the-writer-arrived

[the-writer-arrived]

Until Death Do Us Part

Synopsis: for a man with an immortal body like him, death is all but temporary. what he forgets, however, is that not everyone is like him.

Character: mydei.

Warnings: gender neutral!reader; established relationship; angst; hurt no comfort; character death; 3.2 trailblazing mission spoilers.

A/N: first thing i write in months and it's angst for my newest husband OTL i am so sorry mydei i promise i'll make it up to you </3

Edit: so, how are we feeling after 3.3 guys :D i sure feel incredible sadness and devastation every time i remember what happened </3

When Mydei at last embraced his destiny and acquired the divinity of Strife, he knew he would have to leave everyone he cares about in Okhema: his people, who wish to go back to a Castrum Kremnos that doesn't exist anymore in the way they want; his fellow Chrysos Heirs, which he had joined their cause to save Amphoreus from destruction; his new comrades from beyond the sky, who he was wary at first, but soon grew to trust and rely on.

And lastly, the new demigod would have to leave the one person he wished he'd never leave: you. You were the last person Mydei bid farewell before he met up with Phainon at the entrance of the Holy City. There were no tears, no begging for him to stay, nothing of the sort, after all, you were aware of what it would mean after he had decided to go through Nikador's trial.

In a way, Mydei has always known that his relationship with you wasn't meant to last and the goodbye would come sooner or later. He was a Chrysos Heir, meant to take down a mad Titan and inherit their divinity. He was the last crown prince of Castrum Kremnos, meant to inherit the throne after spilling the blood of his wretched father. He was Mydeimos the Undying, meant to rise from the dead again and again ever since he was thrown in the River of Souls as a baby.

Despite all that... his heart was stubborn. Despite knowing that there wouldn't be a happy ending where you two would stay together, his heart still longed for you. Despite saying goodbye, there was a part of him that hoped he'd see you again one last time...

...But he had never imagined, much less wished for his reunion with you to be in the nether realm.

The realm of Thanatos was a place Mydei knew well and "visited" quite frequently, especially after returning to Kremnos to fight the Black Tide. Truth to be told, it's not really accurate to say he is "rejected by Death", but rather he is the one that rejects Death, channelling all of his might to claw his way back to the world of the living.

That was what the demigod had been doing, ignoring the sweet beckoning of the dead and killing the cursed monsters of the Black Tide that dared to stand in the way of his return to life.

Until he saw you.

Even amidst a crowd (be it of living people or dead souls), Mydei can recognize your presence in an instant. However, as he stares at your wide eyes, he wonders if this skill is a blessing or a curse this time.

"Mydei--?!"

"You shouldn't be here."

He doesn't ask what happened or what you are doing in the nether realm of all places, and he really doesn't bother to ask. Because he knows what it means for you to be there, but he refuses to accept it. You don't belong in the world of the dead. Not yet. Not until you grow old after living a long and happy life...

...Perhaps he can do something about it.

"Come, let's get out of here." Mydei grabs your hand and begins to pull you along.

"H-Huh?? Wait--"

That's right, if he can go back to life by leaving the nether realm, then he can bring you back as well.

"Mydei, hold on--!"

Yes. Castorice, or rather, Thanatos brought the Trailblazer back to life, surely they won't mind another person returning, right? After all, it's not yet your time to reach the sea of flowers at the end of the west wind--

"Mydeimos!!"

Mydei stops on his track, you being the only person that can command the demigod of strife by saying his name in that firm tone.

He tightens the hold on your delicate hand, gathering the courage to look back at you and oh... The look on your eyes is enough to make him understand that his plan is futile.

"I... I can't go back, Mydeimos. I am not like you..." He opens his mouth to suggest yet another futile idea, but you're quicker, well aware of what he was about to say. "And no, you can't stay here either."

If it were in any other circumstance, you'd probably say he was pouting, followed by that melodic laughter of yours, but now... There's no pout, no laughter. Only silence, as the cruel realization that they won't ever see each other again sinks in.

"It's not time for you to give in to Thanatos's call... You remember the chaos that befell the world after Nikador's divine seat was left open for too long..." You cup his face with your free hand, gently coaxing him to see reason. "Okhema needs you, Mydei. Amphoreus needs you."

"But I need you!!!" Mydei has never raised his voice while talking to you, but this time he can't hold back the desperation to make you understand him. He brings the hand he's holding to his chest as he rests his forehead on yours, tone lowering again.

"I need you to be okay... I need you to be happy... I need you... to be alive."

His words hang in the silence that falls between you. He was never the best in expressing himself through words, especially when the kremnoan language lacks so many in his dictionary, having to rely on other means to convey his feelings. But how ironic it is that the one time he can share his desire through earnest words is when it can't be fulfilled anymore.

You are dead.

For you, death is not a temporary inconvenience. It's permanent and unchanging.

And, with the smell of flowers growing ever stronger, you both know that the time for the last farewell is nigh.

Mydei has always adored your smile, how bright, captivating and contagious it is. Even now, as the Hand of Shadow approaches to ferry you across the River of Souls, the smile you wear is the most beautiful he's ever seen.

"I love you, my dear Mydeimos. When the time comes, we will meet again at the end of the west wind, where I shall be waiting for you at the sea of flowers."

The warm feeling of your lips on his is burned into his memory before a swarm of butterflies pulls him away from you and towards the exit of the nether realm, courtesy of the demigod of Death herself. After all, it is not yet time for her to bring another fellow Chrysos Heir into the afterlife.

----------

Mydei finds himself on his crystal throne, exactly where he had previously "fallen asleep" after facing a particularly large amount of Black Tide creatures and Titankin. His body is as good as new like always, not even scars can leave their mark, no matter how deep the wound he gets.

This time, however, he did not return from the nether realm unscathed: there is a void in his heart, left by yet another person he loved who departed from the world of the living far too soon.

One can say he's used to pain, thanks to his body that is "like a sponge that soaks up damage", a ridiculous but not exactly wrong description said by a certain Deliverer. But this pain in his chest? The hollow feeling of grief from losing your beloved? That is something he will never get used to.

And yet life doesn't wait for those in mourning, nor do the new wave of monsters rapidly approaching Castrum Kremnos.

And so, Mydei continues to fight the Black Tide, continues to protect Amphoreus the best he can, for your sake.

And so, when the time comes for him to accept Death's call, he shall reunite with you at the end of the west wind, where you shall greet him with open arms and a brilliant smile once more amidst a sea of flowers.

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

blue mydei banner (angst) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

In Sickness and In Health

Synopsis: how does your lover act when you're sick?

Characters: alhaitham; wriothesley.

Warnings: gender neutral!reader; established relationship (marriage); pre-4.1 release so wrio may be ooc; wrio is a duke, so i think he'll have a mansion and people working for him like navia and diluc have (servants? retainers? idk); wriothesley is portrayed to be a bit overprotective, but that's just his alpha wolf side talking lol.

A/N: this will be very self insert of me bc i'm sick and want my two husbands to take care of me :( also we can finally hear wrio speak!!! i melted at his first words <3 AND HIS THEME SONG??? ABSOLUTELY FIRE!!!!

(p.s: today may be my birthday, but this is a gift from me to you all <3 thank you so much for all the support and love <3 feel free to drop an ask, brainrots or just fangirl over the new genshin characters :D)

"I told--"

"Not another word."

You know exactly what Alhaitham is going to say and you really do not want to hear it right now.

The glare you send his way would be """intimidating""" to your lover (no, it wouldn't), if it weren't for the fact that you're buried under the covers, making you look like a burrito (a verycute one, in his opinion).

You see, there was a sudden shift in Sumeru's weather: the week began so very hot, even during the night, but then the temperature dropped and became chilly and rainy out of a sudden.

Alhaitham had told you to take an umbrella and you did have it with you! But it was just a few droplets of rain when you left work, so you didn't bother to use it, thinking there wouldn't be any consequences.

...Well, you felt the consequences when you woke up this morning with a sore throat and a stuffy nose.

Luckily for you, your husband, who's trying really hard to not say 'I told you so', doesn't have work today and can spend the day taking care of you.

Wether he really doesn't have to go to the Akademiya today or has decided that himself, you're not completely sure.

Alhaitham doesn't loom over you nor follow your shadow 24/7 asking you if you need anything.

He lets you do your thing, since you simply have mild symptoms of a cold, but checks on you from time to time, reminding you the right time to take your medicine, drink water and rest.

Of course, if he catches you overworking your body, Alhaitham will gently but firmly drag you to bed or the nearest couch, going as far as carrying you in his arms, if you refuse to concede.

When he asks you what you want for dinner, you jokingly say you want a soup, knowing that your lover isn't the biggest fan that kind of dish.

To your surprise, however, you wake up from your nap with a delicious smell in the air (which is a sign that your nose isn't as stuffy anymore) and find your husband taste-testing the soup he has prepared for you.

"You misunderstand." He says, after you question him about his dislike of the dish. "I don't hate soup, I just find it inconvenient to drink it while I am reading. Now, come eat dinner, I'll feed you."

You laugh, thinking Alhaitham is joking about feeding you.

...Jokes on you, he isn't. And if you continue to resist, he will make you sit on his lap while he feeds you. You obey, fearing you might get a fever from embarrassment.

When it's time to go to sleep, you offer to sleep in the guest room to avoid having him catch your cold.

"My immune system isn't weak, I don't get sick so easily like you."

You feel somewhat offended, more by the fact that you can't deny that, rather than by the words themselves.

Even if what Alhaitham says is true, you don't want to risk it, so the solution you come up with is: spooning!

...But with him as the little spoon.

It is quite an amusing sight, really. You look like you're hugging a giang body pillow by the way you're snuggling your face on the back of your lover's neck. He's glad you can't see his face while he tries not to show that action of yours tickles him.

Feeling that your breath has slowed down and you are asleep, Alhaitham turns around to face you, staring at your peaceful expression. You look much better now than in the morning, which he's glad he took the day off to take care of you.

He gives you a kiss on the forehead, before closing his eyes and allowing sleep to come to him.

'How troublesome.' He thinks.

'But, since it's you, it's always worth the trouble.'

"But, Wrio--"

"Absolutely not, you are to stay in bed while I call a doctor."

You huff, looking away when Wriothesley continues to frown at your sniffing figure.

Fontaine's weather has been crazy lately. One day, the heat is almost sweltering; in the next, it's cloudy and rainy for days. Only those with strong health can endure these drastic changes. Unfortunately, you are not one of those people.

Yesterday's weather wasn't exactly cold, but it was raining the whole day. You didn't have work, but still had one last errand to run.

Yes, you could let the workers of Wriothesley's mansion do that. Would you actually do that? Of course not <3

It was becoming late, afternoon quickly ending and you were starting to feel antsy. You looked at the window and didn't see the droplets hitting the glass, which makes you believe the rain had stopped momentarily. No way you would let that opportunity slip by, right??

Hah, sike!

The moment you step outside, you realize that no, the rain hadn't stopped and you were foolish enough to not grab an umbrella on the way out.

The smart thing to do was to turn back and grab it, right? Yes. That's what you did, right? Nope :D 'Too much work' was what you thought as you stepped onto the streets.

...It doesn't take a genius to know what happened then. No umbrella + very cold rain hitting your skin = sickness!

And it didn't even take long for symptons to appear. Goosebumps, runny nose, cold sweating, sore throat... Although things weren't looking serious, you looked for medicine to keep those symptons under control.

Also, your husband has been very busy with dealing with the Fortress of Meropide and coming home late, you shouldn't add more to his plate by making him worries about a simple cold... At least, that was your plan.

What you didn't count on was to have a fever in the early morning, which is what brought you to the current situation.

For outsiders, Wriothesley seems quite angry at you. However, the truth is that he's angry at himself.

He hasn't been able to spend much time with you lately, having to be up at the crack of dawn and come back home late into the night. As lovely as your sleeping face is, he misses your smile, your laughter and overall misses being by your side.

And now, you've fallen sick and he can't even stay to take care of you. Who wouldn't be upset in his place?

Your husband's tense shoulders relax by a fraction when the doctor tells him you're just with a cold, but he still tells the people of the mansion to take care of your evey need and not let you lift a finger.

The workers think it's a bit of an overreaction on their lord's part, but they know it comes from a place of deep care and affection for you, his lovely spouse.

Still, they are a bit more lenient after Wriothesley leaves for the Fortress, allowing you to get up from bed and do things on your own, but someone is quickly by your side when fatigue wears you down.

Another order the servants received from him is to send him frequent reports about your well-being throughout the day, which... quickly gets tiring...

Thankfully, you decide to take that task to yourself and turn the reports into a exchange of short letters to one another.

I sure hope this is by a (mechanical?) messenger pigeon or else, poor servant running through Fontaine LOL

For the first time in weeks, Wriothesley comes back to the mansion at a reasonable hour! Past dinner time, but oh well, he worked really hard to finish every task in record time just to go back to his spouse.

"What are you doing up and about? You should be resting, my love." He says, after you appeared to greet him like a puppy running to his owner.

"Darling, please, I already spent way too much time in bed. I'm not bedridden, for celestia's sake!"

After a much needed couple quality time, it is time to go to sleep... which brings a problem to your husband's mind.

Considering that he owns a cryo vision, his body is a bit colder than normal, so that may make you--

"I know what you are thinking and you are NOT going to sleep elsewhere. You are to sleep by my side and that's final."

Wriothesley, the famous Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide, the man who can maintain peace in that place by using his words or his fists, will always give up on doing or saying whatever that he had planned and concede to the words of his spouse. Especially when they use that particular tone that leaves no room for negotiations.

Still, it is true that your man's body temperature is a bit on the colder side due to his powers, but that will NOT get in the way of your cuddling.

You wrap yourself with the warmest blankets you have, looking like the most adorable burrito he has ever had the pleasure to love, before worming your way into his strong arms.

Wriothesley huffs a chuckle and holds you protectively to his chest. He has a good health, so he's not worried about getting sick.

"...Is it irresponsable of me to think it wouldn't be that bad to catch your cold?" He quietly asks, not expecting an answer while looking at your sleeping face.

"Heh, I can almost hear you scolding me for wishing for such things." He gives you a kiss on the top of your head. "Rest well, my love."

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

pink alhaitham and wriothesley banners (fluff) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

Voice lines and habits that give me unholy thoughts

Synopsis: it doesn't need much for your cute little brain to go haywire with desire for him... (un)fortunately for you, he's quick to catch on the signs and use them against you.

Characters: wriothesley, alhaitham.

Warnings: afab!fem!reader; explicit smut; established relationship; a bit of plot since i like the build up to the horny part; use of handcuffs, oral f!receiving, fingering & overstimulation (wriothesley); semi-public/office sex & oral m!receiving (alhaitham).

A/N: wrio's teaser and web event messed with my brain :D hoyoverse def knew what they were doing when they created him.

This work has sexual themes and is not suitable for minors. If you click on read more, I am not responsable for any discomfort you may feel reading this. You have been warned.

"...Sweetheart, did you hear me or were you too busy staring intensely at my hand?"

"...Oh! I, uh... was just thinking about an answer to your question!"

"Does my question of whether you want more tea or not need that much pondering over?"

Wriothesley rests his cheek on his hand, not even trying to hold back a smirk as he watches the redness of your cheeks becoming more proeminent.

Shit. So much for thinking you were being discreet about it.

You decide to exercise your right to remain silent, taking the teapot and filling your own cup, promptly ignoring the chuckle coming from the man before you.

At the corner of your eyes, you see the handsome bastard has the audacity to return twirling and moving that dastard pen again, as if to taunt you.

...Is feeling jealous of an object too concerning of a sign?

----------

Wriothesley was seeing you out of his office, a stack of documents in your arms that needed to be delivered to Neuvillette about the recent happenings of the Fortress, a task that you were more than happy to do for him.

As you were finishing your conversation, you hear a commotion coming from the Coupon Cafeteria. With a shared glance between you two, the warden walks towards the scene to investigate, you following a few steps behind.

There, you see a group of inmates-- no, it's more like one inmate is causing a ruckus while the others are trying to cool him off... without much success apparently. In fact, things are quickly getting out of control when the riled up man begins to fight anyone opposing him.

Your boyfriend is known to be level-headed, always trying to resolve internal conflicts by talking things out to reach an agreement. Cases like this one, however, require a more... on hands approach.

It all happens too fast. The prisoner turns around to hit the next person that dared to touch him so casually, only for his sloppy attack to be dodged with ease by none other than the Duke himself. One could easily see the color draining from man's face, any trace of his anger disappearing in a flash.

You gasp at the scene ahead of you, having to lean on the large pipe next to you as your legs suddenly feel weak.

Make no mistake, your reaction isn't fear by the violence you witness, far from it. Rather, it is because of the sudden wave of arousal you feel as you watch Wriothesley pin the troublemaker underneath him, pulling his arms behind his back to cuff him.

Fuck. For a split second, you wish you could trade places with the inmate.

'...What in the world. Get a hold of yourself!'

You shake your head in an attempt to clear the indecent thoughts... Which proves to be futile at the way the stern and cold look of your lover melts into a soft and warm one when his eyes turn to you. All while 'adjusting' his loose tie, aka pulling it lower and revealing a bit more of his scarred skin that you adore kissing it.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? Sorry, did that scare you?"

His duality makes you crazy horny-- t-that is, deeply in love with him!

"No! No, no, I wasn't scared! I was just, um... feeling a little faint due to the heat, yes!"

You wave a hand in front of you make it more believable... which don't seem to be working very we'll, seeing the frown on Wriothesley's face. So you start your plan B: run away.

"Ah, I-I better go deliever this documents to Monsieur Neuvillette then. Seeyouathomeloveyoubye!"

Wriothesley watches as you scurry off to the elevator, clutching the files in your arms like a lifeline. He shakes his head, a hand covering the grin.

"Oh darling, you're too easy to read."

----------

"Y-You mean-- ahh, that you k-knew all along?!"

"How could I not, when your eyes were almost begging me to fuck you? You should reward me for my self control, sweetheart."

Any retort you had dissolve into a shaky moan when Wriothesley curls his two fingers inside your core, hitting that deep spot that turns your brain into mush.

You want grasp the sheets, you want to scratch his back, you want to cover your face, ANYTHING. But you can't, not with your hands locked with his handcuffs to the bedpost. You hate it and you love it.

"Wrioooo..."

"Now, now princess, don't tug the handcuffs so hard, it'll hurt you and we can't have that." His free hand trails up your arms, lightly dragging his nails to make you shiver at the ticklish feeling, until he holds your wrists in place. "Be a good girl and focus on me, yeah?"

Jokes on him, that's what you've been doing the whole day. Thinking about your dear boyfriend, his sweet personality, his cute adoration for tea, his godly body, his great strength and how you wished for nothing more than to be bent over his desk and--

"C-Close, close... Gonna-!" Your babbles are interrupted by a gasp, Wriothesley's fingers speeding up and his palm brushing against your clit over and over that it takes just a few seconds for you to see white, body taut, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure washes over you.

The Duke slows down his movement until his hand stops completely, kissing your temple and cooing at you when you whine at his fingers leaving you empty.

You sigh when his mouth meets yours in a languid kiss, helping your heartbeat return to normal... until it races again when you realize his lips going down, down and down your body...

"W-Wrio... what are you-- Ahh!" You squeal at the sudden cold sensation in your sensitive pussy, attempting to wiggle your hips away. Your very mean lover just chuckles, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs and drags you back to his face, the asshole shooting you a smirk after he uses cold tongue to lick your folds again.

"Surely you didn't think I'd stop at one round, after you used your bedroom eyes at me the whole day, right? So..."

"Don't run away now, sweetheart."

"W-What did you say?!"

"...I said, don't let any of it, the treasure, roll away now."

Your lover looks at you with a quizzical look, not comprehending your unusual reaction to his words. You, on the other hand, are silent praying to all the Seven archons for your face to not be as red as you think it is.

In any case, you decide to turn your back to Alhaitham to get the rest of the treasure inside the chest, while he keeps on look out for any other hilichurl or abyss monsters lurking around.

You see, it's not common for you two to go adventure together around Sumeru, much less to see the scribe in action with your own eyes. So, you can't be blamed when you've been too distracted by the way his toned arms flex as he swings his sword(s), his cape gracefully flowing at each movement, the focused expression as the Chisel-Light Mirrors cut down the enemies...

Anyway, you were far too busy gawking over your boyfriend and how unfairly hot he is to actually notice the chest spawning right in front of you. And those words that he had said? It's no surprise your mind went to the gutter.

You just hope you weren't acting so obviously down bad for him as you fear...

----------

"So good... Always so good to me. Fuck, I'm getting close...!"

You really don't know how you got here. The memories from returning to Sumeru City from adventuring in the wilderness to being on your knees, sucking on Alhaitham's cock while in his office are a blur.

But, honestly? You can't bring yourself to care about these minor details.

You drag your head back slowly, torturously forcing the man above you to feel every inch of your mouth until only the tip, angry red and drooling pre cum, remains inside.

The harsh suck you give at the sensitive area earns you a groan, a growl almost, that leaves you rubbing your thighs together. Looking up at your beloved, you watch his chest rise and fall rapidly, a pretty flush on his cheeks and eyes sending you a glare.

A side of you wants to be mean, to give him a taste of paradise before taking it away, just like he so adores to do with you. You want him to be frustrated, to beg you for release, a taste of his own medicine...

But you can't. You shouldn't.

Regardless of the locked door, anyone might come knocking, requiring the presence of the scribe for some unimportant business and, archons forbid, hear what is happening inside the office.

You try not to acknowledge the dampness of your panties from this thought.

And then you feel it, three taps of his fingers on the back of your head, the sign you two came up with to tell the other when you're about to cum.

You release his shaft with a "pop" and Alhaitham is ready to question your cruel actions, but whatever words he had wanted to say get thrown out of the window when you swallow him again without warning, taking as much of his cock as you can.

With one, two shallow thrusts of his hips, he paints your throat white with his release, head thrown back, eyes tightly shut and a moan that most certainly would be heard by everyone in the Akademiya halls had the scribe not covered his mouth.

You try, you swear to Celestia that you try your hardest to swallow every single drop of cum, but there's too much and you can control your breathing only for so long. With much dismay, your mouth lets go of the slowly softening member, covered with a mix of his seeds and your saliva.

Chuckling at your dejected look, Alhaitham raises your chin to make you look at him, thumb gathering the very same mix that has escaped from your mouth to smear it over your lips, his next words making you shiver in arousal but also embarrasment of the knowledge that he had known all along what had gone through your mind during your adventure earlier.

"Don't let any of it roll away now, my love."

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

red wriothesley and alhaitham banners (smut) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

Wedding Bells Underwater

Synopsis: after things have finally settled down in fontaine, wriothesley can finally fulfill the promise he made to avice and faissolle. watching their dream come true makes the duke think about his own future, one with you, he hopes.

Character: wriothesley.

Warnings: gn!reader; established relationship; spoilers for wriothesley's story quest.

A/N: i got so happy that they were included as a nice easter egg on wrio's birthday art 🥺

"...I'm sorry, you want me to do WHAT?"

"Help me organize Avice and Faissolle's wedding."

You stare dumbly at Wriothesley, the faint music coming from the gramophone the only sound in his office while you try to gather your thoughts. Has the workload finally taking its toll on him? Surely he knows that you have zero experience in organizing a wedding???

"It's nothing too complex like you're thinking. I just want you to act as a 'bridge' between the couple and me, since I have other matters regarding the Fortress and can't focus solely on them."

You make a 'ohhhh' expression, now understanding what is expected of you.

"Why didn't you say so from the very beggining?"

"Because I wanted to see what kind of face you'd make. And I must say, you never disappoint sweetheart."

Like the mature adult that you are, you decide to not say the snarky remark you thought and simply leave his office to look for the said couple.

(It's a lie, you stick out your tongue childishly and rushed out of the room before your lover considers cuffing you for disrespecting authority. Not that you would mind it that much).

----------

For someone who knew basically nothing about planning a wedding, you got into it pretty quickly... Maybe a bit too into it, if you were being honest.

The decorations, the location, the order of the events, the dress! Blame it on your perfectionist side, but really, after everything Avice and Faissolle went through in the Beret Society incident, they deserved a perfect wedding.

Even if it wasn't going to be a large scale event, due to all the limitations that comes with choosing the Fortress of Meropide as the venue and the couple's own wish for keeping it simple, there still was a lot of work to do. Knowing that, Wriothesley announced that those who help with the preparations would be awarded with double Credit Cupons. Suffice to say that you got all the workforce needed pretty quickly for the preparations to go smoothly.

After many meetings, headaches and shipment delays, you can now admire the results of yours, Wriothesley's and all the volunteers' hard work.

"Didn't know you had a secret talent for this. Ever considered changing careers?" The man beside you asks quietly while the bride and groom are giving their speech.

"Archons forbid! Do you have any idea how stressful that was? I have a newfound respect for professional wedding planners." You whisper back, remembering the way you basically passed out in bed the day before, all the stress and sleepless nights knocking you out.

Before he could say anything else, the spotlight shines above him and all the guests turn to look at your table.

"Your Grace, words are not enough to properly thank you for everything you've done for us. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be standing here and be able to call Avice my wife." Faissolle's words falter, him and his bride trying hard to control the tears. Wriothesley smiles at them, raising his glass in appreciation for their words.

"Of course, we can't forget the one responsable for turning our ideas into reality." The spotlight is now shining on you as well and you feel your face warming at the sudden attention. "Thank you so much for creating such an incredible wedding for us, we'll never forget this day."

Everyone raises their glasses in a toast for the newlyweds, cheers running through the crowd of guests when the couple finishes their speech.

----------

"...A penny for your thoughts, Your Grace? Or does it require Credit Cupons as well?"

You nudge your lover's arm to get his attention, seeing his faraway look.

"Oh yes, at least 500 Credit Cupons for such information." He chuckles when you roll your eyes. A beat of silence falls and you wait patiently for him to continue, if he wishes to do so. "I was just thinking that, in all the years I've been in the Fortress, I've never imagined I'd one day have it decorated for a wedding, of all things."

Wriothesley's eyes run along the tables of guests, the other former members of the Beret Society and others who became friends with Faissolle and Avice, all smiling happily and having a good time. A peculiar sight to see when you remember this merry ceremony is taking place inside a prison.

His attention returns to you at the feeling of your hand slipping into his, fingers entwining themselves with his easily like two puzzle pieces.

"That means all of your hard work is bearing fruit. The Fortress of Meropide can also be a place of good memories and new beginnings. The proof of that is right in front of you."

The Duke knows you must have meant the event, but, to him, his good memories and new beginning are you, always have and hopefully always will be.

Throughout the process of organizing the wedding, Wriothesley had wondered what kind of ceremony you would wish for. A big and impressive one? Or maybe a more low-key one, with just your close friends and family? What kind of attire would you like to wear? From Chioriya Boutique, of course, nothing but the best for his darling in their special day.

"Everyone! I'm going to throw the bouquet now!" The bride announces, causing a buzz among the excited guests.

"So? Should we go too?" Your boyfriend asks with a smirk and a playful glint in his eyes.

"Why not? Since we're here, we might as well have the full experience!"

There's already a crowd gathered in front of Avice when you and Wriothesley decide to join them. You both don't really mind though, choosing to stay at the back and observe the enthusiasm of others.

One could think it's funny how excited someone could be at the chance of getting the bride's bouquet, a chance of getting married in the future. Or maybe, it's not about marriage at all, but actually for the idea of having a better future after their sentence time is fulfilled.

Or maybe it's all just a projection of the Duke's own feelings about this.

...Who knew a celebration like this would make him think about things he's never considered before?

He shakes his head to clear his mind. You both weren't there to try and catch the bouquet for real, so there's no need to think too deeply about it.

Unbeknownst to him, fate had other plans.

It all happens too fast. At one moment, you watch Avice throw the flowers high into the air; at the next, you feel someone bump into you from behind, causing you to stumble forward. Thanks to Wriothesley's quick reflexes, he manages to prevent your fall by wrapping a strong arm around your waist. And then, you find yourself staring at the bouquet that had landed right into your arms.

What in the world?!

"Ohhhh they caught it!"

"Man, I wanted that bouquet..."

"Does that mean we're going to hear news about the Duke's wedding soon?!"

"It's about time for His Grace to tie the knot!"

The comments, cheers and the sheer craziness of this unexpected twist makes you laugh, both in embarrasment and disbelief.

In amidst of all the excitement around you both, Wriothesley can't help but think that that must have been Celestia's sign for him to stop wasting time and go after the bright future that awaits him.

Now, what would be the best ring to buy for his future spouse?

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

pink wriothesley banner (fluff) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

A Wish Within Reach

Synopsis: his current life is something wriothesley had never imagined he could have. however, there are things he yearns oh-so-dearly to have that are still out of reach... or so he thought.

Character: wriothesley.

Warnings: gn!reader; established relationship; hurt & comfort; spoilers about wrio's past and voicelines; nightmares; imagery of death and blood (not reader's or wrio's).

A/N: i am so in love with this man, his 'more about wriothesley: v' hurt me so much, i wish to give him all the love he deserves. i talked with a friend about how wrio probably 'froze' most of the bad memories and thoughts of his past to not affect him so obviously, that's why he can say such worrying things so nonchalantly :'( please be happy for your birthday, my love 🥹

P.S: also, in a lighter note, please feast your eyes with eriimyon's good morning series, you're welcome.

It's dark, very dark. Wriothesley can barely see what's around him.

Where am I?

The air is completely still, as if everything is holding their breath in waiting. Waiting for something to happen.

For something terrible to happen.

Suddenly, a bright light blinds him, followed by a loud sound of something popping too close to his face.

"Happy birthday ••••••!"

Wriothesley's stomach churns. That was the name he had long abandoned. Those were the voices he hadn't heard in years.

Voices he shouldn't be hearing anymore.

Blinking to adjust to the newly lit room, a kitchen foreign and yet so familiar, he settles his stare at the two people he shouldn't be seeing anymore.

"...Is something wrong ••••••?"

"Are you feeling alright, son?"

Son... I'm nobody's son.

The hand reached out to him is slapped away harshly, causing the woman to gasp in shock.

"••••••! How could you do this to your--!"

"SHUT UP! NOT ANOTHER WORD!!"

His voice booms over theirs, filled with hatred. Strangely, it sounded... different. Younger.

He looks to the side and saw a reflection of himself in a mirror: a boy staring back at him, his chest heaving, eyes blown wide with fear and a bloodied knife on his hand.

His attention snaps back to the scene before him, the cake with candles and birthday decorations are a stark contrast to the two dead bodies on the floor.

It's too much, too real, too vivid.

The smell, the scene, the hatred, the fear.

It's suffocating.

"...io! ...rling ..ak ...up!"

Someone please make it stop!

----------

"Wriothesley!"

Blue eyes shoot open, hand grabbing tightly whatever it was reaching for his face in reflex.

"It's okay, Wrio, it's me. I'm not going to hurt you, you're safe now."

The gentle voice manages to ground him, his eyes meeting your concerned expression. His grip relaxes, bringing your hand to cup his cheek to place a kiss inside your palm, an apology.

"...Sorry, did I wake you up, sweetheart?"

"It's fine, I had to go to the bathroom earlier, so I was already up." You observe the way your lover's chest move up and down quickly and the way the hand cupping yours is slightly clammy. "Bad dream?"

"...Yeah." Wriothesley closes his eyes, allowing a beat of silence to hang in the air, before elaborating. "Sigewinne scolded me for drinking too much tea, saying it wasn't healthy, and declared I should only drink her milkshakes for now on. Terrifying, right?"

That is an obvious lie, he knows. Totally unbefitting of someone in his position as the Duke, who is always five steps ahead of anyone. He knows. And he knows that you know he's lying through his teeth.

"Terrifying indeed..." You pull your hand away from his grasp to gently hold it instead, thumb caressing his knuckles. "But it's okay now, I'm here."

But, with you, he isn't the all knowing Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, Lord Incognito of the murky depths or whatever fancy title people give him. He is Wriothesley, a human like any other, who is plagued by nightmares from time to time. And who is blessed to have such a kind lover by his side, that chooses to play along with his weak excuse instead of pressing for answers.

"Say..." Your tone of voice makes him open his eyes again, curious to know what's on your mind. "I suddenly feel like having a cup of tea right now... Would you like to join me?"

"Drinking tea at..." Wriothesley stops, propping himself up with his elbows to glance at the clock on the bedside table. "2 in the morning doesn't sound very healthy, don't you think? The Head Nurse would surely scold us."

"Then we need to keep this a secret from her." You shrug, your smile bright even in the darkness of the bedroom. "Well?"

He doesn't even need to answer out loud, already getting up from the bed and pulling you along towards the kitchen.

----------

"Sweetheart, do we still have that jam you bought the other day?"

"I guess so. It should be in the fridge."

As your beloved always says, tea is best served with something sweet on the side, even if it's very late at night. Surely Sigewinne won't mind, right? ...Not that she'll find out about it.

Wriothesley opens the fridge, hoping to find that delicious jam imported from Sumeru you got recently, only for his eyes to fall onto a cake.

Happy birthday Wriothesley!

Happy birthday ••••••!

The names begin to mix in his vision as he stares at the writing on the cake, those cursed voices from his nightmare coming back to ring inside his ears.

"Did you find it, love?" You ask while you finish pouring the hot water inside the matching mugs (one of a wolf and the other of a bunny) and letting the teabags to brew for a little bit. "Wrio?"

Hearing no response coming from the man, you turn around to find him just standing in front of the fridge as if hypnotized by something, gripping its handle a bit too tightly.

"...Wrio, are you okay?" You carefully place your hand on his arm and you watch as his unfocused eyes return to normal, blinking a few times before glancing at you. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, sorry, I got distracted by this." He points to something, opening the door more so you can see it, and Wriothesley has to cover his mouth to stop a chuckle at how big your eyes become at the sight of the cake.

"Shit, I forgot to cover it?!" He feels slightly bad watching the way you deflate. "It was supposed to be a surprise for later..."

"Hey, it's okay, I still got surprised. I had completely forgotten today was my birthday."

Listen, he swears he said that hoping it would cheer you up a little, that the surprise you had prepared wasn't ruined like you thought. But, seeing you frown further, now directed at him, he starts to think that wasn't a good idea.

Your lover opens his mouth, ready to apologize again, but you beat him to it.

"Since the cat's out of the bag now, I might as well roll with it..." Your expression changes from upset to determined and Wriothesley always marvels at how you can bounce back into action. "I have a few things I wish to tell you. Will you listen to me, Wrio?"

You could ask for the stars in the sky and he would ask how many of them you would want. Listening to you talk is something he'll gladly do forever, if it's up to him.

He sits on one of the kitchen stools, pulling you to stand between his legs and patiently waits for you to begin, his thumbs rubbing your knuckles and offering you a relaxed smile.

With a deep breath, you squeeze his hands to signal you are ready and start speaking the words coming from the depths of your heart.

"...You always says that the less people see of you, the happier their lives are. While I get where you're coming from, that has never worked for me."

"Ever since we first met, I've had this feeling of wanting to see you again. Again, while I understand the air of intimidation helps with being the warden and all that, you don't match the description of a dangerous man people have when talking about the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide... Especially when I catch your gloves and back filled with Melusine stickers~"

That last part makes Wriothesley huff, which, in turn, makes you laugh.

"The more time I spent with you, the more I got to know about the man behind the title of Duke... The more greedy I'd become. I'd wonder when I would have the next opportunity to visit you, to have tea with you, to watch you fight at the Pankration... Until I started to wish to be by your side as more than a friend."

"And when you started to open up to me, allowing me to treat your wounds, telling me about your worries and even about your past, that wish of mine only grew."

"...I know life has been cruel to you, ever since you were little. You went through things no one, much less a child, should experience..."

You pause, feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes and a lump in your throat. You take another deep breath, your hands moving to your beloved's cheeks.

"But I want you to know that I am so, so glad you were born into this world. I'm so blessed to be by your side."

Wriothesley's breath hitches, his heart beating a bit too hard for comfort and his hands shake a little. In a way, it's the same reaction he had during his nightmare, but the feeling this time is far, very far from being fear.

It's love.

A love so deep and strong for you it's nearly painful. The kind of pain he wishes to feel for the rest of his life.

"...I want to make my wish now. Can we light up a candle on the cake, sweetheart?"

"...Huh?" You blink once, twice, three times... "You want... to make a wish? Now?!"

"What? You're not going to deny the birthday boy, are you?"

It's your turn to huff now. You could never deny him, not when he always does so much for you.

You place the cake on the table before him and observe with great interest as the flame of the candle lighting Wriothesley's handsome face, eyes closed in concentration before blowing out the small flame. He then opens his eyes to look at you.

"Want to know that I wished for?"

Truth to be told, you do. You'd love to know what could it be that he desires so much that he couldn't wait until later. Despite that, you shake your head.

"No, it's fine. It won't become true if you say it out loud."

By the Seven, you look so adorable, saying that so seriously despite it being just a superstition. He can't help but tease you lovingly.

"But I didn't wish for anything."

Silence. Only you blinking owlishly at your lover.

"Then why did you even want to light a candle for?!"

"Ouch, hey now! You shouldn't hit the birthday boy!" The man has the audacity to laugh, easily holding your fists in place to stop you from hitting him. "I didn't wish for anything, but I wanted to say thanks to someone."

"Thanks? To whom?"

"...To whatever deity that took pity on me and was benevolent enough to grace me with their most perfect angel."

Your cheeks flush in no time, his eyes full of adoration making you feel bashful.

"Oh, stop it. I'm no angel!"

"Hmm, yeah. On second thought, you're right." He grins and pulls you into his embrace. "You're probably a deity then, rather than an angel."

"Wrio!"

"What? Shocked that I've uncovered your secret?" He chuckles at you rolling your eyes, not missing the way you bite your lips to stop a smile.

"Seriously speaking now, I do consider you as someone incredibly special. Thanks to you, I've achieved things I could never have done by myself, like being able to trust other people."

"...Even though the past can't be changed, I can now say I have a happy present. And I dare say that I'll have a happy future as well, with you by my side."

He dries the lone tear that escapes from your pretty eyes, chest bursting with deep love for you and hopes the kisses he places on your lips can convey his true feelings, when any and all words that he knows fail to do it.

----------

His birthday was something Wriothesley had long since stopped caring about.

His previous birthday is related to a time of his life he'd rather leave behind and never look back at It, while his current birthday is the day he was convicted for his crime.

Suffice to say that none of those dates have a positive memory behind them.

Now, however, as the two of you return to bed after having tea, biscuits with jam and many kisses in between, Wriothesley believes this year's November 23rd is the first one he actually wants to celebrate.

To celebrate the first time he actually feels thankful for his birth.

thank you for reading <3 likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

pink wriothesley banner (fluff) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

First Kiss With Him

Synopsis: ever wondered how his lips would feel against your own? let's find out, shall we?

Characters: alhaitham; diluc ragnvindr; wriothesley.

Warnings: GN!reader; headcanons; just fluff that made me swoon.

A/N: i'll probably do another version with honkai star rail men.

Honestly, Alhaitham was the trickiest one to think about.

But after much pondering, I think your first kiss with him would happen right after your confession.

We all know Alhaitham is smart af, but he can also be a little shit (/affectionate) when he wants to.

You see, he knew you had a crush on him, but he didn't say anything, choosing to wait and see how long it'd take for you to confess to him.

Which, in a way, turned into a mutual pining kind of situation, since he also had budding feelings for you.

Jokes on Alhaitham tho, the longer it took for you to confess, the further his feelings for you grew.

He may be the master of poker face, but it doesn't mean his patience is limitless.

Beneath that unbothered face, his mind has betrayed him by throwing those milisecond thoughts when he's reading a book, showering or even about to fall asleep: what would kissing you feel like?

When that happens, my friend, he knows there's no way back.

He starts to pay more attention to your face, more specifically your lips: the upward curve of your smile, the downward curve of your frown, the fullness of your lower lip when you pout...

Please wear lipstick, it will be hilarious to see Alhaitham make a conscious effort to not stare at your mouth.

But anyway, after you finally confess your feelings, tension will be on an all-time high, you've never seen him looking at you so intensely before and it makes your knees weak.

Even so, he's still oh so gentle when he cups your face to bring it closer, staring at your eyes one last time as a silent request for permission, before closing the gap...

Despite the yearning and long pining, the first kiss you share with Alhaitham is more of a testing waters kind of kiss, a hesitant brush of lips.

Remember, he is a scholar. And, as a scholar, the first test can never be aggressive or rushed, no. It has to start small, before you can be... bolder with testing your hypothesis.

With that said, after he pulls back just enough to separate from your lips, licking his own to savor the new taste...

He wastes no time diving back in for a more passionate kiss.

I hope you're prepared to go through many tests, because Alhaitham has found a new research subject and he will want to find out all of the different ways he can leave you breathless and with a blank mind.

Contrary to Alhaitham, Diluc was the easiest one to think about this.

Again, this is based of my interpretation of the characters and I think your first kiss with him would happen after you two are dating for some time.

I cannot imagine him having hot make out sessions with you before you are officially his lover.

Diluc Ragnvindr is the picture of a gentleman, if not a bit conservative when it comes to relationship.

In his book, there's no such things as 'casual'.

But, when I say 'for some time', I don't mean you'll kiss only after months of dating, don't worry.

Besides, I also can't imagine our Darknight Hero holding back his desire to kiss you for that long.

So, what I think is that there needs to be some time for you and him to get used to the shift of having a crush -> being in a relationship.

By that, I mean getting past the bashfulness of holding hands, not having to hide your feelings, being able to think 'i want to kiss them' without fearing it would make things weird.

And boy, let me share a secret with you: that particular thought starts to haunt Master Diluc's mind much more frequently after you became official.

It's like his gaze naturally go to your lips as if he's hypnotized! He prays that he's able to be discreet enough whenever he catches himself getting swept away by his desires.

He's not, you've noticed it a few times, but never said anything LMAO

The longer he holds back, the harder it becomes to remain composed, until he finally snaps.

On one of your dates, Diluc decided he'd put him out of his misery and finally kiss you! It will be when he walks you home to end the evening in a perfect note!

He may not have said anything outloud, but you could sense a shift in the air as you approach your house. A sense of... anticipation, perhaps.

When you're about to say good night, he tugs you to a hidden corner of an alley, where there's no risk of a pesky Knight of Favonius in patrol to see you.

A perk of his many secret patrols as Darknight Hero.

He's the type of whispering "May I kiss you?" as he craddles your face like you're the most delicate gem in all of Teyvat (which you are, in his eyes).

A first kiss with Diluc is soft, sweet and slow. He wants to take his time feeling every inch of your lips and it's like a flame that grows hotter slowly.

When he pulls back, he can't help but smile at your dazed state, making a mental note to do this more often to see you like this again.

After he walks you back to the entrance of your home, he gives you one last kiss, this time on your forehead as he bids you good night.

Ah, Master Diluc, the man you are! *swoons*

Wriothesley was actually the one who started this idea, but the more I thought about him, the more complicated it got.

As we all know from his backstory, I believe trust is something quite complex for him. Not that he can't trust anyone, we know he trusts Sigewinne, Neuvillette, Clorinde and the Traveler.

My point is that I think, for someone to have the Duke's trust, it'll take time.

Therefore, for Wriothesley to get into a genuine romantic relationship with someone? It requires a lot of patience and time, but not impossible.

With all of that in mind and for the sake of me not straying too far from the topic of this fic, let's say you are someone that Wriothesley considers important to him and has his trust.

And that importance and trust turned his feelings for you into something beyond platonic.

I can see him as the type to throw some compliments that borderline flirting, but not quite so. Like being more observant of subtle changes on you, how your presence is always a delight when he's caught up with work, invite you to walks when he's in the surface etc.

If your responses to those 'baits' are positive, he'll become more flirty. And if you flirt back? Ohhh, he's hooked!

That said, I think your first kiss with him would happen as a catalyst for a confession.

Everyone can clearly see the chemistry between you and His Grace, but none of you do something about it.

In Wriothesley's case, I imagine it's for a number of reasons, but mainly because of his position.

He may be respected and even feared in the Fortress of Meropide, but that doesn't mean he may not have people who'd love to take him down. And he'd hate for you to be in danger because of that.

So, he's torn between his wish to protect you and have you as his significant other.

Still, you can only fight against your heart's desire for so long.

I can see it all happening during one of your visits in the Fortress, which you pull His Grace away from the tedious piles of paperwork for a tea break.

Wriothesley would use the special blends he reserves for important occasions (a.k.a. your visits), while you would bring a new pastry from your favorite bakery for you to try together.

You are sitting side by side, him observing with amusement your delighted expression from the taste of the pastry, not even noticing a bit of cream left on the corner of your mouth.

'Cute' is what he thinks as he cleans the cream with his thumb, as if it's the most natural thing to do between friends that have the hots for each other.

In that moment, it's like time had frozen with the way you watch as the Duke licks his fingers clean, all while staring at your eyes.

Honestly, neither of you knows who moved first, but it doesn't really matter when your lips join his in a desperate kiss.

It's a messy mix of lips, tongues and teeth, the result of a pent up tension of who knows how long.

Wriothesley tries to be gentle, he really does, but Archons you taste so sweet, so addictive and so much better than he imagined. He wants more, needs more.

His Grace was never one to pray, but he'd ask for this moment to never end.

His hand would go to the back of your neck while the other would trail to your thigh, tugging you closer.

When he manages to break the kiss, a spark of clarity hits him and he feels the need to apologize for his actions, for not asking for permission first, to explain himself...

But you stop him by saying the words that have been stuck in your throat for a long time.

"I like you."

Wriothesley never thought three words would be able to make him smile so much as those did.

"I like you too."

Hoyo please bring him back, it's been more than a year since his release banner T-T

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune.

pink alhaitham, diluc and wriothesley banners (fluff) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

First Kiss With Him

Synopsis: ever wondered how his lips would feel against your own? let's find out, shall we?

Characters: alhaitham; diluc ragnvindr; wriothesley.

Warnings: GN!reader; headcanons; just fluff that made me swoon.

A/N: i'll probably do another version with honkai star rail men.

Honestly, Alhaitham was the trickiest one to think about.

But after much pondering, I think your first kiss with him would happen right after your confession.

We all know Alhaitham is smart af, but he can also be a little shit (/affectionate) when he wants to.

You see, he knew you had a crush on him, but he didn't say anything, choosing to wait and see how long it'd take for you to confess to him.

Which, in a way, turned into a mutual pining kind of situation, since he also had budding feelings for you.

Jokes on Alhaitham tho, the longer it took for you to confess, the further his feelings for you grew.

He may be the master of poker face, but it doesn't mean his patience is limitless.

Beneath that unbothered face, his mind has betrayed him by throwing those milisecond thoughts when he's reading a book, showering or even about to fall asleep: what would kissing you feel like?

When that happens, my friend, he knows there's no way back.

He starts to pay more attention to your face, more specifically your lips: the upward curve of your smile, the downward curve of your frown, the fullness of your lower lip when you pout...

Please wear lipstick, it will be hilarious to see Alhaitham make a conscious effort to not stare at your mouth.

But anyway, after you finally confess your feelings, tension will be on an all-time high, you've never seen him looking at you so intensely before and it makes your knees weak.

Even so, he's still oh so gentle when he cups your face to bring it closer, staring at your eyes one last time as a silent request for permission, before closing the gap...

Despite the yearning and long pining, the first kiss you share with Alhaitham is more of a testing waters kind of kiss, a hesitant brush of lips.

Remember, he is a scholar. And, as a scholar, the first test can never be aggressive or rushed, no. It has to start small, before you can be... bolder with testing your hypothesis.

With that said, after he pulls back just enough to separate from your lips, licking his own to savor the new taste...

He wastes no time diving back in for a more passionate kiss.

I hope you're prepared to go through many tests, because Alhaitham has found a new research subject and he will want to find out all of the different ways he can leave you breathless and with a blank mind.

Contrary to Alhaitham, Diluc was the easiest one to think about this.

Again, this is based of my interpretation of the characters and I think your first kiss with him would happen after you two are dating for some time.

I cannot imagine him having hot make out sessions with you before you are officially his lover.

Diluc Ragnvindr is the picture of a gentleman, if not a bit conservative when it comes to relationship.

In his book, there's no such things as 'casual'.

But, when I say 'for some time', I don't mean you'll kiss only after months of dating, don't worry.

Besides, I also can't imagine our Darknight Hero holding back his desire to kiss you for that long.

So, what I think is that there needs to be some time for you and him to get used to the shift of having a crush -> being in a relationship.

By that, I mean getting past the bashfulness of holding hands, not having to hide your feelings, being able to think 'i want to kiss them' without fearing it would make things weird.

And boy, let me share a secret with you: that particular thought starts to haunt Master Diluc's mind much more frequently after you became official.

It's like his gaze naturally go to your lips as if he's hypnotized! He prays that he's able to be discreet enough whenever he catches himself getting swept away by his desires.

He's not, you've noticed it a few times, but never said anything LMAO

The longer he holds back, the harder it becomes to remain composed, until he finally snaps.

On one of your dates, Diluc decided he'd put him out of his misery and finally kiss you! It will be when he walks you home to end the evening in a perfect note!

He may not have said anything outloud, but you could sense a shift in the air as you approach your house. A sense of... anticipation, perhaps.

When you're about to say good night, he tugs you to a hidden corner of an alley, where there's no risk of a pesky Knight of Favonius in patrol to see you.

A perk of his many secret patrols as Darknight Hero.

He's the type of whispering "May I kiss you?" as he craddles your face like you're the most delicate gem in all of Teyvat (which you are, in his eyes).

A first kiss with Diluc is soft, sweet and slow. He wants to take his time feeling every inch of your lips and it's like a flame that grows hotter slowly.

When he pulls back, he can't help but smile at your dazed state, making a mental note to do this more often to see you like this again.

After he walks you back to the entrance of your home, he gives you one last kiss, this time on your forehead as he bids you good night.

Ah, Master Diluc, the man you are! *swoons*

Wriothesley was actually the one who started this idea, but the more I thought about him, the more complicated it got.

As we all know from his backstory, I believe trust is something quite complex for him. Not that he can't trust anyone, we know he trusts Sigewinne, Neuvillette, Clorinde and the Traveler.

My point is that I think, for someone to have the Duke's trust, it'll take time.

Therefore, for Wriothesley to get into a genuine romantic relationship with someone? It requires a lot of patience and time, but not impossible.

With all of that in mind and for the sake of me not straying too far from the topic of this fic, let's say you are someone that Wriothesley considers important to him and has his trust.

And that importance and trust turned his feelings for you into something beyond platonic.

I can see him as the type to throw some compliments that borderline flirting, but not quite so. Like being more observant of subtle changes on you, how your presence is always a delight when he's caught up with work, invite you to walks when he's in the surface etc.

If your responses to those 'baits' are positive, he'll become more flirty. And if you flirt back? Ohhh, he's hooked!

That said, I think your first kiss with him would happen as a catalyst for a confession.

Everyone can clearly see the chemistry between you and His Grace, but none of you do something about it.

In Wriothesley's case, I imagine it's for a number of reasons, but mainly because of his position.

He may be respected and even feared in the Fortress of Meropide, but that doesn't mean he may not have people who'd love to take him down. And he'd hate for you to be in danger because of that.

So, he's torn between his wish to protect you and have you as his significant other.

Still, you can only fight against your heart's desire for so long.

I can see it all happening during one of your visits in the Fortress, which you pull His Grace away from the tedious piles of paperwork for a tea break.

Wriothesley would use the special blends he reserves for important occasions (a.k.a. your visits), while you would bring a new pastry from your favorite bakery for you to try together.

You are sitting side by side, him observing with amusement your delighted expression from the taste of the pastry, not even noticing a bit of cream left on the corner of your mouth.

'Cute' is what he thinks as he cleans the cream with his thumb, as if it's the most natural thing to do between friends that have the hots for each other.

In that moment, it's like time had frozen with the way you watch as the Duke licks his fingers clean, all while staring at your eyes.

Honestly, neither of you knows who moved first, but it doesn't really matter when your lips join his in a desperate kiss.

It's a messy mix of lips, tongues and teeth, the result of a pent up tension of who knows how long.

Wriothesley tries to be gentle, he really does, but Archons you taste so sweet, so addictive and so much better than he imagined. He wants more, needs more.

His Grace was never one to pray, but he'd ask for this moment to never end.

His hand would go to the back of your neck while the other would trail to your thigh, tugging you closer.

When he manages to break the kiss, a spark of clarity hits him and he feels the need to apologize for his actions, for not asking for permission first, to explain himself...

But you stop him by saying the words that have been stuck in your throat for a long time.

"I like you."

Wriothesley never thought three words would be able to make him smile so much as those did.

"I like you too."

Hoyo please bring him back, it's been more than a year since his release banner T-T

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune.

pink alhaitham, diluc and wriothesley banners (fluff) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

hello regarding that small jing yuan ramble you wrote. um. you're literally cooking w it. the money i would pay to see you write it is insane 🫡

thank you for your contributions to the hsr community. you are a godsend girl (｡- .•) <3

SOS — jing yuan

summary. you grow sick, and lo and behold, it’s not actually from your pathetic pining over the general of the luofu, but something else.

notes. based on this. five people asked for it. i want to lick a bold stripe up this man’s chest. All Hail Jing Yuan.

warnings. 16+ as it may be mildly suggestive, heliobus possession, injuries, blood, vomiting (not a kink. you’re just sick), a literal exorcism, and you and jing yuan get it on on some random park bench.

You had been sick for a while. Maybe a week, now. First, it had started as a simple cold; blocked nose, sore throat, weak bones. 

But now, even after a trip to the doctor’s to retrieve some medicine to at least soothe the persistent ache in your throat, the cold was growing worse and worse. 

And today, you were convinced that whatever illness you had wasn’t just a simple cold. 

Your stomach is twisting into knots, and there’s an incessant panging in the back of your skull. 

At first, you tried to ignore the pain. You had a report to write up that was expected by a coworker by the end of the day, but you were only growing sicker by the minute. 

This had to be the worst day of your life.

Worked to Hell, stressed, your hair was a mess, there was a toothpaste stain on your shirt, and you were sure one of your socks was inside out. 

The Master Diviner had noticed your state first. As soon as you walked into the doors and sat down, she passed by your desk, placed a small pile of papers before uttering a quick, “are you sick?” 

She did it out of concern, but all it did was knock your confidence down into the negatives. 

And now, you had an even bigger issue hovering over your shoulder. 

“You look unwell.” 

Your head shoots up from your desk, and the holographic screen fades out of view when your hand slams over the gadget. You’re sure you just ruined half of your report; you don’t remember the last time you saved. 

When you push back your hair, two pairs of golden eyes are peering down at you. 

Uh oh. 

“Uh–” Your face was burning, half out of embarrassment, and also because he was so close to you. You could feel your face instinctively scrunching up to keep the tears at bay. “Sorry, General.” 

General Jing Yuan offers you a small but concerned knit of his brows. A hand presses to your forehead. “You’re running hot.” 

“No, no…” You were not getting sent home. God you needed the money right now. “I’m fine. Thank you.” You move away from his hand and try to turn your burning face from him. 

Your head felt wrong. You felt dizzy. 

Your mother was bombarding you with messages begging you to come help her at her restaurant, your father wouldn’t stop asking you to come home because he missed you, and you were swamped with work, and nothing was coming together, and now you’re sick– 

“Mmm. I’m afraid I don’t believe you,” General Jing Yuan presses. “You look as though you’re about to pass out.”

You shake your head slowly, cautious of the migraine pulling behind your eyes. Crying won’t help the migraine forming, idiot. “I need this pay, sir.” 

“That can be arranged.” 

Oh, good Gods. 

The playful smile he sent your way almost made you melt into a puddle onto the floor. 

You always wondered how soft his hair was. 

You want to say more. You want to tell him not to worry; you’d worked through worse. For the amount of sick sessions you’d had in these bathrooms, the last stall on the second floor bathrooms of the building practically became your second bedroom. 

You also want to lean forward and taste his lips. But, for one, that’s sort of unprofessional, and two, he doesn’t even know your name. You’re also sure you look like an absolute mess, and a complete turn off. 

You shake your head again, but when you try to stand up, you wobble. Jing Yuan rests his hands on your shoulders to keep you steady. 

You can’t tell if you’re spiralling into hysteria, or if your body’s actively trying to fight the worst flu of your life. 

“I’m sorry, I–”

Absolutely humiliated, you burst into tears. 

You try to muffle it so as to not disturb any of your coworkers. 

You’re desperately trying to find a dry spot on your sleeve to wipe your tears, but surprisingly, the General hums sympathetically and swipes his thumbs beneath your eyes. 

Then, he reaches over the desk and shuts off the gadgets, collects your bag, and hands it to you. 

“Go home.” There’s a gentle flutter of his lashes. 

Your face is still burning when you bow your head. You can’t disobey him. The Master Diviner was your boss, but he’s even above her. “Yes, sir.” 

General Jing Yuan escorts you to the door slowly, and winks at you on your departure. “Rest well.” 

You’re more convinced your face is burning because he touched you, more than how your skin feels like it's being melted from the inside by a growing fever. You promptly ignore the strange looks you get while you sob all the way home. 

ೃ༄

Your sob session had left you feeling worse, and you’d promptly been sick in the toilet as soon as you made it to your home. 

You’d tried to swallow pills to ease the headache growing behind your eyes, but you couldn’t even stomach that. 

For a while, you had shivered in your own sweat on the bathroom floor. It was disgusting. You had planned to call a doctor, but it was way too late for any clinics to still be open at this hour. 

It was dark when you got home. 

After what seemed like an hour, you garnered enough strength to peel off your clothes and scrub the sweat and grime off of yourself. The steam of the shower was only relieving for a moment. As soon as you step out, you feel dizzy all over again. 

But, you’d made a mission to get changed, brush your teeth at the very least, and try to sleep it off. 

You manage to pull on something more comfortable. You try not to move too much. You can feel acid sloshing in your stomach with every shift of your arms, and you want to teeter over and empty your guts again. 

You hold out long enough to feel weakly for your toothbrush. Your face is somewhat clean, disregarding the tears that silently drip down your cheeks—you know that crying is doing the opposite of relieving your headache, but you can’t stop yourself. 

You rinse the taste of sick from your mouth and lean against the cool bench to soothe the heat surging through your body. 

When you look up, you blink and catch something in the mirror. 

Maybe you were just staring in the mirror for too long. 

Not only had your face warped into something hideous, but there was now something green floating behind your ear. 

It looks like a wisp, lime and yellow, like a spirit. 

You slowly turn your head in the direction of it. 

There’s nothing there. Your eyes meet the wall of the shower instead. 

You try to reach out a hand to it while staring into the mirror, but you feel nothing. 

“Sweet.”

You jump back. 

Your fingers twitch just before the reflection of the orb. It’s like a ball of green flames lingering by the side of your head. You feel no aura, no heat radiating off of it.

You scrub your wet eyes with the heels of your palms. 

Still there. 

Your eyes then narrow suspiciously. It does little to help your headache. 

If you didn’t feel two seconds from collapsing, perhaps you would’ve been more alarmed. 

You try to reach for it again. 

Your fist twitches forward and it slams into the mirror. 

Not only does white hot pain peel up your arm and split your knuckles, but the glass shatters into pieces. It falls to the floor and embeds in your skin, and you’re sure the wound will scar. 

You don’t find it in you to scream, because the pain is so far away you don’t feel like you’re inside your body anymore. 

It’s a ghost. 

Oh, Aeons, you’re being haunted by a small cloud. 

Briefly, you worry it’s one of your passed grandmothers, or her grandmothers. They'd probably reprimand you for being single and pining after a dude that was like hundreds of years old. 

The spirit’s voice is unfamiliar until you recognise it.

It’s yours, and it's coming directly out of your mouth. 

“I’ve been here a long time, y’know?” Your brain buzzes with confusion. Are you speaking? Not really. But you are speaking. That’s your voice—did you always sound so obnoxious? Ew. “You just haven’t noticed.” 

You exhale shakily. You try not to cry, but tears pool down your face anyway. The pain in your head grows worse. You’re sure your brain is splitting in two. 

Blood drips from your hand and onto the tiled floor.  

“It hurts less if you let this happen. Assimilation is usually easy, but with you, not so much. You’re very stubborn.” 

Oh, great. More insults. Just what you needed. This sucks. Your work is overdue, your pay has probably been cut accordingly, and now there’s a ghost in your body and ruining your house. 

You blindly try to touch the spirit again. 

Your hands don’t move.

“What are you?” That’s you. You know it’s you. Your voice wavers. It’s less confident than when the spirit speaks with your mouth. 

“I am your desires. A fruition of your every thought and being.” The flame continues to burn. It lets you take a little bit of control. Your fingers phase through the reflection of the spirit in the mirror. “And you are delicious.” 

The implication was there, but all the statement made you feel was disgust. Your body involuntarily shudders, and the flame hums in confusion before you stiffen once again. 

Your hand is bleeding. There’s red pooling all over the bathroom bench, but you still cannot feel the throbbing and the glass protruding from your skin. 

“You are sweeter than other humans. Like sugar.” The flame feels warm close to your skin. “I realise your kind calls it ‘attraction.’”

Oh, my God. The stupid soul knows that you lay awake at night thinking about this man that barely knows you exist. 

This is embarrassing. 

You can’t even will yourself to cry, so all you can afford is to blink stupidly. 

And why are you now thinking of how he smelled when he touched you when there’s a literal ghost with a vendetta taking over your body? 

You need to get your priorities in check. 

Your fingers twitch with disobedience. Your phone sits untouched on the counter. The screen is covered with shards of glass and smudges of water from the faucet, but you know you can reach it. If you try hard enough. 

Come on. 

Your index finger twitches again.

The ghost is going on a tangent about your boring little life and your boring little crush on the General. 

You can’t bear to listen anymore. 

Your hands spring to life and you pounce for your phone. It’s not exactly in vain, for you do manage to withstand the pull of the spirit and the pain that returns to your hand and your head as you open your messages and swipe over the first contact you see. 

It’s Madame Fu, much to her misfortune. You’re too desperate to consider yourself a burden. 

Considering the time, she’s most likely getting things sorted to close the building. The last message was an automated message of your pay being sent to your account from last week. 

“What are you doing?!” the spirit shouts. It bounces inside of your head like a bullet has fired. 

Your trembling fingers swipe over your keyboard. 

You procure a melodious string of poetry as a result. 

You: HEPLP IRMB

Your head is pounding. You’re sure you’re about to throw up. A dizzy surge spears behind your eyes. 

You: BOSS I NEEDYRLURHEL P

The phone drops from your hands as soon as your thumb cards over the send button. You notice the messages send through before your eyes wordlessly snap to the mirror and you stand ramrod still. 

Once again, you’re a passenger beneath your own skin. 

When the spirit takes over, the pain dissipates, and the fearful tears that run down your cheeks quickly dry. 

After a moment, the spirit calms itself down. 

“I’ve grown so impatient with you. You’re boring. You’re lucky your emotions are so delicious, otherwise I would’ve abandoned you a long time ago.” You don’t consider yourself lucky. If anything, the ghost should consider itself lucky it gets to rest in your warm soup for a brain. You’re sure every working brain cell has fried to a crisp at this point. “You’re so sad and miserable. How’s about I help you get your life back on track?” 

You want to ask why. You’re sure it has better things to do than play wingman. 

But, you stare at the soul fluttering beside your head with wide eyes. Your chest heaves with worry. 

How you haven’t succumbed to cardiac arrest yet is beyond you. You would’ve patted yourself on the back for remaining so strong about the situation; but you suppose you’re sort of cheating. Not being in control of your body probably means that if you were autonomous, you’d be on the floor sobbing over your injured hand, the broken mirror that would cost a few hundred credits to fix, and the fact that General Jing Yuan actually put a finger on you today. 

Oh, and also there’s a ghost haunting you. That, too.

“This is my body now.” 

Yep. You definitely needed to get your priorities in check. 

You were beginning to feel woozy. The smell of copper hit your nose, and your stomach turned over itself four times. 

“Now. Let’s fix this face up. You look dreadful.” 

Thanks. You’re not sure if you can speak to it, but your voice radiates a laugh much unlike your own. It’s more of a short sweet cackle than anything. Somehow, the ghost is able to navigate and use your phone’s camera to clean your face properly. 

It ignores the blood oozing from your knuckles, choosing instead to curiously open drawers until it stumbles upon a bag full of makeup. 

All of this expensive stuff you’d splurged on last year. You will your breath to remain somewhat of an even pace.

You’d have a breakdown over this if you manage to survive before the spirit decides to throw you off a cliff later. 

You feel like this ghost is more suited to be your therapist, ironically, with how it mumbles in your voice about how you could present yourself much better if you got out of bed earlier every morning and cared about yourself. 

“You know… that old geezer likes you, too.” 

Your heart stops. 

Then, there’s a cruel snort that leaves your lips right after. 

If you could scowl, you would have. Don’t let it get to your head. It’s lying. It’s trying to get a rise out of you. And it was working, too. 

You didn’t even realise your feet were moving towards your closet to fish out something suitable to the ghost’s tastes.

This was going to be a long day. 

ೃ༄

A long day did not entail you stumbling back to the workplace because the ghost didn’t know how to handle the pain of fancy shoes. The brickwork of the roads were uneven towards the entrance, and you almost trip onto your face. 

“Where is that man?” 

This was awful. 

You wanted to die on the spot. 

“He can’t hide from me,” the ghost informs you. At least, you think it’s speaking to you. “I can taste him.” 

You want to ask what he tastes like. 

The ghost seems to understand your silence. “Humans call it ‘cinnamon.’” 

Oh. Yum. 

You grimace. Inside your head. This was confusing. Your body feels like a suit being worn by someone else. It’s weird. It’s wrong. It’s almost violating. 

You feel as though you’re witnessing everything through a screen. You cannot feel anything; not the snug of the clothes you’re wearing, or the wind on your skin, or the pain in your feet from the shoes. Nothing. 

All you can do is watch. 

You wish you couldn’t have. 

This is so painful. 

“General!” 

Oh, God, that’s your voice. And you’re moving very briskly towards a large figure who’s stopped to acknowledge you. 

He seems barely taken aback when you stumble and fall into his arms. 

You’re way too excited pushing hair from your face that the General has to cock his head to the side for you to acknowledge him.

His eyes have widened significantly, and the grin on his lips is awkward, to say the least. “How are you feeling?” His hand presses to your forehead again and draws back quickly. “You’re still hot.” 

“Thank you, General.”

He lets out something akin to a snort. 

This sucks. You’re like a vessel, and yet you’re sure your face is still burning at the proximity.

Oh, this is so embarrassing. 

You realise you can sort of smell him. It’s so light, though. 

He really does smell like cinnamon. You had never noticed it before. It’s faint, as if he hasn’t chosen to top up his perfume from the morning, but it clings to his uniform nonetheless.

“Do you need to sit down?” he asks worriedly. 

You realise he’s the only thing holding you up. 

You try to cry for help. 

Nothing but a pleased giggle escapes your throat. You realise there’s a burning in your chest. You figured it to be your heart giving out on you—you’d take death over the embarrassment that washed through your veins. 

Your wishes did not come true. 

General Jing Yuan peers behind you for a moment, watching where you came from. 

Are you trembling? You can’t tell. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks again. His grip on you has tightened. 

You try to say no, but instead you blurt out, “I’m good– great, actually. Since you’re here.” 

This was horrible. You want to sink into the floor and never be seen again. There’s a cackling in your ears, and it’s your voice. 

“Shall I bring you to a medic?” 

You slowly shake your head. 

“Do you need an escort back home?” 

Oh, boy. You manage to weakly shake your head again. It’s all you can muster. Your voice isn’t working. It’s not yours. You were also afraid you’d try to drag him inside your bedroom if he did walk you home. 

He brings you over to a seat and helps you sit. Your legs are bouncing all over the place and you can’t find it in yourself to sit still. Your eyes are flitting left and right and up and down trying to locate the source of the voices you’re hearing swarming your head. 

A hand touches your cheek. You instinctively lean into his palm. 

“You’re bleeding.” And he’s touching your hand. You may as well have fainted there. 

“Flesh wound,” you say. 

Jing Yuan’s grin turns crooked. “I commend your bravery, but this may require stitches.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have really nice eyes?” 

Here we go. The cackling was growing worse. You feared your head would explode before your pounding heart would. It felt as though it was shattering your ribcage as it thumped. 

The General tilts his head. Loose curls of white follow. 

You’re so relieved he sat you down. Otherwise you would have fallen to the floor. 

“Really nice,” you repeat. “Like sunshine.” 

Jing Yuan looks at you strangely. “Charming, aren’t you?” You’re busy admiring the shadows that his lashes cast over his cheeks. 

Your heart melts. You are so ridiculously down bad it hurts. 

You’re sure he can see your cheeks burning. That’s involuntary, too. The spirit inside of you seems equally confused. 

Good. If it wants to embarrass you, you’re going to cook this thing from the inside out with your body heat. You hope the fever boils it alive. That would be cool. Deserved. 

And if you lived, you get to tell your future grandchildren how you bested your vengeful ancestor because you had a fever and it couldn’t withstand your body temperature. 

The spirit’s confidence in your body, however, does not waver. 

You can see a glint in General Jing Yuan’s gaze. His eyes loiter behind you again as if he’s staring at something approaching. 

The spirit doesn’t notice a thing. 

“Well.” General Jing Yuan’s thumb traces over your cheek again. “If we’re playing that game, I will admit you look lovely tonight.” 

Oh, God. 

This is the best and worst day of your life and you’re barely experiencing it. 

You manage to garner some control, and only some because the spirit is most likely cooking in your body, but all you manage is the stupidest giggle from your lips. 

You hadn’t even realised how close he was. 

You’re delicious like this. 

He can’t be telling the truth.

You can’t believe it. 

You watch him get up, and you, wherever you are inside your head, feel a pang of disappointment in your stomach. 

“You should get to a medic,” he says softly. “Come.” 

If you were really in your body, you’re sure you would’ve swooned and quite possibly died right there on the spot.

For a moment, you’re sure that’s what the spirit inside you is trying to do. Your body teeters over and you stare at his shoes. 

Your arms jut out to either side of the bench, but you don’t stand. You witness your legs shaking and weakened ankles. 

You’re worried you’re actually going to throw up onto his shoes.

What escapes your mouth instead is a, “General…” in the most pathetic whine you’ve ever heard in your life. And it’s in your voice, to make matters worse.

You feel yourself grimacing internally. 

General Jing Yuan quickly sits back down on the bench to steady you. You can hear him speaking, and he sounds concerned, but you can’t make out his words clearly. 

“Gen–” 

You feel dizzy inside your own head.

Yep. Heart attack. Definitely. 

At least you’ll die in this man’s arms. 

But, no. You don’t die. Not there. 

General Jing Yuan’s face is a blur in your vision, and his gloved hands are resting on both cheeks, still burning hot to the touch. 

Oh, you can still smell the cinnamon from his hair. So soft and subtle like it’s been dusted onto a nice scoop of ice cream. 

If you were here, and properly here, you would have sprung from the seat and taken off running. 

But, it’s not really you, and so your lips meet his hurriedly. You can’t see much because your eyes have shut, but for whatever reason you can feel, and there’s excitement that grows in your stomach in a pool of humiliation when his lips move against yours.

Your fingers bury into his hair. Soft. So soft. You wish you could cherish the feeling normally, within your own skin and body, and truly feel his warmth as your own. 

Your lips are hot on his, and you feel his lashes flutter closed upon your cheek like a gentle kiss and swoop. His tongue tastes suspiciously of tanghulu, but that only drives you further into him. 

This is embarrassingly addicting. 

Your fingers decide to tangle themselves within his hair. Daringly, they venture further towards the silk red ribbon and dance around stray strands that had fallen free. You desperately want to pull at the silk and watch his hair fall to his shoulders, but you aren’t sure if your limbs are yours. 

His hands are so warm by your hips. And they’re so big, and you feel the bumps of the callouses along his palms and it makes your bones jitter apprehensively. 

You’re way too into this, but if you’re bound to be fired over it, you’d consider this worth it. 

The General seems to be enjoying it—and he is. He hums pleasantly against your lips, and his thighs are slipping further and further beneath yours as you pull yourself closer and closer. His grip is firm; not enough to hurt, but enough to placate you. It’s nice. He’s nice. 

It’d be even nicer if there wasn’t something screaming in the back of your head. You’re not sure if it’s you, or the spirit, or some other worldly being like your alter-ego, but whoever is in control of your body chooses to ignore it. 

Fever be damned, your arms swing around his neck. Your skin feels as though it’s melting against his, like hot wax dripping from a burning candlewick. Your chest presses flush against his, and you can feel a steadily racing heartbeat against your own. Warm and fluttering—not as quick as yours. You’re sure any quicker and it’s going to explode—but quick enough to notice, like a fast drumbeat. 

There’s a cold hand that glides along the centre of your back. 

You presume it to be his, but something kicks in your stomach when you remember one of his hand locks on your hip bone, and the other has travelled low enough to press gently against the expanse of skin just below your navel. 

You want it to travel lower. You bury the thought in the back of your head. 

The spirit breaks through, you think. You’re suddenly floating again, and maybe there’s panic there, because you can just feel, in the fleeting moments where you’re shut out again, that your body twists in his hold. 

From what you can tell, General Jing Yuan keeps you in his arms, and your lips against his. 

It’s cold. 

Whoever stands behind you must be blowing icy winds directly on your back, because you feel yourself shivering.

And then, you choke. 

Something firm pulls. Not on you, not on your hair, but something inside of you, and it almost hurts. It feels like a part of you is being torn directly from your racing heart, and surging cold fires into your veins.

It’s like ice crystallises into your blood and blocks your arteries, but the sensation is pulling and pulling and you’re growing breathless. 

That’s you in your body. You feel it. You’re kicking yourself for it, but you’re trying to fight in the General’s hold. You’re trying to turn around, to fight the shadows of four figures you can now see casted on the street. 

General Jing Yuan, still, presses firmer against you, and his hands have abandoned your hips to hold your face gently. It’s comforting, and you’re melting, but all the while, the sensation is growing worse behind you. 

You’re worried when you hear a snap, as if they’ve just reached forward and broken your spine into two.

Then, there’s one final tug, and you’re breathless. 

You drop fully into the General’s embrace. He’s less sucking your face off now, and more placing calculated soft kisses against your lips every few seconds. 

You feel boneless, like you’ve had your very own soul snatched from your body. 

But then, you blink slowly. And you realise you’re in your own body again. 

“Huzzah!” 

General Jing Yuan whispers assurances against your lips, and you only find the strength to hum in response. As he makes you even dizzier when his lips trail along the corner of your mouth, you test the strength in your hands.

You can barely make a fist, but it’s you curling your fingers into your palm. It’s surreal, but it’s you, and only you. 

There’s a girl's voice from behind you, and the iridescence of something a sickeningly familiar green and yellowish iridescence that reflects onto the concrete like water. 

“Alright! That’s another one down! Pats on the backs for everyone! Thanks for the help, General– oh.” 

Another voice chimes in. “Should we look away?” 

“This is amazing. Like watching a car crash,” a third says. 

The fourth sounds irrevocably terrified. “I think I’m going to vomit.”

There’s embarrassment there, but you only giggle against the General’s lips. You’re still exhausted, and you’re sure despite the outfit the spirit had dressed you in that you appear like a walking corpse. Especially in comparison to the General, but, if he’s into that you’ll take it. 

You later learn from the four that had practically violated you that you were possessed by something called a Heliobus. Sounded very not intimidating, especially when the smaller one with the ears had shown the spirit to you while it was trapped in a cage. 

You recognised one of them as Sushang, the busy little Cloud Knight girl. The third was a nameless Trailblazer from the Astral Express that had given you a fist bump for not passing out during the literal exorcism that they put you through.

Then, there was Guinaifen, who had accidentally live streamed the entire ordeal on her phone. 

All of it. 

You weren’t fired, no. But, The Master Diviner was furious, but more so at the General for his lack of professionalism and, well… ramming his tongue down your throat. 

General Jing Yuan, was, to say the least, very excited when you returned to work. 

You’d tried to ignore the entire thing. There were people offering you weird stares on the street, and the workplace was no different. You kept to yourself mostly, only picking up where you’d left off last week. 

And you were relieved you weren’t stumbling home and throwing up in the tub anymore. That had definitely been a week. 

You’re busy trying to finish off with editing official documents when a hand rests on your shoulder. 

You almost spring from your seat when you lock eyes with the General. Again. You almost smash your hand through the computer screen when anxiety riddles your bones. 

That’d leave a permanent scar. The General had been so kind to make sure your hand was patched up from when you’d shattered your mirror.

“General,” you greet quietly. “Good morning.” 

He smiles. “Just Jing Yuan, if you please.” He leans against the side of your desk. “It’s almost time for morning tea, so… I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me for a walk now.” 

You glance down at your screen. 

‘Morning tea’ was quite literally thirty minutes away.

You look back up at him. “Right now?” 

“Fresh air wouldn’t hurt.” 

“Sir, I’m already on thin ice as it is. Madame Fu will–” 

General Jing Yuan politely waves you off. “Everything will be taken care of for you. I’ll see to it myself.” 

You bite down on the inside of your cheeks.

Well. 

Slowly, and with uncertainty, you stand and dust off your pants. There’s a dumb grin on your lips. “General, I’m starting to think you might be flirting.” 

General Jing Yuan leans just barely closer to you and narrows his eyes playfully. 

You almost died. Still, though your voice wavers, you ask, “I hope you haven’t been thinking of me.” But you do hope. You really do. 

You reach down to turn off your computer screen, but you blindly feel around for the button, because you’re afraid if you look away he’ll disappear. 

He seems to understand. He tilts his head. “Maybe I have.” Then, he offers you his hand. “Come. We’ll walk and talk.” 

So, you go with him, and your heart almost leaps out of your chest when he only barely sighs in relief. 

(Madame Fu watches you both leave, twenty-seven minutes before everyone is scheduled on a fifteen minute break. 

She, at first, decides she’ll stop you both at the door, but it has been quite a while since General Jing Yuan has worn a genuine smile on his face. 

With a heavy sigh from her lips, she lets it go. 

But only for today). 

[the-writer-arrived]

EX HUSBAND WRIOTHESLEY

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — ex! husband wriothesley headcanons

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, reader is referred to as "wife", a little sad, unprotected syx, hitting it raw, very rough fucking lmao, love sick & feral wriothesley, very messy too

ex! husband wriothesley who will hesitantly accept your upsetting decision to file for divorce, and to nullify your earnest promise— nonetheless, it's evident that it was crushing him through the very inside, the pain your words caused had invited him to explore the enormity of sorrow. however, do not be fooled because he won't show it to you, meaning his pure and real emotions, instead wriothesley will decide to verbally jester around about the current happening to brighten up an otherwise daunting interaction between two past lovers.

it was to no avail, the agony festering on his facial expressions and there was nothing in his life worth remembering other than you and a concealed shade of his past— yet, the last thing he'd want to happen was to lose you entirely, signifying that if he was to put his foot down and tell you that he doesn't want the divorce to happen, it probably doesn’t mean much after all.

ex! husband wriothesley who will reminisce about past events in front of you, your first kiss or that one particular date where he asked you to marry him, just small, little details about you that only your ex husband knew of— but, he'll do it in a subtle way, sneakily sprinkling it into a conversation in hopes you'd get a dash of sudden yearning as well— the same he did whenever he casted his mind back towards the good, old days.

ex! husband wriothesley who will speak in riddles to you, keep his quick-witted demeanor in order to fool you into thinking that he was doing quite well after the divorce was fulfilled— and his intentions weren't in wanting to make you feel bad, sorrowful or even jealous. no, not at all. in fact, he thought that if he was to hide his raw emotions and genuine feelings in front of you, you wouldn't feel awful about your decision and were able to continue living a normal life, yet without him.

ex! husband wriothesley who promised you that he will take off the ring that symbolized your once passionate marriage— but will behind your back grab a necklace to loop it inside the precious metal, so he could always wear the ring around his neck, secretly hiding it from your eyes to see while holding on to it whenever he found himself in trouble, or saddened.

ex! husband wriothesley who feels helplessly confused still, harshly drawing back for air as he let a brittle thread of a nervous laughter go when you suddenly ask him if he wanted to remain friends with you, which— in truth, he didn't, and the second after you proposed that insane idea to him he thought you must be joking, or that you surely must've lost your mind (which would make the divorce explainable).

it goes without saying that the real reason as to why the duke didn't seek out to befriend you, had nothing to do with the feelings he harbors towards you suddenly dissolving, it's quite the opposite because he was so helplessly in love with you, archons, he was bloody obsessed with you.

certainly, he thought that such friendship between two past lovers would only cause injury to you both in the end, for the main part to you who he cared the utmost about.

aside from the fact that even now, when he notices how you steadily keep your distance from him, at all times, it breaks him from within.

how cold it was when all ex! husband wriothesley sought after was your gentle caress and delicate kisses, he longed for an opportunity to just swiftly hush you with one step, raw and earnest trapping you against his strong arms while pressing his lips on top of yours when— oh, he does it again, he was indulging in fantasy, gradually yielding to an alternative version of you two ending up together.

in the duke's own words, he believed that love should be warm, a sweet addiction, a magic gifted by the universe, so why— just what had went so terribly wrong that he was struggling to understand it? you should just say you do not care for him, tell him you feel nothing so he can walk away, or maybe, regardless he will stay.

ex! husband wriothesley who despite you both being apart now, remains faithful to you, protective and nurturing to your every needs— because it was simple as that— for the duke, you are his shining sun, and will still remain it to his dying day.

to his crushed and painful body, your caressing trace was his only medication, and your smile? it was the light to his broken heart, for that is what he had called a warm love.

ex! husband wriothesley who noticed how the natural warmth surrounding his body had but faded completely as his mind began to gather around great negativities— perhaps he was flawed and that's the reason you left him all along, cursed to feel the deep sadness slither through his veins like a freezing liquid conquering his body as he shuts himself off for a while, until he can recollect himself again that is.

ex! husband wriothesley who had inappropriate thoughts enter his mind whenever he thought about you— here is to note that he utterly disliked the way his brain just so happened to work and how he wasn't able to shake off those strong and vivid fantasies playing in his mind on repeat.

but how can he not dream about his wife? well, ex-wife, which in his memories was pressed under his large figure exposed with your breasts on full display, his hips working constantly to please you just the way he knew you liked it.

because you see, the duke knew your body, in and out, one might even assume he knows it better than you do. and he still has a couple of your panties left in his drawer— in fact, he wanted to return them, please believe him, but he found himself to be quite busy these past weeks that he must've simple forgotten to do so.

ex! husband wriothesley who at some point, cannot live like this anymore and was desperate to see you again. after your marriage had crushed, you weren't visiting the fortress of meropide anymore and as the duke was rarely leaving it himself, it could've been the perfect situation to move on from each other, yet he simply could not do that, not when you were constantly on his mind.

ex! husband wriothesley who will find courage and leave the fortress to visit you at your new place, in fact, the mere sight of the duke exiting the underworld was rarely seen, so the guards figured that it must be of graven importance— as invisible and weightless as your love for him might be for now, in the middle of the night he walks out to find you, taking in a last view at the fortress  before an itching impatience got the better of him. 

he just had to see you, now.

ex! husband wriothesley who will show up at your doorstep and suddenly admit that he cannot do this anymore, that he felt incredibly miserable and heartbroken, confessing his undying love and affection towards you, using words he had once spelled out to you the night you had gotten married.

"night and day, i dream of you," wriothesley yells, as if there had been nothing left to his choice, the sight of your glowering eyes and those soft, frowning lips he just misses to kiss.

"and there is not one corner on this world that you could possibly travel to in order to free me from this torture," he adds forbiddingly.

through dark eyelashes, wriothesley stares at sudden tears welling up in your glassy eyes, a sharp amenity invading your cheeks as he places his palms on top of them in order to brush your warm tears away. "you're mine," he said, the corners of his mouth slightly quirking upwards, his hot breathing lingering around your gasping lips, "and not even a divorce can change that."

ex! husband wriothesley who places a delicate splatter of warm and passionate kisses on top of your lips the moment you pull him by the collar of his shirt, his surprised growl turning into a stifled cry when you wrap your arms around his neck in order to keep him close to you, together stumbling into the coziness of your home as one hand was firmly placed against your back, his mouth eagerly parting as your lips welcome the teasing slide of his tongue lapping across your own.

ex! husband wriothesley who will hiss upon revelling in your soft fingers tracing over his twitching muscles when you undress each other, his disheveled hair accentuated with a fond smile as his hands trail down the sides of your face, leaning his hungry lips against yours again, the lingering, familiar scent of your fragrance penetrating his nostrils turning him needier, on the brink of passing out.

ex! husband wriothesley who loves hearing you only reply in soft and crumbled whimpers of his name slipping past the edges of your tongue as he cannot wait to feel you— fuck, and neither can you wait to feel him again, a clashing pressure on your hot core narrowing the space between your bodies as he lines himself up with you, your nails slithering down his chiseled back as he slides into you abruptly, your neglected cunt instantly welcoming him.

and you squeal out in pleasure as he thrusts into you, the maddening scent of his musky perfume persisting around your shivering frame as wriothesley hooks one leg over his shoulder, the squelching sounds of your wet sex echoing throughout the entire bedroom just signalizing how much you must've missed him as well, his addicting gaze always flickering across the way your body reacted to him.

ex! husband wriothesley who shoves himself further into your soft cunt— and you're just so unbelievably cute and adorable at your desperate attempts to silence those candid whines and mewls of his name. one of his hands was now placed on the headboard for additional support as to not suddenly suffocate you with his large body towering above before he increases the pace on your cunt, setting for a deep and fast rhythm that would surely stay engraved in your walls even after he's done.

ex! husband wriothesley who kisses you like a starved animal as your tears tickle the soft features on his face, your hidden emotions running wild at the sheer passion he unlocked in you, his erection throbbing harder as he groans into your lips, triggering every last one of your nerves in your body and infusing them with persisting vibrations— now, you're gasping at the lack of oxygen in your lungs as his constant thrusts into you drove you deeper into the mattress, if that was even possible, considering the fact that your whole body had been caged in between your bed and wriothesley's frame towering on top.

ex! husband wriothesley who chokes back a desperate growl as he sought out further friction, growing feral, then hissing sharply as his sensitive cockhead reaches into your deepest parts, his shaft all the way sucked in by your used pussy lubricating him so he can ram himself in and out of you harder, slick pooling out of your hole whenever he pulls out only to press back inside with one quick snap.

ex! husband wriothesley who worships your body, making you feel every thick vein as it throbs violently against your walls, your thudding hole making him lose his mind on how you're convulsing while he curls into you— your swollen cunt tensing and releasing, grinding up a little as thick, white cum gathers at the base of his cock, his mesmerizing eyes glued on the creamy spot that was showing him just how much you enjoyed this too.

ex! husband wriothesley who resumes his fast tempo, your teeth rattling with every new impact of his hips bouncing against your flesh blanking your mind into pure paradise— your moving bodies couldn't stop anymore as you're fucking each other well over the limits of your endurance, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth as wriothesley was fucking your cunt desperately, unhinged and making it a point to rock your hips in and out along a particular angle that you'd always squeeze over the rigid veins prancing on the underside of his shaft.

ex! husband wriothesley who exhales heavily when you tell him that you're close, his hips pressing and digging into your sensitivity once more before lifting you off the mattress, chasing your relief like a wild beast that he so graciously wanted to see unfold— low profanities and fast tumbles of his name falling from your lips as your thighs begin to shake and ache, your throat turning dry— you're done for, and wriothesley just fits so perfectly in you, into every curve, every spongy spot and every bump inside that you're so painfully full, crowded and overflowing of his thick shaft.

you're hiccuping due to the pressure he presses into your sensitivity as you're way beyond your own limits now, at last feeling a twitch and quake as your body pleads to cum, his grueling thrusts aiding you when you violently convulse around his length, a sharp intake of breath breaking every other noise in the room when you cum all over his cock, your orgasm hitting you hard, wriothesley continuing with slow, language thrusts until you've rode out your high.

the duke was being eager to watch it all happen, something primal at the back of his mind manifestikg when the sudden constriction of your fluttering hole made him grunt lowly against your ear, rolling his hips nearly painfully hard between your legs before dragging himself away, cumming inside of your walls and marking you up for good with his warm, sticky cum.

ex! husband wriothesley who watched you being short of breath, and couldn’t resist looking at the mess between your legs, your abused cunt twitching around his girth as your pussy flutters around nothing, your legs were quivering with a combination of your essence and his seed oozing out of your hole, staining the silky bedsheets.

ex! husband wriothesley who'll press himself back into you with one sharp snap, leaving his cock in so you could clench and throb, small thrusts turning sloppy and sticky with his dampened bangs glued on his forehead as he kisses the tip of your nose before embracing your pouty lips again, your mouth partly open as you whine out, your sensitivity spiraling of his cock still being nestled in you, his shaft already hard and thick again, your battered cunt jolting underneath him.

wriothesley smiles, "it is maddening, how much you consume my very being, my love." and speaks through his heart.

© 2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[the-writer-arrived]

Inappropriate Behavior in the Workplace

Synopsis: you decide to give your lover a hand in his work as a bartender, helping out as a waitress for the busy friday night. little did he know that your intentions were far from pure...

Characters: diluc ragnvindr; gallagher.

Warnings: afab!fem!reader; explicit smut; established relationship; unprotected sex (please use protection in real life!); semi-public sex (you fuck in the empty tavern); soft men becoming rough men; spanking; reader is a brat; reader wears a skirt; your man becomes a horny mess for you good luck dealing with him; headcanons + a drabble.

A/N: diluc 🤝 gallagher -> hot guys that work at a bar (and fuck their lover there post-work hours) that make my brain go brrrrrr.

<<This work has sexual themes and is not suitable for minors. If you click on read more, I am not responsable for any discomfort you may feel reading this. You have been warned.>>

He should have known. He should have listened to his gut feeling that you were up to no good, when you were suddenly very insistent about helping him out at the bar that friday.

But nooooo, you had to bat those little doe eyes of yours at him, like the purest, sweetest angel that you are for him to give in to your whims.

After all, that would mean spending more time with his beloved woman, instead of having her wait for him all alone back home.

Oh, if only he could look past the rose-tinted lens of love and adoration to realize the perfect trap you had prepared for him...

There were essentially three main situations that should have given you away, but that fool (/affectionate) is too much in love with you to have realized in time:

The first being your insistance of wanting to work with him in one of the busiest nights of the week. Your reason? He's been too busy lately with his other duties, so you wanted to at least be beside him... (Critical hit in his heart).

The second, your unusual choice of clothing - a skirt. Now, he isn't one to tell you what you should or shouldn't wear, he's simply surprised by it, considering it's a rare sight for you to use it. And hey, you looked absolutely beautiful with it.

The third and most obvious one - your smile. But not any smile. The one you specifically have on your lips when you have some mischief up your sleeve. Like a cat ready to pounce on an unsuspected bird.

When everything clicked inside his head, it was already too late...

You had gone behind the bar to help him clean the counter, the rush of customers dying down for the moment. While distracted wiping a glass, he accidentaly bumped into you, causing you to drop the empty cans left by some customers.

He quickly apologized, but you reassured it was fine, which really was! (He unbeknownst set the scene for the grand finale of your nefarious plan).

You, helpful as always, bent down to pick up the cans without thinking twice, causing the hem of your skirt to raise up a bit too much. Your man, gentleman as he is, was about to warn you to be careful, but any coherent thought was thrown out of the window.

It was a just glimpse. He could argue that it was just the work of his dirty imagination. A trick of the light. Anything.

But no. He knew exactly what he saw. And the wink that you gave him as you sauntered away was all the confirmation he needed to know he wasn't mistaken.

You're not using any panties.

You're working in his establishment, looking stunning as usual, with your pussy hidden only by your skirt.

Oh he feels light headed... due to all the blood going straight to his crotch.

It all makes sense now, your behavior, your choice of clothing... And now you're suddenly taking care of the tables, knowing that he can't leave the bar anymore with the big tent in his pants.

...Is this punishment for not paying attention to you the past few days? If so, he never knew you could go to such lengths to teach him a lesson...

Still, you should know that your lover isn't one to take things laying down. So, you better enjoy yourself making him squirm while you still have the advantage...

And enjoy yourself you do, much to his dismay.

He follows you with his eyes like a hawk, mind swirling with a myriad of feelings: annoyance, for being teased so cruely like this; worry, that someone might accidentaly see what they shouldn't; impatience, for the damn clock to stop dragging its hands and reach closing time already; and arousal, for having being tricked into a situation which you are the one in control.

As the night goes slowly by and the number of customers begins to decrease, the tension between the two of you grows more and more, like a volcano about to erupt.

Until finally, at long last, it's time to close the tavern.

It's time to show you the consequences of your actions.

----------

After bidding his employees a good night, he wastes not a single second more, locking the door behind him as the last inch of his patience snaps.

You're wiping one of the tables, pretending not to hear his steps coming closer to you from behind, a shiver of anticipation running down your spine. Before you can utter a word, you see his shadow falling on you, like a predator ready to pounce on his cornered prey.

He takes the dirty rag from your hand and throws it away, wrapping a strong arm around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. His other hand goes to grab your chin, turning your head to the side before stealing your breath with a kiss.

Actually, it can't even be called a kiss, but more like a two pairs of lips mashed together. It's messy, desperate and intense, his tongue invading your mouth with the objective of claiming every single part of you. Your lover's touch is rough, but not without care. Even when he's lost amidst the fiery passion that has consumed his usual composure, he never fails to make you feel loved.

As intoxicating as this moment feels, the need of oxygen is still a necessary thing for the both of you, prompting him to finally release your lips with a gasp for air. But not a second later he latches his mouth on your neck, nibbling, kissing and licking the tender flesh that soon becomes warm by his attention.

"Do you have any idea of what you did to me today?" His question is a rhetoric one, aware that your ability to think straight isn't working anymore to string an answer. "What am I saying, of course you do. In fact, you've came up with your little plan wanting things to turn out this way, right?"

Your only response is a moan when he grinds his clothed erection on your behind. Honestly, you didn't expect your plan to work so well like this, witnessing a side of him you're not used to, but still very turned on.

"Walking around all pretty like this, serving customers and helping the other employees out, with no panties on..." You let out a gasp of surprise when you're suddenly pushed down on the table, your skirt flipped out to expose your bare private parts, your cheeks flaring up as he caresses your buttock. "...Who knew I had such a lewd girl for a lover."

The harsh slap on your ass forces a loud yelp out of you, the pain of the sting mixing with pleasure that makes you shuddering. The sight of the plush skin jiggling at his action leaves him hypnotized and with his pants even tighter.

"I was tense the whole night, you know. Worried that some scumbag would try something funny and end up seeing what is for my eyes only." Another slap, now on the other asscheek, and he notices your pussy glistening with arousal at each hit. "You're getting even wetter... You're enjoying this, huh?"

A pitful whine of his name paired with the teary look you throw at him is enough to convince him to give up on his previous idea of dragging out this teasing and go straight to what you both have been desiring all evening.

Your lover grumbles in frustration at his vexing belt and pants, pushing the garment down enough to free his throbbing cock from its confines, the tip angry red and with precum.

You're so pent up with need that he doesn't even need to prep you further, seeing that you spread your folds yourself for him, impatient to have your wish fulfilled at long last. So, doing both of you a favor, he doesn't waste any more time and slides himself in, eyes rolling back at the warmth enveloping him.

"Fuck, so tight darling..." He massages your waist, trying to get you to ease up a little. You feel so fucking good, he fears he won't last at all.

His hips pick up the pace as your moans and pleas grow to a crescendo, your voice like a siren that beckons him to dive head first into this addicting chase for carnal pleasure, enhanced by the love shared between you two.

Sooner than he would have preferred, your lover reaches his peak, head thrown back and hips grinding hard against your behind, his cum filling you to the brim. You can feel your climax coming as well, his orgarsm bringing your own...! Until his cock suddenly slides out of you.

"W-Wha- Why did you-- ah!" Your words are interrupted by two fingers of his intruding your fluttering hole, him putting his weight on your back as he shushes you.

"You didn't think you get what you want so easily, did you love?" His voice is husky in your ear, fingers pushing his release back inside your pussy. "No, no, you've been a bad girl tonight. And bad girls don't get to cum now."

You whine in protest, attempting to wiggle your hips to get any sort of friction as you feel the waves of your impending climax waning.

"Please, love, please let me cum, please! It's been so long since I've felt your touch, I need you!"

His breath hitches when he listens to your begging, not expecting the neediness in your tone. It seems like his busy schedule the past few days took a heavier toll on you than he thought. He sighs, his heart is too soft for you to continue his original pay back.

"Alright, you win... But know this is the only time I'll let you off the hook for your little stunt, you hear me?"

You nod your head quickly, thank you's and promises to be a good girl falling easily from your tongue. However, you knew none of what either of you said will remain, you will continue being your teasing little self and he will continue letting your brat behavior slide, because that's the kind of couple you are.

But that's the least of your concerns right now, your mind returning to the foggy state of pleasure as you continue your inappropriate actions in many different surfaces of his bar, adding yet another secret item to your list of things one shouldn't do in the workplace.

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

red diluc and gallagher banners (smut) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

Inappropriate Behavior in the Workplace

Synopsis: you decide to give your lover a hand in his work as a bartender, helping out as a waitress for the busy friday night. little did he know that your intentions were far from pure...

Characters: diluc ragnvindr; gallagher.

Warnings: afab!fem!reader; explicit smut; established relationship; unprotected sex (please use protection in real life!); semi-public sex (you fuck in the empty tavern); soft men becoming rough men; spanking; reader is a brat; reader wears a skirt; your man becomes a horny mess for you good luck dealing with him; headcanons + a drabble.

A/N: diluc 🤝 gallagher -> hot guys that work at a bar (and fuck their lover there post-work hours) that make my brain go brrrrrr.

<<This work has sexual themes and is not suitable for minors. If you click on read more, I am not responsable for any discomfort you may feel reading this. You have been warned.>>

He should have known. He should have listened to his gut feeling that you were up to no good, when you were suddenly very insistent about helping him out at the bar that friday.

But nooooo, you had to bat those little doe eyes of yours at him, like the purest, sweetest angel that you are for him to give in to your whims.

After all, that would mean spending more time with his beloved woman, instead of having her wait for him all alone back home.

Oh, if only he could look past the rose-tinted lens of love and adoration to realize the perfect trap you had prepared for him...

There were essentially three main situations that should have given you away, but that fool (/affectionate) is too much in love with you to have realized in time:

The first being your insistance of wanting to work with him in one of the busiest nights of the week. Your reason? He's been too busy lately with his other duties, so you wanted to at least be beside him... (Critical hit in his heart).

The second, your unusual choice of clothing - a skirt. Now, he isn't one to tell you what you should or shouldn't wear, he's simply surprised by it, considering it's a rare sight for you to use it. And hey, you looked absolutely beautiful with it.

The third and most obvious one - your smile. But not any smile. The one you specifically have on your lips when you have some mischief up your sleeve. Like a cat ready to pounce on an unsuspected bird.

When everything clicked inside his head, it was already too late...

You had gone behind the bar to help him clean the counter, the rush of customers dying down for the moment. While distracted wiping a glass, he accidentaly bumped into you, causing you to drop the empty cans left by some customers.

He quickly apologized, but you reassured it was fine, which really was! (He unbeknownst set the scene for the grand finale of your nefarious plan).

You, helpful as always, bent down to pick up the cans without thinking twice, causing the hem of your skirt to raise up a bit too much. Your man, gentleman as he is, was about to warn you to be careful, but any coherent thought was thrown out of the window.

It was a just glimpse. He could argue that it was just the work of his dirty imagination. A trick of the light. Anything.

But no. He knew exactly what he saw. And the wink that you gave him as you sauntered away was all the confirmation he needed to know he wasn't mistaken.

You're not using any panties.

You're working in his establishment, looking stunning as usual, with your pussy hidden only by your skirt.

Oh he feels light headed... due to all the blood going straight to his crotch.

It all makes sense now, your behavior, your choice of clothing... And now you're suddenly taking care of the tables, knowing that he can't leave the bar anymore with the big tent in his pants.

...Is this punishment for not paying attention to you the past few days? If so, he never knew you could go to such lengths to teach him a lesson...

Still, you should know that your lover isn't one to take things laying down. So, you better enjoy yourself making him squirm while you still have the advantage...

And enjoy yourself you do, much to his dismay.

He follows you with his eyes like a hawk, mind swirling with a myriad of feelings: annoyance, for being teased so cruely like this; worry, that someone might accidentaly see what they shouldn't; impatience, for the damn clock to stop dragging its hands and reach closing time already; and arousal, for having being tricked into a situation which you are the one in control.

As the night goes slowly by and the number of customers begins to decrease, the tension between the two of you grows more and more, like a volcano about to erupt.

Until finally, at long last, it's time to close the tavern.

It's time to show you the consequences of your actions.

----------

After bidding his employees a good night, he wastes not a single second more, locking the door behind him as the last inch of his patience snaps.

You're wiping one of the tables, pretending not to hear his steps coming closer to you from behind, a shiver of anticipation running down your spine. Before you can utter a word, you see his shadow falling on you, like a predator ready to pounce on his cornered prey.

He takes the dirty rag from your hand and throws it away, wrapping a strong arm around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. His other hand goes to grab your chin, turning your head to the side before stealing your breath with a kiss.

Actually, it can't even be called a kiss, but more like a two pairs of lips mashed together. It's messy, desperate and intense, his tongue invading your mouth with the objective of claiming every single part of you. Your lover's touch is rough, but not without care. Even when he's lost amidst the fiery passion that has consumed his usual composure, he never fails to make you feel loved.

As intoxicating as this moment feels, the need of oxygen is still a necessary thing for the both of you, prompting him to finally release your lips with a gasp for air. But not a second later he latches his mouth on your neck, nibbling, kissing and licking the tender flesh that soon becomes warm by his attention.

"Do you have any idea of what you did to me today?" His question is a rhetoric one, aware that your ability to think straight isn't working anymore to string an answer. "What am I saying, of course you do. In fact, you've came up with your little plan wanting things to turn out this way, right?"

Your only response is a moan when he grinds his clothed erection on your behind. Honestly, you didn't expect your plan to work so well like this, witnessing a side of him you're not used to, but still very turned on.

"Walking around all pretty like this, serving customers and helping the other employees out, with no panties on..." You let out a gasp of surprise when you're suddenly pushed down on the table, your skirt flipped out to expose your bare private parts, your cheeks flaring up as he caresses your buttock. "...Who knew I had such a lewd girl for a lover."

The harsh slap on your ass forces a loud yelp out of you, the pain of the sting mixing with pleasure that makes you shuddering. The sight of the plush skin jiggling at his action leaves him hypnotized and with his pants even tighter.

"I was tense the whole night, you know. Worried that some scumbag would try something funny and end up seeing what is for my eyes only." Another slap, now on the other asscheek, and he notices your pussy glistening with arousal at each hit. "You're getting even wetter... You're enjoying this, huh?"

A pitful whine of his name paired with the teary look you throw at him is enough to convince him to give up on his previous idea of dragging out this teasing and go straight to what you both have been desiring all evening.

Your lover grumbles in frustration at his vexing belt and pants, pushing the garment down enough to free his throbbing cock from its confines, the tip angry red and with precum.

You're so pent up with need that he doesn't even need to prep you further, seeing that you spread your folds yourself for him, impatient to have your wish fulfilled at long last. So, doing both of you a favor, he doesn't waste any more time and slides himself in, eyes rolling back at the warmth enveloping him.

"Fuck, so tight darling..." He massages your waist, trying to get you to ease up a little. You feel so fucking good, he fears he won't last at all.

His hips pick up the pace as your moans and pleas grow to a crescendo, your voice like a siren that beckons him to dive head first into this addicting chase for carnal pleasure, enhanced by the love shared between you two.

Sooner than he would have preferred, your lover reaches his peak, head thrown back and hips grinding hard against your behind, his cum filling you to the brim. You can feel your climax coming as well, his orgarsm bringing your own...! Until his cock suddenly slides out of you.

"W-Wha- Why did you-- ah!" Your words are interrupted by two fingers of his intruding your fluttering hole, him putting his weight on your back as he shushes you.

"You didn't think you get what you want so easily, did you love?" His voice is husky in your ear, fingers pushing his release back inside your pussy. "No, no, you've been a bad girl tonight. And bad girls don't get to cum now."

You whine in protest, attempting to wiggle your hips to get any sort of friction as you feel the waves of your impending climax waning.

"Please, love, please let me cum, please! It's been so long since I've felt your touch, I need you!"

His breath hitches when he listens to your begging, not expecting the neediness in your tone. It seems like his busy schedule the past few days took a heavier toll on you than he thought. He sighs, his heart is too soft for you to continue his original pay back.

"Alright, you win... But know this is the only time I'll let you off the hook for your little stunt, you hear me?"

You nod your head quickly, thank you's and promises to be a good girl falling easily from your tongue. However, you knew none of what either of you said will remain, you will continue being your teasing little self and he will continue letting your brat behavior slide, because that's the kind of couple you are.

But that's the least of your concerns right now, your mind returning to the foggy state of pleasure as you continue your inappropriate actions in many different surfaces of his bar, adding yet another secret item to your list of things one shouldn't do in the workplace.

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

red diluc and gallagher banners (smut) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

Lonely Birthdays No More

Synopsis: in alhaitham's opinion, birthdays are like any other days, ordinary. on this year's february 11th, alhaitham starts to think it's not so bad to treat one's birthday as a special date once in a while.

Character: alhaitham.

Warnings: gender neutral!reader; established relationship; fluff with no angst *gasps*, down bad haitham is the best haitham.

A/N: something sweet for my first hubby, love you my pookie <3

A/N 2: i'm sorry i promise this is the last time i repost this fic idk why it's been giving me such a headache 😭

Birthday celebrations were something Alhaitham never quite understood the appeal of. Why would you do all that work just to commemorate the day you were born? And why make only that day special? Wouldn't it be better if people used that excitement for something productive and avoid bringing trouble to others?

But alas, not everyone (or anyone in that matter) would share this particular opinion.

It's not a secret that Alhaitham isn't the most social butterfly in all of Sumeru. Even when he was a child, he didn't have any interest in partaking in some meaningless conversations with people he had no desire to interact with, going as far as prefering to stay at home with his grandmother and be self-taught.

Knowing that, it's not surprising that he has never celebrated his birthday with anyone other than his only family. And after his grandmother passed away, the date of his birth became just another ordinary one for him.

Others may consider it sad, but Alhaitham isn't bothered by it nor does he want other people's pity. He'd much rather pass the day in peace and quiet than having to deal with strangers saying happy birthday the whole day and disrupting his work. After all, that was one of his grandmother's wishes: for him to live a peaceful life.

This year, however, he will learn that having a less peaceful day isn't as bad as he believed.

----------

Alhaitham stands at the entrance of his living room, staring at his roommate with a deadpan look. It's far too early in the morning (in the grumpy scribe's opinion) for him to deal with the blond man's sudden desire to redecorate the place.

"What's the meaning of this mess this time, Kaveh?"

"Huh? Oh, you're up already?" The architect steps down the ladder after noticing the other man's presence, leaving to Mehrak to hang the other tip of the decoration on the wall.

"As you can see, I'm putting up the decorations for the party."

"Party? What party?" Alhaitham frowns and takes a proper look around the room. Many colorful adornments fill the space, creating a festive look that seems quite out of place when compared to the rest of the house, the big 'Happy Birthday Alhaitham' on the wall giving the answer he was looking for.

Oh, right. Today is february 11th, his birthday. Is that what all this is for? Kaveh was never one to do such a thing on years prior. No matter, he should put a stop to this before it gets more troublesome.

"Kaveh, I don't--"

"Before you say that you don't want it, I should inform you that this wasn't my idea, but rather of a certain someone's lover. Surely you're not heartless enough to ignore their wish to throw you a party? One which they have been planning for weeks, mind you."

Alhaitham purses his lips, whatever it is that he was about to say being thrown out of the window. He should have known, your behavior the last few days had been quite suspicious, always hurrying from one place to another, meeting many people. You had told him it was for a project, so he didn't think much of it.

He attempts to hide the smile that wishes to bloom in his lips with a sigh. Kaveh, on the other hand, doesn't make any effort to surpress his grin, finding amusing that his roommate folds so easily at the mere mention of you.

Of course, the scribe won't let him have his fun for too long.

"What I meant to say was that I don't think the decoration is nice enough for my tastes." He walks to one of the shelves to get a rather... peculiar ornament (one of many that his roommate tried to convince him to not buy it). "I believe this would be the final touch it needs."

"Are you kidding me?! No way! This thing would throw off the whole aesthetic!"

"Oh? Surely you're not heartless enough to ignore my wishes today of all days?"

This time, it is Kaveh's turn to fall silent. Using his own words against him, how childish can he be?!

With a glare, the architect snatches the ugly statue from Alhaitham's hand while the other leaves to the kitchen with a satisfied expression.

----------

For a house that has been considered a tad too big for two people to live in, now it seems a bit too small to host a total of seven people. Fortunately, the guests are too preoccupied having fun to be bothered by it.

Cyno has managed to snag Kaveh to his team for a two vs two round of Genius Invocation TCG, the opponent pair being Tighnari and Collei. Meanwhile, Dehya and Nilou watch the intense match from the sidelines, cheering and chatting about various things.

As for Alhaitham, he's much too busy thinking about the one person that hasn't arrived to the party yet. You're the one who planned all this, there's no way you have forgotten about it.

After noticing the scribe's restlessness (something he would deny, despite his shaky leg being a dead giveaway), Nilou told him that you were finishing something important, so that must be what it is keeping you. Still, it has been some time and even the dancer has begun worrying about your whereabouts. You're not one to be this late to an event you've been so excited about.

With one last glance to the clock, Alhaitham raises from his seat, determined to find you.

"I'll be right back."

Ignoring the offers of his friends to accompany him on his search, he goes straight to the door of his house... Only to find you about to open it with your own copy of his key, a nicely wrapped box in your other arm.

You two stare at each other for a few seconds, before he huffs a complaint.

"You're late." He crosses his arms to show you he's upset, but it only makes him look adorable in your eyes, his frown being more of a pout.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." You grin apologetically.

Alhaitham can only sigh in defeat as he brings you inside, this whole situation being a reminder of the strong influence you have over him.

The party was full of life, laughther and good food the whole time.

He received many gifts, even from the Dendro Archon herself, who apologized in her letter for not being able to attend the party but still wished to show her appreciation for all that he does for the Akademiya and Sumeru as a whole.

But, if he had to pick a favorite, it would be yours: a pair of Aranara statues, carved in wood, that resemble you and him. You explained to him that the reason of your tardiness was that you were finish painting them and, considering they would be a gift for him, you had to make it perfect, which made you lose track of time. Despite your efforts, however, the statues ended up looking a bit weird, much to your dismay. Alhaitham didn't mind at all, arguing that the imperfections were what made them perfect in his eyes, not to mention that it's a gift from you, his beloved, there should have been no doubt he would like them.

As the festivities come to an end and the last guest leave with one last 'happy birthday' to him, the scribe can finally relax. As punishment for arriving late, he said you are to stay over tonight, something you were more than happy to agree with.

He finds you in the kitchen, putting away the leftover food in the fridge and finishing cleaning up. He tried to convince you to leave the mess for tomorrow, but of course you wouldn't budge, claiming that it'd be worse for the tomorrow you. Besides, everyone helped cleaning before they left, so there wasn't much to do anyway.

Alhaitham wraps his arms around you from behind and your hand goes straight to his hair, caressing his silver locks so gently that almost makes the man purr. He only allows himself to be more touchy when it's just the two of you and there's no risk of Kaveh accidentaly interrupt the moment since he has already retired for the night, feeling quite tired from waking up quite early to decorate the house.

"Did you have fun today?" You ask, enjoying the warmth of your beloved hugging you.

"I'd give a 8 out of 10, a good score for your first time being a party organizer."

"Well, that was higher than I expected. Still, what made you deduct two points?"

He takes a moment to hum in thought.

"The location is one thing. While it was nice being in the comfort of my own house, having to deal with the clean up at the end was a bit of pain. But that only takes half a point."

"Then, what was so bad that it took me a whole point and a half?" You drop the hand from his hair to turn around to look at him with a frown.

"The fact that you made me worried."

After you arrived, Nilou and Dehya pulled you to the side while Alhaitham was distracted speaking with Collei, to tell you about how your lover had been anxious for your whereabouts. (At least, that's what they thought, not noticing the man glancing at your little group from time to time, having a good guess of what they were telling you).

"I'm sorry, Haitham..."

"It's fine, what matters is that you're okay." He takes one of your hands, observing the small cuts on the skin due to you making the wood carvings, before giving it a kiss. "Thanks for party, I had fun."

He speaks quietly, as if sharing a secret for your ears only. The warmth of his kiss and words travel all the way to your heart, feeling glad that you could make your boyfriend happy on his birthday. Even so, that doesn't stop your playful side to show up.

"I've heard that earnest thanks should be given thrice, so--hmph?!"

He interrupts your cheeky words with his lips, thightening his arms around as he feel you melt under his touch.

Today, Alhaitham has learned that birthday parties were noisy, messy and quite troublesome, but also quite fun. He thinks he won't mind having another next year, the year following that and so on, as long as he has the people he cares about by his side.

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

pink alhatham banner (fluff) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ alhaitham x pregnant wife! reader

a/n: i need to make him a father ♡

minors/blank/ageless blogs dni i am an 18+ account

Alhaitham smiles at you, it’s a flicker of a thing, and you can tell he’s trying not to laugh at how you suddenly glare at him while you’re holding a zaytun peach, a large bite taken out of it.

you chew slowly, the juicy sweetness rolling around on your tongue and satiating your thirst on a warm Sumeru day. you chew the fruit like you chew on your husbands words, wondering if he’ll confidently repeat himself like the sure smartass he is.

“what did you say?” you swallow the piece of fruit, licking the remnants off your bottom lip. Alhaitham reaches up and wipes your chin with his thumb, further cleaning you with a second nature true to a man whose been your partner for awhile. the Grand Bazaar is incredibly alight with activity - and it’s a good way for you to get your walking in during your third trimester.

“i said, you have a cute waddle.” he repeats. you should’ve known he’d say it again, boldly.

you sneer, and Alhaitham plucks the peach from your fingers, taking a thoughtful bite of his own. he continues to walk at a leisurely pace, glancing back at you and holding out his free hand for you to take.

“i do not waddle.” you grumble, taking your place at his side and lacing your fingers with his. the cool linen of your dress brushes against your ankles and the various scents from nearby vendors no longer makes you sick but now entices you.

“you do, but it’s normal, especially for where you’re at in your pregnancy.” Alhaitham adds, you scoff and rub your swollen belly. you can’t see your feet anymore and eating oatmeal gives you heartburn, you’re also tired of walking - but you’re excited to meet your daughter and have been blessed by the Archon with a healthy pregnancy and baby.

Alhaitham places a guiding hand at the small of your back and leads you to a bench to rest, glancing at your puffed out cheeks of determination as you try to make yourself not waddle.

your efforts are abysmal, and when you plop yourself down on the bench, Alhaitham sits next to you and places a large hand on your stomach, rubbing at it in soothing circles. you pout at him, snatching your peach back indignantly and taking a bite. he chuckles softly and leans in close as if sharing a secret,

“you have the cutest waddle in all of Tevyat, my love. i promise you that.” he kisses your temple and you roll your eyes, grinning against your own will. your husbands quips still throw you for a loop. such a serious and quiet man, teasing his pregnant wife.

“you did this me, you know. you’re the reason i waddle!” you reach over and pinch his cheek, your husband sighing as he grasps your wrist. your fingers are still sticky from the peach, and he kisses your palm, tasting the subtle sweetness.

“and you are the reason our daughter will be beautiful, and a bit sassy.” he laughs. he plays with your wedding ring and brings it to his lips. hues of aquamarine meeting your gaze and bringing warmth to your face. you gasp suddenly, bringing Alhaitham’s hand back down to the swell of your belly, where he feels your daughter kick. his entire being illuminates with wonder and delight, smiling down at the sight of his hand and the feel of his babies tiny kicks.

“i think she heard you call her sassy.” you laugh, tears dotting your lashes while you both grin at each other.

“then, i hope she also hears me say i can’t wait to meet her.” Alhaitham coos in response with another kiss to your head.

reblogs very appreciated!

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[the-writer-arrived]

Disciplinary Method

Synopsis: you cannot stand veritas ratio, just the sight of him (or his stupid statues) makes your blood boil and causes you to argue with him everytime. sick of your attitude towards him, dr ratio believes you deserve to be taught some discipline.

Character: dr ratio.

Warnings: afab!gn!reader; explicit smut; reader is a member of the intelligentsia guild; kind of brat taming; semi-public sex (you two fuck in an empty classroom); fingering; use of a bullet vibrator; rivals to lovers but not really?? more like fuck buddies? rivals that fuck each other?

A/N: don't look at me, i lost the battle against my demons and was forced to write this!!!

<<This work has sexual themes and is not suitable for minors. If you click on read more, I am not responsable for any discomfort you may feel reading this. You have been warned.>>

The Intelligentsia Guild is a place that welcomes people from all walks of life that have the desire to learn. You are fortunate enough to be one of their scholars and you love teaching, love seeing the spark of passion for knowledge in your students' eyes.

But it seems like not everyone in the Guild thinks the same as you.

"Fail. Get out of my sight!"

Those words are frequently said by Veritas Ratio, or Dr Ratio, your insufferable colleague.

The first time you met, he barely spared a glance at your direction and complained about the arrival of another 'simpleton'. Suffice to say that that was a declaration of war.

From that day onwards, whenever you two would cross paths in the hallways, one would throw a snarky comment which would prompt a jab from the other until it becomes a full out argument (you'd call it 'academic debate' but whatever).

What other people don't know is that most of those arguments between you two end up in a way that was quite unprofessional...

----------

"I can barely hear you. 0 points."

"Stop grading me, I'm not one of your stude- fuck!"

The harsh pull of your poor nipple interrupts your complaint.

You don't know how long you've been in this empty classroom, your pants and underwear hanging on your ankle while Veritas keeps you on his lap, your legs spread open as he tortures your chest from under your shirt with one hand and keeps teasing your folds with the other.

"You kept running that annoying mouth of yours the whole day to get on my nerves, but now you want to keep quiet?"

He makes another attempt to make you moan louder, this time pinching your sensitive clit, and he would have succeeded, if you hadn't bitten down your lip to stop the sound from escaping. The scholar clicks his tongue in annoyance at your stubborness.

"If that's how you want to play, be my guest. Let's see how far you can hold on with this."

Veritas' hand leaves your chest to grab something that makes your eyes go wide: a small, silver bullet vibrator.

"W-When did you get that? And why do you have it with you?!"

"Recently. I thought it would be a useful tool to teach a certain brat a lesson, but who knew the opportunity would present itself so soon." He presses down the button and the bullet starts to vibrate with a low hum.

He starts dragging it from your neck, the cool object feeling nice on your heated skin. Then, he goes to your inner thighs, tracing it ever so close to your needy pussy, but never touching it like you wanted.

"Will you stop playing around alre--Ah!"

Your words are once again interrupted, this time by your own gasp of surprise and the way your whole body shivered when the vibrator is suddenly on your clit. However, as quickly as it came, the stimulation is taken away a second later.

The anticipation and the desire to be touched properly are getting on your nerves, so you grab the hand holding the wretched toy to push it to where it should be, but the man simply turns it off.

"You're not getting what you want so easily. You either do as I say and be as loud as I want or you go back to teaching your next class unsatisfied. Surely even an idiot like you know what choice to make here?"

The look on his eyes tells you he's not bluffing. You've been a fool to doubt him once before and paid the price. Between letting the quality of your teaching drop because of sexual frustration and having your pride get hurt by obeying Veritas' words like some obedient dog, of course you'll choose the latter.

"...Fine."

"Good, it seems like you do have a working brain after all."

The insufferable man smirks, satisfied with your decision. He turns the toy back on and rubs languid circles around your clit, your essence helping the movements feel smoother. You grasp onto your shirt and his arm, doing your best to not muffle your shy sounds and lose this feeling.

"Better, but still not good enough."

"Ngh just... Just shut up, ah..."

Since you've been edged and teased for so long, it doesn't take long for your gasps and whines to become louder. You get closer to the edge, but there's still something missing.

"M-More... Need more..."

Dr Ratio doesn't miss your hole clenching pathetically over the tip of his fingers, your body showing what you truly desire. The asshole chuckles, reveling in the sight of you so pliable and obedient in his arms like that. If you didn't constantly get on his nerves, he'd consider you almost cute.

It's almost embarrassing how your cunt basically engulfs his two fingers with ease, your head thrown back to rest on his shoulder as you moan with abandon. You don't even care about your surroundings anymore, the intoxicating sensation of his long fingers pumping in and out of your drooling hole paired with the small vibrator rubbing on your clit making your brain melt.

You singing so beautifully right into Veritas' ear and the hypnotizing sight of your pussy leaking on his knuckles are both things he wants to engrave in his memories, to be able to recall them time and time again until the next time he has to discipline you.

"Please, please I want cum, please let me cum!"

Your sweet pleas go straight to his twitching dick and he hides his blushing cheeks on the crook of your neck, his voice coming out as a groan.

"Very well, you earned it. Come for me now."

Like an automatic response to his permission, your body convulses in his hold, tears running down the sides of your face and mouth hanged open with a hoarse chant of his name.

Veritas turns off the toy and slowly retreats his fingers, your legs still shaking a bit.

"See? That wasn't very hard, was it? If you had behaved yourself from the start, you would have had this much earlier."

"Oh fuck off... You made me cum using a vibrator, that's nothing to be cocky of. I do that all the time."

"And you call my name as well when you're alone?"

You blame your lack of a comeback at your foggy brain, choosing to whack his stupid face with the back of your hand.

Suddenly, you both hear a melody coming from below you. It's your phone, which had fallen out of your pants' pocket, the screen showing the alarm you set up: 10 minutes until your next class, which is on the opposite side of where you are.

"Oh shit, I'm going to be late- woah!"

If it weren't for Veritas holding you by the waist, you'd surely fall down, betrayed by your own weak legs. You've never climaxed so hard like you just did, but you'll never admit that to him, his ego is already too big without that knowledge.

After making sure you're stable enough to stand on your own, the scholar lets go of your waist and watches you quickly dress up and fix your appearance.

His eyes rest on your neck, wondering how would you react if he to left a mark there, in a place for everyone to see... But he knows he shouldn't indulge in such fantasies, that would cross the boundaries of your... dynamic and he'd hate to cause you this kind of distress.

Dr Ratio is brought back from his thoughts when you go to the door of the classroom and point an accusatory finger at him.

"This is the last time we're doing this, you hear me?!"

You leave before he could respond, but he just chuckles. You always say that after you two get frisky and it has never held any meaning, considering that it's never ended up being the last time for real. He secretly hopes it continues that way.

Now, he needs to deal with his own 'little' problem before he can leave and act as if nothing scandalous happened in this empty classroom...

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

red dr ratio banner (smut) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

The edge of Wriothesley’s desk digs into the small of your back, the hard wood undoubtedly leaving an indent in your skin from how you’ve leaned on it. Any other time you’d frown and huff, but it was difficult to properly gripe about it right now.

“Your grace.”

“Yes?” The Duke murmurs damn near right into your ear, almost low enough to be a purr. With how close he is —how his face hovers over your and his hands rest on either side of your waist, bracketing you in— you can almost hear the rumble of the word come straight from his chest.

You can leave this proximity easily— you know this, and so does he. But for some outlandish reason, you find yourself inclined to rest here, surrounded by him, the desk at your back be damned.

“Your grace,” you try again, voice soft to match his. “What are you doing?”

It’s odd to see the normally eloquent man, who never stutters in his words or backtrack in his thoughts, to be so quieted— almost struggling with finding the right words.

“I don’t know,” Wriothesley settles on finally, a furrow in his brow. “I… don’t know. Something I should have done sooner, probably. This… thing between us has been driving me mad. I feel like I’d regret it if I hesitated any longer, you know?”

And oh, you do. The unspoken tension that hangs in the air when it’s just you two in his office, when you have lunch, or spend time together— you feel like it’s been clogging your airways and making it hard to breath. Each day with you both toeing the line of the meaning of all those longing glances and soft smiles had been wearing on you. What a relief to know that you’re not alone in your struggles.

You hum, leaning forward just enough so your nose brushes his. With a thrill in your stomach, you don’t miss how he swallows heavily, how he blushes just the tiniest bit.

“If you’ve grown tired of our song and dance, then pray tell— what do you want to do instead?”

“Whatever you want,” is his immediate answer. There’s a growing confidence in his eyes, a hope that flickers brighter and brighter with each second you let him be near you like this. “Whatever you’re willing to give me. Whether that be just a single kiss and nothing more, or being able to wake up beside you and kiss you good morning until you get sick of me.” Then he swallows, his words coming out slower. “But if you push me away and you say none of this meant anything, that’s fine too. Like I said— whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll take without complaint.” But I really, really hope that you don’t choose that last one. I think my heart would actually break.

You can see how Wriothesley grows more tense with each second of your silence. He tries to cover it up well, but you know his tells. He glances away, the flush on his cheeks traveling up to the tips of his ears, making him look cuter than you ever thought was possible.

A soft hand on his cheek is all it takes to snap his attention back to you.

“Morning kisses don’t sound too bad,” you tell him slowly, wanting him to hear every word. You think you can feel your heart in your throat. “Though I have to ask: is breakfast gonna be included in this deal? Because a hard ‘no’ to that is an absolute dealbreaker for me.”

And when Wriothesley grins, when he has to fight the laugh that begs to be let loose from his chest and the minute tremble that rakes through his whole body, you think you’ve never seen him more radiant. You wish to see that kind of softness on him every single day. Oh, you’re so damn smitten with his man.

“You’re gonna have to settle with my shitty cooking, but I can at least promise that I’ll try.” The look in his eyes is gooey and warm and sweet— the flavor of melted chocolate and honey.

You wrap your arms around his neck, slinging them over his shoulders, and rewardingly scratching the nape of his neck when his arms come to wrap around and press you to his chest in turn. “Sounds delightful,” you say, and his heart does a flip in his chest. Can scarcely believe that this is real.

“Can I kiss you? Please?” He asks softly. “I’ve been wanting to do it for the longest time.”

You hum, looking at him from beneath your lashes. “Go right ahead, your grace.”

His thumb presses gently against the plush of your bottom lip, the edges of his restraint visibly fraying. “My name, please. If I’m going to kiss you, I’d rather have my name on your lips, not my title.”

“Wriothesley, I’m waiting for that kiss.”

You have just a split second to register the absolutely lovesick look on his face at the sound of you saying his name, the way he melts and shakes against you. How he looks at you so softly it almost makes you choke up. Wriothesley presses his lips against yours, painstakingly gentle as he moves against you, in a kiss much too long overdue— the first in a series of many that he’s all too happy to give you.

[the-writer-arrived]

Wedding Bells Underwater

Synopsis: after things have finally settled down in fontaine, wriothesley can finally fulfill the promise he made to avice and faissolle. watching their dream come true makes the duke think about his own future, one with you, he hopes.

Character: wriothesley.

Warnings: gn!reader; established relationship; spoilers for wriothesley's story quest.

A/N: i got so happy that they were included as a nice easter egg on wrio's birthday art 🥺

"...I'm sorry, you want me to do WHAT?"

"Help me organize Avice and Faissolle's wedding."

You stare dumbly at Wriothesley, the faint music coming from the gramophone the only sound in his office while you try to gather your thoughts. Has the workload finally taking its toll on him? Surely he knows that you have zero experience in organizing a wedding???

"It's nothing too complex like you're thinking. I just want you to act as a 'bridge' between the couple and me, since I have other matters regarding the Fortress and can't focus solely on them."

You make a 'ohhhh' expression, now understanding what is expected of you.

"Why didn't you say so from the very beggining?"

"Because I wanted to see what kind of face you'd make. And I must say, you never disappoint sweetheart."

Like the mature adult that you are, you decide to not say the snarky remark you thought and simply leave his office to look for the said couple.

(It's a lie, you stick out your tongue childishly and rushed out of the room before your lover considers cuffing you for disrespecting authority. Not that you would mind it that much).

----------

For someone who knew basically nothing about planning a wedding, you got into it pretty quickly... Maybe a bit too into it, if you were being honest.

The decorations, the location, the order of the events, the dress! Blame it on your perfectionist side, but really, after everything Avice and Faissolle went through in the Beret Society incident, they deserved a perfect wedding.

Even if it wasn't going to be a large scale event, due to all the limitations that comes with choosing the Fortress of Meropide as the venue and the couple's own wish for keeping it simple, there still was a lot of work to do. Knowing that, Wriothesley announced that those who help with the preparations would be awarded with double Credit Cupons. Suffice to say that you got all the workforce needed pretty quickly for the preparations to go smoothly.

After many meetings, headaches and shipment delays, you can now admire the results of yours, Wriothesley's and all the volunteers' hard work.

"Didn't know you had a secret talent for this. Ever considered changing careers?" The man beside you asks quietly while the bride and groom are giving their speech.

"Archons forbid! Do you have any idea how stressful that was? I have a newfound respect for professional wedding planners." You whisper back, remembering the way you basically passed out in bed the day before, all the stress and sleepless nights knocking you out.

Before he could say anything else, the spotlight shines above him and all the guests turn to look at your table.

"Your Grace, words are not enough to properly thank you for everything you've done for us. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be standing here and be able to call Avice my wife." Faissolle's words falter, him and his bride trying hard to control the tears. Wriothesley smiles at them, raising his glass in appreciation for their words.

"Of course, we can't forget the one responsable for turning our ideas into reality." The spotlight is now shining on you as well and you feel your face warming at the sudden attention. "Thank you so much for creating such an incredible wedding for us, we'll never forget this day."

Everyone raises their glasses in a toast for the newlyweds, cheers running through the crowd of guests when the couple finishes their speech.

----------

"...A penny for your thoughts, Your Grace? Or does it require Credit Cupons as well?"

You nudge your lover's arm to get his attention, seeing his faraway look.

"Oh yes, at least 500 Credit Cupons for such information." He chuckles when you roll your eyes. A beat of silence falls and you wait patiently for him to continue, if he wishes to do so. "I was just thinking that, in all the years I've been in the Fortress, I've never imagined I'd one day have it decorated for a wedding, of all things."

Wriothesley's eyes run along the tables of guests, the other former members of the Beret Society and others who became friends with Faissolle and Avice, all smiling happily and having a good time. A peculiar sight to see when you remember this merry ceremony is taking place inside a prison.

His attention returns to you at the feeling of your hand slipping into his, fingers entwining themselves with his easily like two puzzle pieces.

"That means all of your hard work is bearing fruit. The Fortress of Meropide can also be a place of good memories and new beginnings. The proof of that is right in front of you."

The Duke knows you must have meant the event, but, to him, his good memories and new beginning are you, always have and hopefully always will be.

Throughout the process of organizing the wedding, Wriothesley had wondered what kind of ceremony you would wish for. A big and impressive one? Or maybe a more low-key one, with just your close friends and family? What kind of attire would you like to wear? From Chioriya Boutique, of course, nothing but the best for his darling in their special day.

"Everyone! I'm going to throw the bouquet now!" The bride announces, causing a buzz among the excited guests.

"So? Should we go too?" Your boyfriend asks with a smirk and a playful glint in his eyes.

"Why not? Since we're here, we might as well have the full experience!"

There's already a crowd gathered in front of Avice when you and Wriothesley decide to join them. You both don't really mind though, choosing to stay at the back and observe the enthusiasm of others.

One could think it's funny how excited someone could be at the chance of getting the bride's bouquet, a chance of getting married in the future. Or maybe, it's not about marriage at all, but actually for the idea of having a better future after their sentence time is fulfilled.

Or maybe it's all just a projection of the Duke's own feelings about this.

...Who knew a celebration like this would make him think about things he's never considered before?

He shakes his head to clear his mind. You both weren't there to try and catch the bouquet for real, so there's no need to think too deeply about it.

Unbeknownst to him, fate had other plans.

It all happens too fast. At one moment, you watch Avice throw the flowers high into the air; at the next, you feel someone bump into you from behind, causing you to stumble forward. Thanks to Wriothesley's quick reflexes, he manages to prevent your fall by wrapping a strong arm around your waist. And then, you find yourself staring at the bouquet that had landed right into your arms.

What in the world?!

"Ohhhh they caught it!"

"Man, I wanted that bouquet..."

"Does that mean we're going to hear news about the Duke's wedding soon?!"

"It's about time for His Grace to tie the knot!"

The comments, cheers and the sheer craziness of this unexpected twist makes you laugh, both in embarrasment and disbelief.

In amidst of all the excitement around you both, Wriothesley can't help but think that that must have been Celestia's sign for him to stop wasting time and go after the bright future that awaits him.

Now, what would be the best ring to buy for his future spouse?

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

pink wriothesley banner (fluff) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[the-writer-arrived]

WICKED DRAGON, LAY WASTE TO ME

⤀ synopsis: neuvillette has always been the gentlest of lovers—and so tonight you ask him not to hold back ⤀ cw: afab!reader, unprotected + rough sex, size kink, praise, overstimulation, breeding + creampie, marking, monsterfucking (dragon cock), cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, dumbification, mentions of mates, lil bit of dom!neuvi (??) but he is still sweet — mdni || ꒰ 8.4k wc ꒱ a/n: leviathan fic for leviathan neuv ( i’m not talking abt his constellation ) rbs + feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡

“Well? What do you think?” You come home, twirling before him in a gown, different than the one you had left in. The short hem at the front lifts mischievously, teasing just a peek of what lies underneath, while the longer, flouncing layers of skirts behind you, wrap flirtatiously around your legs. Neuvillette feels his throat run dry.

“Navia and Clorinde thought it was high time I changed my look, and you know I can’t ever say no to Chioriya Boutique.” 

While he’s spent the better part of the night reviewing court documents in the parlor, you have been out with Navia and Clorinde, who he thinks have perhaps plotted to kill him. ‘Girls’ night,’ you had called it.

Draped in a vivid palette of the finest fabrics, decorated interchangeably with delicate metalwork and dainty ribbons, the blush on his pale skin is ever-present as he rakes his eyes up and down your body. The dark, patterned stockings, squeezing your thighs just enough, so that supple flesh spills obscenely over the top, the tight, whale-boned embrace of your corset, accentuating the curves of your waist, and pushing upwards the swell of your breasts…

A coy smile graces your features when you catch how his throat bobs in his silence. Giggling, you lean down, tracing the tip of your finger up the contours of his neck, skimming the gentle curve beneath his chin until you’ve tilted his gaze to yours. “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, got nothing to say?”

How can he even think, much less find the right words to say, when the familiar scent of your perfume fills his head with indecent, lascivious thoughts? Everything about you is intoxicating, almost insidiously attractive, so would it suffice to say that he’d much rather see your pretty, new dress abandoned somewhere on the floor? 

That first pulse of arousal translates into the first twitch of his cock, and oh how he wishes to kiss away your teasing little grin, but his lust-driven eyes are drawn to the miniscule movements of your bodice sleeve, predatory as he watches how it begins to shift, ever so slowly, off your shoulders. 

“If you don’t like it, then perhaps…” You loosely roll your shoulder, letting the sleeve slide right off. “…you’d like to help me undress?”

That, he will gladly do. His hands fly to your waist, dragging you down into a straddle over his hips. 

“Temptress,” he murmurs into the skin of your neck, distracting you with a featherlight kiss as his nimble fingers waste no time in undoing the delicate clasps of your bodice, leaving the heavy outer garment to tumble off your shoulders, abandoned in a pile at your waist. 

Cool air licks at the now exposed skin, though it’s nothing compared to the warmth of his lips as he slots his mouth against yours, gently coaxing you open with a subtle swipe of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut in honeyed complacence, allowing Neuvillette to kiss you slow and sweet; impassioned, ardent, each kiss an oath of love and longing and lust. 

Desire blooms like romaritime flowers upon water, and you just know the tension underneath his placid exterior, is ready to burst. It’s prevalent in the way his muscles grow taut, tense beneath your every touch, fighting to hold himself back as your legs squeeze around his hips. Demonstrated, again, by how he pulls apart your corset, impatient and haphazard as he unlaces each cross, before tossing it to the ground, forgotten. And of course, only you can attest to the searing sensations of his escalating kisses—gentle wisps, once faint and docile, now wanton and heated with depravity. 

You can already feel it in your chest, in your bones, in the wetness that’s begun to form between your legs; maybe it’s the anticipation, but despite the layers of clothing you’ve already shed, you find it even harder now to breathe, especially as he holds you so close, body pressed against yours, while he traces the bare curve of your neck with his lips. 

For one with such a carefully crafted visage of elegance and poise, Neuvillette becomes sloppier as his restraint fades and lust seeps through the cracks. Something about you drives him wild, draws out the more carnal side of him that he so desperately seeks to hide away from you, who he could never even dream of hurting. 

But perhaps he’s spent too much time amongst humans. Or perhaps he understands their nature more than he had initially believed, for he makes the most human mistake of all in letting his control slip—enough that his fangs graze upon your sensitive skin, sending a shiver that reaches all the way down to your core, eliciting a moan so mellifluous, he cannot help but utter a sigh of strained content as the undeniably sweet sound reaches his ears.

“If we don’t stop now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back,” he mutters, tongue laving over the spot in apology. It doesn’t help that you voluntarily crane your neck, offering him even more access in your heated bliss. His fingers dig into your waist in a silent plea to still your rolling hips. 

“So don’t,” you breathe. “Don’t hold back tonight.” Desperate to have him closer, you arch into him, the loose material of his shirt firmly clasped in your hands, deepening the kiss with a quick tug, a silent request for him to let go, but he immediately halts his movements, pulling away in hesitance. 

Oh Neuvillette. Your sweet Neuvillette, who in spite of his stern exterior, is the gentlest of lovers—always so tender with you and steadfast in placing your pleasure before his. You know of his draconic origins, know that he holds back in fear of hurting you, but for all the times he’s pleased you to the fullest extent, you only wish to do the same for him.

Your hand reaches to cup his face and he leans into your familiar touch, steely eyes soft. “It’s okay, I trust you.”

It’s already difficult denying you anything on a normal basis, so how can he, now that you sit, straddled over him, determination colored in your bright eyes, and with nothing but flimsy cloth left between the two of you. His eyes linger at your chest, the scooping neckline of your lace slip doing nothing to hide the smooth crests of your collarbones, begging to be marked. 

Neuvillette sucks in a breath, and attempts to swallow his doubts, before exhaling. He can no longer ignore the tightness in his groin, and to you, it’s clear that the obvious erection poking from beneath his trousers, speaks much louder than the uncertainty storming in his eyes. Perhaps he just needs one more push…

Your fingers come to curve around the sharp lines of his jaw, unwavering as you tilt his head up into your gaze. “Don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

His heart threatens to leap out of his chest in a flash of excitement, gratitude, desire; it’s far from the first time you’ve lain together, but to choose to bear such vulnerability before him, to surrender yourself to a full-fledged dragon… He glides his hands over the round slopes of your shoulders, easily sliding off the straps of your slip as he goes. The silk garment collapses down your torso, piling atop your forgotten dress. 

“If that is truly what you wish…” He presses an openmouthed kiss to the bare skin between your breasts, and the warmth of his breath runs a chill even colder than the night air. His whispers hide a growl, and despite the blush apparent at the tips of his pointed ears, his hold on your waist tightens. One hand slides down to grasp at your rear, and you can feel him smile against your lips, the rattle of a faint chuckle rippling in his throat before your breath hitches as he picks you up in his arms, and carries you off to the bedroom. 

He sets you by your shared bed, tearing off his now wrinkled shirt, while you wriggle out of whatever’s left of your dress, until both sets of clothing are discarded somewhere on the floor, and you’re finally left in only your panties and your stockings.

Immediately, his hands find your waist, roaming up and down over your curves as he smothers you in hungry kisses, herding you along until the backs of your knees hit the edge of your shared bed. This Neuvillette nips at your bottom lip, not asking for, but demanding entrance into your mouth, and you have no choice but to let him in, what with the way he makes you whine as he sneaks his hands down to knead the globe of your ass, before lowering you onto the bed. 

The tingling sensations bloom in your stomach, buzzing with excitement while you ready yourself to surrender completely—pliant to his will, whatever it may be. Arousal swallows you like the sea and he has yet to even really touch you. Impatient, your hand wanders, though not far down enough before you’re caught in his grasp. 

“Patience…” he mutters, pinning your wrist beside your head, broad shoulders caging you in between him and the sheets. His other hand follows the natural lines of your body, tracing along the edges until he stops to fondle one of your breasts. 

It’s impossible to relax your speeding heart at this side of Neuvillette: less reserved in his touches, more candid in his wants. The untreated heat in your body makes sure to touch on every part of you, running like water through your veins, until you’re sure your dripping cunt is pulsing with a heart of its own. Unable to stand the ache any longer, you wriggle beneath him—rolling your hips and squirming until your knee unwittingly brushes against his crotch, eliciting a choked grunt from him, only slightly muffled by the fact that his teeth have dug their way into your exposed flesh. 

He immediately pulls away at the sound of your surprised yelp, eyes darting to and fro across your features in frantic search for even the smallest semblance of discomfort, completely missing the way your entire body had seemed to arch into his touch. His eyes finally settle at the light indentations now displayed upon your once unblemished skin.

“Forgive me,” he begins, “I should have been more careful.” Neuvillette is ever the gentleman, but his voice is clearly strained in a poor attempt at fighting back his instincts—instincts that demand a dragon to mark what is his. 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” A soft smile graces your lips as your hand reaches to cradle his face, curling around his jaw in hushed reassurance. It’s so easy to read the thoughts that plague him so. “It felt good, I promise.”

True to your word, his heightened senses easily pick up on the scent of pure arousal that drifts from between your legs, swirling in the air, and lulling him into a state he’s kept buried for so long, he’s unsure of whether he’d be able to hold himself back even if he wanted to. He admires your bravery for daring to poke at the slumbering beast; bravery he knows stems from a place of passion, but how can he release such inhibitions upon a mere human? So physically… fragile. 

“I meant what I said: I can take it. And I know you won’t hurt me so…” Your fingers clasp around his shoulders, pulling your lover down just far enough to whisper, low and sultry, in his pointed ear.

“Don’t you dare look down on me, o’ hydro dragon sovereign..” 

You lurch forward, manicured nails drawing light lines down his bare back, and he meets you halfway in a long, drawn out kiss. A quiet growl rumbles from deep within his throat, clearly aroused by the way you had drawled out his full title. He nips at your bottom lip, dragging out a single, short gasp before leaving to trail wet kisses down the column of your throat, never stopping until his lips hover over the very spot where he had previously made his mark. 

He doesn’t even have to touch you, just his presence, tangled with your own anticipatory excitement, invites a shudder so deep, you can feel it in your bones. The sharp edge of his fangs scrape along that still-sensitive patch of skin, lightly, as if testing the waters, though this time, he makes sure to take note of the quiver in your pretty little mewls. 

Slowly, he bites down again and a moan slips past your lips, forced out from the very depths of your chest as your fingers fly to tangle in his moonridden tresses. His hot breath seeps past the barrier of your skin, leaving every nerve privy to his effect, and combined with the building pressure, you’re left open for the stream of soft whimpers that leave the perfect ‘o’ of your parted lips. As he sinks his teeth deeper, you squeeze your eyes shut in the midst of all the pleasure.

“Do it again,” you gasp, “felt good… ”

And oh, he has absolutely every intention to, what with the way you’re putty underneath him. However, he must do something about how distracting your hands are when you tug at his hair: hard enough for him to groan with an ache so wanton, it sends tremors echoing down until his trousers feel far, far too tight. 

Neuvillette is neither here nor there when he alternates between kissing and sucking and biting at your tender flesh—anywhere is fair game when you’ve relinquished yourself to him like this. With how attentive his lips are along your body, you hardly even care for the absence of his hand when he reaches around to untie the ribbon in his hair… at least not until it’s too late and you're left bemused by the uncharacteristic display of boldness; after all, it’s all you can do when your wrists are suddenly so tightly bound overhead.

You whine as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue, while he ravishes the other between his fingers. Heat surges through you and the aching desperation congregating in your belly begins to boil; you’ve never felt so sensitive, never been more pervasive to his touch.

Inside. You need him inside of you. But with your hands currently incapacitated, you’ve no other choice except to buck into him, beckoning him with your hips in the hopes of redirecting his attention to where you throb. 

“Inside. Please. I need you. Need you inside.” 

He hums in acknowledgement of your wishes, tugging at the hardened bud with his teeth, successfully wringing another shaky cry from your throat, before he finally pulls at the delicate lace of your panties, and guides them down the length of your legs. You easily kick them off, but in his observation, his piercing gaze catches every thrum of your muscles as they tense underneath the hand that finally trails between your thighs. He drags his lithe fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, while his thumb rubs your clit in slow, but firm, circles. 

“My apologies for the wait.” Neuvillette kisses you right above your heart, where his acute hearing easily picks up how it palpitates as he dips his fingers into your velvet walls. “Allow me to make amends, my love.”

With the way your cunt gushes so copiously, it’s easy for him to slide all the way down to the last knuckle. He flicks his wrist, pumping fast and hard, scissoring you open before slipping in a third digit, drawing out mewl after pathetic mewl, as you fail to pull yourself together. The bedsheets twist beneath your incessant movements: simultaneously squirming not only from the initial stretch, but also to feel him deeper.

The discomfort is all too familiar, but with just the curl of his fingers, it washes away into unadulterated pleasure, just as it always does. But with your arms tethered, leaving you open and powerless, everything—every touch, every twist, every curl—feels tenfold.

Plus, no one would even believe you if you were to say that the chief justice had such a playful side in the bedroom; his fingers have explored your insides far too many times for him to just miss the little spot that he definitely knows by muscle memory. Whining, you buck your hips, senselessly grinding into his hand, hoping he’d get the message, hoping he’d quell your heat right at the source. 

But something dangerous and wild and primordial shines in the blue-violet glow of his eyes. For all the times you’ve made love together, he’s never seen you like this: so desperate, so needy for him. He pinches a nipple, hard, before locking your jolting hips down; a show of strength to remind you of your place. 

“Please, more.” Your voice rises in congruence with how you struggle against your ribbon-bound wrists. His fingers tease the spot again, this time with more force, and he watches as you keen and clench around him—helpless and at his mercy. 

With a curl, his fingers crook inside your silken walls, pistoning in and out, fast and hard. Arousal continues to build, turning the low squelches into distinct suctions. Every nerve in your body is ignited, seared by the heat as he laps at the overflowing wetness that seeps out of your entrance. A satisfied purr sounds in his throat, and the vibrations dare your hips to buck in spite of the iron grip that holds you down.  

It thrills him to see you steadily fall apart like this, coming so undone before him, dissolving under the weight of your pleasure. It’s just as you had wanted. More. So you can take it, can’t you? You can take more? 

Neuvillette slots your throbbing clit into his mouth, hot tongue relentlessly striking the swollen nub with viscous lashes, while his fingers continue to bully your insides with no intention of slowing down. Sucking harder, fucking faster—you keen at the added stimulation, back arching clean off the bed in blinding pleasure, unable to do anything more than let out jagged sobs as you cum.

Your entire body grows taut as he sees you through the end of this high, before finally drawing out with one last sleight of his hand, so that his fingertips might graze along the velvet top of your walls, bidding farewell with another shudder-inducing wave of euphoria. He exits his soiled digits, clearly pleased as he inspects the amount of slick that coats his elegant hand. 

“You’re absolutely divine.” He hums whilst licking up the side of his wrist, so as not to waste a single drop of your liquid pleasure. It’s intoxicating how exquisite you are, more decadent than even the most pristine of waters. “Perhaps you’d like a taste?”

His offer is rhetorical at best, as he answers for you, already slipping his slender fingers into your open mouth, tangling them with your tongue, until the first bits of drool begin to dribble from your lips. 

He unties your wrists, releasing them from the ribbon’s hold; time and experience have proven that you’ll need something to grasp onto. In a haste, Neuvillette discards what remains of his clothes, and his cock springs forward in all its glory: long and thick, pale tip leaking and thrumming with desire. 

“You’re absolutely sure… ?” he mumbles, voice trailing off, almost embarrassed. He can no longer control the way his hips twitch in excitement, begging to bury his cock into your warmth, but for his gentle heart’s sake, he needs to hear you say it again.

You laugh out a soft ‘yes’ but just for good measure, you rake your nails down his chest, applying just enough pressure to tickle his nerves. “Use me,” you goad. “Come on. Be wicked, my dragon.” 

Neuvillette exhales, chuckling softly at humanity's arrogance. Wicked dragon. If that was what you wanted... “I wonder if you’d still say the same after I’ve finished with you.”

He pins you back down in one fell move, and aligns himself to your entrance, stopping after inserting only the tip. A delicate whimper leaves your lips as you wince at that familiarly sweet stretch, but you and your little cunt are both so eager to please—the continued arousal you churn out, weeping nonstop, and already clenching around just his cockhead. You wriggle into him, trying to fuck yourself deeper on his fat cock as you adjust to his size. 

Reaching up, you pull him into a seemingly reassuring kiss, hands smoothing over the framing pieces of his hair, before curving around his jaw. His lips follow yours, but as you pull away and the short pieces of his hair fall back into place, you notice how his slitted reptilian pupils are dilated almost round. 

“You wish for me not to hold back,” his voice comes in a low growl as he inches further into your cunt, “so please show me how resilient you are.”

It’s all the warning you receive before he slides the rest of his length to the hilt, burying himself in your creamy insides. A shattered sob tears through the room, and your arms fly around his neck in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself, but it only pulls him closer as he leans more of his weight into you, pressing down and reinforcing the heavy plow of his merciless hips. 

Taking him all at once like this burns like wildfire. Pain from the sudden, rough stretch spreads hot and fast, the small embers bursting into a blaze of arousal as pleasure breezes through just as quickly—like air infinitely adding to an already devouring flame. 

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises, turning his head to reward a small kiss to your cheek. Your hole gushes, rushing to quell the heat, and the added lubrication helps you settle into his pace. Still, the dual sensations wash over you like the tide. It pulls you under, drowns you and consumes you with absolute ecstasy.

And just when you think you’ve grown accustomed, Neuvillette lifts your hips, aiming for the spot he knows will drag out the most wonderfully broken cries from your throat. Your nails dig into his back, and he groans at the vice grip as you clamp down around his cock. With each powerful thrust, he buries himself balls deep with a force that has your tits bouncing along to his rhythm, letting the wanton sound of your sobs ring throughout the room, loud enough to almost drown out the lewd noise of skin slapping upon skin. 

The coil in your belly is wound so tight that you’re sure it won’t be long until it collapses into itself. That it won’t be long until you yourself are about to implode, like a star ready to burst. 

“I’m going… going to…” Between the ragged breaths and the overwhelming sensations of ecstasy, you can’t even find it in yourself to think straight.

Neuvillette hums, his liquid smooth voice doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You’d do well not to break so soon.”

He thumbs your clit, drawing tight circles, ignoring the way you convulse beneath him. As your back arches, he drags the flat of his teeth from the edges of your collarbones, down through the valley between your breasts. 

Your entire body quivers, legs jolting by reflex to the intensity of your orgasm, vision blurring white as your lover continues to pound relentlessly through your high. There’s a layer of fuzziness over your mind that leaves you feeling as if you’re floating atop calm waters, but the fingers still thrumming on your abused nub are quick to drag you back into the salaciously dangerous depths of your own pleasure. 

A string of pitched whines follow in the aftermath, but the pretty noises you make has him throbbing even from within your tight hole. You ask him not to hold back, yet here you are before him, so small and pitiful, already writhing from the intensity—and he hasn’t even cum yet. 

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, your body struggling for a break from the stimulation, but Neuvillette finds it quite adorable, in the way that a predator might toy with its prey. He slows his thrusts, but reaches deeper with every roll of his hips, each languid stroke hitting the exact spot that fills your sight with stars. 

The lascivious sounds of your soaked cunt perfectly swallowing his cock, followed by the slap of his heavy balls on your ass—he’s mesmerized by the way he disappears and reappears, and disappears again inside of you. His heart skips, and he bucks, breaking his rhythm. You undo him like no other, and it spurs him on that he too, seems to have the same effect on you. The way your pussy holds on to him so tightly, the helpless cries of his name amidst your hiccuped whimpering… 

He lets out a small chuckle, breath hot and ragged in your ear as he sucks at the inch of skin below. “Surely you can give me another,” he murmurs, the low grumble of his voice reverberating all the way down, until you can feel the vibrations in the hollows of your collarbone. 

Your eyes flutter, desperately blinking away the wetness that has begun to gather at your lash line. Sweet Neuvillette, your Neuvillette who reveres you more than he ought to and touches you like you’re made of glass. Even through the numbing haze, you know that for him, you’d give anything. 

A long, stuttered moan breaks out from between your lips. As if biding his time, he drags the entirety of his cock along your walls, the large vein that wraps around the length gliding along just right, that your back arches and your knees bend. It’s not that he means to move so tortuously slow, but you squeeze him to such an extent that in spite of his aching need to cum, he cannot help but try and savor the delicious way your walls are gripping for dear life. 

Neuvillette pulls out with the sticky squish of your slick. His throbbing cock, long and flushed, glistens with the sheen of your juices. In the emptiness, you think that perhaps he’s taken pity on you and your now overly sensitive cunt, but that just isn’t fair. Not to him, nor you and your once again looming orgasm.

“You haven’t even cum yet,” you gasp, trying to argue through baited breath. The whole point of this was so that he could feel just as good as he always made sure you did. So why would he—

“I know.” 

You can feel him as he lifts you, flipping you over like you’re nothing more than a doll, and manhandles you onto all fours. Limbs weak, mind frazzled, you’re barely able to hold yourself up, so when he realigns himself at your entrance and slams back through your folds with just as much power as before, you quite literally fall apart. 

“Too much?” The low chuckle in your ear is dangerously taunting, wickedly amused and with no sign of its usual sweetness. You’re able to muster a pitiful whine, but the way your entire body trembles tells him everything he needs to know, as he reangles you mid-thrust.

“I believe you said you could take it.” With a particularly powerful snap of his hips, your arms buckle, and you collapse onto the mattress. The intensity continues to send you jolting forward, but his reaffirmed grip on your waist holds your hips in place.

Nothing deters him as he ruts into you, hitting deep new angles that have your fingers grasping at the sheets while your cunt grasps onto his cock. With every slap of his skin against yours, his tip threatens to kiss your cervix, the aftershocks rippling through you until they’re released as broken sobs, muffled into the bed. 

How unfortunate that such noises, so very sweet to his ears, would be hidden from the world. Tangling his fingers along your scalp, Neuvillette tugs at your hair, lifting your head back so as to hear the pretty melody you sing when your cries ring around the room. Good. Just as the whole of Fontaine should recognize a dragon’s mark on your skin, they too should hear it’s he who pleasures your body so.

Little bits of drool trickle out of your open mouth, your eyes rolling back as he keeps up the brutal pace. Everything feels too overwhelming, yet so tantalizingly good, that your back curves and you’re creaming around him again. 

Electricity shoots through your veins, your lungs desperately racing to catch up with the rapid beat of your heart. The stars painted across your vision drop down to your stomach, exploding with an intensity that rattles you to your core. It’s a flood with no remorse—taking and leaving nothing in return, easily washing away any and all thoughts, until you’re left mewling the name of the only one who could ever give you such a sweet taste of heaven. 

But Neuvillette continues to thrust into you, and as he, too, nears his peak, his tireless strokes finally melt into something a little more forgiving. Just a little. The long drag of his cock slides so smoothly against your slick walls, gentle enough to fool your delirious mind into loosening your grip around him. 

What trickery from the wicked dragon who slams his hips forward with enough force so that your body jostles with every push and pull as he hits all the right spots again and again. Trapped under the weight of his body, all you can do is feel: the heat of the room smothering all your senses, the fervorous thrusts pushing you to your very limit—all you can do is feel and take it as he kisses the spongy head of your cervix, leaving you without a semblance of sanity, blabbering indiscernible nothings that beg to milk him dry.       

“Want more,” you keen, voice as broken as the crystalline tears that roll down your cheeks and melt into the pillows. “Inside. Wan’ it inside.”

Neuvillette laughs, low and airy, strained as his grip tightens, fingertips digging into your hips hard enough that it’d be sure to leave bruises come the morrow. “Is that what you want?”

“Please, please I–” You stop to let out something between a pant and a moan. “Want you to, h-hah, cum inside, wan’ your cum inside me.” Your walls clamp down even harder, as if attempting to trap his cock deep inside you forever, as if you weren’t already tight enough around him. 

White fills his vision, and white fills your womb as Neuvillette cums to the knowledge that you love this. He takes in the sight of you, his precious treasure, now reduced to the likes of a common whore: legs quivering, ass in the air, cunt filled to the brim and leaking from where the two of you merge. All for him. By his doing. 

Such splendor automatically evokes the instinct to claim you in a way far beyond that of human understanding… but you’ve already let him indulge more than enough tonight; he couldn’t possibly ask for more. 

You whimper when you feel him stir again inside you, careful as he brushes past your too-sensitive folds, but even such simple movements hazard to relight the flicker of arousal once again. Every ridge and vein, drawn out so agonizingly slow, sends an inadvertent shiver down your spine until he finally pulls out with a squelch.  

There’s no hope in tearing those sharp, reptilian eyes away from your puffy cunt, abused and messy and leaking with your combined fluids. Neuvillette sucks in a breath, trying to suppress his urges as much as he’s trying to swallow down the desire quickly boiling over in his belly again. Cumming inside you—no, breeding you—was a privilege. For dragons such as he, it’s a ritual reserved only for mates, and given the difference in your physiology, he had never allowed himself to do so—at least not until now, that is. 

In his defense, you had begged for it, and how could he ever deny the very one whom he has entrusted his heart to—especially when you were so beautifully fucked out and unraveled on his cock like that. And perhaps he’s lived among humans long enough to forgive this indulgence as a paradigm of fleeting desire, though nothing of what he feels for you could ever be considered fleeting. 

He parts your folds with two slender fingers, giving himself a better view as his cum now seeps out with suent access. You whine again when you feel him drag his digits down the sides of your pussy lips, catching the overflow before it can fall onto the sheets, and stuffing it right back into your little hole. No point in stopping now, if he’s already committed his sin.

From your half-lidded gaze, you manage to steal a glance at your lover, and judging from the erection that still stands stiff as a rod, he has yet to be satiated. In the attempt to break through the shadow of delirium, you lift your head, shifting your weight back onto your elbows, and forcing your battered body to turn just the slightest bit over. 

“You’re still hard,” you note through staggered breath, “We can go again if you want.”

Neuvillette looks down as if he hasn’t already been feeling the near painful arousal throbbing in his groin. Of course he’s still hard—how could he not be; you’re so complacent before him, offering yourself to him like that. But perhaps he is too soft-hearted, for he only lets out a reassuring hum as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“You were beyond perfect tonight,” he murmurs. “It… might not be pleasurable for you if I continue anymore. I can finish myself.” 

Lovestruck, you shake your head. “I can take it r’member?” Your large eyes, red-rimmed and dreamy, plead for him to use you—use you to his own content, use you so that he’d feel just as good as he always makes you feel. You nibble at your bottom lip, bashful. “You can even use your other form if you'd like...” 

Your words catch him off guard, and he immediately stills in a half-hearted attempt to collect himself as another wave of pure, unadulterated desire pulses through his entire being. Neuvillette swallows hard before letting out a slow, shaky breath. His cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath the creamy skin that now seems to gleam with a soft shine, revealing scattered patches of effervescent cerulean scales. You affect him more than you could possibly know, revitalizing such carnal urges that ignore his will and allow his body to react so enthusiastically.

“You’re sure…?” His normally polished tone is husked in a defiant strain. Despite the way his pupils are blown wide and wild with lust, conflict still swims in the shallows of his expression, made clear by the way his voice rasps as he desperately claws to retain even a semblance of his composure. 

The tips of your fingers trace the blue streaks that protrude from the crown of his silver head, now hardened into twin ribbons of ivory; his horns, delicate but strong, glow a luminescent azure—so warm and inviting in its radiance… You grasp them tight, pulling him down with you, as you fall back into the bed, his lips pressed against yours. Of course you’re sure. He’d never hurt you, your Neuvillette would never ever hurt you.

“Devious…” he whispers between kisses, your tongue and teeth clashing in a waltz of their own, as his body drapes over yours. 

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him in this form, crossed somewhere between a human and a dragon, as beautiful as he is powerful. But it’s certainly the first time you’ve ever attempted to take him like this. He’s bigger in this form—you can already feel it as he grinds up between your legs. Longer. Thicker. Ribbed and embossed with the same pearlescent blue scales. Beautifully intimidating, just like the dragon sovereign himself. 

And as you continue to marvel, he lets his cock rest across your lower stomach, sizing you up. His fervor shines through in the way he’s already leaking a mess of sticky precum atop the smooth skin of your belly. A satisfied hum vibrates in his throat, clearly enthused. 

“This is how deep I’ll be,” he muses, almost apologetic of the incoming stretch you’d have to endure. “I’m beginning to wonder if I can even fit inside you.” 

Would it be wicked of him to admit, even to himself, that he enjoys the way you wriggle and cry just taking him in his human form? And yet… he’s forced to steady his breathing in a poor attempt at grounding himself—a task near impossible as you roll your hips up, ardently shaking your head no, outright ignoring the last out he offers.

“I will… make it fit.” They’re the last words you manage to wrangle out before being overtaken by the need to be full and filled. There’s no reason you should be so terribly, terribly hollow, when he’s right there. Neuvillette chokes back a laugh; your unyielding determination sends blood rushing to his erection, desperate to feel your velvet walls crowd around him again.

Finally relenting, he teases your entrance—running his cock up and down your slit, spreading your wetness, before slapping your clit with the tip—reminding you just how sensitive you still are. Gasping, you jerk away from the stimulation that once again taunts your nerves. Your hole, however, clenches around nothing, eager to please. 

But perhaps you’ve greatly underestimated just how big he is, because he barely makes it past the threshold of your folds, before the pleasure pain of the stretch begins to take over. That, and the overstimulation from your previous orgasms, already have you instinctively trying to snap your legs shut, but the firm hold on your thighs forbid you from doing so.

“Ha-ah N-neuvi—” A twisted sense of pride swells in his chest at the way you can hardly speak as your breath hitches and your lungs desperately search for air. “’s too big,” you sob.

He gives you a momentary reprieve to adjust, while his hand snakes down to run sloppy circles over your clit.

“More?” he whispers. 

It takes you a minute to respond, but he waits until finally your voice shakes with the violence of each hiccupped sob. “More.. please…”

A baritone hum sounds in his throat as he pulls forward, pressing wet kisses to your jaw in a quiet reassurance, effectively sliding a couple inches deeper, as he does so. “You can take it, my love. You’re so pretty like this.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, your hold eliciting a long, low groan from the dragon. Wherever you squirm, he follows, pressing more of his weight onto you, burying more of his cock into you. Each ridged inch that slides past your folds, seems to push the thoughts right out of your head, letting them dissipate into thin air until you’re left mindlessly moaning sweet praises to his name. 

Desperate to accommodate the unfamiliar enormity of his dragon cock, your walls ripple and tense around him, back arching into him, wanting to feel ever closer to the love of your life, determined to push your cunt to its limit for him. For your Neuvillette. 

Neuvillette. Neuvillette. Neuvillete. He’s all you can think about; him and his monster cock that seems to split you so deliciously open. It’s wave after wave of heat that sets your insides ablaze, soothed by the waters of arousal that have you begging for more, and restarting the cycle until he finally bottoms out, and you feel as if you’ve been electrified. You squeeze your eyes shut, but with the way his bulbous tip prods at your cervix, your mind goes blank, and the tears fall regardless. 

“There…” you pant, eyes glassy from the euphoria of feeling so incredibly full. “’s all in.”

“Yes,” he praises, softly. “Look at you, so nice and tight for me.” 

He wipes the salt from your cheeks, distracting you with a delicate kiss. His fangs are more prominent in this form; you can feel them as he grins against your lips, whilst whispering breathy nothings that tell of how good you are for him, how perfect, how he should be so lucky to have you like this, to have you as his. 

When your body eases enough, he pulls away, though the subtle shift of his cock still drags a pitched whine out from your lips. If he’s to be honest, he cannot tear his gaze from where the two of you are joined. It’s mesmerizing, hypnotic, to see how he splits you open, to feel how you mold into the shape of him, to imagine just how much your little cunt had to stretch so that he might rest comfortably inside.

Though, comfortable might be an overstatement due to the way your muscles tense and release so tightly around him, clamoring for more of his attention.  Eyes darkening with lust, Neuvillette smooths a hand over your abdomen, cerulean scales cold upon your skin.

“Can you feel me right…” He draws a clawed finger delicately across the skin of your belly, where his cock rests parallel underneath. “Here…”

He leaves more than just a faint line of red where his talon rakes. Yes, you want to say. You can feel the faint prickle of his claw on your skin, you can feel how the sharpness sends a shiver ringing through your body, and of course you can feel how he’s sheathed his dragon cock right into the very depths of your cunt, deeper than anyone’s ever been, deeper than he’s ever been… But the only sounds that spill through your lips are another stream of broken sobs, fever touched by how close you are to cumming just from being filled.

“Go on, darling. Cum for me.” He can feel you pulsing around him, clenching and unclenching in search of sweet release, yet he makes no additional moves to help you, leaving you to your own devices.

At this point, you can no longer tell if you’re making things better or worse, as every little movement knocks you into reaction—like dominoes toppling over until every piece of you has been unraveled. You writhe atop the soiled sheets for any sort of friction, but it’s too much when his tip knocks against the entrance to your womb. So you shift away, letting the ridges on his shaft graze against your syruped walls, inciting another wave of need. The scales continue to tip between ‘too much’ and ‘more’, until you finally work yourself into a delirious orgasm, on nothing but his cock inside you and your own incessant squirming. 

As you continue to ride out your high, Neuvillete finally begins to move, tearing himself away from your fluttering vice grip with a tremulous moan, because fuck you’re still so tight around him, still so warm and wet even after cumming for what? The fourth time tonight? Pressure lands heavy over your frame as he begins to rock into you, folding you in half as he does. 

He fucks you slow and even, stretching you out even more with every new stroke. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as this new position affords him the privilege to reach impossibly deeper. Despite his shallow thrusts, each drag of his cock still blooms an ache from all the hidden spots that he has no choice but to touch, though it’s quick to pass, as pleasure continues to coil in your belly. 

It’s so much all at once. You can’t take it, it’s too much. But the soul-shattering euphoria of being so utterly full, is unparalleled. You want more, you need more.   

“My pearl,” he whispers, though his voice is gruff, “my heart… I want to hear you.” 

And so you oblige him, wailing something broken and pitched and strangled, at the sudden snap of his hips, at the way he bumps into your cervix and seems to rattle your organs about. 

“F-fuck,” you cry, without thinking. Not that you can anyway, when the push-pull tide of his thrusts raises you to new heights of delirium. “H-ah god, fuck Neu–”

Another sharp, jutting thrust cuts you off as the dragon above you snarls, clearly agitated by your crass choice of words. “There are no gods to help you here.” Not in Fontaine where he rules, and certainly not here in his home.

There’s a feral wildness that shines in his bright vishap eyes, and his possessive streak flares—dragons have no natural inclination to share after all. It’s clear in the way his pace changes: faster, harsher, more ragged—a ferocity befitting of an elemental dragon ruler. But titles aside, he’s still your Neuvillette, and every move he makes is still laced with a tenderness, so as not to break you more than he already has. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he commands, dragging his tongue up the length of your throat.

“Yours. ‘m yours, Neuvillette.”

In and out, in and out. His long strokes guide the ridges of his cock back and forth through your tender muscles, leaving you to mumble mindless nonsense as you convulse and keen beneath him. Whatever pain you had felt earlier has long chipped away into undeniable pleasure as you near the precipice of yet another orgasm. Eyes glazed over in all consuming ecstasy, all you know to do is to chase your lust, and so your hips grind back, rolling together like waves in a storm. 

Amidst the flagrant wet sounds of your rabid fucking, you cum again, lashes fluttering as your eyes roll, muscles tight as they tremble from such rapture—so lovely, so beautiful. Your siren call of pretty cries spill from your lips, intermingled with weak babbles of his name. You’re so breathtaking like this in your post-climax haze: fucked out and cloudy-eyed, panting into the cool air as his slowed thrusts still rack up an aftershock of shudders.

Neuvillette bows his head, once again trailing wet kisses across your collarbones, before pausing to hover his lips right over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his warm breath a familiar spot of comfort in this maddening pleasure. Perhaps it’s some sort of sixth sense unique to only the most attuned of lovers, ones whose souls seem to harmonize in perfect resonance, but there’s hesitance in the way he suckles at the spot, fangs ghosting over your tender skin.

“S’okay… you can do it.” Your soft, dreamy sighs of approval are accompanied by the languid tilt of your neck, jeopardizing more of your delicate skin to the dangers of his teeth. “You can mark me… w’nna be your mate…”

Choking back a moan, Neuvillette pistons thrice more into your cunt—pulling out until just his tip remains, and then plunging back into your gooey insides, sending you into another round of dizzying convulsions. His own orgasm follows, seeing stars as he places an amorous bite to the crook of your neck using only the flat of his teeth. 

With how deep he’s buried, ribbons of his cum shoot right into your womb, spilling out into every cavity, and painting your interior white. Warmth blossoms from the inside out. Your heart is full, mumbling happy nothings of ‘mates’ in between sniffles, while a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, thick liquid oozing from where he ends and you begin. His own chest rises and falls in jagged patterns, but his only want is to seek your lips, to drink in your mewls, and exchange sweet kisses, so that your soul and his, may meld together as they dance in the shape of your breaths intertwined.

He strokes your hair, planting easy kisses all around as he unplugs himself, letting loose the flood of cum that seeps out of your hole, but you whine at the loss, wanting nothing more than to be ever close to your newly consummated mate. Neuvillette only nuzzles into your neck, deep purrs of content reverberating from his chest as he lazily rubs his scent all over you. Meanwhile, a quick swish of his sapphire tail up the sticky underside of your thigh, teases another pulse from your cunt, and by reflex, you push out another dollop of white. 

A small tap tap to his shoulder distracts him from his scenting, and he looks up with a tilt to his head and a small furrow to his brow, his normally sharp eyes full of earnest concern, relaxing only once he finishes reading through the bleary, dulcet tones of adoration that glow in your half-lidded eyes. You poorly suppress your little giggles—although he often disagrees, your lover really can be quite adorable. 

Fontaine’s Iudex Neuvillette is elegant, poised, and meticulously polished… but here in the quiet night hours, in the privacy of your hearth, your Neuvillette is unruly-haired and damp-skinned from satiating the beastly desires of his still tender heart. You reach out a tired arm, first brushing back the pieces of hair that cling to his skin, then wrapping your palm around to cup his face. 

“Was I a good mate?” Your hand slips down from his cheek to play with the tips of his silvery hair. “W’nna be the best for you.”

“You already are the best for me.” His hand, no longer clawed nor scaled, brings yours back up for a kiss to your knuckles. “The only one for me.” 

He rolls off of you, sweeping you into his embrace, as he carries you off to the bathroom. Your head rests heavily against his chest, but your happy hums and quiet murmurs of ‘good,’ tell him that you have not drifted off into slumber just yet.  

“You truly are a wonder,” he breathes, dipping his head to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “And it would be my honor to have you as my mate… but not tonight.”

His instincts had urged him to do it, to permanently claim you as his, and mark you as a dragon would, but his heart vehemently disagrees. The most sacred bond known to his kind is an ultimatum in your relationship, and it is one he refuses to be the sole architect of, so perhaps the two of you can revisit this conversation again once you’re more clear-headed; his answer would remain the same anyways.

a/n2: writing this took years off my life, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank u sm for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

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