He saw the way your legs pressed together sat next to him, hips shifting uncomfortably as he found a rhythm, and lifted his hand to touch your thigh. You batted it away.

“No touching.” you scolded.

“But…” he trailed off, eyes longing.

How cute.

“No buts, either. Are you close?”

He nodded. Shame slowly starting to melt away.

“Good. You can move faster, Coryo. Can you make yourself cum like this?”

He moved faster, and let out a half-laugh, more like a strung-out sigh. As if to say, are you kidding?

“Does that feel good? Use your words, baby.”

You felt him twitch again, wet sounds filling the room as he moved, a cruel satisfaction filling your head.

“Yeah. It feels... fuck.”

“Look at you,” You mused, “Fucking my hand like a desperate slut. You’re this close and I’m not even doing anything.”

This time, when you said the word, he whined. He sounded delirious, and you soaked it up, basked in it. Hungry for more.

He was getting desperate now, needy and careless. Rutting into your hand like a fucking virgin.

You wondered if he was, and it made your torturing him all the sweeter. You let your mind wander, thinking about all the things you could introduce him to. So perfect, so clean cut. You wanted him frayed at the edges, torn at the seams, coming undone for you.

He got loud, whimpers building into cries as you started to move your hand again, tight and mean, brushing over the tip carelessly rough, desperate to see him fall apart. His words were broken and ragged.

“That’s… shit. I think I - can I? Please. I’m-”

He cut himself off, mouth falling open, eyes slipping shut in bliss. You could feel how close he was, hard and heavy in your hand. When his hips gave in, stuttering and tired, you sped up your motions, eyes never leaving his pretty face as he started to crack.

“Cum for me, Coryo. You’ve earned it.”

When he fell, he fell to pieces. You memorised each broken sound he made, every whine and gasp, knowing they’d be replaying in your head for a very long time to come. He came hot and sticky into your palm, and you kept your hand moving until he was trembling from it, until he winced.

You looked back at his face, eyes still shut, and a single tear had slid down his cheek. You pressed a gentle kiss to his open lips, and another to his cheek, tongue dipping out reflexively to trace the tear stain, salty in your mouth but sweet like satisfaction.

He was still catching his breath, and you shifted your hand out of his pants, smirking to yourself as he hissed a little.

You lifted it to his face, your clean hand holding his chin, and the other one bringing two dripping fingers to his perfect, parted lips.

“Now suck.”

a/n: idk WHO to tag since this is my first coryo fic i’ve posted since attention?? and my tag list is just for attention rn? think i need to do a few separate ones, we’ll figure something out. as always feedback keeps my world spinning around. ily 🤍🤍

[daosies]

counting!

4 things yuta loves about you.

okkotsu yuta ♡ gn!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, smitten yuta, reader orders udon, injuries (blood, gore), reader has heavenly restriction

notes: YUTA NATION ... RISE ... !!!!

Okkotsu Yuta likes the way stars form in your eyes.

He likes the way your irises twinkle, the way you fumble over your words as you struggle to explain your thoughts when talking about something you like. Yuta likes the way you lean a little closer to him, the sound of your voice growing louder as you tell him about the greatest part of the show you’re watching.

Hm, is all Yuta thinks. Maybe I should watch that show too. 

“Yuta,” you say, “are you even listening?”

He blinks once, then twice, before offering you a kind nod and a fond smile.

“Of course.”

He swears he’s listening, but his gaze can’t help but trail over the flutter of your lashes and the bridge of your nose. Yuta swears he’s listening, but he finds himself fixated on the glimmer of your pupils, captivated by how you stare directly into his.

His breath hitches.

“I was never into volleyball before,” you continue on with your rant about a particular sports anime. “But wow, it really is a great sport!”

Yuta hums in response. “Really?”

Only when you direct your attention elsewhere does Yuta regain his ability to breathe. He heaves out a sigh, watching you greet the rest of the second years before glancing down at his forearms. 

A great sport? he wonders, tracing his finger over some of his faded scars. Would you find him great if he played volleyball? Would your eyes light up with constellations, with entire galaxies, when talking about him too? 

Subconsciously, his gaze finds its way back on you. Yuta thinks he is trained to see you, to perceive you. He thinks that, no matter where he is, his eyes will find you, and they will cherish you in the center of his pupils, the windows to his soul. 

Yuta thinks that you own these eyes of his, this soul of his. 

Toge sits down next to Yuta, and even though the bottom half of his face is covered, Yuta can tell that the boy is looking at him with a knowing expression.

“Tsuna mayo?” he asks. Yuta slumps in his seat. 

“Do you think I have a future in volleyball?”

“Okaka.” Toge deadpans. 

“Right,” Yuta affirms. “Guess not.”

Once more—as he was made to do—Yuta’s gaze finds your form. He observes how the sun pierces past the windows of the classroom, bathing you in a golden light. He observes how words spill quickly from your lips as Maki and Panda laugh at your jumbled syllables. He observes the way you shift your weight from one leg to the other, giddy with excitement.

Then, you smile. It reaches your eyes, crinkling them slightly, and Yuta feels his heart pounding against his chest. His ribs threaten to break from the sheer force, and he feels himself grinning in return.

“Sujiko.” Of course, nothing slips past Toge’s eyes, and the cursed-speech user merely stares at Yuta with incredulousness. 

“It’s nothing,” is all Yuta says. He hides his smile behind the palm of his hand, pretending to glance outside the window and observe the scenery.

As he was made to do, Yuta finds you in the reflection of the window. He always finds you, his eyes are naturally drawn to you, naturally made for you.

His smile grows wider, and his heart threatens to lurch from his chest completely.

Okkotsu Yuta likes the way your smiles reach your eyes.

He likes the way the corner of your eyes crinkle a little, the way you glow. No matter how many times he’s seen it, Yuta’s stomach begins to flutter a little, the beat of his heart suddenly becoming too much to bear as it pounds against his ribs. Every time you smile, Yuta finds himself mirroring you; it’s contagious, really.

“What did the ocean say to the other ocean?” Panda asks. Nobody responds. “Nothing, it just waved!”

Nobody laughs. But Yuta notices the way your lips curl into the slightest of smiles, the way you glance away in order to hide it from Panda, who’s eagerly searching his classmates’ expressions for an ounce of mirth. Yuta notices the way your hand comes up to your face, awkward coughs escaping your lips in an attempt to mask your amusement. 

He sees your smile. He sees the way your eyes crinkle, the way your irises glimmer. Yuta sees all of you, and he thinks—knows—that he loves all of you. 

“Hah, Yuta found it funny!” Panda exclaims. At some point, Yuta began to smile too. He doesn’t know when it happened, but while he was observing the twinkle of your irises and the curl of your lips, he began to mimic your countenance, your demeanor. At some point, Yuta’s eyes began to glimmer like yours, his smile meeting his eyes as his dark irises crinkle a little.

At some point, Yuta began to act like you. He began to pick up your mannerisms, the habits of yours that he loves most. He integrated them into his being, placing parts of you delicately into his bones, his blood, his very essence. Somewhere along the line, Yuta became a part of you, a mirror of you.

“Right,” he says, letting Panda relish in the glory. Yuta’s gaze—as always—finds you, noticing the way you heave a sigh of relief, grateful that Panda didn’t catch you laughing at his lame joke.

Again, he smiles. It’s the kind of smile that meets his eyes, the kind of smile that makes his eyes shimmer. 

It’s the kind of smile that is vaguely, no, utterly reminiscent of yours. It’s the kind of smile that he loves, the kind of smile that he engraved onto both his memory and his face. 

Okkotsu Yuta likes your smiles so much, he made it a part of himself.

Tap, tap. 

Okkotsu Yuta likes your habit of tapping things whenever you’re nervous. 

Tap, tap. 

He thinks it’s endearing, the way you have subconscious ticks that nobody else seems to notice. But Yuta was made to perceive you, to observe you, so of course he notices. He notices how the pace speeds up whenever you’re especially anxious, how you sometimes tap your finger against your own leg when there’s no surface nearby.

Yuta wonders if you know how his heart matches that tempo you set, how he accompanies you like a violinist to a piano. He wonders if you know how he was made for you, how his heart beats to the flick of your hand.

Tap, tap. Thump-thump. 

“Are you nervous, Yuta?” you ask. The two of you sit side-by-side in the back of Ijichi’s car, heading towards another one of the higher-ups’ missions. This time, the two of you have to exorcise a special grade curse.

“No,” he lies.

You grin. “Right.”

Yuta wonders why old men are forcing high schoolers to do their bidding. He wonders why it has to be you, because Yuta is willing to fight anything any day if it means you’ll be safe. He’s willing to fight a thousand special grade curses all at once if that’s what it takes for you to look at him the way he looks at you, the way he was made to do.

“If you get hurt,” Yuta says, staring directly into your eyes. “You’ll tell me, right?”

Tap, tap. This time, your index finger comes to rap against his arm. 

“Yeah.” You look out the window. “And you’ll tell me, too.” 

He smiles. “Of course.”

Tap, tap. 

Because Yuta trusts you, he doesn’t force you to utter more reassurances. Because Yuta trusts you, he doesn’t egg you on when he sees your gaze becoming distant, looking past him even when you stare right into his eyes. Yuta doesn’t say anything, even though he knows that look in your eyes—the kind of self-sacrificing, heroic look that makes him want to fall in love with you and hate you all at the same time.

Love, because Yuta loves how justice-driven you are. Hate, because Yuta hates how you don’t prioritize yourself. He hates how you don’t see yourself the way he does.

The way he does, through those rose-colored, lovesick lenses of his.

Tap, tap. The next time you tap against a surface, it’s on the handle of his katana. He’s staring down at your battered form on the floor, his lips trembling as his mouth hangs slightly agape. Yuta doesn’t know what to make of himself, he doesn’t know where to put his hands and how to bring you to safety. He doesn’t know where to begin. 

Should he call Ijichi? Or should he carry you out of the area? Yuta managed to eliminate the special grade curse, but not without any repercussions. While fighting, he was clumsy and accidentally got hit, causing you to use a lot of your cursed energy on healing him when you should have been healing yourself.

I’m so stupid! he berates himself, his fingers quivering as he attempts to patch up the gash on your side. His heart aches and aches, weeping within the confines of his ribs as he tries his best to ignore the warmth of your blood on his skin, the way it soaks his entire hand even though there shouldn’t be that much, there shouldn’t be any blood at all.

Yuta doesn’t know why you would waste your technique on him, knowing that he has the ability to heal himself. At the same time, however, Yuta knows; he knows you healed him because his own healing is messy and unrefined, because your healing gives an additional curse energy boost. He knows you healed him because it’s in your nature, because that’s the kind of person you are.

“[Name],” Yuta says, his voice wavering as he struggles to face you. His eyes are fixated on your wounds, his palms applying pressure to them as he attempts to heal you with whatever semblance of a reverse curse technique he has. “Please… please tell me how to heal you.”

You have a unique form of Heavenly Restriction that allows you to heal others and yourself. This form of restriction stops others from healing you at all, and any attempt to apply some sort of reverse curse technique will only result in a nullification of cursed energy.

Yuta knows his question is stupid—how can he heal you if that’s in your restriction? Still, he asks. He begs you, urges you, to tell him how to heal you, to tell him how to take care of you, to help you, to save you. Because the blood staining his fingertips is becoming overwhelming, because he hates the sight of you on the floor, bleeding out, waiting. Waiting for Ijichi, waiting for death to take you in its tender embrace.

Yuta doesn’t want death to take you in any embrace, tender or not. And maybe he’s being dramatic, maybe everything will be okay, but to Yuta, it’s not. You being hurt is not okay, you bleeding out is never okay.

Tap, tap. 

“It’ll be okay, Yuta.” Even now, it’s you comforting him. It’s you reassuring him, with your gentle taps against his arm, your gaze tender yet determined as you cradle him in the center of your pupils. Yuta likes the way you look at him, the way you say his name, the way you exist with him.

Tap, tap. Again, your fingers lead his heart. Thump-thump. It’s yours. All yours.

He forces a smile. “Yeah.”

With you, Yuta thinks everything will be okay. He feigns ignorance to the way his hands feel warm—too warm—as his pale skin stains vibrant red. He feigns ignorance to the way your eyelids lower, the way your gaze becomes unfocused, the way your taps become softer.

Everything will be okay. You said so.

Tap, tap.

Okkotsu Yuta likes the way he can always predict what you’re going to say.

“Yuta,” you whisper, the end of your pencil coming to poke the boy’s shoulder. “What if we went to karaoke later?”

And a photobooth after, he thinks. “Today?”

“Yeah!” you exclaim, trying to keep your voice low. “And we could go to a photobooth after!”

He smiles. “That sounds good. What should we eat after?” he asks, yet he already knows the answer. Udon, he thinks, you like udon when it’s cold out. 

“Udon,” you respond, leaning closer towards him. Yuta’s breath hitches, his hands becoming clammy as his eyes trace over your features. From the bridge of your nose to the curl of your lips, your countenance makes a lover of him, his thoughts, his being belonging wholly to you. 

Again and again, Yuta falls in love with you. The flutter of your lashes and the excited tone of your voice (which slurs your syllables, which crinkles your eyes) makes him love you as if it were the first time. The taps of your fingers and the stars in your eyes reminds Yuta of everything that he’s ever hoped for, of everything that is worth the world, of everything that gives him purpose, reason.

When school is over, Yuta lets you drag him by the hand, relishing in the way your fingers fit perfectly around his. Yuta traces the pad of his thumb over your calluses, tenderly massaging them in an attempt to ease the stiffness. Yuta follows you, not caring to look behind him, not caring to ask where you’re taking him. 

(It’s not like he needs to, anyway. Yuta knows your favorite places, your favorite streets. He knows your favorite paths and your favorite restaurants. He knows where you’re taking him, but even if he didn’t, he’d let you string him along anyway.)

Yuta likes the sound of your singing voice, even if you hit all the wrong notes. Yuta likes the look of your face in the silly, absurd filters offered by the photobooth. He likes the way you squeeze his hand whenever you tug him to cross the road, the way you swing his arm a little when you walk down the street.

“May I take your order?” a waiter asks. 

Kishimen udon, Yuta thinks, his face resting against his palm as he stares at you from across the table. Kishimen udon with narutomaki. 

“Kishimen udon with narutomaki,” you reply. You don’t notice the way Yuta’s gaze is fixated on you, the way he hasn’t spared a single glance at the menu since the moment you two arrived. You don’t notice how Yuta’s pupils have your silhouette imprinted on them, the way your figure is etched into his very bones. 

(It’s a part of him now. Your image, your smile, your very being is tattooed into Yuta’s bones, carving him in order to become someone like you, to become someone for you.)

“And you, sir?” 

Yuta smiles tenderly. It crinkles his eyes and creates stars in his irises. “I’ll have the same thing, thank you.”

From the glimmer in your eyes to the taps of your fingers, Okkotsu Yuta loves you. All of you. 

[introcoryo]

you were coriolanus snow’s rosebud.

a head of styled and silk soft, golden locks, and eyes so icy blue that they contrast the heat that flushes the two of you as you gasp — pant — for air in a secluded hall of the academy. his pupils dart between yours with a subtle knit of his brows, so blown and full of need that you feel a second, more intense blush creeping up your neck.

could this really be the academy’s star senior? the most diligent student they could offer? skipping a lecture because his yearning is stronger than his desire to learn? those questions are rhetorical, of course, as all three were answered with a simple tug of your sleeve on your way to class, urging you to follow him wordlessly.

“what’s gotten into you, coryo? miss me too much?” you say, lightheartedly. his tense expression never falters, instead offering a twitch of his eye as he takes a short breather. he has a hand sprawled across the fabric of your uniform, holding you close by the small of your back, pushing you up against him, and another cupping your cheek.

coriolanus was emotionally complex. his conditioned way of thinking sadly did not get along with his feelings. he had a compulsive need to control, control, control, and you knew that. he struggled to not let anything slip through the cracks, but hid that behind the facade of a social chameleon.

the blond in front of you, however, was not the coriolanus people were accustomed to. so overcome with hastiness that he was borderline shaking.

“just… just need you… need you and nothing else. tell me you need me too. say it.” coriolanus whispers, demands, and you think for a second that it might be so others meandering through the halls don’t hear, but doubt that, judging by the way his fingers are digging into your skin and the urgency in his eyes. you take a moment to process his request, and nod your head briskly.

you admire the way a curl falls over his temple, so perfectly marigold and twisted, the way his irises look almost crystal-like and so clear that you can see yourself distinctly in the reflection. his lips, pretty and plump, like a meticulously cared for peony that you oh so dared to pluck.

“say it.” so lost in thoughts of admiration, you’re almost startled by the hoarseness of his voice. his tone is imposing, but the pleading pinch of his eyebrows begged and begged for your answer, afraid it might hear different.

“i need you, coriolanus. nothing else.” immediately, the blond’s features soften, wrinkles formed on his forehead finally smoothing over. you don’t question him in moments like this; he’s just in need of grounding every once in a while. the thumb placed on your cheekbone begins to caress you, and he rushes to your lips. hungry. needy. almost as if trying to devour you to keep you all to himself.

class can wait, you decide.

[eternalsams]

Like Cats and Dogs ➻ Miguel O'Hara

pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Spider-Woman!reader

warning/content: black cat and golden retriever energy, Miguel is a party pooper

summary: you finally find the way to travel across the dimensions and you meet an interesting person.

words count: 1.5k

a/n: English isn't my first language so please take that into your consideration. Also, this is straightly inspired by a conversation I had with an AI of Miguel and I had to share this because it was so fun.

You slowly open your eyes, your pupils adapting to the new light around you. The night sky faces you and the high buildings reach the stars. You look down at your bracelet and close the portal you just came from. You immediately notice the other person in the room and jump back, arming your web shooters and aiming for the man in the room. "Who are you? Show yourself or I else shoot!" You threaten and the man steps closer, revealing himself calmly. He's tall, oh so tall. He's got broad shoulders and a strong jawline. His fists are clenched but what makes you relax is the big spider drawn on his body. The suit he's wearing looks like yours, only yours have a yellow spider on your back. "Do I know you?" He asks calmly but watches all your movements. You walk around him, inspecting his suit from every angle. "I don't know... Do I?" You say, staying at a certain distance from him, not knowing if he was dangerous or not. His jaw clenches and I can see he's getting impatient. "My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m Nueva York‘s one and only spider man. My life is pretty hectic and full of one bad thing after the other." He introduces himself, hoping you would cooperate and do the same. He takes a step closer and you get a good look at the dark veins in his eyes. "Do I know you?" He asks again.

You chuckle and stand back in front of him. "Did you practice this little speech of yours in front of your mirror this morning?" You cross your arms across your chest and raise an eyebrow. He frowns and take a step towards you, menacing. "My life is not a joke. I’m doing everything I can to protect this city from any threats. Why do you want to fight me?" You look down at his fists and can see his laser web wrapping his hands, threatening you. You slightly smile and look back up at his red eyes. "You think you're the only one with these bad boys, huh?" You shoot a short web to the wall next to you. His lips part and you can see him deep in his thoughts for a second before he looks back at you. "You... are like me?" You simply shrug. "Seems like it, big guy! But you... seem different, evolved..." You slightly frown and grab his hand, inspecting his talons and then grabbing his face to look closer at his fangs. "Are you a vampire or something?" You ask him before he rips your hand off his face. "I am not a vampire." He growls. "Oh... Are you a demon then?" You ask excitedly and shook his shoulders, which seems not to please him that much. He yanks your hands away a second time and steps back from you. "Not a demon either. Why are you here? What do you want?" You exhale loudly and pace slowly in front of him. "I've heard about you, Spidey... So I left my dimension to meet you. I still don't know if I'm glad I met you or not though..."

He stares at you, confused and search for his next words. "Other dimension? What are you rambling about. If you weren’t so annoying I’d knock you out." You roll your eyes out and chuckle. "Have you ever heard of the multiverse?" You cock your head to the side, enjoying how confused he looks. "The... multiverse..? You can travel through dimensions?" He raises his eyebrows. "Yup!" You clap your hands and shoot webs on the ceiling to make yourself a swing, sitting down on it. "You, my friend... are from Earth-928 and I am from Earth-634. You're the Spider-Man here and I'm the Spider-Woman of my dimension." You explain to him. "You're kidding..? I don't have the most... normal life but this? What brought you here?" He looks back up at you. "I told you! You did! I was doing some research about the multiverse and I had a weird vivid dream where I saw multiple Spider-Men, and so I knew I had to meet some of them, including you!" You point at him and he blinks. "So you came here, to my world, based on a dream? You’re crazy! I guess that's a good thing..." I grin at him and pat his cheek. "Aww, Spideyyy.... You're being soft on me!" He slaps my hand away and growls. "Hey! I'm not being soft!"

"You so are!" You chuckle and pinch his cheek like a grandma would do. He slaps your hand once again and keep it away from his face. "Don't you dare touch me again!" You hold up your hands in surrender with a sly smirk. "Okay, okay... So... You single, Guapo?" You wiggle your eyebrows. "Why? You wanna take me out on a date?" He huffs, as if the mere idea of dating you was ridiculous. "Maybe... We could have a bunch of inter-dimensional babies!" His little smile quickly drops and he blinks. "What? You're clearly insane..." He sighs. "Oh, come on, Mr Vampire... Don't you ever smile or crack up?" You can see he doesn't like the nickname but you don't really care. "I do smile. Just not with you." You step closer and have to tilt your head back to look in his eyes. "I wanna see that fangy smile!" You say excitedly. "I don't need to show you anything." He looks like he’s on the defensive, and looks a bit disturbed that you might notice he’s a mutant. "You’re from a different reality- how am I supposed to trust you?" He frowns and crosses his arms on his toned chest. "I'm literally a different version of you! We're the same! You're a vigilante, I'm a vigilante. You save people from bad guys, I save people from bad guys... What else do you need to trust me?!" You throw your arms up and exhale loudly. "You’re from an alternate reality. For all I know, you’re a supervillain pretending to be good. I need proof." He just stands there when you're pacing in front of him. "Alright... Tell me what you wanna know." You sigh and face him. "Why are you here? You said because you saw a vision of me. Why did you feel the need to find me?" He asks, tilting his chin up to look down at you. "Curiosity."

"You’re risking the health of your reality just to satisfy your curiosity?" He raises his eyebrows, almost speechless. "Yeah, my dad always told me I was too curious for my own good... But hey! What can I do about it?" You chuckle and shrug. "Maybe try not to put your home in danger if you get a passing whim! You're so weird..." He sighs and pinch the bridge of his nose. "So, tell me, Mr Vampire... What else do you need from me so you trust me?" You ask with a sly smirk. He growls and throws his head back. "I'm not a vampire, for the last time! Stop calling me that!" His fists have charged and begin to crackle with a blue electric energy, he seems ready to fight with you. You slightly laugh and hold your hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry... It's just so easy to mess with you, big guy!" He shakes his head and grits his teeth. "You’re so obnoxious. You know that? What do you wanna know about me?" You think about it and smile widely, pointing at his face. "Can I touch your fangs? I wanna check if they're sharp..." He frowns and looks weirdly at you. "No! What is wrong with you? Why are you so obsessed with my fangs?" He takes a step back from you, keeping his distance. "I'm not obsessed with your fangs." You immediately respond but you both know you're lying. Your gaze catches something else and your eyes widen. "Are those claws?!" You exclaim and almost jump on him, grabbing him arm and inspecting his hand. "What are you doing? You can't just touch me without my permission. I'm not some play thing, okay?" He says in a little voice, way less confident. You smile and softly touch the end, feeling how sharp the claws are. "You're fascinating..." You lead his hand towards him and watch the claws retract when his fingers touch his suit. "Hey! Stop that! No touching me without permission. That's a rule! And why am I so fascinating? I'm not some kind of experiment! And they're not claws, it's talons!" He exclaims, getting rid of your touch. "No... You're just so different from me..." You ignore his request not to be touched and grab his other hand, checking again his talons.

"Don't you get the message?!" He pulls his arm out of your grip. "Stop touching me!" His fists crackle with energy as his anger returns. You step back and hold up your hands. "Alright, alright... Calm down, Guapo. I'm sorry, I didn't want to upset you or hurt your feelings." He seems to calm down and his shoulders relax. "It's just that I spent months working on travelling across the multiverse and when I finally do it, the first person I meet is a Spider-hero, just like me. It's all so exciting!" You grin and you can almost see a smile creeping his way onto his lips before he looks away, shaking his head. "You're so weird..." He sighs and you smile even more. "Oh, trust me I know."

[gigabyte-flare]

The Dragon's Respite

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: It's early in the morning of the day that the Midnight Rangers are set to confront the Threnodian threat along side the mysterious Rover. You awake to find your lover restless and you are determined to ease his troubled thoughts.

Word Count: 1.3k

Pairing: Jiyan x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: mostly fluff, very mild angst, unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: To say I've been addicted to Wuthering Waves is an understatement. Jiyan has lived rent free in my head since I started the game. I need this man in a way that is concerning to feminism.

And before anyone says anything, yes, I am well aware that Jiyan is not a dragon; it is just incredibly sexy to call him a dragon. Don't at me 🤣

It is the chill of the room that wakes you, realizing you are not wrapped in the embrace of your lover. Your eyes flutter open, the room is dark still, the shades drawn closed to keep out prying eyes. Even so, from behind them, you can see the first signs of the early morning, much to your dismay. You sit up, your eyes scanning the dark room until they settle on the figure sitting at the end of the bed, his hands resting on his thighs, his luscious teal hair disheveled from sleep.

You slowly sit up, leaning over to the bedside table to grab the brush sitting on it. You shift yourself so that you're behind him. With the brush in hand, you begin to comb out the general's hair.

"What's the matter, Jiyan?" you ask, the concern evident in your voice as you continue to brush out his hair, your eyes scanning over the toned muscle of his back, "you're really tense."

"The Retroact Rain will start rising soon," Jiyan replies, rolling his right shoulder, "and when it does, I have to be ready."

You let out a deep sigh, now putting Jiyan's hair up in his signature pony tail, giving you a clear view of the Tacet Mark that runs down his spine. You reach for it, gently dragging your fingers tips down the mark. This elicits a soft sigh from him and you can’t help but smile in response. You then lean forward, placing a soft kiss upon the mark.

Jiyan groans, turning towards you to capture your lips in a tender kiss. He brings his hand up, running his fingers through your hair.

"Are you trying to awaken the dragon, my love?" he asks, the pupils in his golden eyes dilating slightly as he pulls away from the kiss.

You bite your bottom lip, giving Jiyan a playful but knowing look, "perhaps I am…"

A low chuckle emanates from him as he turns his body towards you. You lay yourself back down on the bed as he climbs on top of you, caging you under his body. Your gaze travels down his chiseled form before settling on the noticeable bulge under his grey sweatpants.

"My eyes are up here, love," Jiyan says with a chuckle, gently grasping your chin between his index finger and thumb, coaxing your gaze back to his face, "we'll need to be quick."

His fingers hook into the hem of his sweatpants, quickly removing them as you remove your own pajamas, the two of you now completely nude. Jiyan wastes no time settling his hips between your spread legs. The head of his cock teases your soaked entrance, causing your breath to hitch. Grasping your hips in his hands, he sheathes himself into you with a single thrust. He lets out a low moan as he begins to move his hips, angling his hips so that his cock hits all the right places inside you, making you see stars.

Your fingers latch onto his back, your fingernails digging into his Tacet Mark inadvertently, eliciting a growl from him. His lips devour yours as he begins to pound into you, the head of his member kissing your cervix with each thrust. The heels of your feet dig into the bed as you cry out his name.

"I-I'm… I'm so close, Jiyan--!"

He lets out another chuckle, "oh, I know, love," he leans down to whisper in your ear, "your pretty pussy always flutters around my cock just before I send you into bliss."

That is the catalyst that sends you over the edge and your release gushes around him, pulling another chuckle out of him. He, however, is not finished with you. Looping his arms around your legs, he props them onto his shoulders as he practically folds you in half, strengthening his assault on your throbbing cunt. Overstimulated, tears run down the sides of your face as you cover your mouth with one of your hands, screaming into it as to prevent your cries from being heard by the entire Midnight Rangers camp.

Jiyan's thrusts start to become erratic as he chases his own release. He brings one of his hands up to cup the side of your face, carefully pulling your hand away from your mouth before saying softly, "where do you want me, love?"

"Inside," you plead, your breaths labored as you reach up, grasping the back of his head, "please, Jiyan…"

He smirks at you, his gold eyes boring into yours, "of course, love. I'll give you everything I have."

With a couple more powerful thrusts, he pushes himself inside you as deep as he can go, painting your pussy walls with his hot seed with a loud groan. Sealing his lips over yours, his tongue invades your mouth as his cock continues to throb inside you. You moan into his kiss, your tongue welcoming his as you drape your arms around his shoulders. Breaking away from the kiss, Jiyan rests his forehead against yours, his breaths labored as he comes down from his orgasm. You whimper softly, your body trembling beneath his in the aftermath of your own release.

Jiyan leans back down, giving you another tender kiss, which you happily reciprocate, his fingers combing through your hair as he deepens the kiss. An abrupt knock on the door shatters the blissful moment, causing you to jump; meanwhile, Jiyan lets out an irritated groan.

"General Jiyan!" a male voice calls out from the other side of the door, "your presence is needed, sir! Rover and Yangyang are on their way!"

He props himself up on his hands, slowly unsheathing himself from your warmth. You can feel his cum leak out from you, causing a smile to cross your lips. Jiyan smiles down at you, bringing his hand back up to caress your cheek.

"Do you mind helping me dress?" he asks, the sorrow clear in his golden gaze.

"Of course I don't mind, Jiyan."

Jiyan climbs off the bed and walks over to the closet while you pick up your pajamas off the floor, putting them back on. Meanwhile, Jiyan has begun to dress, putting on his leather pants, boots and the tight black leather tank top; you always loved how it perfectly accentuates his toned chest. The rest of his uniform is piled onto the bed; you pick up the beautiful fabric and help him get it on. It takes several minutes to get the robes of his uniform on, as there are several intricate pieces that have to be placed perfectly. Thankfully for you, this is not the first time you've helped Jiyan put his uniform on, and it certainly won't be your last.

Once he's dressed, you can't help but take a step back to marvel at him; you were always a sucker for a man in uniform. Another chuckle from Jiyan breaks you out of your daze, causing you to blush. Jiyan approaches you, placing his hands onto your hips before kissing you once more as you drape your arms onto his shoulders.

You break the kiss, letting out a soft sigh, "promise you'll come back to me, Jiyan."

"Not even the Threnodian can keep me from you, my love."

He plants one last kiss onto your forehead before turning away from you, walking up to grab his sword that is leaning up against the wall, sheathing it into his belt. He walks up to the door, which automatically slides open from his presence. He stops in the threshold, turning his head slightly to address you once more.

"Don't you worry, love. Victory will be ours."