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petrichorium · 6 months

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you know jing yuan has been watching you since you emerged from the bathroom.

he lays in the bed, eyes blissfully closed whenever you sneak a glimpse—the covers are haphazardly tossed over his body and he gives a perfectly sound impression of himself dozing away in the dimmed light of the hotel room, but you know better.

you can feel his gaze on you every time you look away; have felt it since you’d stepped out in a bathrobe and turned your back on him to put on your clothes. you’d have thought that he’d jump at the chance to zip up the minidress you’d chosen; apparently, whatever intent he has with his faux sleep outweighs his typical enthusiasm to put his hands on your body.

(you emphasize your struggle anyway, pouting and sighing and all but audibly lamenting how oh, you wish your handsome boyfriend were awake, his hands are so much more skilled and steady, to no avail)

those eyes are still closed when you turn to make your way towards the vanity. you’d splurged on the hotel room, admittedly eager to show your lover the best your home system has to offer, though he’d probably name the bed as his favorite part.

jing yuan’s eyes had lit up when he’d first seen it—a large cupped thing like a bowl, lined with plush cushion and plenty spacious enough to comfortably fit five people. it’s built out into a bubble window on one side of the bedroom and the vanity you currently sit at is placed opposite, thus a perfect vantage point for him to observe you as you pull your stockings up your legs and then set about doing your makeup—which, as you apply a final choice of lipgloss, is now complete. with a quick glance to the clock ensuring you and he still have half an hour before you need to leave, you stand and turn to look at him.

while he relaxes his face and keeps his eyes stubbornly shut, it’s no coincidence that he turns over with your motion. it pulls the covers mostly off his body, ruffles his hair. the sigh he lets out is content, not sounding tired in the slightest. you huff a laugh.

he shifts again. the sheet falls further—almost nothing covers him now, little more than a strip of cotton across one upper thigh that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination with how wide his legs have been spread.

you approach the bed fully, padding over with stocking-covered feet on the carpeted floor until you stand right behind him. reaching out, you brush his bangs up out of his eyes and over his forehead, bending over at the same time to look over his lounging form.

“i know what you’re doing,” you say sternly, though you’re gentle as your fingertips caress him. “it won’t work.”

“won’t it?” jing yuan’s voice isn’t even laced with sleep; it’s perfectly alert, teasing, as he tilts his head back to give you more access.

you press a sticky kiss to his forehead. it leaves a shimmering mark of your lip gloss, tinted a faint pink. “you don’t have to come. you’re more than welcome to stay behind if you want.”

“we could remain here for a night in,” he counters. “this bed is… a marvel.”

his words have you giggling lightly. this time you kiss the mole just beneath his closed eye, drawing a heavy, pleased sigh from the elegant curve of his lips. your hand cradles his cheek, thumb reaching out to trace his cupid’s bow.

“tempting as that may be, we have a very limited amount of time on this trip. i’m not giving up on the only night i’ll be able to spend time with my friends like this.”

his hand, large and calloused and warm, reaches up to stop yours from pulling away. he turns into your touch, nuzzling at your palm with a petulantly grumbling noise. still, when his rough fingers move to lace with yours, you slip from his grasp and step away.

“i’m going with or without you, jing yuan,” you declare. “but if you’d like to come, you need to get ready now.”

“how very demanding. i must say, i thought i had successfully evaded orders when i took leave…” now he yawns and makes a show of stretching. you watch him shift, all lethargic grace, every motion meticulously planned—thighs tensing, stomach twitching, arms bulging. a display for you, a last-ditch effort to seduce you back into bed.

you snicker. it won’t work, but you’re hardly inclined to complain. it’s a pretty sight to see regardless; all that honed muscle working beneath porcelain skin, those scattered moles and full brush of stark white hair only emphasizing each sinewy movement. you’re drawn nearer once more, inclined to get a better look—that’s your mistake.

above all else your lover is a cunning man. it’s a miracle he put that mind to use for good, because he utilizes it for far more sinister things when it comes to you. beckoning you closer, setting up the trap, baiting it with his own body; your legs meet the edge of the bed and, though he’s still only halfway onto his stomach, a big hand darts out to catch behind your knee, so fast you don’t realize what’s happened until he’s dragging you towards him with inescapable strength.

your shin drags over the bed’s lowered entrance. the sheer speed of it all has you stumbling, only just managing to catch yourself with a hand on the raised side.

jing yuan lets out a disappointed little grunt. his touch is gentle, coaxing, as he attempts to pull your leg even closer. when that proves futile he eases himself towards you and presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. tilting his head up, he fixes you with a heavy-lidded look, those striking golden eyes glinting beneath long, pretty lashes.

“are you certain i cannot convince you to stay?”

“yes,” you answer without hesitation, entirely unmoved by his responding whine. you remain stoic, too, when he drags your lower leg into the bed and begins to kiss down the side of your calf, lips searing, lingering longer and longer with each press to your stocking-covered skin. upon reaching your ankle he gives far too much attention there; free hand reaching around to grab hold of your foot and maneuver it to let him pepper nipping kisses along the top.

with your face growing hot and your leg squirming beneath his attention, you forget entirely about his other hand—until it pinches at the thin fabric behind your knee and tugs, fast and hard. the mesh rips with ease, a run tearing down the length of your calf. you yelp, attempting to pull back but stopped by the immovable grip he has on you. he sinks his teeth into the back of your ankle just enough that you’re certain it’ll leave a mark, but when he pulls away it’s obvious what his true intent was.

this time the rip is loud, fabric caught between his canines and giving way like tissue paper. you stumble back and yelp out a protest; his grip becomes solid, tugs you back to him so strongly that you lose your footing and spill into the soft drum beyond. he’s atop you instantly, caging you in with a thick arm on either side of your head.

“jing yuan!” your wail is swallowed by a kiss, but even as his tongue delves into the hot cavern of your mouth it cannot distract from the tattered remains of your stockings. you lift your knee to brace it against his chest; there’s a loud, wet sound as he finally pulls away from your mouth and buries his face into your neck.

“stay,” he groans out between each searing, open-mouthed suck at your skin. “let me hoard you, let me keep you to myself—”

“i thought that was my job?” your words catch and come out breathy as he trails lower, running a hand down the side of your body and then shamelessly shoving it up the hem of your dress—which has, admittedly, ridden up indecently high. still, you do your best to continue. “stealing you away from your responsibilities on the luofu.”

“a dual effort, then. we must be made for each other, my dear.”

his grip on your thigh is almost painful. he nuzzles at the other, reverent, eyes clouded over when they dare to flit up to meet yours. when his tongue pokes out from between plush lips, wetting them and then retreating, you realize the intent seconds before he bows his head.

you’re faster. your hand flies to his hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking back just before he manages to burrow beneath your skirt. for half a moment the pair of you remain there, frozen—his lips halfway parted, your chest heaving with pants. you blink. then you slowly ease your legs from beneath his torso.

“i told you,” you say, tightening your grip until his eyes flutter and he lets out an obscene, unabashed groan, “it won’t work. you can wait until after we come home.”

you’re precise as you peel yourself away; you keep your spare hand free to swat at any further attempts to pin you, slide your body out from beneath him until you can perch up upon the bed’s entrance and catch your breath as you stare down at him.

jing yuan props his head in his hand and returns your look. you click your tongue, but it’s impossible to fight back the affection in your tone. “scoundrel.”

his lips twitch. “so they say.”

“it’s deserved.”

“i can hardly deny it. i only wish you put up less of a fight.”

“no you don’t.”

“no,” he concedes, “i don’t.”

finally you turn and stand. the feeling of the carpet beneath your bare foot reminds you that you need to change your stockings—you frown as you glance at tattered remains of fabric on your leg.

“bastard,” you hiss out, far more venomous than the previous accusation. your suitcase lies closed upon the dresser; you approach it to dig through for your spare.

behind you, still, you hear no sound of motion. you sigh loudly, dropping the ball of socks in your hand and turning your head just barely to give jing yuan a lidded look where he’s draped himself over the side of the bed, arms crossed and biceps bulging as he watches you. never one to give up; a stubborn, bullheaded man who would chase you to the farthest reaches of the universe for a single kiss, only spurred onward by your fleeing.

perhaps you’ll throw him a bone.

“if you’re fast enough,” you begin sweetly, “i’ll let you help me into this new pair.”

he’s up instantly, darting for the bundle of clothes you’d set out for him before you’d even showered with a speed rarely seen outside of the battlefield. the offer will make you late, surely, and quite possibly cost you your second pair of stockings—you’re well aware his mind is running wild with schemes to bury his head between your thighs and glut himself on his well-earned prize in whatever fleeting time you might give him before finally shoving him away.

but what kind of leisure trip would it be if you didn’t give in to his whims?

#jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #mine.🌧#char.🌧 jing yuan #heavily selfship coded but not the elaborate lore building stuff just yet....... eventually tho. probably

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ineffably-human · 9 months

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Guillermo must read like a Southern Gothic post to his entire family.

Imagine your only kid has been married to his work in food service/the railroad/food service at the railroad? for fifteen years and it's the reason he never sees you. One time he came home and said he could get you a mini-fridge from his friend who was once dead but it's fine now. He left to go get it and didn't come back. Some people are filming the whole time.

Another time he disappeared to London for a year, and when he came back he finally let you see his house. It's a trash-covered mansion with a tree through the ceiling. He appears to live there by himself. He's exchanged his sweaters for Versace and a watch that's more expensive than God. He tells you he's gay, which you knew, even though you've never talked about it and he's been sending you photos of some woman you haven't met (you think?) for years. Some people are again filming, this time for his grandma's birthday, except there's no cake or presents and you never see a copy of the videotape.

He bought you a house last year. But the first time he's come for your birthday in three or four years he doesn't bring a gift, and spends the time frantically whispering to someone on the phone. The people are still filming him. It's been like five years of them filming him. He's in the sweaters again.

He tells you he can't say why or what's going to change for him, but he can never see you again. You ask if what he's doing is making him happy but don't give him time to answer. It's the first direct question you've really asked him all evening. Then you ask him where his crucifix is. He needs one, it'll help. It's really important that he have one, and he keeps losing them. So scatterbrained. This is what will make it better.

(You don't see his face as you force the chain around his neck. You don't see him disappearing before your eyes. Was it always this way, with you two, or did it happen over time?)

You casually tell the cousin who's been lecturing him all night that he comes by weekly now to say goodbye forever. Your sweet boy, so dramatic, even as a child. So mysterious. You just don't know what he's thinking. But he'll be back.

#i know there's rule of comedy and cultural markers that aren't my background and stuff #(and also that we learn it's not the first time they've had the conversation)#but i feel like guillermo learned how to shop at the emotional repression store really young #anyway if he were my kid i'd be scared he was drug trafficking #fandom: wwdits #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #guillermo de la cruz #char: guillermo the relentless #i am a meta gremlin

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