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cheollipop · 5 months

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✾ — 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧

navi | taglist

pairing: husband!park seonghwa x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.0k

genre: smut, fluff, newlyweds on their honeymoon au

song recs: golden hour by jvke, my love mine all mine by mitski, vanilla by kai

with the caribbean breeze ruffling through silky locks, leaving its salty remnants on sunkissed skin, fingers tangled in a lifetime's embrace as you adjusted to the added weight of the metal bands reflecting the gleaming moonlight. tonight, and for decades to come, seonghwa thanked every deity he knew the name of for making you his.

warnings: food/eating is prevalent in the first few paragraphs, lovemaking, soft/service dom!seonghwa, possessive!hwa fingering (f), unprotected sex (👎), creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, nicknames (hwa; pretty girl, darling, love, baby, 'wife'), a lot of kisses, like fr a lot, they're both very desperate and needy and impatient and in love, it's so sappy I'm disgusted with myself.

A/N: bai @hwaightme, thank you for ideating with me all those months ago. I'm happy I finally found the time to write it out, and I really hope I was able to do hwasband (heh) justice. happy reading <3

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

A day of mingling with locals, hopping between souvenir shops and family-owned restaurants, the taste of salt in the air with the ocean breeze ruffling through your hair, hand in hand as you moved under the midday sun. Vivid splashes of colour decorated the markets, clothes and fruit—a ripe mango sitting, half-eaten, on Seonghwa’s palm—laid out on wooden booths while merchants called out to the tourists passing through the narrow pathway. The once overwhelming scent of red roses emanating from the small bouquet in your hand now dissipated under the mouth-watering spices wafting from the street food stalls Seonghwa walked you past, stopping at each one to shovel a variety of fried pastries and desserts into your mouth.

“You should try this too,” he spoke as he excitedly fed you another bite, pressing the pastry past your lips with two fingers to make space between the rest of the food you struggled to chew.

“Hwa, wait—mmph!”

The man standing behind the bar chuckled to himself, golden skin hugged by the Caribbean sun and the corners of his eyes wrinkled with a lifetime of smiles. “You should listen to your husband, Ma'am.”

You turned towards each other, eyes meeting amidst the bustling crowd surrounding you. Husband. It had a good ring to it. Taking in the pink dusting Seonghwa’s cheeks, the timid curl of his lips while he eyed you with hearts in his eyes, you wondered whether the heat warming your cheeks, the butterflies fluttering in your lower belly, and the overwhelming adoration you felt towards the man before you, were just as obvious. As though nothing and no one else existed, even within the populous market, Seonghwa stared at you with unrivalled infatuation, his hand raising to brush a smear of sauce off the side of your mouth, bringing it to his own for a taste. The fresh wave of heat flushing your face at his antics fuelled his ego, lips stretching further at your bashfulness. You were just too cute.

Turning his attention back towards the merchant, his next order dying at the tip of his tongue as your free hand locked with his, dragging him out of the market with a quick “thank you” as you continued to chew on what was left of all the bites he’d clogged your throat with.

You made Seonghwa carry your shoes while you wiped the food off your mouth, glaring at him as he giggled to himself, bare feet leaving imprints over soft, white sand. He guided you closer to the shore, until gentle waves tickled your soles, and rather than remnants of fine dust over tanned skin, you now carried bits of the beach with you every step you took.

Seonghwa’s fingers found yours, his other hand struggling to hold two pairs of shoes while he pulled you closer to his side, his eyes fixing on yours before moving to scan the rest of your face, as though the shadows sculpting your features were far more entrancing than the scene unfolding to his left. Your face warmed under his unrelenting gaze, and despite your best efforts at redirecting his stare towards the changing sky—the plastic wrapped around red roses colliding with his jaw as you pushed it to the side, only for it to sway back in your direction—his attention remained on you. So you dragged him away from the water, damp feet collecting a sheet of sand as you walked further up on the beach, seating yourself and waiting for the smiley man to join you, pearly teeth reflecting the golden rays.

The orb of light moved closer to the horizon, a gradient of oranges and pinks encompassing the breadth of the sky, twinkling stars peeking out as it darkened, still hidden behind tufts of cotton candy clouds moving with the gentle breeze. The salt tickled your nostrils, and the chill ruffled through your top, Seonghwa’s arm naturally wrapping around your figure to bring you closer, his warmth spreading through you despite the thin, white button-up covering his torso, swaying with the wind to reveal bits of his tanned chest through the unbuttoned lapel. Your hand rested over his thigh, and without a second thought, his own moved to cover it, looking down to examine the orange hue cast over metal, your wedding rings clanging against one another while the setting sun graced the interlocked fingers with the last of its warmth. Lifting your head back up, you took in the universe’s breathtaking show of love as the sun kissed the horizon goodbye, bidding its farewells as they parted for the night, beginning its decent into the pool of tears it’d left behind, its reflection making it appear whole.

“Pretty,” you breathed out, watching as pinks shifted to purples, and the stars shone through disappearing clouds.

Seonghwa hummed, the deep baritone dragging your attention off the collision and to the sincere eyes mooning over your profile. Heat flooded your cheeks once again, and with the cooling breeze, shifting the blame onto the summer’s torridity was no longer possible. Instead, you allowed the tranquillity gracing Seonghwa’s sharp features to drag you away from the bewitching sunset. Dark locks fanned over his forehead, stray strands following the salty gusts before falling back into place, eyelashes casting faint shadows over defined cheekbones, and plump lips forming into an easy smile as he took you in.

He dragged your locked hands up his thigh, leaning closer to slot his lips against yours, leaving the universe to bear witness to his own show of love, with the golden, dying rays to serve as his backdrop. How many love songs had you heard say, ‘he takes my breath away’? Seonghwa did. In everything he did, even simply under his gentle gaze, you’d often find yourself breathless.

Drawing back, hot air blew against your mouth, wide, glimmering eyes mooning over your dazed features, and after what felt like an eternity later, Seonghwa’s lips touched yours once again. Sparks flew in every direction, the world slowly disappearing around you, and you wondered how a kiss so innocent could be so intimate and electrifying, how it could light a million fires within you. Like dancers sashaying to a melody, your lips moved together as waves crashed against the sandy shore, and in that moment, it felt as though you were floating in space and everything around you had turned to dust.

You leaned your body forward, attempting to deepen the kiss that had captured your entire being in a whirlwind of fervour and yearning, but just as you did, Seonghwa moved back. Features softened under the dying rays, he peered at you through his eyelashes for a few moments, taking in the subtle pout on your lips at the sudden parting before averting his gaze towards the locked fingers resting on his thigh. Tilting your head, your eyes wandered over the curved slope of his nose, over the feathered eyelashes and lips you’d just gotten a taste of, sensing the gentle ministrations of his hand as it fiddled with your ring. A ring you were still accustoming to the weight of, the gemstone offering a pleasant reminder of a man you now returned home to every night. A man with a million stars in his eyes, and yet preferred to gaze upon you, to moon over your very existence as though you’d crafted the universe around him with nothing but calloused hands. With scenery as breathtaking as the one before you—a celebration of vibrant fuchsia and coral—Seonghwa’s gaze never left your profile, admiring the sunset through its reflection over your skin, the shadows it carved, the pretty eyes in which it glimmered within. And just as the sun kissed the horizon while it set, and once again as it rose, Seonghwa's lips moved in a whispered prayer: to greet the rest of his days with the caress of your warm breath against his skin, carrying the thought of you as he navigated his hours, and to find you in the gentle embrace of slumber, a steadfast companion by his side.

Your voice dragged him out of his daydreams, “what are you thinking about?”

Gentle eyes flitted upwards to meet yours, his response nearly instant, “only you.” The sincerity in his tone, the tenderness in his eyes, the gentle sweep of his thumb over your knuckles, delicate over the twinkling stone decorating your ring finger, Seonghwa continued to ignore the world around him and solely focused on you—the gentle squeeze around his fingers every few seconds, the alluring smile gracing your lips, the slow pace in which you blinked, as though drunk on his voice, his scent, his presence. It was though he was intoxicated by you, an addict who can’t help but want more, even when you’d offered him all you could spare. Leaning towards you once again, he pressed a feathery kiss to your cheekbone, sensing the benign flutter of your eyelashes against his skin before drawing back to meet your eyes once again, hot breath mingling in the small gap between your faces as he muttered the words under his breath, “let’s go back.”

One unsteady step at a time, Seonghwa walked you backwards into the hotel room, palm splayed out on your lower back to keep you balanced. White sand dusted off the clothes he pulled off your frame, wandering hands taking in the lingering warmth of a sun long gone. Your fingers feathered over the prominent tan lines painting his chest, faint freckles littered over the reddened skin. Flitting your eyes back to his face, you found Seonghwa’s gaze fixed on your lips. So you gave him what he yearned for, pressing them against the plush of his and inhaling the breath he’d been holding, too immersed in astral daydreams about a lifetime of you to listen to his burning lungs.

He moved slowly, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go in favour of pressing your tongues together, contrasting the frantic shuffling of his hands over every inch of skin revealed to him. You held him close, chests flush as you allowed him to take whatever he needed, only pulling away to slide off the bra he’d nimbly unclasped. Gentle fingers glided over your figure, squeezing and tugging at the flesh as though he’d never have the luxury of touching you after tonight, his kisses hungry as he robbed your lungs of the last of their oxygen.

Soft sheets collided with your back, and you had only a few seconds to revel in the coolness against your heated skin before Seonghwa was back on you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to press hurried kisses down its length. His lips moved over the slope of your breast, tongue peeking out to circle your perked-up nipple before descending the tender skin to feather kisses along your ribs. You recognized the pattern, his movements familiar as he trailed down the body he’d stripped nearly bare, fingertips ghosting over the lacey waistband hugging your hips. Soon, he’d prop your legs over broad shoulders, salivating as he buried his nose into your clit while he lapped at your dripping arousal like a starved man.

A sense of urgency flooded your gut as he dug his nose under your bellybutton, your hand flying to his freckled shoulder with a mutter of his name rolling off your tongue. He looked up at you, pupils blown out and a sheen of spit coating his parted lips as he prepared himself for your sweet taste, his appetite growing the closer he got to your core.

Wrapping your fingers around his bicep, you tugged him upwards, but he resisted, confusion furrowing his eyebrows, “baby?”

“I can’t wait, Hwa, ‘want you now,” you breathed out, feeling his muscles relax under your touch and his hesitant ascend back to face-level.

You could hear the unspoken complaint forming at the back of his throat, so you moved your hand to his nape and brought him down to slot your lips together. Desperation poured out of you, teeth clashing as you pulled him impossibly closer, drunk on the softness of his lips. You guided his hand to your clothed heat, pushing it past the waistband so soft fingers could slide through the wetness staining the white lace they’d gifted you. A muttered curse vibrated against your lips, Seonghwa’s nose nuzzling against yours for a moment before capturing your mouth in an avid embrace once again, his free hand leading yours down the lean muscle to where he needed you the most, to where his burning want strained against his briefs.

An airy moan muffled against his frantic lips, the slight part in yours welcoming his tongue in to run over your front teeth, “fuck, ‘want you, please-”

“Shh,” he pecked the corner of your mouth, “just for a little bit, my love.” You whimpered in protest, but he only smiled at your frustration, pressing more kisses over your eyelids, forcing them shut with the gesture. “I gotta make sure you’re ready for me, darling. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

You knew he would. From the building pace of his fingers on your clit, drawing perfect circles and sending jolting waves of long-awaited pleasure up your spine, to the trail of kisses he planted down the side of your neck, you knew he would. Forming a ‘v’ around the bud, he slid the digits down to your folds, his middle finger circling your needy hole before slipping inside. He didn’t bother with finding your g-spot before sliding in another, his unconcealed impatience evident in the quick, shallow thrusts.

Your gaze flitting down to his middle, you pushed past the elastic band to feel his cock twitch in your palm, squeezing around his base to take in the shifts in his expression—eyebrows drawn in, lashes fluttering as he melted under your tender touch before he rested his forehead onto your chest. He used his free hand to make a quick work of sliding off his briefs—rather ungracefully, but you held back your comments—tossing them off the bed before guiding your hand back to his waiting cock. Following the throbbing vein lining his length, you were met with the obscene amount of translucent precum spurting from his cockhead, rolling your wrist and sliding the slick down the hard shaft, then back up to feel him shudder atop of you.

“Fuck, just like that-”

His fingers slipped out of you with a groan, and you whined at the loss, your dripping cunt clenching uselessly. But Seonghwa was smearing your own slick over the back of your thigh while pushing it to the side, spreading you apart to slot himself between your legs. You pulled your hand away before he could trap it between your burning cores, his cock sliding deliciously between your soaked folds and nudging your clit with every slippery glide.

You reached down, placing a palm over his cockhead to trap him against you, “Hwa, hurry,” a faint whisper, you pressed down once he sunk his hips lower, and sighed in relief once the tip breached your fluttering hole.

The slow drag as he buried himself within your heat left you in a shared trance, eyes locked and lips parted, stunted exhales mingling in the negligible gap separating your faces. Slender fingers tangled with yours, moonlit wedding bands pressing imprints into your skin as he grinded languidly into you, eyelashes fluttering but gaze never faltering off your face, revelling in the luring shifts in your features as you gracefully drowned in the pleasure he so generously gave you. Even in the dim, bluish tone the cosy hotel room swam in, you could see the abstract hearts painting his glimmering irises, Seonghwa's warm body lowering onto yours until a comfortable amount of his weight rested atop you. Despite the tenderness of his touch, the delicate kisses he peppered your face with—barely-there pecks over your eyelids, on your cheeks and down to the corners of your mouth—Seonghwa’s hips had built a steady pace, barely pulling out as he rolled them insistently, the squelch of your cunt harmonizing with the pitched pants echoing between the four walls.

“My wife,” he muttered suddenly, dragging you away from the hazy pleasure clouding your mind and to wide, glassy eyes peering at you as though you’d parted the sea with a mere whisper. His palm cradled your jaw, curved nose nuzzling into your cheek while his other hand found your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as the realization dawned on him for the nth time since he’d slid the polished band onto your trembling finger. “Fuck, you’re my wife.”

A soft giggle shook your shoulders, your hand sliding over Seonghwa’s at your jaw while the other drew lines onto his lower back. “Mm, my husband.”

Seonghwa was a man blinded by sudden cognizance—first life or not, the universe had been astonishingly kind to him, granting him a lifetime of nights such as this, emanated by the raw desire to love. To give love, and to receive it, from a woman crafted by the heavens themselves, a woman who presented him with love’s true form. Who painted the world around him brighter, more vivid, until a life without her seemed riddled with dreary grey tones and melancholy.

“All mine.”

A fond smile stretched your lips, brushing your fingers through silky, dark locks while admiring his dazed features, “all yours.”

His body heat encapsulated your form, toned arms wrapped securely around your shoulders and face tucked into your neck as measured rolls of his hips switched to frantic thrusts. Unable to move, you simply laid beneath him and took it, squeezing around him with every shock of pleasure he fucked through you, cock twitching violently between your walls as he barrelled towards his high.

“My perfect wife,” he mumbled into your damp skin like a crazed man, “gonna give you all I have.” You scrambled to reach for his face, pulling it up to meet lidded eyes, pathetic, airy moans leaving plump lips, and he twitched inside you as you watched him fall apart. “Here—hah—here it comes, darling. Take it all, yeah?”

Blown out pupils rolled back to reveal the whites of his eyes, lashes violently fluttering before he’d sealed his lids shut, his head tilting backwards as far as it could go as ecstasy rushed through his body in searing shockwaves, pumping his cock into you sloppily until he grew still, a day’s worth of neediness and want pouring out of him in watery ribbons of pearly white.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting to savour the sight before you: heavily lidded gaze fixed on yours, eyebrows drawn in, and spit-soaked lips hanging open as broken, breathy moans reverberated in the air separating you. You felt so full, and yet Seonghwa’s cock was still feeding weak spurts of cum into your womb, a delicate thumb rubbing soothing circles over your waist. And just when you thought he’d been milked dry, he dragged his cock halfway out of your clenching cunt and back into its inviting warmth, hissing at the sensitivity as he built up his pace until a whimper fell off your lips and you finally succumbed to the pleasure weighing down on your eyelids.

Soft lips pecked over your eyelashes, honeyed voice ruffling them with warm exhales, “Open your eyes, my love. Let me see you.”

And how could you refuse him such a soft-spoken request? Stars danced in your vision as you took in Seonghwa’s expression once again—hints of pain masked by overwhelming infatuation and need, as though he could power through the oversensitivity so long as he remained engulfed in your warmth.

“Hwa.”

“My pretty girl, my wife—” he spoke as though still in disbelief. His chest heaved, and violent shudders shook his body with the silky glide of his cock over your walls, a ring of cream forming around his base as he fucked your slick and his cum back into the used hole. “Gonna come for me?”

Nodding frenziedly, you held on to his shoulders, sliding your hands up to his nape and into his hair, wanting to hold onto something but failing to decide on what. But then you were clamping around him, and two pairs of hands desperately clutched the other’s skin, lips meeting in the middle only to expel stunted gasps into each other’s mouths as though you were centuries-old lovers recently reunited. Seonghwa guided you through your orgasm, holding onto your trembling frame even as you tightened around his sensitive cock, two fingers slipping between your sticky bodies to rub circles over your clit.

“Hwa, fuck—” Back arching, your nipples pressed against his, hips simultaneously seeking more of his touch and jerking away from it.

“That’s it, baby, ‘being so good for me,” he slipped his cock out of you, a sigh of relief warming your face as his fingers continued their movement over your clit. “Look at you, so full you can’t keep it all in?”

You followed his gaze down to your core, hips spasming as the stimulation panged at your nerves, but you found yourself transfixed on the thick stream of cum falling out of your pulsating cunt in gallops. Seonghwa’s lust-heavy eyes widened as another wave of your orgasm rushed through you, vivid colours obscuring your blurry vision before fireworks exploded behind your squeezed-shut eyelids. Your fingers grasped desperately at Seonghwa’s wrist, sensing him begrudgingly pull away to grant you some reprieve.

You weren’t sure how long it took you to come down, to gather the last fragments of energy you had to force your eyes open, to notice the skilled hands ridding you of the knots in the aching muscles of your hips, but you felt at ease knowing Seonghwa was there to welcome you back whenever you were ready. His gaze—ever so gentle—fixed upon your tranquil features, propped up on an elbow while his body laid by your side to give you room to breathe, your chest still heaving from the force of your high. You noticed the subtle, unconscious flick of his stare down to your thighs every few seconds, taking interest in your fruitless battle against the insistent spasms jolting your lower half.

Huffing out a laugh, you dragged his attention back to your face, and his body slid closer to yours, placing his head on the pillow beside you and watching you shift onto your side. The duvet pulled taut over sweaty bodies, shielded from the chilly ocean breeze, the arms snaked around your waist pulled you into Seonghwa’s chest, any thoughts about leaving the soiled bed dissipating within the man’s secure embrace.

You inhaled the salty Caribbean scent off his tanned skin, remnants of the luxury perfume he’d sprayed on that morning mixing in with nature’s cologne. Before you could nuzzle closer into his neck, a gentle grip on your nape pulled you back to meet soft eyes, yours fluttering shut once plush lips pressed against your cheekbone, then your forehead, and your nose, until he found your cupid's bow. It was barely a kiss, more so a standstill as you held your lips together, pressing and nipping against the other’s sluggishly as you both fought off sleep’s insistent nagging.

Beads of sweat slowly dried over your skin, the moonlight filtering through the cracked blinds reflecting through them before dying out. Drunk on one another, you were too occupied to notice the cool-toned shift in hues painting the white walls, missing the sun’s final farewells before it disappeared behind the horizon, and the emergence of glimmering stars to replace the striking gradient of oranges and pinks. You'd missed nature’s tragic goodbye while immersed in your own ardent union. Now, only the moon and its stars bore witness to the lethargic dance of lips hidden under the floral-scented duvet Seonghwa had pulled over your intertwined frame.

Sand still dusted slick skin, and warm breaths mingled in the stuffy space you’d cramped yourselves in, bodies flush against one another as you succumbed to the siren invite of slumber, wishing upon a lifetime emanated by such bliss, tranquillity, and ardour.

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chlerc · 7 months

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times it mattered ; charles leclerc

— summary; 5 times where Charles showed you what it’s like to be on the receiving end of love with his actions and words.

pairing — charles leclerc x art-student!f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 1899.

content — 5 times you realised that being in an arranged marriage with Charles Leclerc wasn’t that bad. Actions speak louder than words, but what if he has a mix of both?

NAVIGATION + author’s note: i awfully love this one because i’m soooo an acts of service girl and this is exactly what i want in life but no one gets what they want.

— 1.

THE SOUND OF THE television drains out with her head in her hands, the table with an array of paint and colour pencils. The sketch, she thought wasn’t good enough, had been staring at her for the past twenty minutes. Under the sky of midnight velvet, she had been in this very exact position since the morning blues.

It was only when the sound of the door slammed shut that broke her out of her trance, she didn’t need to turn to know that it was Charles. “Hey, bella.” He greets, sitting on the couch behind her and she turns to give him a small smile. He knew that smile even though she had hardly smiled at him, the same exact smile when she can’t get a sketch right.

“I bought you these, it was on the way home.” Charles holds out the bouquet of baby breaths in front of her, scratching at his nape and a small grin on his face that displays his dimples. “Thanks, you didn’t have to though.” Her eyes creased into crescents, taking in the sight of the bouquet. “I know I don’t have to but I wanted to, let me do my thing as your husband yeah?”

Husband on paper but not really her husband though, doesn’t matter as long as things are working out and thank god it’s going well between them. It was an occasional thing where Charles would always arrive home with a bouquet of flowers in his hands, saying it’s on the way home and that it would be a waste if the florist didn’t sell them out.

The smile on her face probably said everything there was left unsaid and god it left Charles weak in his knees. “I’ll go and take a shower, long day today and I probably smell bad. The sketch is looking good, hope your projects are going well.” He ruffled her hair before jogging away into the master bedroom but the smell of his Creed perfume remains behind.

— 2.

Mornings had never been her favourite thing, not when she knew lectures were awaiting her the whole day or projects piling up on her load. Golden rays of the morning sun came as invitations to the day, yet she only felt dread in leaving the duvet that kept her warm and acted as a protective layer from the world beyond.

The house is empty and quiet as always, leaving her to savour the hours of mornings in freedom and solitude, not that Charles had ever been bothersome to her morning routine. The only sign of Charles that was left behind was the scent of his Dior Sauvage cologne that she had gotten him, adding to his growing collections of perfumes.

Her door left ajar when she finally untangled herself from the comfort of her sheets, dragging herself towards the kitchen where she would always find an avocado bowl and a cup of tea ready for her. There’d always be a message on her phone accompanying Charles’ gesture although she thinks of it as bothersome for him to prepare breakfast for her if he never has some of it.

It started off as a one time thing where it subsequently happened everyday after she bought him a belt in return for his actions. Everything then just happened naturally as it became a habit for her to buy him things and he’d prepare her breakfast. She’d like to think that Charles liked her taste in whatever she bought him, perfumes, jeans and dress shirts.

That one time where she caught Charles pouring a cup of tea only and putting the kettle back in place, then she only realised he never drank tea. He’d always say “It’s okay I drink some of it too so I made more and we can share.” but he never drank some of it, all of it was for her because he had a cup of cappuccino daily.

— 3.

“Bella today’s my day off, let’s go somewhere should we?” Charles pokes his head around the corner of the living room as she glances up from her sketch to catch his small grin. “I have 2 more sketches to complete but we can go. Where are we going, have you thought of it?” There had rarely been days where they ever went out together, their schedules not complying with each other.

There’s excitement in his eyes as they glint in the light, a deep happiness in the well of his dimples where she found home within, a spark that would always lead her to thrive once more. “Of course, I planned it beforehand and even if you were going to disagree, I would have come up with some other plan to drag you out.”

A giggle left her lips as Charles walked forward, hands outstretched for her to hold onto when standing up. “There’s a desk in your room, why do you always wanna make your back suffer by sitting on the floor with nothing to lean against and hunching over the coffee table.” His voice laced with concern knowing how often she had complained of a backache from the long hours sitting down.

“I just like it there, you can’t stop me because you’re not home mostly.” It wasn’t supposed to hurt but it had been like a jab towards him that made him realised his tight schedule. The least he could do to make up for the time loss was bringing her out when he was home, preparing her breakfast, tucking her into the duvets before he left or came home.

Truthfully they both knew that they never wanted to end up in an arranged marriage but what could he do except to make the most out of it? Especially when someone as gorgeous and beautiful as her, he wasn’t letting the chance slip through. “Where are we going?” She pivots on her heels to face him, her brows cocked up while looking at him. “Art Museum.”

“But you said you didn’t understand art and paintings the last time we went.” Charles only shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly before walking to his bedroom. “You’re there, you can explain everything to me. My art student for a reason, aren’t you?

— 4.

Leaving everything on the coffee table was something she always did with her colour pencils, brushes and paints all over the table. Charles had been used to that though, that’s why he had always been the one cleaning after her mess. “Leave it, I'll clear it up later.” Yet she’d always return to an organised coffee table, the packed dinner he brought back or those he cooked when he was free were already on the table.

“I’m home with dinner, go wash your hands and we can eat together.” The shuffling of Charles’ footsteps can be heard from the living room while she makes her way towards the bathroom, washing her hands of different colours and doodles. The rustling of plastic bags were heard, the sound of her colour pencils being kept away.

Yet when she rounded the corner of the living room, Charles sat there with her sketchbook in hand, flipping through where his eyes were enlarged at every sketch he flipped through. “Charles, are you snooping through my sketches?” Her eyebrows cocked up with her lips slightly lifted at the ends.

“Nooo, not at all. I was just, what do you call that? Interested but openly looking, not snooping.” He shuts the sketchbook close at her voice, pushing it to the far end of the couch and raising his hands in surrender. “Leave it there, we can look through it and I’ll explain it to you later. The projects, the drawings and everything else.”

He had eyes that spoke of all things newborn in the spring, glimmering with the small hint of excitement that hid behind the windows of a soul. “Really? You’d tell me all about it? Everything in between too?” Her smile grows of its own accord and she can either let him see what he ignited or hide it, either way, he's the most fun and adorable thing in her world.

“I would if you finish your dinner first and take a shower after, then we can go through everything you said and everything in between.” The glasses that sat on the arch of his nose only worsened the palpitations within her heart, every nook and crevice filled with adoration for him. “Then what are you waiting for? Come here, have a seat and start digging in!”

— 5.

Nothing on earth beats the atmosphere of a concert, aside from a race where Charles wins, nothing comes as close to this feeling. The crowd has a life of its own, the vibrant clothes shine in the track lights and the people move like enchanting shoals of fish.

Charles stood by her side, hands on the small of her back where he occasionally tugged her closer from the crowd. Being here, at The 1975 concert, with Charles was definitely not something she had expected since they ever got married. The back of her heels hurt from the bite of her shoes she had horribly chosen.

“You okay? I’ll get us out of here soon, my car’s parked far though, it might be quite a bit of a walk.” Charles peers down at her, oblivious to her pain and watches her face scrunch with her eyes wincing while nodding in response to him. “Are you sure you’re okay, are you tired?” And he only gets a meek smile in return, not quite like the same person he had been with during the concert. “Your feet hurts, don't they?”

She acts like it’s nothing she couldn’t handle, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly when they walked out of the concert venue. He stops his tracks along as she does by the bench nearby, then bending over to remove his Jordans and pushing her gently to sit on the bench. “What are you doing, Charles?”

He whistled to the song he had heard in the concert earlier instead of replying, kneeling by her to slip off her shoes and fit them in with his Jordan’s instead. He then turns around, patting his back as a signal for her to hop on. “C’mon, let’s go and it’s late.” But she only stared at him with her jaws hung open, processing what he had just done. “Hey come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

And when she finally relaxed herself onto his back and the comfort within her arms around his neck, his left hand carried her shoes whilst continuing his whistle and walking towards the car with only his socks. “Why are you doing this Charles, doesn’t your foot hurt with only the socks?”

“Doesn’t really matter as long as you’re okay, besides the walk to the car isn’t that far so I can handle it.” Her fingers meddled with the necklaces he wore, mostly from his sponsored brand. “Sleep with me tonight.” His abrupt remark had caused a gasp to leave her mouth, throwing him a soft punch on the shoulder.

“Isn’t that a little too straightforward?” Charles shook his head and chuckled, swaying her from side to side. “I meant together in my room, like moving into the master bedroom.” She only hummed in reply, teasing him with her short and unclear response which left him desperate. “Sure.”

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bradshawssugarbaby · 7 months

Text

I Can See You (Aaron Hotchner x Reader)

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem! reader

song prompt: I Can See You (From the Vault) - Taylor Swift

warnings/content: mutual pining, Hotch being a gentleman, making out.

word count: 1571

And I could see you up against the wall with me, and what would you do, baby, if you only knew? Oh, oh, oh, that I could see you throw your jacket on the floor, I could see you make me want you even more

You sipped your drink as your eyes scanned the room for a familiar face. You dreaded social events, especially ones where you hardly knew anyone by name, let alone anyone you knew comfortably enough to talk to at length. These work galas were nothing short of awkward and you were thankful they only happened a handful of times a year, but even that was too often. You specifically took up an admin position with the FBI to avoid the social interactions with others regularly - you just weren’t a *people* person. As you continued to sip your cocktail, praying for the fire alarm to ring through the hotel ballroom as the perfect escape for you, you heard a deep voice say your name. You spun around on your heel to see Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief for the Behavioural Analysis Unit standing before you, a warm, friendly smile on his face.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here!” You grinned, trying to mask the social anxiety you were feeling, especially when faced with a man you had feelings for.

Aaron laughed softly, holding his whiskey glass firmly in his large hand. His fingers wrapped around the glass, making it look as though it was meant for a doll rather than an average sized high-ball glass. He rarely smiled, let alone laughed, so the fact that you were able to accomplish even the slightest snicker out of him was a feat to be admired.

“I don’t normally come to these things,” he nodded his head, “I was told I had to attend this one though for some reason.”

Aaron’s dark brown eyes watched the others as they mingled, creating small talk with colleagues and avoiding the dance floor like the plague. He shook his head, laughing.

“Why did they think a group of FBI agents would want to dance?” He said discreetly to you.

You laughed at his comment and shrugged your shoulders, “You know, I was wondering the same thing.”

Aaron turned towards you, a warm smile on his lips. You were used to the odd friendly glance from him in passing, but a genuine smile was rare. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lit up when he smiled, his whole face appearing completely different from the normally reserved, stoic man everyone knew him as. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of golden brown you’d ever seen, with honey and hazel coloured flecks in the irises. His dark hair had the faintest hint of gray to it, which made him even more attractive, if that was possible. He wore his hair cropped fairly short, with his bangs gelled up slightly, the way he always wore it. In fact, he didn’t really dress any differently from how he usually did at work with his suit and tie, except instead of his usual red or blue tie, he opted for classic black, with a black suit and pure white pressed dress shirt underneath. Aaron was at least 25 years older than you, but that didn’t change anything about the crush you’d developed on him over the past year. If anything, his maturity made him *more* attractive to you.

“I could use some air,” you nodded, a soft smile forming on your face as you spoke to Aaron.

“Mind if I join you? I could use some fresh air too.”

You nodded your head and followed behind Aaron as you walked outside into the cool October air. The two of you walked further down the pathway into a garden area, further away from the party that was taking place inside. You could feel a shiver down your spine as you walked, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the sheer nervousness from being alone with Aaron. You bit your lip as you looked up, admiring the stars and the peacefulness of being outside, and you didn’t notice Aaron’s eyes on you at first. He watched your features closely, as if he was studying them carefully, trying to memorize them. Aaron sighed happily as he looked up at the sky, watching whatever it was you were staring at.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Aaron said, breaking the silence between you.

“Go for it,” you laughed softly, nodding your head. You couldn’t help but wonder what Aaron could possibly want to ask you.

“You always seem to come to these events alone,” he nodded, his profiling skills coming into play, “are these events just, not your partner’s thing?” He asked.

“I don’t have a partner to bring with me,” You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I sort of wish I didn’t have to attend these things alone though, at least then I’d have someone to talk to for the evening.”

“Well…you can always come find me,” Aaron nodded. “I get the sense I’ll be attending these more frequently now.”

Your eyes met with Aaron’s, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip slightly as your gazes crossed paths. He gave you another rare smile, before shaking his head.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who makes me as nervous as you do. I’ve never had an issue talking to women before,” Aaron let out an awkward laugh.

You almost couldn’t believe what he had just said, you had half a mind to ask him to repeat himself. Aaron Hotchner was one of the most intimidatingly handsome men you’d ever met, and here he was, telling you that you made him nervous. You raised an eyebrow at him, speechless, and hoping he would elaborate further.

“You know, I’ve thought you were beautiful since the day I first saw you,” Aaron nodded, his cheeks flushing to a soft pink colour.

You couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly as Aaron complimented you, and for a moment, you swore he almost had a look of defeat on his face. You shook your head and smiled at him.

“You know, I’ve had a crush on you since the day I first saw you,” you replied.

Aaron took a step closer to you, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. You could feel your heart racing as his hands rested on your hips. You’d had the odd daydream about this happening to you before - you’d often daydreamed about Aaron, but rarely of him in a romantic light, normally your daydreams consisted of Aaron inviting you into his office for a “meeting”. The sweet, soft kiss he was giving you now was a welcome surprise.

“Aaron,” you said softly as he pulled away, “you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to do that.”

“Oh? Funny, I could say the same to you,” he grinned.

“Do it again,” you challenged.

As if on command, Aaron kissed you again, this time with passion and excitement behind it. You felt like a teenager having their first romantic experience - almost giddy with excitement as his tongue slid across your bottom lip gently. You had to admit, kissing Aaron was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You couldn’t tell if it was the passion he had, the experience of his, or the fact that you’d longed for this moment, but Aaron was unmatched in terms of passion. You felt Aaron press his body against yours, your back gently pressing against the wall behind you. He gently caressed your sides, his hands running up and down on your waist and hips slowly, in almost a teasing fashion.

Aaron pulled his lips apart from yours slightly, shrugging his suit jacket back off his shoulders in one quick motion. He tossed his jacket to the ground as his lips met yours again as if magnetized to one another. He put one hand into your long curled hair, perfectly styled for the event, although at this point, you couldn’t care less about how your hair looked. Aaron’s fingers gently tugged on your hair, pulling you in as close to him as physically possible. You could smell his Bleu de Chanel on him, the notes of his cologne giving you a rush as you realized just how close your bodies were to one another. The typically reserved, serious Aaron was a completely different person as he kissed you - he was passionate, romantic, intimate, and it only made you crave him more. You craved his touch, the taste of his lips, the smell of his cologne, the sound of his voice, the feel of his gaze on you. You didn’t just want Aaron, you needed him, at this point.

As you heard the sound of voices calling Aaron’s name, you realized that some of the other guests had set out to look for him, wondering where he had disappeared to, as he was about to be called for an award of some sort. Aaron pulled his lips away agonizingly slow. He whispered softly to you and smiled.

“We can continue this once I’m no longer needed inside,” his voice was almost seductive as he spoke.

Aaron bent down to pick up his jacket, then straightened his clothes out before laughing softly. You noticed a smear of nude lipstick across his mouth and grinned.

“Aaron, you know, that isn’t really your shade,” you laughed as you licked the tip of your thumb and wiped it off quickly.

Aaron smirked at you before whispering again.

“Maybe we should test it out again, it might look better in the lighting at my apartment.”

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #cute #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Dirty Work 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I had the worst Monday that could have ever existed. Onto Tuesday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"I trust this should be amenable to your work," Mr. Laufeyson holds open the door along the east wall of his study. One you've never opened before though you're familiar with the space within. The library also opens into the hallway and keeps you busier than many of the other rooms. "When you should require it. I expect much of your work will keep you afoot."

You peer past him, his tall figure like a second shadow. You clutch your kit tight and nod. You didn't exactly bring the tools for this new role.

"I should have a blank ledger somewhere, oh and a pen of course," he advises, "given our new... arrangement, I would require a contact point."

You nod and tear your attention from the full shelves and luxurious velvet chaise. You won't get to enjoy those but they give the space a much more welcome feel than the rest of the house. You face Mr. Laufeyson as he keeps the door propped open with his foot. He slides out his phone as if it's a task.

"Never to worry, I wouldn't bother you much so long as you do your work adequately," he assures, "but in case of... emergency."

"Oh, erm," you sputter and reach into your hoodie pocket, revealing the tiny flip phone.

"Hm, vintage," he muses, "as you would."

He holds his phone, gesturing to it with his other hand. You teethe your lip before you recall the digits of your number. Your plan doesn't include a lot of talk minutes but he doesn't promise much of that. He keys them into his screen.

"You'll have mine," he taps his thumb and your phone chimes. "In case."

"Thanks, uh, Mr. Laufeyson."

"Mmmm," he hums again. "Suppose you would need some sort of proper device, a computer of sorts." He clucks and checks his watch, dropping his arm with a huff, "I've an important event shortly, I'll try to venture by the electronics shop before I return.”

You nod and fold your phone, slipping it away as you peek back into the library. He inhales deeply, "suppose you should begin. The list is on the writing desk.”

You accept the command easily. You’re even thankful for it. It gives you a proper reason to find distance. You go to the desk and look over the typed list. You don’t sit, hesitating as you wonder if it would seem lazy, maybe even presumptuous.

“Let me fetch that ledger,” he says before letting the door drift closed.

You run your finger over the top line. ‘Create a schedule’. Hmmm. You look over the bullets that fill the paper. You can only assume he refers to all of that. It’s straightforward, you can handle a schedule. It’s everything that comes after that gives you doubt.

“And you’ll have to review what my wife, ex that is, left in shambles,” Mr. Laufeyson interrupts as he pushes through again. “Her little folder is here. She was always fond of order, even though she left me in much less. This is what’s left of her handiwork,” he approaches coolly and sets down a plain fawn coloured ledger, a fountain pen, and a white folder with golden flowers on it.

“Thanks,” you eke out as his hands linger on the edges.

You sense his gaze, discerning and weighty. He leans forward slightly and you nearly take a step across as he points to the list. You follow the line of his arm and his extended finger.

“Another point to add, ‘acquire work attire’,” he instructs and turns his hand over, flippant flicking his finger in a gesture to your plain hoodie and worn gray denim. “I trust my pay should afford that necessity easily, however should you require a write-off, I suppose it could be argued as a professional expense.”

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson,” you frown in embarrassment, “I didn’t…” You look down at yourself, wanting to hide behind your arms.

“You wouldn’t think of it, just a maid,” he dismisses, “very well, I think you have more than enough to begin. I should be some hours.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you agree. He is correct, there is more than enough to keep you busy.

“I will review the schedule upon my return,” he affirms. “Should you require refreshment, you recall where to go.”

You nod and cautiously reach for the ledger, sliding it closer as he backs up. You slowly sit, hovering before you let yourself rest. He lingers by the door as you roll the pen aside and put the ledger and folder parallel. You open the former and line up the list inside the cover, resuming your perusal of the bullet points.

The door closes and you keep your attention to the paper. You don’t dare a glance up until you hear his muffled footfalls cross his study. You feel as if he’s waiting for you to make a mistake. You think you might be too.

🧹

A clunk sharply pierces the tenuous peace of the empty house. You hadn’t heard the door or his approach, not even right next door, not until the hefty thunk. You listen but keep your nose down.

You’re just about done with the schedule. Two cleans throughout the week to spread the duties evenly. The main floor on Mondays, and the upper on Thursday. You’ll be able to fit in an unexpected tidying between your other to-dos.

You flutter through the pretty white and gold folder. The embossed suede speaks of a sophisticated owner. You wonder why she would ever abandon it, though you assume, a separation may not inspire sentiment.

You turn over another note. This one about the gazebo. A blurb on a repair. You’ll have too go out and check to see if it was actually done, there’s no confirmation of the job. You stop to admire her loopy writing, as elegant as the folder.

The door opens without pretense. You sit up and wiggle the pen between your index and thumb. Mr. Laufeyson as a flat white box in his hand, along with a smaller one on top. He does not near you, instead place his lot on the square table by the window.

“Here,” he orders shortly.

You rise and leave the pen in the centre of the ledger. You cross to him as he moves the smaller box aside and unfolds the two smaller flaps from the large one. You can’t help but watch curiously.

“This should suffice,” he shimmies out the cardboard insert, revealing a sleek silver laptop, “hmm?”

He shifts it towards you and lets you look it over. You put your hands behind you to keep from touching. You lean in just a little.

“It looks nice, Mr. Laufeyson. Thank you.”

“For your work, of course. These days, it is a requirement. And this,” he takes the smaller box and offers it up, “a proper work phone. It is more professional. Any calls on my behalf, you will make on this. That relic you have won’t do much.”

“Uh, yes, Mr. Laufeyson, that’s really thoughtful.”

“Thoughtful? Practical. Company property, of course,” he insists, “another point to add. Set these up. They should be functioning by the end of the day. You’ll need them to keep up with the rest of your tasks.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. I will put it on the list.”

“Mm,” he circles around you, striding to the writing desk before you can react. You follow at a few paces, not wanting to crowd him. He takes the pen and uncaps it. He adds the bullet himself. “There you are.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laufeyson,” you recite again.

He snaps the lid on the pen and his lips twitch, not quite curving, “I’ll review,” he snatches up the open ledger, your schedule open to see. You almost rush forward. You meant to rewrite it before you handed it over. It has scribbles all over it. You won’t argue.

“Go on,” he steps around the desk, waving to the side dismissively.

You return to the table and gather the laptop and phone, along with the stray box. You bring them back to the writing desk and stay standing as you free the laptop from the insert. You let your eyes edge along the top of your vision as Mr. Laufeyson sits on the chaise and browses the ledger.

You refocus and investigate the cord buried in the box as a collection of booklets fall out. You sort through them and find the one in English. You start on the front page, reading over the different buttons and features. The diagram is especially helpful. You’ve never had a computer before, not that it belongs to you.

You squint as you read the precautions. Your mind flits back and forth between your current task and everything beyond. You would go to the library sometimes and spend an hour on the PC, and in school you did all your work in the resource room. This is much fancier than any of the boxy computers you’d used before.

It says you should plug it in and charge to full before booting. You unravel the cord and search for an outlet against the wall. There’s one not far. You hook up the cord to the port on the side of the slender laptop then trail it to the wall. The little light on the side glows yellow.

Then you take the little box. A phone. The flip phone was second-hand but this is shiny and new. You’re like a kid at Christmas, not that you got much for the holiday, even when you were younger.

You slide out the small device. Your hand is unused to it. It’s not clunky like your phone. It feels easy to drop even if it’s bigger than the flip. You peel off the plastic film around the border and across the screen.

You take out the booklet and read it as closely as the first. Same thing; charge before use. You don’t want to mess up any of this. You plug it in above the computer and place it on the closed lid. You carefully sit in the chair, careful not to jostle the cords.

You peek up and find Mr. Laufeyson looking at you over the top of the ledger. His green eyes gleam and flick back down to the page. You hope he doesn’t see how clueless you are. This stuff that’s all so normal to everyone else is new to you. A job alone is a novelty still.

“You may ask it,” he says abruptly.

You wince and shrug. You don’t know what he means. His brows tweak in amusement.

“You’ve not asked about time off. I am unaware of your previous commitment, what days you had to yourself.”

You didn’t think of it but he does seem to think of everything. You twiddle your fingers on the desk. You would work as much as you need to. You still haven’t seen the final hospital bill.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I worked three shifts per week, but I was on probation,” you explain carefully, “I can work more than that.”

“How much is more?” He wonders, his thumb tapping the corner of the ledger.

You blink. You don’t know what’s appropriate. You don’t want to say too little and come off lazy, or say too much and seem ignorant.

“Six?” You utter, “six days, Mr. Laufeyson?”

His thumb stills, “per week?”

You nod. His eyes narrow and his lips thin in consideration.

“Should do,” he accepts and his eyes fall back to the page.

You think you got the right answer. You look down at the bullet points. It seems like a lot written out but surely it can’t be. Besides, the more you think about it, the more exciting it is. This house is so beautiful and this list means you get to explore it.

You don’t sink too deep into the moment of optimism. Mr. Laufeyson stands, still intent on the ledger. He paces blindly around the library, a click of his tongue as he reviews your handwriting.

“There will be some nights,” he intones, “other occasions where I require you in the evening.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you accept as you flutter the pages of the laptop instruction booklet.

“Mm,” he hums flatly, “I do think the cook liked you, didn’t she? Suppose we might retain that service for the time being.”

You nod and make a note in the corner of the list; simply, Corissa. He shuts the ledger and grips it tight. He walks around the table then turns back, coming back to you. He lays down the book on the desk.

“I won’t know until the day in question. You understand, this would be on-call. I’ve a busy life and so will you,” he girds, leaning on the book as he bends over the desk. “You will be doing more than watching little birds flapping around the garden.”

You nearly recoil as he plucks the memory out so precisely. That was careless of you. You should’ve kept your head down and just got to work. It’s a warning you’ll remember.

“I won’t, Mr. Laufeyson, I understand,” you assure.

“Not to say that you can’t,” he stands and pushes the bottom of his jacket back, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, “but only when there are no other pressing matters.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He sighs and tilts his head back, “you must resist distractions. You are prone to it. I’ve noticed.”

You chew your lip and accept the remonstrance. You’ll take it instead as advice. He is right, you do find yourself bewitched by this place at times.

“Like that man,” he says staunchly, “don’t think I forgot. I will warn you, he is my brother… regrettably. He is well above the staff and he knows it.”

You take the hint. It’s improper of you to stare. Even if he had touched you. Or maybe, you misinterpreted an accident.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Hear me when I tell you, he is not interested in the likes of you,” he sniffs, “with any luck, he won’t be much around for you to believe anything of the like.”

You nod and pick up the pen, nervously rolling it between your fingers. His reproach scalds your cheek. To think he assumes you would ever think of something like that. That you might encourage a stranger in that way.

He watches you for a moment before he spins away. He checks the time on his wrist as you reach for the ledger.

“Very well, I must be at my own work,” he declares, “as I trust you will be diligent in your own.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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yaekiss · 8 months

Note

#Mailroom Open!　─ Hello Qi! I hope I am able to get this letter in before the cutoff 😖 May I send a love letter to yan!Jing Yuan, and have him address a Foxian!reader w gn nicknames?

\\\______\\\\________\\\

To my dearest Scoundrel,

You are quite the terrible influence my dear general, are you aware of this? How am I supposed to resolve this trade agreement with our fellow Xianzhou flagships in a timely manner, when you have more or less conditioned me to take naps during most hours of the day?

Truly despicable of you really. And on top of that, your "parting gifts" you left on me are still very tender; very distracting from my work. Efficiency and diligence, I fear will be strangers to me during this trip.

Regardless, I hope you are doing well and are not causing to much trouble for the commission during my absence. (Please try to not stress Fu Xian too much, I don't need further distractions from her blowing up my phone because of your shenanigans.) Maybe if you are on your best behavior, I might even give you a reward. Perhaps even something of your choosing if you are especially well behaved~.

Before I sign off and leave you to return to my work, I have sealed a gift for you. Consider it...my own unique "parting gift" to you until I return to you. Which I know in our vast lifespans will be over before you know it my beloved.

-Sincerely, your sleepy vixen

(Enclosed in a small red and gold box, is a simple blue collar with golden accents and filigree with a note that says "wear it until I come back ;)" )

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Jing Yuan, no gendered terms for reader, Jing Yuan calls you "my tranquility", unhealthy obsessive relationship from Jing Yuan, lightly implied drugging, mentions of reader topping and edging Jing Yuan, quick mention of biting and blood, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: You have quite the roster of guards at the door of your hotel room huh? Looks like nothing's going to slip past them if they were chosen by Jing Yuan himself! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

As you return to your temporary quarters after sitting through a particularly arduous trade meeting, you’re alerted by your guards assigned to you (by none other than Jing Yuan) about a suspicious delivery left for you while you were away.

Inspecting the box, a laugh escapes you when you catch the ink paw prints of a lion stamped haphazardly on both sides of it. After explaining that this was a personal delivery from the Xianzhou Luofu’s Dozing General, it seemed to dissolve any remaining apprehension your guards had and they handed the box over to you. Thanking them for dutifully carrying out their work, you step into your room.

Your room is spacious, ridiculously so. Why would one person need such a massive room for themselves? It’s the kind that only a general could manage to procure. The open sliding window leads to a balcony that showcases the bustling lively environment of the streets below and a cool evening breeze fills the room. Settling down on the edge of the bed, you set the box in your lap.

Upon opening up your delivery, it seems that Jing Yuan had prepared a pair of gifts in return for you. The first of two is an intricate small glass spray bottle set within a satin-lined box. The small tag tied around it says, “Some of the fragrance that I often use. For you to spray on your pillows when you sleep. :3”

Spritzing a fine mist onto your wrist, the scent of your lover wafts from the area; not too strong such that it’s unpleasant for your keen sense of smell, nor too faint that it’s hard for you to pick up. The fragrance is soothing and familiar, a thoughtful gift that will no doubt improve the quality of your sleep, as evident from the yawn it draws out from you.

The second gift you retrieve from the box is a soft sleep mask in your favourite colour. Sliding it over your eyes, you find that the fabric is smooth against your skin and the mask manages to completely block out all light, fully blacking out everything. The elastic strap isn’t overly tight but secure enough that it ensures that the mask doesn’t slip off too easily. Perfect for tossing and turning.

Finally, laid at the bottom of the box, is the reply from Jing Yuan, concealed in an elegant envelope. The quality is top-notch and flawless, and it’s sealed securely. Running your hand over the envelope, you feel the crest of the Cloud Knights embossed lightly on the surface. You break the seal and remove the letter contained within.

His handwriting is steady and dignified, each and every brushstroke on the page graceful. At the end of his letter, is his own name seal, stamped in red ink. Jing Yuan’s reply reads:

“For my dreamlike haven,

My apologies, it seems that Mimi got its paws on the box while I was out of my office and left a couple of paw prints on the sides. Sigh, you should’ve seen how much ink I had to clean off the surfaces, truly troublesome. Perhaps it knew that the box was meant for you and wished to leave something for you as well, haha!

I have to admit, Mimi is not the only one missing you, my tranquility. I find myself looking over to my side to ask for your wise input on things, only to realise that you’re away. Fu Xuan laughs at me whenever I do this. :(

It's just not the same to take afternoon naps without you by my side. Nothing is as comforting as your warmth in my arms, or for me to jokingly complain about the tips of your furry ears tickling my nose when we cuddle together. My slumbers are no longer restful when I can’t spend them with you, my tranquility.

The things I would do to have you next to me again. Are the marks and scratches I left on you still visible, my tranquility? Judging by how the ones you left on me are fading, I assume my parting gifts left on you are doing the same. Would you let me mark you up again, and won’t you extend the same generosity to me too? I yearn for your searing touch, my tranquility, for your fangs to pierce my skin and bring forth the vivid red beneath. Whenever I close my eyes, the only thing I can see is you, as if you linger in my every thought and dream.

Speaking of dreams, it seems that lately, my dreams have taken quite a raunchy turn. The starring role for all of them is obviously, you, my tranquility. You’d have me pliant and satisfying your every whim. In one, you had me bent over my office desk, fucking me hard as I rocked back against you. In another, you were edging me mercilessly, over and over again, until I could do nothing but beg helplessly for my release. That look you had in your eyes still sends a shiver down my spine. I’m hoping that soon, you can help turn these dreams of mine into reality.

Additionally, thank you for the collar, my tranquility. I’ve taken the liberty of adding a charming little bell at the front of it, I think you’d find it quite endearing. (And perhaps deserving of a reward? :3)

Do take care of yourself, or else I might just have to come and do it myself, haha. I’ll try to be on my best behaviour but no promises! I miss you dearly, my tranquility, come back to me soon.

Your rascal of a general,

- Jing Yuan -

P.S. Remember to use the fragrance on your pillows and the sleep mask!”

Rising from your seat on the bed, you pack everything back into the box before stepping into the shower to… cool off after reading Jing Yuan’s letter. In the bathroom, you find yourself relaxing as the water patters on your skin. Your ears flicker slightly whenever they pick up noise from beyond the locked door. A shout from the busy streets below, a soft sigh and the tinkle of a bell, the water splashing onto the floor around you.

Whilst clothing yourself, you lift your wrist to your nose and sigh when the scent of Jing Yuan has expectedly, (begrudgingly), been washed off. However, when you return to your bed, the scent of him still lingers, one that wasn’t here before.

Your heightened foxian senses can just about make out where it’s concentrated the most, and it points towards your pillow. It’s saturated with the smell of him, to a disconcerting degree. Lifting it up, you’re greeted with the sight of the usual red ribbon he has tied around his hair.

The world falls silent around you.

He was in your room.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

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lady-rose-moon · 3 months

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Wildest Dreams || Loki x Reader || 18+

Hellooooo everybody this is the insight into the fic that I shall be hopefully really proud to post! I'm going to post the prologue for you to read in this, let me know your theories in the comments and reblogs about what might be going on <3 I'll be setting up a taglist for this as well so please do tell me if you want to be tagged!!!

PROLOGUE

A golden castle always came to you in a dream, surrounded by beautiful gardens and bluer skies than you’d ever seen on Earth before. There were so many colours in the sky, so many beautiful reflections in your paradise that you could never find in your dull life on Earth. The greenest grass beneath your feet felt softer than any of the grass you’d ever felt before. The gentle breeze seemed to have a faint sense of magic if anyone would believe it as it brushed your hair away. This dream was your paradise, your little getaway from the boring, grey reality you lived in.

Waking up was the worst part of your day, leaving your little slice of paradise hidden away in a dream to return to the Real World. Sitting up in bed, you savoured those extra moments of drowsiness before swinging your legs over the side of the bed and rising to meet the day. After a shower and your hair and skin routine, you started to feel more like yourself but your mind lingered on the beauty of your dream as you counted the coins that would buy you your morning coffee down at your favourite shop a few blocks away.

You grabbed your keys from the dish by your apartment door and headed out into the world, turning the key in the lock before walking away. Stepping out onto the street, you were met with the usual bustle of London and quickly joined the crowd, head low and avoiding any kind of interaction with any other human being. It wasn’t far to the coffee shop but it was far away enough that your mind drew back to your dream, your walk becoming autopilot.

As you thought about the golden palace walls from your dreams, you heard a horn and felt a strong arm grab you around your waist, pulling you close and away from danger. Shocked, you froze as the car zoomed past, a faint ‘watch where you’re going, numpty’ being thrown out of the window with no care for stopping.

“Are you alright?” came a voice from beside you, startling you away from your thoughts and you stared up in shock at the man holding you, the man that had just saved your life. His eyes were a beautiful emerald green, his ebony hair reached his shoulders in beautiful curls and his suit. His suit. A simple one yet the green and gold accents all about it complimented him so well that you couldn’t imagine anyone else wearing such an expensive suit. “Hello?” the man asked, gaining your attention yet again and you startled when you saw a smirk form on his lips as your cheeks heated up with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you replied instantly, pushing away from the man in a hurry, brushing your clothes off then offering him a polite smile, “thank you, for saving my life. Nobody else would’ve done it.”

The man chuckled, bowing his head as his shoulders shook with his amusement. You grimaced, not appreciating this man laughing before you as you assumed he was laughing at how pathetic you sounded. Yet, when he replied, it only shocked you more. “Darling, anyone who would not stand up to the Goddess of Death to save your life is no worthy man. Adieu.”

With that, the man turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. Immediately, you sobered and called out to him, “you can’t say something straight out of a fantasy novel then leave me on my own!”

But the man was gone.

Your day continued as usual after that experience. You grabbed your coffee, headed to your job and worked the 9-5 then proceeded on your way home. It wasn’t exactly an easy day. Angry customers calling up every few seconds, shouting abuse down the phone and you pretending to care as you sipped your long cold coffee and assisted them in the best way possible without hurling abuse right back at the disrespectful pricks.

With a sigh, you began your journey home. The trees were blowing in the breeze, cars filled the streets as was usual for London during rush hour – any hour really. That’s why you secured a job pretty close to home, so you could easily walk there and back in at the most around 45 minutes. You’d almost forgotten the man from this morning until you collided with a hard chest and long fingers reached out to hold you steady.

Looking up, your face paled with embarrassment as you realised that it was the same man that had saved you this morning. His hair was now tied up in a half up-half down man bun but even that suited the man. His suit was replaced with a nice dress shirt, waistcoat and black trousers but damn did he suit them anyway.

“Ah, so you’re the clumsy type, is that it?” the man joked with a grin as your cheeks tinted red and you avoided looking at him. Amused by your behaviour, the man cooed and continued, “don’t be embarrassed, darling, happens to the best of us.”

Scoffing, you pushed away from him and passed him, grabbing your keys from your pocket as you saw your apartment building not that far off. “I’m not clumsy, you just caught me at a vulnerable moment. Twice,” you shrugged and saluted him sarcastically, “adieu.”

As you walked off, the man simply stood watching you, his grin turning to a sad smile as he whispered, “adieu, darling.”

tagging my friendos!! @holdmytesseract @anukulee @lokisgoodgirl @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @stupidthoughtsinwriting @muddyorbsblr

#tom hiddleston #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x you #new fic new me #hopefully this one will actually stick

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neowinestainedress · 2 years

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SWEET LIES

TITLE: SWEET LIES | part of the INFERNO event

PAIRING: ghost!jeno x fem!human!oc/reader

GENRE: smut, light angst, monsterfucking, soulmates

SUMMARY: you find out what’s the weird sensation that’s been torturing you for years, but just when you think things start to make sense, he confuses you even more. Are you really who he thinks you are?

WARNINGS: obsession, stalking, voyeurism, nipple play, fingering, temperature play, dirty talk, rough sex, hair pulling, light degradation, mentions of sex toys, mentions of oral sex (m), mentions of anal sex (f), suspended sex, multiple orgasms

WORD COUNT: 7.250k

if you click 'read more' you agree you have read the warnings and take responsibility for the media you consume.

Traditions are not something you can break. They are called traditions for a reason.

And even if going back to that house with her family was the last thing she wanted to do, there was nothing she could say. Her mom insisted she would go with them. It was just a week to spend together in that town in the countryside in their lovely house.

Lovely, now, it looked anything but lovely. Or maybe it was, from the outside, two floors, light green-coloured walls with bricks around the windows, white curtains that covered the glasses, and a perfectly cured lawn around it.

But as soon as she stepped inside she could feel there was something wrong with it. Nothing looked bad, or out of place, there was just a weird energy.

She hated that place. As much as her mom always told her she was just paranoid, or tired and she needed to sleep, she still could feel that weird agonizing sensation assault her every time she stepped inside.

It had been going on for years, the first time they got here she was only eighteen, but even now that she was twenty-three, nothing changed. But since she had skipped last year’s trip, she couldn’t miss this one too.

“Oh, please, you’re just tired from the long trip. Go to sleep, we’ll take care of the few bags we have,” her mom had told her when she complained about feeling strange two seconds after entering the place. And she listened, honestly tired from the day, but she didn’t agree. Anyway, she tried to shrug it off and made her way into what was going to be her room for the week.

However, the sensation didn’t stop. It was strong and persistent. After they went out and came back for dinner. Every time she walked in a corridor and could feel a breeze blow on her skin. When she passed in front of a mirror. Or simply even now that she was sitting on the couch and trying to distract herself by looking at the phone.

Something, or somebody, was watching her, but there was nobody at home.

She huffed and walked to the window, maybe there was somebody outside. Some crazy obsessed man that had nothing exciting to do in that small town and had to find a new obsession. But there was nobody.

Not a single soul walking on the sidewalks, nobody entering their lawn by mistake, just a weird, cold, and intense sensation not letting her breathe.

She huffed loudly while turning around in the mansard, desperately trying to find what her mother had asked for, but more than an abandoned room, it looked like a maze with tricks to solve to find anything. There were so many things there and most of them didn’t even belong to her family.

Weird.

But then one thing caught her eyes, a golden frame sitting in a corner, half covered with a white — now grey thanks to the dust — sheet. She pulled the fabric and it revealed a painting, portraying a man that wouldn’t have been older than 20.

“Finally.” She jumped in surprise, looking around as fear assaulted her, thinking for a moment she had imagined that word.

“Who are you?” She asked, ass on the floor and hand on the chest to calm her beating.

“You abandoned me,” a voice whispered, it sounded sad, distant, and weird.

“I… I did what? Who are you?” She asked looking around, still not seeing anything.

“I’ve been waiting for you all week last year, walking past every room to look for you in the hope to find you,” the voice got closer, and a… man? A very pale man was standing right before her… Who was he? And why was he dressed like this? Clothes looking like they belonged to a completely different era.

“You left me all alone.”

“I don’t know you,” she replied, now terrified. He was crazy.

“I know. I usually don’t show myself. But I was afraid you were going to slip away again.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her agitated tone was muffled by a fake, forced chuckle but the panic in her eyes was there and visible.

“I know. But I know you.”

“Are you a stalker? How did you get in?”

“I live here.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, you don’t. This is my family house.”

“I’m trapped here.”

Her eyes widened and she started laughing lowly, “I mean, if you, if you don’t have a place to go we can help you, we can, I don’t know, I’m sure there’s a hotel…”

“I can’t leave. I’m damnded for eternity to be here.”

Her eyes lift up swiftly. Her head spinning.

“And you are the only light I get to see once a year,” he whispered, leaning close to her. “And last year, you didn’t come. You didn’t think of me. You left me here, all alone.”

“I don’t know you,” she replied, feeling tears at the corner of her eyes, trying to crawl back but was stuck there on the spot.

“Why didn’t you come?”

“I… I was busy,” she surely couldn’t tell him that probably, he was the reason she didn’t go there last year.

He kneeled, and two of his fingers gracefully lifted her chin up. Cold. He was freezing. There was no way a single drop of blood was still running in his vein. And when she remembered the picture she glanced at before he could scare her and the target “1849 — 1869 Lee Jeno” and then looked at him she could see the resemblance. No… it couldn’t be.

“I missed you,” his voice came out almost like a broken beg. “Don’t ever leave me alone again.”

She started shaking under his touch. What the hell was going on? Why was he obsessed with her?

“I… I,” she stammered and then tried to think smart. She couldn’t let him know she was terrified and at the same time, she couldn’t look too gentle. She needed to find a way out.

Maybe getting to know him a little? No, too friendly. Maybe tell him she was busy? No, he was going to be offended again.

“Well, I’m back,” she replied, trying to force a genuine smile on her face, ignoring the tears that rolled down her face before.

“You’re even more beautiful than before,” he whispered, cold hand caressing the skin of her warm, wet cheek. And as strange as it was supposed to feel, it actually felt nice. His touch was delicate, soft like a feather, and gentle. But she couldn’t give in.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. Should she add he was beautiful? Because he was. But wasn’t that too much? Wasn’t that a risky path to take? Yes, it was. And she needed to get out of there, away from him, at least for a while. It was just three more days.

She glanced up at the clock and said, “Oh, it’s late. I have things to do, I can’t stay here.”

“You’re leaving me again?” He asked, quirking a brow.

“I have to go.”

“Why can’t you stay here with me? We can do things together now that I don’t have to just watch you.”

She froze in her step and turned around. Suddenly realizing everything he had said to her. He had been watching her. Every single thing she did. He was the weird sensation she felt in her bones. He was the eyes boring holes into her skin. He was the light breeze that moved her hair. And that happened everywhere and every time.

“H—how much have you been watching me?” She asked, voice shaking, fear jumping in her lungs again.

“A lot,” he admitted, walking, almost flying for how gracefully he moved around, to her. “I just couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.”

“Always? Everything?”

“I feel like you want to know something specific. Have you done something that people weren’t supposed to know?”

She gulped. Well, she did. Not only she obviously got changed and showered, but it had happened that like once or twice — more than that, it was boring there — she had masturbated.

“I didn’t watch,” he replied to her secret doubts. “I simply listened to you. You sound amazing.”

“Why… why would you do that?”

“I didn’t look.”

“But you listened… that’s cre—” She stopped and walked backward to the door. “Don’t do that, okay? If it’ll happen again.” But surely she wasn’t going to let it happen again. She could go only three days without an orgasm.

“I could be the reason for those moans.”

Her eyes widened. Fucking with a ghost? He was insane. Now more than before she knew she needed to get out of there.

“I don’t… I need to go. I have things to do. It was lovely to meet you, though,” she replied and rushed downstairs. There was her mom in the living room, he couldn’t show up also to her, she had to be safe there.

“I’m going out,” she warned, making her mom turn around. “A date with my friends, see you later.” And without waiting for an answer, she ran out of the door.

These three days had to pass by swiftly, there was no way she could survive there with an obsessed ghost that probably wanted her death to keep her with him forever.

When she came back home it was late at night, past midnight and she only hoped he wasn’t going to pay her any attention.

“Are you scared of me?” He asked, sitting in the armchair of her room, legs crossed on top of each other and hands intertwined together.

She gulped. She thought she was alone all this time.

“I… you promised you weren’t going to watch me again.”

“Are you trying to run away from me again?” He completely ignored her question, but he didn’t seem mad, just sad, heartbroken. But something about it made it even scarier.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t understand I just spent a night out with friends, I always do that when I come here. I see them once a year.”

“You always go out with them on Friday. They come pick you up, enter, greet your mom, and then you leave. And punctual as a clock, at eleven you’re here.”

She was speechless… He truly was obsessed.

“You like to follow the rules, you like to have things in place, you never go out of your schemes.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’ve been watching you and I’ve spent the rest of the years playing back in my mind everything you did, the memories of you the only things that keep me going. I have eternity in front of me, nothing will free me from this curse and you have no idea how painful it is to know that I’m damned here,” he said, voice calm, walking toward her so lightly that it looked like he was flying, and soon she was trapped between the wall and him. “But you,” he whispered, freezing pale fingers caressing her cheek, “you are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Her eyes quickly moved everywhere, his face, the room, the floor, she felt her blood pressure rise and her heart skip beats. She knew she shouldn’t have done that, she should’ve stayed at home trusting her guts for once, her mom wasn’t going to leave her out of the testament and her family just because she didn’t go on a stupid trip together.

“I would never hurt you,” he said, leaning close to her, lips almost touching each other, but she was quicker at turning around and avoiding it. Lips touching her cheek instead.

“I told you I’d never hurt you,” he repeated, voice stern unlike before, hand firmly wrapped around her wrist now.

“I – I know, I trust you,” she lied. “But I don’t get what you want from me…”

“The happiness that was taken away from me.”

“I can’t give you that, I’m sorry, I…”

His eyes ran up and down her figure and she felt a cold shiver pass through her bones. “You’re just like everybody else,” he spat out, disgusted by her, turning around on his heels, and disappearing from her sight.

She broke down crying, arms wrapping around her shaking body.

These were going to be three long days.

Living in a fantasy can be a dangerous thing and Jeno knew it. He was damned for eternity to live the same days over and over. The only way to survive without going crazy was to live in a fantasy. And she was his fantasy.

He knew from the first moment he had seen her that it was her. But he had no idea how to get to her. He couldn’t show up, he couldn’t let her know who he truly was.

So he started to create his own world where they could finally be together with none coming between them, no family, no friends, no destiny, nothing but them.

Jeno loved her. More than anything and anyone else. She was always on his mind. Running inside it like a hamster on a wheel that knows nothing but that reality. Trapped. Just like him. Trapped. Just like he wished she was. Stuck in his world, the only thing she knew, him. Him being the only one on her mind. But that wasn’t. That would’ve never been.

Jeno hated her. How could she betray him like that? After everything he had done for her? After all the minutes spent watching her, observing her, getting to know her, making sure nothing bad was going to happen to her.

She was afraid. She was disgusted by him.

Jeno loved her. He loved her in a way he never loved someone before. If he still had a beating heart in his chest he knew it would’ve beaten so loud just for her.

And she didn’t feel the same.

No, worst.

She was avoiding him. Barely staying at home, he wondered what she was doing around that boring town with her just as boring friends.

The only time he could sit and stare at her and count the beats of her heart, was when she was asleep. Her eyelids covering her pretty eyes, her lips slightly parted, pouting out just enough to make him crave them even more. For how many days and nights he had dreamed of kissing them, of feeling them, to have his doubts cleared. And right when he was so close to doing that, she turned away from him.

Just like right now.

Jeno could feel how tense she was. How much she tried to fight her body and don’t fall asleep. Terrified something would happen to her while she was unconscious. But Jeno would’ve never hurt her. He would just stare. Floating over her and admiring every single detail of her face. That was how he had spent his nights all those years there since she came around. That was the only thing he could do, too scared of making her run away.

But he hoped she was different. He hoped she would understand. He truly believed she wasn’t like everybody else, rejecting him, pushing him to the sidelines, forgetting him as if he meant nothing.

He knew she was different. That was just a stupid reaction because she didn’t know the real him.

Jeno wasn’t going to let her go. She belonged to him.

Those three days did pass quickly, but everything that happened later seemed to be a curse.

“What do you mean the car doesn’t start?” She had asked her father when, coming downstairs with her baggage ready, she heard him discuss something with her mother.

“Yeah, it’s just a small thing,” he said, smiling at her. “I called one of my friends to come help me, he should be here in a few minutes.”

She hummed, hugging herself tighter around her sweater, “So, we’re leaving tonight anyway, right?”

“Oh, Lord, why are you in such a rush?” Her mother chimed, smirking. “A boyfriend you didn’t tell us about to go home to?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “No, mom. I’ll go back to my room,” she cut short. She couldn’t give them the real reason behind her panic. As much as Jeno didn’t show up again she could feel him and not knowing what he wanted didn’t let her sleep at night in peace.

“You know what?” She changed her mind, turning around to reach for the coat hanger next to the door under the concerned gaze of her parents. “I’ll go out, just a breath of fresh air and maybe catch up with some friends before leaving.”

“Yeah, be back for dinner,” her mother said. “We’ll leave after that.”

But as a joke of destiny, they didn’t leave, they couldn’t. A storm was announced and her family didn’t feel like driving in those conditions, so she had dinner with a lump in her throat and then stomped upstairs, wishing her parents a goodnight knowing she was going to have another terrible one.

“Are you doing it on purpose?” She asked, talking to herself, hoping he was going to show up. Thinking he was already there, waiting for this moment. But he didn’t respond.

She sighed, sitting on her bed, rubbing her hands on her face, and looking around. “Jeno,” she called, a bit of fear as she let out his name.

When he appeared she slightly jumped. “Why can’t you knock? You are physical…”

“You think there are some flesh or bones here?”

“You don’t look like a ghost from the movies…” she said, getting lost in him. If only this wasn’t his cruel fate and his nature, he would’ve stolen so many hearts. He was beautiful.

He chuckled for the first time ever and she smiled too, mimicking him without even realizing it. “No, I’m a bit more real than them but I’m still not what you think I am. It’s called corporealization. Anyway, I don’t like to talk about me… why did you call me?”

“I…” she stopped, now regretting it. He seemed genuine, like he couldn’t hurt her, as if he cared. “I was wondering if all of those things that are happening are caused by you.”

“You think that if I was that powerful I would be stuck here?”

She didn’t expect that answer and stared at him with an open mouth.

“I could trap you here. I could haunt you, make you mine, but I won't. Not like I could. Not like a monster.”

“Then why didn’t you appear here anymore? You had me for so much longer…”

“I prefer your indifference to your hate.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t remember.”

“I don’t remember?”

“You don’t remember me,” he said, voice coming out low, emotionless. She couldn’t tell if he was mad, or sad. She couldn’t even tell it from his eyes since he wasn’t looking at her but at the tiled floor. “You forgot about me.”

When his gaze followed her she wanted it to go back on the floor. He wasn’t crying, he couldn’t cry, but the pain, the anger, the madness were all there, hidden — or not so much — behind his big brown eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she confessed, voice trembling, body shaking against the bed, stuck in that room with him, unable to escape.

“I know,” he replied, still standing there immobile, his piercing eyes boring holes into hers. “You promised, you promised when I was covered in blood in your arms and yet, you forgot.”

She chuckled awkwardly, feeling her throat get dry. “I — I think you have mistaken me for somebody else.”

“No, it’s you. It has always been you.”

She gulped when he dropped an old photo, it was faded, and pictured two young people. They seemed close, cheeks resting together and bright smiles on their faces. One was him and the other was… a girl. A girl that weirdly resembled her.

“Do you remember the fire? And the blood? My screams and then your cries?”

She met his eyes and shook her head.

“Can I sit?” He asked pointing to the space next to her.

She nodded, shifting to leave him more space.

“Back when we were happy. Our days in the meadow, picking up flowers and sewing flower crowns. Our kisses under the weeping willow. The wooden swings with the wind caressing our skins? Do you at least remember that, when destiny didn’t step in and drifted us away, forever?”

She closed her eyes and let herself travel to a world she wasn’t sure she knew existed. And for a moment it felt like there were some kinds of memories unlocked in the deepest part of herself. A version of herself she didn't know.

“Do you remember our song? Can you remember our voices singing it together?”

When he started singing his voice sounded like a haunted melody, and the song felt familiar, but she didn’t feel like herself.

“I know this song,” she whispered, trying to remember where she heard it. “In my sleep... I heard this in my sleep every time I came here… it’s because you sang it. You sang it to me.”

“I hoped you would remember.”

“But how can I remember something I didn’t live?” She asked, and Jeno raised a hand to touch her but she pulled away, standing up.

“Please,” he cried, “please don’t be afraid of me.”

She stopped in her tracks, hands shaking at her side.

“How can I not? I’m not who you think I am.”

“Then can we pretend?” He asked. “Just for one night.”

She looked at him, eyes drifting from him to the room, not able to hold his stare, his broken, in love, stare.

“Then I promise, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll spend eternity hidden in the attic, I will never bother you again, but just for tonight. I want to feel something again.”

“This is…”

“I just want to feel alive one last time.”

Her heart broke into million pieces at his words. She had read his story, lurking in the library of the town she found a section of old newspapers and the way he died was tragic. And being the only one trapped here, in this cruel world, must’ve sucked. But he was still a ghost, a damnded soul left to wander there for eternity and she didn’t know if she could trust him.

“But… what do you want from me?”

“I want you,” he confessed. “Can I… can I come close?”

She nodded, biting her lips as she stared at him float toward her.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“I…” the words died in her mouth. “I don’t… I don’t see how this could work. And yeah, a bit…”

“I would never hurt you. You’re the last thing I have left in this world.”

When he reached her, cold enveloped her, and goosebumps formed on her skin. She didn’t talk, she didn’t know what to say, she could only trust him and hope that his intentions were real. But she wasn’t afraid of that, she was more taken aback by the sadness he brought along, this kind of excruciating pain that seemed to seep deep into his bones, running in his blood if only he had some of it left.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, staring at her lips.

“Yes.”

Jeno couldn’t contain the big smile that curled his lips, and his hands moved immediately to cup her face before erasing the distance between them.

And when his lips met hers, she wondered how much he longed for that moment, how much he must’ve dreamt of that to happen. Because if at first it was odd and cold, then it got warmer, almost as if there was something coming from deeper.

“Dreamed of this for so long,” Jeno whispered against her lips. “Every night when you fell asleep, and you looked so peaceful.” The way he caressed her face was comfortable and washed away all the fear that came from the reminder that he stalked her. “I’m so grateful you got to live this life, I’m so grateful nobody can hurt you. I want you to be happy, always.” Until we’ll meet again. He wanted to whisper, but he knew they weren’t going to meet again. That her afterlife wasn’t the same as his, that he was cursed there and she was going to fly high when on a faraway day she would’ve been called upon.

“Let me show you,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

She could only mumble ‘yes,’ and let him fly her to the bed, mattress dipping under their weight.

Jeno wasn’t proud of that, he knew watching without consent was wrong, but her muffled moans and whimpers dragged him to her, so he knew exactly what she liked. He knew what made her feel good and what turned her off. He knew her. Deeply.

So after she was naked under him, his hands moved immediately like she wanted to, making her tremble under him. Light like a feather and cold like ice, making goosebumps rise on her skin while he moved them on her chest, playing with her nipples like she was used to do.

He knew she loved teasing. He guessed it edged the pleasure and kept her on her toes. Or maybe it was a vague illusion of those fingers belonging to somebody else that wanted to tease her and make her work to get to a bigger feeling.

Either way, Jeno loved how her fingers brushed on herself, taking their sweet time, grazing every inch of her skin.

“You’re so breathtaking,” he whispered, moving his eyes from her bare breast to her face; slightly thrown back and with a sweet frown on her forehead. “And you are as soft as I always imagined you to be.”

His words should’ve shaken her to the core more, making her feel ashamed that he had been watching her every single time she let her hands wander south and take care of herself. Even mad since he lied the first time they met, swearing he would only listen. It was wrong and dirty, but something about it got to her brain and made her think it wasn’t that bad.

“And you smell so good,” he mumbled, face buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. “Is it the bath foam you use? Your favourite, isn’t it?”

“Vanilla,” they whispered at the same time and their breaths got stuck for a moment as they stared at each other in shock.

Jeno was the first one to look away, feeling that he couldn’t let himself be dragged down an emotional path. So his fingers moved down, caressing her belly, and then meeting the soft layer of hair before starting to move on her clit. Exactly how she did; collecting the cum that drooled out of her, smearing it on her sensitive bud and then starting to slowly tease herself, moving in circles.

And here it was, her legs bending, and spreading like a butterfly, her lips parted, and her nails sinking into the mattress.

That picture he had framed in the back of his head was now right there in front of him and he was the cause of that pleasure. Not those men she surely fantasized about while she took care of herself.

It was him.

She shut her mouth with a hand when his fingers slipped in, remembering for a second that they weren’t alone, and as big as the house was, her parents were still downstairs and the door wasn’t locked.

“I want to hear you,” he said, moving her hand away.

“But my parents —”

“They’re sleeping on the couch, TV running loud enough to muffle us but don’t wake them up.”

“Did you —”

“Shh,” he shushed her with a kiss, his cold, covered body, pressing against hers, shivers running down her back. “Don’t think. Not tonight, not here with me. Please.”

She nodded, eyes wide as the emotions felt enhanced. And then tried to calm her breath, if only it was possible.

“Jeno, fuck,” the moan came out of her lips broken as he kept moving his two fingers into her. It truly felt like he knew her by heart, and she should’ve found it creepy, but right there, she couldn’t. She liked to think it was love and dedication and that all the times he stared at her doing something so intimate were to learn how to get here, right there, in the highest of pleasure, touching her like nobody else ever did before.

A smirk curled his lips as he stared in awe at how her pussy was clenching around his cold fingers, it had been years since he felt something like this, he honestly couldn’t remember how it was when he was human. But it was with her, so he was sure he was going to feel the same emotions.

“Are you close?” He asked even though he already knew the answer, he could point out the shift in her moans when she was closer to the climax, and the cute way her hips would bounce against the bed to run after the high.

She hummed, eyes opening to look at his before she came all over his fingers, trembling and trying to close her legs to stop him from curling inside.

“You taste so good,” he hummed with his fingers still inside his mouth, sucking harshly after he pulled out of her.

“Do you want more?” Her voice was shy, words barely audible as she tried to calm down from the pleasure.

Jeno stopped unbuttoning his shirt and stared at her. “Do you?”

She hesitated. It was embarrassing to say that, yes, she did want more. She felt addicted to him. “I — I do, I want you.”

The smile that crept on his face was all she needed to let the fears slip into the back of her mind and stare while he took off his clothes, showing her his body.

“Were you like this before?” She asked, tracing his arms, modestly toned, when his body caged hers underneath him.

He gulped and only stared into her eyes as he tried to find an answer. “Maybe.” That was the only answer he could give her because he couldn’t remember anything about himself, his body was just an automatic reaction that his new nature knew had to transform into when he needed to at least appear human, but he had no memories over it. Blame time or blame himself because he only wanted to forget.

“Does it get lonely?”

“Please, don’t,” he replied, cold hand caressing her cheek, feeling his heart break at how warm she was. He didn’t know what that warmth felt like. The fires he lit up in the fireplace to pretend and fool himself of some intimate cosiness weren’t enough to be compared to this.

She nodded, and even if he didn’t answer explicitly, the way he was looking at her was an answer. Yes, it did get lonely.

What came after that left Jeno speechless for a second. “Can I kiss you?” She asked with a low and shaky voice, sounding so sweet and taken aback as if his fingers weren’t inside of her a few minutes ago.

But romance is worst than sex.

A kiss is scarier than a ruthless fuck that leaves no scars behind.

But Jeno loved pain. And he loved to live in his fantasies.

“Yes.”

Her head raised from the pillow and soon after her lips were on hers, this time they weren’t shaking like before, and her hands weren’t still at her side, letting him have control over everything. Her fingers tangled in his hair and pulled enough to make him moan in the kiss.

It felt real and sweet and needy. It felt like something else inside of them was calling.

“Please, take me,” she whispered, hips rolling against his hard cock. “I promise it’ll feel good.”

“I know it will feel good,” he replied with a bitter chuckle because he wasn’t so sure the physical pleasure could drown the pain. “I know it,” he repeated, forehead falling on top of hers as he slipped inside, thick girth stretching her wet walls, their moans rolling out together as they both tried to adjust to the new sensation.

It felt different.

Burning hot for him.

Freezing cold for her.

But as he started to drag his hips back and forth, and they merged together, they found a balance.

“Je—Jeno,” she whimpered, dragging her nails across his back and biting her lips.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He asked, fearing a negative answer.

“So good, it feels so, so good,” she replied with a small smile on her face as her legs wrapped around his waist, and that made him lose his mind.

“Fuck,” she groaned when his hips started slamming harder against her, pressing her against the mattress.

“Is — is it too much?”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes as the second orgasm approached already.

“Good, ‘cause I can’t help it — fuck,” he moaned, kissing her roughly, grabbing her wrists and pinning them over her head. “You feel too good, too fucking good.”

“Oh, shit,” she moaned when his fingers grazed her nipples again, so cold against her burning skin that it got the two sensitive buds even harder and made her skin raise with goosebumps.

“Is it weird?”

“No, I like it,” she reassured him, chest moving up to feel him more, finding addiction to the contrast between them. “More.”

Jeno found it odd, he couldn’t get how she enjoyed that so much but he surely wasn’t going to make her repeat herself, so letting go of her wrists, his other hand moved between their bodies; freezing fingers playing with her clit, making her jolt in surprise and pleasure.

“Fuck,” she whimpered. “Good.”

Jeno leaned in to kiss her again, to warm himself in her, to feel the heartbeat that wasn’t pumping in his ribcage anymore.

“I’m close,” she moaned when he pulled back, moving her hand to touch his back.

“Come, babe. Say my name,” he begged. “Scream who’s making you feel good.”

“You, Jeno, fuck,” she moaned, head rolling back as the shocks of the orgasm made it harder to breathe.

“I’m not done with you,” Jeno groaned, pulling out and flipping her over, ass arched up and face pressed against the mattress before he slumped hard into her swollen hole again, thrusts hard and swift. “Dreamed of this for so long. Wanted to be your favourite toy so badly,” Jeno grunted against her neck, teeth sinking into the skin, leaving a mark behind. “Would’ve fucked you harder and better, fuck, just how you like.”

No words came out of her mouth, oversensitivity getting to her head and so did his words. The image of him being always there as she masturbated, watching so attentively that he knew exactly what she liked, almost brought her over the edge again.

“But this…” he huffed, throwing his head back, hands gripping around her waist harder. “This is so much better. You’re so fucking wet and tight, clenching around my cock and dripping all over the sheets. You dreamt of this, didn’t you?”

She shook her head to deny but Jeno grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her up. “No? Pretending to be terrified of me but you wished I would come back to you. You hated not having my attention for a few days.”

“I — I —”

“Shh, I don’t need your sweet lies, I know you did,” he groaned, a hand slipping in front of her neck to hold her up. “When you sneaked in the bathtub at midnight and played with yourself. Not only dumb enough to think I wouldn’t see you but dumb enough to think of me.”

Her mouth fell open as she realized he could hear her calling him even if she didn’t let out a word, shame creeping over when she remembered what she fantasised about.

“You wanted me to fuck you hard, didn’t you?”

She nodded, head falling back against his shoulders as his hips kept slamming hard against her.

“Wanted me to ruin you. Wondered what my powers could do to you.”

“Want me to possess you? You love that it’s scary and — fuck — that you’re helpless.”

She shook her head, lying because that was exactly what ran in her brain that day, moaning louder. “Want — want you to keep fucking me, Jeno.”

“How?” He grunted, stopping moving inside of her and waiting for her to confess.

She stuttered, trying to look at him to beg him to don’t let her say it, but Jeno had no intention of back away.

“While… against a wall.”

Jeno smirked, kissing her jaw and then her neck, air fanning against her hot skin as he spoke, “and?”

“While you’re flying,” she confessed, chest panting hard and walls still pulsing around his cock.

“That’s my good girl, my naughty good girl,” he whispered before pulling out, the feeling of emptiness didn’t last much, after a few seconds she was up in the air, shivering, breath stuck in her throat for a second when she realized how far from the bed they were.

“I won’t make you fall,” he said, sinking into her again, dick filling her so well while her legs immediately wrapped around his waist for safety, pushing him deeper. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know,” she replied, kissing him.

For some reason Jeno seemed to be faster like this and the whole not having her feet on the ground was making her head spin so much she could barely register another orgasm ripple through her. Nails digging into the skin of his back.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jeno groaned, cupping her chin, thumb caressing her cheek, “so drunk on my cock, aren’t you? All hot and flustered, pretty glossy eyes, pretty lips parted,” he kissed her roughly, pressing her back harder against the wall behind her, the texture rubbing against her skin, creating a light discomfort. “Should’ve made you suck my cock, bet your mouth would feel so good.”

“Would take it all, wouldn’t you?” He asked and she nodded enthusiastically, hoarse moans coming out as an answer. “Just like you do with your toy, let it hit the back of your throat, so you gag on it.”

“Yes,” she mumbled, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth as he kept applying pressure on her chin.

He nodded, a sting hitting his heart again at the thought he wasn’t going to have a taste of it, he wasn’t going to have a taste of her again.

“You’re my pretty, pretty girl,” he whispered against her neck, cold fingers letting go of her face and grazing her nipples again, making her shiver in his hold as she limply let him use her to reach his high.

“Is this what you wanted?” He mocked, biting her lower lip and pulling. “It was so hard to don’t come and take you right there the other day and give you exactly what you wanted,” he groaned. “I know it would’ve scared you and you would’ve hated me more.”

She shook her head, “I don’t hate you.”

“Did my cock make you change your mind?”

“N-no, it’s you, fuck,” she replied, hips pushing against his messily.

“You love the thrill,” he commented. “Such a nasty girl, your thoughts were worst than this. You wanted me to do the worst things to you. And you still lied to me and — fuck — pretended you couldn’t see yourself with a ghost.”

“Are — are you mad?” She asked, fearing for a second to have angered him.

But Jeno denied, cupping her chin again, lips pouting out. “I’m mad I don’t get to do them to you.”

“Do — do them,” she whimpered, “I’m here.”

Jeno didn’t reply, he couldn’t do all that even if he wanted to, she was too tired for other rounds and crazier things and so was him, more mentally than physically. But he still tried to fulfil some fantasy, moving their bodies higher as he kept moving in and out of her wet cunt with a fast rhythm, and his fingers played with her clit before reaching around to graze her rim, but without doing anything.

“Wanted me to fuck your ass,” he whispered. “How nasty, baby.”

She grunted, blinking heavily to focus on him, but no more words formed in her brain.

“Wanted to see how strong I am and for how long I could fuck you. I could go all night buried in this sweet little pussy of yours, but you? Can you?”

She shook her head, biting her lips, she could barely don’t pass out after this orgasm. “Jeno,” she breathed out, half–lidded eyes looking into his.

“What, babe, are you gonna come again?” He asked to prove his point, a smirk on his face as he stared at her wrecked face.

She nodded, unable to give him a proper answer.

“Tell me you love me,” Jeno cried out, holding her body closer to his. “Please, even if it’s a lie, even if it’s fake, please.”

“I love you,” she screamed, squeezing her eyes to suppress the tears from falling down. Why did she feel so connected with his pain? Why did it feel like she was going through the same thing? “I love you, Jeno. I — I always did.”

And Jeno believed it, after all, her soul was the same and he knew they were soulmates, nothing, not even death, could’ve changed that.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she repeated, legs tightening around him, and fingers creeping in his hair to pull him close and kiss him.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he came too, bodies shuddering against each other, fingers dipping into the soft flesh of her waist.

She leaned against him, leaving small pecks on his lips, and massaging his scalp.

“I love you,” she whispered.

What a sweet lie, coming from her lips to target his non-beating heart.

“I love you, too,” he replied, moving her hair out of her face before kissing her another time.

Jeno laid her on the bed again, and he would’ve loved to talk some more, but a deep slumber took over her immediately, and he could only smile bitterly as he felt emptiness fill him again.

When the sky cleared and the moon shone outside, the silver rays peeked inside the room, lighting her face, and showing him her beautiful features as he was standing once again at the side of her bed. He tried to, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stand laying so close to her, knowing he didn’t have her, knowing it was simply a silly fantasy.

Or worst.

They were a sweet lie.

A bitter-sweet lie.

And the only thing he could think about as he transformed back into his ghost form and stared at her sleeping peacefully, was that destiny, or God, or whoever had the reins up there, was a bastard.

The love of his life was right there, it had incarnated in herself and he had lost her again.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirl124127 @kwnshi @auroraichimaru @kundann | let me know if you want to be added by commenting under the INFERNO masterlist

A/N: hope you liked it! let me know with comments, reblogs or even asks ♡

#nct fanfiction #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #jeno scenarios #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct dream scenarios #nct scenarios #kinktober

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

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I am a desperate little gremlin (who’s brain is refusing to go to sleep for some reason), politely asking for your Oberyn hcs? Or really any GoT hcs?

Thanks for always indulging in my nonsense <3

SCOUT SCOUT SCOUT SCOUT SCOUT

I’m sorry for letting this sit in my askbox for so long, my hyperfixations drifted for a while 😭 BUT I’m back on my GoT bullshit (for now) with a few hcs for our favourite prince AND a little something spicy under the cut cuz I’m in a M O O D.

oberyn martell headcanons:

this man is SMART. like…we already know oberyn is well-spoken and witting and cunning (and a little too vengeful but that’s what fix-it fics are for) but he’s a sexy-level of intelligent. and he’s a bookworm!! he reads any and every book he can get his hands on, his head is full of historical facts and timelines and details of battles won and lost. he can recount full summers and winters and when his girls ask for a story late at night, when they can’t sleep, he’s more than happy to spin a tale that’s not far off from the colourful past.

he’s a hopeless romantic. yes, he’s a gigantic flirt and a devil between the sheets and yes, he has you wrapped around his finger in the blink of an eye, but he does it well. we’re talking flowers and gifts and poems delivered to your chambers in the middle of the night. walks through the water gardens and long conversation, not just winning you over with his generosity, but his personality, his admiration, his ambition. he falls for you just as hard as you fall for him.

dorne is beautiful, no denying, and I like to think that the sweet prince has many secret hiding places, mini oasis (oases? the english language is weird) with beautiful gardens he likes to tend to. he could spend hours amongst the greenery, the exotic fruits and the sound of birds. he enjoys the beautiful things, and finds solace wherever he can.

I was gonna say he’s adventurous in bed but….that pretty much goes without saying so I don’t think it counts as an hc 😂 (and see below…😏)

silk - oberyn martell x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: light bondage, teasing, oberyn comes with his own warning, dirty talk, idk what the fuck this is and it’s unedited so HAVE FUN 💕

“Ah, ah, ah,” he purrs, the tip of his nose dragging along the stretch of your inner thigh. “Not yet, my love. You are doing so well for me.”

You can’t help the whine that falls from your lips, hips lifting to chase his slick lips. The ties around your wrists pull taut, the headboard behind you creaking with your movement. You can’t see him, but you can feel him, hands roving around your hips and over your stomach, fingers dancing along your skin as he kisses your skin, nips your flesh between his teeth.

“L-lover,” you stutter out, “Oberyn, please.”

He clucks his tongue at you now, and you can almost see the cat-like grin as he moves higher up the bed, adjusting the numerous pillows and blankets as he goes. His shoulder hooks beneath your knee, spreading you wider, putting you on display.

You’ve been at this for hours.

It was like a game of cat and mouse, from the moment you opened your eyes. Every corner you turned, he was there, a mischievous light in those dark eyes, hands twitching when you brushed past. You teased just as hard as he did, hovering too close when you poured him more wine, swishing your skirts just the right way when he walked by. The look in his gaze had become something more feral, more intimidating, but you were more than happy to play along.

The sun had barely fallen when he’d summoned you to his chambers, the balcony doors wide open to let the warm Dornish air fill the space. The prince stood at the ledge, a glass of wine in his hand, his chest bare, that thick golden chain he favoured dangling from his neck. He held something in his grip as he turned to you, dark coloured fabric that shone in the torchlight. Silk scarves; he’d brought you one back as a gift from his last journey to Essos.

His lips twitched into a grin as the door shut behind you, the lock clicking shut when you sank against the wood. “My prince?”

“Do you trust me, my love?” he called, head cocked to the side. He set the glass of wine down, took the silk between both hands, slipping the fabric between his knuckles, watching it move like water through his fingers. “Would you let me try something we haven’t tried before?”

You weren’t one to deny your prince.

First, he had slipped the silk over your eyes, a loose knot tied at the back of your head, enough to cover your eyes. Once it was fastened, he turned you to face him, palms cupping your shoulders, and leaned in slow. You could feel it, the shift in the air as he came closer. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then let his mouth drag across the silk, the fabric catching on his lips.

He caught your chin next, a knuckle knocked beneath it, tilting your face up, your head back. “My beauty,” he murmured, thumb rubbing at your bottom lip, spreading your saliva along the pad. “Oh, how I cannot wait to watch you come undone.”

Oberyn laid you out on the bed next, sweeping you into his arms and carrying you across the room. You squealed when he swept you off your feet, clinging to him as he held you, burying your nose in his neck.

“I would not let you fall, my love.”

My love. My beauty. The possessiveness had you keening, even before he’d even started to touch you.

You stretched out as he laid you down, legs shifting beneath the thin skirts of your shift. He moved with you, hovering over you, your arms still latched around his neck, knees knocking wide for his hips to slide between.

He kissed you hard, tongue tasting of wine as it dipped into your mouth. You moaned, and he drank the noise, humming in approval when you buried your fingers in his hair, wrapped the short strands around your knuckles. When your hands moved, trailing down his shoulders, he struck, reaching for your wrists, pulling them away from his body. He held both in one big hand, tugged your arms over your head. You followed his lead, your eyes fluttering against the silk as he rolled his hips into yours as he manoeuvred you, and then you felt it.

More silk, looped around your wrists, pulled just taut enough to keep you in place, keep your hands from roaming his body. You bit back your whine at the notion of not touching him while he tended to you, but it was quickly replaced with another moan as he tugged your shift aside, lowered his mouth to your chest and took your nipple between his teeth.

Slowly, he touched you. Every skim of his fingers was featherlight, every scrape of his teeth just this side of not enough. Wherever his fingers moved, your body reacted, muscles twitching and limbs lifting, trying to get closer, trying to get more.

But he wouldn’t give it.

It was nearly torturous, the way he was dragging out your pleasure. Most nights, he’d bring you to that peak multiple times, pulling noises from your throat you didn’t think yourself capable of. This was different, the way he made you beg, the way your body did it willingly. He dragged you straight up to the edge, then left you there, waited for you to relax, before starting over, back to the beginning, your heart racketing in your chest.

And it’s been hours.

“Oberyn,” you keen, and he brushes the backs of his knuckles against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Every touch makes you twitch, and your spine arches when you feel his hot breath against your hotter core. “Please.”

“So sweet when you beg,” he murmurs, the feeling of his tongue flicking at your clit following a moment later. You gasp. “This pleasure, it feels incredible, does it not? I can see it, just below the surface of your skin. Like a fire, coming to life.” Another lick. “Though, I must admit, I do miss the feeling of your hands on me.”

“Let me—” you start, but you never get the words out completely. He licks at you, groaning into your very depths, every nerve in you sparking to life. Thick fingers spread you open, and even with the blindfold, you can feel his eyes on you, that heavy gaze raking over every inch of your body.

“Oh, my love,” he whispers, giving you another lick, the flat of his tongue a scorching heat that feels like it never ends. “We’re just getting started.”

#oberyn martell #my fics #silk #oberyn martell headcanons #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 5 days

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hiiiii can i ask for either "sick" or "dancing" for gwen and brady? whichever you feel most inspired about!

thank you so much blu! I have ideas for both of these prompts, so I'll probably write the second one soon, too!

dancing -> gwen dastrup x john brady

John's foot tapped steadily against the hardwood floor as the band continued with their tune, his fingers leaping across the saxophone keys with practised precision, the melody coming so naturally to him that he scarcely had to think about it, letting his gaze wander from the sheet music propped up in front of him. The crowds twirled and danced across the floor below the stage, a testament to his good work, but he couldn't focus on them, their spinning forms dizzying him if he stared for too long. No, there was a sight far more worthy of his attention beyond the dancefloor.

Separated by an open arch, the bar that snaked around the opposite side of the officers' club was visible through the bustle of partygoers trying to secure a drink. The bartender worked away relentlessly, but stood beside him was that all-too-familiar head of golden curls, pouring pints with trained efficiency, sliding a tray of glasses across the bar to where Douglass and Hambone stood waiting, a pleasant smile curling her lip.

The Red Cross girls danced at almost every party. Gwen Dastrup, however, did not. Brady had never gotten a chance to ask her why - it certainly wasn't for a lack of invitation. They couldn't pass a night at the officers' club without half a dozen pilots trying their luck, attempting to woo her out from behind the bar. It was rare that a man got the chance to dance with a girl as pretty as Gwen, and heartbreaking when said chance passed them by.

She leaned forward across the bar, holding out her chin so that Tatty could wipe away a smudge in her lipstick. Gwen grinned, and John felt the stern glare of the man sitting beside him as his finger slipped, skimming the wrong note by mistake. Damn. He forced himself to look away, to push out any distraction until the song was over. As the melody found its close, he pushed himself up from his seat, grateful that the next song on the band's roster had no need of him.

Gwen was crouched behind the bar, rummaging for a new bottle of scotch as he arrived, leaning on his elbows to peer down at her. "Gwen?" Brady called, his voice startling her, and she almost smacked her head on the shelf as she jolted upright a bottle of spirit in each hand.

"Oh, hey," She shrugged with false nonchalance, face heating up a bright red at her near fumble.

"I got a question," He stated, still leaning halfway across the bar towards her as she unscrewed the top off one of the bottles and began pouring another round of drinks for a nearby table.

"Well don't leave me hangin'."

"Why won't you dance with me?" John asked. Gwen paused, arching a brow. "I don't mean anythin' by it, it's just... I wanna know if I should stop getting my hopes up, s'all."

She frowned, stepping out from behind the bar and slipping past him as she delivered another tray of glasses to the pilots sitting nearby. He took a step closer as she turned back to him, their bodies almost pressed together with how close they stood. Her hand was half-covering her mouth as she spoke, a tint of embarrassment colouring her cheeks.

"I don't... I don't know how," She admitted.

Brady paused, tilting his head to the side. "Gwen Dastrup, are you telling me you never learned to dance?"

"They just hired me 'cause I'm pretty," Gwen shrugged as if it were obvious. As far as he was concerned, 'pretty' wasn't an adequate word for it.

"Alright, well, that's not gonna cut it," Shaking his head, he reached for the cuff of her sleeve, tugging her towards the door. She shook her head slightly, trailing cautiously behind him.

"Brady, what're you doing?"

"Teaching."

It was deserted out in the hall, the partygoers too preoccupied with dancing and drinking to stray beyond the dancefloor and bar. Gwen almost rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of Brady's venture, but when he turned back to look at her there was no humour in his expression. He meant business.

"Alright, okay, so - stand... like this," He began, gentle hands on her shoulders, guiding her into place. Nudging her with his toe, his pushed her feet across the carpet until she was standing correctly. "Feet like that... ok, you take this hand, on my shoulder, and I hold this one. Yeah?"

"I have seen people dance before," Gwen pointed out, his meticulous instruction striking her as more than necessary.

Brady nodded firmly, satisfied with his work so far. Her palm slotted comfortably against his, skin soft beneath his fingertips, and her cheeks flushed slightly as his hand found its way to her waist. Although muffled, the music was still audible from out here, and he nodded in time with the beat, peering down at their feet.

"Left foot first... then right, like that... and you count - one, two, three, one, two, three," He spoke softly, breath fanning her slightly, its warmth skimming across her cheek. Gwen stared down at her feet, moving in time with his instructions, matching his own steps as best she could.

"One, two, three - one, two, three," She uttered to herself, brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment of stepping in circles with the music, she looked up to find him staring at her, a grin creasing his cheeks. A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over her and Gwen let out an involuntary snort of laughter, releasing her grip on his hand.

"No, no, that was good," Brady assured her. "Keep goin'."

"But people always talk when they're dancing, I can't just count my steps the whole time," She huffed frustratedly.

"So practice. Talk about something."

Gwen's brow furrowed, drawing her lips between her teeth slightly as she considered what to say. Her eyes widened, and Brady could practically see the idea blooming in her mind.

"I was reading an article this morning - did you know that at the funeral of William the Conqueror, the church got robbed whilst he was lying in state, and then when they tried to put him in his casket his bowels exploded?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but for a long moment, no words came. Tilting his head to the side, John nodded. "D'you know what? I did not know that, no."

She shrugged, chuckling lightly. "Probably shouldn't say that specifically next time."

Brady began to grin, shaking his head. "I dunno, I think it'll scare off the ones who ain't worth your time."

Gwen mirrored his grin, beaming up at him, perfect teeth peeking out between perfectly red lips. He would do her a disservice to call her beautiful. Girls like Gwen were called beautiful so many times a day it lost its meaning - it didn't take anyone special to notice it, it was the first thing anyone ever saw. But she'd been dancing in time with the music for the last few minutes without having to count, and she hadn't even noticed it.

"See, now you've got it. Any fella'd be lucky to have you," He said, nodding to her. She considered this, beginning to smile, that ever-present blush blooming in her cheeks once more.

"Why, thank you, Cap'n."

#john brady #gwen x brady #oc: gwen #masters of the air #masters of the air oc #mota #mota oc #john brady x oc #prompts

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risquefanfics457 · 3 months

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Hi! If your requests are still open, would you be able to write Giorno x Shy!Fem!Reader where they’re childhood friends and Giorno gained feelings for reader over the years and wants to confess but doesn’t know how? Maybe reader feels the same way and wants to confess too?

Thanks!! :D

Did I spend 2 hours writing this because I got hyperfocused? Yes. Worth it? Yes.

Giorno and the reader are both 15 at the start and 18-19 by the end. ENJOY!

“Amica?”

You knew that voice. It had Giorno all over it. Giorno and you had become friends when he moved next to you when your were both 4. He’d changed his name to Giorno, and you respected that, only his mom and step-dad called him Haruno, as he was known in Japan.

“Gio Gio?” You stepped out on the porch of the cafe you worked at, “What is-?” You stopped. Standing in front of you was Haruno Shiobana or Giorno Giovanna as he liked to be called but… blonde.

“Santa merda! Gio Gio, you’re blonde!”

“I know!” He threw his hands in front of him, “I woke up this way!”

You looked at him, gathering all the details you could. He was still the same boy. Same jade eyes, “What happened?”

“I woke up this way!” He waved his arms about, “Can we talk about this?” He pointed to his newly golden locks. It practically glowed in the sun, “Uh, I have a 15 minute break soon.” You stuttered.

“Okay, I’ll be here.” He wrung his hands and leaned awkwardly against the lamp post.

“Or you could come inside.” “I don’t have any cash on me.”

You chuckled, “I can still get you a water, on the house.”

He nodded, “Alright.”

You waved him in, “It’s not like anybody will recognise you anyway.”

“You did.” He said quietly

You blushed silently, “Be with you in a few.”

“So you woke up, and now you’re just blonde?”

“Yeah! Like my dad.” He whispers

“Whoa, you never talk about your dad.” You are even mor eintrigued now. Giorno had a peculiar picture in his wallet that he said was his biological father. The man in the picture was build strong and almost scarily so. But the defining trait Giorno knew was from that man was the star shaped birthmark on his upper shoulder.

“I mean, I didn’t think this is what puberty did.” You teased, “What colour do you think my hair will turn?”

“Pink?” He laughed, “No, that a ridiculous colour.”

“Yeah, nobody in their right mind would have pink hair.” You laughed together.

“What would you even do if you met a dude with pink hair?”

“How should I know?” He laughed, “I’ve never seen one, and I doubt I ever will.”

“Well, you could grow it out.” You said

“I could, we could style it like those old magazines we used to read as kids.”

“I can see you in a braid.” You grin

“We’ll see.”

“Ehi! Y/N, back to work, I see you going 2 minutes over your break!”

“Gotta go.” You stand up, but Giorno stood as well, “Me as well, goodbye, Y/N.” He customarily kissed you on both cheeks, something you’d taught him a long time ago. Watching him leave, you went back to taking orders as you wished that you’d had the nerve to teach him a new kind of kiss.

A few weeks later, he stopped in again, “Amiga!”

“Hey, got money for an actual coffee this time?” You called down the stairs

“I do, but that’s not the point.” He climbed the cafe stairs to meet you, “I’ve figured it out.”

Him suddenly so close with that piercing gaze had you pull away, flushed pink. “What?”

“I figured it out. The drug trade, everything.”

You looked quizzically at him, “You mean the mafia?”

He nodded, “I’m going to join them.”

You blinked. Wow, you’d lost it. Who knew serving 17 macchiatos in an hour would finally push your brain past its breaking pointt?

“Amiga?”

“Sorry, you lost me. What’s the plan?” You wiped down a table

“I’m going to become a gangstar.”

You nodded, “See, I keep hearing you saying you want to join the mafia.” You shake your head.

“I did say that.” He tries to meet your eyes, “All the drug problems, the law being run by criminals, it can be solved, I can solve it.”

You couldn’t believe what you heard, “You’re 15.”

“I know. I need all the time I can get, I have to start early.”

You put the cloth and spray down, “Tell me you’re kidding me.” You kept your voice low, you didn’t like catching attention of others.

“No, I’m finally going to do something about all this.” He took your hands in his and you noticed him stutter, “W-we grew up surrounded by people influenced by drugs, isn’t it time to do something about it?”

His change in demeanor prompted you to break out into a red blush. He wasn’t usually so… forward. It was different. You automatically sank back into your shell as red as a crab as other people stared. “Giorno, this is insane. You can’t join the mafia, it’s an early death sentence.”

“I get that, but things are different now.”

“But why you?”

“Because kids like you and I deserved to have good childhoods.”

That struck a nerve, “Giorno, I want to talk about this more, but I need to stay focused on my job right now, I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

He took a deep breath and stepped away, ”Okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright, I’m just worried about you. I care, okay?”

“I know.” He smiles earnestly, “I love that about you.”

Before you had a chance to reply or even register what he said, he was gone.

You called him that afternoon. Nothing. You called him again later that night. Nothing. You called him the next morning. Same results. Life went on, agonizingly slow. A week went by.

You should have just told him when you had the chance.

A month. 2 months. 4… 8… a year. You gave up after 3 years…

“Andrea, I need you to calm down. The report doesn’t have to be done until noon tomorrow. You have a full day and 3 hours to draft and finish it.” You spoke on the phone to a colleague. “Yes, I’ll be in on tomorrow… no, you don’t need me to proofread it, you’re an adult, you can scan your own emails for typos.”

A knock came from the front door. “Andrea, take a breather and write when you’re ready.” You hang up. Why your co-workers who were 5 years your senior needed you to spellcheck was beyond you. The knock came again, whoever it was, they were impatient. You checked the glass and caught a glimpse of blonde, and your heart skipped a beat. You calmed yourself and opened the door. It wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. A man in a green suit was standing in the doorway, “Buongiorno signora.”

That name. He had to say buongiorno. Of course giorno was a regular word, but it followed you everywhere, and you felt your heart flop sadly every single time you heard it.

“What can I do for you?” You cross your arms.

“My name is Pannacota Fugo, my boss wishes to speak to you privately.”

You nod, “Okay, I’m guessing you’re from a law firm or something?”

“No, signora. I am from Passione.”

Despite the decrease in crime regarding the mafia, the word stung, it was the mafia group Giorno mentioned. God, if they were looking for Giorno… but they couldn’t even ask you, you had no idea where he went either.

“What about it?”

“You may know him.”

“I don’t know anybody from the mafia, I make it my business to stay clear of their business.” You go to close the door.

“I’d reconsider. The boss says he knows you personally. I’m here to take you to see him.”

You steeled your nerves, “I said no.”

It was a skill you were working on, you’d become better at not being so shy.

“Right. Well, Giorno sends his regards then.” Fugo says and goes to leave

“Giorno?” Your heart almost jumps out of your chest, “Giorno Giovanna?”

Fugo nodded.

“I’ll get my things.”

You pulled up the a house. It was lavish, even on the outside.

“He’s inside.” Fugo holds the car door open for you.

In just some clothes you’d thrown on, you climbed the steps to the house. You stopped at the door. Fugo followed you and nodded to some guards who opened the door.

“Where is he?” You asked the blonde man.

“On the left.”

You rounded a corner and on a chair in a large room was a man.

“Amiga?”

Your face flushed at the sound of his voice.

“Please, leave us.” The blonde man stood. He was just as handsome as he was before, but now, toned and his blonde hair was long and braided down his back. He wore all black. You stared dumbfounded at him.

“It was hard to find you, you changed jobs.” He chuckled. That laugh made a old shiver run down your back, one you’d thought you’d lost.

You stepped back and tripped over a chair behind you. Without missing a beat, he caught you. But that didn’t make sense, he was on the other side of the room. But something caught you. You caught your balance and eased yourself up, still in shock, “You’re… here.”

He nodded with a hint of pink on his cheeks, “Yeah, I’ve been here for a few years now.”

“You… you never came back.” Your face heated up.

“I’ve been getting a handle on crime before I brought you to me. I didn’t… I didn’t want you to be a target.”

“But you could have called.”

“I’m always being watched, Amiga. Nothing was going to be a secret these past years.”

“You’re still calling me amiga.” You said.

“Well, I thought maybe we were still friends.” He sighed hopefully

“I, I don’t even know what to think. I… I hated you. I hated that you said nothing and left. But I missed you, and I still do…” You held your head in your hands, trying to name all these emotions running through you.

“I loved you.” You finished.

He looked wistfully at you, “Me too.”

“Well, w-what now?”

“Well, it’s up to you. We can start over, or we can just, let this go. I’ll let you go back to how you’ve been.”

There was a long pause,

“I… I want to be near you, but this can’t have just… not happened. I think-”

“So we should start over?” He nodded

“Not from the beginning.” You got closer and touched his face, “I still know you, at least I think I do. I might not, but I want to.”

He leaned into your touch.

“I still know this face.” You brushed your thumb over his cheek. You chuckled, “To be honest, I dreamed of this face.”

“Really?” He chuckled pleasently, a sound that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter

“I face I wished I’d kissed.”

“You’ve kissed my face plenty of times. You’re the one who taught me to do it.” He smirked. A vine snuck around your wrist and a flower appeared in your palm.

“Then the face I wished I kissed in more than one way.” You leaned in. You pressed your lips to his left cheek, and then the right, and as the sun made the rose coloured curtains behind you project a pattern of pink on his face, you sealed the confession with a gentle kiss on his soft lips. His hand curled around your face and tucked your hair behind your ear, “I wish you showed me this was to kiss earlier too, Amiga.” He smiled.

“Yeah, if this is how it’s going to be from now on, I’m going to need to be something more than amiga.”

His response was quick and sauve, “Then this is the greeting kiss you should expect from now on, cara mia.”

#giorno giovanna x oc #giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #part 5 x reader #jojo giorno

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watatsumiis · 1 year

Text

The Winged Yaksha - (Xiao x gn!reader)

A little drabble I decided to do, based on the idea of if Xiao had wings in his more humanoid form!

Content: gender neutral reader x xiao (with a pre-established relationship, can be read as platonic or romantic), xiao has some funky adeptus powers and a big nest in Wangshu Inn, Xiao is kind of dismissive/withdrawn (as usual).

Word count: ~2k

The Dihua Marsh is dark and gloomy today - the tension in the air promises an oncoming storm as well as the bouts of rain that have been pouring down intermittently throughout the day.

You pick at your food restlessly, watching people walk in and out, but none of them the person you are searching for.

After a while, somebody finally approaches you. You recognise her as Verr Goldet, the owner of the inn. “If you’re searching for the adeptus,” she tells you, her voice a low murmur. “He prefers not to use the main entrances. Check up on the roof.” She cocks her head in the direction of the stairway leading up.

“Ah.” You sigh out, setting your empty bowl down as you nod. “Thank you.”

With your new destination in mind, you set off immediately. Stepping foot outside, you’re met by a strong wind - not too bad yet, but it’s easy to tell that it will only get worse as the night wears on.

The top balcony is void of people. Seems like nobody wants to be out here on such a dreary night, when the moon is hidden behind a thick veil of clouds. You’ve seen Xiao loitering here a few times in the past, keeping a careful watch over the surrounding lands.

You stand close to the boughs of the tree, sheltering from the wind and occasional rain.

Luckily, it isn’t long before you hear someone join you. A noisy, clumsy fluttering, followed by the rustling of branches and the fluttering of leaves as a figure all but crashes down onto the balcony with you, grabbing ahold of the railing for balance so that it doesn’t knock you over.

“Xiao?” You ask hesitantly, turning around as you try to pinpoint exactly where the noise came from. You see a hulking figure somewhere to your right, and take a small step back.

“I am here.” The voice is unmistakably his, but the figure you see before you isn’t one you recognise. He seems shaggy and bulky, an imposing silhouette against the rapidly darkening sky where he sits, perched precariously on the railing.

“What’s…What happened to you?” You ask before you can stop yourself. You catch a glimmer of his amber-coloured eyes on you.

“Ah.” With a rather violent jerk of his shoulders and a grunt of effort, the large protrusions seem to fold in on themselves, disappearing from sight entirely. “...Apologies.” Is all he says as he drops deftly onto the balcony, walking right by you without so much as a hello.

“What was that?” Curiosity is burning inside you as you follow quickly in his footsteps. You’ve known him for long enough that you know full well he’ll disappear from any social interaction at the first given opportunity.

“It’s…none of your concern.” He sounds a little less annoyed than he usually might when telling others to keep their noses out of his business. If you didn’t know any better, you’d probably assume he was… embarrassed?

“You can tell me.” You reassure him kindly. Though you dislike pressuring him, it’s nigh on impossible to get him to tell you anything otherwise.

Xiao sniffs as he turns and steps up onto the railing once more, setting one hand on a thick tree branch before stepping off and seeming to disappear entirely.

“Wait, come back!” You’ve been waiting so long to see him that you can’t help but feel distraught at his sudden disappearance. “Xiao!” You call out, after a few moments of no response.

The adeptus pokes his head out of a bushel of golden-brown leaves and blinks at you expectantly. “Are you coming?” He says expectantly before ducking back out of sight once more.

You learnt long ago not to even begin questioning the strange things that adepti can do. You clamber awkwardly onto the railing, holding the branch tight as you lean forward. Immediately, there’s a difference in the air - a strange kind of stillness, accompanied by that odd, fuzzy feeling that comes hand-in-hand with the magic that illuminated beasts possess.

Your legs shake as you step out onto the thick branch, tip-toeing your way across and ducking under a large tuft of leaves. You’re pleasantly surprised to realise that Xiao seems to have set up a nest of sorts in the treetop. A rounded platform with raised edges, filled with all manners of material belongings that you’d always figured Xiao had found were beneath him.

You reach up to brush your fingers over a delicate set of wind chimes, sending them tinkling softly in the still air as you step onto the thickly padded platform. Despite how high up you are, and how windy you know it is outside, something about this place gives you a sense of security and warmth.

“Wow…” You murmur softly. “This is… This is so lovely, Xiao.” You say. Xiao has his back turned to you, but the way his shoulders stiffen and his pointed ears twitch up and down makes it almost painfully obvious that he has no idea how to respond.

“You’ve decorated it so well.” You turn a circle as you look around. The roof is open to the sky, the cloud cover you’d seen outside is gone entirely, replaced by a clear view of the moon, which casts gentle beams of moonlight onto the ‘nest’ around you, dappled by the still leaves of the tightly woven branches that surround you.

Xiao still doesn’t even look your way, but you can tell by the slight arch of his back that he’s puffing his chest out proudly.

“How did you get all this stuff?” You know from experience that sometimes it takes a few tries to prod Xiao into a fully fledged conversation.

He ducks his head and sets something down on what looks like a small stone shelf jutting out of the branches in front of him. “Offerings. From mortals.” His voice catches in his throat somewhere in the middle, and he won’t meet your eye.

“That’s so sweet.” You smile warmly. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Xiao dips his chin and gestures to a corner of the nest filled with various soft things, laid out neatly upon a woven reed mat.

You wordlessly nod in thanks and make your way over, pulling a pillow out of the strangely stacked pile to sit on.

“Is there… a reason you’re here?” He asks, grimacing as you unbalance his secondary nest of bedding.

“I just wanted to visit you.” You blink innocently up at him and try to manage a smile, but it’s a little hard to do when he’s staring so intently at you, as if you might disappear the moment he pulls his gaze away.

“Visit me.” He echoes, as if utterly unfamiliar with the concept. “I see.”

You sit in silence for a little while as he paces back and forth a few times, rearranging several things that had been hanging off of the upper branches around his nest, mostly manoeuvring them to different places, even swapping a few out for ones that had been sitting in a small wooden box beneath his shelf.

After a while, he seems to settle down, walking over quietly and stepping into the pile of pillows in a slow, deliberate way, then sinking down until he’s crouching with his knees to his chest, pausing for a few moments before he begins to adjust his pillows and blankets, patching up the gap your current seat had left behind.

“So, uh…” You begin hesitantly once he’s fallen still again. “What was with the…?” You make a vague gesture with your hands, trying to imitate the strange, looming shapes you had seen coming off of Xiao when he’d first landed on the balcony.

He looks away so quickly that it almost seems like he’s dodging an attack of some sort. You watch him cross his arms over his chest, the almost down-featherlike hairs on them reflecting in the pale moonlight. “Those were…” He hesitates, then gulps, before spitting the words out like a foul taste. “My wings.”

You stare for a few moments, utterly awestruck as you question how you never knew this before. “Wait, really?” You can't help but be a little taken aback at this newfound fact.

“Mm.” The noise isn’t particularly helpful in discerning a clear answer, but you figure that Xiao has no reason to lie to you.

“Can… I see them?” The question is out of your mouth and hanging in the still night air before you’re able to stop it.

“You’ve already seen them.” Xiao mutters, hunching his shoulders as he roughly pokes and prods at a blanket, using it to fill in any draughty little gaps in his nest of bedding.

“I bet they’re gorgeous.” You sigh wistfully, trying instead for a gentler approach as you aim for what you want. It’s easy enough to tell the difference between Xiao being annoyed versus him just being bashful, and you’ve quickly deduced that he’s displaying symptoms of the latter.

“Hmph.” Xiao puffs out an annoyed noise, turning away as he sits up a little straighter.

It’s hard to explain the way Xiao’s wings seem to fold out of nothing and into existence, surrounding you both with large, soft feathers. The colours are a little difficult to distinguish in the dark - the moonlight makes them seem wispy and silvery, but on closer scrutiny you can make out hints of the same shades of blue-green that are in his hair, and the golden-amber of his eyes.

“Woah.” You breathe out, a little taken aback by the sheer size of his wings. They only just have enough space to unfurl fully in this nest of his, and even then his left one is almost suffocatingly close to you, curled inwards ever so slightly as if to protect you from the elements that don’t seem to be able to get into this little pocket-dimension Xiao resides in. His feathers seem a little ruffled, some even bent in places, but overall they seem well-groomed and shiny. It seems as if he takes a lot of pride in how they look.

“They’re amazing, Xiao.” You tell him gently, a smile tugging at your lips as you realise how much trust the adeptus must have in you to be willing to show you something he seems to want to keep so private.

You watch a few soft, downy feathers fluff up close to where his feathers meld into his shoulder blades, and one of his wing-spurs clanks against the same wind chime you touched when you walked in earlier. A soft sort of crooning noise escapes from Xiao’s throat as he opens his mouth to speak, and he clears his throat quickly to try and cover it up. “Thank you.” He says softly, making fleeting eye contact with you, only to look away the moment he spots the unadulterated admiration in your eyes.

He straightens up where he sits, and his wings flare out for a brief moment before folding back in on themselves rapidly and disappearing once more - you can hear a few of Xiao’s belongings clanking about due to the disturbance of the air, but he doesn’t seem to care, too busy looking your way as he tries to gauge your reaction.

You can’t help but be a little disappointed, but you can understand his shyness about them. “Thanks.” You smile at him as you catch his eye.

He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly as his brows furrow.

“For showing me your wings.” You specify, blinking slowly as he stares you in the face.

“Ah… I…” he seems to fumble a bit for the correct thing to say. “You’re welcome.” He mutters finally, tearing his gaze off of you to look up towards the moon, perfectly framed by the branches surrounding you that reach up towards the stars.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites.

#xiao #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #alatus #alatus x reader #xiao fluff #xiao drabbles #winged!xiao #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin self insert #my writing #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #platonic genshin x reader #hehe oops i stayed up to finish writing this :3 but it was fun honestly

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