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murdrdocs · 2 months

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suggestive content; mentioned public sex MDNI w/ LUKE CASTELLAN

thinking about the beginning of summer with luke.

the mist keeps camp half blood's weather decent year around, but the beginning of summer can still be marked by the way shines a little heavier and the lack of wind creating a stuffy feeling. that, and the general euphoria that takes over everyone.

when your clothes stick to your bodies and you're nearing heat exhaustion, there is nothing else to do but sneak away to the water with luke.

following a path frequently taken, the grass worn down by the soles of your beat up sneakers. gossiping and snickering and gasping at stories about your day, usually told about the short moments you hadn't spent together.

sometimes, if you had enough time or patience, you both would be wearing clothes fit for swimming. most times, though, you reach the water and peel of your camp shirt and your shorts to reveal your usual underwear. (if you two only had a short amount of time to relax, luke would usually convince you both to take your underwear off, only so it wouldn't have to take long to dry)

on the occasions where you're at the water to cool off and escape, you and luke will float on your backs and listen to the soothing sounds of nature. there's nothing more relaxing than being alone and weightless without the burden of counselor responsibilities and the nagging of children distracting you.

but there are times where you would make a day out of it. on the weekends, after a tiring capture the flag battle, you would pack clothes and towels and strawberries and take them down to the shoreline.

luke would convince you to let him slather your body in sunscreen (he is suddenly an activist for skin cancer prevention, but his hands lingering on your hips tell another story), and you let him do it only if you can return the favor (you don't bother pretending to care about his skin when you run your hands down his abs).

many kisses are shared. if you have enough energy, you'll lazily make out with each other. you straddle his hips, he has a hand on your face and another on your ass. luke likes to tease in this scenario. he likes to dig his fingers under the elastic of your bottoms, maybe snap the string back onto your skin if you're wearing a bikini. sometimes, he'll go as far as to peel the crotch of your bottoms aside, or lodge one of his thumbs under the cup of your top.

begrudgingly, you end up slapping his hand away with fear that someone (or even something) could catch you. (you both know there will come a day where you let him go all the way)

by the time you leave the shore, you both have new tan lines, saltwater clinging to your skin, and the swapped taste of strawberries on your kiss-swollen lips.

#lukesworld!#celeste writes pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff

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yeyinde · 1 year

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YES the smoking kink is developing... im asthmatic but im also a whore so id give anything to sit on price's lap while he smokes his cigar. idk if you do smuts BUT mmmm imagine c*ckw*rming him, sitting all nice and pretty for him, him calling you a good [insert nickname here] or "sweet little pet, behaving so well for me" abdvsvdhisb my brain is short-circuiting there is only daddy price thots

"Good girl—," it's a coarse purr slurred around the end of his cigar, billowing with satisfaction. Dark, rich. The euphonious praise makes you shiver. "—bein' so good for me, ain't you, mm?"

⇾word count: 2,2k

⇾warnings: cockwarming, mentions of smut; dom!Price; breeding kink; feelings resolution (kinda)

⇾notes: i'm back on my soft Price agenda.

There is a dull throb in your body—the twinge of a low-grade fever—that simmers in your marrow. You feel like a massive contusion: worn and sore, tender. It’s not entirely dissimilar to an elastic band pulled too far, stretched too taut; it slips, skin smarting where it strikes. The burn makes you mewl into the soft, damp heat pressed beneath your cheek. The rich scent of oakmoss and cedar fills your nose, settling heavily in your lungs.

You find comfort in the charred sycamore and sweat that trickle down your throat.

Lashes flutter in a futile effort to blink away the milky cobwebs that spool over your eyes and shroud the world in moondust, but each blink feels like an offering to Hypnos. It keeps you in that equinox of sleep and wakefulness: a borderland between two states.

You blink again, lashes connecting like a lock and key. An anchor.

It feels like a battle to open them, but you do when the land beneath you ripples. Rumbles. The movements of tectonic plates; the aftershocks jar you into cognisance.

Your heavy eyes lift. The world is condensed into a blurry varicoloured smear of wry burnt umber curls, blotchy peach and pink flesh dusted with topaz freckles, and the hazy edge of a white collar.

It takes you a moment to shake off the tendrils of Hypno's grip, and then you’re back—back, but not quite. You exist in a hazy realm of understanding. A strange purgatory where you last remember searing heat, and pressure, and—

Being battered by the thick of his cock, wrenched around like a rag doll as he planted his feet on the floor, and canted his hips into your quivering body. It is all a murky bog of bliss and euphoria. Gentle words. The grind of him digging into the plug of your womb, the searing heat when his mouth latched onto your pulse point. The molten bloom in your cunt when he came, filling you up.

Resting your head on his chest—eyes mercury and head fuzzy; somnolence leaking over you like slow-rolling molasses. Just for a minute, you slurred out, basking in that liquid pleasure that spooled inside you. Just a minute.

It all lingers in a gossamer of pleasure that bleeds over your thoughts.

And now:

Cognisance returns in a slow drizzle of familiarity.

Rough skin grazing yours. Thumb brushing the aching knob of your hips where he dug his fingers into the soft give of your flesh, rutting into you like a man starved. The deep, even breaths that crackle in your ear; the rise and fall of his chest. The warmth of his body. The heavy scent of him permeates around you—amber, cured spruce wood, burning tobacco leaves, and smoke.

The sizzle of burning tobacco leaves. Charred ashes. The scent of his cigar clots in the humid air.

Your head pounds from the explosion of endorphins that ripped through each synapse until they were liquid, and brimming with bliss; your body buzzing as each and every nerve pulsed with the deluge of dopamine. The crash of it leaves you feeling windswept, and conquered.

A low hum resounds through your chest, the echo of it reverberating through your ribcage. The hand slides from your hips, resting heavily on the small of your back. Coarse hair ticking your nose. The rustle of paper sounds somewhere in the distance—clearer, now, that the world has stopped spinning.

An elastic band stretches, and stretches, and—

Pressure. Tacky warmth. A fullness that perches on the equilibrium of familiar and foreign.

—snaps back.

You mewl at the liquid fire in your veins, and the too-full feeling inside of you.

"Shush, shush." His beard grazes your cheek when he lowers his chin to your ear, voice thick and full of smoke, drenched in nicotine. "Easy, love. Sleepin' beauty back with me, eh?"

You huff into his neck, throat thick with his taste and barren of words. Bone dry, your tongue slips out, drags over your kiss-bruised lips, accidentally catching the iodine on his skin. Balmy sweat. The sea in autumn. You press your mouth to his pulse, feverish for the familiar taste, and eager for more. Teeth scrape across his skin, suckling in the ambrosiac tang of him until it floods your mouth.

He rumbles again, a throaty trill that makes your core throb. Another inhale around his cigar; a crutch, you think, to stem the want.

Price pulls it away, arm brushing over your back. You can see the smoke rise out of the corner of your eye. It's clutched between his thumb and forefinger, dangling over the armrest.

"Start that again, and I'll end up throwin' my back out." He husks, warm hand dragging up the length of your spine until he cups the back of your leaden head. "Ain't as young as I was."

The heat of his voice, the way the smoky roll makes your belly flutter, brings awareness to that strange sensation inside of you. Your sore muscles clench around the thick of it—

"Fuckin' hell—!" His head falls back, tipping against the back of the seat. The groan that slips out is stretched taut and frayed.

Your thighs flex, shifting. You feel the sticky mess pooling in his lap, glueing the coarse hair dusting over his thighs to the back of your legs, under your ass. It leaks out around the plug of his softening cock.

He's still inside of you.

It ricochets through you, rippling down your spine.

The sensation of it sits in a strange haze of pleasure; it feels good to have him inside you like this, but without the normal movement, the grind of him against your walls—brassbound, thick—it feels foreign. Different. A dip into too much. The pressure of him sitting there, still stretching your walls taut, makes you keen in your throat.

"Ah—John—"

“I got you,” he says, etching small circles over your spine, head tilting to nuzzle his chin over your crown. Soothing. Calming. "I want you like this," he murmurs, throat clicking when he swallows. "Want you sat on my cock—just like this—while I finish up here. Can you do that for me?"

You huff, breath pluming over the skin of his neck until goosebumps form. It's strange, and too much, and—

"It's okay," he rasps, cock thickening with each of your exploratory wiggles. His hand slides down your back, settling you with a soft noise. "Easy, now. Just take it, yeah? Keep me inside of you like this. All my cum inside of your cunt."

He burrows his head into your neck, beard scratching over your raw skin. It makes you moan, makes you flutter around him, pulsing like a heartbeat. His words are nirvana in your veins; a bludgeon to your core.

"Might even take hold, eh? Filled you up—nice and deep—and now it's gonna stay here, mm? Gonna—fuck—gonna get you—"

He bites the word off with a growl when you moan, muscles spasming around him. More cum leaks out of the tight seal.

He groans again. A purr imbued with smoke. "You want that, don't you? Want to be good for me, mm? Just like this."

You swallow down the briny taste of him on your tongue, lashes fluttering. Heat pools in your belly.

Just like this. Just like—

You’ve never considered keeping him inside of you after he was finished, sat pretty and fucked stupid on his cock, but it ignites a fever under your skin. There is something intimate about it that makes your heart prickle, and your breath quicken. You shift, burrowing deeper into his hold. It's easy to find comfort on his lap, in his arms. You exhale deeply through your nose, breath ghosting through the coarse scruff on his neck.

It's a strange feeling being completely bare, stuffed to the brim with him. Your thighs are tacky from his spend slowly leaking out around the bulk of him as he moves in his chair, finding his own comfort.

His gaze slides to you when he brings the cigar to his mouth, eyes pitched low and liquid in the soft, jaundiced light of the lamp on his desk, waiting. The spark of ochre, bright vermillion, as he inhales catches in the sapphire pools. Magna in shades of blue. Mercury congeals on the rim.

He looks good with a cigar dangling from his teeth.

"Alright?" He murmurs around the thick of it, soft and velour—eyes brimming with something thick, syrupy sweet.

It surprises you sometimes that this man who's often nursing tea to soothe the rawness in his throat after howling himself mute on the battlefield can speak so gingerly. Growling whispers; pinched commands barked out in rasps are one thing, but this—

Soft curls of smoke seep into the aether. Mild and molten. Liquid fire.

The fact that this adamantine man speaks to you, only you, in abated whispers, as if he's softening himself, scourging the grit from his throat after years of screaming himself raw, sneaking his father's cigars in his youth, and down glasses of scotch as if it was water makes something rear within you.

It clots inside your pericardium: a mass of affection, cloying and full.

He wants this. You can see it in the dichotomy of blue that fixes itself on you, firm and unyielding. He wants it, but he won't take it. He won't make you stay here if you don't want to. You feel him inside of you, and the contrast juxtaposition between earlier when he was seated just as deep, in this very position, to now, when the room is bathed in ochre, and thick with the scent of sex and sweat and stale tobacco, is worlds apart. Different. But—

It's somehow more intimate than when he'd sat over his knee, and slapped the cheeks of your ass until it was bright red and blistering. Or when he perched you on the edge of his desk, growling out commands when you adjusted, trying to stem the sting when you sat, and buried his face between your thighs, drenching his beard in your slick.

Him, inside of you like this feels—

Natural. Domestic.

You flush, heart thudding as the bloom of—

Affection. And something else, something you bite into pieces, chewing between your molars until it's ground down into ash, masticated before it can be spoken aloud. Unutterable words not meant for the brisk and brutal physicality of your relationship, and yet.

It's there. Lingering.

Your head swims. You drop your forehead to his chest, greedily soaking in the warmth that bleeds through his still-damp shirt. His heart thuds in your ear, crown pressed beneath his chin when you turn.

Price waits for a moment, eyes still burrowing down at you, searching for any flicker of discomfort. Always the dutiful leader even when he's buried to the hilt inside of you. At your soft, breathy sigh, he turns away from you. Clears his throat of the smoke, thumb cresting over the knobs on your spine.

"Good girl—," it's a coarse purr slurred around the end of his cigar, billowing with satisfaction. Dark, rich. The euphonious praise makes you shiver. "—bein' so good for me, ain't you, mm?"

"Yes," it's tremulous, brittle. The breathy whisper makes his pulse quicken. His nostrils flare. His brows tick, waiting. Expectant. And you flush, words thick and soporific when you utter them:

"Yes, daddy."

He groans, throbbing inside of you. The cigar wobbles, teetering dangerously between his lax mouth. He rights it, biting into it with a snarl. "Bloody hell…"

He doesn't act on it. His eyes crest, lidded and full of smouldering want, but he lets it rest, lets the flame simmer. It's not about that right now. Not yet. Not when there is a small fell of paperwork on the desk behind you, and sleep beckons you, spits poison in the crest of your eyes, glossy and lachrymose until your eyes grow fuzzy, thick with exhaustion.

His weighted gaze lifts when you melt in his embrace, settled, secure. Just where he wants you. Needs you.

Price reaches for the paper, trading it for the cigar. His gaze oscillates between the report in his hands—unspeakable evils in underbellies unknown—and the soft way you muzzle into his chest. You can feel his eyes on you. A pendulum. It makes you smile, heart singing.

When he eases in his seat, eyes drifting back to his work, low hum and murmurs falling from his lips as he loses himself in the ugliness of the world, you press your lips to the tender beat of his pulse and whisper those unutterable words into the smoke-drenched warmth of his chest.

His breath catches, a shallow exhale. His hand stills. Body tenses.

Your lashes flutter when you open your eyes, meeting his liquid gaze.

His shoulders sag. You hear the rising crescendo of his heart when he presses his lips to your crown. He clears his throat again. His thumb brushes your spine, slower this time. Reverent.

Charred, husking words, the colour smoke seeping from the end of his lit cigar, spill from his lips, tender, softer, than ever before.

#this was really fun to write ngl #soft price is my new favourite thing ever #i also listened to nothing but lana while writing him #so i guess i should tag that as a mood #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #john price #john price cod #john price x reader #john price x you #call of duty modern warfare

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arcielee · 5 months

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It's Not Tonight

Summary: Tom Bennett slips in through your window. Paring: Tom Bennett x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.6k+ Warnings: Tom is a scoundrel, angst from a one night stand, masturbating, a smidge of voyeurism, kissing, grinding, sexual memories recalled fondly but also bitterly, overstimulation kinda? Author's Note: It has been one year since I last wrote for Tom fucking Bennett and what better way to commemorate that than something short and smutty? This takes place end of episode 1 and beginning of episode 2, for season 1 WoF. Thank you so much my beloved @helaelaemond for being my muse, for your help with this piece! Without you, it would have just been sitting in my drafts. 💜 Dividers are by @saradika-graphics 💜

It had been two weeks since Tom slipped through your bedroom window, his features pink from the night’s cold air and a boyish grin curled on his lips. You squeaked your surprise, your eyes wide as he pressed close to kiss, the contrast of his cold nose and hot mouth making your skin rise, tasting the pint he must’ve finished before he came tapping on your window pane.

“Be quiet, pretty girl,” he had said, a murmur against your lips, and you sighed sweetly, his tongue pushing past your lips for another deep kiss. “We don’t want to wake no one.”

This was true, as your father would often vocalize on how much he loathed, “that damn Bennett.” You quietly pulled him towards your bed.

The next morning, your sheets held the tangy sweet scent of the euphoria he had pulled from you–several times–mixing with the cigarette smoke and a musk that was so distinctly his own. As you pulled them off to wash, you noticed his navy blue overcoat he had tossed onto your chair. You grabbed it as well, smiling with the thought it would be clean for when he came back.

But he did not come back that night, or the next one.

It was now fourteen fucking days since that night together. Though your agitation with Tom Bennett was not as adamant on your every expression, something pointed out by your mother, it still thrummed beneath in such a way that rattled your bones. His coat was now clean and folded across the armrest, a mockery of that short-lived bliss.

You were on your bed and reliving the warmth of his voice that had tickled the shell of your ear, how his fingers so carefully peeled away your nightgown and the undergarments you had worn, the gentle nip of his mouth that trailed towards your core…

You burned with this memory, same as you had that night, rutting your nightgown to your hips, your fingers touching and trailing back up the damp fold of your underwear that was shaped to your lips before you dipped below the waistband. Your arousal was slick between your folds, a slow circular motion, just as Tom had done.

When he did, he had asked you, “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

That arrogant bastard–but your scoff came out as a soft moan, followed with his name spilling from your lips, breathless and still wanting, “Tom…”

“Yes, love?”

The voice struck cold against your spine, your hand pulling back and your eyes snapping open to see his lean figure pulling through your window. You struggled to find your voice. “I…” you were now burning from how Tom looked over you, aglow, aware, with his damn cheeky, boyish grin splayed across his perfect mouth, “...where the hell have you been?”

Tom only hummed in response, still smirking as he peeled off his shirt, his pale chest stained pink, and climbing onto your bed. You parted your legs to let him rest into the cradle of your hips, the nip of his skin against your plush thighs making your skin rise.

When you tried to move the offending hand, he was quick to catch your wrist, the crystalline blue of his eyes boring into you, and you stared at him a moment, watching as he brought your hand closer, pressing your middle and ring fingers to his tongue, his hot mouth closing and suckling them clean.

Your mouth opened with a soft gasp, squirming under his weight, from the sensation of his tongue licking your fingertips. He pulled your hand back with a lewd pop and let it fall back to your side, his grin still cheeky and now almost smug.

“They had me on remand for two weeks,” his voice was low, the blue in his eyes bright, “I came here to celebrate, but I see you started already…”

You should have pushed him off and then back out the window he crawled in from, but your body betrayed you with a warmth pooling between. Instead, you pushed to your elbows, one hand reaching to cup the back of his neck to pull him closer for a kiss, tasting the remnants of yourself, your tongue curling against the roof of his mouth.

Tom groaned, low, returning the passion until your breath was a heated exchange. He shifted his slender hips with a slow grind against your clothed cunt and you moaned softly, nails biting into his shoulders. He reached between, his fingertips almost tickling with his touch.

“So wet,” and he was still smug, “and it’s all for me.”

Your eyes were glazed already, your skin warming as you processed what he said, but before a smart comment could pass your kiss-swollen lips, his hot mouth moved to reclaim yours again. He was hard already and you could feel him, pressing against the seams of his pants, pressing against you until your heart rate could now be felt in your cunt.

“Tom,” you moaned again, your hips lifting for the friction, “I need you.”

He pulled to lay onto his back, unfastening his buttons while you slipped your panties off. You moved to straddle him, his slender frame caught between your plush thighs and his cock hard and flushed and pressed upwards, nearly touching his belly button, slotted between your soft lips. Black now almost swallowed the brilliant blue of his eyes when they focused on your nipples that were peeking beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown; you could feel him pulse beneath you.

Tom pushed up for another kiss, fumbling to help remove your final layer, your bare chest flushed against his as he pulled you close, and his chest hair tickled. His mouth moved towards the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest, the glisten of his spit with every intimate kiss placed.

Your back arched in response, rolling your hips against him. You reached to line him with your entrance, slowly sinking onto his length; you are wet, but there was a stretch still, a fullness that Tom fucking Bennett possessed, and it was delicious.

“Stop clenching,” he gritted once he was fully sheathed within. Your hands moved to his chest, pushing him to lay back against the pillows; it was your turn to wear the smug smirk.

His eyes fluttered as you slowly rocked against him, so deep you swore you saw sparks when he bottomed out. His grip dimpled with the hold he had on your hips, lifting his own in response to your motion. You gasped, soft in the quiet of the bedroom, and he repeated the movement.

“Fucking hell,” he rasped, setting a pace that sent a tingling sensation to the ends of your appendages, returning to claw at your lower core. “You feel fucking perfect.”

You are without words, your fingertips digging red crescents onto his pale chest for balance, chasing after your pleasure. The flutter of your walls around him had Tom groaning. “Touch yourself,” he commanded, and one of your hands lifted to touch his bottom lip and, again, his mouth closed around, his tongue coating them with his spit. You pulled back and slipped them between your blossom above where his in-and-out pace continued, a milky white ring forming around his base.

The touch was the tipping point, spilling your climax with a clenching response to the shuddering euphoria that rippled through you. You struggled to stay quiet and Tom was quick to roll you onto your back, pinning you to the mattress.

His large hand pressed over your mouth to muffle you, sliding back in and returning to his same brutal pace. You whimpered against his palm, still very sensitive with the final waves of your last release that was trilling your spine.

“One more for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, and your tears were already pearling, your walls clenching with your second peak–not as intense as the first, but a prolonged pleasure with the stuttering of his hips.

Tom pulled back, still hunched over you with his tension present in his shoulders and neck, his brow focused in a furrow as he pumped his fist, his pearly spend spilling from his flushed cockhead and across your stomach. He paused, leaning close to touch his forehead to yours, a sticky sheen from his peak, before his jaw tilted up to press a messy kiss to your hairline.

“Alright then.”

You blinked and he was gone, already standing and tucking himself back into his slacks before reaching to toss your nightgown to your grasp. You could already feel the heat of your returned anger spilling into your bloodstream, replacing the sweetness you felt only moments before. “You taking off to disappear another two weeks then?” Your voice was tight with the question.

His crooked grin flashed as he crawled back onto the mattress, his mouth hot and consuming, his kiss slow and searching until it drew a small noise from you. Then Tom pulled back again, grabbing his shirt. “I have somewhere to be tomorrow.”

“Court date?” You were flushed from the kiss, but your bitter tone remained.

“They only let me out cause I said I’d join up, but I had a change of heart on the way over,” he finished the last buttons before tucking it into the waist of his slacks, his perpetual smirk playing on his lips, “I’m a conscientious objector.”

His Mancunian drawl emphasized the final two words. “You’re a scoundrel is what you are, Tom.”

Tom only hummed, grabbing his coat and slipping his arms through the sleeves. “You would not have me any other way,” and he moved to steal another kiss, a clash of teeth and tongue that stirred your blood again.

But before your fingers could move to comb through his sandy locks, he pulled away, disappearing out through your window and into the night.

You fell back onto your sheets with their tangy sweet scent of the intimacy shared, of cigarette smoke and the musk that was so distinctly Tom fucking Bennett’s.

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl

arcie's ewanverse masterlist

#ewanverse #wof fanfic #wof fanfiction #tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x female!reader #it's not tonight

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acriminalmind · 9 months

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The Housewife Killer

GN Serial Killer Reader x Housewife Wanda Maximoff

Summary: They call you the housewife killer as all of your victims are housewives, but your own sweet housewife has absolutely nothing to worry about...

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Dark themed fic, murder, blood, slight torture (with a knife), death list, manipulation, fluff, soft (not very detailed) smut.

Let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

AN: Should I post a sneak peek of Songs From the Wood?

Tears stream down her face as you drag the knife over her collarbone. Blood trickles down her body. Her breaths are shallow as she experiences gruesome pain. The white sleeping gown she had worn earlier that night had been torn off of her body and was, covered with various blood stains on it, thrown onto the concrete floor. The ropes around her wrists and ankles that kept her on the uncomfortable chair cut into her skin. Her voice had become raspy from all the screaming and begging she had done. Barely any sound came from it at this point, except from soft whimpering. She hadn't seen any danger when she had let you, her 'friendly' neighbor, inside.

One moment she walked to her kitchen to brew you some fresh coffee and the other moments you had her in a chokehold until she fell unconscious in your arms. You had dragged her to her basement where you took place on the washing machine, waiting for her to wake up so you could start your 'fun' time together. Another almost unhearable plea left her dry mouth. "Pleading won't make me stop, Honey. It will only make it more fun for me," You say as you cut into her arm. You made sure she wouldn't bleed out before you were done with her. She would die when you allowed her to. You circled around her like a predator would with a wounded prey, taking in your newest masterpiece. You twirled the blood-covered knife in your gloved hand before taking your stand behind her. She tensed as she felt your hand on her shoulder. The knife was pressed against her neck and as it slowly was pushed into her skin she cried with the last energy left in her weak body, "Y-you don't h-have to do this…" For a second you stopped your ministrations. You pulled the knife away from her neck and made your way around her. Kneeling down in front of her you grabbed her chin so she would look you in the eye when you talked to her. "That's where you are wrong, Geraldine. I do have to do this. She said your name." It was silent for a moment. The last sentence spins through her head. It was hard for her to think clearly, her eyes soon widened at the realization of who you were talking about. Who had said her name. "

Earlier that evening...

"Give me a name…" you whisper in her ear while you slowly thrust into her. With her arms and legs draped around you, Wanda holds your sweaty body tight against her own, not wanting to have any space between the two of you. She wants to feel your soft skin against her own while you make sweet love to her. Her head is thrown back into her pillow, with her eyes closed and mouth wide open while letting out the most beautiful noises. You kiss her neck, leaving multiple hickeys while patiently waiting for her answer. Different names go through Wanda's head. From Agatha who had 'accidentally' cut off her precious rosebushes, to Dottie who always gives her the worst book club tasks to take care of. Wanda felt herself getting closer as you move your hand in between your bodies to rub small circles on her clit. Her moans get louder with each second while your thrusts stay firm and steady. She knows you won't let her drop over the edge until she spills out a name. As she can feel her orgasm reach it hits her. Her eyes shoot open. Her green orbs stare at the ceiling while clawing your back as she says, "Geraldine". She can feel you smile against her neck before you say, "Good girl." You give her a few hard and coordinated thrusts until Wanda screams beneath you in euphoria. You help her ride out her orgasm before pulling out. Wanda lets out a soft whine at the loss of contact, but she knows that you'll be back in her arms soon, even if it's just for a short time before you take care of her 'problems'. You clean her up before taking your place beside her on the comfortable bed, pulling Wanda closer until she lays half on top of you. She can hear your rapid heartbeat as she plays with the wedding band on your left hand. "I love you," Wanda says half out of breath. You look down at her while playing with her red, curly hair. "I love you too, my love." Wanda wants to stay awake, she wants you to spend the night safe and sound in your shared bed. The moment she falls asleep she knows you'll leave. She knows she has nothing to worry about because you're always two steps ahead of the police and you always make sure to leave no trace behind that would lead them to you, but still. Before she can worry more sleep overtakes her and sends her on her way to dreamland. An hour later you silently leave the warm bed to get yourself ready to kill your next victim. Geraldine.

But not before you place a kiss on Wanda's lips with the silent promise that she has nothing to worry about.

"Wanda… It's all about Wanda…" A creepy grin overtakes your features as you watch her process the revelation. "She deserves a peaceful and happy life after everything she's been through. You don't bring peace or happiness so you need to go." Letting go of her face you get on your feet and walk back to stand behind her, placing the knife on her throat, "Bye-bye, Geraldine…". With one swift motion, you cut through her artery. Blood spurts out of her neck, decorating her wall. You make sure not to get any stray drops on you. After cleaning every piece of evidence that could lead the cops to you up, you look back at the pale body that stared back at you with dead eyes one more time before leaving the crime scene to go back home where your own little housewife was still peacefully asleep.

The next morning Wanda wakes up and smiles as she feels your muscular arms around her waist. She looks at the time and sees she has an hour left before book club starts. She rolls her eyes at the thought of Dottie complaining to her about how she could have done a better job at doing her tasks. Thankfully, soon that will be over... The corners of her mouth go up, forming a sinister smile as she thinks about the horrendous fate you will give Dottie. She carefully turns around so she faces your sleeping form. As she strokes your hair, red strings of magic leave her fingers to go into your mind.

Onto the Next!

Masterlist

#fanfic #marvel #wanda maximoff #dark fic #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff smut #scarlet witch x reader #monica rambeau #wandavision #dark reader #wanda maximoff x reader fluff #wanda maximoff x reader

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shiplessoceans · 7 months

Text

I have digested episode 6 and 7 and taken some time to think and my overall feeling about the episodes is this:

Discomfort. And I think that's the takeaway we're meant to have.

The circumstances under which Ed and Stede for slept together feel off and I feel this is by design.

This wasn't, 'I love you, lets share this as an expression of our love and trust when we are both ready and willing.' It was 'Help me, I just murdered someone and I need to feel anything other than what I feel right now.'

But Ed loves Stede and he knew they were headed here anyway right? A bit more time wouldn't matter and Stede needs him right now so, yeah. Lets do this.

It is very telling that they don't speak. There's silent communication, a desperate grab, a wall slam, a pleading look, a nod and then they fall into it.

Stede didn't speak at all because he knew if he did he would have to let himself feel everything he was avoiding.

Ed didn't speak because he tried and Stede shut it down.

The night was beautiful and I don't doubt they had fun. But it was missing something.

No Gnossiene number 5. Because it was sex. Not lovemaking.

The framing of Ed having his back against a wall, and then the only other scene we see, they are not deepening that passion, but instead we watch as they pause with Ed sitting on the bed watching Stede close a curtain on them both... Oof.

The thing that sticks out to me in Episode 7 is that Ed and Stede are always apart from that point forward. There is a heap of distance between them on the bed. They sit apart at the bar. They moved too quickly, never got fully comfortable with each other and now they've retreated back to their respective comfort levels as they were before they had sex and it's discordant and feels weird, because it's supposed to.

After the euphoria of them finally having sex has worn off, I am afraid I have to agree with Ed.

It was a mistake.

They would both have been better off if they talked about how Stede was feeling, if Stede hadn't shut Ed down when he tried to open a dialogue. I'm not blaming Stede, please understand, there were two consenting parties here and Ed could have shaken his head at Stede just as easily, but he's still bad at communicating his boundaries and knowing what he wants.

The show intentionally gave us:

-Here's Ed learning patience is important when you really want something.

-Here's Ed communicating that to Stede.

-Here's Stede and Ed forgetting that lesson because Stede is in pain.

-Here's a demonstration of why this isn't a good thing.

We wanted a mature relationship for these two and now we must wear the consequences.

Sigh, bring on the 'sure to be devestating' finale.

#ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd #our flag means death spoilers #ofmd s2e6 #ofmd s2e7 #ofmd gentlebeard #ofmd s2 #david jenkins

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rawmeknockout · 6 months

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Can we please have a bot reader edging mtmte rodimus? They have been edging him for a while now and are not gonna stop until roddy is all teary ayed, desparate and beggin for a overload.

His arms flex in the restraints, chassis heaving and writhing, trying desperately to reach the peak of euphoria that you've been denying him. But it hardly matters whether he's restrained anymore, his energy having long been used up frantically humping your hand earlier in the night. Charge ripples under his armor, sparking and arcing over his protomesh in little bursts of energy, wracking his body with pleasure so sensitizing it hurts. He's worn long past the point of begging now, mouth flapping open uselessly around moans of increasing pitch; optics hazy and glossy with cleansing fluid. It almost makes you feel bad for tormenting him so, but you long for his sweet voice pleading and crying for more touch, for a well-deserved overload.

As you lean down over his array, Rodimus' optics snap to attention, instantly fixed upon your mouth. Warm air venting across his spike, valve clenching upon nothing. So close, just the brush of sensation, another form of torture to his overworked frame. He doesn't dare try to push up against your mouth, unwilling to provoke you into pulling away, but his optics plead with you. This side of him is precious, enough to sate you for a lifetime, but all good things have to come to an end. You know he's at his limit for the night.

It's barely even a moment of touch, your mouth around his tip with a ghost of suction and your digits stroking through his valve lips to nudge under his anterior node. But it's enough for Rodimus, who has been strung up and worn out for hours now; attention focused solely on the distant moment where you would finally make him overload. His transfluid spills into your intake as he cries, broken and warbling. Frame arching off the berth, arms pulling tight against his restraints; he's more beautiful with every passing day.

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lottiecrabie · 10 months

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okay same anon here, sending it in for the next blurb night❤️

basically i’ve had this thought since the show actually happened in february but reader is mattys gf and seeing your bf win and be successful has made you so horny.

so basically matty fingering you under the table at the brits and having to act like youre not soaking your chair as the table interacts with each other. and ofc matty is engaging in conversation as normal as if his fingers aren’t inside you. i imagine he does get closer and whisper profanities in your ear to make you cum though 🫶🏻

i am officially leaving this in crabies hands 🕺

making this rockstar girlfriend

your friends surround you, cheering and clapping for the musical acts. categories are announced and won, standing ovations are made for the worthies, and your table gets progressively rowdier. under it, hidden by the white cloth, matty’s fingers dip in your inner thighs.

it’s a light touch at first, taking full advantage of the short skirt you’ve adorned for the occasion. it clings to you, curving in all the right places, a teasing hem revealing your legs licking down to heeled feet, and matty practically begged to stay home when he saw you in it. to no avail, of course. you both had awards to win.

he makes do now, drawing circles and swirls on your inner thighs, climbing up and up your legs. you part them instinctively, gripping your napkin to stop you from making some embarrassing gesture; a moan, or a roll of eyes, or a pleading look. something to catch the camera, be replayed over and over. you maintain a face of ice; you clench the cloth until your knuckles are white.

matty sees the blank expression as a challenge, surely, because he finds your clit over your underwear. a lacy thing, worn just so he could tore it off later. although reasons bang at your temple, you’re too gone now to listen. he presses on your clit, rubbing faintly, and you bite your lip to cut the cry. pleasure strikes through you.

you turn to matty. he smirks, chatting to george. how dare he be so collected, so good at this. you glare at him. in contradiction, your legs spread further, practically begging him for more.

he does a few lazy swipes, making sure you’re ready and dripping for him when he finally tosses your underwear aside. he collects your wetness, smearing it on your clit as he attacks it again. your body tingles, euphoria waking it up gently. you make a small moan; gripping your glass, you take a long mouthful of your wine. in the red, you let yourself whine. just a little, because it’s buried and swallowed.

you know the calluses of his fingers well. they rub at you, aimed and practiced, knowing exactly how to make you fall apart. matty doesn’t seem in a teasing mood, instead circling and swiping at you until you’re breathless.

another category is being won. matty claps lazily with one hand on his knee. you stare at it, at him, make moan you can’t control. with shaky fingers, you clap too, glad the cheers swallow all the pathetic sounds you make.

when you’re already melting on your bones, pleasure swooping at you and coiling around your brain, matty teases your entrance again. he slides in without any more warning, making you gasp. you shove a hand over your mouth, pretend to be fixing your makeup when adam gives you a quizzing look. you grin bashfully at him.

beside you, matty snorts, offkey in his conversation with george. he curls his fingers inside of you, starting a slow pace, which you know perfectly well is just preparation to melt your brain from your ears. pleasure drums on your ribs, practically giggling at you as your legs shake, as your lips is bitten, as you blink your eyes in hope to not roll them tellingly.

he speeds up. of course he speeds up. you want to curse him, you want to hate him, but you roll your hips into his hand, catching your clit. a strike of ecstasy hits you, thundering through your body. pressure builds. you pant, cheeks heating up.

matty detangles himself from his conversation with george. he leans into, so fucking smug and knowing. ‘are you close?’ he whispers.

‘y— yeah,’ you manage out, choked and high-pitched. matty fucks you faster, grinning at you. ‘fuck,’ you breathe out.

your hands hold the edges of the table each. you think they’ll find your claw marks once all is said and done, buried into the wood because of matty fucking healy.

‘should i make you come?’

you whip to him. fear beats in your heart. ‘yes,’ you stress. he can’t leave you like this, wet and throbbing for him, so fucking close you can taste it. ‘yes, matty. please i— i have to—‘

‘you have to come in front of everyone?’ matty arches an eyebrow. you make a low noise, shameful. ‘want everyone to see?’

‘no,’ you whine, shaking your head. ‘just you.’

matty hums, pleased. as reward, he hits you deeper, over and over, vaguely rubbing your clit with his thumb: the most the awkward angle permits it. you bite your tongue. everything in you vibrates.

‘but you can’t hold it in,’ he tsks, like a fact. again, you shake your head, desperate. ‘you’re the one who teased me all day, wearing that dress and not letting me touch you. and now you think you should come?’

‘please,’ you beg.

devilish smile on his face. ‘is that the only word you know?’

‘matty,’ you moan, low. he snorts.

‘cute.’ he takes one of your hand from the table, white knuckled and clenched. kisses it. ‘it’s because you won that i’m letting you,’ he whispers. ‘deserve a prize for that, don’t you?’ you nod eagerly. ‘at home, though…’ he warns, and the letters trail deliciously.

‘whatever you want,’ you immediately promise. thoughtless, but brave. he gives you a look that says basically that.

matty curls his finger just so. you part your lips in wonder. ‘come, love. wanna taste you.’ your orgasm shakes you as soon as he lets it. you drop your head, trying to hide your face as it breaks open for him. you hope the cameras are far, far away.

‘that’s it, baby,’ matty coos as you slowly come back down. ‘just for me. no one can see you. no one hears all the pathetic sounds you make for me. always desperate, fucking throbbing like you’re trying to keep me there.’

slowly, he slips his fingers out of you. you whine, louder than you did before, as if the climax had taken away your brain. he sticks two fingers in his mouth, sucking on them. he pops them out wet with a grin. ‘no one can taste you either. they’re missing out.’

you make a low growl. you reach for his cock under the table, hard and waiting for you, but he pushes you away. you pout. ‘at home,’ matty promises. his wet hand finds the back of your chair, resting on it as he leans back, satisfied.

#i’ve actually never watched the brits cus i’ve never watched any award show cus i don’t care about award shows so Hopefully it’s accurate #rockstar girlfriend #ask #smut #blurb #matty healy smut

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the-meme-monarch · 3 months

Text

ok newsletter euphoria has worn off i hate love again

#why is sccs relationship ambiguous. confim theyre siblings Please. i need more characters who Cant be shipped.#characters just Saying theyre friends And Nothing More isnt enough for some reason.#them Saying theyre friends doesn work unfortunately. let peole be friends let people &characters exist outside the lense of romance shut up #sorry. i saw a post and have been bitter abt it. it wasn’t even utdr it was abt the owlhouse #romance is not 'the next step' after friendship. romance is not 'a better version' of a friendship. ill kill you #AND YEAH YES FRIENDSHIP IS A SPECTRUM. LOVE COMES IN SHADES. QPRS BLUR THE LINES.#but im Tired of people acting like platonic bonds are lesser. im tired of friendships in media Having to turn into a romance or Secretly be #im tired of characters fucking Existing in th same space and people going 'oh theyre in love' where. where.#'what about c/apsei' its funny. you guys cant even make your ships funny.

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https-capri · 2 years

Text

Xiao x Afab! Reader <33

Cw: general thirst, spitting, rough sex, implied lowercase, mean xiao, masturbating, fem body descriptions, kinda modern au(?) (reader has a phone), oral (f), vaginal penetration, xiao being a mean dom, cervix fucking, porn w a little plot (?) unprotected sex, creampie, name calling (slut, whore, etc) cringe fluff at the end

another tiresome day had passed with you not seeing your lover. it wasn't unlike xiao for him to disappear for days at a time, it just made you feel, lonely. luckily for him, you internalized most of your worries and were not vocal about any complaints either. so, to xiao, he only assumed you were fine with his absences.

your dimly lit home was the only thing welcoming you as you slipped off your shoes. dragging your hand along the wall as you made your way into your bathroom, glancing at yourself in the mirror. you looked exhausted. as of late, the bathroom had been your sanctuary, the feeling of peace and euphoria as the warmth from your hot shower enclosed the entirety of the bathroom with you in it brought a sense of comfort without xiao.

you waste no time stripping yourself of your clothes and turn on the shower head, cupping a hand under the water that was growing warmer. you enter the shower and bring yourself under the hot water, putting soap on your hands and massaging it into your body, softly humming to yourself as the rest of the typically bothersome sounds around you are drowned out.

washing yourself, your hands make your way to the mounds of your chest, kneading them with your hands. your body grows needy, shakily pressing yourself against the wall of the shower as your finger play with the buds of your nipples. a moan stifles from your throat as your head leans back, furthering yourself nearer to the ground.

taking a hand away you reach between your legs, you move a hand stroking up and down repeatedly on your clit. in a rush, you stop yourself and finish your shower so you can retrieve the 'toy' you have in your shared room with xiao. wrapping a towel around yourself, you step out of the shower, steal a glance at yourself in the mirror and leave to your room.

to your suprise, you are met with xiaos disheveled and worn down form standing in front of the door he only entered moments ago.

"oh, y/n. i apologi-" xiao begins only to be cut off with a huff from your end.

"i know, xiao. it's fine." you brush off his apology and try to focus on the fact that he's back.

concerned, you grow closer to him, inspecting the minor cuts on him.

"xiao. did you hurt yourself? i told you, if you go out to be careful, i know you ca-"

"hush. i've heard it a million times. im just happy to be back with you."

he swiftly cuts you off while undressing his upper half to shower. you let out a unsteady hum of dissatisfaction as you silently watch him brush past you to the bathroom.

you shut yourself into you and xiaos bedroom, laying down onto the bed in your towel, going to call your friend.

a few rings go by before their upbeat voice is heard from the speaker.

"y/n! what's up?" they ask, seemingly unoccupied with their full attention on you.

"uhm, is it okay if i rant a little?" you reply nervously.

"of course! what's wrong?" they ask, voice softening into one of slight concern.

"...xiao, he's usually gone out doing stuff around liyue and i don't really like it, but i haven't said anythi-"

"who's that?" xiaos voice spoke from behind you.

"oh.. uhm, sorry. i have to go" you meekly say before excusing yourself to talk to xiao.

"it was just.. a friend, hun" you say, giving him your undivided attention.

"uh huh, and.. what was that about me being gone?" he asks, intimidating aura growing as he walks closer to you, towel loosely wrapped around his hip.

you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it when he was mean, and you getting turned on from his act while wearing minimal coverage wasn't making you feel any better.

"ah! i just uhm miss you, but i don't want to be a bother or anything..." your voice trails off quietly as you avoid xiaos eyes.

"you serious? you don't think i miss you either? y/n, i miss you just as fucking much- but i have a job to do." he defensively argues back.

before you get a chance to speak, xiao crawls on top of your form lying down on the bed, leaving little space between the two of you.

"god i missed you so fucking much you don't understand." he says, hungrily shoving his face to yours, lips meeting as he bites at your lower lip.

you feel his tongue glide against the top of your mouth as you moan into the kiss, aimlessly grabbing at him to create more friction.

"fuck you taste so good angel, you don't know how long i've missed the touch of you." xiao groans against your lips as he pulls away from you, wiping the corner of his mouth tainted with your spit.

you pull him in by the back of his neck, fingers intertwining with the locks of his colorful hair as he obliges, his head falling into the crook of your neck. you feel him harshly sucking hickies of all different colors along your neck, forcefully grabbing your chin to turn your head the other way, giving himself more access.

xiaos hand travels lower to meet your chest, taking one of your clothed breasts in his hand. with his hands, he kneads the skin of your breast from over your towel, feeling your nipples harden under him. impatiently, he puts his knee in between your legs, brushing against your womanhood. completely submitting under his touch, you let him drag his knee up your sopping cunt, hardly being covered by the towel that lay over your lower half.

"let's get this off you." xiao sneers, belittling you with his glare, eyes tracing the curves of your body as he removes the towel that was covering you moments ago. you look at xiao with pleading eyes, wanting him to pleasure you.

xiaos hands wander over your body as you whimper under his touch. helplessly submitting to the man above you. he rubs soothing circles over your thighs as he eases them open, pulling you to the edge of your bed as he lowers himself between them.

licking a stripe from your knee to your cunt, xiao keeps his grip tight on your legs in a possessive manner. you whine as he leaves teasing touches over your aching center, neglecting it by leaving kisses on the inner parts of your thighs. eventually, he spreads your labia and spits onto your already wet clit, wasting no time attaching his soft lips onto it and suckling.

your back arches as you feel xiaos tongue swirl around the bud, your juices eagerly leaking from your desperate hole. he holds your thighs open, keeping his eyes focused on you. xiao parts his lips from your clit and lets out a slight gasp for air as he laughs airily, finding your vulnerable state amusing.

he rubs around your entrance, lathering your cream over the rest of your pussy as he shamelessly inserts 2 of his fingers. you gasp and let out a high pitched moan, hands grabbing at the sheets beneath you while xiao works his 2 lengthy digits inside you, curling them at a fast speed.

"think you're ready for me now hm?" xiao asks, pure mockery in his voice as he looks at your small frame, hardly giving you a chance to speak as his fingers never lose speed.

"mph! mhmm~" you manage to get out a sound of approval as you eagerly spread your legs wider, inviting xiao to fuck you senseless.

"look at you, slut. spreading your legs for me. all for me, right? 's all mine." xiao says, amber eyes piercing through you as he stands up, stroking his erection to spread his pre-cum on the shaft of his cock.

you hear xiao let out a shakey breath as he aligns his cock with your gaping cunt, bottoming out in one quick thrust.

xiao folds over top of you, arms on either side of your head as you look up at him seeing his face flushed red and brows furrowed. a raspy 'fuck' leaving his lips.

he pulls out until only his leaking tip is left inside you, thrusting back in with enough force for you to go backwards, xiaos eyes glued to the way your tits bounce whenever he puts his dick inside you.

"open" you hear xiao command, confused, you look up at him.

"do i have to say it again, whore? i fucking said open." xiao repeats, shoving his thumb in your mouth and pulling it open, him quickly spitting inside of it with a proud smirk evident on his face. you weakly swallow his spit and look up at him with teary eyes.

"good girl, such a good girl for me" xiao coos, bucking his hips far enough for his tip to hit your cervix, making you scream.

"say it, 'wanna hear you say my name" xiao says in between thrusts

"mm! xiao~ ahh" you incoherently whine, eyes shut tightly and mouth agape, barely being able to speak at all with xiao hitting the deepest parts of your cunt with each thrust.

"shit. wh-who's pussy is this, huh?"

"yours xiao! all~ mhh! yours~"

a knot that makes your tummy feel tight begins forming, tensing your lower abdomen you feel yourself clench around xiaos length.

"y/n~ ah.. ah" xiao says panting, desperately fucking into your tight cunt while chasing his high.

xiao moved a hand down to your clit, rubbing fast circles over it.

"xiao!! oh fuck..! gonna 'm gonna c-cum baby" you whine followed by moaning as you wrap your legs around xiaos waist, feeling his digits press harder on your clit as you grow closer to your orgasm.

"cum for me, let it all out y/n" xiao says breathless, speeding up his thrusts as you come undone around him, body spasming as your cunt throbs around him, xiao feeling himself about to cum as well. cum leaking out from where you two connected, having it get fucked back inside you by xiaos relentless pace.

"shit.. 'm gonna cum t-too..." xiao admits as his thrusts remain quick, growing sloppy as his hips grow loose, cumming inside you while his tip stays in contact with your cervix.

you squeal as xiao rides out his orgasm, continuing to thrust into you non stop as he leans forward to kiss you.

the aroma grows more passionate as you two intertwine tongues, moaning into each others mouths while xiao slows his pace, going deeper to hit the perfect spot inside of you.

"x-xiao, ..already came, 's too much" you pant, feeling the both of your juices combined leak out of you. xiao only gives a hum of acknowledgement in return.

he pulls out of you, cock throbbing against his toned stomach as he breathes heavily. you sit up, admiring your lover as you catch your breath.

you pull xiao in for a kiss by the back of his head and motion for him to lay next to you. sitting up, you turn to him and trace your finger over the various lines and muscles on his abdomen. feeling him shudder under you, he grabs at your wrist slightly to stop you, maintaining his dominance.

"seems your ready for another round?" xiao purrs next to your ear after sitting up, feeling his tongue lap over hickies that have already formed on your neck.

"..let me do this please, 'wanna make you feel good" you beg, moving your hand to stroke his hardening cock

"wanna make you feel good" you add on quietly. pushing xiao back onto the bed gently, you position yourself overtop of him so your straddling him. in a sloppy manner, you drag your hips over xiaos yet again erect cock and grind your pussy on it, letting out whimpers as you move your hands next to his head, xiao watching you attentively.

swiftly, you pick your hips up as move your hole over xiaos glistening tip and slam yourself down on him, resting your hands on his chest as you begin bouncing on his cock, hearing xiaos breath hitch when you pick up in speed.

"reduced to a slutty cocksleeve so desperate for my load, huh." xiao mutters to himself as he ruts his hips to match your pace. his eyes move nowhere other than your chest as your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing motion in front of xiao, a sight enough to make his mouth water. he keeps his hands firm on your hips as he feels himself growing closer to his climax rapidly, clenching his jaw and tossing his head back he drives his cock in and out of you desperately.

"ah! xiao n-not too fast! mm gonna c-cum again!!~" you insist, lowering your head as you continue bouncing above him, sounds of skin slapping echoing throughout the room.

"just like that, fucking make me cum.." xiao groans, sighing as he lets you reach your high, not anticipating that you'd both orgasm again at the same time.

with a high pitched moan, you feel your orgasm wash over you, stopping your movement as your body involuntarily twitches from the sensation. xiaos eyes widen as his cock twitches inside of you, shooting sticky ropes of white that paint your walls he fucked so nicely. out of breath you move off of him and collapse by his side. comfortingly, xiao strokes your hair.

"you did good, y/n thank you." he assures, content with the intimacy both of you shared only moments ago.

"mmhmm, 'm sorry for getting upset with you, xiao. you know i love you" you murmur quietly while closing your eyes, feeling your breath slowly steady itself.

xiao looks down at your resting form as a small smile creeps on his lips, appreciating your kind words. "it's no worries, angel. i love you as well." he says, voice getting further as he grabs a his towel from the shower to clean the both of you up before laying down next to you to rest for the night.

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A/N: hope this was okay! credits to the artists of the drawings above, they're amazing, apologies if the smut wasn't too great i'm just coming back from a break but i hope you enjoyed nonetheless. note: if you want to edit anything or translate or post on other platforms please give some sort of credit! that's all!! thank you for reading! <33

#genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin smut #gi smut #x reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao x you #xiao x reader #xiao smut #xiao fluff #adeptus xiao #SoundCloud

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