#hm should this be considered neuvillette x reader too?

[abyssruler]

a dummy’s guide to dating your crush, by lyney

lyney x gn!reader

lyney has loved you from the moment your childish small hands found each other for the first time and never let go. it’s just too bad that you don’t feel the same way, but that was fine, lyney has mastered the art of pretending. or — the one where lyney tries, and fails, to set up a few dates with you, and inadvertently wins your heart in the process.

childhood friends to lovers-ish, delulu lyney, one-sided crush, jealous lyney, slight neuvillette x reader

You and Lyney have always been close, even as children living beneath roof of the hearth and Father’s careful guidance. You were one of the first children to accept him and Lynette when they were still strangers in a new, unfamiliar place.

You were the first person to hold his hand apart from his sister, a brightness to your eyes as you led him to a secret nook that you claimed would be a hiding place for only you and him. You were the first person to make him laugh after a failed mission, the first person who held him as he cried silent tears that he’d tried to hide from his siblings, the first person who kissed his cheek and promised to ease the burden on his shoulders.

You’re the first person he’s loved that isn’t explicitly family, though that isn’t quite right either, because you are family. Not in the same way Lynette and Freminet are family to him, but family in the way two close friends are family—family in the way a man might consider his spouse family.

And it feels almost natural to come to such a conclusion. Like flicking on a light switch and realizing that little has changed save for the fact that he now sees so much more. After all, why shouldn’t his natural conclusion be that you two belonged together the way two spouses would?

You’ve always been close, know each others’ secrets, have each others’ backs, and so much more. It’s a relationship built from years and years of trust and affection, and really, can he be blamed for thinking that your shared history must mean something more? That it has set the foundations for a love so great it could rival romance novels? You’ve known each other since you were children, would and have killed for each other, and he imagines if he asks you if you love him, you would say yes. Never mind the specifics of whether that love was romantic or familial, what mattered was that you would say you love him.

Lyney is so far gone in his delusions and fantasies that he fails to see the glaring fact that he pointedly refuses to acknowledge, the glaring fact that everyone but him has made peace with, because you never go a day without telling everyone how much you like—

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” you call out, a smile lighting up your features as you turned away from Lyney to face the man, the myth, the legend himself.

Neuvillette, also known as the bane of Lyney’s existence.

✧

The proper, rational thing to do was to ask you out on a date, a bouquet of flowers in hand as he invited you to a high-end restaurant or to watch one of the operas showing that night. But, as Lynette would say, when has Lyney ever been rational?

So, he reserved a seat at restaurant that he heard from the grapevine was a popular spot for couples, bragging to the receptionist how he was bringing a date that night. And if he made sure to make his voice come off a little louder, to make his presence more known? Well, it certainly had nothing to do with him wanting rumors to spread of him taking you out on a date in a restaurant well-known for hosting couples. Nope.

“I believe this is your date, Monsieur Lyney?” the receptionist from before asks, a knowing look in her eyes as her gaze darted to yours and Lyney’s clasped hands. He nods in response.

“Monsieur Lyney,” you whispered to him with a teasing laugh that sent his stomach rolling pleasantly—that was, until you realized what the receptionist actually said. “Wait a minute, date?”

Lyney laughs off your confused look, pretending not to have heard the latter part of your statement.

“I hear they serve your favorite dessert here,” he says in a rather horrible attempt at changing the topic that would have had Lynette staring at him with unimpressed eyes. Thankfully, you’re not as sharp as his sister, and thus, more easily distracted by the prospect of delicious food.

Once you’re seated at the table that Lyney had made sure was facing the windows, offering a view of the vast ocean outside, he takes the time to appreciate the much better view in front of him: you with furrowed brows as you squinted at the letters on the menu, your lips jutted out in consideration, a serious look in your eyes like you’re about to decide the fate of the world instead of what you’ll have for dinner.

Lyney finds it all endearing.

He opens his mouth to ask you something—but then he promptly closes it shut when the distant baritones of a voice reaches his ears. Familiar, deep, and so very unwelcome.

Evidently, you hear it too, because the menu on your hands is forgotten in favor of a wide grin that isn’t directed at Lyney, no, you turn your head—swivel, more like—so quickly he almost fears for the state of your neck.

He doesn’t need to turn to know just who that voice belongs to, but the sheer happiness in the tone of your voice is unmistakeable as you raised a hand in greeting for the man who continues to haunt Lyney’s nightmares.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, it’s been a while since I last saw you!”

A while, yes, if six hours ago could be considered a while. Lyney would know, he’d been crouched on top of the tree that overlooked you and Neuvillette as you sat on a bench and spoke in an almost friendly manner. Freminet hadn’t been happy to be dragged into what his younger brother dubbed was a gross violation of your privacy, but it wasn’t a violation of your privacy when you were out in public where any passing stranger could see you. If you asked Lyney, he was only making sure Neuvillette didn’t do anything untoward towards you, like smiling at you, or talking to you, or just being within a hundred-meter wide vicinity of you.

Unfortunately for Lyney, the esteemed Chief Justice of Fontaine did all those things. And as if that wasn’t enough, he even grazed his fingers over your hair when a stray leaf landed on it! Truly a vile man, abusing his authority in order to get close to you and touch your hair, smiling and talking to you as if Lyney didn’t exist. Lyney, who’s known you since you were children. Lyney, who brushed your hair every morning and did everything you asked without hesitation.

Lyney, who was your soulmate!

“Lyney, you wouldn’t mind if the Monsieur sat with us, would you?”

And now Neuvillette had the gall to insert himself in, when Lyney had planned this to be a romantic date for two, not three.

He knows if he said no you wouldn’t push the issue anymore, but you’re looking at him with such hopeful eyes, even clasping your hands together to your chest, that Lyney can hardly find it in himself to say no.

For the rest of the night, he’s forced to endure watching you and Neuvillette make easy conversation while he silently stabs at his steak. He wonders which god he must have offended to make him feel like a third wheel in the date that he himself planned.

✧

It becomes a reoccurring trend.

Lyney would ask you to meet with him, either at the park or by the fountains or in the opera or merely at one of his magic shows—though he never specifically tells you that it’s a date. And before he could make any sort of move to indicate that he feels more for you than a childhood friend should, Neuvillette arrives and takes up all your attention.

It doesn’t seem to be intentional, or even a malicious act. The Chief Justice always seems pleasantly surprised to see you, and he’s never rude to Lyney. It’s just that…

“Monsieur Neuvillette, do you think these flowers would look good displayed by my window?”

The man in question seems to ponder deeply over your words, regarding the bouquet in your hands seriously as though it were a matter of life and death. Lyney remains standing behind the two of you, feeling a little out of place, as though he were the one intruding on Neuvillette’s time with you instead of the other way around.

“Yes, they would fit well with the general backdrop of Fontaine. Although personally,” Neuvillette plucks a single flower from the bundle and places it on your hair, “I think they would look best displayed like this on you.”

Lyney’s jaw drops to the floor. His eyes bulge out of their sockets. His hair begins to fall one by one until his bald head is left shining in the mid-afternoon sun.

I think they would look best displayed like this on you.

I think they would look best displayed like this on you.

I think they would look best displayed like this on you.

Neuvillette’s words keep repeating in his head like a particularly annoying fly buzzing around his ear, taunting him with the fact that while he may hold you freely and spend as much time with you as he can, he will never be the man who so easily captures your attention and keeps it.

You’re smiling, a bashful tint to your eyes as you looked up at Neuvillette beneath your lashes, fingers touching the petals of the flower now nestled in your hair.

It’s a sickeningly romantic scene, like something out of a play or movie or song. Lyney wants to claw his eyes out, though mostly he wants to snatch that flower off your hair and replace it with a rainbow rose, his signature flower. His.

Lyney takes a single step forward to interject, to insert himself into the conversation and make himself known, to keep you from looking at Neuvillette with those eyes that should be directed at him.

But before he can utter a single word, you move to pluck a flower from the bouquet and place it behind Neuvillette’s ear, a mirror image to the one he placed on you.

And it’s like watching something inevitable, like being a bystander to someone else’s story.

Lyney sees you laugh at something Neuvillette says in a tone too low for him to hear, but the happiness and brightness radiating off of you is unmistakable. There’s a bounce to your step as you lead Neuvillette away to whatever store has tickled your fancy, a brief glance thrown in Lyney’s way to make sure he’s still there. An afterthought at best.

As he watches you and Neuvillette parse through the menu of a cafe, the two of you standing so close that a fly would be hard-pressed to find a way between, he comes to the realization that there isn’t space left for him, that just as he thought before, he was the intruder here. The third wheel of a bicycle, the extra cog in a machine, a piece in a puzzle that doesn’t fit.

And it’s painful to acknowledge his own insignificance, but the truth has always been right in front of him, taunting him with your besotted look that isn’t directed at him.

He stands there quietly, thinking to himself that if he were in a play, this would be the prelude to the climax, the one where the unwanted third party finally leaves and allows the two lovers to be together.

So he does just that.

He bids you goodbye, claiming an excuse about promising Lynette to rehearse for their latest show. You’re sad to see him go, but it’s overshadowed by the smile that blooms on your lips when your eyes moves past him and onto Neuvillette. He watches it all with an acceptance akin to a man walking to the executioner’s block.

Lyney leaves, resignation heavy on his chest.

(He doesn’t see the sympathetic pair of eyes that follow his back as he walks away.)

✧

It had been relatively sunny outside that morning, only for a torrential downpour to begin that afternoon. It was during that sudden rainstorm that you knocked on the entrance to the house Lyney and Lynette live in, utterly drenched from the rain with a melancholic smile on your face.

Before Lyney could even begin to tell you to come in and ask you what’s wrong, you beat him to it.

“I confessed my feelings for Monsieur Neuvillette.”

And Lyney feels himself stiffen, limbs locking in place from where he’s half leaning on the doorway, half gesturing for you to enter his home.

He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised about it. He should have seen this coming from miles away—have seen this coming from miles away, he’d simply refused to believe what had always been in front of him. But for your feelings to go that deep that you’d confess…

Before he can fall down into an unending spiral of despair and self-recrimination, you once again upturn his whole word with a few measly words.

“He rejected me though.” You laugh to yourself, more self-depreciating than anything. “And… I suppose it was a bit presumptuous of me to assume that he liked me back.”

There’s a sadness to your eyes that Lyney hasn’t seen since you were children, having seen your first death. And now that same sadness is painted across your face, all because of one man who didn’t see the treasure that was right in front of him.

Lyney would have never done that to you.

But all of that matters little now, because you’re here standing in his doorsteps covered in rainwater, seeking comfort in him instead of anyone else. So, really, what else is he to do but step close and wrap you in his arms? Heedless of the fact that he’ll be getting his clothes wet.

You bury your face in his shoulder, reciprocating the embrace, your arms around him as familiar a sensation as the feeling of the wind on his cheeks and Lynette’s presence by his side. Constant. Something he will always remember.

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” you murmur despondently. “He is the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and I… we are Fatui.”

Lyney feels a jolt of something zip through him at the mention of we, because yes, it has always been you and him (and Lynette and Freminet), him and you. The Magician and his most avid watcher. We, we, we.

So Lyney smiles despite your obvious heartbreak at Neuvillette’s rejection. A part of him knows he shouldn’t be thinking such things when you’re clearly upset, but it’s hard not to do so when his chest has felt the lightest it’s been in weeks.

Is he thankful that Neuvillette rejected you? No, of course not. Not when it’s brought about a melancholic sheen in your eyes and a downcast turn to your lips. But neither is he entirely against Neuvillette’s rejection of you.

He cards his fingers through your hair the same way you used to do with his, back when he still hadn’t quite mastered the art of carefully coiling his hair so that it won’t get in his face.

You eventually pull away, a look of acceptance on your face. Lyney doesn’t think much of it when he reaches out to grab your hand, it’s when you intertwine your fingers together that all thoughts and rationality promptly go out the window.

He wants you so much, and now that you’re finally here, here without anyone to hold him back, he’ll allow himself this one impulsive decision.

“Lyney, thank—”

“What do you say about lunch tomorrow? My treat,” he blurts out, only to immediately flush red when he realizes what he’s just said.

You pause, eyes blinking rapidly for a few moments before you crane your head and look at him, really look at him.

Beyond the mischievous smiles and the lenses of a childhood gone by, beyond the little acts of affection that you’d thought was common between friends—beyond everything that used to color your perception of him, stands someone who is looking at you as though you’re the only person in the entire world who matters. Not the boy who used to follow you around with wide eyes and a hesitant smile. Not the young magician who fumbled with his cards whenever you teased him.

No, this is Lyney. Just… Lyney, with his soft eyes and patient smile with the barest hint of nervousness in the corners of his lips.

And oh, how blind you must have been to miss this.

But you don’t dwell on it, on this newest revelation of Lyney and his feelings for you, because you’re you, and he’s him, and the two of you have an entire life’s worth of time to ponder over friendships and changes and love. It’s easy to place it in a back burner, to be analyzed when you aren’t so drenched in water and Lyney isn’t so deep in his own head.

So, instead of consternating over the realization that your best friend loves you, you settle for a teasing huff.

“Not even a day after I was rejected by my crush, and you’re asking me out on a date?”

Lyney only smiles wider. “Never let it be said that I’m the kind of person who wastes time.”

“You’re incorrigible,” you tell him, but there’s a grin that’s fighting to make itself seen.

“You love it.”

“Yes,” you say softly, “I do.”

It’s not romantic, the manner in which you love Lyney. But as you watch him fret about you needing to take a shower before you catch a cold, you don’t think it would be too difficult to fee the same way.

note: the truth is that neuvillette did actually reciprocate your feelings, it’s just that he realized that depriving lyney of the possibility of love feels almost selfish, and he believes that you’d be happier with lyney than with him. he’s immortal and you’re not, which solidified his decision to reject you bc he has years upon years to find love again while lyney only has a few decades with you. basically, he felt bad about stealing lyney’s crush. and yeah, it suddenly raining was a reflection of neuvi’s mood.

[primofate]

10 minute quick writes - Genshin Impact

In which I put on a 10 minute timer and write as much as I can. No cheating.

Mood: How he says "I love you", without saying the actual words.

Characters: Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Neuvillette, Razor, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Wriothesley, gn!reader

Warnings: Some silliness in some parts cause I'm sleep deprived.

Albedo

"It'll be cold up there, it'd be best to wear something warmer. Would you be a bother...? No, your company is much appreciated,"

Alhaitham

"...Why are you still awake...? ...A test?" sighs and closes your books "A clear mind is important too. Let's go,"

Ayato

"I did indeed have an important meeting with the guild today...but what kind of partner would I be if I missed such an important occasion of yours?"

Baizhu

"Yes I do have a lot of patients to tend to...but you're to tell me immediately if there's something off about your health, understood?"

Bennett

"You wanna go to the ruins tomorrow too...? With me...?" 3 second pause "You're the best Y/N!"

Chongyun

"I'll work hard! N-No not on my exorcisms! I meant...t-to protect-- nevermind!"

Cyno

"Yes... It's my most prized TCG card... No, it's alright, you can have it,"

Dainsleif

"There's no need to wait up for me, all that'll do is bring you unnecessary worry. I will be fine, and I'll come back. Always."

Diluc

"Is there something I can help with? You seem to be deep in thought today. Perhaps you should stay and rest for tonight,"

Gorou

"Thanks for the help Y/N! I'll come at the same time tomorrow!"

Heizou

"There's my favourite person! How's your day been? Hopefully better now that you've seen me,"

Itto

"Whaddyou wanna do today? Hmmm? What do I wanna do? Nah s'okay, you can pick today!"

Neuvillette

"In matters of work or miscellaneous events, I trust your judgement as I trust mine,"

Razor

A hug, I guess.

Scaramouche

"Seriously are you stupid? I told you not to go running off by yourself! In all circumstances. Wait.For.Me!"

Tartaglia

Melts in your arms after a long day. Seems to talk to an invisible force.

"...and here. Right here. Is where I call home. Don't take this away from me,"

Thoma

"What would you like to eat today? Any requests? I'll cook tonight,"

Wriothesley

"We haven't gone out together in a while, have we? I'll take an off tomorrow. Let's go to that cafe you've wanted to go to, hm?"

End!

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Click here.

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Here’s the Masterlist

[pearlywritings]

Token of appreciation event

I deeply appreciate all the love and support my followers show me, so this event I decided to dedicate to this feeling. And nothing, in my opinion, could help me better than the amazing manga “Veil”. I highly recommend it for reading and, using some of the citations, do not claim any of its contents - all rights belong to the author.

Masterlist

Rules:

character x fem!reader. Plus please remember that I prefer writing human x human, immortal x immortal etc.

1 character if you want a ~1k words drabble and up to 3 characters if you want snippets.

1-2 prompts per request (2 prompts are only for 1 character cases).

It can be written either in a canon setting or in a modern one

smut, angst, fluff - anything

will be written with the established relationship in mind, so please state specifically if you imply another kind of relationship, or you can specify, if you want the characters to be married or still dating.

you CAN change some words within the prompt. But if you send only a number - I am following the original one.

Characters I can or can try to write about: 

Albedo, Alhaitham, Capitano, Childe, Crepus, Dainsleif, Diluc, Kaeya, Ayato, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Pierro, Thoma, Tighnari, Wriothesley, Zhongli; Blade, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sampo.

Your request, if ALL things are considered, will look something like this:

Character’s name(s), prompt(s) in number or in text if it’s altered, canon/modern setting, genre, relationship status (optional) + you can add some details that I am free to both utilize or decline.

But it also can be shorter if you want to give me more freedom!

I hope we all will have fun during this event ^^

Prompts:

1)

- You can’t go a minute without me, can you?

- No, i can’t go a minute without you

2) 

- …Sometimes it's hard to tell whether you're serious or just joking.

- That's actually my special skill.

3) 

- How is it?

- Really good.

- My word, is that the only thing you can say?

- It really is beautiful. Ah… with those rosy cheeks, it's stunning. Madam…

- Puh! Surely, you jest.

4) 

- What will we be doing today?

- I have an idea - sleep in.

5)

- Did we have something planned today?

- No, nothing. In fact… let's think about it in bed.

6) 

- By the way… If I like dressing up so much, it's only your fault!

7)

- Well, well… You shouldn't stay like that, a thousand steps away from me. Stay close to me, alright?

8)

- Your boots make a very strong and imposing sound.

- My boots are honored to be admired, however they also recommend you not to stray too far.

9)

- You don't say "enter!" without at least putting a bathrobe on. Or anything at all!

- I didn't want to keep you waiting.

10)

- Oh… you mean you'll write your name? On me? Oh you!

11)

- Say give me your hand? Hm… I see.

- What's going on?

- Apparently the size of your hand is the same size as your heart.

12)

- You know I like the face you make when you smell something you like.

- I'll start charging an exhibit fee then…

13)

- Are you trying to tell me I should carry you to bed?

- My room is soooo far away, at least twenty steps from here… I'm afraid you won't be able to carry me that far?

- My room is right here.

14)

- I dreamt I was touching your hair.

- How was it?

- Well… I forgot…

- Oh, the thing is… I don't let just anyone touch my hair.

15)

- Helloooooo?

- It's so nice of you to wake me up before my alarm does…

- Your alarm has the right to rest on Sundays. At least I think so…

16)

- You… You are not going to ask me how I think you look?

- What do you think?

- You're oh so handsome.

17)

- I'm often told I have a mean glare…

- Definitely not. Anywho says that has never truly looked at you.

18)

- The razor is sharp. 

- They are made to be dangerous. But I know I don't need anything sharp to make a braid.

- You'd like to braid my hair? I can show you!

19)

- I am wondering what could be so distracting that you couldn't hear my voice anymore.

- Your hands.

20)

- It… it's the first time I've heard them described that way.

- It's the first time I used such words too.

21)

- …and above all, do not let go… For any reason, understood?

- If you tell me this one more time, I will let go.

22)

- I'm being serious right here!

- If you are so worried about it, just handcuff me to you!

23)

- Ah! Your shoelace is undone! On the left…

- I can tie it on my own!

- Well… Too late, I already did it.

24)

- I'm the one keeping a spare key to your place?

- Of course. What am I supposed to do with it? I already have one.

25)

- Saying my hair looks like glass, and my hands are flowers… how romantic you are. Or are they just words from the book?

- Only if I were to write them down.

26)

- That free cigarette looks so inviting.

- Nuh-uh!

- Ooh, so scary. Is that your last one?

- There's lipstick on it… I'll have her smoke it…

27)

- Is your bed cramped when we sleep together?

- It is. In the good way.

[rosedom]

HEYY ITS ME AGAIN ✨ (Thoma fic person)

Honestly considering on being ✨ anon because i use it alot. Oh and i understand on why you didnt want to do last time i requested totally understandable since we all have things we're uncomfortable of andd yeah. So.. I have another idea because i do nothing all day but daydream so.. Here ya go ✨

Fucking Neuvillette in his bedroom while using the little blue things in his hair.. Idk what those are called tbh horns?.. Are those horns?.. As leverage, him crying in pure pleasure whilst the fontaine is suffering because of the sudden downpour of rain. And throughout the end of their session, (when both of them finally come), the reader just treats Neuvillette so gently and carefully as if he was gonna fall apart any second now.

FTM! Neuvillette x Male Reader

(I swear im ill for ftm characters.. (In a good way) BUT I HATE THE FACT IM A FEMALE SO I CANT JUST FUCK THEM AAHSHDJSHHAHD. So this is why all my reqs are Male reader since it makes my genderfluidity so happy in a way. I like feeling like a male but im so scared of what my parents and relatives are gonna say.. (´༎ຶ ͜ʖ ༎ຶ `) so i mostly act like a girl since thats what they want but i really want to be male.. I should stop rambling sjdjbd again, have a good day and love ya!)

"an unnamed player has invited NEUVILLETTE to play . . . drown us in pleasure

ⓘ THIS WORK IS FOR 18+ ONLY

✦ㅤㅤ dom!top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!neuvillette, horn play (???), dacryphilia, grinding & gentle sex, praise, gratuitous pet names, creampie, aftercare .

i got a lil' carried away . . . haha . . hahaha . . . ha . . . um .

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Oh, dear Neuvillette. With those enticing horns of his, quivering on his back right in time with his body's shivers—God. Dead or not, the hydro archon has truly blessed you with this man who lies beneath you.

To see a man—the Iudex, no less, and not even a man but rather a dragon—of such power, willingly submitting to you . . . it's quite the rush, to say the least.

A rush that, of course, is incomparable to the heady rush that fills up your belly with each grind of your hips, each quiet squelch of your cock sinking ever-so deeper into Neuvillette's flushed cunt.

"You're so wet," you murmur, leaning over him and nipping at the shell of his pointed ear. "Is this all for me?" You slide a gentle hand underneath his toned abdomen, right to the thick swell of his bottom growth. It throbs beneath your fingertips, matching the tempo of his heartbeat. "So hard, too, hm?"

"A-all for you, 's all for you." His words are slurred—how unbefitting, of the Iudex; but absolutely belonging on your beloved.

He is not the Iudex here, with you; with you, he's just him, Neuvillette.

(He just so happens to belong to you, too. Names mean little, but when it's your name next to his—it's quite alright.

Just this once, though.)

"That's right, baby," you whisper, rewarding him with a particularly saccharine rub against his cock. He moans so prettily, unabashed in a way you had to work out of him. He's lived so long, repressed for most of it—but the road to now, to the end where you have both changed, has been beautiful.

You wouldn't trade it for the world.

But, of course, Neuvillette is your world. It'd be odd, to trade him for himself. Irregardless, "You're all mine," you continue, sucking blooming marks into the thin skin of his throat, tilting your head for the best angle. Hickeys are good from any and all angles. "And I'm all yours."

The last words must do something to him—you're not quite sure what it was, exactly, but he clenches particularly tight around you and fucking mewls.

Neuvillette, dragon sovereign of hydro, . . . mewling like a pup. The sound arouses you beyond belief, and the utter vulnerability that he gives to you makes your heart swell in something adoring, entirely enamoured with the love of your lives.

"You sound so pretty." You leave a final biting-kiss to his neck, and lean back, and you're brought to the sight of his horns, a beautiful iridescent blue and, fuck, they're even glowing. With a curious tilt of your head, you gently thumb at the tip of one, asking, rhetorically, "What's this?"

You see, you've always been rather enthralled by the two protrusions: how couldn't you be? However, you've never had the gall to touch them—until now.

How horrible an oversight, for you to have never explored this part of him; but it's alright, you suppose, because now you know, and now you plan to explore to your heart's content.

With a tender hand, you wrap your fingers further around one. His horns are thin but surprisingly sturdy, a beautiful glow against your skin. But more beautiful than the color itself, perhaps, is the absolutely broken sound that spills past Neuvillette's lips.

"Sweetheart," you just have to coo, grinding in deep. His cunt flutters around you in that tell-tale way it always does, right before orgasm; so, of course, you release the saccharine friction of your finger against his cock and instead reach for his neglected horn, wrapping your slick fingers around it.

The sensation leaves poor Neuvillette with no time to complain; he jerks, instead, whimpering particularly loud—as if his horns were more erogenous than his cock.

Hm. More erogenous, you say?

"You're so sensitive here," you think aloud, squeezing gently and becoming oh-so damningly aroused when you realize the clench of his cunt is right in time with your hands on his horns. But, "No? Too much?" you ask, just to be sure.

His resounding cry shows that he is very much a yes. For good measure, though, he whimpers out, "So good." It's a slurred mess, and you know then and there that you've discovered something amazing, for the two of you.

Your hips never cease their movements, each grind budding up against his g-spot and sounding so goddamn lewd, the squelch of his cunt as loud in the room as his moans are.

"God," you groan, "you're so fucking—so perfect. You feel so good around me, baby, like you were made for me."

"Yes, yes—" he cries, arching forwards, away from you, pressing down into the bed. The movement, however, makes the next grind of your cock hits his g-spot dead on; his legs clamp as shut as they can with you in between them, forcing you to a deeper grind, right against his most sensitive places.

You smile, breaths coming in fast pants. "I—mm—I didn't take your horns to be so sensitive, Neuv." You slide your fingers up them, slowly, falling back and forward again with each grind—you wait, to reach the base. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shakes his head, whimpering into the pillow. To hear him, you use your gentle grip on his horns to tilt his head to the side, careful not to hurt him, but he only moans louder, and it's so, so pretty.

"Talk to me, baby," you whisper. "Let me help you feel good."

"'s uh-uh-unbefitting," he whines, moans dispersing his words.

With a tsk, you decide, then, that it is time you show him how fitting it truly is.

You slide your fingers up the final inches of his horns, squeezing softly to their base, and he absolutely sobs in pleasure. The steady rain that had been pitter-pattering against the window pours like the tears dripping down his ruddy cheeks; you'd wipe them, if your hands weren't already busy holding onto his glowing horns.

"Please!" Neuvillette's voice is unrestrained as he bawls, crying out for a mercy you're quick to give, soothing him with each sure nudge of your cock against his g-spot.

(If it weren't already pouring, outside, you think that his cunt would be wet enough to drown a man.

Oh, what a way to go that'd be.)

Sweet nothings fall from your lips, gasps and deep groans from your own chest combining with the lewd cacophony of sound from your beloved—all reaching a crescendo when you thumb at the base of his horns, right where they meld into his scalp.

Just like that, a brilliant glow—brighter than before, still as equally beautifully—shimmers through the horns you've wrapped your fingers around, like the water of a stream flowing from the mountaintops to the lakes.

The sight—the sounds, of Neuvillette's loud, whimpering cries turning into meek, overstimulated moans, of his cunt milking you so salaciously—sends you tumbling over your own precipe. Your entire body shudders when you climax, your grinds slowing to a stop as you fill him to the brim. under you, he quietly mewls, a soft, contended sound.

Outside, the rain has stopped; however, it's misty, still, and you gently tilt Neuvillette's head—by his cheeks, careful not to aggravate his oversensitive horns—to thumb away the tears budded at his waterline. "Are you alright, sweets?" you ask, smiling softly.

He nods, leaning into your touch. When he finally speaks, his voice is ragged. "'m quite alright."

"Come on then," you murmur as you lean back. You slowly, gently pull your softened cock from his puffy cunt, cooing soft words of praise when he twitches, overstimulated. "I got you."

"I know."

If Neuvillette notices how particularly delicate you are tonight, he doesn't mention it: he stays quiet when you wrap him in a blanket, telling him you'll be right back; he dozes while you start the tub, warm and fuzzy and with a cunt still abuzz; but he does stir—makes a rather pitiful grumble, really—when you lift him up yourself in a bridal carry.

"I got you," you repeat, kissing his swollen eyelids. He nods and lets you do as you please, humming when you untuck him from the blanket and sink into a tub of hot, bubbly water with you. The water eases the aches in his legs, his lower back, and the scent is soft against his nose.

"What's all this for, darling?"

You scoff. You're gently cleaning his hair, running shampoo and conditioner through his beautifully long locks. "Can I not cherish my beloved?"

"I—" he coughs. "I did not mean to imply that; I only meant to inquire what's going on in that mind of yours."

How forward. With a kiss to his scalp, you dip a cloth between his thighs as you tenderly clean the mess of both of your orgasms. He blushes, but he's too tired to flinch away—really, he hardly even twitches when the washcloth inevitably brushes his cock.

After a moment of quiet, of rest, of being entirely clean and in the softly-scented water, you decide to answer him. "I love you, Neuvillette," you murmur, nuzzling into his damp skin. "And I wanted you to know that."

"Of course I know. I love you as well."

You shake your head, chuckling. He doesn't seem to understand where you're coming from: to be able to take a man as powerful as he is apart, to be privy to the intimacy in the bedroom—it makes your heart throb. Neuvillette is not fragile, nor weak, nor anything other than beautifully strong; but he stills deserves to be treated as if he were delicate.

A diamond is strong, after all—but you would never let harm cross it. You would treat it gently, cleaning and polishing it, kissing it; why wouldn't you treat your dearly beloved the same?

who's gonna tell 'em (⁠ò⁠_⁠ó⁠ˇ⁠) . . . but, jokes aside, live your life, man—don't live someone else's .

FEB. 3, 2024. @rosedom, rosey .