#the glimmer glow of saliva strings

[creamiesstoryconer]

Yandere Harpy x Reader Taster

Yander Harpy x Reader Taster 

Word count: 666

Length of time to read: 5-8 minutes

This is a taster for a OC x Reader story I am working on, it currently has about 4 chapters planned and I am hoping to release every other day :) This is a taster I am posting for the first chapter enjoy 

TW:Mention of blood

Nature's natural lace, web, clinging onto the remains of the early morning dew. The clear pearls that drape themselves over finely pulled strings that are nestled in the sea of blue and green. Catching glimmers of sun as it breaks through the dense canopy, its golden light a welcoming glow to the undergrowth.

Fine petals of muted blues, reaching for its limited life line of light. Moments of silence such as now, rare within the small thicket. The gentle pushing of the wind picking up stray leaves, dancing with the yellowing trinkets in the air to be carried into the distance. 

Under your foot, grass that once stood tall crunches, its brothers in arms gently grazing your ankle. Early morning air crisp as always, nips at one's shoulders and nose, beckoning the solemnly sweet wind to join it in its conquest of stealing the heat from any warm body.

Knuckles tightly grasped around brown wicker, a basket neatly woven by hand. Packed sunngly with vibrant colours, forged from the long negated trail. 

Damp penetrates your nose, the untones of pine. Forcing the almost suffocating scent to almost have a refreshing taste upon your tongue. 

Onward,deeper into nature's land of peace, the hum of the village morning grows mute. Replaced with the rustling of leaves calling for you. Singing of birds just from sight, soothing and lulling.

Just a little deeper down the overgrown path you know so well, a routine experience every spring. To bring an offering, to wish for peace to the Earth, to keep a titration you grew bored of. The ways of the old and their tales are nothing but fables for children to be afraid of. 

Feet grew stiff at the edge of the opening, the woods breaking its dense canopy of greens to allow for the flooding of gold. Warm upon the skin, stark contrast to the morning wind, the honey coloured light swallows the clearing in its entirety. 

═══════════════════════════════════════════

A blur and a impact, 

The coarse texture of dried bark entangled in once soft locks of hair. Throbbing, building a deafening silence is what over stimulates the nerves. Soothing warmth trickling down your neck, tracing itself past your crook. Allowing for a bud of red to flow and root itself onto once pristine white clothing. Now defiled with browns and quickly darkening crimsons. 

The rising of your chest like hard labour, air having been stolen from your lungs. Hoarse gasps replace a steady rhythm that was once there. Drying your mouth as a once cared for body folds in upon itself. 

Ringing in your ears causes one's head to spin. To not focus is to not be able to see. 

Blurs of greens, a blue perhaps the sky. Golden shines for a moment. Then the sight of flesh. 

Flesh unclothed, blotches of maroon identifiable upon the sun kissed skin. 

══════════════════════════════════════════

A guttural scream escapes your lips, ripping through your vocal cords, straining already fatigued muscle. 

Cheeks, red as puffed eyes strained to stay open, salty water - your own tears-  sullying your face. Teeth bared as saliva bubbles and leaks from the corner of your mouth. 

Fingers tangled within a sickenly soft plumage of feathers. Almost comforting to touch under dirt stuffed nails.

Air that was once almost refreshing to the lungs now reeks of desperation and fear. Tawng of metallic lingering, your own blood that was long dried and flaking. A dried river of rusty colour liquid fashioned from your own wound, wrapping around your neck like a macabre necklace. 

It’s animalistic eyes boaring into you, pupils blown to unnatural size. Tilting its head, forcing itself to envelope your sight. It’s chest rumbling, trilling… studying.

══════════════════════════════════════════

I am in desperate need for a proofreader (￣ ￣|||)

sorry this is another super short post but chapter one will be up tomorrow with about 2,000 words none of which are here this is just some extra content that i reworded and shortened so all new content tomorrow ;)

all feedback is welcome!

#yandere #yande.re #yancore #yandere blog #yandere aesthetic #yanblr #oc #male yandere #tw yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere harpy #oc x reader #oc x y/n #harpy #harpy oc

[real-ink-demon]

Some spicy moon writing

Moon stuck his tongue out, making you click your tongue.

"Do that again and I'm grabbing your tongue," you threatened.

Moon smirked and leaned closer. "Fine~, suit yourself little Starfire."

Moon then let go of you, walking out into the living rom, seeing a pile of tangled wires lying on the ground. "What's all that for?" You asked, walking over.

"Sun had thought it would be a good idea to take our things out and organize them. Sadly, now I'm in charge of it."

You hummed in acknowledgement before heading upstairs. "I'm going to go check on Virus, we haven't heard from him in a while."

"Alright," Moon hummed as he sat down to deal with the mess.

You made your way upstairs, turning left at the turn and opening the door at the end of the hallway. "Virus?" You peek in, the darkness making it hard to see.

You let yourself adjust before looking around, on the bed you saw Eclipse had curled himself around the cat, his little baby blanket taking the priority of keeping the little kitten warm.

The cat had it's head on Eclipse's arm, Eclipse's head right beside the black kitten's. It seemed the both of them were asleep, the cat making soft snoring noises as Eclipse had the soft clicking of his internal workings still going.

You smiled fondly at the image, taking a picture before silently closing the door. [I want somebody to draw this scene. I think It'd be cute.] You walked to your room, deciding to rest for the rest of the day.

"[NAME]!"

Maybe not...

You groaned as you walked back downstairs to see why Moon was calling you. You walked into the living room, seeing him tangled up in the wires.

Moon saw you and groaned. "Help me."

You raised an eyebrow, walking closer to where you were right in front of him. "How'd you get stuck in this?"

Moon shrugged half-heartedly "Sun," was all he said. "Get me out."

You smirked, deciding to have a little fun. "No, I'm good."

"Excuse me?"

"You look kinda sexy tied up, why would I get rid of that?" You teased, seeing a glimmer of light spread across his face.

Moon tsked, attempting to brush off your comment as nothing. Moon then proceeded to stick his tongue out.

You grabbed Moon's tongue making him produce a surprised sound as you pulled his head down by it. Luckily, he couldn't do anything about it as he was still tangled up in the wire mess he had tangled himself up in. His tongue felt oddly cold and slimy. A feeling you were not expecting, however, you didn't let go.

You kept a firm grip on it, smiling when he tried to pull it back. "I told you I'd grab it next time~," You purred, pulling on it as you leaned closer to his face.

Moon let out a soft growl, clearly trying to be intimidating yet failing miserably. The little glowing yellow freckles lit up slightly, making you aware that he was blushing. You smirked, putting your free hand on his cheek, making the stars light up brighter.

The wetness of the tongue increased as he attempted to pull it back again. Drool fell from the corners of his mouth as he whimpered, trying to not make eye contact. You looked at the drool, falling to the ground, coating your hand and rolling down your arm. You got and idea and used the hand you had on his cheek to wipe a string of drool off his face. 

This action prompted Moon to look at you in confusion. Perfect. The stringy substance was dripping off your fingers, dripping to the ground like rain in slow motion. You licked your fingers, Moon's drool mixing with your saliva.

The stars glowed bright as his eyes widened, watching you suck his drool off your hand. A string of saliva was connecting your hand to your mouth as you took your fingers out, licking your lips to get rid of any drool left over on your face.

You decided to go a step further, knowing that it'll make Moon turned on. You leaned towards the hand you were using to hold his tongue, the soft writhing appendage already sopping in drool. Hell, there was already a puddle underneath him that had already formed.

You then began to lick up the drool coating your hand, every now and then having your tongue touch his. You felt Moon squirming under your hold. Soft whimpers came from him as you straightened back up, a string of drool connecting your mouth and hand.

The freckles were illuminating his face as he watched you, fans attempting to cool him down. You decide that it's enough and release his tongue, taking back your hand with a large amount of drool on your hand. You flexed your fingers, feeling the drool in-between them.

Moon retracted his tongue, opening and closing his mouth while shallowing the excess drool. You smiled as you watched him turn his head away from you, clearly blushing. You think that's enough teasing him and grab a few wires, beginning to untangle the moon animatronic.

#moondrop #sun and moon fnaf #sun & moon #sundrop #sunrise #sun and moon fanfic #fnaf moon #moon #spicy content #spicy writing

[thethirdbear]

#the glimmer glow of saliva strings #transorbital icepick insertion #or simply some sort of pavlovian response...

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Genshin Boys / First Kisses.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, implied coercion, and implied unwanted contact. 

Childe

You once thought that nightmares were supposed to end when you awoke. 

This time for certain, you’d think, hopeful and covered in a thin veil of ignorance that offered anything but bliss, I’ll wake up. 

He won’t let you breathe. The sheer fervor behind his relentless assault on your lips keeps your mind from wandering away — and you’re kept grounded in a reality you wish to take no part in. You’ve tried pinching your side, squeezing your eyes shut, demanding your subconscious to snap out of it and release you from your slumber.

Childe releases an odd noise and pulls away. Hesitant, you slowly reopen your eyes, his hazy features coming into focus as a metallic taste blossoms on your tongue. A string of reddish saliva connects your lips to his. There’s no physical pain on your behalf, and at this, you blink, trying to make sense of what happened. 

Are you no longer dreaming? 

"Hah...” he throws his head back and laughs. His subsequent grin is wolfish in nature, and poking through his pearly white teeth, you notice glimmers of crimson. “You really know how to keep a man’s attention, don’t you?” 

He licks his lips and stains them a darker shade.

No way. You actually bit the tongue of a harbinger, the man who holds your delicate life in the palm of his hands. His pupils have dilated to the size of a pin’s end and you’re backed even further against the wall. There’s no telling what’s worse, when his eyes are home to a vast nothingness, or when they’re maddened with corrupted love like this. 

The first thing you notice when he presses his lips to yours again is the iron flavor growing stronger. 

This must not be a nightmare, after all, you muse. It’s something far worse. This... is my life from now on. 

Diluc 

The young master of Dawn Winery has found that the best time to contemplate matters is at night. His thoughts will go round and round in circles, reminiscent of a dog chasing its tail despite knowing it’ll always evade capture. 

The back of his knuckles gently caress your cheeks. He notices how warm they are. His entire life, he believed himself to have been familiar with heat, yet yours is far different from his. It doesn’t seek to destroy or leave ashes in its wake. Yours is far gentler, boasting no destructive power. That is, to anyone aside from him. 

Most nights, he’d press a chaste kiss to your forehead before patrolling for evil that could be located far easier if he examined himself. He came into your adjacent master bedroom for such an innocent purpose. Maybe it’s the iridescent glow of moonlight making your features all the more enticing, or maybe the starving beast inside himself could only awaken while you slept. 

You can’t judge him if you’re not awake — can’t glare at him in that way you do whenever he enters the room, straightening out whatever you were doing, then briskly walking past him. It isn’t right, he knows that. You’d hate him even more if you knew. 

Just one quick peck wouldn’t hurt, he told himself. Then he latched his lips to yours, and minutes later, he still can’t find the strength to part. Not when he finally managed to experience something so intimate with his dearly beloved. Still, moments like these weren’t meant to last forever, especially not for men like him. 

Diluc breaks away at the possibility of you stirring. Coward that he is, he vanishes from your bedside, and by the time you wipe the sleep from your eyes, you’re left at a loss. 

That’s strange, you think, and your head rolls further into the feather-soft pillow. For the aroma of cologne mixed with charred wood and leather to linger as it does. You’ll ask a maid to light a candle to get rid of the scent. 

Kaeya

What is more plentiful: the crystalline tears running down your cheeks, or the despair taking refuge in your soul? 

His hands might be resting upon your neck rather than the hilt of his blade, but for some reason, kissing you reminds him of swordplay. Perhaps it’s the way in which your body is crumbling into his like it would if he had plunged his sword into your side. He’s the reason for your fall, while cruelly enough, being the one to keep you standing. 

“Isn’t this so much better?” Kaeya asks though he knows you’re not listening. Not when your mind is far too busy processing the gaping wound in your heart. The Calvary Captain wonders if you thought he might be able to fill it. Or at the very least, serve as a temporary plug, so that it wouldn’t bleed out. 

“I wish I could say,” is your response. How honest of you — you’re no longer bothering to hide from him. It would be difficult to do so, he supposes, after he tore down the flimsy walls that once kept you separated brick by brick. 

Your honesty isn’t what he wants. Not this brand of it, at least, he wants a kind that better suits his needs. 

“If that were true,” he smiles, noticing how your breath catches in your throat, all too familiar with his various tells. This smile is a premonition, the calm before the storm. “Then why would you seek me for comfort in the first place, hm?” 

There it is. That expression, that uncertainty! It isn’t enough for him to plunge his sword into your aching soul. He must twist it too, again and again, until the pain is too severe for you to handle on your own. 

Then you’d have no choice but to come and seek him out. And what could be better than that? 

(Zhongli, Albedo, Xiao, Scaramouche and Kazuha are underneath the cut!)

Zhongli 

Contracts between two parties require both to uphold their ends of the agreement. 

There are many things you believe Zhongli to not fully understand. He observed enough human behavior over the millennia to get a rough idea of what romantic relations entail. For every finding he cataloged, you were left to fill in the gaps. He’d happily let you if it meant he’d be treated to luxuries like this. 

Act as my lover. 

This stipulation detailed within the contract he held over your head spurred you into action. Defying a god, as tempting as the idea sounded, was always better left to theory than practice. So you kiss him. Again and again, no rest in between, until the air in your lungs depleted entirely. 

You loathe his composure. How calm and graceful he is, even now, when handed all he’s ever wanted on a silver platter that you’ve delivered by hand. You want his hands to wander, for him to grasp you harshly, just so you could spitefully call him out for it afterward. 

He does no such thing. 

Zhongli treats you more delicately than he ever had before. So gently, in fact, you temporarily deluded yourself into thinking he wasn’t there. Parting your eyelids revealed he very much still was. Golden irises greet you, radiating light like the high afternoon sun, yet devoid entirely of warmth. 

“It’s creepy to stare,” you murmur, your voice coming out far weaker than you intended. “Can’t you... close your eyes or something...?” 

He chuckles in a way that tells how little he takes you seriously. 

“And risk missing the various expressions you make?” He stares down at you through his eyelashes. “That’s a joy I couldn’t imagine depriving myself of.” 

Your fingers ball into fists by your side. 

“You’re not done, are you? Let’s continue where we left off, shall we?” 

Zhongli phrases it like a question — an offer — something you’d have the right to refuse or accept. But when his mouth is back on yours, you know it’s anything but a reminder of all that you owe and could never hope to fully repay.

Albedo

Albedo isn’t certain of his thoughts on destiny, or fate, whatever label ascribed to the passage of time bringing separate forces together. Stumbling across you that fateful evening in the Dragonspine might be enough for him to argue for its existence. 

How fitting that the resting place of his creator’s other masterpiece would be where he made his greatest discovery: you.

Without it, you wouldn’t have sought shelter in his camp from mutating monsters. He wouldn’t have gotten to see the starlight sparkling in your eyes as you spoke of adventure and your dreams. His attention and manmade heart wouldn’t have been connected to you, spun into ties that were impossible to sever. 

And most of all, he wouldn’t have been able to experience tasting you like this. How fortunate is he? It’s no wonder he can feel envy pervading into the soil itself. That the failed creation must witness its successor’s joy, a joy it could never hope to experience itself. 

You weren’t much better off yourself, he supposes. The bitterness you hold in your heart toward the alchemist was tangible at every turn. Albedo takes note of how you keep your eyes narrow, the way you try to cover your anxiety by putting up a tough front. What train of thought brought you to the point of asking to kiss him, he wonders? 

Were you trying to lower his guard? Gauge his reaction as he does with you? Or was it something else? 

Whatever the case, he’ll enjoy this simple pleasure and ponder its implications later. There is one aspect that’s been troubling him in this otherwise enjoyable moment. Albedo separates himself from your lips, a certain knowingness present in his eyes that makes you gulp. 

“Let’s keep the sharp objects in the kitchen where they belong, shall we?” 

He lifts up the knife you had been hiding beneath your coat. It shines, reflecting the lamp to his side, much to your apparent horror. 

Albedo supposes you and his failed predecessors have quite a lot in common — the both of you seem obsessed with ending his life.  

Xiao

You think you might suffocate. 

Teeth clashing against each other, a tongue shoved down your throat, heat consuming your body from head to toe. It’s too much to handle at once. The strength and love of an adepti goes beyond anything you were meant to withstand. You know he knows this if the way he’s treated you like fragile glass was to be of any indicator. 

That’s why you don’t understand this drastic change in behavior. 

The air itself is heavier, weighed down an invisible miasma unperceivable to the human eye. Karmic debt, you believe he called at once. Back when you could feel the warmth of the sun against your skin and the breeze billowing through your hair. 

“What’s— ah, gotten into you?” 

Your voice snaps him from the reverie he’s fallen victim to since returning minutes ago. 

Xiao blinks, taking in the situation before him, his hold on you going lax. The madness corrupting his eyes fades away as each second ticks on. Your chest is heaving, greedily taking in the air you were refused while he helped himself to tasting your lips. 

He stands, immediately creating distance between the two of you. The confusion etched onto his countenance is clear as day. You can see numerous emotions passing through, ranging from disbelief to mortification. 

Did he really lose control of himself, or was he acting on a whim kept suppressed for ages? 

“I...” He reaches out for you yet pauses when you shrink away. It must pain him, something you’re grateful for and wish to inflict upon him again and again. He pivots on his heel and hurriedly exits the room you’re being kept in. The door remains wide open, but you know better than to dart out. This is his realm, after all, you could only leave if he allowed it. 

And you know he never would.

Not when he knows you’d never be by his side otherwise. 

Scaramouche

Why isn’t it working? 

He holds you firmly in place, refusing to give you the slightest wiggle room. The most you can do is try to keep up — and even that’s a battle that you’re losing. Electro thrums at his fingertips. It serves as a silent warning, an invisible knife pressed to your throat, demanding that you be good. 

The puppet with frayed strings wonders if this is what love is supposed to be. 

If it was, then this would work. You would melt into his touch. Why aren’t you doing that?

Scaramouche pushes you back by your shoulders. He’s searching for something in your expression, an endeavor you assume will be fruitless. Whatever he’s looking for, he won’t find. You take the opportunity to try and steady your breathing. The chance doesn’t last long, as his fingernails begin digging into your skin. 

He must be coming to realize it himself. 

That you don’t love him back. That you’ll never love him back. 

“Stop,” he inhales sharply, his voice both weak and frustrated, “Stop looking at me like that.” 

Maybe you shouldn’t ask, but you do. “Like what?” 

“Like you want nothing to do with me.” 

He knows he’s throwing a childish tantrum, deep down, in someplace he sealed and threw the key away to. It’s natural you hold dissent for him. He tried to follow the proper steps, the type of courtship that won over individuals and had them smitten, but somewhere along the line, he messed up. Once, twice, then too many times to count. 

Still... he tried, didn’t he? For such a divine creation such as himself to try for you, should that not be the highest honor? 

“Kiss me again,” he orders, his grip loosening up just enough for you to do as he demands. “I won’t let you stop until I find your conduct satisfactory.” 

The air of superiority is back, forcing the momentary vulnerability he showed earlier away. That’s right, he thinks, ignoring how you keep your movements purposefully sluggish. 

If you won’t love him, then he’ll make it so you never have the time to hate him. 

Kazuha

When it rains, it pours. 

The pitter-patter outside your temporary shelter melts away into meaningless background noise. Your captor’s words repeat in your head like a looping chorus sung by a condemned choir. There’s no way he’d take that from you too — not after everything else he’s stolen...! 

“May I kiss you?” 

What resistance are you capable of offering? Your eyes flicker to the sword sheathed at his hip, then to his Vision, glowing and pulsating through the fabric it’s covered in. He’s never used violence against you, nor have you ever felt like he would up until this point, yet the question of what if permeates your head. What if you saying no is the breaking point? What if the patience he showed you is waning? 

So you nod in a daze. 

Kazuha’s bandaged hand rests on your chin and tilts your head up. His eyes soften while he takes in your appearance, his lovestruck expression enough to make your heart twinge. How can he be so gentle and so cruel? 

He smiles as he marries his lips to yours. The kiss itself lasts for only a few seconds, yet you feel it’s an eternity. You feel too much of him at once. The soft locks of his hair, the warmth of his breath, his scent of autumn mixed with the ocean breeze. It’s enough to make your stomach twist. 

Or is it yourself you’re disgusted with for not having the strength to refuse him? 

“That was your first kiss, right?” 

Your mind is too foggy to be certain of the answer, but to placate him, you nod again. 

“Ah, what a relief...” he massages your lower lip with his thumb, “I don’t know what I’d do if someone else had taken the privilege from me.” 

A chill runs down your spine as an unsettling smile settles on his features. 

“You are telling the truth, right, [First]?” 

#childe x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #albedo x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere kaeya x reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere albedo x reader #yandere xiao x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #my stuff

[lavandermin]

constellation 1 | xiao

pairing | xiao/reader

part of | if all stars fell at once

word count | 1.5k

genre | soft, domestic fluff

It dawned on you as you were out on your usual business— tomorrow was Xiao’s birthday. And as you arrived home that day, the adeptus in question appeared before you.

“It’s just another passing day. There’s no greater significance,” he had casually dismissed it when you brought it up.

You couldn’t help but pout a bit. “But… it would only be us. I know you aren’t one for large gatherings, so— I just thought we could…”

Though you knew he wouldn’t be too keen on the idea, part of you hoped he would still give it a chance. His expression was unreadable, remaining neutral with a slight crease of his brows as he intently watched your shifts in demeanor. Eyes averted towards the ground, fingers anxiously fiddling with the tassel on your amulet, lips drawn into a small pout— you were a little disheartened by his refusal, that much he could tell.

Xiao sighed quietly, loud enough for your eyes to perk up with a newfound glimmer of hope. Gods, he was so weak for you it was almost embarrassing how easily he caved.

“Fine. Just— keep it simple. I only wish to spend it with you,” he relented, arms crossed in feigned admonishment.

The way your face immediately lit up with uncontainable elation had his heart skipping a beat.

“Simple, got it,” you beamed. “Usually for birthdays the gifts you get are surprises but… how about you choose what gift you’d like?”

“A gift I would like…” he repeated quietly to himself, almost as if processing the foreign idea.

Rare was the time he would flat out ask you for something but since you seemed so enthralled by having him partake in this mortal celebration with him, Xiao would indulge you.

You peered at him with hopeful eyes, a small smile patiently waiting for him. If he was avoiding your gaze purposefully, you didn’t bring it up. The teasing could wait, as you found Xiao was sometimes easily embarrassed. Pointing out how cute it was only made him hide his quickly reddening face even quicker, sometimes disappearing into shadowy mist altogether— much to your amusement.

You poked his arm lightly, gaining his attention. “So…?”

“I’ll think about it.”

It was left at that. As the sun finished hiding behind the mountains surrounding Qingce Village, the yaksha also announced his departure. He descended into the busy night ahead of him, working against malevolent forces well past the first hours of his birthday.

He would come back eventually, you hoped. His word was his bond, after all. The moon rose into the sky, dusted by scattered clouds that framed its pale blue glow. It peered at you curiously from your window as you awaited sleep, and kept you wondering what Xiao’s answer would be. Anticipation filled your dreams with sweet nothings that you came to forget in the morning.

Though part of you wasn’t surprised, you were a little disheartened to awake to an empty room. There were a few select mornings where you peered one eye open to find Xiao resting next to you, partially curled up into your form. This wasn’t one of those mornings, though you silently held onto the possibility when the mourning doves began their morning melodies.

In fact, Xiao was nowhere to be seen all afternoon as well. Defending all of Liyue was no easy feat, and so you pushed yourself to continue your day as usual to squash the tiny seed of worry that weighed on your heart. You trusted him to be okay. Though you could call out to him, it somehow sat wrong with you to bother him today of all days.

Perhaps it was the anticipation that increased your worry over the prolonged absence of the adeptus today, despite the fact that he has seen longer periods of not showing up for his own personal reasons. Evening settled into the sky with orange and pink hues, his absence still clear as the sky.

Time inched by rather quickly as you busied yourself with colorful threads and a bit of evening reading to some of the village children as they waited for their parents to return from work at the harbor. You ran a bath to keep you occupied once settled back in the comforts of home, indulging in the calming aroma of the flowers and bath essences you always neglected to use. The cool of night was subtly falling into place as you let the warmth of the healing waters wash away the week’s lingering stresses.

Still, as you soaked surrounded by therapeutic aromas and warm vapors, the quiet patter of droplets cascading off the hand that gathered delicate petals did little to comfort you. Their melodic ripples breaking the surface echoed off the walls of the bathroom in a comfortless song. It became increasingly hard to ignore the absence of the reserved adeptus.

Your person.

It was only an hour until midnight. The gentle feeling of a foreign object placed in your hair subtly startled you as you entered your room.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Xiao apologized, a small smile softening his usual serious expression. “Something kept me busy.”

You were quick to melt into mirthful laughter, fingertips brushing the familiar object that now decorated your hair.

“Crystalflies?”

There was a light pink that dusted his cheekbones, but he continued adorning your hair with the subtly glowing cores. It was unexpectedly romantic of him and had your chest tight with overbearing fondness.

His voice was laced with uncertainty— a tone he took on when he was unsure if he was conveying his affection properly. “I thought they would look nice on you.”

The breathy laugh you let out as he placed a small pile of extra cores into your hand reassured him that the feelings got across.

“Is that what kept you busy?” you asked teasingly, voice melodic and light with endearment. “Crystalfly catching?”

He fell silent, momentarily flustered as he turned his gaze elsewhere.

“...Yes.”

Not a lie, but not the truth in its entirety. However, the adeptus chose to not tell you that he had just spent the better half of the day building up the courage to approach you about the gift he decided upon. Even now his heart was still hammering harshly in his chest. No, he would take that knowledge to his grave.

“I decided on the gift already. The one you told me to choose,” Xiao added, his amber eyes shifting back to you.

You hummed, sitting on the edge of your bed after tucking the precious cores away in a desk drawer. “Mhm, so what did you choose?”

Instead of answering you right away, he leaned down to rest his head on your shoulder, his arms on either side of you supporting most of his weight. Confused, you rubbed your hand soothingly on his back.

“Everything alright?” you asked tentatively when you were met with no response.

There was a muffled reply you couldn’t understand. You ran your fingers through his hair, coaxing him to lift his face to meet your eyes. And slowly but surely, he did. The heat was high on his cheekbones, his golden irises glowing subtly under the warm light of your lamp.

“...Kiss.”

“Kiss?”

He nodded, and you couldn’t help the wide grin on your face as your heart burst with newfound endearment. You were more than happy to oblige, cupping his face in both hands to press tender kisses to his forehead, his nose, and both his rose-dusted cheeks.

But he wasn’t satisfied.

Xiao‘s face was warm with impatience and the overwhelming emotions that drummed in his chest. He let out a quick exasperated huff, “No—This.”

The way his lips were fervently on yours without a moment’s hesitation left you winded, unable to ask anything further as his actions resonated clearly. This was needy, insistent— like an insatiable hunger to have you melted against him. Your taste, the feeling of your soft, plush lips against his, the cute little whines that he was quick to swallow— it all had Xiao’s mind in a dizzied state.

He pulled away, mind in a haze as you both were left panting during the brief pause, a thin string of saliva connecting you both briefly. There was a bright red that dusted your cheeks and he drank in your appearance. Your lips were a little swollen from his relentless nibbling and tugging, chest rising and falling as you caught your breath, eyes a little stunned yet shining with a love-drunk glimmer— he wanted to burn it into his memory.

“Again.”

You half-laughed in disbelief, “Again?”

With a quick nod, he wasted no time in finding comfort back on your lips. It was a little slower-paced now, the yaksha regaining some control over himself to timidly explore and prod within your mouth. He drank in all your quiet moans and silent gasps, gloved hand moving to tangle into your hair.

Over and over again he worshipped you with kisses peppered all over your face, your neck, your shoulders. This went on well past midnight, Xiao’s golden eyes glowing with adoration. And when he looked at you the way he did, with such ardent devotion, you just couldn’t help but indulge him.

Who were you to refuse?

#xiao #xiao/reader #adeptus xiao #xiao x reader #xiao just trying his best #xiao fluff #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #genshin #genshin fanfic #fluff #domestic fluff #this is something i wrote back for his birthday months ago #xiao chu chu starved #soft #mii writes #fic: iasfao #constellation miscellany: iasfao #liyue

[acourtofhopeanddreams]

Little Red Riding Hood

Written for @jonsadreamofspring day 2 based on the prompt "wolves"

Sansa is on the run. She carries a little basket with food and tries to get as far away from Ramsay as she can. But then the dogs catch up with her and Sansa prays for help. A white wolf with red glowing eyes shows up...

fairy tale AU // werewolf AU // little red riding hood elements

Her lungs were struggling to breath in enough air to keep her going. Every few steps she almost tripped over her own feet. All her muscles were aching and she felt sharp stitches in her side, but she kept on running. The faster she ran, the further she would get before Ramsay would discover that she was gone. And the further away she was when he would discover that his wife was missing, the bigger the chance that she was gonna survive this.

She had no idea where she was going exactly. This was not the execution of some masterplan that had been thought out carefully and had taken months to prepare. She was simply grabbing a once in a lifetime chance.

“I have an important meeting to attend, my lady. I will be gone for a few hours, but I assume you will have no trouble entertaining yourself for a little while, will you?” He had really thought he had broken her spirit, her will to flee, her hatred for him. He had really thought he could leave her alone, without guards watching her every step, without his dogs sitting in front of her door with orders to harm her when needed.

And she had gathered a small basket, some food and water and some clothes and had started running. Because no matter how this story would end, there was no way it could get any worse than her life with Ramsay had been.

A shiver rolled down her spine when she heard the barking of dogs coming from the woods behind her. She had no idea how much time had passed since she had left, but she didn’t doubt whose dogs were chasing her. Quickly she used her scarf to tie her basket on her back and then she climbed in the nearest tree.

She had barely reached a branch out of reach when she saw the dogs rushing towards her hiding place. Saliva dripped from their beaks and their sharp teeth glimmered in the evening sun. They pressed their paws against the trunk and barked louder and louder.

Sansa closed her eyes and she tried to hide herself in between the leaves. But the dogs weren’t stupid. They knew she was here. They recognised her smell. They probably also sensed her fear and the food tied to her back. It was only a matter of time before Ramsay Bolton would be here too. She didn’t dare to think about what he would do.

Would he simply drag her back to his castle? Would he act like nothing had happened? Would he play the caring and loving husband in front of everyone else, while coming up with new ways to assault her once there was no-one there anymore to see that he was actually a sadistic monster? Or would he order his dogs to eat her alive, to rip the flesh from her bones and to leave her remains to rot away?

“Dear Gods, both the old and the new, if you exist and even care the least bit about me, please…” Sansa whispered. “Please, find a way to save me from whatever faith Ramsay Bolton has in mind for me.”

A loud and deafening howl of a wolf echoed through the forest and quickly Sansa opened her eyes again. A few trees away from the one she was hiding in appeared a large shadow. The white wolf was at least three times as big as the dogs and his fiery red eyes stared at the little puppies while he kept on howling.

One by one the dogs went silent and motionless. Some of them whined barely hearable while they laid flat on the muddy ground, others ran away before the white wolf could come any nearer. The ones who had decided to run were the lucky ones. The sharp white teeth of the wolf snapped the thin necks of the remaining dogs as if they were nothing but little twigs.

Within less than a few seconds there was nothing but absolute silence and yet Sansa didn’t dare to move. What if the wolf had only saved her because he wanted her for himself? What if he had simply chased away the dogs because he himself was hungry? What if the danger was far from gone now? What if it had only gotten worse? Much worse?

Once more Sansa closed her eyes and once more she prayed. “Dear Gods, both the old and the new. Please, help me get out of this…”

“My lady?” Sansa’s eyes flashed open again and right under the tree in which she was hiding now stood a handsome young man with dark black curls tied into a bun on the back of his head. He was wearing nothing but a pair of ripped pants and his naked skin was covered in sweat and gleaming. His dark eyes were looking up at her and slowly he stretched out his hand. “Do you want a hand to come down?”

Sansa stopped breathing. She had her eyes wide open and yet she couldn’t make sense of what had happened. “Where's the white wolf?” She whispered. Her throat was dry and her entire body started trembling. “Did you kill it? Did it run away?” She swallowed. “I swear, there was a white wolf here. He chased the dogs away and…”

A small smile appeared on the stranger’s face. He had a deep frown on his forehead and yet there was something about him that made her feel safe and at ease. “The big bad wolf is gone for now.” He stretched out his hand even further, but she was still out of reach. “I promise he won’t hurt you. I won’t let him.”

“Who are you?” Sansa still didn’t move. Instead she wrapped her arms around her trembling body to make sure she wouldn’t lose her balance and fall down. “How do I know I can trust you?”

The stranger dropped his arm and the smile on his face faltered. “I can’t blame you for not trusting me, lady Sansa.” He paused and it took her a few moments to realise he had used her name. “I've been trying to find a way to get you out of his claws ever since I saw you at the ball, three months ago.”

Sansa blinked a few times. She could barely remember the ball, let alone the people who had attended. But she had never gotten the impression before that anyone knew that she longed to be saved and rescued. “How did you know I…”

“Your smile might have fooled most people, but not me.” The stranger let out a deep sigh. “You looked pretty, but it was as if I was looking at a puppet.” He clenched his jaws. “And I knew right away who was pulling the strings.” He locked his glance with hers. “I’m glad you got away from him.”

“Almost.” Sansa shook her head. “I almost got away from him. If that wolf hadn’t appeared…” She shivered once more. “It seems that in the end he was the one to find a way to save me.”

“You saved yourself, princess.” The stranger smiled at her again. “Because you had courage and faith. You ran away, very well knowing what the risks were. You shouldn’t give me all the credits. You should give most of them to yourself.”

“Me?” Sansa licked her dry lips and then slowly her mind started to make sense of what had happened. And even though she should be terrified. And even though she should only distrust him more, she couldn’t help but smiling back at him. “I still want to thank you.” She climbed down again until she was within reach of his strong arms to help her to the ground.

“Jon, Jon Snow.” He bowed and bent his head. “And the pleasure is all mine, princess.” He looked up again and now she saw the hint of red in his eyes, hidden behind their natural darkness. “Where will you go now?”

Sansa shook her head. “Where we will go now?” She reached for his hand and pulled him closer towards her. “I might have found the courage and faith to run away, but I could use someone like you looking out for me anyway. You never know if and when the dogs might come back.”

“That would be my honour, princess.” Jon bowed once more. “Where will we go?”

"Anywhere. Everywhere. Somewhere safe.”

#jonsadreamofspring #jonsa #jon snow #Sansa Stark #game of thrones #got #got fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #sansa stark fanfiction #Jon Snow fanfiction #jonsa fanfiction #day 2: wolves #fairytale #werewolves

[rwhalzili-a]

    An alter, barren of anything covering the surface save for three candles, is situated in the center of this ruined castle-like structure. It’s made from a dark stone, something that has never been seen outside of this--is it a dream? Trying to figure out the difference is getting harder and harder as the sun seems to be DYING. The stone is black, veins of deep purple shimmering as it streaks through the blackness, seeming to glitter as if there was liquid flowing through it. Some areas give off an EERIE glow. What is this?      Markings are engraved upon the surface, ancient symbols that are UNREADABLE. Scattered around this alter--on the walls surrounding--are depictions, stories of the past carved into the surface. Various periods, all telling the SAME story:       A peaceful town, a bustling city. Denizens going about their daily lives unaware of the strange warn-away THING approaching them. As the carving of the SUN vanishes something appears. A large figure in all of them--it has similarities, yet differences that makes one wonder if it is the same thing throughout all this time. Like a snake, a dragon, a crocodile, a bird, a lion. . . it’s something of NIGHTMARES. And then, there’s one carving that catches attention. It’s incomplete. It’s a city, the sun beginning to be choked out. If history was to repeat itself. . .     The sudden flickering of candles gets your attention to snap over, eyes widen at the sudden flames. Such NORMAL flames--reds yellows and whites, so ordinary--within this strange realm. . . They flicker and sputter before something else glows. . .

     It’s shrouded in the darkness, but the glow is still there as the THING’S maw opens slowly. An unsettling purple and pink glow, choked out as it hits against the long black teeth, glimmering against the saliva stringing between the mouths spreads open.       You can’t see what it looks like, but it brings pure TERROR into your heart as it looms higher and higher, towering above you as pure violet eyes stare down at you. This is. . . A scream escapes your lungs before it lunges, teeth bared ready to tear into your flesh. . .

      A dream. It was just a dream. . . And it’s still dark out. It’s still dark as night at 3PM. A thought sticks in your mind. . . THE ALTER OF NIGHTMARES. Was that the place you saw? Is this a place of sacrifice for whatever this THING is, this Eater of Worlds?

#❝ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ˡᵘʳᵏˢ ʷⁱᵗʰⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵐᵖᵗⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ❞ ; Halloween '19 #❝ ᴬ ᵒᶠᶠᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷˢ ❞ ; Ra's art #❝ ᵀᵒᵈᵃʸ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇᵃⁿqᵘᵉᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵃʳᵏⁿᵉˢˢ ❞ ; headcanon & about #(here ya go)

[xenolithium]

A Burning Passion (Jumin/MC)

“You seem tired, rough day at work?” You asked.

“Extremely,” was his curt response. You smirked, patting the empty space next to you suggestively. Your gaze roaming his form without shame as he undressed. Your eyes met while his pants and belt dropped to his feet. The metal clasp clacked against the floor as he stepped out of them and laid himself down next to you. The carpet dipped and flattened under his weight, your arms instinctively reaching for him, winding their way around his abdomen almost as if they had a mind of their own.

“I missed you,” he whispered as he ducked towards the surface of your neck, running small kisses up to the edge of your earlobe. You let out an excited chirp, your skin pebbling as you could feel his breath fan across your neck. “I can hardly bare being away from you,” he added, scraping his teeth along the outer edge of your ear before making his way to your lips.

You connected in a long and passionate kiss, lips smacking and tongues dancing. The fireplace behind you let out a loud pop, a spark flying into the air as you parted. The string of saliva still connecting your lips glimmered in its pale yellow glow.

“I missed you too,” was your response, as you tucked a stray hair away from his face, taking in the sight of the flames reflecting off his eyes. It was mesmerizing, to say the least, and as the two of you explored each other’s bodies it felt like the heat in the room was only growing ever more intense. -------- Read the rest on AO3 (Unless you’re a minor.) My entry for the @2019mysmecalendar in the nsfw booklet. 

#jumin x mc #jumin x reader #please reblog #lemon #han jumin #mm jumin #mysme jumin #jumin han #main character #mm mc #mysmes #mystic messenger #2019 love for all seasons #booklet #oneshot #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 link

[things-we-used-tc-share]

Manifestor // 14

Plot:  Set in a world where Witchcraft is real, and the government hunts down those who practice magic, Thomas must flee to an underground safehouse after being discovered. Now fighting a war against Witches who seek the end of non-magic people, Thomas must learn to control and harvest his powers, as well as the manifestation of his sides to bring about peace and unity in the Human and Witch world. (Nanowrimo 2018)

--

“Just you, and me, Thomas,” In hindsight, this is not how Thomas thought his life would end; time slowing in a dodge of fire and anger with his Anxiety screaming and his logic hissing out commands in his ears, whilst sand washed against his lips and yellow eyes stared him down in a vicious duel. In fact, this is not how the man expected his day to go, in the dark of the night with the stars glowing as the only light on two people, a man, and a monster, lit by the actions of their fight.

When the creature had approached, a silhouette in the darkness with eyes glimmering in amber and gold, Thomas had startled; a creature beyond humanities saving, their mouth reveals needle-sharp teeth behind cracked and greying lips. Was this creature ever really human? It looked as if someone had drawn a dangerous caricature of a humanoid figure, but everything was just slightly off, like a bad photocopy. As Thomas swallowed his own saliva, the creature grinned without a hint of happiness instead full of anger, of hatred, of malice, he smiled.

Jack’s hands are already up and prepared, eyes bearing into the attacker, and then the creature speaks in a low growling voice that sounds like feet against gravel. “Just you and me Thomas, you win and no more creatures will attack you or your friends, I win, and you come with us,” Thomas can feel the blood in his ears pounding as ore silhouettes encircle them. Did he have a choice? Jack is shaking his head, blue eyes dark in the night and yet shining so bright with fear.

As the silent air rose and the waves calmly lapped against each other, one boy barely a man stands against an army, and he smiles. It’s small, it’s…relieved, and it’s terrified. One battle and it’s all over, one battle and this agony can end. If he lost, his choice is predetermined by fate. Once, Logan had told him of a theory known as ‘Determinism’; the idea that people did not have free will because every choice made had already been decided, that there was a path for them all…like fate. In situations like this, Thomas liked to think his choice does not matter because it’s not really his choice. Therefore he can’t really be blamed.

“Okay,” Jack shouts, anger all over his face mixed with a cocktail of fear. Nothing really matters this had already been decided. The creature stands in the center of a circle created by its minions, whilst one reaches forward and snatches Jack back into its rough claw-like nails. Thomas winces with an apology written all over his face to his best friend.

Jack is struggling, kicking his legs and dragging his feet into the dirt as the Dark Witches laughed at his attempt to escape their grasp; Thomas’ face was a picture of remorse, of sorrow as he looked between Jack and the thing he is supposed to fight, it’s golden flecked iris’ glowering in the darkness. He swallows and stands opposite it, the circle enlarges taking Jack with it in the process.  Thomas stares death in the eye as in his mind there is chaos; the four sides of his soul trying to articulate the situation, Virgil might be screaming and the host does not blame him in the slightest. He really wants to scream right now too.

He doesn’t though.

His choice doesn’t matter.

He tells himself this over and over as his hands come up to protect himself under gale-force winds that are rising. Air, not easy and yet not hard to combat as he encases himself under an icy field that stems from his hands. He is safe for a moment until a heat pushes against his safety and causes it to crumble and melt. Like a flower in the scorching fires of California, he wilts and pressure drains his energy.

As his shield cracks, his pulls forward a burst of energy, his source being Roman, who is running around his mind trying to source all of the energy in his body directly to his anger. Patton, who is possibly shaking rather forcefully, is working on his memories. Anger had always served him well in these situations and right now he needed the best he could; it worked as flames broke through his own shield so forcefully that the ice exploded in different directions, forcing the creatures to shield themselves. The fire landed its target against the other creature, pushing their powers down.

It must have been five or ten minutes of the two fire elements pushing against each other firmly, dragging along the two of their tethers like a bead on a string. The two of them were shouting in pain, before extinguishing in a second. Thomas falls to his knees; he scratches his palms against the gravel floor and blood draws forward from the surface of his skin. He can hear the Witch cackling with firm force, it’s lip pulled into a sneer. He looks away, seeing the man is distracted in taunting and jeering, he lets the blood drip onto the floor.

Blood magic, a powerful form of magic very rarely use in witching community because it was seen as too gruesome or having bad consequences. Giving anyone or anything a drop of your blood was seen as taboo in witching spells; but Thomas doesn’t have the time to consider this as he allows the wind to soak into his skin and his blood to drop into the ground. Behind him, he can hear Jack gasping; he can imagine his face is torn between terror and impressed, one of Jack’s favorite expressions as he mutters under his breath “Earth,”

Under this city is a cavern much like a mortuary, plants that don’t need the sunlight or had died trying to find it create a labyrinth below the surface of the brick city. Thomas didn’t know he knew this until he called these plants from their graves as thick stems break through the surface at his command; a string of puppets woven together in terrifying form as they ensnared the witch. Thomas directs them with fluid yet furious movements, tugging and pulling at his enemy until the other finally finds their footing.

The High Witch receives no more than a few scratches, but he was at least slowing the other down as from the ashes of the figure of his old creation, he raises his hands to form a new idea. The ground reaches up and around Thomas, protecting him like armor made of trees. He flicks out his wrist and a thin vine, full with spikes and thorns lashes across the creatures face, he repeats the process except the tendril wraps around its neck, a fire has already started pouring from its hands but his own has already started building a small wall of ice in defense, sealing around the attacking vine as spikes form on the surface of his shield.

The ice spikes as sharp and hard as glass surge forward, pinning against the Dark Witches shoulder causing a shriek to emit from its cracked lips in agony. It pulls out one of them and hurls it up towards Thomas, but it simply bounces against the shield and cracks on the floor. The man is feeling adrenaline run through his veins as he realizes he is tiring the other creature, weary and in pain, out entirely. The brunet pulls back the shield and allows it to dissolve before another vine seems from his wrist, with a flick it’s tightening around the creature’s body. He watches it squirm and squeal, powerless before he’s planning his next move. This time was more difficult, watching the tree grow fiercely before it’s twisting up like a drill.

But the creature is gone. Thomas’ defenses lower, whipping round in shock. All of them have gone, they’ve run. Jack is panting on the floor, coughing on the air in his own lungs as he looks between Thomas and the empty beach. “What the fuck just happened?” He says, collapsing on the floor, eyes wide and full of terror.

The two of them look around for any sign of life, but there’s nothing, the entire landscape is empty “Come on,” Thomas says, holding out his hand for the other to take, “Let’s get out of here,” They run up the steps onto the streets and, exhausted, begin to walk southbound. “We need somewhere to rest for the night, they’ll be back for sure at some point,” The two head towards a hotel to rest for the night; Jack limping in and Thomas behind him; they must look a state to anyone else with dirt and sand clinging to them and blood drying on various scars and scratches they hadn’t even noticed they had.

The person behind the counter’s eyes grows very wide upon seeing the two, stuttering out the rooms available. Thomas dumps his wallet on the counter and says they’ll take whatever room is available with a rough and tired voice. A nod is received, money is taken and the keys are placed in the palm of his hand as he helps Jack up the stairs to their room.

Once inside the two collapse tiredly on the bed, sitting very still as the events of the past day start to sink in. “I need a shower,” The American mutters blankly, his face void of any emotion as he and his sides were too tired to find an emotion that suited this situation in the slightest. The water feels hot on his skin, burning through cuts and burns as he hisses and accepts the pain. The dirt washes down the drain, turning the water grey for a few seconds as it does so. The soap feels like a welcome embrace as the agony, stress, blood, and murk drains from his skin and he relaxes against the cold tile wall.

The brunet dries himself off, hugging the towel to his chest as he pulls on his underwear and enjoys the fact that there’s something more than pain touching his skin. He throws his dirty clothes on the floor in the bedroom with a sigh and collapses under the warmth of the quilt. Jack squeezes his hand for a moment before disappearing into the bathroom himself. Left alone with his thoughts, which is a dangerous plan, he thinks about the day, of Joan’s lifeless body, of Sophie’s tears, of the fire that raged incessantly inside his own anger and pain. He thinks about the bruised and broken figures of the people that had tried to protect him and he cries. The blame lingers on his shoulder like a weight that has only just decided to press down, breaking his shoulders and back with its burden. He closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing as tears collegiate on his eyelashes and dampen his cheeks, he inhales deeply and exhaled in a sob, hands coming up to his face to wipe the tears away.

Jack comes out, towel hanging off his shoulders onto his bare chest, wearing his jeans and worried expression. Upon seeing the other he drops the towel onto the floor and shimmies into the bed next to him, allowing the other to seek his comfort at his own pace.

They end the night with the two hugging, Thomas’ tears start to cease amongst Jack saying “It’s not your fault,” like he can read Thomas’ mind or thoughts. No, Jack just knew his friend and he knew how he would feel if he was in the other’s shoes, this entire situation fell heavily on his morality and Thomas’ morality had always been the driver of who he is.

Jack sleeps that night in a restless fashion, in his dreams he can hear screaming, see dark eyes flashing and blood running off his hands. The pieces of a puzzle that don’t quite make sense when he sees a glitch and his own face staring back at him, and he sits right up in bed. In a similar sense, Thomas also sleeps without comfort that night, in the darkness he can see an icy body and brown eyes blinking up at him, he can hear a voice that once loved him shouting blame at the young man. He sleeps with no comfort that night; neither of them do, restless in a world that had turned all their knives against them.

As the sun streams through the window, the two sit up, breathing heavily, with a pressure resting against their necks whilst air tried to force its way down their throats. Thomas presses his hand against his shoulder, remembers Dodie and all she had taught him, and through watery eyes, he smiles in a melancholy fashion. He’s still alive, and so is Jack.

--

Ko-fi

#ts sides #sanders sides