Hello Aqua, I Would Like To Request From Vamp Charles-Henri And #27 (69)

Hello Aqua, I would like to request from Vamp Charles-Henri and #27 (69)

I know I said I would start the holiday fics in December, but...it's December already, somewhere. Right? Thank you for waiting so patiently for this!

A Joyful Wish - Charles-Henri Sanson x Reader (Ikemen Vampire)

A/N: Part of the 'Tis the Season for Love Content Creation Challenge hosted by @xxsycamore and @voltage-vixen

Pairing: Charles-Henri Sanson x Reader

Prompt: smut prompt list - "Actually, there is one more thing on my wish list" and Bodies roasting by the open fire

Tags: NSFW; Minors - DNI; sixty-nine (position)

You moaned as he lavished you with attention, your mouth filled with his cock preventing you from screaming his name; his hands spread your thighs as his tongue probed your core. 

How did you end up here, half-naked by the fire you wondered, as your body writhed against his, your mind recalling earlier events.

*****

It started out as a quiet evening. You were lounging on the floor of the great room, cozy by the fire, while Charles rested his fluffy head on your lap as you fed him strawberries. 

“Did you steal these from Vlad?” you asked, holding a berry to his lips.

“And what if I did?” Charles sat up; his seafoam green eyes, twinkling under the moonlight, held your gaze as he plucked the red berry from your hand. He traced the outline of your pink lips with the plump berry before offering it to you for a bite. “Would you hate me?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, his voice barely a whisper.

“Never,” you replied breathlessly as his lips crushed yours in a bruising kiss. Charles tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer into his kiss, his tongue probing your parted lips.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” His breath is hot against your skin as he breaks the kiss only long enough to whisper his words to you. Without waiting for your reply, he continued. “Actually, there is one more thing on my wish list.”

Removing his mouth from yours, he leaned over and whispered in your ear his final wish, your eyes widening, your cheeks turning bright pink. “Charles…” you gasped. “What about Vlad and Faust?”

Charles smiled as he stole another strawberry and popped it in his mouth. “Faust is in his lab working on another experiment, he won’t be back here for hours. And Vlad is off doing…Vlad things.” He shrugged and looked at you with his puppy-dog eyes, hoping you would entertain his wish. 

Nodding slowly, somewhat in disbelief that you were agreeing to this, you smiled seductively at your lover. “Tell me what to do.”

*****

“Lie down next to me.” He cradled your head as he gently pushed on your chest, pressing your body against the floor. He settled next to you, his head dangerously close to your navel.

He rolled on his side and began to hike your skirt up, the heat from the fire warm against your bare skin. You shuddered as he tugged on your panties, his fingers teasing your slit. He pressed his hips closer to your face, a clear invitation for you to explore.

His fingers slipped inside your core; you took it upon yourself to undo his pants. After freeing his erection, you were rewarded with his stiff cock, warm in your hands.  Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, your fingers gently wrapping around his cock, savoring the feel of his skin against yours.

You brought his tip to your mouth; your lips parting, your tongue darting out. Wanting to feel him in your mouth, you licked his tip, tasting him before taking him in your mouth. Slowly, his cock filled you, your head bobbing on his cock as he inched down your throat.

Your clit teased by his tongue, you cupped his balls in your hand, massaging him, wanting to hear him moan. He slowly thrust his fingers deep inside your core, his pace quickening as your body reacted wildly to his touch. 

“Come for me,” he coaxed, his fingers thrusting faster inside you. Panting, you slid your mouth off his cock with a pop, a drop of precum fresh on your tongue. Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you stroked him as your body trembled with pleasure. 

Tagging: @redheadkittys @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @atelieredux @rhodolitesrose @ikehoe @kpop-and-otome @lucyw260 @queengiuliettafirstlady @kisara-16 @lordsisterxotome @violettduchess @umi-adxhira @bellerose-arcana @crypticbibliophile

Charles shifted his body; now facing you, he leaned in and kissed you, your taste fresh on his lips. “Thank you,” he whispered, pulling you close to him in a warm embrace.

it is me hehe :D

HELLO~

A little smiling Chevalier for you!👀

𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Gilbert von Obsidian x f!Reader

My contribution for Cozytober hosted by @randonauticrap ♡ I'm late for this challenge (╯▅╰)

Prompts: "You look scared.", "Do you believe in ghosts?", "Are you cold or are you blushing?"

Warnings: fluff, not beta-read, bad English, expect grammatical errors. ^^

WC: 2993 (ㅅ´ ˘ `) A/N: Nothing supernatural happened here xD

The mansion appeared to be normal, yet it has been believed for years that it is haunted.

Many people believed that the restless souls of those who perished tragically here several years ago still haunts the grounds.

You were staring at the mansion intently while listening to the staff of this game. The goal here is to collect 20 rose carvings. They also warned you that it wouldn’t be easy since there are also traps inside, and they are not allowed to help other participants. Once done collecting ten rose carvings from the east wing, the next task was to go to the west wing, solve the puzzle to get out of the mansion. Whoever is unable to escape the traps are considered eliminated.

The staff also made you choose your own key for the west wing, and Gilbert let you pick. You choose the color red.

The heavy doors opened as they welcomed you inside, and most of the players were excited, rushing to start the game.

"You look scared, little rabbit."

"Gil, this is a haunted mansion."

"Are you expecting to have some unseen creatures running after you?"

"Of course not."

It wasn’t even long before the game started, you heard a scream not far from you. It was horrifying that you instantly froze on the spot and tightened your grip on Gilbert’s arm.

"W-What the heck was that?!" Your eyes still barely adjust to the dimly lit place.

"Probably someone who stubbed his toe."

"I also sometimes stub my toe but I never scream like that."

You resumed your walk and entered the first room that was not yet open. To your luck, you find your first wooden rose. "They literally placed the rose in an area you wouldn’t even look at."

The rose was sitting at the very top of the cabinet. Gilbert just used his cane to hit the rose at the top and make it fall, he caught it and placed it in the basket that was provided to you. "Good bunny, you found our first rose." He praised you as he ruffled your hair.

When you enter the next room, the vivid rainbow swirls on the wall make you dizzy. "Another one." Gilbert said as he picked up the rose carving. "This first part is pretty easy."

"The real challenge here was on the west wing, I wonder what kind of puzzle they are talking about."

"We'll figure it out soon." He said.

You proceed to the next room but are unable to find another rose. Gilbert is also guiding you and making sure you don't fall into any of their traps. "Do you believe in ghosts?" He asks out of nowhere as you both searched one of the rooms filled with plush toys.

"Yes."

"Have you seen a ghost?" He asked again as he searched through the mountains of plush toys. "Ah, there you are." Gilbert picked up the rose and put it inside the basket.

"Well, I haven't. But there are things that science can't even explain." You answered as you checked under the sofa. "And another one. Two roses in one room huh. Not bad."

"Now that we've gathered ten roses, let's head to the west wing."

You left the room and proceeded to the west wing. You were startled by a loud collision, which was followed by angry yells. "I wonder if it's because the game is too difficult or because they can't get out of the traps..." Gilbert mused.

"Maybe both…"

A huge red door located at the far end of the west wing. It seemed strange when he opened the door. There were five odd doors, each with a different pattern etched on the top. The walls are lined in paintings of eerie unknown creatures from hell. There is also a mountain of small black cubes on a huge, banquet table.

In comparison to the rest of the mansion, the room was well-lit. However, the entire room had been painted black, including the chairs, table, and even the wooden floor, and the windows had been barricaded for unknown reasons. There was a small treasure chest just sitting in one of the chairs.

You threw a glance at Gilbert, and he did the same, before you both went in. The door abruptly slammed shut, and when he attempted to open it, it wouldn't budge. The key you chose was even useless since it did not fit the keyhole.

"Great, now we are trapped here."

Gilbert is inspecting the keyhole and, after a few seconds, he grinned at you. "Lockpicking this door may take longer because it is different from the other doors, but-" His grin widened and you stepped backwards immediately, just your back hitting the pillar. Gilbert then leaned down slightly, his voice almost hushed, and you could almost taste his breath. "This is our perfect chance of being alone." He says, his voice alluring.

The memory of being in the same situation but in the rose garden, where he just kissed you not once, but twice, makes your cheeks flush.

"Are you cold or blushing?" He teased, and before you could respond, he moved fast and nipped your ear.

"That hurts!" You shrieked.

Instead of apologizing, Gilbert just gave you a smug smile. "Let's get these puzzles solved so we can get out of here."

And with that, he moved to observe the strange doors. You continued to frown as you followed him.

. . . . . . . . .

Each black cube has red marks, but with different patterns that will match the patterns on the doors.

After finding the last piece with the correct pattern above one of the doors that would fit the hole, you inserted the cube. And when you thought you could finally get out as you opened the door, it was just a wall. You just sighed and massaged your nose bridge.

"Are you already giving up?" Gilbert asked as he stood alongside you.

"If this is a real-life situation, like if your life relies on it, getting your hopes up, thinking you can get out of here, just to find out the door you just opened is simply a wall on the other side, it's devastating." You can’t help but to feel annoyed. "The paintings in this room also make me feel really uncomfortable, and I want to get out of here as as soon as possible."

"Are you scared then?"

"No." You sighed again. "Let's try the third door, I'll go check that side."

"Alright."

You walked to the other side, but the floor you just stepped on suddenly opened, and you screamed as you fell.

The floor you just stepped on was a trap door.

You prepared yourself for the hit until you landed upon the mattresses, only to bounce off of the material and fall on the hard, cold floor.

"Gilbert!" You tried calling for him, but you couldn't hear him from above.

You turn around and see what type of trap you are in right now.

The room has doors on each side of the wall. Not far from where you landed, there was a matchbox on the floor and a small candle. You tried to remove the lamp that was sticking on the wall but it was just impossible to remove it.

You peered up, but it was dark, indicating that the trap door was shut, so you picked up the matchbox and the candle and decided to find an exit. 

. . . . . . . . .

Another dead end again. It seems like the underground labyrinth with doors is neverending. You even lost count on how many times you’ve met a dead end and you lost count on how many times you got lost trying to get back on track.

Too exhausted from trying to escape, your eyes and mind are now playing tricks on you. Your candle has already melted, and you lit the last match as you continued opening the heavy door until the flame started to flicker, and eventually, it was distinguished.

You are alone in the darkness, lost in the labyrinth. The silence is so maddening. You opened another door that leads to another room with doors. Your hand was on the wall to guide yourself, and you felt a wood beneath your skin, letting your fingers run across the wood until you felt a cold iron. You turned it, but it was locked. You moved on to the second door, and the third. All doors are locked in this room. 

As you were about to head back to the door where you came in, you suddenly heard footsteps besides yours. You stopped and listened carefully but nothing.

When you started to walk to the only exit in the room, you heard the second footsteps. You practically step backwards until your back hits the wall. 

"W-who's there?" Your voice almost whispers, ragged breathing, your heart is pounding so fast.

Fear starts to creep on you and remember more stories about this mansion. You try to shrug away those and think positive, but your mind is doing its worst job to scare you.

Tears start to form in your eyes as you sit on the floor hugging your knees to your chest as soon as you start hearing footsteps getting closer and closer.

"Found you…"

You look up to find Gilbert, who is almost out of breath holding a lamp. He approached you and put the lamp down as you reached for him, and he embraced you in his arms.

"It's okay. You're okay now." He said as he held you tight. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you."

You shook your head as you finally calmed down. "Please don't apologize. And thank you. But how did you–"

"It was the third door. The foreign letters written on the walls are the clues for this place." He moved a little, his fingers gently wiping your tears. "Are you hurt?" 

"No…"

Gilbert sighs in relief. "Let's get out of here."

You didn’t talk anymore as he held your hand and made your way out.

. . . . . . . . .

It was a relief when the door he unlocked using your key was finally the exit, and you could go directly back to where you started the game. You didn't ask him how he figured out which way is which.

The staff were smiling but then froze when they saw you, well, actually, your partner.

You look up at Gilbert, he was smiling but it was clear he was in a bad mood. Instead of greeting them, he just ignored them as he led you by the bench and you both took a seat to rest. "Gil… I just noticed, but where are the roses?"

"Screw that."

"What?"

"That doesn't matter anymore."

"But isn't that the reason why we participate in this game?"

"After what just happened, do you still want to continue?"

"Yes."

"I left it in that room, since we already got out of the mansion, I'll tell them to go and retrieve it."

You nod your head and wait for him as he goes and talks to staff. While waiting, you slowly pulled up the sleeve of your dress. Your left forearm was bruised and swollen. Earlier, you weren't paying much attention because your main concern was getting out of that labyrinth.

Pulling out the handkerchief from your pocket, you carefully wrapped it around your wrist before pulling down the sleeve. When you looked at Gilbert talking to the staff, their heads were low, as if they were being scolded.

You immediately understand the situation and rush to him. He’s telling them about the safety precautions of the place.

His voice was calm, however you yourself can't help but to feel scared. It was the same feeling when you first met. Gilbert has this deadly atmosphere by just standing there.

You took a deep breath and placed your hand on his shoulder. "Gil..." You said gently. He smiled as he turned to face you. You're at a loss for words as his red eye looks at you.

"This is quite a rare sight."

A familiar voice made you lower your hand. "Clavis?! What are you doing here?"

"I was summoned, saying that one of the participants would like to talk to me. Congratulations on getting out of the mansion." He greeted you with a smile before he looked at Gilbert. "If only that certain 'annoying person' isn't asking for my help."

That 'certain annoying person' must be Chevalier, since Clavis would never run an errand for Sariel.

"You were the organizer of this place?"

"Of course. How I wish I was there before the game started so I can watch you all struggling to escape. So, what would you want to talk about?"

Gilbert proceeds to tell Clavis about the trap door. "It wasn't safe, the little rabbit fell in and was trapped in that underground labyrinth. What if something worse happened to her?"

Clavis eyes widened as he looked at you. "You fell? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not."

"Ah, thank goodness. That palace devil will surely get mad if you were hurt." He says. "Since we don't have much time to renovate it, I decided to exclude the trapdoor as one of the entrances to the labyrinth from the game, but I should have placed furniture on that trap door." The smile fades as he stood up against Gilbert. "What happened to the little rabbit was a complete accident and my people are innocent. I will take full responsibility."

"It's fine, Clavis. But what about the red key? We used that to open the door from the labyrinth."

"Yes, that key can open the door in the puzzle room as well. When you put all of the correct cubes and opened it, there's only a long, dark corridor. The exit is located at the very end." Clavis explained, then gave you a meaningful look and smiled again. "But first, as part of the game, please raise your hands."

You did as Clavis instructed, and one of the staff members tied a red string around Gilbert's pinky fingers and yours.

"You were the first participants that got out of the mansion, please follow me to the gardens." The third prince said. "I was actually surprised that you joined the game, since this is actually a game for lovers."

"What?"

"Weren't you informed that this game is only for lovers?" Clavis asked.

"No, the lady must have mistaken us for–"

"Why is this game only for lovers?" Gilbert cuts you off.

"Because by the end of the game, there's a romantic candlelit dinner under the full moon. But I understand why the lady approached you and told you about this game." The third prince smiled as he led you to your table. "Oh, by the way. Part of the rules for this game is that once the red string is tied to your fingers, you have to feed each other."

The staff greeted you with a smile and started assisting you from pulling out your chairs to placing various foods in front of you.

"Enjoy your dinner."

"Of course we will. Thanks." Gilbert responds.

Clavis then excused himself, leaving you and Gilbert.

"I'm hungry. Let's eat."

You took turns feeding each other, and because the food was cooked by Clavis, it was so bizarre that just looking at it made your stomach turn but the taste isn’t weird as it looks.

The candlelit dinner was surrounded by soft music. It was almost the perfect date for lovers. Only if you and the prince aren't friends.

═════════════════

"Would you like to dance? It doesn't have to be formal." You asked him right after dinner.

Gilbert was taken aback, but he smiled at you. "I never expected a woman to invite me to dance."

He stood up and held out his hand to you, which you happily accepted. Instead of holding him on his shoulder, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his chest while your bodies swayed slowly to the gentle music. His arms were around your waist.

It took a few minutes before you broke the silence.

"Thank you… For finding me."

"You're welcome."

A whizz distracted you, followed by the thunderous sound of the guns. When you looked up, fireworks soared into the sky one after the other. It was bright and colorful, with red, green, purple, and gold lights illuminating the night sky.

"It's beautiful." You said as you were too absorbed in the fireworks to notice Gilbert's attention on you and his almost whispered words.

"Yeah. You're so beautiful."

. . . . . . . . .

It was past midnight when you left that 'haunted' mansion.

Gilbert's fingers caress your hair as you fall asleep on his lap. The red string was still tied around your pinky fingers. He smiled softly as he remembered what had transpired today. Everything was almost perfect until you fell and got lost in the labyrinth.

He saw you seemed to be hiding your other arm from his view, so he slowly lifted your arm while you were sleeping, and the first thing he noticed was the puffiness of your sleeve, then he gently pulled it down, unwrapped the handkerchief.

The swollen and bruised forearm changes his mood. Why did you lie to him?

You know how he hates lies. 

A memory of you crying in the dark and reaching out for him when he found you quickly eased the irritation he felt after discovering you lied to him about not being hurt.

Gilbert wrapped the handkerchief around your forearm and will let this lie slide for now.

His gaze was transfixed on you while stroking your cheek. The only one who can smile and talk freely to him without feeling threatened, the only one who enjoys being with him, the only one who can make him happy and less lonely.

It was only you.

He returned his gaze to your injured arm and sighs.

Gilbert will definitely burn that mansion.

Tagging: @atelieredux @thewitchofbookswith ♡

CYRAN x READER

More Questions Than Bodies Have Answers For

ONESHOT . SMUT . ANGST

minors/ageless blogs please do not read/like/reblog any of my works where this warning appears (you will be blocked)

x o x o x o

"Cyran... Rose... You are... the..." Your voice sounds strange to your ears.

That last moan from you, that hideously lewd mewling that no bookstore employee has ever made, echoes fresh in your memory, and fresh onto the slender, freckled hand between your quivering legs.

Has he done this before? You're certain now that Cyran is pressing shapes into you that very much do not exist in reality. And the way his low panting, at once dreamy and bestial, matches his strokes is nothing short of hypnotic.

But you can't let yourself runaway with it.

Cyran's not on break, exactly. What are the chances Clavis even remembers whatever errand he sent him on this time? The castle grounds are vast, and there are avenues galore to a particular destination. Detours are completely natural. Probably.

You happened to be in the wine cellar running an errand for Jin, and Cyran happened to... happen by... and...

The exact sequence of events has been lost to heady mouth-plundering, and most of it rattled from your train of thought when your back hit the side of some shelf in the damp dark.

"You're nervous." Cyran ends his sibilant consonants the way an Obsidianite does, but his terse half-lilt is through-and-through the mark of a Rhodolitian knight. And his voice--something you can no longer divorce from the tongue of an amorous kisser--is so terribly warm and balmy.

So why don't your nerves settle into its safety?

Cyran seems unsure of what to do for a moment. His gaze is drawn to your lips but he pulls it back to read your eyes every time he strays. With each flicker his irises catch the hanging lantern's rippling firelight, somehow making him even more bewitching to look at. And that does the complete opposite of putting your breathing into order.

Finally Cyran slides the hand he has over your breast under your arm to wrap around your back. His calloused fingertips run reassuring lines up and down between your shoulder-blades. His other hand pulls away from your center and begins massaging your leg in a similar rhythm. The feel is still hot and sensuous around the edges, but his intent is clear. He's even put some distance between you two, as you can no longer feel his ardor against your inner thigh. And of course that's upsetting too.

"I don't know why I'm being like this," you answer honestly. You pull him closer and rest your forehead against his disheveled collar. He'll be able to hide that love-bite easy enough.

Your eyelids feel heavy all of a sudden, with a false drowsiness that comes from overstimulation. It's Cyran's scent. It truly drives you mad.

Cyran's scent becomes more and more familiar to you with every encounter. Soldier's musk, sweat, but those are mere windfalls against the full-bodied bouquet of sunshine and summer that imbues his skin. Yet it's not wild like unchecked garden growth. Everything about Cyran feels ordered and disciplined. Like he's shopped through time and placed every new vial of himself into a gorgeous display for anyone to appreciate.

At their leisure. Even when princes linger in the same room.

Cyran is a wonder.

But that order and discipline seem shaken now. You don't know if you're projecting or if Cyran is every bit as nervous as you are. This is what, though, your third time doing this together? There is nothing forbidding you from having any sort of affair with...

Wait, is this just an affair? Is that what's bothering you?

...Is this the best time to have that conversation?

Should that conversation have been had three trysts ago?

You don't like that word, you think. You and Cyran are not that word.

Cyran is staring at you wide-eyed. "Why are you making that face?"

You bite your lip and tuck your head against his shoulder again. "What face? Don't read too much into it, please. ...What face?"

"I don't know!" Cyran panics, dropping both hands and surrendering you to the cold cellar. "I'm sorry, I should just-"

"No, please!" You wrap your arms around him. Your heartbeat seeks his out where your chests connect. "You feel so good." It's true but also not what you mean at all.

Cyran falls silent for a moment too long. You count three drops of water from a loose tap somewhere in the shadows. Then he sighs and gently unlatches your arms. "We should-"

"Talk?" Your voice is pulled taut. "Can we?"

"I really have to go soon."

"Cyran..." But hope springs to life when you notice his expression twist at his own words. Maybe he's saying the wrong words too, just like you are?

Still, he walks backward from you, boots strangely silent over the stone floor, until he hits the shelf opposite. "What happens when your month here ends?"

"I go back to town." No. No, you want to say so much more but the words are getting lost somewhere, because Cyran Rose is a knight, and Cyran Rose is kind and beautiful, and maybe you and Cyran Rose never should have happened and-

"And would you think of me?" A voice that vulnerable has no business being this far away from your listening ears. "Do you think of me?"

"Cyran, I wouldn't touch you like this if you weren't on my mind literally all the time."

"All the time?" You can hear the embers of a smile. "Even when... you're, um... alone?"

Your cheeks are a furnace. Certainly it's only natural for Cyran to ask this, and you'd be lying if you weren't immediately, presently, thoroughly occupied with what his answer would be to the same question. You wonder what his bedchambers look like, or if he has to stop himself and duck into some alcove between training, ashamed and cheeks burning, or even...

You blow out a mouthful of air and scuffle your toes against the ground. You were thinking of Cyran very intimately just this morning before Rio brought you your tea. "Would the truth make you uncomfortable?"

"If the truth is what I want it to be then I think it would make me incredibly..." He suddenly turns around and faces the shelf. "I'm sorry. This conversation has gotten so weird, and it's entirely my doing. I'm so sorry."

The sight of this usually so placid knight cowering from you in a cellar draws and quarters you between disbelief, adoration, confusion and a sudden desire to tease.

"Are you still in a rush to leave?"

"Honestly? I'd love to just evaporate away right now."

You wait. You wait an entire minute, not saying anything. And at no point does Cyran make any move to leave. In fact, he even looks over his shoulder, and the look in his eye...

Emboldened, you take several steps toward him and hug him from behind. Emboldened, you slide your hand over the front of his pants, hoping...

Cyran's unfiltered groan fills the entire cellar. Then he bonks his head against the shelf in front of him. "Fuck. Excuse me. Wow. That was loud."

"It was." You press your chest against his back and writhe upwards, finding it strangely easy to be coquettish. "It was really hot too."

Cyran clears his throat. "Shouldn't we be talking?"

"Shouldn't you be leaving?"

"I'm rather, uncomfortably comfortable right where I am, thanks."

Another two drops of water fill the silence. Then the tension bursts into mutual laughter.

If Cyran's voice is lovely with hellos and small-talk, it is pearls on a necklace with laughter. As rich as any prince.

And the way his laugh seems to dance perfectly around yours? How many couples can say that?

Couple. Now that's a word you like. But it's up to Cyran to pull that into his vocabulary for you two.

And there's still a chance that he...

You drop your hand but Cyran catches your wrist and guides you back.

"Cyran...?" You turn your head and rest your cheek against his back.

"Please. I like it when you think of me."

Your heart surges. "Can I take that to mean what I hope you mean?"

He cups your palm around him, rubbing slow, languorous strokes along the hardened length. "I wouldn't want to be touched like this unless you were the one touching me." His breathing is hypnotic with how controlled it is, how it compliments the movements of his and your hand.

You do, you really truly do. Want to runaway with him.

Again, and again, and again.

Lost in the moment, in Cyran, in his quiet beauty, you press a light kiss into his back. "Then maybe... you could show me your bedroom sometime?"

--

credit as always to thewitchofbooks for cyran info and inspiration

Your writing is just amazing and I absolutely love your detailed kiss fics, they're truly just such perfection! ❣️

I wonder if you could please do one for Nokto Klein?? Please and thank you! 🙏🏻

A/N: Here you go anon!

Word Count: 441

He is beautiful when he sleeps. He is honestly always beautiful to you, your silver-haired, silver-tongued love, but when he’s sleeping, there is an air of innocence about him that leaves you weak in the knees. His handsome, sharp features are relaxed into a softness that is only visible when his usual current of energy, the one that underlies his waking movements and ignites the spark in his crimson eyes, is at its lowest, at a mere hum instead of a bright stream.

But Nokto possesses a sixth sense when it comes to you, a supernatural knowing of when you are near, whether your gaze is seeking him across a crowded room or running over his sleeping face as tenderly as a caress. First his arm moves, his hand reaching out across the sheets and finding you. Once he has you in his grasp, he pulls you against the sleepy warmth of his body. Those eyes open, red depths already flickering with desire. His voice is still rough with those last, clinging tendrils of sleep and when he says your name, the sound slinks its way through you, slow and beguiling. It is a sensual purr that you feel in the base of your stomach, a provocative murmur that rolls languidly through your veins.

In the space between heartbeats he moves, rolling until he has you underneath him, his body pressed against the length of yours, welcome and thrilling. He lowers his head, moonlight hair falling across the sharp planes of his cheekbones as he whispers against your neck, the column of your throat. Silken words wrap themselves around your skin like ribbons. He binds you with velvet promises, his hands sliding over your forearms, nimble fingers curling around your wrists, arms pinned above your head. His words rain down on you, tiny drops of fire, driving you to the edge of madness. You want to feel that mouth on you, not just the ghost of his breath. You want to swallow each tempting word that drops from his lips like nectar.

You know the man you love. You know how to stop his cruel teasing. Holding that red gaze with yours, unafraid of the heat smoldering in them, you lick your lips, arching your body under his in a way that screams “more”. He may be a tease, but he is helpless in the face of his desire for you. His mouth crashes into yours, hungry and determined to feast. He feels like a draught of cold water to a body that’s burning. You respond eagerly, greedily, drinking in his lips and tongue, drunk on his taste and the wild rollercoaster of his hunger.

You're at the mercy of his masterful mouth, of his adroit touch. And there is nothing else in the world that could please you more.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @scorchieart

CYRAN x READER

...Are Red ...Are Blue

drabble . angst . blood mention . kissing

minors and ageless blogs please dni

° ° ° °

"Cyran. I don't think... I don't think last night was a mistake."

Cyran's hands register the words seconds before his placid mask ripples under moonlight and distorts, breaking, ruining and elevating his beautiful smile; and there, where you can't look away, like blood spatter, his clutched bouquet spills out over your bare, stone-scraped feet. Because maybe the ribbon around the stalks were bound in apology, and maybe each flower found its way into a sweaty grip writing goodbyes into garden air while a pretty red brow hung with reasons you have no right to know. Because that would be so like Cyran, to gently let you down into your tears so you wouldn't have to crash.

All falls are crashes. It's just sometimes you have the luxury of choosing which organs burst.

The roses you manage to save find a new bed in your arms, this shield wrought of self-solace years in the making without you ever knowing, but when you stand back up and dare to sight beyond your glistening lashes, Cyran's lips take you.

All falls are crashes.

And it's different from the night before. His kiss is proof that the person you are today is different from the person you were yesterday and the person you will be tomorrow. Beginnings get marked with kisses. Promises are immortalized in them. Cyran's kiss, crushing his roses between you, bending you into his clawing, beastly, cradling hand, is the birth of a hero come to claim his runaway.

When he pulls back into moonlight his hair is tousled and wild, his smile hangs draped in sensual shadow-shapes with glimpse of pearly teeth, and his only word is an invitation, awkward and a bit boyish, but written into the garden's ears in a language beyond those of any rose.

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Once again heavily-inspired by gilbertvonobsidian and his heartwrenching, genius fic Lillian