dottore's little wife

𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖑𝖚𝖏𝖆𝖍, 𝖎 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖆 𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖌𝖔𝖙.

[cypressvs]

[ LA RUFFIANA ] — il dottore’s little wife, ysa. she/her. 20.

    01   do not interact — about the author — blog rules

    02   taglist — masterlist — wips

© 2022 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms

[cypressvs]

PAPER RINGS

pairing: blade/gn!reader

cw: reader is a stellaron hunter, vague blade lore, possibly ooc

wc: 0.7k | join the taglist

“What’s this.”

The unenthusiastic tone that had transformed an innocent question into a scalding statement made you smile sheepishly, tangling your fingers with your partner friend ally. At the face of his unchanging expression, uncertainty swelled under your ribs—a silent whisper that surely such childish activities would be unappreciated by someone who’s always so stretched thin by uncountable and inexplicable concerns. It was what lead you to peering into those devilish eyes, seeking something, anything that can quell the brewing storm of embarrassment from under your skin. Whether it was a product of your imagination (as delusional as that sounds) or a fickle tolerance you managed to instill in him (again, another delusional statement), the tiny beginnings of curiosity and maybe amusement bedazzles his ruby glare.

“It’s a paper ring,” you reply as soon as you muster enough audacity to flash him a cheerful, deceivingly innocent smile.

“For what?”

You press your lips; a small popping sound escaping as you fall into thought. “Dunno… A good luck gift, maybe.”

Blade makes a noncommittal sound before leaving you to your devices. With nothing now to distract you from your pessimism, you think that this conversation too, despite your efforts, would fall into the category of unremarkable memories that did little to bridge the gap between you and the not-so-stranger strange stranger.

01:46:40 System Time.

A weathered sword swipes through the mara-struck, dispersing the air with a sharp whoosh that accompanied practiced movements. The wielder does not do so much as flinch as he evades an incoming attack. He just swings and thrusts and pierces through armor and wood, ignoring the scent of undying death being emitted from both his and his enemies’ skin. It dampens his mood, somewhat, and the brief opportunity casted by his sudden somberness makes his breath hitch almost imperceptibly.

“Hey.” He seethes before falling into a long period of unnerving silence where no tangible thing dared to step close to him—not the mara-struck, not the wind, not the faint rays of the moonlight from high above. He drops his gaze to the ground, to the sheet laid untangled from the meticulous folds it once remembered; to the white that has now become a crimson as blood seeped into its every nook and cranny. For this, he rages.

“Where do you think you’re cutting?”

His skin fizzles as the open wound on his knuckles stitched itself together. He glowers under the shadows of the night before everything falls into the permanence of nothing.

10:21:38 System Time.

You groan into your sheets as you untangle yourself from the claws of sleep. It was rare for you to be granted the opportunity to wake up relatively late when your group of rag tag criminals are fewer in number compared to the intergalactic crimes that needed to be committed. With a sigh, you move to scrub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes. However, you end up freezing as you eye the little something on your ring finger that you were dead certain wasn’t there when you fell asleep. It was a simple silver band, nothing too special save for the pretty red gemstone embedded in it. 

“You’re awake.”

You stifle a scream as you glance at your doorway where Blade, as disinterested as ever, stood with his arm folded over the other.

“W-what are you doing here?”

“That.” He motions to your hand—or rather the ring.

What does ‘that’ mean? Did he give it? Did he mean to take it back? Was he waiting for gratitude or any other reaction from you? What does ‘that’ mean?! 

At your continuing non-reply, Blade sighs. Out of pity, you surmised hours later, he breaks the off-putting silence. “I was under the impression that you have to pay back what you are given.”

“Pay back?” You repeat before tilting your head. “For what?”

He thinks of the paper ring—of what it symbolized—the sincere well-wishes, the silent promises, the warm concern, and all of the tender affection you had naïvely but so very sweetly offered him. He thinks of the sheer anger that filled his being as he allowed hell to dampen the earth as that cretin tore it before he can ponder over it or store it or preserve it or love it behind the safety of his room. Blade thinks of many things but he voices none of it, only flashing you one of his near-crazed and far-from-decipherable smirks before departing from your bedroom, ignoring your baffled cries and appalled confusion.

TAGLIST:

@yevene @haiitsley1603

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

PAPER RINGS

pairing: blade/gn!reader

cw: reader is a stellaron hunter, vague blade lore, possibly ooc

wc: 0.7k | join the taglist

“What’s this.”

The unenthusiastic tone that had transformed an innocent question into a scalding statement made you smile sheepishly, tangling your fingers with your partner friend ally. At the face of his unchanging expression, uncertainty swelled under your ribs—a silent whisper that surely such childish activities would be unappreciated by someone who’s always so stretched thin by uncountable and inexplicable concerns. It was what lead you to peering into those devilish eyes, seeking something, anything that can quell the brewing storm of embarrassment from under your skin. Whether it was a product of your imagination (as delusional as that sounds) or a fickle tolerance you managed to instill in him (again, another delusional statement), the tiny beginnings of curiosity and maybe amusement bedazzles his ruby glare.

“It’s a paper ring,” you reply as soon as you muster enough audacity to flash him a cheerful, deceivingly innocent smile.

“For what?”

You press your lips; a small popping sound escaping as you fall into thought. “Dunno… A good luck gift, maybe.”

Blade makes a noncommittal sound before leaving you to your devices. With nothing now to distract you from your pessimism, you think that this conversation too, despite your efforts, would fall into the category of unremarkable memories that did little to bridge the gap between you and the not-so-stranger strange stranger.

01:46:40 System Time.

A weathered sword swipes through the mara-struck, dispersing the air with a sharp whoosh that accompanied practiced movements. The wielder does not do so much as flinch as he evades an incoming attack. He just swings and thrusts and pierces through armor and wood, ignoring the scent of undying death being emitted from both his and his enemies’ skin. It dampens his mood, somewhat, and the brief opportunity casted by his sudden somberness makes his breath hitch almost imperceptibly.

“Hey.” He seethes before falling into a long period of unnerving silence where no tangible thing dared to step close to him—not the mara-struck, not the wind, not the faint rays of the moonlight from high above. He drops his gaze to the ground, to the sheet laid untangled from the meticulous folds it once remembered; to the white that has now become a crimson as blood seeped into its every nook and cranny. For this, he rages.

“Where do you think you’re cutting?”

His skin fizzles as the open wound on his knuckles stitched itself together. He glowers under the shadows of the night before everything falls into the permanence of nothing.

10:21:38 System Time.

You groan into your sheets as you untangle yourself from the claws of sleep. It was rare for you to be granted the opportunity to wake up relatively late when your group of rag tag criminals are fewer in number compared to the intergalactic crimes that needed to be committed. With a sigh, you move to scrub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes. However, you end up freezing as you eye the little something on your ring finger that you were dead certain wasn’t there when you fell asleep. It was a simple silver band, nothing too special save for the pretty red gemstone embedded in it. 

“You’re awake.”

You stifle a scream as you glance at your doorway where Blade, as disinterested as ever, stood with his arm folded over the other.

“W-what are you doing here?”

“That.” He motions to your hand—or rather the ring.

What does ‘that’ mean? Did he give it? Did he mean to take it back? Was he waiting for gratitude or any other reaction from you? What does ‘that’ mean?! 

At your continuing non-reply, Blade sighs. Out of pity, you surmised hours later, he breaks the off-putting silence. “I was under the impression that you have to pay back what you are given.”

“Pay back?” You repeat before tilting your head. “For what?”

He thinks of the paper ring—of what it symbolized—the sincere well-wishes, the silent promises, the warm concern, and all of the tender affection you had naïvely but so very sweetly offered him. He thinks of the sheer anger that filled his being as he allowed hell to dampen the earth as that cretin tore it before he can ponder over it or store it or preserve it or love it behind the safety of his room. Blade thinks of many things but he voices none of it, only flashing you one of his near-crazed and far-from-decipherable smirks before departing from your bedroom, ignoring your baffled cries and appalled confusion.

TAGLIST:

@yevene @haiitsley1603

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

PAPER RINGS

pairing: blade/gn!reader

cw: reader is a stellaron hunter, vague blade lore, possibly ooc

wc: 0.7k | join the taglist

“What’s this.”

The unenthusiastic tone that had transformed an innocent question into a scalding statement made you smile sheepishly, tangling your fingers with your partner friend ally. At the face of his unchanging expression, uncertainty swelled under your ribs—a silent whisper that surely such childish activities would be unappreciated by someone who’s always so stretched thin by uncountable and inexplicable concerns. It was what lead you to peering into those devilish eyes, seeking something, anything that can quell the brewing storm of embarrassment from under your skin. Whether it was a product of your imagination (as delusional as that sounds) or a fickle tolerance you managed to instill in him (again, another delusional statement), the tiny beginnings of curiosity and maybe amusement bedazzles his ruby glare.

“It’s a paper ring,” you reply as soon as you muster enough audacity to flash him a cheerful, deceivingly innocent smile.

“For what?”

You press your lips; a small popping sound escaping as you fall into thought. “Dunno… A good luck gift, maybe.”

Blade makes a noncommittal sound before leaving you to your devices. With nothing now to distract you from your pessimism, you think that this conversation too, despite your efforts, would fall into the category of unremarkable memories that did little to bridge the gap between you and the not-so-stranger strange stranger.

01:46:40 System Time.

A weathered sword swipes through the mara-struck, dispersing the air with a sharp whoosh that accompanied practiced movements. The wielder does not do so much as flinch as he evades an incoming attack. He just swings and thrusts and pierces through armor and wood, ignoring the scent of undying death being emitted from both his and his enemies’ skin. It dampens his mood, somewhat, and the brief opportunity casted by his sudden somberness makes his breath hitch almost imperceptibly.

“Hey.” He seethes before falling into a long period of unnerving silence where no tangible thing dared to step close to him—not the mara-struck, not the wind, not the faint rays of the moonlight from high above. He drops his gaze to the ground, to the sheet laid untangled from the meticulous folds it once remembered; to the white that has now become a crimson as blood seeped into its every nook and cranny. For this, he rages.

“Where do you think you’re cutting?”

His skin fizzles as the open wound on his knuckles stitched itself together. He glowers under the shadows of the night before everything falls into the permanence of nothing.

10:21:38 System Time.

You groan into your sheets as you untangle yourself from the claws of sleep. It was rare for you to be granted the opportunity to wake up relatively late when your group of rag tag criminals are fewer in number compared to the intergalactic crimes that needed to be committed. With a sigh, you move to scrub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes. However, you end up freezing as you eye the little something on your ring finger that you were dead certain wasn’t there when you fell asleep. It was a simple silver band, nothing too special save for the pretty red gemstone embedded in it. 

“You’re awake.”

You stifle a scream as you glance at your doorway where Blade, as disinterested as ever, stood with his arm folded over the other.

“W-what are you doing here?”

“That.” He motions to your hand—or rather the ring.

What does ‘that’ mean? Did he give it? Did he mean to take it back? Was he waiting for gratitude or any other reaction from you? What does ‘that’ mean?! 

At your continuing non-reply, Blade sighs. Out of pity, you surmised hours later, he breaks the off-putting silence. “I was under the impression that you have to pay back what you are given.”

“Pay back?” You repeat before tilting your head. “For what?”

He thinks of the paper ring—of what it symbolized—the sincere well-wishes, the silent promises, the warm concern, and all of the tender affection you had naïvely but so very sweetly offered him. He thinks of the sheer anger that filled his being as he allowed hell to dampen the earth as that cretin tore it before he can ponder over it or store it or preserve it or love it behind the safety of his room. Blade thinks of many things but he voices none of it, only flashing you one of his near-crazed and far-from-decipherable smirks before departing from your bedroom, ignoring your baffled cries and appalled confusion.

TAGLIST:

@yevene @haiitsley1603

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

CRACKS IN BLACKOUT BLINDS PT. 1

pairing: childe/gn!reader, diluc/gn!reader, zhongli/gn!reader (separate)

cw: (all) established sexual relationships, kind of toxic college romance au, usage of an unspecified hole, it's a little sad before it becomes very horny, (childe) childhood friends to lovers, long distance relationship, college parties, alcohol, public sex, cunnilingus/rimming, creampie, unprotected sex, riding, (diluc) exes to fwb to lovers, body worship, implied m!masturbation, biting, marking, p!penetration, multiple rounds, (zhongli) p!penetration, grinding, implied ddlg relationship, reader is unhealthily dependent to zhongli and zhongli encourages it

wc: 1.3k, 400~ each | join the taglist

minors do not interact

CHILDE is too much and too little at the same time. Summertime of '12, and he's sneaking into your room and helping you get out of your house through your window when you shouldn't be anything but asleep. He's laughing wildly as he tugs you by the wrist, running the streets of your childhood place that you and he rule over. It's the simpler days when all you have to worry about is helping him finish the Lego set his mother bought him in a neighborhood garage sale. Sometimes you look back and you miss it and you regret that you grew up and that you allowed him to kiss you goodbye at the bus stop—on the lips and certainly not the friendly kind with mumbled promises of how he'll call and it's only four years and nothing will change. You regret believing his promises and visiting him at his dorm a few towns over and letting him drag you by the wrist like when you were kids as you crash a college party. You knew no one but knowing no one was the best because it's easy to disappear in the crowd of dancing bodies and half-crazy drunks. The red plastic cup that got handed to you was suddenly heavier and not even Childe's tongue licking and circling over your hole as you leaned your head back at the bathroom's tiled wall was enough to forget it. This isn't your world. This isn't the streets you once reigned. This wasn't you and him in a disillusioned childhood game. You let the alcohol slide down your throat, a burning tracing over your insides that makes your cry out of both pain and pleasure. There's a needy moan resting on your tongue and you shove it into his mouth as you dragged him up by his hair. There's a fucked out smile on his face when you part and he's suddenly rubbing the tip of his cock over your needy hole. You leave the party that night more sober than you are drunk, returned home the next day more worn and tired than when you left and missing the warmth of his cum inside you. Three months later and this time it was his turn to come to your place and he climbs up your room through the window like when you were kids but this time, you don't let him take you places. You grip him by his collar and lead him to a sloppy kiss, more teeth and tongue like you were once again inexperienced teenagers but you're rutting and grinding at each other like the horny college kids you were. It's messy but inside of the walls of your childhood home, in the familiar white noise of your childhood streets, you are at home. This is your world. This is where you rule and as you sink into his cock, all was right once again.

Sweet, tender DILUC once loved like a tourist in the Louvre and you—eighteen and no different from a cherub taking its first flight in uni—were a gilded masterpiece hung on the museum's walls. He observes, perceives, admires but never crosses the boundaries that separated life from art. He reaches out but pulls back; an unrivaled emotional constipation that could not be healed by heated touches on your bare skin and messy pants uttered to your swollen lips like a prayer. Sweet, tender Diluc broke your heart when you were eighteen in your messy room that still smelled like the afterglow of sex. Years later, you meet him again in the dark, eyes finding each other despite the sweaty bodies that grinded and mingled under neon lights. He's gone weary and tired from whatever success he found outside of your mundane college days but he still looks at you the same. You were a masterpiece, and as you lay under him to add onto your mighty list of drunken mistakes, you realize that Diluc loves the same—only now as he traced over the scars and bumps that he remembers too well to be considered innocent, you think that he's outgrown the running and the chasing, maturing into a curator that could only love you more and more as time goes on. His scarred hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs as he bites and sucks at your skin. You shouldn't have let him, he was just another passing face for your lonely nights and had no right to possess you after all these years but as he pumps into your hole with groaned out professions in reverie, art spills into life and you start to crave once more the sweet and tender and innocent bliss of being so adored that it scares you and him both. It's scary how you let him take your phone the day after, how you let him punch no longer familiar numbers into it once again, how you picked up your clothes only to drop them as he fucks you against his vanity. However, above all things, it's the scariest how you're all too eager to let him, ringing him up every Fridays for a supposed to be quick fuck that always ends with philosophical pillowtalk and unfunny jokes from you and adoring smiles from him, and cooking him breakfast every Saturdays before shooing him off with a "come back soon" instead of whatever you're supposed to be saying to no strings attached fuck buddies.

ZHONGLI is—and as boring and overused the term was nowadays—an old soul. He prefers his drinks darker and mostly bitter, only having aftertones of sweetness that were never inauthentic to the source material. He likes old bands and vinyls and hand-me-down books that were littered with annotations of the soul from a random stranger he'd never come across again in his lifetime. He passes his classes with ease as if he's learned the lessons over and over again. Essentially, he exudes a maturity and sense of responsibility that makes you shrink on yourself. Whether he's sliding his hands down your arms as he looked over your shoulder to supervise your essay-writing or when he's holding your thighs open in bed as he pumped his thick cock into you with the slow and deep cadence he favors, Zhongli makes it hard to stay true to your childish, irrational wishes. You stopped buying candies because sugar is bad for you; stopped going to arcades because what's the point? There's an unspoken expectation that you need to fulfill, a silent pressure that holds you hostage at the face of encroaching adulthood. If Zhongli can, why can't you? If Zhongli is, why aren't you? He never says anything, only taking whatever it is from your hand and doing it for you. He means well but it always leaves you hanging on the deep end where the contrast of how big he is in comparison to how little you were in this similarly larger than life world. You've talked to him about it—briefly and not quite what you would've said in hindsight after you replayed the conversation in your head over and over again—but he had only chuckled in that deep, 80s charm and drawl that he always does when he found you endearing. He said he doesn't mind, maybe even prefers it when you cling to him and seek him for the minute details. Lives for it even when you whimper as his throbbing member turned you brainless, your walls wrapping and subconsciously remembering his shape and how good he makes you feel as he grinds against your pelvis. He never fails to give you that stare, dark and indecipherable but he tells you that you've been good and that you shouldn't worry about anything else because you have him to rely on and who are you to question that when all the young souls you've been with never made you feel as good as Zhongli did? You don't think being so small was so bad if it meant being tenderly taken care of by him.

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

CRACKS IN BLACKOUT BLINDS PT. 1

pairing: childe/gn!reader, diluc/gn!reader, zhongli/gn!reader (separate)

cw: (all) established sexual relationships, kind of toxic college romance au, usage of an unspecified hole, it's a little sad before it becomes very horny, (childe) childhood friends to lovers, long distance relationship, college parties, alcohol, public sex, cunnilingus/rimming, creampie, unprotected sex, riding, (diluc) exes to fwb to lovers, body worship, implied m!masturbation, biting, marking, p!penetration, multiple rounds, (zhongli) p!penetration, grinding, implied ddlg relationship, reader is unhealthily dependent to zhongli and zhongli encourages it

wc: 1.3k, 400~ each | join the taglist

minors do not interact

CHILDE is too much and too little at the same time. Summertime of '12, and he's sneaking into your room and helping you get out of your house through your window when you shouldn't be anything but asleep. He's laughing wildly as he tugs you by the wrist, running the streets of your childhood place that you and he rule over. It's the simpler days when all you have to worry about is helping him finish the Lego set his mother bought him in a neighborhood garage sale. Sometimes you look back and you miss it and you regret that you grew up and that you allowed him to kiss you goodbye at the bus stop—on the lips and certainly not the friendly kind with mumbled promises of how he'll call and it's only four years and nothing will change. You regret believing his promises and visiting him at his dorm a few towns over and letting him drag you by the wrist like when you were kids as you crash a college party. You knew no one but knowing no one was the best because it's easy to disappear in the crowd of dancing bodies and half-crazy drunks. The red plastic cup that got handed to you was suddenly heavier and not even Childe's tongue licking and circling over your hole as you leaned your head back at the bathroom's tiled wall was enough to forget it. This isn't your world. This isn't the streets you once reigned. This wasn't you and him in a disillusioned childhood game. You let the alcohol slide down your throat, a burning tracing over your insides that makes your cry out of both pain and pleasure. There's a needy moan resting on your tongue and you shove it into his mouth as you dragged him up by his hair. There's a fucked out smile on his face when you part and he's suddenly rubbing the tip of his cock over your needy hole. You leave the party that night more sober than you are drunk, returned home the next day more worn and tired than when you left and missing the warmth of his cum inside you. Three months later and this time it was his turn to come to your place and he climbs up your room through the window like when you were kids but this time, you don't let him take you places. You grip him by his collar and lead him to a sloppy kiss, more teeth and tongue like you were once again inexperienced teenagers but you're rutting and grinding at each other like the horny college kids you were. It's messy but inside of the walls of your childhood home, in the familiar white noise of your childhood streets, you are at home. This is your world. This is where you rule and as you sink into his cock, all was right once again.

Sweet, tender DILUC once loved like a tourist in the Louvre and you—eighteen and no different from a cherub taking its first flight in uni—were a gilded masterpiece hung on the museum's walls. He observes, perceives, admires but never crosses the boundaries that separated life from art. He reaches out but pulls back; an unrivaled emotional constipation that could not be healed by heated touches on your bare skin and messy pants uttered to your swollen lips like a prayer. Sweet, tender Diluc broke your heart when you were eighteen in your messy room that still smelled like the afterglow of sex. Years later, you meet him again in the dark, eyes finding each other despite the sweaty bodies that grinded and mingled under neon lights. He's gone weary and tired from whatever success he found outside of your mundane college days but he still looks at you the same. You were a masterpiece, and as you lay under him to add onto your mighty list of drunken mistakes, you realize that Diluc loves the same—only now as he traced over the scars and bumps that he remembers too well to be considered innocent, you think that he's outgrown the running and the chasing, maturing into a curator that could only love you more and more as time goes on. His scarred hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs as he bites and sucks at your skin. You shouldn't have let him, he was just another passing face for your lonely nights and had no right to possess you after all these years but as he pumps into your hole with groaned out professions in reverie, art spills into life and you start to crave once more the sweet and tender and innocent bliss of being so adored that it scares you and him both. It's scary how you let him take your phone the day after, how you let him punch no longer familiar numbers into it once again, how you picked up your clothes only to drop them as he fucks you against his vanity. However, above all things, it's the scariest how you're all too eager to let him, ringing him up every Fridays for a supposed to be quick fuck that always ends with philosophical pillowtalk and unfunny jokes from you and adoring smiles from him, and cooking him breakfast every Saturdays before shooing him off with a "come back soon" instead of whatever you're supposed to be saying to no strings attached fuck buddies.

ZHONGLI is—and as boring and overused the term was nowadays—an old soul. He prefers his drinks darker and mostly bitter, only having aftertones of sweetness that were never inauthentic to the source material. He likes old bands and vinyls and hand-me-down books that were littered with annotations of the soul from a random stranger he'd never come across again in his lifetime. He passes his classes with ease as if he's learned the lessons over and over again. Essentially, he exudes a maturity and sense of responsibility that makes you shrink on yourself. Whether he's sliding his hands down your arms as he looked over your shoulder to supervise your essay-writing or when he's holding your thighs open in bed as he pumped his thick cock into you with the slow and deep cadence he favors, Zhongli makes it hard to stay true to your childish, irrational wishes. You stopped buying candies because sugar is bad for you; stopped going to arcades because what's the point? There's an unspoken expectation that you need to fulfill, a silent pressure that holds you hostage at the face of encroaching adulthood. If Zhongli can, why can't you? If Zhongli is, why aren't you? He never says anything, only taking whatever it is from your hand and doing it for you. He means well but it always leaves you hanging on the deep end where the contrast of how big he is in comparison to how little you were in this similarly larger than life world. You've talked to him about it—briefly and not quite what you would've said in hindsight after you replayed the conversation in your head over and over again—but he had only chuckled in that deep, 80s charm and drawl that he always does when he found you endearing. He said he doesn't mind, maybe even prefers it when you cling to him and seek him for the minute details. Lives for it even when you whimper as his throbbing member turned you brainless, your walls wrapping and subconsciously remembering his shape and how good he makes you feel as he grinds against your pelvis. He never fails to give you that stare, dark and indecipherable but he tells you that you've been good and that you shouldn't worry about anything else because you have him to rely on and who are you to question that when all the young souls you've been with never made you feel as good as Zhongli did? You don't think being so small was so bad if it meant being tenderly taken care of by him.

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

CRACKS IN BLACKOUT BLINDS PT. 1

pairing: childe/gn!reader, diluc/gn!reader, zhongli/gn!reader (separate)

cw: (all) established sexual relationships, kind of toxic college romance au, usage of an unspecified hole, it's a little sad before it becomes very horny, (childe) childhood friends to lovers, long distance relationship, college parties, alcohol, public sex, cunnilingus/rimming, creampie, unprotected sex, riding, (diluc) exes to fwb to lovers, body worship, implied m!masturbation, biting, marking, p!penetration, multiple rounds, (zhongli) p!penetration, grinding, implied ddlg relationship, reader is unhealthily dependent to zhongli and zhongli encourages it

wc: 1.3k, 400~ each | join the taglist

minors do not interact

CHILDE is too much and too little at the same time. Summertime of '12, and he's sneaking into your room and helping you get out of your house through your window when you shouldn't be anything but asleep. He's laughing wildly as he tugs you by the wrist, running the streets of your childhood place that you and he rule over. It's the simpler days when all you have to worry about is helping him finish the Lego set his mother bought him in a neighborhood garage sale. Sometimes you look back and you miss it and you regret that you grew up and that you allowed him to kiss you goodbye at the bus stop—on the lips and certainly not the friendly kind with mumbled promises of how he'll call and it's only four years and nothing will change. You regret believing his promises and visiting him at his dorm a few towns over and letting him drag you by the wrist like when you were kids as you crash a college party. You knew no one but knowing no one was the best because it's easy to disappear in the crowd of dancing bodies and half-crazy drunks. The red plastic cup that got handed to you was suddenly heavier and not even Childe's tongue licking and circling over your hole as you leaned your head back at the bathroom's tiled wall was enough to forget it. This isn't your world. This isn't the streets you once reigned. This wasn't you and him in a disillusioned childhood game. You let the alcohol slide down your throat, a burning tracing over your insides that makes your cry out of both pain and pleasure. There's a needy moan resting on your tongue and you shove it into his mouth as you dragged him up by his hair. There's a fucked out smile on his face when you part and he's suddenly rubbing the tip of his cock over your needy hole. You leave the party that night more sober than you are drunk, returned home the next day more worn and tired than when you left and missing the warmth of his cum inside you. Three months later and this time it was his turn to come to your place and he climbs up your room through the window like when you were kids but this time, you don't let him take you places. You grip him by his collar and lead him to a sloppy kiss, more teeth and tongue like you were once again inexperienced teenagers but you're rutting and grinding at each other like the horny college kids you were. It's messy but inside of the walls of your childhood home, in the familiar white noise of your childhood streets, you are at home. This is your world. This is where you rule and as you sink into his cock, all was right once again.

Sweet, tender DILUC once loved like a tourist in the Louvre and you—eighteen and no different from a cherub taking its first flight in uni—were a gilded masterpiece hung on the museum's walls. He observes, perceives, admires but never crosses the boundaries that separated life from art. He reaches out but pulls back; an unrivaled emotional constipation that could not be healed by heated touches on your bare skin and messy pants uttered to your swollen lips like a prayer. Sweet, tender Diluc broke your heart when you were eighteen in your messy room that still smelled like the afterglow of sex. Years later, you meet him again in the dark, eyes finding each other despite the sweaty bodies that grinded and mingled under neon lights. He's gone weary and tired from whatever success he found outside of your mundane college days but he still looks at you the same. You were a masterpiece, and as you lay under him to add onto your mighty list of drunken mistakes, you realize that Diluc loves the same—only now as he traced over the scars and bumps that he remembers too well to be considered innocent, you think that he's outgrown the running and the chasing, maturing into a curator that could only love you more and more as time goes on. His scarred hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs as he bites and sucks at your skin. You shouldn't have let him, he was just another passing face for your lonely nights and had no right to possess you after all these years but as he pumps into your hole with groaned out professions in reverie, art spills into life and you start to crave once more the sweet and tender and innocent bliss of being so adored that it scares you and him both. It's scary how you let him take your phone the day after, how you let him punch no longer familiar numbers into it once again, how you picked up your clothes only to drop them as he fucks you against his vanity. However, above all things, it's the scariest how you're all too eager to let him, ringing him up every Fridays for a supposed to be quick fuck that always ends with philosophical pillowtalk and unfunny jokes from you and adoring smiles from him, and cooking him breakfast every Saturdays before shooing him off with a "come back soon" instead of whatever you're supposed to be saying to no strings attached fuck buddies.

ZHONGLI is—and as boring and overused the term was nowadays—an old soul. He prefers his drinks darker and mostly bitter, only having aftertones of sweetness that were never inauthentic to the source material. He likes old bands and vinyls and hand-me-down books that were littered with annotations of the soul from a random stranger he'd never come across again in his lifetime. He passes his classes with ease as if he's learned the lessons over and over again. Essentially, he exudes a maturity and sense of responsibility that makes you shrink on yourself. Whether he's sliding his hands down your arms as he looked over your shoulder to supervise your essay-writing or when he's holding your thighs open in bed as he pumped his thick cock into you with the slow and deep cadence he favors, Zhongli makes it hard to stay true to your childish, irrational wishes. You stopped buying candies because sugar is bad for you; stopped going to arcades because what's the point? There's an unspoken expectation that you need to fulfill, a silent pressure that holds you hostage at the face of encroaching adulthood. If Zhongli can, why can't you? If Zhongli is, why aren't you? He never says anything, only taking whatever it is from your hand and doing it for you. He means well but it always leaves you hanging on the deep end where the contrast of how big he is in comparison to how little you were in this similarly larger than life world. You've talked to him about it—briefly and not quite what you would've said in hindsight after you replayed the conversation in your head over and over again—but he had only chuckled in that deep, 80s charm and drawl that he always does when he found you endearing. He said he doesn't mind, maybe even prefers it when you cling to him and seek him for the minute details. Lives for it even when you whimper as his throbbing member turned you brainless, your walls wrapping and subconsciously remembering his shape and how good he makes you feel as he grinds against your pelvis. He never fails to give you that stare, dark and indecipherable but he tells you that you've been good and that you shouldn't worry about anything else because you have him to rely on and who are you to question that when all the young souls you've been with never made you feel as good as Zhongli did? You don't think being so small was so bad if it meant being tenderly taken care of by him.

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, MR. YANG

pairing: welt/f!reader

cw: stellaron hunter!reader, enemies to lovers?, mean dom!welt, semi-public sex, degradation, praise, brat taming but not really, nipple play, choking, dry humping, finger sucking, deepthroating, cum eating, m!masturbation

wc: 2.7k | join the taglist

minors do not interact

There was a song famous in the Luofu recently and it twists around your brain effortlessly as you hum it for the nth time, enjoying your share of snacks as your partner silently pumps her fist with a arrogant laugh at her newest victory. Silver Wolf falls into an excited monologue of how those “noobs can suck her—“ which was promptly silenced courtesy of a Xianzhou native who sent her a stink eye. The young girl rolls her eyes before turning her whole attention to you, still happily humming the stupid song that’s been stuck in your head for ages.

“Hey… It’s almost time,” she drawls out with her usual disinterested tone but one look at the gleam in her eyes reveals that she’s all too excited to be on the field for once. “Not getting cold feet, are you?”

“How could I? Kafka and Blade are doing all the hard parts. It’ll be pretty rude of me to complain about my tiny role,” you reply with a sly smirk.

“Psh… Tell me about it. Why does Kafka always get all of the excitement?”

“Now, now, Silver Wolf. I’m sure our time to shine will come soon. Besides, your target’s pretty interesting this time, isn’t she?”

Silver Wolf slumps to the table before stealing a fry straight from your hands. “Still boring. You’re only appeased this time because you like your target.”

“Like is a bit much.” You lean to your palm. “He’s just interesting is all.”

“Hah! Keep telling yourself that. In any case, we have to meet up here again in an hour. Be even a second late and I’m out. Our mission this time isn’t difficult. There’s no reason for you to be late. Again.”

“You wound me, Wolfie~! I bought you those… oneiric jades as an apology y’know. That cost me a hefty sum.”

Silver Wolf clicks her tongue before mumbling a ‘whatever,’ allowing you to fall back to your humming. It continues on for another few seconds before you stop, grinning madly as you nod to your east.

“Right on time as always. It’s showtime, Silver Wolf. I’ll see you after I play!”

You stand up from your seat in the food stall before disappearing into the crowd, seamlessly crossing bodies until you reach him. It wasn’t easy to match his pace with his dastardly long legs and swift nature but you manage, and you even had the room to teasingly brush your fingers against his knuckles before you’re ducking to avoid his cane.

“Is that how you treat your new acquaintances, Mr. Yang?” You ask as you withdraw a few steps back.

His frown turns deeper. “You and I are hardly acquaintances.” 

“Shame. But now that we both have time, how about we get to know each other?”

“My apologies but I have no interest in your idle games. Why have you come?”

You peer at him through your lashes, lips curling into an innocent smile. “Well, it’s no secret so I suppose I can say. I’ve come for you.” You pause before leaning closer salaciously. “In more ways than one.”

You watch as he sputters in reply, cheeks bleeding into a faint pink but before long, he’s clearing his throat and glaring at you with a newfound ferocity. He doesn’t say anything, only gripping his cane tighter. For a minute, you imagine how it’d feel if he instead wrapped his hands around your neck, pressing until you’re gasping for air, weakly tracing over his soft skin and bulging veins and—your smile widens and you ignore the tiny voice in your head that warned you not to prematurely move against the man when he looks almost too ready to pounce on you. Instead, you take a few steps forward, the soles of your shoes clicking against the bricks being the only decipherable sound between the two of you and the empty alley he lead you to.

“Very noble of you to take me away from where the people are, Mr. Yang. In fact, I’d be impressed if this situation doesn’t feel very… hah, erotic? Is that a good word?”

He clenches his jaw and you swear—you almost moaned at the sight of it. It was exciting how he tensed, hyperaware of each of your minute movements as he watched. Deep brown eyes dilated clearly despite being hidden behind the shadows of his lenses. When you close your eyes, you could almost feel his hatred bloom under your touch, almost taste the blood he’s drawing from how hard he’s biting his tongue. They say it’s always the calmest men who are the scariest and you agree. You—of all people—couldn’t help but shiver as you feel his cold gaze trace over your skin. Is he trying to find your weak spots? Is he trying to undress you in his dark, dark mind? You’ll never know and the increasingly debauched questions in your head was enough for you to willingly liken fear and excitement.

“If you have nothing better to say, then I suggest you cooperate and turn yourself in.” 

You tilt your head. “Oh, I can cooperate alright. It’s just that, you see, Elio said I mustn’t let you take a single step out of this place so I’m afraid that’ll have to wait until the next time.

“Then I suppose our discussion ends here.” With a tap of his cane, a black hole appears in front of you and you barely manage to tumble back to dodge it.

“How primitive. Ah, but I can’t say I don’t like it.” You smirk as you raise your hands in an unconvincing show of defeat. 

Welt ignores your comment pointedly, opting to adjust his glasses with a swift flick of his hand before assuming a defensive position. From where you stood, you could see how his muscles strained under his suit, how his grip tightens around his cane until the whites of his knuckles showed. Anticipation bubbles from somewhere beneath your skin, a sinister idea making you drop your hands nonchalantly.

“There’s no need to be so distraught, Mr. Yang. Unfortunately, I’m one of those unlucky ones whose actions are bound by the dos and do not dos of destiny. Besides, I’m not conceited enough to think I can win against you.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Then what is your objective? If you truly mean nothing nefarious, why are you and your group in the Xianzhou?”

“You’ll soon come to know that the Stellaron here is not of our doing. Ah, but that’s way ahead of the story. For now, all you have to worry about is how you’ll sit still comfortably while looking real pretty.”

“Do you expect me to lay down my arms and trust you just because of what you’ve said?”

“Absolutely not,” you reply as you take a few innocent steps forward. “However, there’s a lot of things I’m wrong about not expecting.”

You take his non-reply as a signal to continue. “For example, Mr. Yang, do you always look at your enemies like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to fuck them,” you snarl, canines flashing dangerously as your eyes narrow into slits in your excitement. Welt freezes before he grits his teeth, a more noticeable rouge engulfing his pale cheeks and even the tips of his ears as he tries and fails to appear composed. 

“How disgraceful—!”

“It’s okay. I can keep a secret.” You lick your lips as you press your thighs together, rubbing them slightly in pursuit of that sweet, delectable friction that shoots tiny shivers of pleasure up your spine. “I imagine it’d be hard to face the Crew if they found out that their ever righteous Mr. Yang is a pervert who gets a hard on from the smallest peek of his enemy’s panties.”

“You! Did you plan this?!”

You lean closer so that you’re chest-to-chest, feeling from beneath thin layers of clothing the way he chased his breath. You lift a dainty hand to play with his coat’s buttons before you’re grinning sweetly at him and peering at him through your lashes, eyes dripping with faux innocence. “No but as Kafka always says, if it’s not part of Elio’s script, why would it matter? I can imagine a hundred different ways we can—“

You gasp as you suddenly feel your chest colliding against the wall, cheek smushed against rough stone as his large, calloused hands pinned your wrists above your head. A shaky breath leaves your lips as you stared wide-eyed at the sudden show of strength and the paradoxical way he rests his chin against your shoulder.

“You should learn how to respect your elders instead of running your mouth off like a slut.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” You manage to muster up a cocky smirk. “You gonna teach me a lesson or something?”

“I ought to but dumb whores like you wouldn’t understand it anyway. I should just treat you like the way you want to be treated.”

A moan tumbles out of your glossed lips as he ruts his clothed cock against your ass. You feel one hand slide down your arm, groping at your chest teasingly before undoing the buttons that hid you away from his sight. 

“Hah, now who’s the pervert, moaning and arching your back instead of doing your mission like a common whore?” He growls into your ear, trapping one of your nipples in between his fingers and tweaking without a care for your muted squeal. 

“You have me because I’m, fuck, letting you have me. Don’t get your head twisted, Mr. Yang.” 

Welt chuckles darkly, thumbing at the pain on your chest tenderly before gliding his hand to your throat and squeezing, using your surprise to turn you over so you were face-to-face. “Cheeky little bitch. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“S-shit! Wait—!” You pant as he presses a bruising kiss on your lips, muffling whatever noise you were planning to relay. You feel him tug at your bottom lip before continuing his pursuit, sucking into your tongue lightly. Your chest tightens as he remains relentless in his kiss but it was okay. It was more than okay. You pour your weight into him, aching to be impossibly closer but just as you were finally getting into it, he pulls away. A thin streak of drool connects you to him and you eye it hazily, watching it snap as he pursed his lips.

“Such a mannerless little girl.” He clicks his tongue and you whimper in reply, gripping at his clothes as you chase after his lips. He laughs at your neediness before carefully running his thumb over your swollen lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you a lesson on manners.”

He removes his glasses with one motion, tossing it carelessly to the side before he takes a step back. A hand runs through his hair before he’s wagging his finger at you. “Sit.”

You furrow your brows but obey nonetheless. The ground was cold but it was nothing to the heat that seeped under your skin as he unbuckles his belt, eyes not once leaving your submissive form. He palms himself over his briefs, no doubt to tease you as he grinned at the way drool began slipping from the side of your lips the more you stared at his large cock in anticipation. Finally, finally, he releases himself from his constraints, revealing a long and girthy flesh that blooms into a dark pink at the head. Thick veins decorate his cock, accentuated by his pre that dripped and traced over it.

“What are you waiting for, sweetheart?” He mutters tauntingly as he used one hand to lightly slap at your cheek. “Open.”

You part your puffy lips, going the extra mile and sticking your tongue out for his leaking meat. In your lustful haze, you can somehow make out the dark chuckles he let out in response as his eyes skimmed over your awaiting form. You’re so pliant, and needy, making a mess over your thighs as your slick dripped in your excitement. When you’re on your knees like this, he towers over your—takes control over everything you are and he finds a sick, perverse delight he never knew he can hold growing in the shadowed crevices of his heart. He places his thumb over your tongue, rubbing at it affectionately before sliding it deeper into your mouth. You suck at it mindlessly, looking up at him as best as you could with tears disturbing your waterline until he’s pulling out and using your drool to thumb at his slit.

“So pretty for me, aren’t you? Prettiest when you shut up.” He accentuates his words with a heavy grunt and a rough thrust that sends the head of his cock to the back of your throat. He’s so big and thick that you could only choke, tears finally dropping to your cheeks as you tried to breathe and relax through his assault. From above, he hisses a fragile curse as he feels the warm walls of your mouth enclose upon him. It’s so, so tight and he knows when you moan that you feel how his cock throbbed from the pleasant stimulation. One of his hands settle to the back of your head as he pumps into you. Slowly at first before he hastens the pace, rocking his hips to the time of your moans. “F-fuck… You feel so good. ‘s made for me. All for me.”

You whimper as you try to keep up with him, flattening your tongue at the back of his cock but he’s just so fast and so fucked out to think of accommodating you that you just give up, moaning deliriously as your weakened legs give in and you slump fully on the floor. Welt huffs before caressing your cheek tenderly, a sharp contrast to how his rut never eased. “So close. Swallow for me, okay, pretty girl? Be good for me now.”

He gives a few more thrusts before he’s groaning, pressing as deep as he possibly can be on your throat and drawling out sweet nonsense about how good you’re being for him and fuck, fuck, fuck he’s never come this hard ever in his life. Peering up at him, you have a clear view of how he tilted his head back, eyes fluttered close as he pumps a few more times for good measure before pulling out his limp cock. He looks years younger like this in the afterglow of pleasure and if his lashes weren’t fanning against his age lines, you would’ve thought that he’s just as young and deranged and stupid and horny as you were—savoring the salty aftertaste of his cum like you would have in your younger years. For a moment, neither of you says a word, only watching each other as your chests pump up and down, sweat making your skin sticky and damp. Finally, he chuckles and you plaster a halfhearted smile in response.

“I suppose you got what you’re after in the end.”

“Two birds with one stone. That’s how I roll.” You plant your palms on the ground as you push yourself up with your shaky legs. “Well, time’s a-wastin’. Time to say bye-bye.”

Welt clears his throat before giving a dismissive nod, something that you pout at as he ignored you in favor of dressing up once more. “C’mon, old man, won’t you say you’d miss me even if it’s just a little?”

“I’m sure we’re to meet again soon or else you’d be crying, destiny’s slave. But—“ he pauses, picking up his glasses and placing it once more on the bridge of his nose—“by then, you would find yourself cooperating with me and surrendering yourself to the authorities.”

“Heh, then I hope you’ll give it your all when that time comes.” You fiddle with the end of your coat before smirking, and using your other hand to throw the tiny little thing Kafka was so kind to lend you. As soon as it hits the ground, smoke fills the empty alley, hiding you from his sight. “Catch me if you can, Mr. Yang. I’ll be waiting~!”

It was only after the smoke completely dissipated that the Cloud Knights found him, citing hacked GPS as the reason for the delayed reinforcements. By then, as he would come to know, the newest member of the Astral Crew had made contact and unearthed the secret behind the phenomenon of the Mara Struck. Hindsight was 20/20 and as he sat under the pale light of the inn’s bathroom, pumping his cock at the memory of your warm lips, he knew

Mission Accomplished. 

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, MR. YANG

pairing: welt/f!reader

cw: stellaron hunter!reader, enemies to lovers?, mean dom!welt, semi-public sex, degradation, praise, brat taming but not really, nipple play, choking, dry humping, finger sucking, deepthroating, cum eating, m!masturbation

wc: 2.7k | join the taglist

minors do not interact

There was a song famous in the Luofu recently and it twists around your brain effortlessly as you hum it for the nth time, enjoying your share of snacks as your partner silently pumps her fist with a arrogant laugh at her newest victory. Silver Wolf falls into an excited monologue of how those “noobs can suck her—“ which was promptly silenced courtesy of a Xianzhou native who sent her a stink eye. The young girl rolls her eyes before turning her whole attention to you, still happily humming the stupid song that’s been stuck in your head for ages.

“Hey… It’s almost time,” she drawls out with her usual disinterested tone but one look at the gleam in her eyes reveals that she’s all too excited to be on the field for once. “Not getting cold feet, are you?”

“How could I? Kafka and Blade are doing all the hard parts. It’ll be pretty rude of me to complain about my tiny role,” you reply with a sly smirk.

“Psh… Tell me about it. Why does Kafka always get all of the excitement?”

“Now, now, Silver Wolf. I’m sure our time to shine will come soon. Besides, your target’s pretty interesting this time, isn’t she?”

Silver Wolf slumps to the table before stealing a fry straight from your hands. “Still boring. You’re only appeased this time because you like your target.”

“Like is a bit much.” You lean to your palm. “He’s just interesting is all.”

“Hah! Keep telling yourself that. In any case, we have to meet up here again in an hour. Be even a second late and I’m out. Our mission this time isn’t difficult. There’s no reason for you to be late. Again.”

“You wound me, Wolfie~! I bought you those… oneiric jades as an apology y’know. That cost me a hefty sum.”

Silver Wolf clicks her tongue before mumbling a ‘whatever,’ allowing you to fall back to your humming. It continues on for another few seconds before you stop, grinning madly as you nod to your east.

“Right on time as always. It’s showtime, Silver Wolf. I’ll see you after I play!”

You stand up from your seat in the food stall before disappearing into the crowd, seamlessly crossing bodies until you reach him. It wasn’t easy to match his pace with his dastardly long legs and swift nature but you manage, and you even had the room to teasingly brush your fingers against his knuckles before you’re ducking to avoid his cane.

“Is that how you treat your new acquaintances, Mr. Yang?” You ask as you withdraw a few steps back.

His frown turns deeper. “You and I are hardly acquaintances.” 

“Shame. But now that we both have time, how about we get to know each other?”

“My apologies but I have no interest in your idle games. Why have you come?”

You peer at him through your lashes, lips curling into an innocent smile. “Well, it’s no secret so I suppose I can say. I’ve come for you.” You pause before leaning closer salaciously. “In more ways than one.”

You watch as he sputters in reply, cheeks bleeding into a faint pink but before long, he’s clearing his throat and glaring at you with a newfound ferocity. He doesn’t say anything, only gripping his cane tighter. For a minute, you imagine how it’d feel if he instead wrapped his hands around your neck, pressing until you’re gasping for air, weakly tracing over his soft skin and bulging veins and—your smile widens and you ignore the tiny voice in your head that warned you not to prematurely move against the man when he looks almost too ready to pounce on you. Instead, you take a few steps forward, the soles of your shoes clicking against the bricks being the only decipherable sound between the two of you and the empty alley he lead you to.

“Very noble of you to take me away from where the people are, Mr. Yang. In fact, I’d be impressed if this situation doesn’t feel very… hah, erotic? Is that a good word?”

He clenches his jaw and you swear—you almost moaned at the sight of it. It was exciting how he tensed, hyperaware of each of your minute movements as he watched. Deep brown eyes dilated clearly despite being hidden behind the shadows of his lenses. When you close your eyes, you could almost feel his hatred bloom under your touch, almost taste the blood he’s drawing from how hard he’s biting his tongue. They say it’s always the calmest men who are the scariest and you agree. You—of all people—couldn’t help but shiver as you feel his cold gaze trace over your skin. Is he trying to find your weak spots? Is he trying to undress you in his dark, dark mind? You’ll never know and the increasingly debauched questions in your head was enough for you to willingly liken fear and excitement.

“If you have nothing better to say, then I suggest you cooperate and turn yourself in.” 

You tilt your head. “Oh, I can cooperate alright. It’s just that, you see, Elio said I mustn’t let you take a single step out of this place so I’m afraid that’ll have to wait until the next time.

“Then I suppose our discussion ends here.” With a tap of his cane, a black hole appears in front of you and you barely manage to tumble back to dodge it.

“How primitive. Ah, but I can’t say I don’t like it.” You smirk as you raise your hands in an unconvincing show of defeat. 

Welt ignores your comment pointedly, opting to adjust his glasses with a swift flick of his hand before assuming a defensive position. From where you stood, you could see how his muscles strained under his suit, how his grip tightens around his cane until the whites of his knuckles showed. Anticipation bubbles from somewhere beneath your skin, a sinister idea making you drop your hands nonchalantly.

“There’s no need to be so distraught, Mr. Yang. Unfortunately, I’m one of those unlucky ones whose actions are bound by the dos and do not dos of destiny. Besides, I’m not conceited enough to think I can win against you.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Then what is your objective? If you truly mean nothing nefarious, why are you and your group in the Xianzhou?”

“You’ll soon come to know that the Stellaron here is not of our doing. Ah, but that’s way ahead of the story. For now, all you have to worry about is how you’ll sit still comfortably while looking real pretty.”

“Do you expect me to lay down my arms and trust you just because of what you’ve said?”

“Absolutely not,” you reply as you take a few innocent steps forward. “However, there’s a lot of things I’m wrong about not expecting.”

You take his non-reply as a signal to continue. “For example, Mr. Yang, do you always look at your enemies like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to fuck them,” you snarl, canines flashing dangerously as your eyes narrow into slits in your excitement. Welt freezes before he grits his teeth, a more noticeable rouge engulfing his pale cheeks and even the tips of his ears as he tries and fails to appear composed. 

“How disgraceful—!”

“It’s okay. I can keep a secret.” You lick your lips as you press your thighs together, rubbing them slightly in pursuit of that sweet, delectable friction that shoots tiny shivers of pleasure up your spine. “I imagine it’d be hard to face the Crew if they found out that their ever righteous Mr. Yang is a pervert who gets a hard on from the smallest peek of his enemy’s panties.”

“You! Did you plan this?!”

You lean closer so that you’re chest-to-chest, feeling from beneath thin layers of clothing the way he chased his breath. You lift a dainty hand to play with his coat’s buttons before you’re grinning sweetly at him and peering at him through your lashes, eyes dripping with faux innocence. “No but as Kafka always says, if it’s not part of Elio’s script, why would it matter? I can imagine a hundred different ways we can—“

You gasp as you suddenly feel your chest colliding against the wall, cheek smushed against rough stone as his large, calloused hands pinned your wrists above your head. A shaky breath leaves your lips as you stared wide-eyed at the sudden show of strength and the paradoxical way he rests his chin against your shoulder.

“You should learn how to respect your elders instead of running your mouth off like a slut.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” You manage to muster up a cocky smirk. “You gonna teach me a lesson or something?”

“I ought to but dumb whores like you wouldn’t understand it anyway. I should just treat you like the way you want to be treated.”

A moan tumbles out of your glossed lips as he ruts his clothed cock against your ass. You feel one hand slide down your arm, groping at your chest teasingly before undoing the buttons that hid you away from his sight. 

“Hah, now who’s the pervert, moaning and arching your back instead of doing your mission like a common whore?” He growls into your ear, trapping one of your nipples in between his fingers and tweaking without a care for your muted squeal. 

“You have me because I’m, fuck, letting you have me. Don’t get your head twisted, Mr. Yang.” 

Welt chuckles darkly, thumbing at the pain on your chest tenderly before gliding his hand to your throat and squeezing, using your surprise to turn you over so you were face-to-face. “Cheeky little bitch. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“S-shit! Wait—!” You pant as he presses a bruising kiss on your lips, muffling whatever noise you were planning to relay. You feel him tug at your bottom lip before continuing his pursuit, sucking into your tongue lightly. Your chest tightens as he remains relentless in his kiss but it was okay. It was more than okay. You pour your weight into him, aching to be impossibly closer but just as you were finally getting into it, he pulls away. A thin streak of drool connects you to him and you eye it hazily, watching it snap as he pursed his lips.

“Such a mannerless little girl.” He clicks his tongue and you whimper in reply, gripping at his clothes as you chase after his lips. He laughs at your neediness before carefully running his thumb over your swollen lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you a lesson on manners.”

He removes his glasses with one motion, tossing it carelessly to the side before he takes a step back. A hand runs through his hair before he’s wagging his finger at you. “Sit.”

You furrow your brows but obey nonetheless. The ground was cold but it was nothing to the heat that seeped under your skin as he unbuckles his belt, eyes not once leaving your submissive form. He palms himself over his briefs, no doubt to tease you as he grinned at the way drool began slipping from the side of your lips the more you stared at his large cock in anticipation. Finally, finally, he releases himself from his constraints, revealing a long and girthy flesh that blooms into a dark pink at the head. Thick veins decorate his cock, accentuated by his pre that dripped and traced over it.

“What are you waiting for, sweetheart?” He mutters tauntingly as he used one hand to lightly slap at your cheek. “Open.”

You part your puffy lips, going the extra mile and sticking your tongue out for his leaking meat. In your lustful haze, you can somehow make out the dark chuckles he let out in response as his eyes skimmed over your awaiting form. You’re so pliant, and needy, making a mess over your thighs as your slick dripped in your excitement. When you’re on your knees like this, he towers over your—takes control over everything you are and he finds a sick, perverse delight he never knew he can hold growing in the shadowed crevices of his heart. He places his thumb over your tongue, rubbing at it affectionately before sliding it deeper into your mouth. You suck at it mindlessly, looking up at him as best as you could with tears disturbing your waterline until he’s pulling out and using your drool to thumb at his slit.

“So pretty for me, aren’t you? Prettiest when you shut up.” He accentuates his words with a heavy grunt and a rough thrust that sends the head of his cock to the back of your throat. He’s so big and thick that you could only choke, tears finally dropping to your cheeks as you tried to breathe and relax through his assault. From above, he hisses a fragile curse as he feels the warm walls of your mouth enclose upon him. It’s so, so tight and he knows when you moan that you feel how his cock throbbed from the pleasant stimulation. One of his hands settle to the back of your head as he pumps into you. Slowly at first before he hastens the pace, rocking his hips to the time of your moans. “F-fuck… You feel so good. ‘s made for me. All for me.”

You whimper as you try to keep up with him, flattening your tongue at the back of his cock but he’s just so fast and so fucked out to think of accommodating you that you just give up, moaning deliriously as your weakened legs give in and you slump fully on the floor. Welt huffs before caressing your cheek tenderly, a sharp contrast to how his rut never eased. “So close. Swallow for me, okay, pretty girl? Be good for me now.”

He gives a few more thrusts before he’s groaning, pressing as deep as he possibly can be on your throat and drawling out sweet nonsense about how good you’re being for him and fuck, fuck, fuck he’s never come this hard ever in his life. Peering up at him, you have a clear view of how he tilted his head back, eyes fluttered close as he pumps a few more times for good measure before pulling out his limp cock. He looks years younger like this in the afterglow of pleasure and if his lashes weren’t fanning against his age lines, you would’ve thought that he’s just as young and deranged and stupid and horny as you were—savoring the salty aftertaste of his cum like you would have in your younger years. For a moment, neither of you says a word, only watching each other as your chests pump up and down, sweat making your skin sticky and damp. Finally, he chuckles and you plaster a halfhearted smile in response.

“I suppose you got what you’re after in the end.”

“Two birds with one stone. That’s how I roll.” You plant your palms on the ground as you push yourself up with your shaky legs. “Well, time’s a-wastin’. Time to say bye-bye.”

Welt clears his throat before giving a dismissive nod, something that you pout at as he ignored you in favor of dressing up once more. “C’mon, old man, won’t you say you’d miss me even if it’s just a little?”

“I’m sure we’re to meet again soon or else you’d be crying, destiny’s slave. But—“ he pauses, picking up his glasses and placing it once more on the bridge of his nose—“by then, you would find yourself cooperating with me and surrendering yourself to the authorities.”

“Heh, then I hope you’ll give it your all when that time comes.” You fiddle with the end of your coat before smirking, and using your other hand to throw the tiny little thing Kafka was so kind to lend you. As soon as it hits the ground, smoke fills the empty alley, hiding you from his sight. “Catch me if you can, Mr. Yang. I’ll be waiting~!”

It was only after the smoke completely dissipated that the Cloud Knights found him, citing hacked GPS as the reason for the delayed reinforcements. By then, as he would come to know, the newest member of the Astral Crew had made contact and unearthed the secret behind the phenomenon of the Mara Struck. Hindsight was 20/20 and as he sat under the pale light of the inn’s bathroom, pumping his cock at the memory of your warm lips, he knew

Mission Accomplished. 

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

taglist: @yevene @haiitsley1603

[cypressvs]

hey umm idk if your asks are open, but can you write some scenarios of enemies to lovers with hsr welt? just curious about how that would go. can be nsfw or sfw, your choice! again idk if your asks are open so uh yea

i usually don't write for welt but i suddenly had an idea while reading this ask. sort of deviated from it but not really. anyway, you can read it -> here <-

[cypressvs]

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, MR. YANG

pairing: welt/f!reader

cw: stellaron hunter!reader, enemies to lovers?, mean dom!welt, semi-public sex, degradation, praise, brat taming but not really, nipple play, choking, dry humping, finger sucking, deepthroating, cum eating, m!masturbation

wc: 2.7k | join the taglist

minors do not interact

There was a song famous in the Luofu recently and it twists around your brain effortlessly as you hum it for the nth time, enjoying your share of snacks as your partner silently pumps her fist with a arrogant laugh at her newest victory. Silver Wolf falls into an excited monologue of how those “noobs can suck her—“ which was promptly silenced courtesy of a Xianzhou native who sent her a stink eye. The young girl rolls her eyes before turning her whole attention to you, still happily humming the stupid song that’s been stuck in your head for ages.

“Hey… It’s almost time,” she drawls out with her usual disinterested tone but one look at the gleam in her eyes reveals that she’s all too excited to be on the field for once. “Not getting cold feet, are you?”

“How could I? Kafka and Blade are doing all the hard parts. It’ll be pretty rude of me to complain about my tiny role,” you reply with a sly smirk.

“Psh… Tell me about it. Why does Kafka always get all of the excitement?”

“Now, now, Silver Wolf. I’m sure our time to shine will come soon. Besides, your target’s pretty interesting this time, isn’t she?”

Silver Wolf slumps to the table before stealing a fry straight from your hands. “Still boring. You’re only appeased this time because you like your target.”

“Like is a bit much.” You lean to your palm. “He’s just interesting is all.”

“Hah! Keep telling yourself that. In any case, we have to meet up here again in an hour. Be even a second late and I’m out. Our mission this time isn’t difficult. There’s no reason for you to be late. Again.”

“You wound me, Wolfie~! I bought you those… oneiric jades as an apology y’know. That cost me a hefty sum.”

Silver Wolf clicks her tongue before mumbling a ‘whatever,’ allowing you to fall back to your humming. It continues on for another few seconds before you stop, grinning madly as you nod to your east.

“Right on time as always. It’s showtime, Silver Wolf. I’ll see you after I play!”

You stand up from your seat in the food stall before disappearing into the crowd, seamlessly crossing bodies until you reach him. It wasn’t easy to match his pace with his dastardly long legs and swift nature but you manage, and you even had the room to teasingly brush your fingers against his knuckles before you’re ducking to avoid his cane.

“Is that how you treat your new acquaintances, Mr. Yang?” You ask as you withdraw a few steps back.

His frown turns deeper. “You and I are hardly acquaintances.” 

“Shame. But now that we both have time, how about we get to know each other?”

“My apologies but I have no interest in your idle games. Why have you come?”

You peer at him through your lashes, lips curling into an innocent smile. “Well, it’s no secret so I suppose I can say. I’ve come for you.” You pause before leaning closer salaciously. “In more ways than one.”

You watch as he sputters in reply, cheeks bleeding into a faint pink but before long, he’s clearing his throat and glaring at you with a newfound ferocity. He doesn’t say anything, only gripping his cane tighter. For a minute, you imagine how it’d feel if he instead wrapped his hands around your neck, pressing until you’re gasping for air, weakly tracing over his soft skin and bulging veins and—your smile widens and you ignore the tiny voice in your head that warned you not to prematurely move against the man when he looks almost too ready to pounce on you. Instead, you take a few steps forward, the soles of your shoes clicking against the bricks being the only decipherable sound between the two of you and the empty alley he lead you to.

“Very noble of you to take me away from where the people are, Mr. Yang. In fact, I’d be impressed if this situation doesn’t feel very… hah, erotic? Is that a good word?”

He clenches his jaw and you swear—you almost moaned at the sight of it. It was exciting how he tensed, hyperaware of each of your minute movements as he watched. Deep brown eyes dilated clearly despite being hidden behind the shadows of his lenses. When you close your eyes, you could almost feel his hatred bloom under your touch, almost taste the blood he’s drawing from how hard he’s biting his tongue. They say it’s always the calmest men who are the scariest and you agree. You—of all people—couldn’t help but shiver as you feel his cold gaze trace over your skin. Is he trying to find your weak spots? Is he trying to undress you in his dark, dark mind? You’ll never know and the increasingly debauched questions in your head was enough for you to willingly liken fear and excitement.

“If you have nothing better to say, then I suggest you cooperate and turn yourself in.” 

You tilt your head. “Oh, I can cooperate alright. It’s just that, you see, Elio said I mustn’t let you take a single step out of this place so I’m afraid that’ll have to wait until the next time.

“Then I suppose our discussion ends here.” With a tap of his cane, a black hole appears in front of you and you barely manage to tumble back to dodge it.

“How primitive. Ah, but I can’t say I don’t like it.” You smirk as you raise your hands in an unconvincing show of defeat. 

Welt ignores your comment pointedly, opting to adjust his glasses with a swift flick of his hand before assuming a defensive position. From where you stood, you could see how his muscles strained under his suit, how his grip tightens around his cane until the whites of his knuckles showed. Anticipation bubbles from somewhere beneath your skin, a sinister idea making you drop your hands nonchalantly.

“There’s no need to be so distraught, Mr. Yang. Unfortunately, I’m one of those unlucky ones whose actions are bound by the dos and do not dos of destiny. Besides, I’m not conceited enough to think I can win against you.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Then what is your objective? If you truly mean nothing nefarious, why are you and your group in the Xianzhou?”

“You’ll soon come to know that the Stellaron here is not of our doing. Ah, but that’s way ahead of the story. For now, all you have to worry about is how you’ll sit still comfortably while looking real pretty.”

“Do you expect me to lay down my arms and trust you just because of what you’ve said?”

“Absolutely not,” you reply as you take a few innocent steps forward. “However, there’s a lot of things I’m wrong about not expecting.”

You take his non-reply as a signal to continue. “For example, Mr. Yang, do you always look at your enemies like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to fuck them,” you snarl, canines flashing dangerously as your eyes narrow into slits in your excitement. Welt freezes before he grits his teeth, a more noticeable rouge engulfing his pale cheeks and even the tips of his ears as he tries and fails to appear composed. 

“How disgraceful—!”

“It’s okay. I can keep a secret.” You lick your lips as you press your thighs together, rubbing them slightly in pursuit of that sweet, delectable friction that shoots tiny shivers of pleasure up your spine. “I imagine it’d be hard to face the Crew if they found out that their ever righteous Mr. Yang is a pervert who gets a hard on from the smallest peek of his enemy’s panties.”

“You! Did you plan this?!”

You lean closer so that you’re chest-to-chest, feeling from beneath thin layers of clothing the way he chased his breath. You lift a dainty hand to play with his coat’s buttons before you’re grinning sweetly at him and peering at him through your lashes, eyes dripping with faux innocence. “No but as Kafka always says, if it’s not part of Elio’s script, why would it matter? I can imagine a hundred different ways we can—“

You gasp as you suddenly feel your chest colliding against the wall, cheek smushed against rough stone as his large, calloused hands pinned your wrists above your head. A shaky breath leaves your lips as you stared wide-eyed at the sudden show of strength and the paradoxical way he rests his chin against your shoulder.

“You should learn how to respect your elders instead of running your mouth off like a slut.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” You manage to muster up a cocky smirk. “You gonna teach me a lesson or something?”

“I ought to but dumb whores like you wouldn’t understand it anyway. I should just treat you like the way you want to be treated.”

A moan tumbles out of your glossed lips as he ruts his clothed cock against your ass. You feel one hand slide down your arm, groping at your chest teasingly before undoing the buttons that hid you away from his sight. 

“Hah, now who’s the pervert, moaning and arching your back instead of doing your mission like a common whore?” He growls into your ear, trapping one of your nipples in between his fingers and tweaking without a care for your muted squeal. 

“You have me because I’m, fuck, letting you have me. Don’t get your head twisted, Mr. Yang.” 

Welt chuckles darkly, thumbing at the pain on your chest tenderly before gliding his hand to your throat and squeezing, using your surprise to turn you over so you were face-to-face. “Cheeky little bitch. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“S-shit! Wait—!” You pant as he presses a bruising kiss on your lips, muffling whatever noise you were planning to relay. You feel him tug at your bottom lip before continuing his pursuit, sucking into your tongue lightly. Your chest tightens as he remains relentless in his kiss but it was okay. It was more than okay. You pour your weight into him, aching to be impossibly closer but just as you were finally getting into it, he pulls away. A thin streak of drool connects you to him and you eye it hazily, watching it snap as he pursed his lips.

“Such a mannerless little girl.” He clicks his tongue and you whimper in reply, gripping at his clothes as you chase after his lips. He laughs at your neediness before carefully running his thumb over your swollen lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you a lesson on manners.”

He removes his glasses with one motion, tossing it carelessly to the side before he takes a step back. A hand runs through his hair before he’s wagging his finger at you. “Sit.”

You furrow your brows but obey nonetheless. The ground was cold but it was nothing to the heat that seeped under your skin as he unbuckles his belt, eyes not once leaving your submissive form. He palms himself over his briefs, no doubt to tease you as he grinned at the way drool began slipping from the side of your lips the more you stared at his large cock in anticipation. Finally, finally, he releases himself from his constraints, revealing a long and girthy flesh that blooms into a dark pink at the head. Thick veins decorate his cock, accentuated by his pre that dripped and traced over it.

“What are you waiting for, sweetheart?” He mutters tauntingly as he used one hand to lightly slap at your cheek. “Open.”

You part your puffy lips, going the extra mile and sticking your tongue out for his leaking meat. In your lustful haze, you can somehow make out the dark chuckles he let out in response as his eyes skimmed over your awaiting form. You’re so pliant, and needy, making a mess over your thighs as your slick dripped in your excitement. When you’re on your knees like this, he towers over your—takes control over everything you are and he finds a sick, perverse delight he never knew he can hold growing in the shadowed crevices of his heart. He places his thumb over your tongue, rubbing at it affectionately before sliding it deeper into your mouth. You suck at it mindlessly, looking up at him as best as you could with tears disturbing your waterline until he’s pulling out and using your drool to thumb at his slit.

“So pretty for me, aren’t you? Prettiest when you shut up.” He accentuates his words with a heavy grunt and a rough thrust that sends the head of his cock to the back of your throat. He’s so big and thick that you could only choke, tears finally dropping to your cheeks as you tried to breathe and relax through his assault. From above, he hisses a fragile curse as he feels the warm walls of your mouth enclose upon him. It’s so, so tight and he knows when you moan that you feel how his cock throbbed from the pleasant stimulation. One of his hands settle to the back of your head as he pumps into you. Slowly at first before he hastens the pace, rocking his hips to the time of your moans. “F-fuck… You feel so good. ‘s made for me. All for me.”

You whimper as you try to keep up with him, flattening your tongue at the back of his cock but he’s just so fast and so fucked out to think of accommodating you that you just give up, moaning deliriously as your weakened legs give in and you slump fully on the floor. Welt huffs before caressing your cheek tenderly, a sharp contrast to how his rut never eased. “So close. Swallow for me, okay, pretty girl? Be good for me now.”

He gives a few more thrusts before he’s groaning, pressing as deep as he possibly can be on your throat and drawling out sweet nonsense about how good you’re being for him and fuck, fuck, fuck he’s never come this hard ever in his life. Peering up at him, you have a clear view of how he tilted his head back, eyes fluttered close as he pumps a few more times for good measure before pulling out his limp cock. He looks years younger like this in the afterglow of pleasure and if his lashes weren’t fanning against his age lines, you would’ve thought that he’s just as young and deranged and stupid and horny as you were—savoring the salty aftertaste of his cum like you would have in your younger years. For a moment, neither of you says a word, only watching each other as your chests pump up and down, sweat making your skin sticky and damp. Finally, he chuckles and you plaster a halfhearted smile in response.

“I suppose you got what you’re after in the end.”

“Two birds with one stone. That’s how I roll.” You plant your palms on the ground as you push yourself up with your shaky legs. “Well, time’s a-wastin’. Time to say bye-bye.”

Welt clears his throat before giving a dismissive nod, something that you pout at as he ignored you in favor of dressing up once more. “C’mon, old man, won’t you say you’d miss me even if it’s just a little?”

“I’m sure we’re to meet again soon or else you’d be crying, destiny’s slave. But—“ he pauses, picking up his glasses and placing it once more on the bridge of his nose—“by then, you would find yourself cooperating with me and surrendering yourself to the authorities.”

“Heh, then I hope you’ll give it your all when that time comes.” You fiddle with the end of your coat before smirking, and using your other hand to throw the tiny little thing Kafka was so kind to lend you. As soon as it hits the ground, smoke fills the empty alley, hiding you from his sight. “Catch me if you can, Mr. Yang. I’ll be waiting~!”

It was only after the smoke completely dissipated that the Cloud Knights found him, citing hacked GPS as the reason for the delayed reinforcements. By then, as he would come to know, the newest member of the Astral Crew had made contact and unearthed the secret behind the phenomenon of the Mara Struck. Hindsight was 20/20 and as he sat under the pale light of the inn’s bathroom, pumping his cock at the memory of your warm lips, he knew that it all went according to your script.

Mission Accomplished. 

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

DON'T TWIST THE LION'S TAIL

pairing: jing yuan/gn!reader

cw: suggestive but not explicit, workplace romance?, reader is an unspecified long-life species

wc: 1.0k | join the taglist

Jing Yuan is a cat. You're sure of it.

He's abnormally agile. Foxians were born with heightened senses and naturally superceded an average human when it came to their predispositions but even they would think twice, thrice, before jumping off a three-story high building. Not Jing Yuan though. He just leaps, twirls his Guan Dao with an ease unparalleled, and even had the grace to catch the tea set you managed to throw into the air in fright before speeding off to catch the runaway criminal with a carefree smile.

How many years ago was that? You didn't count but it had to be a good few hundred years since then because that day, on your first meeting, Jing Yuan was a nobody. He was just another face among the ranks of the Cloud Knights that wasn't memorable enough to be remembered. Now, he was a general and his pictures sell for a concerning amount of Strales. No one in the Xianzhou who's in their right mind would not know his name and by extension, yours since you're practically attached by the hip.

Officially, you were an unemployed nobody but everyone in the Seat of the Divine Foresight considered you to be the General's caretaker. The legal matters that concerned the affairs of the Xianzhou were rightfully managed by the secretaries employed there but the more menial and more... troublesome duties were handed off to you. Sometimes, you meet their gazes and they're filled with nothing but respect and gratitude because no one, not a single one, wanted to be the holder of your duties. Why?

Because Jing Yuan was a cat. A temperamental, needy, and mischievous one.

You'd never think of it if you didn't know him first but Jing Yuan was a picky eater. You have to feed him from your hand if he's eating something for the first time. If not that, he'll randomly send you to buy snacks in the middle of a work day. You tried to refuse once but you learned the hard way that not doing as he wishes involved him mocking you by refusing to budge an inch from his seat. At this point, it was easier to just fold and give him a bite after every five papers signed.

Jing Yuan also likes warm spaces. On days when work is more manageable, he'll drag you outside for a stroll but you always end up seating under the shade of a tree in an otherwise empty field. He lies around with eyes closed and an immoveable smile on his face as he enjoys the soft breeze. All the while, you're cursing the static in your legs as Jing Yuan doesn't just lie anywhere, no, he lies on you because he'll be damned if he lets you work while he lazes around. Or so he says.

Other times, Jing Yuan will ignore you entirely, not even sparing you a gaze, yet pouting (in his very own Jing Yuan way; indecipherable to most but not to you) when you don't attempt to console him. He lingers around your peripherals but otherwise refuses to utter a single word to you until you sigh and pull him to you, brushing his hair gently as you tell him about your day. Scrimping out on the details is not allowed. You have to tell him about every little detail from the food you ate for breakfast to your meeting with your visiting relatives or else he'll just sulk even more. You can't figure out the pattern to his attitude but you do remember vaguely that it was the worst about a hundred and two years ago. Such a shame that you had to appease him, hurriedly leaving your poor cousin in the market alone. He says that he understands with a knowing laugh but you don't quite understand yourself. What is there to know anyway?

Jing Yuan, much like a cat, does whatever he wants with almost no care for the rest of the world. Maybe that's why you're in this position now.

You're made intimately aware of how intimidating he can be with how he towers over you, casting a deep shadow on your frame as he firmly pinned you down his desk. His gaze is deep, molten and hiding behind a mystery you were never able to unearth until now. You try to tug yourself out of his grip but that only shuffled the paperwork your back is pressed into.

"Jing Yuan—" your words die down on your throat as he finally shows the first drop of emotion on his face. A smile. Nothing you'd never seen before but for some reason, a shiver climbs down your spine. Alarms flag inside your head as heat pooled under your skin. It floods your muscles that ached—screamed—at you to run. You exhale shakily but when your eyes meet his again, all your will to fight dissipates.

"What else must I do, hm?" He whispers and it might just be your imagination but you swore you saw his teeth glint under the moonlight. "What more shall I give to keep your eyes on me?"

You swallow and you're reminded of something. With your back pressed and with no way to escape, you are nothing but a predator's prey. One that he taunts as you spy the almost imperceptible lilt to his smile. The realization makes you avert your gaze, embarrassed by the heat that races under your cheeks.

"See? You're doing it again. You're warm," he whispers as he lowers his face closer to yours, "then you're cold. Tell me: what conclusion was I supposed to derive from your behavior?"

When you don't respond, Jing Yuan continues. "Logic dictates that you're disinterested but your body—" One hand slides from your wrist to settle on your waist. He gives you the opportunity to run yet somehow, you hesitate. "—says otherwise."

His hair cascades over his shoulders, a lock falling over like a moonbeam by your check and it tickles. It does not go unnoticed, and Jing Yuan chuckles; he delights in the muffled whimper he was able to draw out of you and rejoices at the needy breath you release when he grazes his lips over yours before stopping all at once.

"Well?" He hums. "It appears that I am indeed growing older. My patience is not what it once was. So tell me, little bird, while I can still restrain myself: what is it that you want from me?"

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

DON'T TWIST THE LION'S TAIL

pairing: jing yuan/gn!reader

cw: suggestive but not explicit, workplace romance?, reader is an unspecified long-life species

wc: 1.0k | join the taglist

Jing Yuan is a cat. You're sure of it.

He's abnormally agile. Foxians were born with heightened senses and naturally superceded an average human when it came to their predispositions but even they would think twice, thrice, before jumping off a three-story high building. Not Jing Yuan though. He just leaps, twirls his Guan Dao with an ease unparalleled, and even had the grace to catch the tea set you managed to throw into the air in fright before speeding off to catch the runaway criminal with a carefree smile.

How many years ago was that? You didn't count but it had to be a good few hundred years since then because that day, on your first meeting, Jing Yuan was a nobody. He was just another face among the ranks of the Cloud Knights that wasn't memorable enough to be remembered. Now, he was a general and his pictures sell for a concerning amount of Strales. No one in the Xianzhou who's in their right mind would not know his name and by extension, yours since you're practically attached by the hip.

Officially, you were an unemployed nobody but everyone in the Seat of the Divine Foresight considered you to be the General's caretaker. The legal matters that concerned the affairs of the Xianzhou were rightfully managed by the secretaries employed there but the more menial and more... troublesome duties were handed off to you. Sometimes, you meet their gazes and they're filled with nothing but respect and gratitude because no one, not a single one, wanted to be the holder of your duties. Why?

Because Jing Yuan was a cat. A temperamental, needy, and mischievous one.

You'd never think of it if you didn't know him first but Jing Yuan was a picky eater. You have to feed him from your hand if he's eating something for the first time. If not that, he'll randomly send you to buy snacks in the middle of a work day. You tried to refuse once but you learned the hard way that not doing as he wishes involved him mocking you by refusing to budge an inch from his seat. At this point, it was easier to just fold and give him a bite after every five papers signed.

Jing Yuan also likes warm spaces. On days when work is more manageable, he'll drag you outside for a stroll but you always end up seating under the shade of a tree in an otherwise empty field. He lies around with eyes closed and an immoveable smile on his face as he enjoys the soft breeze. All the while, you're cursing the static in your legs as Jing Yuan doesn't just lie anywhere, no, he lies on you because he'll be damned if he lets you work while he lazes around. Or so he says.

Other times, Jing Yuan will ignore you entirely, not even sparing you a gaze, yet pouting (in his very own Jing Yuan way; indecipherable to most but not to you) when you don't attempt to console him. He lingers around your peripherals but otherwise refuses to utter a single word to you until you sigh and pull him to you, brushing his hair gently as you tell him about your day. Scrimping out on the details is not allowed. You have to tell him about every little detail from the food you ate for breakfast to your meeting with your visiting relatives or else he'll just sulk even more. You can't figure out the pattern to his attitude but you do remember vaguely that it was the worst about a hundred and two years ago. Such a shame that you had to appease him, hurriedly leaving your poor cousin in the market alone. He says that he understands with a knowing laugh but you don't quite understand yourself. What is there to know anyway?

Jing Yuan, much like a cat, does whatever he wants with almost no care for the rest of the world. Maybe that's why you're in this position now.

You're made intimately aware of how intimidating he can be with how he towers over you, casting a deep shadow on your frame as he firmly pinned you down his desk. His gaze is deep, molten and hiding behind a mystery you were never able to unearth until now. You try to tug yourself out of his grip but that only shuffled the paperwork your back is pressed into.

"Jing Yuan—" your words die down on your throat as he finally shows the first drop of emotion on his face. A smile. Nothing you'd never seen before but for some reason, a shiver climbs down your spine. Alarms flag inside your head as heat pooled under your skin. It floods your muscles that ached—screamed—at you to run. You exhale shakily but when your eyes meet his again, all your will to fight dissipates.

"What else must I do, hm?" He whispers and it might just be your imagination but you swore you saw his teeth glint under the moonlight. "What more shall I give to keep your eyes on me?"

You swallow and you're reminded of something. With your back pressed and with no way to escape, you are nothing but a predator's prey. One that he taunts as you spy the almost imperceptible lilt to his smile. The realization makes you avert your gaze, embarrassed by the heat that races under your cheeks.

"See? You're doing it again. You're warm," he whispers as he lowers his face closer to yours, "then you're cold. Tell me: what conclusion was I supposed to derive from your behavior?"

When you don't respond, Jing Yuan continues. "Logic dictates that you're disinterested but your body—" One hand slides from your wrist to settle on your waist. He gives you the opportunity to run yet somehow, you hesitate. "—says otherwise."

His hair cascades over his shoulders, a lock falling over like a moonbeam by your check and it tickles. It does not go unnoticed, and Jing Yuan chuckles; he delights in the muffled whimper he was able to draw out of you and rejoices at the needy breath you release when he grazes his lips over yours before stopping all at once.

"Well?" He hums. "It appears that I am indeed growing older. My patience is not what it once was. So tell me, little bird, while I can still restrain myself: what is it that you want from me?"

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

DON'T TWIST THE LION'S TAIL

pairing: jing yuan/gn!reader

cw: suggestive but not explicit, workplace romance?, reader is an unspecified long-life species

wc: 1.0k | join the taglist

Jing Yuan is a cat. You're sure of it.

He's abnormally agile. Foxians were born with heightened senses and naturally superceded an average human when it came to their predispositions but even they would think twice, thrice, before jumping off a three-story high building. Not Jing Yuan though. He just leaps, twirls his Guan Dao with an ease unparalleled, and even had the grace to catch the tea set you managed to throw into the air in fright before speeding off to catch the runaway criminal with a carefree smile.

How many years ago was that? You didn't count but it had to be a good few hundred years since then because that day, on your first meeting, Jing Yuan was a nobody. He was just another face among the ranks of the Cloud Knights that wasn't memorable enough to be remembered. Now, he was a general and his pictures sell for a concerning amount of Strales. No one in the Xianzhou who's in their right mind would not know his name and by extension, yours since you're practically attached by the hip.

Officially, you were an unemployed nobody but everyone in the Seat of the Divine Foresight considered you to be the General's caretaker. The legal matters that concerned the affairs of the Xianzhou were rightfully managed by the secretaries employed there but the more menial and more... troublesome duties were handed off to you. Sometimes, you meet their gazes and they're filled with nothing but respect and gratitude because no one, not a single one, wanted to be the holder of your duties. Why?

Because Jing Yuan was a cat. A temperamental, needy, and mischievous one.

You'd never think of it if you didn't know him first but Jing Yuan was a picky eater. You have to feed him from your hand if he's eating something for the first time. If not that, he'll randomly send you to buy snacks in the middle of a work day. You tried to refuse once but you learned the hard way that not doing as he wishes involved him mocking you by refusing to budge an inch from his seat. At this point, it was easier to just fold and give him a bite after every five papers signed.

Jing Yuan also likes warm spaces. On days when work is more manageable, he'll drag you outside for a stroll but you always end up seating under the shade of a tree in an otherwise empty field. He lies around with eyes closed and an immoveable smile on his face as he enjoys the soft breeze. All the while, you're cursing the static in your legs as Jing Yuan doesn't just lie anywhere, no, he lies on you because he'll be damned if he lets you work while he lazes around. Or so he says.

Other times, Jing Yuan will ignore you entirely, not even sparing you a gaze, yet pouting (in his very own Jing Yuan way; indecipherable to most but not to you) when you don't attempt to console him. He lingers around your peripherals but otherwise refuses to utter a single word to you until you sigh and pull him to you, brushing his hair gently as you tell him about your day. Scrimping out on the details is not allowed. You have to tell him about every little detail from the food you ate for breakfast to your meeting with your visiting relatives or else he'll just sulk even more. You can't figure out the pattern to his attitude but you do remember vaguely that it was the worst about a hundred and two years ago. Such a shame that you had to appease him, hurriedly leaving your poor cousin in the market alone. He says that he understands with a knowing laugh but you don't quite understand yourself. What is there to know anyway?

Jing Yuan, much like a cat, does whatever he wants with almost no care for the rest of the world. Maybe that's why you're in this position now.

You're made intimately aware of how intimidating he can be with how he towers over you, casting a deep shadow on your frame as he firmly pinned you down his desk. His gaze is deep, molten and hiding behind a mystery you were never able to unearth until now. You try to tug yourself out of his grip but that only shuffled the paperwork your back is pressed into.

"Jing Yuan—" your words die down on your throat as he finally shows the first drop of emotion on his face. A smile. Nothing you'd never seen before but for some reason, a shiver climbs down your spine. Alarms flag inside your head as heat pooled under your skin. It floods your muscles that ached—screamed—at you to run. You exhale shakily but when your eyes meet his again, all your will to fight dissipates.

"What else must I do, hm?" He whispers and it might just be your imagination but you swore you saw his teeth glint under the moonlight. "What more shall I give to keep your eyes on me?"

You swallow and you're reminded of something. With your back pressed and with no way to escape, you are nothing but a predator's prey. One that he taunts as you spy the almost imperceptible lilt to his smile. The realization makes you avert your gaze, embarrassed by the heat that races under your cheeks.

"See? You're doing it again. You're warm," he whispers as he lowers his face closer to yours, "then you're cold. Tell me: what conclusion was I supposed to derive from your behavior?"

When you don't respond, Jing Yuan continues. "Logic dictates that you're disinterested but your body—" One hand slides from your wrist to settle on your waist. He gives you the opportunity to run yet somehow, you hesitate. "—says otherwise."

His hair cascades over his shoulders, a lock falling over like a moonbeam by your check and it tickles. It does not go unnoticed, and Jing Yuan chuckles; he delights in the muffled whimper he was able to draw out of you and rejoices at the needy breath you release when he grazes his lips over yours before stopping all at once.

"Well?" He hums. "It appears that I am indeed growing older. My patience is not what it once was. So tell me, little bird, while I can still restrain myself: what is it that you want from me?"

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

HEAD EMPTY, JUST WANNA FUCK YOU PT. 2

pairing: caelus/f!reader, dan heng/f!reader, gepard/f!reader (separate)

cw: (all) sexual fantasies, unconventional turn-ons, they’re all pervs, (caelus) established relationship, gross misuse of lotion?, cum play, hand job, cum eating, mutual masturbation, cumming in pants, he calls you ‘princess,’ (dan heng) m!masturbation, reader wears a skirt, gross misuse of social media pictures, pussy job, overstimulation, marking, cunnilingus, (gepard) reader has long, manicured nails, hand job, choking?, making out, marking, creampie

wc: 1.3k, 400~ each | join the taglist

minors do not interact

CAELUS' eyes can't help but wander sometimes. He doesn't mean to have his attention waver! It's just how he is so it's no surprise that he's slowly zoning your voice out as his eyes traced over your movements like a hawk to its breakfast. You were talking about... what was it... Fragmentums? He wants to apologize but it's not his fault that whatever the subject of your conversation was is so boring compared to how your hands slowly rubbed against each other, a creamy liquid being pushed in between your fingers and under your fingernails. It smells so good too—a feminine maturity with a dark undertone that knocks the breath out of his throat. He watches the way your fingers slowly circled around your knuckles, pressing and massaging each with tender care before sliding your hands up your arms. Your motion causes your skin to ripple gently, bouncing back to shape tantalizingly as the lotion goes from opaque to translucent. His dick throbs at that. Lust sinks its claws into his head and suddenly, the air is too hot because... because what if it wasn't lotion? What if it was his cum that's dripping from your hands? What if after you pumped him dry with your soft hands, you'd rub at your fingers and bring it to your mouth—eyes solely focused on him before they flutter close as you sucked them dry, moaning at the salty taste of him before reaching out and clawing for more? Would you let him fuck into his palm as he watches you squeeze at your flesh, tracing fine lines with another hand as you reached down to your heat? Caelus thinks you'd look so, so pretty as your fingers mimic the way you'd draw circles over your knuckles to your nub—the prettiest as you knock your head back, lips parted in a silent moan as tears well up in your eyes. You'd tell him to "please, please hurry, Caelus!" and he will because there's nothing he won't do for his precious princess. He'll chase his high through the beautiful sight of you and he'll come over your bare chest, using the tip of his cock to spread and paint a love heart over your flushed skin. What can you say? That's just how much he loves you. You'll forgive him for how dirty his thoughts are, right? And for making a mess on your sheets, a dark, wet patch spreading over your comforters as it drips past and down his pants.

DAN HENG prides himself over his control over his sexual needs. In fact, he'd argue that he didn't have much of a libido to worry about in his day-to-day affairs. Ah, but... That was all before you. Something about you has him clenching his teeth, whites of his knuckles appearing as he tried to force the downright disrespectful image of you in his wild, wild thoughts. He's just about flipped you in a hundred different positions in his mind while you cling to his arm, unknowing of how much he's lewding you. Even now, as you lay in peace and secure under the warmth of your blankets, Dan Heng shoves himself in the corner of the archives, pants unbuckled and half-way down his toned thighs as he tried to muffle his sensual groans. It's dark and everyone's already sound asleep and yet, here he was, disregarding the fact that he's a member of the expedition team for tomorrow's mission in favor of rutting up the hand coiled around his twitching cock. It's so unlike him to be so depraved that he can only moan louder around the hem of his shirt that's caught in between his teeth. The way the cool air hit his exposed stomach made him avert his gaze, unluckily—or not—back to the object of his desires. He uses his free hand to reach for his phone, the only light in the room that could illuminate how reddened his cheeks have become. Dilated eyes stared at your profile, fingers spreading to zoom at the patch of skin taunting his heady daze. It's so innocent; how you're beaming at the camera and how you chose such a cute outfit, such a cute mini-skirt for him to rub his cock raw over. Dan Heng's cusses as more fluid oozes out. It's just so invigorating how your thighs looked so heavenly in that skirt, and he's torn between wanting to flip it over to glide his hardened cock over your moist folds until both of your are screaming from oversensitivity or shoving his face in between them, tonguing and leaving hickies over your thighs before sucking the life out of your swollen clit. He lets out the prettiest pants as he approaches his climax and he wonders... Would you be disgusted with him if you saw him like this, disheveled from the need to fuck you dumb? Or would you smile at him like you are now through your picture, encouraging the corrupted descent of his mind? Dan Heng could only wonder about it as cum oozes out of his poor, overused dick—spurting even on his phone, conveniently over your untouched thighs.

GEPARD knows it's wrong; that it goes against not only the Silvermane Guards' code of conduct but also his personal moral standards to think about you with such degeneracy when you're not even doing anything that can come across as a sexual insinuation. Still, against all the fiber and nerve in his body, his heart races. It thumps against his ribcage, pumping blood to his head, making his vision spin and to his cock that strains against the constraints of his pants. He tries to shake it off, thinking of all sorts of tragic things just to remove the weight of immorality over his shoulders but you fan your fingers over his face and fuck—he's a goner. You tap your nails over the metal part of his uniform, giggling guiltlessly as you flaunt your freshly done nails. They're so pretty, you nearly squeal and he agrees. They're so pretty that he can picture them so vividly spreading and gripping his white, linen sheets. The colors would pop up in contrast so well and he wouldn't be able to stop himself from tangling his own over yours as he fucked himself into your squelching pussy from behind. You point out the embellishments you had added and all he can think about is how good it'll feel as you use your nails to graze over his thick cock. You'll giggle cutely into his ear before taking him into your hand, pumping him teasingly at first before you pick up the pace as you feel him press at your throat, guiding you to a sloppy, wet kiss. You'll feel him licking at your teeth, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth while his hand remains as a firm reminder around your neck, and when he bites harshly at your lip, you'll know he's cumming—making a mess all over your fingers. You'll complain about him ruining your manicure and he's pressing apologetic kisses over your mounds. Maybe then, he'll finally let you have a glimpse of why he loves your nails so much. It's so obvious when he gently pushes you to lie on his bed; when he parts your legs and pushes his leaky cock into you; when he purposefully lowers himself while slowly stretching you out. He makes you feel every inch he takes because it makes you so desperate, whining into his ear and reaching around to dig fine, red lines behind his back. The sweet pain from your needy clawing drives him crazy and he's sure that he'll cum if he didn't pause for a bit. You're both already so fucked out but he's not done yet. He plows into you with all the strength and stamina he gained from being a captain and he never slows—just ruts into you like a rabid animal and only after you engrave small crescents over his chest does he shoot his load deep inside of you. He comes back to reality when you snap your fingers in front of him. You miss the dark look in his eyes when he chuckles and disregards your concern with an offer to pay for your next manicure trip.

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

HEAD EMPTY, JUST WANNA FUCK YOU PT. 2

pairing: caelus/f!reader, dan heng/f!reader, gepard/f!reader (separate)

cw: (all) sexual fantasies, unconventional turn-ons, they’re all pervs, (caelus) established relationship, gross misuse of lotion?, cum play, hand job, cum eating, mutual masturbation, cumming in pants, he calls you ‘princess,’ (dan heng) m!masturbation, reader wears a skirt, gross misuse of social media pictures, pussy job, overstimulation, marking, cunnilingus, (gepard) reader has long, manicured nails, hand job, choking?, making out, marking, creampie

wc: 1.3k, 400~ each | join the taglist

minors do not interact

CAELUS' eyes can't help but wander sometimes. He doesn't mean to have his attention waver! It's just how he is so it's no surprise that he's slowly zoning your voice out as his eyes traced over your movements like a hawk to its breakfast. You were talking about... what was it... Fragmentums? He wants to apologize but it's not his fault that whatever the subject of your conversation was is so boring compared to how your hands slowly rubbed against each other, a creamy liquid being pushed in between your fingers and under your fingernails. It smells so good too—a feminine maturity with a dark undertone that knocks the breath out of his throat. He watches the way your fingers slowly circled around your knuckles, pressing and massaging each with tender care before sliding your hands up your arms. Your motion causes your skin to ripple gently, bouncing back to shape tantalizingly as the lotion goes from opaque to translucent. His dick throbs at that. Lust sinks its claws into his head and suddenly, the air is too hot because... because what if it wasn't lotion? What if it was his cum that's dripping from your hands? What if after you pumped him dry with your soft hands, you'd rub at your fingers and bring it to your mouth—eyes solely focused on him before they flutter close as you sucked them dry, moaning at the salty taste of him before reaching out and clawing for more? Would you let him fuck into his palm as he watches you squeeze at your flesh, tracing fine lines with another hand as you reached down to your heat? Caelus thinks you'd look so, so pretty as your fingers mimic the way you'd draw circles over your knuckles to your nub—the prettiest as you knock your head back, lips parted in a silent moan as tears well up in your eyes. You'd tell him to "please, please hurry, Caelus!" and he will because there's nothing he won't do for his precious princess. He'll chase his high through the beautiful sight of you and he'll come over your bare chest, using the tip of his cock to spread and paint a love heart over your flushed skin. What can you say? That's just how much he loves you. You'll forgive him for how dirty his thoughts are, right? And for making a mess on your sheets, a dark, wet patch spreading over your comforters as it drips past and down his pants.

DAN HENG prides himself over his control over his sexual needs. In fact, he'd argue that he didn't have much of a libido to worry about in his day-to-day affairs. Ah, but... That was all before you. Something about you has him clenching his teeth, whites of his knuckles appearing as he tried to force the downright disrespectful image of you in his wild, wild thoughts. He's just about flipped you in a hundred different positions in his mind while you cling to his arm, unknowing of how much he's lewding you. Even now, as you lay in peace and secure under the warmth of your blankets, Dan Heng shoves himself in the corner of the archives, pants unbuckled and half-way down his toned thighs as he tried to muffle his sensual groans. It's dark and everyone's already sound asleep and yet, here he was, disregarding the fact that he's a member of the expedition team for tomorrow's mission in favor of rutting up the hand coiled around his twitching cock. It's so unlike him to be so depraved that he can only moan louder around the hem of his shirt that's caught in between his teeth. The way the cool air hit his exposed stomach made him avert his gaze, unluckily—or not—back to the object of his desires. He uses his free hand to reach for his phone, the only light in the room that could illuminate how reddened his cheeks have become. Dilated eyes stared at your profile, fingers spreading to zoom at the patch of skin taunting his heady daze. It's so innocent; how you're beaming at the camera and how you chose such a cute outfit, such a cute mini-skirt for him to rub his cock raw over. Dan Heng's cusses as more fluid oozes out. It's just so invigorating how your thighs looked so heavenly in that skirt, and he's torn between wanting to flip it over to glide his hardened cock over your moist folds until both of your are screaming from oversensitivity or shoving his face in between them, tonguing and leaving hickies over your thighs before sucking the life out of your swollen clit. He lets out the prettiest pants as he approaches his climax and he wonders... Would you be disgusted with him if you saw him like this, disheveled from the need to fuck you dumb? Or would you smile at him like you are now through your picture, encouraging the corrupted descent of his mind? Dan Heng could only wonder about it as cum oozes out of his poor, overused dick—spurting even on his phone, conveniently over your untouched thighs.

GEPARD knows it's wrong; that it goes against not only the Silvermane Guards' code of conduct but also his personal moral standards to think about you with such degeneracy when you're not even doing anything that can come across as a sexual insinuation. Still, against all the fiber and nerve in his body, his heart races. It thumps against his ribcage, pumping blood to his head, making his vision spin and to his cock that strains against the constraints of his pants. He tries to shake it off, thinking of all sorts of tragic things just to remove the weight of immorality over his shoulders but you fan your fingers over his face and fuck—he's a goner. You tap your nails over the metal part of his uniform, giggling guiltlessly as you flaunt your freshly done nails. They're so pretty, you nearly squeal and he agrees. They're so pretty that he can picture them so vividly spreading and gripping his white, linen sheets. The colors would pop up in contrast so well and he wouldn't be able to stop himself from tangling his own over yours as he fucked himself into your squelching pussy from behind. You point out the embellishments you had added and all he can think about is how good it'll feel as you use your nails to graze over his thick cock. You'll giggle cutely into his ear before taking him into your hand, pumping him teasingly at first before you pick up the pace as you feel him press at your throat, guiding you to a sloppy, wet kiss. You'll feel him licking at your teeth, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth while his hand remains as a firm reminder around your neck, and when he bites harshly at your lip, you'll know he's cumming—making a mess all over your fingers. You'll complain about him ruining your manicure and he's pressing apologetic kisses over your mounds. Maybe then, he'll finally let you have a glimpse of why he loves your nails so much. It's so obvious when he gently pushes you to lie on his bed; when he parts your legs and pushes his leaky cock into you; when he purposefully lowers himself while slowly stretching you out. He makes you feel every inch he takes because it makes you so desperate, whining into his ear and reaching around to dig fine, red lines behind his back. The sweet pain from your needy clawing drives him crazy and he's sure that he'll cum if he didn't pause for a bit. You're both already so fucked out but he's not done yet. He plows into you with all the strength and stamina he gained from being a captain and he never slows—just ruts into you like a rabid animal and only after you engrave small crescents over his chest does he shoot his load deep inside of you. He comes back to reality when you snap your fingers in front of him. You miss the dark look in his eyes when he chuckles and disregards your concern with an offer to pay for your next manicure trip.

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

HEAD EMPTY, JUST WANNA FUCK YOU PT. 2

pairing: caelus/f!reader, dan heng/f!reader, gepard/f!reader (separate)

cw: (all) sexual fantasies, unconventional turn-ons, they’re all pervs, (caelus) established relationship, gross misuse of lotion?, cum play, hand job, cum eating, mutual masturbation, cumming in pants, he calls you ‘princess,’ (dan heng) m!masturbation, reader wears a skirt, gross misuse of social media pictures, pussy job, overstimulation, marking, cunnilingus, (gepard) reader has long, manicured nails, hand job, choking?, making out, marking, creampie

wc: 1.3k, 400~ each | join the taglist

minors do not interact

CAELUS' eyes can't help but wander sometimes. He doesn't mean to have his attention waver! It's just how he is so it's no surprise that he's slowly zoning your voice out as his eyes traced over your movements like a hawk to its breakfast. You were talking about... what was it... Fragmentums? He wants to apologize but it's not his fault that whatever the subject of your conversation was is so boring compared to how your hands slowly rubbed against each other, a creamy liquid being pushed in between your fingers and under your fingernails. It smells so good too—a feminine maturity with a dark undertone that knocks the breath out of his throat. He watches the way your fingers slowly circled around your knuckles, pressing and massaging each with tender care before sliding your hands up your arms. Your motion causes your skin to ripple gently, bouncing back to shape tantalizingly as the lotion goes from opaque to translucent. His dick throbs at that. Lust sinks its claws into his head and suddenly, the air is too hot because... because what if it wasn't lotion? What if it was his cum that's dripping from your hands? What if after you pumped him dry with your soft hands, you'd rub at your fingers and bring it to your mouth—eyes solely focused on him before they flutter close as you sucked them dry, moaning at the salty taste of him before reaching out and clawing for more? Would you let him fuck into his palm as he watches you squeeze at your flesh, tracing fine lines with another hand as you reached down to your heat? Caelus thinks you'd look so, so pretty as your fingers mimic the way you'd draw circles over your knuckles to your nub—the prettiest as you knock your head back, lips parted in a silent moan as tears well up in your eyes. You'd tell him to "please, please hurry, Caelus!" and he will because there's nothing he won't do for his precious princess. He'll chase his high through the beautiful sight of you and he'll come over your bare chest, using the tip of his cock to spread and paint a love heart over your flushed skin. What can you say? That's just how much he loves you. You'll forgive him for how dirty his thoughts are, right? And for making a mess on your sheets, a dark, wet patch spreading over your comforters as it drips past and down his pants.

DAN HENG prides himself over his control over his sexual needs. In fact, he'd argue that he didn't have much of a libido to worry about in his day-to-day affairs. Ah, but... That was all before you. Something about you has him clenching his teeth, whites of his knuckles appearing as he tried to force the downright disrespectful image of you in his wild, wild thoughts. He's just about flipped you in a hundred different positions in his mind while you cling to his arm, unknowing of how much he's lewding you. Even now, as you lay in peace and secure under the warmth of your blankets, Dan Heng shoves himself in the corner of the archives, pants unbuckled and half-way down his toned thighs as he tried to muffle his sensual groans. It's dark and everyone's already sound asleep and yet, here he was, disregarding the fact that he's a member of the expedition team for tomorrow's mission in favor of rutting up the hand coiled around his twitching cock. It's so unlike him to be so depraved that he can only moan louder around the hem of his shirt that's caught in between his teeth. The way the cool air hit his exposed stomach made him avert his gaze, unluckily—or not—back to the object of his desires. He uses his free hand to reach for his phone, the only light in the room that could illuminate how reddened his cheeks have become. Dilated eyes stared at your profile, fingers spreading to zoom at the patch of skin taunting his heady daze. It's so innocent; how you're beaming at the camera and how you chose such a cute outfit, such a cute mini-skirt for him to rub his cock raw over. Dan Heng's cusses as more fluid oozes out. It's just so invigorating how your thighs looked so heavenly in that skirt, and he's torn between wanting to flip it over to glide his hardened cock over your moist folds until both of your are screaming from oversensitivity or shoving his face in between them, tonguing and leaving hickies over your thighs before sucking the life out of your swollen clit. He lets out the prettiest pants as he approaches his climax and he wonders... Would you be disgusted with him if you saw him like this, disheveled from the need to fuck you dumb? Or would you smile at him like you are now through your picture, encouraging the corrupted descent of his mind? Dan Heng could only wonder about it as cum oozes out of his poor, overused dick—spurting even on his phone, conveniently over your untouched thighs.

GEPARD knows it's wrong; that it goes against not only the Silvermane Guards' code of conduct but also his personal moral standards to think about you with such degeneracy when you're not even doing anything that can come across as a sexual insinuation. Still, against all the fiber and nerve in his body, his heart races. It thumps against his ribcage, pumping blood to his head, making his vision spin and to his cock that strains against the constraints of his pants. He tries to shake it off, thinking of all sorts of tragic things just to remove the weight of immorality over his shoulders but you fan your fingers over his face and fuck—he's a goner. You tap your nails over the metal part of his uniform, giggling guiltlessly as you flaunt your freshly done nails. They're so pretty, you nearly squeal and he agrees. They're so pretty that he can picture them so vividly spreading and gripping his white, linen sheets. The colors would pop up in contrast so well and he wouldn't be able to stop himself from tangling his own over yours as he fucked himself into your squelching pussy from behind. You point out the embellishments you had added and all he can think about is how good it'll feel as you use your nails to graze over his thick cock. You'll giggle cutely into his ear before taking him into your hand, pumping him teasingly at first before you pick up the pace as you feel him press at your throat, guiding you to a sloppy, wet kiss. You'll feel him licking at your teeth, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth while his hand remains as a firm reminder around your neck, and when he bites harshly at your lip, you'll know he's cumming—making a mess all over your fingers. You'll complain about him ruining your manicure and he's pressing apologetic kisses over your mounds. Maybe then, he'll finally let you have a glimpse of why he loves your nails so much. It's so obvious when he gently pushes you to lie on his bed; when he parts your legs and pushes his leaky cock into you; when he purposefully lowers himself while slowly stretching you out. He makes you feel every inch he takes because it makes you so desperate, whining into his ear and reaching around to dig fine, red lines behind his back. The sweet pain from your needy clawing drives him crazy and he's sure that he'll cum if he didn't pause for a bit. You're both already so fucked out but he's not done yet. He plows into you with all the strength and stamina he gained from being a captain and he never slows—just ruts into you like a rabid animal and only after you engrave small crescents over his chest does he shoot his load deep inside of you. He comes back to reality when you snap your fingers in front of him. You miss the dark look in his eyes when he chuckles and disregards your concern with an offer to pay for your next manicure trip.

© 2023 CYPRESSVS. all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, repost or translate in any platforms.

[cypressvs]

taglist: @yevene