Xiaotopia - Xiaotopia

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, cheating, scandals, drugs, drama, family drama a/n: hi everyone! this is where you can find the masterlist, again aiming for at least 15 chapters.

chapter 1: a not so good day

chapter 2

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xiaotopia

4 years ago

if it’s needed

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xiaotopia

4 years ago

in your dreams | m.

pairing: xiao/f!reader

wc: 7.140

genre: smut, hurt/comfort

cw: exes to lovers

tags: past toxic relationship, alluded past abuse, blood and violence, xiaos love language is touch, soft!xiao, dom!xiao, fingering, squirting, wet&messy, spitting (lit once), reassurance kink, very mild dumbification, dacryphilia if u squint, aftercare

summary: your life had finally become normal without him. but it took one encounter to undo a millennia of hard work.

note: it isn't specified what reader is but she is not human and is very old as well as she's known xiao for a long, long time.

+ also adepti do not need sleep in this fic so!!!

this blog is a dark content blog please dni if you don't like it.

Winding up at Wangshu Inn wasn’t in your plans. Tired and worn out, a sudden thunderstorm was the final straw.

You climbed the steps of the Inn, out of breath by the time you reached the front desk. Your room was cozy for the most part, so much so that you felt out of place soaking wet and dripping onto the wooden floors.

You didn’t even have a change of clothes. You opted to shed your outermost layers, the thick material having kept your undergarments dry for the most part. Hanging up your soaking clothes, you place a towel on the floor to catch the dripping water and climb into bed.

The sound of thunder and rain lulled you into a restless nap to pass the time.

It wasn’t often that you dreamt. In fact, many years had passed since you recall dreaming. This one was particularly vivid. Featuring a face you had hoped to never see again.

The golden eyes of your ex lover sent shivers down your spine. The wind blew, tousling his hair every which way. He stared at you, regarding you with the same neutral face you’d known him to wear for all of his existence.

Still as cold as ever, he didn’t speak.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something first, you jolt awake.

You frown and sit up in bed, the sheets falling around your waist haphazardly. Running a hand through your hair, you wince as your fingers catch the tangles.

“I see you still enjoy sleeping...like some kind of human,” the familiar voice has you gasping, whipping around to look at where the voice came from.

He leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are closed, almost as if he were tired but you know that’s not the case.

You scoff, “I knew you were here. Awfully bold of you...sneaking into my dream like that.”

He doesn’t say anything more. It’s silent after that, save or the lightning striking the ground occasionally, mixed with the white noise of raindrops.

“Why are you here Xiao?” you finally ask, knowing that beating around the bush will get you nowhere with him.

“Why are you here?” he retorts, finally opening his eyes to glare at you, “You knew I was staying in this Inn yet you come here anyway. But you still have the audacity to ask me why I’m here?”

“I didn’t know you were staying here,” you spit, suddenly remembering you’re in only your bra and panties. You casually pull the sheet back up to cover yourself.

“That’s a lie,” he scoffs, finally pushing himself away from the wall, “Are you that desperate for my attention that you come crawling back to me under the guise of a mistake in hopes I’ll take you back? Pathetic.”

His words sting just as much as the tears filling your eyes, “No,” you spit, tossing the sheet off so you could get out of bed, “I was worn out and got caught in the storm. If you must know, I didn’t know you were here because frankly I avoid learning anything about your whereabouts!”

His eyes follow you as you tug your still wet clothing down from where it was hanging. Its freezing cold against your warm skin and makes you flinch as you begin to put it on.

“Where are you going?” he asks, voice sharp as ever.

“I’m leaving!” you snap, ignoring the way your voice cracks from your tears.

He scoffs, “Of course you are, all you do is run away.”

“You don’t get to say that to me!” you whip around suddenly, “When you’re the one who ran away in the first place!”

He bares his teeth, “I didn’t run from anything. Instead I got rid of something.”

His eyes narrow and you take a moment to look into them. Eyes you once loved held no softness or light that they once had. You barely remember those times, instead all you remember is the hurt.

You don’t have it in you to speak anymore. Everything that needed to be said had already been spoken. Whether it be now or in the past, there was nothing else to say.

He didn’t flinch as you walked past him, shoulder bumping into him as you headed to the door.

“Make sure you don’t come back here,” he spits the final, parting warning.

You pick up your pack and sling it over your shoulder, opening the door and leaving.

When you’re finally gone, he takes a seat on the bed and sighs, eyes unfocused as they stared into nothing. Lost in thought, he doesn’t know how long he sits there for.

The rain doesn’t show any signs of letting up as you continue on your journey. You don’t have any real need for sleep but your body feels worn, overexerted. You do your best to bypass monsters that lurk around, knowing you don’t have the strength to defend yourself.

Any strength you had had been stripped from you the moment you were confronted with Xiao.

His words hurt just as much as they had a millenia ago. The new, negative feelings festered along with the brought up memories of once upon a time.

He always knew just what to say to you. The two of you had known each other perhaps too well. It had allowed him to see every weak spot you had, he had learned exactly what to push to hurt you most. And he always succeeded.

Xiao’s past was not one that was happy. It was filled with pain, anger, and bloodshed. Much of it by his own hands, actions that haunted him. He had been so consumed by it all that he lost control, becoming a volatile nightmare that only sought to hurt and destroy.

And that is exactly what he did.

There hadn’t been a single ounce of hesitation in the words he’d spewed at you. Hands you once loved holding raised in aggression, laughing at the misery that had been painted on your face. You had been scared of him and yet he didn’t show any regret.

It had been naive of you to try to get him back at first. You were so sure that it wasn’t the real Xiao. You knew him to be a soft, gentle man. But in the blink of an eye, it was replaced with hatred and darkness.

Your attempts to redeem yourself in his eyes, to keep him by your side had been in vain. The final time you had met him, almost a millenia ago, had only ended in bloodshed and tears. He had succeeded in damaging everything you had to offer, dealing irreparable damage to your emotions.

You had vowed that you would never allow yourself to be in his presence again. You didn’t even allow yourself to hear his name, all of his tales fell on deaf ears.

The less you knew about him, the better.

It had been peaceful, not knowing of his whereabouts. You would sometimes catch yourself wondering if he was even still alive before vanquishing those thoughts. What did it matter? The man wished death upon you once, laughing all the while.

You shuddered at the memories, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. The cold was seeping in quickly and you felt like all your energy was sucked out.

Under the heavy rainfall, and the absentmindedness of your own thoughts, you didn’t realize the man snuck up on you until you felt the knife plunge into your back.

Hands desperately cupped your cheeks. They were warm, such a contrast to your own cold skin. Your ears were ringing but when your eyes opened a fraction, you could only barely make out the darkened silhouette of a person hovering above you.

When your eyes opened once again, there was no sound. The storm had passed and you were tucked into a bed. It didn’t smell like freshly made laundry, instead it smelled familiar. Like almonds and qingxin flowers. You couldn’t help but melt into it.

After a moment, you heard the door open. It clicked shut softly, no doubt in an effort to let you continue your rest. The figure moved across the floor, footsteps light before you heard the light sound of something heavy being placed on the side table.

The person paused and you kept your eyes closed, sleep almost overcoming you once again. But the soft feeling of fingers on your cheek had you rousing once more.

You didn’t open your eyes, instead allowed the stranger to continue on. They moved away but didn’t leave the room.

Slowly, you opened your eyes.

It was dark out but the room was dimly lit by lanterns, casting a calm, yellow glow around the room. You blinked a few times to let your eyes adjust before looking around.

Your breath caught in your chest as you looked at him. He had his back to you, leaning against the wall once again. But his gaze was cast out the window, unaware of the fact you had awoken. You swallowed nervously at the sight of him, only to realize how parched you were, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Glancing to the side, you realized the object he had placed had been a pitcher of water. Condensation dripped down from the glass, pooling on the wooden tabletop.

You attempted to sit up, your head swimming as you did but you fought it. The bed creaked as you finally sat up, almost desperately reaching for the pitcher only to realize you had absolutely no strength to pick it up.

Familiar hands intervened, brushing yours away to lift the pitcher up, grabbing the glass he had brought along with it so he could fill it.

Your hands were reaching out for it before he could even offer it. He allowed you to take it, placing the pitcher back down once again. You brought the cup to your lips and took several large gulps before it was ripped from your hands. You gasped and looked up at Xiao to your stolen cup in his hand.

“Drink it slowly,” he orders, rough as usual, “You’ll make yourself feel worse.”

You nod your head and reach out for it again. He keeps it out of your reach, however, eyeing you as if you were plotting something. You whine and attempt to get it back once more before he finally takes pity on you and allows you to have it back.

His eyes burn into you as you take sips, keeping them slow and intermittent despite the fact your body begged for you to down it all.

“Lay back down, you’re still recovering,” he says before taking your empty glass.

You do as you’re told, hunkering back down into the soft bedding, watching him once again. He pours more water into the glass and leaves it there for you to take when you need it.

“Why am I back here?” your question makes him visibly stiffen as he places the pitcher down again.

Your eyes follow him as he moves around. You can’t tell if he’s making himself look busy to buy himself time or not. The question is answered when he returns from the wash room with a damp cloth.

He sits at the edge of the bed and begins to softly pat at your skin, cooling your skin down and making you relax. You close your eyes against the stinging burn of tears that come from his caring actions.

You don’t know what he’ll do if he realizes you’re crying.

It had been so long since you had been close to him like this. No aggressive or negative feelings weighing you both down. It had been even longer since you felt his gentle touch, a touch that didn’t have you flinching away from him.

“You almost died,” he finally says, removing himself from you.

You immediately miss him. It takes you everything not to pull him back to you, to not cry out for him not to go. But you stay silent. He is too.

You’re not sure if he realizes how close to crying you are, but he doesn’t say anything more. He doesn’t press you. You swallow the lump in your throat and open your eyes again.

He’s standing in front of the window once more. You can see his face now, the way the moonlight makes his eyes glow.

“I did?” you finally ask.

He looks at you again, a simple sideways glance before nodding, “You did.”

“I see,” you respond, looking down at your hands folded above his blanket.

You suddenly realize you’re not wearing your own clothes, instead wearing some unfamiliar ones. You don’t comment on the fact that Xiao had probably undressed you and redressed you.

You’re too busy thinking that you don’t notice the way he fists are clenched tight at his sides. His entire body is stiff and trembling, jaw clenched tight to keep the pathetic noises that want to free themselves inside.

“You almost died,” he suddenly spits, repeating his words from earlier. You pause and look up at him, the uncharacteristic emotion in his voice catching you by surprise.

Finally, you take in his disposition. His head hung low, hair veiling over his face, preventing you from seeing the expression he wore. But from the way his shoulders tremble, you’re sure he’s...crying.

“I thought you were dead,” he hisses, “You were so cold...you weren’t moving. What the hell was I supposed to do then, huh?” He’s not looking at you and you’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or monologuing. Still, you remain quiet and let him talk, “You’re not supposed to die.”

“I didn’t die,” you finally speak, making him fall silent.

“I was...scared,” he admits, so soft that you almost missed it, “I was so scared it felt like I was losing my mind.”

“Xiao…”

“No,” he snaps, finally looking at you. His eyes are glassy, tears clinging to his lashes and the sight makes your heart ache, “How could I have ever...What would I have done if you died? What if you died...and all you remember of me was...the hatred and anger?”

“Is that not what you feel towards me?” you ask softly, “I can’t say I remember the time before you hated me anymore. I don’t know if I even want to. It’s so much easier knowing you hate me now, than remembering that you once loved me.”

“Love,” he whispers, making your brows furrow in confusion, “Don’t say it like I don’t anymore.”

“Xiao…” you sigh, shaking your head, “You don’t have to feel guilty. Truly, it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

He takes a few steps towards the bed until he’s standing right in front of you. You don’t dare look at him but he reaches down and touches your cheek with gentle fingers, “Then why are you crying?”

You scoff, “Why are you crying?”

“Because I know I’m not strong enough to keep this going,” he admits, “I’ve spent so long remembering everything I did to you. Everything I said to you...years upon years of guilt and regret. I tried so hard to pretend like I didn’t search everywhere for you. When I was finally freed of those shackles, when I was finally...faced with everything I had done...I looked for you. But you had already gone.”

“You wanted me gone,” you spit, knowing how bitter you were beginning to sound, “Don’t you remember what you told me?”

“Every word,” he breathes, hand returning to your person to pet your hair, “I’ve spent every moment of my life remembering. I didn’t have any control of who I was back then, ______,” The sound of your name falling from his lips has a sob breaking free from your chest, “I’ll never be who I was before everything. I carry these sins upon me as I deserve to. But I will never be the man who hurt and scared you again.”

You feel him tug you forward, burying your face against his chest as he cups the back of your head. His chin rests atop your head and you cry. He lets you exhaust yourself, lets out a deep sigh when you finally wrap your arms around his middle.

He holds you, allows you to ask him questions before answering with a gentleness he hadn’t allowed himself in what felt like eons. He told you his story, explained every detail of his life, of the dark past, of the vile atrocities that he had been forced to commit against his will.

You listened, heart aching at the pain he had to endure for so long. He was jaded, scarred and burnt from his past. It haunted him so deeply, actions he could never atone for weighed on him as heavy burdens.

“If you’ll let me…” he whispers into your hair, “I just...if I can have one thing in the end...I want you.”

“You’ve done so much,” you reply, “To repay the debt and to protect...and you really just want me?”

“More than anything,” he replies, not hesitation.

You pull away from his embrace and he allows you, meeting your gaze with utmost sincerity. You can see it in the way his eyes shine with hope, searching yours for an answer.

The easiest way to answer him is by cupping his cheek and pressing your lips to his.His entire body relaxes and his hands return to your person, gripping you tight as if you were going to slip away. He kisses you back, every emotion he feels being poured into it.

You tangle your hands in his hair and pull him down. He catches himself on his hands, framed on either side of you. Pulling away from the kiss, you chase him and he sighs.

“You’re still recovering, I don’t want you to get hurt,” he breathes.

You whine and shake your head, reaching out to touch him, “Please, Xiao? ‘M okay, I promise.”

He still hesitates and you decide to take it a bit further to entice him. You reach down for the hem of your shirt and carefully pull it off. When you can see again, Xiao’s eyes are burning as he stares at your body.

“God…” he breathes, resting his forehead against your shoulder, peering down your body as his hands begin to venture across your skin, “Just like I remember…”

His breath comes in pants, smoothing his thumbs over your ribs before he finally cups your breasts. You whine at the feeling and arch your back but he’s quick to click his tongue, “Stay still or I stop.”

You go limp at the threat of him stopping. Instead you reach up and wrap your hands around his biceps. He pulls his head from your shoulder and leans back over you properly to kiss you again.

You whine into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close. He allows it with no complaint, simply continues palming your breasts, thumbing over your nipples. You swear you feel him smile when your whole body trembles at the feeling.

“Xiao…” you whimper, moving your hands from around his neck. He sits up, resting back on his heels to run his hands down your body.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even react to your call of his name. Instead he shifts so he can tear the blanket from your body. You squeak when you’re finally completely exposed, tits bare and your bottom half just the same.

You feel your face flush hot, quickly closing your thighs and curling them in on yourself. Xiao clicks his tongue once more at the display of shyness, hands coming to grip your knees.

“Why are you hiding from me?” he asks, voice gruff with lust, “Won’t you let me see all of you?”

“Y-You’ve still got all your clothes on,” you mutter, looking to the side so he can’t see how flustered you are.

He regards you for a moment, memories bouncing around in his head. Memories of you and him. The first time you let him touch you all the way to the last time he’d ever touched you. Both had such contrasting emotions to them. He wonders if you think the same -- if you remember that time. How you had cried, how he had made you cry.

“I’ll take them off later,” he whispers and you finally look at him.

His eyes are locked on his hands, where they rest on your knees. His brows are furrowed, as if lost in thought and you have half a mind to question him on it. But you choose not to. Instead, despite the trepidation you feel at being so vulnerable in front of him again, you let your legs fall open.

He inhales sharply through his nose, a noise of surprise and approval. His eyes lock onto your cunt, folds glistening from how wet you already are for him. He mindlessly licks his lips, one hand trailing down your inner thigh -- slow, as if he’s waiting for you to stop him at any minute. But you don’t of course, you want him so much. You have no idea how long you had been craving the familiar, loving touch he once had. But now that you’re reminded of the tenderness he once displayed, you desperately want to feel it again.

“Pretty,” he mutters under his breath when his digits finally meet your folds, which he eagerly spreads open with two nimble fingers.

It makes you squeak and hide your face in embarrassment as he analyzes you, takes in every detail. The way your entrance clenches every so often, drooling your sweet juices, to your little clit that throbs and begs for his attention.

He’s more than willing to give it.

Collecting the slick at your entrance with his thumb, he drags it up to the tender little bud. The sound you make when he finally presses his thumb against it is heaven. His own mouth falls open in wonder as he makes soft, slow circles. Your thighs tremble and your hands mindlessly grapple for whatever they can, which happens to be his bedding and thigh. Though your nails bite into his skin, he pays it absolutely no mind. He’s entranced by how messy your cunt becomes in a matter of seconds. Such a simple touch has your body responding beautifully.

He briefly wonders if you’d ever been with anyone else. He certainly hasn’t. Did you make such a mess for those you had bedded? His jaw clenches at the possessive feeling that overcomes him.

Unlike in the past, it’s not a toxic feeling. It isn’t one that scares him, instead it has him leaning down to press his lips against the soft skin of your stomach. You’re his now. You’re his once again. That’s all that matters.

He trails his lips up your body, now using two fingers to play with your clit. He doesn’t want the sweet sounds you make to stop.

Once he reaches your breast, he eagerly wraps his lips around your nipple. You cry out immediately, hands tangling into his hair. He hums at the feeling and your whole body twitches.

“Xiao…” you gasp, one hand leaving his hand to reach between your body. He continues to mouth at your breast, humming when your hand gingerly wraps around his wrist, “Want more, please…”

His eyes nearly roll back in his head at the sweet sound of you begging. He finally pulls his mouth away and looks at you, eyes sharp as ever, “Tell me what you want.”

He can feel it, of course. The way your pretty hands desperately push on is fingers, all he’d have to do is slide them in. You mindlessly rut your hips against the digits and he growls.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay still?”

“‘M sorry,” you gasp, “Please don’t stop, Xiao. Want it.”

He bites back a groan. You’re just as sweet and pliant as he remembers. The almost blind trust you have in him not to hurt you has him flooding with emotion.

“What do you want? Say it,” he orders, voice much softer than before.

“Put them…” you press his fingers against your entrance and whine, “Inside. Please?”

He’s not prepared for the way you so greedily accept them. You gummy walls stretch so easily to accommodate him. You’re already dripping down his hand. He moves his fingers slowly, watching your face intently as you adjust to being filled.

Your lashes flutter and you sigh almost as if you’re breathless before your eyes open again and you meet his gaze. He sees the bashfulness return but before you can cower away, he crooks his fingers up and finds your spot as if he had it memorized after all these years.

And truthfully, he had. There had been many nights that he had been plagued by memories of your body, of touching you. No one had ever made him feel the way you do.

“Xiao!” you squeal, hands slamming down on the bed as your legs kick almost helplessly under the onslaught of pleasure.

“Mhm?” he hums, pinning one of your thighs down with his free hand to keep you nice and spread open for him. His eyes are glued to where your cunt swallows his fingers greedily.

“Right there, please,” you gasp, shamelessly whining and begging.

He huffs a laugh through his nose, “So noisy.”

“‘M, ah, ‘m sorry,” you babble, “Feels so good.”

He loves how responsive you are, how sensitive you are. The way you tell him what it is you’re feeling, how he’s making you feel, makes him painfully hard. But he’s not willing to move on from this just yet, he wants to be greedy for once. He wants to take everything you’re willing to give him.

Your cunt flutters around his fingers and he allows himself to moan softly at the feeling. He knows you must be close, your little tells hadn’t changed after all this time. The way your thighs jump and tremble to the way your hot little cunt gets so messy. You’re creaming around his digits, he can see the way white slicks his knuckles.

You’re muttering nonsense, feet kicking the bed helplessly. He wants to chastise you for moving around so much but he knows you can’t help it. With how tight you squeeze around his fingers, he knows you’re dangling precariously over the edge.

All you need is a final push. The fact that you need him to send you over, need him to do something for you to cum is a rush.

You watch with wide eyes as he puckers his lips suddenly and noisily spits on your cunt. It lands on your clit and in seconds, his thumb is rubbing it in.

The entire thing is too much and you cum with a breathless cry. His arm pins your hips down, keeping you from moving around too much as you thrash, cumming nice and hard for him as he works you through the high. He slides his fingers out and lightly circles your clit, easing you down as you shudder and whimper before finally falling still.

You’re panting by the time he removes himself from you, allowing you to close your thighs as the feeling of vulnerability washes over you again.

He can feel your eyes on him as he stands. Suddenly, you’re sitting up and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Hey--” he’s ready to force you to lay back down, eyeing the burning scar on your back but he’s cut off by you tugging at him.

“Don’t go,” you whimper and he softens immediately, running his hand through your hair.

“I’m not,” he responds quickly but you still don’t let him go.

He opts to begin stripping himself despite the fact you’re still clinging. Once his upper half is bared, you look up with wide eyes. He can see the way they sparkle at the sight of him and he nearly melts.

Cupping your cheek, he pulls you in for a kiss, allowing you to tug at the materials adorning his waist until he’s finally as bare as you. Keeping you locked in a kiss, he carefully lays you back down in bed, cupping the back of your head as he does so.

He easily handles your body, pulling your thighs open again so he can slot himself between them. Your knees press into his ribs and you cling to him once more, as if you really believe he’s just going to leave you.

“‘S okay,” he breathes softly, pecking your lips a few times, “‘M not leavin’...”

His words begin to slur together the further he gets dragged down into the lust. He ruts his ips forward and you both sigh when the underside of his cock finds your core. His hips work slow, passing over your folds as he slicks himself up with the mess he’d forced out of you. Every time he grinds against your clit you whimper into his mouth, thighs jumping at the overstimulation.

It makes him want to tease you, to torture your poor, sensitive little cunt and to hear you cry out for mercy as he forces you to cum over and over for him.

But that would have to wait for another time. Right now, he wants nothing more than to be with you, to indulge in your love.

You reach down before he has the chance to, wrapping your hand around the base of him. He pecks your lips again before he looks down, allowing you to guide him inside.

You stretch to accommodate him, the width wider than his fingers had stretched you. But the burn feels deliciously familiar. You keen and whine the further he pushes inside.

He watches how more and more of him disappears, groaning at the feeling of you pulsing hot around him. Before he bottoms out, he suddenly pulls his hips back until just the head is left. His length is glistening from how wet you are.

“So messy,” he spits softly, licking his lips at the sight.

“Mhm,” you whine, hands grabbing at his biceps on either side of your head, “‘S for you.”

Your little confession has him cursing under his breath, sheathing himself inside you in one smooth roll of his hips. As his hips meet yours, you let out a sweet cry that he eagerly swallows as he kisses you.

“‘S mine,” he whispers against your lips. You nod and whimper as he fucks you in earnest.

Though Xiao can keep his touches and kisses soft, as soon as his cock is inside you, he can’t help but use you however he wants. You always love it, however, the way his cock has your mind going blank is otherworldly.

Though you had never had any other lover, you knew that you would always be ruined for anyone else. No one would ever make you feel the way he did, the way he so easily made you cum undone. The soft, filthy words he whispers to himself, as if you’re not even listening. Hissing vulgar things through clenched teeth, like your cunt makes him go feral.

“So tight,” he mutters, eyes still locked onto where the two of you are connected. It’s like he’s entranced, hypnotized.

“Xiao!” you cry out, tossing your head back, “‘M close, please, jus’ a lil more!”

He huffs, changing the angle of his hips just a bit. You squeal, knees knocking against his sides as you begin to squirm.

“Too much!” you cry out, hands pressing against his chest as your body is racked with stimulation.

“You can take it,” he huffs, grappling your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head.

He uses the leverage to fuck that spot harder. Every time he sinks in, he rolls his hips, making sure to grind against your clit. Tears build up in your eyes as you sob, entire body trembling but unable to get away from it as he pins you down with his body.

“Cum,” he orders breathlessly.

And you do.

He groans at the feeling of you squeezing around him tighter than ever. He slows the movements of his hips, the tightness making it difficult for him to keep his pace. He rocks mindlessly into you as you tremble and cry through the intense orgasm.

Before you can recover, he’s releasing your hands and sitting up, gripping you beneath the knees before pinning them to your chest. Neither of you care about your injury, you don’t even feel anything but pleasure anymore.

“No, no, Xiao!” you sob, remembering all too well the damage he can cause in this position.

He shushes you and presses down on the back of your thighs, pulling out until just the tip is inside. You hold your breath, eyes wide as he simply fucks the tip in and out.

You wait for the inevitable, biting your lip as you tremble. He waits for you to release the breath you’re holding. Though he’s not looking at you, he pays attention to every minute detail about you.

When you finally let out that soft little exhale, he swings his hips down, sheathing his cock inside. Your legs kick in his hand and your hands slap helplessly against him but he pays it no mind. He continues pulling his cock out before quickly stuffing you nice and full again.

“‘S too much!” you sob, tears trickling down your cheeks. He ignores your weak complaints, knowing you want it just as much as him, “I-I’ll make a mess! Xiao!”

He groans at your warning and nods his head, “Touch yourself.”

It’s a cruel little command that you can’t help but obey. He can see your hand is trembling as you reach down to swirl timid little circles around your clit. He watches, bottom lip caught between his teeth at the sight. Your walls hug him tight as you continue the circles in time to the deep, penetrating intrusion of his cock.

“Xiao--” you gasp, quickly abandoning your task to press your hands against his hips.

“Stop pushing me away,” he spits, slapping your hands off of him.

“It’s too much!” you repeat your complaint.

He huffs, “You can take it. You’re almost there.”

He meets your gaze after a moment, taking in the wide eyed, open mouthed look on your face. The pressure in your core intensifies and your whole body begins to tremble. Your hands return to his body, though they wrap around his biceps once again, nails biting into the skin. You leave red lines across the green of his tattoo. He hisses at the pain but it doesn’t deter him.

Though your eyes are open, he’s sure you’re not seeing anything but stars.

“You’re gonna cum,” he mumbles, he takes one of your hands and laces your fingers together.

You blink up at him and sob his name. He softly shushes you, tenderly kissing your forehead as if his cock wasn’t stuffing you full.

“‘S okay,” he whispers into your hair, “C’mon, give it to me.”

You cry out his name again, your free arm wrapping around his neck, scratching his back. He’s panting, growing close to his own end quickly.

“I know,” he whispers, knowing you’re overstimulated and wound too tight. The way you cling to him as if he’s a lifeline has him pressing the softest of kisses against your skin, squeezing your hand between his, lacing your fingers together. A reminder that he’s there to ground you, that he’s with you, he’ll get you through it. You just need to let go.

You go completely still for a split second before your back arches. He slips his arm beneath your back to hold you close, supporting you as you thrash and cry. You bury your face in his neck, muffling the lewd noises in his skin. Your hands grab onto any part of him that you can as he continues the same, brutal pace of fucking you.

“Ah!” you squeal, your orgasm dragging out for much longer, only growing in intensity.

He can feel it. The way you squirt, gushing around his pistoning cock. Every movement has you gushing over and over again, wetting not only your skin, but his and the bedding as well. Neither of you can be bothered to care about it, however.

“That’s it,” he coos, finally slowing after a moment.

Your entire body is trembling, harder than you had all night. He pulls himself away from you despite your desperate cry. He folds you back into the previous position and you sob, shaking your head.

He shushes you, the same as he had been all night, “‘S my turn,” he assures.

You relax into the bed, arms dropped on either side of your head. You watch him through lidded eyes as he begins to rock into you once more. He avoids grinding himself against your clit when he sinks inside, knowing it would, in fact, be too much for you right now.

He looked down at where you were connected.

Strings of your slick connected your skin and his every time he pulled back. Your cunt was puffy, clit throbbing in the aftershocks of the intense orgasm. A ring of white was at the base of his cock, a symbol of just how hard you had cum.

The mess you’d created made his cock throb. You were such a good girl, so sweet for him. He looked back up at your face, at the dreamy look on your face and he groaned.

“So pretty,” he whispers, his own blunt nails biting into the underside of your thighs.

You whine at the pain but make no complaints. He has half a mind to feel embarrassed as you watch him cum. Your hand reaches down to caress his chest and stomach as you feel him pulse inside you, the warmth of his cum filling you up.

You sigh, a happy sound that makes his heart warm.

Pulling out of you, you wince at the feeling of his cum dripping from you but neither of you comment on it. Instead, he leans back over you and presses his lips to yours once more.

Your hand tangles in his hair and he sighs, allowing you to hold him and cling to him for a moment. He feels you shiver and frowns, watching as goosebumps rise over your skin.

Suddenly, too sudden for your liking, he pulls away. You squeeze your thighs closed and subconsciously cover your breasts with your hands, watching as he climbs off of the bed.

He takes the rag he had used earlier to wipe your skin, to clean the mess that covered him.

You can feel your heart hammering so loud it makes your ears ring. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge you as he moves around the room, slipping his clothes back on --though without all the accessories.

He runs a hand through his hair, straightening himself out before he heads to the door. You sit up quickly, eyes wide as you watch him open it. Before you can call out to him, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’re left alone and feel a deep ache in your chest. You let yourself fall back into the bed, ignoring the soreness of your body as you tug the cover over yourself. The silence of the room is deafening, but before long it's filled with your sad, pathetic sniffles.

Mentally, you shame yourself for being so foolish. Even after so many years, you were just as naive as before. You can’t actually believe you’d been stupid enough to allow yourself to believe any of it was real. You’d gotten a taste of him once more, and now you were being punished for being so greedy.

It hurt to think that, just for a moment, you remembered what it was like to be loved by him.

You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the door open again. You also didn’t hear his weary sigh.

He moved around the room, glancing at you curled up on the bed, assuming you had fallen asleep. His own mind was abuzz, processing everything. It was easy to fall into the rhythm, no matter how long it had been since he performed it.

He knew you liked a nice, soft cloth to clean you up. The harshness of a normal cloth was too much given how sensitive you always were afterwards. You would also no doubt be craving some water -- though he made tea for you instead. He wasn’t quite sure what you enjoyed about it so much, but he was more than willing to indulge.

When he finally moved to the bed, he sat down, placing the cloth and bowl of warm water on the table. He turned to you and tugged at the sheet, making you gasp. You looked over your shoulder and he frowned at the sight of your tears.

His heart lurched in his chest -- worry that he did something wrong, that he hurt you, or even that maybe you were feeling regret in accepting him back.

“Y-You’re back?” you ask it, sounding so pitifully broken that he can’t help but pull you into his lap.

You’re easily adjusted, allowing him to lean back on the headrest with you curled into his body, still sniffling and crying.

“Did you think I left?” he asks softly, petting your hair.

You solemnly nod and he sighs, “I’m sorry I just...I want to believe that you...But I…”

“It’s okay,” he assures, “I haven’t earned your trust back. But I will.”

“Xiao…” you whisper, looking up at him.

“Let’s just get you cleaned up, alright?” you nearly start crying when you see he had gathered everything he would have back then.

BY the time you’re clean and curled up in bed, you’re exhausted. The tea had made you nice and warm and as you snuggled against his chest, you began to doze. Though you didn’t particularly need sleep, your injury had weakened you enough to warrant it lest you get worse.

Xiao’s body is worn but he chooses to lay there in the darkness of the bedroom. He stares at the ceiling, listening to the sound of your breathing. He desperately wants to close his eyes and, for once, sleep as well. Just so he can experience sleeping with you again.

But he can’t bring himself to. He’s terrified that if he opens his eyes, you’ll be gone and nothing will have changed. He’s not sure if he would survive if all of this had been a dream.

So he stays awake until he’s sure.

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xiaotopia

4 years ago

REBLOG IF IT IS OKAY TO COME INTO YOUR INBOX AND SAY THE RANDOMEST SHIT I CAN THINK OF BECAUSE I REALLY WANT TO INTERACT WITH YOU.

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xiaotopia

3 years ago

And the result for first semester in form 6 is coming out this Wednesday what a wonderful day

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xiaotopia

4 years ago

Art Tips | Line Weight

—

Hello, I didn’t make it in time but I still wanted to share this short guide on applying varying line weight onto a drawing.

In my first year of art college, drawing class was like a treasure trove of new tips and knowledge which I looked forward to every week. I used to only draw either very lightly overall or with the same intensity and no variation in my lines.

But one of the first things introduced to us in drawing class was how to vary our lines and mark making to capture light and shadow through just our line drawings. I never noticed the big difference it made to drawing only in a line with the same weight or which was uniform in pressure. I saw how it added more depth and fluidity to the character or subject making them less flat and stiff overall.

So ever since then I have tried to observe more and make thoughtful decisions of where I can play with the pressure of my lines while drawing.

Hope this is helpful! :)

-xz

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xiaotopia

4 years ago

the idea of being married is so weird like what if I’m having a sad moment late at night and I wanna cry in bed and then there’s just some guy there??

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xiaotopia

4 years ago

it's xiao missing hours-