libraryofsimps

[libraryofsimps]

It’s so cute! I love it

What's the worst that can happen when you accidentally baby-talk your coworker and pet the said coworker's head? (Featuring 🌱 × y/n , and a certain kitty cat 🍊)

Trope: Baby-talking to your cat so much you accidentally said it to your grim coworker who looks like he needs either 40 consecutive hours of sleep or just hospital.

Tw: m! reader, Alhaitham is ooc. I repeat. Alhaitham is OOC. Self indulgent, random bullshit go.

Alhaitham didn’t think much of Y/n.

He was a competent coworker. Kept to himself. Always looked vaguely like he hadn’t slept since the turn of the century, but turned in clean, efficient reports. Ate convenience store lunches at his desk. Never spoke unless necessary. Existed like background code — quiet, functional, forgettable.

Not that Alhaitham cared much for small talk. He preferred silence and logic. His priorities were his own. Like deadlines. Proposal reviews. And most importantly: Orange.

His baby.

Orange is a black and brown Maine Coon, the size of a small bear, the attitude of royalty, and a baffling love for orange slices. He'd picked up the habit as a kitten, stealing wedges right out of Alhaitham’s hand. Hence the name. Not his most creative moment — but fitting.

The cat was spoiled, demanding, and shamelessly adored. And unfortunately, Alhaitham had a habit of baby-talking to him when no one was around. Orange liked it. So he did it. Simple.

Work was a different world.

Or so he thought.

It happened on a Tuesday. Nothing special. Just after lunch. He was walking back from the kitchenette when he saw Y/n sitting at his desk, slouched over a pile of spreadsheets. Eyes half-lidded behind his glasses. One hand weakly holding a pen. The other just… resting. Like he forgot what muscles were.

And for some reason, something clicked.

Maybe it was the posture. Maybe it was the tragic hair hiding half his face. Maybe it was the way he looked moments from death but still managed to write coherent analysis.

Alhaitham paused mid-step.

Orange sits like that, he thought. When he’s too lazy to groom himself and wants me to do it for him.

It should’ve stopped there.

It did not.

Before he could stop himself, before the thought even fully settled—

He said, out loud:

“Oh, baby. You need a nap and maybe a treat, huh?”

Silence.

A beat.

Y/n blinked up at him, stunned.

Alhaitham realized what he'd just done. In the open office. To a coworker.

His mouth parted slightly. His brain short-circuited. A full shutdown initiated. Rebooting failed.

Y/n just stared, utterly baffled. “...What?”

Alhaitham’s soul left his body. He wanted to lie down in the recycling bin and never return.

And then—somehow—he doubled down.

He stepped forward on auto-pilot, reached out… and patted Y/n’s head. Stiffly.

Just once.

It was meant to be quick.

But the hair.

The hair was so soft. Like petting Orange right after he’d been brushed. His fingers slipped through without resistance. It felt nice.

And then it happened.

Alhaitham, in a voice that was far too gentle, said:

“You’re such a good boy.”

Silence, again.

Dead.

Complete, horrifying silence.

The lights flickered. The air conditioner coughed.

Alhaitham wanted to jump out of the 14th floor window and dissolve into the atmosphere.

But the final blow?

Y/n… leaned into the touch.

Not by accident. Not flinching away.

He leaned. Intentionally. Like it was normal.

“…Thanks,” Y/n murmured, nearly under his breath. “That… actually felt kind of nice.”

Alhaitham stopped breathing.

His mind spiraled.

Am I hallucinating? Did I just imprint on him like a mama duck? Did I adopt a coworker?

Y/n rubbed his eye with the back of his hand, visibly more awake now. “Wait. Did you just call me baby?”

Alhaitham straightened instantly. “No.”

“You did.”

“You misheard.”

“You also said I needed a treat.”

“That—was… hypothetical.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Do I get one?”

“Do you want one?”

They both paused.

Oh no, Alhaitham thought. I just bonded with him.

That night, he returned home, set down his bag, and was immediately greeted by Orange, who pawed at his leg and chirped.

Alhaitham crouched and scooped the cat into his arms. “I think I found your long-lost brother.”

Orange meowed.

“And he works in Finance.”

[libraryofsimps]

Omfl

#OOHMAMI! g. suguru

☆ sum. cuban link, diamond cross—you’re a big fan of suguru geto, the top street racer in tokyo. he doesn’t wanna win any more races, he wants to win you this time. keep at it and he might have to fuck you on the highway.

wc. 5.7k

warnings. fem! reader, street racer! geto, pwp, unprotected, suguru has a (dick) piercing / tats, semi-public, riding, brief ōral (f! receiving), you get eaten out his window lol, overstim, dirty talk, praise, size kink, impact play, petnames, drive safe.

an. chase atlantic inspired me ¯\_(ᵕ—ᴗ—)_/¯

“you, yeah you. wanna ride?”

stop thinking dirty, stop thinking dir—

you stop dead in your tracks, hearing the deafening vrooming of a certain nissan skyline gtr along with a raspy deep voice. you knew that voice, in fact you’d be a fool not to recognize the voice of the suguru geto, infamous street racer who’s won more races around the world than you could count. he’s got a big hand on the steering wheel with his dark purple helmet cracked open. growing pathetically sheepish, you could barely get any words out before you start to feel your feet gradually dragging toward his rumbling car.

“really?” you mumble, barely even pressed up against his tinted window and you could smell his loud rich cologne from there. you couldn’t help but fangirl—and oh, did he look so much better in person. geto’s got pretty long tresses of black hair that’s usually down, but in every race it’s always pinned back. a few loose strands run down his face, peeking out of his helmet and his glove grips tightly against his bedazzled steering wheel that had ‘s. geto’ carved into the material as it flawlessly spiraled around the wheel.

“reaaally,” he tauntingly repeats your word, cocking his head to get a better look at you. you could smell the thick puffed smoke that weeps out of his silvery flashy tailpipes and he hums. slouching back against his seat manspread, his foot eases off from the break and you watch as the flashy racer’s seat flies open on its on, and you step in. “i take it you’re here to see the race?”

no, no you weren’t.

you couldn’t lie to yourself—you were here to see the race, but you were to here to see geto also. you’ve only seen him during his interviews, magazines, and sometimes on tv where his races would be broadcasted for the entire world to see.

but, you managed to snag enough money to actually see him in the flesh.

without a second thought you make your way inside. on the inside, you were screaming. you were currently living every one of his fangirl’s dream. immediately once you sit down, you’re surrounded by the balmy welcoming warmth of his beloved str. you assumed it was an older model but he made it work anyway — it had cushioned seats with blaring speakers and oh, the smell . . it’s almost as if the vehicle had a signature cologne scent of its self. it’s really masculine and it makes your thighs squeeze together once you recline back a bit. his seats warmed up your backside automatically and you glance around the rest of the car, taking in its glitzy beauty.

it’s pretty, you’ve only seen pictures. ogling near his rear view mirror, you see fuzzy dice dangling as he’s adjusting it. the rest of the cars usually gathered near the meet up spot before the race actually starts.

“she’s pretty, isn’t she?” geto snickers, noticing you gawking at the inside of his car.

indeed, you heard about how geto built this entire thing from scratch. before doing street racing as a little side hustling hobby, he used to be a mechanic. a well known one, but that wasn’t as fun as actually racing.

geto tosses an arm behind the head rest of your seat, preparing to go in reverse. “had her for about two years. haven’t lose a match, since.”

“not one?” you murmur, wanting to call his bluff. sure, you’ve never seen anyone covering him losing a match but that was a bit hard to believe.

“doubtin’ me, sweetheart?” he rasps, and you feel the rough jittering of the car. geto’s backing up safely, curving his wheel briefly to drive out of one of his many garages.

sweetheart, you don’t know why but that single pet name had you feeling hot for a moment. once your eyes dart back toward him for a split second, you spot a toothpick sticking out from the corner of his crooked lips. he’s so pretty — he’s got a natural smirk that’s tugging against the corners of his lips. as he starts to drive toward the starting point for the highly anticipated race, a gloved thumb taps against his furry steering glimmering wheel. with a low hum, he glances at you. “seatbelt, silly girl.”

shit, you snap on your seat belt moments later and notice even his signature’s all over his seatbelt covers. ‘suguru geto’ in bright bold letters.

drafty air wafts against your skin as he’s still creating distance with just a few miles. once he reaches near the starting line, you hear his foot tapping against the break.

one, two, three . . three, two, one . . he’s bored.

geto positions his rear view mirror for the millionth time before noticing you zeroing your eyes at his gear shift that glistens from the dozens of rhinestones that glue against the cover. countless diamonds stick up and down the leather skin of the handle and it’s so pretty.

“hold on, sweetheart,” geto purrs, his eyes slowly locking onto the flagger that’s stood in front of the row of cars.

geto’s still got a firm hand gripped onto his wheel, his right foot just barely hovering over the gas. come on, he just wanted to get it over with. you could almost smell the competitiveness dripping from his body.

it was intense, you could almost feel the anticipation as if you were in the driver’s seat. the tall woman that’s dressed in nothing but sheer black carries a hefty checked flag, swaying it in the air every few seconds. as she safely spaces herself between the cars, she does it two more times and you realize it’s almost time for take off.

the cars that were lined up beside and next to geto start to rev their engines and so does he. it’s a roaring groan, and his rousing wheels burn into the hardened cement, his gold pipes coughing up clouds of purple smoke. geto gives his wheel one more tap with his thumb before glancing at you with a cunning grin. “lie back, i take off pretty fast, heh.”

and he wasn’t kidding.

the moment the flagger does a final up-down sway motion with the flag, all race cars accelerate quickly past the starting point. you sink back into the plushy seat as he meanly yanks back his stick shift.

his engine’s loud, and within seconds he’s already in the lead. it’s like he wasn’t even trying. frantic turbo spits through his rusted pipes and you can feel his car speedily pass through each poor vehicle that tries to get in his way.

vroooooom, he’s flying by each checkpoint and you could almost smell the adrenaline that’s coursing through his pulsating veins.

the thrill . .

you felt it all ghost through your own veins, feeling the frigid air roaming through his vents tickle against the hairs that stand up on your arms. geto makes a few sharp turns, keeping an eye on the time every so often. his personal best was around five minutes and seventy-seven seconds. with a coarse grip, he’s tilting his steering wheel while the thunder of his engine growls louder and louder within each whizzing mile.

over time though—you can’t help but be a bit nosy. your eyes shift toward the racer and god, you’re just now noticing how handsome he was.

geto usually wore sweats along with his street gear. he didn’t have to wear his helmet but he preferred it just in case. its all black with a splash of purple—you can see his signature lazily signed near the very top. outlined beside his name was a curling design of smoke. the part where he sees through was all darkly tinted so you could hardly see his face unless you squinted or he took it off.

it’s like it added more to his appeal in a way. he sat manspread and doing so, it gave you a one way ticket to stare straight down at his barely hidden bulge.

fuck, your mind started to ponder. you had so many unanswered questions. isn’t it painful driving around that hard—

“hey,” your raunchy thoughts get rudely interrupted and you don’t even realize how many minutes had passed from you being cooped up in your own lewd fantasm. geto’s driving a bit slower now, around sixty mph instead of his usual two hundred. he’s way in the lead, first place. one hand’s lazily on the steering wheel and he fakes a yawn.

oh he’s cocky.

with a quick glance out his mirror, he knew the other cars were far behind him and he now starts drifting near the freeway. with an intrigued hum, he notices just exactly what you were staring at. his lap. “don’t tell me this was the ride you thought i meant, sweetheart.”

“i—”

it’s like his cologne got louder.

you choked on your words, wondering if you were hearing right. suguru, the suguru geto was flirting with you?

and the thing that got you the most was that he wasn’t even looking at you anymore—every few seconds, you’d lock eyes against him near the ear view mirror, feeling hot once his eyes slowly rove down your figure through his dark tinted helmet.

not only was his cologne loud but so were your thoughts—shamelessly, you did think he was referring to that kind of ride minutes earlier.

and the more you stared at his hardened bulge through his grey sweats, the more you started to think. .

but, little did you know your dirty wish would be granted.

not even a few moment later, you’d find yourself fucked - literally.

geto positions you on his lap, halfway pulling down his loose sweats just so you could ride something else entirely.

instead of riding just his car — you rode his dick, and fuck was he just ridiculously big.

too big, and he knows it. geto groans once he’s buried full inside, lodging his thick cock in between your slimy gummy walls. “shit,” he’d hiss, his head occasionally tossing back once the ring piercing that’s stuck on his tip tap tap tap’s away against your precious g-spot. it swirls all around the inside of your cunt and your thighs struggled to stay open. it tickles, but you were far from laughing. he’s so big, easily rearranging your insides and be barely even had to move a muscle.

he’s ruthless - but your hips were even more ruthless though, far more.

geto knew all too well that this was dangerous—just one swerve from the swerving stimulation of bodies smacking against his and game fucking over.

you moan, burying your face into his neck as your hips continue to move against him. he’s still burning gas as your cunt’s just merrily drooling all down his length from each slapping thrust.

belatedly, your brows furrow, almost forgetting why you even showed up to this event. well, part of why you came. “f- fuck, what about t- the race?” you speak in a breathy tone, your tempo becoming more and more relentless. the salaciously enticing jerk of your unsteady hips gradually turn into rough unstable bounces and he kisses his teeth. geto feels the convulsing veins that run down his cock pulse right through him and between your walls, you feel it too.

“oh, sweetheart,” he huffs, his back of his helmet hitting against his headrest. looking at you with hazy hooded eyes, he flashes you a sleazy grin. “technically, i already won,” and you gasp, feeling him reach a gloved hand down between your rickety thighs. his touch was so gentle, you felt yourself shuddering from both twin digits that drag further down your chest. he cups one of your bouncing tits that pop out of your tank top, brushing a thumb against your sensitive nipple. “god, what a pretty fuckin’ body. look at you girl,” and he’s still got a hand on the steering wheel.

a trembling whimper dies out your throat at the feeling of his swollen fat cockhead vigorously thrusting in and out of your dribbling entrance.

you’re just so soaked. it’s like you can’t help but be sopping wet on his lap and he loves it. sloshes of sobs echo out of your pussy and your legs pathetically quaver directly on top of him.

both of you groan in complete unison and a big hand of his creeps further down, giving your ass a teasing squeeze. “fuuucck, reel those nasty hips. ride it baby, ride me, yeah,” and you hear the grumbling revs of his engine ring against your ears louder. it makes the entire car shake a bit despite him pushing down a few miles. with widened dewy eyes staring at the back of his car, you squint, seeing dozens of cars trying to catch up to geto.

they didn’t have a chance,

they looked like tiny splotching dots in the far distance. geto even had the audacity to not do his usual speed and yet he was still dusting the other racers.

typical.

“s- suguru,” you whine, the undersides of your thighs sticking against him. each time you bounced back on his cock, each ruthless ‘pap pap pap’ of your skin mashing against his and the clingy recoil never fails to leave you brain dead for a few seconds. he’s so thick. you swivel your hips around him, gasping every time his dick piercing scrapes against your clit. the cold material makes a good portion of your thighs quake and you can’t help but coo out a few sweet ‘ooh’ or ‘ah’s right next to the shell of his ear. your panties were lazily shoved to the side and he didn’t even bother taking them off.

yet.

“so fuckin’ big, shiiiit.” you’d whimper, trying to swerve your way all around him. he’s just too big, you were even surprised he fit. you had to go down slow, aligning yourself against him — every few seconds his cock would pop out of you, making that cute squelch sound that makes his suck his teeth in annoyance.

“mhm, ‘n you’re takin’ it so well. you’re a big girl, fuckin’ take it,” he rasps in a hushed tone, nipping a few teeth near the inside of your neck. his helmet along with his toothpick ends up falling near the side of his seat with a loud thud.

your hips were killer.

unlike any opponent he’s had to go up against. you’re happily squeezing around him like a vice, taking in his curved inches like a champ. “f- fuck, who taught you how ‘ta ride? heh, tryna give me a run for my money, hm pretty?”

your whiny moans only pitch louder once he grips a nice chunk of your ass with one hand, peering at his bedazzled dash. the speed was a bit over one fifty now but it didn’t even feel like it.

“ugh, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasp, growing more and more dumb the faster you bounced on his heavy throbbing cock. his peeling sack hangs from underneath and he’s so swollen, you feel it.

maddened angry balls entirely reddened and puffed up from the delicious stimulation. with every sharp pull of your hips bouncing up and down, he feels himself shriveling — he’s so sensitive inside of you, and he can almost taste his own pleasure. whilst you continue to twirl your ass around in rotation for him, you couldn’t help but shamelessly salivate at the thought of imagining just how full he might be.

“sugu—fuuuckk,” and a bead of sweat races down the side of your face. geto’s primarily focusing on the road, it’s an easy straight shot and with how it was practically the middle of the night it wasn’t that many cars except for the one’s participating in the annual street races.

“bet you are. sloppy girl,” he huffs, groaning at the echoing loud smacks of your ass. you’re mercilessly clamping down his lap over and over, preparing to gush all over the dick that’s currently nestled inside of you. he’s got such a mouth watering curve of his cock that makes your stomach twist and churn.

the kind of curve that doesn’t involve his motor vehicle, that kind.

geto’s dick knew how to do swerves on its own, it even knew how to carve an entire bumpy race track allllll through your insides with his fat pink tip. “touch yourself, pretty. gimme a show before you mess up my fuckin’ seats.”

you could hear the sass in his voice along with a drip of vex and you’d giggle if you weren’t being ruthless stuffed full of inches. “o- okay,” you breathe through clenched teeth, guiding your hands up and down your body. geto’s dark eyes stare at you intently.

he stared at the way your hands caress your pretty plump tits, feeling down the valley of your exposed chest. his eyes flicker toward you then back at the road, then at you again - he repeats it, feeling his own muscles starting to tighten through his clothing. “ngh, suguru. can’t hold—”

your addictive slams against his cock got more intense until he’s fully buried balls deep inside of your squeezing cunt. you hear the saturated plops that’s squealing out of your pussy and you can’t even believe that’s you that’s sounding like that.

your poor sweet cunt was louder than his radio, completely shrieking over some random chorus of a heavy metal song you didn’t even know was playing in the background.

“fuck, cum then. cum on me, girl,” he grunts, one hand grabbing a nice fat piece of your ass again before spanking it.

you moan, the sharp brief twinge of elation sending you a shiver that immediately sends convulses between your thighs. lewd filthy thoughts foil at your brain and pretty soon, the car steams up with steamy clouded fog.

erratic sharp breaths match each other’s pace and you’re left breathless. geto feels your legs on the verge of giving out and he snickers, bringing a gloved hand to stroke against your sopping pussy. “go on, don’t be shy. should make ya lick up the mess later anyway.”

whimpering, your release comes and fuck, a sharp scream ripples out from your throat once you’re finally coming undone on his cock. the wrinkled skin of his base continues to stick against his sack due to you bouncing against him.

it’s hot, literally.

with both plush mounds of skin harshly plummeting on top of each other, the heat of the car made it feel like the air conditioner wasn’t even on. “thaaat’s it, work those hips, goddamn,” and abruptly, he cuts off from his words after feeling his mushroom tip reach a certain spongey spot that’s buried way inside of your gripping walls.

you gasp once you feel him throb inside with a soft upward shimmy of his hips. milliseconds later, your thighs collapse down on him and you feel yourself succumbing. you’re creaming down his shaft with your slippery slick while at the very same time, struggling to catch your breath. as you weakly try to continue your grinding with your feeble knees, geto uses a single hand to quickly make a detour.

he was close.

the race car makes a swift turn to the left lane, driving a few more miles before he then turns the opposite direction — pulling over safely. with a cooing skrrrrt, his rubber tires come to a cruising stop and geto groans, gripping at his tensing bouncing thigh with his glove. the finish line was just a few feet away but he could care less.

once he puts his car in park, geto falls back into his seat with own sable dark eyes flickering back to the very depths of his skull.

you rode him good, good to the point where he doesn’t even know what to say for a hot second. blinking twice, geto smears his glossed lips together before exhaling, “phew,” and he swats another palm against your ass. black unkempt strands of hair tape against the center of forehead like glue whilst he’s finally got a good grip on your hips. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum too,” and your puffy folds continue to dribble with honeyed slick.

you’re damping his cock and the squelches you make, they were loud.

so wet and slimy. he could listen to it all day, just the sound of your sweet cunt whimpering out sweet sloshes of nothing. the overwhelming sensitivity leaves a sourly candied taste in your mouth and you whine, feeling him squeeze a hand against your right hip. with a raspy out of breath tone, he strokes a thumb underneath your quivering bottom lip. “ ‘s okay if i cum inside, pretty?”

“y- yeah, please,” you babble out in broken cries, feeling your tummy frantically heave in and out.

as he grabs your hips, steadying you—you intake a breath, remembering how many inches he was buried inside. your tummy tucks inward and you whimper, feeling him preparing to shoot pure blanks. with a size like his, geto’s cock never failed to leave its sloppy infamous mark.

you’re just marveled at how fat his tip is, it’s voluntarily french-kissing up against sweet beloved cervix that’s screaming out curses just as much as you. he’s got two hands on your veering hips, smooth fabric of his racing gloves sliding up and down your wobbly. with pouty compressed lips, you moan, bringing your hands to grab onto his shoulders. “cum, cum in me—fuck.”

geto huskily groans, tossing his head back once your hips zealously reel into him right as he gives you the final perfunctory thrust that finishes him off. immediately, he’s shooting out ribbons of hot cum that pour into you. you’re panting as he slows down, glossy eyes raking at his body. you could see a bit of his tatted sleeves peek from underneath his shirt - his tense muscles bulging.

“god, better take all of it,” he groans, pretty black lashes sticking against his droopy hooded sockets.

it spurts out slowly but surely.

globs and globs of frothy cum bubble down the swollen sides of his cock and you feel it all. it’s toasty and warm and as he’s pouring his all into you, painting your gummy walls his pristine-white color, you couldn’t help but lean in.

geto’s matching your breathy irregular pants before he feels your trembling lips crash onto his. “mmf,” he moans against your lips, tilting his head back slightly to a certain attractive degree. a hand of his reaches toward his radio, turning the middle notch all the way down just to hear the squelches of his own seed slobbering down your slick cunt.

he tastes sweet. you moan at the lingering taste of fresh cooling mint that lives on his tongue, feeling his hands tighten around your waist.

oh, he’s obsessed—

screw the race by this point, all he wanted at this moment was you.

geto’s still got such a large load that’s dumping into you raw and it even oozes down past your thighs, a few creamy droplets plopping down on his velvet seats. he grunts, both twisting tongues ferociously tangling against each other whilst your pussy’s still squeezing down on him like a vice. a glossed translucent ring forms around his base and he feels you trying to touch yourself with two curious fingers.

with a slight smack, he swats your hand away and you whine in his mouth. “heh, hands to yourself,” you pout because earlier he let you touch yourself but now, no. he teases, breaking away from the hot kiss. a stringy cobweb of saliva tears back from both lax plump lips before he playfully nibbles on your chin. geto notices how slumped out you were and a broad open hand of his crawls between your legs. “ooooh,” and he lifts you up from his swollen flaccid cock, gazing at just how much of a fill he’s pumped into you. “well look at that,” and you whimper, feeling him strum a thumb down your drooling cunt. “would be a shame if it all went to waste,” then he quirks a brow, sliding a tongue across his lips. “princess, stick your head out the window for me real quick.”

“out the wind—”

and not even seconds later, you find yourself literally being bent over, halfway hanging out of his rolled down tinted window. geto wasn’t done, at least not yet.

your sheeny glossed lips immediately part into an ‘o’ as a sweet gasp leaves your lips. with clammy hands, they grip onto the edge of his window and you whimper once he delves his long tongue inside of your cunt. your fingers gripped against the window so hard that it ends up leaving dozens of your cute fingerprints against the tinted glass.

“oh my goddd,” you babble out in elongated sweet syllables. with your pretty eyes bulging, you gasp at feeling the tip of his tongue swirl all around inside of you.

geto lowly grunts, lapping his twitching pink muscle down your runny folds back and forth. between your legs—he’s a menace, and it was no prying him off.

at all.

he doesn’t even bat an eye at the simple fact that he’s eating his own cum out of you, unapologetically savoring the bittersweet taste that lands right on his flavored tastebuds. your legs were so weak and you can feel his warm breath continuously fan against and on your sopping folds as he chuckles.

“my my, look at her. this prize’s way better than some money,” he hums, using a leather thumbed glove to swipe down your entrance. he’s slow, dragging it all the way down just to watch spurts of your slick pop onto his digit. you’re just so wet, metallic fingers of his ghost further down your clit before you whine. geto sees your cunt pulsing from the sheer thrill and he snickers, smacking a palm right against your slobbering core. “she’s fuckin’ nasty today, yeah?” and his eyes flicker toward your drooling cunt, giving it a teasing suck. “mmph, listen to her with me, gorgeous,” and one spank against your pussy turns into one, then two, then three.

growing quiet, you listen to the weeping sounds purring out of your own cunt. so loud, so shamelessly loud. you could hear it and he barely even had to touch you. you’re drenching up his seats and you couldn’t help but bite your lip, feeling your heart pound ruthlessly out your chest. his tongue knew just where to go—it’s creating a path of its own, laying flat against your clit before sucking against every tender spot. your legs were on its final hinges. you felt like they were about to snap shut. you’re staring out the window, still not seeing any cars which was good.

if anyone saw you like this, being eaten out in this kind of position, you don’t know what would happen.

geto resumes to flick his long tongue down your swollen slit, lapping up the last few droplets of his own cum that tries to dribble down the crevices of your thighs. another final swat from his mean palm sets against your clit and you let off a cute squeal, your tummy instinctively caving in. “so much back talk from a pussy this fuckin’ sloppy. oughta teach it some manners, pretty girl,” he grumbles, and your eyes blissfully roll back once you hear him starting to sluuuurp.

geto had no shame — it was decided, this was far better than any race he’s ever had.

his teeth nip near the inside corners of your thighs before he trails back to munching on your clit, burying his nose deep. “mhm,” he groans, and it only takes a few seconds before his jaw finally locks. geto reaches down, giving his cock a few solid pumps. his pretty reddened tip was angry, it still had dried spurts of cum racing from the sides and he grunts at the memory of being inside of you only just a few minutes ago. whilst his face’s shoved right between your thighs—you don’t even realize you’re trying to reach back to grab onto his hair. you’re hesitant though, and he finds it cute. departing his wet slick lips briefly, a wry grin spreads against his lips. “kinky,” the dark haired man flicks a tongue across his lips, savoring your juices that smeared against his mouth. “don’t be shy. do it,” and you moan once he teasingly whistles against your pussy, kissing against your nub. “pull my hair girl. pull.”

you give it a good yank and his head pushes forward into you—geto’s lengthy tongue dips further inside your cunt and you whimper, gnawing the inside of your stiff jaw. “fuck,” you gasp, and as his tongue gradually curls various bubbly letters inside of your pussy.

it multitasks, continuing to send your entire body a plethora of fluttering butterflies. he was so sloppy, seeping from the corners of his mouth with your slick and just your slick. his head moving side to side eagerly and every few seconds, he’s got to flick away long shaggy strands of his hair. geto’s proudly devouring you entirely whilst you’re just literally hanging out his window.

“oh, come on. harder, sweetheart. even i can do better than tha—ngh.”

with more force, you tug roughly on his pretty black strands and you heard the most sluttiest moan pour from his lips. god, he was so close that you could literally feel that infamous smug grin spread against his lips. geto brings a fat round thumb to run down your drooling cunt, giving it a ‘good job’ kiss. “atta girl. that’s my girl.”

geto ends up coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of over and over and over again.

he’s mean with his tongue, slurping everything out of you until you had no more - nothing more to coal his chin with. his favorite thing to do was to playfully bite against your clit, feeling you writhe and shiver all because of his mouth.

you end up leaving his entire chin with a pretty stream of your syrupy slick. geto’s panting, falling back after talking you through your nth orgasm, and with a peek through his rear view mirror, he spots the remaining race cars that were finally approaching the finish line.

“ah, about time,” geto rolls his eyes, sliding his lips near the corner of his chin where a bit more of your slick laid.

he acted like it was nothing, like he didn’t just have his tongue shoved inches deep inside of your cunt, stuffing his race gloved fingers in and out of you until you gushed right down his lengthy thick digits. you’re just sat on his lap, and you’re too dumb to move an inch. “heh, comfy?” he purrs, dragging his seatbelt across both stacked bodies. you fall against his chest, inhaling his signature manly scent and feel the car jolt once he puts it back in drive.

needy silence was your only reply and he tsks, resting his chin on top of your head before driving toward the finish line. it was barely even a few feet away, and waiting there was a bunch of fans that were awaiting to greet their new winner.

geto couldn’t care less though—he had you on his lap and he could already feel himself bulging again.

he found it cute how you were just clinging onto him now.

maybe you were delusional—maybe it was the fangirl in you screaming, begging for more, but your body wasn’t just begging anymore, it ached for more.

he drives you back toward the car meet up spot, helping you fix back your skirt. with wobbly legs, you step out of the flaunting vehicle with the help of his burly arms wrapped around you. “t- thank you,” you pant, trying to catch your breath, even still. geto stands up tall and he completely towers over you. you feel so small all of a sudden, watching as he puts his helmet back on.

“anything for a fan,” he coos, and he brushes a thumb against your lips. just a single gesture just as that felt so intimate. your eyes lock with his for a long moment, and just before you could say anything more, he mumbles. “oh, you probably want an autograph?”

your eyes light up and you grow sheepish, awkwardly tugging on the vip-checked lanyard that wraps around your throat. “yeah, please.”

“such manners like a good girl, cute,” and you bring out a magazine with his face plastered on it as a headline for this week’s up and coming races in tokyo. “nah,” he waves it away, and as your brow quirks, he takes out a sharpie. geto slides the cap in between his teeth before he glances at you. “pull your shirt down real quick, sweetheart,” and without a second thought, you tug down the hem of your shirt, barely exposing your chest.

geto’s eyes rove down your skin before he swiftly signs right against your left tit. the ink softly runs against your skin and you gasp, watching as he marks up the upper part of your chest. “aaaand, perfect,” he concludes, adding a ‘xo’ at the end of his signature. geto puts the cap back on and he flashes you a sly expression. “so i’ll see you at the next race?”

he starts walking away before you could even reply and you feel the weight of your shaky legs grow heavy. “y.. yeah,” and with dewy eyes, you watch as he steps in his car, playfully revving his engine at you.

the cool air sets against your skin once more as you stood there with shaky legs. the car meet slowly gets more crowded as the rest of the racers pass the finish line.

but, your brows furrow once you realize you felt a bit . . . empty between your legs.

with a soft gasp, you squint near the inside of geto’s car before he pulls off.

hanging over his rear view mirror instead of the fuzzy dice you once saw—was nothing other than your panties,

his real prize.

[libraryofsimps]

Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]

Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k

Sigewinne is evil.

You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)

It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.

You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.

Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.

…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.

“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”

Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—

“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”

And you’d responded with—

“Errand girl.”

“What?”

“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”

—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.

“Hmm. Very convincing.”

The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.

So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.

Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.

Safe to say, the two of you get along.

…which Sigewinne notices.

You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.

The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.

However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.

Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.

“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.

“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”

Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.

The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.

But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.

“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.

“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.

“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”

You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.

“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.

���How do you feel about Wriothesley?”

Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.

“What?”

She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.

“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”

Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.

Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.

“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”

Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”

You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.

Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.

“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.

“Of course!”

“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.

You nod.

“I see.”

“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”

She cutely huffs.

“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”

“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.

“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”

You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.

“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne. 

“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”

The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair. 

“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—

“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”

“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.

“Hmm…”

He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.

“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.

“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”

“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”

You shake your head.

“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”

Sigewinne cutely laughs. 

“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”

Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.

“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”

“Good! I want both of you to drink up.” 

Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?

“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.

Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.

You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today? 

You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.

“Oh! Y/N!” 

Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.

“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”

“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.

His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.

“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.

Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.

“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”

You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.

There’s sweat beading on his brow.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”

You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.

Your tummy starts to ache.

“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”

Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face. 

“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”

You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing. 

What’s this about doctor’s orders?

You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.

His pants feel too tight.

“Sigewinne, you did not—”

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing. 

He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.

“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…

“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”

She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.

“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”

“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.

“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”

Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor. 

Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…

So, she decides to cut to the chase.

Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.

“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”

“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.

“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”

“Sigewinne—” 

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.

Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.

“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.

“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”

With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.

A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.

"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."

You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.

You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.

"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."

Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.

"Have I been acting like a hardass?"

"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…

"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."

"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.

"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"

"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."

"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.

However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .

So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.

"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"

"Ah, you caught that."

He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.

"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."

"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"

"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight. 

"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"

Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth. 

"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."

You pout.

"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"

"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."

Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.

You sigh.

"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"

You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And?"

You take a deep breath.

"That you're a cute puppy."

He blinks in shock.

"...excuse me?"

Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.

"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."

For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs. 

Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak. 

With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.

He coughs, pulling himself back together.

"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."

You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.

The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.

"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."

You swallow, anticipating his next words.

"Would you be…interested in having sex?"

Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.

"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded. 

"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"

"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head. 

"We are."

In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.

Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.

You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.

You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another. 

Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.

“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.

“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”

Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.

When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.

“Wh—”

Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.

“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.

“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.

“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.

“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”

Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.

Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.

“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”

His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue. 

“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.

And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.

So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.

…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.

Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.

No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.

Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.

The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.

Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…

“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.

“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”

You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.

However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.

With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.

Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.

Shit, he thinks. 

His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.

There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—

“Let’s get you right side up.”

—and the world spins again.

Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.

You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.

You glance down at his lap.

“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”

“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.

“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.

“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”

His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.

It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.

“Here we are.”

Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots. 

By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.

His lips twitch into a little smile.

“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”

Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.

“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”

Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.

In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.

“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…” 

He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them. 

Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.

“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…” 

His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.

“...what say we continue like this, hm?”

Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy. 

His icy eyes catch yours.

“Any objection?”

“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets. 

Wriothesley nods—

“Good.”

—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.

Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.

His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.

Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him. 

And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.

“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.

Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.

“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—

Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!

“Fuck! ” 

You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.

The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.

…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.

You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.

Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you. 

The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.

“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.

Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…

Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.

Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.

So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.

The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.

“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”

Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.

Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.

“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin. 

“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”

You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.

Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.

He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.

Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.

To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.

“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.

Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.

“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.

You can’t take it anymore.

Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.

He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy. 

His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.

It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.

The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.

He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.

After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.

…only to realize that you’re laughing.

“...puppy…”

He props himself up, glancing at you.

“What?”

“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”

You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”

His hand rubs against your waist.

“...right?”

Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.

“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”

Wriothesley chuckles.

“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”

“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.

“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.

“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”

Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.

The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.

For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath. 

…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.

“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”

“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.

“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”

“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.

“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”

His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?

“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”

The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.

“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle. 

Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“So, I’ll…see you later?”

His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.

“You’ll see me later,” you promise. 

With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.

To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.

…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.

With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.

“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”

Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.

“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”

“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.

As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.

“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”

Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.

“...maybe.”

Sigewinne smiles. 

That’s good enough for her.

[A Dragon's Constitution] ->

[libraryofsimps]

A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]

Summary: Iudex Neuvillette has been acting a little...strange, as of late. Worried about him, Sigewinne and Wriothesley come up with a plan to help lessen his load. “I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.” Well, being Neuvillette's assistant for a week shouldn't be that bad. Unless, of course, the reason Neuvillette has been acting strange is due to the fact that he's actually a dragon that has regained his full power, and now, with the return of said power, his body is experiencing things he's never known before now. Because that would be totally crazy...right? Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Rut, fem!reader Word Count: 10.8k Note: this occurs after "Doctor's Orders"

Sigewinne is the first to hear the rumors about Iudex Neuvillette—although Wriothesley isn’t far behind.

The first indication that something might be wrong with the Iudex is brought up in a letter—one penned by Sedene that is delivered to Sigewinne. In the letter, Sedene writes that since Fontaine has overcome its disaster, everything has been going well…except, Neuvillette has been behaving a little…strange.

Sedene does not elaborate on what exactly is wrong, and Sigewinne assumes that’s because she doesn’t know. Melusine have the ability to sense things, but the things they sense aren’t always accompanied with an answer.

And so, Sigewinne writes back telling Sedene to make sure Neuvillette is staying hydrated (since she knows he has been particularly busy as of late), and that she’ll try and make a trip to see him soon, when she has the time.

The following day, a new batch of wrongdoers arrive in the prison, and along with them—some speculations about Fontaine’s supreme judge.

“I think I deserve a retrial,” one of the men says, clearly frustrated. “I stated my case, but then Iudex Neuvillette actually blanked, and had to ask me to repeat myself! After I said everything so eloquently! That’s why I’m down here, man. I was so surprised by it that when I said my argument again, I sounded lame…this sucks.”

Listening from behind a nearby pillar, Wriothesley frowns to himself. 

Neuvillette getting distracted in court? Well, that’s certainly a first—and a worrying first, at that.

Before the day’s end, Wriothesley and Sigewinne seek each other out. Equally concerned about what they’ve been hearing, they spend the evening coming up with a plan. Something they might be able to do to help Neuvillette.

The next morning, you wake up and get ready—prepared to go and spend a few days below ground in the Fortress…only to find Wriothesley on your doorstep.

“Hi,” he says with a smile when you pull your front door open.

Your eyes go wide, and you glance either way down the street, wondering if you’re being pranked. 

When nothing seems suspicious, you reach out and touch Wriothesley’s chest to make sure he’s real.

He immediately rolls his eyes and snatches your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”

“Good—but, why are you here?” you ask. 

Not that he isn’t welcome at your apartment, but…you just didn’t expect to see him here. On the surface. At your place of residence.

“Am I late or something? I thought we scheduled for me to come back to the Fortress today.”

“No, you are not late,” he reassures you. He gives your hand a little squeeze before allowing you to have it back.

“There’s been…a little change in your schedule.”

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of change?”

Does he want you to stay on the surface a few more days before coming back down? Considering he’s here, maybe he’s got some business on the surface, which would mean there’s no point in you going to the Fortress right now.

Wriothesley’s smile grows—little crow's feet appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”

…

Huh?

“Here.”

Wriothesley grabs your bag—the one slung over your arm and packed with items that should have tied you over while you stayed in the Fortress—and tosses it back into your apartment.

Then, he gently grabs your waist, pulls you out onto the street, and closes the door to your apartment behind you. He checks the door to make sure it’s locked, and when he finds that it is, he nods in satisfaction.

“C’mon, keep up,” he says, starting up the street. His boots are heavy against the pavement.

Blinking, you finally snap out of it and jog to catch up with him.

“Hold on, you—you’re lending me to Iudex Neuvillette?”

You’ve never known the man to have an assistant, and from what you’ve heard from Wriothesley and others, he tends to prefer working alone. Aside from that, he’s very skilled at his job, and typically doesn’t need help—even with the never ending case load.

“...did he consent to this?”

Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.

“Not yet, but he will.”

The two of you turn a corner, heading towards an elevator that will take you up towards the Palais Mermonia. You narrow your eyes at Wriothesley. He waves you off.

“Sigewinne and I both heard that he seems a little…stressed lately. And we decided the best thing we could do right now, aside from giving him our support, would be lending him you. So, assuming he is in need of help, I don’t see why he would turn our offer down, considering how proficient you are.”

“While I appreciate the praise, I think you’re underestimating the pride of men,” you tell him, standing at his side as the two of you arrive at the elevator. Wriothesley hits the button to summon it to your floor.

“Hey, when I got busier than usual, I hired you,” he points out. You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I’m 99% sure the only reason you hired me was due to Sigewinne's influence. I bet she saw your stress growing and bugged you to get an assistant until you finally gave in.”

Wriothesley sighs.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart.”

You grin, holding your head high.

Finally, the elevator arrives on your floor. When the door opens, Wriothesley motions for you to board first. Then, he follows you on.

“So, let’s say Sigewinne did insist I hire an assistant. The result of doing so was positive. My work got easier, and my life improved. If we present that logic to Neuvillette, there’s no reason he should decline our help. Plus, he tends to listen to Sigewinne.”

You sigh, watching the city outside the glass doors of the elevator. You’re nearly to the floor the Palais Mermonia is on.

“If Neuvillette agrees that he wants the help, I have no issue being his assistant for the week.”

Wriothesley catches your silent drift of “you get the pleasure of trying to convince him to accept help, though”. 

Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.

“Sigewinne and I appreciate your cooperation,” he tells you sincerely.

Arriving on your floor, the elevator doors open, and you step out first—standing aside to allow Wriothesley to walk past you and lead the way. A few gazes are thrown your way as you go—people surprised to see the Duke of the Fortress above ground for once—but Wriothesley doesn’t react, so neither do you.

Sticking by his side, you follow him up the steps and through the front door of the building. 

“Duke Wriothesley,” Sedene greets as you near the doors of Neuvillette’s office. She runs up to the two of you, her eyes somewhat nervously shifting towards the office doors.

“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”

She wants to say that he’s not accepting visitors at the moment, but she can’t get the words out—obviously worried about him. Wriothesley flashes her a kind smile.

“Sigewinne sent us,” he tells her, relief immediately appearing on her face at his words. “Is Neuvillette in?”

“Yes, he is in,” she confirms, and then scuttles back over to her desk, only to return a moment later with a tray of tea (or, teacups and water?) in her hands. 

“Take this when you go in, that should help.”

“I appreciate that,” Wriothesley responds. You reach down to take the tray from her hands, quietly thanking her as well. She flashes you a smile, gives you a thumbs up, and then goes back to work.

You and Wriothesley glance at each other. Seeing you’re ready, he raps his knuckles on the door thrice, and enters the room when Neuvillette’s muffled and somewhat reluctant “come in” is heard from beyond the door.

Gripping the handle, Wriothesley pushes his way inside. You dutifully follow after him.

Once in the office—the door shutting softly behind you—you quickly realize that perhaps something is wrong with the Iudex. Because for a man known for his neatness, and professionalism, his office is quite…untidy, at the moment. 

Papers are scattered along his desk—piles uneven, and threatening to fall. And on the coffee table nearby, there are multiple cups, along with empty bottles of imported water. Not to mention books that are strewed around—some even on the floor.

Wriothesley takes quick stock of the state of the office before his gaze settles on Neuvillette, who is sitting at his desk. He's wearing his normal robes, and yet he looks…strangely disheveled. Perhaps it's the faint dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair looks less kept than usual?

“I thought I instructed that there were to be no—oh, Wriothesley.”

Neuvillette's tone of measured annoyance softens the second he looks up and sees who it actually is that has entered his office. Then, he sighs, feeling ashamed of his initial attitude.

“I apologize. Did you request a meeting? I don't recall getting any correspondence about it, unless it was accidentally left off my calendar.”

“No need for apologies, Monsieur Neuvillette. I am the one who should be apologizing, as I did not reach out beforehand to let anyone know that I was coming.”

Wriothesley bows in slight apology, and you mirror him, figuring it's the right thing to do since you're technically also intruding.

“I know you're very busy, so I'll cut right to the chase to save us both time. Sigewinne and I are concerned about you, since we've both heard from multiple sources that you seem a little out of sorts as of late. So, in an attempt to help lessen your load, I'd like to offer you my assistant, Y/N, for the week.”

For the first time since you'd entered with Wriothesley, Neuvillette’s sharp eyes slide to you. You force a polite smile to your lips and—remembering the tray in your hands—move to set it on the nearby table.

Quickly filling one of the glasses with the water, you stride over to Neuvillette’s desk and offer it to him.

“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say. 

“And you as well,” he responds, keeping up formalities.

Taking the glass from your hand, Neuvillette takes a long sip of water, and you scoot back to Wriothesley’s side. Once Neuvillette has finished his drink, he places the glass down on his desk and sighs.

“I assure you that I am alright, and there is no need for concern.”

“I hate to disagree, but based on the state of your office, I can't believe that's true.”

Neuvillette’s gaze slides around his office, as if truly seeing it for the first time in days. His brows pinch together as he realizes Wriothesley is right. He hadn't noticed it'd become so messy…

“I will admit I have been a little…scattered, lately. But it's nothing I cannot handle. Lending me your assistant would only increase the burden of your own workload, which I cannot accept.”

“Actually,” Wriothesley is quick to counter. “I hired Y/N before the disaster, because much of my time was occupied watching the primordial sea gate, and preparing the Wingalet. Now that the disaster has passed, and things have relatively calmed down, my workload has greatly lessened. Meaning, I have no issue temporarily lending her to you.”

Knowing Wriothesley is only willing to give you up temporarily—meaning he'll want you back to himself at some point—makes you happy.

“Be that as it may, I will still have to decline your offer.”

Alright then, time to break out the big guns.

“I know since Furina stepped down as the Archon, you've only gotten busier,” Wriothesley tells him, fixing him with a concerned stare. “And because of that, Sigewinne is worried. If you could just accept Y/N's help for the week, I'm sure that would help put her mind at ease.”

The mention of Sigewinne causes Neuvillette to frown, so Wriothesley quickly lays it on thicker.

“I assure you that Y/N has been a great aide to me,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “Sigewinne recommends her as well. If you allow her to help you for a few days, I have no doubt she’ll be of use to you. So please, Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette places his elbows on his desk and folds his hands together. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, he sighs.

“Fine. If Y/N is okay with this arrangement, I shall accept her help.”

Both men look your way. You smile.

“I’d be more than happy to help with whatever I can.”

Honestly, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here, and aren’t even sure what there is you can do to support him, but considering how tired he looks, you’ll surely try your best.

“Good! Glad that’s settled.”

With a happy grin—pleased that he has won the battle—Wriothesley turns to you. He cups the back of your head and drags you in—his lips pressing into your hair.

“I’ll come visit on Saturday to take her back into my care. Best of luck to you both,” he says, heading for the door. He waves his hand at you and Neuvillette over his shoulder, and without saying anything else, exits the office.

You stare at the closed door for a second, before you take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and turn back to Neuvillette.

…only to find that he’s fixing you with a peculiar stare.

“Are you and Wriothesley seeing each other…?” he asks.

Ah, right, the way Wriothesley had kissed your head before leaving…

“We are not,” you assure him, taking a few steps towards his desk. “Since entering his employment the two of us have just become…fond of each other.”

Which isn’t a lie. You and Wriothesley are quite fond of each other—fond enough that every time you go to stay in the Fortress, you find yourself in his bed at least once (and not just because Sigewinne has instructed Wriothesley to continue having sex to keep his stress levels down). And no, you’re not dating, but that’s fine. You enjoy what you have with him right now, and honestly, it’d be a bad look if anyone found out Wriothesley was dating his assistant anyway.

“I see,” Neuvillette nods, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I apologize for presuming.”

“No need to apologize, Monsieur,” you respond, stepping up beside his desk. You smile at him—softer, and more genuine this time.

“Now, what can I assist you with?”

While it takes a short while for Neuvillette to adjust to the idea of having an assistant to help with things, soon enough, the two of you come to an understanding.

He admits that he has been struggling to juggle court cases and new paperwork that needs to be signed off on now that the judicial system is changing (thanks to recent developments). So, you put forth the idea to allocate time to signing documents, and while you run things where they need to go afterwards, Neuvillette can address any cases on his docket. 

Not having any better idea, he goes with your plan.

While Neuvillette busies himself with signing paperwork, you flit around his office—cleaning up empty bottles and used cups, and putting abandoned books back on the shelves.

By the time you’ve finished organizing (taking your time to make sure everything is put back in its proper place), Neuvillette has finished reviewing his first stack of papers.

“These have all been signed off on,” he says, summoning you to his side. He points at the top right hand corner of the paper. “This area on each document will show you where it needs to be returned.”

“Understood,” you respond, taking the stack from him. You cradle the papers in your arms and leaf through the first few sheets while heading for the door. However, you quickly realize the documents aren’t grouped by which location they need to be dropped at.

So, you make a detour at the coffee table—gently sitting yourself on the sofa as you begin sorting the papers into smaller stacks, grouped by department. Once you’ve done that, you pile them all together again, and continue towards the door—unaware of the way Neuvillette’s lips tug into a smile at your actions.

Delivering documents where they need to go takes up the remainder of your morning, and by the time you’ve finished, your stomach is growling. So—figuring that Neuvillette won’t have stepped away from his desk yet—you decide to pick up something for the both of you.

“You've returned,” he says without looking up from the document in his hand as you step into his office. “I assume everything has been delivered?”

“Yes,” you respond with a nod, his gaze finally rising to look at you as he hears the sound of the bag in your hand, and smells the contents within. “And I grabbed us lunch. I assume you haven’t eaten?”

“I have not,” he confirms. His eyes watch you as you b-line for the coffee table and begin unpacking the take-out food. “I’m not sure what you like, but I figured I’d play it safe and go with soup, since you seem to enjoy…liquids.”

How else are you supposed to describe his taste when all you've seen him consume today is cup after cup of water?

Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.

Standing from his chair, he makes his way over, staring at the clear broth of the consomme.

“...I think I'm beginning to see why Wriothesley enjoys having you as an assistant.”

“Oh? Sounds like Iudex Neuvillette is becoming fond of me too,” you say—very jokingly. “You may have to fight Wriothesley for me later. Assuming I stay as helpful during the remainder of the week.”

You half expect Neuvillette to say say something about how a fight won’t be necessary, as you're only a temporary loan, and he shouldn't need help beyond this week anyway—but instead, he cracks a smile, grabs his portion of the consomme, and says—

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

—before he returns to his desk and continues working through his lunch.

In the afternoon, Neuvillette remains immersed in paperwork and other documents. You mostly spend your time making sure he has enough water available to drink, and fetching him any books or materials he asks for, so he doesn’t have to step away from his desk and break his concentration.

It’s a dynamic that works, and already, you can tell his stress has lessened—now that he’s caught up on many tasks. However, there’s still the slightest pinch to his brow, and a tiny flush on the skin of his neck despite the fact that it’s not overly hot in his office (at least, in your opinion. But maybe all that hair of his is warm?).

However, you don’t bother overthinking it. It’s still your first day assisting him. It would be crazy to think he’d suddenly be stress-free after a few hours in your care.

When the clock strikes 5, Neuvillette doesn’t miss a beat.

“You may go home for the day.”

You blink, looking around for the time.

“...will you continue working?”

“Yes, but that isn’t out of the ordinary,” Neuvillette responds, taking a sip from the glass of water on his desk. “However, your station doesn’t warrant you working overtime. You should go home now and enjoy your evening.”

You suppose he’s right…there are some things you can’t really assist him with anyway. Plus, you still have four more days working under him.

“Alright then, I won’t argue with you,” you respond. You gather up what little things you had brought with you, and then head for the door. But, before you go, you turn back to him.

“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”

“9am will be fine.”

“Understood,” you nod, flashing him a smile. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Monsieur.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he responds in kind, watching you as you open the door and slip out of his office.

His gaze only lingers on the spot where you stood for a brief moment before he returns to his work.

The next day, you arrive at Neuvillette’s office at the agreed upon time, only to find that he’s getting ready to leave.

“I have some trials at the Opera Epiclese today,” he says. “You are welcome to join me.”

And really, who would pass up that offer?

So, without even setting your things down, you follow Neuvillette out of the building and to the Navia line—boarding an aquabus that will take you to the opera house.

Neuvillette garners a lot of attention as the two of you make your way to the building, but you do your best to tune out any stares or whispers. You think Neuvillette’s popularity among the people will never die.

“I have a guest today,” Neuvillette tells one of the staff members once you’ve entered the main hall. “Please make sure she is given a seat.”

“Of course,” they assure him, to which he nods. His eyes catch yours. 

“I will find you once the trials are over,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.

“Luck is typically not required,” he tells you. You feel a little heat of embarrassment rise on your skin, but the smile that appears at the corner of Neuvillette’s lips assures you he’s only joking with you. 

“Nonetheless, thank you.”

With that, he turns and heads up a staircase that will lead him upstairs to the judge’s seat.

You follow the staff member into the theater, still feeling a little warm.

As it turns out, Neuvillette has a full docket today. 

From morning to afternoon, you spend your day settled into your seat in the theater—watching prosecutors and defendants present evidence and argue back and forth.The cases draw most of your attention, but your gaze still strays to Neuvillette every so often, just to make sure he’s alright.

And he seems to be…for the most part.

Once or twice, you notice that his eyes are unfocused—staring off into the distance, and not at the person who is speaking. And when a recess is taken for lunch, and Neuvillette finds you to invite you to partake in lunch with him, you notice that the flush on his neck has returned.

Silently, you wonder if he’s getting sick…although you’ve never heard of Iudex Neuvillette being sick before now.

You make sure to send him back up to his stand with an extra bottle of water (which he downs quite quickly. Then, he even motions for one of the nearby employees to bring him more, which…also must be a little strange, considering you see some people in the audience watching Neuvillette, instead of the “show”).

By the time his docket has been cleared, and the two of you take the aquabus back to the city, the work day is over. You and Neuvillette bid each other farewell, and you return home.

Your third day is spent helping Neuvillette finish up paperwork related to the cases from the previous day. 

He remains flushed the entire time—the blush on his neck creeping up to his ears. He also begins sighing heavily every so often, and his requests for water become more frequent—to the point where Sedene, who guards Neuvillette’s stash of imported waters, even gets surprised by how quickly he’s going through them.

However, it’s not until the fourth day—when you see Neuvillette behind his desk, face flushed, sweat beading on his brow, and his official robes discarded due to how hot he is—that you finally have the guts to speak up.

“Monsieur,” you say hesitantly, remaining gentle despite the way his head nearly snaps up to look at you. 

“Is it possible that you’re sick?”

Neuvillette frowns at the suggestion, as if that’s impossible, but…after a few seconds, he seems contemplative.

“Would you be able to go to the library and fetch me a book?” he responds without answering your original question. He writes the title down on a piece of paper for you, and you take it—unable to say no.

After a short trip to the library, you recruit the help of the librarian, who points you in the right direction, and—soon enough—you find what Neuvillette has asked for.

A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.

…huh.

Dutifully, you take the book back to Neuvillette after checking it out, and he thanks you—setting it off to the side until he has finished what he’s working on. It takes another hour or so, but finally, out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the book.

He flips through the pages until he finds the section he’s most interested in, and then he just…reads. For a while.

You keep yourself busy organizing paperwork in the meantime, and don’t pay him much mind. At least, until you hear a crunching sound.

Startled, you glance over at Neuvillette, only to find that his desk is cracked—his hand gripping it so hard that the wood has actually splintered.

You jump to your feet.

“Neuvillette—?!”

“Leave.”

There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.

“What—”

You’re unable to get more than a word out before his sharp eyes find you—his pupils like daggers.

“Leave,” he repeats, slightly more calm. Although, you swear you can almost hear a rumble in his chest.

Your heart sinks, worry blooming in your chest. Did you do something to upset him?

Seeing how your face twists, Neuvillette takes a deep breath.

“I apologize,” he says, his tone measured. His eyes meet yours for a long beat before he glances away, unable to look at you.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I appreciate your help until now, but I will no longer be needing your assistance. Please go home.”

Not understanding why he’s had a sudden change in demeanor, you want to prod him for answers about what’s going on, but…seeing the tenseness of his body, and the way his chest heaves, you decide to listen to his request.

Without further argument, you gather your things and quickly head for the door—only pausing to say one last thing before leaving.

“It was nice working with you, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips even though he refuses to look your way. “If you ever need my assistance again, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

The sound of the door shutting behind you is loud in Neuvillette’s ears, and once you’re gone, he finally lets go of his desk—chips of wood sprinkling the floor at his feet.

He attempts to take a deep breath to calm himself—but it has the opposite effect—his jaw clenching as his senses are flooded with the scents in his office, all of which seem more pungent than usual.

Leather book covers, fresh ink, Springvale water, his freshly washed robe, and a fleeting, sweet scent…

A scent that he wants to chase after.

He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.

Then, with shaking fingers, he picks up his pen and grabs a piece of paper.

As he drafts the notice of closure he intends to pass along to Sedene, a thunderstorm begins brewing outside his window.

On the morning of what should have been your fifth and final day in Neuvillette’s care, you wake up and find that you can’t simply let things be. 

You do your best to distract yourself with whatever chores in your apartment need doing, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about Neuvillette—the flush on his skin, and the way his eyes had looked when he’d commanded you to leave.

It had all just felt so…out of character. You can’t help but worry about him.

So, despite the thunderstorm that’s been raging outside since you’d returned home the evening before, you decide to go and check on him.

You bundle yourself up in a coat and shoes that won’t be ruined by the rain, and then grab your umbrella—heading out into the storm.

As expected, not many people are out, which makes traversing the streets quite easy. You ride the elevator up to the Palais Mermonia alone, running up the steps and into the building to escape the rain.

In your hurry, you miss the notice that’s been posted on the doors to the building.

Once inside, you close your umbrella and prepare an apology to Sedene for dripping all over the floor, but to your surprise, she’s not at her desk. In fact, there’s not a soul in sight—the lights off, and the hall empty.

You’ve never heard of the Palais Mermonia shutting down before…

You take a step back towards the entrance as lightning illuminates the room—figuring it’s best if you leave. But…

Your gaze strays towards the doors to Neuvillette’s office, and after a beat, your feet begin moving on their own.

Assuming Neuvillette is here (because it’s not hard to imagine him working, even if everyone else is gone), you want to make sure he’s alright. 

So, you grip the handle to his office door, and quietly push your way inside.

A clap of thunder drowns out the sound of the office door clicking closed, and you take a step deeper inside, your eyes peering around the room.

In the darkness, you don't immediately spot anyone.

“Neuvillette?” you call out, just to be sure.

Before his name has finished leaving your lips, a shadow moves. Something rounding Neuvillette’s desk and heading towards you—snake-like eyes shining through the darkness.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you trip over your feet in a panic as you rush to grab the handle of the office door—hoping to throw it open and dart outside before whatever monster you’ve just walked in on is able to get to you.

And really—it has to be a monster. It’s quicker than you—quicker than a normal human—crossing Neuvillette’s office in less than a second.

A scaled hand slams against the door beside your head, and little sound of fear is ripped from your throat. 

You're being prevented from leaving—the door not budging even when you try and discreetly tug at the handle.

Your chest shudders as you take a breath, and you squeeze your eyes shut, fearing the worst.

Even with your back turned, you know there's some sort of beast behind you. One that’s stronger than you. One that will probably end your life before you can beg for mercy— 

“I told you not to return here.”

The sound of Neuvillette’s voice beside your ear causes you to jolt.

He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin, and while realizing that it’s Neuvillette who is behind you should be a comfort, it’s also…frightening. 

You’re aware—like most Fontainians—that Iudex Neuvillette is not totally human, considering he has been presiding as the chief judge for more than a few centuries now, but…you’ve never seen him act like this.

“I…was worried about you. After yesterday,” you respond, finally finding your voice. 

“I sent you away for a reason.”

His voice is deeper than normal—a rumble vibrating in his chest as he speaks. 

His lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Goosebumps rise on your skin and your heart races faster despite your best efforts to stay calm. 

However, staying calm isn’t easy to do in this situation—especially when Neuvillette literally starts to glow.

The scales on his hand which you’d spotted early begin to softly shine blue in the dim light of the room—his nails curling and carving uneven lines into the wood of the door in front of you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, your breath hitching when his free arm suddenly curls around you. His forearm rests between your breasts, his palm splaying over your sternum, and you feel him take a deep breath—almost like he’s inhaling your scent.

“I was trying to protect you,” he says, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat. He can feel your pulse raising—your heart thundering in your chest.

You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.

“Protect me from what, exactly, Monsieur…?”

“Me,” he responds.

His words send electricity up your spine.

“The way I’ve been acting—the way I’ve been feeling recently—it’s very unusual, and something I’ve never experienced before,” he admits—his warmth bleeding into your back as his body curls around you.

“That’s why I had you retrieve that book for me when you questioned if I was ill. There was a small change in my…constitution, lately. One that only early generations of my kind have experienced. So I wanted to brush up on history, and see if I could find any clues. And I did.”

He takes another long breath, and you hear the wood of the door crunch as his grip tightens.

“Experiencing a lack of focus, increased appetite, increased body temperature, and increased sensitivity to certain scents are all signs of one thing. An impending rut.”

A rut.

The word hits you like a train.

“While having an assistant was a nice change, being around you only exacerbated the issue.”

He doubts you’d taken notice with how immersed you’d been in your own tasks this week, but Neuvillette has been watching you. The way you tuck your hair back when you’re reading, the way your ass looks when you bend down to gather papers, the scent of your perfume whenever you approach his desk…

At first, he’d been distraught by his own actions—not understanding why he was being so…improper towards you. But now he gets it.

His instincts have been itching for something to mate. And now that something is you.

Diligent, kind, and pretty…those traits, combined with being around you 8 hours a day, have made you an easy pick.

“That’s why I told you to leave. Why I closed down Palais Mermonia today—to spare anyone any trouble, and to try and deal with this on my own. But you just had to come back…”

The hand on your chest inches closer to your breast—fingers hovering above the soft mound of flesh—before Neuvillette catches himself, and backs off.

“I think I have enough willpower remaining to grant you one last chance,” he tells you, although his throat tightens as he speaks—as if saying such a thing pains him.

“I’ll release you, and when I do, run.”

Run.

Run.

Your instincts scream at you to do just that—the world moving in slow motion as Neuvillette takes a deep breath and takes a step back. 

His hands retract, momentarily relinquishing their hold on you and the door.

All you need to do now is twist the handle and dart outside. To leave him here, and not look back.

You turn the handle, and the door inches open. Behind you, you swear you hear something akin to a whine becoming trapped in Neuvillette’s throat. 

Despite his words, he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s only doing this out of consideration for you.

But…based on the way he’d spoken about his rut—the way he’d needed to read up on his symptoms to determine what exactly was going on—he’s obviously never had to deal with this before. And from what you know of ruts and heat cycles and the like, you doubt dealing with this alone will be enjoyable for him. 

In fact, it will probably be painful.

Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.

You’re scared, but—

Slowly, you close the door—until it clicks, and you’re once again trapped inside the room with Neuvillette. 

You can’t leave him here to suffer on his own.

Neuvillette’s arms wrap around you. His nails dig into your skin through your shirt.

“Why didn’t you leave, you—”

His frustrated voice cuts off, and you can only assume he wants to call you some silly name, but can’t bring himself to. Ever polite, even in this state of his.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, his long hair tickling your cheek. You reach up one of your hands and gently pet his hair.

“It didn’t feel right to leave you here. Alone,” you respond, and despite the way your heart is racing nervously, you still don’t regret your decision.

Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.

“I won’t be able to stop myself any longer,” he tells you. The truth in his words become apparent a moment later, when you feel his canines scrape your neck, and his pelvis grind against your ass. 

The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.

“I know,” you say quietly. Your other hand gives his arm a little squeeze—a reassurance that you’ll be okay. 

“This is wrong of me…”

The frustration in his tone is quickly melting into desperation, his lips incessant at your neck.

A quiet laugh leaves you.

“Wriothesley and I…we already do this kind of thing together. So…if it helps, consider it a part of my job.”

Truthfully, you don’t consider it to be a part of your job. What you and Wriothesley have is not born out of obligation (although, neither is this). But you’re sure hearing such a thing from you will help put Neuvillette at ease, considering his penchant for propriety.

And, of course, it does.

He takes a deep breath—

“Thank you—”

—and then immediately grabs your chin, and turns your head so he can kiss you.

The noise of surprise you make is quickly drowned out by his tongue. A tongue that is longer than a humans, considering it pushes into the back of your mouth—nearly forcing past your uvula and down your throat.

The intense kiss has you fisting your hands in his shirt, your eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to reciprocate, but with every passing second, you realize that will be impossible.

He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.

His barrage of sloppy, passionate kisses go on for what seems like forever—your head actually beginning to swim as your body fights for oxygen.

Only when the first, pathetic whine leaves your throat does Neuvillette remember he needs to allow you to breathe. 

Retracting his tongue, a line of spit connects the two of you as you begin gasping for air.

However, Neuvillette is unable to wait for you to regain your bearings.

He grabs you by the backs of your thighs and hefts you into the air—your knees straddling either side of his torso as he carries you across his office, and over to the sofa.

He lays you down on the soft cushions, and you stare up at him, your skin flushed, eyes wide, and chest heaving.

He needs to see more of you. Needs to hear more cute sounds. Needs you all fucked out and stuffed with his—

Swooping down, Neuvillette captures your lips again. But this time, it’s more of a proper make-out—his lips melding against yours and your tongues rolling together as his hands trace your waist and settle near your hips.

You gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. Then, a beat later, the hem of your panties.

Both items of clothing are in the way of what he wants.

In one swift move, he discards them both—stripping your lower half bare. He deposits your clothing on the floor beside the couch, and as he does so, he sits back—his gaze heavy with hunger as he admires you.

The intensity with which he regards you has you quickly feeling self-conscious, but before you can even think of trying to shield yourself from him, his hands are on your knees.

He pries your legs apart. 

You can't help the little gasp that leaves you—your pussy throbbing with nervous anticipation as his fingertips trace up your thighs.

His palms settle on your hips, and again, a noise is ripped out of you as he forces your lower half off the couch.

As if you weigh nothing more than a feather, Neuvillette drags you down the couch to meet him—your spine curving as he continues to manhandle you—lifting your pelvis farther and farther off the cushions, until your ass is resting on his chest, and your legs are thrown over his shoulders.

His gaze angles sharply downwards, to your cunt. And for a second, the pressure he exudes is truly that of a dragon—one that could unhinge its jaw and swallow you in one bite.

But while Neuvillette does open his mouth, he doesn’t bare any teeth.

No, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign actually wets his lips before he leans down to meet you.

The first taste of his meal.

You can’t help but hold your breath—your fingers curling into the couch cushions beneath you as Neuvillette’s tongue nudges between your folds.

He traces his tongue up—circling your clit, and making you jolt—before dragging it back down to the spot where your arousal has started to pool. You can feel the pressure of his tongue as he presses it at your entrance.

And for a few seconds, he doesn’t move. He just sits there, silently allowing your taste—your essence—to wash over his tongue. But once he's sure that he's memorized the taste of you—committed it to his memory as a sinful pleasure he’ll surely relish in during the millennia yet to come—he gets down to business.

His tongue nudges between your walls, his nose brushing up against the soft skin of your pussy as he makes his mouth flush with you. And as he does so, you (foolishly) assume he's as deep as he can go. That the stretch of your cunt around his tongue will be good preparation for what's likely to come, and he'll simply lap at you until he's satisfied.

…of course, if he was a normal man, that might be the case.

You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.

“Oh, fuck,” you pant, hips jumping in his hold as his tongue suddenly thickens and elongates. It twists deeper inside of you, filling up your cunt wholly.

You've never felt anything akin to this before.

“Monsieur—,” you say, breathless. You can't even think of what you want to say to him.

His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours. 

He says nothing, doesn't dare to take his mouth off of you to speak—not willing to let a drop of you go to waste. But, he does give your leg a little squeeze—a small reassurance, you think.

Then, his tongue starts to move.

He fucks it inside of you with precise control—rolling it up against different areas inside of you until he locates that one special spot that makes you gasp. Your thighs tighten around his head, and your pussy clamps down on his tongue, causing a happy little rumble to resound inside Neuvillette’s chest.

He becomes relentless immediately, his nose brushing up against your clit as he continues grinding his tongue inside of you. Your body writhes, and he holds you tightly—his fingers pressing bruises into your skin where he touches you.

He can't stop. 

He bullies your g-spot incessantly.

You feel like you’re on fire—pleasure scorching away at the nerves that connect your brain to your body. 

You can't control yourself.

The moans and whines that escape you—the arousal that gushes over Neuvillette’s tongue as he continues fucking you…

“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”

Oh god, you can't even get a full sentence out. You want to warn him that you're going to cum—that you won't be able to hold back if his tongue continues moving inside of you like that—but he already knows. He can sense what's coming in the way your muscles tense, and your breath catches.

Cum, he wants to say, but doesn't—not daring to remove his mouth from you when you're on the precipice of an orgasm. 

Within seconds, you come undone—the walls of your pussy fluttering around him, and helpless whimpers falling from your lips.

And yet, even with you being mid-orgasm, a dragon that's drunk on the taste of you pushes for more. He folds you over—trying to reach deeper inside of you. 

The slick from your pussy overflows and drips down between the cheeks of your ass, and immediately, Neuvillette’s fingers are there—gathering it up and smearing it against your hole.

The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.

“Neuvillette, you're—”

“Shh,” he says, for the first time retracting his tongue from inside of you. He kisses at your clit, his free hand trailing up your torso and beneath your shirt. 

“Lift your arms,” he says, his voice deep, and yet soft. The hunger in his gaze hasn't waned one bit, but knowing he has a mate to help him through his rut has put him somewhat at ease, and he doesn't want you to fear him.

Without arguing, you do as he says, and he manages to wrestle your shirt over your head. 

Finally, you're bare beneath him. 

He takes a second to admire you, his hand moving to rest against one of your breasts. He cups it with his palm, his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple, and when you immediately jolt in response—he almost smiles.

Almost, because he still has more work to do if he wants to fully indulge in you, and satisfy his own needs.

“I'll take care of you,” he promises. “Trust me.”

And before you can even think of how to respond, he slips one of his fingers into your ass. 

The gasp that leaves you quickly deteriorates into a lewd moan as his tongue once again returns to your cunt, and you swear it’s somehow even bigger than it was before. 

Not having forgotten his new discoveries, Neuvillette effortlessly locates that special little spot inside of you and begins assaulting it once more—reveling in the way your body shakes, and your ass flutters around his finger. 

He needs you pliant and ready for him, and it takes all of his willpower to not rush. To work at the pace your body needs.

Luckily, his mouth on your pussy and his hand on your breast helps loosen you up. The tension you'd first held—nervous about stepping into the dragon's clutches—begins melting away. 

You trust that he won't hurt you.

“Ah—!” 

He slips a second finger inside of you.

Compared to the incessant rub of his tongue inside you, the motion of his fingers is calmer—a purposeful, moderate pace—and the dueling sensations make your head spin.

It's all so much. 

“Neuvillette—”

You reach one of your hands up, needing to ground yourself with something—and you end up taking a fistful of his hair. 

Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.

He needs to hear you say his name like that again. Actually, more than that, he needs to feel you clenching down on his—

Neuvillette groans into your pussy as you tug at his hair once more. In response, he retracts his tongue from inside you and drags it upwards—grinding it against your clit.

Instantly, you lose it.

A mix of curses, blabbers, and his name are drawn from you—your body squirming against the couch cushions as he laps at your neglected and sensitive clit. At the same time, he scissors his fingers inside your ass, testing to see if you’re stretched enough for one more—

“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”

“Cum.” 

He says it this time—a low command partnered with the sensation of a third finger pressing inside of you. But before your brain can even digest the increased girth of his fingers, his mouth suctions back on your clit, and your toes curl.

“Fuck—!” you choke, your head pressing into the cushion as the tension inside of you snaps—pleasure rushing forth.

You unconsciously tug at Neuvillette’s hair and he takes a deep, long breath in through his nose. He’s careful to not stop the motion of his tongue or the grinding of his fingers inside of you until you begin to whine—your hand moving from his hair to his shoulder as you attempt to push him away.

Then, he finally relents.

Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you. 

Your chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, a few stray hairs sticking to the skin of your face, the slick arousal that’s smeared against your pussy, and the way you’re asshole flutters around nothing after he slowly removes his fingers…

You’re ready.

Still in the middle of catching your breath, you’re drawn back into reality by the sound of the rustling of clothes.

You peek your eyes open to find Neuvillette above you, shedding himself of his clothing. You hadn't noticed earlier, but he isn’t wearing his formal robes today. Maybe because he hadn't been expecting to see anyone, and therefore hadn’t bothered dressing up to the nines.

Neuvillette starts by loosening his tie, and then unbuttons his shirt—tossing both items down onto the floor, where they lay in a heap along with your own clothing. You expect his pants to be the next to go, but you both realize at the same moment that with his boots on, it will take more time than he wants to completely strip his bottom half.

Luckily, he doesn’t need to be completely naked to fuck you.

Popping the button and tugging down the zipper of his pants, you watch with bated breath as finally shoves his pants and underwear down. The fabric drags across his bulge as he does so, and you note for the first time how…substantial it is. 

He may actually be bigger than Wriothesley, which is something you were not expect—

Neuvillette finishes shoving his clothing down to his thighs, and you watch in pure shock as not one, but two heavy, ribbed, lightly glowing dicks spring out of his trousers.

…oh.

You hold your breath, unable to peel your eyes away from the sight of him. You’d never even considered that as a dragon, his sexual organs may be a bit different from that of a humans. You can understand now why he’d made a point to work your ass open…

Speaking of—

“Neuv—!” you gasp in surprise as he rubs his dicks between the folds of your pussy. You feel the head of one of his members catch at your entrance, but he doesn’t linger there—instead using his hand to guide it down to your ass.

“You’ll be okay,” he says, sensing your apprehension. 

He doesn’t look at you, though, as he says those words—his voice tight with desperation. He can’t wait anymore, so he has to believe them. Has to believe that he’s done enough to prepare you for what’s to come.

Gripping his length tightly, Neuvillette nudges his dick inside your asshole. 

It’s a tight fit—one that has you choking on a whine and grasping at his wrist—your nails digging into his skin. It’s not painful, but it’s still a lot—your chest shuddering as he continues to inch himself deeper inside of you.

As he does so, his other cock grinds against your pussy—helplessly waiting for its own turn to be inside of you, precum leaking from his slit and smearing against your skin.

“Gods,” he pants, a waver in his voice. His eyes are aglow as he watches himself slowly sink into your ass—the friction positively heavenly—and soon enough, he’s fully inside of you, his hips flush with your bottom. 

Your breaths coming quick, and your hand still holding tight around his wrist, the two of you meet eyes.

Then, the last little thread of Neuvillette’s sanity finally crumbles in the face of his overwhelming need to rut.

Claws digging into the flesh of one of your thighs, he forces it wider open, and grabs his second cock with his other hand.

“Neuvillette, wait—,” you try to say, but it’s no use. Even with your ass still adjusting to his intrusion, Neuvillette shoves the head of his cock into your pussy. 

“Oh, fuck—!” you cry, your fingernails digging crescents into his skin. 

Already drenched from Neuvillette’s previous actions, he expects your pussy to take him easier, but with your ass full, and your body struggling to relax, it proves challenging. He can only get his length half way inside of you before you’re gripping him so tightly that he can’t move another inch.

Drunk with desire, he actually growls.

“I—”

I’m sorry, you want to say, but can’t get the words out. You just need a minute to adjust. You can do this for him—want to do this for him—but—

“Hush,” he mumbles, close, and then his lips are on yours. 

His body cages you in as he kisses you—one of his hands resting beside your head, while the other finds the small of your back, rubbing circles into your flesh.

“You’ve been doing so well for me,” he tells you, breathless. “Taking everything I give, responding so perfectly to everything.”

His words of praise go straight to your pussy, and you whine as he pushes deeper inside of you—your walls relaxing enough to allow him farther in.

Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.

“That's it, good girl…just a bit more.”

Hearing such words from the esteemed Iudex—his hand warm on your back, and his lips soft on your skin…you want nothing more than to please him.

Taking a shaky little breath, you dispel the tension in your body. 

Immediately, Neuvillette takes advantage. With one last nudge, he stuffs the rest of his cock inside of you.

You’ve never felt so full.

Overcome with joy—a satisfaction deep within him that he’s never felt before—Neuvillette kisses you once more. 

…then, he begins to move his hips.

You cry out, your body shaking in his hold, but he doesn’t let you go. 

The slow, full rock of his hips very quickly deteriorates into quick, desperate thrusts—his cocks stretching out your holes.

The sensation is like nothing you’ve experienced before, and you find yourself helpless to do anything at all. You can hear your own voice, but don’t know what you’re saying, or if the sounds you’re making are words at all. Because while it’s your pussy and ass that are being made a mess of, your brain feels equally as scrambled—unable to conjure even one intelligent thought.

Right now, you’re just a dragon's mindless breeding hole.

The sloppy sound of sex fills Neuvillette’s office, and while it is nearly drowned out by the downpour happening outside—thick droplets of rain pelting against the windows—the plap of Neuvillette’s balls against your ass is impossible to miss. 

Ah…you’re going insane.

A tiny sob slips past your lips, tears beading at the corners of your eyes. 

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire—each stroke of Neuvillette’s cocks pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm. 

“Ahh…”

The heady sound from Neuvillette catches your attention, and you peak your eyes open, staring up at the dragon above you.

Never before have you seen him look so debauched—his hair falling out from his braid, and his face and chest flushed. His eyes remain focused on the space where his body meets yours, mesmerized by the way your body accepts him in full—nearly sucking him in, now that you’ve adjusted and any discomfort has turned to pleasure.

Only when he hears you sob again—a pathetic, desirous little sound—does his gaze stray upwards.

And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

He’s not sure he’s ever witnessed a sight so sinful. The plush of your lips, the unshed tears that wet your eyes, and the bounce of your breasts with each of his thrusts. 

Before he knows it, he’s leaning down to kiss you. 

You whine into his mouth, your arms lifting to hug around his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies. He groans as your nails leave tracks against his porcelain skin, but he doesn’t relent. 

He’s getting close.

And, judging by the way you whimper—your pussy and ass clenching down on him—you must be close too.

Spurred on, Neuvillette kisses you again and again—his kisses open-mouthed and sloppy as his tongue dances around your own. Drool and tears quickly paint your cheeks, but you’re helpless to do anything about it.

Right now, all you know is that you’re going to cum. The stretch of his cocks—the way they rub against your walls as he continues fucking into you with abandon—it’s too much. Your muscles tense, and Neuvillette’s brows pinch together as your holes suddenly tighten on him.

“Neuvillette,” you sob, the sound of his name broken as you speak it against his lips. 

“Y/N,” he pants in turn. His rhythm becomes careless as he begins to lose it as well, but he continues to fuck you the best he can despite the constricting of your walls.

It’s only a few seconds longer before you come undone—your body shaking and nails digging into his back as you orgasm. Broken little sounds escape from your mouth as waves of pleasure tear through you, and the sensation of you cumming is ultimately what does Neuvillette in as well.

With one last buck of his hips, the Iudex buries himself inside of you and cums.

His chest shudders as you milk him dry, and you struggle to keep your eyes open—feeling utterly boneless now that the tension inside of you has gone.

For a minute, the two of you stay as you are—basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. Then, Neuvillette sits back and slowly pulls out of you. 

You make a quiet noise, feeling yourself clench around nothing once you’re no longer stuffed with his cocks, and he smiles at the sound, sensing a hint of disappointment.

“You did so well,” he tells you. 

Placing his hands on your waist, he gently maneuvers you to allow himself room to lay down on his side beside you. 

The feel of his arm wrapping around you and pulling you snuggly back against his body causes a contented sigh to leave your lips, and after a few seconds, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I take it you feel a bit better now?”

“Much,” he responds, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them to your cheek. 

“However…”

He peppers another kiss against your cheek, and then your jaw, and neck. At the same time, his fingers ghost down your abdomen, until his palm is resting on your lower tummy. 

With gentle pressure, he urges your ass back against him—his hips inching forward at the same time—and shockingly, you realize that he’s still hard.

“...it seems that I’m not satisfied quite yet.”

When Wriothesley emerges from the Fortress the next day, the downpour he’d caught word of from some of the prison guards has stopped—only a few clouds littering the blue sky.

Hopefully this is a good sign, he thinks to himself, starting on his way to the aquabus station. 

He takes the line into the city, intending first to visit Neuvillette at the Palais—to hear about how his week fared with the help of an assistant. Then, once that’s done, he’ll go and visit you at your apartment to…catch up.

Smiling to himself, Wriothesley departs the aquabus and takes the path towards Nevuillette’s office. (Because somehow, he doubts the Iudex is at home relaxing like most people do on their days off.)

As he trudges up the steps to the Palais Mermonia, he steps on a wet piece of paper in front of the door. It’s the handmade notice that had been posted on the door two evenings prior, and had subsequently blown off in the storms that followed—but Wriothesley doesn’t think anything of it.

Pushing the door open, he heads inside.

“Neuvillette?” he calls gently, his knuckles rapping against the door to the Iudex’s office. 

The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.

“Come in.”

“I figured I’d find you here,” Wriothesley jokes as he steps inside, spotting Neuvillette as his normal place behind his desk. However, what isn’t normal is the fact that there’s a person sleeping on his couch—their body shrouded with a blanket, and an assortment of untouched food and a glass of water on the coffee table beside them.

Immediately Wriothesley freezes, confused about what’s going on, but…when he looks a bit closerr, he realizes the hair popping out from the top of the blanket, and the scent of the person on his couch are all too familiar.

“Y/N?”

Wriothesley walks up to the sofa, blinking in surprise when he sees that it is indeed you who is passed out—your face just barely peeking from beneath the blankets that have been snuggly wrapped around you.

“You know, Neuvillette, when I lent her to you for the week, I didn’t expect you to work her until the point of exhaustion,” he jokes, looking over towards Neuvillette with a playful hint of a grin. He expects Neuvillette to sigh and apologize, but the abashed look he is instead faced with causes Wriothesley to pause once more. 

It’s then that the Duke notices a small pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the sofa, along with your shoes. 

Hesitantly, Wriothesley grips the edge of the blanket and slowly tugs it away from your body. 

He’s met with the sight of naked shoulders, and a neck peppered with small bites and bruises.

Just as slowly as he’d moved the blanket down, he tugs it back up.

The office sits in silence for a moment. 

“She is…unharmed,” Neuvillette finally speaks, moving a strand of hair away from his face. “Her current state is my fault.”

Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.

“Compared to when I last saw you, you seem to be faring much better.”

His words cause the blush on Neuvillette’s face to deepen, and Wriothesley cracks a small smile, letting loose a sigh.

“Ahh, to think even the almighty Iudex would fare poorly due to unfulfilled needs.”

“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Neuvillette says with a sigh of his own, prompting Wriothesley to raise an eyebrow. However, when Neuvillette doesn’t speak right away—unsure about divulging the specifics that lead to this outcome—Wriothesley decides to not push it.

“Well, whatever the reason, I trust that you haven’t hurt her, and that she consented to whatever took place here.”

“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.

Standing up from his chair, he walks over and stands beside Wriothesley—reaching down to brush a gloved finger against your cheek. You stir only slightly—nuzzling your face into the pillow your head rests upon.

Both men smile.

“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”

“She is; one that works with care and compassion for the one she is helping. She performed well beyond her duties.”

“You can see now why I like her,” Wriothesley says softly, and Neuvillette can see the fondness in his gaze as he regards you.

“She did tell me that she and you are not necessarily in a committed relationship, but…I apologize regardless if I crossed any sort of line.”

Wriothesley hums.

“While the thought of sharing her with anyone else like that does make me feel a bit…possessive…she did consent to what occurred, based on your words. And, honestly speaking, I’m glad it was you over anyone else.”

Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“I trust you,” Wriothesley tells him. “Although, you having sex is not a thought that had crossed my mind before now. It makes me curious as to what exactly you did to her while the two of you were alone.”

“I assure you a majority of her time in my care was spent with her performing her standard duties as an assistant, and nothing else. As to what happened beyond that, well…I’m not sure I possess the courage to recall such details aloud.”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to assure Neuvillette he was just teasing, but the dragon continues before the Duke can interrupt.

“I suppose if you’d like to know, next time—should there be one—you’ll simply have to be present.”

Catching the meaning of his words, Wriothesley meets his gaze. 

Understanding passes between them.

“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Once Y/N has recovered, and when you next return to the surface, I’ll have to invite you both for a meal,” Neuvillette says, turning back towards his desk. “In the end, the support from you both did alleviate the issue that plagued me. It’s only right to repay such kindness when I’m next given the opportunity.”

Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.

“Well, it would be a shame to pass up on such an offer. I certainly hope that fate grants the opportunity for our schedules to align.”

Taking a seat behind his desk, a small smile appears on Neuvillette’s lips.

“I shall hope for the same.”

[libraryofsimps]

SACRARIUM ✧ ALHAITHAM

even though he’s a deity, he worships you.

cw// deity! alhaitham, shrine-keeper!afab! reader (no pronouns used), historical au, mention of war and death (for alhaitham’s backstory), pwp (w/ plot), obsessiveness, delusions, dubcon (reader is pressured into consenting), body worship, humiliation, praising, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected, sex at a shrine, slight dumbifiction, dacryphilia, cervix fucking, overstimulation, breeding, semi-proofread, semi-ooc alhaitham, nsfw starts paragraph ~34

alhaitham had been all but forgotten. a deity once so prominent, his shrine was flooded with the masses from dawn until dusk. lines of people, young and old, would be going down the mountain to get to the gate of his shrine. they just hoped that they would reach it before dusk, which was almost always impossible due to the high number of visitors on any given day. some of his most devoted followers would even go as far as sleeping at his shrine, with their feet pointed to the altar, in hopes of soaking up every last bit of his divinity. alhaitham adored it—the feeling of being so loved. though these people only heard stories of his greatness from hundreds of years ago, they still worshipped him and he relished in it. even though the shrine served as a boost to his egoism, his people’s prayers were always answered. that’s why they came back day in and day out. travellers from afar would visit just to pray to the divine being.

alhaitham was known as the deity of war and perseverance. his shrine sat on top of the soil he was slaughtered on. three hundred or so years ago, he led the enemy general up this same mountain, which was rocky and barren, and sacrificed his life for the eventual win of his people. from his grave blossomed an elm tree, and this was seen as a sign of divinity. his grave had grown a tree, on an otherwise desolate mountain. a shrine was immediately built, in both honour and faith. however, now there was not a single person left to honour him. he had been forgotten with time. there’s nothing he could have done to prevent it, and he hated that. the only thing that had stopped him from fading away all these years was the shrine-keeper. 

your house was down the mountain from the shrine, which you had inherited from your father, who had inherited it from his father, and so on. along with the house, you also inherited the shrine, and all the responsibilities that came with it. every day, you hiked up the mountain and tended to the shrine. at first, alhaitham was annoyed by how you’d always talk aloud while wiping the leaves off the gate of his shrine. but soon, he found himself looking forward to your rambles. don’t blame him, he’s been rather lonely for the past century, and no shrine-keeper has even unknowingly talked his ear off like you have. gosh, are you even aware that he’s listening? the amount of embarrassing secrets, he’s certain you wouldn’t want anyone to know, that he’s heard is unprecedented. 

he found you cute. the way you’d get excited while babbling on about the latest book you’re reading (he’s glad he has you to keep him updated on current literature). how your face would scrunch up when talking about how someone was rude to you at the market (alas he wished he was there to make them suffer his wrath). and, the way fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you cried your heart out over something so minuscule, at least to him (if only he could comfort you, he would).

in centuries of being a deity, many people—men, women, and children— have cried at his shrine. but none of their crying ever made his heart swell with sadness like yours did. oh god, before alhaitham knew it, he was obsessed with you. you were just so perfect in every way. even your flaws made his heart skip a beat. if you went a day without visiting the shrine, he found himself wallowing in jealousy and anger. where were you? how dare you not visit him?! did you even know how much you truly meant to him? he wished he could just tell you. once. that’s all he would need.

alhaitham didn’t know what happened. he could feel the cold mountain air against his skin and his body felt weighed down by the fabric of his garments. it was something he hadn’t felt in a while. the sunlight shone in his eyes. he had almost forgotten how much that hurt. he squinted, and there you were, in front of him with your jaw slack and your eyes wide open as if you had seen a ghost. he doesn’t blame you. if it wasn’t for his hand that instinctively made its way to your waist, he’d think he was a dead man walking as well. as a deity, he was accustomed to unusual circumstances, but this just confused him. had his wish been granted? if so, by whom? oh, all that didn’t matter now. his hand moved from your waist to your cheek. his pad of his thumb, rough and calloused from all his swordsmanship, gently caressed your soft skin.

“my dear shrine-keeper,” alhaitham smiled. it was a smile of a lonely man. one who had lived in isolation for many centuries. a smile of relief. it felt so good to feel skin against his. but, you backed away. why did you back away?!

“no.. you,” you gasped, your eyes darting between the statue of alhaitham and the man in front of you, sporting a look of betrayal. even though the silver metal of the effigy had faded to copper in some places, his features were still identifiable. “you’re dead.” he pondered your words for a moment. you were correct. but, then how was he here?

alhaitham chuckled, “no, my love. i’m here. you won’t have to suffer any longer.” he took a step closer to you, his eyes filling with fury as you took a step back. “are you afraid?” he asked bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. he couldn’t believe you were acting like this. you couldn’t stopped taking care of his shrine at any moment or time, but you chose not to! that must be because you share his feelings.

when you didn’t respond, still looking at him stunned, he grumbled, grabbing your wrist before you could run away. alhaitham pulled you into his chest, hugging you tightly. “don’t test your luck.” his voice was low and threatening. a shiver went down your spine like a surge of lightning. you tried to speak, to tell him to let go, or at least say something, make some kind of noise from your vocal cords, but you were too frightened to. 

the way your body trembled against his as he hugged you made alhaitham laugh. “dear, i’m not even doing anything. yet.” soothingly, he rubbed his hand up and down your back, not caring that you seemed to flinch with each and every touch. you had heard stories of him. his war victories, his triumps and defeats. you knew he was a force to be reckoned with. you didn’t want to test your luck. 

“w-what do you want…?” you croaked, closing your eyes shut tightly. perhaps, if you closed them tight enough, he’d disappear and you’d wake up from this dream. 

“hm?” you could hear the frown in his voice. “that’s all you have to say to me, my little shrine-keeper? we must work on your gratitude.” 

“what are you talking about?” your voice was significantly more quiet than his, every time you spoke. it made alhaitham upset. why weren’t you your usual lively self?! did someone do something to you?

“oh, dear. i’ve been answering your prayers for a long time,” alhaitham tilted his head down to chuckle into your ear.

you froze. “i’ve never prayed to you.”

“not directly, no,” he pulled away from the embrace, but kept his hand tightly wrapped around your wrist. you weren’t going anywhere.

“what?” the confusion on your face was too adorable for alhaitham to bear. 

“my precious shrine-keeper, think harder,” his eyes bore into yours as he pushed a strand of hair out of your face, not caring that you flinched. you thought for a moment. you thought about all the times you had rambled in front of his shrine.

you complained a lot, you cried even more than you complained, and you always spoke freely, naming names without caring. though, you failed to make the connection between those people you frequently whined about and the ill-fated situations that followed your complaining. garment makers who had given you an unfair price would suddenly go bankrupt after you angrily ranted at the shrine. people who had wronged or irritated you would suddenly experience strings of bad luck. 

alhaitham chuckled at the way your face expression morphed into one of realization. he gently held your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your head up to meet his eyes, “ah, so you realize it now, my love. don’t you think your god deserves a reward?” he hummed, leaning into kiss you. he paused, a inch away from your lips. your noses were touching as he spoke, “yes or no, dear?”

you shook your head. alhaitham frowned. it wasn’t genuine. he knew he would get you to break eventually. “i’ve done so much for you, and all you are is ungrateful,” his voice was harsh and threatening. his grasp on your wrist tightened, sending a surge of pain throughout you body. his grip was so constricting, you could see your hand begin to turn purple. it felt numb. 

“alhaitham,” you whimpered out, trying to pull away from his grasp.

his face softened and a small smile appeared on his lips, “so you accept that i’m your god?” 

“i never said that- ah!”

his hand tightened around your wrist even more. he leaned forward, a menacing look on his face, and whispered into your ear, “who am i to you, shrine-keeper?”

swallowing your pride, you mumbled, “a god.”

he yanked on your wrist, causing you to yelp, “try again.”

“my god,” you whispered. you looked up at alhaitham with your blurry vision. you didn’t even realize you were crying until he used his free-hand to wipe your cheeks. 

“put it together now,” he demanded.

“you’re my god.” alhaitham let out a sigh of relief, finally letting go of your wrist. you pulled your wrist to your chest, gently caressing the bruise that was already starting to appear. 

“now, shall we have some fun?” alhaitham murmured, grabbing at the fabric of your garments. when you pulled away, he grumbled. “i could make you feel so good, sweetheart. don’t you want me to?”

you shook your head, “go away! leave the shrine!”

“leave my own shrine?” alhaitham scoffed. he was done playing these foolish games of yours. bickering back and forth was getting him nowhere. “that’s quite enough, stupid shrine-keeper,” he growled before kissing you roughly. his lips lacked any sort of rhythm or gentleness. he bit, nibbled, and sucked on your lips, not caring about the small whimpers and whines you let out, and the way you tried to push him away. 

his hands travelled down to your waist as he pulled your body flush against his. it was such a crude sight with the way he forced his tongue into your mouth and rolled his hips against your body, searching for any sort of friction. this was a scenario he longed for—to claim his lovely shrine-keeper for his own. on one of your many visits to the shrine, you had spoken of other men in your village, but none of them could amount to a deity, could they? the pleasure he would give you would send you straight to paradise, if you just let him! he couldn’t understand why you were being so stubborn.

when he finally pulled away from the kiss, he whispered in your ear, “do you want more?” your hesitation made him nibble on your earlobe as he awaited your response. after a moment passed, he sighed. “no one will know. i’ll be gentle, i promise. whatever it is that’s holding you back, don’t fret your pretty little head about it. i’ll take care of it. just tell me what it is. i would do anything for my little shrine-keeper,” though his tone was calm and unwavering, his speech pattern seemed almost frantic. he was desperate. your silence cut through his heart like the sharp blade that led to his demise centuries ago. his hands on your waist tightened, “speak.”

“fine,” you whispered, barely audible. alhaitham perked up, immediately clashing his mouth against yours. he forced his tongue back into your mouth, except this time, it was more welcome. his heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he felt your hand on the side of his neck. when your other hand went to his cheek, he melted into your touch. you didn’t know the effect you had on him. you were everything to him. 

alhaitham pulled away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, “i love you so much.” he didn’t expect you to respond. he knew you wouldn’t, though he wished you did. he knew you didn’t share his feelings, but he hoped he could change your mind. everything about you was just so sweet and lovable. he wanted to dote on you for the rest of your mortal life if you’d let him. but he could tell by the look of disgust on your face when he proclaimed his love, he was far from his final goal. it angered him. nothing would make him happier than you loving him back, or at least sharing some of his affection. he was a deity, after all, but you looked at him as if he was some kind of lowlife criminal. he didn’t get it.

“strip,” he demanded, taking a step back to let you fullfil his order. his voice cut through the silence like a knife. tears welled in your eyes upon hearing his command. alhaitham glared at you. “don’t be a crybaby, you agreed to this.” you nodded, sniffling as you wiped your eyes, stopping any tears that were threatening to fall. with your back turned to him, you stripped down naked, feeling humiliated. you were exposed, on the top of a mountain, at a sacred shrine. the cold wind and chilly air surrounded your naked body as you covered your chest and cunt with your arms and hands. 

“are you cold?” alhaitham gently wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you back against his chest. his body was warm, almost comforting. his mouth peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder, making you squirm in his grasp. when you nodded your head, he took off the cape he was wearing and put it on your shoulders. “face me,” and you did so. his eyes widened in awe. he dropped to his knees, kissing your stomach gently as he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes. it was as if he was hypnotized by your body. “stunning,” he murmured, his fingers dancing across your abdomen. the more affecionate he was, the more inclined you were to fully unveil the rest of your body. slowly removing your hands from your crotch and chest, he was too enchanted by the rest of your body to notice. when alhaitham finally noticed, he let out a gasp. 

alhaitham’s fingers graze your waist, then your hip, then your pelvic bone, nearing your crotch. “may i?” he looked up at you with pleading eyes. he looked so vulnerable, so adorable in that moment. you couldn’t help but agree. with a smile, he gently traced your labia with his fingers before collecting your precum and plunging one of his fingers into your hole without warning. you let out a shocked yelp, stumbling slightly, but alhaitham’s freehand grabbed your leg, steadying you. “shh, you’re taking my fingers so well.”

you whined, reaching down to caress the top of his head. alhaitham blushed slightly. in all his years existing as an omnipresent deity, he never would have fathomed the affect a mortal such as yourself would have on him. even before he was a god, he was a warrior—a cruel one at that. but, he was currently on his knees for human being, of regular status. it wasn’t his fault. it’s like you had him under some sort of spell.

you were so adorable, he couldn’t help himself from shoving another finger into you, not caring that you barely had time to adjust to the first one. he continued to slowly, and rhythmically move his fingers in and out of you. attentively, he watched the way your face expression changed with each movement of his fingers. he observed the pleasurable faces you made when he hit a good spot, and the uncomfortable look that painted your features when his fingers went too deep (which he murmured an apology for). 

“alhaitham,” you moaned out, feeling your legs tremble. you didn’t know how much longer you could stay standing. if it wasn’t for alhaitham’s hand still on the back of your thigh, steadying you, you would have fallen over by now. 

“you’re doing great, sweetheart. just a little longer,” he murmured before giving kitten licks to your clit. when you whined loudly, he chuckled, blowing hot air onto your sensitive cunt. he sped up the pace of his fingers, and began sucking on your clit harshly. each motion sent a surge of pleasure through your entire body. by now, his cock was unbearably hard in his pants, but he was too focused on you to care. 

“please, alhaitham,” you whimpered. alhaitham didn’t respond. instead, he fuck you with his fingers even faster, reaching places that you always failed to reach with your smaller hands. his two fingers alone were filling you up so nicely, and his tongue was flicking your sensitive clit. you couldn’t take it anymore. with a loud moan, you came on his fingers, trembling as your body lurched forward. he took his fingers out of you just in time to stop you from falling. his two hands were on your hips before he gently pulled you down. you were on your back, lying on top of the cape he had wrapped around your shoulders, as you looked up at him. his eyes were full of adoration.

“i’m going to make you mine,” he growled, kissing from your abdomen all the way to your neck, leaving kisses and small bites along the way. he relished the way you whined and whimpered, but stayed perfectly still for him. “you’re being so good,” he praised, nipping your shoulder gently as to not leave a trace. the deity didn’t dare mark your skin. your body was too perfect to be tainted in such barbaric ways. although, the bruise around your wrist of his own making is something he’ll ignore. he wasn’t thinking straight then. it was a weak moment for him! an angel like you only comes around once every few centuries (he was certain of that), and therefore, you must be treated like one. 

“alhaitham!” the moment you needily whined his name, pulling him out of his thoughts, he’s tugging down his pants and taking his aching cock out. he was big, but you expected nothing more for a warrior, let alone a deity. 

“you’re so lovely, my little shrine-keeper. every part of you is magnificent… as if you were sculpted into the perfect being,” he hummed, teasingly rubbing his cock up and down your folds. he adored how your body twitched in anticipation. alhaitham leaned over to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, led by him. as if the kiss was some sort of distraction, he plunged his cock into you. his lips captured every moan and whimper you let out. once he was fully sheathed, he stayed still for a moment, pulling away to watch your facial expressions. 

“move,” you demanded, but your shaky voice belied all authority your demand had. 

alhaitham chuckled, “seems like we still need to work on your manners, hm?”

“please,” the desperate look in your eyes was enough.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” alhaitham praised before slowly moving in and out of your sensitive cunt. his pace was almost excruciatingly tame. this was on purpose. the deity was going at such a pace to watch the way you squirmed underneath him, rolling your hips in an attempt to pleasure yourself. “behave,” he scolded, grabbing onto your hips. 

with a loud cry, you pleaded with him, “please! move faster, please!”

“hm, you’re going to need to convince me,” he grinned, chuckling when he saw your frown deepen.

“please, i’ll be good! i promise, i swear!” you whined, wriggling beneath him impatiently.

alhaitham chuckled in wry amusement, “oh, you swear, do you?” you fervently nodded your head. “hm, then i suppose i can indulge you, can’t i?” before you could think of a response, he pulled all the way out before slamming back in. he continued to fuck you at a brutal pace. it almost made you prefer his previous speed—almost—he was hitting so many good places, ones that you never knew were so pleasurable. 

the way he slammed in and out of your greedy hole left you a moaning and crying mess, completely at the mercy of your deity. your tear-stained face and quivering chin only served as further motivation for alhaitham. each sob you let out made him pound into you harder, wondering how hard he could go until you broke. he would love nothing more than his angel to be fucked stupid on his cock, and with how he was pleasuring you right now, that wouldn’t be difficult. you were already in some sort of a daze, with your mouth agape and your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks. moans and incoherent babblers flew out of your mouth faster than alhaitham could fuck you. 

“you feel so good, angel. i’m surprised you’re taking me so well,” he chuckled between grunts. “it’s like you were made to be mine.” a sinister look flashed in his eyes before quickly disappearing. rapidly, you felt your orgasm approaching, but your blubbering wasn’t coherent enough for alhaitham to know that. the deity was pleasantly surprised when you came on his cock, your walls squeezing him roughly, as if your body was trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “fuck, angel,” he groaned, releasing a load of his semen deep inside of your cunt. however, this didn’t make him stop. he continued to relentlessly thrust into your poor oversensitive cunt, revelling in the way your body shuddered uncontrollably. 

each movement of his hips forced another loud, blissful mouth from your pretty lips, which mixed with the squelching sounds. the cum from his previous orgasm had formed a lewd ring near the base of his cock, that kept moving higher up as he reached deeper inside of you. he knew he had hit your cervix when you withered in pain, letting out a loud squeal. 

“hush, angel,” alhaitham hummed. his breathing was heavy and laboured whilst he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your hairline. he slowed down his thrusts, but still went deep, kissing your cervix each time as he gently rubbed circles on your hips with his thumbs. “you’re doing so well, sweetheart. just a little longer, alright?” when you nodded your head in understanding, he took his hand up to your face and wipe your tear-soaked cheeks. “i love you, angel,” he murmured, leaving a peck on your cheek before he started to speed up, yet again.

this time, it was more bearable when he’d hit your cervix, his tip threatening to intrude it at any moment. he continued to coo at you whilst his cock overstimulated your cunt beyond belief. it didn’t help when alhaitham’s hand left your face to vigorously roll your clit, adoring how much louder your whines and moans got. with one final thrust, he buried his cock to its hilt in your cunt as his tip finally reached past your cervix, shooting his cum deep inside of your womb with a loud grunt. 

“‘haitham!” you squealed, tears running down your cheeks like a waterfall as you had your third orgasm of the day. alhaitham chuckled, staying sheathed inside of you.

“don’t worry, angel. that’s all for today,” he hummed, gently running his fingers up and down your stomach. your entire body was trembling. alhaitham thought it was cute how sensitive you were. 

once the deity finally pulled out, his cum seeping out of your hole, making a mess of your thighs, he laid beside you on the ground and pulled you into his embrace. as you laid on his chest, with his cape covering your body, you couldn’t stop your heavy eyelids from closing. 

[libraryofsimps]

I love it

Can I request Sung jinwoo, prompt #14, with male reader?

• "we're in public, you know?" (#14)

warning: top male reader. public sex. in a bar. cock warming. drunk sex, but its just the readers who's drunk. jinwoo's drunk in love.

785 words.

1k event!

"jinwoo..." you groan out, head pounding. you regret drinking so much, especially when the place still had the fucking lights on. its only hurting you.

jinwoo kisses your cheek, picking himself up to sit on your lap. before, the man was scared he was going to crush you but, after a while, he got used to it and now sits on your lap whenever he feels like it.

though you were confused. he rarely shows public affection. he just didn't like it?

jinwoo leans his back to your chest, sighing in sadness. he wiggles and squirms to subtly get your attention. your eyes fly open as blood rushes straight to your dick, hardening. jinwoo freezes, feeling the outline of you.

he turns to you, glad yoo jinho was drunk out of his mind so he wouldn't point out the tension around the both of you.

"uuhh (name)?" you shake your head, arm sliding around his waist and resting your head in the crook of his neck. your hot breath hits his skin causing him to shake in growing arousal.

"yeah i know, just stay still n' it'll go away." you slurred out, voice husky and rough from the alcohol. jinwoo decides to listen, pressing his ass on your boner, waiting for it to fade away. but it doesn't.

a couple minutes passed and yoo jinho has left his seat to cry in the bathroom. jinwoo blushes, his body feeling hot.

"it's not going away..." he slightly whines, biting his bottom lip to conceal any attention grabbing noises. you nod, face burning against his skin.

"can i slip it inside?" jinwoo gapes at you, knitting his brow together. "it'll save me the embarrassment of walking to the restroom?"

he clicks his tongue, closing his eyes to think. he only wanted to get distracted because he couldn't get drunk anymore and he simply wanted to talk with you... "we're in public, you know?"

that's a yes. he feels you smile on his neck. you unbuckle his pants, lowering them just enough to slip inside before you pull your cock out through the zipper of your pants and aline the head to his entrance.

jinwoo flinches, your heat pressing up against him did feel nice... you slowly push in, letting jinwoo sink down and swallow you whole with ease. you rub his waist, "always so prepped for me, jin.."

he leans foward, pulling his shirt down to cover his skin, and placing hands on his cup of alcohol. even though he can't experience being drunk anymore, he still liked to drink it.

the grip on his waist tighten when he clenches around you. you lean back on your chair, sighing, causing jinwoo to sit up straight in worry. he knew you were going to do something. "(name), d-don't-!!"

he grits his teeth, body jolting as you gave an experimental thrust. his body tensing only made you want to continue if it wasn't for jinho who walked back into the booth.

he seemed a little sober up, as he was no longer crying. he looked at the tensed jinwoo, not minding that he was sitting in your lap.

he looked at his appearance and gasped. jinwoo jumps, heart pounding at his chest. "i finally got to see you drunk!?"

jinwoo gets the feeling to roll his eyes back, but not because of jinho, because you keep thrusting into him at a slow and teasing place.

"m'not d-drunnk!" he complains, it seems whenever he was getting fucked dumb, he opens up a little more.

you lightly pinched his waist, moving your finger to his hole, forcefully pushing two inside. jinwoo set his cup down with shaky hands and grips at the edge of the table, face flushing.

"yes you are!" jinho insists, his voice starting to annoy you but you wanted to have some fun in this situation. "you're really red, you can barely even speak a-and you look like you're about to pass out!"

he's pointing out common symptoms of a drunk person, not really knowing whats going on behind jinwoo.

you smile widely as jinwoo attempts to defend himself, fingers poking at with prostate with the intention of getting him exposed. jinwoo smacks his head against the table, shuddering violently. his body tensing up and little whimpers leaving him.

jinho perks up, eyeing his trembling form. he looks to your smirking face in confusion. "did you pass out!?"

jinwoo gives a nod, slow and hesitant. he places his hands on your knees to steady himself.

stupid (name). he thinks, eyes rolling up into his head as you hit his prostate again, stretching him out with your big, fat cock. i hate you, (name).

...

[libraryofsimps]

¡! the kaveh way | alhaitham

synopsis: after being married for quite some time, you and alhaitham decide to expand your new little family and try for a baby – unfortunately, things don’t work out as you imagine for a bit. after a short chat with kaveh, alhaitham decides to try switching up things a little and try the kaveh way while trying to get you pregnant – letting loose completely for once and making you feel absolutely loved and cherished. and of course, completely drunk on ecstasy from all the mind-numbing pleasure he was intending to make you feel.

cw: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used but only once; mentions of pregnancy, trying for a baby, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampies, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), pet names (god there’s so many; baby, babe, sweetheart, good girl, my queen, honey, princess), slight degradation (he calls you his pretty slut once or twice lol)

this is a repost from my previous blog yaesnovels.

alhaitham was rolling his eyes when he heard kaveh’s laugh, the blond architect pretending to wipe tears off his cheeks in exaggeration. “so, you’re actually telling me that you were completely relying on logic with this whole thing?”

“yeah, so? what’s so wrong about it?”, alhaitham argued back, it simply just made so much more sense for him to get real with facts and logic about your mutual decision to try for a baby, after being married for quite some time and being absolutely ready and sure about it. “it doesn’t really make sense to try when she isn’t even able to get pregnant, so what’s the problem here?”

“alhaitham, you’re such an idiot, oh god”, kaveh laughed. “so, you guys have only been having regular fucks whenever she was ovulating and didn’t even pay attention on how you were feeling at all? of course things wouldn’t work out like that!”

that made the scribe think – no, neither of you had really considered that your emotions and the intimacy throughout the process of trying. the more kaveh spoke on what to pay attention to, speaking from a more emotional perspective, alhaitham was absolutely sure on what to do – well, luckily, you were ovulating anyway. he couldn’t totally let go of relying on logic, after all.

he might as well make things up to you for not paying attention to you as much as he should have as your husband. and he might as well try the kaveh way of things to get your mutual dream come true.

–

the moment you were back home, alhaitham pulled you inside the house, close to himself and lifting up your chin as he kissed you. he kissed you, oh, so softly; he hadn’t been this gentle with you in such a long time.

you knew that he had been busy with the akademiya falling apart so he was insanely stressed out with the sudden new workload. so, the whole baby making thing you were both excited about had been a complete disappointment so far – he probably didn’t even realize how much the stress affected his mood and you didn’t really want to talk to him about it either.

he was going to realize it sooner or later and it appeared that just now, he did realize it. “i’m so sorry for neglecting you recently”, he mumbled, burying his face against your neck. “i’ve been a terrible husband, haven’t i?”

“well, i wouldn’t say terrible because either way, i love you, but yeah, the last couple of weeks were somewhat lonely for me”, you replied, voice soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying your best not to sound too sad about the whole situation.

“i love you”, alhaitham said, planting yet another kiss on your lips before he pulled you inside to the kitchen where you were met with an already prepared, candlelit dinner that had you look at him with so much love in your eyes. he couldn‘t even remember the last time you had looked at him this way. it had been far too long.

“this all looks so great, thank you, my love”, you smiled, sitting down, as you immediately dived in, groaning at how good it all tasted. “this is amazing.”

“of course, love. you deserve all the best.”

–

after dinner, he pulled out some wine as he put on some of the sensual music he got from kaveh (which he only accepted reluctantly, after deciding it was time to pamper you since he didn’t get to do that for so long now). “going all out tonight, aren’t you?”, you teased, “well, it wouldn’t be fair if i were to let you do everything right?”

you finally returned from the bedroom you had buried yourself in after dinner, wearing one of the sets of dark red lingerie your friends had jokingly gifted you for your wedding. alhaitham gulped at the sight, you were looking so gorgeous in that soft silk, it was so hard for him not to pull you on his lap and rip that unnecessary fabric off.

you grabbed the glass of wine alhaitham had already poured as you sat on the couch next to him, drinking a sip to calm your nerves – it had been so long since alhaitham truly paid attention to you, which you didn’t blame him for. it just simply affected how easily shy you got around him; something you had gotten over with after a while of being with him.

“you’re so beautiful, baby”, he mumbled, “i missed you so much the last couple of weeks. everything was just so stressful, i’m sorry for not paying attention to you more.”

“it’s alright”, you replied, placing the glass on the table, pulling him on top of you, giggling as you noticed how taken aback he was about that. you had your legs wrapped around his hips, laying down on the couch before you kissed him. you only realized in that moment how much you had missed your gentle and doting husband.

though, the only thing you did not realize was that this piece of lingerie – which didn’t really cover anything of your skin and beautiful body – was the reason for the pussydrunk beast he tried so hard to push away from coming out.

he deepened the kiss, one hand softly lingering over your legs, as the other one was pulling down the fabric to reveal your nipples which he just started to play around with, pinching, sucking, biting on them, having you writhe around. the more he went down on you, he noticed the beautiful scent coming from your body — he assumed a perfume that had an undertone of some sort of aphrodisiac because it made him go so feral out of nowhere — as he was pulling off the panties covered by the short dress.

“you’re so gorgeous, baby”, he mumbled against your thighs, and leaving a soft kiss on your clit. “i can’t wait to pamper you like you deserve, my queen.”

alhaitham didn’t care how messy he was when he was fucking you with his tongue, thumb circling your clit and he was holding your thighs apart with his tight grip, already so pussydrunk with your taste and he was unsure if he would be able to stop.

“feels good, honey? i can tell by your cute noises, baby, oh you sound so good. it’s been so long since i last got to taste you, hasn’t it? i missed the way you taste and the way you pull my hair when you get so needy, baby”, he talked you through your first orgasm of the night, you were shaking and your eyes had gotten all teary.

“alhaitham”, you whimpered out his name, body relaxing as you calmed down. “please.”

“please, what, lovely?”, he questioned, teasing you with a soft giggle. “just kidding, honey. let’s move to our bedroom, shall we?”

he had you thrown over his shoulder, having you laugh as he tickled you and then put you down on the bed, before he laid down on top of you, caressing your cheek. “i keep on repeating this but archons, i’m so in love with you, baby”, he whispered, “i can’t imagine spending my life without you anymore.”

“i love you, too”, you replied, kissing him so passionately when you were turning you both around, sitting down on your husband’s lap as you pulled the silk over your body, all naked on top of him and you couldn’t help the heat rushing up your cheeks as you realized that alhaitham was still in his clothes.

“not fair”, you mumbled, unbuttoning his dress shirt, before he sat up to pull the fabric off his body. you leaned down to press soft kisses over his skin, down to his abs, still so mesmerized by how toned his body was despite being a researcher and mostly sitting in his office doing paperwork.

“you know what’s not fair, love? the fact that you try to be on top of me when tonight was supposed to be all about you. and since i know you love me being rough”, he interrupted himself as he pushed you back down on the bed, keeping your wrists pinned against the soft mattress, hips pressing against yours as he kept you on your spot, “i will just use you until i fuck a baby into you.”

you rolled your eyes back as he spoke, the thought of you finally getting pregnant after trying for so long had you whine in need; you just wanted him to fill you up over and over until you couldn’t take anything in anymore.

alhaitham pulled his pants down and threw them off the bed, grabbing your hips to lift you up and thrust deep inside of you, having you cry out as you pulled him closer to you. “please, fuck me”, you whimpered, the needy gaze you had in your eyes were simply making him go feral on you, rough and hard thrusts almost immediately, the sound of skin slapping against skin had you so weak in the knees.

“archons, you feel so good around me, honey”, he groaned, keeping up his relentless pace as you buried your nails into his back. “go on, babe, leave your marks on my back. go crazy, i don’t mind. i love the sweet pain you make me feel. beg for me to make you come and cream on my cock. beg for me to come deep inside you, to get you pregnant with my baby. you want that so bad don’t you, baby? you want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

“please, i need it so bad. wanna make you- make you a daddy”, you babbled, your brain no longer properly functioning as the attention he gave you and your pleasure was making you feel dizzy, tears rolling down your eyes and it was obvious that those tears were not primarily from the stimulation he put your body through. they were mainly tears of genuine disappointment coming from the failure from the constant negative pregnancy tests.

“oh, honey, you will. don’t worry, you definitely will. even if it doesn’t work out this time, i promise you, i won’t give it a break until we make our dream come true”, he calmed you down, slowing down with his thrusts to give you his full attention again. “shh, baby, don’t cry, love.” his voice was so soft and he stopped his movements for a moment, pulling out as he finally realized you were actually crying and those weren’t tears coming solely from pleasure.

“need me to stop?”, he asked then, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. you shook your head no. “shh, what happened, love?”

“the thought… of not being able to get pregnant and giving you what you want”, you mumbled, “you wouldn’t leave me if i weren’t able to get–”

“hey, hey, no. stop right there, love. there is nothing in this world that could make me love you less, especially just because this didn’t work out. i would never leave you for something as simple as this; for something we both couldn‘t have any control in. i love you too much to do something like that. i’d rather get old with you alone instead of leaving you because i couldn’t get you pregnant.”

he left soft kisses on your face, making you giggle while your sobs stopped and you calmed down again. “archons, that must’ve ruined the mood now”, you mumbled.

“what are you talking about, babe?”, he smirked, leaning down to kiss you on your lips. “i recall promising you to pamper you like you deserve, didn’t i? and believe me, i intend to keep that promise.”

–

he was manhandling you like it was no struggle for him at all – lifting your legs to get you into a mating press, your hips up as you were laying on you stomach as he fucked you from behind. alhaitham was not hesitant to make sure you knew who‘s in control, having you at his complete mercy as he made you gush around him over and over again.

“oh, you feel so good, princess. take it like the good girl you are, sweetheart”, he groaned, “mhm, good job, honey. you‘re doing so amazing for me, taking your husband‘s cock like the good and pretty little slut you are. you’re my good little slut, aren‘t you, baby?”

he chuckled as you nodded in agreement, brain totally empty from all sort of thoughts, eyes glassy and full of tears from the overstimulation.

“that’s a good girl”, he groaned, intertwining your hands as he leaned down to kiss you on your soft, yet somewhat swollen lips from all the kissing sessions you had in your breaks. “oh, archons, i’m so obsessed with kissing you, honey.”

you were pretty much unable to reply at this point – brain totally clouded and blurry from how good and exhausted you were feeling.

“look at how much you’re coming for me, honey. look how much of a mess we made here”, he mumbled against your neck, watching how his cum leak out your cunt, before he scooped up some of it with his fingers and pushed them inside of you. you had lost all track of time and you were sure it had been a couple of hours since he had started ravaging you.

“sensitive”, you whimpered out, brain unable to process anything else. it had been a bit since all power had left your body and you were just laying there, taking it like his good girl he loved to praise you as.

“oh, love, did you think i was done? that’s cute”, alhaitham giggled before he thrusted his cock back inside, “i’m not going to stop.”

your eyes widened, the realization of what was to be expected of your insatiable husband had you look at him somewhat in fear. you couldn’t remember the last time he had made you shake so intensely, make you come over and over until you were nothing but his good girl, his good little slut, clenching around him so tightly as he had you underneath himself at his mercy.

“what is it, sweetheart? am i scaring you, baby? good. you’re all mine. you deserve such a good fuck for being such a good girl for me, lovely. you deserve everything i could possibly give you just for wanting to create a new life with me.” he let out a groan as he – once again – buried his cock deep inside of you, painting your walls white. “come for me, baby, just take it all and come for me.”

the moment you gushed around his cock, crying out his name and sobbing in pleasure, he just watched you unfold, losing all control of yourself as you submitted to the way he made you feel so good.

“you took my cock so good, honey. i’m so proud of you”, he mumbled, pulling out. “and if this time did not work out, we‘ll try again. it‘s alright, sweetheart. it will happen eventually.”

he placed a hand on your tummy, thumb softly caressing the naked skin. “one day it will work out.”

–

“relax, sweetheart. i know this was a lot to take in, i don‘t really know what came over me tonight”, alhaitham calmed you down. he hugged you tightly from behind as you both sank into the bath. “feel good honey?”

you nodded, closing your eyes as you relaxed against him, your tense muscles turning into mush as he simply made you feel so giggly and happy as he playfully started tracing random shapes over your tummy. “i have a good feeling about tonight, y‘know? i feel like this time it will have worked out”, you said.

“we‘ll see, honey. and even if not, it‘s perfectly fine”, he whispered, making you shiver at how deep his voice was. it was a reminder of all the promises he made; how they were always kept and came true eventually. and you knew that this one, no matter how long it’ll take, wouldn’t be broken either.

[libraryofsimps]

˗ˏˋ tattoo artist kaveh and piercer alhaitham ´ˎ˗

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tags: nsfw, kaveh x afab reader, alhaitham x afab reader, kaveh x afab reader x alhaitham, threesome, double penetration, lots of praise and aftercare (kaveh), slight sadism (alhaitham), degradation (alhaitham).

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ notes: kaveh and alhaitham are roommates and work at the same tattoo and piercing studio. i imagined kaveh’s tattoo style to look like @/zihwa_tattooer’s work on instagram. i’d sell an organ to be tattooed by her, i’m a whore for fine line omg.

❛ kaveh ༉‧₊˚

kaveh is so insanely pretty and he’s got the prettiest tattoos too. simple, aesthetic, black fine line designs are placed in certain parts of his body - his arms, hands, and back, complimenting his features instead of overpowering them. you can’t help but admire them every time you see him, which he doesn’t mind - he loved the attention you give him. he also has few cartilage, adorned with gold leaf and feather themed jewelry, all done by alhaitham.

a month into your relationship, he gave offered to give you a tattoo, free of charge. unsure of what to get, he picked out a few designs from his flash that he thought would look nice on you. you settled on a simple butterfly below the back of your neck, a place he recommended, as it’s one of his favorite places to kiss you. the process was pretty painful but kaveh’s steady and light hand, along with his calming praises and small talk, made it a lot better. also, his hair was up in a clip, which was a little treat for you as well - you loved it when he wore his hair like that.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

during sex, kaveh always prioritizes your pleasure over his own. he's so gentle with you, constantly mumbling little praises and encouragement as you ride him, caressing your back with a feather-light touch and helping you keep a steady rhythm. he loves you so, so much, and hates to see you in pain - he constantly checks in to make sure you're alright, making sure you know your safe word, etc. he remembers all of the places that make you feel good, all of your favorite positions, and all of the little praises you love to hear.

he'll eat you out before fucking you with his dick, making sure that you're all nice and wet for him. he loves it when you tug on his hair, urging him to continue. your moans are like music to his ears, fueling his desire to bring you as much pleasure as possible.

kaveh’s a switch, though he prefers giving rather than receiving. when you want to be dominant, though, he’ll make the sweetest moans, begging you for more. he loves it when you mark him up with hickeys, and will wear his hair up to show them off the day after, letting everyone know that he’s yours. he’s so happy and grateful that he’s loved by someone like you, and treasures every little mark you give him, knowing it’s a symbol of your love.

he thinks you’re the most beautiful person in the world as you’re coming down from your high. he never lacks in aftercare - he knows how much you need reassurance and love afterwards, so he’s quick to pull you into his embrace, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he caresses all of the places he knows will be sore later.

“you’re already beautiful, but i think you’d be even more beautiful with a few tattoos,” he whispers as you lay against his chest. his hand goes to cover yours, his thumb rubbing over your outer hand and wrist, a little smile forming on his face as he imagines designs for you. “a floral design here would look so pretty. imagine us holding hands, tattoos showing and all.”

his hand then moves to your side, tracing it with his fingers. “then, maybe one here as well, starting from here and extending all the way up here,” he explains, starting from your waist and ending next to your breast. “we can add little snakes or cute butterflies to the design. make you a beautiful little garden.”

secretly, he dreams of getting matching tattoos with you as your relationship progresses. he’s drawn out some ideas based off of your shared interests that he’ll show you when the time comes, but for now, it’s his little secret.

the next day, he'll invite you over to his studio after hours to work on your new tattoo. besides loving aftercare in bed, he cares for your tattoo aftercare as well. he’ll constantly be nagging at you to not scratch it, carries aquaphor with him just in case you need to reapply, and once it’s healed, he has a small little bottle of sunscreen for when it’s exposed to the sun, knowing that you always forget to put some on.

he doesn’t want his little piece of art getting ruined, especially if it’s on such a beautiful canvas as yourself.

❛ alhaitham ༉‧₊˚

alhaitham is so fucking hot. he usually wears basic, black t-shirts and tank tops, showing off his bulky tattooed arms. his upper body is covered in bold tattoos - usually traditional, though he does have a sword tattoo on his forearm from kaveh. he's got a side labaret, a tongue piercing, and a ton on his ear - industrial, helix, you name it. on his large, veiny, tattooed hands are a collection of silver rings, not a single finger plain.

when the two of you began dating, you said you've been interested in getting a septum for a while, though you were still on the fence about it - you were scared about the healing process and if you'd even like it. you got your ears pierced when you were young, so it would technically be your first piercing. he offered to do it for you, and if you didn't like it, you can simply take it off. though, he assured you that you’d look beautiful with it. the idea got you interested, and he took you to the studio to get it done.

the piercing was quick, though it did hurt a little, especially since you didn't have the best pain tolerance. your eyes got a little watery, a single tear falling. it was a little embarrassing for you, though alhaitham guiltily thought it was kind of hot. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a sadist - he never has these thoughts while piercing his clients, but seeing you like this was different. after putting in your jewelry, a cute little gold clicker, he quickly excused himself to grab you a cup of water, though it was mainly to calm himself down.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

he fucks you hard and rough. he loves seeing you beg and will often deny your orgasm to see you all needy, crying for him to let you cum. he loves holding your wrists so he has complete control over you. he thinks it's so cute that you're so small and weak in comparison to him - it fuels his lust to break you and then spoil you afterwards.

he loves to degrade you, too. he'll call you a whore while fucking you mercilessly, saying you're such a slut for him and his cock. he'll never say anything meant to hurt you, though. if he notices his degrading goes too far, he'll apologize and make it up to you, toning down the roughness and slipping in a few praises instead.

during one of your sessions, he has you standing in front of the bathroom sink, holding onto the counter for your dear life as he's pounding into you. he holds your chin so you're forced to stare at the lewd sight, kissing your sensitive ear and neck as he does so.

"look at how cute you are," he coos with a low voice, grunting as he thrusts into you. his hand moves to cup your breast, giving your nipple a little pinch, causing you to gasp in pleasure. "you'd look so pretty with piercings here. have you considered getting them done?"

his hand cradling your chin moves down to hold your other breast, flicking your nipples. "imagine how good they would feel while we fuck," he mumbles, his warm breath against your ear as he stares at your reflection with you. "of course, i'll pierce them for you - don't want any other man seeing you like this," he whispers, giving you a kiss on the cheek. "what do you think?"

you're too fucked out to say anything, so you nod. he smiles as one of his hands travel down to your stomach, his index finger stopping on top of your belly button.

"and maybe one here. you'd look so pretty with one, and you'd get to wear more of those tiny shirts you like so much," he mutters. you told him you've been interested in wearing clothes that show your midriff, though you're self-conscious about showing your stomach. he would assure you that you'd look fine every time you bring it up, though it wasn't enough to boost your confidence. “so, so pretty," he purrs, circling his finger over it and giving your cheek another kiss, before his hands travel down even further.

his hand stops at your clit, slowly rubbing it with one hand as he holds your chin again with the other. "and maybe a piercing on the hood here, too. wouldn't it feel so, so, so good here? the smooth metal rubbing against your clit as i fuck you. imagine how sensitive you'll be when i put a vibrator against it," he teases, increasing the intensity of his fingers. "and imagine how hot you'd look with one. a little secret between you and me.” the idea of getting a clitoris hood piercing was never on your mind, but with the way he described it pushed you off the edge, and you were forced to watch your reflection as you cum.

"that's my girl," he whispers, watching you with a smile as you tremble from the intense pleasure, his hands moving to your waist to hold you steady.

❛ alhaitham and kaveh ༉‧₊˚

god, fucking the two of them at the same time would feel so good. while you're dating one of them, the other notices the two of you having sex in their room and can't help but join in.

while kaveh's so gentle with you, making sure you're alright and giving you plenty of kisses and praises, alhaitham is merciless, manhandling and degrading you. it’s the perfect balance between being spoiled and being ruined, and you’re in love with it. the two of them are competing to see who can fuck you best, and you're unsure of who's winning - your lover or his roommate.

you lay on the bed as alhaitham opens your legs, kissing from your stomach down to your folds. he sucks roughly on your clit and prods his tongue into your hole, causing you to feel his piercing against you. the pleasure is intense, almost too much as he slips two fingers in, fingering you quickly and deeply, abusing your g-spot. he runs his tongue on your clit, making you feel his hard tongue piercing, causing you to go insane in pleasure.

as alhaitham bullies your pussy, kaveh’s behind you, giving you the much needed kindness you weren’t receiving from alhaitham. he hushed you as he lovingly kisses your ear, nibbling and sucking on your earlobe. his hand travels down to your breasts, groping them slowly so as to not overstimulate you, but rather enhance your pleasure.

with alhaitham’s aggressive oral and kaveh’s sweet care, you find your high approaching, and they both know it by the way your body reacts to them. alhaitham speeds up his fingers and licks as kaveh teases you with his hot breath against your ear, and you find yourself cumming hard on alhaitham’s tongue.

the two of them let you catch your breath, and once you do, kaveh is gently turning you around so you’re facing him, taking off his pants to reveal his hard cock. he scoots down, resting his head on the pillows as he guides you to sit on his dick. you lace your fingers with his, slowly sinking down onto his dick while he sings little praises for you.

“angel, you’re taking me so well,” he gleams, watching as you fully bottom out. “so perfect, so, so perfect.” he says, pulling you down to his chest as he thrusts up into you.

“quit babying her, she’s a slut,” alhaitham bickers. “she knows how to put a dick in her.”

“shut your damn mouth, you’re just jealous because you’re not the one fucking her right now," kaveh sneers, and though his words were harsh, he didn't change his tender touch on you.

alhaitham sighs, watching as kaveh fucked you with so much care, whispering into your ear and drowning you in kisses. he’s so vocal during sex, something that alhaitham wasn’t. getting turned on by the scene, he takes off his pants, stroking his dick.

after a while, when you were soon nearing your high, you noticed that alhaitham was gone from your side. from behind, you feel someone prod a finger at your other hole, prepping you for his cock. it was alhaitham. you're scared of the pain - you weren’t used to getting it there and it hurts a little, which kaveh notices and quickly stops.

"i... i can't..." you stutter, holding onto him. alhaitham slows down, though his fingers don’t leave your hole.

"it's alright, babe," kaveh hushes, stroking your cheek. "it'll feel better soon, okay? you'll feel so good with the two of us inside of you. can you do it for us? i know you can handle it," he says. from behind, alhaitham's kissing your back, paying special attention to your tattoo. you nod, causing kaveh to smile and kiss your forehead. “thanks, my love.”

kaveh thrusts into you again, this time more slowly and deeply. alhaitham continues prepping your asshole, adding in another finger. once he thinks you're ready to handle him, his fingers leave you, being replaced by the tip of his cock, which stretched you way more than his fingers did.

"just breathe, okay?" kaveh says, holding your hand. as alhaitham slowly inserts himself in, kaveh's mumbling little "i love you"s and "you're doing so good for us" against your lips, wiping away any tears that fall. the stretch is painful, but you know it'll be all worth it in the end.

after a few careful thrusts from alhaitham, careful to not hurt you, the pain soon turns into pleasure as you get used to his size. your winces became moans, and you hold onto kaveh. he asks if it’s okay for him to start moving again, and you nod, allowing him to pick up where he left off.

"enjoying it already? you sure are a slut, huh," alhaitham grunts from behind, increasing the intensity of his pace. their thrusts aren't synced - while one pulls away, the other is going in, causing you to be constantly stimulated. it feels so good feeling so full, and you soon find yourself reaching your high, gripping onto kaveh's shoulders for stability.

they fuck you through your orgasm, slowing to a stop once you’re done. they let you take a little break as they litter kisses all over you. you snuggle up against kaveh, sapped of energy, until you hear alhaitham laugh as he lifts you up so your back is pressed against his chest.

"think you're done already? we haven't even came yet," he teases, making your heart sinks. you were already so tired, so fucked out, but you weren’t done yet? you'll be having a long night.

[libraryofsimps]

Last of her kind Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Slave!Omega!Dragoness!Reader-

cw/tags: mentions of slavery and past sexual abuse on fem!reader, A/B/O dynamics, mating bites, fingering, scenting, pet names, zhongli has a knot and alpha fangs and is not afraid to use them lmao, some nip and clit stimulation ig?? emotional roller coaster ngl.

notes: So remember a loooong time ago when I held a poll and one of the options was "dragon" and it WON?? well actually it was this, (dragon READER heh) it just got WAY out of control. 5.6k words and now I wanna make it into a whole series //head in hands// anyway ye have this weird lil funky AU I poured my sweat blood and tears into (also my heart and soul) idk why I am just so attached I love it so much plsss I have ideas fot other scenes with them already aaaaaaaaa <3

Partially inspired by some of @silentmoths' fics holy shIT I LOVE DRAGON READER AND I LOVE OMEGAVERSE NOD IF YOU AGREE!!

Last but not least if y'all wanna be part of my pinglist uhh I'm making one now so :3c

Strange yellow leaves fall around you all over the courtyard…

“Fix your clothes, you have to look appealing… well, as appealing as a creature like you can be.” The voice of your Master calls out harshly, pulling and tugging at details in your outfit. It was a flimsy and silky thing, mostly see-through, rather elegant, but very revealing.

You’re used to it.

“And stop looking so miserable! You better smile and please this Alpha. He’s not just anyone, you know?”

You nod meekly, trying to hide the slight trembling on your body. This will be just another bonding attempt. Nothing else.

It will fail. Just like all the others before.

Silver chains clink and tug the collar at your neck, it shakes you back to the present as you stumble forward.

Master guides you through a maze of corridors, with sleek surfaces of dark wood, decorative lanterns and paper screens. They’re strange, covered in even stranger symbols that look nothing like the ones back in the desert. Your bare feet, used to rough hot sand, now walk along polished wood with your draconic tail dragging behind. Everything looks so lavish…

You’ve been brought all the way to Li- Liu-… Li-yue? A foreign country, to meet a potential client. Well, a client to your Master. You are just the merchandise: a dragonblood Omega. Rare, unique even, “exotic”.

But defective.

Your fists clench in nervousness. How rough will this Alpha be with you? You dread to find the answer. Alphas were cruel, ever since you remember you’ve been taught to please, be gentle, obedient and look pretty, but they were never any of those things. Alphas just took their pleasure and used your body as they wanted, usually until you were crying and screaming, begging for mercy. You just hope this Alpha would give you some pity and be quick… or give you time to rest in between attempts.

Though you had learned since long that your wishes don’t tend to come true.

What a disappointment. After I spent so much money and resources on you.

Such a waste of time, what use is there in an Omega that can’t bond?

Why do I even bother with you? You’re just good for the reproduction camp. Maybe that way you can produce another dragonblood.

This is your last chance, mutt. If you fail again, I won’t be bothering with you anymore.

You feel anxiety creeping on your chest, heart jumping to your throat as the dark thoughts invade your mind. Last chance… your last chance at bonding. At proving you’re not useless and stupid. At serving your purpose as Omega. What was happening to you was fair. You deserve to be punished and you should be grateful you have one last chance after all your failures.

You just want to… to…

Tears prickle at your eyes and you breathe in deeply, trying to contain your distress and hugging your own tail, rubbing your face on the fluffy tip.

Whatever happens today, your fate is going to be sealed.

The nest room is nice.

Like the rest of the place, it is rather elegant, dimly lit with neutral colors and wooden walls, filled with pillows and blankets that had a very subtle flowery aroma to them. Small cabinets to one side with some decorative objects on top and a full-length mirror on the other side. So much different from the barren cold stone walls and tents from the desert camps.

“Hm, pretty fancy.” Master says taking off your collar, your soft unblemished neck now on display, free from any claim. “Now…” He pulls at your hair and you wince, whining and lowering your ears on a submissive display. He wouldn’t hurt you right? You have to look pretty. “The emperor will be here shortly. Make sure to do anything and everything he wants. And you better smile, I told you.”

“E-Emperor?” You pale, eyes widening.

He scoffs and pushes you back, you stumble back into the mess of pillows. “That’s right. I don’t know why but he was very adamant to see you it seems. Perhaps he just wants the prestige of owning the last known dragonblood, hm? Another novelty for his collection, I’m sure. You should consider yourself really lucky. So…” He flashes his Alpha fangs at you with a growl and you whimper again, cowering. “I would suggest you do your best and don’t disappoint this time, he’ll pay a pretty penny for you.”

And with that he leaves, muttering something and almost slamming the strange sliding door.

And so, you’re alone.

Immediately your brain goes into overdrive. An emperor? You had been presented to various Alphas of high status before, wealthy merchants and high-ranking tribe members, but this… this was probably a whole other level.

An emperor had to have an empress, right? Someone of noble birth and high status such as himself, not a lowly sand lizard like you, with weird ears, scales, horns and a tail. Why would he want to see an Omega like you? Perhaps Master was right, he intended to keep you as a trophy in his collection, another pretty thing.

It was humiliating.

But anything was better than being doomed to the reproduction camp…

Maybe the emperor had a harem? You’ve heard of them before, some Alphas liked to boast having many Omegas bound to them. Living in this luxury, not having to worry about much anything except looking pretty and pleasing him once a while. Hell, maybe he wouldn’t even pay attention to you, you’d be just a glorified pet.

You could… do that.

Without noticing, your tail starts swaying after you, this could be a chance. Your chance. You just had to make him like you. Forget the bond. Don’t think about it. All you have to do is please him.

You start frantically arranging the sheets and pillows around, building the comfiest nest you ever had with all the extra material, scenting it with excited happy pheromones. You could do it, this was your chance.

You won’t fail this time. You’ll be pretty, obedient, submissive, the ideal Omega. You’ll let him use you to his heart’s content, sure you may be a little sore but it’ll be worth it if he chooses you. He won’t even care about the bond.

…Right?

You jolt when you hear the door slide slightly open again, your heart leaps to your throat as someone walks in.

Oh.

Is… he the emperor? … He’s handsome.

To be fully honest, you expected some fat pompous middle-aged man not this… perfect specimen of an Alpha.

Your tail sways a little with curiosity.

He looks only slightly older than you, tall, wearing elegant robes in brown and golden hues. His eyes are like a sunset: golden, warm, almost glowing. A red liner accentuating them. Long chocolate hair faded to amber at the tips. His scent was earthy and pleasant, subtle unlike most Alpha musk. Almost comforting and… familiar?

He seems to stare back at you with the same surprise, frozen for a moment, eyes slightly wide, he says something you can’t quite hear and it shakes you out of the spell. You suddenly feel a little self-conscious, curling your tail around you, ears down and resisting the urge to brush (hide) the scales at the corners of your eyes.

It occurs to you that you’ve been just staring like an idiot, you don’t know very well how to address him, nor know his foreign tongue. So, you simply lower your head in respect. “My Lord…”

You suddenly feel nervous. This is it.

You turn around, following the motions ingrained in your brain. Body splayed on the nest, arms tucked in, head down. Submissive, obedient. Your hands are shaking, you feel dizzy, heart thrumming in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

You lift your butt just slightly, tail curling elegantly over your back, out of the way to expose the flimsy fabric covering your privates, properly presenting to the Alpha. You focus on trying to control your pheromones, letting out just whiffs of a needy sensual scent, worried of mixing in your anxiety and fear and displeasing the emperor.

You had to be pretty, enticing, compliant, and he would, h-he would…

A rather awkward cough has you tense. “There is… no need for that.”

You blink for a moment, taken aback at the rich deep baritone of his voice, so hypnotizing you almost don’t register his words. He speaks common tongue, but still, what does he mean? Isn’t this just… standard protocol for bonding? Isn’t he going to mount you?

You dare peek over your shoulder and see him sitting elegantly over his knees at the floor. He’s outside of the nest range.

He’s also slightly pink at the cheeks and pointedly avoiding looking at you.

Is this a trap? Is he testing you to see if you’ll misbehave? Your hands clench, nails digging at your palms, your breathing and heart increasing pace.

“I just want to talk, I promise.” He tries.

You hold the position.

He sighs, and then-

“Omega, relax.”

You almost squeak at the Alpha command. His voice, his will, seeps into your skin, your nerves, your very bones. You feel your muscles loosen up, tension leaving your body like a bowstring snapping and you lie on the sheets sideways.

Right right right, you’re tense, you have to be soft and pliant-

You look over at him and he’s… heading over to the little cabinets. He picks up a kettle of some kind and little cups that sit on the top, moving around calmly and elegantly as he seems to prepare something. Your head tilts and you gingerly sit up straight. Tail and ears down, curled up not unlike a wounded animal.

“Do you speak the common tongue?”

“Y-Yes!” You nod. “A little…”

“Good.”

The emperor seems… pleasant, he is calm and unguarded, so different from the cold intimidating Alphas you’ve met who like to show off, who immediately order you around. He even used an Alpha command on you but it felt… grounding. There is something equally eerie and entrancing about him and you feel yourself as much drawn to him as terrified of his imposing aura, and you couldn’t explain why. It’s a bit unsettling but also comforting at the same time.

He pours two cups and turns to you. You stiffen and he offers you one.

“Qixing tea is one of the most refined Liyue teas. It tends to be very bitter but this blend has a more pleasant taste, a little floral even. It is also said to help relax one’s mind.”

You carefully take the cup, not wanting to insult such gracious offer, though you’re utterly confused, shouldn’t you be the one serving him?

The cup is warm.

You stare at the golden liquid, small black dots sit at the bottom. This has no alcohol… right? It can’t be worse than snake wine at least.

You carefully take a sip, trying to imitate how the emperor is holding his.

It is… nice, a strong sharp taste but not bad, and very aromatic.

He’s looking at you expectantly and your tail and ears twitch. “I-It’s very good. Thank you, my Lord.”

He smiles and your heart skips a beat. “I am glad. Some say Qixing tea is for older people, but it’s frankly one of my favorites.” He stares at his cup with a somewhat nostalgic gaze, as if it brings him fond memories. “Ah, you can address me as Morax.”

You nod quietly and take another sip. Past the tea’s powerful flowery scent, you can now sense his Alpha pheromones, with him being so close and the air less tense. They’re strong but not overwhelmingly so, sharp and tantalizing, a refined foreign scent you can almost taste in the back of your throat. It stirs something in you, something warm and alluring.

“Do you know where were you born? Who are your parents?”

The question takes you by surprise for a moment as you shake out of your thoughts. Ah, he must be inquiring about your dragonblood. “I-I’m…. I’m not sure, my Lo- um… L-Lord Morax. As far as I know my mother worked at a-a heat house… no one knew who my father was and she passed away when I was very young.”

“I see… so you have no idea where you got your dragon traits from.” It was a sentence rather than a question and you shake your head meekly, taking another sip from the tea, ears lowering back.

“Apparently it could be due to recessive genes.” You once again repeat the same words you’ve heard all your life. You hate bringing attention to your dragon features, people either treat you like a rare exotic creature or a dangerous one. You didn’t know which was worse.

“Hmmm…” Lord Morax seems pensive for a moment, also drinking some of the tea. “Have you been with your caretaker for long?”

You look down. “Master has been in charge of me ever since I… p-presented as an Omega.”

“Does he treat you well?”

Your eyes widen, the question catching you completely by surprise. T-Treat you well? You are… treated like any other slave omega, if only being singled out by your draconic traits. He feeds you, he gives you clothing and education, he arranges the best matches he can for bonding, he even got you here in the first place. You owe him everything, you’re nothing without him.

So then… Why do you find yourself thinking back on all the harsh words, all the punishments, all the screaming and crying, all the… t-touches…

You gulp. “M-Master ensures I have the best living conditions and opportunities I can.” Is what you settle for.

He hums.

There is silence for a moment and lord Morax settles down his cup.

“I don’t think you’re aware of how special you are.”

Just when you thought he couldn’t surprise you anymore, he utters those words and makes your heart speed up.

Is this anxiety? Fear?

“Judging from what your Master has told me, you’re treated like quite the novelty, an exotic half-blood not unlike the Valuka Shuna or Kätzlein. Here in Liyue however those with traits like yours are called Xiānshòu.” The foreign word rolls off his tongue. His golden eyes fix on you and you freeze. “Also known as illuminated beasts. With immense power and longevity, even the half-bloods. They’re well respected and looked up to, why, some are even revered as deities...”

You? Such a fantastic creature? That can’t be…

“Seems to me like things are different in the deserts of Sumeru, however.” His eyes narrow and for the first time you notice his diamond pupils. They look like a snake’s. The same eerie glint he had a few minutes ago is back darkening the bright golden eyes. Yet, for some strange reason you don’t feel scared this time.

A shiver travels down your spine as you feel your instincts purr in delight. Protective… for some reason lord Morax is being protective of you. You don’t know why or how but you can feel it and it made your inner Omega preen inside. An Alpha wanted to protect you, care for you.

“Such a shame.” He adds, sounding almost disappointed but there is something darker underneath. Word simmering with… frustration? “You are such a lovely dragoness, worthy of every praise and prayer they’d sign in your name here.”

You’re very glad your cup rests at your lap, blushing furiously with trembling hands.

For the next few moments, he continued to ask some more questions. What you like or dislike, what you do in your free time, even something as innocuous as your favorite color. Time seemed to stretch into infinity as you grew a little more comfortable with your answers and the whole situation, as though you weren’t talking to an emperor, or even a potential master or Alpha but rather… someone who saw you for who you are.

You liked that. You liked him.

You wanted to stay with him.

You wished to-

“Alright, I think that’s enough. I will have a talk with your Master and we’ll settle things.” He stands up and dusts his attire a little.

Your breath stops.

He is leaving.

He is leaving.

Did you do something wrong? Didn’t he say he liked your appearance? Are you such a failed disgraceful omega? Your last chance at bonding. You didn’t even get to impress him. You want to call out to him, do something, anything. Panic rises in your chest, drowning you, freezing you. You can barely think, instincts screaming, begging, wailing in despair for him. This kind Alpha, this gentle, patient, imposing, majestic Alpha who’s too good for you and yet something deep inside you yearns for him…!

“I am very glad to have met you little xiānshòu.” A small smile tugs at his lips. Then, he turns and heads for the sliding doors.

So, you do the first thing that comes to your mind.

The empty cup falls from your hands, your footsteps thump loudly on the wooden floors, soft fabric clenches between your fingers.

As soft as the lips you crash yours onto.

…

It only lasts a few seconds but when you back just a little, ears low and tail curled up in apprehension, you realize what you did.

You’d kissed him, you’d kissed the emperor.

You’re shaking like a leaf, clinging to him for dear life. He stares at you with wide surprised eyes but you’d rather die right here for your insolence than live the rest of your days in regret.

His scent takes on an alluring hint to it and your inner Omega is overjoyed. Up so close it is almost irresistible. His face remains impassive, if a little tense, but you can see in his eyes something you identify very well… hunger, desire.

“Lord Morax… t-the nest… please.”

“Y-You don’t have to-”

“Please! Allow me to please you, allow me to show you…how…” You whisper against his lips, leaning in again as your eyes flutter close.

And suddenly his hands wrap around you and pull you close, cupping your face, curling at your waist, there’s something possessive in it and you feel slight vibrations as he growls deep from his chest against your mouth. But there is also something sweet, something delicate…

And for once, you want more. You want this.

How did you end up here? In the most beautiful nest you’d ever constructed, with the most handsome, kind, caring Alpha you’d ever met?

His kisses are deep and slow, completely unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You lie on the soft sheets as he looms over you, exploring your mouth with an unhurried pace, hungry yet not forceful, letting you timidly do the same at your own pace.

This is nice…

His hands run along your body, caressing your skin through your flimsy attire. His touch curious but gentle.

“May I?” He asks, tugging at the fabric off your shoulder.

You shiver, at his voice, as the pure want in it, in his eyes, in his scent.

“Y-yes my lord…”

“Hmm…” His kisses trail down your jaw down to your neck as he starts pulling the garments off. Careful, instead of simply ripping them apart, your heart skips a beat. “If we’re going to do this, you can use my name and not just titles…”

Your top falls off and goosebumps litter your skin, nipples pebbled as one of his hands cups your breast.

“M-Morax…” You try, shakily, as if testing out the word alone on your lips.

“No, little one. Zhongli. That is my name.” He kisses down your shoulders, nipping at the skin.

“Ah!” Your tail flickers around and you purr.

You take the initiative to kiss him this time, and your hands start roaming his foreign clothes, fumbling with knots and pawing at the fabric. He chuckles at your frustrated whine. You want more, more of this feeling, more of him. To touch his skin, cover him in kisses, worship him.

(Show him what a good Omega you can be.)

No…

You want to make him feel good and please him.

Elegant fabric falls down discarded as he shakes off the layers of his top and you blink surprised. The fabric was bulky and covered up his figure. Lean but muscled, tantalizing like honey. You immediately latch onto him, nosing, scenting, nipping and kissing, feeling the faint outline of his abs and muscles twitch under your touch. He smells so good, he feels so good…

Your Omega instincts are starting to cloud your senses more and more.

Suddenly one of his hands gently squeezes a soft breast and you moan at the sudden touch “O-Oh!”

“You’re sensitive here, do you like this?” He asks, massaging your chest.

You whimper and nod frantically, tail wagging behind you. You had never been this responsive to having your chest played with, though then again, it was rare… but his sensual touches were quickly undoing you. Wetness pools at your gut and you rub your legs together.

Lord Mor- Zhongli… leans down then and something wet flicks over your nipple making you gasp, before warmth surrounds your nub. You cry out even louder. He sucks and laps at it and you instinctively tangle your hands on his hard dark hair, your legs wrapping around his waist.

You groan again, too many layers on the way.

“C-clothes… off, please!”

“As you wish, my dear dragoness.”

He continues squeezing, kissing, caressing and lapping at your skin, leaving a couple of hickeys along the way and teasing his Alpha fangs against you as his attention descends through your body once more, continuing his trail of kisses along your hip. His fingers dip down the waistband of your mesh pants and when you raise your hips to help, he pulls them down.

You’ve been naked in front of others more times than you’d like to count. But there’s something oddly intimate and special about this situation right now.

Your ears lower in apprehension, and your tail flicks by your side, resisting the urge to cover up. Lying down with your legs slightly spread around him. Already flushed, sweaty and panting.

“…You’re gorgeous.”

Huh?!

“I’m so lucky to have found you.” Zhongli nips at your hip. “So lucky that you want me too.” He kisses at your inner thigh.

Your breath hitches.

You’re the lucky one. Completely overjoyed that this Alpha likes you, desires you.

The first touch at your core has you mewling.

Zhongli strokes at your folds, still gentle, finding you soaked as your slick coats his fingers. Your body jolts and you moan “A-Ah!” He smirks against your thigh and nips there again as his fingers move in circles, teasing, testing, before moving to your clit. A finger pad stroking it just so, making your whole frame tremble, like every nerve in your body is being stimulated.

“Mngh- please!”

His fingers travel between your folds. First one sliding in rather easily, pumping steadily as you shudder in pleasure, and then two, making you writhe, bucking your hips against the touch, pushing them deeper, chasing that feeling.

Your body feels hot, too hot. Every sensation blocked except that warm wet feeling down there, in your new heaven. Your hands claw at the sheets, a pleasant fog setting in and you can feel yourself slipping into your most primal needs. But oh, oh, not like this.

You want him. Need him.

“You- y-you! please my lord!”

Something snaps in the Alpha’s eyes and Zhongli growls. Golden eyes dark, swallowed by lust and need and you whine when his fingers leave you. You vaguely hear rustling noises and before you can protest again, he pulls you up back on his lap and oh…

He’s big.

His erection stands proud between your bodies, rubbing against you and you shuffle impatiently, nuzzling against him.

Yes, yes…

Zhongli helps positioning you, gives himself a few strokes, and you feel his cockhead kiss at your entrance, you whine and stare at him rather confused. “L-Like this? B-But I have never- This is n-not how-”

He kisses your forehead, your nose, and pecks at your lips. “I can imagine this is very different from how they’ve taught you Alphas mount Omegas, but I my dear, intend to make love to you.” He whispers, hot breath fanning your cheeks as he nuzzles you, so close, so intimate. Your heart hammering wildly in your chest. “Like this you will have more control. I want you to relax, enjoy, my sweet dragoness.” He kisses at your cheek, down your jaw to your neck. “May I?”

You can feel your eyes water. No one had ever told you that. No Alpha had ever been this patient or even asked your permission before. Words die on your throat as you stare mesmerized at Zhongli. Grateful. Incredulous. Completely enamored.

You nod, and he guides you down.

It’s different like this. So much different.

You bite your lip and whine a little once you start to move, his hands hold your hips as you raise them and sink back down on his cock, inch by delicious inch. You feel… full, but warm, good. Your insides clench around him and he groans.

Oh… you could get used to this…

“Hah… ah! … m-my lord... I’m…” You feel dizzy but in a good way, your body tingles all over and it’s exhilarating, addicting.

He leans forward a bit, nosing at your collarbone, soft kisses tickle your skin and he… he’s almost purring in delight, inhaling your scent. “I told you, you can just call me by my name... Would you let me hear it?”

You buck languidly on his embrace, enjoying this…sensual experience, these new feelings and sensations. His tender closeness, his intoxicating pheromones, his deep baritone.

Him.

“Zhongli…”

His name comes out as a needy cry and he growls, Alpha pride clearly satisfied. His hands roam your body just enough to shift position and pull you even closer, hips rolling in tandem, picking up speed, his fangs grazing your shoulder.

Your head is swimming in pleasure, fuzzy like stuffed with cotton, small little “Ah… ah… ah!” moans punched out of you. You’re vaguely aware of your nails digging onto his skin but you can’t even stop yourself, you need to hold onto something, anything.  

Even your tail subconsciously curls around his ankle (and he doesn’t even seem to mind), like every cell of your body is screaming at you to hold onto him and never let go.

Zhongli’s own breathing comes out in harsh puffs and satisfied groans as he buries himself in you over and over, the sound of skin slapping on skin becomes more prominent.

And then, he hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

Your eyes snap open (when had you closed them?) Back arching as if struck by lightning and letting out a high-pitched moan. H-How did he do that?! What was that? You don’t remember ever feeling like this in previous bonding attempts.

“M-more?” You mewl in delight.

Zhongli looks at you with a satisfied smirk and it only fuels the fire in your belly.

“Gladly.”

That same wonderful feeling travels up and down your body again and again as your moans and whimpers rise in volume, calling his name over and over. Zhongli kisses you, deep and passionate. Whispers praises and sweet nothings on your flickering dragon ears. Touches you so soft and reverently. Your body feels so hot, your mind going blank, you can feel the base of his cock swelling with his knot and the familiar coil of pleasure tightening as you anticipate it, crave it, more intense and satisfying than ever before.

And just as you reach that high, his fangs sink into you.

You come with a squeal, body tensing, clinging onto him, clenching on him as he lets out a deep satisfied groan, knotting you. Wet stickiness coats your insides and thighs. And everything feels right, just right. Perfect even.

It takes a moment to come back to your senses, and it’s to Zhongli’s hands rubbing circles at your back comfortingly, while he laps and kisses at the bonding mark he left on you.

And then the high comes crashing down.

The bonding mark.

Tears well up in your eyes and start rolling down your cheeks, your tail uncoiling from him and curling around yourself protectively, ears down.

Please no… this can’t be…

Please stay…

Please.

Zhongli immediately notices your distress, in your actions and your scent, completely different altogether. His own instincts going wild at the lack of a happy sated mate scent. “Darling, what’s wrong? I’m sorry did it hurt that much? Did I… harm you in some way or did something wrong?” Oh, he sounds so genuinely concerned.

You shake your head desperately. Of course he hasn’t.

But you will.

Your body will. Betray you as always.

No bonding mark has stayed in your neck for longer than a few minutes. They all fade.

Just like the alphas that place them in you.

And then comes the anger, the guilt, the disappointment, the despair, the loneliness…

You can’t take it. Not this time.

“S-stay… please…” You sob.

Your voice sounds so broken, so weak and tiny, absolutely heart wrenching.

And Zhongli embraces you.

“I will, my dearest dragoness. I promise you.” He kisses one of your horns.

You want to believe him but you can only cry harder…

The room is dark as your eyes flutter open. It takes a few minutes to adjust and for your mind to catch up. Where are you…? You look around at the wooden walls, nestled in comfy sheets, you see some wooden cabinets and a tea set-

…!!!

You jolt awake, tumbling some pillows from your fancy nest. Your last chance at bonding. The emperor. He was leaving, and then…!

You slap a hand against the junction between neck and shoulder and feel something there, a bandage… you try to stare at it confused, though it’s impossible from the angle. And then fear consumes you. What if… it’s not there…?

Your body is still naked, though you have been covered with a thick fabric while sleeping, as it now pools at your lap, your Omega scent and that of an Alpha mixed together pleasantly, you turn around.

The Emperor. Lord Morax. Zhongli.

He sleeps peacefully by your side, on your nest, after having mated you.

He stayed.

You stare at his handsome features, fair skin, dark long hair, strong jaw, muscled arms. His lips slightly parted as he breathes evenly. So at ease.

You want to reach out and brush at his hair, touch his face, kiss him.

You want this moment to last forever.

Looking up slightly you see the large mirror, see yourself. A tiny thing, with freaky ears, horns and a tail.

It was… good, while it lasted. Almost like a dream.

Tears start falling down your cheeks again and you try to be as silent as possible as you pull and lift at the bandage in your shoulder. And there underneath it is… something?

Your fingers trace a mark, a wound, it stings and you hiss.

No way. There is no way.

Hope flutters in your chest, your stomach flips and you feel dizzy, nervous. A bonding mark? Is it real? Is it still there?

You shuffle out of the nest as fast and stealthily as you can, standing in front of the mirror. Hair a mess, eyes wide, pale in fear.

And there it is. The clear mark of an Alpha bite, still rather tender. A claim. A bond.

You start sobbing as you trace it, touch it, feel it. It must have been hours, there is no way…

It’s there, it’s there, for real. You want to laugh, to cry, you’re still nervous, scared, hopeful, happy, a million things at once.

But how? Why now?

“Hnng… darling? Are you crying again?” You stiffen as you hear the voice, deep and hoarse, laced with drowsiness. You turn and see him sit up and yawn carelessly like a rishboland tiger. Elegant and intimidating like one too with his bright golden eyes, Alpha fangs and muscled figure. Still naked as well, you note.

“T-the bonding mark… it’s still there!” You exclaim to him, gesturing to it.

“You should let it heal nicely.”

“Y-You don’t get it!” You huff. “My Lord… it’s still there! I’m bonded, I’m yours!”

He chuckles. “Rather, I would say we belong to each other, now.”

Belong to each other.

That sounds nice.

You turn back to the mirror, still staring at it, poking it with a finger softly, as if afraid it’ll disappear, as if it was an illusion, a dream.

But it’s there.

“For years… for years I thought I was doing s-something wrong, that there was something… wrong… with me…” You cry softly. “No Alpha had even bonded me…”

Suddenly you feel strong arms curl around your frame, a chin resting at your shoulder where it kisses your skin, and then brushes over the mark. It stings but you welcome it.

It means it’s real, all of this is.

Zhongli inhales, taking in your scent. “Well you see my dear, a dragonblood… a xiānshòu like you, can only be truly bonded by one of its own kind.”

The words take a moment to process, to sit on your brain, and you frown confused, staring at him from the mirror. And then your eyes widen.

Golden antlers crown his head, majestic and almost glowing, small scales appear under his striking amber eyes, the color of burnt ocher. A large tail, even bigger than yours in golden and brown hues, sways lazily behind him, before finding yours and intertwining with it, the feel is foreign but not unwelcome. Like holding hands.

You turn around so fast you almost trip if it weren’t for his hold. The dragonblood features are still there, in plain sight.

Your throat feels dry.

“You… you’re…”

He raises a finger to his lips and shushes you, then smiles. “I am yours my dear. Just as you are now mine.”

You cling to him and hide your face on his chest as you cry. Overwhelmed, relieved.

Yes, this is where you belong.

[libraryofsimps]

“the prey that doesn’t know when to quit” alhaitham x reader: smut

Warnings: Predator-prey dynamics, public sex, Alhaitham being demeaning but also affectionate, consent (slightly db? 🤷🏻‍♀️ Idk), orgasm control, nipple play, fingering… hmm, lemme know if I missed anything loves. <3

You couldn’t stop your stumbling feet around the busy streets of Port Ormos, hearing the sounds of people and merchants should’ve distracted you, but it did quite the opposite. It only made you focus more, on a certain predator of yours. Someone who will catch you, as they swore a few hours ago. It was none other than the exemplary scholar, Alhaitham.

Running upwards, around the area where Dori stays, you halted. You felt an eerie absence of your follower. Panting with bated breaths, hand holding your heaving chest for support. “Fuck—” you sighed, falling to your knees. The tiredness creeping in onto your already sore muscles.

“The prey that doesn’t know when to quit,” you heard his voice suddenly, footsteps echoing ironically; mind focussed on him & only him. You fell limp on your rear, your hands aiding your movements backwards.

“Tch- tch, tch—” Alhaitham squatted down, taking his smug smile along as he wiped off the sweat on your forehead gently. “So, now that you’re caught…” he mumbled, eyes stern yet pitying how overwhelmed you looked.

“Haitham—” your lip quivered in anxiety and anticipation. You truly were blossoming as the prey he moulded out of you. Leaning against his touches, hoping that the repercussions might be less.

“Giving you another 3 minutes, little lamb,” Alhaitham replied smugly, standing tall in front of you. Oh he was enjoying this so much. Unfortunately for him, you were tired. You looked at him, oh so submissive and doe-eyed. “Ca-can’t,” your defeated mumbling caught him by surprise.

“Well then, for the past 3 hours have been gone by with me trying to get hold of you,” he gripped your hair, careful not to rip them out or be too harsh; making you hiss nonetheless.

You got up, stumbling onto your own feet, embarassed with dusted cheeks, because you knew many people were watching. Haitham was quick to grab you and pin you to one of the shady alleyways in the port itself. “Now that you have been caught, any last words?” He mumbled, taking out his sword and keeping it on your neck, gliding it dangerously across your unmarked skin.

You knew it was all a play, you knew he would not kill you. Even so, the way your pupils contracted and you palpitated, quivering in front of him, almost made him question if you were truly in for something like this. “You okay?” He asked, voice changing 180 degrees from his original, condescending tone.

“I’m- I’m okay, Haitham,” you mumbled gently, reassuring both yourself and him.

“You better be, don’t want you passing out on me when I am barely begining to relish my prey,” he pinned you back, hand on your throat contracting and pressing the sides of your throat, elicited a gasp from you real fast.

“So cute, so vulnerable and so—” he leaned in, kissing your cheek softly, lingering closer to the shell of your ear and whispered, “helpless”.

Eventually you could feel yourself losing it down there, arousal pouring down as his hands caressed your clothed crotch, leaning in and suckling onto the sweet spot on your neck.

His hands lingered around the back of your thighs, encapsulating them together around his waist as your back collided against the wall, clothed clit caressing his protuding semi.

“Hnng— Fuck!” You whined, while Alhaitham was quick to tear off your panties, giving your skirt no mind. The carnal, obsessed desire of your lover to have more of you, to claim every crevice in your body.

Enraged, posessive fingers sheathed into your quivering hole without any mercy, curling themselves against your sensitive spot. “Such a cute little play thing” Haitham smirked, watching your reactions and imprinting them on his mind. Leaning in, he nibbled your clothed nipple, growling against it with a smirk when you arch your back further for him. “That’s it, you know how to surrender huh?”

“Let me watch your reactions yes? I want you to look directly at my face when I fuck you,” Haitham’s lewd words were hitting you directly at your core, making you quake and shake in pleasure.

His thick cock entered your pulsating cunt suddenly, giving you no time to adjust to his impeccable girth that almost tore your sobbing cunt apart. “Look at you clamp down on me like a needy little slut,” he smirked, thrusting deeply against the alleyway, wall-fucking you with no remorse.

You were quick to put both your hands on your mouth, stopping your voice from echoing away and getting caught. How shameful would it be if the top Akademiya students were caught like this… unfortunately, Alhaitham didn’t care. Infact, he was enjoying having you worried about the both of you. “Aww— don’t tell me that me fucking you, is not enough to make you mindless; my little prey.” His thrusts got harsher, balls slapping against you with every single plunge of his cock deeper, and deeper.

He held your legs up against the wall, finding you clamping against him. “Ah ah ah ah— not so fast.” The new position made you feel vulnerable, spread open for him to see and destroy. “Fuck— let me, please let me cum,” you whined, screaming out his name when he started thrusting against you again.

“You wanna (thrust), cum for me? (Thrust) do you think you deserve (thrust) to?” He was panting alongside you, green-eyes glaring at you, with hints of affection undertones.

“Yes, ahhnng! Please let me cum, please— I can’t—” you whined out loud, clamping him tight enough to entice a much needed whine from him. God he sounded so good— he felt so good— and he looked so good, with his cock being pussy-drunk.

“Go ahead then, my little prey, you deserve to cum. Given you have been such a cute little cocksleeve yes? Letting yourself be hidden from the eyes of the people around here mhm? When you have been fucked so through and thorough.” His movements halted for a moment as the sweet venom of words dripped down from his mouth, his hand caressing and rubbing your clit to help you achieve your high.

Eventually you tipped off the edge, along with Alhaitham painting your walls with his hot seed. Cumming inside you and kissing you passionately with no room for any screams. Muffling and eating away each and every whimper, shielding your dignity all around Port Ormos and also; showing his affection.

“That was— fun,” you panted and chuckled, teary-eyed from how good it felt.

Haitham kissed your forehead and kept his lips touched to your skin. “You, are perfect,”

[libraryofsimps]

Little Ruin Guard

In which you gift Dottore a handmade Ruin Guard plushie.

Also on Ao3

Dottore x GN Reader

Warnings: none. Fluff and slightly cracky. Also wrote this instead of sleeping, while down with a nasty cold.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You weren’t quite sure why you were even doing this. Dottore didn’t care about gifts. He never gave you one in all that time, and he had made it clear that he did not expect to get any, regardless of occasion, either.

This was probably a stupid idea. You only did it because of some lame joke you made to tease him and when he didn’t immediately deny it, the gears started turning in your mind.

And now here you were, in front of his study door, fiddling with the plush doll of a Ruin Guard you designed and made for the Harbinger with your own two hands.

It turned out pretty cute, you noted. You even tied a little satin bow around its neck to dress it up for its big moment.

All things considered, you had put way too much effort into this, especially since you’d probably receive nothing more than a scoff and a mocking comment about your intelligence.

Steeling yourself for whatever may come next, you raised your hand to the wood and knocked.

“What is it?” came the gruff reply after a few seconds.

You entered the study, donning a sweet smile while hiding your gift behind your back.

“Oh. It’s you.”

Dottore’s expression softened when he saw you on the threshold. Leaning back in his chair, he slipped his beaked mask off and ran a hand through his already messy hair.

“Did you need something, Darling?” He raised his brow at you as you perched yourself on his desk in front of him.

“No, but I have something for you, Dottie~” You chirped teasingly, revealing your gift to him.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

What in Teyvat was that? His confusion must’ve been obvious on his face since you started to giggle as you watched for his reaction.

A… plush doll? Of a Ruin Guard? With a little pink bow around its neck? With a blush on its “cheeks”?!

“Have you lost your mind?” He deadpanned, staring at you incredulously.

You didn’t reply and just continued to giggle, already biting your lip to keep yourself from bursting into laughter.

“Explain.” Dottore crossed his arms in front of his chest.

You took a moment to calm yourself down.

“I made this. For you.”

“Why.”

“You see, after that thing I said the other day, about how you’d probably like getting cuddly with a Ruin Guard, and you didn’t immediately deny it… I had an idea… That idea resulted in this.” You pointed to the doll in your lap.

“I–” He frowned as you pushed the toy into his hands.

“Come on, at least take a proper look at it!” you pleaded.

He sighed, but brought the plush closer to examine it. It was a good foot tall, and pretty heavy for a stuffed toy. Despite its childish design, you managed to include a lot of intricate details. He wasn’t even aware you knew how to sew, let alone something this complicated.

He must have spent longer than he thought admiring your handiwork, since you cleared your throat after a while.

“If… if you don’t want it, I’ll take it…” you mumbled, reaching for the doll.

He smirked. “No, you won’t. I… like it.”

“Really?” Your face lit up.

“Yes. Really.”

He leaned in to give you a small kiss, never letting go of the little Ruin Guard.

“Now hop off, Bunny. I have work to finish.”

He chuckled at the blush that dusted your cheeks at the pet name.

Dottore would never admit such a thing out loud, but he adored your gift.

While a word like that usually had no place in his vocabulary, he would make an exception just once. That Ruin Guard doll… it was cute.

He pretended not to notice the triumphant smile on your face when you spotted the plush on his nightstand a few days later.

[libraryofsimps]

husband!ayato

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, fem!reader, breeding kink, praise kink, a little bit of overstimulation & some (good) tears

husband!ayato who is oh so diligent in drinking the herbal birth control tea offered to him by the best physicians in inazuma each and every morning, even when he skips breakfast. it’s bitter in his mouth despite the fact the medicine smells sweet and the staff has added drops of honey to help but over time, he swears it gets even more bitter. 

husband!ayato who was happy to be the one to take such medicine after you had mentioned your distaste for how it made you feel within the first few months of your marriage. he had hoped you’d simply give up on taking it, letting him have the chance to give you both a baby but he was understanding when you said you weren’t ready for that. so he swallowed the unsavory liquid day after day and waited for the moment you’d be ready. 

husband!ayato who has dreamed of having a family with you from the moment you captured his heart, before he had even confessed to you. behind the field of lavender in his eyes were images of you sticky with his cum, withering and so pliant underneath him as he continues to fuck his release back into you with his fingers and many times since confessing he had done just that, insatiable to his want-need- to breed you. he knew you would look so unbelievably beautiful round with his child, proof of your love and a promise of a future filled with such happiness. but he would wait patiently until you were ready before getting too carried away with the idea, though he certainly felt his cock twitch when the thought passed by like a leaf floating down a flowing stream.  

husband!ayato who’s ears burn, chest swelling, balls so heavy and needy to give it to you, when you finally say the words. tangled in silk sheets, his pretty cock buried to the hilt within your warm walls that clench around him, trying to hold off your orgasm until he tells you it’s okay to cum even though you're desperate for release. you're a bumbling mess with your legs spread and thighs pressed against your chest, tears rolling down your pretty cheeks, lost in ecstasy as he thrusts into you over and over again. 

his scent envelopes the world around you, hints of sex mixed within and it only adds onto the fact that all you can focus on is him. his pale skin beaded with sweat, baby blue locks of hair kissing his collar bones, pink lips parted as he tries to catch his breath and hang onto the last bits of sanity he has when you feel so fucking tight wrapped around him. 

“‘yato-“ you can barely say his name and he smiles knowing he’s brought you to such bliss. but at your next words his lips draw in elated, mischievous, smirk, his eyes not unlike when he bests an unsuspected adversary with only his words but unlike those moments, they were swirling with unbridled love too. “p- please breed me.”

husband!ayato who stops drinking his birth control tea that next morning, feeling his entire being fill with mirth and rapture when he tells thoma, who normally brews it for him, it won't be necessary any more. 

husband!ayato who you knew took you very seriously when you said those words, even if it was a half truth said while you were cock drunk. and though you still feel nervous about the prospect of being pregnant and having a child, you don’t correct him and start to find yourself daydreaming of a future with a baby, your baby, in his arms. 

husband!ayato whos fucking you every day until you get pregnant and plenty after. there’s paperwork to do, meetings to schedule, little notes to read through left by the staff and ayaka but you won’t find him in his office. he’s still fulfilling his duties though, just in another way. 

husband!ayato who, for the upteenth time this week and the second time today, has his pretty wife so obedient and ready for him within the sheets of your shared bed, a pillow under your lower back providing him the best angle to slide his cock in and out of your soaking cunt and not let a single drop of his seed go to waste. 

husband!ayato who praises you through it all, honied words dripping from his lips and onto your heated skin reminding you how good you are for him. how he’s going to make you round with his child, breed you like you so sweetly asked, like hes wanted to for so long. how thankful he is to have a family with you. how so very madly in love with you he is.  how amazing of a mother you’ll be. they seem never ending, bathing you in a sea of love, and even when his own pleasure makes his words more sporadic and deep, moments from filling you to the brim, he continues to whisper how much he loves you until your walls are painted white. 

husband!ayato who fucks his release into you just a bit, despite how sensitive you both are, as he whispers against yours lips promises to give you a baby, to be the best husband and father. sealing each vow with a kiss as he wipes your blissful tears. 

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

[libraryofsimps]

Book Thief

Synopsis: A young Alhaitham becomes a rather unwilling owner to a book. Word Count: 5.7k Tags: Alhaitham x afab!Reader, Fluff, (very slight) angst, Character exploration tbh, sort of love at first sight, slow fic (slow burn too), childhood friends! (sort of!), reader and alhaitham are 8 here! timeskip at the end to when they're freshly in uni

a/n: happy birthday to the best scribe !! best boy !!!! okay once again when i say this is slow i mean it ! this honestly feels more character-exploration-y than self-inserty :3

From knowledge-seeking scholars to artisans, the nation of knowledge is home to many. It is also home to an unassuming family-owned library, located in a modest corner of the city-state. 

With the decline of physical books over the decades, scholars who were interested enough to seek out hand-held texts were few and far between. The library enjoys the serenity that came with it, but sometimes when it gets quiet, it feels more like a museum. 

It’s no matter. Library or museum, it was home to a little eight-year-old prodigy and his grandmother. 

Warmth eases into Alhaitham’s skin as he approaches the door, the Adhigma wood smooth under his touch. There’s a weightlessness to his steps as the door swings open for him, chimes of a bell hanging above his head ringing lightly in the clean, spring air. It’s a perfect day outside, but he much prefers the indoors. The smell of old books has never been more comforting.

Alhaitham bounds up the stairs, ignoring the light chatter at the counter, avoiding spots that would make the floorboards creak. It’s easy to slip past the few citizens that were here. 

“Haitham, my dear, is that you outside?”

It isn’t, however, easy to slip past his grandmother.

“Yeah,” he calls back, making it up to the last few steps. He makes a mental note to water the potted plants later.

“How was school?” She asks, catching his tiny voice even from behind the walls that were separating them. Her comforting voice trickles out from the front door of their home to the short hallway. 

Twisting the brass doorknob, the door opens and shuts behind him. “It was fine.”

The eight-year-old kicks his shoes off, nudging them into a corner. 

“Fine?” She questions. He doesn’t have to look at her to know she has a small smile on her face. Alhaitham adjusts his grip on his bag, walking over to where she was sitting on the sofa, her arms open and waiting for him.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “it was fine.”

“Haitham,” his grandmother chuckles. “My dear, if you’re going to lie, you need to learn how to be a better liar.”

He averts his gaze, suddenly taking interest in a basket of yarn on the coffee table.

“Come here,” she whispers, patting her knee. The quilt that she had been working on now rests at her side. “Tell me how your day really was, my young eagle.”

Alhaitham briefly contemplates lying, but it would be futile. She could always tell. With a resigned sigh, he sets his bag on the floor by her feet. 

Routinely, he clambers up to sit on his grandmother’s lap. It’s quiet for a good while as Alhaitham composes himself, his mind rewinding through the day, his mind and body settling in before he finally takes in a deep breath in…

And out.

Like a lit match, flames spark his amber eyes ablaze. 

“The Akademiya is boring,” Alhaitham puffs, fueled by all the annoyance one could possibly fit into the body of an eight-year-old. It’s a confession that makes his grandmother’s eyes widen in surprise, a bubble of laughter almost coming out of her. 

“Their discussions are all empty. They’re not even talking! They’re just saying words,” he complains, eyes narrowed as he recounts the more unpleasant parts of his day. Alhaitham might have a wide range of vocabulary for his age, but he doesn’t think any word he currently knows could ever adequately describe these people. 

It was a horrific thought in and of itself.

“They’re so noisy. How does someone adore the sound of their own voice that much?”

His grandma lets out a hearty laugh as he continues to take issue with his day. From the lecturers to parents and to the curriculum, there’s hardly any stone left unturned by his blunt observations. Even the food that was offered by the Akademiya didn’t go unscathed. 

Though, he did like their candied nuts. “That was their only redeeming factor.”

Alhaitham’s grandmother only smiles fondly, eyes crinkling at the sight of her grandson so passionately displeased. For a moment, she allows herself to revel in the idea that her grandson had gone to a typical Sumeruean elementary school, not the Akademiya, and hated it. 

“So I assume you didn’t have fun?”

Immediately, he shakes his head. 

“I see.” And Alhaitham thinks this would be the last of it. She’d send him on his merry way back to his books and he’d try to forget any of this ever happened. 

Instead, a foreboding sense of dread sinks into the pits of his stomach as he catches that look on his grandmother’s face. That one, where her brows pinch together. Where they soften and they sadden and make him feel like he’s being choked with the palpable worry that emanates off her.

“Did you make any friends?” Grandmother nudges him, a twinge of concern in her eyes. As much as she tries to maintain a neutral, almost positive tone of voice, Alhaitham can hear the slight quiver. 

Alhaitham shifts uncomfortably, toes curling and unfurling. He knows what this is about. 

“The researchers brought their kids for the trial today. Some of them are your age,” she prompts. “Did you manage to talk to any of them?”

Framing it as a talk was a rather tame way of putting things into perspective. He wouldn’t exactly classify any conversation he’s had today as a nice talk, especially when a good portion of them contained thinly-veiled disdain behind half-hearted condolences. 

It’s either ‘It’s such a pity that your parents…’ or ‘I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine leaving my son/daughter behind!’ or ‘I hope you aren’t giving your grandmother much trouble. It must be so tough for her!’ or some other variation. The adults led the charge, their children unwitting accomplices. 

Pathetic, really. Alhaitham doesn’t particularly like to dwell on it, but it’s clear to him that it’s a rather contentious topic with his grandmother. As he had just complained, the scholars were a noisy bunch. If even he knew about it, the things they must be saying to his grandmother must be far worse. 

Alhaitham wants to scream. To resoundingly say No! To, perhaps, explain to his grandmother that nothing’s wrong. He’s fine. It’s not the most conventional childhood, he understands, but it’s fine. He’s fine. He doesn’t need friends, much less make friends with those at the Akademiya today. He just wants to read, and he’s happy as long as he’s with her.

But then he remembers a toothy grin. A phantom touch. A new book in his bag that he’s never read before.

And he falters.

“N-No.”

“No?” Grandmother raises a brow. “Are you sure, Haitham?” She chuckles, fingers tracing his warm cheeks. It’s kind of ticklish. “You didn’t make any friends?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then why are you so pink?”

He scrambles off the sofa, off of her lap. “I’m not,” he sputters, picking up his bag. It’s abnormally heavier than how it was minutes ago. “It’s just hot out. I’ll be returning to my room to rest now, goodbye.”

“Haitham—”

He’s off, shutting the door to his room behind him.

Standing in the middle of his bedroom, fingers clutching onto the straps of his bag so tightly that his knuckles turn white, Alhaitham bites down on his inner cheek. Bringing his bag to his front, he unclasps it. Barely a whisper of a rustle sounds in the silence of his room, but for little Alhaitham, it’s practically an earthquake.

His heart pounds in his ears. His eyes shift towards the door, looking to see if his Grandmother would check on him. Thankfully, he doesn’t hear anything. No shuffling, no soft creak of the floorboards. 

When only silence ensues, he tentatively pulls out what was carefully slotted between his book and his lunchbox. He doesn’t know why he feels so jittery. It was just a deep blue hardcover book. 

It’s pretty, he’ll admit. Fancy. Like one of those books that belonged in his grandmother’s library. Or on display on a shelf, left to be admired by all. Silver and gold embossing glimmer under the watchful rays of what little daylight was left. Thumbing over the cover, he opens it up, staring at the neat letters printed on each side. 

It’s of excellent quality, too. Alhaitham’s been around books long enough to know how to tell. The bookbinding was exquisite, the printing even more so. Judging from the binding glue, he thinks it was probably an old book, made a year, or two, back–

“Haitham?”

The book flies to the far end of his room. 

“Yes?” He almost squeaks.

“Are you hungry? Would you like me to make something for you–”

“No! I’m fine.”

He can hear a non-committal hum coming from the living room, followed by a rest well, then. I’ll wake you for dinner. Alhaitham doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there, heart palpitating like he’s on a sugar rush. 

His grandmother couldn’t find out. If she did, he’d never hear the end of it. Shaking his head as if it could shake the thoughts out of his mind, he moves to find the book, finding it sitting in his laundry basket pitifully. There were no scratches, no folds, having been cushioned by the padded cloth. 

At least I missed the bin… But what was he to do now? The thought of throwing the book out, never to be seen again, flashes across his mind.

He wasn’t sentimental by any means, but— “We’re friends now!” —you obviously shouldn’t throw away a book. What kind of heathen does that?

That’s what Alhaitham tells himself as he clicks his tongue, pulling the thick book back out of the basket and against his chest. No, he wasn’t doing it for the little voice that had rooted itself inside his head. No, the same voice absolutely did not make a home in the space within his skull, either! 

The mattress bounces when the young boy slumps down on his bed. Alhaitham falls back on his back, taking the book with him as he stares up at the ceiling. The imperfect edges, the slightest furled-in corners… signs of a well-loved book were there. Idly, he fiddles with the purple tassel of the bookmark still left within. 

For all his complaints about the Akademiya, this was the one period of the day that he couldn’t find fault with. He could appreciate the fact that there was another reader like him out there. 

But what am I going to do with this?

Young, Alhaitham doesn’t quite understand the warmth in his chest or the erratic uptick of his heart rate, but he does understand the calm that comes with his decision to keep the book. Your bookmark was placed barely before the halfway point. It would simply be too much of a shame if you couldn’t finish it. 

“Hi!”

Alhaitham jerks, his elbow knocking into the rough trunk of the tree he was leaning against. He hisses. Immersed in his reading, he hadn’t noticed the arrival of another. Looking up from his book, Alhaitham clicks his tongue and pulls his knees closer to himself as his eyes squint against the bright sunlight, trying to figure out who was disturbing the peace he had carved out for himself in the Akademiya.

He had spent some time finding this spot. How did someone already find him? As far as he remembers, the vast majority of staff at the Akademiya weren’t that competent. 

Against the glare of the sun, he couldn’t really make out their face. Was he about to be brought back?

“What are you reading?” The shadow cast over him hums, the silhouette of a person shifting. Alhaitham still can’t see them properly, so he resorts to simple deductions. A high-pitched voice and a smaller-than-average shadow length? You were another child in the gardens of the Akademiya, just like he was. 

The real question was: Which one? 

On account of recruiting new talents into the Akademiya, days like these where the children of researchers and faculty are brought into the Akademiya for lessons, are held on a yearly basis. 

While some promising prospects were indeed selected this way, it’s also obvious how a large majority of those brought here were just being used for their parents’ bragging rights. The classrooms were filled with children of all ages. In Alhaitham’s opinion, they were too noisy, too loud, and too unwilling to accept that they might be wrong. Their parents, too. 

He doesn’t exactly think that nepotism should be something to be so proud of in the land of knowledge, but to each their own. 

Ah. He was going off-topic. The real question was, were you one of them?

From the way you’re excitedly exclaiming, it doesn’t seem so. Alhaitham doesn’t remember seeing you in his class, but you could have been in one of the others. 

“That’s a Kshahrewar book!”

He clicks his tongue when you lean in closer. “Keep your voice down. And it’s none of your business.”

You ignore him. Your face becomes clearer now that you’re trying to catch a glimpse of the prose he’s reading, hair falling messily down your shoulders. Alhaitham breathes in, and you smell faintly of cookies and flowers. His eyes flit over to the resized book bag hanging off your arm, full of flowers from the nearby gardens. It’s easy to recognise them as Padisarahs. There were Sumeru Roses and lotuses, as well. 

“Woah, you understand all of this?” You fawn, resting your chin on your knee as your eyes flickered through a page full of intricate formulae and wording. Alhaitham doesn’t know what to do when you look back up at him, expecting an answer. It’s the first time he’s had someone his age show so much interest in what he was reading. 

So he simply nods.

Your eyes practically sparkle, with genuine excitement. “That’s really cool!”

He shifts closer to the tree he was leaning up against, looking back down at his book. Bangs falling across his face, he hopes the warmth on his cheeks wasn’t alluding to any type of innate bodily reaction. 

“...It’s elementary.”

“Is that supposed to be a quote?” You clap, bunny-hopping closer to him. The grass tickles his feet as he moves away in surprise, but you don’t falter. Your bag of flowers gets placed on the grass, the shade of the tree enveloping you the closer you got. “Do you read Sherlock, too?”

“What?”

“Sherlock!” He watches in horror as you simply invite yourself into his space, plopping down to sit cross-legged right next to him. “He says it all the time to his Watson!”

“Watson?”

“It’s a character.” This time, it’s your turn to click your tongue. Though you sounded miffed that he didn’t recognise the story, your eyes twinkled with excitement. Strangely, he thinks that maybe if he got a closer look, he might actually see some stars in them. “He and Sherlock solve mysteries together! In some of them, there are murders! It’s a super cool series!”

Alhaitham simply stares at you. He… definitely heard that right.

“Aren’t you too young to read books like that? You’re, what? Six?” Now, he was a quirky child himself, but he’s pretty sure if he were to be found reading stuff like that this young, his grandmother would take away his reading privileges for at least a week. 

“Eight!” You correct with a puff, and Alhaitham can’t stop the upturn of his lips at the pout on your face. “And I am old enough! Mama bought me the censored version after I stole the original, so it’s fine.”

“Sure you are—Wait,” he pauses, “You stole a—”

“Anyway,” you cut him off, “what are you learning? It looks fun!”

“You wouldn’t understand.” But the way you’re peering over his arm, staring at the pages as if the formulae could come to life, makes him think otherwise. 

“Mmm, maybe.” You tuck your hands between your calves, leaning forward. “But can you tell me anyway?”

“And if I say no?”

“That’s fine,” you hum, unbothered. Toothy grin still bright and blinding. “I’ll just sit here and read.”

“Can you do it somewhere else?” He can’t help but bite, watching you pour out your various array of flowers. He did find this spot himself. The sun was still high in the sky, which was to say, there was a long way to go before the day officially ends. He didn’t really want to have to find another spot and risk getting caught.

“No. I like this spot, thank you very much.” You stick your tongue out at him childishly, “I come here all the time! You’re the one that should leave.”

The young boy considers the suggestion, a pensive look on his face.

“I was kidding!” You yelp, watching him mark and close his book, ready to up and leave with his own school bag in tow. “You can stay!”

Brows furrowed, he asks, “Why would I?”

“Huh? You don’t wanna be friends?” You ask, eyes suddenly shimmery. Like a puppy’s. Fists clenching, Alhaitham feels a strange pang in his chest. 

What was it? His textbooks said something about heart murmurs, right? Maybe he should go to the Bimarstan to check it out. 

“Don’t you find it lonely?” You continue, the heels of your palm digging into the dirt below you as you stare at him. It’s almost like you can see right through him, and Alhaitham doesn’t know what to think. Or feel. Or do.

“…Why would I find it lonely?”

“Well,” you make a gesture at him. “You’re clearly here for the trial lessons. You mustn’t have any friends if you’re here instead of class.”

“Who-“ he chokes, finding himself growing defensive, “Who says I don’t have friends?!”

You stare at him, cocking your head to the side. 

“Do you?” 

…

……

………

The silence is almost sad. 

“What does it matter?” He huffs, breaking eye contact first as he settles back against the trunk of the tree. The spine of his book falls open on a marked page. He’ll stay, if only out of spite. 

Seeing that you may have just hit a sore sport, you back off with an awkward apology. 

You don’t speak much afterwards. It’s a weird thing. You’re a weird thing. Person. Child. Whatever. Alhaitham just doesn’t know what to think of you!

Impassively, he sinks back against the tall tree trunk, holding his book almost at eye level, rather than having it set on his lap. It wasn’t that you had touched a sore spot, it’s just… No matter how much you didn’t initially care, or how much you tell people you don’t, if it’s constantly being repeated by those around you (and even by the ones you do happen to care about), then it’s bound to grate on some thinly-worn nerves. 

Yeah, ha-ha-ha. Alhaitham doesn’t have any friends. Very funny. At this point, he doesn’t even know if it’s out of choice or if it’s due to circumstance. He just tries not to think about it too much. 

Through tiny, small peeks over the top of his book, he watches you as you hunker down and set up shop. It’s a strange way to pass time: A tiny pair of scissors is clenched between your fingers as you carefully shave off the thorns on the flowers and cut the stems of the flowers. There was a number to go through. 

Maybe the fact that he hasn’t moved from the same page tips you off, because the next time he looks over, you’re staring right back at him with knitted brows and pursed lips.

Alhaitham shoots up, readjusting himself against the trunk of the tree. “I was not staring at you.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“It’s my answer in case you were wondering,” he retorts. “So you wouldn’t have to make any dumb guesses.” 

“Guesses?” You mirror, slowly raising your fist to point at him. The flower you were holding sways around in the wind. “You were staring!”

“You’re seeing things,” he defends, picking up his neglected book. “Just be quiet while I’m reading.”

There’s a gasp and soft grumbling, and Alhaitham ignores you in favour of his book, looking at the passage he’s been skipping over for the past five minutes. A twinge of guilt stings him for being so rude since you hadn’t done much other than sit down and mind your own business. He expects you to walk away, they all do, but nothing of that sort happens. 

The silence eventually returns, and — he’s not looking over his book this time! — he spots you in his peripherals dumping out the remaining contents in your bag, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Chubby fingers open a container full of what looked to be white sand, and his curiosity is piqued when you toss in the bunch of flowers you had just cut. Alhaitham watches silently as you shake the container out and secure the lid tightly over it. The cut stems of the flowers you had used are placed into a handkerchief, wrapped, and tossed back inside your bag. It’s methodological. 

A thick book is pulled out shortly after. Alhaitham doesn’t really recognise it, but judging from the intricate details, the gold embellishments shimmering under the watchful eye of the afternoon sun, he thinks it might be some kind of well-known novel. 

Under the shade of the tree, you settle yourself into the space near him. Despite his standoffish behaviour, you seem unbothered. Normally, the other kids would turn the other way, leaving him alone, but you don’t. 

Frankly, Alhaitham doesn’t quite know what to do with that information. This seems to be a recurring theme today, so he resolves to do nothing. 

A peaceful smile wiggles its way up your face as you open your book and begin reading. You’re doing a much better job than he is, clearly, since you actually manage to make it past a page. 

It’s tough, and he’s hyperaware of your presence, and he gets distracted easily by the most mundane things, but he eventually follows suit. 

As long as he can ignore how his heart is practically beating away in his ears, he finds the situation he’s in to be quite nice. There’s no incessant chatter, no unwanted comments, and no tugging at his book. It’s serene. Peaceful. 

For a moment he allows himself to wonder if this was what friendship was. 

He doesn’t even realise he’s staring at you until you say something.

“Do you want some?” You suddenly ask, catching him again.

This time he holds down the stare, his mind blanking as you shuffle closer to him with your lunch box. He’s unable to look away from you, and the silence in his mind makes his heart thud thunderously in panic. 

“Baba and I made them this morning,” you tell him seriously, uncapping the box. The sight of the food hits him before the fragrant aroma does. “We can share!”

Although his first reaction is to decline, maybe finally take this as a sign to squash his curiosity and finally stop looking over, the growl in his stomach makes itself known. 

“You’re hungry,” you innocently point out, and his cheeks warm though you sound more concerned than you are teasing. Holding a golden-brown samosa towards him, you look at him expectantly. 

He reluctantly takes it and takes a nibble out of it. 

Alhaitham expected this day to be insightful. If not, boring. He hadn’t ever considered that he’d be eating with someone of the same age all while hiding from the teachers at the Akademiya. 

As his books suggest, life does have a funny way of doing things.

“Thank you,” he says after another bite, almost forgetting his manners. You merely beam at him, showing him a grin where one of your bottom teeth was missing. “It’s very good.”

“Delicious, right?” You practically jump in joy. “I made some of them allllll by myself!”

“Really?”

“Mhm!”

He plays along. “No wonder some of them look weird.” 

The comment runs off like water down a duck’s back. “You just said it was good, so no take-backsies!” 

And with that, Alhaitham determines that you’re likeable. Few people could understand his jokes, and it appears as though you’re in that minority. As a gesture of kinship, he remembers his Grandmother’s words and pulls out his own lunchbox, revealing tightly packed Pita Pockets from this morning. 

“Huh?”

He holds it out towards you.

“We can share,” he says shyly, trying (and failing) to will his blush away. 

You’re quick to react, enthusiastically sitting in front of him with your lunch box, exchanging Samosas and wraps for Pita Pockets and Baklava. You even let him have a sip of your chai, and he returns the favour by letting you try some of his tea. 

“...What book are you reading?” Alhaitha asks quietly. He braces himself for a swift rejection, maybe an annoyed click of the tongue, but it doesn’t come. Instead, you babble on about your book. He’s right, it’s a novel. 

Holding a conversation with you is strikingly easy. The banter is lighthearted and your exchanges with him are witty. Alhaitham can’t think of another conversation where he’s had so much fun. 

“So what’s with the flowers?” Alhaitham finally asks, comfortable on only his second samosa. 

“Oh,” you dust your hands off. Leaning back, you pull the contraption in question out and show it to him. “I’m drying them! Baba taught me how to make bookmarks with flowers!” 

You even pluck out the bookmark in your book, showing it off to him. Similar flowers that you had been cutting earlier were embedded in the clear resin. It was pretty neat, but also showed signs that it was made by an amateur hand. “See? Cute, right?”

He hums, and his impromptu picnic with you continues. He comes to find that the reason why you’re here was that you were waiting for your mother, who was a professor here. 

He’s not quite sure how much time has passed, but even as the sun is still high in the sky, young Alhaitham doesn’t want the day to end. Besides, his riveting conversation with you had been cut short when you had decided to take a cat nap, curled up and asleep against the tree. 

Trying to be as discreet and quiet as possible, Alhaitham sets his book aside for a moment. He shuffles over to clasp your lunch box shut. 

Didn’t his grandmother tell him to make friends? He hasn’t made it any further than five pages after your arrival, but he believes that this would be a good start to an amicable relationship. The bell signalling the end of the day at the Akademiya would soon ring, and by then, he expects to wake you up and exchange names. It’ll be a peaceful affair. He even thinks about inviting you to his grandmother’s library. Perhaps you’d find a book of your liking.

“Oh!” 

But you jerk up instead, hair tussled and messy. Your bleary eyes are frantic as you take in the subsequent ringing of bells. Alhaitham blinks at you as you rush around, patting your skirt down, fumbling with your wares, and eventually standing to your full height.

“Where are you—”

“I’m late,” you fret, spinning around to leave. You sprint off, leaving him in the dust, coming and leaving like a tornado without so much as a word. Alhaitham swallows down a knot of disappointment in his throat. 

“Ah!”

He looks up, expecting to see you having fallen, or something. Instead, you’re running back to him.

“What—”

You slam into him, falling over him in a heap in a tackle. 

“I forgot to say bye!” You exclaim, reaching up to hug him tightly. Alhaitham sputters, shocked, and coughs a little when you pat his back with a little too much strength. “We’re friends now, okay? Bye-bye!”

Climbing off and standing back up again, you wave at him as you run off. “See you next time!”

“Wait!” He finally yells, remembering something only when you’re a good distance away. “We don’t even know each other’s—names…”

It’s too late. You made haste, running off before Alhaitham could do anything. It isn’t until he decides to return home that he realises you weren’t all too careful in packing. 

A navy book sat on the grass, now ownerless. 

Knock, knock, knock.

Alhaitham ducks under his covers, pulling them over his head as he holds the book close to his chest. He grips it with such intensity that he has to remind himself to loosen up lest he damages the book. 

“Haitham?” He hears his grandmother say softly, and part of him begins to relax.

“Yes?”

The bed dips under her weight, and he feels a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Would you like to study at the Akademiya? You can tell me the truth.”

“I don’t like the Akademiya,” he blurts honestly. “If I have to study, I rather do it at home. It’s too restrictive there.”

“Did you really hate the Akademiya that much?” She mumbles, more to herself than to him. He simply shrugs under her touch. After a few seconds of silence, she speaks again. “I see. That’s alright. You know I’ll always support your decisions.”

“You don’t have to go for the trial lesson tomorrow,” she tells him. “I’ll pull you out, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods from underneath the blanket. He feels his grandmother press a kiss to the top of his head through the cloth, and later, the door closes. 

Wait.

He sits up abruptly, clutching the book.

If she was going to pull him out of the class tomorrow, how would he return your book?!

Oh, no, no, no!

A yellowed bookmark is pinched between Alhaitham’s fingers, the resin holding its shape and form as he spins it slowly, like how it's done for the last decade. The purple tassel hanging off it is frayed at the ends. It’s old, but Alhaitham takes great care in maintaining its condition. 

At first glance, one might not expect the boy, now man, to own something like this. It’s amateur, with the rough edges still marked with rough sanding. Not fit for someone of his status, they’d say. But Alhaitham was never one to care about these things. There’s something endearing about the bookmark that he can’t quite put his finger on. 

Alhaitham never managed to find you. Be it due to his own reluctance to seek help from his grandmother, or through his own feelings of inadequacy, his infrequent returns to the Akademiya as a child were always fruitless. You had disappeared without so much as a trace left behind. The only thing that proved to him that you weren’t a figment of his imagination was your book. Your bookmark. 

You were right on one front, he did come to enjoy the books you suggested, even going so far as to finish, and purchase for himself, a collection. He had even finished that thick, navy book of yours. It was a good read and was currently locked up at home behind a glass cabinet, waiting to be returned to you.

If you ever came back, that was. 

The chatter of the class on his first day at the Akademiya is almost mind-numbing. there were so many bright-eyed scholars, thirsty for knowledge. But with the widespread use of the Akasha terminal, Alhaitham can already predict how this was about to go.

Alhaitham sits at the front, in a corner, hoping to be away from the bulk of the noise coming from the back. He’s been better at confronting his feelings over the decade. The seat next to him is empty, and he’d like to keep it that way. 

But of course, the Archons loved to spit in his face. There’s a tiny hum behind him, and a bag being dropped into the chair next to him. Where once he’d be bothered and shift away, or even shoot them a look, Alhaitham doesn’t even look up now, his eyes trained on his book. 

He sighs, flipping to the next page when he feels a tap on his shoulder. What now? Couldn’t he have a moment of silence? Alhaitham tries ignoring it, but the tapping grows more incessant. 

Shaking his head, he turns to look at the one disturbing his peace. Exchange names, and move on, he tells himself. There was no point in being rude to someone that likely just wanted to familiarise themselves with the class, even if…!

“You–!”

“Uh-huh.” 

There was no mistaking it. It’s you. The same nose, the same eyes… Your hair is longer and you’ve clearly grown, but it’s you. 

And from the looks of it, you recognise him, too. 

Your eyes sparkle like how they did when you were both younger, and Alhaitham swears his heart skips like how it did a decade before. In a teasing lilt, you sing, “Hello, book thief.”

A dumbfounded laugh escapes him, his cheeks almost hurting from the smile it was being stretched into.

“Thief?” he chuckles. He’s not sure why he even thought you wouldn’t recognise him. There weren’t that many grey-haired scholars his age in Sumeru. “You made me a librarian.”

“That sure is a nice term for theft,” you shoot back, but you’re holding back a laugh, too. You haven’t lost that spark. 

“Hand it over, Alhaitham.” 

His name rolls off your tongue so naturally that it sends shivers down his spine, the hair on his arms standing. 

“You know my name but I don’t know yours,” he muses, leaning forward with your bookmark hostage. “That’s quite unfair, isn’t it?”

“Then why don’t you take me out for coffee?” He swallows at your words, surprised by your bluntness. He barely notices the professor walking in. “I can get my book, and you can get my name.”

He exhales, hiding a smile. That wasn’t a fair exchange at all, but after ten years, who cared?

“Puspa Cafe, after class.” He whispers, handing you your bookmark as the professor starts giving out instructions. 

“I do hope that you won’t disappear on me for another decade.”

a/n: man i lost motivation writing this so many times. it was supposed to go in another direction but then i switched it and now my brain is all swirly whirly .-. i made a lot of his characterisation as a child pretty (?) subtle so !! have fun figuring out how i hc him! i kept listening to wonder girls while writing this

©shiinleaf Do not plagiarise, use, translate and/or share my content outside of Tumblr in any way, shape, or form. Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed!

[libraryofsimps]

This is perfect!! I waited all my life for this one( TДT).... I love you so much!!! :;(∩´﹏`∩);:

On the complexities of relationships and words

Summary: For two people that love to read, words seem like a complex. 

Word Count: 13k (yeah… this is slow burn, might want to get a drink and snack)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Slow Burn, Smut, NSFW, Fluff, Angst kind heavy?, Modern AU, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, slow fic, marriage, arranged pairing, dubcon, themes about not liking yourself, TW: gender dysphoria (you don’t like your secondary gender), TW: Very vague and brief mentions to possible past domestic trauma, Jealous!alhaitham, slight yandere!alhaitham, mutual pining, miscommunication, breeding, biting, ruts, Alpha!alhaitham, Beta!reader. You agreed to the pairing due to tax benefits. A lot of references to literature. 

Authors note: This is my first attempt at slow burn and yeah… I got carried away. I want to explore how slow alhaitham would open up and how love can come from the mind instead of the heart. Enjoy.

Keep reading

[libraryofsimps]

Alhaitham x Reader - If Love Is Like Your Melody...

Credits to @chichibleeps for this amazing art that inspired this fanfic!! Thank you for allowing me to make a story out of this wahh!!

I had this little brainrot after seeing their work and just decided to make a full blown fanfic about this! As compensation for the days I went on hiatus ;-;

Also...I was heavily inspired as well from the covers made by 정아로 ᴀʀᴏ I placed links to the specific covers in the lyrics so you guys can hear!!

Fem! Reader (she/her)

Modern AU

Songs lyrics used: How Deep Is Your Love (Bee Gees) , Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You, Kiss Me (Sixpence None The Richer) , Photograph (Ed Sheeran)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun reached its peak. The busy chatters of university students flood the hallways as they shuffle as a group to wherever place they needed to be. Just another day on campus at 3 PM.

Alhaitham checks his phone, seeing that he has no other classes for the day, and decides to head home early. The warm weather is perfect for doing nothing at all.

When he finally reached his place, he opened the window to let the natural air inside. His desk near the window, piled with papers and books. He sets those aside to do his daily reading journal and maybe go through the new books he borrowed from the library.

Alhaitham takes out the Bluetooth headphones Kaveh got for him on his birthday. He decided to try them out while he reads. He scans through his playlists on his phone and just drowns out the unnecessary noise. He’s in his element now as it always has been for him. A definition of comfort for Alhaitham.

Unfortunately, that only lasted for an hour. He hears a beep through his headphones and the music stops. Alhaitham takes the headphones off and sees the battery has been drained. He sighs, remembering why he never really liked wireless headphones in the first place.

Before he could reach his old, wired headset, he hears a ukelele being strummed. The sound doesn’t seem to be far off.

“…You come to me on a summer breeze. Keep me warm in your love, then you softly leave…and its me you need to show. How deep is your love?”

He slowly looks out of the open window. Entranced by the soft, pleasant voice.

Alhaitham couldn’t see who it was. Yet he was lulled by such enchanting singing.

“How deep is your love? I really need to know. Cuz we’re living in a world of fools. Breaking us down. When they all should let us be. We belong to you and me.”

A few minutes passed. The singing stops. Suddenly, Alhaitham can hear the busy streets outside his window.

The outside noise made him tense up a bit, so he closed the window. He rubbed his eyes, surprised how he fell asleep listening to some random stranger’s singing. He couldn’t help it. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. He almost forgot where he was. As if he was transported to someplace else. He experienced that…through someone’s voice.

That night, Alhaitham couldn’t sleep. Wondering if he would hear such melody once more.

A cloudy sky greets the same old campus. The same students shuffle about, trying to get through another week in university.

Once again, Alhaitham heads home early, seeing how it’s unnecessary to stay longer if he wasn’t needed.

He does his old routine, open the window, clear out his desk, do some reading and listen to music.

But before he could hit the play button, he heard the strumming of the ukelele. He absentmindedly takes off his headphones and once again relishes such sweet harmony that he hears outside his window.

“Pardon the way that I stare. There's nothing else to compare. The sight of you leaves me weak. There are no words left to speak. But if you feel like I feel. Please let me know that it's real You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you…”

His phone starts to ring. But Alhaitham could hear nothing but her voice.

“I need you baby..-“

Alhaitham snapped out of his little fantasy world when he felt a strong shove from Kaveh.

“HEY! I’ve been trying to call you for the past thirty minutes! It’s time for game night! Cyno and Tighnari are waiting! Are you coming or not?!” Kaveh scolds him.

Alhaitham blinks. “Game night. Right. That was today?” He checks his phone seeing the hundreds of missed calls from Kaveh, Cyno and Tighnari.

“What’s gotten into you?! Don’t tell me you have forgotten about it! UGH LET’S JUST GO! GET UP!” His senior basically drags Alhaitham out of his chair, ignoring his protests. During game night, Alhaitham was still entranced by the mysterious singing, earning weird looks from his friends.

At night, he lies down on his bed. Thinking about his mysterious singer. Her voice has been ringing in his head. Every time he thinks about it, Alhaitham could feel the blood rush through his face. An unfamiliar feeling, he could never seem to describe.

‘Who are you…’  Was the last thing he thought about before falling asleep.

You nervously tucked the flier back inside your pocket. You tried to invite people to an open mic event that you participated in. But you suddenly felt your nerves take over you as you tried to approach a group of students.

“This is pointless. No one would go. And even if they would…I won’t be good enough. What was I thinking!?”

 You sighed and decided to give up, making a U-turn. You bumped into another student trying to pass by all you felt was your behind crash onto the floor. You winced in pain, covering your face in embarrassment, apologizing under your breath to whoever you bumped into.

“Are you okay miss?”

You look up to see that student you bumped into. A tall young man with silver locks. His deeply colored eyes locked on yours.  Alhaitham crouched down, his expression was blank yet you can see the hint of concern on his face.

“I’m so sorry! I-“

“No, it’s fine. Just be more careful next time please.” He says, extending his hand to help you up. You take his hand, fully standing up and regaining your balance. You bowed your head apologetically and rushed in the other direction. Alhaitham just stares at you running away from him. He noticed a piece of paper on the floor. The flier you tried to pass around to the other students. He picks it up and before he can read it, Kaveh hollers at him.

“WHAT’S TAKING YOU SO LONG?! LET’S GO! OUR BOOTH IS NOT GONNA BUILD ITSELF! C’MON YOU PROMISED YOU’D HELP!!”

He glares at his senior, tucking the piece of paper in his front pocket. “Quit yelling already! I’ll be right there!”

After helping Kaveh with the booth they needed to set up for an event, Alhaitham lies down on his bed. Exhausted for the day. He can feel the exhaustion course through his entire body. But somehow all of that weariness disappeared once he heard the sound of the ukelele through his window. His heart begins to beat fast hearing such romantic lyrics from someone he hasn’t even seen yet. Or at least, to his knowledge.

“…Beneath the milky twilight. Lead me. Out on the moonlit floor. Lift your open hand. Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance. Silver moon sparkling…so kiss me..”

Alhaitham sighed. “I would if I knew who you were.”

In that moment, his heart was able to do the talking for him. He lets the melody tantalize him once more. As soon as his mystery singer stopped singing, Alhaitham swears to himself to try and find out who this girl was.

He was bewitched by her melodies for too long. It’s time to find out who’s been playing with his heartstrings the way she plays that ukelele.

But it seems like his search was about to be in vain. The day he finally tried to figure out who’s been singing next to his apartment building was the day the mysterious singer stopped singing. Alhaitham looked out of his window, trying to see the building next to him. The window was closed. He decided to wait for a bit.

Hours have passed and it’s nothing but irritating city noise outside his window. No beautiful singing voice.

Alhaitham thought this would be a one-time thing where she doesn’t sing. He tries his luck the next day. But the days went by, and his mystery singer was no longer heard outside his window. As if she was suddenly silenced. He doesn’t know why he’s really bothered by such deafening silence.

Such silence dulled Alhaitham’s colored skies. Figuratively and metaphorically. Heavy rainfall was all he could hear outside his window. It’s been a week since he last heard his mystery singer. Perhaps that was the last he would ever hear of her. Disappointed and dejected, he takes his headphones and just tries to drown the deafening sounds of the rain with his regular playlist.

Somehow the old songs he used to listen to don’t appeal to him anymore.

A fairly small crowd gathered around to see the live set in the train station. Every weekend, the local cultural committee organizes an open mic event. Anyone could sign up and show off their vocal abilities in front of everyone.

After bailing out so many times, you gathered the courage to join the open mic session. With your ukelele at your hand, you took a deep breath and composed yourself.

“Let’s give it up for our first-time performer… Y/N! Come up here and show us what you got!” The emcee announced.

You let all your worries go, just strumming gently on the ukelele and letting your beautiful singing voice be free for everyone to hear. Some people were listening intently, some just walked by and glanced for a bit then moved onwards. The train station is still busy as ever, life goes on while you perform onstage. But somehow this was an open space for you to just be yourself. An escape.

“…So you can keep me, inside the pocket of your ripped jeans Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet. You won't ever be alone…”

Unbeknownst to you, your voice was someone else’s escape as well. An open space filled with peace and happiness. And perhaps, love.

Within the small crowd, Alhaitham stands and watches in awe. Hearing the familiar voice he’s been hearing for the past days outside his window. The one voice he tried to search desperately when it suddenly disappeared. The voice that kept him from putting his headset on.

Before he went out to run some errands for the weekend, he remembered that piece of paper he found after bumping into you that day.

“Open mic session at the train station. 6 PM, Saturday.” He read.

Alhaitham did not think much of it, seemingly uninterested in the event. But he needed to pass by the train station regardless of his interest in it. As soon as he heard your voice, he immediately turned around and finds himself walking closer to the live session.

And there he was. Standing among the other people listening to you singing. He finally found his mystery singer, singing beautifully outside his window. Serenading him without your knowledge.

“Thank you!” You ended your performance with a slight bow. The small crowd applauded as you walked off the stage. You smiled to yourself proudly for finally overcoming your fear of performing publicly.

You sat on a nearby bench, resting your feet. You spot a familiar figure at the distance. Alhaitham approaches you, with the same blank expression from the day you first met him back on the campus.

“Oh. It’s you!” You greeted him.

“I was just passing by, and I heard your performance today.” He tells you.

Your eyes widened in shock.

‘What?! Did I hear that right?! This very VERY attractive guy…from university…that I BUMPED INTO THAT OTHER DAY…HE WAS LISTENING TO MY PERFORMANCE?!

“R-really? Uh…well… so…what did you think?”

“It was nice.” Alhaitham said bluntly.

“Oh. Thank you.” You replied, shyly looking away from him.

Alhaitham mentally grimaced. Disappointed in himself for the lack of words. He knew he wanted to say more than that. All he ever thought about was the girl singing right next to his apartment building. How much her voice soothed him, made his heartbeat fast.

“…Actually. I’ve been listening to you singing for the past couple of days.” He finally admits.

“What do you mean…? Where have you heard me sing before? This was my first public performance.”

“Well, two weeks ago my wireless headphones shut down. I was going to get my regular wired headphones to listen to some music while I read when I heard a beautiful singing voice outside my window in my apartment. I never knew such a voice could give me so much comfort. So much peace. It was so peaceful; I couldn’t even hear the noise outside the city. Such unnecessary noise irritates me. But your voice just blocks them out.” Alhaitham tells you, his expression solemn and really showing he meant what he said.

“So you’re telling me…you could hear me practice f-from my…OH MY GOSH-“ You squeaked, covering your face in embarrassment just thinking about how other people might have heard you singing from your room. You never realized the walls were so thin the sound could go through the other building, nor did you consider the fact that your place was close to Alhaitham’s.

“Why are you so flustered? You sounded amazing.” Alhaitham reassures you.

“I-I... uh... look I’m not the MOST confident person around.” You choked up on your words, trying to face him.

“I’ve been holding back on signing up for the open mic event for years. I just don’t feel comfortable enough with many people staring at me. But I decided to try and get over it and just…get up there and sing you know!”

Alhaitham smiles. “You were great. I’m happy you were able to face that fear of performing. You seemed so natural onstage.”

“Thank you…uh… I apologize I never had the chance to ask for your name.”

“Alhaitham.” he says, extending his hand politely.

“Y/N. It was nice to meet you, properly at least.” You smiled, shaking his hand. You feel a strange spark within your chest as soon as you take hold of his hand.

“I’ve been waiting for a chance to meet the girl with such pleasant voice. I’ll be honest, I was quite upset that you suddenly stopped singing last week. I was wondering what could have happened.”

You blushed at the thought of him being upset at the fact you stopped practicing for a week.

“Oh uh…sorry! Nothing happened! It was exam week that time and I needed to catch up with my studies.” You explained.

Alhaitham felt relieved knowing nothing serious happened that week.

“I see. Nice to know you have a clear balance between your interests and your academics.”

You nodded. You then notice the headphones on his head.

“Alhaitham? If I may ask something…” You began.

“Yes?”

“Do you wear headphones a lot?”

“Yes, that’s right. I don’t like too much noise. It makes me uncomfortable. I wear headphones to block them out.”

Alhaitham turns to you with curiosity. “But somehow…just your singing voice alone, that was enough to block out the noise from the city outside my window.”

He takes his headphones off and immediately hears the loud noises from the train station. The people passing by, the intercom system ringing, the sound of the train rushing through the tracks.

Alhaitham squinted, clearly irritated by the surrounding sounds. He then feels your hand onto his shoulder.

“Is everything alright Alhaitham? You don’t look too good!” You ask him, clearly worried about the expression on his face.

“I’m alright. I’m just…proving my point that I don’t like noise too much.” He tells you, closing his eyes to try and block it out. His expression was less tense when he hears you hum a soft tune. Even with such soft volume, he somehow hears it perfectly. You start singing a random song to ease his tensions. Alhaitham hears nothing but your sweet voice once again, blocking out everything around him.

“Y/N…are you alright singing next to me like this?” Alhaitham asks.

You chuckled. “Of course it's okay! I'm...very happy you love my singing voice.”

"It's the only thing I want to hear."

You continued singing next to him, scooting a little closer towards him. Your voice placed him inside another world, far from the noises of the real world. A place Alhaitham would rather be in.

The unfamiliar feeling he felt grew stronger inside him.

‘Is this how it feels to fall in love…’ Alhaitham thought.

'If love felt like listening to your melody, the melody that shields me from painful city noises, then this is the kind of love I wish to have forever...'

Your voice sweetly enters his ear. The lyrics like a subtle declaration of love for him.

The beautiful noise he'd rather hear for the rest of his life.

[libraryofsimps]

Language Of Love

AlHaitham X GN! Reader

“‘Italics’” = he’s speaking another language

“So.. you can speak 20 languages?”

A random conversation.

It was easy to guess how you got to this point, boredom.

Spending time with your.. acquaintance, who you may or may not have a crush on, wasn’t on your agenda today, but here you are - sitting on a chair in his office as he effortlessly scribbles down sophisticated words onto parchment.

The sound was certainly pleasing to the ears, skrch sccrch sckrch.

You had no clue what he was doing. Oh, the duty of a scribe..

Or why you even came here..

No.

You knew why you came here, to spend time with him, as a friend only. Or maybe you were less than friends. It was hard putting a label on things when it came to the emotionally stunted AlHaitham. He was almost as bad as the General Mahamatra.

You just forgot how boring spending time with him can be if he’s busy working, thus leading you to flip through one of the many books on his bookshelf.

Yeah, you quickly got bored of that too.

These weren’t story books, they were informative books. You suppose to a man like him who enjoyed learning, this was like being surrounded by candy. To you? Its like being surrounded by encyclopedias.

He probably reads encyclopedias for fun.

So here you were, starting a conversation on a little fact you heard an academia student mutter like it was a piece of gossip even though it was probably outlined somewhere.

“Yes,” The scratching of quill to paper continues even as he glances up at you for a split second, “It’s important for scholars to broaden their knowledge and fluency of languages as to not hinder important research that may be written in a different dialect.”

All of Teyvat spoke the same language, it was easy to wonder why everyone from ancient times suddenly decided to switch. Of course you wouldn’t ask him such a thing, not right now anyway.

You had a plan.

A plan to woo this man.

The many failed attempts before can not hinder you.

Smugly, you said to him, “I bet I know one language you can’t speak.”

Oh, you were already giddy.

Curiosity peaked, his scribbling halted, eyes on you, “Is that so?” He was eager to hear you answer.

Whether you were toying with him, or genuinely knew a language he could add to his list, he was willing to listen.

“Do tell.”

Clearing your throat, you sat up straight and gave him a cocky smile, “The language of love.”

You were met with silence, as expected.

He was starstruck, surely. In awe. Was he wooed?

You could easily speak up with the punchline after his response, oh!! You would say, ‘but I can teach you!!’

Oh, he’s about to respond! He’s-!

“You must be referring to the ancient Fontaine language used by higher class citizens, commonly known to scholars as the language of love due to how words would ‘roll off the tongue like silk’ when speaking it.“

–an idiot? You were gobsmacked.

And he was smirking on the inside.

“I’m surprised you know of this language, you must have learned something from one of the books you’ve flipped through in the library.”

“That’s not,”

“I can even demonstrate it for you.”

“Wait!”

You began to fluster as he indeed began speaking a language completely foreign to your ears.

He was right, the words did flow silkily. This did not make you feel any better. Your pickup line failed miserably.

“‘You are so adorable, trying to trick me like this.’”

You can’t help but pout, wondering just what he was saying.

“‘Look at you, cheeks flushed and puffed like a fish. Honestly, how am I supposed to work efficiently if you’re here distracting me.’”

“Aw come on,” You began to complain, frowning at the gloating male, “I can’t understand you, y’know.”

“‘I do wonder if you’re aware that I know you like me, you wear your heart on your sleeves, my dear,’” he smiles ever so slightly, which completely unnerves you, “‘I like you too.’”

His cheek rests on his knuckles as he leans back and observes your frustration. Oh, how happy he was you brought this up. Any chance to show off his ability and confess without you knowing is always a good opportunity.

He’d shower you in compliments and confessions in all 20 languages if he had the time, perhaps even spill secrets to your unknowing ears.

Oh, how he would like that. He could say his deepest, darkest desires and you’d only look at him with confusion.. maybe even annoyance.

The thought pleased the busy scholar.

“That’s so mean you know, am I supposed to look up your words in a dictionary or something?”

“Oh, they wouldn’t be in a dictionary.” He reaches forward and tugs at your cheek, elation swirling in his broad chest as you whine and swat at his large arm.

“Should you remind me at a later date,” when he’s finally made you his, of course, “I’ll happily tell you what I said.”

“How about right now.”

“It is not a later date, only the time has changed.” Breathing out a sigh, faking annoyance, he turns his attention back to his paperwork, picking back up his quill.

“Ok, so I can ask you tomorrow.”

“You can, however, I’m under no obligation to tell you until I want to.”

“I dislike you very much, Scribe.” You grumbled, settling back in your seat.

He chuckles to himself, “I’m sure you do, ‘sweetheart.’”

[libraryofsimps]

๑𓈒 ' . 𑇛 I'D STILL CHOOSE YOU.

PAIRINGS. diluc ragnvindr x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS. in which diluc notices your worries about the people around you.

GENRE. angst to fluff hurt/comfort

WC. 1.05k!!

WARNINGS. none, slight profanity, insecurity, gossips, bodyshaming

NOTES. hello! this fic will be new expansion to my fandoms hehe I hope you guys will like it just as much I enjoyed writing this fic. blame diluc bc of him I made a decision to create for genshin characters smh /j + reblogs are highly appreciated!

LINKS. navigaion | genshin impact masterlist | taglist form

๑𓈒 ' . 𑇛 REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

Being the richest bachelor in mondstat, Diluc is expected to do what nobles do. The way he greets, acts, and accomplishes every job perfectly. He received a vision at the age of 10 and became the youngest captain in the knights of favonius at the age of 14. Of course, he is now just a mere businessman taking care of the winery in the morning or protecting the entire mondstat at night time. His past is yet to be told.

Rich parents of noble women across nations often visit him in hopes to have their daughter as the groom. Yet, he refuses to tell them as he tells them that he has no sole interest in having a relationship with any women. Or so he thought.

You happened to see him in his dark knight duties one fateful evening. You were ambushed by hillichurls while you were on your way to the outskirts of mondstat, your home. You came out from work a bit too late than usual.

You accidentally punched him as you thought it was some treasure hoarder coming at you. You apologised so sincerely that it wasn't some bad guy.

"Master diluc?" You asked.

Shit. He cursed himself.

"Than-"

"Don't say a word about this." He sternly said. And you did.

You scratched your neck awkwardly, "I will. Thank you again!" You walked away from him. To be honest he was scary earlier, barbatos how could this happen to me?

Little did you both know, a certain bard was witnessing the scene. A playful smirk grew into his face. "Huh, may the wind guide each other." He whispered. It's a rare scene to see Diluc in this kind of situation. Maybe the dear archon barbatos, also known as venti would be part of playing cupid.

A time has passed since your first encounter with Diluc, Venti's cupid duties came into reality. He was very happy for you and Diluc and he even played a small tune for the two of you. As much as Diluc appreciated the gesture, he would not change the way he treats venti in his tavern due to his wine addiction. As well as Kaeya, the wonder duo never fails to give Diluc a headache.

Soon enough, you opened your eyes to the noble world. There is a lot of catching up to do. All the stereotypes were shown on to you, the mannerisms on talking, acting, and greetings to fellow nobles. It was hard. As someone like you had no experience on such acts.

You found yourself in your shared rooms with your lover. With your eyes all puffy and red due to crying. You couldn't take it anymore.

"How can Master Diluc find someone so…common.."

"I expected him to choose a noblewoman from liyue."

The voices of other people in mondstat broke your heart. To hear such a thing about Diluc, you felt responsible. Instead of making him happy by his side, you could only be giving him a bad name by just existing beside him.

It felt so wrong.

What you didn’t was that you fell asleep on the vanity where you cried yourself with dried tears on your cheeks.

Diluc just recently returned home from his darknight duties. You were completely aware of his schedule as if its the back of your palm. Why would you know all about it? Of course diluc would tell you things about him, he’s that devoted to you. Adeline, the head maid of the manor, greeted the master of the manor. “Good evening Master Diluc.”

“Good evening to you too,” Diluc greeted back.

He went straight to your shared rooms, not giving any mind of eating for tonight. He was busy eliminating abyss mages around mondstat. When he opened the door, first he saw you sleeping uncomfortably on the vanity table. He immediately removed his coat and placed it on some chair and carried you carefully. Making sure that you were not awake. How long have you been asleep? Your neck is probably sore because of the restricted sleeping position you were in.

He sighed as he saw you still in your morning clothes. He can’t imagine wearing all the heavy clothing from daylight to night time. That's why you've woken up? "Did I wake you up darling?" He asked.

you got up and he followed. "No, you didn't. I just felt my position changed." You groggily replied while rubbing your eyes.

Diluc was observing you. He noticed that you were secretly wiping off the direct tears on your face while pretending to rub your eyes after you had just woken up from a long slumber.

He was worried. Maybe he has been busy lately since he has a wine business to attend to. Not only the wine business but also his secret duties at night time at mondstat. The abyss order has been showing up lately.

"y/n, can I ask you a question?" He started. You looked at your hands, not looking at his worried eyes laid upon you. "uh, sure. What are you trying to ask?" You replied.

Something is not sitting right. The way you said it was as if you changed your sentence and the way you speak. this is not the y/n he used to talk to. A hint of guilt punched at diluc. He HAS been busy. He should reschedule his time for you after this. He felt accountable for your well-being, since he was the one who asked you to live with him and as his lover, it is his duty to take care of you.

"Is something bothering you lately?" He asked. There, he asked for it. Although he expects you to lie to him. You can't lie to him after all.

"No, nothing's wrong dearest, I'm just tired..that's all," you answered and gave him a small smile.

Diluc uses his thumb to wipe off rye excess tears from your face, "No you're not. It breaks my heart whenever you lie to me. Tell me the truth my love, whatever you say is valid, after all it made you feel this way," He slowly opened his arms for you to be able to rest on his chest while wrapping his arms around you, "if you feel like I'm slipping away from you, don't worry."

"I'd still choose you."

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