#he looks so soft and delicate??? like a butterfly’s wings?????

[shewhoeatssand]

ORACLE, oracle answer me.

Kaneki? (*・ｘ・)

YES!!!!!

snowy bby

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・0.6k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・lee know x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship. lazy kisses & mutual obsession. / 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲・for my @rachalixie: you've done well today (♡´ ˘ `)⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

𝟭𝟴:𝟮𝟮 — There’s a certain novelty to experiencing something for the first time.

Sure, the magic lives on as your love for the thing grows, but no sensation will quite beat out the first time the opening riff of your favorite song hits your ears, the flavor of your favorite fruit splashing onto your tongue, the climax of your favorite film rendering you a sobbing mess in a public theater.

But you walk into your room one Saturday afternoon to glance at the man lying face-up on the bed you share, scrolling absentmindedly with a mackerel tabby curled into his side. Cordate, coral lips that you know by now feel like satin and taste like home, catlike eyes framed by thick lashes that could run makeup conglomerates into ruin; perfect, prim nose and chiseled, angular jaw, strong and sharp enough to draw blood should you run your finger along the pretty perimeters.

You clamber onto the mattress as delicately as you can. Not delicately enough, by Dori’s standards. The cat tosses you a disgruntled look before landing noiselessly onto the hardwood, departing from the room in search of his less disruptive siblings.

Moments later, Minho’s phone is face-down somewhere out of reach; you are straddling his waist and leaning over him, your hands cradling his face so tenderly they’re barely there. You come close enough for wisps of your hair to catch onto the delicate curves of his lashes, for the tip of your nose to bump against his like a greeting from a butterfly.

His soft laugh puffs against the seam of your lips like a breath of your own. “What’s the matter with you?”

He threw the curtains aside and cracked the windows open earlier, letting into the room a shower of late-afternoon sun. It now dyes his skin a dewy caramel, lightens his eyes to pools of molten amber. For some time, you are unable to respond, enraptured by all the wonder that he holds. 

Eventually, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, dip down, rid of the distance between you with a soft seal of your mouth his. He doesn’t move until he’s overcome his surprise, but then he brings one hand to your waist, slipping beneath the sheer fabric of your top to press your hips down onto his, and wraps the other around the base of your neck, the pad of his thumb settling over your jugular like a gossamer wing.

You sigh in pleasure and part your lips; he pursues this opening with a fervor, pliant tongue keeping your mouth ajar, head tilting to one side to better savor you, your teeth knocking and limbs entwining in this passionate fray.

By the time you come up for air, the world around you has changed. You’re underneath him now, his hands positioned on either side of your head. His eyes are no longer amber but obsidian, his mouth ravaged and raw in the aftermath of colliding time and time again with yours. The sun has largely vanished beneath the skyline.

You collect yourself just enough to procure an answer to his question.

“Every time I look at you feels like the first,” you whisper.

Minho doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe in spite of how you’d just kissed the air straight from his lungs, doesn’t believe his ears. For that is the exact way he feels about you, always has been and always will, though you have always been the one to first verbalize the feelings that he doesn’t have the words for.

For some time, he is unable to respond, enraptured by all the wonder that you hold.

Eventually, he combs a hand through his hair, dips down, rids of the distance between you with a hard crash of his mouth upon yours, and there the two of you will remain until it’s no longer light from the sun that sets your room aglow, but that of the moon and a hundred thousand stars.

© 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 ♡

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Coffee

Azriel x Reader - Angst

Azriel runs into his ex at the market.

I'll meet you for coffee, only for coffee

“Y/N” the timbre of his voice sends a dagger disguised as delicate winged butterflies fluttering through my stomach.

“Azriel”

Amber-hued eyes look down upon me, into the depths of my weary soul and I already know I can’t do this. But I’ll entertain it. I always do.

“How are you, Angel?”

“I’m fine.” I’m always fine. Never lost and weary. Never wondering what I could have done differently, what I could have done to make him love me. No, I’m level-headed and I am perfectly fine.

“Good. How’s the family?”

“They’re good. Claren got into Adriata U on a scholarship. Yours?” His family. The elite inner circle of the Night Court.

“Good. Rhys and Feyre have a son now, Nyx. He’s everything good in this world.”

I smile softly. “Yeah, I heard about the princeling. I can imagine that all of you are wrapped around his finger”

“Yeah.”

So let's not do coffee, let's not even try

We stand there. Those gods damned hazel eyes bore into mine like a screw. He sees everything. He always did. Nobody got me. Gods, nobody gets me, like him.

“Hey,“ Azriel’s soft, deep voice interrupts my thoughts. “Sevenda’s has-“

“No Az.”

He falters. “Y/N-“

It's better we leave it and give it some time

“No, love.” We can’t go there. He knows it. I know it too. We’d done that before. Dinner with the inner circle. I never fit in with them. They were a lovely close knit family and I was a stray… the outlier- even in this supposed “found family” of bastards and outcasts.

Azriel lets out a sigh, those piercing eyes tempting me to give in. To give it another try.

“How about that cabaret on the Sidra? You always loved it there.”

I love the cabaret, the energy, the drinks. Gods, the drinks. The wine would flow and I’d be in Azriel’s strong, welcoming arms in no time. He’d insist on walking me home, ever the gentleman. He’d say he wanted me. I’d know it’s a lie. It’s always a lie. I’m not a graceful overcomer like Gwyn. I’m not demure and kind like Elain. I’m certainly not strong and resilient like Morrigan.

If I didn't love you, it would be fine

I’m just… me.

And he’s just…. Lonely.

“I should go.”

A strong scarred hand grasps my forearm, an inherent dominance that somehow comes off delicate. It’s alluring, the hands you wish would hold you all your life.

“Coffee?” He asks.

We could do that. Coffee doesn’t lead to sex. Wine leads to my clothes on his floor, his deft fingers reverently tracing the arch of my spine.

“Yeah, we could-“

Cause If we do coffee, it's never just coffee

There it is. The hunger. The desire to feel. I see it. I once thought that gaze was a need for me. But it’s a lonely male who can love you like a mate, and then discard you like a mistake.

He’s not mine.

And maybe, if I didn’t love him, we could have done coffee.

“I’ll see you around, Az.”

It's never just coffee

—————————————

Tags:

ACOTAR General - @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [7]

pet!au part 7 | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list

imitation of flesh

cw: non-con, smut, unrealistic anal, fingering, degradation, cum eating, dark content, dead dove: do not eat

The only scrap of clothing you have clinging to your body as you lay on Simon and Johnny’s bed is your collar. 

Somehow, you feel more naked with it on than you ever did with it off. It’s an embarrassing reminder that your body no longer belongs to you — a proof of ownership to a man who can hardly seem to stand your mere existence. Your fingers ghost over the leather and you feel it bob with your throat as you swallow. The urge to rip it off is strong. Tear through that leather and rid yourself of the incessant reminder that you’re trapped. It’s so easy for you to undo the clasp and toss it into some forgotten corner where you’ll never have to worry or think about it again — but you don’t. No, there is very little you can do besides lay there when you have two hulking figures between your open legs. 

At least you’re not the only one who’s naked, though that only gives you nominal reprieve. Johnny’s clothes were ripped from his body with the same urgency as yours were, and you feel your stomach flutter at the sight of his hardened cock. His leaky, puffy tip bounces as it throbs, begging for something soft to bury itself in. You’ve seen it plenty of times before, but it never gets easier. Simon sits behind him on his haunches, fully clothed, bored eyes flickering back and forth between the side of his face and your exposed body. 

Scenarios begin to tear through your mind, making your stomach flutter and drop through the floor. Johnny has had his fun with you plenty of times over the last few weeks, but it’s never been anything as… formal as this. Every time he’s put his hands on you, it’s always been a spur of the moment. Something he does when he can no longer hold himself back. Tearing you apart like a sacrifice. It’s never been anything like this, and the darkness in Simon’s eyes doesn’t offer you any comfort. 

“She’s so pretty,” Johnny says with a shudder. 

Simon’s hands trace along Johnny’s waist where they slide to the front of his stomach and then dip down to the thick, dark patch of hair at the base of his cock. For hands as large, brutish, and scarred as his, his touch looks light. Delicate, even. Johnny jumps in excitement as he wraps a fist around him and begins to lazily tug at him, purposefully ignoring his needy red tip. 

“That so?” he challenges. His lips brush against Johnny’s ear, and you watch as those deep blue eyes roll slightly into the back of his head, eyelids fluttering like butterfly wings. You squirm at the sight as a deep shame eats at your chest — you are a product, a show to be enjoyed — but you know better than to move too much around sight-based hunters. “Like havin’ a soft toy to play with? Somethin’ to sink your cock into? Bet you wanna fuck ‘er right now, yeah?” 

Johnny’s eyes stay glued to your body as he nods his head. “Aye, I really do.”

“Yeah, needy fuckin’ mutt. Go on. Play with ‘er a bit, but keep this fuckin’ cock dry, yeah? Get yourself nice and worked up f’me,” Simon orders. 

Ardent eyes blink down at you as Simon frees Johnny’s cock from his hand, and the man descends upon you like a ravenous plague. A squeak leaves you without permission when his lips crash against yours with enough force to knock your teeth out, and your whole body jumps as he paws at your chest. Your tits are so sore from weeks of abuse that you can’t help but whimper into his mouth as his fingers contract and relax over and over again, rolling the soft flesh between his hands. There’s no escape. You are surrounded, both by a stranger and his prison-like bed. 

This is nothing new. Johnny’s always been easily… excitable. All you have to do is grit your teeth and take it until he dry humps you long enough to get off or gets bored and abuses your mouth. You often think of your old job bar-tending while he has his fun. Anything to get you away from the present. How to make an old fashioned? How many seconds does it take to fill a pint? You try to recall the acrid taste of the air, and the way condensation glistens on the bar top. Usually it works well enough to keep yourself distracted.

It doesn’t work tonight, though. Not with those dark eyes peering from behind Johnny, murky and menacing. As Johnny gets to work giving love bites to the underside of your jaw, you make the terrible mistake of glancing at Simon. He’s got one hand on the small of Johnny’s back like it’s the only way he can keep the man leashed, and the other is pawing at his cock through the thick fabric of his jeans. You can make out the clear, meaty outline of it, and you find yourself silently praying that his eyes don’t wander too far from Johnny. You’re certain Simon would break you if he decided to fuck you himself. 

“Ow!”

Your yelp is sudden and piercing as pain blossoms in your left nipple. It ebbs and flows with your pulse, as if the sting is supposed to be a reminder that you’re still alive. Johnny leans back in astonishment, as if he can’t piece together why him pinching and yanking on your nipple would ever rouse such a reaction from you, but then he does it again, this time to the right. You squeal once more, and your hands move to cup your breasts, hoping to deter him from antagonizing you further. 

“Johnny!” you whine.

“Do that again,” he says, pupils blown wide. 

You squeeze your chest more, as if you can fold your body in on itself and vanish completely if you try hard enough. You blink a few times as you attempt to process his request, but all you can muster is a puzzled look. 

“Say my name again,” he clarifies, voice darker and more husky than you’ve ever heard it before. 

Humiliation courses through your body, forcing your bottom lip to tremble as you writhe under his gaze. It’s easier when you don’t have to participate. When you can just lay there and take it and pretend it doesn’t exist. There’s a special kind of hurt to be found in the way he’s trying to torture you now. Simon’s eyes meet yours from over Johnny’s shoulder, and you try your best to keep your composure lest he get upset at you for keeping his adored pet waiting. 

“Johnny…” you mumble once more. 

For a moment, you fear that your performance is too forced. Something so faux that even Johnny’s slow, horny brain can see through. It’s not satisfying enough. Instead, he groans as he descends on you again, tongue lavishing over your breasts and chest bone as he pushes back against Simon, ass against his clothed cock, going lower and lower along your abdomen. 

“Goddamn angel. Sound so sweet sayin’ my name. You’re perfect. So perfect, Bonnie,” he groans against your skin. “I’ll fuck you good ‘n proper one of these days. As soon as Simon lets me, I promise. For now… just… let me have this.” 

Whatever question you have bubbling up in your throat gets smothered with a gasp as Johnny’s mouth lands on your cunt. A hot, wet tongue laps at you, sliding all the way from your clenching hole to your clit. It doesn’t feel good. It feels messy, and disgusting, yet he laments at the taste of you. His lips and tongue work in tandem, not for your pleasure, but for his. Muted sensations rumble between your legs, but nothing’s connecting. All the wires are cut, but Johnny’s still trying to send signals through anyway. 

Everything he does to you — suck on your clit, hold your hips with a bruising grip — all feels searing. It’s torching your skin, melting you into mush, because if you cannot feel pleasure, then you can certainly feel pain. Things only get worse when you realize Simon’s grunts are sounding in terrible cacophony with Johnny’s. Once more you make the mistake of glancing at him, and you realize he’s got his own cock in his hand now, lazily pumping that monster. It’s incredibly thick and terrifying; something that fits the brutish and colossal nature of your captor. You glance away, turning your head to the side with a look of disgust you attempt to drown out with a forced moan. 

Just pretend, just pretend, just pretend…

Suddenly, it all ceases. Simon pulls Johnny back by his collar, forcing his mouth off of your cunt with a wet pop, before he’s pushing him into your chest. Lips wet from spit and what minimal amount of arousal he was able to rip from you smears against your tits as the poor dog pants.

“Plan on eatin’ her alive, Johnny?” Simon goads. 

He chuckles against your skin as he nuzzles your chest as if he’s trying to get underneath your skin. There’s something about his laughter that almost makes him seem more human than the dog Simon tries to force him to be. Whatever it is, it makes your heart lurch, but it doesn’t tug on it enough for you to forgive him. You bite into your lip as your arms wrap around his neck, searching for a stability you don’t think you’re going to find, yet so desperately crave. 

“Oh, I’d like to,” he coos. 

All Simon does is hum in response as he reaches around Johnny. You jolt when his hand brushes against your thigh, and he shoots you a glare in warning before pushing your thigh back. Trepidation hangs so thick in the air you nearly choke on it as you helplessly feel his fingers brush against your sex. Soon, it’s no longer a gentle brush, but a forceful intrusion as he dips them into your cunt. 

Johnny’s spit allows him to enter you with little protest, but it does nothing to ease the burn that ails you as Simon’s thick fingers split you open. Your eyes screw shut in discomfort as you do your best to hold back a sob. Instead of pumping in and out of you, his fingers dance as if looking for something inside of you, all but tearing you apart in the process. They churn, and scrape and claw. He does not care to draw out moans or other sounds from you — he cares only to aid himself. The heat of the burn that ravages your cunt forces your skin to perspire and your vision begins to tunnel. 

Your only saving grace is that Simon finally seems to have found what he was looking for, and he yanks his fingers out of you with little concern for your body. Tense muscles flutter as you try to force yourself to relax, to calm your tendons before they snap free from bone. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, you can make out the wet, gooey sheen on his fingers as he turns his attention to Johnny. He whimpers into your skin as Simon wipes the sloppy mess around the tight ring of his ass, not stopping until there’s proper lubrication. Strong arms snake underneath your back where needy fingers hold onto your shoulders, as if you’re the only thing grounding Johnny at this moment. 

All you can do is close your eyes and pray it’s quick. 

“Been a long while since I last fucked you, yeah?” Simon teases, fingers still taunting Johnny’s needy hole. “Look atch’ya, puckerin’ around nothin’ like a dirty fuckin’ mutt. Gonna be a good boy and beg? C’mon, you used to beg for this cock all the time. Go on. Beg.” 

Johnny’s body trembles with want, and it rings throughout your body, numbing your senses and rendering you useless. His nose nuzzles into your breast bone before he turns and rests the side of his head just above your heart. You’re certain he can hear the muscle trying to tear itself apart with how fast it’s beating. 

“Please, Simon. I’ve been a good boy,” Johnny whines, following Simon’s orders to a tee. “I need it, need it so bad. Missed you so goddamn much, I just… f-fuck, yes, fuckin’ christ, thank you, thank you.” 

As Simon presses into Johnny, the weight on your chest grows heavier to the point of suffocation. Desperate fingers claw at your shoulders, and you force yourself to stay quiet and take it. Whimpers sear into your skin as Simon keeps going, and going, and going until he bottoms out, and for once Johnny seems content. Praises and gratitude continue to fall from his lips as his body rocks against yours like a poorly tethered boat against a dock. There is little remorse for Johnny as he’s split apart, but he seems to enjoy the burn more than you ever could. 

You don’t dare to peek over him. All you can do is screw your eyes shut tight as you bury your face into the overgrown strands of his mohawk. 

“Such a tight fuckin’ arse. You really are a pathetic mutt, aren’cha?” Simon shames. Despite his harsh words and tone, Johnny whines in confirmation. “Gonna be a good boy ‘n take it then, yeah? Go on. Tell your precious Bonnie how good this cock is makin’ you feel.” 

And he does, like the obedient animal he is, but you don’t hear any of it. You feel the rocking of your body as Simon’s speed picks up, and the slick sweat that builds between your bodies, but you’re too far away for his words to reach your ears. Right now, you’re back in that old bar you used to work in, wiping down grimy tables and filling hoppy drinks. The sourness of the alcohol and the acidity of the cleaner assaults your nose even in your daydreams, and you feel your stomach twist at the scent. Dull music thrums somewhere on your left, and someone’s waving at you so they can pay out their tab. 

That bar had been nothing but a prison to you before, but now you can’t help but hate it even more. Would you have ended up here, underneath two brutish men, had you gotten that office job you interviewed for? Was the outcome always destined to be the same? Teeth ache in your mouth as your jaw clenches at the memory of your attempt at escaping that life. So smart, but not smart enough — always one step behind what everyone else is asking from you; the docile little lamb. 

Sharp nails rake across your skin, and you’re pulled out of your daydream as Johnny is ripped from your arms. Angry streaks and broken skin are left behind in his wake, and you try your best not to cry out. Tears blur your vision as you finally open your eyes, and you see Simon yanking Johnny back against him by his collar. Desperate hands claw at the leather as the sounds of pain and pleasure mix together in his throat as Simon tugs at Johnny’s cock with vicious strokes. You can do nothing but lay there and watch in abject horror as Johnny’s cum spurts from the tip of his cock and coats the length of your stomach and chest. It’s a warm, sticky mess that has you grimacing as it mixes with the lingering sweat on your skin, yet you know better than to voice your discontent. 

“There he is,” Simon grunts. “Makin’ a goddamn mess all over my hand. A mess of your favorite toy too, hmm?”

Despite the fact that Johnny is obviously spent, Simon doesn’t let up. His hips continue to slam into his ass with no disregard for the slight whining that emanates from his favorite pup, who can do nothing but mindlessly babble. 

“What? You thought just because you were done that I was done with ya? C’mon, Johnny, you know better than that. Now, be a good boy and fuckin’ take it.” 

Vibrant blue eyes find you in the darkness of the bedroom before they roll into the back of Johnny’s head. His cum begins to cool and thicken on your body as Simon continues to have his way with him, and their combined grunting becomes near deafening. Even though you and Johnny are the ones wearing the collars, Simon sounds the most animalistic out of the three of you. Grunting and panting and growling. You hold your breath, as if that monster of a man will pounce and attack any moment. 

When Simon finishes, he does so with another feral grunt and a final thrust into Johnny where he continues to hold himself against the man. A cacophony of appreciative remarks fall from Johnny like a strained prayer to a deaf god as he’s pumped full of all of his would-be lover’s spend. He enjoys every moment of it, and you’re not sure if you should be comforted by the fact this man can be so attached to someone so purely evil. It isn’t until Simon’s given him every last drop that he finally pulls out, leaving him deserted and empty. 

There is slight reprieve to be found in the fact that they’re finally finished consuming one another. It’s not enough to cleanse you of the sullied sensation that torments your skin, but you’re at least able to wipe the stray tears from your eyes. 

“Filthy thing. Spoiled rotten, you are,” Simon growls as Johnny begins to gag. “Completely spent and still wantin’ more.” 

You venture a glance from behind the backs of your hands, and you look up to see Simon shoving his cum-coated fingers down Johnny’s throat. Stomach-churning gagging sounds from him as he devours it like dessert. His devotion to a beast such as Simon is infuriating in a complicated way. It sends a tingle up your spine. Something bone chilling — it only gets worse when Simon’s gaze lands on you. 

He doesn’t speak a word as he yanks his fingers out of Johnny’s mouth and pushes his face toward your body. A flinch echoes throughout the chords of your muscles, preparing to be bitten by the brainwashed mutt, yet no such pain blossoms on your skin. 

“We’re done playin’ for now. Clean up your fuckin’ toy,” Simon demands. 

Obedient. Eager. Johnny’s tongue lulls out of his mouth without a second thought before he licks a line along your abdomen. It’s just as warm and wet as it was when he was lapping at your cunt, and still it makes you squirm. He laughs at the way you tremble under him, and it sounds more like a pant as he washes away the remainder of his cum, consuming it without complaint. 

Licking quickly turns into kissing once he’s finished, and he starts to nibble on your neck as he settles his body weight onto you. A still needy and half hard cock presses against your thigh as he nuzzles you, legs wrapped around your body, keeping you attached to him with vice-like strength. Sticky warmth seeps through the pores of your skin, and you are so painfully trapped in that moment with a spinning head and an achy cunt. 

Simon had barked at Johnny to clean you up, but you feel the complete opposite of clean — disgusting, undignified, desecrated. Those feelings only rouse and fester when Simon begins to shove himself back into his pants with his umber gaze trained on you. You are not human. You have never been human. You’re an imitation of flesh, a bird with clipped wings, a song with no melody — you have become everything you ever feared of being:

A catalyst. Food for the greedy. 

A trophy of bone. 

“What’re you crying for, angel?” 

Johnny’s lips are on you again, smothering away each fat tear that rolls down your cheeks. He fakes his concern for you so well, it can almost be confused for love.

“I know, you’ll get your turn too. I promise, Bonnie. I always keep my promises, you’ll see,” Johnny assures you as he licks the salt off of his lips. 

That’s what I’m afraid of.

But there is no room for fear. Not as Johnny settles against your back, tucking you into him like a prized possession. Not as Simon turns off the bedside lamp and plunges the room into darkness. There is only one thought that consumes your mind as both men begin to snore — survive. One day, something will save you; be it yourself, or anyone else; be it death.

For now, you’ll just have to get used to being devoured whole.

[hemmingsleclerc]

Spring Festival┃CL16

part1

When the Spring Festival began at Sunshine Kindergarten, Charles was in the middle of a sea of little children dressed as flowers, animals or trees, and his little daughter Julianne was the most radiant of all in her pink butterfly costume. Despite his best efforts to style his little girl's hair, he had to settle for a loose hairstyle adorned with a delicate pink ribbon.

When he entered the school auditorium, Charles couldn't help but notice the curious looks of all the mothers around him, his eyes scanning the room for several minutes as he found a seat in the front row. Trapped between two young mothers, he shifted uncomfortably, feeling a little out of place among the crowd of women and even more so as he felt both ladies move closer to him.

But any discomfort disappeared when the little ones took the stage, each performance more endearing than the last. And then, when a piano song started playing and the lights went down, Y/N came out from behind the stage curtains, wearing a beautiful dress that represented a flower along with a pretty flower crown with ribbons adorning her hair. This image captured Charles's full attention, and then he saw his little daughter dressed in her pink dress and butterfly wings behind her teacher along with the rest of her classmates.

When the presentation was over, Charles approached his little daughter to give her a small bouquet of flowers especially for her, Julianne smiled delightedly, and hugged her father tightly before he gave her a second bouquet for Miss Y/N.

With a shy smile, Julianne walked towards her teacher, holding the bouquet in her small hands. "Miss Y/N, these are for you," she declared proudly, "my papa brought them specially for you."

Y/N's cheeks blushed at the unexpected gesture, her heart beat loudly and she smiled as she accepted the flowers. "Thank you, Julianne," she said, her eyes meeting Charles's for a brief moment as they both smiled shyly and nervously at each other.

Charles couldn't help but feel a surge of courage coursing through him. With Jules's excitement at his side, he took a deep breath and made his move.

He walked towards Y/N and looked into her eyes determinedly, his heart beating fast. "Y/N," he began, his voice with nervousness, "I wanted to ask you something."

''I wanted to know if you would like to go out with me sometime.... well, we both want you to go out with us, don't we, Jules?'' Charles turned to look at his daughter as she was jumping of joy causing the adults to laugh.

"Oh please, Miss Y/N, come with us to the park or to get ice cream!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement.

Charles chuckled at his daughter's enthusiasm and his heart skipped a beat. With a smile, he returned his gaze to Y/N, his eyes full of hope. "So, what do you say?" He asked with a soft voice and a playful smile on his lips.

Y/N felt the famous ''butterflies in her stomach'' when she found Charles' eyes on her.

With a shy smile, Y/N nodded and her cheeks flushed with color. "I would love to go out with you Charles and of course little Jules," she replied softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

[hotyanderedaddies]

Yandere drider x male butterfly reader. I don't see those often and it's mostly fem reader

Yandere Drider Captures You in His Web

[Yandere! Drider x M! Butterfly Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

You were flying around in the warm Spring air, enjoying the feeling of the sunbeams warming up your large, golden wings.

All of the flowers were starting to bloom, and you were looking forward to feasting on their sweet nectar. You were in awe at the sights and smells of the luscious violets, rhododendrons, and the bright red roses.

It was the roses that captured your attention the most, and you couldn't help but flutter closer to the pristine flowers, eager to taste its sweetness--

"Fuck!" you cried out as soon as you felt your beautiful wings get tangled up in something sticky that held you in place, refusing to let you go.

Out of instinct, you tried to thrash your delicate body all around, desperate to free yourself from whatever held you close-- but it was no use. No matter how hard you struggled, you couldn't get loose. In fact, it almost felt as if whatever held you was getting stronger by the second.

Your frantic eyes darted around, trying to see what held you. As soon as you saw the white, rope-like structure that held you, your heart dropped.

A spider web.

You were stuck in a spider web that was created right in front of the largest red rose in the garden that you were flying around in.

What a horrendous trap!

You tried in vain to free yourself some more, your beautiful wings completely restrained by the sticky web.

"Don't struggle too hard, Darling," a deep voice echoed out, making you freeze.

Your heat racing like crazy, you looked upwards and nearly screamed out in fear at the large drider who studied you as you were stuck in his web.

The drider's long eight legs slowly maneuvered him downwards, towards you. His eyes focused in on your terrified face, and when he smiled, you got a full view of his massive, sharp fangs that would tear through your flesh with ease.

Despite your panic, the drider's smile only grew larger as he descended, drawing closer and closer to you.

"Oh, such a pretty little butterfly that I caught in my web," the drider mused, stopping right beside you. He walked on the sticky web with ease, moving without a problem as you struggled.

He reached out with one of his claws, running the soft hand over your trembling cheek. His skin was hot to the touch, and when he touched you, you swore his smile grew in size.

"You're so pretty," the drider mused, unable to take his eyes off you.

You struggled to free yourself some more, but it was futile. You couldn't move a muscle while trapped in the web, your large wings trying to beat rapidly; but all that did was get them tangled up even more.

"I can't believe that I caught something as pretty as you in my homey, little web," the drider continued, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip.

All you could focus on were the large fangs in the drider's mouth, and when he saw your frightened expression, the drider frowned.

"Oh Darling," he cooed gently, running another hand along your cheek in a way that was meant to be comforting, "I don't know if you know this, but some driders, such as myself, don't capture cute butterflies in our webs to eat..."

He leaned in closer, pressing his warm lips to your clammy forehead.

"...but we catch you to make you ours, forever."

"Wh-what?" you barely breathed, unsure if you'd heard the drider correctly. "What do you mean?"

The drider chuckled and began to toy with the webs some more, stretching them out over your trapped body to wrap you up into a tighter, silk cocoon. He made sure that your limbs were secured in the web at your sides, making it easier for him to lift you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carried you over to the rose bush. Near the bottom was a little crevice that formed a tiny den that would hide the two of you away from the rest of the world.

"What I mean, my Darling," the drider clarified as he dragged you into his den, "is that you're not my food, but you're my love, my darling, mine.

And only mine."

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

A/N: Sorry if this one wasn't that good or accurate. I've never heard of a drider before... and I am terrified of spiders lol.

[sebastianswallows]

Dreamed of you

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit sister is sent to kill Feyd. She hesitates as she watches him sleep, all the way until he wakes up and catches her.

— WARNINGS: none, just reader simping for one cute boy

— WORDCOUNT: 1k

— A/N: First of all, this isn't necessarily movie!Feyd, it's more based on the books, but I love him in all his forms. I wrote this in a bout of madness this evening, and it's just a love letter to how beautiful and soft and sad Feyd canonically is. That is all.

A shadow in the corner moved. The door shut behind her with a hiss. Outside, the chanting of his name resounded like a distant wave. Feyd. A myriad of emotions raged inside the way that sylphic syllable was said. So mangled and intense were they that she could hardly tell, even after weeks of being on Giedi Prime, if the feeling in their voices was that of fear, or love.

He had won another battle in the arena tonight. Half-fight, half-play, all a spectacle of violence kept elegant and grim with the flourished motions of his blades in inky black and white. The celebrations were kept modest afterwards. This was no birthday.

His chambers smelled of sweet sweat and bitter blood. It filled her lungs as soon as she stepped in. He slept now, quietly, in a surprisingly small bed. As she approached him, dagger in hand, she realised it was not so small — he just took little space on it.

He slept huddled to one side, his body curled within the black sheets as if he were in a womb.

The na-Baron was an arresting sight, like a work of art left interrupted. His marble-white arms hugged a pillow to his chest, and from beneath a curve of silk draped over him, the corner of a knee peeked through. The soft line of his eyes revealed a dour bend in sleep, delicate dark lashes resting like butterfly wings on his cheeks. His full lips, decadent and lustful, were pulled into a pout. She wondered what he was dreaming of.

Beneath this impressive amalgam of his features, from the dainty to the sultry to the broad shoulders and strong arms, he was just a little boy. Motherless and far from home, preyed on by his uncle, worshipped by a distant crowd. Useless, now that the Atreides line had ended and a child had been secured from him by Lady Fenring.

The Kwisatz Haderach would have to be reached through other means, and from a bloodline less volatile than that of the Harkonnens. They had proved uncooperative, hostile — the Baron, his nephews, even Lady Jessica. Born to be an asset, they made themselves a threat. That was why Feyd-Rautha had to die.

She stood over his black bed.

The guards outside were dealt with, the courtiers were asleep, and the drunk and maddened crowd outside would not realise what happened until it was too late. This was the result of years of planning, months of preparation, and weeks spent on that polluted planet pretending to be one of the new interrogation trainers.

Torturing was not her forté, but there were worse fates than cutting men’s tendons clean or gouging out their eyeballs. All the “noble” prisoners were already long dead before she got there. Failed Harkonnens was all that was left. And all men bled the same.

She stood over his black bed with a knife.

“He must die,” she thought to herself, an angry frown blooming on her brow. Her body was already rebelling. “The Reverend Mother demands it. He must die.”

She stood over his black bed with a knife. And faltered.

The blade shone silver in the low electric light, hanging like a teardrop from her fist. Her body refused to move.

Should she really kill him now? Perhaps she should wait for him to turn on his back. What would it hurt to look at him a second more, just another, and another…? He was a good fighter, no matter the arrangements of the arena. Would it not be ignoble to slay him this way? Generations of genetic planning had culminated in him, and to let it all go now...

Her mind’s motions, the fleshy resistance, it all came to nothing in an instant, blown away like snowflakes on the sand. There was a change in the air all around them, a stillness where unconsciousness was before, a presence, like a horn blown through a storm in the lighthouses of old, sounds swallowed by sounds, an impact of cells in the air blooming into a single point of light. Feyd-Rautha opened his eyes.

She only caught the hint of an impish smile before she backed away as quickly as an indrawn breath. Her back hit the door and her hand scrambled for the handle, but he was upon her with the same speed he applied in his gladiatorial fights.

How could she have missed the signs that he had woken? Had his breathing even changed?

“Got you now,” he purred against her cheek, “Bene Gesserit.”

She bit back a scream, her skull pressed against the metal door, and with clenched teeth, she began a sharp command — the Voice. But her anger overwhelmed her and Feyd’s lips swallowed the words she hadn’t even finished speaking.

“Let me g—”

He kissed her like a lover. There was a passion in him that his ostentations of brutality had not yet killed and she found herself moaning, instinctively pleased with the full and masculine presence that swallowed her being — as if it wasn’t a murderer who had caught her just now.

His breathing was steady, as if he had planned all of that. From beyond the thick folds of her dress, she could feel his naked flesh. They clung to him, her clothes, as if they wanted to embrace him. His left hand held her fist, the blade trapped within their entangled grip. The other held her jaw, tilting her face high enough for his lips.

“I knew you’d come,” he breathed, pausing to rest his mouth on hers. She could taste ink on her tongue — the final traces from the coating on his teeth. “I dreamed of you.”

So that was how he knew. That was why he pouted in his sleep.

“Will you kill me?” he whispered.

She could feel it on her cheeks when that boyish smile of his grew.

“I have to,” she said, and her own voice betrayed her, sounding terribly broken.

“Try,” Feyd grinned.

[sunvylovebug]

His everything

↬ Warnings: None! …⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

↬ Gender Neutral!Reader and second person narration (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

↬ Author Note: This is something I wrote back in 2022, I've changed and modified things to transform and improve it. Since Lycaon was so loved with what I wrote in Flowers I decided to write it about him, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated, thank you so much and please enjoy<3!

↬ Summary: He's so in love with you.

↬ Word Count: 670 Words

Lycaon thinks you're the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes upon. Whenever you're near, he finds it increasingly difficult to maintain his usual professional demeanor, as your mere presence makes his pulse quicken and his composure falter, his cheeks would turn pink when seeing yours up while you have the biggest and prettiest smile on your face. His tail moves from side to side excitedly, his ears always alert to everything you have to say, if you noticed that, it would be so easy to realize that he's madly in love with you.

Lycaon knows, with absolute certainty, that you're the one for him, there's no way he's wrong about it. You are the butterfly he has been chasing, its delicate wings so breathtakingly lovely that all who behold it are left in awe.

You're beautiful, but you're more beautiful when you smile at children who ask you questions based on pure curiosity, you're beautiful when you have your hair combed with a small flower, and even with all the movement you do when moving from one side to the other, it doesn't fall and remains still in your hair, just as he remains by your side even though life has shaken him away so many times.

He wants to tell you that you're beautiful, so beautiful that you make his heart race like never before, so beautiful that he loves you so much. He is in awe of you, of how you manage to be both strong and gentle, both hardworking and graceful. You're his sun, his moon, his everything, the very reason he pushes himself to work harder each and every day. To be able to witness your radiance, to bask in your light, is the greatest gift he could ever receive.

He knows that you're everything he has ever wanted in life, so perfect, yes, you are perfect, and he wouldn't get tired of thinking that, you're perfect, you are what keeps him working so hard day after day, Lycaon is happy to be there to see you. Whether it is the first golden rays of dawn caressing your face or the soft, ethereal glow of the moon enveloping you, he can tell you're a sight to behold.

You're the center of his universe, the one who makes his world spin. And he knows, with a certainty that fills his very soul, that he will never tire of marveling at your perfection, of cherishing your beauty, of loving you with every single fiber of his being.

The rest of Victoria Housekeeping Co. tell him that he fell madly in love, they noticed the way he looks at you, his love was obvious, but he inevitably feels that you are a star, so far out of his reach, you're the brightest person, the first he has completely fallen in love with...

He's like a moth attracted to fire, he's attracted to you with all his heart, soul, all his being, and yes, the fire burns, but he would bear the pain just to be near this fire that is you. This love is something he never thought he would feel, but there he is, thinking that you're the most brilliant and most beautiful human being who ever lived.

He's in love, so in love with you that even if the days are dark for him, you make it bright with just your smile. He's in love, very much in love, he has become a fool fallen into this dark hole and you're the one who brought him here, but he doesn't feel bad about it, after all he always wanted to be in that place if it was because of you

You're a dream, or at least that's what he thinks, but when he sees you in front of him, you're no longer a dream, you're a reality that he has to face, but he loves it cause his reality is you and it's beautiful because it's you.

Perfect, you're perfect, too perfect to be true...

[lace-coffin]

hello! Could you do something about Asa after he spends like, a good your looking for his newest member of the collection, and when he finds them, their just, surrounded by diff bugs?

Theres like, crickets in their hair, moths and butterfly all over their arms a few spiders crawling around their legs and their holding a praying mantis in their hands and staring at in awe. Their also babying talking it and cooing at it, when they look up and realize Asa is staring at them, they raise their cupped hands a show him the giant mantis resting their, saying with a cherry yet soft voice and smile "I named her Apple!"

I would appreciate it very much if you wrote something about this :)

But you don't have to, for any reason really.

Have a lovely night/day! Be sure to drink water and eat 💕

How would Asa Emory react to finding his new pet coddling his bugs?

Asa Emory/gn!Reader

Tw for bugs and power dynamics

Requests are open!

Asa moved through the halls of the hotel with efficiency, he knew them like the back of his hand, however that apparently wasn’t helping since he’d managed to...misplace his new pet.

You were supposed to be in your room, you were lucky you had even been granted the luxury of not just being crumpled into one of the boxes, but here Asa is, speeding down the halls and jumping/swerving around his traps like some kind of sick ballet in order to find you. You absolutely won’t be getting out of this without some serious punishment.

Asa curses at himself under his breath for making his place of operations so huge, it seemed like a good idea when he set up here and it was but damn if it wasn’t his Achilles heel in this situation.

Fifteen minutes of searching later his heart is picking up in an unfamiliar way, usually he’s not one to care about others or a stray victim but something in him can’t help but worry about loosing his newest subject already. Whether it’s because he cares for you or because he hates not being in control is anyone’s guess. (He’s soft for you and won’t admit it)

Finally as he’s cracking open a door at the end of the hallway he hears a sweet laugh echoing from further along. Bingo. You’re so dead when he finds you. As he’s about to slam the door open he realises this is infact where he keeps his enclosures for his specimens, he sighs and opts to open the door slowly and quietly as not to startle the bugs.

You don’t even notice Asa enter the room, currently too enthralled in cooing sweet words to the giant mantis in your hands.

Before Asa can demand to know where you’ve been and why, his breath hitches in his throat. There you are, sat on your knees next to the enclosure cases, covered from head to toe in his beloved bugs. The calm careful way you handle them and talk to them like they can understand tugs at his heart, his face softens at the sight, anger long forgotten and replaced by a feeling of fondness, the same one he felt when he was originally scouting you to join his collection.

The crickets cling to your stands of hair, a little messy since you had left your room before Asa got to around to brushing it but he’ll fix that later, sitting contently like they’d never been disturbed in the first place.

Moths and butterflies tap their tiny feet along your arms, fluttering their delicate wings, taking off and landing back with you when they please.

Asa takes in the scene breathlessly, if he hadn’t already been weak for you then he definitely is now. As he approaches by a few steps some thick hairy legs come into view, creeping slowly over your thighs and onto your lap. Tarantulas, two of them, using you as a lap cushion without a care in the world. You really are something special. In the back of his mind Asa makes another note to keep approaching slowly, despite you needing a punishment he’s not exactly wanting his eight legged pets to kick hairs at you in fright.

After a few minutes of blissfully observing one of the tarantulas unhurriedly totters off your leg and begins to move across the room. “Oh, where are you off to little guy? I need you over here with me, I’m already probably in big trouble with sir” you sigh. “I don’t want to loose you and make it worse, besides, I don’t think I could forgive myself if something happened to you under my watch”

In a strange way you suppose you understood Asa’s need to keep you under wraps right now, not wanting this beautiful specimen to disappear from your sight, much like Asa with you.

You swivel on your knees to coax the spider back into your palms, nudging its abdomen for encouragement and letting it waddle back into your hands. From your new position you catch a glimpse of heavy black boots in your peripheral. Oh.

You turn your attention fully to the man above you, heart racing at the idea of what’s about to come, however as you reach his eyes they aren’t filled with the rage or disappointment you were expecting. The black orbs are filled with softness, fondness, almost something sweet you can’t decipher.

Without thinking you present the giant mantis to Asa, still on your knees. “I named her apple!” A beat passes and an array of emotions flutter through Asa’s steely heart, his blank face still giving nothing away. After what feels like an eternity he crouches down in front of you, cupping his hands under your own, assisting in holding the mantis. “A fine name for her, pet. Do you know what species Apple is by chance?” He says in his firm but calm, leading voice, slipping into the tone he uses when teaching his lectures without even realising it.

“Uh-no, no I don’t sir…tell me?” You say, wincing a little at the stumble at the beginning, hoping asking him to tell you didn’t come off as rude or undermining his authority. Asa smiles, not letting anything on.

“She is a Giant Asian Mantis, or Hierodula membranacea, If you want to get technical. These are the most commonly kept mantis as house pets and come in an array of colours, but as you can see, apple is mostly light green. I think your name fits her nicely.” Asa explains matter of factly, hands still cupped under yours for Apple to totter onto.

“Woah” you say without thinking, watching Apple move to Asa’s palms and taking in the information. Asa exhales from his nose in a small chuckle. “Woah indeed, however I think it’s time we get you and Apple back to your respective rooms” Asa says with a quirked eyebrow, giving away that your not going to get away with this unpunished just because he finds you endearing.

Asa helps you round up the specimens and places them back in their individual tanks. After making sure you both wash your hands thoroughly he takes your now clean hand and walks you back to your room, letting you ask him more bug questions as you walk.

Despite how lovely this has been you’ll still be given a stern talking to once you return, Asa can’t bring himself to punish you for your little adventure and entomology lesson but isn’t one to let you off the hook without some kind of consequence, after all he expects your complete submission and obedience and won’t settle for any less. But for now that convocation can wait, and Asa can get you comfy on your knees infront of him, manoeuvring your head via the ring on your collar and finally working the comb through the snags in your hair with care.

I hope you enjoy this! Your rq was super fun to do and the idea was really cool! Thank you so much and feel free to send me more < 3

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ✩࿐

pairings: kazuha, scaramouche, and xiao x gn!reader (separate)

content: fluff, actor au, mutual pining, idiots in love (affectionate), kissing

summary: in which you kiss your pretty co-star for a scene of the new drama you’re filming. the twist? he’s head over heels in love with you!

a/n: also, this is very unlikely, but if you’ve seen this before, it’s because i messed up and posted it by accident before editing it one final time.

KAZUHA is a love interest straight out of the most euphoric of dreams and the most fantastical of fairytales. He’s sweet, gentle, and considerate, and each time the cameras start rolling, it almost feels as though nothing has changed. He’s the same charming and thoughtful boy you’ve grown to know and love. The only differences in his demeanor are subtle — hidden in the smallest of actions.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Kazuha asks you as he reads over his lines one last time. “If you have any objections, I can ask someone to revise the script.”

As a renowned actor, Kazuha has a considerable amount of power. If he was more selfish, he would have abused his position. However, he typically never objects to anything the directors tell him to do. He simply follows orders. Unless, of course, you’re uncomfortable with anything.

It’s funny. Whenever Kazuha’s told to do something, he has no complaints. He reminds you of liberating winds — able to blow on and persist in any situation. But when it comes to you, he doesn’t have any problems with telling the director to make subtle changes to scenes.

Somehow he’s even more charming than any love interest in a romance drama could ever be. In fact, working on set with Kazuha already makes you feel like you’re living in a fantasy formed in the mind of a hopeless romantic, so it’s no surprise that you’ve developed a bit of a crush on the sweet boy.

“No, it’s fine,” you answer your co-star. You try to act nonchalant, but in reality, your heart is fluttering like the delicate wings of the iridescent butterflies tickling the pit of your stomach. Every moment with him causes a hurricane of giddiness to well up within you. A kiss scene with Kazuha sounds like a dream come true.

“Alright then. Let’s get started,” the director interrupts your conversation — an exchange he was clearly listening in on. “Places, everyone!”

Both you and Kazuha exchange and glance and then get into position. You enter a house designated for the shooting of your drama while Kazuha stands outside in the warm streetlight. A singular call of “Lights! Camera! Action!” — followed by the beginnings of an artificial storm — are your only cues before the crew begins to film.

The scene starts with the ring of a doorbell. It’s a sound that reverberates in the face of overwhelming silence and melancholy, disturbing the peaceful waters atop an ocean of stillness. The sound summons you to the door, and as you twist and pull on the knob, a shivering figure is revealed. It’s Kazuha.

“Oh, hi,” you say, flawlessly adjusting your tone ever-so-slightly to fit the character you’re portraying. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

The droplets of rain falling from the false sky are bothersome, but Kazuha covers everything up with a perfect performance.

“Hi,” he whispers breathlessly. His voice is as gentle as ever, and the way he looks at you with eyes overrun with wonder makes your heart flutter. Stars glowing with a light reminiscent of Polaris seem to appear in his irises, beaming at you with adoration that appears just a bit too genuine.

“Why are you here?” you ask him, trying your best to morph your expression into one that conveys disbelief and concern.

“I just… wanted to see you,” the words fall from Kazuha’s lips effortlessly. His tone is warm, a soft blanket wrapping around your heart with the comfort of a thousand spring sunbeams. He’s so incredibly perfect.

“But you didn’t have to show up in the middle of a storm!” you insist.

Kazuha laughs sheepishly.

“I guess I just couldn’t contain myself,” he admits. After a long pause, he speaks again. “To be honest, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”

Your breath hitches. Here it comes.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally admits. His crimson eyes burn with a passion that is unmatched, and although they are calmer than aquamarine waters on peaceful summer days, they also hold an intensity akin to the heart of winter’s glacial plagues. Even though his words are scripted, you can’t deny that the beating of your heart begins to pick up.

“You don’t have to say that you love me too,” he adds. “I just wanted you to know.” Kazuha sends a soft smile your way, his features morphing to convey nothing more than pure, everlasting endearment.

You let the silence that follows stretch on for a few seconds before speaking.

“But I do love you.”

Kazuha’s eyes widen, and somehow, his gaze softens even more. For a moment, he stands still, caught in a daze. However, it isn’t long before he recites his next line.

“Then… may I?” he glances at your lips as he speaks, and it’s clear what he means.

You nod. “I want this just as much as you,” you whisper. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.” Your voice comes out choked, trembling like an autumn leaf fluttering amidst inconstant wind. You mean it, but he’ll never know.

With that, he leans towards you. For a moment, all you can think about is him. His pale skin made cold by the rain, irises that appear as beautiful as lakes filled with the most precious of glimmering rubies, hair fashioned from guiding starlight, and a voice softer than the most touching of nature’s fantasias.

And when his lips meet yours, it’s like fireworks go off in the pit of your stomach, illuminating every bit of your soul with a joy that permeates even the darkest of thoughts. He’s sweet, gentle, considerate, and he treats you like you’re the most delicate thing in the world — as if you could break at any moment. Everything feels so incredibly warm despite the fact that his lips have been cooled by the ongoing storm.

He places his hand on your cheek as the kiss deepens and smiles slightly. It almost feels as though his feelings run deeper. But that’s just a delusion you’re forging in your mind because you’ve fallen for him, right?

Perhaps, but as you pull away and the director ends the scene with a loud “Cut!” Kazuha’s face lingers near yours for a few seconds, his eyes scanning your expression for something entirely unknown to you.

“Let’s do this again sometime,” he whispers in your ear, grinning at you cheekily before he quickly leaves, presumably to check in with his management team.

It takes you a minute to break out of the hazy stupor that Kazuha’s kiss induced, but once you do, you realize the implications of his parting words.

He wants to kiss you again!

SCARAMOUCHE acts indifferent. Apathy runs rampant through every constellation within the galaxies that are his eyes, and a permanent scowl seems to be etched onto his face whenever he’s not being filmed. It’s shocking how different he is when the cameras start rolling.

“Let’s get this over with,” Scaramouche mutters under his breath as he walks by you. The two of you take your places, slipping masks of infatuation onto your faces. Except unbeknownst to you, Scaramouche isn’t quite putting up a façade. The director gives you a cue, and then you’re off.

“Please don’t leave,” Scaramouche whispers, his personality and mannerisms changing up in a complete 180. He’s nothing like himself right now, and no matter how much of a jerk he is when you’re not filming, you have to admit that he’s a skilled actor. The way his voice breaks almost makes you believe that his words are sincere. Almost.

“I don’t have a choice,” you say, delivering the lines you have rehearsed too many times to count. You channel every ounce of raw emotion within you to pull off a touching performance, and it seems to be working. The director hasn’t stopped you yet, and he’s a man with rather harsh standards.

A silence ensues. You look up as practiced, meeting Scaramouche’s gaze. In that moment, you almost break character when you see his eyes. They’re watering. Oceans of grief pool up as he stares at you, looking at you as if he’ll never see you again. Right now, the inky depths of his indigo irises appear more captivating than ever.

Something about his pain feels real, as if he’s experienced the heartbreak that comes with abandonment before. It’s almost as though he’s simply tapping into a facet of himself that he hides. And despite the fact that you don’t always get along with Scaramouche, you feel the urge to hug him and shower him in affection.

“Will you come back?” Scaramouche’s gaze turns wistful as he speaks, his entire expression glittering with hints of hope and light.

“I will,” you say under your breath. “I promise.”

You take a step toward him and caress his cheek, relishing in the softness of his skin as you brush your fingers along his jawline. A light pink dusts his cheeks. If you were less professional, you would have imploded upon seeing his blush. The fact that he can elicit such a response on command is awe-inspiring, and plus, he looks incredibly adorable — nothing like the grouchy Scaramouche you’re used to.

With gentle movements, you take his chin in your hand and glance down at his lips with what you hope is a look of unadulterated passion and admiration. “May I?” you whisper. The softness of your voice surprises even you.

Scaramouche hesitates and then nods shyly — a perfect portrayal of the timid character he’s playing. He’s incredible.

Slowly, you inch toward him, watching as he narrows his eyes and parts his lips slightly. He’s so pretty, and in that moment, you can’t help but admire him. Messy strands of hair reminiscent of nightfall adorn his forehead, and his pale skin is tinted with the subtlest hint of colour.

For a second, as his face is hidden from the camera by the back of your head, he reverts to his typical self. He opens his eyes just a little wider, and exchanges a glance with you. A brief hint of emotion flashes through his irises. You’ve been working with him long enough to know what he’s trying to say. Don’t mess this up.

Things move in slow motion. Time stretches from seconds to millennia, and his expression reverts back to the picture-perfect look of a young man who’s innocently falling into the temptation of blissful love.

And when your lips finally connect in a kiss, you are fully immersed in the delusion of the scene. You wholeheartedly believe that he loves you. From your sentiments stems a warm feeling that bubbles up in the pit of your stomach. It’s soft and ticklish, and it only gets stronger as his lips move against yours.

He sighs into the kiss, and when you open your eyes in order to observe his face, you notice that his own eyes are closed, and he seems completely lost in the moment. At this point, it doesn’t even feel like he’s playing a character anymore. It almost feels as though everything is authentic.

However, when you part, reality hits you like the first snowstorms of winter — harsh, biting, and unrelenting in its pursuit. Scaramouche was only playing his part. Although everything had felt genuine, you know that it was just a mask he put on for the screen.

But as you finish up the scene, you fail to notice the way he walks away with a sunset pink blush tinting his cheeks. He touches his fingers to his lips in a daze and smiles the slightest bit.

“What an idiot,” he scoffs under his breath, but no matter how harsh his tone is, he is unable to conceal the hints of underlying affection in his voice. “Just how long will it take them to notice that I’m not acting?”

XIAO is usually extremely professional, and that’s more or less all you can say about him.

On camera, he is able to act as a charismatic, although slightly shy, love interest, but for whatever reason, things with him just feel so much more awkward when you’re not filming. Most of the time, he tries his best to avoid you as if interacting with you is a scenario straight from his nightmares.

And maybe it is, because on the rare occasions where you manage to catch Xiao off guard and strike up a conversation with him, his responses to your questions are always blunt. But it never really feels like he hates you. It just seems that he’s not the best at socializing.

Things between you are rather awkward, despite the fact that you’re co-stars. So when you’re told that you have to kiss each other for an episode of the drama you’re filming, you feel as though your world is ending.

Sure, Xiao is incredibly attractive with his golden eyes, tinted a colour reminiscent of the sweetest honey; seafoam hair that never fails to remind you of the mystifying ocean; and a pair of pink lips that look impossibly soft. He’s tantalizing, and a kiss with him wouldn’t be so bad — if not for the concerns that flood your troubled mind.

But unfortunately for you, there’s no way to retaliate when the director tells you that the shooting of the scene is about to commence. You just have to go with the flow and hope for the best.

As you pass by Xiao on your way to your places, you whisper a soft “good luck” so that only he can hear you. He nods in acknowledgement, and if your eyes aren’t deceiving you, the slightest smile appears on his face.

You sit down at the edge of a grassy cliff and wait. Meanwhile, you hear the sound of Xiao walking to a spot a short distance away from you. You take a deep breath, getting into character and gazing at the dazzling lights and countless galaxies in the night sky above.

Soon enough, the director calls for you to begin, and the atmosphere falls silent. The only sound you can hear within the stillness is the crunching of leaves under Xiao’s feet. You can’t see him, but you know he’s coming up behind you.

And after a few seconds, the sound of footsteps diminishes into nothingness.

“Hey,” Xiao’s voice rings out from behind you.

As scripted, you ignore him and continue looking ahead as if his presence is insignificant. The grass rustles as he sits down beside you, and in the edges of your vision, you can see him directing his gaze towards you.

“Are you alright?” he asks you.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying your best to emulate a tone that conveys nothing but the utmost irritation.

To your surprise, Xiao flinches slightly. That isn’t part of the script.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?” he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears as he questions you.

You shake your head. “I said I’m fine.”

Both you and Xiao allow silence fill the atmosphere for a few moments, adding to the dramatic effect of the scene, before speaking again.

“I don’t believe you,” Xiao says, leaning closer to you to examine your expression.

Somehow, you’re able to remain calm despite the fact that the boy who makes you feel a plethora of emotions as numerous as the stars overhead is so close to you. It’s going surprisingly well so far.

And perhaps that is where you jinx yourself because the events that unfold afterwards are disastrous.

“Why do you even care? I thought you didn’t like me!” you scream.

Xiao jolts, and in that moment, the fear, confusion, and utter dismay flashing across his face act as a testament to his acting skills. He’s extremely talented.

Yet again, the night goes silent before Xiao utters, “I do like you — love you, even.” His words are soft, but you’re sure that the production crew managed to pick them up, and that’s all that matters.

Your entire world stops for a moment.

“I do care about you,” Xiao reiterates, “Because I love you.”

Your mind goes blank. Why do his words feel so real?

It takes a few seconds for you to recover from your shock, but when you do, your voice comes out softer than ever.

“I love you too.”

For a few seconds, you look up to meet Xiao’s gaze, losing yourself in the sunkissed dandelion hues of his irises. He smiles at you, and you smile back. His gaze shifts down to your lips.

“Is it okay if I…?” he trails off, and in addition, you swear that you can feel heat radiating off his cheeks. Is he too shy to finish the sentence?

That seems to be the case because for a split second, all he can do is stare at your lips as though he’s frozen in place. You decide to take matters into your own hands and play it off as intentional.

“Yes,” you whisper quietly. “Kiss me.”

With that, Xiao snaps out of his trance and takes both your cheeks in his hands before inching his lips closer and closer towards yours. The fact that the director hasn’t stopped you yet spurs you on because it means that this take is still salvageable.

Time seems to move in slow motion as the distance between you and Xiao closes. But although it feels like it takes forever, it’s only seconds before your lips meet Xiao’s in a gentle kiss that sends butterflies racing through the pit of your stomach.

The warmth of his skin on yours accelerates the beating of your heart, making you feel almost dizzy as the world around you seems to melt into a jumble of nothingness. All that matters at the moment is the two of you.

But unfortunately, you still have a role to play, so after a few moments of absolute bliss, you pull away from Xiao in order to continue on. However, when you do, you see that under the beams of artificial light that spill from around the set, his face is dusted pink.

“How was it?” you ask, grinning at Xiao. You hope and pray to the archons that he won’t mess anything up.

“I — uhm…” Xiao tries to speak, but all that comes out is a stutter. A stunned silence is all that follows. This is bad.

“Cut!” the director yells, breaking through the tranquility of night. “Xiao, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry,” Xiao mutters, looking down to conceal the last of the blush on his face.

The director sighs. “You know what this means, right? We’ll have to reshoot that scene, and yes, that means you’ll have to kiss [name] again. Can you handle that?”

You feel Xiao tense up slightly, but to your surprise, he looks up at the director and speaks. “I have no objections. I’ll kiss them as many times as it takes to finish this.” He says the words so eagerly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought that he wanted to kiss you more.

Needless to say, the night ends with countless kisses, each one sweeter than the last as exhaustion melts away the ice caging your hearts. And once and for all, your chemistry onscreen becomes undeniably perfect.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, please consider commenting or reblogging! It helps a lot.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Full HCs of the M6 with wings please 🙏🏽

The Arcana HCs: M6 with wings

Julian

His wings look much like a raven's, except where there would be shades of blue when the light hits them, it's deep burgundy for him

Generally so sleek that he can fold them alongside his oversized coat and they're almost impossible to differentiate

One oddly humorous side effect of this is the way it affects his body language. Being such an expressive storyteller, his coat will look like it has a life of its own as he wildly gestures along

Not the best at remembering to take care of them and will melt into a puddle of affection-starved goo as soon as you start helping him preen and maintain them. Loves rambling about the anatomy

Repurposes his own shed feathers as quills

Likes wrapping them around you when he's giving you one of his all-encompassing hugs, otherwise, he keeps them in his space

Will get sooo fluffed out when you fluster him that his coat will start flapping like it's in a storm and his wings will get even bushier than his eyebrows. Feathers will start to fly if it's intense

Much prefers walking to flying unless absolutely necessary, but will make exceptions if it's to go on an adventure with you

Asra

Their wings are closely tied to their magic, and as such are very difficult to fully comprehend. They look like gravity-defying water

More specifically, his wings look a fairy's or a fly's wings, translucent with ever-shifting swirls and patterns, subtly glowing with a myriad of colors that blend into a pearly blue-ish purple

Their wings are also something they generally don't show in public - they fold down below their shoulders like a cape and lie flat below their rainbow coat. They don't care to draw attention to them

Nobody knows what exactly wing maintenance involves, all you know is that every full moon or so he goes swimming in the cave and seems extra glowy afterwards

Can and will use them like prisms during lazy mornings sleeping in and scatter rainbows all over the place

Has been known to paint on them like stained glass when they're bored. They do invite you to join in, but they're awfully ticklish

Tends to idly hover when he flies, but the one or two times you've seen him motivated to go fast he practically flashes across the sky. You're sure he's cheating aerodynamics somehow but he won't tell

Nadia

While the shape of her wings resembles an owl's, their gauzy, shimmery surface look almost like a butterfly's - if a butterfly's wings could fold back and drape elegantly along golden lines

The deep royal purple of them and the pink shimmer when the light hits them makes them look deceptively delicate. Nadia's wings are not fragile in the slightest

You did see her incorporate them into her swordplay, once, and the impact of one of them hitting her opponent sent them sailing across the ring. They are not to be messed with

While she doesn't show them off, she's not shy about them either. She spends hours maintaining them and coordinates ornaments for them to match her outfit and the occasion

Loves cupping one around your shoulders and back whenever you stand next to her, both to warm you and to protect you

Can gain the attention of a room of nobles simply by fluttering them, and uses this skill regularly and effectively

Will lightly brush your jaw with them when she walks by

Flies like a fighter jet. You've never seen acrobatics like these

Muriel

He dislikes his wings about as much as he dislikes the rest of his body, which is both saddening and par for the course

Like the rest of him, his wings are strong, big, heavy, and thick. You'd compare them to a bat, but the fur on the outside is as long and coarse as a bear's and there are powerful sinews throughout

You don't find this out for a while, but the insides of his wings are warm and leathery, covered in soft fine hairs, and very safe and comforting when you need shielding from harsher elements

Very self-conscious about the scarring and size of them

Keeps them folded in so tightly they look permanently cramped and uncomfortable, and only fully extends them when he absolutely has to. He does avoid flying because of this

As for the scarring - well - it's crisscrossed all over after years of combat, the edges are shredded and tattered in places, and you can tell where some bones and cartilage broke and healed crooked

The first time he let you sit behind him, wash and comb the fur, and finally moisturize them, he was able to let them hang loose for the rest of the day without needing to draw them in again

Portia

She has bird wings much like her brother, but they're considerably fluffier, stronger, and have the colors of a warm sunset

Keeps them neatly folded against her back while she's working, but otherwise they're fluffing and twitching and swaying behind her while she's laughing and chatting with you and her friends

Switches between flying and walking without thinking about it - she needs to get across the canal? She's not bothering with a bridge, she's taking a hop, flap, and a flutter to the other side

Loves using them to snuggle you. Whether it's casual brushes against your arms, folding around your waist to hug you, resting over your head when it starts to rain, it's all fair game

This is overall very pleasant, because she takes thorough care of them and the downy soft undersides feel like falling into the fluffiest cloud you could possibly imagine

Will use them to nudge people out of the way if she feels like her (or your) personal space isn't being respected

Her wings are so feather-dense that she does shed quite a lot and you find sunset feathers anywhere she sits or lies down

Lucio

He loves showing them off and he hates comments about their traits. Morga once told you that they were snowy white when he was a child, but over the years got streaked with red and black

They're webbed, thin enough to look like frost, with fine golden veins. Over time the sinews and bones took on crimson and charcoal black colors and he's rather proud of the effect

What he's less likely to flaunt is the deep, jagged scar slicing through one side that he got when he lost his arm

He effectively turned it into artwork with a golden tattoo, but he still tends to carefully position his gauntlet to cover for it

This in no way stops him from parading his wings otherwise. They're always halfway unfurled, poised like he's about to take flight, and matching his face for expressiveness

Startle him, and they'll fly above his head in shock before they ruffle and bristle and rustle around his shoulders as he loudly insists that he wasn't surprised at all, just playing along, no really!

Likes gently booping your nose with them to get your attention

Tends to compare his wings to others when he's insecure

[grandlinedreams]

The first time Law kisses you, it's a kiss in the barest sense of the term ㅡ no grand gesture of love, declaration of devotion or outpour of passion.

No, the first time Law kisses you, it's on your hand, and it's because he's afraid you're going to die.

He's done everything that he can, both of his own skill and with his devil fruit ㅡ tediously sewn you back together and tucked wounds tight with neat stitches and sterile white bandages.

Everything else is on you.

He counts your breathing (in, out. Steady, unstuttered.) and the warmth of your skin, tries not to think about how too pale you look.

Death is not something Law is unfamiliar with, not by a long shot. An old bedfellow of sorts, perhaps, given his own line of brushes with those skeletal hands.

Death doesn't care how much he cares, needs more than him, metted out by invisible forces stronger than him. All he can do is hope (a fragile, fickle thing, requests often ignored, unanswered) is that he's done enough to bar Death from stealing you too.

"You can't die on me too," he mutters, voice low and alone, body bent in the chair he's pulled to your bed, ignoring the exhausted burn of his eyes. He's afraid to blink ㅡ that between one and the next, you'll be gone, and there's nothing he can do.

He takes your hand into his. Smaller, a little less calloused, thumbing at your knuckles. He mentally names the bones beneath his touch, the delicate veins, muscles, tendons ㅡ and brings your hand to his lips.

The brush of his lips to your skin is light, the caress of butterfly wings, but lingers. Afraid to pull away, afraid to let go.

Maybe he's doomed you in some way, letting you nestle ever closer and closer with lingering looks, small smiles, the soft banter. He knows what happens when people get too close, when he wants too much, needs people ㅡ he's been lucky so far with his crew.

Perhaps he's tempted the callous, uncaring hand of fate too much, tested his thread-thin luck too far.

Maybe he should pray. He doesn't believe much in the merit of gods and their divine sway, because why would they waste time in answering him? If they know of him, they've made it clear that he doesn't deserve much, even with what he has.

So he sits, your hand to his lips, counting your breath like the beads of a rosary. And he lets himself hope.

[taintandviolent]

Drives Me Insane ; Jimmy Darling x Reader

summary: What started off as an innocent, summer picnic at the beach turned into a naughty dalliance with the one and only Jimmy Darling. 🦞 Reader is from Southern California.

word count: 2.4K words!

w a r n i n g s: SMUT, as per usual, kissing, PDA and semi-public sex (sort of), oral sex.

a/n: I just had this brainrot idea of Jimmy Darling at the beach and I had to get it down. I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I did writing and daydreaming about it!!! not beta-read.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / written to this

Your feet kicked water up towards the dry sand as you walked, hand in hand with The Lobster Boy. Outside of the circus tent, he was as normal as every other guy. Better, in fact, than most of the guys you'd tried to go steady with. From his manners to his looks, he had you wrapped around one of his conjoined fingers. And he'd done it in only a day. To be fair, you knew that he likely did this with every girl he met in every town he travelled in, but he was sure making you feel special.

Butterflies still flapped their excited little wings in your stomach from you and Jimmy's closeness in the ocean. You two had gone out just far enough, the tips of your toes still hitting sand. He had hoisted you up out of the water each time a big wave came, gripping you firmly at the waist with his big hands. You couldn't help but laugh each time, holding on tight to the curve of his shoulders. At one point, he'd pulled you in for a kiss and wrapped both arms around you, his hands just grazing the top of your ass. You shivered and blamed the cold water.

Jimmy dropped down to the blanket, lounging happily. You towelled yourself off delicately, wicking away the crystalline drops that dotted your skin. His hair was only damp at the nape of his neck, but Jimmy didn't seem to mind his body being wet. You didn't mind it either - not after seeing the way the water glistened on his abdomen. After taking your hair out of the swimcap, you shook your head lightly, your lush curls bouncing with the motion. Thankfully, your style had maintained itself. Finally, you joined him on the blanket, stretching your legs out over the edge to dip your toes into the warm sand.

A seagull sang its shrill song above you, and you watched through squinted eyes as it flew towards the horizon, gliding over the breeze. With the sand between your red-tipped toes, the briny sea air tousling your locks, and a handsome guy by your side, you were in heaven. Everything about this felt like a movie, from the cute little picnic basket he'd brought, to the way that the sun glittered, reflecting off the waves as they crashed onto the shore. You looked over, watching Jimmy Darling as he lazily watched the sea, propping himself up on his elbows. He was still shirtless and wore a pair of yellow Catalina swim trunks that complimented the tanness of his skin beautifully. His muscles were on display for you to ogle, which you did willingly. He really was handsome; an All-American Boy with his chocolatey eyes and sugar-sweet smile.

Noticing that your attention was on him, he immediately sat up, reaching for the picnic basket. "You want a sandwich or somethin'? A soda? What can I getcha', doll?"

He was so attentive to your needs – butterflies fluttered again in your stomach at the thought. With a demure, red-lipped smile, you shook your head and with the back of your hand, brushed away the strand of hair that had blown across your face. 

"No, nothing, Jimmy. I was just looking at you..." Your voice was soft, sweet, and to Jimmy, had a hint of that Southern California accent. 

"Oh yea?" He asks, shifting his weight to lean closer to you. His eyes darted to your lips and with a cheeky grin, his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth, wanting to taste you. 

"Yeah!" you said back, playfully stern. You pivoted your body to face his, daring him to counter you. And... He did, by dipping his head down to plant a quick kiss on your waiting lips. You tittered, delighted, licking the remnants of him off your lips. 

"Mmh," he hummed, kissing you again. And again. "Mmmh! Baby! You taste like a.. like a cupcake or somethin', you know that?" 

His big, strong hands roamed your body, starting at your thighs and moving up and around to the small of your back. His touch was feverish and hungry, and you watched them as they moved. He heard your breath hitch and redirected his kisses to your collarbone, suddenly hungrier. He sucked at the skin, surely leaving hickeys in his path.

"Jimmy– Jimmy!" You bowed your head, almost ducking away from him.

"Sorry, baby, I just can't keep my hands off of ya'."

"...drives me insane..." you whispered, before turning your eyes to the horizon. You were getting too turned on to think clearly, and the knot in your stomach wound tighter around itself. You wanted him. Bad.

Your eyes lifted, looking sheepishly up at the other beachy patrons as they passed, their feet leaving imprints on the sand in front of you. Some of them watched as Jimmy nuzzled into your neck, smearing hungry kisses along your skin. His hands were wrapped around you and hiding behind your back, so to most, you assumed you looked like a normal couple, happily canoodling by the seaside. You felt the sting of disapproval from some older onlookers, but the way that Jimmy was kissing and sucking on the nape of your neck was too distracting -- you couldn't find it in you to care enough to stop him a second time.

Jimmy – now Jimmy was on cloud nine. The sun was warm on his shoulders, the breeze fluffing his caramel locks, and a pretty girl was in his arms. Nothin' better in his mind. As soon as the troupe had pulled into Santa Monica, parking their caravans and setting up in an empty lot near the beach, Jimmy's radar was up. He'd heard rumours of how pretty the West Coast girls were, and after spending so much time on the East Coast, he'd been hankering to taste their sunkissed, salty skin. When he'd spotted you in line with your perfect red pout and shimmering locks, he'd made a beeline for you, schmoozing and talking about how much you were gonna' enjoy the show. He, of course, wasn't wrong and it might've been because he paid special attention to you during his musical number. Whatever the reason was, he'd asked you out on a picnic date, and much to his delight, you accepted (although perhaps a little too quickly for your liking).

"Baby," he murmured into your skin, just below your ear. The closeness sent a shiver down your spine. "Whaddya' say we go back in one of those tents and have a little fun, huh?"

You looked behind him, following his gaze. There was a row of striped changing tents near the top of the beach, some of which were unoccupied. You couldn't help but cover your mouth as a gasp escaped; what he was proposing seemed so naughty. In public? You'd never... oh, but with him? You would. You'd do anything in the world with him and all he had to do was ask.

"You promise we won't get caught?"

"I promise."

Jimmy got up first, hand extended towards you to lift you up. You took it without another thought, and after being hoisted up, he took off, running giddily towards the tents. Giggling, you followed behind Jimmy as he ran, his hands wrapped firmly around your wrist, practically dragging you up the bank.

Once you made it to the tents, you popped your head in, taking a curious peek. The rest of your body followed shortly after. There was a small stool inside, intended for people to sit on while they changed. It wouldn't be utilized for that purpose, you thought.

Jimmy stood outside the tent, casually rocking back and forth on his heels, his fingers locked behind his back. He even whistled a happy little tune until no one would suspect that he was going to pop inside with you. To any passerbys, it just looked like he was waiting for his girlfriend to exit the tent. No funny business happening there. Heck no. 

When Jimmy finally ducked into the tent, he had a starved glimmer in his eyes and headed straight for you, his hands connecting to your hips. Your mouths collided, tongues wrestling each other for dominance like two horny teenagers. He took fistfuls of your breasts through the fabric of your swim top, kneading them hungrily. Abruptly, he dug underneath the elastic and tweaked your nipple, rubbing at it with his thumb. You broke the kiss to glance down. Smiled coyly. Jimmy's yellow shorts weren't doing much to hide his erection; the thin fabric had a clear outline of his quickly hardening cock, and a wet spot grew at the tip.

The sun shone through the red and white striped fabric, casting a warm, ruddy glow on Jimmy's face. You wondered if he felt at home in this miniature circus tent. "Hang on a sec, wait..." you whispered, as you reached around his back, tying the panels of fabric shut.

"You're that worried, huh?" Jimmy's hand slipped from your top.

"I don't know what kinda' freaky stuff you're into, but I don't want anyone walking in."

With a hushed tone, he replied: ,"Nobody is gonna' walk in, dollface."

He wrapped one arm around your back, pulling you tight to his hip and kissed you again. Jimmy's other hand trailed down your bare stomach until he came to the hem of your ruched shorts, where the tips of his fingers delved behind the elastic, creeping closer and closer to your folds. Once he found your slit, he slipped in between and immediately applied pressure to your clit, teasing you. You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat. Shortly after, he started drawing small circles around the bundle of nerves, hot and swelling with each passing second. Everything he did felt so good.

Feeling confident, Jimmy teased your entrance with his fingers. His deformity certainly hadn't inhibited him from gaining experience in pleasuring women. In fact, Jimmy swore up and down it made him better. Women across the US craved his conjoined fingers with all their girth and length, moaning desperately as they hit all the right spots when he fingered them.

In fear of making you scream his name, Jimmy couldn't give you the full Lobster Boy treatment - not here. He inserted just the tips of his fingers, up to the first knuckles, pumping slowly in and out. His thumb massaged your clit still, the dual stimulation sending to the skies and back again. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before you came. You were wetter than the ocean, and he loved it. Jimmy's tongue ran along his bottom lip, watching you as you writhed in his grip.

"Feel good?"

Breathlessly, you nodded. Jimmy withdrew his slick fingers from your cunt, his weighted gaze on you. He hummed in satisfaction. The dirty, wanton look in your eyes made his cock twitch.

"Baby, you wanna'....?" His eyes scanned over your pretty red lips before dropping to his groin. With one hand, Jimmy tugged his shorts down, letting out a breathy groan as his heavy cock bobbed in front of your tummy. Velvet heat pressed into your flesh, the pre-cum that oozed from the slit sliding against your stomach as he breathed. You knew what he was asking.

You sunk to your knees, settling into the shade-cooled sand. With Jimmy's cock in front of your face, you swallowed, wetting your throat. His conjoined digits wrapped around the base of it, squeezing it tightly. Your lips parted and Jimmy smiled, ready for what came next. You leaned forward, extending your tongue over your bottom lip and carefully, Jimmy slapped the tip of his dick against it. As your fingers wrapped around the shaft, he let out a throaty groan, jerking his head back. You worked it with your hand, and closed your lips around the tip of it, sucking gently. Looking up at him with those big, bright eyes, you watched Jimmy's breaths go from even to haphazard, his chest rising and falling quickly. Your tongue massaged at the underside of his cock, taking it deeper into your mouth.

You gagged softly, quietly and Jimmy clenched his teeth, feeling your throat close around his dick. It was hot and wet and strong – he swallowed again, watching you as worked. The urges were getting too strong, and the tension in his abdomen wound tighter. Without a word, Jimmy bent down and pulled you to your feet, his cock slipping wetly from your mouth. With a grunt, he yanked your shorts down just enough to expose your cunt. 

"Sorry, I just... I gotta'..."

"We can't go all the way here, are you –"

"No-no, baby, we're not gonna', I just gotta' be closer to you, I'm gonna' –"

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. With his cock still wet from your mouth, Jimmy began jerking it, right into your folds. Pre-cum dripped from the slit, providing more lubrication. The tip bumped against your puffy clit over and over again and before you could stop it, the pulsing wave rushed over you. You wrapped both arms around his neck, hanging on him as your legs quivered with the powerful orgasm that shook your core. You moaned softly into his ear, riding out the sensation by grinding against his cock. With his head filled with lewd thoughts of pushing his dick deep inside your pussy, Jimmy was fast behind you, exploding over you in hot, white ropes of ecstasy.

Finally feeling like you could stand on your own again, you rested your head against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat as it slowed. Jimmy rested his chin atop your head, panting and pet the small of your back.

"See? No one caught us." He teased. You slapped at his bicep and disconnected from him, moving around him to exit the tent. Jimmy followed behind, this time, not putting any distance between the two of you. Thankfully, no one noticed. Everyone was too busy enjoying their beach day.

Everything was as you left it, except that the blanket had blown over slightly. You toed the edge of it back into place. Jimmy approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your hips. He kissed your ear, nuzzling into you.

"You wanna' see the show again tonight, pretty baby?"

You nodded. You did. And you wanted whatever was going to happen after the show, too.

[milliesfishes]

꣑ৎ౨ৎ𝓜𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓲𝓾𝓶꣑ৎ౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: descriptions of blood pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: billy helps you when your hunt is unsuccessful author's note: hii!! this was originally going to be for flufftober but I decided to publish it now! consider it a little taste of what's coming!! Mwah Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The way you held his name between your lips was bloodlust.

Billy was unsure of the state of his soul, but if he ever found out exactly how filthy it was, he'd strain to unbind it from yours, rip and the seam until the frayed threads of love were waving at him from your side. You didn't deserve to have the burden of loving a man so sinful.

Your unbridled, uncontrollable thirst for blood did little to sway him from you. If anything it only heightened his awe until it was level with the sun. Despite your body's immortal need for what ran through human veins, you were achingly sweet, so darling and curious about the world around you. The wonder of your being captivated him wholly.

As the door creaked open, Billy looked up from where he'd been cleaning his gun, the heat of the fire warming the barrel. Sheathing it back into its place in his discarded belt, he turned as your soft footsteps punctured the previously silent atmosphere.

You looked tired, exhausted, even. In the dim glow casting shadows across your body, he could see the dirt on your dress, on your feet. Many a time, he'd begged you to wear shoes to protect you from the forest elements, but you insisted you didn't need them.

Getting to his feet, Billy met you halfway, drawing you into his arms immediately. "Hi baby...was it a good hunt? You okay?" He thumbed away some of the blood on your chin and you winced.

"Mhm. It was fine," you murmured, voice as delicate as a butterfly's wing. His brow creased in concern. Despite the fact that you'd just eaten, you still seemed weak, weaker than you should be.

He brushed a strand away from your cheek, cupping your face. "Honey, what'd you end up eatin'?"

Your eyes fell to the ground, a tinge of shame in them. "A...a deer."

Billy sighed, his hand sliding to the crown of your head and pressing you into his shoulder. "Baby..."

"I know, I know," you whispered, immune to his concerns. Though animal blood would do the trick in a pinch, you were only supposed to use it in just that. He'd told you a thousand times, every time you went out to hunt that it wasn't healthy, that you needed something better. You were practically skin and bones in his arms at this point, not having fed on human blood for nearly two months. He was worried about you withering away, like a dried leaf in autumn.

Clenching his jaw, he rubbed his hand up and down your back, a fruitless attempt to warm you. Your skin remained cold as snow no matter what he did. Despite that, you adored the warmth, soaking up the sun whenever you got the chance, sitting by the fireplace wrapped in both blankets and his arms most evenings. He led you there now, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt after you were both sat.

He pulled you between his legs, bracing you against his chest with both arms. Sliding one closer over your collarbone, he watched as his scent overwhelmed you just like he wanted it to.

For a moment you were still, leaning back and closing your eyes. The centers of them were enhanced due to your lack of blood, he knew, shiny like a lake at midnight. Your hands came up to hold his bare forearms as your back curved to fit the contours of his chest, the warmth emanating from the fireplace practically melting you into his arms.

Waiting a moment before he asked, Billy nuzzled his cheek into your hair, nosing a kiss there. "Could you take some of mine?"

Stiffening, you shifted to face him, and he could see a no forming on your tongue. "I-"

Billy's gaze cut you off, and he caressed your cheek. "Darlin'...you need it. More than I do."

"Billy," you began helplessly, starting to shake your head. "I don't...I can't do that..."

He busied himself, shifting you as you mumbled reasons why you didn't want to take his blood. Pulling you to sit up straighter against his chest, he secured you to him, holding up one arm close to your mouth, pearly fangs hidden by a pretty mouth. In soft words, you called yourself a burden. He disagreed.

"C'mon," he coaxed, rubbing your side with his free hand. "Ain't gonna hurt me, sweet girl. Just have some."

You slackened, turning away from his arm and hiding your face in his chest. "Not from there."

His shoulders slumped. "Sweetheart. Please-"

"-too sensitive there," you finished, looking up into his eyes. His face softened, and you nodded, letting your hand fall to his side, just above his hip. "Here."

Billy pursed his lips, nodding. He let go of you, letting you lean against him as he unbuttoned his shirt, trying to be quick about it. You helped him slide it over his shoulders, and he tossed it aside, away from the fire.

Positioning you between his legs, Billy helped you lie on your stomach, unhooking his pants to push them down just slightly. You leaned down, and he braced you under your arm and across your back, holding you in place as you settled your chin on his thigh.

Soft as morning's first breath, you kissed his hip, shifting your head slightly to the side before leaning in and letting your teeth pierce his skin. He stifled a grunt, instead choosing to stroke your hair with his free hand, eyes glued to you as you fed from him.

What struck him was how careful you were being, as if when you removed your teeth you'd find cracks in his skin like porcelain. He couldn't help the tiniest smile- in the few seconds since you'd bitten down, he could practically feel your strength coming back.

"There you go," he mumbled, thumbing through your hair. "That's it. Atta girl. Get it in, get what you need."

His hand stayed on your head the entire time, thumb stroking you there. Once or twice, you tried to pull away, but he shook his head, nudging you back to the spot. "You ain't had enough. Go on."

Billy could have sat there an eternity, until his body was drained dry, nothing but bones and organs left in his body. He'd look up at you with one final touch and die happy knowing you were full. He wasn't a man who had much in this life, but all that he possessed was yours. His spirit, his life, his soul. He wrapped it all up and presented it to you proudly, a gift that was still too little.

You lifted your head after what he deemed a satisfactory amount of time, licking the crimson from your lips and bracing a hand over the wound. He smiled, smoothing your hair back. "Feel better?"

Drawing in a little gasp, your lower lip trembled, and his face fell. "Oh, honey...baby, sweetheart, c'mere. C'mere, it's okay. Whatsa matter, my love?" Billy drew you up into his arms, legs on either side of his thighs. He held you close to him, burying his face in your hair and moving his body back and forth, trying to rock you into being soothed. "'re you still not feeling well, sweet girl? Belly hurtin'?"

"I took your blood," you choked, voice hitching every other syllable. "I took it-"

His heart dropped. "I wanted you to. You needed it, pretty, needed it bad." Billy splayed his hand over your back, rubbing up and down. "Shh, don't cry. It's okay."

You sniffled, body relaxing under his touch. Where your breaths had once been crisp, they were now soft. As he murmured sweet nothings into your head, holding you tight to the shelter of his chest, you began to calm and he breathed a sigh of relief. His girl wasn't going to feel bad for keeping herself alive, not on his watch.

"It's okay?" you breathed, lifting teary eyes to look into his. He was relieved to see they were back to normal, his blood having placated the insatiable thirst inside you. That alone made whatever else would come worth it.

He nodded, tracing a heart into your cheek. "'s okay. More 'n okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut, nodding and hiding your face in his stomach. Billy breathed gently, letting you lie there as long as you wanted. He was relieved that you found comfort in him, that he was the one you trusted.

He'd fight tooth and nail to keep you safe, kill a thousand men for you to drink their blood. Day and night, fighting wind on horseback, Billy breathed for you. The sight of you drinking his blood was more than enough motivation to keep himself alive, and he thrived on it. On your love, the love that quenched his need the same way blood did yours.

Now as he held you, your stomach full, the color returning to your face, he revisited every vow he had made for you, as solemn as the grave, as real as if you'd walked down the aisle toward him to stand at the altar. If it killed him, he'd love you, as raw and real as anything he'd ever done.

Until his blood ran dry, until his heart was staunched by the mark of your fangs.

[generalsdiary]

sunshine in his eyes

gn!reader x Jing Yuan

warnings: kissing

word count: 400~

a/n: i can never get enough of this man and his antics

description: fluff drabble, soft moments, and cuddles with the general

„I missed the feeling of you“ you inhale his scent while your face rests on his chest. you are lying in your shared bed, it is a slow, cozy afternoon with him.

„I've missed you too “ Jing Yuan replied, as he continued to rub your back.

„even when we weren't married, I always craved your touch. I craved being by your side. I craved touching the delicate texture of your skin. I craved being yours...“ his voice is deep and loving, as he caresses your hair and kisses the back of your head. he then placed a finger under your chin tilting your head upwards so he could kiss your lips softly.

it is a sweet one, sweet like flowers' scent, the flavor the bees taste when buzzing around their colorful petals. his lips just as sweet against yours, light as starlight. when your lips separate, his golden eyes flutter open, lovingly staring into yours. if the sun could be stared at, without the pain, if it could be adored, it would probably look like his eyes.

Jing Yuan easily notices your mind spiraling around him and the soft smile remains on his lips, „loving you is my favorite thing in the world“ he whispers, you feel his breath against your lips before he meets them with his own again. those two suns hiding under eyelids yet again. his fingers move lower on your back, pressing lightly to push you even further into his body like you're two candles melting together. your fingers moving to tangle in his long white locks, near his roots, slightly tugging but also massaging his scalp, making him exhale softly. his other hand goes to the back of your neck, pulling your lips even closer to his. when you pull away to breathe between kisses „-Yuan“, he simply swallows each word, kissing you once again. it is slow, like a butterfly's wings passing by, each touch feeling heavenly.

you move to lay beside him, but his arms wrap around your torso pulling you closer to his side, „nuh-huh, you're not going anywhere~“ he chuckles, nuzzling his head into your neck. „of course not, don't worry“ you kiss his hair and smile.

Jing Yuan nods, the general relishing in the feeling of your bodies next to each other, holding you close to him, a piece of peace, where he isn't required to be 'the general'. just Jing Yuan. your Jing Yuan.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄

summary: /ˈɔːrɪeɪt,ˈɔːrɪət/  “of a golden colour or brilliance”

pairing: xiao x gn! reader

warnings: just fluff in the form of my belated new years drabble

genshin impact masterlist

prosperous year of the dragon!! ♡

The sky over Liyue was clear once again, the last lanterns’ glow already a distant memory as the twinkling of stars filled the remnants of the night once more. On the horizon the first sunlight of the new year coloured the wisps of clouds golden and amber, reminiscent of a shooting star’s tail or elegant dragons winding in the dawn of a new day.

For Xiao, it was the cue he could finally rest after defending the nation and its citizens from those that seek to harm them, clinging to the shadows of the night to crawl into the coming year unnoticed. There were no exceptions to his god-given duty, not even as the festive sounds of the harbour drifted up into the mountains and colourful explosives decorated the night. 

No, it was especially because of this that the ghosts of days past could not be allowed to get ahold of the mortal realm.

Green fog parted along the wooden panels of the room he occupied at Wangshu Inn before the soles of his shoes quietly made contact with the solid ground; first his toes before rolling down to his heel, one foot after the other, with a grace befitting that of a dancer, rather than that of a warrior.

What he did not anticipate as he set down his spear, however, was the soft call of his name before a familiar weight flung itself into his arms. Like a warm breeze, your arms wrapped around his neck in a gentle embrace and when he buried his head in the crook of yours, he deeply inhaled the scent of home.

“Happy New Year, Xiao,” you whispered against his skin, your voice melting the tension of his shoulders as it enveloped him, looping around your connected figures like butterflies circling a flower.

“A prosperous new year to you too,” he replied tentatively. As an adeptus, both the concept of time and the importance of this tradition was different to him and he’d never had much reason to celebrate the passing of time in such short intervals. But since he’d met you, you’d not only intertwined both your hands and fates to show him more of your world, Xiao also learnt to cherish what time he could spend with you, no matter how short it may be.

Pulling back just a little, your hands came to frame his beautiful face with delicate care, as if he was not someone to be feared but someone to be loved. You’d watched all night as lanterns had risen into the sky, carrying the wishes and hopes of the people towards the heavens. Yet none of them compared to the amber glow of Xiao’s eyes as they sparkled at you with such fondness it should weigh you down; instead, you felt like you and your heart were light enough to soar high on golden wings, no fear of falling chaining you down if you were with him.

As the sun continued further on its eternal round, aureate rays framed his head in a radiant halo and you didn’t question for even a second that the man before you could be an angel. Risking the accusation of defiling something sacred, you pressed your lips against his plush ones and tasted a piece of heaven for yourself.

When your eyes fluttered open again, Xiao looked as dazed as you felt, fingers brushing over his lips. Then, equally as reverent, his knuckles grazed your bottom lip and you took ahold of his wrist to keep him steady as you pressed a languid kiss to the back of his hand, dusting his cheeks with a light flush, like a painter perfecting their magnum opus.

“I’ve waited quite a while for my new year’s kiss, you know,” you hummed, so entranced by the adeptus in front of you, it was as if time and space around you stood still enough to count the dust particles in the sunlight. “It was worth it though.”

“I see, you are still set in your ways of dragging me into your mortal traditions,” Xiao scoffed, though there was not a single tint of malice in his voice, only teasing affection. If you couldn’t tell by his amorous cadence alone, his actions spoke even louder of his devotion. “Not that I mind in the slightest.”

With practised precision, his lips found yours again as one hand cradled the side of your face and the other pulled you in closer by the waist, as if there was a way to become physically one the same way your hearts had already done. With your attention bound by the flutter of your own heart, you didn’t notice how dexterous fingers discreetly tied a protective charm to your clothes for you to find at a later point in time. 

“What was that for?” You smiled, the distance between the two of you nearly insignificant yet too far all the same.

“I had to get my own new year’s kiss too, didn’t I?” A hint of a smugness tugged the corner of his lips upwards as the corners of his eyes softened downwards while tracing the movement of his thumb against your cheekbone. “Traditions should be honoured after all.”

Your laughter invoked the iridescence of a pearl to brighten his view as you led him over to the balcony railing so you could welcome the dawning year with all its pink and orange hues, arm in arm as the waking birds filled the morning hours with their chirping.

“Speaking of traditions,” you started, transfixed by the sight of the sun rising over the mountains in a vibrant crimson, “there is the belief that the first song you hear in the new year will predict how yours is going to go.”

“Is that so?” Xiao inquired, watching as a small bird hopped onto the wooden railing, careful but curious as it inched closer to the two of you. “It appears nature blesses us with hope and freedom this year.”

“How beautiful,” you mused, as you leaned further into him. 

Turning his head, Xiao studied the way you shone in the morning light before placing a gentle kiss against your temple, light enough you could believe it was the wing of a crystalfly brushing your skin. “Beautiful, indeed.”

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