ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴄᴇ
ft: ying zheng/qin shi huang (record of ragnarok) reader: fem!reader wc: 370 cw: none.
aark vs writing for qsh over reqs
short self indulgence drabble thats it thats all
was supposed to be longer but i didnt like it much so here we are
happy holidays
There's something cathartic about being the center of the First Emperor's eye.
The cool touch of his nail guards scrape down your back with practiced familiarity, the metal clinking faintly as he drags them back up in languid strokes. Your chest rests against his, matching the deepness of his breathing as you press your lips to the sharp cut of his jaw.
You look up, meeting his unrestrained grin with a small one of your own, shifting upward to gently nudge your nose against his. You feel the heat of his gaze under his blindfold as it flickers down to your pursed lips, tasingly leaning, but never offering the respite of a kiss.
And the King of Beginnings does not take lightly to being denied what is rightfully his.
So he takes, closing the gap with a kiss that still manages to take your breath away even in death. You respond in kind, dragging your fingers up his chest and along the sensitive skin of his exposed collar, drawing a shuddering chuckle from the man above you as he smiles against your lips.
"Zhèng-Zhèng," you mutter as he traces unseen patterns along the expanse of your back, the childhood nickname rolling off your tongue so sweetly that he groans against you.
"Tease," he murmurs between unhurried kisses, skimming the skin of your waist beneath your robe with wandering touches he still has yet to quell after all these years.
You hum as you pull away, unable to draw your attention from the way his lips gleam under the lights with the faint sheen of spit. "Shouldn't you be practicing your Völundr? I heard the Valkyrie you were assigned was looking for you—Alvitr, was it?"
His laugh rumbles through his chest in a melodic timbre. "Such trivial worries. Do you doubt the might of your Emperor?" He raises his hand, his calloused palm forged through decades of war a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch on your cheek.
"I've never once doubted you, and I will not start now." You blink slowly, leaning into his touch as the pad of his thumb brushes against the seam of your lips.
"Hǎo. Indulge me with your presence, then."
Truly something cathartic indeed.
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