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risustravelogue · 2 years ago

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Marks On You

Summary:

What would you get when you get frisky with your husband, the Duke of Meropide, throughout the day? You get bent over his desk, that's what.

Featuring:

Dom!Husband!Wriothesley, Sub!fem!Reader

Tags:

Smut. Filth. You have been warned. He basically manhandles you while you're being handcuffed. Marking, biting, breeding. Sweet aftercare 💕

Note:

I wrote this throughout the week and thought it would lie there unfinished like my bookshelf sex Alhaitham smut (hehe yes) but I suddenly had an inspiration for the opening line. ... I am so down bad for this man.

🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗

Wriothesley loves it when you’re feeling frisky.

You’d tease him and he’d tease back; you’d steal pecks and kisses whenever you pass each other throughout the day, to his delight and amusement; and your hands would always find their way to his body—touching first innocently, then it gets increasingly not-so-innocent as the hours pass by.

Wriothesley loves it when you’re feeling frisky, because it means you’ll submit completely to his carnal whims once he gets his hands on you.

And as your most beloved husband, what better reward can he get?

Such is today, when you find yourself pinned under him, all compliant and obedient and taking him so well even though it’s barely past work hours. You lay face down at the edge of his desk with your wrists cuffed behind your back, helplessly squirming as his hips slam against yours from behind. The way his length slides partly out of your hole, only for the tip to churn your insides again as his balls slap against your slick-coated clit, elicit sinful whimpers out of you. His moans are raspy, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips to hold you steady as he pounds you into submission.

“Good girl… I’ve marked you with my cum twice already, but…”

He growls beside your ear with a dangerously low voice as his fingers start playing with your sensitive bud.

“Too bad for you, it only makes me want to fuck you more.”

The sounds of both of your and his moans and wet slaps of skin echo across his office room while he thrusts into you again, again, and again, your mind going blank from the overstimulation. You try to sync your breathing with his movements to no avail, only blurting out a “Ngh– more– m-more–” as he fucks you senseless. You whine as you feel a sting on your butt from his palm meeting your ass.

“Louder,” he says. You feel his grip on your hips tighten as he pulls you into him even more.

“Ah– ah– fuck– N-no– I can’t–”

“Beg louder, I said!” he orders. He bites the side of your neck as he slams his hips hard into you.

A loud moan escapes your throat without restraint. Someone outside must’ve heard your voice, but you don’t care anymore—his cock feels too damn good.

“Breed me!” you scream. “Please– I want you to breed me–”

Wriothesley chuckles and sucks on your earlobe, sending shivers rippling through your skin.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

He moves his hips faster. His thrusts become more frantic as he nears the height of his ecstasy.

“Cum with me, cum with– ngh!”

His hands squeeze at your hips and his teeth sink into the skin of your nape as he reaches his climax, shooting his thick, hot cum into you yet again. You shudder and whimper as you feel pleasure overloading your senses, the addictive sensation blurring your vision into blissful oblivion. You can barely hear the clicking sounds as your husband takes the handcuffs off your wrists, whining when he slides out of you while peppering your back with gentle kisses. The duality of his actions makes you dizzy with affection.

“It’s okay. I got you,” he shushes as he turns you around. He plants a kiss on your lips, then your forehead while he gathers your limp body into his arms. He carries you to the sofa and places your head on his chest as he reclines. His hand pulls you in, pressing your cheek against his bare skin. He kisses the crown of your head while his fingers absentmindedly play with your hair.

That’s when he notices that there are some small bruises forming on your skin, mostly on your nape and the side of your neck. A pang of guilt shoots through his chest, and he feels his heartbeat becoming just a little bit erratic at the thought of hurting you.

“Was I too rough?” he asks with a quiet voice, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“No,” you hum, unaware of the calming feeling your answer has on him. “I enjoyed every second of it.”

You plant a kiss on his flushed cheek, then nuzzle up against his neck.

“I love you,” you whisper, “I love you so much, you know that?”

Wriothesley feels his heart flutter. He buries his face in your hair, taking in your scent.

“I do,” he mumbles. “And I love you, too.”

the gorgeous mdni banner template by @/cafekitsune 💙

#minors dni #wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #kurisu writes #hehe hehehehehe hehehe another offering for the warden of my heart 💕#pspspspspspspsps wrio come home wrio come home-

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oceanqueenmusical · 3 months ago

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What’s this???? Writing???? From ME???

Yep! This is my attempt at getting any who read this (with the exception of a lovely dragon) onboard with the SnakeEyes agenda. Hope you enjoy!

Once, there was a cicada. Its exoskeleton was beautiful and golden, glittering like gold when it touched the light.

But the cicada’s light was squandered, for you see it lived its whole life inside a cold, dark cave. The cave was so small, so dark, that the beautiful cicada could not imagine anything good laid beyond it. And so his luster was left to dull in the dark.

Until one day, a lone snake slithered into the dark, cold cave. His scales still glinted with the sun’s warm light, and soon his gaze fell upon the lone cicada. His tongue flicked, and he asked;

“What business does something as lovely as you have in a place like this?” His body moved closer to the cicada, elegant in his movements. “Look at you— so dull and dim. Your wings are so small and withered. Surely if you were to venture out into the sun, your wings would be full and your body bright.”

“I cannot possibly leave!” The cicada said, appalled by the very notion. “Nothing good lies beyond the walls of this cave. The sun— it would surely burn me alive!”

“Nonsense,” The snake assured, voice smooth as silk. “There is nothing to fear from the sun. It is warm and good. The world is so much bigger than this small cave of yours!”

The cicada scoffed. “What ridiculousness! The cave is safe and orderly. It protects me from the chaos of the outside world. What madness to suggest otherwise.”

The cicada seemed set in his place, unwilling to venture beyond the small, restricted walls of the cave. Then, an idea came to the snake.

“You can come with me,” He proposed, eyes shining at the thought. “With me, you shall be perfectly safe. Let us go, let us see the light.”

The cicada was horrified by the proposition. Alarmed, he skittered back from the snake, screaming and yelling about what an unsightly beast the snake must be to suggest such a thing, to leave the cave. What folly! He cried. You are mad, snake! You must be a MONSTER—

—NO, not that. Not that at all. Perhaps instead…

Once, there was a sage. His brilliant golden light bedazzled all who saw, the bright power that danced at his fingertips like fire jumping from wood. His smile was bright as the sun, his countenance as fair as the moon. His words were as sure and pretty as freshly spun silk. All who saw him were sure to fall under his spell.

One day, a demon caught sight of the sage, and was entranced by his light. His warmth was unlike anything the demon had seen before; it made the demon feel alive after eons of monotonous boredom.

The demon began to follow the sage, sticking to the shadows while admiring the sage’s light. The demon clung to his light, fed off of it. What else could he be expected to do, after finding the one who made him feel alive after all this time?

Yet despite his light and beauty, the sage was stuck in a cage of his own making. He was trapped within his own parameters and biases, unable to open his eyes to the true vastness that laid beyond him. The others who clung to him mindlessly reinforced his ignorance, keeping him unaware of what lied beyond him.

Unable to bear this, the demon approached him. The demon said, “Why do you refuse to leave your cage?”

Unbothered, the sage laughed. “I am not stuck in a cage, demon. I am quite free, you see. I have been wandering the world with my friends for quite some time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” The demon said, frustrated. “You keep your eyes closed to the true vastness of our universe. What a waste! Surely someone as radiant as you would thrive outside your cage, outside your order.”

“Outside order?” The sage asked, horrified by the idea. “No, no, no! What a horrible idea. Without my order, all would fall apart. Nothing good lies beyond order.”

The demon had heard enough. With one mighty hand, he grabbed the sage and took him outside the border of his work; his blasted order. Ignoring the screams and protests of the sage, the demon kept going, until the sage would open his eyes and see for himself how much more beautiful the world was without that stagnating order, even if the demon had dragged him kicking and screaming—

No. No, that’s not right. Not quite. Let’s try again,

Once, there was a scholar. He was wise and studious, pouring over countless texts and scriptures. He had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, with sharp and keen eyes. Yet despite his desire to know more, he had confined himself to his library long ago.

So alone was he, without the company of those he once called friends by his side. You see, his friends thought him useless and weak. They left him to his old books and tomes to set out on adventure, uncaring of the insecurity that gripped the scholar’s soul.

And yet the scholar stubbornly stayed inside the library, closing off any company that wasn’t his beloved friend’s. The scholar languished inside his library, forgoing the presence of people in favor of purple prose and long-forgotten languages.

Soon, the scholar would not be alone. One day a heretic found his way to the scholar’s door, and let himself inside.

“What a beautiful library,” The heretic said, giving the lonely scholar a warm smile. “But no one else to keep company?”

“My friends are out on adventures,” The scholar replied, his eyes dim and tired from the crushing weight of his isolation. “They will be back someday.”

“Why that’s not right,” The heretic frowned, sympathy in his eyes. “What friends would leave a soul such as yourself behind? I find you to be quite lovely. Tell me of the tales you have learned while here in this library.”

The scholar lit up for the first time in a long while. Light returned to his eyes, and a wonderful smile spread across his face as he regaled the heretic with tales of great heroes and unfortunate lovers, spinning stories of triumph and love and defeat with the ease of a weaver. The heretic was entranced, utterly enraptured by the sharp mind and beauty of the scholar.

“Why waste your time waiting for them in here?” The heretic soon asked. “If you were to come with me, you would never be alone.”

“I would never abandon my friends,” The scholar said sternly, so endearingly, stubbornly loyal. “Certainly not for a heretic.”

The heretic smiled. “Come now, friend. Certainly there’s more out there for a soul such as you, if you would simply take the risk. Why cage yourself in this library?”

“You are no friend of mine,” The scholar snapped, sensitive at the perceived insult to his beloved friends. The scholar was a loyal soul, you see. He could not fathom leaving his friends behind. “You are a mere heretic who conjures tall tales of distant lands and a warm light. Did the goddess herself not cast you out for being tainted?”

“Such cruel words,” The heretic said, deeply wounded. “Why do you reject the truth with such fervor? Do you believe that you must shackle yourself to this cage for your friend’s sake? They’re not worth it, scholar. Come with me. Come with me, and I shall show you a vast and beautiful world. One that could be of our own making.”

Disgusted, the scholar reared back. “I would never! You think yourself so important that I would desert my friends for a madman such as you?! You’re crazy, heretic. A lone wanderer who was banished for his lies.”

Enraged, the heretic lashed out. He found the scholar’s friends, the ones he thought so important that he could remain trapped in this library for, and ripped them to shreds. The scholar’s friends were nothing in the face of the heretic’s power, for he had seen the vastness that laid beyond the scholar’s small world. And he tore each of them asunder, until finally the scholar would accept his offer and come with him—

No! No, something is still off. Something still isn’t right. Perhaps a change is in order. What could— ahh, yes. There it is.

Once, there was a man. He was beautiful in mind and body, with warm brown skin and soft black hair. His eyes, while sharp, carried an undeniable warmth within. His magic was golden, his very life force bright and beautiful. This man was surrounded by friends, yet he still felt so alone even in their company. He felt as though he didn’t belong amongst them; for they were too good for him. And yet he did not know that it was the other way around.

One day, his golden light attracted the attention of a serpent, drawn in by his warmth. Enamored, the serpent could not fathom how anyone could fail to see the value in a man such as he. The serpent watched as the man continued to fade into the background, merely assisting his friends as they went on adventure after adventure. The man merely watched as a boy he considered his own completely ignored him.

The serpent, unable to bear such injustice, approached the man. He said, “Let me be your friend.” And the man agreed.

The two grew close as time went on, the man’s friends hardly noticing their blossoming friendship. No, they were all focused on a boy, his sound so loud he drowned out the man’s radiance. The man’s friends let the man go unnoticed. But the serpent most certainly did not. No, he cherished the man, savoring every wonderful moment between the two of them, for every moment the serpent was with him was wonderful.

He loved the man. Loved him dearly, so dearly that the prospect of eternity no longer seemed so unsure, as long as the man would be by his side.

“Come with me,” The serpent said one day, his face inches from the man’s. His breath was warm, his tone low and secretive, like they were two lovers stowing away under the cover of night. “I will show you warmth beyond your wildest dreams, sights your books have never seen. I will give you everything you could ever want for,” His tone turned to begging, for the serpent was alone, and the serpent knew rejection intimately.

Curious, the man blinked and asked; “Why should I come with you?”

The serpent gasped out, “Because I love you.”

Shocked, the man went still. Then his expression morphed to one of joy, and he said, “I love you too.”

And they kissed. They embraced, and they kissed, and together, hand in hand, they left that empty world behind into one of flourishing chaos and warmth, under the brilliant light of the sun.

And the man said, “You were right. You were right all along. Everything is better under the sun.”

And the man said, “I am yours, and you are mine.”

And the man said, “I love you.”

There. That’s perfect.

Well, perhaps not perfect. Xiangliu muses as he stares at the makeshift puppet in his hands. It throbs and wriggles with primordial power, black and orange strands coming together to make the tiny puppet.

It was not perfect, nor was it enough to satisfy Xiangliu, for he is a creature who wants and wants and wants, who has been bereft for nearly a millennia. Time had become meaningless, simply another burden of his to shoulder before he could escape the cycle and return to Chaos.

His hand encloses around the puppet, thumb caressing the head. It was a cute replica of Tang, down to the beads that hung from his pockets. Almost as cute as the man himself. It was a shame that he wasn’t here beside Xiangliu right now, but that would soon be amended.

The heavy, cold robes of the Tenth King weigh on Xiangliu’s shoulders. Another reminder of what chains him to this world, a shackle on his ankle to keep him inside the cage.

No matter. Soon, even that restraint would be cut, and Xiangliu would walk into the sun with his loved one. Even if Tang doesn’t know it yet. They are meant to be; there’s simply no other explanation.

Xiangliu sighs, leaning back in his chair and letting his eyes trace the ceiling. This world had felt so boring, repeating the same things over and over again. Really, Xiangliu had gotten numb to all the pain and suffering. There was only so much death he could experience before it was simply a way of life to him. That numbness, that detachment from life itself, had only doubled during his years of masquerading as the Tenth King.

But now… he had found his light once again. The thought brings a rare, genuine smile to his lips. Yes, he had finally found someone who made him feel alive once again. He could practically feel the sun on his scales, easing all burdens from his mind.

He presses his lips to the forehead of the puppet, his fangs mopping against the top. Like venom seeping its way in. A few of his snakes follow, pressing their snouts against the face of the doll.

Soon Tang would be here with him, and they could do this for however long they pleased. For the rules of this world did not apply in the Chaos. There, they would have eternity.

Something unravels in his chest, like the warm feeling of relief.

#He wants that dilf so fucking bad #ocean's writings #lmk tang #lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk xiangliu #Me at my beloved mutual who is a Xiangliu simp: pspspspspspspsp #Snakeeyes

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