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everparanoid · 5 months

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Make me lose my breath, make me water ┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , NSFW

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: Cunnilingus, consent is hot, Reader is from Natlan, cuffs used inappropriately, Body Worship, My First Smut, Fontaine is France but it's not but it is, PWF, PWP, Mutual Pining, No use of y/n, Reader is Not Traveler (Genshin Impact), Creampie, biting kink, Written After 4.1 Update, Minor spoilers for 4.0 quest, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Light Bondage, light orgasm denial

wordcount: 6.1k

synopsis: The notorious Duke of the fortress of Meropide hasn't been on his A-game lately, and it shows.

Originally posted: 25.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: 'Water' by Tyla.

Three quick knocks rattled the door to his large office. The sound echoed up to the second floor where his desk resided.

“Come in,” Wriothesley said not looking up from his papers.

Wriothesley was a busy man. Well, being the Duke of the self-running, man-powered Fortress of Meropide wasn’t an easy job. It wasn’t exhausting either, but that was beside the point.

He took a slow prolonged sip from his teacup. The second sip in the last hour; the flavoured water had long since cooled from the general chill in the office. Not that he could feel anything beyond the normal chill of the underwater Fortress; and with the added benefit of his cryo vision he considered himself well-suited for the climate. That didn’t mean he didn’t miss the sun. Although, he could see the sun whenever he found a reason to leave the fortress, which he often didn’t.

He sighed for the fifth time that hour.

“I hear you’ve been doing that a lot,” You said ascending the spiralled staircase.

He paused and lowered his teacup, placing it on the small pile of report papers he was using as a mat. One side of his lips raised threatening to become a half smile. He quickly wiped it away.

“Oh? Have I now?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, your voice smooth and confident. “I think I’m going to have to report you to Sigewinne.”

“Am I to assume she isn’t the one who sent you?”

His eyes met yours as you arrived atop the stairs, a hand on your hip and that sassy look in your eyes that he had grown fond of. He realised now why he had been so distracted.

He missed you.

You often frequented the fortress. First as a commissioned messenger between Wriothesley and Neuvillette, then a ‘convict’, and after that a friend and now… he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to complain about the company. It was nice having someone as into tea as he was. Not that he would admit it, but it got lonely in the Fortress sometimes. More so since he met you.

“What? You afraid of a couple of stickers?”

“You know about that?” he grumbled, glancing at the pile of crumpled Melusine stickers littering the side of his desk, freshly pulled off the back of his coat.

“I have ears everywhere, Your Grace,” you smirk, withholding the crucial fact that you were the culprit providing the stickers for Sigewinne and her Melusine friends. They paid you back in giggles and smiles, and just the joy on their small faces was enough for you.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You probably know more about what’s happening in my humble home than me,” he said. Only a half lie on his part. You had an aptitude for making tough things bend to your will. Him being the toughest of things in question. He dismissed the thought of you flashing that blinding smile at anyone other than him.

Your shoulders rose and fell as a melodic laugh left your lips and graced his ears. If he could keep your voice in a bottle, he would.

You shook your head and pushed off the railing. His attention remained on you as you took a seat on the settee a bit away from his desk. His throat—as if he hadn’t just taken a sip of his cold tea— felt overwhelmingly dry. He cleared it gently and picked up his teacup.

“How’s the Traveler and Paimon?” he asked, taking a sip.

The flavoured water was colder. He needed to calm down lest he froze the entire thing. He imagined you would be the only one to find amusement in him sipping ice.

You crossed your legs, and your skirt rode up. He looked away respectfully, much to his dismay and the favour of his quickly deteriorating will. He didn’t remember when it happened. When he started seeing you as more than just the middle woman between Neuvillette and himself; more than just a pawn in this game against the fatui, but now he found himself knowing the way your cheek dimpled slightly only on your right cheek when you laugh; how the skin around your eyes crow when you yawn or squint; how you change to fix your posture every thirty minutes when you’re lost in a book, and your neck starts to get sore, and your lower back begs to be stretched out. He pulled himself out of his thoughts before they had a chance to spiral further.

“They send their regards and a thank you for your help with ‘the situation,’” you said making air quotes. You didn’t mention how you didn’t plan to return to them for a while, but some things were best left unsaid with Wriothesley.

Wriothesley nodded and gestured for you to join him in for some tea.

“If you have some time, of course,” he finished.

“Of course, If you are offering,” you responded.

You went to stand but Wriothesley beat you to it. Thankful for the excuse to busy himself with something other than your smouldering presence. If he was an icy avalanche, then you were like a raging inferno, melting him into warm water. Perhaps it had something to do with the pyro vision dangling from your hip. He glanced at the vision and caught a glimpse of your bare legs. He froze, curious about what colour you might be wearing underneath your skirt: black, white, blue, red? Instead, he was beyond relieved when he saw black shorts. He breathed a sigh. That’s so you.

“I can heat the pot, you know?” you say, growing increasingly more tired of his strange mood and equally as obscure silence. Never had Wriothesley sighed so much. Honestly, you never would have considered him a sigher; more a hmpher or a quiet snickering type.

You and everyone in Fontaine who had the pleasure or misfortune—mostly the misfortune—of knowing the Duke, knew that recently he had been off. In truth, your visit hadn’t been to express Neuvillette’s message (though that made a great cover). No, you were there because of a chain of strange letters from Sigewinne, given to you by an equally as annoyed Clorinde, telling you of the Duke’s bizarre behaviour. According to these letters, he was more attentive than usual. He had appeared around the fortress checking in on the production zones and the inmates an alarming number of four times in the last month, nearly causing several heart attacks amongst the inmates, which as a result caused Sigewinne to be on high alert from all the overworking; he hasn’t been partaking in as many fights in the ring, and he hasn’t been drinking as much tea.

It was the last two on the list that shocked you the most and was most of the reason why you were there now. Wriothesley not drinking tea? Was Fontaine’s archon a fraud?

Uncrossing your legs, you stood and approached him. Placing a hand on the teapot, you heated the water with your vision.

“Let me do that," you said.

You sounded more breathless than you had intended to, but being so close to him does that to you. He always managed to take your breath away, but you had stupidly thought that with time those senseless reactions would die upon learning more about the mysterious brutish duke. The way all crushes faded when the mystic i.e., the lack of information and the delusions of projection, disappeared. Instead, it seemed to have only worsened. A butterfly somersaulted in your stomach when you accidentally brushed your hand against his.

Wriothesley stiffened. The touch went straight to his gut.

“Why are you here?” he responded smoothly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Not that he was concerned about why you were here—he couldn’t be happier—but you were supposed to be away for the next six months on a quest with the traveler to your home region, Natlan. Had Sigewinne called you back out of concern for him? He had to be more careful around the small nurse in the future.

“Your tea collection isn’t as depleted as usual,” you observed, staring into the box filled with other miniature boxes of tea, skilfully deflecting the question.

“An interrogation. You’re making me nervous,” he joked. “I am a busy man, I don’t always have time for tea.”

The look you fixed him with was not amused.

“You always drink at least three cups a day,” you said putting stress on the ‘at least.’ If it wasn’t tea, it would be a terrible addiction.

“Wow, you’re counting? I’m impressed.”

“Which flavour do you want?” you said, ignoring him.

“The special blend.”

Without a second thought, you plopped the tea bag into the teapot and left it to brew.

It was your favourite, and that is why he chose it. He was more of a black tea or green tea kind of person, but the special blend he had made specifically for you. You didn’t know that though; you didn’t have to, he enjoyed hearing your quiet hums of happiness with each sip. It was great fodder for his late-night thoughts.

His heart warmed, as the skin around your eyes crowed the way he loved. Loved? He cleared his throat.

“You aren’t booking yourself as many fights. Which I would be happy about if I thought it didn’t directly correlate to why you’re acting so strange,” you lectured, and to him, you sounded like a particular short blue-haired Melusine.

“I can’t help but feel that you are worried about me,” he jested.

“As anyone would be about a friend,” you said.

Friend? Yes, that was what you were. Friends.

“Friends. Yes,” he agreed albeit stiffly.

You gave him a cautious side-eye unsure as to why his tone hurt you.

The word left a bitter taste in Wriothesley’s mouth and when you offered to fill his cup again, he accepted. Suddenly needing the soothing numbing effects of his tea more than ever. You topped up his cup before you poured the heated water into the teacup that had unintentionally become yours.

Wriothesley didn’t let anyone else use it. It was superstitious really, and he didn’t consider himself a superstitious person. However, he worried that if he let anyone else use it you suddenly won’t come back one day. Not that you would be able to tell the difference if he did let someone else use the cup; all the teacups he owned looked exactly alike, but yours was different. It was a cup with a little chip on the rim near the handle from when you decided to have your tea with Neuvillette, Clorinde, the traveler and himself after the recent troubles with the Fatui. Your cup had chipped due to the heat of your hand; he could recall the horror on your face when he informed you how much each cup cost after letting you ramble on about owing him another cup.

You eventually fell into a comfortable silence sitting together on the settee.

“Clorinde has been visiting you a lot recently,” you said from behind your teacup. You took another sip.

Wriothesley recalled his earlier meeting with the champion dualist.

“Yes, we had some tea.”

“Really?”

“Jealous?”

You turned away.

“There is no need to be, I assure you,” he said, feeling a deep sense of relief at the way you seemed so bothered by his meeting with your mutual friend. The same friend who had been lecturing him about his ‘mutual’ feelings for you. Perhaps it was because of your reaction, that he realised that Clorinde might have been right. Or he was delusional? Maybe it was both.

Wriothesley placed his mug down on the coffee table. His hand brushed your bare thigh and you both jolt.

“Who says I am jealous?” You snapped, your lip twitching.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because your lip twitches when you’re upset, and your pyro vision makes you heat the things around you without abandon. Your eyes lose that spark which makes them look like the spotlights guarding Meropide, and you refuse to look at me because you know I’ll see right through you. And I do. I see you.”

He took another sip from his tea, pretending to not notice your tea bubbling in your hand, and the crack growing on the side of the teacup.

“It’s not nice to make jokes like that, Your Grace,” you said nervously.

Your eyes darted about the office settling on anything but him. The bookshelves looked fuller than usual. Has he been reading more books?

“Indeed. It is not but come on you should know me better than that by now. I never joke about things like this,” he said. His voice was clear and sincere. “Is it so strange that I would want to give a few words of praise out of genuine adoration?”

Especially since he saw the way you’re reacting; he knew that it was real and not a fantasy from his misguided thoughts. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity to make his feelings clear. He was a straightforward guy, after all. When he knew what he wanted was within his reach he wouldn’t simply pass it up. It would be unjust. He wanted to watch you smile, to be the one that caused that smile; he wanted to be the first person you went to when something good happened in your life; he wanted to feel your skin and not just in passing touches; he wanted to let it scold him, to embrace the flames.

“Ah, it seems I have ruined the mood,” he said smoothly.

He stood.

You went to stand too, but when you did the boiling liquid in your teacup splashed your hand. You hissed and dropped it. The porcelain shattered against the metal ground; the liquid spilt everywhere.

Wriothesley sat back down on the settee and took your warm hand in his immediately not sparing a second to glance down at his soaked boots. They encased yours and worked to chill the burn; one of the many benefits of having a cryo vision. The two of you couldn't be any more different. Fire and ice co-exist? Impossible. Unimaginable. Dangerous. The tenderness in which he held your hand sets your heart ablaze as if it wasn’t already. Had he been telling the truth? You knew the Duke better than most, and with that knowledge you know he wasn’t the type to lie about that, but did he mean it? Could he mean it?

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Wriothesley’s attention remained on the forming boil on your soft skin. He soothed it gently, trying not to give you frost-burn. Thankfully the natural heat of your skin stopped his cryo from hurting you further.

“For what?” he responded softly, bringing your hand up to his lips and breathing out cool frosty air. You felt like mush, and if it weren’t for the dull ache in your hand you would have snatched up the opportunity to run said hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. It always looked so soft and maybe he would allow you to touch it.

You pulled a face between flustered and self-loathing.

“That was one of your expensive teacups,” you managed to choke out.

He continued to blow cool air onto your hand.

“There will be other teacups,” he says, his lips barely an inch from your skin.

You wanted to melt on the spot.

“But—“

He sighed and said your name sternly looking up at you through the haze of dark lashes.

“Why would I worry about a teacup when you are hurt?” he asked and lowered your hand from his lips. “In any case, I should apologise for ruining a perfectly good meeting. If you have said all you need to say then—”

You waved your hands, flabbergasting him as you snatched them from his cool encasing, momentarily forgetting about the burn, and cutting him off mid-speech.

“No, you didn’t,” you yelped.

He half smiled at the scarlet tint of your ears, and taking your burnt hand back into his, he proceeded to gently apply cryo to the festering burn.

“Ah, is that so?” he chuckled. “Alright then, how will you pay me back?”

“Huh?”

“You broke my favourite teacup, after all. So—“ he said your name with a hint of mischief in his smooth voice. “How will you pay me back?”

“That’s not fair!” You straightened in your seat. “How can that be your favourite teacup when they all look the same? Are you just saying that to make me feel worse than I already do?”

He cocked a brow and tugged you forward. You fell into him, your free hand coming to rest on his lower abdominal. Your nose brushed his, and you felt his cool breath against your cheeks. His breathe smelt of spearmint. Your lips twitched and you tried to focus on the scar under his eye (the one you’ve always wanted to trace with the tips of your fingers) so as to not meet his icy blue stare, or to glance down at the obvious smirk on his lips. You wanted to kiss him; you could kiss him; would he let you kiss him?

Wriothesley watched your tongue dart out to swipe across your lips; he wanted to bite it; but he had more control than that. He had an image to uphold. The Duke was supposed to be fair and reasonable; he was supposed to lead by example and be a neutral figure of respect and reverence, not a brute without self-control. He pushed you back gently, hoping beyond hope that in your shock you haven’t noticed how hard he was.

“Kidding, of course,” he drawled.

Anger coloured your face and you punched his shoulder, half seriously. You hissed and shake your still very much wounded hand. You had been duelling partners for a while when you had spent a significant amount of time in the Fortress pretending to be a convict back when you were neither friend nor whatever you were now. He’d only agreed to it at the time because you managed to beat everyone and nearly him.

“You are breathtaking,” he muttered. “Come on let’s get you to Sigewinne.”

He stood and offered you his hand.

Your heart stuttered. Even though you weren’t native to Fontaine you were well-versed in their mother language, but even then, you didn’t believe your ears.

“What?” you asked.

He chuckled again, a deep and hearty sound.

“When will I stop doubting the ears of a seasoned traveler,” he said out loud although it was meant for his ears alone. He must have been mentioning your mutual friend, the blond traveler, and their small pixie pie companion, Paimon. You have been accompanying them on a few commissions and quests here and there, especially through Natlan. Which kept you away from Fontaine for significant periods of time, much to Wriothesley’s silent dismay.

However, he would never keep something so precious away from the light. He tried to keep a pet once—not that you were a pet—but he soon realised that it was wrong to keep something meant to be in the sun away from it. And if he couldn’t do it to a small animal then he definitely couldn’t do that to you. You were a traveller, not even native to Fontaine. Although you have made it clear countless amounts of times that Fontaine is your favourite region; he can’t help but feel like you weren’t meant to be chained to one place. He won’t be your administrator, the fortress won’t be your prison, and he couldn’t imagine keeping you in this cage with him. He refused to, even if his more selfish desires would have you cuffed to his desk where he could gaze upon you forever till you hated him and wished him gone.

“No, I want to talk first,” you said.

“I assure you we can talk after your hand has been seen too.”

“Wriothesley.”

Your tone went straight to his cock. You have never said his name, at least not his face. Even when you’re both around your mutual ‘friends’ you still have only ever called him ‘your grace.’ He wanted to hear you say his name again. He wanted to hear you say his name breathlessly, desperately, whilst you crumbled into each other. He cleared his throat and walked across his office hoping that the distance would stop you from noticing the obvious tent in trousers. He fiddled with the cuffs on his hips to distract himself and pulled at his tie.

“You really should go…to Sigewinne,” he said.

You approached him. He turned away from you facing a bookshelf. You brushed your fingertips to his forearm feeling the chilling aura around his skin. You expected him to pull away, for him to stop you from going past the point of no return, but he didn’t.

“Wriothesley,” you said his name again, this time with a wistful air. You don’t even realise you’re saying it. You never said it; not to him, only to the crisp cold darkness when your back arched on your sheets late into the night.

“Say it again,” he said.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

Your eyes widened as you realised your mistake. You have always tried not to say his name to separate your lustful fantasies from the real man.

He faced you, capturing your gaze and with it your heart too in his glacial eyes that looked so warm. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but obey. His name slipped out in a hushed prayer: “Wriothesley.”

In turn, he said yours; just as quiet, just as wanting.

“You really should go to Sigewinne,” he said and ghosts his thumb along your jaw.

“What if I don’t want to?” you stepped closer. “What if I want to stay right here?”

His expression darkened.

“You shouldn’t,” he said with no bite behind it.

You didn’t budge.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, sounding way more desperate than you intended. Before you could cringe at yourself, he had you caged in his arms, mouth cold against yours. He groaned when you bit down on this bottom lip, and for the first time, you felt his thick erection brush against your stomach.

None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of kissing Wriothesley and any pain in your hand disappeared altogether. He kissed you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the earth; like you were his last gulp of air before he dissolved into primordial water.

He tugged on your shirt.

“If you don’t take this thing off right now I’m going to rip it,” he said, his breath laboured.

You reached under your shirt, and he helped you slip it over your head. He threw it away and pulled you into another kiss. His hand wrapped in your hair.

You took off his tie and his waistcoat, his usual fur coat was already draped on the back of his large red chair. He stopped you unbuttoning his shirt, shaking his head, trailing kisses along your jaw, and down your neck as he walked you backwards to his desk. He unclasped your bra. He watched it slide down your arms and then tossed it somewhere that was going to be your future you’s problem.

“Up,” he ordered.

You jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck. He grasped the underside of your thighs and placed you down on the free space of his grand desk.

He bit your shoulder, and you moaned out his name in a way that had him almost feral. He lapped at the wound and kissed it. You threw your head back biting down on your lip. He continued leaving kisses and nibbles along your collarbone, slowly lowering until your breasts were under his hungry gaze. You suddenly felt nervous. You wouldn’t say you were insecure in your looks. You knew that your looks were something to behold and of which you were very proud. They’ve come in handy in your many jobs as many times as they have caused unnecessary issues but being under the watchful gaze of Wriothesley felt different… intimate. You tried to bring your hands up to cover yourself. Wriothesley caught your wrists, looking up at you from his crouched position.

“Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”

“Wriothesley,” you said.

“If you aren’t comfortable, we can stop,” he assured you, although the words pained him and his dick, consent was king—always. If you weren’t comfortable, he could always sort himself out later. You were the most important thing to him. He let go of your wrists and you dropped them, letting him feast his eyes on your breasts.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

“If you change your mind, just tell me and we’ll stop,” he said. “Give me a safe word.”

“Cake,” you instantly responded.

“Cake?” He cocked a brow. “Cake, it is.”

Without a moment spared, he grasped your breasts and planted a kiss there, dragging his lips over your nipples in a way that made you shiver. He smiled to himself at the occasional whimpers that left you; even more pleased that he was the one causing them.

“I love the noises you make. I love your voice. I’m obsessed with it. I wish to capture it and listen to it whenever you’re away,” he groaned.

He dragged his tongue down, further, and further until he was on his knees, he pushed up your skirt that had been bothering him since you crossed your gorgeous legs earlier. He was tempted to have you keep it on when he fucked you, for no other reason than the thought that the next time you decided to wear that poor excuse of a skirt he knew all you would be able to think about was how he messed you up in it. The thought brought him immense pleasure.

He slid his hands into your shorts, squeezing your thighs. The flimsy piece of black material and whatever surprise underwear beneath it were the only things keeping him from what he wanted. He wanted to taste you. He wanted to feel how you’ll curl on his tongue; he wanted to feel you gripping his hair and screaming his name as he brought you to a high only he could give you.

“These damn shorts,” he grumbled.

“I climb mountains. How else am I going to keep myself comfortable?” you asked.

He tutted and tore them open; the fabric did not put up much of a fight at all.

“I guess you won’t be climbing mountains anytime soon,” he said guiding the torn fabric down your legs.

“Those were my favourites, you brute.”

He winked up at you.

“Ah, I suppose that makes us even,” he drawled.

Was he thinking about that damn teacup right now?

“How are you?” He said, checking in on you.

“Good.”

He smiled and your heart melted a little.

He froze when he took in the sight of your lingerie.

“Were you thinking of me when you bought these?”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you said.

“Too late.”

You bit your lip. It hadn’t been intentional, your underwear matching the colour of his eyes. He trailed his nose up the soaked fabric brushing your clit. You grabbed his hair at the stimulation. You felt the beginnings of the scruff threatening to break out of his chin tickling you as he guided your lingerie aside and gave your clit an ardent lick. Wriothesley wasn’t big on savoury treats, but you weren’t savoury, you tasted like you, and you were fast becoming his favourite dessert.

“You taste divine,” he said.

“Oh Archons,” you muttered.

“They won’t hear you down here,” he said.

It didn’t take long before your toes were curling, and you were chanting his name. Wriothesley gripped your thigh with one hand and fingered you with the other, stretching you out in preparation for him; because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that you were going to cum around him. He was going to feel the way you would clench around him; he was going to watch your blissed-out face twist as he fucked you hard into his desk. Although he would love to feel you climax on his face there would be time for that. He’d be damned if this was the first and only time he had you. You were his. Morals and reputation be damned, he wanted—no, needed to be inside you. He didn’t care if the entirety of Meropide could hear you; in fact, he got off on the thought.

Just when you felt like you were about to climax, he pulled away and licked his lips. You glared at him as he stood and bent over you kissing you softer than before. You could taste yourself on his lips, and instead of it turning you off it spurred you on. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, grinding against his clothed erection.

“Do you trust me?” he asked between heated kisses.

Everything felt wet like you both were melting, and you probably were. If so, you didn’t care, becoming water wasn’t half bad if it was with him. You heard his cuffs before you saw them spinning around the two fingers that had been inside you.

“Right now, no,” you lied.

He half smiled.

“I suppose I deserve that. I guess I’ll just have to persuade you then.”

You untangled from around him. He stepped back unbuttoning his shirt and revealing lean scar-littered skin. You wanted to reach out and so you did, tracing the long jagged discoloured scars, slightly keloid. Some looked fresher than others. He shivered and breathed out a low groan when you grazed over his nipple. He raised his signature cuffs.

“Give me your wrists,” he said.

It clinked when it secured around both wrists. The spiked metal looked so beautiful against your skin; he was almost tempted to throw away the key.

“Oh no, you’ve caught me, your grace,” you teased. Something you shouldn’t have done because the way he looked at you after told you that you had triggered something in him.

“You did break my favourite teacup after all,” he said.

“I thought we were even.”

You watched him slowly unbuckle his belt and step between your legs. There would be time for savouring the moment later, many moments if he could help it but not then. You felt his erection only covered by the thin fabric of his boxers press against your vagina, he leans over you caging you between his arms and the desk.

“Indeed, we are for breaking.” He nibbled on your ear, “but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. That was an expensive cup you know some flimsy shorts won’t cover the costs. You should know I only play fair, and you got some of the tea on my freshly shined boots.”

Your cuffed hands resting on your stomach fiddled with the lining of his boxers. You lost your breath when he nuzzled into the base of your neck.

“Don’t tease me,” he grunted.

You manage to slip his cock out.

“Says the man who denied me my orgasm.”

You felt his smile on your neck.

He rubbed his cock along your folds but didn’t push in. He wanted to be sure that you’re sure.

“I don’t think friends do this,” he said as he continued to edge your hole.

“Just fuck me already,” you sassed.

He thrust into you, filling you completely. He was thicker than you expected, thicker than you had had before. You couldn’t be more thankful for the earlier foreplay because without it he wouldn’t have fit. He remained still for a while, and you slowly adjusted to his size. The dull ache of the intrusion quickly turned from discomfort to bliss.

“Wriothesley.”

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he breathed. “Don’t stop saying my name.”

You didn’t.

“Good girl,” he said.

The desk jutted, the papers shook, and books slid off the desk smacking the floor in their wake, but the sound was lost to you both. Despite his strong persona, and much to your delight, he didn’t hold back his occasional whimpers, and grunts. The sound blessed your ears like a symphony. Sometime after your first orgasm, he took off the cuffs and threw them to his settee.

He left the occasional bites and kisses on the underside of your jaw, and down to your breasts. You, in turn, added to the long scars down his back, your nails clawing into the flesh. He would treasure those when they scarred.

You guided his face up from your neck, where he had been breathing you in as if he couldn’t get enough of you into his system. In truth, he couldn’t. You kissed him deeply, filling it with all the words you hadn’t yet been able to say. You felt your third climax on the horizon as he hit the same spot that made your back arch.

“Wriothesley,” you said against his mouth. “There.”

He chased your lips.

“That’s it,” he said, rolling his hips. He slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and rubbed your swollen clit. You let out a needy moan.

“I’ve got you,” he said as you clenched around him.

Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave of primordial water. He held you to him, as he continued to thrust towards his own high, encasing you in his arms.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groaned.

Wriothesley felt like he was on cloud nine. Being with you was entirely different from what he imagined in the best way possible. It felt like a dream having you here, in his arms, pliant to his every desire. In each kiss, he pretended that you felt the same way; that you wanted the same things. He pretended that this moment wasn’t just a moment but forever—because he wanted you forever.

He slowed down prolonging the experience and straightened up looking down at the fucked-out expression on your face. He knew he didn’t look any better. Swiping a hand through his hair, he continued to roll his hip slowly. He placed a hand on your pelvis steadying you. Your body was covered in a sheen of sweat which glistened under the light of the office. He felt like he was melting into you—like you were melting into each other.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered opening your arms for him, beckoning him home. And truly, to him, you felt like home.

He pushed his damp hair back once again, before leaning over you. With a final grunt and a spam of your walls around him, he came. He didn’t pull out right away, wrapping his arms around you as if afraid to let go.

Your thighs were sticky from your combined releases, and your body felt like it had been sitting in a sauna for hours but seeing the rare, satisfied look on his face made it all worth it. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“You owe me new shorts,” you said.

“I’ll buy you as many shorts as your heart desires,” he uttered, tiredly.

“Really?”

He hummed and nodded slowly.

“Good because I think I’m going to need a lot of them if you’re going to rip them off every time,” you said causing him to perk up. “You know to repay for the teacup.”

“Oh?”

“Unless this was a one-time thing then—“you hesitated.

He kissed you again, unable to hide his smile.

“Next time let’s use my bed.”

“I’d like that,” you said.

He tried to intertwine your hands, but you winced when he brushed against the forming boil.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and to Sigewinne, for real this time.”

“First, can we have a cup of tea?” you asked.

He laughed. Of course, you wanted to have tea. He could do with some tea too; he was famished after all. He laid a kiss on your forehead and made a mental note to send Clorinde an extra box of his finest tea.

“Of course, first let's clean up and then we'll have tea. I promise, but don’t spill it this time.”

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#wriothesley imagines #Genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #wriothesley #wriothesley fanfic #wriothesley x you #genshin drabbles #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley thirst #genshin smut #i am unhealthily obsessed with this man

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 8 months

Text

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 13.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M (Mature Content)

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected sex. Aftercare. Unhealthily obsessive love, probably pathological. Boundaries? What are those? Park Chanyeol being annoying.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Tag list: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Links: Part 1, ….Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

You couldn’t stay in this bed with him. Your resolve was much too shaky for the sticky humidity that was building between the two of you and it was too early to fall asleep. You hadn’t even showered. You didn't have any extra clothes here either and you had a real work day tomorrow.

This whole thing was extremely impractical.

Yet actually getting up and pulling yourself out of his warm arms and actually walking across that large room to somehow find the exit felt like a solo journey on a small sailboat across the ocean. Just stupid to try alone and probably impossible.

Plus you hadn’t yet had a chance to see the whole house. Imagine, an entire room dedicated to a single statue, what kinds of other insane sights were waiting to be seen. It would be such a shame to miss it.

He had kept his hands to himself outside of the tight hug on this bed, and your own body had calmed down enough for some thoughts other than sex to eventually flit into your mind, even if you could feel how very messy and affected you were just from all of that tension and unresolved desire from the car, and frankly just from being this close to this man.

“Okay,” you said after holding your breath for long enough, after distracting your mind for long enough, after coming to terms with the fact that you would not be getting any sort of actual relief today, tomorrow, the day after, or for the rest of the week. It just wasn't happening. Your mind had accepted this and your body would simply have to accept it as well, “show me the bathtub. Let’s take a bath.”

It didn’t sound like he had fallen asleep, but it took him a few moments of quiet breathing to respond.

“Naked?” He said the same thing you’d said when he suggested it earlier, “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“You can lend me some clothes. At least a shirt. We definitely won't have sex.”

You were looking up into his face and he was looking down at you with his wandering brown eyes that floated all over your face.

He lifted a single eyebrow and gave his head a tiny shake.

“Noona, don't take this the wrong way and I love you so fucking much, but I think you might really be crazy.” He lifted a hand and he rubbed it roughly over his face.

A small laugh broke from your chest. Maybe he was right, but you were simply too invested in this charade now. You were too far in denial for much reason to make it through your thoughts.

“You suggested we take a bath earlier.” The accusation came out in a half chuckle and Baekhyun sat up on his arms on the bed beside you.

“Well yeah, that was … before,” he said with his lips pulled into a small wince and his eyebrows pulled down low, “when there was still some hope,” he rolled his eyes upward and his head wiggled back and forth with the little admission, “— you must think I am stronger than I am. I just got it back under control. Are you actually trying to kill me?” He was really going now. The frustrations must be getting to him.

“What kind of shirt,” He had turned his torso, lifted a hand and made a sweeping motion over the length of you, “do you think you can wear in the bath with me?”

“Just give me a long one,” you said with a shrug.

He had closed his eyes and lifted his hand over his face again, only this time he was rubbing his temples with his middle finger and his thumb.

“Oh..just a long one she says, why didn’t I think of that.” He was talking to himself. You pouted your lips at him and his eyes opened and he looked over at your face for a moment. He was pushing himself off the bed. You definitely heard a bit of attitude on his voice now, with the sarcastic responses and the mumbling. He had disappeared behind the glass partition but you were certain you heard him say something about a whole month’s worth of blue balls in one night.

He was gone for a moment and you sat with your legs curled up into your chest on his bed, seriously beginning to question this entire plan. The abstinence thing. Was it really supposed to help with the attraction you felt for each other? Weren’t you already in much too deep with him right here, about to get into the bath together, what difference did the sex make, you’d been touching and kissing and holding each other all night.

Maybe this was just uncessarry torture.

But you’d already taken it this far. He’s already promised to be the strong one. What kind of a spineless asshole would you seem like if you backed out now?

You couldn't keep pushing and pulling him around according to your whims of the moment. It was time for you to just stick with what you had decided, even if no matter how much you thought about it, it was really very stupid for you to genuinely believe that you could fix anything by withholding. If anything, the no sex rule seemed to only make you want him more.

A white flash of fabric flying at you caught you off guard and made you flinch. A soft white cotton shirt landed in your lap.

Baekhyun was standing with his arms on his hips staring at you curled up on his bed.

He lifted his chin, motioning toward the shirt, “Go ahead.” His voice challenged. “Let’s see the magic shirt.”

He knew what you were. You knew what you were. You were a crazy person.

You were wavering. You were wrong. This wasn't something that would simply go away because you didn't give into it. You were sitting here in his home, in his bed with about as high an attraction as you’ve ever felt for any other human being and you suddenly wanted to give up. No amount of abstinence was going to make this go away.

You stood up, holding the shirt in your hands. Baekhyun was standing in the same spot but his arms were crossed over his chest now as he leaned against the wall with his eyes on you.

You could feel an unsteadiness in your limbs and your fingers fumbled with the button of your dress shirt. You got it open and the next three followed. You knew you were wearing the red bra below this shirt and your eyes pulled up into his. You’d half expected him to turn around, or make some effort to avert his eyes as you undressed, but he was frozen, watching as you took the dress shirt off and slipped your hands into the sleeves of this plain white t-shirt.

At least he didn’t get the full view. You managed to remove the bra, the skirt, and your underwear all from beneath this shirt. It was long enough too; the hem fell just mid thigh. It kind of just looked like you wore a comfy sleep shirt that just happened to belong to him and sure, maybe you were completely naked below it, but that didn’t have to mean you were about to have sex with this man in that bathtub.

Baekhyun groaned into his hands. He was covering the bottom of his face with both of them. “I can’t do this,” he whispered. “I said I would be the strong one.” He said with a hopeless laugh erupting from his chest. It was the sound of a man who had given up his sanity. The sound of a man who was doomed.

“I’m — I’m,” He inhaled a deep and trembling breath, placing a flat palm on his chest, “I’m not stronger than this. Why did I bring you home? Why did I put you in my bed and then put you in my shirt?”

His complaints tugged at your heart and the three steps you’d taken in his direction stopped. You had been struggling on your own with the desire but hearing his words a mirror of your own heart’s struggles shed even further light unto just how flawed your shoddy plan had been.

“What if we just stop the stupid plan? Baek, I think I was wrong.” You said suddenly. Baekhyun’s eyes landed on your face up from where his eyes had been roaming down the length of you. His lips that had been hanging open since his earlier complaints pulled closed and he inhaled a breath and turned his head away from you.

“It’s just a week,” you heard him say. His jaw clenched down hard enough for you to see the muscles in his face surge.

“Haven’t we tried it enough already though… hmm?” You felt a single eyebrow lift on your forehead with your small question that made your cheeks burn with the blood that rushed just under your skin. You felt so silly now; vacillating so damn easily in front of him. What must he think of you; his flighty, wishy-washy girlfriend.

“I wasn’t…I wasn’t trying to convince you. I’m just struggling. I’ll get over it. If you’ll forgive me for anything you see me going through in the bath. Just — don’t touch me at all, I really mean that.”

He was moving. He was turning quickly away from where you stood beside his bed wearing nothing but his shirt and he had made his way off, disappearing through a doorway. This must be where the bathroom was.

Your legs carried you and your entire body felt on fire all over again.

You wanted him. You wanted so much that you were beginning to feel desperate for it; every cell in your body ached for him to touch you and watching his back retreating as he walked away from you made you ache for him even more. You wanted to run to him; to tell him you were wrong about all of it; beg him to touch you and to love you. You burned for it.

Maybe the water would extinguish the flames.

The bathroom was well lit, enormous, and lavish with entire separate sections made of floor to ceiling marble. Some closed off rooms had labels. You walked by something that said wet sauna, something else that said dry sauna, all the while as you walked you passed multiple counter spaces with drawers, nooks, shelves, some benches, some chairs. You passed dual showers with multi shower heads in them that had also had several slots in the ceiling that looked like you might just open an entire waterfall onto your head if you pulled the wrong lever. The entire thing was excessive. You couldn't believe he was calling this a bathroom, this was a private spa. It was way too much for one man living alone and you couldn't help but gasp when you turned a corner and the space opened up and there was one wall lined with wall to wall glass windows overlooking a view of a river bank. You’d never seen anything like this and for a moment you felt transfixed by the nighttime beauty. You hadn’t even known this house sat on the river and that there was so very much of this property that was untouched by the chaos of the busy smashed together buildings of this big city.

You could hear the rush of water running somewhere beyond this room you were standing in. You were almost afraid to take a step into the room with the bathtub, but your curiosity was burning you from the inside as you followed the sound.

You’d caught sight of his back. You had made it through that maze of countertops and vanities, past all of the showers and you had taken in all you could stand of the breathtaking view, your journey must have taken a bit longer than you realized because you caught sight of the back of the man. He was seated facing away from you, already inside the tub. There was clearly plenty of space for you to sit opposite of him and you didn’t even really have to touch him if you didn’t want to. Your first steps into this room where the large bathtub sat in the center was surrounded by more marble and you were hardly even surprised by the sliding glass door that led to some sort of outdoor pool that seemed to disappear over the edge of the horizon. You saw the heap of his clothing and while you could clearly see the clear skin of his back which told you that no, he wasn’t taking a bath in clothes like you were, another step closer to the clothes pile told you that he was completely naked in there. A pair of underwear sat on the very top.

You felt silly now, desperately clinging to this white shirt as if the act of taking a bath with your assistant in itself wasn’t just as incriminating as anything else you both have done together. As if you could somehow overpower the incredible desire with white cotton.

Your stupid plan had been such a weak attempt at controlling your emotions, and you had been such a failure at it too. It was a flimsy grasp at finding something to blame for this. As if the sex wasn’t just a symptom of a deeper thing that was happening inside of you. You wanted him. You felt so desperate for him that it was painful. You wanted all of him and you wanted so much from him that you struggled to define this feeling of deep, all consuming want that had taken over your once rational mind.

Whatever it was, it was more than desire. It was even more than love. It was coursing through your veins as if your blood cells had been infected; as if the bits that made up the cells in your body; the spaces in between the atoms of the matter that composed you were pulled, and ripped, and magnetized by him.

You wanted to consume him like a drug. You wanted him to flow through your veins into your brain and make you high and you wanted him again and again.

You rounded the tub. The water was crystal clear straight through to the bottom of the white porcelain. You could tell the water was warm with the light steam wafting up. Baekhyun sat with his arms over the sides of the tub, making no attempts to hide any bit of himself from you; his head turned and his eyes followed where you moved until you had stepped up and pointed a toe into the water as you quietly entered the tub, sitting on the opposite side. He had the view of the infinity pool and the nighttime city scape beyond the winding river’s edge behind your shoulders but you had arguably the better deal with his beauty in front of you.

The water rose and rippled as you stepped in and while there was plenty of room in this deluxe sized tub for two, you still crossed your legs, making yourself small enough so you didn't have to touch him too much. He’d warned you earlier that you probably should not. Still, your skin burned for it.

The water was very warm. It soaked quickly into the shirt and rivaled the heat that was already all over your skin. The cotton of the shirt floated around your skin and you allowed your body to sink below the water, closing your eyes and releasing the tension in your shoulders with a tiny moan as you let yourself sink. This was the biggest bathtub you’d ever seen and when you sunk so much that the water moved over your head and soaked the top of your head you felt the undeniable warmth of human flesh below your crossed legs. You quickly pushed yourself up and back over to your side of the tub; wiping the water from your face with your hands you looked across the surface of the ripples into his face.

Baekhyun watched you without saying a word. You’d noticed his hair was dry and a glance around didn’t give you any signs of any such things as soap or shampoo.

“Do you have any soap?”

Baekhyun’s focus was shaky. And after a few breaths he shook his head and inhaled while pointing a slim finger toward one of the cabinets on a wall.

“There should be some in there. I forgot it. I’m not exactly in my right mind.”

Your eyes followed where he pointed and then you looked down over the length of your body in the now soaked and rather transparent white t-shirt.

When your eyes found him again he was watching your face with that same shaky focus; a hand lifted up as he touched his fingertips lightly over his pouting pink lips.

“Do you want me to get it or are you going to get it?”

You shook your head lightly. Whose self control was to be tested more at this moment? You pushed with your feet, instantly feeling the wet fabric cling to your body as you stood up. You’ve been around this earth long enough to know that this shirt, while it gave the illusion of cover while dry, was now nothing more than sheer silk draped over you like a marble statue of your bare body.

His eyes were wild and he bit down hard on his finger with his white teeth as he took from what you gave him.

It all felt lost. All of the resistance and denial had been fruitless.

You stepped out of the tub and walked a wet path to the cabinet he had pointed to. Inside you found an assortment of high end shampoos and soaps. You blindly grabbed at them. You weren’t familiar with any of these brands.

When you returned, you’d placed all of the bottles on the floor beside the tub. His hands tightly gripped the sides of the porcelain and he watched you with vividly desperate eyes. He seemed to be breathing much too hard for someone who was supposed to be relaxing in a warm bath.

You felt done. You no longer wanted to play this stupid game anymore. Your fingertips found the hem of the wet tshirt and you gripped and pulled it up; struggling a bit as it clung to your skin and when you’d finally pulled it over your head it dropped with a heavy plop down at your feet.

Baekhyun closed his eyes and his head rolled back. He ran his hand over the length of his face and you heard a low sound escape from deep within his chest cavity.

“Can I come back inside with you like this?”

He rubbed his face roughly and you heard a sharp intake of breath. Through the clear water you could see just how affected he was. He was tense all over and just as aroused as you were; only his arousal you could see.

“The second you touch me, it’s over,” he whispered through gritted teeth. His fingers flexed out in your direction and then he stopped, closing his hand and making a tight fist as he shook his head back and forth. He was still breathing too hard and the longer you stood here outside of the water the more your skin cooled and prickled. You felt the goosebumps run down your spine; your skin tightened and your nipples hardened.

“I am making myself as clear as I possibly can,” he was speaking with his eyes open wide on you, “the second you touch me, I am done being the strong one.”

“I’ll let you use me. I want you to. If you want to fuck me then I’m going to let you,” his words came out through labored breaths, “because I can’t — I can’t be that strong.”

You had already made your decision; long before you’d first joined him in this bathtub, you’d lost this battle long ago. The best you could manage was a shrug. The best you could offer was a step into the warm water in the center of the tub. You could feel his eyes like a burning flame warming every bit of your skin and you made no attempts to avoid his skin as you moved inside the water.

Shamelessly you moved closer to him. He was watching you with his teeth biting down on his bottom lip. You reached a hand down for a bottle of shampoo, and as you did it, you slipped even closer to where he sat on the far edge.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Baekhyun’s lips were frozen shut. He did not answer your question but his eyes narrowed and he watched as you moved even closer to him. It only took one hand on his shoulder — only took your feather light fingertips connecting to the warm flushed skin of his chest and his hands moved off the tub and he surged into you in one fluid motion.

A plastic shampoo bottle clattered to the floor. A big wave of water sloshed over the edge of the tub when he leaned forward and wrapped both arms tightly around your waist and he pulled you into him. Your legs bent at the knees and you found yourself firmly pulled onto his lap. You felt the connection with him there. Thank god the water had washed away some of the substantial wetness between your legs because the desire you felt for him was embarrassingly obvious. Still with your legs parted so and his hardness pressing against you he slipped around within your mess so easily.

His face was angled as he looked up at you. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his palms ran down from your waist to your thighs, digging hard into your skin below the water. You felt tinges of it, that desperation that was surging through your veins. You wanted him. It didn’t feel like enough to kiss him. You did it anyway. It didn’t feel quite enough to inhale your air directly from his parted lips. You wanted more. You needed him inside of you. It was a craving that took over your every thought. An obsession that shook you..

You lifted your hips; his hands dug harder into your skin until you felt pain where each of his fingertips sunk in deep enough to bruise. Your hand slipped into the water into the space between your bodies and you felt the firmness of him. You wrapped your fingers around him. He was so hard. He whined into your lips and he trembled and shook when touched him.

You felt desperate when you guided him into you and you sank down slowly, taking him inside — relishing in the tightness with which his arms held onto you as you did it. And then you were inundated. Your eyes were greedy even if the sensations of him filling you made your eyelids heavy, you had to look at him; you needed to see his face.

His eyes were closed so tight and his mouth hung open. He had stopped breathing when you took him in fully. He held his breath and he was frozen in stunning beauty.

You had to touch him. With your fingertips you touched his soft face; you traced the outline of the spray of eyelashes below his closed eye; brushed the tip of your index finger over his eyebrow; then down the bridge of his nose and oh his lips…his pretty pink lips that gave just below your touch, lips pursed into your touch and parted and his soft wet tongue that peeked out; his straight white teeth that nibbled. You felt all of him with fingertips first, with your lips next and you had to tell him — you had to tell him just how desperate you had been.

“I needed you, my baby,” you whispered into his ear; a breath hitched inside your throat causing a stutter in your words. He heard you though. A whining sound came from the back of his throat when you said it.

That heightened desperation you felt tightened all of your muscles around him and your fingers dug hard into the smooth skin on his back and with your other hand you threaded fingers through his hair, raking your fingernails along his scalp as you gasped in another breath to speak again, “I couldn’t stand it. I was wrong before. I need you inside of me like this. I’d rather die than be apart from you. I only need you.”

The addiction had taken your mind and made you ungovernable. It had compelled your tongue and pushed these dangerous words deep into his ears and you could see the effects of them all over him. His breaths puffed out in languished bursts; he was all tension throughout his body and although he tried, he couldn’t keep his eyes open on you as you moved over him.

He felt so good to have inside of you but he sounded even better. His barely contained mewls and grunts, the unsteady whines and deep and throaty moans that came from him must be what heaven sounded like.

You watched his pretty face up close. His eyelids fluttered and the soft pink hue in his cheeks and soft lips illuminated his beauty. He licked his lips. He breathed with his mouth open and his soft wet tongue caught in between his white teeth. He bit down on his lip and his rough breaths huffed out of his nose in short bursts. He was trembling. He was shaking with each labored breath. The occasional glances of his pretty eyes on your face, his focus was being forcefully taken by the feeling of you and he tried to fight it. He tried to keep his eyes open but try as he might, they rolled back, they drifted closed — again and again. You recognized that he was struggling for control of himself, but oh, the way he slipped, the way he backslid, the way he was lost — only because of you — he succumbed.

You craved this. His weakness was you. You and the things you did to him.

“Tell me again,” his quiet kisses coaxed and his tongue slipped along the wet skin of your breast, up your neck where his mouth begged with his quiet plea, “please, say it again to me.”

You wanted him carved into your skin.

You wanted his fire to ignite your bones and burn you to ash.

You wanted him forever.

You were trembling; this love had you vibrating all over.

“I only need you,” you whispered into his open mouth that pulled into a smile, “just you, my love.” He was shaking with you and his breathing was changing. A sharp inhale — short stuttering exhales. You could feel him when he pushed his heat inside of you and the bursts of warmth filled you and spilled over your edges. You overflowed with him.

Elusive breaths were chased and you still clung to him; feeling much colder on your back and shoulders as you caught your breath at last. It seemed this water had lost its warmth; as long as you both had been here. You could make out the cloudiness that had once been this crystal clear bath water below your bodies and of course the sex was to blame.

You’d both been so very bad at keeping away from each other that you let out a kind of hopeless laugh that pulled his eyes open to look into your face.

“We didn’t even last the whole day,” you lifted a palm to lay over your mouth and you giggled, ignoring the way he hissed when he felt your laughter from the inside. The mess did not matter here. Everything would wash away.

You were being moved; being pulled, wet and naked and on wobbling legs through the vast bathroom to a shower with the echoing sounds of a bathtub draining behind you. You flinched when he pulled you in and closed the shower door and just pulled on a handle that began a gentle stream of water that ran over both of your heads from the ceiling. The water was warm. You’d expected it to be cold at first but the water here came out already at the perfect temperature and it came from all over the slotted ceiling above you.

This place was magic. Nearly as magical as the man who was bubbling up a loofah and closing in on you with it so he could rub the scented bubbles all over your body for you. You’d cleaned up with him after sex at your place before so you’d expected that maybe he would hand you the soap or hand you the shampoo to use, but today felt strangely different. Today his hands were involved. Today he was slipping his soap covered palms over the surfaces of your skin himself and when you turned around and closed your eyes, you leaned your head back into his shoulder simply soaking in the achingly intimate glide of his slow-traveling hands over your shoulders; over your breasts; over your belly and when he moved his hands between your legs washing away all traces of him that had filled you in the bath earlier you inhaled the smallest shuttering gasp for air. You’d never been treated with such tenderness in your entire life and the gentle touches of his fingertips made that same ache rise up inside of your chest, giving your once steady and easy breathing a new challenge.

You were struggling to explain this feeling that surged inside of you. Once again, it felt like so much more than something that could be described with like short four letter words like want or need or even love.

Those words weren't enough for this. This was unnamed and unexplored; uncharted and unknown.

The first time he spoke again was after the shower. Long after drying you off with thick fluffy towels and wrapping you up in an oversized bathrobe that matched the one he wrapped himself in.

“You’ll stay with me tonight?” You ran fingers through his wet hair over his forehead and his brown eyes opened when he asked the question.

You didn’t have anything here. You had no makeup for tomorrow, no clean clothes to wear to work. He probably had a toothbrush and you could sleep without clothes if you had to, but what about underwear? Your head ticked to the side and you looked into his face with a small frown on your lips.

“And work tomorrow?”

His tongue moved around inside of his mouth; you saw the movement in his jaw and he pulled his lips inward, lightly biting down before releasing them with a small pout. He wasn’t speaking and his eyes weren’t holding yours with as much commitment as he usually held them with and you knew this man by now to know he was working up to something.

When his eyes narrowed and he looked off somewhere beyond you with his lips pulling tight as he did it, you knew something was up.

“Uhh,” he said. His gaze bounced to your expecting face lightly before he looked away again and bit down on his lips once more.

“Baekhyun?”

“Uhh — okay, don't freak out.” His head dipped. He lifted a hand and rubbed over his closed eyes with his ring finger and inhaled a breath through his nose.

“So—” you heard him clear his throat and he had taken a small step back and away from you. His eyes, when they opened again he was again looking over your head, in some direction behind you. You were halfway through the enormous bathroom near his closet. The closet itself was like its own enormous room. These tiny words were so inadequate in describing this place of his.

“—so…I might have gotten you some things already��” he had a wince on his face. His hands had traveled down the length of your arms and he was gripping your wrists with his fingers.

You couldn't be sure that it wasn’t to keep you from running away.

He was talking again. So many more words were tumbling out, “…not that I expected you to come or to stay here…I mean—”

“But, why not though? I mean, stay over at your place all the time, right? And — and you gave me a toothbrush and I have left a few things there for when I stay over there, so this — like — makes perfect sense if you really think about it — please, don't freak out,”

He was pulling you around in a circle, leading you into the closet. He opened up one of the cabinet doors and there on the shelves you noticed several items, identical to those that you used at home, all brand new. You saw your toothpaste, deodorant, makeup in exact shades and colors. He even got the same eyeliner and mascara that you used every day for work. As you began looking further you noticed packages of the same style and size panties and socks you wore, some bras too in your size. Even make up removal wipes were identical; the hair ties and hair brush, styling tools still in their retail boxes. It looked like the contents of your bathroom had been transported here to this cabinet.

“ — but I kinda sorta looked around at the things you use and I bought those same things for here. I mean, just-just in case you wanted to stay over…you can stay.” He was leaning against the frame of the open cabinet door, looking down at your lips as he spoke his many, many words to you explaining this entire cabinet he kept in this home dedicated only to you.

“I hadn’t really intended to get so much, but once I got started I couldn't stop — oh my god, I sound super insane. Oh please don't freak out. I’m worried you’re about to freak out.”

In the drawers below you found even more new stuff. Once you got started looking, your hands reached for the next; pulling it open to find that this seemed to go so much deeper than just one cabinet.

There were things you didn’t own at home but were very obviously intended for you to wear here. Some pajamas. Some comfy pants, sweaters, shorts, and shirts. All of the seasons seemed to be covered. Your fingers were itchy with curiosity and when you opened the sliding closet door beside this cupboard you saw even more clothing; new items with tags still on them. He made a noise, a sudden squeak when you had opened this closet door as if he hadn’t intended for you to get to this part yet.

There were few professional outfits that were just your style and size but definitely not within your price range. You recognized some of these brands from high end fashion magazines. Even more things were tucked into the bottom of this closet. You could see boxes of expensive shoes that you could never afford. There were luxury handbags too that had to be worth thousands upon thousands of dollars. Louis Vuitton, Hermès, Burberry, Versace, Chanel, Gucci, the variety was as insane as the price tags had to have been.

Beside you, Baekhyun was making a groaning sound from deep within his gut.

“Oh my god,” he whispered to himself before he started speaking again. The words came out so much slower now than the rapid word-vomit he was releasing a few seconds ago.

“Okay so…those—” he inhaled and exhaled through his mouth as he pointed a shaking finger down at the spread of brands and logos.

His face scrunched up into a wince, ““those are just…gifts?”

The last word came out as a question. Even he couldn't believe he had done this now that he was saying it outloud. His fingers had begun frantically pushing at the closet door; closing it back up as he tried his best to hide this very odd truth that you had just discovered about him; your ridiculous and over-the-top boyfriend.

You were pretty sure you had seen a tv show like this. An all-powerful and much feared supervillain had fallen in love with a weak and powerless woman; kidnapped her and locked her up inside his tower giving her everything she could ever want or dream of and tried his best to keep her forever; a prisoner, trapped by his side.

“Baekhyun,” you said as softly as you could, “…baby?” You added sweetly with just enough brevity in your voice to let him know that you weren’t upset about this; but you did also thoroughly and completely recognize the ridiculousness of this entire situation, “Have I been kidnapped? Tell me the truth.”

His laughter came out in a quick snort, and he inhaled and covered his mouth with his hand as he tried to stifle the laughter that shook his chest. You were reaching into the drawers, grabbing the short and comfy sleep shorts you found there and the matching sleep top, grabbing a pair of panties and a comfortable bra from the stack of new items and you began removing tags from everything so you could put them on.

“You maniac! Is that door out there locked? Is there any way for me to get out of here? I’m trapped here aren't I? Wait a minute…you didn’t slip something like a marriage license into the stack of work papers I signed at work today, did you?” You had a smile on your face as you said it all and he was shaking his head with eyes closed and an audible hopelessness in his giggles. His face was pink and you heard him reining it in so he could inhale a breath and explain himself.

His hands were up defensively; his long fingers waved in front of him as he shook his head.

“You aren’t trapped. You are free to leave. I’ll take you home right now if you want, or you can just walk out and take a taxi. And I promise we aren’t married yet.”

When he stopped speaking he did so abruptly and the light smile on his face flattened out as you stared at his face, unable to contain the look of surprise he must have seen there.

Yet.

Yet?

It was that word at the end that had you so completely thrown for a loop. You had not expected to hear that word and having it come out so very casually from his lips, admittedly had you feeling quite taken aback. You felt frozen by it and something about Baekhyun having said it himself seemed to have had a similar effect on him as well.

He cleared his throat and closed his eyes and inhaled a breath that trembled on the way in, “I mean we aren’t married.” His eyes were still closed and you saw his lips form a silent curse word that he mouthed under his breath but did not say out loud.

You know that if he had said it, he had been thinking it at some point. You knew sometimes deep down inside the back of your head at your sleepiness and most vulnerable moments you had also considered what a life as Mrs. Byun Baekhyun might be like. But you were more of a realist than to allow your silly lovestruck mind to dwell on such things with careless and wanton abandon.

“What else is there?” Your question came out as a quiet curiosity more than any sort of accusation. “I know there must be more. Just show me now while we are doing this.”

His eyes were on you and he took one step backward as his hand lifted and he pulled the next sliding closet door open.

“Listen,” he began. It sounded like he had lost something. “I know, more than anyone else, I know that there is something wrong with me when it comes to you. I feel sick inside sometimes. Every single one of my waking thoughts is consumed by you. Sleeping doesn’t help either because you are there, every single time, so I wake up and I think of you instead of sleep.”

This closet had an evening gown. It was easily the most beautiful garment you had ever seen in person with your own two eyes.

“I have almost zero self control if it’s about you. I know…I know, shouldn’t, but goddammit,” he opened a small door inside the closet beside the dress and pulled out a flat sliding drawer, pushed a button that illuminated some lighting that brought out the fire of a thousand sparkling stones from the pieces of jewelry that lay inside this drawer. It was dazzling. It was extravagant. It took what was left of the breath you had in your lungs.

“What is this dress even for? And the jewelry? Baek—”

He shook his head back and forth, turned the overhead lighting off with a click and he closed up the drawers and closets.

“I know what you’ll say. Baekhyun,” his name came from his own lips with his eyes flipped up and a silly lift in his voice. This was his impression of what you sounded like. For the record, it sounded nothing like you. “Return it all. Go to therapy.”

You weren’t going to say that. Still, as long as he knew he was crossing all sorts of boundaries with his wild and unrestricted behavior that was plenty. As long as he knew that you neither expected any of this, or needed it, that was enough for you.

“I don't need stuff. It’s all very beautiful and you are incredibly insightful and every single thing you have picked with me in mind is gorgeous and perfect and amazing.”

“But it’s not what I need.” You emphasized the last thing again, just to make it clear in his heart. “I only need you. Just you.”

You reached for his hand and wrapped your fingers around his palm, giving him a good shake for emphasis. His brown eyes watched your face and a tiny smile grew on his lips. You leaned into him and kissed his pretty lips and he kissed you back; squeezing his fingertips around your hand as he did it.

“And maybe these underwear,” you said after you pulled back from his mouth; lifting your other hand, waving the panties with a smile and absolutely delighting in the way his own gorgeous smile grew wider on his face.

“But don't buy anything else. I’m serious. I don't need anything. Whatever you have ordered, or whatever is still coming, cancel it. It’s all too much.”

“Now, come on,” you said after pulling on enough clothing to make you feel like you were finally ready to leave this bathroom, “give me a tour of your house so I know how to find the exit. I cannot believe I’ve been kidnapped by such a crazy and sexy man. How ever will I escape?”

“Ahhh…Noona,” he whined through a nasally laugh and he was quickly pulling on a plain shirt and sweatpants onto his body as he followed your journey through his home. “You’re staying the night, right?”

His question echoed out behind you and you laughed at how hopeful he sounded. Of course you would. You had everything you needed right here; mostly this man.

“Right?” He was saying again as he reached for your hand and pulled you in the direction of the kitchen, which you remembered from when you both walked over here.

“Just tonight,” you said, “if I stay here too long I might forget what freedom tastes like.”

His steps paused their forward motion and he spun to look back at you, pulling hard on your hand, making your steps stumble and you collided into his chest. His hands were around your waist and your feet left the ground as you were lifted when he tightened his hold around you.

“Just don't forget what I taste like when you’re away from me,” his whisper was hot against your surprised lips seconds before his mouth opened up, pulling your bottom lip deep within his own mouth he kissed you deeply right here in this long hallway of this enormous home until you had to pull away from him to gasp for air. You had been backed against the wall and a sound caught your ears and pulled your focus somewhere further down the hallway closer to the kitchen area where you both had been headed.

It was almost as if you heard a throat clearing and you gasped out in surprise with the horrific thought that someone else besides the two of you might be inside this home right now. You were tapping him lightly on his shoulder and he pulled his face up from where his lips had been nipping along your neck to see what the urgency might be.

“I heard something, is someone else here?” His eyes looked into yours and he lifted his eyebrows with a shrug that didn’t have nearly enough alarm in it for your liking.

“Someone cleared their throat.” His eyes widened and his mouth opened knowingly.

“Ah,” he mouthed quietly in response to you.

Ah? Ah??

“Yes?” He said louder, angling his voice toward where you were certain the sound had come from.

A person. A real life human being; a whole-ass adult fucking person slowly emerged from around a corner with their head hung low. They were bent at the waist and had a genuine apology evident on their voice.

You gasped out in shock. You could feel your heart racing inside of your throat.

“Baekhyun, what the f— someone was here? The whole time we were — The whole time?” You could hear the panic in your voice as you confirmed what you suspected the second you heard his casual response. Your breathing was too fast and you felt frantic with this revelation. But Baekhyun, he wasn’t at all surprised to see this person standing in his home. It took all you had in you not to turn around and hide your face. You felt like your entire head was burning with embarrassment. You had just been making out like a couple of kids in love in this hallway, fully believing you both to be completely and utterly alone and there had been someone here in this home the entire time?

It was a man. He was dressed in a suit. Despite your utter shock to see him standing there, he did not in any way look out of place. In fact, he looked like he belonged there just as much as the elaborate furniture you had passed in the sitting room belonged in this fancy-ass home. He kept his eyes down on the floor the entire time he was addressing Baekhyun.

“Mr. Byun, My deepest apologies for the interruption, Sir. You have a visitor. Mr. Park Chanyeol. He insists. I did tell him you were occupied. Please Madam, accept my most sincere apologies,” The strange man lifted a hand to his chest and bowed a regretful face in your direction before he turned back to Baekhyun to speak again, “Mr. Park says it is an emergency and you were not answering your phone.”

He nodded his head once to the man who bowed his head and turned on his heels. Baekhyun’s hands ran over the empty pockets of his sweatpants, “Oh, I don't even know where my phone is,” he mumbled to himself.

“Baby, can you give me just a minute? You can wait for me in the kitchen and we can have some snacks while we do the tour,” he grinned and scrunched up his nose with a little head shake.

You had to admit, you were curious about what kind of non-work related emergencies Baekhyun had to deal with in his personal life, but your heart had eventually settled down, the butler, or whoever that man was had vanished like he never existed in the first place, and so you simply nodded your head; tamping down your curiosity enough to follow him into the kitchen.

“Mimi sent us some strawberries,” he whispered, “I saw her packing them.”

A booming voice echoed throughout the long hallway that you knew led toward the front doorway. You remembered the large atrium where the entryway had been and the owner of the voice seemed to be taking full advantage of the acoustics there.

“Hey Baek!” The voice boomed. Beside you, Baekhyun’s face changed. He inhaled a long breath and closed his eyes up tight with a small groan escaping from the back of his throat. “Byun Baekhyun! Why aren’t you answering your phone?!”

“I’ll be right back.” He was gone so quickly and from the sound of the voice, Baekhyun’s visitor was making his way closer to where you both stood in this kitchen.

Your curiosity was about as high as you could stand, but still you forced yourself to focus on your task at hand. Finding Mimi’s strawberries in this fridge.

You pulled out the bundles that you had helped carry inside and began untying and unwrapping things. Baekhyun must have intercepted his visitor by now and you could make out occasional words of what they were speaking about to each other. They weren’t that far away, or maybe Mr. Park’s voice was just that loud.

You could, though, hear Baekhyun’s abrupt question to the man.

“Dude. What the hell? I thought you were in Malta for another month,” Baekhyun asked. Judging from his tone, this was not a business meeting. This man was a close enough friend for him to have knowledge of the man’s schedule and to be questioning any deviations from that known schedule. Plus he clearly had called the man dude. This was his friend. You pulled the box of strawberries carefully out of the bundle and placed it quietly on the marble countertop.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone? I’ve been calling you all night.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Bullshit. Busy with what.”

Baekhyun’s answer was spoken too quietly for you to make it out and you took a step closer to the hallway and angled your head.

You heard the low timber of the other man’s booming voice as he let out a belly laugh; clearly highly amused at whatever Baekhyun had said to him.

“Chanyeol, shut the fuck up. Lower your voice.” It was whispered harshly in that familiar voice of your boyfriend.

“No way. No fucking way. You liar. You’re so full of shit.” The loud man was laughing and made no attempts to be quieter. You were weirdly thankful that the man was so loud because you really wanted to hear what they were talking about.

“Hey, seriously though. Let me stay here for the rest of the month.”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Go to a hotel.”

“Don't tell me…do you have a girl over? Baekhyun you asshole, do you have a girl over right now?”

“I’ll pay for your hotel for a month. Just shut up and leave. Just go. Here, take it.” You pictured Baekhyun handing his friend a black credit card and you wished you could just look at them both instead of having to imagine what was happening in that hallway.

“Oh my god. You do. You slut.”

“Wait a minute, but if you have someone over now, what happened to the other one?”

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun’s voice came out low and menacing, “don't.”

“What about that Noona; the manager; the love of your life; the only one for you; the one you are going to marry? What about my future sister in law and the future mother of your children? Baekhyun, don't tell me you were rejected.”

You weren't sure what had possessed you or had actually moved your feet, but you found yourself standing right beside the long hallway and when you simply could not stand it any more you peeked your head around the corner just enough for your eyes to see the two man having this very loud discussion that was clearly about you; Baekhyun’s Noona; Baekhyun’s Manager; the love of his life; amongst other things he had clearly proclaimed to his noisy and very tall busy-bodied friend Chanyeol.

Baekhyun was standing with one hand on his forehead, another on his waist, his head angled down with his eyes closed. Based on his body language he looked very done with the tall man standing in front of him who’s laugh had taken hold of his whole body as he bent at the waist and guffawed loudly enough for every single soul in this entire house to be able to hear him.

You caught hold of Baekhyun’s eyes and you saw him throw his head back in defeat as he inhaled a deep breath. He lifted a single hand about waist level and held it with his palm up in your direction.

“Hello,” you called out into the space the two men occupied and you lifted a friendly hand to wave in their direction. The tall man’s laughter stopped immediately, he straightened his spine, dropped his chin as he bit down on his lips and turned nearly completely pink right before your eyes. “Hi, I’m the Manager Noona.”

“Oh my god, she’s real,” you heard him whisper to Baekhyun who wasn’t at all looking at his friend but rather had his eyes focused on the wall directly in front of him without any traces of amusement anywhere on his face at all. Chanyeol was smiling wide at you and he was taking a few steps in your direction with his waist bent and his hand outstretched as he closed the distance.

You heard a listless and defeated introduction from your boyfriend.

“Chanyeol, this is my girlfriend.”

“Noona, this is my dumbass best friend, Chanyeol.”

[To be Continued]

Links: Part 1, ….. Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #baekhyun #exo fic #exo scenario #baekhyun smut #byun baekhyun #Baekhyun fanfic

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