Genshin X Reader - Blog Posts

To be honest, I find him very attractive. I guess I like big muscular men...🛩️🚀🚁🚡🚠

˖ ࣪⊹ ִֶָ ꣑ LOSING CONTROL FT. ARATAKI ITTO ── maybe teasing him too much wasn't such a good idea...

꒰ cw ꒱ྀི -> fem! reader, feminine petnames (baby, slut, etc.), pwp (without plot), handjob, teasing, overstimulation, edging, mating press (includes other previous positions but they're not described to the story), size kink, belly bulge, rough sex, cervix fucking, you grab his horns while he pounds into you 🤭, dirty talk, slight dacryphilia, dumbification, faint mentions of pregnancy, lmk if i miss any !

꒰ a/n ꒱ྀི -> this drabble or fic is inspired by this (nsfw) audio over here, azeru's patreon is so juicy it makes my punani throb over and over. esp this one omfg hear this audio before u read it idc it's so ughhjdfjsjkskj

"stop teasin' me baby," he rasped while his gaze averted down, seeing you give his cock slow and deliberate pumps before your thumb presses firmly but gently down his red tip. thin and thick ropes of his previous orgasm dripped down his length and balls, with each stroke and pump you give to him leaves his body into shambles, lewdly moaning out your name and his back arching in pure bliss was a balm to your shell.

his breath caught his throat once your strokes grew quicker, his claws digging down to the soft pillows that were sprawled around the bed,"ohfuck- don't stop.." a low groan bubbled within his throat, throwing his head back against the headboard as his body jerked. a soft giggled elicited from your lips, seeing his fucked out state from just a few handjobs,"what if i stopped?" you asked coyly, a playful glint capturing your eyes as itto grew a little frustrated,"don't stop- m' bein' serious baby... d-don't stop," he tried hard enough to sound stern and to at least make you obey his requests, but he sounded so pathetic; his cracked whines and whimpers only fueled your desire to tease him further.

you felt in awe, enjoying such an erotic scene that landed upon your eyes. his reactions evident to your touch as his lower abdomen were being left with strings of cum as his cock was sheen with slick and pre,"gonna cum, gonna cum.." he whimpered, his breath quickening as his chest rose and fell at a fast pace,"hmm? oni s'gonna cum already?" you cooed teasingly but all that you received was a rumbling groan that was heard from his mouth, he chewed down his lower lip that little points of his canines were shown. just before he was about to reach his sweet release, he felt something completely neglect his starving cock, your hand pulling out of his length as you scooted back from him; acting like as if you were leaving him,"wh- were you goin' ?!" he whined, looking at you with a confused and a frustrated expression. you only giggled in response, thinking everything is funny and that you would get the hang of this, big big mistake.

"oh no you're not," he mumbled and just as you were about to 'leave', he pounced over you, his beefy and broad figure covering half of your body as you were now pinned against the mattress. who's laughing now? the roles switched suddenly, him now being under control for all of this which is now your turn to give in your submission to him,"you're not gonna leave 'till you make me cum," he said with a low growl, one of his hands holding up his leaking cock as a way to show you what you're going to deal with the next couple of hours.

-

"moremoremore, o-ohhh my god.." he chanted repeatedly, his restless thrusts quickening its pace as his nails dug deep into your sensitive flesh as he raised up your legs more, your knees pressing against your chest as he positioned himself in a different angle. his cock hitting all the sweet spots that make your spongy walls tighten around his length and to make your body coil in an overwhelming amount of pleasure. cracked moans and whines escape your lips as you felt his tip bulge through your stomach with each deep thrust, making him grab onto your hand and press your fingers firmly onto your lower abdomen while he continues on his quick pace, "ya feel that? look how deep i am.. fuck-" you felt his cock plunge in and out of you as sticky juices overflowed your drooling cunt from the other postions that he did before.

missionary, doggy style, downward doggy, prone bone, cow girl, reverse cowgirl, almost all of the positions that you could possibly think of were recreated by him. your brain couldn't process any longer and your thoughts were turned into mush, not thinking of anything but his thick cock just stretching your folds and folding your body like a flip phone. pearls of cum smeared all over your pussy as it dripped down your ass and onto the sheets, breeding you countless times that you just might actually be pregnant,"i'm gonna breed you, and breed you and... ohh fuckk! tighten around me again yeah?" he chuckled dryly as he leaned his upper body over to press his chest against your bouncing breasts,"mmph!- s'too muchh! fuuck gonna cum againn!" your hands were searching its way for something to grab on, but the only thing you could hold yourself onto was his horns. your fingers gently but quickly wrapped around his so what senstive horns that made him let out a loud gasp,"f-fuck, can't hold on huh?" he rasped as a chuckle escaped his lips, only for him to raise your legs just a bit higher so that he could snuggle himself deeper into your warm cunt.

"ittoo! s'deep..!" you whined, tears pooling down your cheeks as his tip assaulted your cervix. everything was so messy, so hot and sticky that the mirror of your vanity could practically fog up,"gonna cum inside you over and over again yeah? wanna make you a mommy.." itto sounded breathless, like he was running a whole track field,"gonna make this little cunt remember the shape of my dick, a-and... ohmygoddd," he moaned once he felt your walls hugging his cock tightly again, his thrusts stuttering each time as he felt close to his high,"gonna cum, gonna cum... fuck!- cumming s'muchh!" you don't even know what you're saying at this point, blabbering incoherently as desperate crys and pleas fill in his ears while you clearly are begging for release, but this was payback for what you did a few hours ago.

"yeah? y'wanna cum? what if i pull out hmm?" he teased, mimicking the same thing that you did to him while you were stroking his cock,"nonono! please- ohmygod don't pull out ittoo!" you rolled your hips, trying to reach in for that sweet release before his thrusts grew sharper and more forceful,"yeaah, you fuckin' slut... want me to fill ya up yeah? you want that?" a mocking expression was evident in his face, nails digging into your flesh as he ravaged your insides, your cunt growing senstive as you kept on repeating "gonna cum!".

with one final thrust he managed to spill his seed inside your, filling you to the brim again. a low growl elicited from his throat, closing his eyes shut as the pleasure loomed over the both of you, bringing eachother to the bink of ecstasy as everything turned into a blurr. a squeal escaped your mouth and it was music to his ears, your body tensing up from the pleasure as the smell of sex was present within the room,"look at you, ohh yesyesyes... let it out baby, mhm," he reassures as he kept on rocking his hips back and forth, stimulating your aftershocks. you looked absolutely destroyed, hair sprawled in the pillows, chest heaving heavily, body trembling and shivering with each caress and touch he could give, and your insides feeling overly sensitive.

after itto collected himself he looked down at you. you still were in shambles, a pure, filthy mess just for him to see. he chuckled as worry washes over him a little bit, did he go too overboard? was it actually too much for you to handle?

he felt your grip on his horns loosen, your arms falling back down into the mattress like a noodle as you were still catching your breath,"a-are you okay? i didn't go too far, did i?" he asked with slight concern, his big hands massaging your hips as he tried to ease your body after such an intense moment,"n-no... m' fine.." you managed to get those words out of your mouth as itto let out a relieved sigh,"thank god, did it hurt or anything?" he smiled softly, his body relaxing as he swallowed in your expressions. even though you were a complete mess you were still beautiful from his point of view, you chuckled lightly from how worried he was which only made you pull him in for a soft kiss. he was taken aback from the sudden move but he found himself melting to your, but... he grew hard, again.

he hissed in pleasure as he could feel his erection growing,"look at what you did, makin' me hard again from just a kiss.." itto found the situation silly, but of course he could go in for another round of pounding info you, only if you want to though. your eyes averted down to his throbbing cock, seeing his tip leak with pre-cum, you gulped nervously now having to deal with who knows what round of getting fucked dumb,"c'mere..." he beckoned with his hand, pulling you close to him until your tits stick against his sweaty chest. his hips moved slowly and deliberately, one of his hand wrapped around you as the other held up your thigh to reach in deeper,"i'll be gentle, i promise..." he whispered softly, but you know damn well he'll be rough like he was before. nodding gently, you were sure you'll have to hold on tight against him, for the last time.

"i promise my ass.."

© nu11lar 2023 - do not plagiarize, translate, copy, or steal my work. all credits to the writing go to me and me only.

One of my favourite characters... 😀😁😂😃😈

honestly just itto angry fucking the reader,, this is it (perhaps a sprinkle of mating season things and size difference) im begging hihihihagdjbak

That is painful to read Anon. Not the request just the way in which you wrote it.

Pairing: Itto x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, mating press, angry sex, biting, size difference, growling, possessive sex, breeding kink, feral!Itto

A/N: God that font and colors hurt my eyes.

Fangs, claws, growls, deep pants, the sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you angerly were all the sensations you could feel right now. Itto was usually not like this. He was always careful, mindful of his strength and size when it came making love to you.

But this wasn't making love. This was fucking. Dirty, animalistic, feral fucking.

"Ya think I don't notice those sorry bastards looking at ya like a piece of meat?" He pushed your legs over his shoulders and pressed down on your hips with his, burying his girthy, big cock into your cunt, "Makin' eyes at ya. It's my fault. I should've done this before. Mated ya properly. Claimed ya as my own the right way."

"I'm already yours Itto." You spoke the truth. You were his since the day you saw his shining smile of victory as he strolled into town after fighting off a bunch of bandits. "They may look at me but you... you're the only one who can do this." You let out a moan against his chest. It rumbled with a deep growl, then a purr as he tried to focus but all he could think about was how good your pussy felt.

"Me. I'm the only one for ya. This little cunt is for my cock only. Mine. Imma claim it too. Claim ya inside and out, for good this time. After tonight every will know you're my woman." You wrapped your arms and legs around his shoulders, adding to the red marks when you dragged your nails across his skin. A sharp pain washed over you, starting at your neck and turning into overwhelming pleasure between your legs, "Need to breed! Breed my mate! Gonna give ya a lot!"

The look in Itto's eyes was distant as he pulled away, the only thought in his head being that of emptying his balls inside of you. One thrust, then two and then half a third and your womb and pussy walls were painted with his creamy seed.

"So good, so good! That pussy's so good! Taking my cum! Here, here, have some more!" He kept thrusting until his cock had no more left to give, until you could no longer feel your legs, could no longer feel anything but the empty ache he left you with when he pulled out, a sea of white cum spilling from your newly breed hole.

This was just day one of his mating season.

These guys are super simps.... :-}

Wedding Night Sex with Genshin Men

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Childe, Pantalone, Dottore, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, bridal carry, mating press, gentle sex, mating bites, rough sex, torn clothes, wall sex, cunnilingus

A/N: It was between this and arranged marriage. Might do that one another time.

Kaeya, being the gentleman that he is, carries you in his arms through the door, lavishing your face and neck with lots of kisses. However once you're all alone he cannot hold back any longer. He'd had to walk all the way to the bedroom with a semi-boner, that really needs taking care of, and what better way then to bury it inside your pussy for the rest of the night?

Diluc makes sure that your wedding night, like all others, makes you feel special. He takes his sweet time taking off your wedding dress, kissing your body, making you sigh and moan and arch as he puts his mouth on you and gets to have the thing he's secretly been craving this whole time. Forget the damn cake, all he wanted for dessert was your cunt.

Itto could have been parting it up longer but why would he when he had something, no someone better to spend his time and energy on. His beautiful new bride, who he can't wait to mating press into sweet oblivion. Speaking of mating, tonight is the night he finally gets to bite you, make you his, with his fangs, kisses, hard cock thrusting in and out of that pretty, wet pussy, making you come all over his cock and balls right before he fills you up with his own cum.

Childe had a very hard time not teasing you all night before you got to your bedroom. You looked so damn beautiful he could hardly hold back, but he did, if only because he knew you'd give him the best time of his life once you were alone. He couldn't stop touching you, his hands, his mouth, his knee between your legs, his fingers digging into your dress to take it off in a hurry, his pants barely down his legs before he thrust his cock deep and started pounding away.

Pantalone is very patient with you. His cock is almost tearing through his pants but he can wait until you get undressed. He can wait for you to shyly crawl on top of him, straddle his face and part your pussy folds for his skilled tongue. The man could watch you come again and again just from his mouth alone, but alas you need more then that, he knows it, your pussy knows it. He would never deny you on your wedding night. You can still stay on top of him, besides he rather likes to watch your expression as you lose yourself from his cock.

Dottore can't wait for the bed, he's been holding back long enough, smiling through it all. The wall it is, your legs held up, spread just like your cunt, ready for what ever he's going to give you. He will absolutely make is so you can't walk the next day, or even talk from how sore your voice will be from moaning and repeating his name in pleasure.

Zhongli has been waiting to get his hands all over you since he saw you in your wedding dress. You do loo good in it, heavenly even, too bad it stands between him and you. At least until he tears it to tiny shreds with his fangs and claws, unable to hold back from clamming you as his. He's snarling, growling, his horns and tail on full display as he ruts into your pussyhole again and again, making you yell his name so loud it leaves no doubt to whose bride you are.

I need kazuha fics where we take care of his burned hand. 🙏🙏🙏

If y'all know any plzz tell

Forgotten But Not Forgiven

(Inspired by a fic I read, I can't remember the name but if anyone finds it lmk so I can tag/credit the author)

You had been around for a long time, longer than most of the surviving gods in this era of the world.

You were not, however, credited for your deed towards humanity and its successes.

You had risen to power around the same time as Morax. It would be safe to say he would not have risen so high without you.

While you had only been a minor god, your intelligence had proven to be quite useful in the era of strength you were born into. An era of buff toddlers, you used to say.

Using this intelligence, you had decided to aid the up and coming Morax in the Archon War, as well as before it. You gained many followers due to this, as well as territory.

You did your best to protect your people, but you could only do so much against the raw strength of the power hungry deities wanting not only your lands, but your intellect as well.

Morax and his precious Guizhong had pressured you into a contract. forcing you to abandon your people to give them the upper hand in the war. You had agreed on the terms that your people would remain unharmed and safe.

This was not the end result that occurred, much to your sadness. You had been tricked by the infamous duo of the earth.

Prior to this deception, you had been close to the two gods, to the point where you could have said they were your friends and confidants. You hadn't thought of the possibility that they were using you for your power. You had thought that they were truly as loyal to you as you were to them.

You wanted to kill them both right then and there, tear them to shreds where they sat, watch as their confident body posture wilted as they passed on to the next plane of existence. But, you were not only bound by contract to see them through to a throne of the Seven, you were craving a deeper revenge, one much crueler than a quick and merciful death.

Over time, your anger concentrated onto one of the two, Morax. You had found out that Guizhong had not known that your people would be sacrificed to win the war. Once she had found out, it was too late.

Some time before her death, she had tried to reconcile with you. However, you were not so keen as to forgive her so easily. So, you made a deal, a contract.

She had to help you retrieve your lands back, as well as any descendants of what were once your people. She had agreed, desperate to regain your friendship.

The hard part was sneaking around behind the now Rex Lapis' back, as he seemed to always want the dust goddesses presence. Lucky for the two of you, he had the pressing matter of sorting out his new found responsibilities. Not so lucky for the two of you, he wanted Guizhong's help to do so.

This sparked a fight between them, pushing their already strained relationship further and further. This would be one of the last times they would talk.

Guizhong seemed to drift farther away from Morax as she drew closer to you once more.

You had to admit, you had missed her during your time apart. Her quick wit could rival your own on some topics, and her compassion was refreshing in the world of war and violence.

After regaining your land, and setting up ways for your people to prosper, you had continued to draw closer to the lady of dust.

That's why, when she perished fighting for the lord of geo, you felt as if you had once again been stabbed in the back. Deep down, you knew she had not meant to leave you all alone again, but you could not process that in your grief.

But this time, you would not publicly display your anger. No, this time would be different.

This time, you would not be forgotten and thrown away like useless trash.

After all, He was the reason she was gone. He was the reason your people had been so brutally wiped out and your lands had been taken from you.

He would pay for what he had done.

(I might work on a part two or more, lmk if I should!)

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 kazuha x m!reader — 5.1k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: strangers to lovers, mentions and use of alcohol (no drunk sex though), kazuha and reader are roommates, sort of college / modern au, morning sex / sleepy sex, praise, pet names (good boy [?], angel, uh i cant remember sorry), aftercare is not written but it is given, praise teehee, reader rides kazuha, kazuha jerks reader off, lmk if i missed any thanks :3

KAI SAYS: GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!! birthday post im now 20 that sounds so old euugghh

Rent was hell.

Your minimum income, which was mostly spent on necessities and college fees, was barely able to pay last month. And now with inflation, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through another year.

But, there was always hope. It was only the beginning of June after all.

Last week, your friend introduced you to a website to find roommates. Having a roommate would solve a few of my problems, you thought as you scrolled through the site on your computer. For one, the rent would be split between the two of you, which was much more manageable than right now. And, for two, you would get to actually talk to someone every day.

It would be a win-win situation if the two of you got along.

After a few days of thinking everything through, looking at different people’s profiles, because the site was a “Tinder for roommates,” as your friend had put it, you found a man that matched your preferences.

Kaedehara Kazuha.

From what you could tell by his profile, he looked like a sweet man. His profile picture was set to a white cat, and you can see his hand atop its head, gently petting against the cat’s ears. You hadn’t met him in person yet, but through text, you’d managed to get to know him a bit.

The two of you texted about your hobbies and Kauha told you about his life. He was getting a degree in poetry at a college near your house, which is why he selected the area. He told you earlier today about himself. He liked to eat fish and go drinking out. He liked staying with animals he liked warm weather and sunny days, and he liked to spend time with his loved ones and friends.

To be honest, he seemed a bit too good to be true.

But, you think, I suppose some people are just like that.

With a content sigh, you shut your computer. You’d texted Kazuha and the two of you had planned for him to move in today. It seemed a little quick to you, but Kazuha said he didn’t really have anything big to move over. According to him, he’d only be bringing one suitcase and backpack.

Yesterday, you cleaned out the guest room—well, know his room. It was tedious work, something you hoped you wouldn’t have to do again. Ever. But, you supposed it would be worth it in time.

So now here you were, sanding proudly with your hands on your hips smiling at your spotless house. Kazuha better like it here… You think. Your hand goes to run through your hair gently, combing it back. You’re about to flop down onto the couch and maybe take a nap—only for the familiar tune of the doorbell to ring through the house, echoing and bouncing off the walls.

Your head snaps backwards, a nervous smile making its way onto your lips.

You rush to the door, ignoring the slight shake in your step. Your heartbeat quickens and you don’t know why. Kazuha’s a nice man. You remind yourself, though you don’t think that’s why you're nervous.

Slowly, you unlock your door and turn the doorknob with your other hand. And there, standing to greet you is your new roommate. Kaedehara Kazuha.

You greet him with a polite smile, cracking open the door just enough to let him inside. The roll of his suitcase from the sidewalk outside up onto the flooring of your house sends a loud ‘Clunk! Clunk!’ sound and you wince a little.

You shut the door behind you, schooling your expression as you turn back to Kazuha. He trunks to you quickly and smiles gently. “Ah,” he says and his voice is so soft when he speaks, “I’m Kazuha, but I suppose you already know that.”

You introduce yourself, finishing off the same as him with a short, “but I suppose you already knew that too.”

He nods politely a small laugh flitting out of his lips. You lead him to his new bedroom, helping him carry his backpack as he lifts his suitcase, not wanting the wheels to dirty the floor. Kazuha takes a look around, his smile being ever present as you drop his backpack by the door.

“It’s nice here.” He comments, turning his gaze from you to his bedroom.

A bashful grin makes its way to your lips. “Thanks.” You murmur. “Cleaned just for you.”

With that, he’s looking back at you. “Just for me?” He responds, and there’s an edge of playfulness that lies beneath the overlaying gratefulness in his tone. “Thank you.”

You just nod, not fully trusting your voice.

After a moment, Kazuha sits down at the edge of his bed, tracing his hands over the expanse of the duvet. “We should go out sometime.” He says and you blink. You’re face feels warm and you hope Kazuha doesn’t see.

“Like…” Your voice trails off, leaving your sentence unfinished. Like a date? You wanted to say, but your lips don’t seem to work.

Kazuha seems to take note of this, chuckling softly. “Just to get to know each other better. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.” He gives you a comforting smile and your nervousness seems to dissipate when you look at him.

“Ok.” You agree. “We can plan something for after you’ve gotten more… settled in.”

Kazuha’s smile widens and he gives you a nod. “Thanks.”

You take a deep breath, before speaking up again. “I’ll leave you to it then.” You turn on your heel before walking out of Kazuha’s new bedroom. You shut the door gently before speed-walking to your room and collapsing onto your bed.

Your breathing comes out in soft puffs as you bury your face into a pillow, curling yourself on your bed. What the fuck was that? You cry mentally. You grip onto the bedsheets tightly. Your heart is beating fast and you think it’d beat tight through your ribs if you don’t calm down soon. You bring your hands to your face, dragging them across your eyes. “I’m fucked.” You curse quietly. Kazuha’s so nice! You know you probably won’t even last a month without developing some sort of feelings for him and that scares you. 

You… don’t want to ruin what little the two of you had managed to build up in the past week. As little as it was, you like what you have with Kazuha. In the back of your mind, though, there’s the nagging feeling for more. You want to get closer to Kazuha, you want to spend time with him.

Maybe that date of his wouldn’t be too bad.

With a heavy sigh, you twist your body to lay like a starfish, sprawled across your bed. You turn your gaze to your window, squinting as the sunlight fans through the glass and into your eyes. If you just ignored any feelings that developed, they would just go away, right?

The first six days with Kazuha were… different from your usual routine, to put it simply.

On Monday (because everyone knows the week starts with Monday and not Sunday!) you awoke to the smell of food wafting through the house. You were instantly up and out of bed, barely managing to throw on a shirt—backwards—before you stumbled into the kitchen.

You were taken aback by the sight that greeted you.

Kazuha, in his pyjamas and an apron, was humming a soft tune as he cooked something on the stove. He turns once he notices you, standing in shock by the doorway. “Ah,” he said, “I see you’re finally awake.” He humed, using the spatula to plate a scrambled egg. He handed you the plate and Archons it smelled good. “I made breakfast. Used some of your food, if you don’t mind.”

You absentmindedly nodded, entranced by the way he moved around the kitchen, putting things in the dishwasher, plating his food, and turning off the stove. All of those were such ordinary things, but, for some reason, it just made you more drawn to him.

You brought your plate to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down, still watching Kazuha. “Thanks for breakfast.” You murmured after a few bites. “It’s really good.”

“Well, it’s only natural I repay you somehow.” Kazuha said before sitting down beside you. “You basically lent me your house to live in.” He joked.

“Our house now.” You responded. “Since you’ll be payin’ half the rent.”

Kazuha nods, taking a bite out of his own breakfast. “I plan on spending the week organizing my stuff. Nothing big, just getting everything tidy.” The two of you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the warmth of the summer weather.

Besides that, Monday wasn’t anything eventful.

Tuesday was spent helping Kazuha. Cooped up in his room, the two of you went through his clothes and belongings, organizing them into his closet and drawers. Kazuha had a decent amount of clothes, which were the bulk of what he brought.

You talked and talked and talked with Kazuha. He was so sweet. You swore you’d told yourself that a million times by now, but it was always true. Kazuha’s laugh was soft and kind, he laughed at all your stupid, cheesy jokes, no matter how unfunny they were. He’d help you cook meals—much better than you ever could.

Tuesday was when you had come to realize that maybe you were enjoying his company a little too much. But, you thought, he’s just… fun to be around.

You used that excuse for the rest of the week.

Kazuha was just… nice. Everyone would enjoy his company like this. You were no different!

It was a pathetic excuse, but it was pathetic enough for you to cling onto.

Wednesday you and Kazuha went out and you showed him the neighbourhood as the two of you walked to the store for some groceries. Kazuha took an oddly long time looking through the fruits and vegetables section, eyeing each piece we selected carefully before placing it into the plastic bag we used to carry everything.

It was endearing.

After a good forty-five minutes of walking around the store, the two of you finally decided to head to the cashier for check out. Kazuha was polite as he made idle chatter with them, but you couldn’t help the frown that pulled at your face.

You were right there. If he wanted to talk to someone, why couldn’t it be you? You were sure you were more entertaining than that cashier worker.

But you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You pulled out your credit card, expecting to pay, only for Kazuha to gently pull your hand back. “Let me.” He says gently. Your eyes dart to him and your face flushes when you feel his hand graze gently over yours as he pulls it back.

He wanted to pay for you.

Ah, if you hadn’t fallen for him yet, you sure as hell had now.

He taps his card quickly and you barely manage to make it out of the store while avoiding Kazuha’s gaze.

Things only started to set in on Thursday.

You’d woken up with a heavy migraine and a grumpy mood, so it didn’t come as a surprise that you didn’t want to talk to anyone. Unfortunately, that also included Kazuha. And yet, Kazuha didn’t push you when you refused to talk to him while the two of you ate breakfast.

“Good morning,” He had said in greeting. “How’re you?”

You don’t respond, only taking the plate of food he’d set aside for you. You’re swift to finish your food; shovelling it into your mouth and not even bothering to wait for Kazuha.

He, on the other hand, still had that oh-so-sweet smile of his plastered across his pretty lips. “I’ll take it you’re not feeling great, then.” He murmurs. Kazuha gets up from his seat beside you before handing you a glass of water. “You should drink up. Water’s very good for you, so I’m sure it’ll help you a bit.”

You do as he said, chugging the glass of water in one go. “Thanks.” You whisper. Those were the first words you said to him that day, and you could already feel your migraine easing up. Kazuha is like magic, you think, he fixes everything without even trying.

You gave Kazuha a half-hearted smile before placing your plate and utensils in the dishwasher and heading to your room to take a nap. Naps always seemed to ease your headaches.

As you collapsed on your bed, snuggling up under your heavy duvet, your thoughts drifted back to Kazuha. He was sweet, but you’d also come to the realization that he was handsome. His hair was always up into a ponytail, with that little section of red swooping on top of his ear. His eyes are quite pretty, too. You thought. A shimmering red that often matched the clothes he wore, sparkling as he laughed. And his hands, they looked so gentle as he carried things around. His fingers worked effortlessly as he wrote his poetry in that small notebook of his.

“This man,” you whispered to yourself, “is too good to be true.”

On Friday, Kazuha let you have the honour of brushing and tying up his hair.

He’d caught you staring at him as he sat on his bed, his fingers wove through his white locks. With a raised eyebrow, he beckons you over, handing you a red hair tie. “Mind helping me?” He asked softly.

You complied eagerly, scooting behind him. You ran your hand through his hair, gently scooping it behind his shoulders. Kazuha let out a soft hum, as he nodded in content. Carefully, you pull his hair into a ponytail, twisting the thin band to wrap carefully around it a few more times.

“There.” You said. “It’s done.”

Kazuha turned to face you, his knees pressed much too close to yours. “Thank you.” He grinned, grabbing your hand to rest in between his cool ones. “I really appreciate this.”

Your face flushed, an embarrassing warmth coating your cheeks. You brought your free hand to scratch awkwardly at the back of your neck before mumbling out a response. “No problem, Kazuha.”

Saturday was spent planning the two of your guys’ “date” that would be happening on Sunday.

Kazuha suggested a picnic, and you couldn’t help but agree. Maybe it was the thought of spending a day with him, or maybe it was how he wanted to spend a day with you, but you knew you would’ve agreed to anything he said.

The picnic would be on Sunday, in a park the two of you found online.

After a very successful planning session, the two of you spent the rest of the day preparing and packaging food for the picnic.

It was somewhat chaotic—but it was also fun.

Kazuha taught you how to make his favourite sandwich, how to toast the bread perfectly, and how to cut each one into little heart shapes. All with a soft smile dancing on his pretty lips as he guided your hands gently, easing the knife into the bread.

Archons, you were fucked. How’re you supposed to live with him, like this, every day?

And now, it’s Sunday; the day of the picnic.

Your foot taps nervously against the floor of your bedroom. What am I supposed to wear? Yes, you do know you’re probably overthinking this, but you can’t help it! Not when it’s because of Kazuha! You have to make sure you’re always looking your best!

Your cheeks puff out as a heavy sigh leaves your lips, eventually settling on your outfit of the day.

Finally ready, you nervously open the door, heading out to meet Kazuha in the kitchen.

He greets you with a smile and a call of your name. His arms find their way around your waist in a tight hug and you blink. Oh, oh, oh, oh—what do I do!? When did he get so… touchy?! Not that I’m complaining but—You stand frozen, yet Kazuha doesn’t seem to mind. He pulls back with his signature smile. “You’re ready to go?” He questions, taking a step towards the front door.

“Y-Yeah.” You manage to stutter out. “I’m ready.”

“Great!” He grabs your hand, leading you out of your shared home. He doesn’t let go as the two of you walk to the park. With the picnic basket in his free hand, Kazuha still grips yours gently as he leads you. His thumb runs over the skin of your hand absentmindedly. You think it’s supposed to be a calming gesture, but, it only makes your heart beat faster and your face go warm.

You eventually find yourself in a large field, small flowers adorning the grass. Kazuha tugs a blanket out of his bag, laying it over the grass. He plops down on it, patting the space beside him as he does. “Sit with me.” He says.

You comply quickly, placing your own basket down and taking a spot beside him. “...Thanks for doing this with me.” You murmur, giving Kazuha a shy glance.

He only grins in response, digging through his bag and handing you one of the sandwiches you prepared yesterday. “It’s nothing, really.” He smiles, and you feel a tingle go through your hand where his finger brushes over yours. “I like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you too.” You match his expression, your lips pulling into a smile. It hasn’t even been a week, and yet it feels like you’ve known Kazuha for years.

Kazuha grins, reaching into his bag. “Good.” is all he responds before pulling something out. Is that a wine bottle? “Now, would you like a drink?”

You… never took Kazuha as a drinker.

And yet, here he is, drunk out of his mind as slurs slip from his lips. Kazuha calls out your name, his head slipping onto your shoulder as his hands grip the blanket the two of you are sitting on. “Do you…” He trails off. “Do youuu… wanna watch th-the sunset w’me?” He slurs his eyes fixing on yours from his position on your shoulder.

You cough awkwardly. “Kazuha.” You say softly, easing his head off your shoulder. “It’s four-thirty in the afternoon. The sunsets not coming out anytime soon…”

“B-But—” He whines. “It woulda been soooo romantic.” Kazuha grins, his eyes lolling shut as he slumps against your chest this time. “Jus’ you, me, an’ the flowers.”

“Oh, Kazuha.” You sigh. “I’d love to watch the sunset with you, but we have to get you home before dark. It’d be dangerous walking out drunk at night.”

“No!” He cries. “I could… could protect you… from th’danger.”

“Nope.” You say, trying not to let his words affect you. “We’re going home now, okay?”

“Okayyyy.” He whines, dragging out the word as he says it. “But only—only cause you said so.”

“Good.” You wrap an arm around Kazuha, right under his shoulder as you help him stand. You leave him for a bit, turning around to pick up the blanket and his bag. “Kazuha!” You call, and he’s instantly behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, pushing his face into your neck.

“Hm?” He coos. “D’ya need something?”

The warmth of Kazuha’s breath fans over the skin of your neck, goosebumps rising lowly. “N-Need you to carry your stuff.” You mumble. Your hands remove Kazuha’s from your waist, shifting to grab his wrist as you gently drag him off you. “Let’s go home now.”

Carefully, you take Kazuha home, not really minding his drunk ramblings. He goes on and on about the sunset, about how he’d stare into your eyes and giggle while he holds your hand and the sun sets.

It is endearing seeing him drunk out of his mind and yet still so lovey-dovey.

It only takes the two of you a fifteen-minute walk to reach your home and you’re quick to open the door and let Kazuha in, the two of you dropping your stuff as you help him up the stairs, your arm wrapped snugly around his waist. He slurs your name again, his pretty red eyes meeting yours. “C-Can we cuddle…?” He whines and you instantly turn your head, wanting to hide the warmth on your cheeks.

“I…” You whisper. “You’re drunk. Let’s just get you in bed first.”

“Noo!” Kazuha cries, planting his feet on the ground, stopping you. “Y’always make me wait! Made me wait for our date, now you're still makin’ me wait when I jus’ want cuddles!”

“Kazuha, really, maybe we should—” You try to protest, only to be interrupted.

“Please,” Kazuha whines pitifully, “Jus’ for a bit.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, letting out a deep exhale. “You’re still drunk,” you start, “but fine. I guess some cuddles won’t hurt.”

Kazuha grins happily, snaking his arms around you, just under your arms as he lifts you into the air. “You’re th’best!” He slurs. “Come, cuddles time.” With that, he’s lifting you up and carrying you over into his bedroom.

He tosses you gently onto the bed and you land with a quiet: “Oof!” Before you feel the bed dip as Kazuha joins you. His arms find their familiar place around you and his nore presses into the back of your head as he twists your body into a spooning position with his. One of Kazuha’s legs is haphazardly thrown over yours, and you feel completely engulfed in, well, Kazuha.

“You’re so handsome.” Kazuha whispers into your hair. “My handsome boy.” He presses a kiss to the back of your head, and you have to remind yourself that Kazuha is drunk. He won’t remember any of this, nor will he ever act like this again.

Still, you end up leaning into the touch, falling asleep slowly, basking in Kazuha’s comforting warmth and love.

When you wake up, Kazuha’s body is tangled with yours. His head is on your chest and his arms are wound tightly around your waist. One of his legs is positioned between yours, his knee pressing against you.

You tug him closer, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. Kazuha’s head dips between your shoulder and your neck, nuzzling into the spot. You can feel the small puffs of air his lips let out against your skin as he breathes, matching the pattern of your heartbeat as he does.

You grin, pulling yourself to sit up—only to be yanked completely down by Kazuha. “Don’ move, please.” He whispers. “Need t’feel ya.”

“Kazuha.” You complain. “You’re not even drunk anymore—”

“No.” Kazuha murmurs. “Need to feel you.” As the words leave his lips, he shifts his body, pressing his hips flush against your ass. 

Something firm pokes into you from behind and—

Oh.

That’s what he meant by feel you.

Kazuha’s hips start a steady grind against you, pushing his erection into your ass as he murmurs breathless nothings into your ear. A desperate whine slips from his lips as he slowly moves his hands from around you to on you, roaming your chest and up your neck.

“Need you.” Kauzha murmurs slowly. “Need you so bad.”

“I know.” You say, turning onto your side to face Kazuha.

He smiles at you, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. “Please let me have you.” He whines.

You smile, leaning into his touch and pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “Of course, you can have me. I’ve been all yours from the start.”

Kazuha’s lips press against yours as he gently pushes you to lie on your back against the bed. His hands trace your sides, going from your neck to your hips as he pulls your pants down. He releases you from his kiss, the both of you gasping for air as he yanks down your boxers with impressive speed.

A soft whine slips from your throat, needily grinding your hips into the air. “Kazuha…” You moan, needing his touch desperatley. “C-Can you just—”

“I know.” He coos, trailing his hand to your hard cock. “I know, pretty boy, but I jus’ wanna take my time with you, ‘kay?”

You hesitantly nod, bringing your hand to thread through Kazuha’s hair as he peppers an assortment of kisses all over your cheeks. His hand starts a slow rhythm, gliding up and down the shaft of your cock slowly.

His grip is teasing, the way he squeezes up as he reaches your tip, dragging the pad of his thumb down your dick as he does. Kazuha’s fist moves quicker, watching as your eyes scrunch up in pure ecstasy from his ministrations. “That’s it.” He murmurs encouragingly. “C’mon, I know you’re close…”

A gasp leaves your lips as Kazuha drags his thumb over your slit, rolling it and smearing your precum everywhere, watching with nothing but a pleased smile as your hips frantically twitch in his hold. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your neck—right bellow your ear before giving the spot a teasing lick.

Kazuha’s hands work at your dick again and again, sliding with a steady rhythm up and down until your brain feels muddled and hazy. You grip at his wrist, not knowing if you want him to stop or keep going.

“K-Kazuha,” you whine, “please.”

A soft laugh leaves his lips and he once again kisses your neck. “Shh.” He murmurs. “Be patient, my dear.” With that, he’s pressing a harsh bite into your supple skin, letting his teeth graze over before digging them into you. A loud moan slips from your lips, your dick twitching over and over until your eyes are squeezing shut and thick ropes of milky white shoot from your tip all over your tummy and Kazuha’s hand.

“O-Oh.” You manage to squeak out. “You’re good at this.”

Kazuha smiles, helping the both of you sit up—with you in between his knees with his erection still pressed into the curve of your ass. He rolls you over, bringing your hips ontop of his as he pulls his leaking cock out of his pants, watching intently as you practically drool at the sight.

“Ride me, please.” Kazuha whispers, his desperation clear in his tone. You wrap a hand around his dick, rolling the pad of your thumb against his tip before lifting your hips. You line him up quickly, feeling the head of his cock push against your hole. Your mouth drops open, a low whine leaving your lips.

Slowly, slowly, very slowly, you sink down on his cock, taking him all the way in. You’re about halfway in—from what little you can tell—when Kazuha grabs your hips. His eyes are teary, staring into yours as he grabs the fat of your ass, and pulls you down.

A loud moan slips freely from your lips and you collapse onto Kazuha, the both of you panting heavily.

“A-Archons.” He whispers, his fingers rubbing smooth circles over your hips. “You’re so tight, angel.”

Angel.

He called you angel.

You bury your face into Kazuha’s neck, taking in his scent as you breathe. “Kazu…” You whine. “Need you so bad.”

“I know, pretty.” He whispers. His grip on your hips tightens as you lift your head off him and look into his eyes. His deep, red eyes. “C’mon. I’ll help you, ‘kay?” He smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before leading you to sit up above him. His finger taps against your waist before he starts. “Lift your hips f’me.” Kazuha instructs and you comply quickly, lifting your hips before dropping back down.

As soon as you drop down, Kazuha’s tip knocks against your prostate harshly and you cry out, your hands barely managing to find purchase against his shoulders. “Good boy.” Kazuha whispers sweetly, running his hands over your chest. “Jus’ like that…” He murmurs. “Think you can keep going?” You nod eagerly, lifting your hips again only to drop down.

Your thighs shake but you don’t care! Not when it feels so good to be bouncing on Kazuha’s dick like this. Not when he hits all those good spots that make you see stars as your eyes roll back.

“Kazuha.” You moan out, rocking your hips tirelessly up and down his dig. You can feel the drag against every vein against your walls, the way he nudges just right against your prostate. Your eyes roll back as your dick twitches against your tummy, drooling pre uselessly as you ride Kazuha up and down, over and over again.

“T-That’s it, pretty.” He whispers. Kazuha’s hands come to grip your ass again, picking up the pace for you as he starts to buck his hips up and into your awaiting hole. “I—holy shit—I’m close.” He whimpers, and you swear there’ll be bruises from how tight he grips your waist. “Need to cum—” He whines, his eyes squeezing shut.

You nod your head eagerly your ass squeezing so tightly around him as he picks up the pace, fucking into you harder. You need to feel him, feel him shoot his load into you. You need it, need Kazuha, need every part of him.

Every time he thrusts, you feel yourself get closer and closer to that sweet release the both of you seek. “Kazu…” You moan out. “Close, close—need you t’k-keep goin’”

“I know.” He whimpers. “I know, ‘m not stopping.” Your eyes rolled back, the familiar warmth building in the pit of your tummy. The way Kazuha’s hands trailed over your thighs—everything he did was begging your body to surrender to the familiar pleasure.

“A-At the same time.” You plead, gripping onto Kazuha’s arm. He only nod, his eyes squeezing shut.

You clench around him and Kazuha throws his head back against the pillows as he buries his dick into you, his hips meeting yours in one final, harsh thrust. He pulls your body close, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he whispers sweet nothings into you.

You feel him cum, a thick load going right into you. You whine, tightening so sweetly around him as your own orgasm hit. “H-Holy…” You whimper, not hvaing the energy to finish your sentence. Your dick twitches between the two of you and you cum. Hard.

Kazuha’s grip around you tightens as he doesn’t even bother to pull out. He grabs the blanket, bringing it over the two of you as he nuzzles your face into his neck, your body still twitching.

Archons. You think, watching Kazuha’s eyes close gently. The sunlight falls onto his face, like a golden halo around his perfect features. How long has it been with him? A week?

Only a week, and you’d managed to fall in love.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @helloanime @kiekole (send ask without anon to be added)

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 tartaglia x m!reader — 3.8k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: amab reader, reader is a dom at first then switches halfway through, reader is mentioned to be wearing lingerie, light feminization (childe says pussy once), use of good boy amongst other pet names, light degradation, praise (for both reader and childe), childe sucks reader's dick, childe also eats reader's ass, cockwarming (childe can't take it LMAO), no aftercare written but it is given, childe licks ur fingers to clean them, mating press, dirty talk. lmk if i missed any!

KAI SAYS: almost 4k words of pure smut haha but like omg i wrote this so late at night with my tip so pls spare me AND!!! this is my return post so...

Tartaglia knows you’re doing it on purpose now, because how can you not be? He whimpers, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink as he feels you clench around him. “Baby, please.” He whines out, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I-I can’t—baby, it’s been thirty minutes.” Thirty minutes he’d been buried to the hilt in you; his dick hard and twitching as it stuffes you full.

Tartaglia whines. He could faintly hear the sound of you taking a deep breath, but that’s not what he was focusing on. No, he was focusing more on the way you squeeze him as you inhale. It was on purpose, he knew you couldn’t just be faking this.

With a deep breath, doing his best to steel his nerves, Tartaglia pressed his thumbs into the joysticks of his console again. “I…” He murmurs softly into the skin of your neck. “I don’ think I can beat this level.”

“No.” You coo in that sickeningly sweet voice of yours. “You can.”

Tartaglia nods his head, your encouragement helping lift his mood somewhat. But, true to his word, he dies yet again. Tartaglia lets out a pathetic whine when he’s greeted with the ‘You Died!’ Screen for the nth time tonight. This bet was made specifically with his torture in mind. You knew he would never beat this level, so to “motivate” him, as you put it, you would sit nice and still on his sensitive cock until he beat it.

“Can’t you move just a little, please.” Tartaglia begs, his dignity long gone. You’re evil for this, he thinks, but all of that is lost when you shift your hips slightly, his mind going blank at just the smallest friction.

He feels his tip bump your prostate, and Tartaglia knows he’s hit it when you moan out, your mouth right by his ear as his fingers press harshly against the buttons of his game console. “P-please!” He whines again. “I-I need you t’move, just a little, just a little, please.”

“Maybe, if you last another thirty minutes, I’ll consider it.” You hum, and Archons Tartaglia thinks he's losing his mind with the way your breath trickles over his ear. “But, if you make it through the level…” Your voice trails off, but Tartaglia knows what you meant.

If he makes it through the level, Tartaglia could finally fuck you. Push you against the bed, wipe that stupid smirk off your face, maybe make you sit on his face until you cry. The options, at least to him, are endless.

You trail your hand over the neck of his shirt, and Tartaglia’s eyes dart from the screen to you. You, all dressed up in your white lace panties and thigh highs, with your chest arched against his chest and here he was, still fully clothed.

Well, only thanks to you.

You, like the cruel man you are, wouldn’t let Tartaglia strip. You’d forced him to watch as you changed, stripping off your pyjamas and slipping on the lace lingerie while he sat there, half sure he was drooling. And then you’d gone and pressed him to the edge of the bed, forcing him to sit as you pulled out his leaking dick, not even bothering to pull his sweats all the way down. Then you sat your pretty hole on his dick, and Tartaglia couldn’t pull his eyes away from the way your ass practically swallowed him whole.

And then, began this whole ordeal of pure torture.

You’re sat on his lap, facing Tartaglia as his arms wrap around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he looks over your body and behind you to the console gripped tightly in his hands.

Tartaglia’s eyes dart to you, and they widen as he watches you shift on his dick, your tip forcing its way over the hem of your panties, now drooling pre all over his shirt. Tartaglia squeezes his eyes shut. You press a kiss right under his ear and Tartaglia twitches inside you. You let out a lewd moan and he doesn’t think he can take it anymore.

Not another thirty minutes, or another five.

Tartaglia’s hands shake, and he’s forced to watch his in-game character die again. “Fuck…” He whispers, trying not to roll his hips into your heat. “I… You’re torturing me. Can’t take this.” He whines.

You shake your head. “C’mon, baby.” You coo, using the nickname Tartaglia always uses for you. It sounds almost mocking the way it slips from your pretty lips, but he doesn’t dwell on it. “You might wanna hurry up, or I’ll have to pull out my old dildo to help me…”

No! Tartaglia thinks, and he voices such thoughts with the aggressive shake of his head against you. I can do better than a stupid dildo!

“P-Please don’t.” he says weakly. “I’m trying, I’m trying.” Tartaglia starts to concentrate on his console once again, doing his best to ignore the squeeze of your ass and the warmth of your walls.

Your tip drools pre across his shirt, twitching gently against the fabric. Tartaglia’s mouth waters. He wants to taste you, wants to bury his face between your thighs and lick every drop up. It’s an indulgence he wants to become reality more than anything.

“Can I at least touch you, please?" he asks desperately, gaze not leaving your tip. Tartaglia wants to be closer to you, to have a hand on your soft skin, to play with your dick that was so close to the cumming. He’s ready to do anything in order to make you cum, to feel you pulse around his dick. He’s losing his mind, and the game was the least of his worries. Tartaglia wants you.

"Touch me before you finish the level, and there'll be consequences." You hum. "And trust me, if you think this is bad, just wait until you see what I have in mind." you press your lips gently against Tartaglia’s neck, trailing from his adam's apple to that sweet spot right under his ear. "I'm sure you'd deprive some sick form of enjoyment from that, though."

Tartaglia whimpers at the threat. He doesn’t know what would be worse: the current situation or the punishment you offer. Sick form of enjoyment… His mind echoes. He would most likely enjoy anything you gave him right now.

And like an answer to his prayers, you shift on his dick again. Tartaglia watches as your tip pokes above the fabric of your lace panties, even higher than before. The used-to-be white was now a dark grey with the way your pre had stained and wet through the fabric. Your panties were completely soaked through, the bulge from your dick covered in pre from your leaking tip, poking just above the hem.

Slowly, you tug your dick out of the panties, making sure to slather your fingers in your precum before pressing them against Tartaglia’s lips. "Clean them up." You whisper, and the sound of your voice almost makes him melt.

The instant your fingers press against his lips, Tartaglia is eagerly licking them into his mouth, his tongue swirling your digits around and coating them in his spit. He didn’t hesitate to continue sucking on your fingers, despite knowing they were already clean enough.

“Such an eager boy,” You murmur as you yank your fingers from Tartaglia's lips. There’s a string of drool that connects your hand to his pouty lips as he gives you another pleading look.

“Will you let me touch you now?” He begs, “Please, I’ve been so good for you!” Tartaglia licks his lips, savouring the faint taste of you. He wants more, he wants to grab you by the waist and bury his face between your thighs and suck you off until you’re nothing but a mess inside his mouth.

You bring your fingers back down to your dick, swiping them over your tip and harshly pressing them against Tartaglia’s mouth. “Suck.” You command in a harsh voice, completely ignoring his previous question.

Tartaglia’s lips go back around your fingers again. He doesn’t need to be told twice when you’re the one telling him. He easterly laps at your fingers, ignoring the drool that threatens to spill from the corner of his lips. You press your fingers down against his tongue and he chokes lightly, lifting his blue eyes to meet yours,

When you finally pull your fingers out of his mouth, Tartaglia buries his head into your neck about to ask to touch you again—only for you to beat him to it. “You get two minutes to touch me, but you can only use your hands.” You start. “And, we have to stay in this position. No pulling out or thrusting." You press a kiss against Tartaglia’s lips. "Think of it as... encouragement to finish the level faster."

Tartaglia nods happily at your words, pulling off your neck to get a better view of you. “Thank you—thank you, baby, needed this.” He slurs as his eyes rake down your exposed body before honing in on your sensitive cock. He wishes you’d let him lick that instead of your fingers, but you were clear on your rules for the two minutes.

Tartaglia has two minutes, a whole two minutes to make you feel good. There’s no way he’s let them go to waste.

He wastes no time when the game is finally paused. Tartaglia cups your balls gently, feeling the weight of them in his palm. He massages them slowly, his thumb rubbing up and down the underside of your dick, feeling the warmth and the leaking pre that slipps down your shaft. Tartaglia knows nothing can make you cum in this position, but he can make you squirm, he can tease you.

His other hand wanders up, his fingers ghosting over your skin, drawing circles around your nipples before pinching them gently. He wants to hear you moan, to see you writhe. Tartaglia needs to know he was pleasing you. He gazes at your face, waiting to see a reaction, anything to show that he’s making you feel good.

Your eyes roll back and your dick twitches hard against Tartaglia’s hand. “T-Tartaglia…!” You moan out, your back arching into his chest. Tartaglia’s fingers pull gently at you nipples, tweaking and twisting the nubs between his thumb and pointer finger. Your eyes roll back and Tartaglia whines at the sight, sliding his thumb faster up and down your dick, rolling it over your tip before sliding it against your slit.

He feels your hole clench around his dick, and Tartaglia has to squeeze his eyes shut in concentration to stop himself from bucking into you. He’s about to roll his hand again when it’s suddenly pushed away from your leaking dick. You yank his hands off your nipples too, panting as you do. “Two minutes have passed.” You mumble.

Tartaglia knows you were close from the way you sounded to the way you jerked your hips into his hand. “I’m sorry.” He whines, sounding like he’s carrying the weight of the world in his heart.

With a deep breath, Tartaglia focuses back on the game again, he hopes that this time he’ll finally beat the level. He’s determined, he wants to make you cum, to please you. He needs to win.

You slump against his shoulder, clearly needy. Tartaglia sucks in a breath. You were so close. He thinks. His focus turns back to the game, moving the joystick and pressing the rounded buttons as skillfully as he can manage with you taking his cock to the hilt,

Tartaglia feels you lean forward, your hands dipping under the hem of his shirt. “I wanna see you…” You whine and his face flushes. Tartaglia doesn’t have time to respond before the game console is slipping from his hands and you’re tugging his shirt off his figure.

Another eternity passes as Tartaglia picks up the console once again, doing his best to beat the level. He closes his eyes—just about to give up when the victory music blasts throughout the bedroom. “Finally—fuck, fuck, baby.” Tartaglia groans, tossing the console and pouncing on you.

His lips press against yours, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. Tartaglia is kissing you harshly, his lips flush against yours as your tongue gently swirls with his.

He pulls away after a minute, both of your faces flushed and panting. “I-I’m sorry it took me so long.” Tartaglia apologizes. He wants to please you, make you cum, see you lose control just because of him. He was desperate to feel you squirm against him, he wants to see the way your face would twist in pleasure when he fucks you just right.

Tartaglia slowly pulls out, hissing as he leaves your comforting warmth and is met with the harsh, cold outside air.

“Let me take you, please…” He begs, his eyes filled with desire and the need to have you. Tartaglia wanted you—no, needed you. His hand wanders back to your dick, wrapping his palm around your shaft and quickly jerking you up and down at a messy pace.

Tartaglia would do anything to have you come undone on his dick.

“Uh-huh.” You whine, and Tartaglia thinks it’s cute how all your confidence diminishes the instant you're offered some dick.

He watches you twist your body to lay flat against the bed on your back. Slowly, your legs splay into the air before you pull them back and bend them at your knees. Your ass, all empty and clenching around nothing, is now fully exposed to Tartaglia. Your hole is stretched already, from the much too long of a time you spent just sitting on his dick. Your own cock lays across your tummy, twitching and drooling uselessly,

Tartaglia sucks in a breath at the sight of your hole. His dick is throbbing at the sight, pressing angrily against his tummy, so hard and needy. He wants to do nothing more than bury himself inside you, to feel your warm muscle clench around him once more.

Slowly, he lowers himself into a kneeling position right in front of you. Tartaglia dips his head to your ass, pressing light kisses across the curve of your thighs. He trails his mouth down to your dick, taking the tip into his mouth. His eyes roll back at the feeling of finally having you in his mouth. Tartaglia sucks harshly, bobbing his head up and down your length. He runs his tongue over the underside of your shaft.

Tartaglia swirls his tongue around your overly sensitive tip, watching and depriving pure enjoyment of the way your hips buck into his mouth messily. You throw an arm over your face, trying to muffle your breathless moans and flushed face. Tartaglia gives you a harsh suck for warning, letting you know that if you don’t remove your hand now, things would get worse.

You, of course, comply, pushing your hand to the sheets and clenching them in your fist.

Tartaglia hums happily, the vibrations travelling across your shaft. He feels you twitch in his mouth and your legs thrash beside his head, squeezing and pulsing by his ears as he goes faster, making sure to let the drool spill from his lips as he moves his head.

Tartaglia pushes his lips down to your base bringing a hand to fondle your balls gently and you whine, your back arching off the bed. Your hand goes to tangle itself into Tartaglia’s hair, pushing your dick deeper down his throat. “I—holy shit—I’m c-close!” You whine, and that was enough of a signal to pull off your dick.

Tartaglia smears kisses across your ass, ignoring your desperate whines and cries, before eventually leading to your puffy hole, all nice and stretched for him. He’s quick to bury his mouth against you, already feeling his brain go mushy at the feeling. His tongue slips into you easily, and you whine at the feeling.

Tartaglia fucks his tongue into you with great fervour, not even caring for his hard dick. All he can think about is the taste of you on his tongue, the way your hole clenches down so nicely against his mouth and those sweet, sweet moans of: “M-More, please, need you so bad!” That slip from your lips and get his hips rocking his dick into the side of the mattress.

Tartaglia’s tongue pushes and prods into you, again and again until he hears you moan loudly. His eyes dart up, barely able to catch the way your back arches. Your legs shake around him yet again, your thighs squeezing around his ears, which only drives him to thrust his tongue into you further. Drool slips down his chin, but he doesn’t care, all he wants is to taste you again, and again, because, fuck, if he died right here, between your thighs, he would die a happy man.

“Right there!” You cry, Your legs threatening to squeeze tightly on Tartaglia’s head. He pushes his tongue in again, thrusting it in and out of your hole with a scary precision, making sure he hits your prostate every time.

“O-Oh, my—fuck, can’t take it!” You whine and he smirks against your tightening hole. “I need you, please, please, please, pleasepleaseplease!” You’re a complete mess, babbling nonsense as he eats you out, eyes rolling back and legs shaking in ecstasy,

All it took was him shoving a finger in, curling it in time with his tongue, for you to cum. Tartaglia eagerly pulls off your ass, watching as your dick twitches against your tummy and ropes of cum shoot from your member. He waits until you're finished before pressing his face against the mess you just made and licking it clean.

Tartaglia looks up at you from his position against your belly. “I….” He whines. “I’m still hard.” He gives an apologetic smile before going back to his first position in front of the bed, this time standing up. He lifts your collapsed legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he slaps his cock beside your limp one.

As quickly as he can, Tartaglia grabs the bottle of lube from the nightstand and smears it all over his shaft. “Help me out, pretty boy.” He whines and you whimper at the nickname. Slowly, you push yourself onto your elbows just enough to push your hand to his dick and help him spread the lube.

Tartaglia doesn’t even bother to continue once you start, only throwing his head back with a loud groan. “That’s it, o-oh, archons you’re good at this.” His eyes squeeze shut and Tartaglia has to stop himself from cumming on the spot for the nth time tonight. He doesn’t even bother to lube your hole, only murmuring a sweet, “This pussies wet enough for me, right?” before he’s pressing a messy kiss to your neck.

“Not a pussy.” You slur, but he doesn't take any mind.

“D-Don’t worry, baby.” Tartaglia coos as he presses his thick tip against your weak hole. “Promise it’ll feel so good…” He wants to be inside you, to make you come again and again.

And suddenly, he’s halfway in, the thick of Tartaglia’s shaft being swallowed almost whole by your pretty ass was almost enough to make him cum right then and there. You whine lowly, back instinctively arching into him, forcing yourself deeper onto his dick.

“Fuck, baby, look what you do t’me.” He groans, pulling out so it’s just his tip stuck in your pretty, clenching hole. Tartaglia fucks his tip into you, watching it messily slide out then in, then out then in, over and over again until he can’t take it anymore and can’t help but want more.

Tartaglia—like the pathetic man he knows he is—can’t take it anymore. He pushes in fully, but just before he does, spits a large glob of drool from his lips to the tip of your spent cock watching it twitch under the feeling. He laughs, watching your dick twitch back to life. “And to think you get off to me spitting on you.” He murmurs, before finally thrusting in fully, in one, harsh movement.

The moan you let out is so pretty and high, and Tartaglia can feel his balls grow heavy at the sound. Your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the lewd squelch of his dick pressing in, in, in and against your prostate, his tip knocking easily at it.

Tartaglia pistons his hips into you, basking in the moans and pleas for “more, more, more!” that slipped from your pretty lips. He’s pounding into you, and Tartaglia watches your head fall back against the pillow. Your hands shake as you desperately reach out to grab onto the sheets for leverage as he pushes your legs up, leaning down onto your body as he forces you into a mating press.

And, oh, Tartaglia feels like he just slipped so much deeper into you, and with the way your walls squeeze and clench and you moan his name like a mantra—Tartaglia is sure he’s just died and reached heaven.

His thrusts start to lose their rhythm, but they still manage to fill you up so much that, before Tartaglia can process what’s happening, you're crying out, your ass clenching so tightly against him he thinks he sees stars.

“I—I’m close, ‘m so close!” You cry and Tartaglia can’t help but bury his face into your neck as he thrust into your ass.

“Me too, baby.” He whimpers out. Tartaglia reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his much larger ones, before letting out a loud moan. “Together, please, baby, cum together.”

And you’re eagerly nodding your head, a mix of “yes” and “please” leaving your lips. Tartaglia isn’t even pulling out anymore, just knocking his hips against yours—no rhythm or pattern, just instinct as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Cummin’ o-oh—fuck!” You whine and Tartaglia instantly does too, feeling the way your dick spurts thick ropes of white onto your chest and his only drives him to the edge. He buries himself as deep as he can before collapsing onto you, pressing his full weight onto his hips. Tartaglia shoots a thick load of his seed into your awaiting hole, whining in content as he feels you milk his cock, squeezing down on him.

You’re panting, laying on the bed with Tartaglia pressed on top of you. His arms snake around your waist, tugging and twisting your connected bodies so that he’s spooning you, his chin resting on top of you’re head.

After a minute of rest, Tartaglia’s arms squeeze around your waist. “Love you, so much.” He murmurs tiredly.

“Promise?” You giggle back, despite the feeling of your exhaustion weighing heavy on your eyelids.

“Always an’ forever.” Tartaglia whispers sweetly. His arms encircle your waist, pulling you closer as the two of you bask in the afterglow in each other’s arms. “I’ll love you, always and forever.”

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

YOU GIVE ME THE FEELS

—

your fav x gn! reader (ゝ。∂)

cw: valentines 😒, kisses ^3^, ANNIVERSARYS !!, marriage, lovey dovey yucky stuff..

—

YOUR FAV who asks you out on valentines! To make sure your anniversary is on valentines! (´,,>ω<,,`)♡

YOUR FAV who makes your first kiss on valentine’s day (a year into the relationship) so you can celebrate your 1 one year anniversary and your first kiss anniversary on the day of love.

YOUR FAV who proposes to you ON VALENTINES (you get the point atp) and they know that you can start seeing the pattern now, but they find it so cute.

YOUR FAV who NEEDS to have your wedding planned on valentines, and forces everyone to come no matter what their plans were

BONUS: they never get you on gift on valentines, buys you gifts for each anniversary !

MORNING BLOOM ﹒🌷

childe x gn! reader

waking up with childe will never get old ♡

cw : nothing really, sleeping in the same bed, kissing?, L word😒 (i love you). first fic, cringing so hard😭

waking up, smelling a florescent scent, the scented candle he had bought you not so long ago..

face stuffed into the silk pillow, you raise your head to see him smiling at you, his face all red looking as if he was trying to.. laugh?

“what’re you gonna laugh about?”

“i’m not laughing”

“yeah? ok”

taking the pillow underneath your head you throw it right it is face, cat hair flying off it.. your recently new kitten seems to have taken a liking to your pillow. he spits out the cat hair that landed in his mouth. Grabbing you seconds later, making you lay on top of him.

“acting childish now?”

“oh, like you wouldn’t do the same” looking up at him with a huge grin on your face

he takes his hands and delicately place them on the sides of your face, pulling you in for a small peck.

you can tell he brushed his teeth before you woke up, tasting mint a small hint of what seems to be coffee? maybe tea. doesn’t matter

“how long have you been awake for?”

“mm, around.. 2 hours now”

“oh”

“hm?”

“did you eat breakfast?”

“only coffee”

you rest your head on his chest, hair falling in front of your face. You blow it out of your face, the small wind hitting childes face, his eyes squint. Your cold breath was always going to be something new to childe no matter how many times you blow in his face for whatever reason.

You’re still feeling tired and lazy, you want to sleep again. You can feel your eyelids trying not to shut. you close telling yourself “Just close them you won’t fall asleep”.

You were wrong. Like always, you fell asleep.

Childe notices the faint snoring coming from your mouth, he sighs. Pulling the covers over the both of you, giving you small kiss. He knows you felt it when he sees you smile faintly. Closing the lamp with a small light coming from it.

“I love you”

﹒ . ⊹ ⁺ ₊ 🌷 ₊ ⁺ ⊹ . ﹒

GREEDY, GREEDY ⟢ nsfw character insert

whatever he'd talked you into was glorious.

and wet.

very wet. gushing slick between your bunny-twitching legs spread so wide for no one but him. and he, fuck-

he was a greedy, greedy man.

before you knew it, he was right between them, throbbing cock sliding in with an ease that had your eyes dice-rolling in their skull, mouth perfectly agape for his fingers to slide and curl into your throat.

the very sensation of being so full on two ends had you writhing, cunt squeezing him for all his worth as you both moan for a lost mercy, trembling and wordlessly begging the other for more.

good god, maybe you were greedy too.

— ango sakaguchi, blade, chuuya nakahara, dainsleif, diluc, mammon, satoru gojo, saigiku jouno, solomon, tartaglia, toji fushiguro, veritas ratio, wriothesley.

HEY SWEET CHERUB, REBLOGS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED ♡

©2024 mourningwings ⟡ all rights reserved. do not claim, copy, modify, translate, or repost my work.

aether (one of the) main character(s) in hit game genshin impact hits on you.

thank u sm for beta reading @mitsies i love u and your silly comments and insightful suggestions on googledocs, wc 700, NO ONE IS ACTUALLY DEAD

“Holy—Archons!”

Anyone would be surprised if a body materialized from thin air right in front of you, lifeless like a doll. You stare at the body, thoughts racing as fast as your heartbeat, and all the while, the man with sun threads as hair lay eerily still on the ground, eyes fluttered shut.

The man is terrifyingly beautiful, like a fallen star. A limp and unmoving fallen star, that is. Your jaw extends to the ground, terrified and—mystified? Immediately, your instincts scream at you to perform emergency measures, but—

A pixie comes barreling in from somewhere, tears running down her cheeks as she zeroes in on the presumably dead body.

“Was he your friend?” you ask quietly, mourning on her behalf. Were they siblings? The way she’s slapping his face around seems so.

“He’s not dead!” the little pixie exclaims, sniffling and shaking the apparently not-dead body.

You stare at her, perplexed. “Then why are you crying?”

“Because Paimon had to go through that trial challenge alone!”

“The what?”

Paimon huffs, slamming her tiny fists on the man’s bare waist. It seems to not even have left a mark on his skin. “You wake him up. Paimon’s upset at him.”

It’s hard to say no when tears are rolling down her face. Obediently, you poke around the man’s shut eyes, and it snaps open.

You flinch back. He blinks blearily.

“Are you okay?” You study his face, looking for any signs of a newly born zombie, but his face looks flushed and as healthy as any living human being. His eyes are bright and gold as they stare back at you.

“I’m in heaven,” he says. “Celestia has done it. I’m seeing angels, and I’m in heaven.”

Angels? Celestia?

Paimon tackles his face, shaking his shoulders and crying. “You’re not dead, dummy! How dare you leave Paimon in Dragonspine! All alone, Aether!”

“Oh,” Aether says, sounding almost disappointed. “Then…?”

“You’re not dead,” you agree with Paimon, because evidence lies before you despite the initial fright. However, his comment about angels has you a little flustered. “Um, what happened?”

“Ah,” Aether laughs sheepishly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I failed the trial, and it respawned me back here. Which is weird—I haven’t been in Bubu Pharmacy for ages!”

“I’m sorry?”

Aether jumps to his feet, startling you enough to fall on your ass. He grins down at you and offers a hand. “At least I got to meet you,” he says, pulling you up from the grass. You stumble from his strength; he catches you easily, and you bump against his chest. “Or—not meet you yet. What’s your name?”

You can’t believe the previously perished fallen star is now hitting on you. “I’m… Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats, smiling broadly. “I’ll remember that.”

You hope that your face doesn’t betray the warmth you feel fluttering under your skin.

Aether sighs, casting a glance at the ground he was previously lying on. “Sorry you had to see that. That was probably very disturbing and decidedly not flattering for me.”

You can’t help but laugh. Aether beams. “Does that happen often?”

“When I get a little rusty, yeah.” He tilts his head, looking at you up and down, then around your surroundings. “Do you work here? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Just recently.” You gesture vaguely to the side, feeling a little shy. “If you don’t see me hanging around, it’s probably because I’m always loitering the docks to watch out for exhausted tourists.”

Aether’s smile turns sly. “Nurse me back to health, would you?”

But then Paimon starts tugging on his ear and away from you, a relief for your racing heart. “Enough flirting! You can come back here after you unlock that precious chest!”

“Ow, ow, okay,” Aether laughs, hesitating, before letting you slip from his hold. He takes a few steps back, his smile as blinding as stars seconds away from exploding. “The docks, right? I’ll see you soon!”

By 'soon,' you hope he doesn't mean he'll attempt to die again immediately, but you figure you'll find out eventually. You glance around to see if anyone is watching, then decide to take a stroll around the docks for reasons no one should know.

i cant believe mitzi's first aether fic is THIS i feel so ashamed lmfao, but TY FOR READING!!!!! <3

Yes I know half of them are flat.

no one asked for this, it’s dumb as fuck, and i think it’s funny, so here you are:

tumblr made the image limit 30 so i am absolutely abusing this.

also sorry for any weird image formatting. 30 imgs is only compatible on desktop so mobile, which has better drag & drop functions just gets all fucked up.

✤ 𝐭𝐱𝐭 𝐫𝐱𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞

warnings: suggestive content? idk what was going thru my head with these tbh but here you are.

ft. diluc, heizou, aether, albedo, thoma, zhongli

diluc

heizou

aether

albedo

thoma

zhongli

ok yeah i'll probably do more at some point, ok bye-

Confessed to Capitano but was rejected. Captain states that he has the duty to fulfill Tsaritsa's wishes, and that he has never had any special feelings for you, and even advises you to focus on your career and life. You're lost and sad, drinking vodka with Tartaglia and crying on his shoulder...

Uh-oh, the captain saw it. He felt very jealous and irritated…

Pspspsps can can someone give me asks? I promise I'm nice 😔🥹😭

HEIZOU!!!!! MY HERO ❤️❤️❤️❤️👌🥺

Affection // 5wirl + scaramouche.

✦ Pairings : Aether, Heizou, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Venti, Xiao (seperate) x reader (no gender or pronounces used, only you/your)

✦ Summary: how they show their love without directly saying it.

✦ Warnings: petnames (my dear, sweetheart), half proofread, except that none i think, tell me if i missed any im bad at these.

✦ A/n: guess what? another one based off my boyfriend and his characteristics. (im his biggest fan, but hes also mine) ive never written anything like this b4, please give me feedback pls and thank you!! also is there a name for 5wirl + scaramouche?cause i just know about 5wirl and 4nemo, please tell me.

✦ Wordcount: 500

✦ ATTENTION!!! do not copy. translate, remake my work, i do not give you permission to so dont do it.

Aether 

Encouragement and reassurement.

This man showers you with praise and encouragement, even without words you know he’s adoring you. Just look into his eyes and you’ll see them glinster with love.

Always showing you off to his friends, squeezing your hand as he carefully drags you to meet the next person you dont know.

Big eyes and lips slightly parted as he listens to one of your stories, or just when you talk in general.

Heizou

Speaking up for you.

“Hey, uhm sorry to bother and be that customer, but I just received the wrong food. I didn’t order the spaghetti…”

Will take your hand in his as he realizes your embarrased face. 

“‘Tis not your fault, sweetheart. The kitchen just got it mixed up.” Drops the topic as he sees you cast your eyes down and starts talking about an old memory from his highschool days. His hand never letting go of yours as he rubs small circles on top of your hand.

Kazuha

Acts of service.

Will sit by the front door waiting for you to finish getting ready, untying your shoe laces, or clips for your heels and placing them ready for you to put on.

Will stay on his knees as he helps you put your feet in said shoe or heel and tie them/close them. 

After that he’ll stand up and gently kiss you as he whispers how beautiful you look.

Won’t hesitate to do it infront of others either. Gentleman in private, and in public.

(husband material if you ask me) 

Scaramouche

Speaking up for you…/protectiveness.

“Hey! What’d you just say about her?” 

Protective, but in a good way. No way he’ll let anyone walk away after disrespecting you like that. 

“Speak badly of her again and I’ll personally make sure your life will be insufferable, now scatter.” 

Proceeds to grab your hand and storm off, and when you’re in private he’ll tell you how much he cares for you and that he promises to never let harm come your way.

Venti

Simply using his voice.

Your head would be on his shoulder as he softly sang a song or told you a story. Your eyes falling shut every now and then before waking again. 

Will carry you to bed or lay you down on the couch as soon as he felt your body relax, signaling you’d fallen asleep.

“Sleep tight, honey.”

Will probably sneak into the bed with you and you’ll wake up with two hungry arms around your waist, gripping your shirt.

Xiao

Will keep you as close as physically possible when in public. Arm around your waist, your shoulders, or his hand gripping you so tightly you’d have to remind him to be careful. 

Will glare at anyone who even looks at you. Wouldn’t hesitate to shove people aside to get through crowded places, all the while holding onto you for dear life.

Then tells you to remind him to never go out during the day again.

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reblogs and hearts are appriciated<3

also thankyou for the love on my coming back post, love you all sm<3, gained 50 more followers because of that.

oh my gawh 😭

tags : fem!reader, fluff, spoilers about wriothesley's past

thinking about how much of an honour it must be to marry wriothesley. be his wife. be his family. bear his children. you're telling me that he never got to grow up in a loving family, have healthy relationships with his parents and siblings, share his worries as well as his happiness with someone, but you, you get to show him all the love that he has missed in his life? you have the honour to let him feel homeliness?

you're his first home. a home that makes him look forward to actually return to after finishing work in his office. you're his first "welcome home", his first warm meal after a long day, his first "you tired? how about i draw you a bath?". there are so many things that he learns thanks to you. loyalty, mutual trust, honesty. because wriothesley has never been a liar, yet being honest doesn't end at telling the truth. it goes way beyond that. it is talking about shitty paperwork, about how enjoyable a lunch with sigewinne is, how difficult it is to sleep when having recurring negative thoughts about yourself and your past. honesty is opening up, and you get to be the first person wriothesley truly opens up to.

and when you've made his heart swell with so much love that it feels like it is beyond its capacity. when you put his large, rough hand over the softness of your stomach and look at him with teary eyes and a bright smile on your face. wriothesley realises that there is yet so much more that he has to learn. so many more firsts that he has to experience, but at least he'll be able to share them with you.

yeah, being someone's first lover, someone's first kiss, someone's first sex partner- all of those things are great, really.

but being someone's first family is just so- wow.

hehe, Im already interested to read this ^^

Prologue

pairing: Wriothesley x f! reader

trigger warnings: violence, blood, murder, imprisonment, suggestive, ptsd, mentions of child abuse

Chapterlist | Next Chapter >>

The streets of Fontaine were bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, casting long shadows and giving the city an almost ethereal glow. The meeting with the Iudex of Fontaine in Palais Mermonia had been as expected—tense and bureaucratic. Discussions about the affairs related to Meropide were never easy, but the Duke was thankful for the cooperation and support he often received from Monsieur Neuvillette.

Wriothesley’s heavy footsteps echoed against the cobblestones.  He rarely ventured to the surface, but duty had called. Now, as the golden hues of the setting sun bathed the city in a warm glow, he made his way through the bustling streets of Fontaine. The surface world, with its vibrant life and spectacle, always felt a world apart from the fortress he governed.

He exhaled slowly, a sigh mingling with the evening breeze, as his thoughts drifted to the faces of the prisoners. Each one had a story, a past, and sometimes, Wriothesley wondered if he would ever truly understand morality as a whole. Lost in contemplation, he barely noticed the few passersby giving him a wide berth, recognizing the emblem of his station and the aura of authority he carried. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he navigated through the throng of people.

He barely registered the world around him until a sudden impact jolted him from his thoughts. He had collided with someone, and the force of it sent them both stumbling.

“Oh, for the love of–!” The exasperated voice brought him back to the present. He looked down to see a young woman picking herself off the ground, brushing the dust from her garments. Her eyes, alight with irritation, met his, and she frowned deeply.

“Watch where you’re going, will you?” she snapped, not caring that he towered over her. Wriothesley found himself momentarily speechless. The setting sun framed her face, casting a radiant glow that highlighted her delicate features. Her beauty struck him, the kind that seemed to draw the light towards her, making her skin glow and her eyes sparkle with an inner fire.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he managed to say, his voice softer than usual. He noticed then the bouquet of flowers scattered on the ground, petals crushed and stems broken. Flowers? A curious pang of disappointment twisted in his chest. Did she have a suitor already?

"You should be more careful! It is a busy street!" she retorted, dusting off the last of the debris. Her eyes darted to the ground where a bouquet of flowers. "Great, just great. Now I have to remake this bouquet and I'll be late for the delivery."

Wriothesley watched as she hurriedly gathered the damaged flowers, her frustration evident. She handled the blooms with a surprising tenderness, and he felt an inexplicable urge to assist her.

"Let me help you," he offered, kneeling to pick up a few of the scattered flowers.

“These were for a customer,” she explained, kneeling down to gather the remnants of the bouquet. “A difficult one at that.” She sighed, still irritated. Her hands moved with a practiced grace, but there was a hint of urgency in her actions.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Wriothesley repeated, a hint of guilt creeping into his tone. He handed the flowers he’d picked to her and she was already on her feet, clutching the ruined bouquet.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, her irritation giving way to resignation. “I’ll just have to work faster.” She offered him a brief, distracted smile, more out of politeness than anything else, before dashing off down the street, leaving him standing there.

Wriothesley watched her go, her figure soon swallowed by the crowd. He stood there for a moment longer, the noise of Fontaine’s streets fading into the background. The warmth of the setting sun lingered on his skin, but the encounter had left a different kind of warmth in his heart. He absentmindedly reached up to adjust his collar and felt something unusual. Pulling it free, he found a petal of a red poppy flower nestled in the fabric. He held it between his fingers, its vivid color a stark contrast to the muted tones of his attire. The petal, delicate and vibrant, seemed to carry a weight of its own, leaving him with a sense of unease. With a final glance at the direction she had gone, Wriothesley turned and continued his walk, his thoughts no longer solely occupied by the fortress of Meropide. The image of her fiery eyes and the way the sunlight had kissed her features stayed with him. He resumed his journey back to Meropide, the image of the spirited florist and the red poppy petal lingering on his mind.

Chapterlist | Next Chapter >>

A SMOOTH CRIMINAL

⋆｡˚ ❀ pairing: wriothesley x gn!reader ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.4k ⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: you play a harmless prank on your close friend, neuvillette, and he decides to retaliate by sending you to the fortress of meropide for your so-called “crimes” 

You weren’t exactly a hardened criminal. 

Sure you had some bouts of harmless thievery as a child but even then you always returned the item to the owner out of guilt. So, how you got sent to the Fortress of Meropide for messing with your friend was beyond you.

Naturally, it just so happened that your friend was the Chief Justice, and your little prank happened to be pouring out an entire salt shaker into his water as he took a small trip to the restroom. But in your defense, Neuvillette had ordered the last La Lettre a Focalors on the menu and wouldn’t even share a bite with you. 

You huffed at the memory. Salty water was too kind of a punishment, looking back at it. 

Still, you didn’t expect such a petty thing would have you branded as a criminal. If you had known, you would’ve added the contents of the nearby pepper shaker into Neuvillette’s water as well. That way, this sentence would have at least felt more justified. 

After your paperwork was processed, Madeline told you to enter the lift and wait for someone to give you a tour. This would be your new home for a whole…seven days. You hoped you could survive it. 

You tapped your foot as you waiting for your tour guide, eyes scanning across the dark, metallic room. Despite the dim lighting, the Fortress sounded more lively than you would have expected.

Just as you were starting to grow impatient, you spotted a familiar figure walking your way.

Wriothesley, you recognized. You had a brief run-in with him only one before in your life— When you were hanging out in Neuvillette’s office waiting for him to finish the last of his work, when Wriothesley decided to pay the Iudex a surprise visit. Judging from the amused expression on his face, it would seem he remembered you too.

Now, whether it was a good or bad memory, you couldn’t exactly say. Though, for the sake of your time here, you sure hoped it was the former. 

“Prisoner 8072,” he greeted with a chuckle.

You waved sheepishly. “That’s me, reporting for duty, sir.” 

“At ease, solider.”

You rolled your eyes, secretly please he went along with your antics. 

He beckoned you to follow him as he began to show you around the fortress. “Now, before we start the tour, would you like to tell me how you landed here?” 

With an innocent look on your face, you shrugged.

Wriothesley raised his brow expectantly. “My sources tell me it was an attempted poison of the Iudex.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Is that what Neuvillette is telling people?!”

“Just me,” he admitted. 

You almost laughed in disbelief. “Well, it’s a little too late to defend myself now—not that I had a fair trial in the first place, mind you—but I at least have to say that poison the Chief Justice speaks of is measly table salt!” With a huff, you folded your arms across your chest. “Powerful Dragon of Water my ass… If he thinks table salt can poison him…”

Wriothesley chuckled at your pouting, patting your shoulder as a sign of sympathy. “For a week-long sentence, I would have expected that you put pepper in there as well.” 

Your eyes lit up. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking!”

He nodded in agreement, humoring you as he showed you to the cafeteria, offering you a free meal that you graciously accepted.

“While a week-long sentence may be unjust for your the level of your…misdemeanor, I do still hope you can enjoy your stay here,” he said as the two of you finished up your food. 

You considered your thoughts before stating, “I might. If you keep treating me to these free meals.” 

Wriothesley laughed, the noise coming deep from his chest, and you grinned in return. 

“Oh, what would the other prisoners think if they saw their duke playing favorites?” he said in mock despair.

“So you admit I’m already your favorite?”

“Do you find pleasure in putting words in my mouth?”

“Amongst other things.” 

His eyes widened and you flushed as you realized the implication of what you had said.

“Salty water,” you clarified as you cleared your throat. “That is all I was referring to.” 

He nodded solemnly, trying his hardest to keep a straight face. “Of course. Words and salty water.”

“Exactly.”

“Noted.” After a brief pause, Wriothesley quickly changed the subject. “Before I lead you to your dormitory, let me show you my office.” 

You followed along dutifully, making sure your mouth was glued shut until the embarrassment wore off. When the door closed, he beckoned for you to have a seat on the chair in front of his desk.

“To earn your keep here, we use a currency called Credit Coupons,” he explained. “Now, typically, the most steady and secure way for an inmate to earn these is by working in the production line–heating an shaping metals. A physically demanding job even for the strongest of individuals.”

You almost broke out into a sweat at the thought. Neuvillette would definitely be getting an earful from you once you were free from this injustice. 

Wriothesley laughed at the horrified look on your face.

“But luckily for you,” he said, “by special order from the Iudex himself, it was request you do administrative work in the office with me instead.”

“Oh, my gods,” you sighed in relief. Neuvillette was safe for now. 

“Don’t get too excited yet,” he warned with a teasing lilt to his voice. “Are you sure it’s better to be trapped in here with me for seven days than to brave the production line?” 

You quirked your head to the side. “You seem friendly enough.” 

“I’m glad you think so.” He stood up from his chair, pushing it in and waiting for you to follow suit. “Though brief, I look forward to working with you.” 

“You as well.”

He nodded. “Now, it is getting late. Allow me to me conclude this tour by showing you the dormitories.” 

The thought of seeing your new bed for the week excited you. You were tired from walking around so much and you couldn’t wait to shower and collapse on a mattress—no matter how thin it may be. 

Wriothesley dropped you off at the door of your room, watching as you examined the place. You blinked slowly. 

He laughed. “Not to your liking?” 

“I’ve seen hotel rooms that look worse,” you said while shaking your head. “I can manage!” 

“If it is too uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let me know. Perhaps I can provide you with some special accommodations.”

You hid a smile. “Such favoritism already. Is this what being friends with the Chief Justice does for you here?” 

“Connections don’t quell you any favor in this part of Fontaine,” he said. “This treatment is based on your own merit.” He paused. “And the fact that the Iudex specified that he didn’t intend for this to be a genuine prison sentence.”

You almost snorted at the revelation, the pieces clicking together. “Is this his prank in retaliation for me adding salt to his water?!” you groaned, only upset because you didn’t think of this first. “What an abuse of power.”

Wriothesley chuckled. “Such is the life.”

As he got ready to leave you to your bed quarters for the night, he paused at the exit. You looked at him expectantly. 

“Did you need something?”

He shook his head. “No, not at the moment. I only wanted to say, I look forward to your assistance around the office tomorrow.”

You smiled in agreement. Who wouldn’t want a break from real life and escape to a prison ruled by a surprisingly benevolent duke? 

“Also—“ you looked up to see his sideways grin “—tomorrow’s breakfast is on me.”

With a chuckle, you found yourself agreeing to his offer. “I’ll look forward to the morning then.”

“Have a good night in your temporary home.”

As Wriothesley left the dormitory, you couldn’t shake the smile from your face. If you were going to be here for a week, you might as well make the most of it. At least with the Duke, your time wouldn’t be so bad. 

Maybe even after your sentence, you would still come and visit him.

You closed your eyes as your head landed on your pillow. It was harder than you expected. Quite uncomfortable, actually. You made a face. 

Perhaps Wriothesley could come up and visit you when this was over instead. 

This was so good...!! (I already imagine how elegant reader and wrio looked :'D)

Oh, the man he is... (Wriothesley x Reader)

Wriothesley x fem!reader; fluff, shared feelings, implied mutual pining or some sorts + Sigewinne, Furina, Neuvillette appeared as cameos!

You had agreed to extend your work in the Fortress, much to Wriothesley’s delight. However, recently, he found it harder and harder to spend time with you, and it left him feeling restless.

((The story is a sequel of my previous fic here! Although you can always read it separately, the build-up is somewhat connected to the previous one))

Words: 3.1k

Notes: 

I’ve always wanted to do the continuation of my previous stories, but I clearly went overboard for this one since I didn’t plan this to be this long. But, I mean, it’s Wriothesley, who could resist? ;) and don't judge the title pls HELP

Enjoy the story!

•~•~•~•

No, Wriothesley wasn't a jealous man.

As a responsible warden of the fortress, he remained focused on his professional duties, fully acknowledging the demands they entailed.

However, ever since you’ve agreed to extend your work at the Fortress of Meropide—with Neuvillette’s permission, of course, Wriothesley had unconsciously developed a habit of seeking you out—whether it was to hand you some documents or simply to ask about your day. 

Yet, it had been a week since he had a proper conversation with you, since the conflicting work schedules you two had left little time to spend with each other. And somehow, it was starting to bother Wriothesley more than it should. 

Wriothesley exhaled as he stood up from his office seat, leaving piles of documents sprawled on his desk. Despite his usual preference for lunching in his office, he found himself walking towards the cafeteria.

As he approached the bustling cafeteria, his hopes lifted momentarily when he saw you already seated, only to deflate when he spotted you already seated… with another young man in front of you. 

Oh. He thought to himself.

In that moment, he recalled that your latest work involved cooperation with some of the fortress’ members. Right, it was business matters and he’s the Duke of Meropide, he got nothing to worry about, right? 

So, he greeted you, asked about your day, and went back to his office.

•~•~•~•

Wriothesley surely wasn’t a jealous man...

Another day, he discovered that you were done for the day as your work for the day was finished. He was just about to step out of his office to search for you when, to his surprise, you appeared right in front of the office doors. What luck, he thought to himself. However, your sheepish smile hinted at something else.

“Oh, hi, um— I’m here to tell you that I won’t be here for the weekend.”

His plans to ask you out crumbled inside his head.

“Oh, you got called in by the court?”

“No, but I’ve got other things to do,” you replied as you gave him an apologetic smile. “Is that okay?”

Well, he couldn't just outright refuse; after all, you deserved a break too. However, his mind raced, wondering about the nature of the 'other things' you had mentioned. Was it work-related? Or perhaps it was something more private?

"Of course, don’t worry about it," Wriothesley reassured you with a smile, trying to bury his own thoughts as he mentally cursed himself for his train of thought. "I'll see you next Monday then."

You thanked him and went off. He sighed, hoping that you would be available for the weekend so he could at least ask you out. But for now, he would have to wait.

•~•~•~•

Wriothesley definitely wasn’t the jealous type... or so he believed.

But lately, he couldn't shake this nagging feeling of restlessness. You seemed busier than ever, going back and forth between the surface and the fortress. And, to make matters worse, you were spending less time with him compared to a certain assistant. This young man had been assisting you in the latest case at the fortress, and he seemed to be handling it well. In fact, it was Wriothesley himself who suggested you to appoint an assistant in order to lighten your workload—as you seemed to have some business to take care of on the surface, only to find himself now competing for your attention.

It was like his own idea to help you had turned against him, backfiring in the most frustratingly ironic way possible. 

Massaging his temples, Wriothesley groaned as his thoughts swirled in his head.

“Feeling unwell, Your Grace?” Sigewinne's soft and cheery voice interrupted his brooding as she entered his office, carrying documents from the infirmary.

“Oh, Sigewinne, it’s nothing,” Wriothesley exhaled. “Thanks for the documents though.”

“If you’re wondering about y/n, she’s already gone to the surface,” Sigewinne said softly, yet, her tone masking a hint of mischief.

Wriothesley sighed in defeat. “Right, the event tomorrow. I figured she'd be attending.”

“Didn't she tell you?” Sigewinne asked innocently.

Oof.

Wriothesley fell silent, then replied, “No, but I had a hunch.”

“I saw her heading to the surface with Antonio—the assistant, did I get his name right? I heard there’s a ball in the event, right? Maybe they’re preparing for it,” Sigewinne added, her smile widening just a bit, her eyes anticipating his reaction. 

Wriothesley lifted his head to stare at Sigewinne, at a loss for words.

Wait, were you actually planning on dancing together with Antonio?

She giggled innocently at his reaction before continuing.

“But you’ll be there too, Your Grace. And for security reasons, I don’t see any problem,” she chirped, her amusement evident in her voice.

With a grumble, Wriothesley stood up and headed straight to his room. “Security reasons, right… I’ll need to think about tomorrow's outfit then…”

Sigewinne watched him go, giggling softly to herself.

“Racing hearts, rising blood pressure, uneasiness. Yep, those are the physical symptoms of jealousy, alright,” Sigewinne mused to herself.

“Human emotions are truly interesting.”

•~•~•~•

You stared at the dress laying on top of your bed at your dwelling in the surface, mentally preparing yourself up with confidence to wear it for the event tomorrow. In fact, Furina had picked the dress together with you. Classy, beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous; was what she commented. But honestly, when was the last time you'd slipped into something so elegant? 

As you lay back on your bed, your mind wandered over the events of the past few weeks.

--few weeks before--

“A… ball, you said?” 

"Yes, in fact, Lady Furina will be hosting the event. And we are expected to attend as representatives from the court," Neuvillette explained, his tone as flat as ever. Beside him, Lady Furina nodded eagerly. “The ball will pose as the closing ceremony.”

"Ah, I see... so the event about three weeks away," you replied, your confidence faltering slightly. "To be honest, I'm not exactly skilled at dancing..."

"Oh, nonsense! A Fontainian lady must know how to dance!" Lady Furina interjected, her voice brimming with determination. "Fear not! I'll personally train you at least twice a week until the ball. How does that sound?"

You swallowed nervously, anticipating her rigorous training methods. You glanced to Neuvillette, only to found him nodding in agreement. 

"Um... alright, thank you for the offer, Lady Furina. I'll try to make time during the weekends."

"Excellent! It's settled then!" Lady Furina exclaimed with a wide smile, her hand clasped in front of his chest. "Meet me in front of my house this weekend!"

You closed your eyes, recalling the training sessions with Furina as you tried to gather your confidence for tomorrow. Although you could safely say you were doing okay-ish with the training, your mind kept wandering back to a certain man in the fortress, leaving you longing for the interactions you shared with him.

•~•~•~•

The next evening, the venue began to fill with people, the atmosphere bustling with liveliness. You positioned yourself near the Palais Mermonia members, keeping Neuvillette in your sight as you glanced over at Furina, who was already engaged in conversation with other people.

As you talked with various guests, your thoughts often drifted to whether Wriothesley would attend the ball. The idea of dancing with him crossed your mind, but so far, he was nowhere to be seen.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t told him a thing about your secret dancing lessons. 

“You haven’t found a dance partner??” Furina's panicked tone was evident as she approached you, her arm linked with Neuvillette's, signaling that they would dance together. 

“Um, well, not yet…” you mumbled, feeling a bit flustered.

“Oh, my! I won’t allow you wasting your skills today! Let me see…”

Furina pondered for a moment before suggesting a few Palais Mermonia attendees as potential partners. However, none of them really piqued your interest. If you want someone, it would be– 

“Wriothesley is also attending this event too, in case you are wondering,” Neuvillette added suddenly, catching you off guard.

Your eyes widened slightly at the unexpected mention of Wriothesley's presence. You knew Neuvillette must be offering his personal opinion, perhaps based on his own observation of your close working relationship with the Duke, in addition with Wriothesley's request to extend your stay at the fortress. However, the comment had caught you off guard, and you went silent, a faint blush tinting your cheeks as you hid your excitement.

But your reaction had caught Furina’s attention as her smile turned into a mischievous grin. “Ah, the Duke of Meropide! How could I forget?” she exclaimed dramatically, holding her hand up to her face. “I saw him near the gardens earlier. You should go check him out!”

Although you realized her attempt on teasing you, you found yourself nodding hastily and made your way outside to the place she had mentioned. 

“And the ball is starting in fifteen—!” Furina added rather enthusiastically, her voice trailing behind you. 

And so, you went outside. The atmosphere was less crowded than indoors, but there were still plenty of people mingling about. You paced around in search of Wriothesley when suddenly, a young man intercepted you from the side, introducing himself.

“Good evening, m’lady. You're as lovely as a fresh rainbow rose. Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

“Thank you, but I’m actually looking for someone…” you began, trying to politely decline.

“A dance partner, perhaps?” he persisted, holding out a real rainbow rose this time.

“I’m sorry, but I really should— ,“ you attempted to excuse yourself, but he wasn't taking the hint.

“The ball's starting soon. It'd be a shame not to enjoy a dance with such a beautiful lady…”

Feeling pressured but unable to escape his persistence, you were about to step away, but a reassuring hand suddenly clasped your waist, holding you close from the side.

“The lady clearly indicated she wasn't interested.”

Relief flooded through you as you immediately recognized the voice. Looking up, you saw Wriothesley standing with a polite – or perhaps, intimidating – smile on his face, standing rather menacingly in front of the persistent man. The young man went off immediately, clearly taking Wriothesley’s cue.

After the man had hurriedly retreated, Wriothesley released his arm from your waist and turned towards you, his gaze lingering for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips as he took time to admire your delightful appearance. He then bowed slightly towards you, lifting your hand with a gentle touch and pressed a small kiss to the back of it.

“M’lady,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. 

You were stunned by his gentlemanly gesture, as you just felt a flutter of butterflies inside your stomach. “Wriothesley…” You found yourself momentarily at a loss for words, struck by how incredibly charming he appeared in his formal attire.

“You look stunning,” he complimented, his warm gaze met yours, a stark contrast to the coolness of his icy-colored eyes. You shyly thanked him for his kind words, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his sincere compliment.

As the two of you were lost in the brief moment of admiring each other, he cleared his throat, subtly regaining his composure as he glanced around. “…Are you perhaps, waiting for someone?” he asked as his curiosity piqued. 

“Oh, well, I was…”

Wriothesley immediately caught onto your choice of words.

“You… were?”

“Mhm, but not anymore,” you replied with a warm, sheepish smile.

A hint of confusion flickered across Wriothesley's face, his thoughts momentarily jumbled. Wait, so you weren't waiting for Antonio, which meant…

You sensed his slow realization and couldn't help but let out a small laugh as you added, “You, Wriothesley. You’re the one I’ve been searching for.”

Your words came out cheesier than intended, and you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks as you scrambled to explain. But Wriothesley did not seem to care as his smile grew wider. It was what he had hoped to hear. 

But then, before he could say anything, your attention shifted to the direction of the building, with the music began playing from inside the hall, signaling that the ball had already begun as people started flocking into the building.  

Observing the dwindling crowd, Wriothesley turned to look at you. “As much as I want to dance with you, I don’t think we’ll make it in time inside.”

You returned his smile at his eagerness to dance with you. You looked around, taking in the serene atmosphere of the nearly empty garden. “It’s fine. Instead… I’d hate to miss the beauty of the moon tonight.”

He gave you an affectionate smile as he seemed to understood the hint, and extended his arm towards you. “Well then, m’lady, may I have the honor of a dance?”

With a nod, you gladly accepted his hand. “Of course, Your Grace,” you replied, earning a small chuckle from him at your sudden formality.

As the music played softly in the background and the moon cast its gentle glow upon you, you and Wriothesley began to dance. The waltz you had practiced with Furina proved its worth as you both moved gracefully under the enchanting night sky. You realized that you had been longing for his company for this whole time.

As you danced, you became acutely aware of the close proximity between you and Wriothesley. Your faces were just inches apart, and his eyes seemed to be locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. His hand rested firmly on your back, providing a reassuring support, while the other held yours with a gentle yet firm grip. 

“You dance well,” you whispered softly, breaking the silence.

“I could say the same about you,” he hummed, his eyes affectionately locked on yours as you two transitioned into a slower dance. “Have you been practicing in secret? Or were you just naturally gifted?”

You gave a small laugh at his remark. “Actually…” You paused, shying away for a bit. “I’ve been attending dance lessons with Lady Furina these past few weeks.”

“Oh? Is that why you've been going back and forth to the surface?” 

“Mostly, yeah, since I agreed to return her favor,” you explained with a sheepish grin. “But she also roped me into helping compile some data for this event. I must thank you for offering me appointing an assistant to help with the job though. He really did his job well.”

“Wait, I thought he’s also coming to this event?” He stopped the slow dance momentarily, still holding you in his arms as he processed the new information.

“Antonio? No, he’s taking care of my duties today in the fortress, as I instructed him yesterday.”

Wriothesley went silent as everything seemed to click inside his mind, a chuckle escaping his lips, amused by his own thoughts. You looked at him in confusion, but he waved off your concern with a dismissive smile.

“Never mind, it’s not the time to dwell on petty things,” he said, his focus returning to you. “I don’t want to spoil the moment dancing with you tonight.”

You stared at him for a second, before nodding in agreement, letting go of any lingering questions inside you as you both resumed your dance under the enchanting moonlight. It felt like you were dancing without a care in the world, lost in each other’s embrace.

As the song reached its conclusion, you both stopped gracefully, locked in a gaze neither of you wanted to break. A warm smile played on your lips as you looked into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his gaze that he returned to you.

In that fleeting moment, as the night air wrapped around you like a gentle caress, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. His eyes began to flicker between your lips and your eyes. You were ready to surrender yourself into the silent invitation as you slowly leaned forwards, feeling his breath brush against your skin as your noses almost touching.

Seeing you responded to his silent cue, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Wriothesley's lips as he too began to close the gap between you, inching closer. Finally, his lips met yours as he kissed you gently, sealing the moment carefully with a tender embrace.

Despite your racing heartbeat, you melted into his soft kiss, feeling his hand cupping your cheek gently that made your heart flutter. As the air around you seemed to grow warmer with the intensity of the moment, you pulled back slightly, needing a moment to catch your breath. Your cheeks flushed with a rosy hue as you met his gaze with half-lidded eyes, the heat of the moment still lingering between you.

He leaned in closer, as if to pull you into another kiss, but then abruptly halted, his body rigid as his eyes widened slightly. He then quickly turned his head to the side facing the bushes, while his hand remained protectively on your waist.

“Who’s there?” he asked, his voice a bit demanding.

Slowly, a small figure behind starting to emerge behind the bushes, revealing Sigewinne who slowly tiptoed out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Grace, I thought I was hiding well,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t want to bother, so I waited.”

Wriothesley immediately released his hand from your waist, bringing it to his face to hide his embarrassment. “Ah, it’s you…, what brings you here?”

“Monsieur Neuvillette was searching for you, and I happened to spot you here,” she explained, her tone light and playful. 

Wriothesley let out an exasperated sigh, his hand falling to his side. “Right.”

Then, Sigewinne glanced at you with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Looks like your jealousy was a tad unnecessary, Your Grace,” she teased.

“Huh, where did that come from?” Wriothesley responded with a bemused expression.

You stood there, momentarily stunned, before Sigewinne’s words finally sank in. “…Jealous? Of whom?” you asked, glancing between them in confusion, before it dawned on you as you recalled your lingering questions from your mind.

Wait…could it be? 

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Sigewinne continued, “Ah, you see, this big man was actually jealous that new assis–”

“Ugh, spare me…” Wriothesley groaned, turning to walk away, not wanting to hear the rest of Sigewinne’s teasing. You laughed softly as you followed behind with Sigewinne as she started to explain her observationsfrom the past few weeks.

As you walked, you caught Wriothesley stealing a glance back at the two of you, a playful smirk tugged on his lips. It seemed like he was content with how things had turned out.

And so, the rest of the night unfolded with cheers and laughter, with everyone by your side. Despite the lingering feeling of a certain unfinished business, you couldn't wipe the smile from your face for the entire night.

After all, you now know that the feelings were mutual, right?

Maddix’s Blog

hello! Welcome to my blog! I want to write some stuff so request something!

I can do

-demon slayer

-jujutsu kaisen

-genshin impact

-nijisanji EN

-YouTubers

-obey me! (I’ll mostly do mammon for myself😋)

-bungou stray dogs

and more!

This is the first time I’ll be posting my writing so if you want to request some stuff about characters from the topics I do then please feel free to! I’m gonna start with SFW and then maybe further down the road I’ll do NSFW if I feel comfortable and confident enough to make NSFW writings.

thank you for reading! I love you! Don’t forget to eat something and drink water 🧡!

self indulgent, but read if you want

𖤐⋆. ࿐࿔

"i don't want to stay here." you said.

"where do you wanna go?" he asked.

"i wanna leave somewhere far away. somewhere where no one would find us. it'd just be us two."

"..." something happened, huh.

"hey, you know what?" he said, with a glint in his eye.

"hm?"

"run away with me, won't you?"

A moment with you

just a scenario of you and diluc being all lovey-dovey

(my first time writing something like this so go easy on me <3)

Diluc

Being with Diluc makes you feel like a princess, He's the type to compliment you even with the smallest things. Sure, it makes your heart flutter whenever he goes out of his way to stare at you and tell you what he loves about you every day. It never gets boring. Maybe it's because he does it? You have no idea, but you like that he does what he does anyway

"Hi love, good morning". You hear diluc say when you wake up in the morning, how nice it is to have someone like him greet you in the morning?

"Mhm morning". As those words slip out, his hands slip onto my waist to pull me in for a hug, he always does this. Every morning, its like a routine for the both of you. He plants kisses on your neck and tells you how good you smell in the morning.

"You smell good love". He says as he continues to pepper you with kisses. Kisses that you would never get tired of, and you laugh

"Yeah? What do i smell like?". You ask as he always says you smell good but never really elaborating any further.

"Smells like home". He whispered softly and you almost missed it. You laugh and tease him as he will only ever show this side of himself to you. Sure it may be corny or cringy but you wouldn't want it any other way. After all, you consider him your home as well.

A/N: This is so cringe, but hopefully I'll be able to write more in the future, no fluff anymore though HAHAHAHA

Kaveh is the type of guy to want to buy you things, but when he realised he doesn’t have enough to get you the thing you want, he’d try his best to make it himself (it’s even better than the original)

Kaveh is the type of guy to love holding your hand, it’s his favourite act to do with you, whether you’re walking somewhere, sat down or even pissing lmao, he loves how your hands feel.

Kaveh is the type of guy to stare at you with so much love when you’re focused on something, but the second you look over, he’s flustering and looking the other way, embarrassed you saw him so vulnerable.

Kaveh is the type of guy to sigh really loudly multiple times to let you know that he’s having a bad day or just wants your attention, it goes a little like this :

“Sigh”

“…”

“..sigh”

“..?..”

“…SIGH..”

“Are You ok kaveh? You’ve sighed 3 times already?..”

“Awe thank you for noticing! Anyways-“

Kaveh is the type of guy to watch you when you sleep, it’s a little creepy but he means well! He just admired your face for a moment and before you know it you’ve opened your eyes and made direct eye contact with him first thing in the morning.

Alhaitham is the type of guy to see you reading a book and read it too, and although he doesn’t like it, he likes seeing you smile and squeal at the thought of being able to talk about it to someone

Alhaitham is the type of guy to tell you that you look nice with a nonchalant voice, he sounds like he doesn’t mean it, but you catch him sneaking glances.

Alhaitham is the type of guy to sleep so quietly you think he’s dead. It’s worrying but you know he’s just..deadly asleep.

Alhaitham is the type of guy to not do PDA, but if someone’s flirting he’ll come over all confident and with a rude smirk and just entirely insult the guy or girl with no hesitance.

Alhaitham is the type of guy who’d only let you around him when he’s on the brink of having a break down, not to talk to or hold because that’ll stress him more, your mere presence means the world to him.

Alhaitham is the type of guy to know mostly everything about you, he doesn’t write it down no, it has a little mental list in the back of his head. Your fav food, drink, animal, date idea, what you study, your battle techniques, fav song, everything.

Alhaitham is the type of guy to not say I love you, he struggles to, but when he does, you’re half asleep or drifting out of consciousness.

Should I mention this is my manifestation for alhaitham? -3• come home with kaveh please.

WAHHH THIS WAS SO CUTEEE☹️☹️

✧A Dance of Synchrony and Solitude✧

♡Neuvillette x fem!reader♡

11:37pm-

Loud.

That's what it was. It was overwhelmingly loud and crowded. So many people, and yet here you were– standing alone by the bar with a glass of half-drank champagne in hand and anxiously observing.

You had been invited to Fontaine's grand ball only because Lady Furina insisted you come. For context, you had been enjoying your afternoon in the city when you spotted Lady Furina whining about something. Curious, you had gone over to see what the fuss was. After a bit of eavesdropping, you had discovered that Furina had left her money at home, therefore being unable to pay for her macaroni. You kindly paid for her and that's when she insisted you come to the ball later that night, so here you are.

You had been scanning the crowd all evening and still couldn't find Furina anywhere. You felt so out of place-- so awkward in this pompous event. Nobles, politicians, and other upperclassmen were present and you were but a mere botanist.

Where is she..? you couldn't help but ask yourself in your mind. It occurred to you that she was probably dealing with adoring fans in some other room of the grand estate.

With a sigh, you begrudgingly forced yourself to push off of the bar and leave your drink there as you went to find Furina. You awkwardly shuffled through people, muttering small, half-hearted apologies and mumbling "excuse me" a few times.

After successfully pushing through the mass of people and making it closer to the stage where a live orchestra was playing, you let out a sigh of relief.

Okay, you're away from people, you have a good view of the room, if you don't find her, the door is just to your left... you thought to yourself, looking around and over people's heads.

No sign of her anywhere...

Sighing once more, you decided to turn for the door when you spotted a figure with white hair and dark blue attire. Ah, that must be Furina!

With a wave of relief you pushed through people once more. You didn't exactly want to leave--this was a grand event. You were just lonely.

You squeezed through people who were rushing to approach the white-haired figure that was calmly walking away. The clamors of the crowd grew louder the closer you got to the figure, making you all the more anxious to reach Furina.

However, just as you were about to call her name, someone shoved you with an aggravated huff, causing you to collide with the person you had been following. Well-- who you thought you were.

You collided head-on with the person, quickly finding that that person was quite tall with a wide chest. You let out a small "oof" as your face was pushed into their chest before you took an unsteady step back.

A hand that was undoubtedly larger than your own swiftly and firmly caught you, holding up your back, pulling you back to your feet.

"Ah-- my apologies. Are you alright?" That was most definitely not Furina. Furina didn't have a deep velvety voice like that.

You were hoping that the person you had just bumped into was, in fact, not who you now thought it was. However, that voice was unmistakably known throughout all of Fontaine. Catching sight of the figure only confirmed your suspicions.

The Chief Justice, Neuvillette, was standing above you, lilac eyes staring at your own with a much friendlier gaze than that ever seen in court. Of course-- he still had that somewhat apathetic look to him. It was simply part of his character.

It suddenly occurred to you that you were staring at him like an idiot and had not answered his question yet. You cleared your throat and took a step back, keeping your head down as you sputtered out a response.

"Oh-- um...yes, I'm fine... thank you..!" You muttered awkwardly, tripping over your words. You could practically feel his sharp gaze directed towards you. You glanced up at him again before looking away into the crowd in the hopes that Furina would be here to save you from your embarrassment. The only thing you were met with were the jealous and envious stares of the citizens and elites around you.

Neuvillette noticed your anxious gaze and let out a small hum, acknowledging the fact that you were uncomfortable in the "spotlight," so to speak. He leaned down to speak to you a bit more privately.

"I assume you would like to stay out of the eyes of the public..? There's a private room here," he said quietly as your head snapped in his direction, staring at him in bewilderment. You hadn't expected him to get so close all of a sudden, especially after bumping into him.

You spoke with uncertainty, your response somewhat forced as you said, "I...wouldn't mind that... can we go now, please..?" You asked, feeling your stomach twist and your heart leap to your throat. There were so many people here and they all seemed to hate you.

Neuvillette, though bad at dealing with mortal emotions, understood that this entire ordeal was rather...overwhelming for you. He gently took your hand and used the other to wave over a few members of the Marechaussee Phantom, giving them a directive to keep the guests away as he softly tugged on your arm and led you away.

You were caught off guard by the sudden movement but followed nonetheless.

A few melusines kept the people at bay as you and Neuvillette disappeared into a dark hallway before turning into a room lit by candles and a fireplace. In one of the loft chairs you spotted another figure with white hair and blue clothing. Furina turned to see who had entered the room and her expression went from suspicion to delight.

"My, my, (Name)!! Neuvillette, how kind of you to bring me our esteemed guest!" She exclaimed with excitement, standing up and approaching you with a smile before hugging you. As she pulled back, she kept her hands on your shoulders and spoke to Neuvillette.

"This is the one I was telling you about! This lovely lady paid for my lunch, so the least I could do was invite such a kindhearted person to our ball."

Neuvillette nodded and hummed, his hand on the small of your back as you stood still, smiling awkwardly at Furina.

"Ah, yes...well, I'm here," you said with an uncertain chuckle. You were never one to be so awkward, but you had just met the Furina this afternoon, and literally had your face in the Chief Justice's chest but a few moments ago.

"(Name)..." Neuvillette repeated your name as if trying to recall if he had heard of you before. With a sigh, he then spoke again, this time, to you.

"Please-- have a seat. I insist," he said, using a hand to gesture to one of the sofas in the luxurious room. Furina nodded and smiled happily as she took your wrist and pulled you over to the sofa, sitting down and pulling you with her.

"Oh, (Name), I'm so happy that you showed up! When I didn't see you, I thought I might've been a little too pushy, but you're here, and that's what matters!"

You nodded along what Furina was saying, taking note of how Neuvillette took a seat across from the two of you and stared at you specifically.

While half-heartedly listening to Furina's ramblings to you, Neuvillette studied you. He felt as if he had seen you somewhere before..perhaps he had seen you in the paper once, or simply recognized you from a walk. Who were you, exactly?

-----------------------12:56am----------------------

After a much-needed break, you followed Neuvillette and Furina back out towards the ball. They said that you could stay with them for the remainder of the night, and for that you were thankful.

For Neuvillette, it was a convenience. He got to learn more about who this mystery woman was and what she was doing here. He wanted to know why Furina had taken such a strong liking to you, and this was exactly how he was going to do it.

Furina dragged you out onto the dance floor as she giggled mischievously. The smooth sounds of the violin and the deep notes of the piano along with the sounds of chellos, trumpets, and other various instruments of the orchestra reverberated through the ballroom as Furina guided you through the movements of the dance.

"No, no-- you're doing it all wrong! Here, it's like this, and then this, and then you kinda go like this..." Furina said, teaching you to dance which left you completely and utterly befuddled. What was all this for?

Furina, on the other hand, was quite happy with how things were going. She had a plan-- a good one. In order for this to work, she needed you to at least know the basics of dancing. If you tripped up, that was fine. As a matter of fact, it was even better.

Then, the slow dance came on.

Marvelous! I'm such a genius. She thought to herself as she glanced over at Neuvillette. She prompted him to come over, as if she had something she had to tell him.

When he stepped onto the floor, Furina pulled him towards you and spoke hastily. "My apologies, I have business with the governor. Neuvillette, be a gentleman and finish the dance with our esteemed guest, will you? It's rude to keep someone waiting, after all!"

Without waiting for a response, she rushed off through the crowd of people, leaving the two of you hand-in-hand.

Neuvillette was stunned for a moment, staring blankly at the space where Furina had run off to. He looked dumbfounded and felt just as perplexed as he appeared.

After a few seconds, he snapped out of it and looked at you apologetically, not knowing what to make of the situation. Luckily, he wasn't the only one feeling awkward. You just stood there, vision zeroed in on where he was holding both of your hands with his own.

You glanced up at him, hoping to be able to excuse yourself, but before you could get the words out of your already open mouth, the slow dance started up and people flooded into the dance floor.

The two of you looked rather surprised as people began to dance. This was when you realized that the only way to get out of this without causing a scene was to join the fray. Only one problem though-- you didn't know this waltz. Or any, for that matter. From the looks of it, Neuvillette seemed just as lost as you were. He too had no clue how to dance.

Seeing as how Neuvillette was seemingly stuck in one place, you took the initiative to pull him along with the rest of the guests, trying to find the correct timing. Luckily, the slow dance was just that: slow.

You attempted to spin with him, dragging him along with you as you copied the movements of other patrons. It didn't take long for Neuvillette to realize what you were doing and put in some effort as well. The two of you clumsily followed in the footsteps of the strangers who were your examples.

Little apologies were heard only between the two of you as you accidentally stepped on one another and maybe spun a little bit too fast.

While Neuvillette was typically a knowledgeable and collected man, he had no clue how to act in such an abrupt situation. He was, quite literally, dragged into this. It was so...out of the ordinary for him. He didn't know how to feel about it, but that wasn't a surprise. He struggled to comprehend human emotions. Give him a break, he's trying his best.

The dance ended just as quickly as it had started, and the two of you were both left rather embarrassed and befuddled. It was quiet, and you really didn't feel like speaking up. You had no idea what to say! Fortunately for you, Neuvillette stepped up this time and took the initiative to speak first.

"I apologize, I have never engaged in a waltz before..." he said rather quietly, hoping that you would be the only one to hear. His gaze was averted as he continued on. "I haven't had the time to learn before. Please excuse my profuse clumsiness."

Wow. Even while embarrassed, he still managed to be so gentlemanly and professional in his apology. What a cutie patootie.

You smiled gently at him and let out a huff of amusement as you replied. "No, no, it's more than okay. I had no clue what I was doing either," you stated honestly. It then occurred to you that the two of you were the only ones left on the dance floor and people were staring.

With a flushed face, you quickly scurried off of the floor, dragging Neuvillette along with you. After all, it's rude to just run off mid-conversation.

You towed the two of you along to the balcony of the grand estate, closing the large solarium doors behind you as you did so. You breathed out a sigh of relief and walked over to the edge of the balcony, happy to get both some fresh air and some space. Neuvillette was just as pleased.

His slow and hesitant steps were heard from behind you as he approached the railing of the balcony, albeit a few feet away from you as he placed his hands on it.

Silence ensued. The only noise was the muffled chatter of guests inside and the soft shuffling of leaves as they swayed in the breeze. It was nice...

After a good thirty seconds or so of complete, comfortable silence, you spoke up. "That was...unexpected. I think we were played," you stated with a huff of amusement.

Neuvillette looked over at you through the corner of his eye, curiosity and a hint of amusement evident in his gaze.

"Indeed... I do think that Lady Furina has decided to play cupid tonight," he said with a more relaxed tone. He had never had an encounter like this before, and the way the conversation so casually continued, even on such a bizarre topic, was refreshing to him. When he said that he was going to learn more about this "mystery woman," he was not expecting this...

You nodded and gave a long hum of agreement as you looked over the mountainous terrain of Fontaine. It was a clear night, and the moon was bright enough to illuminated both of your faces. Neuvillette looked rather ethereal with how the moonlight accentuated his pale complexion. However, if you were to ask him, he would feel the same about how the soft light bounced off of your skin.

He, who was inhuman in nature and struggled to comprehend the emotions of said humans, found himself rather...at peace. When was the last time he had felt as if he belonged? Especially within the presence of a mortal. Far too long, he concluded.

You spoke up once more, bringing Neuvillette back to reality and away from his desk thoughts. "Furina most definitely set us up...but I wonder why," you mused, the perplexion from the situation clear on your face.

Neuvillette hummed before speaking again, his low voice now holding a tone of curiosity within it. "Well, I do trust her judgement, to some extent... she has good intentions. She most always does, but I cannot help but question her choices from time to time," he admitted. You let out a small chuckle which, to his surprise, made him feel a tinge of happiness. How peculiar...

You let out a content sigh as a smile graced your lips. You glanced over at him for a moment with an amused smile, unaware of Neuvillette's pride in making you laugh as you proposed something. "This was fun... I think Furina knew what she was doing," you said as you turned your head back to the green landscape. "If you'd like, or if you have time, I'd like to meet up for lunch sometime. Maybe we can learn to dance properly for the next time an event comes up," you joked lightheartedly.

Neuvillette smiled softly and glanced over at you. How can a man, so infamous for being a cold, strict judge, look so soft and compassionate so suddenly?

"I do believe I would like that..."

-----------------------9:33am----------------------

The memories of the ball were fresh in your mind, even as you sorted through the small jars of herbs within your apothecary. As people entered your shop and browsed your wares, you noticed that a few stopped to stare and whisper.

That doesn't happen...

Eventually, after the fifth person stopped to chat with their friend, you turned around and gave them a confused yet somewhat annoyed expression as you crossed your arms.

"Is there something on my face? People have been whispering all day," you said with irritation clear in your tone of voice.

The people, rightfully surprised, looked at you with astonishment. After a few seconds of silence and wide-eyed staring, one of them spoke up.

"You don't know? People heard about last night," they said, pulling out a newspaper. You recognized it as The Steambird, the local newspaper of Fontaine.

Taking the newspaper with a small "thank you," you read over the front page. You were astonished to see a photo of you and Neuvillette on the balcony from last night. The headline you read made your face heat up in embarrassment.

"Monsieur Neuvillette and Local Botanist Mademoiselle (Name) seen at Fontaine's Grand Ball--Read for More Information!"

Handing the newspaper back to the pair that were in your shop, you thanked them quietly, even through your rather dazed state. They then made their purchases and left with a polite wave.

Not soon after, when you were checking your mail, you found an envelope. You hummed and looked at it with curiosity. It looked important. Wax seal on it, the emblem of Fontaine-- the whole nine yards.

Bringing it inside and sitting at your desk in the back, you opened it. You still had no clue who it was from, but you could tell that it was something from the Fontainian government with how regal and professional it looked. Not at all nerve-wracking. Last time you checked, you had paid all your taxes in time.

Upon opening it, you found polaroid photos of you and Neuvillette, again at the balcony, but from different angles and at different times. Shocked, you searched through them for any clues on why you were sent a legal document with pictures of the brief interaction you had with Neuvillette last night.

There was a small note inside with very elegant handwriting on it. You mentally gave appreciation to the person who wrote it. The note read, "Dearest (Name), I hope you enjoy your memorabilia from your first night at Fontaine's Grand Ball! Hosted by yours truly, of course. Please feel free to drop by any time for lunch! And please, let me pay. You covered last time, so I'll do it now! Consider this your free-lunch-with-Furina coupon. Hope to see you soon! -With love, Furina"

Ah...that made sense. Looking at the bottom, you found another small note.

"Also, I didn't take these pictures-- Charlotte did ♡"

If you were to guess, you'd say that Charlotte also wrote the story that just so happened to make the front page. Well, this will probably be good for business. Unless, of course, some crazy Neuvillette fanatic comes looking for you because you got attention for it...

With a sigh, you set the envelope down, and just as you did, what looked like a ticket fell out. Picking it up, you noticed that it was a reservation. A reservation for a very prestigious restaurant known here in Fontaine. A reservation for two, it said, and your name was listed alongside Neuvillette's. How convenient that it was listed as a couples' night.

Furina could be so mischievous at times, truly.

But oh well-- you would probably never forgive yourself if you didn't take such an opportunity. ♡

𓋼𓍊Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this. I've been getting back into writing, and have had this one in my drafts for a while. I haven't posted since 2024, so this is my first post of the year! Yes, late, I know, but hey-- I'm a busy gal. Please let me know if you'd like a continuation of this, and requests are always open! 𓍊𓋼

i’m screaming crying this was gorgeous

a moment in a bottle

Neuvillette wishes he could preserve this moment forever: the aquarium; the blue light; you.

(Everyone knows that Neuvillette adores you. Except for you, of course.)

(additional, more helpful description: u & neuvillette go on an aquarium date and he pines after you like a fool)

modern, college!au

NEUVILLETTE ♡ GN!READER

@2024gisecretsanta gift for @aquatik !! ♡ i hope you enjoy this piece, and happy holidays!!!

it was so fun to participate in this event ^^ thank u to the hosts and everyone involved for making this so special!!

Neuvillette has always noticed you. 

But he notices a lot of things; like the musk of the earth after it rains, like the light that dapples the campus sidewalk, seeping in between the gaps of the leaves. Neuvillette notices a lot of things, some more than others—he muses, nearly tripping over an uneven slab of the concrete floor, periwinkle eyes fixated on nothing but—

You, similarly to him, are stumbling through the crowd. You, unlike him, are entranced in your own world, eyes darting to and fro, searching amongst the sea of people while he has only ever searched for you. There are too many people in this world, Neuvillette thinks, for him to notice every one. So he notices only one. He notices—

You return his gaze (and Neuvillette feels something shiver in his chest), your lips tugging into a smile (and Neuvillette thinks the sun has shifted, that the sun has reworked itself, tunnelling all its light towards you), your figure suddenly coming closer (and Neuvillette thinks that there is nothing left; he is complete; he is yours absolutely and that is enough). 

You return his gaze. You look at him! Oh, you see him! Neuvillette thinks, This is it, this must be it. This—this… 

(What is it? Neuvillette is no longer capable of thought. He is no longer sentient. He looks at you, and something slams against his ribs: this-is this-is this-is…)

“Neuvillette! I was looking for you!” you exclaim, your voice occupying his mind for much longer than it does the air. Your voice—its unfathomable timbre, its incomparable and fantastical sound! It’s enough, it’s enough!

Neuvillette opens his mouth to respond. There’s a word. He feels himself about to vomit. He feels it: the rush, the suffocation, the gag and the swallow and before he can utter it into existence he clamps his lips shut. There’s a word—or maybe three, or maybe there is no word, nothing in verbal language that is enough to liken your unutterable radiance. 

(What is it? The three words? The rush, the suffocation, the gag and the breathlessness? Neuvillette feels it sinking down his throat, ebbing, reduced from a violent blare to nothing more than a whisper, it goes…)

“[Name],” Neuvillette acknowledges. Maybe, that is enough. “May I ask why?”

Why are you looking for him? Why are you searching for him? Neuvillette wants to hear you say it for himself, to hear the words—which are, after all, nothing more than words—in your fantastical and wonderful timbre. He wants to hear you speak his name—which is just a word, which is just his surname—to feel the revelation, the awakening, the surge! 

“Just because,”—you say, and maybe that’s enough—”I was wondering if you had any plans over the weekend?”

Neuvillette blinks, astonished. Your smile is unwavering, your eyes—your eyes! Neuvillette briefly looks away. The image remains with him still; the color, the glint, the fraction of the sun that is vested within your soul. Neuvillette looks at you, your image devoured by periwinkle. 

“I don’t,” he replies. (He had promised Furina that he’d help her with her case study.) Momentarily, his gaze averts from yours. (He had told one of his professors that he’d volunteer during office hours—who was it, again?) The lie is bitter on his tongue; but Neuvillette isn’t lying. (He’s going to send an email to the professor later, once he remembers who he promised.) Your expression glows. (Maybe this is enough.) Your gentle smile evolves into an excited grin. (He’s going to have to draft a text to Furina, too.) This is enough.

“That’s great!” You reach for your bag, sifting through the various pockets, your hand emerging with two humble, paper tickets. “I won a raffle for aquarium tickets! Do you want to come with?”

He’s whole. He’s complete. This—this is it! This is the surge, the rush, the incomparable and unutterable word! Neuvillette feels it now; the spasm of his heart, the stutter of his throat, the shrink of his figure when you do so much as perceive him! 

Your gaze sinks into his skin. Neuvillette lets it. Your smile sears his brain. Neuvillette replays it. You blink. Neuvillette’s heart follows. 

(Do you ever realize the way he lives? The way he finds meaning only ever because it dances within you?)

This-is-this-is-this-is…

“I would love to,” he replies, unable to contain the smile that tugs at his lips, the smolder in his chest, the primal constriction of his lungs, heaving, desperate to breathe the air you exist in. A breath! A tinge! A fraction of your incomparable existence! This-is-this-is-this-is…

(Neuvillette wonders if you caught it: the word. The word, although pale in comparison, assigns meaning to the enormity that swells within him, the colossal creature, the colossal completion, the vitality; you! Oh, you! When he cannot say your name, he must say this word; this—this fraction, this tiny, insignificant thing: love, love, love! You, you, you!)

“Really?” you say, eyes growing wide. Your lips hang slightly agape, your expression wild and fantastical and bright (Neuvillette thinks this is it); but the shock dissipates into that of utter joy (Neuvillette thinks this is it), and you grin that grin of yours. That grin, (Neuvillette wipes his sweaty palms against the fabric of his dress pants), a simple little something that amounts into an enormous everything. 

“Of course.” Neuvillette knows that this is it. What else, if not this? 

You look at him. His heart surges, his veins beginning to flare, his arteries spasming, flowing without an ebb, overwhelmed and incomparable (Neuvillette doesn’t need to return your gaze; he was already looking at you), insignificant and worldly. 

All you have to do is look at him! All you have to do is perceive him!

“Does noon work for you?” 

Any time works, Neuvillette thinks, any time at all. You could ask for him at four in the morning and Neuvillette would respond; you could stir him from his sleep, from his stupor, from his life. (Take him! Take him from his life! Take him, already!)

“Yes,” Neuvillette says, unable to contain the waver of his voice, the way his fingers instinctively reach to fiddle with his sleeves, “that’s perfect.” 

You look away. His heart surges, his veins beginning to flare, his arteries spasming, ebbing without flow, overwhelmed and incomparable (Neuvillette wishes you would look at him; he wishes you would perceive him, for just a moment will do), insignificant and worldly.

“Alright,” you say, grinning. “Noon it is.”

This-is-this-is-this-is…

It is, Neuvillette thinks. This is it.

Neuvillette has an unspoken routine.

Every day, he wakes up at six, even if he has no morning classes. Every day, he takes a morning walk around the city, admiring the most mundane of sights, like the glow of the lamplights, reflecting off puddles that congregate along sidewalks, like the airplane that soars by, smoke trailing in its wake.

Every day, he returns to his apartment and drinks a warm cup of water. Every day, he opens his laptop, and he sifts through his inbox, responding to different emails and updating his calendar accordingly.

Every day, he saves a slot for you. Today, he fills it in officially; the weekend; the aquarium; noon.

Every day, Neuvillette shuts his laptop, and he takes a sip of his warm water, and he thinks. Sometimes, he thinks about legal cases. Sometimes, he thinks about assignments that are due. Sometimes, he doesn’t have any thoughts at all. 

But every time, he thinks of you. You weave yourself into his daily routine, the legal cases and the assignments. You appear! Even when you’re not there; even when he hasn’t seen you in a couple days, you’re terribly real and terribly vivid. 

And somehow, despite everything, you’re unfathomable. (But Neuvillette fathoms you so often, so poignantly, it’s as if you’re tangible. As if you’re worldly when all you have ever been, to him, was esoteric. Unable to be comprehended. Unable to be conjured within thought, in any comparable magnitude to the colossal vitality that is, so undoubtedly, real. So, undoubtedly, you.)

Today, Neuvillette dons his finest coat. He fits the warmest scarf around his neck. He pats his pockets, and he adjusts his wristwatch—what time is it, again? He looks down—ten o’clock, he should start leaving now. 

The door to his apartment swings open. Neuvillette glances up.

“Neuvillette?” Wriothesley remarks, shrugging off his work uniform haphazardly, strands of his obsidian hair sticking to his skin. “You’re still here?”

“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette acknowledges, “indeed, I am.”

“That’s a surprise,” Wriothesley says, pale blue eyes drifting over Neuvillette’s outfit. “What’s the occasion?” 

Neuvillette coughs into his fisted hand.

“I’m meeting with [Name] later.”

“Ah,” Wriothesley replies, smirking, “that adds up.”

Neuvillette has never considered himself to be transparent, but at the same time, he has never made it an effort to be enigmatic. But the knowing look that Wriothesley gives him is enough to make Neuvillette wonder: has he always been so plainly obvious?

Then, he thinks of you. Have you noticed how plainly obvious Neuvillette is? Have you known all along, yet never brought it up in an effort to spare his feelings?

(Have you ever wanted—for just a fraction, for just a moment—him to be so obvious? Have you ever looked at him—and held his image within your irises—when he hasn’t been looking at you (Which Neuvillette thinks, frankly, that’s impossible; he’s always looking at you)? Have you—have…)

Wriothesley chuckles. “Don’t think too hard about it. Who knows,”—he shrugs, his expression unreadable—“maybe you’ll be in for a surprise.”

Wriothesley has always known more than what he lets on; it’s just in his nature, as a part-time security guard and a student of criminal justice. 

He has never been wrong, Neuvillette thinks—his mind shifts. His mind forms an image, vivid and bright and fantastical; it’s you.

This time, however, he might be. Neuvillette thinks Wriothesley’s implications are outlandish. How could he expect a surprise from you, when you already do so much as exist?

Still, Neuvillette replies, “Maybe.”

There’s a magic that follows after your existence. It’s like the petrichor that swarms the earth after it rains; like the inevitable belief that night follows after day; like the certainty that vests within time; the fact that tomorrow will come, the fact that you are, despite everything, real. It’s unfathomable, really. Your existence. 

And Neuvillette has wondered when everything began, when the world started to shift, when the sun became more than the sun: when it became you. Maybe, it started when he was your partner in a group project back in physics class (which he barely managed to pass with your late-night tutoring and guidance). Maybe, it started when he realized that you were there throughout everything—through the years of his worst, when he loathed everyone, when he had no love in his heart, when the most mundane of things remained as they were: mundane.

Maybe, it doesn’t matter when things begin. All that matters is that they exist now.

“I should get going,” Neuvillette says, taking another peek at his watch.

Wriothesley nods. “Have fun. Let me know if there are any breakthroughs.”

Neuvillette blinks, echoing, “Breakthroughs?”

Wriothesley flashes another one of those knowing expressions. This time, all he offers is a hum. And this time, Neuvillette doesn’t pry; he gives in. Neuvillette does a lot of that—he thinks of you—giving in, and pressing onwards, and living in the unknown despite the answer being right—he thinks of you—in front of him.

He arrives at the subway station an hour and a half before noon. Neuvillette sneaks another glance at his wristwatch, thinking, I’m right on time. After taking a seat on a nearby bench, Neuvillette begins to observe, periwinkle gaze drifting across the sea of people, anchorless and free, his senses reborn as the world reincarnates anew. The air is crisp, the cold stinging the tip of his nose, puffs of condensation escaping his parted lips—Neuvillette feels everything. The fabric against his skin; the surge of life; the rush of the passerby; the frantic and erratic breath that life exhales with each gust of wind.

“Neuvillette!” a voice pierces the crowd, passing through the canal of his ear and stabbing cleanly through his heart. Although it’s just a sound, Neuvillette hears it wholly: the timbre, the tone, the familiarity of his name (which is, after all, not even his first name), the way the syllables sound sacred (and Neuvillette must attribute the fragility to the owner of the voice, not the name) despite it being uttered many times before. 

This-is-this-is-this-is… You. You! 

At your call, Neuvillette stands. His hands, unsure of what to do, reach for the sleeves of his coat, fiddling with the hem while his gaze fixates on you. Once more, periwinkle drowns in your figure. Once more, the world is right. 

“[Name],” Neuvillette replies, unable to contain the gentle smile that possesses his lips. “You’re early.”

You laugh. “You’re earlier!” 

“Yes,” he admits—this-is-this-is-this-is—“you’re right.”

The subway ride to the aquarium is peaceful. Neuvillette couldn’t have asked for anything else, because there you were, and there was the world, and there was the sun, and there you were, and—oh, did he mention that already? 

Neuvillette thinks you were the most wonderful of them all. You; your eyes, focused on the scenery outside. You; your voice, dipped into a whisper as you speak of precious little nothings which, to Neuvillette, seem to be worth everything. 

You’re radiant. Fantastically so. Neuvillette has this realization time and time again. Every time periwinkle swallows your image, and every time his heart shivers at the proximity of your presence, Neuvillette is made aware of how colossally significant you are. You’re like the world. Sublime. Wondrous.

“Neuvillette,” you suddenly say, and Neuvillette feels his ribs shudder. “Thank you for coming with me today.”

He swallows thickly—the way you say his name; oh, the way you, the way you—somehow, he finds his voice, breathing out, “It is my pleasure.”

“Neuvillette!”—and there you go again, calling his name, unaware of the spasm of his heart, the binding of his lungs—“come over here! Look, these are whale sharks!”

Oh, that’s right, Neuvillette thinks, this is your domain. Before he can open his mouth to respond, you usher him in the direction of the spotted creature, its wide mouth stretched agape while it drifts throughout the blue waters, followed by a squad of smaller fish. 

“Those are remoras,” you explain, “they attach themselves to sharks and feed off of parasites that grow on the shark’s skin.”

Oh, Neuvillette thinks, noticing the glimmer of your eyes under the aquatic light, noticing the way your words begin to slur together out of sheer excitement, unable to keep up with the tempo of your thoughts. 

You’re beautiful. 

“What are those?” Neuvillette asks, pointing towards the manta rays.

“Those are manta rays!” you exclaim. “Like the whale shark, they’re filter feeders!” 

“What does that mean?” Neuvillette queries. “To be a filter feeder?”

“It means both whale sharks and manta rays filter out the free-floating plankton drift in the water!” you say, and oh, Neuvillette thinks you look ethereal. This is your domain; the great ocean; the blue light; the knowledge; the passion. You own the sea. The world. Oh, the world! 

“Did you know manta rays don’t have skeletons? They’re made of cartilage.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Neuvillette replies, despite knowing that fact from the plethora of articles he read about marine life a couple days back. Neuvillette didn’t want to seem ignorant in front of you, a marine biology major, but at the same time, he thinks this is a much better alternative. 

This-is-this-is-this-is… 

You smile at him. “It’s all good! I go to this aquarium pretty often, so I know a thing or two.”

You’re lying, Neuvillette thinks. You know more than just a “thing or two.” You know—you know everything, it seems!

(Still, Neuvillette doesn’t pry. He does a lot of that, he supposes—he thinks of you—in your presence, and with the realization—he thinks of you—that you are, unbelievably, here. Tangible. With him. With him!)

Neuvillette wishes he could bottle this moment and keep it forever. 

He observes this aquarium through your gaze, measuring all the creatures with the same joy that you hold them to, learning all there is about different fin types and different species groups. Orcas are not fish, they are marine mammals—Neuvillette knew that too, from an article titled “What Are Orcas Truly?”—sharks breathe by swimming and passing oxygenated water through their gills—Neuvillette learned that fact last night from a video titled “Sharks Sleep While Moving!”

If he weren’t a law major, Neuvillette thinks he would’ve gone into marine biology, too. (And he wonders what it’d be like, to have the same classes as you, to be able to share this knowledge with you, to be able to discuss marine life on a higher level than the rudimentary facts you’re forced to share with him, who is unfamiliar with this world.) 

Neuvillette wishes that he knew more than what he knew. He wishes he could crawl into your brain and adore the ocean with the same passion that you have. He wishes he could share your struggles with strict lab professors, and discuss answers after difficult quizzes—but the boundary between your major and his is too large. He knows nothing. He can say nothing. He is nothing. So he opts to remain silent and stare. 

Can he ever return to this moment again? You; the blue light; the whale sharks; the manta rays; the world! Can he ever revisit this aquarium? Will you ever want to go with him again? Will you speak to him in the same, lovely voice? Will you call his name with the same, lovely timbre?

Oh, Neuvillette wants! He wants! He wants this moment! This aquarium! You!

His heart shudders.

This-is-this-is-this-is…

And the moment is ending. Everything returns to where it started. Neuvillette finds himself on the subway once more, sitting by your side, watching you watch the window, the sun setting in the horizon, the day slipping away.

He wants to bottle this: the pink hues, the orange glimmer, the blue memory, the aquarium, you. He wants to grasp this scene and slip it into his wallet, like a charm, like a reminder of the world and all that has meaning. He looks at you. He wants—and he stops there, because he’s overstepping his boundaries and that’s too much to ask for. 

A yawn escapes your lips, you apologize, muttering, “Sorry, I’m a little tired right now.” 

Neuvillette notices the lull of your head, the flutter of your lashes as you struggle to stay awake. 

“It’s alright.” His leg begins to bounce, his fingers reaching to fiddle with the hems of his sleeves once more. “If I may offer my shoulder, if you would, um… In case you would like to rest.”

Although you don’t seem to mind, or notice, the filler word that slips into his speech, Neuvillette is already questioning himself, berating his sudden inability to speak, reduced to nothing in your colossal presence. For how could he ever amount to anything if you are already everything?

“Thank you, Neuvillette.”

His heart lurches. His lungs heave. His brain falters, unable to form any coherent thought that isn’t composed, in its entirety, you.

Your eyes flutter shut, and your head comes to rest against his shoulder, and Neuvillette thinks—while his leg bounces up and down, mad—that, if he could, he would bottle this moment, and—while his breath shutters, coming to a stop—and, and he would preserve it. And he would love it. This light; this subway; this world; you. Forever. 

Neuvillette has always noticed you. From the moment his periwinkle eyes first beheld your existence, from the moment the world incarnated anew, from the moment—which he wishes he could bottle—your gaze dawned upon him, when dusk dawned upon the two of you, when everything dissipated into darkness, he noticed you then. Even without sight. Even without speech. Even without his senses.

He notices you now, too. He notices the way your brow furrows when the sun’s light slips across your face, the world illuminating and perceiving your irrevocable beauty. He notices the way you turn away slightly, burying your face into the fabric of his coat, trying to escape the radiance which pales in comparison to your own.

His hand comes up to block the sun. Your expression eases. Your breathing evens out and the world is right again. 

This-is-this-is-this-is… 

Neuvillette rests his head against yours, his touch featherlight—the bounce of his leg comes to a stop—his lungs pausing, capturing the breath which holds the essence of your existence—and the moment is preserved—and the final incarnation is complete. 

This is… 

The sun’s final light disappears. The moment is over. 

Neuvillette feels your head against his. A new moment starts. 

And he supposes—without much deliberation—and he thinks—and he has thought this, for the longest of times—that this is love. 

(This is enough.)

no thoughts. just zhongli’s territorial instincts rising up after you return from fontaine stinking of another dragon’s scent. and neuvillette nuzzling his face in your neck to scent you every time you have to leave for liyue.

He looks exhausted when he walks in—a hectic week altogether—tie loose, hair a mess, the weight of the day still clinging to his shoulders. You only get a proper kiss before he mumbles something about freshening up, leaving you standing there, needy and restless, watching him disappear into the bathroom.

When he comes back, he’s shirtless, hair damp, towel lazily slung around his neck. He settles on the bed against the headboard, long legs stretched out, a book in his hand. The glow of the bedside lamp casts soft shadows over his chest, the definition of his collarbones, the slope of his abs. And yet, he doesn’t seem to notice the way your gaze lingers.

You’re curled up at the edge of the bed, watching him, sulking a little. He must feel it, must sense the heat of your stare, because he barely glances up from his book before tilting his head toward you.

“Come here, baby.” His voice is low, lazy, but there’s something in it that makes your stomach tighten. “Sit on me.”

You first didn't understand if he meant his face or his lap, when he takes off his shorts is when you understand.

Your breath catches. “Aren’t you tired?”

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. “And? C'm on, you know both you and I want it.”

That was enough to make warmth pool at the base of your spine. He sets the book aside for a second, beckoning you with his fingers.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice like honey, thick and coaxing. “Missed you.”

It’s enough to make you move before you can think better of it, before you can let the last bit of hesitation keep you away. As soon as you settle onto his lap, his hands find your waist, taking down your panties as you lift your hips up.

He lifts you slightly, making you sit on his cock, it doesn't completely fit, of course, thumbs stroking your skin through the fabric of your shirt as his tip teases that spot.

He picks up the book again, but his eyes flicker down to yours,

“You gonna behave while I read?”

You shift slightly, just enough to make his grip tighten.

His chuckle is low, teasing. “Didn’t think so.”

He picks up the book again, pretending to be absorbed in it, but you don’t miss the way his grip tightens when you shift just a little.

“You comfortable, darlin'?” he murmurs absently, eyes flicking over the pages, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You hum, pressing your palms to his bare chest, tracing slow circles over his skin. “Mhm,” you breathe, leaning in, brushing your lips over his jaw. He doesn’t react, doesn’t move—just keeps reading like you’re not practically melting against him.

So, you move. Just a little. A slow, innocent shift, dragging your body against his like you’re just trying to get comfortable. His fingers twitch against your waist.

Still, he doesn’t say anything.

You try again, shifting higher, rolling your hips ever so slightly before sinking back down, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck.

His jaw tenses, his breath catches—just for a second—but he keeps his face hidden behind the book, stubbornly ignoring you.

“Baby,” you whine softly, dragging your lips along the column of his throat, your fingers slipping into his hair. He’s so warm, so solid beneath you, and the way he’s acting like he doesn’t care makes heat spark in your stomach.

He exhales through his nose, tilting his head back just enough to let you nuzzle into him, but his voice stays even. “What is it, sweetheart?”

You shift again, slower this time, your body pressing flush against his. His hands slide down, palms warm against your thighs now, holding you in place—but not stopping you.

“You’re ignoring me,” you pout, rolling your hips ever so slightly.

He lets out a low hum, flipping a page with maddening calm. “Am I?”

“Mmhm,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear now. “Feels mean.”

His grip tightens, his fingers flexing, but he doesn’t pull you closer, doesn’t stop you. He just lets you move, lets you tease yourself against him while he hides behind the book like you’re not driving him insane.

Finally, after another slow shift of your hips, he exhales sharply, his fingers pressing into your skin. “You having fun, sweet thing?”

You grin, pressing your forehead against his. “Maybe.”

You keep moving against him, slow and teasing, pressing yourself closer, but he doesn’t give in. Doesn’t acknowledge the way your body rolls against his, how your hands roam over his chest, fingertips tracing over his collarbones, his shoulders, the muscles in his arms.

He just keeps his book in front of his face, pretending to be unaffected, though his grip on your waist tightens each time you shift.

Still, you don’t stop.

You press your lips to the curve of his jaw, down his throat, your breath warm against his skin. Nothing. Another slow roll of your hips. Nothing. His chest rises a little quicker, but he keeps reading, keeps ignoring the way you’re growing needier by the second.

So you pull back.

Lift off of him completely, his hands falling from your waist as you shift onto your knees in front of him. He doesn’t say a word, but you can feel his gaze burning into you. Like he isn’t gripping the book just a little too tight.

And then—slowly, deliberately—you pull your shirt over your head. Let it fall somewhere on the bed before you turn around, completely bare.

This time, when you sink on him again, when your skin presses against his, warm and soft, he sucks in a quiet breath. It’s subtle, barely audible, but you hear it—the smallest groan, low in his throat, like he’s finally letting himself react, just for a second.

You smirk, leaning back against his chest, your bare back skin meeting his warmth. His hand finds your waist again, palm splayed across your stomach now, going lower, caressing your public hair, fingers pressing in ever so slightly, then, creeping up to your breasts.

But still—one hand stays on the book, his eyes flickering over the pages like he isn’t affected, like he doesn’t feel the heat of your body against his.

Then—slowly, lazily—his free hand moves up, reaching for the band holding your hair in place. A gentle tug, and your ponytail loosens, hair spilling over your shoulders, cascading down your back.

He exhales, fingers threading through the strands, brushing them over one shoulder before his palm rests lightly against your collarbone. His lips ghost the side of your head, warm and teasing.

You lift again, rolling your hips, teasing yourself against him, but he’s too big—he doesn’t completely fit, and the realization sends a frustrated whimper past your lips. You try again, sinking down only to an extent, but it’s not enough. The slow drag, the aching stretch—it’s driving you crazy.

And then—you feel it. The sharp inhale he takes, the way his fingers dig into your hips, his patience snapping in an instant.

His book is tossed aside without a second thought.

Before you can process it, he grips your waist and pushes you down onto him fully, a deep, strained groan rumbling from his chest as you gasp with a moan, hands flying to his thighs for support. The pressure, the overwhelming fullness—it has your whole body trembling.

Then, he moves.

He leans forward, chest pressing against your back, his warmth caging you in as he shifts, guiding you down onto your elbows and knees. You barely register the change in position before he presses against you from behind, rolling his hips in slow, deep thrusts that knock the air from your lungs.

A strangled moan escapes you, your fingers clutching at the sheets as he moves again, unhurried but devastating, each motion precise, like he’s savoring the way you fall apart beneath him.

His breath is heavy, hot against the back of your neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” His voice is rough, strained, and when you whimper in response, he lets out a low groan, his hips pressing even deeper.

He leans forward, to hear you and to feel your skin better—his arm slides around your throat from behind, not tight, just enough to keep you close, to keep you exactly where he wants you.

His grip is firm but careful, fingers resting lightly against your pulse, feeling the way it races beneath his touch. He groans again, voice husky in your ear as he keeps moving, slow and deep, his other hand holding your waist.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck. “Take it. J—just like that.”

Your eyes flutter open, hazy with pleasure, and that’s when you see it—the mirror straight ahead, mounted on the wall opposite the bed.

The sight knocks the breath from your lungs.

The reflection captures everything—his body towering over yours, his one hand gripping your waist and the other on your heck, the way he moves against you, desperate, like he can’t get enough. His expression is dark with hunger, his lips parted, chest heaving with each deep thrust, biting and kissing your neck.

You can’t look away.

A choked moan escapes your lips, louder than before, your gaze locked on the image before you. The way you tremble beneath him, the way his body fits against yours so perfectly—it sends another wave of heat through you.

Behind you, he notices.

His pace falters for a second, his head tilting slightly before he follows your gaze—and when he sees it, when he sees himself buried deep inside you, his body covering yours, your dazed eyes, drool from your lips, how you tighten around him, how your moans got louder, his grip on your waist tightens.

A low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest.

"You like that view, sweetheart?" His voice is husky, rough with desire.

You can barely manage a response, your moan answering for you, and that’s all it takes.

"Y—yeah? you like that baby?"

His pace shifts—harder, faster, so hard you start moving upwards away from him so he pulls you back on him, as if the sight of you together, of you unraveling beneath him, has pushed him over the edge. His breathing turns ragged, each thrust sending shivers down your spine, and you know he’s close.

So are you.

Your hands clench the sheets, your body arching, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until—

His name spills from your lips, broken and breathless, as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you trembling in his grasp.

Only then does he let go.

With one final thrust, his body tenses, his own release following yours, a deep groan escaping as he collapses onto you, his weight warm and heavy, pressing you into the bed.

For a moment, neither of you move.

His chest rises and falls against your back, his breath warm against your shoulder, his arms still wrapped around you like he’s unwilling to let go just yet.

Then—softly, teasingly—he presses a lazy kiss to the side of your neck, his voice a deep murmur against your skin.

"Now that," he breathes, a satisfied smirk in his tone, "was a sight worth watching."

A lazy hum vibrates against your skin as he stays draped over you, his weight heavy but comforting, grounding you after the storm you both just weathered. His lips graze your shoulder, soft and lingering, before he finally shifts, rolling off you just enough to let you breathe.

But he doesn’t let go.

Instead, he pulls you back against his chest, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His breathing is deep, still uneven, but his lips find your skin again, trailing slow, featherlight kisses along your shoulder, up to your jaw.

"You okay, sweetheart?" His voice is warm, thick with exhaustion, but there’s a hint of something else too—concern, devotion, the quiet way he always makes sure you’re alright.

You nod, still catching your breath, and he chuckles softly, his fingers brushing lazy circles against your bare skin.

"Did so well for me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

You sigh, sinking into his warmth, letting yourself melt as he shifts to sit up, reaching over to grab the blanket from the edge of the bed. With careful hands, he pulls it over both of you, tucking you close against him, his body still warm from exertion.

The weight of exhaustion tugs at your limbs, pulling you toward sleep, but just as you begin to drift, you feel it—

A slow, lazy touch trailing along your skin.

At first, it’s featherlight, almost absentminded, like he’s moving on instinct even in his half-asleep state. His fingertips trace delicate patterns along your stomach before slipping lower, pressing against you with a knowing intent.

Your breath hitches.

"Mm," he hums sleepily against your neck, his voice thick with exhaustion but still laced with that ever-present hunger. "Not done with you yet, sweetheart."

The words send a shiver through you, heat pooling where his fingers tease, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the way you react even with his eyes closed. His grip tightens around your waist, keeping you close as his lips press against the curve of your shoulder, a lazy, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

"You can take one more for me, can’t you? I can’t believe I lived without this for a week.”

Usually, he takes his time, his mouth and hands working in tandem, drawing you apart piece by piece, only then do you come on his cock, but tonight, there was a crack in the routine.

He’s tired—so tired—and yet, not enough to resist.

Not enough to deny himself this.

His fingers dip lower, pressing against you, and when he feels the heat, the wetness waiting for him, he lets out a low, satisfied hum.

“I almost forgot,” he murmurs, lips trailing along the curve of your jaw, “how gorgeous you are like this. All flustered, sensitive and red and—”

He presses in, two fingers sliding deep, and the breath you take is sharp, stolen from your lungs.

“—so fucking wet for me.”

His fingers move with a practiced rhythm, slow but deliberate, coaxing you closer. His lips press against your shoulder, murmuring against your flushed skin, a litany of sweet nothings that only make the pleasure coil tighter inside you.

"That’s it, sweet, sweet cunt," he breathes, voice thick with exhaustion but dripping with satisfaction. "Let go for me… just like that."

Your head falls back against his shoulder, body melting into his as he works you through it, his touch unrelenting until he feels you come undone, trembling in his arms. He doesn’t stop until the last wave passes, until he’s sure he’s wrung out every last drop of pleasure from you.

Only then does he ease his fingers out, dragging them up over your thigh, slow and reverent, as if he’s memorizing the way you feel against him. His other arm tightens around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, anchoring you against his chest, clean his fingers by tasting you.

"Missed you so much," he mutters into your hair, voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t think I can go a week without you again."

His lips press against your temple, soft and lingering, before he shifts, reaching for the blanket and pulling it over both of you. His warmth surrounds you, his touch still gentle as he strokes lazy circles into your hip, lulling you into a haze of post-bliss exhaustion.

"You good, sweetheart?" he asks, voice softer now, more tender. You nod sleepily, and he chuckles, kissing the top of your head.

"Sleep," he whispers. "I’ve got you."

And with his arms wrapped around you, his breath steady and warm against your skin, you believe him.

The car ride is silent—dangerously so. His hands grip the steering wheel tight, jaw set, eyes locked on the road, but you can feel the heat rolling off him in waves. You push your luck, shifting in your seat, letting the hem of your dress ride up just a little more, just enough for him to notice.

He does.

His knuckles turn white, and that muscle in his jaw ticks. His possessiveness always simmers beneath the surface, but tonight, you poured gasoline over it. Letting another man get too close, laughing a little too sweetly at a joke that wasn’t even funny, brushing your fingers over someone’s arm like you didn’t already belong to him.

So now he says nothing. And somehow, that’s even better.

“Are you mad?” you ask, tilting your head, voice teasing, knowing exactly what you’re doing.

He doesn’t answer. Just flicks his eyes toward you.

That’s fine. You like a challenge.

Your gaze drops, tracing the shape of him beneath his slacks, the way his pants strained left little to the imagination, and you bit your lip, heat pooling low in your stomach. He catches you looking, and his breath comes out sharper, hands tightening on the wheel.

“Stop” he mutters, but there’s no real authority behind it.

You bite your lip. “What?”

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s debating whether to punish you with silence or pull over and make you regret every second of your little game. His patience snaps first.

The car jerks to the side, tires skidding slightly as he pulls into a secluded area off the road. The moment the engine shuts off, he’s turning to you, fingers curling around your thigh, thumb pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You think it’s funny, teasing me like that?” His voice is rough, thick with barely restrained control.

“You’re hot when you’re mad.” You say it without shame, letting your eyes drag down the length of him again, lingering on his lap.

Something in him breaks.

He tugs you forward with ease, pulling you onto his lap, your knees pressing into the seat on either side of him. His hands grip your hips, rough and demanding, dragging you down so you can feel all of him, thick and heavy beneath you.

Your dress rides up, pooling around your thighs, and his hands waste no time slipping beneath it, fingers pressing into your skin, possessive, claiming. You barely have a second to process the shift before his lips are on your throat, teeth grazing, breath fanning, sucking a mark too close to your chin and low from your face that will be impossible to hide.

You shudder, fingers threading through his hair, but he isn’t done.

A hand slides up your back, tugging at the zipper of your dress, he pulled the fabric down your shoulders, exposing more skin to his hungry gaze.

His palms cupped your breasts, fingers teasing over sensitive peaks before his lips replaced them, warm and wet, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. you arch into him, pressing yourself closer, chasing more.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, and before you can let out a full whimper, a sharp smack lands on your ass.

You jolt, a soft gasp leaving your lips, and his smirk is nothing short of sinful. “Now is when you want to behave?” he asks, voice teasing.

Your only answer is the way your hips roll against him, feeling how hard he is beneath you. Oh, how much he wants to wreck you for every second you made him jealous tonight. He grips your hips, guiding you, forcing you to move just how he wants, shifting your weight, he maneuvered you onto one of his thighs, pressing his hands against your hips.

The pressure against your core made you whimper, and he guided you, slow and deliberate, making you move against him.

The windows fog. The air turns thick.

And the way he looks at you? Like he’s going to leave proof of his name on every inch of your skin?

You think maybe, riling him up was the best decision you’ve ever made.

The moment he stumbles into the apartment, you can tell he’s completely, utterly wasted. His shirt is wrinkled, one side untucked, and his hair is an absolute mess, strands sticking to his forehead. and there's a lazy, lascivious grin on his face as he sways toward you.

“Baaaaby,” he drags out the word as if it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said, arms already reaching for you before he even makes it across the room. “You’re so pretty. So, so pretty.”

You barely have time to respond before he crashes into you, arms wrapping tight around your waist, his weight forcing you a step back. He noses at your neck, warm breath fanning over your skin before he presses a messy, lingering kiss just under your jaw.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, voice thick with intoxication. His lips trail sloppily along your jaw, missing his mark more than once. “I was thinking about you the whole time. Didn’t wanna drink, didn’t wanna talk—just wanted you.”

You exhale, half amused, half overwhelmed by how affectionate he gets when he’s like this. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m in love,” he corrects, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His eyes are dark, half-lidded, pupils blown out as he drinks you in. “So, so in love with you.”

“I thought about you the whole time. Even when they were talking about boring stuff, I was just thinking about you, and your pretty face, and your hair, and—and—” He hiccups, giggles, then kisses your cheek sloppily, missing his target entirely.

And then he kisses your lips, like he’s trying to make up for all the time he spent away. His lips are warm, a little sloppy, a little desperate, and when his tongue swipes against yours, you can taste the faint burn of whiskey.

“Mm, I love kissing you,” he mumbles against your skin. His hands slip down to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “Like, so much. I could do this forever.”

“You’ll regret it in the morning,” you tease, but he shakes his head wildly, pressing more kisses wherever he can reach.

“Nuh-uh,” he insists. “I’d regret not kissing you. That’s way worse.”

He groans into the kiss, fingers tangling into your hair as he backs you toward the bedroom. He’s trying so hard to be in control, to take the lead—pressing you up against the wall, hands gripping your waist as his mouth moves hungrily against yours. But he’s a mess. A beautiful, intoxicating mess. His lips miss their mark, his teeth graze too hard, and he keeps mumbling your name between kisses like he can’t bear to stop.

When you finally reach the bedroom, he tries to spin you around, guiding you onto the bed—but the second he pulls away to do so, he loses balance. His legs give out beneath him, and he stumbles backward onto the mattress with a dazed look on his face.

You can’t help but laugh. “Smooth.”

“Shh, c’mere,” he slurs, arms reaching for you like a needy child. And you do—crawling over him, straddling his hips as he lets out a breathy moan at the contact. His hands slide down your back, gripping your waistband, and with a drunken sort of determination, he tries to guide your hips against his. He rocks his hips up harshly once, making you fall onto him, kissing you.

“Feel that?” he murmurs against your lips, eyes dark and heavy. “S’all for you.”

You do feel it—the hard press of his arousal beneath you. He rocks your hips against him, slow and lazy, groaning softly at the friction. His fingers dig into your waist, gripping, guiding, needy. His kisses turn even sloppier, missing your lips entirely at times, trailing down your chin, your jaw, your neck.

But then, just as the heat between you starts to build, his movements slow. His grip loosens. His kisses falter. And before you even realize what’s happening, his head falls back against the pillows, breath steadying, lips slightly parted in sleep.

You blink down at him, still straddling his hips, your body burning from the half-finished tension he just left you with.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

A soft snore is his only response.

For a moment, you just stare. Then you sigh, running a hand through your hair before shaking your head with a quiet laugh. You should be frustrated. You should be annoyed. But looking at him like this—his lips still pink and swollen from kissing you, his brows slightly furrowed even in sleep, his arms still loosely resting around your waist—you can’t bring yourself to be mad.

Instead, you press a soft kiss to his temple before carefully shifting off of him, pulling the blankets up over both of you.

“Idiot” you murmur, but the fondness in your voice betrays you.

And despite the ache he left you with, you fall asleep smiling, tangled up in the warmth of him.