#I feel like the story of us could get a second life and just smash on the charts

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

I don’t know about you but I’m chomping at the bit to hear “Castles Crumbling.”

[euthymiya]

it always ends with i love you ft. wriothesley — in which you, a small floral shop owner, meet the duke of meropide by a chance encounter—and then you meet a bunch more too…but not so much by chance anymore

contains: 20.3k work count (please give it a chance i put my soul into it) ; female reader ; mature content—not suitable for minors ; strangers to friends to lovers ; flower shop au + florist reader ; reader has a small backstory regarding her dead father ; use of canon flowers and and lore, meaning i did my best so please be gentle on me with my botany facts ; heavy spoilers for wriothesley’s story quest and backstory, explores themes such as murder and hints at child exploitation and trafficking—all pertaining to his adopted home life ; slight oc’s because i gave a few of his adopted siblings names ; a fun neuvillette and clorinde appearance! ; a not so fun childe appearance + jealousy ; a short argument ; love confessions and getting together ; wriothesley is scared of love (anyone who had to kill their parents should be tbh) ; reader sits on his lap/lays on him ; there’s sex in every scene lol i got carried away—includes vaginal fingering ; cunnilingus ; nipple play ; hand + blow jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie

the first time you meet wriothesley is by accident.

he doesn’t exactly come up to the surface regularly—he sees the sun frequently enough to remember what sunlight feels like if he tries to recall, but not enough that most people of fontaine would know he’s the duke of meropide just by looking at him.

he likes it that way. the duke is no small title, and he’d prefer the trip through the streets of the court without being stopped for idle chit-chat.

he doesn’t intend on stopping on his way to the palais, but you’re a bit of a unique circumstance.

he hears the smashing sound of something breaking before the scream, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the noise. nothing could have prepared him for a flower shop to be the source of such chaos—what could be chaotic about selling petals on a stem?

except you’re clumsily chasing after a man as he stumbles past your door, knocking over the potted plants on display in the process as you follow him.

the look of distress on your face as the pot falls and shatters compels him to investigate the scene. (of course, there’s a note of distress on your face before the pot falls, but the way it deepens when it does is almost criminal. your face is too lovely to have such creases in your forehead, even if he won’t admit as much out loud).

“stop! please,” you call, “you haven’t paid for those!”

thievery. wriothesley knows a thing or two about pocketing things that don’t belong to him.

first, it’s because he spends a portion of his life on the streets, surviving more than living. those moments reduce him down to a simple pocket thief at times. (he had standards for his crimes: never too much and only enough to survive for a bit. always from someone who dresses expensively and looks like they’re comfortable enough not to feel the damage to their wallets. and, of course, never from women).

second, it’s because people, on the streets or in the fortress, love to steal from those who are weak and vulnerable. people who are sleeping are of that classification of individuals, so wriothesley learns how to keep his things hidden and how to be a light sleeper. he’s never had too many things that are precious to him, of course, but he owns little enough that he’d notice his losses harshly should they come.

he hates thievery. partly because it reminds him of his past and the darkness that taints it, but mostly because it always involves someone innocent who doesn’t deserve to lose. not even a little.

his feet carry him over to the scene before he can stop himself—not that he would stop himself even if he did have control over his body, but it’s just that this particular circumstance seems to have him in some sort of trance. one that won’t allow him to look away from your face.

“please,” you follow the man past your shop’s door, “those are the last of my glaze lilies—i promised them in an order!”

the man running doesn’t seem to care about your pleas, snickering as he turns to give you an amused look, as if your distress is entertaining. he doesn’t make it far, though, before he bumps into a muscled chest.

“what the—”

wriothesley cuts him off, raising a brow. “i do believe the lovely lady here has asked for her flowers back. or did you miss that part?”

“and just who do you think you are, mister?” the man barks, glaring wriothesley up and down. (it’s a bit funny, considering he’s much shorter, so it takes a tad bit of effort on his part to give wriothesley the menacing once over it’s meant to be). “i don’t remember asking you what she asked.”

“oh me?” wriothesley cracks his knuckles casually, shrugging as he says, “duke of meropide at your service. i must say, i’m not very popular around here—not a lot of people know me, it seems.”

your jaw drops. the man’s face pales—which is a nice confirmation, at least, that he does have some sort of a brain.

“w-what? and just why would i believe that? you expect me to think the fortress’s duke is just prancing around the streets as if he hasn’t got duties? as if!”

wriothesley’s lips quirk up at the edges as he hums, fishing through the pocket of his shirt before he pulls out an envelope, sealed with the stamp of the iudex himself. there’s writing on it in clear letters, bold and italicized, as if just to mock the man.

to: duke wriothesley

from: iudex neuvillette

“that clear things up for you?” wriothesley asks, traces of a cheeky glint in his eyes as he raises a brow.

instantly, the man is clasping his hands, head bowing as a string of incoherent apologies flows past his shaky lips. “i-i’m sorry! i’ve never done anything like this before, you can check! my records are clean! i-it was a moment of weakness, but it won’t happen again, sir. p-please don’t take me to monsieur neuvillette. or court. or—”

“your first thieving gig, and you picked flowers?” wriothesley snorts, “i almost don’t want to bring you to court just save myself from the embarrassment.”

the man flushes, bashfully shrinking as he mumbles, “w-well i just…i just wanted to get flowers for my girlfriend for our anniversary and these…th-they’re her favorite you know? b-but they’re hard to come by since liyue is so far and…and the lady wouldn’t sell them to me so…you know…i uh…” the man trails off, wilting as wriothesley’s stares down, unimpressed. “i promised her i’d get them,” he adds, as if it’ll help.

“what a tragic sob story you got there,” wriothesley deadpans. “your girlfriend must love your honesty.”

“if i may interrupt,” you call from behind, making both men glance over to where you stand some distance away.

wriothesley forgot you were there, truthfully. but now that he’s taking in your appearance up closer, he can’t help but appreciate it. your features complement each other well—like an assortment of carefully arranged flowers, hand-picked one by one by celestia themselves.

“hello miss,” he nods, raising a hand to half-wave at you, “don’t worry, i’ll get this man out of your hair in a moment with your flowers too. just give me a sec—”

“no,” you say softly, “no it’s okay. he can keep some of them…i’m sure i can make do with a shorter hand than usual.”

he blinks. you couldn’t have possibly offered to let your thief keep his earnings at your expense, could you? he can’t decide if you're just that naive, just that foolish, or truly just that kind.

maybe all three, if he’s being honest.

“uh…are you sure?” he tilts his head in disbelief, “you want to let him keep the flowers?”

“partially,” you confirm, “it’s alright. everyone deserves flowers on their anniversary. especially their favorite.”

wriothesley decides you’re just that kind—and in some ways, it’s worse than being a bit on the naive side. at least you can sharpen yourself to become untrusting and skeptical if naivety gets you in trouble. kindness is as easy to take advantage of as it is to take for granted, and it’s not just something people like you can turn off like a switch.

“oh, thank you!” the man exclaims as soon as the words come out of your mouth, not wasting a second to grin at you as he says, “you’re really so kind! if you’d just tell the duke here that it was all a misunderstanding and that you’d like to drop all charges, then i’ll be on my way with partial the flowers—”

“make no mistake,” your hands find your hips as your face hardens with a certain strictness even he’s a bit startled by, “if you should come here and cause trouble again, i have the duke’s word to press double the charges next time. i would tread carefully if i were you—don’t ever let me catch you stealing from me again.”

wriothesley stares at you and gapes. he’s sorely mistaken about you—kindness is not the absence of your spitefulness, and the man shrinks back as you stare down at him expectantly.

“o-of course,” he says quickly, “it won’t happen again.”

“good,” you nod, “that’ll be five hundred mora, please.”

“b-but—”

“is there a problem?” you raise a menacing brow, making the man scramble to shake his head. 

“wow,” wriothesley snorts as the man scampers off after fishing enough mora from his pockets, “i suppose i underestimated your ability to handle the situation, miss.”

“i think i owe a good portion of my success to you, your grace,” you bow your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes as you nervously chuckle, “i don’t usually have robberies. the people in this area are familiar with me. they’re quite kind—i’ve never had someone as stubborn as him.”

“well, rest assured, if he bothers you again, you can come to find me for my word at court.”

“i’ll hold onto the offer,” you grin.

that chance meeting becomes history after a while. he comes and pays you a visit every time he’s at the surface, which isn’t all too often, but often enough that you start to look forward to at least one routine visit per month. sometimes, he teases you about whether or not you’ve had new thieves pay you a visit. other times, you make use of his strong hands and built muscles and cheekily order him around to move heavy bags of fertilizer around. 

he likes tea, you learn—he takes a very piqued interest in the jars of dried petals you keep on shelves, ones you tell him are good for making blends for tea, or to boil with water for natural remedies, or to make syrups for beverages like lemonade. it’s a slow, steady, blossoming friendship until, all at once, you feel incomplete without the routine visit from the fortress’s warden. you’re too reliant on the familiarity of explaining flowers, their origins, what stories they share, and what they mean—and likewise, you feel incomplete without his stories from the fortress, what the inmates are up to, and what changes he’s developing to make things better for the people under his wing. 

you like to think he feels the same way; otherwise, he wouldn’t come around as much as he does. 

sometimes he walks you home, and sometimes you invite him for tea. you drink coffee, but you don’t mind the trouble of brewing two beverages if it means some extra time with him in your cozy little home.

like today, where he sits comfortably at your dining table while you cut fresh bulle fruit as tea steeps in the hot water. he watches you with fond eyes, listening as you ramble intently about your recent endeavors at your flower shop.

“—and i think i’ve finally managed to grow a cactus from sumeru long enough to bloom my own henna berries,” you grin, looking at him brightly, pride settling into the crinkles of your eyes, “it did take some trial and error—fontaine rains far too often for cacti to survive, but this one i managed to grow indoors.”

“couldn’t you just get the berries delivered from sumeru? since you have plenty delivered from there already,” he asks in amusement. you huff, rolling your eyes as you walk over, setting the platter of fruit down before him. 

“of course, you’d want to take such a simple route—but plants are far more rewarding when you grow them yourself, you know. plus, every fruit i’ve managed to grow on my own here in fontaine has had a bit of a unique flavor as opposed to ones grown from their original nation. i’d like to see if that’s the case with these berries, too.”

“well, if that’s the case,” he hums, taking a slow sip from the tea you’ve brewed for him—it’s perfectly made to his liking, with two sugar cubes and piping hot just as you’ve learned he prefers. he closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh as the warmth trickles down his throat. “let me try one when they’re ready.”

“of course,” you brighten excitedly, as though the prospect of someone to share such a moment with is one you look forward to. there’s something that tickles in his chest, right beneath his ribcage, at the sight of your wide grin.

you chatter until the sun sets, warm, honeyed rays of orange and pink pouring through your windows and painting his skin vibrant hues. it’s about time for him to leave—you can tell even before he clears his throat and stands, grabbing the plate and mug and heading to the sink.

“i should go,” he says kindly, washing the dishes with so much familiarity that it almost feels domestic and natural to have him here. you shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it enters your head. “thank you for having me this evening.”

“oh, i think we’re past the formalities,” you huff a small laugh, “you’re doing my dishes.”

“technically they’re my dishes,” he chuckles, “since i did dirty them.”

you hum, walking over to where he stands as he turns the faucet off—until a small twist of your ankle has you gasping as you stumble forward. you brace yourself for the impact of the hardwood floor, but instead, you’re met with a firm yet soft chest as strong arms wrap around your waist and catch you before you can fall.

“oh,” you breathe as you open your eyes, staring into him with just as widened pupils as him. 

“are you okay?” he asks quietly, voice just barely audible as he whispers to you—he’s so close, so painfully close, you think the only reason you heard him was because of the proximity. 

“yeah,” you nod. it’s hardly a nod, really—if you were to move your head too much, you’d risk brushing your nose against his. or maybe even your lips. “i’m fine. thank you.”

“yeah, no problem,” his eyes are still trained on yours, and neither of you can find it in yourselves to pull away. you can’t, and he definitely doesn’t, and nothing seems to give as you stare at each other. you’re pressed against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, and there’s a strange beating in both of your chests that you think you can just barely make out.

they almost seem to beat in sync, rapid and untamed. so, so fast, you wonder if it’s even healthy.

you don’t know who does it first—or maybe it was the both of you. all you know is that one second, you’re staring at each other, and the next, your heads are tilted so that your lips meet tentatively. he hesitates at the first brush of your lips, but your hands cup his cheeks and pull him forward, making his eyes flutter shut as he shakily breathes into your mouth. it’s so slow, so dizzyingly slow, that you wonder if time has just stopped altogether to grant you a moment with no interruptions. 

he fits perfectly against you, the soft flesh of his cheeks spilling over your palms, your thumb rubbing affectionately into the skin as he nips at your lips, kissing you like he’s waited his whole life to feel you. the curves of his mouth connect with the curves of yours like pieces of a puzzle, like he was carved to match you from the same stone. 

you’re not sure how long you kiss like that, but slowly, it grows needier, more quick and hasty as your hands leave his cheeks to wander to his hair and gently tug at the strands as his hands wander to your waist and lower back, feeling every curve of you as he groans into your mouth. 

he tries to pull away, but you chase after him, unwilling to let go.

“w-wait,” he mumbles, “maybe we should stop—”

“you really want to?” you ask breathlessly, and all it takes is one glance down at your glossy, swollen lips for him to close his eyes and shiver.

“no,” he admits hoarsely, “i don’t. are…are you sure about this?”

“yes,” you whisper instantly.

he doesn’t waste a moment, quickly pulling you into your bedroom as you both collapse on the mattress. you climb onto his lap, crotch pressing against the semi-hardened erection in his pants, the press of your heat against his bulge earning a low, drawn-out groan from him that shoots straight to your clit with a dull ache. 

“sweetheart,” he says in between kisses, making you inhale sharply at the pet name, “you’re killing me here.”

“okay,” you smile against his mouth, pecking it sweetly before you add, “then let me do something about that.”

he doesn’t expect you to drop down between his legs, face to face with the obvious tent in his pants—wriothesley is a gentleman, a giver before he is a taker. his first instinct is to protest as he opens his mouth and starts to say, “hang on—you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you pout, looking up at him, “please? i want to.”

when was the last time someone looked up at him like that, staring up at him like pleasing him is the only way they’ll survive? he doesn’t recall, doesn’t think it’s ever happened, in fact. he groans, head falling back against your bed frame as he nods slowly. 

“okay,” he concedes, lifting his hips up so you can pull his pants down his legs, leaving him in his boxers. there’s a wet patch where his tip meets the cloth, the evidence of pre cum drooling from his swollen head that makes you hum in satisfaction as you leave a tender kiss on the spot through the fabric. he gasps, hips jolting as his thighs clench at the teasing touch.

“can i?” you purr, hand rubbing soothingly over his tense thigh as he swallows and nods, looking anywhere but at you as he breathes harshly. 

“y-yes,” he grunts, “please.”

you’re freeing his cock as soon as he utters the plead, letting him spring free and meet the cool air. he hisses, gritting his teeth as his chest rises and falls erratically, labored breaths that he tries to use to calm himself as he stands painfully hard between his legs. 

“pretty,” you murmur, entranced at the sheer size of him—he’s flushed an almost painful red at his thick tip, leaking enough pre cum that you’d think he might have already had his release with the way it runs down the side of his hardened length. 

your hand wraps gently around the tip, thumb smearing the pre cum along the tip before coating the rest of his cock, using it as lubrication for the steady stroke of your hand along the girth. he throws his head back, groaning as his hips buck into your touch before he stops himself, frantically trying to keep himself still and let you take your time. 

“f-fuck,” he rasps, “that…that feels nice.”

“yeah?” you breathe, smiling as you press a kiss to his thigh as he chokes on a grunt while your hand slowly pumps him. “am i doing it right?”

“you’re doing just fine,” he assures, biting his lip as he finally can’t keep himself from bucking impatiently into your fist any longer, “feel free to do more, though.”

you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lip before gliding your tongue through his slit and watching as he melts against your bed frame at the gesture, body loosening up like he’s limbless as you slowly take him into your mouth, swallowing around his cock and bobbing your head, pumping the rest with your hand that you can’t fit down your throat. 

“shit,” he curses, hand cupping the back of your head as he guides you up and down his length, moaning your name when you swirl your tongue around the tip, “you…you’re so good at this, yeah? take me so well in that pretty mouth of yours.”

you hum around him, making him cry out at the vibrations around his cock, one hand running through his hair as he tries to keep himself grounded, the other still cradling the back of your head. he’s a gentleman, though, living up to one just as much as he always lets on to be when he doesn’t force you to take more of him by pushing your head down or burying himself deeper into your throat by fucking his hips into your mouth. he lets you do things at your own pace, and you think it’s enough when you feel the telling signs of his release as his panting grows harsher and his cock twitches in your mouth.

“w-wait, wait,” he says frantically, “i’ll cum—i’ll cum. not yet, not until i have you.”

you reluctantly pull away, a trail of spit connecting from your lips to his tip that makes him close his eyes and groan, clenching his jaw as his near-orgasm dies down to nothing again. his cock is achingly hard, hot and swollen and throbbing after denying himself for the sake of feeling you.

“c’mere,” he motions for you to climb onto his lap. you do, sitting on his thigh as he slowly trails a thumb under your shirt, rubbing the skin with a feather-light, heated touch that has you shivering against him. “you sure you want this?”

“i want it,” you whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his lips that he reciprocates with a low hum of approval, “with you.”

“such a sweet way with words,” he murmurs, slowly pulling your blouse over your head and unclasping your bra, tossing them to the side as he marvels at the view of your tits. “such a sweet view, too. beautiful.” 

you flush at the praise, looking away. but his hands grab at your breasts, large as they cup them and massage lightly, thumbs running over the pert nipples as you shudder and breathe out a light gasp. 

“wriothesley, need more—”

“give me a moment,” he shushes you, “and then i’ll give you what you want.”

he admires you like that for a bit, sat on his thigh as your eyes flutter shut and his thumbs tease your nipples, wetness pooling in your core that he can feel on his thigh—you’d be embarrassed, you really would, but it’s not as though his cock is any less leaky at the head. 

finally, he inhales sharply, sitting up slightly to unbutton his shirt, revealing the scars down his chest before he helps you out of your pants. you stare at the harsh, jagged lines that pain his skin, raised, discolored skin, the only evidence of some brutal, vicious past that he survived. 

your thumb traces down the lines, making him shiver at the fragileness behind the touch.

“where’d you get this?” you murmur, staring at him curiously. 

“hmm? oh the scar on my body? it's from a gash i got while battling a gigantic undersea monster that tried to take over the fortress of meropide…” he stares at you cheekily as you blink, looking at him unimpressed. “hah, just kidding.”

“do you ever take anything seriously?” you shake your head and huff, but there’s endearment on your face as you fight back a smile.

“on the contrary, milady,” he murmurs, grabbing your hips and pulling you back slightly, exposing your drenched cunt before he slowly sinks two fingers into your folds and curls them against the back of your walls, “i take this quite seriously.”

you gasp at the feeling, his digits rubbing against your walls and angling to hit a sensitive, achingly sweet spot at the back of your cunt. it’s precise, the way he pumps his fingers into you, slowly sinking in a third digit while you mewl and throw your head back. the heel of his palm catches against your clit, the sweet friction building your orgasm up slowly, slowly, until suddenly, you’re near the edge all at once. 

“c’mon, don’t hold back now,” he drawls, voice low and sweet and so attractive, you feel like the sound of him alone is enough to send you tumbling over the edge, “why don’t you be a sweet little thing and let go for me, hm?”

you do—instantly, you do, crying out his name is choked garbles as he works you through your orgasm with his fingers, still thrusting into you with a precise pace. finally, when you’re done clenching around him, he pulls his digits out, the slickness of your pussy coating them as he hums in satisfaction. 

“think you’re ready?” he asks softly, cradling the back of your head with his good hand as he pulls you closer, “or do you need one more from me?”

“i’m ready,” you huff impatiently, “i need you, need to feel you already.”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, amused but not anymore patient himself as his cock pulses between his legs, “i’m not trying to wait any longer, either. do you have a…uh…y-you know…”

you snort at the way he trails off awkwardly, flushing at the thought of asking for a condom as if he’s not completely nude under you. “no,” you giggle, pinching his cheek as he huffs, “but we don’t need one. it’s fine.”

“okay,” he nods slowly. his hands grab at your hips, firm yet so gentle with the way they lift you up and guide you to angle over his swollen cock, slowly helping you sink down on him as he chokes on a grunt when his head pushes past your folds. 

you gasp as soon as he intrudes into your tight hole, splitting you open on his thick girth as you take him inch by inch until you’re sat on his lap completely, buried completely with his length as his jaw clenches at the tight squeeze of you around him. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob brokenly, unable to say anything else besides cracked repeats of his name. he’s so big, buried so deep, and leaving you so full, you’re not sure if you have it in you to fuck onto him from this position. 

he takes things into his own hands, though—roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you back before helping you sink back down on him again, rolling his own hips upward to bury deeper into you. your head spins, and all you can think to do is weakly plant your hands onto his shoulders before you roll your hips, grinding down on his length and sloppily fucking yourself onto him.

he bullies past your folds, curves deliciously into the most intimate parts of you, fat tip slamming against the soft, sensitive spot that makes you see white. pleasure burns up your spine, building a coil in your belly that grows tighter, tighter, tighter—so close yet so far from snapping and letting you plummet into your second release. 

“that’s it,” he grunts, “fuck—you’re so tight, so good. i’ve…i’ve never felt anything so good. it’s like you were made for me, weren’t you? take me so well, fit around me so well.”

his hand moves to your clit, thumb pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbing merciless circles against it as you mewl, head burying into his neck as your nails claw at his shoulder. everything is so good—so hot and filthy and leaves you impatiently desperate for some form of release. the friction of his cock dragging along every ridge leaves your mind hazed, and the harsh press of his tip against your sweet spot leaves your vision blurry. 

you’re not sure how you even have the strength to rock yourself onto his stiff length, but somehow you manage, and he seems keen on helping you, too, with rough, bruising hands that grip your waist with a punishingly tight grasp.

“c-can’t hold on much longer,” you cry, voice a strangled sob that’s muffled into his skin, “i’m s-so close. please.”

“me too,” he pants, voice just as strained as yours as he moans through a cracked voice when you clench down on his particularly tightly, “me too, sweetheart. i’m right there with you, alright? let go—c-c’mon.”

once more, you cum around him—this time on his cock instead of his fingers, and if the first time felt good, the second time is devastating. your vision practically goes white as your walls spasm around him, slick and dripping with your release and mixing with his own as he follows you not long after. his cock jolts, pumping hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep into you, and both of your bodies are slumped against one another as you barely roll your hips, sloppy pace with no rhythm as you focus on getting yourselves through the ecstasies of your orgasms. 

his thumb is still pressing against your clit, and your hands have left his shoulders to bury into his sweaty hair, tugging fiercely at the dark strands and making him groan at the mix of pain and pleasure. 

finally, you both ride out the final few waves, him slumping against your bed as you fall against his sturdy chest, face still buried into his neck. sweat clings to your skin, but you don’t mind the feeling of his damp skin against yours, not when the warmth of your body makes the afterglow feel so sweet. your fingers thread through his hair, soothing over his scalp with the rake of your nails where you’d just tugged so harshly, and his palms glide up and down your hips, rubbing gentleness back into the parts where he dug bruises along the skin. 

“wait, is that watering can supposed to be a dog?” he asks out of the blue, making you lift your head and look over your shoulder.

“yes,” you quirk a brow, watching as he lets out a small snort as he looks at the watering can by your plants in wonder.

“it’s pretty ugly.”

“rude!” you gasp, pulling away slightly as he shakes under you in laughter, “i think it’s adorable!”

“do you now?” he bites his lips, attempting to suppress the smile that threatens to take over, “you have…interesting taste.”

“oh, you’re dead to me,” you spit dramatically, collapsing back against his chest as you bury your head into his neck again. “dead to me, i say.”

“my apologies,” he snickers. his hand rubs slowly into your hip, quietly humming for a moment before he asks, “what made you so passionate about plants?”

“i can’t just really like them?” you challenge.

“sure,” he shrugs, eyeing the watering can again as he smiles, “but you don’t give the impression that you just happen to just really like leaves, and that’s it.”

“there’s more to plants than leaves,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. and then, much gentler this time, “my father was a scholar from sumeru. an herbologist.” your voice is a quiet murmur, a low hum as you speak into his neck while his hands are still rubbing into your hips, “i used to be fascinated by his journals and all the plants he’d seen. he died when i was young, so sometimes…sometimes i try to grow them here in fontaine myself. just to feel close to him.”

“do you?” he asks quietly, staring at the various plants that decorate your small home. it’s cozy, he thinks, so lively and warm that it almost doesn’t feel like you’re the only inhabitant. “do you feel close to him when you do?”

“if it works,” you admit, “it’s not always easy to recreate the same conditions they’re meant to grow in.”

“i think you do an impressive job,” he praises, earning a slow smile from you that he can feel curve into his skin, “i’ve yet to come across a flower shop in fontaine with as much variety as yours.”

“you flatter me, your grace,” you chuckle, pulling away as you stare at him, the tousled hair from where his hand ran through, the swollen bottom lip where his teeth sank in, the flushed skin where heat settled. you take all of it in slowly, admiring him as he looks up at you through lidded eyes.

“do i? i meant it seriously, not in flattery,” he raises a brow and smirks, “if i wanted to try flattery on you, i think i’d have some other choice words.”

“don’t be so insatiable,” you gently swat at his chest, earning a chuckle from him. “will you be able to stop by tomorrow?”

“i’m afraid not,” he sighs, “i have a meeting with some people from the palais tomorrow at the fortress. it’ll run a bit late.”

“oh,” you try to hide the disappointment in your voice, but he seems to sense it instantly. “that’s okay. i just had a blend i thought you might like to try—for tea, that is. it’s um…i dried the petals myself, and it’s new. i thought i’d let you be the first to try it to let me know what you think.”

you try not to giggle at the way he perks up at the mention of tea.

“ah, i’m afraid i won’t have time tomorrow. but…” he coughs, trailing off as he looks away, contemplating his words.

“but…?” you press.

“but…well, i have a few guards returning tomorrow from the surface from a few tasks i gave them. i could have them stop by the shop to escort you down to the fortress if that works for you…it’s okay if you can’t, though! i can always come by sometime this week when my duties aren’t as—”

“that sounds nice,” you cut him off, grinning widely, something close to excitement blooming across your features, brighter than any set of petals in your shop, he thinks. “you can give me an official tour of the fortress, perhaps. i’ve only ever heard about it through stories.”

“as you wish, my lady,” he winks.

he leaves not too long after—you try not to focus on his lingering scent in your sheets once you settle back in after bidding him goodbye. it’s oddly peaceful, being surrounded by him even when he’s not there, and sleep lulls over you quicker than usual. 

the scent is faded by the time you wake up, so you take one last deep breath to inhale it before you set off to get ready for the day, counting down the hours before you get to see him again.

——————————

as promised, a group of fortress guards stop by your shop, politely waiting for you to close up before you join them on their return. 

the fortress is darker than you expected—but not at all as small as your mind anticipated. in fact, it’s huge. you follow the guards, making idle chatter as they take you up an elevator, up, and up, and up—until finally, you finally arrive on the floor of his office. 

you’re so busy taking in all you can of the fortress that by the time they escort you to his office door, you remember why you’re here in the first place. to bring wriothesley dried petals of sweet flowers that you grew yourself—flowers often make for a wonderful tea blend, and learning his passionate liking for the drink makes you feel compelled to share with him every one of the various floral teas you’ve learned about in your time as a florist. 

you knock on the door of his office—except, oddly enough, there’s more than one voice you can make out from the room. you didn’t think his meeting would still be in session by the time you arrived, making you anxiously regret the knock as soon as your knuckles leave the surface of the door.  

but he answers before you can think too much of it. “come in,” his voice calls. 

“your grace,” you hum, stepping in, “if this is a bad time, then i can…”

you trail off. both fontaine’s chief justice and champion duelist stand in his office, gathered around his desk as he sits and sifts through files. of course, wriothesley is a duke, which is no small title by any means, but you’re caught more than a little off guard as you step in and share the room with two of fontaine’s more important figures in the justice system.

“no,” he says casually, “come in, you’re right on time. i was just telling miss clorinde about the delicious tea blend you would bring for her to try. she couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

“if you want to try it so badly, just say so,” she rolls her eyes.

“fine,” he huffs, lips curling into a slight pout, “i’d like to try the tea you promised me. clorinde will pass, though.”

“i think i’ll try it, as well,” she chimes in, suppressing a smile as wriothesley crosses his arms.

“but you just said—”

you giggle, walking over as you hand him the bag with dried petals, grinning at the amusing dynamic, and murmur, “i believe it would be the polite thing to do if you made an extra cup for the madam while making yours.”

“picking her side, are we? such an act of betrayal won’t be forgotten,” he huffs. still, almost as excited as a child opening a present, he opens the bag to add the petals to the tea maker he keeps at his desk. you watch with fondness at the action. “you still owe me a present, by the way. and tea won’t do—i’ve just received a batch.”

“then i suppose i can gift you a new tie,” clorinde hums, eyeing the loosened tie around his neck and making him furrow his brows as he subconsciously straightens it, “something that fits your neck better so you look a bit more put together.”

it’s almost like she sees through the both of you, eyeing between you and him with a hint of a knowing glint in her eyes. wriothesley scowls, giving her a petulant glare.

“there’s nothing wrong with my tie. i look just fine.”

“i do believe it’s a stylistic choice,” neuvillette pipes up from the side, “it doesn’t seem to be an issue with the tie itself.”

you snort at the way the joke flies over his head. “you’re right, monsieur,” you join in the banter, “i do believe his grace has a rather…unique choice of style.”

“i wonder if he ever plans to properly wear the coat he always seems to keep hanging over his shoulders,” clorinde adds, the earlier grin she attempted to fight back now fully curled into her lips. you laugh, much to wriothesley’s dismay.

“perhaps he just values being prepared,” you hum, “one can never tell when the fortress will suddenly be too cold. someone as busy as the duke surely can’t afford the wasted time to go and fetch a coat.”

“ah,” she nods, “i suppose you’re right. he is too busy learning legal codes as of late.”

“i take it that my gift has been useful, then?” neuvillette brightens, turning to a miserable wriothesley as he rubs his temples wearily.

“most helpful,” he sighs, not bothering to explain to the iudex that he’s once more missed the point of the joke. 

“oh, we’re only joking,” you laugh, taking the tea cup sitting at his desk and pouring him a glass of the now freshly brewed tea, “it’s all in good fun, your grace.”

“wriothesley is just fine,” he mumbles, “as you can see, this isn’t a very…formal meeting.” 

he watches as you carefully make his cup, one sugar cube as opposed to his usual two—before he can point it out, however, you beat him to it. “i know you’re particular about your tea. i can see it on your face you’re about to insist i give you two, but this is a very sweet blend as it is. one will suffice.”

“careful when it comes to his tea,” clorinde warns, “he’ll be in a foul mood all day if it doesn’t live up to his standards.”

“not true,” he grumbles. as if to prove a point, he takes a sip, slowly blinking before he looks at you with an awed grin, “it’s lovely. you’re right, it is just perfectly sweet with one cube.”

“perhaps you’re the only person he won’t make a fuss with then,” clorinde teases, “he’s got quite the list of grievances if i make him a cup of tea.”

“that’s because you don’t know how to make proper tea,” wriothesley rolls his eyes, “there’s a set of steps you’re meant to follow, you know.”

“water is a most simple beverage,” the iudex cuts in, “one that has many complexities in flavor, as well. perhaps you should consider it as a fitting option if tea gives you too much trouble.”

“i would hate to think of the wrath the poor inmates would have to face if he were to miss a single tea time,” you grin, fighting back a chuckle as wriothesley takes a tired sip from his cup, resigning himself to his fate as the target of your banter, “water simply won’t do.”

“well, i believe we should be off,” clorinde looks at neuvillette, “perhaps we should leave them to themselves.”

“ah, yes,” the chief justice nods politely, “there are many more files for me to read through at the office.”

“do you ever take the day off?” wriothesley raises a brow, “wouldn’t hurt.”

“even his dreams are of legal cases, i’m sure. he wouldn’t last a day on vacation,” clorinde hums.

“i don’t typically dream when i sleep,” neuvillette frowns, still so serious that you choke on a snort as you try to hold back you giggles. wriothesley looks at you with an amused grin, biting his lip to hide a chuckle himself.

“i’ll be seeing you,” he waves as the two leave, “and hopefully with my present ready next time,” he calls to clorinde with a pointed look. she rolls her eyes, fondly waving as she heads out the door.

“i didn’t know you were friends with such important people,” you murmur as they leave, making him raise a brow as he takes another sip.

“friends isn’t the best title for it—consider us work acquaintances.”

“with banter like that, i hardly believe it,” you chuckle, earning you a half-hearted glare from him over the rim of his tea cup.

“did you have your fun at my expense?” he asks dryly—but there’s no real bite to the words, “it seems you got along quite well with clorinde.”

“monsieur neuvillette is lovely too,” you giggle, “even if he’s not exactly…the earliest to catch onto jokes.”

he laughs at that, setting down his empty cup as he stands, eyeing the door to his office quickly before stepping closer to you, eyes staring down at your lips as you chew on the bottom and wait for him to make his move. 

“thank you for the tea,” he murmurs lowly, lips just barely a millimeter away from yours, “it was quite sweet. i enjoyed it.”

“there are plenty of other floral blends i have for you to try,” you hum. 

he grins, hands finding your waist before he whispers, “surely i couldn’t take all that from you without offering something in return, could i? i wouldn’t want it to seem like i'm taking bribes.”

“oh?” you breathe, grabbing a hold of his tie and tugging him closer until your lips meet his in a slow, heated kiss. it awakens a sick, insatiable heat in your core almost instantly. “what did you have in mind, your grace?”

he groans at the way your voice teasingly lilts at the title, hungrily chasing after your lips again. it’s more tongue than it is anything, messy and almost too scandalous to take place in his office where anyone could knock and come in at a moment’s notice. he seems to know it, too, because slowly, he guides you backward, slow steps that don’t interrupt the lock of your lips until your back meets a door.

“why don’t i show you,” he breathes—and then the doorknob is twisted open, and you’re gently pushed in with an arm curled around your waist to guide you. there’s a bedroom connected to his office, you realize. 

not entirely a shock—you’re sure the duke of the fortress has his own quarters to sleep in away from the other inmates, but it doesn’t surprise you less enough that you don’t pull away to take a glance around. 

it’s empty, mainly. not too many things besides a few scattered files and another tea maker with a few cups surrounding it at a desk in the corner. the sheets are dark grey, plain, and neatly made, with two pillows and nothing else. it has no more than what he needs, no more than what’s necessary. no hints of anything that’s his, anything that makes the room belong to him outside of being a mere sleeping quarters. 

“not one for decor?” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“i only come here at night to sleep,” he shrugs, “never felt the need.”

“everyone needs a space that’s theirs, don’t you think? even a few flowers would brighten the place up.”

“offering me more business?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes, “and they’d die. there isn’t much sun down here.”

“i can think of a few options that would thrive,” you murmur.

“so it is business,” he quips. sigh exasperatedly, and he grins cheekily at you before you’re gently pushed to fall onto his bed, his body moving to hover over you as your legs wrap around his waist. his cock is semi-hard through his pants, and you wiggle your hips to press against it, the friction making him groan as you feel him stiffen even more from your actions. 

“i think i’d like my payment now,” you hum, making him raise a brow.

“eager?” he asks, making your hand travel to squeeze at his bulge.

“and you aren’t?” you challenge.

“fuck,” he grunts, shuddering at the feeling, “looks like you got me.”

it happens faster than you can process—the shedding of clothes, the way his fingers slowly sink into you, pumping in and out expertly as your head spins from the way he brushes against your sensitive spots. he’s quick, the way he stretches you apart with his digits, adding a second and third finger with little to no time to waste. you hardly have time to accommodate the third when you feel a familiar ache building up steadily. 

“c-close,” you say shakily, voice brokenly whispering against his mouth as he drinks up your moans, “i’m going to—”

“i know,” he hums, “shh. just let go—you’re doing so well.” 

the praise shatters you—you break at the way he sounds so in awe of you, of the way you suck his fingers into your slick cunt, so tight and wet with every clench. your back arches, and your hips roll into his hand, whimpering as his palm rolls over your sensitive clit. “god,” you gasp, “wriothesley, please.”

“please what?” he drawls, “you already got what you needed.”

“please let me feel you.”

“such a demanding price for some tea,” he sighs, “alright. i guess i can afford it.”

the nudge of his cock against your folds is enough to make you mewl, a sweet, whiny little cry that he groans at—every sound you make leaves an ache shooting up his stiff cock in the form of a twitch, like your every cry calls out to him. he responds with a rough thrust of his hips, burying himself into the depths of you, so deep and so close you can practically feel his pulse alongside yours. 

“so full,” you gasp, panting as you try to adjust to the sheer girth of him. he waits a moment, jaw clenched and teeth grit as he waits for you to nod your head and signal him to move.

“and you’re so tight,” he grunts, moaning softly against your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe, “i wouldn’t mind it if you charged interest either, just so you know. i’ll pay it over as many times as you want.”

“oh be quiet, would you?” you roll your eyes at his words at first, but then they roll back at the feeling of his thick, swollen tip pressing against the deep, sweet spot in the back of your walls. he lets out a breathy laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth so he doesn’t muffle the precious little moan you let out. 

“sure thing,” he hums, “i like listening to you more, anyway.”

“oh,” you gasp, “oh—wriothesley!” his finger teases over your clit, making your walls quiver around him as you feel your second orgasm creep up on you. “w-wait—i’m close.”

“why would i wait?” he asks in amusement, “that’s the idea.”

“t-together,” you whimper, pouting up at him through swollen lips and watery eyes, “please. please.”

he curses, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily at the way you look so fucked out, so drunkenly hazed on pleasure from the drag of his cock along your every ridge. you ask so sweetly—and who is he to deny such an innocent request?

“fuck—okay, sweetheart. fine by me,” he pants, rolling his hips harshly as he works himself to his own orgasm. his thumb teases your clit cruelly, fast and merciless one second, and a slow, bare feather’s touch the next. it keeps you right on the edge, a drooling mess of broken pleas as he finally approaches his own high. “close?”

“so close,” you gasp, twitching as he buries himself deep into you again.

“me too,” his voice cracks, “c-cum with me—please.”

hearing him plead sends you over the edge again—your first orgasm pales in comparison to your second. you didn’t even think that was possible, but the thick of his cock bullying into you is infinitely better than his nimble digits. the blunt head hits all the right spots, curves in all the right angles, and fucks you through your high expertly without even trying. 

you both cry out each other's names like prayers, muffled strings of curses, and breathy gasps that you swallow up between slow, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. finally, when the last few twitches of his cock finish painting his release into you, he slumps on the bed beside your body, body shaking in slight tremors as he catches his breath. 

“you okay?” he asks through a labored voice, “didn’t hurt you?”

“i’m okay,” you breathe, smiling softly. he closes his eyes, relaxing into the mattress, pulling the covers to tuck the both of you in before he stares up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head while he seems to be deep in thought. “what’re you thinking about?” you murmur.

“just how good you got along with clorinde,” he hums quietly, almost in wonder. “she’s not exactly the easiest to banter with so quickly.”

“well, i guess it’s not too hard if it’s at your expense,” you tease.

“ah, yes,” he sighs, pretending to woefully shake his head, “i’ve been reduced to the butt of the joke one too many times today, it seems.”

he grins to himself at the sound of your quiet laughter, so soft and sweet, so perfectly filling up the quietness in the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears like a symphony. you stare up at the ceiling yourself, eyeing the pipes, the dark amber metal that makes up his home. it’s quiet like that for a bit—not awkward or uneasy, almost like you’ve known him for ages. almost like this is natural.

“can i ask you something?” you murmur after some time, shifting under the covers to face him. 

he raises a brow, looking at you curiously. “you’re scaring me with that look. going to confess some wicked crime you want me to help you hide?”

“it’s not like that,” you huff, rolling your eyes. carefully, as if treading unknown territories (you are, in all fairness), your fingers find his bicep, running along the skin soothingly. it’s an affectionate touch—you and wriothesley only touch each other for physical pleasure, nothing more. this is new, something you’re freshly navigating with a weak compass that points back and forth between your heart and your head, unsure whether to follow logic or emotion. 

“well, go ahead and ask,” he insists, “you’ve got me curious, anyway.”

“what…what did you serve for? when you were an inmate,” you say quietly. he tenses under your touch, muscles becoming rigid as you instantly regret the question. your fingers pull away at the same time as you start speaking, “it’s okay if you don’t want to answer! i just got curious and—”

his hand catches your retreating wrist, gently pulling it closer, closer, until your hand rests on his chest. this is definitely uncharted territory—but his hand firmly lays over yours as he presses your palm over his bare chest. 

“it’s fine,” he mumbles, “it’s not exactly something people in my inner circle don’t know.”

“oh,” you whisper, “i’ve been promoted to inner circle, huh?”

“you’ve seen me naked,” he snorts, eyeing you with a hint of amused disbelief, “you’ve sucked me off, in fact. i think there’s a special other circle inside the circle just for you.”

“okay, no need to get all…”

“all what?” he teases, waiting for you to finish.

“all uncouth about our activities!” you huff, face feeling hot as he grins.

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you against his side so your cheek presses against a muscled pec as his warm hand traces circles into your hip. you gasp slightly at the sudden gesture but relax all too quickly, your own hand moving to rub into his chest slowly, feeling the rough scars and tracing them with your fingertips.

“i was adopted when i was young from an orphanage. when i was a bit older,” he swallows, voice quiet, serious—so oddly vulnerable, you think you’re talking to a new version of him altogether, “i found a diary in my mother’s drawer. i didn’t…i didn’t mean to snoop. i was just looking for some paper for my sister to color with.”

“you had a sister?” you ask softly, looking up to see his jaw tighten slightly. 

“i had quite a few siblings,” he admits, voice strained. “older and younger. my parents would adopt a few children at a time and raise them until they were old enough to be adopted into families of greater means. and then they’d adopt more younger children. i thought they were perfect parents,” his eyes stare off distantly, unfocused as they look up at the ceiling, hand mindlessly wandering along your hip as you listen.

“until…?”

“until i read that diary,” his voice hardens, still strained as he clenches his jaw and swallows thickly again, “they were records. of my older siblings, the ones i thought were adopted off. all of their names were followed by prices, and the ones who didn’t have prices had been crossed off. i didn’t understand until i saw my own name and my brother antoine’s. we had blank spaces next to ours.”

“how come?” you furrow your brows, looking at him in jarred curiosity. 

“because we weren’t sold yet,” he smiles ruefully, “i realized we were being sold off like livestock. and i started to piece together why i had never heard from any of my siblings even when they’d promised to write. i…i never knew what became of them.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you say gently, so delicate, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. you press a soft kiss to his chest under you, hand moving up to cup his cheek, “what awful people.”

“i…i should have kept it to myself,” he whispers shakily, “i didn’t…i couldn’t figure out what to do, so i told antoine—i thought…i figured maybe…” he trails off, eyes closed once more as he breathes heavily, trying to collect the composure he fights so fiercely to keep.

“it’s okay,” you kiss his jaw, “we can forget about it. i’m sorry for—”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i want you to know.”

it should make you feel special—maybe even a little happy that he trusts you enough to want to share. but nothing about this makes you feel anything but pain—you can feel his pain, every inch of it. from the way his hand clasps around your waist in a shaky grip to ground himself to the way his jaw is tight under your lips as they press a soothing kiss to the angle of it. every part of him is in pain, and you can feel it. deep in your own bones, like a lingering ache. one that runs years deep, living in the deepest, most intimate parts of your body.

you don’t mind it, though. you don’t mind sharing his pain, not if it’s him.

“okay,” you nod slowly, “okay.”

he inhales sharply, taking a deep breath before he continues. “i told him because i knew we were next. i thought maybe we could have figured out a plan together. but he asked my mother about the diary, what the prices meant, and why we’d never heard from the others once they’d left. he was gone the next morning—my mother told us he was adopted, but i knew. i knew he was merely disposed of. and it was my fault.”

“it was not your fault,” you turn your head swiftly, looking up at him in disbelief as he scoffs and shakes his head.

“if i hadn’t told him, if i handled it on my own—”

“then what? he would have been fine? you don’t know that, what if he was sold off for something awful? or found out on his own without you? you were a child, and you didn’t know that he’d choose to do that.”

“but i still could have kept quiet,” he chuckles dryly, voice cracking as he adds, “i could have gotten us both out of there. on my own.”

“you shouldn’t have to have done it on your own,” you cup his cheek, bringing him to face you as your forehead presses against his, “you didn’t want to be on your own, did you?”

“no,” he admits, lips trembling, “i didn’t.”

“and that’s okay,” you murmur, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone, “you didn’t deserve to be alone.”

“maybe it was for the better, though,” he sniffles.

“a lot of things are. we can’t hope to predict everything for what would turn out better.”

“he died,” wriothesley chokes, “my brother. he died that night—i…i knew he did. so i ran the next day, when my parents were busy, i snuck off and ran. i didn’t come back until a few years later and i…” his breath catches in his throat, glancing at you for a moment. there’s something fleeting in his eyes. doubt, maybe—perhaps even fear.

you’re not entirely sure, but you press a kiss to his lips, soft and tender, so unlike your usual heated ones. something that’s shared not for the sake of pleasure but for the sake of knowing you’re there—that he has you. you’re both here, together, just the two of you. he can feel your warmth, and you can feel his. 

it eases the tension somewhat, making his rigid muscles relax as he pulls you closer. 

you pull away first, murmuring a soft, “i don’t care what you did. whatever it is.”

“you say that now,” he chuckles weakly, “but you don’t even know what i did.”

“i don’t care,” you say seriously, “i don’t. whatever you did, it was because you didn’t have a choice.”

“i killed them,” he says against your mouth, such harsh, dark words that don’t belong against your soft, pure lips—he thinks he might have just tainted them. almost like you know his thoughts, you prove you don’t care when you peck his mouth lightly. “i killed them and set the other children free.”

“you were just a kid,” you breathe, “a baby.”

“a teenager,” he huffs a laugh hoarsely, “maybe not that young.”

“a baby to me,” you say firmly, “no one that young should be pushed to such extreme methods.”

“you’re oddly calm about sharing a bed with a murderer. was the sex that good?”

you roll over, laying on top of him, pulling a soft oof from his lips—you know it’s exaggerated. he’s strong and broad under you, capable of taking your weight and then some as his hands find your waist to keep you in place, eyes boring into yours. so bare and so easy for you to look into, to read, to see so plainly for all he is. 

he doesn’t even blink—as if he’s offering himself to you, trusting you to see as much as you want, see as much of him as he can show you. 

“is that all you see yourself as? a murderer?” you ask seriously.

“of course not,” he denies, breathing softly into your hands as they cradle his face, “but it’s the part of me that matters most. that defines me the most. whether i want it to or not.”

“not to me,” you shake your head, “and not to you either, i can tell.”

“i know why i did it,” he tells you, staring at you so intensely, you feel like maybe he’s seeing you more than you’re seeing him, “i did it for my siblings. because i knew it was the only way to get them out. no one else would do a thing. but when you strip my title as duke from me, whether you put me in the underworld or put me in the overworld, i am a murderer. that won’t change.”

“and?” you raise a brow, “do you regret it? what you did?”

“never,” he says instantly. he means it. “but i’m aware of what i am to others. what they see me as. i’m not naive enough to believe my past will go away.”

“and it shouldn’t,” you shake your head, “i don’t think it should. i don’t think murder is what matters most about you—i think a child raised like livestock, betrayed, and taken advantage of, matters most. a boy who willingly gave up his freedom so his siblings would have theirs is what matters most. a man who served his time and chose to stay so he could make things better for everyone who followed is what matters. death was a kind fate for your parents, wriothesley—i for one, believe there were more fitting fates for them. far crueler ones than a peaceful demise.”

he chuckles at that last part, staring at you in wonder, in slight amusement, in so much awe that you almost feel shy.

“now i’m really questioning if the sex was that good—you’re really rationalizing my crimes, aren’t you?”

“oh, you’re such an asshole, do you know that?” you huff, “i think that’s what defines you best. a complete, utter, shameless assho—oh.”

he kisses you—abruptly so. his lips are pressed hard and firm against you, kissing with so much conviction, so much need, you’d think that you were disintegrating in his arms, that this was his last opportunity to kiss you and commit how you feel to memory. 

“you sure it’s not my stamina?” he wiggles his brows, “how about my—”

“i’ll see to it that this is the last time we ever engage in such activities if that’s all you can focus on—”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, pouting as he pulls you down to lay on him, your head tucking under his chin as he kisses the crown of your head, “enough sex jokes. i promise.”

“so crass,” you scold, “have some decorum, will you?”

“my apologies, milady,” he sighs regretfully, voice exaggerated and theatrical as he adds, “i won’t allow myself to forget my manners again. from here on out, i’ll make sure to discuss more…gentlemanly topics for your liking.”

“you’re a real handful,” you sigh, “poor sigewinne. such a sweet little angel to put up with the likes of you.”

“you met her?” he smiles fondly at the mention of her.

“briefly, yes,” you nod, “the poor thing must be tired of your antics.”

“i’m on my best behavior around her!” he insists, “you can ask her.”

“i don’t think she’ll vouch for you, you know.”

“yeah, you’re probably right,” he withers in defeat.

you giggle, kissing his collarbone softly before nuzzling against him as he relaxes. it’s comfortably silent, just your body against his, warmth seeping between the space that hardly separates your bodies, spreading across your skin. you share your heat, and he shares his. it lulls you, slowly but surely, and you can feel it lull him, too as his breath slowly evens out under you. 

sleep is just a breath away from clutching you when you mumble, “wriothesley?”

“hmm?” comes his sleepy hum.

“thank you,” you whisper, yawning, “for trusting me. enough to tell me.”

“go to sleep,” he grunts tiredly, “you can be sappy and sentimental in the morning.”

“okay,” you grin tiredly, pressing closer into him, “i’ll hold you to it.”

sleep comes quickly after that—so easy, so natural in his arms, you wonder how you’ve rested all these years without him. 

——————————

your routine to meet with wriothesley ebbs and flows between the surface and the fortress. sometimes, he stops by just like before, and sometimes, he sends for guards to fetch you when he’s too busy to make an appearance himself. your meetings more or less end the same—catching your breath together, bare bodies huddled together in a tired mess as you share quiet, whispered words into each other’s skin. it’s a routine that both of you are too used to by now, that even a short gap of not seeing each other makes the both of you impatient for the next time you’ll get to see each other. 

on days you can’t afford to see each other, your days at the shop drag by slower when all you can do is think about him. sometimes, the guards will be relieved to come to escort you, woefully expressing the awful mood the duke has been in, shuddering as they recall how unpleasant he is to be around when he’s unhappy. they seem to insist your visits are what help end his supposed awful temperament—your instinct is always to flush and insist they must be mistaken.

but it’s an intimate sort of development—the way the two of you slowly learn to depend on each other for comfort. you on long days at the shop, him after tiresome affairs with the fortress. every delicate touch and every saccharine word you exchange slowly peels away the harsh layers of the week, leaving you raw and bare to each other. 

it’s nice. something you’ve grown a bit dependent on, in fact. a part of you would like to be scared, but wriothesley doesn’t let you fear anything—it’s just the kind of guy he is. everything about him feels too safe for you to consider being scared. 

you miss him terribly, too. you haven’t gotten a chance to see him in over a week—it’s the first week of spring, the blooming season for a number of flowers. you have shipments from across the continent—cecilias from mondstadt, silk jades from liyue, sakura blossoms from inazuma, and padisarahs from sumeru. there are plenty more—too many for you to list off the top of your head, but those are the ones you’re sure will sell out the quickest. 

there’s a certain man who stops by every day, a mop of ginger on his head and an interesting aura about him as he asks you if you’ve received kalpalata lotuses yet—they’re for my sister, he tells you, i bring them home for her every time i visit sumeru. but i won’t have a chance for quite a while.

you learn he’s a harbinger, the eleventh in rank, and hardly one to step foot in his homeland for too long at a time. but he’s due back, he tells you, for a project that won’t allow him to leave for quite some time. mingling with a fatui operative is hardly on your list of possibilities for the week, but you realize even a harbinger can appreciate the beauty of flowers. so you promise him your batch's biggest blooms as soon as they are delivered. 

and he’s patient, coming every day in hopes that they’ve been delivered, helping you organize the deliveries you do get, going as far as to join you to loch urania amidst a terrible storm to assist in picking lakelight lilies when you’re low. you appreciate the small companionship you’ve formed with him—childe, as he’s called, he tells you. a code name for his place as a harbinger that you relish in being given the knowledge of.  

the day finally comes when the lotuses are delivered, and for all his help and kindness, you try to repay him with a free bouquet. 

he declines persistently. “no, no miss,” he chuckles, waving his hands in dismissal as you offer the beautifully bundled flowers, “i couldn’t possibly accept them free of charge.”

“oh, don’t be silly,” you huff, “you’ve done plenty for me. an extra set of hands in the shop is as rare as glaze lilies blooming in midwinter!”

“i was happy to help,” he chirps, “i had a good time occupying myself as i waited to depart fontaine.”

��and archons know when the next time you’ll return is,” you sigh, “which is why you should accept these as a parting gift.”

“a parting gift, huh?” your eyes widen at the familiar voice—wriothesley. it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve heard it, and you beam as you look over at his approaching figure.

“wriothesley!” you hum, “what are you doing here?”

“thought i’d come to pay a visit,” he says gruffly, eyeing childe, who grins tightly at the warden. “i wasn’t banking on seeing an ex-inmate, though. what a shocking surprise.”

“the fortress’s duke in broad daylight,” childe coos, “what a fascinating sight.”

it’s tense—you can feel the atmosphere shift all too quickly as the two men stare each other down. 

“i didn’t know childe was a prisoner at the fortress,” you murmur, making the warden scoff as he glares at the harbinger.

“well,” childe shrugs, eyes sharp as they gaze at wriothesley, “i like to consider myself wrongly sentenced. justice isn’t always fair in the courts of fontaine, it seems.”

“ah, is that why you escaped from your sentence early?”

“i believe my escape proved to be quite helpful in saving the people of this nation in the end, didn’t it?” he asks, voice low, almost predatory, as wriothesley grits his jaw, glancing back at you before crossing his arms. 

“is the fatui boy giving you trouble?” he asks, making you shake your head frantically as the harbinger lets out a dry chuckle from the side. 

“oh, no!” you insist, “no, childe has been quite helpful, i promise. he’s given quite a hand, in fact!”

“is that so?” wriothesley perches a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he glares to the side at the smug ginger. 

“oh, absolutely,” childe nods, “you see, i’ve been offering the lovely lady my assistance as i waited on my delivery. we even visited loch urania together to pick lakelight lilies for a bouquet she needed to deliver.”

“he treated me to lunch,” you beam innocently. you might have missed the way wriothesley’s jaw tightens, but childe certainly doesn’t, making his grin spread even wider. “he’s nice, wriothesley, i promise. i hope you both can sort out whatever differences you had during his previous sentence.”

“perhaps next time, you could join us for lunch,” childe drawls, “it’ll be on me.”

“a kind offer,” the duke chuckles dryly, a rueful grin on his tight lips as he adds, “but i’ll have to decline.”

“please, i really insist you take these lotuses,” you hold the bouquet out to the harbinger, and much to wriothesley’s dismay, there’s an evident amount of extra care put into the floral packaging. your careful handwriting in soft, looped letters spelling out his name across the paper, with a heart beside it as though you took time to thoughtfully scribble each letter just for him. “give your sister my best regards.”

“you know his sister?” wriothesley grits.

“oh no,” you chuckle, “but he tells me of her. the flowers are for her!”

“like i said,” childe hums, taking out a heavy pouch of mora and placing it on your counter—both yours and wriothesley’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of mora you’re sure is inside. it’s undoubtedly far more than a small, simple bouquet would cost, but he waves it off like it’s nothing as he says, “i insist on giving you the payment you deserve. you’ve certainly made my last few days here at fontaine interesting. it’s made up for the less than…welcoming treatment from the beginning of my trip.”

wriothesley’s eye all but twitches. 

“that’s far too much to accept for a small bunch of kalpalata lotuses, you can’t—”

“consider it a payment in advance for the next time i return to fontaine,” he winks, “i’ll be sure to visit for more of your lovely flowers. i’m sure my mother will appreciate a bouquet too.”

with that, he waves at you, walking off with a grin as you sigh and shake your head fondly, waving him off as you call, “you’re quite the handful, you know. do visit again next time you’re here!”

“oh, i wouldn’t miss the opportunity for anything.”

wriothesley scoffs at the final exchange of words, watching the retreating figure of the harbinger with hardened, distant eyes while you exhale softly and grab the pouch of mora. 

“are all harbingers this loaded with mora, do you think?”

“who knows,” he mutters, looking away as he swallows before adding, “i came to visit on my way back to the fortress. i had business with neuvillette.”

“oh,” you hum, smiling as you ask, “is he doing well?”

“fine,” is all wriothesley says.

“that’s good,” you nod, “we haven’t been able to see each other in quite a bit, huh? i’d have visited, but the deliveries all week have kept me busy.”

“good thing you had the harbinger to lend a hand, huh?” he remarks, raising a brow.

“well, yeah, i suppose so,” you frown slightly, watching as he takes a slow, deep breath before fixing his tie. “is everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says instantly. “may i walk you home?”

“of course,” you smile—it doesn’t reach your eyes, and he wishes he could find it in himself to do something to reassure the lingering worry in your irises, but he doesn’t. instead, he quietly waits for you to close the shop, so uncharacteristically silent that you can practically feel the tension in the air tangibly.

the walk to your home is just as silent. wriothesley doesn’t say anything, and you don’t have the confidence to break the silence yourself. you’ve never seen him like this, so bothered and visibly so. you’re not entirely sure what brought it on, either—but you are sure it has something to do with childe. 

you finally reach your home after a long walk, quietly standing in front of the door as you turn to him and inspect his face. hard-lined lips, distant eyes, and crossed arms. he doesn’t look like the usual wriothesley you know—the one who grins and gives you a slight bow as he says, we’ve arrived at your lovely home, milady. 

“thank you for walking me,” you murmur, looking at him carefully as he nods.

“sure,” he responds flatly, “my pleasure.”

“you didn’t have to trouble yourself if you were tired from your meeting,” you add.

“not tired,” he shakes his head. “it was no trouble to me.”

“are you sure?” you raise a brow, sighing as you cross your own arms, “you don’t seem too happy to be here.”

“what do you mean?” he shrugs lamely, avoiding your question, your gaze. you know that one look into your eyes is all it takes to make him spill, and normally, you don’t take advantage of that, but you think tonight you will. 

because you’re tired of dancing around half-truths and coded words you have to decipher. you want one straight, laid-bare conversation with him. so you reach over and tilt his jaw, making him inhale sharply at your touch as you force him to face you and look at you. 

“what is up with you? and don’t even think about saying nothing.”

“nothing is up with me,” he mumbles stubbornly.

“wriothesley,” you warn, looking at him unimpressed, “i was not born yesterday.”

“my apologies,” he says sarcastically, a rueful smile curling on those chapped lips of his, “i suppose i’m just a bit shocked i’m not the only customer you offer your affections to. i suppose that was silly of me—it must be good for business.”

“excuse me?” you recoil, staring at him in disbelief. a little hurt, too—he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, flinching slightly at the implications. “how dare you insinuate i’m a common whore?” 

“that’s not what i was trying to say at all,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it came out wrong.”

“then what were you trying to say?” you demand, looking at him expectantly, hands on your hips and a raise of your brows that almost mockingly tells him, i’d love to see you work your way out of this one. 

“you never told me you and the fatui boy were so close.” 

if there’s one thing wriothesley is good at, it’s shifting things to focus on other people. so he can observe. watch closely. take note of all the little things so he can figure out what he wants to know without asking at all. all without having anything told to him right out. it’s how he works—and you won’t entertain it. 

“the fatui boy has a name,” you point out.

“his name is not actually childe,” he snorts—there’s no real amusement in the action, just as sarcastic and sardonic as everything prior. “is that what you believe?”

“if you’re not going to say the problem with your words like an adult, i’m going to go inside,” you spit, “we’re both wasting time here if we’re just going to talk in circles.”

“yes, because i’m the one who’s not admitting things,” he chuckles dryly. 

you glare at him—because enough is enough, and you’re sick of taking one step forward just to stumble ten steps back. with one swift move, your hand grips his wrist firmly and yanks, pulling him to stumble into your home as the door slams behind him. you’re tired of having bystanders walk past you and listen to your pointless discussion, and you’re tired of getting nowhere the longer you stand outside. it feels like the more you talk, the less you know. every word he says confuses you more and more.

and that’s the thing about him—he never tells you things, not since that night he first opened up. you thought you broke some newfound trust, a new ground to walk on with him that leads somewhere further than just two people who seek each other out for pleasure. you feel something for him—and you thought he did too, but it’s always something vague or another with him and you’re tired of it. tired of wondering where you stand, what he wants, how he feels. you want to know, and tonight, even if it kills you, you’ll find out.

“what is it you want me to admit wriothesley? huh?” you scowl, “tell me so i can tell you what you need to know so you’ll finally answer my question. i’m tired of the back-and-forth game with you.”

“you don’t need to admit anything to me,” he shrugs, “it’s not my business.”

“you don’t even believe that yourself,” you scoff, “even i can tell that much. is this about childe? you don’t like me mingling with the fatui? he’s just friendly, that’s all. and good business.”

“right,” he nods slowly, disbelievingly. you almost see red—how dare he hint that you’re a liar. 

“what do you think i’m doing then?” you challenge, “let’s hear it. fraternizing with the fatui? is that the accusation you’ll pull out?”

“well, if he’s helping you pick flowers and buying you lunch, then you certainly can’t be strangers,” he smiles tightly, “perhaps next time he can join us in our canoodling too if you’d like.”

“so that’s what it is?” you shake your head exasperatedly, “you’re moody because you’re jealous?”

“i’m not jealous,” he narrows his eyes, “i have no reason to be.”

“i’d believe you sooner if you’d said the underwater beast really was the cause of your scars,” you scoff, pursing your lips. “why is it so hard for you to just speak your mind?”

“then let’s start with you,” he retorts, hands throwing up in the air as he takes a step closer and glares daggers at you, “why are you dancing around what your relationship with the harbinger is?”

“there is nothing between me and the harbinger! nothing at all, and i don’t appreciate you assuming things about me. i’ve only been intimate with you!”

“you don’t need to hide it,” he smiles bitterly. finally, as if the conversation has chipped away at his resolve enough that bits and pieces of his inner turmoil can show, you can see the lingering hurt in his gaze. the betrayal. the doubt and fear—all of it pools in his eyes, swimming in the many, many flecks of his eyes as you stare into them. “it’s not as though we’ve committed to anything here.”

“i’m not hiding anything,” you say firmly, “you don’t have to be jealous.”

“i’m not jealous,” he shakes his head. it feels like he’s convincing himself more than you. because more than you, admitting to himself he cares is hard. all of this is hard—you know that. the last time he dared to trust someone, to love someone, he’d lost more than he could fathom. more than he was ever ready to lose.

so you sigh, dropping your shoulders as you let the anger dissipate.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were jealous,” you say softly, extending the olive branch with a slow, hesitant hand to his cheek. he stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away, “it would kill me, too, to think you were close to another woman. but the harbinger is a customer i’ve become friendly with and nothing more. don’t you believe me?”

he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he hesitantly leans into your palm, letting your thumb brush soothing strokes along the scar under his eye.

“i was jealous,” he admits, quiet. hoarse. strained. it takes every ounce of him to admit as much to you—the progress makes you smile softly. “i…i was so jealous i couldn’t think straight. and i took it out on you. i��m sorry.”

“maybe it’s time we had a discussion,” you say softly, “about…well, us. what it is we’re doing. it’s long overdue.”

“i’ve been avoiding it,” he confesses. 

“i know,” you murmur, smiling tightly, “i know you have. that’s why i didn’t bring it up. but we can’t dance around it forever.”

“i’m no good at this,” he opens his eyes, defeated and so lost, you can’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“you’re not so bad,” you hum, “give yourself a little more credit.”

“no,” he shakes his head, “you don’t understand. i’ve never been good at this…at trusting people and getting close to them. i don’t even have real friends—i see clorinde and neuvillette every few months, and briefly at that. one of them was the judge at my trial, and the other knows as much about me as the files say. i don’t like talking about my feelings, and i hate sharing things about myself. i’m not jealous of childe because he threatens me—even i know you’d never give a fatui member a chance. but i’m no good for a stroll in the park, or picking flowers, or lunch at a cafe. i live underwater in a large prison that i run, and i rarely come up—at least, not often enough to be a healthy, functioning member of society, that is.”

“so what?” you frown, “i don’t care. nothing is easy at first—isn’t that why we try? who says you have to share all your feelings immediately? we can work up to that slowly. this was sharing, wasn’t it? what you just did? that’s a step in the right direction.”

“and look how much we had to battle for that little bit,” he lets out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh that makes your heart ache, “you’ll grow tired of me.”

“you don’t get to decide that,” you shake your head stubbornly, “i would never grow tired of you. never you.”

“i might be a duke now, but i was a murderer in the past,” he adds, a low and cheap attempt to convince you he’s not worth it. you roll your eyes at the statement.

“i’m aware,” you say blandly, “i don’t care, wriothesley. i don’t. those are all excuses—if you want this, if you really want this like i do, because you care about me just like i care about you and you feel the same way, then you’d realize these are all petty excuses your head is coming up with. i’ll wait for you to be better at communicating if you promise you’ll try. and your past is just a small stain on the cloth that we can ignore.”

“it’s murder,” he says in disbelief.

“i said what i said,” you huff. he blinks once, then twice before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“you’re insane.”

“thank you,” you nod, grinning, “and you being at the fortress is just a small obstacle. we’ll make it work, you and me.”

“how?” he asks, voice small and unsure.

“you act like it’s impossible, you silly thing. i’ll come see you, and you’ll come see me, and we can spend nights together wherever is most convenient for the time. why are you overthinking it?” you ask like it’s obvious. maybe it is—maybe his brain just doesn’t let him see how simple of a solution it really is.

“the fortress is no place for someone who’s used to the surface—”

“enough excuses,” you scold firmly, “i won’t have any of it.”

“you don’t know what you’re getting into,” he shakes his head—you cup his cheeks, pulling his face close as you press soft, delicate kisses along his skin. like he’s fragile. like he needs to be handled with care. 

no one has ever handled wriothesley with care. even as a child when he was defenseless. when his parents saw a commodity to raise and sell like livestock instead of a child to love and cherish. when the streets saw a rat with dirty clothes and nimble fingers only good for theft. when he woke up in a hospital bed with cuffs to his hands, wrists shackled, and a caseworker sat a comfortable distance away, even without his gauntlets. when they saw him as nothing more than a murderer on trial as opposed to a child with no other way out. when the world showed him no mercy and left him to fend for himself in a dark, ruthless corner of the nation under the sea with no sun, no grass, no fresh air, and no hope.

no one has thought to treat wriothesley with gentleness, with kindness, with grace—as if he mattered. not until he made himself matter, taking what he wanted through a pen, paper, and meaningless title. 

no one until you. 

“i know exactly what i’m getting into,” you whisper, “you know what i see? when i look at you?”

“what? big muscles?” he teases, voice weak. a last, feeble attempt at keeping himself guarded. it’s useless, and he knows it as well as you do. he’s already far more vulnerable than he’s comfortable with. 

“a good man,” you say firmly, “a good man who is worth the effort. one who has a good heart and no one to share it with. someone who knows when change needs to happen and makes it happen. someone who knows a thing or two about second chances. who shows people mercy if they’re willing to be better—because that’s all he wants. for things to be better.”

“you’re giving me a lot more credit than i deserve, sweetheart,” he says shakily, trying to give you his usual smirk. his lips wobble, much to his dismay—you kiss them to help him hide the tremor like the angel you are. 

he’s not sure why the archons, celestia, or whoever is in charge of fate would send him such a perfect, pure angel in his arms. but they did. he’s certainly not one to miscount his blessings—they’ve been few and far between as is. 

“no,” you murmur, whispering between kisses, “i’m not. i’m giving you as much credit as you deserve. because no one has ever told you these things about you, and it’s time someone did.”

“doing the dirty work, huh?”

“i wish you’d stop with that,” you smile at him sadly, “i wish you would treat yourself with the same kindness you treat everyone else with. that you treat me with.”

“you’re an angel,” he murmurs, pecking your cheek, “that’s the difference.”

“you can’t be that bad if that’s the case,” you grin cheekily, “what kind of angel picks such an awful guy?”

“one who thinks the fatui harbingers make good friends,” he snorts, “one who’s a little on the naive side.”

“i like to think of it as seeing good in people,” you wink. 

he laughs, arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he kisses you. and kisses you. and kisses you—and kisses you some more until you’re forced to pull away and breathe. even then, he’s not satisfied, lips finding the sensitive skin along your collarbones, traveling up along your neck and finding your jaw, peppering soft presses of his lips until they hover over your mouth again.

“you good?” he asks smugly, “need a minute to catch your breath?”

“you’re such a pain,” you huff, pressing against his mouth and closing the gap as he hums against you. 

“what were you just saying about me just a few moments ago? something about a good man?”

“come here,” you sigh exasperatedly—and then you’re tugging him into your bedroom, stumbling and giggling as you both impatiently find the bed. you fall back, the mattress catching you along with him as he hovers over you and doesn’t waste a moment to nip at your neck.

“next time you need help with flowers in a dangerous, stormy place, you ask me,” he says lowly, breath fanning over your skin and making you shiver, “you don’t need the fatui boy.”

“okay,” you laugh, breathless as your eyes flutter shut when he nibbles on the sensitive spot over your pulse point, “you might have to temporarily drop your duties as a duke for that, though.”

“consider it done.” his hands tug your blouse over your head, doing quick work to toss it somewhere on the floor as he grins at the lacey red bra you have on underneath. “this is new,” he comments, “i like this.”

“of course you do,” you grin in amusement, “so predictable.”

“hey,” he pouts, “i’m an easy guy to please. just need you, maybe a few accessories…i don’t ask for much.”

“well,” you look at him in anticipation, “are you going to stare all day? or are you going to take it off?”

his eyes darken—hazed with lust and desperation as he quickly works the bra off of you and tosses it off to the side, too, but not before he stares at the label quickly. “chioriya boutique,” he reads, nodding, “remind me to give her my thanks. and business, too, in the future.”

“shameless,” you scoff, shaking your head.

“grateful,” he corrects, grinning cheekily at you. you don’t even get a chance to retort before his lips are around your nipple, teeth lightly grazing the pebbled nub as he sucks, making you gasp as your hands find his head, cupping the back of it as your own head throws back against the pillows. 

“wri—”

“you know what i see when i see you?” he hums, pulling away from one nipple and latching onto the other, tongue rolling over it slowly as his thumb finds the other, not to leave it neglected, “i see the woman i would defy the gods themselves to possess. who i would commit far worse crimes for, and serve time all over again for. one who commands my every thought. do you know how many times i’ve neglected my duties just thinking about you alone? when i see you, i see the one thing that’s finally mine—mine alone.”

you whimper as his lips reattach themselves to your breast, sucking and grazing his tongue around one nipple and pinching and toying with the other with his hand. your hands tug at his hair, pulling a soft groan from his throat as he pulls away and stares at you. you’re a panting, heaving mess already—he grins in satisfaction.

“pretty,”  he hums, nuzzling his nose against your throat, right where your pulse is erratic, “so, so pretty.”

“all this flattery, and you’ve yet to do something,” you rasp, just to rile him up as he lets out a deep, gruff sound of disapproval, eyeing you with a raised brow.

“oh, you want me to do something, is that it? i thought we’d take our time,” he grazes his finger along your waist, tracing the edge of your skirt before looping his finger under it, tugging slowly, “but if you insist, i guess we can pick up the pace.”

he pulls the skirt down your legs, eyes widening as he takes in the matching red laced panties from the bra earlier—you grin cheekily as he does. “like this one too?”

“oh,” he chuckles, breathless, “sweetheart, you have no idea.” wriothesley is a giver—you’re reminded of this fact as soon as his head buries between your thighs enthusiastically, kissing your clit through the lace as your breath hitches. “did you pick this little set up just for me?”

“don’t be silly,” you tease, “i obviously got this for myself. consider yourself a lucky witness.”

“and a lucky witness i am indeed,” he nods, humming as he slowly, carefully inches the lace down your legs, admiring the way it contrasts against your sweet, supple skin. “i owe chioriya boutique my life. i’ll even give my thanks to madame chiori myself.”

“please do not,” you say in horror, making him chuckle, “that would be utterly undignified.”

he’s not even listening, you realize. his lips attach to your clit as soon as the fabric is discarded somewhere to the side like the rest, a soft groan rumbling from his chest as soon as he tastes you, spreading your legs for better access as he glides his tongue to your folds, pressing between your folds and looking up to watch as your head throws back with a soft gasp. 

“wriothesley,” you gasp, pulling his hair in a tight grip to ground yourself.

you’re the most gentle with him when you handle him—but you’re also the roughest. the way you grasp him so harshly, mercilessly in your grip, makes his eyes flutter shut in a sick, twisted sort of masochism. he loves the pain, the dull throb in his skull from your pleasure. 

“yeah, i’m right here, sweetheart,” he chuckles lowly, “feels good?”

“yes,” you whine, “s’good—so good.”

“i know,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your clit, along your inner thigh, until he’s back to your folds, hovering over them as he whispers, “i can tell just from the way you’re dripping. isn’t that cute?”

you whine in embarrassment, closing your legs around him as he grins against your cunt, grinding down on his mouth until he’s back to devouring you, tongue slipping deep into you as far as he can, exploring your tight, wet hole with fervor. 

“close,” you whisper, voice bordering on broken, “i’m s-so close—oh, wriothesley!”

you come undone on his tongue with one more roll of his tongue over your clit, shaking as he sloppily eats you out through your high until your whole body is a shaking, quivering mess along with your walls. 

“got anything else from that boutique you want to show me?” he murmurs, moving back up to hover over you, burying his face into your neck as your arms snake around his shoulders, rubbing into his back.

“maybe,” you say vaguely, grinning, “it’s a secret. maybe if you behave, you’ll find out.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, “consider me on my best behavior, milady.”

“then take this off,” you tug at his shirt, pouting as you add, “not fair that i’m the only one undressed.”

“as you wish,” he agrees. you watch as he strips—it’s not embarrassing like the first time or two when you looked away with a hot face and ears. now it’s intimate, watching him bear his soul to you, with every scar and imperfection, every flaw and tainted part.

his cock is hard, standing between his legs as it throbs, a bead of pre cum coating the tip. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close again as you feel his hardened length poke at your thigh, making you press against it and pull a groan out of him.

“i want you,” you whisper, “i’ve never wanted anyone else. not like this. not like you. i don’t think i ever will.”

“you can’t have met too many people then,” he teases.

“oh, i meet plenty of people. romantic ones at that—flowers are a love language, you know.”

“and you still want me? they must all be taken.”

“they’re not you,” you correct, pulling him into a sweet, slow kiss, taking your time to mold your lips against him and feel him against you, “nothing close to you. no one comes close.”

the bees should come to your lips for nectar, he thinks. flowers bloom from your mouth, delicate and sweet petals that light up his world and color him every shade of love. 

“in that case,” he whispers, pulling away from your mouth to press a soft kiss to your nose, “i’m the luckiest man in fontaine. maybe teyvat.”

“i would agree,” you wink cheekily, “aren’t i such a lucky catch?”

“oh absolutely,” he laughs, amused, fond, so deeply enamored. then his lips are back on yours, and his hips are angled so that his cock teases your folds, grazing the entrance of your cunt as he coats his tip with your dripping slick. 

you both shudder at the feeling, gasping against each other’s mouths as you exchange hot, labored breaths. 

“i want you,” you repeat, “please.”

“you have me,” he whispers, letting out a soft moan as he pushes the tip past your entrance, “as long as you want.”

“that’ll be forever,” you say breathlessly, “think you can handle that long?”

“i’m sure i’ll manage.”

finally, he pushes all the way through, buried to the hilt and stretching you apart until he splits you open on his cock. he presses so deep into you, you can feel him nudge against that sweet, spongy spot without even trying. it’s like he was made for you—like the laws of this land declared him yours from birth and made him fit you in every way possible. the slot of his fingers with yours, the mold of his lips against you, the press of his cock into your cunt. all of it fits you so well, you wonder if you’ve lived your life just to find wriothesley. 

you both moan into each other’s mouths, strangled sounds that you swallow from each other’s mouths as your lips sloppily press into each other. 

“wr-wrio—fuck,” you stammer, nails raking along his back as he rolls his hips, slamming into your deepest, most rawest parts.

“yeah, baby,” he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth, “m’right here, sweetheart.”

you sob when a rough, callused thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves perfectly in tune with the harsh thrusts that fill you so deep. deep—he’s so far into you, you wonder if you can feel him in your throat, in your lungs, and in your heart, knocking the air out of you as you breathlessly try to call his name. 

“faster,” you plead, clinging to him, “more—please, need more.”

“think you can take it?” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a strangled grunt when you squeeze around him particularly tightly, “i think you’re falling apart as is.”

“more,” you whine, back arching as your hips desperately buck up to meet his in tandem, trying to feel him closer, deeper, harder. 

“if that’s what you want,” he hums—you want to scoff at him, but you’re too delirious. you’d tease him for acting like he doesn’t want the same, like the ache of his cock doesn’t crave more friction, doesn’t want to slam into you with little to no self-control outside of chasing his pleasure. you feel so good around him—so good, his head falls to your shoulder as he pants harshly into your ear, murmuring stammered praises. “s-so good, sweetheart. you always take me so good, like the pretty thing you are. how in teyvat did i score the affections of fontaine’s most radiant lady? o-only the gods could know.”

“why don’t you ask them,” you breathe, head pressing against the pillow as your back arches and your toes curl when he slams his swollen tip against your sweet spot once more, hips rolling in perfect precision, “ask them how you got so blessed.”

“maybe i’ll ask the divinity right before me,” he hums smoothly, chuckling when you mewl as his thumb rubs faster into your clit, “how did i get so lucky?”

“because i need you,” you whine, “n-need you—only you.”

“what a sweet answer,” he groans, pumping his cock into you faster, feeling the familiar twitch indicating he’s close—and you are too. he can tell from the erratic squeeze of your walls. “always spoiling me, right sweetheart?”

“wriothesley,” you cry, “i-i’m close. m’so close, please. please.”

“no need to say please, baby,” he grunts, “you can have whatever you want. when you want it, yeah?”

and just like that, you break—his thumb is still rubbing those harsh circles into you swollen clit as you cum, clenching down on him through your high as your mouth parts and your head presses deeper into the pillow. he’s fucking into you, still slamming his hips into you as mercilessly as before, riding you through your orgasm as you chant his name. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob.

“yeah, sweetheart? what is it?” he teases—it doesn’t last long, though. his bravado falls apart as soon as the first twitch of his cock indicates his own orgasm. you feel the hot, sticky, endless ropes of cum fill you up, coating your walls as he stiffens over you and shudders, groaning lowly as he empties himself into your sweet cunt. “f-fuck, you feel so good—you’re the only one. the. only. one.”

his hips thrust into you to punctuate the words, cock pushing his release deeper into you, messy and leaking down your thighs and forming a ring at the base of his length. it’s so filthy you almost think it’s a sin. but how could it be when it feels so right, so good?

finally, he slumps over your body, spent and panting as he finishes. you catch your breath under him, labored breath one after the other as your sweaty skin clings against his own.

“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs after some time, kissing the damp skin of your neck.

“i know,” you whisper cheekily, making him chuckle as he rolls over, pulling you into his chest.

“so humble,” he snorts.

“of course,” you beam, “but feel free to leave more compliments.”

“oh don’t worry, i won’t run out any time soon.”

it’s quiet for a bit, apart from your giggles and his low chuckles. soft, peaceful, and so painfully comforting, you wonder if heaven itself wishes for a place beside wriothesley. 

“when you first came up to the surface after your sentence,” you mumble after a few moments of quietness, tracing small loops into his chest as he silently hums for you to continue, “what was the first thing you did?”

“i got a croissant,” he answers thoughtfully, thumb rubbing circles into your hip where his hand is comfortably rested.

you blink, tilting your head to look up at him. his lips curve into a knowing grin.

“pardon?”

he laughs—it’s a beautiful thing. like a boy, eyes crinkled and lips freely curved so wide, you’d think his cheeks were endless with the way they expand to accommodate for such a large stretch. it’s the one time he doesn’t seem like the rugged man you usually know. something younger, more innocent, more raw comes out when wriothesley laughs.

“they go well with tea,” he shrugs, looking down at you, quickly stealing a peck of your nose, “and…” his voice is softer as he trails off, smile faltering.

“and?” you press delicately. so delicately, you’d think you were speaking to a house of cards, one word that’s breathed too harshly away from toppling over.

“and i wanted to visit a bakery i went to as a kid,” he murmurs quietly, voice dropping to a whisper as if he’s admitting something he’s never told anyone. something tells you he just might be. “there was an old lady who used to feed me sometimes when i was a kid on the streets. after i ran away. she’d give me a chocolate croissant and warm tea. i thought…i thought maybe there was a chance she’d still …”

he swallows, cutting his words off just before his voice has the chance to break. it’s a measured gesture. you know it is because you know him. just like you know the feelings of petals and thorns with your eyes closed, you know wriothesley. just like you can tell flowers apart from scent alone, you have him memorized. just like you know what every petal and its origin means, you understand him like it’s your job, too.

except you get paid to do this with something better than mora. with open-mouthed kisses and lingering touches. with coffee in a mug to complement the tea next to it. with strong arms to shield you when rain pours hard over your unsuspecting heads. with a gentle voice that learns to whisper back the language you speak better than anything else.

it says you’re the one i need the most, like rainbow roses. i miss you so much, i ache for you, like mourning flowers. i’d shed blood for you to live, like dendrobiums. you’re what i desire more than anything else, like romaritimes. each word is carefully formed, fragile as it hangs from a singular point. like petals on a stem, his words blossom from the tip of his tongue, falling one by one to your awaiting hands as your thumb traces his lips.

they all tell you one thing—whether he says the words out loud or not, he tells you he loves you through the things he does say. every little promise, every compliment, every form of praise. they say one thing—i love you.

you have always felt loved around wriothesley. you know he loves you, even if you question it sometimes, even if you ache to hear it, you’re always reminded he does when those eyes soften as they look at you, training on you like they never want to look away.

he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

it always ends with he loves you.

“was she?” you whisper, finger tracing up his chest, along his neck and jaw until it cups his cheek tenderly. he shivers at the touch. “was she still there?”

gentleness isn’t something wriothesley is very familiar with. it raids his skin, takes over the territory that’s only known harshness, and conquers the scarred patches that are barren and empty from all the pain and desolation.

“no,” his voice is barely audible. “her son owns it now. the croissants still taste the same, though.”

“some things never change, i suppose,” you smile softly, leaning closer as your nose presses against his, “even when everything else does. it’s not so bad if you hold onto what you can.”

“and what if you have nothing?” he challenges, closing his eyes when you kiss his jaw sweetly and slowly inhaling a soft breath.

“i’m sure that’s never true,” you murmur, “there’s always something.”

“yeah? how optimistic of you,” he chuckles.

“i’m serious,” you pout, “there’s always a way to make do. look at cacti. they go ages without water, don’t they? and did you know naku weeds can survive being struck by lightning?”

“do you just compare everything to plants?” he asks in amusement, eyeing you with a charmed glint.

“of course,” you huff, “don’t you compare things to what you love most?”

he looks at you for a moment. really looks at you. grazes his eyes over your supple skin he’s traced so many times, over the small crinkles by your eyes permanently etched from smiling so often, over the curve of your nose and lips he’s pressed his own against, over the two eyes that stare back at him and see him more than they do look.

and then he nods.

“yeah,” he admits, “i do.”

your lips are as sweet as the warm chocolate that coated his lips and chin as a child. your touch is as soft as the hands of his mother when he thought he could trust her. your eyes are as bright as the sun when he first saw it after years of dark, rusted walls. everything about you reminds him of his past, the better parts and the worst. all of it.

some of it is healing, and some of it hurts so raw he thinks he’ll bleed out. but your hands are dipped in gold, he thinks. they’d make the most infertile soil rich and filled with life, letting him blossom new again right where his blood spilled.

he’s reminded of you in everything he sees. tea reminds him of your coffee with too much milk. paperwork reminds him of how distressed you are by wasted pages and killed trees. his gauntlets remind him of your hands so small in comparison. he’s doomed, he thinks. cursed, even.

cursed to always remember you in everything.

so, of course, he compares everything to what he loves most. because why else would you reside in his mind so endlessly, taking up the space from one end all the way to the other? why else would you remind him of you in even the mundane of things if he didn’t love you so deeply, so purely, so easily, that you’re everywhere all at once, even when you’re nowhere in sight?

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply before letting out a slow, shaky breath.

“i lied,” he admits, making you frown.

“about?”

“about the first thing i did when i got to the surface,” he says quietly. “i went to my parents' graves.”

“to visit them?” you raise a confused eyebrow.

“no. to make sure they were really dead.”

“oh,” is all you say, staring into his eyes as he waits for you to say something more. “well, were they dead?”

“yes,” he snorts, closing his eyes and huffing out a small laugh. “very much so.”

“well, that’s a relief,” you giggle, “otherwise, you’d have served a sentence for murder for nothing.”

“good thing i didn’t, huh?”

“good thing you didn’t,” you nod, grinning as he stares at you softly.

“i’ll take you one of these days,” he hums quietly after a moment. you look surprised, eyes widening as you process the words.

“to your parents' grave?”

“to the bakery,” he rolls his eyes, letting out a breathy laugh. “i don’t think my dead mother would appreciate me bringing back a woman after i killed her.”

“oh, very funny,” you scowl, glaring at him.

“you think so?” he winks, laughing when you gently shove his face away, making his hand grab at your wrist and bite gently into the skin.

you squeal, giggling as he nibbles into your skin. “stop that, you brute!” you demand in between laughs.

it’s quiet for a moment as the laughter settles down, just you and him. him and you. silence echoing off the walls and warmth radiating between your bodies, the sheets clinging to your bare skin. you can feel his bare hip brush against yours. it’s intimate—far more intimate than either of you are used to, but not unwelcome.

he turns, pulling you into his arms and pressing your foreheads together. you think that’s his favorite position to be in—when your faces are so close, they touch. when his eyes can bore into yours. when he can feel the warmth of you tickling his skin as you breathe, as you talk, as you exist before him.

“you’ll like the croissants,” he adds quietly, thoughtfully, “the blackberry ones are particularly nice with the lemon and mint tea—”

you cut him off. before you can think. the words fly past your lips, swept with the breeze like dandelion seeds, and carried through the room as they find shelter in every little crevice. they’ll be here, in every corner, in every little place, a memento of your first real confession.

“i love you.”

he pauses as you cut him off, blinking as he stares at you. something flashes in his eyes—fear, excitement, a small bit of shock and doubt that makes your heartache. you can read him like a book.

it’s not doubt because he thinks you lie. it’s doubt because he thinks it shouldn’t be him. you know that, and you’re prepared to patiently prove him he’s wrong. little by little. day by day. one kiss at a time.

“that’s really enthusiastic,” he shoots you a teasing grin, too easy and too practiced for your liking, “if i knew you liked croissants that much—”

“no, wriothesley,” you say gently, like your words could rock the boat and topple you both into a dangerous, unforgiving current any moment. “i love you. i love when you tell me things you don’t like sharing, and i love when you show me things that are hard to revisit. i love you. because you try, and you’re good at trying. and that’s enough.”

“getting sentimental on me?” he asks hoarsely, smiling tightly.

your hand cups his cheek again, pulling him in so you can kiss the corner of his mouth as you whisper, “yes.” your lips find the other side of his mouth, still at the corner as you whisper again. “because you deserve to hear nice things. even the cheesy ones.”

his eyes close. one moment turns to two, and you let him take his time. let him swallow as he takes a shallow breath before he opens them again and looks at you.

he’s laid bare before you. in more ways than one. being nude is easier than being seen—he trusts you enough to let himself be both.

“you deserve to hear nice things, too,” he admits. it’s not the same as admitting he loves you too, but it’s as close as he can get—still difficult enough that his voice breaks. like it’s hard for him to confess something like this.

it is.

it’s hard for him to tell someone he loves them. the last time he did, he felt the sucker punch of betrayal in his guts, so young that he hardly understood what it meant to be betrayed at all. he watched the same eyes he used to think were his saviors die out as blood spilled in the living room, where his tiny feet padded across as he ran around and played. he misses them sometimes, even now.

his mother’s beautiful green eyes that greeted him in the mornings as she kissed him awake, warm and gentle on his forehead. his father’s deep blue ones that would look at him proudly as he grew and grew, clasping his shoulder with that firmly affectionate grip.

sometimes, he misses them, misses what he thought he had. other times, he’s glad he did it. sometimes, in the dead of night, when it’s just him, he mourns the old him. the one that didn’t have blood on his hands, the him that didn’t have to take two lives to set so many free. the version of him that was allowed to be a boy who existed freely, no taxes to pay for the love he so desperately wanted.

love is wicked like that—it creeps up on you, takes pieces of you, and changes you until you can hardly recognize yourself. until you can hardly recognize everyone around you. how long has it been since he’s seen his siblings? can he even still call them that? do they remember him? would he even recognize them?

he still loves them in his own way. his precious little sisters camille and lucie, and his sweet baby his brothers alexandre and nicolas—he came back and set them free just before it was their time. he didn’t want to leave them, but he had no choice. there were ones who left before him, a time that he can hardly remember anymore. a time before him and antoine. but he recalls them being so delicate with him just as older siblings should be. did they make it out of whatever fate they were sealed to? were they disposed of with no witnesses to bring their demises to justice? he doesn’t know. it’s easier not to know.

it’s easier not to love at all than to open up the risk of hurting. every person he’s ever loved has caused him pain. even the innocent siblings who did nothing wrong—all he’s ever known is pain. the pain of not having them around anymore. the pain of their quiet demise. the pain of setting them free and letting them go. the pain of never having them to himself like a proper family.

loving is so hard for him, so hard on him. so unforgiving to him. so cruel and harsh to him that he hides away behind guarded fists and loaded punches. and you know it, too—he knows you do because you reward his confession with the softest kiss you’ve ever given him as soon as he spills the words.

“i love you,” you murmur the sweet words into his mouth between warm kisses, “i love you. i love you.”

“say it again,” he pleads. it’s easier to let you love him than it is to love you—you don’t mind letting him be a little selfish. he deserves it, in fact.

“i love you. more than anything i’ve ever loved.”

“promise me,” he begs.

“i promise,” you say firmly. “and you don’t have to say it back, not yet. but i want you to know it because you should know you’re loved.”

all at once, the vines wrapped around his chest release, one petal blooming across his heart and arteries at a time until the nectar is running through his veins.

it’s warm. it’s sunny. it’s soft. it’s so, so safe. it doesn’t hurt. it never does with you. you never let it.

“i love you too,” he croaks. he shivers as he says it before he’s grinning slowly, chuckling in wonder as he lets the words sink in before he repeats again, “i love you.”

“yeah?” you beam, eyes crinkling as joy tucks itself into the crevices.

he nods. “yes. and your weird nature lectures.”

you pout, making him laugh. “hey—”

“and your annoyingly aromatic house with petals everywhere—”

“they’re not everywhere—”

“and that ugly dog watering can of yours—”

“it kind of reminds me of you, so—”

“i love them all, and i want them for the rest of my life. i hope you take it easy on the snapdragons, though. i think i’m allergic.”

“such a romantic at heart,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. but they’re glassy, swelling with unshed, precious little tears.

he kisses your eyelids as you close your eyes, murmuring, “i’m doing my best here. cut me some slack, i’ve never dated someone before.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you sniffle, tears coating your sun-soaked skin. and despite the evidence of tears, he’s never seen joy on your face like this before—so clear and radiant. “who taught you about romance? you’re hopeless.”

“hopelessly in love with you,” he shoots back smugly, wiggling his brows.

“i’m doomed,” you snort, letting out a watery chuckle.

“yeah,” he says cheekily, “you are. i hope you’re prepared.”

you kiss him in reply. he kisses you, too. you kiss each other. flowers bloom everywhere your lips touch—wriothesley swallows every petal gratefully.

you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not.

you love him.

you love him.

you love him.

it always ends with you love him.

and he loves you, too. you both love each other. the words bounce from both of your tongues like you take turns tasting them, feeling them, familiarizing yourselves with them.

it doesn’t matter who whispers the words first or who murmurs them last. no matter who breaks the silence, it always ends with i love you.

ITS FINISHED. WOW. i never thought a flower shop drabble was going to turn into this—i actually had a completely different flower shop au idea that was going to be a long fic but i just wanted to write a tiny practice round drabble to get the itch out my system before i had time to sit down for the full fic. well as you can see…the practice run kind of took a mind of its own so now we have this. LOL. i think perhaps i will also write the other idea but we will see!!! this one kind of replaced the other one in my heart as flower shop wrio lore lol 🥸

ANYWAY!!! i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it. idk if wrio was ooc or not or if i did his past and trauma justice but i certainly tried!! all the things about his past with the siblings and his mother's diary and the croissant at the bakery are all headcanons i carefully crafted and hold so so so dear. they are my truth!!! and they make me fall in love with him so much more deeply :( anyway! if you liked it then as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated. now if you’ll excuse me, i will be doodling his name in pink glitter pen with hearts in my diary and giggling.

[chysalxsm]

Dragon cocks - Neuvilette/Zhongli - drabble + mini story

Kinktober 2023: Dragon cocks - Zhongli/Neuvilette seperate

Reader is always fem aligned!!!

• Sorry for the delay but I wasn't home yesterday after 10 p.m😭🙏

CW: Zhongli is your partner and Neuvilette your boss, Mating session, Non-human body parts (horns, tail and cocks), breeding (Neuvilette mentioned and Zhongli), sexual daydreams of the reader (Neuvilette),a Manhandling (Neuvilette) Cunningulus (Neuvilette), Rough sex (Zhongli), Blowjob (Zhongli), Hair pulling (Zhongli), Double Penetration (Zhongli)

Neuvilette:

Neuvilette that begs you to let him use you... All he wants to do is to fuck that pretty, tight, little pussy of yours till you're full of his cum. His mind is flooded with images of you whining and begging him to slow down, while he's pounding you till tears starts streaming down your cheeks. All of the daydreams he's having of you because of his incoming rut is making him wild with lust.

Neuvilette that can't get enough of your natural scent, smelling you from far away that no human ever could. His eyes narrow with want when you walk over to his office desk wearing that skimpy A-line skirt, the second dots of your blouse unbottoned that he had the perfect view of your cleavage.

You notice his intense gaze on you and your body, his tail swishing behind him hard and thudding against the floor.

,,Monsieur Neuvilette..? Are you feeling alright?"

Not a long moments later, you're pushed against his wooden desk, his soft lips smashing against yours while his big hands roam desperately over your body.

Neuvilette is so needy for you, wanting to make his dirty daydreams about you come true. Having your consent and seeing the blush on your cheeks is enough for Neuvilette to take control and rip your clothes off your body, kissing his way down your body till he reaches your wet pussy.

,,Mmhm god you smell so good..." Neuvilette groans out, pushing your panty to the side to take a whiff of your scent and not a second wasted his lips wrap around your erected clit, sucking and licking it like his life depends on it. He wants you to cream on his face.

Rounds after rounds where he makes you come over and over again, edging himself he finally sinks into your awaiting and overstimulated pussy and at that moment on, he knew that this wouldn't be the last time.

Zhongli:

Zhongli was completely different when it was dragon mating season. He was ruthless, rough and clearly mean.

You were gagging on one of his cock, the almost spiky tip, hitting the back of your throat over and over again while his other cock was rubbing over your face, smearing it with his pre-cum. Zhongli was so mean, calling you degrading names and praising you. Telling you that you're his good little slut and his to breed whenever he wishes.

His hands are wrapped around your hair, guiding your head like he wants to and thrusting his hips into your mouth just to hear your gag and choke around him.

,,Archons.. Enough." His voice was rough, pushing you off him and looking down at your teary eyes, grinning proudly. He wanted to fuck you, now.

Zhongli pushes you against your shared bed, manhandling so you're laying flat on your stomach while he's spreading your ass cheeks to the side to look at your glistening cunt, spitting on it before tapping his cocks against your entrance.

,,Zhongli..out it in already!! A-Anhh!~" *He couldn't hear your whines anymore. He thought he did a good job about shutting you up to not complain anymore but he was wrong. He doesn't give you time to adjust to his cocks as he thrust in one swift motion into your wet heat. You mewl out, the stretch being so good but also so painful yet you cream around him from that alone.

Zhongli promises himself to breed you throughly, so you won't get away from him until your belly can't take much more cum from him...

Tags: @exodiam @cringeycookies @joohoneybeee

[urfavleo777]

colby brock smut alphabet

pairing: colby brock × fem!reader. posting one more time.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) He'll let you catch your breath and after will be so affectionate and sweet, nuzzling his head into your neck and giving you little kisses. “You make me feel safe” after fucking the soul out of you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) His arms and his throat, for obvious reason too. He knows his arms are one hell of a looker, and he loves the way you grip them for dear life as he shows you a good time. Taking a dominant role, he tries not to reveal how much he sinks into the ground when you passionately kiss his neck. The way he rolls his eyes shows how pleased he is, but no more than for a fraction of a second. He wants to see you writhing beneath him and not take his eyes off you even for a millisecond. As for you, he treats your body like a goddamn sculpture. He’s totally obsessed with your thighs. He loves to squeeze, kiss and bite them just to tease you. And it always works.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He loves it when you give him head, loves the way his warm seed spills between your lips as you try to swallow it. He loves grabbing your roughly by your chin, smashing his lips onto yours to get a taste of himself. He is absolutely a slut for eating you out and he would go on and on about how good you taste.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He actually enjoys being a sub quite a lot. Even though he prefers to dominate, you can't count how many times he called you “mommy” when you were taking care of him. After giving him commands, he acts like an obedient puppy. Phrases like “Who's momma’s good boy?” only make him weaker.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He exactly knows your sensitive spots and there is no way he doesn't know what in hell he's doing. He's charming and knows how to use it to get what he wants, even if it's just a quick handjob or blowjob.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) “I want to sit on your face.” He’s already sold. And when you sit on his face, all of the joyful things he loves about oral sex become magnified. You love being admired by him, which gives him a lot of pleasure. He keeps a bruising grip on your thighs, adoring the creases and valleys that your body makes.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) More than you'd think. He’s definitely a tease, so there will be moments where he pokes a bit of fun and the occasional ominous sadist smile.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) He tries to keep up the maintenance, but sometimes he forgets. He doesn’t expect someone to shave for him if they don’t want to. He’s just glad you enjoy having sex with him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) He is more filthy and mouthy than romantic during sex. He likes to hear you call him ‘daddy’ and ‘sir.’ I think after sex, he’s all goofy and romantic. He gives you lots of praises and romantic words.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Well, if he's horny, he just goes to you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Choking, daddy kink, and cockwarming are Colby’s all-time favorites. He loves choking you, but if you say your safe word, he’ll drop everything and make sure you are okay. Colby loves nicknames, but he loves hearing you call him “Daddy”. He just wants to protect you, and of course, he loves the baby girl and daddy kink role play.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Colby isn’t the most adventurous when it comes to location. He would hate to give anyone some leverage over him, especially regarding his personal life so he keeps the private places. But when at home it’s a different story; the bed, the shower, the bath, any counter or table, his libido could rise at any moment leaving you with very little time before he’s pressing you down on the nearest surface, always making sure to keep his eyes on you at all times.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) When someone else flirts with his partner. He gets jealous very easily, despite what some might think. He would protectively slide his arm around your waist and introduce himself as your boyfriend, even if he isn’t. Another simple thing that would get him going is when his partner calls him Cole, preferably in a sweet little whine.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) He would never do anything to hurt you. Yeah, he's into pain, but only when it comes to himself. He can't bare the idea of doing anything to inflict pain upon you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Oh he definitely prefers receiving. Pulling your hair behind your head to help guide you, feeling you gag around him struggling to take his length he loves all of it. And, oh my god, seeing you on your knees sucking him off is truly one of the most beautiful sights he has ever witnessed.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) He fucks you hard and fast, so rough and brutal that you’re seeing stars.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He tires you out good and proper pretty much every single time he fucks you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Colby’s pretty loud. He whimpers, moans, groans, sometimes growls, pants a lot. It honestly spurs you on more when you hear what sounds he makes.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Colby could fall asleep quite quickly afterwards, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew you were okay and well looked after. He stays awake longer than you most nights, watching sleep take you.

[solitary-traveler]

Stars Around My Scars

The scars on your wrists stood out to him though and he usually expresses great displeasure towards it.  “I don't like them” he frowns, “They reek of desperation”

Kabukimono x Gn!Reader

Notes: Hiii, so um let me clear a couple things first. I'm not able to post the second part for ascent to oblivion since I'm busy and exams are coming up. I promise I'll upload it as soon as possible. Take this simple gift for now. And yes this is a repost. Anyway, I just merged them together. That was a shitty decision honestly. Seriously, me and my impatient ass yesterday-

Art: @OogyPng (X)

Warning: mentions of self harm, i swear there's fluff-

The beauty of mortal life comes with its finite period of existence, that fleeting period before dissipating in the blink of an eye. 

Much akin to that of a firework display.

They explode, bragging their scintillating colors that douse the sun in jealousy. With an ear-piercing blast, it blankets the night sky, fluorescing like the moon as it gleams like the stars above.

If life was momentary for a puny human, why not make use of it?

Why not become a wanderer and travel the world?

You get to region hop and satiate your wanderlust. To encounter unfamiliar faces and attach their names to your expanding friends’ list. To pick up tidbits about riveting stories recounted by elders and children alike. The possibilities are unending, a spectacle waiting to be unboxed.

Yet there’s always the impending menace of falling victim to the grappling claws of solitude.

You’ve been plunged into that headspace a few times already. Despite your protests, the glister of joy and love you’ve gotten from simple things flickered faintly, the bleakness settling in. Your surroundings felt barren, as the dismal winds swept away every inch of ecstasy from within you. Your godforsaken history comes back to taunt you, a reminder of your internal demons who’s having a field day tormenting you.

“You’re so fucking petty it’s almost hilarious. So undeserving. Why are you still here? You’re not worth anything. And you’ll never be.”

“An accident? That’s a bullshit excuse.Without you, the accident wouldn’t occur. It’s all your fault. Everything is.”

“Everyone hates you. Why can’t you get that right? Everyone you talk to finds a fault in you that they don’t dare say to your face. But they know. They can’t help but judge you. Of course they would wouldn’t they? You’re a weirdo”

“A disgrace.”

“A worthless piece of shit.”

The thoughts bounce within your mind, endlessly toying with your emotional state.

You emit a burst of bitter laughter.

It‘s cold.

The temperature was rather freezing despite the incandescence the sun was offering. You can barely feel it radiate through your skin, as a pang smashes through your heart.

You don’t want to be cold.

Your gaze shifts to your sword resting on the patch of grass beside you.

Another benefit of wandering. No one would suspect that your scars are self-inflicted.

As far as you’re concerned, It’s only natural for wanderers to acquire marks that resemble cuts and bruises on their bodies. Incessantly faced with the turmoil of threats and hazards, scars are assumed to serve as tokens of the risk they have confronted on their previous journeys. 

Besides, it’s not like you wanted to do it. It just felt right. Like the self imposed wounds on your wrists belonged there. It felt as if the blade slicing your hand like paper was supposed to do it. That watching the red liquid flow out of it was because you deserved it.

At least you’re not cold anymore. Who knew blood could be so warm?

—-------------------------

The distant display of lights crackle against the tranquil night.

You flash a mixture of colors, expressing the turmoil of what you refer to as your emotions. Yet the speck of your allure was gradually dwindling. 

It wouldn’t take long before you vanish.

Like a pretty firework.

But what use is a pretty firework when it waves and dances all alone with the stars, concealed far from anyone's vision? 

What use is a pretty firework when they're just meant to blink momentarily and dissolve?

You got your answer when you met an eccentric puppet during one of your travels. Sweet, little Kabukimono found your dying spark and rekindled it with his saccharine smiles and candied words. 

You grasped the concept of how fireworks are meant to shine for others to see, for at least one person to view and relish. For them to admire. And for them to love.

And Kabukimono loved you.

There’s no denying that. 

Your traveling companion cherished you, always doting you with his presence. He would never leave your side unaccounted for and often offers you praises that you find doubtful.

“You’re so cool Y/N! You’re so efficient in fighting! Can you teach me??”

“I didn’t mean to stare! You just… looked pretty from here…”

“I just wanted to spend time with you! …Is that so bad?”

Much to your skepticism, you find yourself hesitating to swallow his words. They felt like lies, sugar coated phrases meant to lure you into a trap of false hope. False sense of security. I mean, who would find you this interesting? Who would want to be by your side? Who would want to constantly seek you out because they enjoyed your presence? Because they enjoy being with you?

Lies. 

Every honeyed statement that rolls out of his tongue are nothing but lies.

He was going to leave you. Sooner or later.

But for whatever reason, the puppet stayed. He would not tire from his sickening performance of pretending to care for you. He should visit the theater sometimes, given how top tier his acting skills are. He claims with a two faced, innocent grin that the place beside you was his, and only his for as long as you were together. He says he wants to know about you—to study and learn what makes you… you—all the while those deceitful puppy eyes stare at you whenever you recount tales from your journey.

You’re stubborn self refuses to acknowledge the fact that he’s showing you genuine affection. Authentic fondness.

Maybe… it’s not an act? 

You were perplexed. You aren’t sure how to navigate through the solution of this problem, considering how you have no experiences regarding this matter. You aren’t aware of what to do, of what to say. It was frightening really, venturing into uncharted territories. 

So you do nothing.

And Kabukimono remains by your side.

The puppet was nosey when it came to you. One time, he caught a glimpse of your scars when you attempted to snatch a fish for dinner, only to result in you falling into the water. You sure had plenty of them. He sighs, wondering how much they must’ve hurt. Poor you.

In all honesty, he pities you. You carry an aura of despair, a chilling sensation that never seems to go away. It was attached to you in a way, like a melancholic burden that lays upon your shoulders. A suffering the puppet doesn’t want you going through. 

He would often ask about the origin of your scars. You were quite reluctant at first, but his persistence was soon rewarded by one of your wondrous tales. He cherishes your stories. It was always enchanting to hear about different regions that he can not visit. 

The scars on your wrists stood out to him though and he usually expresses great displeasure towards it. 

“I don't like them” he frowns, “They reek of desperation”

In the young Kabuki’s mind, he notices that they don’t match the other marks on the surface of your skin. They were messy and painful to look at, like a blend of misery and torment was doused over that certain area. A mixture that can’t be dried, that can’t be removed.

He detested seeing you drowning in your sorrows.

An idea invaded his thoughts. He picks up a bright yellow marker from your bag and gently clutches your arm. He pops open the cap and uses your hand as a canvas, doodling little stars around your scars. This warrants an eyebrow raise from you, a look he just dismisses. 

“What are you doing?”

He flashes you a grin—one of the many precious expressions he loves to show off to you—as he huffs proudly, “I'm drawing stars!”

You were baffled. “...Why?”

“So that these little guys can protect you! That way, no more painful scars when I'm not around!”

When I'm not around.

A tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

You were feeling a bit cold today. 

But Kabukimono seemed to have warmed you up in his own way.

For a moment, your inner demons  and insecurities were thrown behind a wall, padlocked there while Kabuki held the key. The world stilled, no movement dared to interrupt the serene moment between two wanderers who found solace in the presence of each other. 

Your gaze never left the indigo haired puppet as he continues to work on the stars. He was focused on it like it was some masterpiece he was dying to show to the world.

…Seriously, he's such a silly guy.

[olivia091108]

how to be a jackass Introduction

Word count:1.k

Tonight I’m going out with my sister and her boyfriend because apparently ‘I need to get a a life’ which I think is kinda rude but the only reason she’s saying that is because her and her boyfriend are thinking of moving out together but I don’t know anyone around town and she doesn’t think I’m responsible. She’s right

“Are you kidding me we need to leave in a half hour and your still in your pyjama’s chop chop”she claps her hands in my face.

She can get quite stressed when it comes to me I wasn’t the easiest to grow up with I was a bit of a hothead we both have a few stories from tell of our fights which she still has a scar form that she never shuts up about

“Alright calm down I have loads of time” I push myself off the sofa and just as I walk past her I barge her against the wall and quickly scurry to the bathroom and lock the door before she gets crazy.

I walk into my room with a towel wrapped round my body and one in my hair and flick the tv on just to have some noise in the background it was an alright show jackass that I would watch when I get back late and nothing else is on except teleshoping. I don’t have anything against it but they need to step it up cos I know give me 10 or 20 bucks I’ll do anything they do.

I find an old shirt from when I was like 15 or something and picked up some jeans that were laying on the floor before slipping on some shoes.

“See I’m ready in what 5 minutes you need to take some Xanax I swear”

“Your hair is literally dripping” I flip my head back and forth no doubt getting it on her. And walk down to her boyfriend Oliver who was gonna drive us.

Once we get their it’s already kicking off and walk towards the bar but some grown men are standing there ignoring me while I ask them to move so I manage to budge my way through them and get a rum and coke.

I start to sweat being surrounded by 15 people who clearly know nothing about personal space. I see my sister and Oliver talking to some dude and my sister starts pointing me out and calling me over.

Y/n come here so you know that show you love jackas-

Love? No I don’t love it I don’t even like it that much but what does that have to do with anything?

“Y/n”she says my name like my mum used to when I would break something she jerked her head to the man just standing there and at first I’m confused but then I realise who he is Oh shit

you don’t like the show sweetheart?the leader of the show asks

“I mean It’s alright but you could do better.” He laughs a bit at my words “oh yeah what then?”

“Nah I didn’t mean to be rud- no I’m serious what do you think”

“Do more nasty shit or more extreme stuff and more painful stunts all in saying is anything you lot do I could do if I knew I was getting paid or just for a laugh”

Ill buy you a drunk if you make out with that man at the bar he points to a fat man who is drenached with sweat and is missing a tooth at the bottom

“Easy.”

I walk over to him and straight up grab his face and kiss him slipping my tongue and feel him grab a handful of my ass and a few seconds later pull away and walk back over to Johnny using the bottom of my shirt to try and wipe my tongue

“Ok your’e turn Pants that biker playing pool” Johnny looks at him and he looks like he will smash his face in. He walks over there and waits till he has his back to him and as hard as he can yanks his jeans down with his boxers coming as well exposing his bare crack Johnny turns round and ores tends to be in a conversation with some random lady.

The man pulls Johnny to face him and holds him by the colour getting redder and redder. His friends start crowding him and they look like they’re gonna jump him so I walk over and tell him.

“Sir they ran into the bathroom he didn’t do it.”

He lets go of Johnny and storms towards the bathroom with his friends following hot on his heals. I burst out laughing making my eyes water.

“I was about to get my ass kicked”Johnny said joining in on your’e laugh.

The night progressed like this having a couple drinks doing some dares. I didn’t even know that Olivier and my sister left. Some of his fiends joined in.

Running along the bar naked then getting pushed off -Chris

I poured salt in my eye

Ehren getting pool balls thrown at him.

And obviously Steve o lit himself on fire spreading it onto my hair

And so on by the end we were all drunk as fuck and had been kicked out.

I wake up with a throbbing head ache and open my eyes but getting blinded by the lights once they adjust I’m in the bath but I don’t recognise it. I get out and try and find out where I am I hear voices so I walk towards it and then it clicks.

We got kicked out and went back to Steve os apartment carrying on the night everything else’s is a bit hazy right now.

I see all of them in the living room chatting and I also see Steve o wearing my shirt that is 4 sizes too small and some boxers.

Hey Steve o can I have my shirt back I groggily ask making them look towards me probably forgetting I was here.

Yeah dude. He takes it off and throws it at me and I take off the one in wearing and give it to him.I turn around and change

“Dude that bruise is gnarly” I look down at my hip bone and see it decorated with a purple bruise from when I tried to break the door down.

“Y/n you weren’t bullshitting last night we’re you? Johnny asks

“What about?”

“Well we were thinking you were right we gotta be more exciting and you seemed pretty into it would you wanna join.”

“No offence babe but Johnny she was drunk as shit she won’t do any of it sobre”

“Try me.”

Time skip

“Im y/n y/l/n and this is electric mouse trap.”

I stick out my tongue and let Chris clip it on to my tongue and immediately feel the electricity. I Jump around in pain trying to keep it in as long as I can to prove to them I can do it. I Shake my head and rip It off my tongue and It feels numb. I try to speak but all that’s coming out is jibberish and everyone including myslef laugh.

“Welcome to jackass y/n”

Guys I’m baaaack

This will be a slower burn series of bam x reader and jackass girl don’t know how often I will post but I’ve planned at least 3 chapters and I’m so excited message me any headcannons you wnat in this

Ik bam wasn’t in this but just you wait

My requests are still open

-liv

[seahagart]

What are Drifa's first opinions of the companions before she gets to know them?

Lae'zel: First companion she would meet, immediately understands she's very brave and 'knows what she's doing', respects. As time goes on, I think Drífa's indifference towards her comments/insults would wane, she would ignore it/not understand what she's saying, or would just think she's making a comment like 'you have an ugly large nose' and drifa is like 'you have no nose, see drífa have eyes', then would probably get tired of it, poking the bear, but remain stoic which i think would bother lae'zel more than getting a reaction lolol. Lae'zel hates Drífa... or does she.... :)

Shadowheart: Second companion, small elf girl, anytime shadowheart is like 'i don't wanna talk about it' drífa's like 'aight' and leaves, which is why shadowheart likes her now. Drífa is concerned, a small elf all alone. Feels shes quite small and fragile to be into the things shes talking about, but whatever. literally has no idea who shar is so is like 'cool goddess, i respect your faith' because drifa also follows a rather fierce goddess. Drifa prefers to listen over talking, so they get along well. shadowheart is desperately trying to smash rn

Gale: Pulled this weirdo out of a rock, a malnourished human, appears sickly. Drífa is confused by most of what he says, but he is rather poetic so she enjoys the 'nonsense' he talks about. Now she has 3 main landers to take care of. Gale talks way too much, but it is entertaining to her. She does not like that he believes he could compete with a goddess.... the gods are gods for a reason, to think you could understand their meaning, or be equal to one is conceited to her. She understands it's because of 'love', but she is weary. Gale is trying to smash now in my play through.

Astarion: weird little malnourished elf man. He also talks to much. Drífa has two talkative dramatic tiny boys and two ladies that hate each other so she's kinda remembering why she lived in isolation for 35 years. Astarion she probably views like a cat, like seeks attention when he wants it, eats what he wants, believes he's the best one here. She is not afraid of him being a vampire because she simply would never let an elf fell her, that would be a true dishonor. he's mildly offended. She doesn't tolerate his dislike of children, but typically doesn't really care what he does.

Wyll: Another little guy with sad eyes. Another human. Drifa likes him, he's polite, seems to know what he's doing, seems 'the most normal' plus has seen his share of battle (like lae'zel) so she's glad to have him along. Obviously when things go down she's like 'wow... yet another guy with baggage with a blue lady...' side eying gale. She likes his stories, listens intently to his deeds of good and protecting the sword coast, overall likes him but is still like 'here is another small human- oops small devil for my collection'

Karlach: Finally someone who looks like they're a warrior. Likes her, feels like she doesn't need to protect/take care of, which is good so she can focus her energies on the softies of the party. Drífa would like Karlach, she's a bit blunt and a bit more energetic than Drífa is used to, but probably likes that. Karlach's dancing, lust for life, and fire would be highly approved. I think Drífa wouldn't really get why she's sad about not being touched

Halsin: another gd ELF, but this ones big and can turn into a bear so thats ok. I think they'd have a lot in common but Drífa views him more as a tree hugger. She appreciates nature, so i think they could get along well.... though she finds him confusing... she doesn't feel like she needs to worry about him, and he's pretty forward and upfront so it works out well.

There are all first impressions. Drífa was raised to take care of herself and herself only, keep to her own, and that strength = power, because her lifestyle is very physically demanding. Being big and strong is important, being fat and strong is more important to survive frozen winters etc. She is a loner suddenly surrounded by people for the first time in her life, and is doing her best to keep them alive because obviously they need her help and this is a mission given to her by her goddess, why else would she have sent the ship to take her, to bring her to these people...

[slxsherwriter]

The Little Wheel Squeals

Fandom: Joy Ride

Pairing: Rusty Nail x reader

Word Count: 1,768

Warnings: None

Author's note: Part one of the Nanowrimo fics that I am attempting. The next part in my Rusty Nail series. Hope everyone enjoys. As always, not Beta read.

A heavy sigh escaped you as the last remnants of glass were swept up and into the dust bin, to be tossed away and forgotten. A reminder that while you were mostly alone out here, you weren't completely alone. Being on your own didn't bother you, after all you knew that Rusty needed to be on the road for extended periods of time. It was just what the job was. Nothing that he could be faulted for or have held against him. You had known that at the very start, plenty of life experience telling you that it was something that you could handle. But it was moments like these, when idiots decided to break in, thinking that no one was home or that the house was abandoned, that being on your own felt a little unnerving and had you longing for the moment that Rusty was walking back through that door.

You had been home this time when the window had smashed, the sound reaching you upstairs, where the knock had not. Immediately, you had been concerned and reached for the bat that had been insisted upon for protection in his absence. They hadn't been a very difficult group to deal with, actually for the most part not looking to cause any trouble. Simply looking for help, which you were happy to give. Even if the one guy in the group caused you to feel uneasy. A feat that took a lot given your typical generous, forgiving nature. Something had just seemed off about him, causing you to keep the bat close while you allowed them to use the phone to call out for someone to pick them up. Their car had broken down at some point miles up the road and they had been wandering since.

The story was believable. It happened more often than not around here since your home was situated in nearly the middle of nowhere. Rusty had told after he had first shown you the house that he had picked the spot because of the land and the privacy. It was an oasis, a place to go away from people and away from the mess of being on the road. A concept that was easy to digest and something that could be understood on a deep level. After all, when your father had come home, he had said the same thing. Apparently though, more stragglers than anticipated tended through the area.

Still, you had taken to the home, not quite moving in but spending far more time at his place than your own, which was technically the next state over. You occasionally would head home on weekends, especially ones that he worked. The old house was not something that you could bring yourself to get rid of and debated asking Rusty to move out with you. It wasn't quite as isolated but it was a piece of paradise all on it's own. The thought of the conversation once again swirled before being tossed to the side for later examination.

Seeing them picked up and head off had a relief washing over you, enough so to make you sag back against the porch for just a second. There was work that needed to be done. Namely, cleaning up the rest of the broken glass and finish patching up what you could of the window until there was a new one delivered. Windows were always a pain in the ass.

As the glass hit the bottom of the can, you were greeted with the sound of a deep rumbling engine. Rusty was home. All the worry from before, the agitation, and concern over the man that had made you feel uneasy melted away. He was finally home.

Moving to the front door to greet him, you watched as his shoulders dropped from where they had been tensed, how his fingers unfurled, hands hanging loosely at his sides for a moment, and a small, genuine smile come to his face. Whether he realized you were there or not yet remained unknown, but you took in the moment to appreciate the fact that he was finally relaxing.

"Welcome home," you finally offered as you moved over without any prompting and wrapped your arms around him. Road grim be damned, you needed a shower anyway.

"Hey, sweetheart." The words came out in that comforting rumble that had you closing your eyes before you could help it. The heavy, familiar weight of his arm dropping to your shoulders was an added bonus as he hugged you back. "Missed you."

"Missed you too. Trip was too long this time." As much as you wanted to agree, there was also a fear of him interpreting it as a concern about his occupation.

"It was a long one this time. But you're home now and that is what matters." You sighed softly as you took a deep breath in. "Why don't you go shower up and I'll get something thrown together for you to eat." You would ask him about the plans for the evening after that, letting him get in the door and truly relaxed after it all. Which meant cleaned up with a proper shower and a good meal that wasn't from a truck stop diner.

"Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart." He pressed a kiss to your cheek before stepping back. Jacket on the hook and boots off, he headed towards the bathroom, entirely missing the broken window that you still had to finish at least patching up so nothing could get through it and into the house during the night. Both animals and insects. Food for Rusty first.

You were finishing with the little makeshift board when he came wandering back into the room, smelling of his eucalyptus shower gel and something else. Without the hat on, his eyes were clear and obviously focused right on you.

"What happened?" That hard edge that he was careful to keep from you came out. Always the protective one. "And when?"

"This evening. Small group came around, thinking that no one was home. They needed to call for help. Let them use the phone after everything was explained and they headed off maybe about an hour before you got home?" You watched as something changed, the tension in his jaw obvious from the clench. All before it vanished. "It wasn't anything too bad. They are gone and it's over." there seemed to be gears turning as his eyes jumped from you to look around the room. Or a simple method of calming himself down.

"You sure?"

"Watched them drive off myself. Made the one that offered to stay behind for the tow truck go right along with them and had the bat at my side the entire time."

"That's a good girl." The praise sent a little warmth through you but now was not the time.

"Come on, eat your food before it gets cold. Then, can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?" You just wanted to be close, feeling him against you, smell him. Be encompassed by his presence in every sense possible. Rusty was safety and had been that since he had first picked you up on the side of the road. And you were admittedly still feeling a little off. Not a fact that you wanted to disclose to the man. The anger disappeared after a long second before he was walking over to you and his warm lips met your forehead.

"Course, darling. If that's what you want, that's what we will do."

"Only after you eat." Wanting to make sure he was taken care of, you had to insist that he ate before anything else. He glanced at the plate before chuckling softly.

"How about this? We curl up on the couch, and I eat while having you laying against me?" That impossibly large hand that you loved, pressed against your hip though he didn't move to bring you any closer together.

"I think I can settle on that compromise." Leaning up, your lips brushed over his cheek this time, a gentle affection that you were happy to shower the man in since he did it in return.

"Good. Go turn on the TV and find something to watch. I'll be right there." He used the touch that he had on you to send you off towards the living room. All would be right in the world with a night of snuggling close to your man. You made sure to stop at the closet and grab that worn blanket that was just perfect for the cooler nights. Though Rusty was practically a human furnace. Still, it was fun to have you both under it and cuddled together. It gave that nice cozy feeling that could put you right to sleep, no matter what was happening around you or had happened.

Settling on the couch, it only took Rusty an additional two minutes to join you, a plate of chicken and potatoes piled practically sky high. Oh yeah, he was fine and hadn't needed dinner at all. You could have laughed at the portions, but then again, he was a big man. You pulled the blanket back, knowing that he would need to eat before he could get under it, least anything ended up on it.

There was a relieved groan as he settled back into the worn couch, kicking his legs out in front of him.

"Anything else happen while I was away?" You shook your head.

"No, it was pretty quiet. I honestly thought I was going to get away with no one showing up before you got home from this trip." Reaching out, your hand lightly rubbed the back of his neck while he began to eat.

"Shouldn't have been anyone at all." You laughed softly.

"Kinda hard to be in a spot where no one else exists. We are pretty close for the most part." He grunted around a mouthful of potato but didn't say anything else about it. Neither did you, choosing to let him eat the remainder of the meal in silence.

The plate had barely hit the table beside the couch when he had his arm around you. The familiar weight and warmth immediately had you melting against him, shifting and resting your head against his shoulder. Smiling to yourself, you felt truly at ease for the first time all day.

"Comfortable?"

"Never been better." A low rumbling laugh left him and you felt a kiss pressed to the top of your head.

"Can't say I can complain about a homecoming like this."

[elly-grace]

The story goes…

This is my first fic. I think I’ll make a part two but we’ll see how this goes. It’s kinda short.

If you guys have any tips feel free to comment them.

Paring: Joe burrow x reader

Warnings: a terrible attempt at writing smut, pregnancy

Word count: 976 (like I said it’s short but I tried)

Pt 2

One night.

It’s funny how one night can ruin your life.

One mistake, one moment you wish you could erase.

But here I was staring at those two lines, my mistake led to this. Something that will be beautiful, something that won’t be viewed as a mistake.

Flash back

When I walk into the doorway of Joe's house I am greeted by the smell of alcohol. Out of the corner of my eye I see my brother flirting with a random girl, both obviously drunk. Then I see Joe, his beautiful blue eyes meet my (eye color) ones.

The tension between us could be cut by a knife. So obvious to everyone but us. As we continue to stare at each other I am pulled away.

“Yo little sis! Have a drink, glad you could make it.”

“Sam, how much have you had?” You give your brother a concerning look.

“I’m celebrating, we’re going to the Super Bowl!”

“That’s not what I asked. Who’s sober here?”

“That would be me.”

There it was the beautiful smooth voice. The voice that could make you drop to your knees. The voice that could make you do anything it said. It belonged the none other than Joe Burrow.

“Joe, how much has he drunk?”

“Enough, he’s probably going to either crash here or need a ride home.”

“I’m going to take him home. Let’s go Sam.”

Sam whines “you're no fun little sis. Have some fun let loose.”

With that Sam ran back to the Red head he was flirting with moments before.

“You umm. You look beautiful” Joe said as a hand moved to the back of his neck.

“Why thank you Joseph. You don’t look bad yourself”

Sam’s words running through your head. “Have some fun let loose” that’s exactly what I plan to do. Without thinking I smashed my lips into Joes.

To my surprise he pulled me into him and kissed me back. Things were getting heated and fast as Joe's hand reached down to my butt and slapped it. A moan slipping from my throat. I could feel his smirk as he slipped his tongue into my mouth.

I pull away out of breath and see Joe's chest heaving clearly out of breath as well. His eyes are no longer a light shade of blue but a dark shade filled with lust and longing.

“Let’s go upstairs.” He said and kissed me then grabbed my hand and pulled me to his room. He locks the door and stares at me as if I was his prey.

“Jo-“ I was cut off by him pushing me into the wall and kissing me again.

“Please” I whimpered out as he’s still kissing me.

He pulls away and looks into my eyes, his light blue eyes returning. Did I just ruin everything? Did he not want to have sex? Did he just want to kiss me?

“Y/n, I can't- I won’t do anything till you give me permission. So tell me what you want, baby.”

“I- I want you.” I went to kiss him and he pulled away.

“Not specific enough, tell me what you want.” He all but growls out as I see the tent growing in his shorts.

“Fuck me.” I whispered.

In a matter of seconds Joe picked me up and threw me on his bed. He started to kiss me while making progress on removing our clothes. Once all were both in our undergarments he stopped.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded

“Words baby, I need verbal confirmation .”

“Yes Joe.”

Joe quickly takes his underwear off and then mine and enters. First he’s slow so I can get used to him, but soon he’s fucking me like he will never have a chance to again.

When we’re both close to our orgasm Joe stops.

“I didn’t- I forgot a condom.”

“I don’t care. I’m on birth control.”

That’s all he needed to hear. We both reached our peak. He pulled out and laid next to me. After we both calm down he turns to me.

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing.”

“I don’t either but you're my brother's best friend. This was probably a mistake.” I stood up and started gathering and putting on my clothes.

“Y/n Sam will understand.”

“Obviously you don’t know Sam as well as I do. He’s going to hurt you if he finds out.” I said. I then unlocked his door and left.

End of flashback

I'm taken from my thoughts by banging on the door. I quickly got up and unlocked it knowing it was Evan. He ran in and hugged me.

“I’m a mess, he got me pregnant and I can’t tell him. Sam’s going to hurt him.”

“You’re not a mess. You’re emotional and that’s completely understandable. But look at me and listen when I say this, you and this baby are not alone.” He sighed. “I know you're not going to like what I’m about to say.”

“Then don’t say it Evan.”

“You should tell Joe. Even if he won’t say it out loud he loves you. He’s always had a crush on you, he’ll help raise the baby. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“Stop lying to me. Joe hates me, I bet he lied about being sober when we had sex. He probably doesn’t even remember it. Plus I was always just Sam’s annoying little sister.”

“He wasn’t lying. Please y/n he deserves to know he’s going to be a dad.”

“How do I tell Sam though. I’m afraid Sam’s going to hurt him.”

“Y/n Sam wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You and Joe are oblivious but we all see it. Sam sees the way you two look at each other. He wouldn’t hurt Joe cause he knows you love him.”

[dollcherray]

Hi! I love your stories! And I wanted to ask if you could do smg3 x reader who lost their memories during the puzzlevission arc (should I call it that?)

If you don't feel comfortable with this request, feel free to ignore it :)

Have great day/evening/night!!

୨୧ THE 30TH ✮⋆˙

SMG3 X READER WHO LOST THEIR MEMORIES

A/N: Yay!!! i love this man bro, smg3 is such a babygirl, it makes me so frustrated that there so little fics of him, LIKE FEED US WITH THIS SHORT OBESE CHUNGUS MAN‼️‼️‼️

Type: Angst, Hcs, romantic

Tw: mentions of depression, i tried making this as sad as possible

Song recommendation: Birds dont sing

୨୧ Smg3 was so relieved when everything ended well, everyone was okay, the chaos was over! The first thing that smg3 did when everything was over was run to you and hug you, relieved that you were okay.

୨୧ ...only to be met with a "who are you? what is happening?" from you, caughting him totally off guard and making him slowly more and more shocked and disturbed the second he realized what that could mean.

୨୧ He hates Puzzles with every ounce of his being,SMG4 didnt even need to smash the TV with Luigi meat mallet, Smg3 destroyed that TV himself, reducing it to shards in mere seconds, all out of pure hatred for what he done to you.

୨୧ He couldnt believe it, you were just playing around right? you didnt really mean that, it was just a stupid prank you were pulling on him... right?! he shaked you by the shoulders desperately, asking if you were joking and to stop playing around, but his fear were sadly confirmed when you said you didnt knew what he was talking about.

୨୧ This man would be in severe denial once he realizes what happened, thinking you were just being a silly goof ball, when in reality you didnt even remember who u were or where you were, everything in ur mind was just... static

୨୧ The crew would let him live in his fantasy for a while, in hopes for him to fall into reality himself, while trying to get you to have your memories back, but nothing would really seen to work.

୨୧ Smg3 could feel himself falling into depression by the second, he missed you profoundly, he missed how you would just stick by his side everytime you got the chance, now, it was gone, it was all gone.

୨୧ After some time he would fall into acceptance and try to rebuild some memories with you, try to get you guys happy life back, try to get your sparkle back, so that he could feel your warm and comforting hug, even if that meant he had to win you back again.

୨୧ He would often show you some pictures of you two on his phone, some of dates, others from stupid adventures, or just you two relaxing together and also, some drawings he made of you, so you could at least believe him when he said you two knew eachother.

୨୧ His "tough" facade would fall and he wouldnt catch it, and the crew didnt dare to tease him for it since it was a very delicate moment to him, so they would just let him be and comfort him when needed.

୨୧ He would become extra protective of you, sticking by your side always he gets the chance to, keeping an eye on you so he knows you are okay and safe.

୨୧ Considered trying using his guardian powers on you but turned his own idea down because he was afraid that it could hurt or even worsen the situation somehow, so he would just stick to hope and rebuild something with you route.

୨୧ Smg3's look of admiration whenever he looked at you never left, but instead, his look looked a bit more emotional and sad, while he completed if you would ever be yourself again, but he tried comforting himself saying that he would love you no matter what </3

୨୧ “Even though you dont remember me, ill always remember you”

[effervescentdragon]

smick + mick never wins a WDC

"I won't get it."

Sebastian opens his eyes to the dark. There is a light in the room, coming from the light outside. Seb likes to keep a porch light (it makes everything feel like it should be, homely and comfortable and as it is supposed to be, like he always thought home should be, like he read in the books when he was small and hiding under the covers and he didn't want to go through his car books again, in the stories there was always a porch light on waiting for whoever came home last) and its light spills into their bedroom.

He keeps his breathing steady. If Mick wants him to hear this, he'll make it known. He'll grab Seb's hand, or nudge him, or wake him up in some other way.

The room stays silent for a moment, and then Mick says it again.

"I won't - I won't get it."

I know, Seb wants to say. I've always known, ever since we drove together that year, my last and your first. I've known ever since you were a child and I was watching you in karts with Michael next to me, proud as he ever was of you. I knew it back then because he was proud of you like a father is supposed to be proud of a son - without any expectations of what that son will do, or was able to do. And Michael knew too, that you weren't like us. That you were gentle, and kind, and that you would never be a champion.

He breathes evenly, makes sure to let out a mumble as he thinks I've always known you'll never get it. You're too good a person, Mick, you're not a bastard, you don't have the instinct to smash and crash and burn for it. You don't want to hurt anyone, you don't dare push the limits because you know what pushing the limits means. You know what it gets you, you know the consequences, and you could never bear bringing someone else the desolation that going over the limits has brought you. And that is your greatest strength as a person and your worst weakness as a racer. And you, you're a driver only second, or third, or maybe even fourth. You're a son, and a brother, and a lover all before you're a racer, and that means you will not be a champion.

Mick sighs, and Seb waits. If Mick wakes him up, he'll reassure him. He will lie, and he will lie well, because he's learned to lie at the feet of the best and he will make Mick believe the lie, because the truth serves nobody at this point. He has been lying to Mick their whole lives, about so many things, because Mick needed to be protected and saved from all the pain that Seb could spare him, so lying to Mick comes as second nature to Sebastian now. Sebastian will lie, and he will lie magnificently, and he will kiss Mick softly and hold him gently and cook him breakfast in the morning, and life will go on as it always does.

Mick sighs again. This time it's a different sound. This time, it echoes with acceptance. It makes Seb angry, and sad, and if he dared admit it to himself, just a tiny bit disappointed.

Sebastian feels Mick move closer, so he affects only waking up now. He opens his eyes to half mast and mumbles "Love? What," but before he needs to take the charade further, Mick shushes him.

"It's okay," he whispers, fitting his arms around Seb in a maneouvre they've done a thousand times. "Sleep."

Sebastian relaxes in Mick's arms. "Love you," he mumbles, because he has to, but mostly because he wants to.

"Love you too," Mick says, and buries his face into the junction of Sebastian's neck and shoulder.

Sebastian falls asleep thinking of Mick.

He dreams of Michael.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Agitation 3.11 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

Amy Dallon Worst Day Ever (For Now) Speedrun! Let's GO!

The girl glowered at me from behind her mop of frizzy brown hair.  In her hands she was gripping a fire extinguisher.  Behind her, past the lights that were flickering across my field of vision, I could see the hostages streaming upstairs.  It was disorienting, because the bugs I’d left on them were telling me they were still in the corner of the lobby, staying still.  I could feel one spider shift slightly as the person it was riding exhaled, then shuddered a little, even as I saw that same person stumbling and nearly falling on the stairs in their haste to get away.

That has to be disorienting. So she like... did the bug equivalent of that thing they do in movies where they put the cameras into a loop of an empty hallway or whatever?

 There were no words the words to describe it, exactly.  It was like feedback.  If my brain had been a computer, I got the feeling I’d only be getting hundreds or thousands of error messages popping up across the screen.  It was painful, too, just compounding until it felt like my brain was being used as a punching bag.

That explains the earlier headaches then. Amy really is perfectly designed to either complement or completely fuck with Skitter, isn't she?

Love it.

“You don’t need to know that.”  She swung the fire extinguisher over her head at me, and I scrambled out of the way, grabbing the edge of a table to haul myself to my feet as I did it.

I'm so glad there's no one here at work but me right now because I'm cackling like a loon at this. Not sure why. it's funny, but -

Like, Amy isn't a Woobie, but she comes by that portrayal fairly, but this - this is not the Woobie Amy of a fun fanfic, this is 'Fuck you, I'm smashing you in the face with an extinguisher' Amy :rofl:

She didn’t chase me.  Instead, she reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved a cell phone.

Ah yes "Call Vicky", the most dangerous move in Amy's arsenal. :rofl:

“Shit.  I liked that phone,” she muttered.

And that's her priority.

I don't know if this scene is meant to be funny, but holy shit it is.

“Who the fuck are you, and who were you trying to call?” “Actually, it was a text, not a call, and it went through,” she said.  Then she smiled at me. At the same moment I uttered the word ‘Who’, one of the windows at the side of the bank shattered.  A blur of white and gold slammed into the center of the lobby hard enough to send fragments of marble tile skittering over the floor to my feet, halfway across the room.

Is that the first use of the word 'skitter' in the text of the story? I think it is.

Also, if Worm ever did get a TV adaptation, this dialogue would need to be kept exactly, right? Just the mental image of watching this scene - *cackle*

The figure straightened, dusted herself off and turned to glare at me.  Almost casually, she backhanded the marble and oak table to her left that held all of the withdrawal and deposit slips.  With that lazy swing of her arm, she annihilated the table, doing so much damage to it that nobody would ever be putting it together again.

Seriously, Vicky, did you actually need to do that? Like, what does that accomplish?

Had I done something heinous in a past life, to deserve going up against Lung on my first time out in costume, and Glory Girl on my second?

Being Taylor Hebert Is Suffering. It's the Cosmic Law.

“Hey sis,” Glory Girl tilted her head to one side, to look at the brown haired girl, “You okay?” The girl, who could be none other than Amy Dallon, Panacea when she was in costume, offered Glory Girl a beaming smile, “I am now.”

Major 'oh shit' moment. And yet, isn't Taylor about to hold Amy at knifepoint? :rofl:

even if Panacea had generally avoided the spotlight as of late. 

That would imply she ever didn't avoid the spotlight? That just doesn't sound like Amy. Even just going from Interlude 2?

Glory Girl stepped towards me, and I scrambled for Panacea.  She scrabbled for a grip at my costume, trying to grab at my glove, then at my mask,  but the moment I drew my knife, both she and Glory Girl went absolutely still.  I grabbed Panacea’s chin and maneuvered so I was standing behind her, my knife pressed to her throat.

There we go.

“Count yourself lucky, bug bitch, that your costume covers your entire body,” Panacea murmured to me, “Or I’d maybe give you a heart attack.  Or cancer.”

I mean, I've seen Amy get some critique for this, but Taylor did just terrorize a whole bank with Black Widow Spiders and is holding Amy at knife point.

I mean, I'd be too afraid to backtalk the villain holding me at knifepoint, but I think it's fair to do so, no?

“It is good, isn’t it?” then in a lower voice, she whispered to me, “What if I fucked up your taste buds, you little terrorist?  You threaten the lives of innocents, I can go that far.  I can do anything with your biology.  Make everything you eat taste like bile.  Or maybe I’ll just make you fat.  Morbidly, disgustingly fat.”

A little more deserving of 'wtf Amy', but like, again, the girl has a knife to her throat? Fatphobia is bad and all, but still.

There’s a pretty damn good chance my mom, dad, aunt, uncle and cousins will be showing up, too.  Brandish, Flashbang, Lady Photon, Manpower, Laserdream, Shielder… how are you going to manage, then?”

You have a high opinion of how much Carol cares about Amy and how easily Mark will be able to get himself out of bed than I do, Vicky.

“Ames, the guy I’m setting you up with is a sixteen year old millionaire."

...the fuck Vicky?

(Okay, I have no reason why this line sets my teeth on edge, but it does.)

“Hey, Tattletale,” I called out, my voice a touch strained, “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but could you avoid antagonizing Alexandria Junior?”

I'm not sure Tattletale is capable of not poking at and antagonizing people. Like, I don't mean that as an attack, I'm just guessing it's really fucking hard for her to not.

“Can she?  Sure.  Will she?  Definitely not.  She’s all bark, no bite.” “Try me,” Panacea taunted.  I reasserted my grip and reminded her of the knife against her throat. “I’d really prefer to avoid tempting fate,” I said, carefully.

Smart thinking Taylor *sideeyes Lisa*

“Come on,” Tattletale smiled, folding her arms, “Villain 101.  You don’t give info to the hero in a gloating monologue.”

I'm pretty sure that's Villain 201, actually. 101 is that you do need to monologue. You can't be a villain without a good monologue now and then. Union rules.

“Bullshit,” Glory Girl said, “The brainpower you’d need to interpret and decode someone’s unique neural patterns would need a head five times the usual size to contain it all.  True psychics can’t exist.”

Like, I get that Vicky has studied this, but POWERS ARE BULLSHIT

She seems way too confident about this

“Why is it so hard to believe?  Legend can shoot lasers from his hands, lasers that turn corners.  Clockblocker and Vista can mess with the fundamental forces of space and time.  Kaiser can create metal from thin air.  Conservation of mass, conservation of energy, basic laws of our universe get broken by capes all the time.  All of that is possible, but I can’t peek into your brain?”

I mean, this is a good point. like, skepticism about telepathy even in a normal sci-fi story is fair, but in Parahumans, everything is absolutely nuts, sooo...

  A continuous loop of the wrong information, like when thieves in the movies spliced a video camera feed to repeat the same segment over and over. 

Called it!

Not that that was that hard, but still.

“Which is why you call yourself Tattletale, I see,” Glory Girl was saying, “But you’re a retard.  We’re part of New Wave.  We have no secrets.  That’s the whole fucking point of our team.  Heroes with no secret identities, no secrets, full disclosure, total accountability.”

Vicky, I get the need for bluster here, but fucking everyone has secrets. You do too.

“For the record,” Tattletale said, her voice very smooth and calm, “I fucking hate it when people call me stupid.”

You do sometimes earn it. But then, here's vicky pushing Tattletale's buttons and then so, next chapter, Lisa is gonna push Amy's biggest buttons because she's pissy and well, fun. Fun stuff!

Loved the chapter.

[thornybubbles]

Can't Fight This Feeling: Yandere Speedwagon

Note: This is another short story I came up with using the picker wheel method. Just like with Santana, I had the wheel pick a random prompt from a list of yandere prompts from Tumblr and then had it pick a character from a list of JoJo characters I haven’t written for yet. The character was our favorite Best Waifu Speedwagon and the winning prompt was: “Yandere watches darling sleep and imagines their future together.” I wrote most of this while I was sick so if it sounds weird in some parts, I’m sorry. This is lighter fare as I don’t really see Speedwagon as the hardcore yandere type. I’m honestly not happy with this at all. The ending isn’t very satisfying in my opinion, because I just wanted to finish it and get it posted. Again, sorry for the poor quality in this one. 

Robert listened to the slow ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway as he gazed down at your sleeping face. Something as lovely as you simply shouldn’t exist in this world, and yet, here you were. Robert had seen his fair share of ugliness. Ogre Street was where ugliness in all of its forms thrived. It’s where he learned all of life's cruelest lessons. That’s where he learned that someone could stab him to death and leave him to bleed out in the streets and not a soul would care. It made him bitter. 

When he met Jonathan Joestar, most of that bitterness went away, but it left a hole in his heart where it used to be. Jonathan’s rare show of true nobility and kindness was not something that he was used to. He was so used to being looked down on by those in the higher class and always having to watch his back around his peers. He had his allies, but he had made it a point not to get too attached to any of them. He never knew when a street fight would go wrong and he’d end up losing them. 

Robert couldn’t handle losing people. He’d only known Zeppeli for a little while, and he spent most of that time arguing with him, but watching the man die such a gruesome, painful death nearly destroyed him. Then getting word of Jonathan’s death only a short time after, when they all believed that the nightmare was finally over… It was almost enough to make him return to thuggery. 

He’d gotten drunk the night after Jonathan’s memorial service. He just wanted to drink himself into such a stupor that he couldn’t even remember his own name. If he drank himself to death that night, then all the better. Life had taught him another of its cruel lessons… the cruelest lesson of all: Genuinely good people were rare and it was even rarer for them to live very long. It seemed the world couldn’t handle even an inkling of kindness, bravery, or love before it snatched it all away. Zeppeli and Jonathan didn’t deserve their miserable deaths. If he’d had a chance to take the place of either one of them, he’d die in their stead in a heartbeat. Death like that should be reserved for people who hurt people, like Dio… like himself.

He wandered far away from Ogre Street and the miserable hovel he called home until he found himself in a neighborhood he didn’t recognize. Or at least he didn’t think he recognized it. His vision was so blurry that he could only follow the streetlights at this point. The lights were the only things that he could see properly. His wobbling steps caused him to step wrong and he staggered off of the sidewalk and tripped over someone’s front steps. He bumped his head on the railing and yelped in pain. He ended up sprawled across the steps, his bottle of liquor smashing on the cobblestone walkway. His head was spinning and he wasn’t sure if it was due to the bump on the head or the alcohol. Just before he lost consciousness, he saw a light go on in one of the second story windows of the home whose steps he was laying on. He supposed he’d wake up in a prison cell in the morning, probably pinched for trespassing, vagrancy, public drunkenness, or all three. 

He was more than a little surprised when he woke up in the most comfortable bed in the world with the worst hangover in the world. Once his blurry eyes managed to focus on his surroundings, panic started to settle in. Instead of cold stone walls, he saw polished wood. Instead of iron bars on the windows, he saw lacy, poofy pink curtains. The more he examined his surroundings, the more he thought that this looked a lot like a woman’s room…

Oh.

OH!

OH NO!!

He needed to get out of there! He could hear someone coming up the stairs. His heart nearly burst out of his chest. HE NEEDED TO GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW!!! This was the worst possible outcome. Worse than waking up in a jail cell! He had no idea how he came to be in some woman’s room, but it was an enormous taboo for him to remain there. He glanced around the room, his panic-filled eyes desperately trying to find a means of escape. He could hear the footsteps on the top stair. All he could see was the open window. Out the window it was, then. He quickly sat up… and regretted every decision he’d made that led up to that moment. His head felt like it was going to split in half. He clasped his hands to his temples, hoping to soothe his hangover somehow. That’s when he noticed the bandages wrapping around his head. 

Huh?

Someone bandaged him? Who would do that? Who would waste good bandages on a lowly goon like him? 

That’s when you came through the door. Robert froze holding his head and looking at you with a horrified expression. You set the tray you were carrying down on the nightstand, placed your hands on your hips, and glared at him. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” you demanded. 

“Ah! I-I’m s-sorry! I--!!” Robert stammered but then he realized that he recognized you. You had spoken those same words to him the first time you met. 

“You lie back down right now.” you said firmly, gently pushing him back down onto the overstuffed pillow. The pillow billowed up around him, causing his shaggy blonde hair to floof up around his face. You chuckled at him as he looked at you with those same worried, confused eyes he’d given you when you first met him. 

“Y-you’re… you’re the nurse…” he mumbled as the pain in his head was starting to make him dizzy. 

“We just keep running into each other, don’t we, Mr. Speedwagon?” you said as you uncovered the bowl of soup on the tray. 

“Do you think that you feel up to eating something?” you asked him. 

Robert didn’t answer, he just stared at you as he was caught up in the memory of the first time the two of you met. It was the night he came to visit Jonathan, after he’d been injured after the first fight with Dio. You caught him trying to sneak in after visiting hours, scaling the side of the building like some kind of cat burglar. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?!” You yelled up at him. He looked down at you, realizing he’d been caught, and slowly descended the ropes back down to the ground. He blurted out some excuses, saying he realized how bad it looked, but he assured you that he wasn’t trying to rob the place. (Who’d rob a hospital, anyway? He wasn’t that much of a lowlife!) He just wanted to see his friend. You asked him why he hadn’t come during visiting hours and he explained that he tried, but they wouldn’t let him in. You looked at him in his desperate, watery eyes, then glanced down at his shoddy sling. You scolded him, not for trying to break in, but for trying to do so with an obviously injured arm. 

“Come with me.” you commanded. 

Stunned, he followed you into the hospital where you led him to a room. To his delight, the room was right across from Jonathan’s. You explained to him you couldn’t let him into Jonathan’s room due to his delicate condition, but he was being treated by one of your best nurses, and that while he hadn’t revived yet, he soon would. If anyone could break him out of his unconsciousness it would be her. You promised to let him take a peek at Jonathan before he left. You then proceeded to treat his arm. Robert winced and hissed as you did so. He realized that you had essentially snuck him in as a patient so that he could check on his friend. None of the other staff had been willing to do that for him and he didn’t know how to feel about it. He protested when you began to prepare his arm for a more professional sling, saying that he couldn’t pay for it. You sent him a silent glare, he yelped and shrank in on himself, but didn’t bring up the cost of treatment again. 

“Mr. Speedwagon? Did you hear me?” you asked, dragging him off of memory lane. 

“Oh… yes. Thank you…” he mumbled. 

You reached over and propped up his pillow so that he was sitting up slightly. When you put a spoonful of soup to his lips he realized that you planned to feed him. 

“Y-you don’t have to d-do that!” he sputtered, moving his head away from the spoon like a fussy toddler. 

You huffed and fixed him with that same glare you gave him when he mentioned being unable to pay for you treating his arm. His face flushed, not only from the idea of you feeding him but from the fact that he rather liked that glare. He couldn’t say what it was exactly, but the expression brought something out in your eyes that made him feel warm all over. Noticing the sudden color in his face, you set the spoon back down into the soup and placed your hand on his cheek. His eyes closed out of reflex and his face heated up even more. 

“You seem to have a bit of a fever. I’ll give you something for that in a moment. First let’s feed you. Having something in your stomach will help to ease that hangover of yours.” you told him. 

Robert allowed you to feed him, pointedly avoiding looking you in the face as you did so. You scolded him for wandering the streets in a drunken state at night, not because of any societal rules, but due to how dangerous it was to be inebriated in the middle of the night with no one around to keep him out of trouble. It seemed you simply couldn’t stop thinking like a nurse no matter what. He normally hated it when people told him what to do, but he found that he rather liked it when you scolded him. You didn’t do it to boss him around or give yourself reasons to feel superior to him. You did it because you actually cared about what happened to him, though you had no reason to. He could feel that empty space inside of him that used to be filled with bitterness begin to fill up with something that he never felt before.  

It didn’t take long for him to realize that he was in love with you. How could he not fall for someone who treated him with such tenderness? Even when you chided him for one thing or another, you only did so because you wanted him to stay healthy and out of trouble. Robert realized that he’d been lucky enough to find another rare gem of a human in you. Jonathan and Zeppeli were gone, cruelly taken from a world that didn’t deserve them. But you were still here. You could still spread your kindness freely… but Robert knew that as soon as the Universe caught a glimmer of the light in your sweet soul, it would do everything in its power to snuff it out. He wanted to protect you. In the same way that he vowed to protect Erina and her child from the cruelties of the world, he wanted to do the same for you. 

But it wasn’t the same with you. When Robert realized that he was in love with you, he also realized that the feelings he had for you seemed to keep growing. That empty place inside of him was not only filled up… it was overflowing. There wasn’t a moment that went by that he didn’t think of you. Even when he was helping Erina out, he was thinking of you. 

Now here he was, standing next to your bed, watching over you as you slept, unaware of his presence. He knew what he was doing was wrong, and oh so inappropriate, but he couldn’t help himself. He just wanted to make sure you were safe. He found out that you had no family to speak of. You had no one around to watch over you. It wasn’t fair. Not that he didn’t admire your independence, something unheard of for women of the time, but… what if something happened? What if you got hurt? What if you got sick? No one would be there to help you. Would anyone besides himself even know or care? He hated the idea of no one being there for you if you needed them. 

Robert wanted to be there for you. He figured that if he married you, then he would always be able to watch out for you, but…. He was still just a lowly street thug with a criminal background. You deserved someone far better than him. So he decided that he would have to make something of himself first, before he could attempt to court you. It was only right. He would find a way to earn lots of money, legitimately, and become someone you would be proud to have by your side. He would use that money to help people as well as make a better life for you. If you wanted to continue to be a nurse, he would let you. You could work together to make this horrible world a better place. You could help him watch out for Erina and the future Joestar descendants. 

The Grandfather clock in the hallway chimed. It was 1 am. You sighed softly and turned over in your sleep. Robert felt that it was time for him to leave. He would be back the next night to watch over you again, knowing that one day, he could watch over you without having to break in. 

[skz317cb97]

Kim Seungmin x Thick Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Synopsis: A sequel to A Tale of Two Cheonyeo. You and Seungmin have been together for almost three years. You've had a lot of firsts together in that time but you still have your issues with your body and still wear your shirt when you make love. You decide you want to do something special for Seungmin for your anniversary, if your nerves don't get the best of you first.

A/N: 18+ only! This is the second sequel in the SKZ x Thick Reader Series. Before I even knew I would be doing a whole series of part 2's I already knew this story would be getting one! I hope you all enjoy it! If you do smash the like, the reblog, leave me a little comment, or shoot me an ask and a keyboard smash. I love the feedback! Warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY strong language/cursing, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected piv sex (please use protection), praise/body worship, multiple orgasms/overstimulation, cum shot, cum eating, mentions of pregnancy and birth. I think that's everything but if I missed anything please let me know and I'll add it asap!

Agi angye. Seungmin said it to you all the time. Whenever there was a task that seemed too daunting, something happening in your life that was overwhelming, or a milestone that seemed scary.

“Agi angye y/n. Any movement forward is progress baby. Take small steps and don’t think about the distance. Focus on the steps and you’ll get there when you get there.” He used the line on you lot when you were being hard on yourself about your body image and your sex life with Seungmin. There were three things that were your only requests when you had sex, you couldn’t have a bunch of lights on, you didn’t want Seungmin to go down on you, and you always always had to have your shirt on. When you had been together a little over a year, he asked you to move in together and you still wore the shirt when making love. You had lived together for almost a year and a half now, closing in on your three-year anniversary and you still wore the shirt. Seungmin respected your wishes of course and never pressured you to do something you didn’t feel comfortable doing. If you were interested in trying to take a step, he was supportive. If you got scared and backed out, he comforted and assured you.

You had made some progress in the last few years with Seungmin. Mostly after moving in together. Being in such close quarters helped. He’d seen you in a towel quite a few times, and your little robe. As long as the curtains were drawn closed so that it wasn’t too bright in your room you would have morning sex, and there was one time that you let Seungmin put his head under your shirt and suck on your nipples while he fingered you. Only if the room was completely dark and only if he promised to keep his eyes closed while he did it. You had been a ball of nerves the entire time he was under your shirt, you trusted he would do what he said and keep his eyes closed but he could tell you weren’t able to enjoy his fingers inside you while he did it, so he didn’t do it very long. He was so proud of you for trying though and he made sure to tell you after when you were holding each other in bed.

Seungmin was always so patient and understanding and with your anniversary just around the corner you wanted to plan something special for him, to show him how much you loved and appreciated him. You made reservations at that fancy French restaurant Seungmin had mentioned before. You had to do that two months in advance and it was not an easy task. You bought a new dress, and you planned on your friend Eve going to you and Seungmin’s apartment while you were at dinner to get it all staged.

Soft music, candles, the whole nine yards. There were three other key elements you planned for the night. The first being you wanted to try taking your shirt off. It had been three years and Seungmin had been so supportive, and you felt safe with him, so you wanted to try. You also wanted to ask if Seungmin would try oral sex for the first time with you. Since you would never let him go down on you, he insisted on waiting himself, until you were ready too. You wanted to try, you wanted to do something that would surprise him. Blow his mind. That’s why you had the third and final piece of the plan tucked away safely until you were ready for it. The piece de resistance.

A couple days before your anniversary you told Seungmin you had a surprise prepared. You asked him to wear your favorite suit and to be ready by seven for dinner.

“What are you up to beautiful?” He laughed and pulled you in for a kiss.

“It’s a surprise, you’ll just have to wait and see. Oh, would you mind getting ready over at the guys’ place that day?” He went to ask you again just what this plan of yours was, but you pressed your finger to his lips.

“A surprise.” You removed the finger, pecked his lips, about faced, and carried on with the rest of your day. The day of your anniversary you woke up to Seungmin’s lips, then hands. They traveled down your body gently. He pulled your panties off and you spread your legs for him. Seungmin pushed into you slowly. He caged you between his arms, his body pressed against yours, he wanted to savor the moment, take it slow, kiss you, breath you in, make love to you.

After your round of morning sex, you went to get in the shower while Seungmin made coffee and a little breakfast. When you got out your food was ready, and it was Seungmin’s turn in the shower. He kissed the top of your head as he passed you and disappeared into the bathroom. The rest of your day was pretty much like any other. Seungmin had to go into work for a little bit. He went ahead and took his suit with him and planned on going to his friend’s place right after work. You had some errands to run before that night, candles to pick up and a few other odds and ends.

When you got home you set up everything in the bedroom just how you wanted it. Now all Eve would have to do is light the candles when you text her and hit play on the home speaker. You started to get yourself ready, excited but nervous about the night ahead. Seungmin showed up promptly at seven, always right on time as usual. He walked in with a bouquet of daisies he had picked up on the way. You were still in the master bathroom just finishing getting ready. Seungmin called out to you.

“y/n? I’m here.” You hurried with your finishing touches.

“Give me just a minute!” You sprayed on some perfume and gave yourself a quick once over before heading out. Seungmin sat down on the couch, laid the flowers on the table in front of him, and waited. Just a moment later he heard your shoes as you came walking down the hall. Seungmin turned and saw you just as you started to make your way down the four steps that led into the living room. He had seen you dressed up on multiple occasions but when he saw you his eyes went wide, and his heart started racing faster. You had on a soft pink sequined dress. It came off your shoulders and the fit complimented your curves. The color matched the pink shirt of Seungmin’s that you had asked him to wear. When he was able to pick his jaw up off the floor, he remembered the flowers and grabbed them.

“Wow, baby, you look...” He handed you the daisies as you walked up to him. You grabbed them and he pulled you in for a kiss.

“You look stunning my love.” You smiled and felt your face get warm.

“Thank you Min. You’re always so handsome in this suit.” You stood on your toes and pecked his cheek then smoothed the shoulder of his jacket and dusted it off.

“Very handsome.” You nodded assertively and Seungmin couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face.

“Okay baby we look like a million bucks, what now?” You smirked.

“Well, we have an eight o’clock reservation at Le Frisson...” Seungmin was in shock. That was a pretty hard place to get into. He had tried for your second anniversary and couldn’t even make the waiting list.

“How?!” You laughed and brushed his hair away from his face as you looked at him adoringly.

“I know some people that know some people that knew about a cancellation that I was able to weasel in on. Favors were called in, souls sold, virgins sacrificed but for you? Worth it.” Seungmin started laughing so hard tears came to his eyes. He wrapped his arms around you pulling you close and giving you a kiss

“I appreciate the time and dedication it must have taken.” You shook your head as you both continued to laugh, and you pulled Seungmin towards the door.

“Yea yea I’m amazing, I should start a cult, now, Mr. Punctual lets go or we’re gonna be late!” Of course, Seungmin being Seungmin without even speeding got you there in plenty of time. How’d he always do that?

When you both walked into the restaurant you could see why it was so popular. It felt high class yet still cozy. There was dim lighting and limited seating to keep the quiet, intimate atmosphere. You were escorted to your table and the waiter explained the menu. You would be served three courses and dessert and you could choose between two meals. He told you the wine pairings for the evening's meal and then left to get you drinks and allow you time to look at the meal selections.

“They both sound so good Min!” He agreed, both choices were amazing meals sure to be decadent in every way.

“Why don’t we each get one and we can try all of it.” You smiled nodding.

“Oh my god you’re a genius! Yes!” When the waiter came back with your drinks Seungmin told him your dinner selections, he collected your menus and went to put your orders in. The whole dinner you and Seungmin laughed, talked about your favorite memories together like that time at the batting cages, and what you hoped the future looked like.

Each serving that was placed in front of you was better than the last. Seungmin switched to water after the second course, but you continued to drink a couple more glasses of wine. You were nervous about what was to come after dinner, and you hoped it would relax you a little. By the time you were done with dessert you were a little tipsy. When it was time to go you went to stand up and you stumbled just a bit. Seungmin grabbed your hip and hand to brace you.

“You okay baby? Do you want to wait here while I bring the car around?” You shook your head. The cool air and walk to the car would probably help sober you up a bit.

“No Min I’m fine, just lost my balance a second.” He looked at you for a moment.

“Okay then. Let's get home. We can just relax the rest of the night.” Over your dead body you thought. You had your plan, a little liquid courage, and you really wanted to do something that blew Seungmin’s mind. Relaxing would be the last thing you would be doing. You pulled out your phone and texted Eve letting her know you were leaving dinner so she could set up and go. As Seungmin drove the both of you home he could feel you doing that thing you always did. He looked over and sure enough you were leaned back in your seat watching him with stars in your eyes, like you were floating in a dream. He chuckled a little.

“Why you looking at me like that?” You blinked slowly and let out a content sigh and smiled.

“Cause you’re beautiful, did you know that?” Seungmin’s ears turned red.

“You’re drunk.” You shook your head.

“Am not. I was a little tipsy but I’m fine now.” You leaned closer and your hand slid across Seungmin’s thigh, when your fingertips brushed his inner thigh, you squeezed. He jumped tensing up and then let out a breath as he relaxed again. The liquid courage was definitely working.

“W-what are you doing?!” You stopped and looked at him as he took quick glances between you and the road. He had a surprised expression on his face, and you thought he was upset with you. You should have asked before just touching him like that. You took your hand off his leg and sat back in your own seat again embarrassed. Seungmin was just shocked, he wasn’t upset in the slightest, you had never done anything like that before. Your sex life had always been kept confined within the four walls of your apartment and mainly the bedroom. So, the fact that your hand was sliding up his thigh closer to his dick while you were in the car surprised him.

“Hey, it’s okay. I-I liked it I was... I was just surprised. You can touch me; I always want you to touch me baby.” You shook your head.

“No, I was being stupid, I’m sorry.” You were no longer feeling as confident in your plan for the night. So much for liquid courage.

“You weren’t love, really. You have nothing to be sorry about, okay?” You nodded and quietly watched out the window for the rest of the ride home. Seungmin glanced over from time to time trying to make sure you were okay. He felt terrible for hurting your feelings he truly had not meant to. As you walked up to the apartment your anxiety started getting the best of you. Right before Seungmin unlocked the door you stopped him.

“Min, I... I had planned... well... you know... but if you don’t want to, we do-” Seungmin pulled you in and kissed you softly running his hand down your cheek as he did.

“I definitely want to baby.” He unlocked the door and let you in first. As soon as you walked in you could see the soft lighting from the candles and hear the music quietly playing. When Seungmin walked in his heart melted. He turned and looked at you, surprised again.

“Baby, when...I, you did all this for me?” You nodded and smiled, happy to see how much he liked the surprise so far.

“There’s more Minnie.” He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, is there?” You smirked and grabbed one of his hands pulling him towards your shared room, kicking your heels off along the way, Seungmin joined you taking his shoes off as well, following your lead. It wasn’t very often you did the leading, if ever, so Seungmin was just letting you do your thing. When you got to your room the soft music was playing through the bedroom speakers as well and there were more candles, not as many as the living room, you still wanted it a little dark. Agi angye, baby steps you told yourself, and tonight was going to be two very big baby steps. You walked up to Seungmin and wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands rested on your full hips, God he loved your hips. You pressed your soft lips against his and then spoke quietly.

“I’m gonna change and wash my face, then I’ll be right back, okay?” Seungmin nodded, his bottom lip between his teeth. You grabbed a couple of things and then headed off into the master bathroom to get ready. You quickly brushed your hair, got out of your dress and into your shirt and then washed your face.

When you came back out into the room Seungmin was sitting on the edge of your bed. He had taken off his jacket and tie and loosened the top two buttons of his shirt. Seeing him there you remembered the first time you saw him and how cute you thought he was. He smiled sweetly at you as you walked over and stood between his legs. He wrapped his arms around your waist and laid his head against your soft tummy.

“I love you so much y/n, so much.” You ran your fingers through Seungmin’s hair, and he looked up at you. You bent down and kissed him and then started to get on your knees in front of him. At first Seungmin didn’t know what you were doing but when your hands slid up his thighs towards his fly he realized and stopped you.

“Baby baby, you don’t have to do that. We’re gonna wait until you’re ready for me to go down on you too, so we can do it together our first time.” You smiled at him, and your heart swelled.

“Seungmin... I... I think I want to try tonight... if you want to that is.” Seungmin brushed the stray hairs away from your face and cupped your cheek.

“You’re sure?” You nodded and slowly reached for Seungmin’s fly again. He leaned back on his hands and was looking down at you as he took a shaky breath.

“You’re so beautiful love,” He whispered as you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. You reached inside them and pulled his cock out. You had given Seungmin hand jobs, and his dick had been inside you more times than you could count but this was the closest your face had ever been to it, and you couldn’t help thinking it was pretty. It was smooth and not scary big. He was so hard already at just the idea of your mouth being around him. You must have been kneeling there staring at him for a minute because Seungmin finally cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Uh... w-why don’t you start with trying to lick it?” You agreed. You gently squeezed his cock and then you licked a stripe up his shaft to the head. He tasted good, like Seungmin always tasted. You licked again, this time slower, and Seungmin’s head rolled back.

“Fuck that one felt really good baby.” You repeated what you had just done but a little slower and when you got to the head of his cock again, he gasped as your tongue teased it. He gently ran his fingers through your hair as you gave him slow wet licks up his cock a few times.

“Mmm do you think you could try sucking on the tip?” You nodded, gave Seungmin another long lick up his shaft and when you got to the tip you took it in your mouth and started swirling your tongue around it. Seungmin’s grip on your hair tightened just a little.

“Oh fuck. T-that f-feels so good y/n oh my god.” Hearing him start to lose it already egged you on to continue. You started bobbing up and down, slowly sucking when you went up and going deeper each time you went down. Seungmin leaned back on both hands again, his breathing coming out faster and faster, he started to tense up.

“FUCK I’m gonna cum baby I’m gon-” Before he could finish his word Seungmin started flooding your mouth. He hadn’t intended on coming in your mouth especially since it was your first time but when it happened you just went with it and tried to swallow as quickly as it filled your mouth. You pulled off Seungmin’s cock and his cum ran down your lip and chin a bit. He wiped it off as he tried to catch his breath.

“You’re so good to me love. Make me feel so good...” He helped you up off your knees and kissed you, traces of his taste still lingering in your mouth. Seungmin stood up, his pants and boxers falling around his ankles, and wrapped his arms around you deepening the kiss. You unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way and pushed it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor joining the rest of his clothes. Seungmin’s hands started roaming your body over your shirt, getting more heated by the second. You pulled away a moment.

“Min... uh... well there was something else I wanted to try tonight too.” He cocked his head questioningly.

“What is it beautiful?” You took a deep breath, you wanted to do this.

“I want you to take my shirt off me tonight.” Seungmin’s eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped.

“Agi angye jagiya. You don’t ha-” Before Seungmin could say another word you kissed him. Your hands held his face gently and you kissed him hoping he felt every ounce of love you had for him, and he did, his eyes were closed so tightly as he kissed you back. You whispered against his lips.

“I want you to.” You took a couple steps back, raised your arms up, and in the sweetest voice asked.

“Seungminnie? Will you take this off of me please?” Seungmin got lightheaded due to all the blood immediately rushing to his dick. He stepped forward and bunched the hem of your shirt in both of his hands then stopped and looked at you.

“If that’s what you want baby...” You nodded and he lifted the shirt up and over your head. At first, he only looked at your face, looking for any discomfort or nervousness but you had none. You knew how much Seungmin loved you. You weren’t scared.

“You can look at me Min it’s okay...” When you said that Seungmin’s eyes traveled down and that’s when he realized what you’d had on underneath that shirt. You stood there as sweet as can be in sheer, baby pink, floral, lingerie. It had garters and was strappy and they all softly pressed into the skin of your thick hips and thighs. It was hands down the sexiest thing Seungmin had ever seen, and he actually started to drool.

“Oh beautiful, you shouldn’t have...” He pulled you close and kissed you with a fiery passion that was sure to burn the building down. He turned you back towards the bed and laid you down as he kissed down your neck.

“Min,” He stopped and looked down at you worried you may be having second thoughts. You looked into his brown eyes that seemed to go on forever as they stared back into you.

“I love you.” Seungmin smiled and started kissing your neck again.

“I love you too baby, so much.” You would never question that. You knew he did. He ran his hands down your body over the lace covering it. He slid a finger between a strap and your skin and rubbed softly gently snapping it before continuing down your body. When Seungmin’s face hovered over your lace panties you did start to get a little nervous but when he pressed a finger against your slit and rubbed you relaxed again. He kissed your thighs and rubbed you over your panties for a little bit like that until it wasn’t enough for you.

“Please Minnie...” He looked up at you and kissed your thigh softly again.

“God I’ve been dying to taste you for so long.” You felt your face heat up at his admission but couldn’t focus when Seungmin was sliding your pretty lace panties over and getting ready to do exactly that. Seungmin wasn’t an idiot and had fingered you plenty of times to know where your clit is. He spread you open and kissed it. It was warm and sweet and a good way to ease into the completely unknown territory for you, for both of you. He stuck the tip of his tongue out and softly teased before placing another firmer kiss against the sensitive bud. You were trying to keep calm, it all felt so good you wanted to jut your hips forward, but you were able to control yourself for now.

“More baby, more...” You were already a little breathless. Seungmin did just as you asked and licked a broad stripe up your pussy, then latched on and softly sucked, licked, and drank you in. It was all so much but so tender. You could no longer keep control of your hips and when they started moving too aggressively Seungmin held them down. The way he went down on you was like you were a delicacy. All the fancy food you had eaten that night and as far as Seungmin was concerned you were the tastiest. His cock was getting so hard as your moans of pleasure got louder.

“I’m...Seungmin, fuck fuuhh I’m gonna..c...” Seungmin thought he was going to cum untouched just by the sound of you coming on his tongue. You gripped his hair softly, your legs trying to squeeze together, stopped by Seungmin’s head. Once you relaxed against the bed again Seungmin started placing tender kisses up your body, worshiping every piece of you, thanking you for letting him have you like that, for letting him see you. He stopped, propped over you, looking down at you.

“You’re so beautiful, I mean just fucking breathtaking... look at you.” Between the orgasm and his words your heart was racing. Seungmin slid your panties to the side again and slowly slid his cock inside you. You let out a small gasp when he was buried fully then he started to fuck you slow and deep. Seungmin was in no rush tonight. You had given so much to him and he wanted you to know how grateful he was. So he was going to make you cum again and again. He kissed you sweetly as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper with every thrust and it wasn’t long before your body was on fire again, your second orgasm tearing through you. Seungmin stopped and just stayed there inside you while your walls squeezed him.

“Oh my god Min, s-so good feels so good!” Seungmin slid one of his hands behind your knee and lifted your leg to hit you at a different angle, deeper. The first hard thrust he gave you had you speechless, you hadn’t even entirely recovered from your last orgasm. Seungmin seemed hell bent on ripping the next one out of you, the tip of his cock hitting your g spot with precision in this slightly new position.

“Give me another one gorgeous let me see that pretty face you make when you cum for me.” As if words were all it took you came again, and it was almost too much in the best ways. Seungmin pulled out of you and rubbed his dick up and down your pussy over your lacey panties.

“Can I cum on these pretty panties baby?” You nodded.

“Yes please, cum for me Min, cum for me.” Your voice was breathy as you laid there fucked out. Seungmin rubbed his cock against your panties harder and started coming on them.

“Oh fuck, baby yes, those cute panties look so good covered in my cum, fuck!” You both slumped back on the bed sweaty and trying to catch your breath. Seungmin rolled over towards you, wrapped an arm around you and started planting soft kisses on the side of your face.

“I’ll get something to clean up with beautiful and I’ll be right back.” You took a deep breath and nodded, your hands pushing your hair back away from your face. Just a moment later Seungmin was back with a washcloth, and he wiped you off. When he went to toss the rag, you got up, stripped the lingerie off, slid your big t-shirt on again and got back into bed. A second passed and Seungmin joined you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in close. He buried his face in your hair and inhaled, breathing you in and then whispered to you before falling asleep.

“Thank you for trusting me y/n. I love you.”

As Seungmin stood by you in the labor and delivery room he couldn’t help but think about how far the two of you had come together. He felt a little helpless also. There you were, working so hard bringing his son into the world and all he could do was hold your hand and cheer you on. You were so amazing.

“You’re doing great baby. Just a little more.” You grimaced and tears streaked your face as you took a deep breath and pushed again when the doctor said. You had never felt pain like that in your whole life. Then you heard him. Your son, Seungmin’s son, crying and suddenly the pain didn’t matter anymore. Half the doctors swept him away to get vitals and clean him up while the other half worked on finishing up with you.

“Minnie, go by him make sure he’s okay.” Seungmin leaned down and kissed your forehead before letting go of your hand and going over by the group of doctors with your son. They were busy printing his feet wrapping him up and putting his little hat on his tiny head. Tears filled Seungmin’s eyes as soon as he saw his face. He looked just like you. Seungmin looked over at you.

“He’s perfect, he’s beautiful.” He was so amazed that the two of you had made this tiny person. He couldn’t believe that he could feel even more love than he already did, he didn’t think it was possible until he saw his son. As soon as the little hat was in place one of the nurses picked him up and immediately handed him over to Seungmin who was a little shell shocked. He’d never held a baby before in his life now he had to raise one. As soon as he was in his arms Seungmin started to freak out a little. They had to shape and nurture this baby to be an adult one day. You could see the panic on Seungmin’s face from your bed.

“Min, come over here love.” He walked over and turned so you could see your son’s face, more tears.

“He’s gorgeous Minnie.” Seungmin quietly nodded, agreeing.

“What’s wrong Seungmin?” He took a deep calming breath.

“What if I’m a bad dad? I don’t know the first thing about being a dad.” You shook your head and reached for his free hand, squeezing it.

“Min, I know you’re going to be an amazing father. No one knows what they’re doing when it comes to being a parent. We can try to be ready, but you never really know. We’ll figure it out together though, okay? Agi angye jagiya.” Seungmin nodded. The doctors were finished up with you and Seungmin handed the baby off to you as soon as they were done. You held him running your fingers along his sweet soft face. Seungmin’s heart was so full seeing you there holding your son. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“Speaking of agi angye we have a pretty important baby step we still need to take. What’s his name?” You kissed the baby’s head and looked at his peaceful face as he slept in your arms.

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @hyunelixies @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89

“How about... Sky?”

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[mayaheronthorn]

rank the Shadowhunter couples from best to idc about them and why?

Amazing!!! And I will probably get hate 🤣🤣🤣

1. KitTy - what a surprise huh?! But you could tell 🤣 and I actually explained it in my last post!

2. Herongraystairs - YES, I AM NOT DIVIDING IT AS WESSA AND JESSA BECAUSE THEY BELONG TOGETHER, change my mind (YOU CAN'T) This was the first time in my entire life when I read a book and couldn't decide which love interest I prefer, so I just didn't 😍 I can't believe how cc wrote them so perfectly, truly peak

3. Thomastair - I had a hard time deciding if they are nr 3 or 4 but I feel like I prefer them slightly more than nr 4 BECAUSE Alastair is so incredibly brave. After all that happened with his father, he still did everything to protect Cordelia and Sona. His character development is one of the best in the whole tsc. And Thomas my sweet summer child 😭 his kindness is out of this world. TO THIS DAY I remember those fucking Paris dates 😭😭😭😭

4. Malec - Cc can really write her mlm couples. Their devotion to each other 🥺 I will forever remember that Alec was the first shadowhunter Magnus ever dated because well he was a Downworlder but Alec saw so much more in him 😭 ok I'm gonna keep this short cause it will take me forever to answer 🤣

5. Gracetopher - YES I KNOW IT DIDN'T HAPPEN BUT IT HAPPENED IN MY HEART. In my mind my little asexual genius couple live happily ok? Grace is such a misunderstood character, she's a child of abuse, she was made to do so many bad things, manipulated as hell but she still wanted to change and be good. And Christopher 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 MY POOKIE I CAN'T SPEAK ABOUT HIM CAUSE I'M GONNA CRY

6. Jordelia - Cordelia was, is and always will be THE bad bitch. The ending of chain of gold when she told EVERYONE that she and James were fucking? ICOOONIC. But she's the bravest baby ever. James is this cute and gentle young man but in reality he will kill you 😍 they complete each other PERFECTLY, the tension between them in chain of iron changed me as a person, I will never be the same. ALTHOUGH they would be so much higher if not for chain of thorns... Like... This book just destroyed so many things I can't ☠️

7. Blackstairs - The tension between them when Emma was "dating" Mark, oh good god glorious. You know, Julian actually reminds me so much of James but he's SO MUCH MORE DISASTROUS, he's a fucking menace and I love that. His sexy brain did things to me 😎 Emma, my second bad bitch (I guess Cortana wielders are all that way) killing a Rider of Mannan??? I'm a goner for girl fighters. MY NEXT JACE HERONDALE. Julian will forever need Emma and Emma will forever need Julian 💕

8. Markkierantina - My poly cuties 🥺 it was the same as with herongraystairs, I couldn't decide if I want Mark with Cristina, Mark with Kieran or Kieran with Cristina, but cc corrected her mistake with herongraystairs and made them all smash. Amazing. Cristina was a key to make Mark and Kieran's relationship work, that's all I'm gonna say

9. Clace - That will probably surprise some of you but I kinda lost this clace magic along the way of reading tsc. I absolutely love them as characters and Jace is one of the funniest bitches. Idk, I don't feel it as much as I used to. But well I was 13 when I read tmi and now I'm 23 so 🤣 I still remember that 4-6 tmi books broke me emotionally so I have this great sentiment for Clace but we have many more couples that I love more 🥺

10. AriAnna - I fell in love with them when I read gotsm and I rooted for them SO HARD in cog and coi, I couldn't get enough of that tension. And then cot happened.... It felt like cc just decided to drop them, gave them an easy ending just to get rid of them... So I was greatly disappointed. And I know that if not for cot they would be higher

11. LucieJessie - Honesty (and I say this with great sadness) I was bored reading their story in cog and coi, they were just so bland to me, I don't know 😭 BUT cot made everything change. When Jessie came back to life he was SO FUN TO READ I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT!! I loved them and I'm sad that it wasn't like that from the beginning

12. Sizzy - I know, I know. But I never felt them 💀 I mean, yes I love them together and I love their characters but I don't see the magic 😭😭😭 I WANT TO

13. GwynDiana - Oh they were SO IMPORTANT TO ME 😭 I adored every minute but they didn't have much chapters so 😫

14. GideonSophie - Honestly I read tid years ago and I don't remember shit, I know that I liked them and Gideon was a babe to her 💕

15. CecilyGabriel - Same as 14, I don't remember shit, but I know I liked them less than Gideon and Sophie 💀

I hope I didn't forget about anyone!!

[knightinink]

Do you have any reccomendations for Dip/Pip fics??

OH BOY DO I!!! Let me give you some that I just love!!!

Ao3

Stairway-“Damien was sick and tired of being treated like dirt by his father. He decided it was high time to hop on the bus and head out of town. Sadly, he missed the bus the first night, but it did lead him to a chance encounter with a pretty blonde who seemed to be having the same troubles and an unlikely friendship was formed. DamienPip romance or friendship. Implied abuse.”

Accidental-“The first thing Pip noticed when he opened his eyes was a sense of numbness. The second thing he noticed was the pile of flesh and bones smashed into the concrete. Oh.”

The Fault in our Battle Against Climate Change-“Damien Thorn watches his father lose to ManBearPig.”

Sincerely, Pip-“Damien really has nothing to do, so when he gets a letter Invitation from a familiar blonde haired boy, who is he to refuse? Better than being in hell anyway. And who would've though so.ething as small as olives would of gotten them together?”

Spectacular-“Phillip and Damien cuddle.”

Tears of a demon-“Damien and Pip are having a sleepover at pips and Damien can't help but feel an emotion he isn't used to: sadness. Though, he doesn't know that, so he tries to ask and it doesn't go well.”

A Stone a Day Keeps the Pond at Bay-“"Can I kiss you?” The words were sudden, completely unexpected, especially from Pip.”

The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known-“Damien is totally fine by himself, on his own, no friends or anyone required. He figures it'll be like that forever. Until Pip shows up, his halo broken and looking for help.”

A little too much comforting-“Basically Pip carried and comforted his child too much and Lucas became too attached and managed to cry his way into sharing the big bed with his dad's.”

Wings-“Life in hell is difficult, especially when you're Satan's son, but Pip was always there to hear Damien complain, curse at everything and everyone around him, as well as heaven and earth as they shared a cup of tea. Pip did so much for him, more than he could ever imagine. Even without wings, Pip was a true angel. At least for Damien.

Camelias-“𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 ▎damien regalaba ramos de camelias a philip, para demostrarle que sin importar la diferencia de clases sociales, su amor sería eterno y puro.”

Eisoptrophobia-“While on vacation in the mountains, Damien finds a tourist attraction he really wants to visit, but Pip is hesitant to go, puzzling the antichrist.”

Power Outage-“Pip and Damien are in the middle of a sleepover when suddenly the lights go out. Damien's isn't bothered too much by it, but Pip is another story.”

Growing Pains-“Damien’s horns and wings are starting to grow in, but he’s got extremely painful headaches and backaches and his dad’s excitement about it isn’t helping. Pip immediately notices the shift in demeanor of his friend and is quick to aid him through the process, even if Pip is unfamiliar with the situation.”

Shelter In The Forge-“It’s storming in a small England town one night and poor Pip can’t get to sleep because he’s afraid of it. Thankfully, Joe knows just to to comfort the boy, and they take shelter in the forge together until Pip falls asleep.”

Love Letters-“Pip has a secret admirer.”

Summon Me and I’ll Come Running-“Damien grants Pip a magic power and Pip doesn't abuse it, because he's the only good person in South Park.”

Stay with me and I’ll stop the hurt-“Pip renounces his position in Heaven to be with Damien, also renouncing his one chance to finally meet his parents and reunite with them, because he's a selfish human being.”

Fanfiction.net

Need A Little Cheering Dip-“Damien comes home to find a crying Pip.”

Dip oneshots-“Damien and Pip, Dip galore, ranging from fluffy and cute to...not. T for South Park and yaoi. Fluff,angst, and randomness ahead!”

Name-“Damien hadn't anticipated that he'd have to be a shoulder to cry on. First and foremost, he had not a clue what he could say that might serve as a form of comfort. But comfort, it seems, can sometimes come from the most seemingly insignificant things.”

Graceful-“Even as married adults, Damien is always enchanted by every little bit of grace that Pip exudes. Every ounce of grace, intertwined with every action Pip takes, still manages to positively enchant him.”

Anthology of DIP-“A series of prompt short-stories involving he pairing of Damien and Pip”

The Red String-“What happens when a blonde is born without a string, especially in a world where almost everyone has one? What happens when a fateful encounter happens? Phillip longed to have a string, but maybe it wasn't meant to be.”

Hot Chocolate-“Pip is working in an empty café when a dark-looking customer comes in for a drink.”

Dear Santa-“Christmas isn't usually the best time of year when you're the son of Satan... (Festive Dip one-shot!)”

A Purrfect Christmas-“'Twas the night before Christmas, and there Pip Pirrup sat, eyes full of glistening sorrow, talking to a red-eyed cat. Meow. (Festive ONE-SHOT)”

Like Father, Like Son-“Luca Thorn-Pirrup and his father Damien like to torment Pip sometimes.”

Just for you-“damien finds a crying pip on his bedroom and tries to cheer him up.”

A Home Away from Home-“While getting ready to leave South Park forever, Pip looks back fondly on the small mountain town.”

How The Stars Came To Be-“It is not a tale of war, or of lovers, ill-fated or otherwise. Be it a tale of the stars, and how they came into the heavens above. Their origin be not from thy heart, or thy soul, but from the eyes of two younglings, an angel and a demon.”

20 Questions-“Damien and Pip ask 20 questions.”

Angel and Demon-“Damien is telling a bedtime story to his two kids”

Phoenix Wings-“How does one run from something that is everywhere at once? There is nothing safe to them, except the security of their arms.”

It’s Just A Nightmare-“Pip has a nightmare while sleeping at Damien's house.”

Unconventional-“Their romance was hardly picture-perfect, but it made them happy.”

Fancy Hand Sandwiches and Sunsets-“They sealed it with a kiss.”