lilylovestowrite

[lilylovestowrite]

IMPORTANT

Hello! I'm back from a little hiatus left for my original story! I'll probably take a few weeks to write a few more chapters and I'l be back. If anyone wants to read my original story, it's on wattpad!

In Pursuit of Paradise by @Orchid_in_bloom !

[lilylovestowrite]

LADY, RUNNIN' DOWN TO THE RIPTIDE, TAKEN AWAY BE THE DARK SIDE ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ Childe x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ Slight violence

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ After capturing the rat that nearly submerged Liyue, you're tasked with interrogating him

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.2k

A/N ୨♡୧ I'M WORKING ON THE REQUESTS I PROMISEDFDSG

Divider by @/cafekitsune

“You’re a bold one, waltzing into Liyue after trying to drown our people.”

As a member of the Qixing, you waltz into the interrogation room owned by Ningguang dressed in the finest of silks that compliment your beauty in the most graceful yet sharp way possible. You sit yourself in a chair, lined with red plush, and cross one leg over the other. 

“Well, it was worth it if I’m blessed with this view.” The man kneeling before you, arms secured behind his back by the guards behind him. Your icy expression fails to thaw from the boyish yet charming he shoots you. You laugh, trying your best to establish your superiority by being physically situated above him and by looking down at him with the most powerful stare you can muster. 

“Oh? Seeing you kneeling like the rat you are is my favourite view.” And honestly, it wasn’t a complete lie just to jab at his words. His hair is the hue of mature blood oranges freshly picked from some of the trees in Sumeru’s tropical forests, and it elegantly falls to frame his handsome face. Tartaglia’s gaze is fierce in public, not a hint of any emotion other than callous bloodlust resides  in his eyes, but here he looks up at you with a rather sneering yet saccharine stare. He opens his mouth to speak but you quickly use the tip of your fan and tap at his lips, glossy with the light drizzle in the evening. “Now, enough. How did you get the Sigils of Permission, Tartaglia? I expect you to answer me quickly.” 

“You stand so tall for someone I could just pin against the wall, comrade. I could fight off these guards, my darling, but you’re just too interesting. I think you should thank me for not killing you all.” Ah, intimidation. Of course he’s going to use that, especially when he’s getting cuffed as you speak. Fear slides down your back like droplets of rain, and you stand up straight. You excuse the guards, making sure they don’t get hurt in case his threat is a promise. 

“Aww, now we’re alone. That’s always fun.” His tone is teasing. The cadence of voice is naturally mid-range, but with you he raises it an octave or two  as if he is talking to an animal. The shame of it makes the tips of your ear bloom with boiling rage. He looks up at you, and a lazy smile graces his face. You try to keep your expression neutral but you know that he’s caught onto the blush of humiliation on your body. 

“Where did you get the Sigils of Permission from, Tartaglia?” You urge, and accidentally allow the harsh anger to seep into your words and corrupt their intention. You’re supposed to intimidate him, but he knows he’s got you. 

“Those are pretty silks, from the Qixing’s Yuheng, right?” Childe’s eyes wander up and down your body, a surge of boiling hot waves make you feel factitious under his heavy stare. You heat up more, the jab at your position making you realise he’s reminding you that your status as the member of the Qixing is useless against him. 

Fury licks your entire being and you have the urge to shoot back that the air tastes like electricity. You open your mouth to speak, but he interrupts you with a hushed whisper, “Shh…” 

You can’t help but shut your mouth, the intimidating presence of the well spoken 11th Harbinger making you understand that although he’s the lowest ranked, he is a man of authority all the same. He orders Skirmishers, Vanguards, and Archers, all as powerful as some of the guards, how could you win against him? 

“Good, you’ve got a smart head on you, seeing as you know when to be silent.” But the electricity impulses overpower you and a sudden crack across his face makes him stop talking. He grunts and laughs at your composure, the beautiful fabric that decorates your figure slipping off your shoulder and revealing much of your collarbone. You hiss at the cryo from your vision blossoming across your fingertips, and the ice locks his wrists even further. 

You look just as unruly as him, but with the blush on your face, he can’t help but fantasise you would looked, ravaged and helpless. “Oh, so I guess you’re not just in the Qixing as a pretty face. You can hand out slaps, but can you take them? I know a nice place to leave handprints on that body of yours. We’ve done it before, darling, why not submit to me again? It’ll be just like old times.” 

“That was before I knew you were a Harbinger. And also before you tried to drown us!” 

“I’m just a pawn, a pet. I would never hurt you, sweetheart. Here, why don’t you join the Fatui? You’ll get all of the pretty outfits you want, and I’ll free you from your mountain of paperwork. I know you’re tired, I know you can only take so much work before you collapse. If you join us, all you need to do is sit all pretty on my lap.” He cooes at you gently and you slap him, backhanded, on the other cheek. 

“How dare you?” You hiss as he snarls at you, his cheeks red from the cryo infused smacks you dealt him. He tilts his head to the side with faux confusion. 

“Oh, you want a position, right? I suppose someone as smart as you needs something to keep themselves busy. Hmm, you can be my secretary. You’ll earn three times the mora you earn here.” His offer wraps around your caution and squeezes like a snake slithering up your legs and strangling your throat. “Come on, comrade, you can be so much more than a doll, wasting away in piles of paperwork…” There’s a hint of warning in your voice, but you disregard it to express your disgust: 

“Never. Don’t ever bring it up again, I’m never joining you and your ragtag bunch of criminals.” You growl. He raises a brow, a fox-like grin exposing all of his pearly whites under the light of the moon, and you sense irritation rumble and crackle. To your horror, the binds that secured the beast are on the floor, and Tartaglia stands up. His taller frame simply walks towards you but the heat and power activate your fight, flight or freeze response. The harbour should be cold during the summer nights, the sea absorbing the radiation from the sun to release during the winter. But all reason in your head is molten as you feel yourself backed up into your hair, a heeled dress shoe gently pressing your thigh to keep you subdued. A gloved finger traces down your nose whilst the other cages you in by resting on the arms of the golden chair you used to try and make him feel small with. The scent of light, musty yet floral cologne overwhelms your nostrils and you sink into the plush of your chair. 

“Ragtag? Oh dear, Princess, it seems like you haven’t been well educated on my homeland and their army. Seems like a little history lesson is in order, you’ll sit down and listen, right?” Eyes the hue of the night-dyed sky, but not a hint of stars gleaming in them make you silent. 

“Good, now, let me interrogate you on what you already know about history. An intelligent individual such as yourself will enlighten me for a long time, I’m sure…” 

[lilylovestowrite]

Could I request Neuvillette getting a big surprise from his partner and the Melusines? The surprise? They wrote a song about him and decided to sing it to him.

Neuvillette gets so touched it almost rains

HYDRO DRAGON, HYDRO DRAGON, HAPPY BIRTHDAY ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ Neuvillette x Gn! Reader

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ Slight angst

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ You give Neuvillette a little surprise

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 700

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request! I CAN’T STOP WRITING ANGST I CAN’T HELP IT -

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Sigewinne plops herself on a chair, spreading refreshment drinks all around the table of yours and Neuvillette’s shared garden. Under the lovely gazebo, many of the melusines gather, pretty eyes all wide with excitement. As a musician, you pride yourself on leading the top opera performances in Fontaine, and as easily as you could ask some of the best singers to perform for your husband, you decide to take the melusines who volunteered to perform under your wing and teach them to perform some of Neuvillette’s favourite songs for his birthday. 

To be honest, you’re not sure why anyone hasn’t thought of hiring them to sing before. As water creatures, their voices range around a high-soprano key, the cadence of their voices lovely and controlled like the rolling tides of the summer seas. Sigewinne herself has such an adorable singing voice, you have to stop fawning over her as if she were an infant, and focus on the rest of the choir. Around fifteen melusines eagerly agreed to volunteer, and they organise themselves in rows, dressed in lovely organza silks with light blue flowers clasped in their tiny hands. 

“I can’t believe I’ve heard this non-stop in Monsieur Neuvillette’s office, and now I’m here singing it.” One of them shakes her head, and the lovely soprano melusine lightly whacks her upside the head. 

“You volunteered, dummy.” 

“I know, but I can’t bear hearing it again. I’m investing in earplugs.” She snaps, and you and a few other melusines giggle in reply. 

“Alright, ladies! Let’s go over the plan again: Neuvillette is arriving any moment now, and we’ll start after I tap the baton on the music stand. Lady Furina, thank you for playing the piano.” You nod at her in acknowledgement. 

“Enough with the theatrics, darling. You’ve worked with me for years. I would do it for Neuvillette anytime.” She waves her gloved hand dismissively, short bobbed hair dancing as she shakes her head dramatically. “Now hush, he’ll be here at any second.” 

Sure enough, the clack of heels is heard, the sound of keys jingling rings out and everyone quickly stands up straighter. One of the melusines nearly whacks her elbow into the table next to her and covers her mouth to block her pained yelp. The melusine next to her covers her mouth too, to conceal her laughter. The silence permeates for about all of thirty seconds, in which Neuvillette finally looks outside the window of the dining room to see the gazebo decorated in blue ribbon, fifteen melusines, Lady Furina, and the love of his life standing there in the garden. He smiles softly, shedding his coat and making his way to the garden. Just as he opens the gate, you tap your baton three times, and the melusines’ melody begins to soar in tandem with Furina’s lovely piano accompaniment. 

Neuvillette stands, stunned. In all of his years, he has isolated himself from the society of Fontaine to hide his true identity, to mourn the loss of those who have departed before him and those to come, the weight of their sins shattering his back from punishment he wasn't sure were entirely fair. But now, with the death of Focalors, it’s been the first time since he’s let loose and allowed himself to really indulge in society’s little rituals. Like birthdays, although unfamiliar with them, he finds it so… bizarre. The melusine’s singing is beautiful, and though he can’t see them properly because of a weird haze that possesses his purple eyes. It’s so peculiar, celebrating a birth he can’t quite remember. His existence, quiet yet loud and theatrical in the Court of Law, is it really so important to you that you wish to celebrate it with so many other people?

For some strange reason, a few drops of rain wet the stepping stone in front of him. It isn’t until the song ends with a crescendo that Furina shrieks and tries to pull fabric over her piano that Neuvillette takes notice of the tears burning the corner of his eyes. You walk up to him and embrace him, his hand rakes through your hair. You wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, flushed and unaged from years of loneliness, but the childlike glimmer in his eyes he had thought would never return ignites in his sea of lavender once more. 

“Don’t cry, Neuvi. Happy birthday.”

[lilylovestowrite]

My probable upcoming posts!

-Finishing your asks

-Gepard Wedding night smutfic

-Blade bodyguard headcanons

-I might start writing for Love and Deepspace so: Xavier jealous smutfic, Losing a bet with Sylus smutfic

[lilylovestowrite]

TO NURTURE GROWTH ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ Al Haitham x AFAB! Reader

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ Degradation, fingering, mentions of bondage, dirty talk, spanking MDNI

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ Al Haitham finds a new way to help you revise for your exam

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 2.6k (Doctor, you're huge)

A/N ୨♡୧ I believe I've crossposted this in the past, don't worry, if you've seen it on Wattpad, it's still me! I just lost my password.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

“Focus.” 

Al Haitham picks up a pointer rod left in the lecture hall of the Akademiya and extends it. You don’t peer up at him, already averting your gaze in pure trepidation in meeting his sneering eyes. You hear his footsteps cease. The aroma of his cologne, surprisingly light and floral, similar to your own perfume, the scent of Sumeru roses, mix and the smell is so strong it makes you shiver slightly. “If you have time to daydream, I’m sure you can memorise that entire page.” He scolds you, his voice sounds authoritative but you can detect the traces of sadism. However, pointing out his enjoyment would only put you in  a worse position. 

The sunlight bleeds through the skylight above you, the architecture of the Akademiya so intricately planned out so that every inch of the classroom is kissed by the glorious splendour of light. The golden haze that illuminates the ivory marble and desks still do not manage to vanquish the looming tension that builds up between you. You’re starting to regret asking Al Haitham, your classmate, to tutor you in biology. He only accepted on the terms that you participate in an experiment he’s conducting. Al Haitham is constantly trying to pester you, intentionally getting under your skin using harsh words and even striking your hands with a ruler (albeit gently) to see how you react and then scribbling it down on a damned notepad.

Silence permeates across the lecture hall, plants decorating the lecture hall and the flowers act as jewels that make the resplendence of the Akademiya just that more defined. The lack of noise makes you nervous, as you should expect some type of demeaning comment by now. Instead, you yelp as he trails the rod he stole from the lecturer’s podium down your shirt. The contrast of the scorching sunlight and the cool metal touching your bare back and trailing up to your neck makes you jolt and sit straighter. “Your back is going to suffer if you stay hunched over like that. Don’t frown at me, I’m helping you out.” He chides, not concealing even a drop of the demeaning nature that floods his very manner of speaking. “Now, why don’t you tell me about the difference between plant cells in elemental blossoms and natural ones?” 

“The elemental blossoms are more likely to react to elemental reactions and they-” Your speech is cut off by a slightly stingy strike to your thighs with the rod. “Al Haitham! Don’t you think you’re abusing your power here? You can’t just discipline me without reason!” You exclaim, standing up and accidentally swiping your textbook off your desk. 

Al Haitham chuckles softly, “Without reason? Silly thing, the Akademiya exams are very precise with their words. Elemental blossoms are more ‘susceptible’ to elemental reactions compared to natural blossoms. Not only do you have to have the word ‘susceptible’, you also have to add the comparison to natural blossoms. You would have known that if you read the highlighted box. It’s highlighted for a-”

You’re about to storm out of the lecture hall until you hear a very stern, “Hey.” Out of instinct, you turn back. Al Haitham’s eyes catch the sunlight and the sheen makes the shades that paint his pupils much more translucent. His lean body leans against your desk and one of his fingers beckons you in a ‘come hither’ motion. “We’re not finished here. Pick up your textbook and sit down before I make you. Obviously this method isn’t working.” He quickly writes down something on his notepad as you meekly pick it up, fearful of the scribe’s wrath. 

“Now, instead of discipline, I’m going to try rewarding you. I might get a little up close and personal, but if you’re uncomfortable, you’re free to up and leave. Alright?” You sit down and scoff. His rewards must consist of lighter strikes across the palm or a limit of three adjectives to describe your incompetence per insult. Nevertheless, you’re enraptured by the scribe’s effortless charisma and find yourself agreeing. 

“Why not tell me about the effect of fertiliser containing a higher nitrate concentration on elemental plant yield?” 

“W-well first they increase exponentially, but they deteriorate faster because elemental blooms are not necessarily as long lived as natural blooms and are more sensitive to elemental weathering from the wind.” You wait for the strike, but instead you feel dread flip your stomach over as he approaches. 

“Good girl. Just one little thing, instead of saying that they live longer, I would say longer ‘lifespan’, seeing as the marking scheme would penalise you for using any other terminology.” His breath is right next to your ears as he leans over your desk to correct you. With tenderness in his touch, he unravels your fingers from the quill in your hands to circle ‘longer lifespan’ in the textbook. “You also study mathematics, right? They’re not so needlessly obsessed with definition, so I can understand your confusion. But I see the flashcards you’ve made, all you have to do is memorise them and you’ll be set.” He then threads his fingers through your hair, hitting a spot on the back of your head that makes you lean into his touch subconsciously. 

As you continue reading and muttering definitions to memorise them, Al Haitham praises you and smiles as you recite the pros and cons of using different types of fertilisers for various types of plants. The class, genus, and species rattle off your tongue with a newfound fluency aided by the sweet pecks to your cheeks and forehead. The Akademiya’s cream hued marble glistens under the moonlight by the time you yawn from exhaustion. You’re sitting on Al Haitham’s lap now. After you scored a high mark on a mock test he complied, he gently lifted you onto his lap and encouraged you by rubbing circles on your waist. You stretch after yawning and throw your head back into his chest by accident whilst you do so. He giggles softly and you feel his veiny and calloused hands rub your thighs, soothing the place he hit before. 

“Come on, just a few more for me, darling. I might give the rest of your body attention too if you succeed…” 

“Why so tense?” He runs his hands along your thighs and you jolt in his lap. “It’s not good for students like us to have bad physique. I’m sure I can find time to massage you.” Your hands tremble, nearly scattering flashcards all over the floor. 

You’re cranky. Irritated. Absolutely ticked off. Al Haitham had promised to give your body attention and even brought you to his house. But currently, you’re on his lap, as he lies on the couch, playing with you. 

“Al Haitham, I’m trying to concentrate.” You hiss at him, pissed. He’s set up this whole experiment, scolded you to your wits end, and now he’s trying to praise you? 

“You’re so obsessed with my focus, so surely you won’t mind if I ignore you for a bit?” You smirk up at him, and his brow twitches. He should look quite irked, but instead a rather competitive glare shuts you up and makes you recite the contents of the flashcards out loud. Warmth radiates from his body. And your body, naturally cold, merges into his comfort. But you’re not sure if it’s the scent of silk flowers from the burning incense in the corner, or Al Haitham’s hypnotic light perfume. 

“Oh, go ahead,” His hands grip your thighs and squeeze them together, “Ignore me.” The silk of his gloves slid across your skin, and his calloused hands stroke the skin just two inches below your pelvis. You try to peel his hands off your thighs, but even both of your hands cannot move his singular arm. Al Haitham pretends like you aren’t struggling in his grasp, and he starts kissing along your neck. “Darling, you’re not focusing.” He murmurs in between ticklish pecks that only make you squirm in his embrace even more. You only hope his hands grabbing your hips and thighs don’t accidentally brush across your crotch, where the effect he has on you is alarmingly stark. You can’t hold in the tiny moan that slips from your mouth when he kisses a certain spot on the expanse of your skin now glazed by the sheen of the moonlight.

“Cute…” He cooes and continues to kiss that spot until a red mark blooms on your skin, resembling a rose petal. “I’m obsessed with your focus, right? So, what are you doing, making all of these lewd noises instead of studying?”

“You’re distracting me,” You whine, slamming your fists on the desk in front of you with not enough force, because Al Haitham barely flinches. 

A devious glint in his eye makes you jolt, however. “Then do you want me to be mean again? I’m trying to help you learn, and if it means I have to coax you, I will. In fact, not another word from you, I think I know the solution to this. Bend over my lap.”

“Sorry?” You gawk as he waits for you to arrange yourself on his lap, “You want me to what?” 

Displeased with your indingance, he grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks, but gently enough that you don’t feel any pain. “Bend over. We’re going to do some active recall. Since you’ve worked so hard, I’m sure you’ll pass with flying colours.” The previous warmth his voice possessed has left his voice and he regresses back to his deadpan drawl. 

With that, you awkwardly drape yourself across his lap and he gives you a pillow cushion to rest your upper body on. When you sink your face in it, the material is both firm and soft. He takes off your pants, and you try to sit up so he doesn’t spot the wet spot on your panties. But Al Haitham uses one hand to force your head down into the pillow once more, muffling your protests. He soothes his hands across your bare ass, and you squeeze your thighs in anticipation.

“Now, how can withering zones be neutralised?” He asks, calloused hands running up and down your skin.

“The dendrograna secretes substrates that inhibit the enzymes of the withering zone.” You feel heat massage your entire body, chills making you jolt in the colder Sumeru nights. 

“Good, now what type of inhibition is it? Competitive or non-competitive?” His voice is dusted with honeyed lust, causing him to draw out his vowels that bit more. 

“Competitive?” Your head whizzes with lust the vivid shade of the red apples by the bedside table. 

“Oh dear, it’s non-competitive.” He stops rubbing your ass and strikes it instead. You yelp and squeeze the pillow. You look up from behind him to protest and have him do something less… mean. With humiliation written all over your face you open your mouth, but the sensual authoritative gaze in Al Haitham’s eyes, all the shades of the sky, keep you in your position like gossamer bonds.  

“Which plant may act as an aphrodisiac if burned in an incense?” 

You know this answer, but somehow, whatever has been encoded into your long term memory has completely vanished. The tantalising voice and hands pinching your behind urging you to answer dominate your senses. “Is it… silk flower?” Your voice trickles with uncertainty, the cadence of your voice raising ever so slightly, much like the brow of your tutor.

“What type?” Al Haitham plays with the ribbon hem of your panties, a laugh playing on his lips. “Nice frills, by the way.” You bury your face further in the pillow to hide your embarrassment at your childish, frilly, panties. But you know it’s a ploy to distract you and get you to say the wrong answer. 

“The non-mutant silk flowers, which is why they’re harvested in Liyue and ground up to make ointment paste.” Comes your reply, and a hand comes up to pet your head.

“What a good girl, I’ll give you an easier question. Who does this ass belong to?” His gentle voice coaxes you to an answer as he plays with your hair. 

A cheeky streak compels you, as sudden as a lightning strike and just as impossible to dodge as the snaky answer leaves your lips, “Me.” 

He doesn’t stop massaging your scalp, but you can hear the snarl and feel the atmosphere bind you. The air rises and expands in the heat, and although the clear skies of the city are cool, the pleasure keeps you resting in his lap in heat. “Incorrect.” He delivers three successive slaps to your ass. You yelp with each one, not painful, but unexpected and sharp. Vibrations oscillating from the flesh of your ass reverberates to your vagina, making you squirm. He holds you still by the hips and spanks you more. “Come on, correct your mistakes.”

“N-ngh, sorry- It’s yours! It’s yours!” You squeal, kicking your legs until his hand moves to carefully place them back down. The soft material of his pants carrying the heat of his body contrasts with the cool silk of his bedsheets.

“That’s right. I gave you a reward, and you foolishly try to rebel. I guess I have to be mean to you. I think that’s how you’ll learn your lesson.” He grins, lowering your underwear down your legs, and snickering when a string of dewy fluid stretches and snaps with the fabric as it loses contact with your flower, coated in sheen. “Already? I’ve barely started, and you’re already this wet. You’re way too needy. I guess this is what happens when you keep reading those filthy novels instead of educational textbooks.” You whimper in embarrassment, your voice is muffled by the pillow when you shyly enquire where he got that information. 

“Well, you see, I did see you at the bookstore multiple times. Don’t be too downcast, I think that ‘The Emperor’s Flower’ was very well written. I don’t read textbooks exclusively, you know, I happen to have similar tastes.” Al Haitham props your ass up further to spread your folds and graze your clit with a single finger. “I especially liked some of the scenes where the poor, sweet, heroine was edged and teased until she begged and sobbed. Should I make the same mess out of you, my helpless angel?” You can only moan, offering more of you to him as he rubs your most sensitive spot. 

“I think you like this. I think you enjoy it when I’m mean to you, right? I can see you clench over nothing when I tell you how pathetic you are.” He hums when you moan out an agreement, “That’s it, just let yourself go. I’m putting my fingers in, is that alright?”

You explicitly say yes, and he proceeds to plunge right in. Careful not to hurt you, he explores you so gently yet precisely, he finds your g-spot with only one or two pointers. He softly thanks you before striking up a brutal pace. 

“Ah- AH Haitham! Sl-slow down please!” 

“I’m just testing your limits, you know what to say if you want me to stop.” He keeps massaging the same spot, whilst his other hand occupies your clit. He goes faster as you writhe in overwhelming pleasure. “Stop squirming, I’m going to tie you up next time.” You burn in humiliation as he feels you clench momentarily. 

“Oh? You like being tied up? I thought so. You’re in luck, Kaveh has an infatuation of silk ribbons from Fontaine. I think you would look good all tied in light blue ribbon.” Your climax is fast approaching as he coaxes you and degrades you and praises you with such filthy yet elegance, and as you’re about to fall apart, he halts. 

“Wh-why?” You can only sob, but the clanking of his belt is music to your ears as he presses up against you. The aroma of his cologne mixes with your arousal, and you press back up against him. 

“I’m only trying to help. I’ll be gentle, but only because this is our first lesson…”

[lilylovestowrite]

Could I request Dr Ratio with a lover who makes plushies? Reader makes plushies to sell and secretly made plushie versions of him to cuddle. Poor Ratio gets a little jealous because he loves cuddling them.

WHY NOT ME? ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ Veritas Ratio x Gn! Reader

WARNINGS ୨♡୧None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ Veritas loves your hobby of making plushies, but you need to stop cuddling them when he’s literally right there. 

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.9k

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request! I actually make a few plushies myself! I’m a huge crochet girlie. Might post more on the crochet later <3

I thought it would be a rather funny part two to this fanfic! 

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Ah, yes. Just Dr. Veritas Ratio, his loving partner, and their six foot tall elongated cat plushie.

The dead, beady eyes stare back at him as you slumber in complete peace. The rise and fall of your body from your deep breaths irritates him: how can you be so cuddly and vulnerable with that thing rather than your boyfriend. He could try and pry it from your hands, but the death grip on the cat and your stubbornness are of equal strength. A terrifying feat, if he does say so himself. 

Veritas tries to be rational: you’ve been living alone for a while. Of course you have your habits that don’t really unstick. After your house was broken into, as your colleague, it was only natural that you move in with him since you can commute from the same place. It’s not like anything was going on. Well perhaps the tension between you two has always been more than tense, and there were a few makeout sessions in the faculty room. But your dating life truly began when moving in. 

You’ve been dating for three months now. He’s never really sought the domestic lifestyle of making breakfast together, getting ready, coming back and spending time together. Veritas has always been chasing knowledge, and love has been placed on the back burner. But seeing your drive to teach students and revive the dead Sigonian language, he can’t picture a future without the two of you debating on meaningless quantum physics theories, or historical interpretations of ancient text. It’s not logical: if the two of you drive each other to improve,  test each other’s knowledge, and most importantly love each other, doesn’t it make sense for you to be together? 

Ergo, doesn’t it make even more sense for you to be cuddling him? 

Veritas likes to think he runs purely on logic, but tonight, his pettiness gets to him. He rises from his place in your large four-poster bed and points at the cat plushie. “You bastard.” He hisses, and dives face-first into the silk pillows for some sleep. 

A little childish, sure. But wouldn’t you be if your rival in love is a six foot tall elongated CAT? 

Such a creature doesn’t exist. How ridiculous. He has to address this tomorrow.

“You’re getting upstaged by a cat, Doc?” 

Perhaps Veritas should not have called Aventurine for advice on this manner. The way you and him think are extremely similar: disorganised, chaotic, yet strangely fascinating. So naturally, he’ll get advice from someone similar to you, right?

Well now he thinks he’s messed up. He frowns and runs his hand through his hair whilst hearing Aventurine let out the most ugly laugh he’s ever heard in his life. “You know what they say, two’s a company, three’s a crowd!” He squeals with laughter.

“I don’t know why I took advice from you. You don’t even have a love life.” He snaps, and Aventurine wheezes even louder, descending into silent laughter. Veritas hangs up and buries his face in his hands. He wants to tell you to stop cuddling that cat, but you’re its creator. Is it a motherly instinct to protect your craft? He does understand it to an extent, his own hobbies such as making sculptures, and he will wipe them down wherever he sees the chance. Perhaps, to get the message across, he should cuddle a statue? He shakes his head.

‘Ridiculous idea, Veritas. Zero points.’ The man scolds himself before returning to the blackboard to lecture his class. 

You may or may not have a secret. Every night, you sleep with what seems like a six foot cat plushie, but right beside it, is a little plushie of your boyfriend: Veritas Ratio. It’s got his hair felted on, the lovely golden hairpiece he wears daily, and a lovely white wedding suit. Making plushies has become more of a hobby rather than a stress relief from your life as a Stellaron Academy Senior Professor, in fact, you’ve managed to make an online store and have sold some plushies to your colleagues. It’s a great hobby to have, the practicality and the feeling of satisfaction from completing a new project. But this one is… Slightly embarrassing. First of all, you’re not sure how he’ll feel about you making a doll of him. Will he think it’s like a voodoo doll, or think it’s creepy? Second of all, even though you’ve shoved your tongues down each other’s throats and lapped at each other like wild cats, for some stupid reason, you’re too shy to ask him to cuddle with you. Is Veritas Ratio a man who likes cuddles? Is he big spoon, little spoon, or too above showing affection? Will he stop sharing a bed with you right after? What if you snore in his face - then what? You’re not sure. You could ask, but even the idea of asking him makes you feel so weird, like, who asks if they want to cuddle? Are you a needy child? No. So you settle for a mini Veritas in hopes of not changing the dynamic between you two. Tonight, you settle in your bed, Claire de Lune playing faintly from Veritas’ phone as he reads to sleep. However, when you kiss his cheek goodnight, he glares at the cat plushie in your arms. It sends you into a mild panic: did he see mini Veritas hidden behind the cat? Worse, is he judging you for cuddling something to sleep? These thoughts plague your mind until you fall asleep, giving into your stress-induced fatigue. 

“Gambler, they kissed my cheek and dove straight under the covers. Like they were allergic to me. You are all about public relations, so riddle me this.” Ratio sighs over the phone, toned bicep leaning on his mahogany desk at work. “And be serious this time, or I will religiously remind you of your single status.” 

“Ouch, Doctor.” Aventurine’s buttery voice crackles from the phone. “Well, in order to know what people want, you sort them into what type of person they are. Sadly, you don’t work for the IPC, so you don’t get a file on your pretty little lover. But you’re not on a mission, just ask them what they want. No need to beat around the bush.” 

“What if they think I’m too clingy? Or that I disrespect their work.” 

“First of all, you’d be too clingy if they said ‘no’ and you still pestered them. Second of all, just tell them you love their plushies. You have them displayed all over your classroom, for Aeon’s sake. I think they know you love their handiwork.” 

Veritas nods: “For once, Gambler, you have given me sufficient advice. Thank you.” 

Now, he devises a plan. 

“Love.” Veritas’ voice pulls you out of your crocheting trance. You’re making a bunny plushie with black yarn, sitting next to Veritas in the lounge, who marks his student’s papers. The evening sunlight pools in the hollows of his exposed collarbones, white fluffy robe lined with golden embroidery flowers (your addition) adorns his body. 

“Yes, Veri?” You reply, looking up at him. You’re dressed in the same robe, and Veritas adores how much better white looks on you. Perhaps in the future, he would like to see you in a similar colour. 

‘Stupid, get to the point.’ He hisses at himself silently.  “About our sleeping arrangements…” 

You look up at him, going completely pale. Has he found your Veritas plushie? Oh shit, shit shit- 

“I was wondering if you would rather, well…” Veritas Ratio is a man of perhaps too many words, but for once, he seems to be tripping on his words. “...Cuddle me instead?”

You practically bounce out of your chair and corner him against the couch, “Really?” 

That visceral reaction earns a rather strangled “Yes” from him, and you sigh in relief. His amber eyes scan your face meticulously, trying to read what you’re thinking. 

“You know, I slept with a plushie of you instead, I was so nervous of asking-” You clap your hands over your mouth. You blabbed, like an idiot. And now he’s staring at you as if you were a fool. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“A plushie of me?” He asks, pointing a finger to himself, his baritone voice suddenly rising in pitch. “I thought you slept with that cat?” 

“I-It was behind the cat,” you feel heat rise up to your cheeks, “sorry, it’s really creepy. I can get rid of it-” 

“No, don’t.” He gently rests his hand on yours, unable to resist the grin. “You wanted to sleep with a copy of me? Why not ask me directly?” 

“I didn’t know if you were into cuddling, so I just assumed…” Your voice trails off, and you suddenly realise just how ridiculous you sound. “I was shy, I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologise, love. Now, show me this plushie, and let’s cuddle.” He chimes. Suddenly, a gust of wind lifts a student’s test paper from his desk and it lands on his face. “Perhaps after I finish marking this blasted test.” 

“Would you like me to mark the multiple choice papers?” His eyes glimmer, handing you a pen. 

“The answer key is in the first drawer, help yourself.”

“Damn, not even the slightest bit of hesitation.” You grin. “Must be really desperate for those to be marked, huh?” 

“Oh, hush.” He scolds you gently, tapping the tip of your nose with his red pen. 

Claire de Lune permeates throughout the room, Veritas leading you in with his hand in yours. The night lamps on either side of your bedside tables emit a warm, golden glow that illuminates the lines of his jaw and accentuates the length of his lashes. He cannot contain the wide smile from spreading onto his face when he cradles the little Veritas doll in his hands: “Am I in wedding attire, love?” 

Too shy to answer the question, you throw a pillow at him and he giggles. “He’s so cute. You should make a matching one of yourself, like a couple’s item.” He suggests, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. You entertain the idea, wrapping your own arms around him and resting both of your hands on his back, the blades of his shoulders emitting warmth. It’s not too bad at all, Veritas thinks, the smile unable to be wiped from his face when he sees how easily you melt into his arms. Even like this, intimacy seems more natural than your little routine of hugging plushie Veritas. The toy doesn’t breathe like him, isn’t warm, and doesn’t vibrate every time he speaks when you rest your face on his chest. Both of your heartbeats seem to slow to a normal rate as you speak about your day in more depth. Eventually, however, the scent of pinewood and light cologne mix to form a homely aroma, lulling the both of you to sleep halfway through a conversation about ancient history. 

A few mornings later, you find your Veritas plushie on his working desk at home. Right next to it is a small statue of the same height, but it’s of you in wedding attire too. “Veri? Did you make this?” You call out to him, and he emerges from the kitchen. Although a blush paints his cheeks, he raises a glass of coffee to the two plushies.  

“I just wanted to have a reference for when it happens in reality. It’s only logical, right?” 

[lilylovestowrite]

Can I request lumine x female reader who can't fight that well and knows that lumine can protect herself and fight since she's the legendary traveler, but still won't hesitant to shield her with her body if she's suddenly knocked out by an enemy or she's on the verge of falling while clenching her sword, and these actions made lumine admire her and she ends up having a secret crush on reader.

SAVIOUR'S INDULGENCE ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ (Lumine x AFAB! Reader)

WARININGS ୨♡୧ Minor Angst, Injury

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ The three times you save Lumine, and the one time she asks you on a date

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1K 

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request! I have no clue why, but this turned kind of angsty. I kind of headcanon Lumine to be the more ‘no-nonsense’ sibling compared to Aether, so perhaps that’s why. I hope this is to your liking!

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Lumine, with her heroic personality and no-nonsense drive to finish her commissions, has always been the ‘Knight in Shining Armour’ of any predicament she finds herself in. An “Honorary Knight” in Mondstadt, “The Hero of Liyue” , “The First Sage of Bu’er”, need she go on? These titles raise her to the top of the social ladder (until she ends up in the Fortress of Meropide but that’s besides the point)- so why is it that when all of her strength accumulated could (and has) beaten a god, do you always cover for her? 

You’re a terribly fragile little thing. No outstanding physical attributes. Heck, she’s seen you struggle to lift a carton of milk! But despite that, you always come to her rescue. 

The first, was perhaps in Mondstadt when she decided to go looking for sunsettias to cease Paimon’s rumbling stomach from driving the both of them insane. A few abyss mages corner the poor Traveller and she manages to absolutely annihilate the cryo and pyro abyss mage by swirling their powers against each other. But the hydro mage remains, and she finds herself and Paimon in a bubble of their own. Lo and behold, a fresh-faced lass from the Adventurer’s guild dressed in greens and whites distracts the Hydro Mage by weakly tackling it, allowing Lumine to escape her watery confinement. 

The second time around was in Liyue. Long story, really, but her dress catches on fire because of an abyss lector. As she gives him the finishing blow, you hurry over to douse the fire eating away at her lovely white skirt. However, the abyss lector lets out a final attack as her back turned to you. Time practically runs through honey, Lumen watches in horror as you dive in front of her to take the brunt of the attack. 

Now, in Sumeru, she finds herself back to the home of knowledge. The street music adds a pep to her step, and she's dressed a white and blue lehenga with golden starry details on the hem. The aroma of spices, petrichor and musky perfumes from the street stalls consumes the marketplace. The sun shines through the trees and casts a glow through her golden strands, and her eyes seem as if they have been set ablaze under the cool shade of the forest trees. Lumine, throughout her travels, tries her best not to get attached to the people she meets on the way. It’s not practical to make friends with half the continent and then desert them after relocating/rescuing/whatever the fuck she needs to do to get Aether back. But as Psimon blabs about the street food, she spots a lovely necklace with an oval centrepiece jewel the colour of your eyes. 

But of course, she’s not catching feelings. It’s not practical. Lumine doesn’t have time to loiter, she needs to earn enough mora to get to Natlan. She’s been doing a lot of side jobs lately: commissions from the Guild, odd errands here and there and working at that blasted fortune teller who told her that she had never seen so many love prospects in someone’s future. 

Of course it’s a ridiculous scam, but if there were to be a prospect, it would be nice if it were-

No. She doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t want to even perceive your beautiful face, or how lovely you would look in Sumerian attire, or your enrapturing voice, and god if she hears you say her name she might drop everything and just marry you. Heck, she hears your sweet voice just over the horizon. 

“Lumine!” 

Her yearning is so ridiculous, that she’s even envisioning you in a Salwar Kameez. The scarf (she remembers Dehya call it an ‘orna’)  made of beautiful georgette fabric, draped across your body. Wow, she can actually smell you as you edge closer. Perhaps she’s had one too many drinks- 

“Behind you!” 

It’s only when she feels you slam into her, a gust of wind slashing her face and the sickening crack of a wooden bat ringing loudly in her ears that she realises: you’re actually here. 

And you’re saving her. 

Again.

“Are you okay?” She asks, offering you her hand. However, when she spots crimson blooming through the fabric of the back of your salwar kameez, she drops the hand and kneels before you. “One second, I’m going to carry you, okay?” Her arms may look lithe, but Lumine effortlessly carries you to her teapot, where she bandages your wounds. 

“We should stop meeting like this,” you joke, but she winces in reply. 

“We should.” Comes her short answer. You assume it’s because she’s too busy wrapping around the gash at your back and checking for bits of splintered wood. But truly, Lumine can’t afford love, especially if it puts you in danger like this. 

“It doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks. Promise!” You try to lighten her mood, and Lumine sighs, a heavy blush on her face as you turn around and hug her, half clothed. “See? I can still move!” 

And Lumine, the starry eyed fool, melts in your warmth. Her defences melt away, wrapping her arms around you carefully. She prays that you don’t notice her heart beating out of her chest. Her mouth opens, and they shut. And open again, like a gaping fish. 

Hesitation drips from her usually confident voice, but she blurts it out: “Let’s go to dinner, how does tonight sound?” 

She’s going to leave. She’s going to leave Teyvat after finding Aether, and she has to stop him and the Abyss Order. She’s going to leave you and there is nothing she can do about it. 

But she can’t resist indulging herself, just a glimpse of a date with you would suffice. 

She holds you tighter, and you nuzzle into her neck, softly. It’s then that she sighs sadly, wishing time would stop so she can replay this moment forever. You might have saved her life, but you don’t know, do you? You don’t know that your very presence is the biggest danger to her of all. 

[lilylovestowrite]

Could I request Gepard with a chef! reader who enjoys cooking for him?

Reader loves to spoil Gepard with homemade bread or cake. Upon realizing that he skips meals, reader decided to take action and make him boxed lunches.

SWEET LIKE BUTTERCREAM! ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ (Gepard Landau x Gn! Chef! Reader)

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ Your husband has been neglecting himself, and you decide to spoil him rotten. 

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.5k

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request, Anon! I know you didn’t specify whether the reader was married to him or not, but Gepard is so husband material that I couldn’t help myself. Hopefully you don’t mind! Please enjoy!

Divider by @/cafekitsune

“Honey,” Gepard echoes through the entryway to the kitchen, “I’m here.” 

You can’t hear him through the chaos, but he can hear you barking orders at your coworkers. Even your yelling soothes him to a certain degree. Still, he wants you to talk to him, so he shuffles through the tight squeeze in between the kitchen island and the ovens. Honestly, even though he’s a guard, his workplace is almost as dangerous as yours. The smell is heavenly, saffron and spices waking him (and his stomach) from a stress-induced daze, but the discord is immeasurable. 

He can hear you asking (shouting) for someone to check on the tiramisu, followed by a louder, “Thank you!” which makes him chuckle. That’s what the blond first noticed about you: even in dire situations, you never forget your manners. The memory of a rainy day in Belobog flashes through his mind: on his daily rounds, he finds a figure dressed in an adorable frog raincoat, beating a thief with their matching frog umbrella, hollering tearful apologies with each strike. Whilst as a Landau, his teachings have raised him to believe that ‘manners maketh man’, that scene was a rather overexaggerated use of the phrase. Nevertheless, the second he met your teary gaze, he was so enraptured by you that he nearly stumbled into a puddle. He’s about to melt into one too, watching you work away with that little look of concentration that makes him want to scoop you up. 

“Darling?” Your husband calls once more, just metres away from you. Finally, you turn around. Meeting his deep blue eyes, taking in his tired tiny smile and outstretched arms, you leap right into his arms. You’re not one to throw yourself at people, nor are you one for physical touch, but of the many years you’ve known him, Gepard will always catch you if you fall. It’s that trust that allows you to dive into his embrace every time he visits you at work, he’s just so reliable. 

“Hello handsome,” you hug him so tightly he nearly stumbles backwards, “back from work so early?” It’s then that you do a double take at him. Gepard is never home from work early. He’s a doting husband, yes, but he’s an equally hard-working Captain. You hug him harder and realise just how much skinnier he’s gotten. “You must be sick, sit down. Let’s get you to the private lounge.” You take a deep breath, ready to yell once more, and Gepard shuts his eyes in anticipation of another wave of noise-barrier-breaking-banter. “Jiaoqiu, I trust you’ll keep things running?” The new foxian chef nods, and you leave your domain with your husband behind you. 

Working as a chef in a hotel is a stressful job: entitled customers who plant hairs in their food to get a discount, waiting staff who hand in an order that is completely illegible, the loud hustle and bustle of the kitchen. It’s not for the weak, and your employers are appreciative of that fact and give the cooks a little lounge. Even for a five star hotel, it’s amazing they even considered it in the first place. You take full advantage of their kindness and lead your husband to one of the cream coloured couches. The sea is visible from the lounge, full glass windows making you feel as if you’re trapped in an ice cube. The hues of sunset begin to paint the sky, light red casting light on the hollows under Gepard’s eyes. 

“Geppie, you haven’t been overworking yourself and skipping meals again, have you?” 

He looks away, slightly red: “It’s not that bad. It’s just a few meals.” He winces, his soft voice jaded from fatigue. To make matters worse, his stomach rumbles ferociously. He covers his stomach with white gloved hands, blue eyes widening with panic. “Listen, go back to work, love, I promise I’ll eat once we get home. Just, don’t do that thing where you go insane trying to cater to me. You work a full-time job too, don’t let me get in the way. I’m a grown man, I can take care of myself.” 

“You’re a grown man when I saw you are, Geppie. I’m bringing you pasta, just the way you like it.” You flash him a pout, frustration building up inside of you. You hate seeing your husband neglect himself like this, every time you see him convince people around him when he’s fine when he’s obviously struggling, it hurts. You two lead your lives in effortless synchronicity, like a perfectly executed ice skating performance, so observing his health deteriorate when you two are so close it’s like you share the same chambers of your heart is hurtful to you too. You’ve given him his space, but now it’s time for an intervention.

“You don’t have to cook me pasta, darling, I can cook too, you know?” 

You grab both of his legs and rest it on the white fancy coffee table in front of you so suddenly, he startles and jumps back like a frightened rabbit. You fetch him a blanket from the hotel cabinet and drape it over him. “I know you can, love,” you run your hand through his soft hair and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy, “but just let me handle it tonight, okay?”

He yawns, finally giving in. “Okay honey, but only for tonight.” Gepard replies, his Captain’s authoritative lilt leaking into his words. 

But that voice doesn’t work on you, it seems, because the next day during his patrol, you bound up to him like a puppy. Gepard may walk into you at times, and you will greet each other, maybe share a kiss. But you know not to interrupt his work, as any lack of diligence may result in casualties in rare cases. But Gepard doesn’t want to take that gamble. Today, however, in this picturesque sunny day, the sky the shade of his eyes, there is something hidden behind your back. 

“Darling, hello! Are you enjoying your day off- oof!” The second he reaches out to kiss the back of your hand, you smack an adorably wrapped box into his arms. Although he is in his uniform, perfectly built to protect him, he does stumble back slightly. He assesses the box, unwrapping the floral pink fabric that holds it, and finds a bento box. “Wait, love, I love your cooking but we have food at work, don’t waste your day off on-” His voice trails off, because as he looks in front of him again, you’ve already vanished. He shakes his head dismissively, “What a sly fox.” But a few of the Silvermane Guards at the same post as him watch as a wide smile breaks out on his face, along with a blush that turns the tip of his ears a deep pink. 

It has become a daily thing now. And although Gepard feels a bit ashamed that his partner is babying him, the complete truth is that on your days off, he intentionally ‘forgets’ his bento box just so you can find him and hand it to him then. It’s no different three months later, when you stomp up to him in your wellie boots, under your frog umbrella. “Hello, love.” He greets, ruffling your hair and taking the bento box. He looks at the fabric that decorates it and tilts his head to look at you better. “I like the ducks on this one, it’s cute.” When he laughs with the same softness as a tiny bell, you swoon softly, even more so now that he’s gained some of his baby fat back on his cheeks after your rigorous diet schedules. It makes him seem so much more peppier, and now that things are a bit more difficult for you at work, he’s been stepping up and taking care of you too. It shows now more than ever that he’s less overworked. There’s a pep in his step, all signs of tiredness in his face replaced with a healthy glow and rosy tint in his cheeks. He makes your cheeks bloom with heat when he kisses the back of your palm, his common Prince-like greeting. “So, what did you make this time?” 

“I made some linguini and I had some leftover battenburg cake, so that’s in there too! It’s a bit chilly today, so wrap up warm, sweetheart. I’ll get going now, I have to pick up some groceries.” You’re about to turn away, but Gerpard calls your name in such a way, it resembles the light and sweet taste of buttercream. 

“Wait! Before you go,” he sets the bento box on a nearby bench and lifts you up for a kiss. You meet his lips and exchange a cold kiss that ends up warming the both of you up significantly. “I’ll see you at home, angel.” He smiles, putting you down. You say your goodbyes and walk away, heart swelling with affection and excitement for the next time he opens the door to your house so you can leap into his arms once again. 

[lilylovestowrite]

We all know that Aventurine's love language is definitely gift giving! So I would like to request aventurine spoiling his s/o with so much money and gifts. At first reader was thankful and also flustered with all of the gifts he provided for her, but later reader started to become annoyed cause he's been spoiling them too much, so one day they decided to text aventurine about this matter. They only just called his name and he already thought that they needed money so he sent the money. Reader was surprised at first but then got annoyed and decided to scold him in the chat (to which aventurine didn't take them seriously and even teases them, finding amusement with his lover's anger) make this a playful banter between the two and at the end, aventurine decided to meet up with them to pamper them, but this time, with affection ✨

MUST BE FUNNY, IN A RICH MAN'S WORLD ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ (Aventurine x GN! Reader)

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ You decide to confront your boyfriend over his overzealous spending habits. 

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.4k

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request! I love Aventurine SO MUCH. I want to hold him and cherish him but I think he deserves to be thrown down a flight of stairs because he’s such a brat. I am so normal about this man.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

‘I saw you eyeing this crystal swan the other day. When you and I get married, I’ll buy the whole store and decorate our venue with them if it’s to your liking- Kakavasha’

You are going to kill your boyfriend. 

You are going to kill your boyfriend over a Swarovski Swan on your bedside table. And thirty bottles of the same Dior perfume you wore once around him. And every piece of designer clothing he’s gifted you. And that one time he rented out a whole cruise ship just to play tag with you over a moonlit river. Well, perhaps not the last one. You liked the idea, the execution? A little overkill.

But this? Overkill can’t even begin to explain how much Aventurine has been spending on you recently. Just before you started dating, he would regularly spoil you with large bouquets of your favourite flowers and a few lovely pieces of jewellery. It was sweet at first: you remember blushing and hiding your flustered face behind your palm, only for him to kiss your hand and usher it away. “Stop, you look super cute when you’re flustered,” he’d say, but now, a deep pit of shame hollows the joy out of every gift he gives you. He gives, and gives, and spoils you, but what do you have to offer? 

You do appreciate his gestures, and it feels lovely to be kitted out in the finest gossamer, or the softest of silks. The aroma of expensive perfume smells less chemical-ly and manufactured compared to your old bottles. There isn’t a day that goes by where your flower vases in your house aren’t filled with high-end flowers. It’s affection, sure, but, you wish he didn’t feel as if your love is something to be bought. 

With Aventurine, you have to be careful with your communication. He may play off other people’s rude comments about his origin or his affiliation with the IPC. Other people’s opinions don’t matter. But you know how much he cherishes you, and you don’t fit into the bracket of ‘other people’. If you seem too dismissive of his efforts, you fear that he may feel rejected. Picturing his sad face drooping makes you only want to let him coddle you, but you can’t allow this to happen anymore. You ponder your text carefully, before hitting send. 

You: 

Kakavasha. 

Peacock <3: 

My love? 

Are you upset with me?

I’m so sorry, let me handle it. 

Oh, wow. That was a quick fix. You sigh in relief and put your phone down, allowing yourself to get more comfortable in the covers. Another ping erupts from your phone, and the notification nearly makes you turn around and sob. 

Peacock <3 has sent you 1,000,000 Credits

You: 

STOP SENDING ME MONEY

I’M NOT YOUR SUGAR BABY FFS 

So much for being ‘careful with your communication’, but 1,000,000 credits is insanity! Does he think he can buy you off? You sigh and watch the text bubbles load as he types. 

Peacock <3:

Darling, what do you mean?

I want to spoil you! 

And if I’ve done something wrong, I’ll make it up to you!

You:

Then. Maybe. ASK

‘What’s wrong?’

BEFORE SENDING ME A SHITLOAD OF CREDITS

Peacock <3:

What’s wrong, angel? 

You reread your messages and realise how aggressive you're coming off, so you decide to talk to him face to face. Surely, his suave tongue and pretty face won't distract you from the matter at hand. Right?

You:

Let’s call.

You have started a call with Peacock <3

“Kakavasha, stop sending me money!” You hiss the second he picks up the phone. It’s the early morning, and hues of liquid sunlight paint your lover’s skin in light gold. Streaks of light coming through the blinds of his window shine through his gorgeous eyes, turning them translucent like opalescent marble. Aventurine gives you a tiny lopsided grin, the same one that creeps onto his face when he’s plotting something, and you don’t like it one bit. “

“How else am I supposed to show my adoration for you?” His silken, honeyed voice echoes through the phone. You have to stop yourself from giggling at his lovely voice, the cadence rising and falling masterfully, all perfectly orchestrated to let you listen to him instead of arguing. 

But you don’t take the bait yet. 

“I don’t know, maybe spend time with me?” You reply, but you can’t conceal the blush on your face when you realise that he’s only just woken up. His light blond hair is tousled and one of the cat cakes stretches on his lap. Although Aventurine dresses to impress, it’s the domesticated, sweet mornings where he truly shines. 

“I do spend time with you. We went to see the Opera just three nights ago!”

“Without money being spent, Kakavasha. I want a simple, romantic date. No renting out hotels, no extravagant jewellery, and no mariachi band like that one time-” 

“In my defence, I was completely wasted-” He interjects, giggling softly at the memory of planning a lovely beach date after consuming wine like water, and then ordering a band on a whim.

“You were barely awake, I drew a moustache on you.” You muse. Watching Aventurine’s face morph into an angry pout, like a kitten, makes you emit an ugly laugh. 

“That was you?” He gasps, clutching his heart with faux sorrow. Dramatically falling back on his black pillow, his golden locks are spread. Aventurine’s half lidded gaze and light pink blush makes you want to crawl into bed next to him and trace patterns into his hands, and his lovely eyes would-

“Don’t distract me from the matter at hand! Please stop spending on me, sweetheart. I’m not saying I don’t like your love, I want it! Just not in such an excessively materialistic way, you know?” 

This comment breaks Aventurine’s suave attitude. He blinks at you through the camera, positively perplexed. His eyes are wide and shocked, resembling that of a deer tasting cardboard. “H-how else am I supposed to show my love for you?” 

“Well, how do I show my love for you?”

Aventurine’s eyes look up, trying to recall: “You hold my hands,” he lists one on his fingers,  “listen to me when I speak, you support me through hard times,” he smiles warmly at you, flashing a toothy grin that makes his nose scrunch up cutely, bring back pebbles that remind you of me…” A devious smirk makes its way into his face and you prepare yourself to interject: “and you bite my as-” 

“Enough!” You reprimand him, but your tone is soft. “See? I don’t buy things for you to feel loved. You’re much more than a bank, even if other people don’t make you feel that way.” Suddenly bashful, Kakavasha looks away from you. Perhaps unused to such affections, he hugs the cat cake on his lap closer to his chest. 

“I just want to give you the best of the best.” He replies defensively, and you sigh softly.

“You are the best of the best, Kakavasha.” 

“Then,” his voice cracks in an attempt to hide his shyness, “let’s meet up at your place. Let’s stay inside and watch a movie? I hear that’s a popular date idea.” 

“Perfect. My door is open, we can do face masks and-” The call is interrupted by one of the cat cakes jumping on his head, causing him to tumble off the bed and clutch onto the sheets for stability. Instead, his finger hits the end call button. You giggle softly. For all of his cocky displays, Aventurine, at his truest form, is just a little bit of a dork. 

Said dork knocks at your door, dressed in a lovely black dress shirt and his white pants. You suddenly feel a little self conscious, in your bunny slippers and oversized dress shirt. But the way he hugs you and lifts you off the ground slightly for a kiss, it makes you feel like a national treasure. You waddle your way onto the couch, still hugging, and collapse into the plush cushions.

“So, what movie are we feeling today?” Aventurine pulls a blanket over the two of you, and your eyes brighten with an idea. “The Great Gatsby?” 

“Mm, tragic ending. No. Let’s hold that thought.” He leans over and gently pries the remote out of your hand. “Instead,” he kisses your nose and pushes you into the couch a little more, “let me show you even more ways I can show my affection for you.” He whispers, and captures your lips for a deep kiss…

[lilylovestowrite]

May I request Dan Heng taking care of drunk reader?

HE'S NOT MUCH OF A DRINKER, BUT HE'S A DREAM GIRL ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ Dan Heng x GN! Reader

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ Dan Heng picks you up from the bar, and it seems like you’re completely hammered.

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.4K 

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you so much for submitting the very first ask! I won’t lie, I got a bit carried away so it’s a bit longer than most drabbles. I love my silly little dragon man.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

A sigh echoes across the halls of the Astral Express. The stars gleam and the sky is streaked with hues of purple and the serene teal of Dan Heng’s eyes, currently focused on the door to the little bar in the Astral Express. He opens the doors, and the grandiose chandelier above his head nearly blinds him. But what nearly takes his breath away is you, slumped on the onyx marble island with a cocktail in hand. No matter how often he enters a room and lays eyes on you, each and every time, his brain and eyes race to compute your beauty. However, even as your partner, the dark haired man  keeps his affections closer to his chest. 

“Dan Heng, what are you doing here?” You slur, eyes squinting at the silhouette approaching you. You can tell it’s him, because the aroma of autumn petrichor and old books almost overpowers the stench of alcohol. “Were you reading?”

“I’m here because March texted me to pick you up,” he smiles softly and nods in the pink haired girl’s direction, “let’s go to my room, angel.” To this nickname, you swoon, and March giggles softly, slinging a drunk Trailblazer over her shoulder and taking them to their room. 

“Night, Dan Heng!” She chimes, eyes alight with amusement. Even in your state, barely able to walk, you know that this whole set up was most likely by her design. You can’t fault her for it though - March, ever the romantic, is the very reason you and Dan Heng are together now. 

“Night, March.” He replies back, and he turns all of his attention towards your slumped figure. “Now, what to do with you.” His mutters are soft, and even in private, there is a rather comforting strain of sterness in his tone. “I’m going to help you up, can you walk?” 

“Mm, no.” You reply, and find his perplexed expression absolutely adorable. His nose scrunches up and you can practically see the cogs running in his head, trying to devise a plan to get you to his room. You decide to be gracious and give him the solution: “Carry me?” 

“Carry you?” Dan Heng asks, surprise leaking into his voice. He then falters and coughs behind his palm in an attempt to regain his composure, “Carry you. I can do that. Come on.” He gently pries your hands off the cocktail glass and lifts you up in a bridal carry. His footsteps echo in the halls, the starlight illuminating his soft expression. 

“I’m sorry I interrupted your reading time,” you whisper, suddenly self-conscious that you’ve made your boyfriend take the brunt of your own actions, “I didn’t think the cocktails were so strong.”

“It happens, don’t worry.” He replies, “I wasn’t reading anything interesting anyway. Just boring things about the stars.” And you think you’re about to enter his room, the faint glow of his night lamp leaking through the doorway, but he makes a turn and heads towards the observatory.. 

“Are we sleeping somewhere else?” You ask, shifting slightly. You trust that Dan Heng won’t drop you, even if you thrash around like a worm. 

“The observatory has a nicer bathroom nearby in case you feel nauseous. And besides…” He hesitates, dark lashes fanning over the teal irises that stare down on you. “...I’ve wanted to sleep under the stars with you for a while now. What do you think?” 

You pause, both flustered, taken aback, and enraptured by him. It seems that no matter what he does, or what he asks for, you can never say no to him. Nor do you want to. The urge to spoil him, to see that serene little smile on his face when he lets his guard down, is your ultimate goal. So naturally, your response is: “Sure, let’s do that.” 

Dan Heng is rather good at keeping a poker face, but around you, (either because he has no use for his reservations or because you have gotten so good at reading him), not one emotion goes unnoticed. So even if he looks away, you notice in the reflection of the windows sealing off the extra rooms, that a light pink hue kisses his cheeks, accompanied by a toothy, boyish grin. 

He gently opens the door to the conservatory with his hip, setting you down in a chair and cracking open a bottle of water. “Here, drink this. I’m just gonna open up the sofa bed.” And as he does so, you take a look around the remarkable room. Made of glass, you can see the stars as the express glides across the cosmos. The interior is rather simple: a  minifridge in the corner, accompanied by a few house plants; a black chaise lounge that you currently occupy, and a black sofa bed that Dan Heng places pillows on. The entire view is celestial, picturesque, but the most breathtaking view is your lover. Even in simple clothing, the black turtleneck he wears, paired with his white pants, he always looks as if he has stepped out of an ink wash painting. Untouchable, yet so gorgeous. 

And, all yours. 

It seems that you are too drunk to conceal your adoration, because Dan Heng comes towards you, crossing his arms. “What are you looking at?” He asks, both teasingly and with slight seriousness. The cadence of his voice, normally monotonous, rises and falls as his eyes scan your expression. 

“You!” You giggle, unashamedly. Dan Heng blushes softly, realising that his plan has backfired. Instead, he guides you to the bed, a hand hovering above your waist. 

“You really have no shame, do you?” 

“Especially not when I’m drunk!” You babble, letting him prop the pillows up so you aren’t fully laying down. You make yourself at home, shimmying into the covers next to him. 

“I can see that, dear.” He replies.

Dear?

 You jerk your head towards him with such speed, you nearly go green. 

“Wh-what?” He asks, blinking at you. 

“You never call me pet names.” You blurt out, “It just caught me off guard.” Dan Heng has never been one for sappy affections, especially because he can’t take your reactions. He tells you it’s because your name is the most beautiful thing to call you by, and it’s true, but if he catches you with that lovesick stare, he isn’t sure his heart can handle it. 

“Well, you’re so far gone, I don’t think you’ll remember this  anyway.” He replies cooly, but his ears are completely red. “Do you want something to eat?” 

“Don’t change the subject! Call me that again!” You plead, pouting and dramatically draping yourself over his lap. “C’mon please?” 

“N-no, I think pet names are more effective in moderation.” Dan Heng replies, but the heat consumes his face so much, he pushes his dark hair out of his face and fans himself slightly. 

“Aww, bummer.” You lay back, and he locks his fingers with yours, using your intertwined hand to reach up to the sky, in all its astral grace and heavenly beauty. He guides your clasped hand to a planet above:

“That’s Venus, look!” His voice, now slightly sleepy, rumbles a few octaves deeper, and the calming vibrations cause waves of sleep to wash over you. “And over there, that pink planet? That’s actually a moon for another planet. Miranda.” 

“Really?” You look towards him, and his face glows with childish wonder. His guard is completely lowered around you. It’s not that he becomes more like a kid around you, but he feels comfortable being vulnerable and letting his excitement show. You watch him with the same wonder he gazes at the stars with, but your eyes struggle to stay open. 

“Mhmm! I think there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight. Do you want to watch it together?” He asks, a tiny smile spreads onto his face, but when he turns around, his expression softens even more. “You look tired, get some sleep, my love.” 

“Okay but…” You mumble, pulling the floral duvet up to your chin, “...Wake me up when it begins.” 

You don’t hear his reply as you  finally let your fatigue catch up with you, slumber slowly letting you drown, but just as you fully surrender, you feel a pair of lips brush against your forehead.

[lilylovestowrite]

AN ECCENTRIC'S ENTROPY ୨♡୧

PAIRING: (Dr Ratio x Professor! Reader)

WARNINGS: Suggestive

SYNOPSIS: For people who get into each other's pants a lot, you sure do know how to piss each other off...

WORD COUNT: 1k

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Entropy: The measure of the degree of disorder within a substance

“Will you stop your incessant whining?” Dr. Veritas Ratio groans, “I’d have thought spending more time with me would have caused your IQ to surpass at least a vegetable.” You roll your eyes and slam your new research paper down on your colleague's desk. 

“If you didn’t want to be surrounded by idiots, you shouldn’t have decided to teach at a university. Even if Stellaron University is prestigious, you’re still teaching barely adults.” You sigh with faux pity. “But I guess you didn’t think that far, poor Dr. Ratio.” Mockingly, you pet his head, the silky locks of violet slipping through your fingers as he grabs your wrist and forces it back on the desk. 

“I’m not reading your paper.” He shakes his head, brows furrowed and a scoff leaves his lips. Even though he looks up at you from his desk, the way he reclines on his chair so casually makes you feel small. It has always been like this. Veritas and his obnoxious attitude driving you up the walls. A prodigy yourself, the pursuit of knowledge has never been a struggle to you. Yes, it was challenging, but that was part of the fun. The thrill of tearing apart a formula and sinking your teeth in until it churns out a set of numbers that you like.  This allowed you to be the top professor at Stellaron for almost three years straight, until Veritas. Veritas, who opposes almost everything that you do, from the way you prefer to use a whiteboard and pen and him a blackboard and chalk. The way your coffee is dark and his is sweetened with milk and sugar to the point it doesn’t even look like coffee anymore. You didn’t have a problem with this until he published a scientific paper which had quoted your own paper published a month prior, and pointed out how it was not mathematically viable. You still remember the smirk he wore on his face when he emailed you the manuscript for peer review, the audacity of this man to ask you to proofread the very paper he dedicated hours to just to prove your own wrong! 

Naturally, your response is to ask him to do the same. But not with one email, but with twenty scheduled emails every other day. Sometimes, you like to add little emojis to the subject of your emails, and other times you embed links into the email that isn’t your paper, but wikihow articles. This pettiness has caused many encounters with him, some ending rather… intimately. 

Of course, Veritas has not proofread your paper, and you don’t expect him to, so he has no idea how much you’ve referenced his paper and disproved it. But you know how much it ticks him off regardless, the urge to tear through each of your arguments, even if logically speaking, arguing with you is  a waste of time. This degree of disorder is what drives him crazy. You sew chaos into his life as he does to yours, and as the entropy of a heating substance increases the entropy of its surroundings, so too does the tension-filled competitiveness from one of you, causes the other to maniacally lust to overpower the other. 

“Come on, read it. I know you want to.” You slide the paper closer to him, your hands sliding across the epoxy finish of the oak desk. “Unless… You’re scared I’m right.” He stares up at you with eyes the same hue of gold as the award trophies that line the shelves of his classroom, and cocks a brow. He stands up, leaning over the desk and moving his face closer to yours. His cologne almost overpowers your perfume, the musky scent of pinewood and berries he reserves for winter mixing with your vanilla scented perfume, and it sends you into overdrive.

“Oh? I think someone is too overconfident.” He remarks. You’ve noticed that there’s always something up his sleeve, something that he uses at the last minute to defeat you, but you’re getting better at recognising his patterns. And the way his deep voice becomes breathier, softer, akin to a snake’s sinister hiss, you understand that you’ve gotten under his skin. 

“You don’t think enough, Veritas, that’s your writing skills are bare bones and your papers hard to understand.” 

“Shut that mouth of yours.” He grits his teeth further, finally sitting on the edge of his desk and flipping over your paper. You let out a small laugh and sit at his chair. He looks down at you disapprovingly as you do so, but you pay no mind to the fact you’ve sat yourself down on his throne, because your paper will definitely take him down a peg or two. 

“In your bibliography, you spelt ‘accessed’ on your third source wrong.” He points out, taking a red pen from his desk and removing the cap with his teeth, circling the typo as you burn with humiliation. “Oh my, your spacing for the first page and last page are different. How irritating it must be for your readers to be accustomed to one layout and then switch to another.”

“It is just spacing, Veritas.”

“It’s more than that, dear, people like some organisation in their scientific papers. And your way of writing is chaotic! I should have known just by your handwriting and layout in sums.” He tuts, petting your head in faux pity just as you did to him seconds ago.  

“Read the damn paper, Dr. Ratio.” You grit your teeth, now irritated that you’ve dedicated hours and hours bashing him in the footnotes, researching just so he can get a taste of his own medicine, for you to be corrected on your formatting. 

“Patience.” There is something downright Dionysean about his voice, if it were a colour, it would be the seductive shade of red wine, and just as addictive. Addictive like the many times where you two have come too close for comfort, like the one time you two were locked in the storage closet together, and you felt his strong arms encase your body as he helped you push the door open from behind. Or this one time at a work event where he made fun of your table manners and swiped ice cream off of your lips to prove his point. It made you feel red hot, just like the colour of his voice, and the way he acts too hot around you, too excitable. And you wanted more. To make a man who is cold and reserved morph into a competitive beast  raring to go and one up you at every turn is no small feat. The dichotomy makes your head spin, and this side of him only you know wants to make you explore him more. And you know just from the way he cocks his head and slides off the desk, that he’s switching from sub-zero aloofness to scorching hot opposition. 

He grabs the arms of the chair you sit in to push it so far it hits the wall so you are cornered against the blackboard. 

“Actually.” He muses, tilting your head up and sliding your hair to one side. “I want you to read it.” He whispers, breath hot against your ear. “Read it, and I’ll give you,” he encircles your waist with one hand, “appropriate feedback.” 

He hands you the manuscript, and kisses your neck softly. His other hand, now free, unzips your skirt and you gasp as his fingers venture between your legs. 

“Start reading. You’re good at running your mouth, aren’t you? Let’s see how long that attitude lasts…”

[lilylovestowrite]

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST ୨♡୧

divider by @/cafekitsune

An Eccentric's Entropy | Veritas Ratio x Gn!Reader (suggestive)

He's not much of a drinker, but he's a dream girl | Dan Heng x Gn!Reader (Fluff)

Must be funny, in a Rich Man's World | Aventurine x Gn!Reader (Fluff)

Sweet like Buttercream | Gepard x Gn! Chef! Reader (Fluff)

Why not me? | Veritas Ratio x Gn! Reader (Fluff)

[lilylovestowrite]

GENSHIN MASTERLIST ୨♡୧

divider by @/cafekitsune

MONDSTADT ୨♡୧

...Nothing yet!

LIYUE ୨♡୧

...Nothing yet!

INAZUMA ୨♡୧

...Nothing yet!

SUMERU ୨♡୧

To Nurture Growth | Al Haitham x AFAB! Reader (NSFW)

FONTAINE ୨♡୧

Lessons in Etiquette | Neuvillette x Reader x Wriothesley (NSFW)

NATLAN ୨♡୧

...Nothing yet!

SNEZHNAYA ୨♡୧

Lady, Runnin' Down to the Riptide, Taken Away by the Dark Side | Childe x Fem!Reader (FLUFF(????)) idk what it is, actually, it's just edging but not really but also not sexual but it kind of is but not enough to be suggestive idk I'm rambling sorry I'm kind of stupid

KNAENRI'AH ୨♡୧

...Nothing yet!

THE STARS/ THE ABYSS ୨♡୧

Saviour's Indulgence | Lumine x AFAB! Reader (FLUFF)(MILD ANGST)

[lilylovestowrite]

INTRODUCTION ୨♡୧

Hi there! I'm just a silly little writer who loves writing for Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail and other fandoms! If you want anything written, please help a uni student out and buy me a ko-fi if you can! Requests are open, so please don't be shy!

divider by @/cafekitsune

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST ୨♡୧

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST ୨♡୧

AO3 ACCOUNT ୨♡୧

[lilylovestowrite]

LESSONS IN ETIQUETTE ୨♡୧

PAIRING: (Neuvillette x AFAB!Reader x Wriothesley) SYNOPSIS:After becoming the Acting Princess of Fontaine, you've been struggling to follow the rules, but it's all okay! That's what your royal tutor Neuvillette and bodyguard Wriothesley is there to help you with! WARNINGS:(NSFW, spanking, edging, overstimulation, handcuffs, blindfolding, oral (fem. receiving), praise degradation) MDNI

Divider by @/cafekitsune

“Princess?” 

Neuvillette’s baritone voice, although raised slightly so you can hear it from the other side of the door, holds the same tender lilt to it. You feel your heart leap slightly when you leap from your red chaise lounge and bound to the door to rip it open, ignoring the judgemental stare from your bodyguard, Wriothesley. 

“Neuvillette!” You beam as his purple eyes crinkle from the smile he gives you. He plants a chaste kiss on your knuckle, and the glimmer of affection in his eyes when he peers up at you through his long lashes send you reeling. Ever since you were forced to act as a stand-in Princess for Teyvat after the real one had been receiving threats from an unknown source, you believe Neuvillette’s lessons in etiquette are keeping you together. Even if the balls are unbearably boring and the fake smiles you master in the bathroom mirror strain your face, learning to dance and hearing Neuvillette praise your gleeful smile is all worth it. 

He allows you to lead him into your large bedroom, where Wriothesley is reading and sipping on tea. You never really understood why the dark haired man is to be by your side at all times. The Royal family tell you it’s because they don’t want to see you get hurt, but you know that it’s so you stay within the confines of the palace. Many times, you’ve leaped through the bushes of the rose garden, and Wriothesley has yanked you back and marched you back to the palace. Last week, you tried to escape through the library window, allowing the curtains to shield you from his view. You made it to the marble swan fountain by the exit before Wriothesley threw you over his shoulder with one arm and brought you back. At the recollection of the memory, you pull a face at Wriothesley as you sit Neuvillette down. He looks up at you with his eyes, the hue of rainy skies, and rolls them as if he were entertaining a child. 

“Now, Princess, I don’t mean to panic you, but I have been informed of some… mishaps occuring at the last ball you were at.” Neuvillette clears his throat and a small worried expression causes you to practically wilt. He notices this and scrambles to put the smile back on your face. “N-not anything too major though, I heard you did so well in dancing, I’m very proud of you.” 

“Thank you, Neuvillette, I just never want to disappoint you.” You practically simper, and Wriothesley hides a gag behind a polite cough, which Neuvillette is tactful enough to ignore. 

“You couldn’t possibly, my darling.” A gloved hand lightly pets you on the head, and you can smell the scent of moringa flowers get stronger as he approaches you. “Though I may need to teach you something a little different.” 

“Oh?” You reply, adjusting your blouse once you see how perfectly pressed Neuvillette’s navy three piece suit is. He sits you down on the armchair opposite of Wriothesley, the plush of the plum coloured crushed velvet material dipping under your weight. 

“Yes, Princess. It seems that last night,” he circles you behind the chair, his gloved hand trailing the golden embellishments on the back of her chair, “you were… enchanted by the Prince of Khaenri’ah.”

Ah, Prince Kaeya. Prince Kaeya, who moved with the unwavering elegance of a peacock. Prince Kaeya, who in his drunken daze, twirls you around when dancing, the khol lining his eyes causing that one beautiful, cobalt blue eye to gleam with brilliance. Oh, Prince Kaeya, who charmed you off your feet for one night only. You look guiltily at Neuvillette, “I apologise, I believe I had too much to drink-”

“You could have done worse, Princess. The error is on my behalf.” He murmurs from your left, still pacing across the room. You hear the clink of china on the table, and look up to see Wriothesley listening intently, even going as far as to slip a bookmark into the book he’s reading. “You see, people in balls may seem alluring to you-”

“They want you for your power, is all.” Wriothesley remarks, and Neuvillette clears his throat.

“That could be it, or they were simply taken by your own charms.” He offers. “However, I failed to warn you about this. And these men are dangerous, Princess. They might hunt you down, no matter how close Wriothesley is. This is why I thought of a… different way of teaching you.” 

“A different way?” 

Neuvillette’s long locks of white hair dance in the slight breeze as he approaches the doors to the balcony and closes them, causing the strands of starlight to halt to a stop. He pulls his hair up with a black silk ribbon in a high ponytail. The sunlight runs through the blue hued strands as he ties the ribbon into a perfect bow. “Yes, dear. Wriothesley over here and I thought that we could attempt to build up an immunity to seduction.” You feel a slight pang of fear as Wriothesley’s expressionless face glows with excitement, his half lidded eyes flooding with light.  

“You see, Princess,” Wriothesley practically snarls, “we’re going to have to show you the extent of what these desperate Dukes and Princes will go to for your affection.” He hisses into your ear, so Neuvillette can’t hear. “And I’m going to show you what happens when you make things difficult for me.”

Your face flushes and Wriothesley towers over your seated figure, his arms resting on either side of your chair. “I don’t…” You hesitate and clear your throat, your composure cracking like ice under a hammer from the dark haired man’s gaze. Seeking refuge, you look towards Neuvillette for some clarity, but instead you find your mind has gone haywire when you see him slide his gloves off with his teeth. “I don’t object to it, but why must he be here?” You nudge your chin towards Wriothesley, “He has it out for me!” You pout, knowing that Neuvillette will give you a warm smile, his pretty eyes skrunckled up cutely. He does, as you predict, but the smile is accompanied by a shake of the head which causes his ponytail to dance with it. 

“I’m sorry dear, but most of the people flirting with you do have it out for you. Whether it be for your fake status, money or beauty.” He approaches the chair you sit in, right beside Wriothesley, caging you in velvet. “We just want to make sure you aren’t so easily influenced, yes?” 

There is always something hypnotic about Neuvillette. An air of worldly knowledge interwoven with every spoken word, a charismatic voice that makes you feel as if you’re drowning in a sea of calmness. The trance he puts you in floods your train of thought and you wonder if he’s aware of the effect he has on you, the spell he has you under. When he says it like that, with so much care and tenderness, what other answer can you reply with other than “Yes”?

“Good girl, we’ll start easy, okay?” He murmurs, kissing your temple. How anyone has  ever survived this man’s charms is a mystery to you. Wriothesley on the other hand, grins down at you, fixing his glove and gripping your thigh.

“You’re gonna break tonight, Princess.” He sneers, and you feel red hot anger spurt out of you as if it were reflex. The warm, fuzzy feeling from Neuvillette boiling over. 

“I won’t. Not to the likes of you.” You tug on Neuvillette’s sleeve, “At least Monsieur Neuvillette is charming. You’re just annoying.” Comes your sharp retort, even though you both know you’ve been eyeing how perfectly his clothes accentuate his body. This causes Neuvillette to go slightly pink, the apples of his cheeks more visible due to the coy smile on his face.

“Come now, Princess, we shouldn’t play favourites.” He chuckles softly, stroking your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm and pout once more. 

“But you have faith in me, right, Neuvillette?” 

“Oh, Princess…” He pinches your cheek, but it is as light as a petal falling on your face. “I have to side with him on this one. You are going to break tonight. And that’s okay, because you can surrender to us.” Neuvillette muses, eyes glazed over with the sight of you undone and gasping already being painted in his mind. 

This is what strikes slight fear into you. You thought he would make it easy for you, maybe let Wrio bully you for a bit and then offer you dessert after a few crocodile tears. But the way that their sharp gazes pin you to the spot assures you that you are in for a ride.

“Now, angel. We are two princes vying for your attention. Keep your cool, do not show the slightest bit of interest. Not even in your body language. People will often notice what you do rather than what you say to see what pleases you, alright?” He instructs you in what is closest to a teacher's voice. You nod your head in agreement and Wriothesley snickers.  

“What a pretty little Princess we have here.” He practically spits at you, but oh-so-gently kneels and kisses the back of your hand. Neuvillette twirls a lock of hair around his finger. 

“Yes, they are, aren’t they?” You want to pay attention to the white haired man but you’re interrupted by the sharp bite on your hand from the still kneeling Wriothesley, who mischievously grins up at you. “Tell me, Your Highness, do you usually lure in people like this?” Wriothesley plays with the chain on your pants, pinging them. 

“I… Lure?” You reply, and the triumphant grin on his face urges you to collect yourself. “It is not my fault you can’t keep your hands off me.” A similar grin contorts your innocent expression as you press a heeled shoe to his chest, pressing his black shirt buttons and red tie with intricate stitching of a darker, sensual shade of vermillion, akin to the hot anger that flushes his cheeks. Neuvillette takes your ankle and removes it from Wrio’s dress shirt to press a kiss on your shin. 

“You’re right, Highness. I can’t keep my hands off you.” He muses, white hair framing his face, yet not concealing the brilliant violet gaze dripping with lust. Neuvillette’s voice is soft and gentle, yet you have to supress the urge to lean back against the chair to allow him to do whatever he wishes to you. “Nor do I want to.” Nevertheless, you keep your back straight and your gaze downcast towards them, even when Wriothesley stands up to grab your face and squish your cheeks together with one hand. It seems like the blatant act of disrespect has cracked his usually calm demeanour.

“You’re a fucking pain in the ass, my Princess.” He cooes, meeting your icy gaze and then pinning your shoulders back with both hands. “You’re touchstarved too, I’ve seen what books you hide underneath your pillow.” He looks at Neuvillette, and your eyes widen with horror. “Pure erotica.” 

You feel your face fall, and the perfect, golden act you’ve kept up to allow Neuvillette’s lilac gaze to consume you like you are the only one in the world seems like it is all for naught. Your heart pulsates in your stomach. Finally meeting Neuvillete’s flushed face, a tiny chuckle leaves his lips. “Don’t bully the poor thing, Wriothesley, we all have our quirks.” He kisses your nose, “So, Princess, what sort of things do you enjoy in those books, hmm?”

Heat builds up and you feel your composure slip as Wriothesley kisses down your neck, and Neuvillette presses a kiss to your lips. Wriothesley laughs cruelly, “I bet you enjoy being toyed with.” When you moan softly, he grips your thigh, allowing Neuvillette’s soft hands to cup your face. “This kind of reaction is unbecoming of you, Princess.” He emphasises this with a bite, causing you to yelp into Neuvillette’s passionate kiss. You feel the air hit your lips when Neuvillette descends to unzip your pants, sliding the fabric down your legs. At the same time, Wriothesley rips your dress shirt open, and you squeal at his roughness. “Stand up.” He orders. 

With whatever tatters of dignity you have left, you smirk at him. “Make me.” And within a split second, he picks you up. He raises your body like a ragdoll, ready to throw you onto the bed, but Neuvillette shakes his head and rushes to prep the pillows. Wriothesley sighs and places you on the bed, guiding one of the silk pillows under your hips, the cool fabric making you shiver. He unhooks the handcuffs from his belt loop and binds you with them, you thrash against him but Neuvillette hushes you, raking his hand through your scalp. 

“Wriothesley, you’re so rough with them.” He tuts, and the dark haired man only scoffs and pinches your cheek.

“Well, this one is a brat, and they’ve been trying to escape multiple times, haven’t you?” He nudges you, and you glare up at him. Neuvillette gasps, and you look at him guiltily. 

“Is this true, Princess?” He asks, his hand stops on your waist. You avert your gaze and nod. Neuvillette shakes his head in disappointment yet amusement glitters in his violet eyes. “You’re so good for me, but such a troublemaker for him. Is it that you’re more comfortable with Duke Wriothesley, here?” 

Wriothesley rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his dark hair. “A little too comfortable.” 

“We can’t have that, darling. Need you to be completely open with me as well. And here I thought I was the favourite.” He tuts, helping you up and laying your head against Wriothesley’s chest. His pin is nearly centimetres away from your eye, noticing this, Wriothesley takes it off and places it by the bedside table, such a kind gesture from him is unfamiliar to you. 

Nevertheless, you can’t keep your mouth shut. “You are my favourite, Neuvillette. He’s just an assho- mmph!” Wriothesley tilts your chin up uncomfortably and kisses you on the lips, your bottom lip in between his teeth as he grabs your chest. You gasp and hear Neuvillette chuckle in the background. 

“Fucking brat. You think you can get me riled up by making me upset because I’m not your favourite?” Wriothesley smirks and rolls your nipple between his fingers and jostles you in his lap. 

“You are riled up. Bet you’re jealous.” You laugh, the last of your pride melts away as you moan midway through the sentence. You look at Neuvillette, who with a tiny smile, parts your thighs. 

“I see what ails this Princess. I think an attitude adjustment is in order, no?” He muses, and Wriothesley agrees eagerly. 

“Yeah, like fuck they do.” He declares, rolling up his sleeves and holding your thighs open. “Aww, what a mess already. I think you need to surrender, Princess, it’s obvious that you’re desperate~” Neuvillette spreads you open further, and you shrink into Wriothesley from embarrassment as he inspects how much you’re leaking, inner pink walls coated in light cream sheen. 

“Not surrendering! Not yet!” You hiss, although your cuffed hands covering your mouth as Neuvillette plays with your clit. You try to shut your legs, but Wriothesley effortlessly has you spread open. 

“Fine, but if your struggle is as weak as the way you’re trying to hide yourself from us by closing your legs, then expect me to make it absolute hell for you.” You whimper meekly when Neuvillette licks up and down your clit, jolting in Wriothesley’s grip. “What’s that, Princess? Finally using that mouth to make pretty noises? Hmm?” He taunts, squeezing your thighs whilst Neuvillette groans into you, the vibrations causing you to pant. He continues the taunting all the way up to your climax, in which Neuvillette stops abruptly. He tilts your chin up and smiles when he sees your fucked-out gaze. 

“Princess, you need to surrender in order for me to finish you off.” He sits you up, and you shake your head in disdain.

“No, I… I can’t, not yet!” You mumble, and Neuvillette pets your head, kissing your forehead. 

“We’ll let you come down from your high, darling. It’s okay.” His voice is coaxing, baritone, it vibrates and you feel your heart and lower regions flutter. Hyper aware of every kiss of air on your exposed flesh, and especially aware of Neuvillette and Wriothesley. Their breaths reverberate against your ear and clit. Wriothesley’s breath is cold, yet sharp, and Neuvillette,  scorching hot, but ebbing tortuously. Oh, you could surrender, but he’s prepared this lesson for you. Sweet, caring Neuvillette, who only wants the best for you, so you will do your best just to please him. Even if it is at the expense of your own pleasure. However, a darker part of you notices the nonchalant, cocky attitude that envelops Wriothesley, and how you want to prove him wrong. Surrendering to Neuvillette’s overwhelming yet gentle pleasure would be a reward, but to damn yourself to give into Wriothesley? You may as well be a rabbit waltzing into a wolf's den. 

“No! I won’t!” And with that, Neuvillette withdraws himself from between your legs, the sensation of his silver hair gliding across your thighs when he pulls himself away makes you jolt. Neuvillette smiles softly, his light purple eyes glistening and scrunching up with adoration, the same kind looks that melts your heart whenever you please him. Except now, he licks his fingers coated in a sheen of transparent, viscous liquid. It makes you squirm and twitch, the knot in your stomach dullens, but does not unravel. Wriothesley lets out a low whistle, brows raised as he watches you whine from your denied release. 

 “Seems like your stubbornness finally has some use. But you’ll buckle now that I’m gonna do you nice and fast.” The two switch positions, with Wriothesley between your legs and Neuvillette behind you. The only difference is that your head lays in Neuvillette’s lap instead of resting against his chest. The ruffled lace sleeve of his white shirt tickles your cheek as he reaches to brush your hair from your face, smiling softly. His finger trails your nose, down to your lips, and although you want to admire his smooth hands, you close your eyes when the pads of his fingers smooth your brows. Meanwhile, Wriothesley rummages through Neuvillette’s briefcase, his gloved hands producing a device with a suction-cup top. He grins deviously, and you instinctively try to back away, but Neuvillette reaches down to kiss your lips softly, murmuring a gentle reprimand.

“It’s not polite to reject a gift, little Princess.” He whispers, and you mumble a weak apology. His hair flutters across your face as he moves to tilt your chin towards the dark haired man. His eyes, the hue of starlight, glimmer with malice, lust, and innocent glee all at once. “Ah, ah, you should apologise to that gentleman over there.” Neuvillette replies softly, taking your bound wrists in one hand and massaging your chest with the other. You feel your face burn with humiliation. Apologise? To Wriothesley? Who holds a bizarre device that he will undoubtly use to torture you? 

But one look at Neuvillette makes you gulp, the way his hands squeezes and rubs at your breasts making you keel into his touch. You have no choice but to do as he says: “I-I’m sorry, Duke Wri- ah! Wriothesley.” You moan and god, you realise how pathetic you sound because the Duke tilts his head to one side and edges near your sensitive clit with the device. 

“Oh, you will be.” He waves it near your ears, and your eyes widen in horror when you hear it vibrate. You catch on quickly, even with pleasure disgruntling your senses as if playing a piano piece with the pendulum on the wrong tempo. You feel Neuvillette chuckle as his lap trembles with a low chuckle. “This is something I first found out about in the Fortress of Meriopede. They say the Fatui sometimes use pleasure to break their prey, so I’m not sure your dainty little body can take this vibrator, Princess.” His voice drips with disdain and mockery, and you want to weep from the embarrassment. You try to free yourself but Neuvillette still has his finger looped around the chains of your cuffs. Wriothesley grabs your hips and spreads your folds, whilst Neuvillette moves to circle your nipple with his finger, and you finally twitch when the first touch of the vibrator on your clit, and you yelp. Wriothesley quickly withdraws it from you and giggles with sadistic delight, before regaining his composure and diving back in with it. This time, the tantalising pleasure of the device licking your folds with mechanical speed is constant, and you cannot stifle the moans that escape your lips. 

“Fu-fuck! Ah- Wriothesley, d-haah~ put it away! This is an- mm~ order!” You whine desperately between moans, and Neuvillette has to press your lower stomach into the bed to prevent you from escaping. Wriothesley cooes at you and narrows his pretty glacial eyes, only to squish your cheeks, lightly, but it stops you from speaking.

 “An order? From a tied up,” he increases the vibrations,“ fucked out,” once more, and you whimper, “ little mess?” With a final increase, you whine. “What gives you that jurisdiction, brat? You shouldn’t even be ordering me to clean up your messy clothes, but you still do, and you ask me to do things for you out of job requirements. I thought you preferred that, so why is it that the one time I volunteer to do what is not required of me, you protest? Hmm?” He towers over you and laughs in your face as you sob. He lets you go, but you can only whine softly. 

“Fuck you!” You weakly moan, and Wriothesley tugs on a nipple, causing you to squeal. The knot in your stomach builds once more, and you hate that with every mean name he addresses you with, it tightens. 

“Yeah? Fucking adorable. Already am, you pathetic brat. Not even at the highest setting of this toy and you’re already whining like a bitch in heat.” 

Neuvillette and you answer at the same time: “I’m n-not a b-bitch in- ah~! Heat!” Out comes your languid response. “Now, that’s no language we use for a young lady.” Neuvillette shakes his head disapprovingly, but Wriothesley rolls his eyes at him, gesturing to you. 

“What do you call this then? She’s panting.” Wriothesley spits out, and Neuvillette lightly presses on your lower stomach in what is supposed to be a comforting gesture, but makes you see stars from pleasure. 

“I call it a masterpiece. Look, she’s going on strong.” He affirms, but that is the exact moment you buckle. 

“Please, please, please turn it off! I can’t take it, I’ll cum, please! Wriothesley!” You beg, and Wriothesley crawls on top of you, his knees on each side of your hips. His glacial gaze meets yours, and you can’t look back at them. 

“Is that how you beg? You can do better. Come on, Princess. I know you can do it. In fact, here’s some incentive.” He increases the vibrations and you scream in pleasure. 

“Please! Please, Duke Wriothesley, I’m sorry, please, please stop! I can’t take it anymore, I’m so close, please!” You whine between moans, and the pressure in your lower stomach is so strong you feel your legs tremble. Feelings of desperation, humiliation and pleasure liquidise and pool at your eyes in the form of tears, which Neuvillette swipes away as they fall. Wriothesley urges you to continue, and you swallow your pride. “Please, please stop! I want to be- to be good for the both of you and not surrender- please! Please! I beg of you, Duke.” 

“Hmm, request declined.” But it’s too late. Something inside you snaps, and waves of euphoria cause you to grasp the chains that cuff your wrists together. The pleasure consumes you, your legs tremble and let out one last moan before going limp.

Wriothesley reacts first. “You stupid brat, you came without permission. You’re not allowed to do that until you surrender.” His voice goes in through one ear and out the other, because Neuvillette handles you and you find your hole being covered in a jelly like substance and stretched out once more, his violet eyes gleam with a voracity that makes him look so ethereal, he appears to be not quite human. His actions are gentle, he slowly unzips his pants and he calmly embraces you, but the veins in his arm and one side of his neck bulge with desperation. 

You look at Neuvillette desperately, “W-wait, I just came, I’m still sensitive.” 

He looks at you, still sensitive and fucked out from your orgasm, and caresses your cheek. “Although Wriothesley was slightly out of line, your disobedience requires discipline, dear.  But I’ll never be rough with you. You know what words to say if you want this to stop, Princess.” He whispers, slowly easing you onto his length. It causes you to whine and jolt, warmth blooming in your core once more, but you rest your cuffed hands on Neuvillette’s chest, the silk of his white dress shirt clenched in your fists.

“Shh, it’s okay, darling. But you have to take it, it’s a punishment after all.” He whispers in your ear, smoothing his hand through your hair before lifting you by the waist and slamming you back down. You let out a pathetic squeal, and feel Wriothesley snake his cold arms around your neck from behind. One hand holds your chin up, forcing you to look at Neuvillette.

Pink dusts his cheeks, and his high ponytail has blue strands escaping from it, framing his blushing face. He pauses bouncing you on his lap to roll up his sleeves, giving you a kiss on your forehead before picking up the pace: “There you go, Princess- ah~! You’re doing so, fuck- so well.”

His moans are higher than his baritone drawl, but they maintain the smooth lilt his speech usually has. They mix with your louder moans and pants. This dishevelled version of the usually put-together Neuvillette makes the experience seem so much more intimate, so even if you can barely think straight with the pleasure, you hold onto him for dear life. 

Wriothesley, however, had never planned to give you a moment of peace ever since Neuvillette asked him of this favour, and he lands a sharp spank on your ass. “Enjoying this a bit too much, Princess? Should have expected that from you. I know why you squirm when I lift you up to take you back to the castle after you try and escape.” Neuvillette, hearing this, angles his hips to curve his tip more upwards, and it ends up hitting you in just the right place. He continues, his own moans growing louder and breathier. Your pleasure becomes too much once more, and you cannot muster the energy to talk back to Wriothesley, who continues his assault on your behind. “Fucking look at him. What do you say to the Iudex for making you feel so good?”

You’re too busy catching your breath, but it catches in your throat when he spanks you again. “This mouth talks back all the time but the one time I ask you to use it, you don’t?” His voice is severe, and you feel him chuckle from behind. 

“Th-thank you, Monsieur N-ah~! Neuvillette!” It comes out broken and quieter than you anticipate, but Neuvillette feels himself lose control, tears building in his eyes, matching the drizzle that darkens the sky outside of your window. 

You whine at Wriothesley’s relentless spanks and tremble once more as another orgasm builds up, and Neuvillette feels you contract around him, the orgasmic waves of yours causing him to throw his head back. “Ah~ You’re close too dear, right? I’m- haah~ sorry, darling, but I can’t- can’t give you what you want.” He whines with almost the same amount of desperation as you, but pulls out, his own orgasm takes hold and he finishes on your stomach, leaving you high and dry. You whine desperately, but Neuvillette hushes you. The two of you take a second to catch your breaths, and he leans his forehead against yours. “Well done, Princess.” 

“But you’re not done yet, Princess. One last chance to surrender?” Wriothesley guides your cuffed arms around Neuvillette’s neck, allowing you to grasp onto the back of his silk shirt that now hangs off one shoulder, exposing the flesh underneath. His breathing is still rugged and deep, but somehow, the rise and fall of his chest makes you feel safe, so when he guides your head to lay against him, you don’t protest. But at the same time, you do not surrender. You shake your head, resisting the chance to finish. If you could take Neuvillette, you could take Wriothesley. That’s what you think, but as Wriothesley slides into you from behind after propping you on your knees and face resting against Neuvillette, who is slumped against the headboard, you realise how wrong you are.

Neuvillette was going easy on you on purpose, but Wriothesley graces you with punishing thrusts that leave you reeling so hard your moans become silent and only whimpers escape your throat. He finds your sweet spot and hits it at a fast pace, perhaps not going in all the way as Neuvillette did, but his speed much higher. His hips stutter, but his rhythm is consistent otherwise. Although the sensitivity from the previous orgasm has died down, this pleasure is hard to comprehend, so when Neuvillette finds the vibrator under the covers and you hear it vibrate, you begin to squirm once more. 

“No, no, no. You’re fucking taking this, Princess. You needed to be shut up, this was inevitable, so why not enjoy it, hmm? Why not let yourself become a pathetic little mess and maybe we can let you feel even better than you do now?” 

“I’m- I’m not surrendering!” You choke out, and Neuvillette rubs the vibrator across your nipples, dipping downwards to your clit, causing you to break out into goosebumps and quivers. 

“You’re not, dear? That’s great to hear, you’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you.” Neuvillette praises, and you cringe when you feel yourself flutter around Wriothesley, practically hearing shit eating grin. 

“Aww, Iudex, they like it when you praise them. Just felt them tighten.” He grunts, holding you up by the hips and thrusting into you rapidly. 

“Do you, now?” Neuvillette teases, kissing the crown of your forehead when you sob in humiliation and pleasure. “Then, darling, you’re doing so well, but you would do better to surrender, hmm?” He whispers, slowly palming at your chest. “Just let us make you feel good, you’re going to be our Princess from now on, okay?” 

“N-no! I won’t g-give- ah~! Give up!” You whine, and Wriothesley feels his own orgasm building. You can tell by the way he slows down and the way his groans become deeper. He hugs you close to him and kisses you down your spine as he gets closer, and you try and buck your hips to chase your own orgasm but he holds you so tight, you cannot move. 

“Well- fucking done, brat.” Wriothesley moans into your ear as you feel liquid stain your behind. He pulls out just before finishing and sighs in relief. Neuvillette takes your cuffed arms and ducks under them to allow himself to remove his arms around your neck and walks towards his briefcase. He takes out a blindfold and what seems to be a collar, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach, where it pulsates from adrenaline and want. You can’t want more, they’re breaking your defences down and you’ve already forfeited most of your pride when begging Wriothesley, but when Neuvillette praises you for enduring thus far, how can you refuse? Might as well enjoy the pleasure the two give you. Especially now that your blacked out vision enhances the sensation of Neuvillette’s tip tapping against your lips. Wriothesley runs his hand down your back, kissing and licking the flesh hungrily. The pleasure of the vibrator remains on your clit, and you beg and plead, but the two continue to toy with you and your senses, this lesson in etiquette seemingly never ending…

…Neuvillette and Wriothesley have you bent over the bed, with Neuvillette eating you out and Wriothesley sucking your clit, and it snaps. You really can’t take anymore of the edging. The blindfold increases your sensitivity by tenfold and you grip the sheets. “I- I surrender! Please let me cum, please!” You beg, and once you look back, you’re met with the vibrant, violet gaze of your royal tutor, and the jeer of your bodyguard. You feel yourself being flipped over for the nth time, and the two ravage you. Neuvillette, with his feather light touches, and Wriothesley, who targets the spots that make you keel in pleasure. 

Truly, you didn’t think the lesson was over yet, did you..?