#✰ cryoculus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cryoculus · 1 year

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— thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife ⟢

thoma was taught to only take what’s reasonably given to him. but what if ayato offers something he can’t refuse?

★ FEATURING; kamisato ayato x reader x thoma

★ WORD COUNT; 11.5k words

★ TAGS; established relationship, resolved sexual tension, smut

★ WARNINGS; graphic sexual content (minors dni), consensual? cuckolding?, ayato basically orchestrates his own wife's ntr :/

★ NOTES; this is honestly so so nasty i still shiver a little whenever i read it SJAHSFSDH i hope you enjoy hehehe

★ HEADER ART CR; ashx_sool on twt

★ SMUT TAGS: accidental voyeurism, threesome, masturbation (m), brief m/m action; don't like, don't read, oral (m&f receiving), vaginal fingering, double penetration in one hole, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, aftercare

Thoma’s been acting strange lately.

You can’t help but notice that once you started living inside the Kamisato Estate. Of course, you’re no stranger to the four corners of the property – having been betrothed to the Commissioner for a few years now. This means you’ve become quite familiar with the rest of the Kamisato retainers, as well.

Their chief retainer and housekeeper was always such an unintentional charmer. Thoma was as kind as he was diligent, accomplishing tasks from a broad spectrum of categories. Be it his cover-up job as a fixer in Ritou, being the right-hand man of Kamisato Ayato himself, or his duties as the main housekeeper, Thoma never fails to impress.

You’ve only managed to officially marry into the family two weeks earlier, and the Kamisato clan made you feel nothing short of welcome. Ayato even organized a small banquet on behalf of your marriage, and you couldn’t be happier to start the next phase of your life with him.

But going back to Thoma…

He’s a good friend that you’ve known for years. The blond housekeeper was always there for you in moments when you started to doubt your engagement. Ayato is a busy man, and that’s something you found difficult to fully accept when you were younger. You envied your friends, who didn’t have to share their husbands’ attention with mountains of deskwork. But no matter how childish your rants could be, Thoma would give you the reassurance you needed in a heartbeat.

“Marrying into any Tri-Commission family isn’t easy, miss,” he told you once, flashing you a comforting smile. “But I hope you know that there’s nothing Lord Ayato would want more than to fulfill his obligations both to Inazuma, and to you. ”

Admittedly, if it weren’t for Thoma, your marriage would’ve fallen through before you could even practice for the final rites. It’s a good thing he was such a good mediator that, once he helped Ayato realize he’d been falling behind in his role as your fiancé, you managed to salvage your engagement altogether.

Long story short, you’re glad to have Thoma around.

So when he starts acting all shifty around you, it rightfully arouses a few questions in your head.

It’s been a week since you moved into the estate. The other retainers treated you the same way they have for years, finding nothing unusual for the Commissioner’s wife to start living in his home. After all, it was an Inazuman custom. Yet the person who you expected to give you the warmest welcome of all turned out to be the most evasive.

Things have been relatively normal during the first few days. Thoma would greet you whenever you passed him in the halls, invite you for strolls on Ayaka’s behalf, and even offer to do your errands in the city. But all of a sudden, he would start steering clear of you for reasons unknown. Thoma always refuses to meet your eyes in the rare chance you could speak to him – replying hurriedly before excusing himself. He doesn’t invite you for strolls, nor does he offer to run errands either.

If it had been anyone else, you would’ve understood. Retainers always maintained a respectable courtesy for their masters and mistresses – you know this well. But the fact that it’s Thoma who’s suddenly treating you like a stranger makes you a bit…sad.

Ayato notices the shift in your mood right away.

“It’s not like you to brood,” he comments before climbing under the covers with you. “Anything on your mind?”

You manage a soft laugh. “Nothing that you should worry about, my lord.”

Ayato pouts. “I wonder when you’ll grow out of your habit of calling me that.”

“Hehe, maybe in a few years.”

Once both of you have settled underneath the large futon, you find your head pressed firmly against Ayato’s chest. The sound of his heart beating calmly beneath your ear manages to quell your unease somewhat. When you take a long whiff, you catch the faint scent of pearbells on his nightclothes. You sigh – burrowing further into your husband’s embrace.

“Will you answer me this time if I ask again?”

He stares expectantly with an important document he’s reviewing on one hand, while toying with your hair with the other. Ayato doesn’t even have to elaborate; not that you had any intention of hiding it from him any longer.

“Do you think Thoma hates me?” you mumble, shying away from his lilac stare.

Ayato pauses for a moment, as if considering your words, before he sits upright to toss the papers onto the nightstand. You mourn the loss of his touch a little – a pout of your own springing forth on your face. He laughs when he sees it before pressing a fleeting kiss on your lips.

“Now what could’ve given you that idea, darling?”

You heave another sigh, prompting your husband to pull you into a seating position as he settles you on his lap. This position is a bit too…promiscuous than what you’re used to, but when Ayato nuzzles the crook of your neck with his nose, you realize he’s trying to appease you, even just a little.

His affection makes you sigh with contentment. You’re glad that you’re at that phase of your relationship where he can hold you this freely and comfortably. Archons know it wasn’t exactly a smooth start for the both of you when it came to these kinds of things. Ayato is the world-renowned Yashiro Commissioner, so it’s normal for him to be absent. Back then, you dreaded the mere idea of bringing up intimacy with him, out of fear that you’re being too needy.

But you’ve long realized that Ayato is more attentive than you’d otherwise expect.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “It just feels like he’s been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?”

He hums curiously. “It’s only been a few days, but you’re doing your part as a representative of the Yashiro Commission splendidly. I heard Her Excellency was quite impressed with your plans of expanding cultural relations with other nations.”

“Reviving the Irodori Festival was your idea,” you remind him, cheeks warming at his praise. “All I did was put the plan on the table… B-But that’s besides the point! I was thinking I might’ve done something of a smaller scale that unknowingly offended Thoma.”

“Oh? Do you have any idea what that might be?”

Despite the comforting warmth of his embrace, you turn around to flash Ayato a suspicious look. There it is again – that teasing lilt of his voice, clueing you in that he might know more about your predicament than what he’s letting on.

“I wouldn’t be lamenting in the first place if I did,” you grumble.

He laughs again, planting a kiss on your cheek as an apology. “Well, if it eases your mind, I’ll be the one to tell you that Thoma isn’t the kind of person who avoids those he has problems with.”

“Then why…?”

Instead of reassuring you with a direct response, Ayato latches his mouth across the thrum of your pulse, making you squeak in surprise.

“M-My lord –”

He sighs. “You’re with me right now, yet you continue to worry about other men? My wife is so cruel~”

It was a statement that could have easily been laced with jealousy, but there’s none of that with Ayato. If anything, he spoke the words in that typically sly manner of his – a side of him you’d only gotten intimately acquainted with a few months before your marriage.

You’re well aware that it’s in your husband’s nature to be more mischievous than most Commissioners, but…

Ayato takes you by surprise again when he turns you around on his lap, forcing you to come face-to-face with his half-lidded gaze. Your chest twists with embarrassment and the inexplicable desire to hide your flustered expression. Despite having shared his bed several times before, it feels like your first all over again whenever Ayato gets in the mood.

“How about we worry about our favorite retainer in the morning?” he asks slowly, grazing your bottom lip with his thumb.

Before you can even get a chance to respond, Ayato presses forward and kisses you deeply, hands migrating to the swell of your hips as he holds you in place. In spite of your initial timidness, you respond in kind. You move your lips to the rhythm he’s set like you’ve done so many times before, and you’re reminded of how perfectly in-sync the two of you have always been.

Ayato nudges the lapels of your kimono off your shoulders, exposing your bare breasts to the cool evening air. You don’t try to cover up like you usually would. After all, your husband likes it when you lay yourself bare for him to see.

“Always such a pretty little thing,” he sighs, fingers sliding across the curves of your waist – making you shiver with anticipation. “Someone as beautiful as you doesn’t deserve to stress themself as much as you’re doing right now, darling.”

“Now, won’t you let your husband help get your mind off things?”

His offer makes another wave of embarrassment crash over you. Your duties after marrying into the Yashiro Commission are no laughing matter, but they still pale in comparison to Ayato’s. If there’s anyone in dire need of stress relief between the two of you, it’s most certainly him.

But…

“Ayato,” you whine, tugging at the front of his kimono impatiently. “Don’t tease…”

The Commissioner chuckles, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against yours. You would’ve fawned at the gesture, if the possessive grip he has on your waist hadn’t gotten tighter.

All those lingering thoughts about Thoma went up in smoke as Ayato shifts on the futon – making you rest comfortably against the headboard as he works his way between your legs. Your husband is a big fan of foreplay, unfortunately. Instead of taking you the moment he feels like it, Ayato enjoys stringing you apart with his bare hands more than the chase that comes with release. His desire to see you squirm lines up perfectly with the version of him that most people find insufferable.

(But it’s also the one you love the most.)

He bunches the hem of your kimono around your waist, peppering your thighs with soft kisses that make your heart flutter. Then, when Ayato drags your underwear down with his teeth, you’re too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

“Ah, ah~ We can’t have that,” he singongs, reaching up to grasp your chin with his fingers. “Come on, darling. Tell me what you’d like me to do with this sinful body of yours.”

The sultry look in Ayato’s eyes makes a wave of heat ripple through your core, but you’re convinced he already knows just how much you actually want him. You let out a shuddering breath once his free hand traces circles on the sensitive flesh of your thighs.

To his surprise, you decide to unfurl the digits curled beneath your face – taking his middle and index into your mouth with a long, seductive lick. A hint of surprise crosses his smug features as you shamelessly lubricate Ayato’s fingers with the heat of your tongue.

“I want you.” You speak the words before lowering his hand, spreading your legs wider. “Ayato, please…”

Your husband shakes his head with a withering smile, sliding the fingers you’d prepared for him so nicely into your sopping entrance. You cry out, completely taken by surprise as Ayato starts lapping at the juices dripping between your thighs.

It doesn’t take a lot of effort to push you over the edge. Even if you hail from one of the many noble families in Inazuma, no amount of etiquette classes can hide how sensitive you can be once you’re under the mercy of Kamisato Ayato. He knows you like it when he pumps his fingers slow and deep while quickly flicking his tongue across your swollen clit as an added stimulus. The squelch of your walls as he eats you out always sounds like music to his ears – much more the wanton moans that spill from your lips.

Once he gets you mounted on his cock, it’s another story entirely. Your tight cunt always takes him so well – like you were fashioned to be his from the moment you were born. Ayato likes you best when you’re still recovering from an orgasm he’d coaxed with his mouth and fingers alone; when you’re sensitive to the touch, yet receive his advances readily, still.

Though he hides it well, your husband is quite obsessed with you. From the dignified way you carried yourself in court to your lascivious reception of his touch – he adores each facet that you trusted him enough to show.

Now, as he watches you bounce on his cock, breathless, and beautiful, and everything he’s ever loved –

It doesn’t surprise him how you’d easily catch the eyes of someone else.

“A-Ayato,” you moan, fingers laced around his neck as you press your forehead against his. “You feel so good… You’re hitting me so deep.”

He chuckles softly, meeting your lips in a tongue-filled kiss.

“You shouldn’t say such things, darling,” he tells you huskily. “If you don’t want me to ruin you, you’ll avoid stirring me up like that.”

Ayato groans when you bring down your hips with a particularly tantalizing roll. He feels you tightening your walls around his throbbing length, and he nearly loses it right there.

“But I want you to,” you tell him, lips parted as you pinpoint your own orgasm. “I want you to ruin me. Fill me with your cum…”

Archons above, you’re perfect.

Without warning, Ayato flips you back onto the futon, forcing your face onto the pillows as he pounds you from behind. His rough movements make you moan in delight as the head of his cock repeatedly hits a spot inside that makes you see stars. The tight grip he has on your ass is uncharacteristic of the calm and composed Yashiro Commissioner, but Ayato knows you take pride in your ability to make him lose all sense of control.

He adores seeing you so utterly debauched for him. But as your husband finally spills himself inside of you, feeling your cunt tighten around his length in the height of your orgasm –

Ayato catches the shadows shift beneath the sliding doors.

“I love you,” you whisper breathlessly, turning around to meet his mouth with a sloppy kiss – oblivious to what he just saw.

He forces his lips not to shift into a knowing smirk after his discovery. Instead, Ayato murmurs the same words against the column of your throat as he slowly thrusts his hips – helping you ride out your orgasm. The satisfied purr that resounds deep in your chest lets him know that you’re more or less pleased with his performance, just as you were the other night.

He wonders if your one-man audience enjoyed the show just like last time, too.

…

Thoma constantly wonders if he has the worst luck or the worst timing or both.

Living in Inazuma already gave him his fair share of mishaps and misfortunes. But he’s confident to say that once he made a living for himself here in the Kamisato estate, his life had more or less turned for the better. He’s the chief retainer, the Kamisato housekeeper, the –

Scumbag who shamelessly pops a boner for his lord’s wife.

It was an accident, really. A few nights ago, he was supposed to deliver an important document for Ayato to go over, since the concerned party handed it to Thoma later than the prescribed date.

Though he definitely could've waited until morning to give it to him, Ayato once told Thoma that receiving updates for this project in particular was of high priority. Even if it was the dead of night, he’d given his chief retainer permission to disturb him if there was any progress with the paperwork involved.

So, he did! Thoma marched off to Ayato’s quarters with the extremely late document in hand just like he asked.

But when Thoma raised a hand to knock –

“A-Ayato!”

He feels all his cognitive functions halt for a split second. Thoma has spent years by your side – not as much time as he devoted to the Kamisato siblings, but enough to recognize your voice even if the Commissioner’s name was shaped around…a moan.

That’s the other thing – you never call Ayato by his name. It’s always Lord Kamisato, or my lord, or some other variation. Even if the two of you already tied the knot, Thoma knows that you still hesitate to cross that line despite his lord’s insistence.

So he can’t blame himself for feeling utterly shocked to hear you make such a lewd sound.

That’s not even the worst part. With how quiet the estate was that night, Thoma can hear the wet slap of skin-on-skin from inside the room – painting all sorts of pictures in his poor mind. The chief retainer is nothing short of courteous, but he was still a man. The moment his imagination conjured images of you intimately entangled with Ayato –

Thoma swiftly headed back to his room before he could finish the thought; even taking a long, cold shower to snap him out of it completely.

He tried to act like nothing happened the next morning – handing the document he was supposed to give to Ayato immediately after breakfast. The Commissioner didn’t seem to notice anything different, so Thoma was convinced he was doing a good job in acting the part.

But when he crossed paths with you again…

“Thoma,” you greeted him cheerily. “The herbal tea you brought home from Ritou was really good. Lord Kamisato and I had shared a cup before heading to bed last night, and –”

Before doing all sorts of indecent things behind closed doors, you mean?

He nearly slapped himself for thinking such a thing, especially when you were looking up at him with innocent admiration in your eyes. It’s so difficult to imagine that the woman standing in front of him was the same one he heard last night. Even if Thoma wanted nothing more than to pretend like he hadn’t heard anything unusual out of courtesy –

“I-I’m glad you like it, milady,” he coughed out awkwardly, side-stepping you in the hallway. “I’d love to stay a while longer to chat, but Lady Ayaka asked me to do something for her, so…”

Gods. He felt like he committed a crime when the smile fell from your face.

“Oh, I’m sorry for holding you up,” you hastily apologize with a bow. “I’ll see you later then?”

Thoma didn’t answer at the time. But over the next few days, he did get to see you – more often than he would like.

He was convinced that this was just a passing itch. It’s been a while since Thoma has taken any lovers – not that he had the time to entertain the idea in the first place.

Being the chief retainer to the Yashiro Commission didn’t give him more work per se. It’s Ayato that receives the brunt of it. Thoma’s job was to support him whenever he needed it – which was quite often, if the Commissioner’s tight schedule was anything to go by.

But every time he tried to act like his usual self around you, his brain always seemed to betray him. Images of your innocent face contorted mid-moan would plague his mind, and Thoma had no choice to dismiss himself in the middle of a conversation with you before you noticed the erection straining against his pants.

It’s embarrassing. He felt like a prepubescent teen who’s never had sex in his life. But what made this (hopefully) passing attraction all the more terrible was the fact that you belonged to Ayato, not him. Thoma knew that for a fact, and yet…

Tonight, when he was scheduled to fetch the document he’d given to the Commissioner days prior, Thoma lucked out once again when he walked in on another intimate moment.

“You feel so good… You’re hitting me so deep.” A soft laugh, underlined by the sound of squelching flesh.

“You shouldn’t say such things, darling. If you don’t want me to ruin you, you’ll avoid stirring me up like that.”

“But I want you to… I want you to ruin me. Fill me with your cum.”

Thoma’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor as you whined from the other side of the door – the sounds of your lovemaking doing him no favors in keeping his head in the right place. Archons, who knew you could talk like that? Were you the same, clueless woman who constantly questioned her betrothal to Kamisato Ayato?

For a moment, Thoma pictured himself on top of you, prying your legs apart as he eased himself inside your slick entrance. He imagined what you would look like as you begged him to fill you up the same way you did with your husband.

He knew he should’ve bolted back to his own room at the first signs of Ayato being occupied with…something else like last time. But Thoma’s feet were rooted to the spot as he had his fill of the obscene noises coming from inside.

This was wrong – fucked up in so many levels. If anyone else caught him standing here, listening to his lord have sex with his wife, Thoma wouldn’t be surprised if that alone cost him his job. No matter how distinguished his name was today, some things just couldn’t be forgiven.

That was all the nudge he needed to walk back to the bath – taking an even longer shower in hopes of cleansing the impure thoughts from his body.

It didn’t work, though. Because as Thoma lays in the solitude of his own room, his cock is painfully hard underneath his own nightclothes. He stares at the ceiling with resentment, wondering why he’s so goddamn pent up, that he’d lust after you despite knowing the consequences.

A devilish voice in the back of his head insisted that once he’d gotten off once, it would all be over. He’d finally be able to go back to how things were before this unexpected turn of events without fearing for the loss of his livelihood. That’s the only thing that kept his conscience intact as Thoma let a hand slip between his legs – palming his hard length through the fabric.

Just once, he promised to himself. Just once, and never again.

As he undid the rest of his clothes, Thoma hissed once his rough fingers came into contact with his sensitive cock. He screws his eyes shut, gathering the beads of precum glistening across the tip as he lathers his shaft with his own essence.

Not enough. This isn’t nearly enough lubrication as he needed.

Shamelessly, the blond sits upright, spitting into his palm before wetting his cock in a more satisfying manner. He groans, wondering if the tight ring of your pussy feels just as warm, and just as wet. Thoma knows better, though, but tells himself that all he deserves is own hand and spit for thinking of you in such a filthy way.

He pictures you with your breasts pressed against his futon – ass mounted high in the air as you present your needy cunt. Imagining you saying his name the same way you said Ayato’s strikes several nerves at once, and Thoma is convinced you might actually make him come in real life only by calling out to him like that.

Thoma pumps his length in a tight fist faster, breathing erratically as he leans against the wall. He lets himself fantasize how you’d look with his cock between your lips. Would tears glisten in your eyes as he thrusts himself into the heat of your mouth? Knowing how Ayato must’ve trained you, you’re the type to swallow each drop of cum he spills down your throat.

Though the gods might smite him for all these lecherous thoughts, Thoma is in too deep to backtrack now.

Thoma’s golden bangs stick to his forehead with each bated breath. His shoulders heave as he stares down at his swollen member, entertaining the silly thought that he’s forgotten how to masturbate after being occupied with work for so long. But instead of ridiculing himself more than he already has…

His eyes flutter closed as he cooks up another scene entirely. Instead of picturing himself vying for someone else’s wife, Thoma imagines you taking two cocks at the same time.

You’d be so good at it, too – sloppily sucking him off like a woman starved as Ayato pounds your abused cunt. Tears will streak down your face, and he would pull you off his cock to kiss them away. Ayato would then angle his thrusts until he has you crooning both of their names.

It’s pure bliss – he can almost taste it on his tongue. Thoma nearly pops a vein in his arm with how riled up he’s gotten as he inches himself closer and closer to the edge.

The image of your tight pussy stuffed with both of their cocks – his and Ayato’s spend dripping down your thighs as you showed them the most fucked-out look he could picture – is the last straw. The pinnacle of his pent-up fantasies. But as Thoma pumps his load into his own hand to avoid staining the sheets, the chief retainer is quickly roused from his lust-filled haze.

White noise rings in his ears. Thoma doesn’t feel relieved of a burden he’s been carrying for days.

In fact, his guilt only festers.

...

The next day, Thoma finds himself hard at work in the kitchen.

Springtime is easily his favorite season. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom all across Mount Yougou, and he can’t help but feel the uplifting atmosphere that surrounds the estate during this time of the year.

But sometimes, the weather in the mountains can be quite…erratic.

“I really wish I had the ability to make it snow at will,” Ayaka sighs as she fans herself on a nearby counter – bemoaning the sudden rise in temperature just like everyone else Thoma ran into today. “The occasional rainshower, I’d understand, but we rarely get heat waves in the middle of spring. Have you heard anything unusual about it, Thoma?”

He shakes his head apologetically before hefting a box of assorted ingredients into one of the cabinets. “Nothing of the sort. Maybe it’ll be cooler later in the day.”

She falls silent for a few moments, and Thoma chuckles to himself. It’s rare to see Ayaka openly complain about the things that are stressing her out, so –

“Hm, that reminds me… Have you seen Sister today? She promised to look at new kimonos with me in the city tonight, but I was told the Tenryou Commission saddled her with the paperwork for the Irodori Festival.” Ayaka shakes her head. “I wouldn’t put it past her to lock herself up in her study until she’s done.”

If Ayaka notices the way Thoma falters with his near-mechanical way of arranging the pantry, she doesn’t show it. The question isn’t strange, by any means. He’s a Kamisato housekeeper. He should at least have an idea about the whereabouts of the estate’s denizens. But when it’s an inquiry that involves you, Thoma still has some trouble saving face.

“One of the many traits she shares with Lord Ayato,” he says in a last-ditch effort. “Milady has been securing venue permissions in Ritou even before the wedding. I’d say she cares a whole lot about this festival more than she’s letting on.”

“You can say that again.” She lets out another wistful sigh. “I didn’t think I would have to deal with a workaholic sister on top of a brother that doesn’t know when to take breaks. This heat wave isn’t helping either…” All of a sudden, Ayaka perks up from her seat – slapping her fan closed as if having realized something.

“The Hiiragi clan sent us a leftover batch of watermelons this morning, didn’t they?” she asks. “I was wondering why they would have so many this time of year, but maybe it’s a stroke of luck on our part.”

The insinuation makes Thoma swallow thickly. He’s fulfilled enough orders around the estate to know where this is going, but alas, he doesn’t have any reason to refuse.

“Would you mind slicing a few melons for everyone? I’m sure we’re not the only ones affected by the heat… Oh, I’ll handle the rest, you bring up a few slices for Sister.” Ayaka smiles, completely oblivious to Thoma’s plight. “Sounds like a plan, right?”

That’s how this poor Kamisato housekeeper wound up in front of your study, a plate of fresh watermelons in hand as he wondered how he should face you. Thoma knows you aren’t stupid. You’ve definitely realized that he was avoiding you, but decided to let it slide. Whether or not you knew the reason behind his evasion, he still wasn’t sure, but he damn prayed that you didn’t.

He internally tells himself to relax, raising a gloved hand to knock on the door. First and foremost, you’re now one of the ladies of the house. Second, you’re his friend. Even if Thoma still feels guilty for making you the subject of his sexual fantasies, he shouldn’t let that get in the way of work. Just sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened – easy as pie.

“Thoma?”

The soft chime of your voice makes his confidence spiral all over again. As Thoma lets himself inside your study, you glance up at him from your low desk with puzzled eyes – setting your brush down on the wooden surface. You were probably in the middle of drafting another correspondence.

“Milady,” he greets as casually as he can, flashing you a gentle smile. “I’ve brought some watermelon slices. The Hiiragi clan sent over a fresh batch, and we figured you’d want some respite from the rise in temperature.”

You’re quiet for a while, as if still coming to terms with the fact that he’s standing there. Thoma wonders what they would think if someone were to walk past your study and witness the awkward silence passing between the two of you.

Thankfully, before Thoma ends up squirming under your contemplative stare, you beam at him from where you sat.

“That’s a bit much for one person to eat, no?” you tell him, glancing at the plateful of fruit. “How about you help me finish those while you hear out the rest of our plans for the festival?”

The question rings in his ears for a while, and Thoma’s initial response would’ve been to decline. He doesn’t quite trust himself yet to be around you, even after the... drastic measures he took.

But for someone who always heeds his conscience, Thoma finds it awfully easy to slide the door back in place and keep you company.

…

The heat is absolutely killing you.

Not only were your compliance deadlines piling up one after the other, but you were starting to sweat through your kimono as well. Isolating yourself inside your study isn’t how you would typically oversee the projects handed to your care. But with all the signatories and corrections you had to go over, you have no choice but to hole yourself up until every page was proofread down to the letter. The experience is twice as worse when you’re stuck inside the stifling heat of your study.

So when Thoma drops by with some refreshments, you can’t help but convince him to stay despite his obvious avoidance.

Compared to the last couple of days, though, he seems less elusive. Thoma is seated comfortably right across your work table, going over the documents you were compiling as he listens to your rambling.

Ever since the Raiden Shogun greenlit the Yashiro Commission’s plans for the festival, both you and Ayato have been working around the clock. Your husband delegated himself with the task of inviting guests from other nations, while you coordinated with the local government to make sure everything went smoothly. But even with Ayaka’s advice on the diplomatic side of things, you can’t help but feel…burned out.

It hasn’t even been a month since you’ve married into the Kamisato clan, but whatever assumptions you had about their work all went up in smoke. Overseeing the cultural machinations of Inazuma is twice as difficult as you thought it would be. Even with your own experience, you couldn’t fathom how Ayato must’ve handled things when he was the only one managing the political affairs of the Yashiro Commission.

These days, you only ever see him during the evening – just when the two of you are about to sleep. While last night’s…escapade certainly left you flustered, you were back in business come morning, much to your dismay.

But right now, your exhaustion has partially been stemmed by the company of your good friend, Thoma, who tells you:

“Aren’t you being too meticulous about this, milady?”

He posits the question as he hands you a slice of watermelon – one that you absentmindedly accept as you process his words. “I was told that, when it comes to politics, one can’t be ‘too meticulous’.”

“Forgive me. I meant to say you might be holding yourself to an unfair standard,” he clarifies with a worried look. “Lord Ayato also has these moments of perfectionism. He once told me to hold him back if the effort he’s exerting unreasonably outweighs his well-being, so I’m a bit inclined to do the same for you. We can’t have the newest member of the clan collapsing due to work-related stress, you know.”

Thoma told you all that in a somewhat scolding tone – one that reminds you of your mother back home. The thought makes you chuckle as you finally allow yourself a bite from the fruit in your hands.

“...This is pretty good,” you comment, chewing thoughtfully as you flash Thoma an impressed look. “Aren’t watermelons out of season in the spring?”

“Heat waves are also out of season in the spring, but here we are.” He laughs, organizing the papers on your desk as you help yourself to a quick snack. “It’s kind of stuffy in here, though. Would you like me to open the windows, milady?”

You cuss silently when you feel the watermelon juice dripping down your fingers and onto your chest. The thought that Thoma is right there, bearing witness to your messy eating habits is a bit embarrassing, but you’d take that over his avoidance any day.

“No, it’s alright,” you reply as you attempt to keep the papers on your desk free from stains. “I get distracted when I hear the noise outside, so I’ve been putting up with the heat all this time… But since I’m pretty much on break, I guess it’s fine.”

Thoma doesn’t reply, but you don’t think much of his silence. Not when you’re busy trying (and failing) to consume watermelon like a normal human being.

Realizing that eating in front of your desk is not the way to do things, you place your half-eaten slice back on the plate to grab a towel inside a nearby drawer. Gods, your bangs are starting to stick to your forehead with how sweaty you are, too.

Dabbing the fruit juices and the sweat on your skin makes you feel like you deserve a long, cold shower. But with how much you have left to do, you might as well save it for last. Besides, Thoma’s company is enough to dispel the stress that’s been accumulating over the past few days.

But when your eyes rivet back to him, you realize he’s staring at you rather…intently.

…

Thoma is, for lack of a better word, fucked.

Bringing you the Hiiragi clan’s watermelons isn’t as dreadful as he initially thought. He assumed you’d interrogate him about his behavior now that the two of you were alone, but you merely sat down and shared your current progress with putting the Irodori Festival into motion. The gesture brought him back to the time when you were still Ayato’s fiancée, so unsure whether Her Excellency was even going to approve of your initial plans. The sense of familiarity feels undeserved, but Thoma basked in it nonetheless.

He slowly eased into giving you some advice you needed to hear, too – making him think that he was finally able to forget about that indescribable itch he had last night. His gut was right. Getting off once really did help in –

Wrong.

Things were going so smoothly. Thoma was so sure he’d finally be able to look you in the eye without feeling ashamed of himself anymore.

But then you started eating the food he brought.

There’s nothing wrong with that. Absolutely nothing! What’s wrong is the fact that his green eyes are riveted on the way the watermelon’s juices slide down your chest – disappearing into the conspicuous cleavage of your breasts.

Now that he’s painfully aware, Thoma realizes that the lapels of your kimono are nudged somewhat wider today. Probably because of the heat. But he didn’t even notice you wearing it any differently until his brain decided to point it out, and now he can’t bring himself to peel his gaze away.

His throat bobs as you try to lick the juices off your fingers, praying to all seven archons to help him keep his non-existent virtue. If this happened before his unintentional voyeur session, he would’ve found it amusing to know that nobles like you could be messy eaters, too. But since he lives in a world where the universe is out for blood, all he gets is a poorly timed erection in the middle of a sweltering afternoon.

Thoma only realizes he spaced out when you call out his name.

“Are you alright?” you ask, readjusting your clothes as you sling a small towel over your shoulder. “Don’t tell me the heat’s getting to you, too.”

It would’ve been better if the reason was as simple as that. But the longer Thoma lets himself stare at your curious yet worried expression, the more the guilt eats at his heart.

“I just remembered I need to pick-up a fan Lady Ayaka commissioned in the city,” he lies, a poignant smile gracing his lips. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, milady.”

“Hey, Thoma – !”

Not waiting for you to speak any further, the chief retainer sees himself out of your study – shutting the door behind him with more force than needed. He tilts his head up to the ceiling with a withering sigh. The moment he closes his eyes, all he sees is the curve of your supple breasts, peeking from the window of skin from your kimono, as if inviting him to come closer.

This isn’t normal, Thoma finally acknowledges. I think I need to see a healer.

Before heading down to the foyer, where the other retainers ate their watermelon slices, Thoma readjusts the apron tied around his waist. Not too loose that it would slip off if he was careless, but not too tight that people could make out the contour of something hard and prominent between his legs.

In an act of wayward penitence, Thoma doesn’t relieve himself for the entire day. Maybe a little punishment would help him get over these lecherous thoughts.

Little does he know, what awaits him further down the road is far from punishment.

...

There are a handful of things you could’ve said the moment Ayato steps inside your shared bedroom come nightfall. Welcome home or I missed you would’ve been your top contenders. But instead of greeting him like any doting wife should –

“He’s definitely avoiding me!” you sulk, sinking into your husband’s arms with a pout. “I thought we were on good terms now, but Thoma’s being elusive again.”

Ayato hums with an amused smile on his face. He undoes the straps of his shoulder guards without breaking free from your embrace, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. The sweet gesture makes you flush – slightly ashamed at your sudden outburst.

“Your husband comes home after a long day chock full of meetings, and that’s the first thing you say to him?” he chuckles.

You sigh, breathing in the scent of his coat as you meet his gaze. “I’m sorry… I just – I don’t like feeling as if I’ve slighted him when I’m not doing anything wrong. Today, he even sat down with me in my study while we ate watermelon slices, and – Why are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes narrow once the grin on Ayato’s face curls a bit mischievously. You’ve been with him long enough to recognize his many misleading expressions, so you know a scheming Yashiro Commissioner when you see it.

“We’ve both had our hands tied for the past few days, but…” He trails off before caressing your face tenderly. Despite his obvious plotting, you can’t help but lean into his touch. “How about I help you get to the bottom of this, hm? I can’t sleep at night, knowing my wife harbors all these troubles in her head.”

You stare at him suspiciously. “You’ll help me even if it’s because of another man?”

“You speak of Thoma like he’s your paramour and not our long-time friend,” Ayato laughs again, and you feel your face warm with embarrassment. “Don’t worry. I’ve just finished drafting the invitation letters for all the special guests we’ll invite to the festival. I have a lot of free time on my hands now, actually.”

“Okay,” you play along. Despite your skepticism, you know Ayato would never put you in harm’s way. “How do you plan on ‘getting to the bottom of it’ then?”

“Hehe, well...”

You shouldn’t find it so endearing when his lilac eyes twinkle with anticipation – like he has a secret he longs to tell. But then again, one of the reasons you fell in love with Ayato is because there was simply never a dull moment with him. Times you can spend with the man behind the mantle of Yashiro Commissioner are few and far in between, especially with all the festival preparations in play.

What sort of fool would you be if you didn’t take his offer?

…

On the day before the Irodori Festival, Ayato orders Thoma to drop by his bedroom before retiring for the night.

While he still has reservations about doing so, Thoma is sure he’s done a healthy amount of self-reflection over the past few days. Once he’s done his share of the preparations, the chief retainer would always make the trip to the Grand Narukami Shrine, offering prayers of absolution to the gods who dare listen to his pleas. It seems to work though, because even if he’s still wary of being around you, he’s no longer plagued with unsavory thoughts.

The shrine maiden handing out fortune slips seems to be in a better mood as of late, too – entertaining him with small talk before handing Thoma the day’s fortune.

So when he marches to his lord’s quarters that night – fully aware that he drew a Great Fortune slip today – Thoma doesn’t feel the slightest bit anxious. He repented for his sins and focused his attention on the Irodori Festival instead. The gods must be looking down favorably at him now.

Right?

He ambles by the hallway in front of Ayato’s bedroom, not hesitating to bring a closed fist against the door. Thoma vaguely hears snippets of conversation inside, but the words are too hushed for him to make out.

“Thoma? Is that you?” Ayato asks aloud.

“Yes, my lord,” he responds in kind. “Did you need anything?”

The other side falls silent for a while, and Thoma strains his ears for any sort of noise to no avail. This late at night, you should probably be inside the room as well. But what could Ayato possibly –

“Come in for a while.”

He looks around for a while, checking if there’s anyone else in the vicinity. Even if Thoma knows he probably has nothing to worry about, there’s still an inkling of self-consciousness that lingers in his chest. As if the sight of him stepping inside the room Ayato shared with you is a grave sin. But he reminds himself that, as long as he kept a pure and positive outlook on things, he wouldn’t be forced into awry situations.

All his efforts at keeping a clean conscience, though, are all for naught.

…

While Ayato has a way with getting things done in the most unorthodox ways, proposing a threeway is the last thing you thought he would cook up. You thought he was joking at first, but when you questioned the sincerity of his request, your husband flashed you a sulking look.

“As your husband, I have a duty not only to support you in all your endeavors, but to also make sure you live a happy, married life by my side,” he told you. “However, I also have duties as the Yashiro Commissioner.”

You stared at him, perplexed. “What does that have anything to do with having a threeway?”

“Why, it has everything to do with it,” Ayato chuckled before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “When one of my most trusted retainers is visibly tormented by…his untimely attraction for my wife, I should probably help him out, no?”

Despite doing your best to hide your mortified reaction, you were sure Ayato could sense it either way. Who could blame you, though? You’ve heard rumors about this-and-that’s marriage falling through because of unsuspecting third parties. Your husband is completely aware that Thoma could be…vying for you, as well. But instead of taking action against him, he’s asking you if you want to sleep with him?

“Of course, the last thing I wish to do is force you into something you don’t want,” Ayato reassured. “We can both take Thoma’s secret to the grave, and let things run its natural course. He’s a smart man. He won’t let the temptations of the flesh cloud his judgment so easily. In a few months, he could dismiss this all as a fever dream and nothing else.”

“...Or, we can let him experience what he’s missing out on.”

You hesitated, still reeling from the fact that the poor chief retainer himself had heard you getting fucked to an inch of your life, not once, but twice. No wonder Ayato seemed rather distracted during those nights, despite the vigorous attention he paid to your body.

The moral choice was, of course, to decline. Not only will you jeopardize Ayato’s reputation by agreeing to have Thoma as your lover, but you’ll compromise your own principles as well. You were raised not only to be a formidable leader, but also a faithful partner. Giving in to these subtle curiosities might cost you everything you’ve been working so hard for.

But as you watched the way Ayato smiled at you encouragingly – the beauty mark below his lip further accentuating his features – you’re reminded that being married to him wasn’t the same as being married to any other man.

You’d be lying if you said that knowing Thoma was attracted to you didn’t send a rush of conceit straight through your skull. Under all the layers of propriety, you knew you were quite the wicked soul at heart.

Besides, you were crazy enough to get hitched with Kamisato Ayato, of all people.

You couldn’t fathom how he must’ve planned all this on top of his responsibilities for the festival. You barely had any time yourself once the venue preparations were underway. But your husband, ever the efficient schemer, scheduled the fateful encounter on the night before the celebration.

The moment Thoma steps inside the room, Ayato curls his fingers inside you with startling precision – ripping a moan from your lips as your eyes lock with your unknowing guest. Thoma’s emerald gaze widens with equal parts surprise and disbelief, and for a moment, you mirror the same expression.

After all, no amount of planning could prepare you for what your husband has in store tonight.

“We’ve been waiting for you all night.,” Ayato chuckles, trailing his lips across the sensitive skin of your thighs. “I can hardly count how many times I’ve made her come, but at least the guest of honor is finally here.”

Thoma at least has the decency to shut the door behind him to keep any prying eyes out. Despite the fact that you’re still sensitive from Ayato’s godly oral, you can’t help the heat that boils beneath your skin once more as Thoma’s eyes rake over your bare form.

“M-My lord, has there been some sort of mistake?” he stammers. “I think I should see myself out –”

“You’re the one I ordered to come here at midnight, yes?” your husband sighs, rising from the nest he’s made of your thighs before passively teasing your entrance with gloved hands. “Now, would you like to sit back and watch or do you prefer being the one who directs the show?”

You whine as Ayato slides his fingers inside you once again – the feeling of leather brushing against your sensitive walls a foreign but welcome sensation. He teased you about it when he was still preparing you for the show, but you’re afraid that getting fingerfucked with his gloves on is going to be a staple from here on out.

Speaking of staples…

The internal conflict is pitifully evident on Thoma’s face. You can tell that his desire to partake in all this debauchery and his honor as the clan’s chief retainer are warring inside his head.

“Thoma,” you call out, voice hoarse with need as you nudge your legs wider – displaying your slick entrance for him to see.

“I want you.”

Ayato chuckles as he surrenders his grip on your thighs. When you whimper from the loss of his touch, he consoles you with a soft kiss on your lips.

“My wife wants you, Thoma,” he says brazenly. “Aren’t you going to give her what she desires?”

As Ayato teases your sensitive spots to keep you constantly wanting, you’re vaguely aware of how long it’s taking Thoma to give him an answer. For a moment, you fear that his rationality would win in the end, and he’d leave you high and dry without saying a word.

But, tentatively, Thoma says:

“I’d like to watch first, my lord.”

Your husband’s mouth twitches into a no-good smile as he picks you up in one swift motion. This catches you by surprise for a moment, but you offer no complaints as he seats himself on his reading chair, and eases you on top of his lap. You feel lewd like this – back turned to Ayato as you spread your legs for another man’s appraisal.

“Always so attentive,” Ayato comments, and you don’t know if he’s speaking to you or Thoma. His gloved hands massage idle shapes onto your thighs, and you can’t help but squirm underneath his touch. “Well, firstly, you won’t have to worry about finding out what feels good for my darling wife. She’s always so sensitive everywhere you touch her.”

As if to prove his point, Ayato grazes his teeth against the cut of your jaw – making a shiver rack through your whole body as your hips buck in the air. “See?”

“Ayato,” you whine, guiding his hands to your center.

“Ah, she doesn’t like it when you tease too much. Unfortunately for her, I’m the one she chose as a regular bedfellow,” he laughs, cooing at you like a master to his pet as he lathers his fingers with your dripping essence. “That makes me wonder if you could offer her a better experience.”

Thoma, who still hasn’t moved from where he stood, gulps nervously. “I wouldn’t dare impose, my lord.”

“Oh, but we’d greatly appreciate it if you did.” Ayato casts him another misplaced grin, finally easing his thick digits into your heat as you rest your head on his shoulder. “How many fingers do you want, darling?”

In a delirious haze, you sigh, “All of them.”

“How greedy. You might as well just ask for my cock then.” He tuts. “But I could’ve sworn you came faster when I played with you like this.”

Your reaction is immediate when Ayato uses his free hand to rub tight circles around your clit – timing each movement with the squelch of his fingers inside your pussy. His hot breath ghosts against your ear, and you can feel the outline of his clothed erection against your ass. The fact that Thoma is watching all this unfold silently but with his own brand of hunger stimulates you in more ways than one.

“Oh? She tightened up just now,” your husband chuckles, taking out the fingers buried inside your cunt to bring them to your lips. “You like it when Thoma watches, don’t you, love?”

You take the leather of his gloves inside your mouth without another word – tasting yourself on his fingers without much heed for decorum. Ayato never halts his ministrations against that sensitive bud, and you moan around his digits as he slowly builds you up to another orgasm.

“Thoma,” you whisper. “Please…”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate.

The blond kneels before you like a devoted believer at the foot of the Shogun’s statue. You can sense the hesitation in his touch, still, when his warm, large hands slide across your thighs. As your husband continues his endless onslaught on your poor, abused clit, Thoma removes his own gloves – experimentally easing a finger into the tight ring of your cunt as those bright green eyes meet yours halfway.

It’s a good thing Ayato’s fingers are keeping you from moaning too loudly. Something about the way Thoma stares at you between your thighs has your toes curling with pleasure.

With the chief retainer’s presence, Ayato elects to shift both of his hands on the spill of your breasts instead – sticky fingers kneading your flesh as Thoma eases another finger inside you.

“She’s so wet,” he says, almost disbelievingly.

“That’s all because of you,” Ayato chuckles before sucking another love bite on the side of your neck. When he rolls your nipples between his fingers, your walls unexpectedly clamp down on Thoma’s intrusive fingers once more. “She’s quite the vixen, isn’t she? A goddess you can’t help but worship. Oh, but she’s been working so hard these days. This warrants our undivided attention, doesn’t it?”

Thoma nods absentmindedly, pulling out his fingers, much to your disappointment. He’s still staring at your pussy like it’s a myth he’s come to confirm with his own two eyes. You’re about to dish out some teasing remark about it, but when he hoists your legs over his shoulders, the words die in your throat.

He’s unexpectedly talented with his mouth – alternating between dipping his tongue into your swollen entrance and licking swift patterns across your clit. Your fingers migrate to his hair, tugging at the golden tufts. You can hear Ayato make a satisfied sound behind you, but all you can think about is the sensation of Thoma tracing lines of poetry between your thighs.

“My, you’re enjoying yourself quite a lot, hm?” Ayato whispers in your ear, turning your head to the side to meet his lips in a hurried kiss. You never once pictured yourself in this situation – seated on your husband’s lap as another man fucks you with his tongue. Saying that you’re enjoying yourself is an understatement.

“I’m close,” you admit – murmuring the words against his mouth as you feel Thoma’s grip on your thighs tighten. “A-Ayato, I’m so close…”

Your husband breathes out a soft laugh. “You hear that, Thoma?”

“Yes,” he sighs, and you realize he’s already hauled his own cock out of the confines of his pants, fisting his engorged length as he brought you the pinnacle. The sight is nothing short of erotic, and once Thoma makes another pass on your oversensitive clit, you’re gone.

The waves of your climax hit you like a storm – making you convulse on Ayato’s lap as Thoma helps you ride it out. Your husband silences your moans with his lips once again and for once, you wonder if this is what heaven feels like.

When you come to your senses again, still boneless from your orgasm, you realize you’re now lying on the futon. In front of you, the two men strip themselves of their garments, making the heat rise to your cheeks at the idea that you really were going to push through with this.

“As much as I’d like to sit down and watch you fuck my wife with something else, I’m feeling quite famished myself,” Ayato admits once the last of his clothes falls to the floor. “Thoma, would you be a dear and grab the bottle inside the nightstand?”

The orders make you raise an eyebrow in question, but Thoma follows them wordlessly – procuring a small, glass bottle with a transparent liquid inside. You hate how you immediately recognize what it is.

Ayato leans closer to you once he retrieves the lubricant from Thoma’s grasp before caressing your cheek tenderly.

“Are you alright?” he murmurs, and you nod slowly. “Good. You should rest for a moment before we move on to the next.”

You pout. “But –”

“No buts,” your husband scolds, unscrewing the lid on the bottle before rising back to his feet. “Thoma over here deserves a reward, don’t you think? He’s been so good for you – making you come with his mouth and fingers alone.”

With each word that Ayato utters, the closer he draws to his chief retainer. Thoma, who’s standing there only in his underwear flushes at the praise, and you can only watch in quiet fascination as Ayato ghosts his lips across Thoma’s face.

“Despite how I might look, I’m actually a greedy man,” your husband admits, lathering his palm with a copious amount of lubricant. “I don’t just share what belongs to me to anyone else. You’re quite the special case, Thoma. I’d trust you with my entire life…so it’s only fair for me to trust you with my wife’s satisfaction as well.”

Thoma doesn’t even flinch when Ayato takes out his cock – lathering the retainer’s length with the fluid on his fingers. He accepts his lord’s advances still, when Ayato captures his mouth in a sloppy kiss. The sight of your husband lubing up another man’s cock would’ve never crossed your mind, but as Thoma pants against the crook of Ayato’s neck, you find yourself squeezing your thighs to abate the stemming arousal.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Ayato asks. “The real thing is much better than simply taking care of it alone in your bedroom… Oh, but she looks ready to go, as well.”

You feel your skin prickle under the heat of both their stares – familiar lilac and intense emerald. Ayato chuckles before planting one last peck on Thoma’s lips, crawling towards you on the bed with heady anticipation.

“Having her take both of us at the same time is going to be a bit of a pickle,” he admits, resuming the position you were in on his reading chair, with him behind you and Thoma in front. “We’ve already loosened her up, but it might not be enough.”

Thoma nods in understanding, easing himself before you with a shy look. “I don’t want to hurt you either, milady.”

You sigh before pulling him in for a kiss.

It’s ironic, really – how Thoma got up close and personal with your cunt before getting to kiss you properly. The taste of you still lingers on his lips, making you curl your fingers around his messy blond hair to deepen your union. A low groan rumbles in the chief retainer’s chest, and you almost get carried away if it weren’t for the feeling of something hard prodding your entrance.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” Ayato sighs – angling his hips before bottoming out with one languid push. “We’re just getting started, after all.”

This blindsides you for a moment, making you moan against Thoma’s mouth as Ayato does a few experimental thrusts. Despite the odd angle, you can feel the head of his cock brushing the sensitive sponge of flesh inside you. You couldn’t help but fear the loss of your sanity once Thoma manages to ease his cock alongside Ayato’s. One is enough to make you lose your mind, what more two?

Your brief contemplation is derailed by the sensation of Thoma easing a single finger into your stuffed cunt – one he lathered with Ayato’s lubricant as he thrusts in time with your husband. The intrusion is a little uncomfortable, but the longer Thoma loosens you up, the easier it is to get used to it. It doesn’t take long before he’s able to slide three fingers inside you, along with Ayato’s impressive girth. By the time the blond deems you sufficiently prepared, you’re already babbling his name like a string of prayers.

“Thoma… Please, please,” you whimper, embracing him as if your life depended on getting split open on his and Ayato’s cocks. “I can’t wait anymore.”

“I hope your stamina in bed is just as good as your stamina on the job,” Ayato quips breathlessly behind you, slowing his own movements to accommodate Thoma. “As you can see, she’s quite the nymphomaniac.”

Normally, you would’ve shot him a dirty look for saying such a thing, but then again, Ayato only told him the truth. Maybe it was from all the stress that’s been accumulating over the past month. Maybe you’ve secretly wanted Thoma all this time, too. But whatever the reason might be, all you know is that you need to be filled by both of them. Now.

Your desperation for release takes form in the crystalline tears that roll down your cheeks. Thoma sighs, leaning down to kiss them away as he lines his lubed-up cock with your entrance.

“You’re too beautiful to cry, milady,” he whispers almost reverently, and your heart soars. “Forgive me for bringing you to tears.”

Finally, finally, he breaches your pussy with slow yet firm movements. You have to bite Thoma’s shoulder to keep yourself from crying out and awaking the entire estate. Each inch of his length stretches you out far more than what you’re used to, but despite the unfamiliar burn of their intrusion, you force yourself to take these two men like you were made to be their cocksleeve and none else.

“You’re doing so well for us.” Ayato’s voice is a husky drawl in your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth. “Thoma’s right – you’re too beautiful to cry. But that’s what taking two cocks at the same time does to you, isn’t it?”

Thoma heaves a long breath when he finally bottoms out inside – making you feel how their members throb inside you. You’re convinced that you passed out for a few seconds, but Thoma brings your consciousness back to life with a kiss.

“Don’t fall asleep on us now,” he whispers, and for the first time, you spot a ravenous glint in his usually bright eyes.

You wonder if they talked about this without your knowledge beforehand. Because when Ayato and Thoma start pounding into you, they’re in such perfect sync, that it’s hard to think they hadn’t colluded.

You can barely make a sound as the sensations overload your senses – pleasure rolling off your nerves in infinite waves as their cockheads kiss your cervix in tandem with the other. You’re so embarrassingly wet, whether it’s because of the lubricant or your own degenerate arousal, you don’t even know anymore.

When Thoma mends your mouths together in another kiss, he plants a quiet apology across your lips. You don’t know what it’s for, but it tastes sweet on your tongue – a needed distraction from the stretch of being loved by two men at the same time.

You vaguely feel Ayato tug at your hair before he mirrors the same gesture, tongue invading the cavern of your mouth the same way his cock makes a mess of your cunt. Thoma doesn’t spare you the reverie either, and you moan in delight as he takes a pert nipple between his lips.

“What an insatiable woman you are,” your husband huffs, grabbing fistfuls of your ass as he amps up the pace. “You’re clamping down on us so tight. It’s almost like you don’t want us to leave.”

Above you, Thoma lets out a breathless laugh. “Do you like it when we fuck you both at the same time, milady?”

The sound of the polite chief retainer talking so filthily sends a thrill through your core. You don’t answer aloud – not trusting your voice to carry a sufficient message. But you also fear that you won’t be satisfied with just having one or the other.

It has to be both.

Inside you, their cocks rub against the other relentlessly, bringing you closer and closer to a pinnacle you never once thought of reaching. Ayato continues to murmur those sweet and filthy nothings into your ear as Thoma ferociously leaves his mark on your chest – a reminder of this fateful night.

Your orgasm crests earlier than theirs – walls tightening even more against their thick members. Thoma latches his lips onto your neck as he slows his pace, and Ayato rubs your oversensitive clit to help you get off.

You can vaguely feel Thoma’s cock twitch inside you, and he swears colorfully under his breath. But instead of letting himself go, he seemingly stares at Ayato for permission.

“She loves it when you finish inside her,” your husband chuckles – his own pace growing erratic with need. “Go on. Fill her up. Have her dripping with you for days.”

That’s all the push he needs until you feel a rush of warmth envelop the velvet heat of your pussy – filling you into overflowing as Thoma lets out a shuddering moan. Ayato isn’t far behind as you feel spurts of his cum coat your insides, mixing with Thoma’s spend in the most debauched way possible.

You lay in between these two men for a while longer, reining your thoughts into a single place. The heat of their bodies, no matter how sweaty, makes you feel safe; secure. There’s nothing more that you want apart from laying here with them forever.

But Thoma, ever-so quick to recover, pulls himself out – making you bleat like a lamb from the loss of his heat.

“No…” you nearly sob, watching as their mixed essence trickles out of your gaping pussy.

The chief retainer’s face is as red as his vision. You know that look. That’s the look Thoma always gives you when he’s ready to skitter away and avoid you.

Fortunately, Ayato notices the same thing.

“Why don’t you sleep here tonight, Thoma?” your husband offers with a sordid smile. “Who knows what rumors would circulate around the estate if someone catches you leaving our room in the dead of night.”

“I-I’m sorry?” Thoma asks, blinking in disbelief.

He laughs, easing his own member slowly outside as he cradles you gently in his arms. You can’t even protest this time, now that the fatigue is starting to catch up to you. “You heard me. Besides, I might need some help taking care of this one. She’s a bit over the moon every time we have sex.”

“My mind is still intact, my lord,” you huff, but in spite of the teasing lilt of his words, you curl around Ayato’s embrace nonetheless. Still, you manage to look Thoma in the eye even after the lustful haze has dissipated.

“You’ll stay with us, won’t you?”

The aftercare that Ayato provides you with is nothing short of endearing, but having two men fuss over you in the middle of the night is downright spoiling you. Once Thoma has helped clean you up, your husband makes enough room for three on your shared futon. No words are exchanged during the interim, but you feel the weight of their affection with each lingering touch, no less.

When you’re back in your rightful place between these two men, you wonder if this is going to be a one-time thing. Archons know you can’t just go back to the way things were – not when Thoma has littered your body with the marks of his teeth.

Not when you and Ayato realize there’s room in your marriage for one more person.

“Thoma, how about I entrust you with an important task?”

Your husband utters the words when you’re on the brink of sleep. You barely catch them, but you cling to your remaining wisps of consciousness as you listen to what else they have to say.

“What is it?” Thoma murmurs softly.

Ayato laughs, low and steady. “We both know my job as the Yashiro Commissioner often keeps me away when all I really want is to be at home with my wife and family.

“In my absence, I trust you to keep her…satisfied. Am I making myself clear?”

You feel Thoma shift beside you, a large hand resting on the curve of your hip as if giving Ayato a wordless answer. When his hot breath ghosts the crook of your neck, you shudder in anticipation.

“Yes, my lord.”

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin smut #thoma smut #kamisato ayato smut #genshin fanfiction #genshin scenarios #thoma scenarios #kamisato ayato scenarios #genshin headcanons #cryoculus

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cryoculus · 1 year

Text

— imagine being loved by me! ⟢

pairing: xiao | alatus x reader

summary: the one where your best friend gives you ten tattoos over the next ten years. the problem? you fall deeper in love each time the ink stains your skin.

word count: 7.1k words

tags: modern au, tattoo artist!xiao, childhood friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, relationship study, non-explicit smut

warnings: emotionally stunted xiao but i fink everyone knows that already, mentions of needles, there's smut but it isn't detailed

notes: this blog's been dead for Months but i thought i'd revive it with this fic that my beloved @delvalentine commissioned me to make! i love u to DEATH, v, i hope i did your requests justice :')

header art cr: yuca7302 on twt

01.

“Ow, fuck! Can you be more careful?!”

“I am careful. You just have a shitty pain tolerance.”

“Wow, that’s not something you should say to your first willing client,” you huff, trying not to pull away as Xiao repeatedly punctures the skin of your forearm with pen ink and a not-so-sterile sewing needle. “My family could sue you if I die from a blood infection, you know.”

Xiao rolls his eyes. “Something this small won’t kill anyone. Plus, you came here on your own volition, so stop complaining.”

“Are you saying you’re just going to let me die of sepsis if everything goes to shit?”

“Pretty much.”

You didn’t know what to expect when your best friend of several years asked if you wanted a tattoo of your favorite constellation. It’s been a running joke between the both of you that the two moles on your forearm looked a lot like two-thirds of Orion’s belt, and that maybe, in another life, you would’ve been born with all three of its stars on your skin.

You should’ve known that Xiao likes to blow your expectations out of the water—whether he intends to do so or not.

It’s sundown when he finishes embedding black pen ink beneath your slightly inflamed skin. Xiao doesn’t comment when you repeatedly complain about how much that fucking hurt, and that you’re never agreeing to do it again, but you don’t miss the way his eyes occasionally flit up to the starry sky before shifting to your new ‘tattoo’ as he walks you home.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget that night. How you admired the amateur handiwork in the soft glow of your nightlight while thinking about the boy who gave you a star fashioned with his own fingers where others would’ve given flowers instead.

But then you remember Xiao is nothing but your best friend, and it’s a little…weird to be thinking about him like that.

Must be the sepsis fucking with my head, you muse before flicking off your nightlight, and the room is plunged into pitch black darkness.

02.

You’re eighteen when you realize Xiao is completely serious about this tattooing business.

It comes as a not-so-pleasant surprise to you one day when your high school’s guidance counselor approaches you while you’re hurrying over to your next class—asking if you’ve seen Xiao around these days because apparently, your best friend hasn’t been attending his classes for a better part of the semester.

Of course, you receive the news with a scowl. While you don’t exactly see him all that much at school because of how different your schedules are, you never expected to find out he’s been playing hooky all this time.

You don’t particularly like sticking your nose into other people’s business—especially not Xiao’s, since you know how he likes to keep to himself better than most. But for some reason, you aren’t able to resist, and end up calling him after excusing yourself from your two-hour Biology lecture.

Once your classes are done, you head over to a nearby tattoo parlor whose address Xiao texted to you right after you squeezed his whereabouts out of him during that phone call. It’s located in one of the more run-down parts of town that your parents would’ve detested Xiao for inviting you to. But whatever prejudice you might’ve had about the denizens of this district all go up in smoke once you meet the owner herself.

“You should’a seen Xiao practicing with our machines a few months ago!” Beidou, as Xiao had sheepishly introduced earlier, barks out a laugh before slinging an arm around your best friend’s shoulders. “Said there’s someone he wanted to give permanent tatts to. I’m guessing you’re the guest of honor?”

“Beidou,” Xiao groans. “It’s not a big deal. I already practiced on her before.”

You don’t completely catch it when Beidou makes an inappropriate joke as a response to what Xiao just said—eyes trained on the fading dot on your forearm. It’s been two years since Xiao gave you your first ‘tattoo’, and even if the receding ink makes it look like one of Orion’s stars are starting to die out, it’s still there.

“Okay,” you say in the middle of their bickering, startling both Xiao and Beidou in the process. “I’ll let him ink me if he wants to.”

Xiao stares at you with brows furrowed. “You sure?”

No, you’re not sure because as much as you want to support Xiao in what seems to be a budding passion of his, you’re certain that your father is going to kill you when he sees a full-blown tattoo on any part of your body. You barely got away with the artificial mole that Xiao did for you a few years back.

“Positive.” You back your words up with an indignant huff before sifting through the pre-made designs on Beidou’s catalog. “You just have to put it somewhere not everyone can see, I guess.”

Beidou snorts out another jarring laugh when Xiao clicks his tongue to alleviate the embarrassment that’s painting his face just a touch of red.

Earlier in the day, you intended to scold your best friend for not taking his studies seriously, but ended up going home that day with a new piece inked onto the skin of your left hip: a little spruce twig that you last remember seeing in your old hometown—years before you even met Xiao.

There’s no particular meaning behind it, apart from a hint of sentimentality and rebelliousness. It’s your first actual tattoo, and one of your best friends gave it to you, free of charge. Even if it hurts ten times more than Xiao’s novice needle method from two years ago, you end up loving it more than you thought. One time, you stare at Xiao’s intricate handiwork in the mirror for so long that you nearly run late for your first class of the day.

(Another thing that makes this particular piece memorable is the process itself.

Xiao is a person who’s always been startlingly precise in everything he decides to put his head into. When you learned that he wanted to become a tattoo artist, you instantly felt like there’s no other path more perfect for him than this.

Yet you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers sometimes trembled as he gave you your first piece—with you lying chest-down on Beidou’s tattoo chair in nothing but your shirt and underwear. It shouldn’t have been strange. Xiao has seen you dressed down like this dozens of times before.

But when all’s said and done, he refused to meet your eyes, and you don’t have the slightest clue why.)

03.

You just can’t stop staring when you see Xiao’s half-sleeve for the first time.

It’s meant to be a phoenix, he said, but you can’t really see it because the patterns are too abstract to make sense of. Still, the azure ink sits nicely on top of his built bicep, and you have to tell yourself that you’re just trying to find the stupid phoenix as an excuse to keep ogling him.

Thankfully, your weird fascination lasts for only about a week until you’re back to shitting on him like you always do.

By some miracle, Xiao manages to graduate high school despite being on probation from his excessive absences. He’s actually smart if he makes the effort to hit the books, but you’re not sure if he’s planning on going to college with how comfortable he is with being one of Beidou’s most in-demand tattoo artists.

You ask him about his future plans at a party being thrown by the previous captain of the football team in his parents’ lavish penthouse somewhere uptown. It took a great deal to force Xiao into tagging along with you as your plus one, and you’re going to make good on his acquiescence by interrogating him about things he normally skirts around.

“I told you, I didn’t take any entrance exams,” he grumbles against the rim of his red cup. “I’m managing just fine working for Beidou, so I don’t see any reason to go to college.”

You’re about to argue that Beidou’s tattoo parlor won’t be open forever, and that he needs to think about broadening his career options until a bunch of girls with linked arms shuffle closer to where you and Xiao were lounging on the couch. You don’t talk to them a lot, but everyone in your grade knows the infamous Pyro Trio.

“Hey, Xiaooo,” Hu Tao drawls with a smirk, pushing up her sleeve to reveal the branches of a cherry blossom tattooed on the delicate skin of her arm. Behind her, Xiangling and Xinyan snicker like it’s some sort of inside joke.

You intend to shift your gaze elsewhere. Clearly, you’re not the person these girls want to speak with. But the sight of the ink on Hu Tao’s skin makes the back of your neck prickle with misplaced irritation. Xiao must’ve been the one who did her piece, which shouldn’t be a surprise. Though he’s this year’s most notable absentee, rumors about Xiao’s handiwork haven’t gone unnoticed among the students in your (now) alma mater.

That doesn’t mean you have to like the idea of your best friend inking other people that aren't you, though.

You decide to excuse yourself from Xiao’s company—given that Hu Tao is giving him plenty of attention already as is. Your best friend utters something you don’t quite catch as you walk away, and you don’t bother turning around to ask him to repeat himself.

(As you stuff your face with shot after shot, you force yourself to just keep dancing to the rhythm of whatever song is blaring to the speakers. You didn’t give two shits about the fact that Hu Tao keeps feeling up the stupid phoenix tattoo on Xiao’s arm. Nor did you care about the fact that your best friend—who’s normally evasive when it comes to casual contact—seems like he doesn’t mind at all.)

The night ends with Xiao begrudgingly getting behind the wheel of your car, since you’re obviously in no state to be driving anyone home. When he announces that he’ll bring you back to your apartment, you slur out a drunken protest—asking if he can take you to the tattoo parlor instead.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Why?”

You huff, curling in on yourself on the passenger seat. “The cherry blossoms you gave Hu Tao were ugly as shit. You can do a better piece on me. Y’know, as practice.”

Both of you know that you’re bluffing. Xiao’s pieces are one of the most intricate you’ve ever seen, even if he is a rookie tattoo artist, and that you don’t have a lot of points of reference to compare to. But instead of taking offense at your mindless jab at his work, Xiao slots the keys into the ignition with a defeated sigh.

“Fine. You mentioned wanting spider lilies a while back,” he says before propping his arm against the car seat as he backed up on the street. It’s the perfect angle to moon over his not-so-phoenix tattoo, and if you were any more intoxicated, you would’ve reached out and squeezed his arm.

“Where do you want it?”

You know he meant to ask where you wanted him to put your prospective tattoo, but the question sends your mind straight into the gutter. Thankfully, you still have some semblance of coherence lingering in your drunk thoughts, and you answer with:

“Right hip. Opposite end of the spruce twig.”

When Xiao heaves another sigh and steps on the gas pedal, you don’t think much of it—still convinced it’s completely normal to expose such intimate parts of yourself to your best friend so he can tattoo a fucking flower just above the swell of your thigh.

04.

“You have been watching way too much anime.”

“Come on! At least I’m not having you tattoo the names of my shitty ex-boyfriends on my ass, right? Just give me my modified Tanjiro hanafuda and Fullmetal Alchemist flamel!”

“...Is this your way of coping with taking up a nursing course? Is it that stressful?”

You whine as you hold your phone closer to your ear, already picturing the look of disbelief in Xiao’s face when you asked when he’s free to give you your next tattoos. You still go to college in the same city, but it’s been weeks since you last saw him.

“You have no idea,” you groan. “It’s like my first year, and I’m already burned out! How is that even possible?”

Your best friend grunts on the other line. “Maybe if you stopped being such a perfectionist, then maybe you’ll learn to be more content. Less stress on your part, too.”

“Ah, no can do. I never do anything that isn’t perfect,” you chuckle. “

“Yeah, I saw you score at the top of your class during your, uh… what was it again? Biochem exam?”

For someone who doesn’t exactly give a damn about anything outside tattooing and other similar forms of artistry, you find it endearing to know Xiao actually remembers all the things you rant about in the wee hours of the morning. You don’t hate biochem, but if you have to draw another chemical configuration, you might just pop a vein.

“Okay, let’s say I agree to tattoo those weird doodles you sent,” Xiao propositions, “do you even have any free days? You usually study on weekends, right? I don’t think you’re free to drop by the shop even if you wanted to.”

Fuck. He’s right. You still have a few major exams coming up in the next two weeks. If you wait that long until you get your silly weeaboo tattoos from Xiao, you would’ve already gotten over your momentary hyperfixation on the TV shows that were salvaging your sanity in the middle of the semester. It wouldn’t feel as thrilling to get them anymore.

“I’m free…” You trail off, eyes darting to the digital clock by your desk then to the course notes you have opened on your laptop. You haven’t studied as much as you wanted to for your upcoming anatomy test, but…

“Right now, actually. Can you pick me up?”

You can hear him frowning. “Don’t you have a car?”

“I do, but I don’t wanna drive when I have plastic wrap all over my body.”

“You’re exaggerating. It’s not all over your—”

“Jesus, get the hint, Xiao. I miss my best friend, and I want to have a quiet evening cruise on his motorcycle before he gets me inked again!”

Xiao falls silent, and this time, you’re having some difficulty picturing what expression he’s wearing on his face. You like to think you’ve startled your un-startle-able best friend, but that’s pushing your influence too much.

“Okay,” he says, more agreeable than you thought he’d be. “I’ll be there in thirty. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

05.

When you introduce your first serious boyfriend in a while to Xiao, you’re a bit annoyed with how prickly he’s being.

Sure, it’s wired into his system to be the snarky asshole everyone knows and loves, but if there’s anyone else who knows about the tragedy that is your love life better than yourself, it’s Xiao. When you finally land a decent guy to settle down with, you at least expect him to be a bit more supportive.

“Actually, we came here ‘cause we planned on getting matching tattoos,” your boyfriend, Yin, explains with a dimpled smile. “Isn’t that right?”

You stifle a soft laugh, a bit embarrassed to agree, but too in love with your boyfriend to protest.

A few years ago, you distinctly remember drunkenly rambling to Xiao about how stupid it is to get couple tattoos especially when relationships these days are built on flimsy foundations.

If you break up, what then? You have a physical reminder of that person on your body for eternity? No fucking thanks!

“Sorry, we’re closed right now, as you can see,” Xiao grunts before jabbing his thumb at the sign he just turned at the door. “You can try some other time, though.”

At the time, you were pissed at Xiao for denying your little request. He always agreed to ink you during ungodly hours of the day, but now he’s playing the ‘shop’s closed’ card just because he doesn’t like your boyfriend?

But then, you end up grateful for his attitude exactly a month later.

“Fucking cheated on me with some bitch from his Physics lecture,” you sniffle on Xiao’s ratty sofa as he makes you some tea in his kitchen. “I can’t believe I nearly tattooed our anniversary on my wrist! I would’ve had to fucking amputate it in the end.”

Xiao sighs before placing a piping hot cup of honey lemon in front of you on his coffee table—crossing his legs together. He doesn’t tell you I told you so, like others probably would if they were in his shoes. Your best friend just stares at you with withering understanding, no matter how stupid the choice that got you here in the first place turned out to be.

That’s one of the many things you loved about him.

“You were supposed to have ‘XV’ inked together, right?” he asks.

You huff before tossing some of the soiled tissues you used into the bin. “Yeah. We made it official on September 15th.”

“Well, if you still want the tattoo, you could just give it a different meaning.”

Scowling, you stare at Xiao as if he just grew a second head. “What the hell are you talking about?” Is he really suggesting for you to get the same tattoo that he denied you and your ex a month ago?

Xiao shrugs noncommittally before taking a sip from the tea he prepared for you. “It’s been fifteen years since we became best friends. That’s worth commemorating, at least. Unless you suddenly don’t give a shit about that, too?”

Your jaw hangs agape at the sudden reminder. October 15th. When you were four, you accidentally spilled orange juice all over Xiao’s teletubbies backpack, and when he forgave you on the spot, you crowned him as your first bestie.

That was fifteen years ago. Holy shit.

He startles when you abruptly shoot back to your feet, earning yourself a perplexed stare from Xiao who just wants you to sit down and drink your damn tea—

“Is Beidou’s shop open?” you ask. “I want her to do our matching tatts.”

Xiao grimaces. “Our?”

You nod brusquely, tugging at his arm. “Yeah, I’m allowed to have matching tattoos with you, ‘cause you’ll never walk out of my life, right, Xiao?”

He’s always been a stubborn little shit, so you don’t really expect Xiao to relent as quickly as he does. You nearly stumble to the carpeted floor when he lets you pull him up—faces hovering so close to each other, you nearly choke on your own breath.

It doesn’t help that Xiao has definitely…put in a few inches of height. Back then, you used to tease him a lot for being taller than him, but now?

“Never,” he whispers so softly, you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren't as close to him as you are. “Now drink your stupid honey lemon tea so we can head to the shop.”

About two and a half hours later, you’re sitting on the vacant seats in the shop’s waiting lounge—a familiar sting still sizzling beneath your ribcage from where you had your first matching piece with Xiao permanently inked. You made him swear to have his own ‘XV’ tattoo made on the same place, and he makes good on his promise when he emerges from the workroom, wearing nothing but his dark-washed jeans.

Unlike yourself, you rarely see Xiao in various states of undress. The most skin you could get out of him on most days is the lean muscle of his tattooed biceps, and sometimes those are enough to have you staring dumbly at him for several minutes.

Now, though?

You learn that he has several tattoos on his torso—spread across his skin like patchwork. It makes you wonder if he did some of them himself, or if he had Beidou work on them for him. Still, despite the plethora of new ink stains to gawk at, his weird phoenix tattoo remains as your personal favorite.

Along with the newest piece he got not five minutes earlier—the tattoo he shares with you.

“Are you happy now?” he grumbles, letting you marvel at the perfect roman numerals just below the jut of his ribs. “It’s a good thing Beidou gave it to us free of charge, you know.”

You giggle. “All of my tatts so far have been free of charge.”

“That’s only because you’re special to me,” Xiao sighs before freezing up in the next moment—like he didn’t mean to let that slip aloud.

You smirk. “Mm? What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Fuck off.”

06.

Much to Xiao’s disappointment, your shitty taste in men doesn’t exactly end with Yin.

About three months after getting the tattoo to commemorate your fifteen years of best friendship, you meet Kaeya. He’s an exchange student, and you know better than to form any sort of attachment to someone who isn’t going to be in the same continent as you by next year.

But you let him in anyway.

You allow Kaeya to get to know you in ways that not even Xiao is familiar with. The smooth-talking foreigner likes to kiss every single one of your tattoos—lamenting the fact that they’re all inked in spots hidden from view. You laugh every time he brings it up, saying your parents are going to kill you and Xiao if they saw any of the pieces your best friend did for you over the last six years.

“That best friend of yours…” Kaeya muses once he’s done bringing you to paradise and back, smoking a cigarette that makes you wrinkle your nose with distaste. He would’ve been perfect, if only he wasn’t such a chronic chainsmoker. “He’s in love with you, isn’t he?”

You nearly fall off the bed at his bold declaration.

“W-What the fuck are you talking about?” you stammer. Xiao? In love? With you?

Kaeya shrugs. “I dunno, sweetheart. If I was a tattoo artist, I wouldn’t let anyone freeload my craft as many times as you did—even if you are my best friend. Unless I was down fucking bad for you, of course.”

Xiao doesn’t like Kaeya, but the reasoning behind it is a bit different from why he doesn’t like your ex. He knew Yin wasn’t a good match for you. Kaeya, though? The two of you had inarguable chemistry. The only problem was he was a free spirit that didn’t like to be tied down by commitments—something you clearly struggle with.

When you reassured Xiao that Kaeya is nothing but a way to scratch a passing itch, he merely scoffed and told you to do whatever you wanted.

Could his dismissiveness be because…he’s in love with you?

That can’t be right. You’re the one who knows Xiao best. If he hypothetically does catch feelings for someone—much less, you—you’ll surely be the first to notice, right?

Right?

Kaeya chuckles before tracing the XV tattoo along your ribcage with a cold finger—almost like he’s teasing. You roll your eyes before crawling back on top of your midnight lover, kissing him just to shut him up.

When you drop by Beidou's the next day, Xiao is nowhere to be found.

“Didn’t he tell you?” She gapes. “Our boy’s starting his own shop downtown! He had the soft launch and everything a week ago. I was wondering where you were.”

“Uh…”

You’re not sure how to break the news that Xiao has been giving you the cold shoulder ever since you got together with Kaeya. But finding out that he put up his own tattoo parlor without even telling you?

If Kaeya turns out to be right, and your best friend really was in love with you, he sure as hell wasn’t acting like it.

Deciding to play along with whatever game he’s playing, you make an appointment to get a new piece inked under a fake name. Xiao accepts it right away and schedules you for an early evening slot. You make it a point to arrive twenty minutes late just to get a rise out of him.

When he sees you at the entrance to his shop, you almost let yourself feel smug about the unadulterated surprise on his face. Almost. You’re still pissed off that he didn’t invite you to one of the most important milestones of his life.

He fulfills your request in silence—the French word for green inked unassumingly on the underside of your shoulder blades. Xiao doesn’t say a word about his evasiveness, nor does he address the fact that you, his literal best friend, are standing in the shop he’s kept a secret for god knows how long.

When he still refuses to talk, you slam your payment on top of a nearby table—intent on storming out of the building even if he hasn’t wrapped your newest piece in a protective layer of plastic yet. Xiao barks that he doesn’t want your fucking money, and you end up throwing your hands in the air, asking:

“Then what the hell do you want?”

You expected him to blow up in a fitful of rage. He’s never been good at anger management, you knew this well. But instead, he crosses the distance separating the two of you and crushes your mouths together.

“You,” he whispers hoarsely, desperately against your lips. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Kaeya calls you multiple times that night—even leaves a text message asking where you are and if you’re free. You aren’t able to answer any of them though. Not when you’re busy being railed into the next life by your best friend of fifteen—going sixteen—years in the same bed that Kaeya just had his way with you a week ago.

When Xiao’s lips graze each and every tattoo he personally inked onto your pliant body, it’s leagues different from when Kaeya does it. It’s like your best friend is leaving a trail of fire sizzling beneath your skin everywhere his mouth trails along your hypersensitive flesh.

Even the way he makes you fall apart from a blistering orgasm is ten times more intense than every session you had with Kaeya and Yin combined.

There’s no affection nor is there adoration in Xiao’s gaze as he fucks into you—golden eyes fueled by something carnal and zealous, but you knew better than to call that love.

When morning comes, Xiao isn’t here with you, and you don’t know which emotion to feel.

Kaeya, at least, has the decency to leave a note whenever he has to depart early. But all that your best friend leaves you with is a sinking feeling in your stomach, and a glaring realization that you did not want to make when you’re crying all alone in your apartment at the crack of dawn.

Kaeya was wrong. Xiao isn’t in love with you.

You’re in love with Xiao, and you immediately know you’re in deep fucking shit because of it.

07.

It’s two weeks into your mission of complete radio silence when Xiao finally breaks.

You’re in the middle of a pharmacology lecture when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You knew it wasn’t Kaeya because he’d already packed his things last week and headed back to his home country. The bastard even asked you for a quick farewell fuck, but you turned him down right away and gave him a kiss goodbye instead.

When you find out it’s a text message from the same person you’ve been trying to avoid all this time, you’re all too quick to parse through its contents.

Xiao: I'm sorry. Can we talk?

That’s how you wind up standing right outside of his new tattoo parlor.

You haven’t been able to take a good look at it the last time you were here—too frustrated with your best friend to really make sense of your surroundings. But he’s put up his new shop in a pretty good part of town. You wonder how Xiao managed to afford it all.

Then again, he’s been working at Beidou’s shop for years. You knew he had a decent number of regulars, as well as potential clients that are highly interested in his work.

For once, you let yourself be proud of him. Even if he didn’t put your name on the guest list for his soft launch.

Xiao looks a little sheepish when he lets you inside and flips the sign on the front door to give the two of you some privacy. You aren’t faring any better. The last time you saw him, he was balls-deep inside of you—fucking you like you’re the most despicable woman in the world.

“So there’s this…collage piece I wanted to try,” he starts, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

Of course when Xiao invites you over to talk, you shouldn’t have expected any actual talking to take place. That’s just not his style. He’d rather make up for whatever mistakes he made by inking another stupid tattoo on your body, but honestly? You’ll take whatever you can get.

When you saw his sketch of a Statue of David peppered with four-leaf clovers, you couldn’t even dream of parsing the meaning behind the piece. The only thing that makes you relent is an old memory of you and Xiao hunting for four-leaf clovers in your mother’s garden—even putting the effort to plant whatever you could find in a pot in hopes that they would grow bigger.

It takes him hours to complete the entire thing. This one is probably the most realistic piece he’s done for you, and you can’t help but watch the intense concentration on his face through the mirror on the wall as he inks it a few inches above the last tattoo he did for you.

You’ve never really realized how…breathtaking he looks like this.

His fringe falling across his pretty gold eyes, the comfortable set of his jaw as he focuses on his work, and the soft slope of his cupid’s bow despite how harsh the words that come out of his mouth can be.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You really are in love with this guy.

When he’s finally satisfied with his work, Xiao puts down his machine before wiping a sheen of sweat off his brow. He already looks so fucking good while he’s working. How is it fair for him to look even more gorgeous right after the entire process?

“Come on, let’s wrap it up,” he says before stretching his limbs. The action makes the cropped shirt he’s wearing ride up his torso a little, and you’re teased with a glimpse of the tattoo he matches with you.

Your heart nearly leaps to your throat, and if it weren’t for the dull sting of your newest tattoo, you would’ve been entranced by the sight of him entirely.

“Sure,” you say, even if your heart is begging for you to just be honest with him. To let him know how you’ve felt all this time because frankly, you can’t keep carrying the weight of your own feelings for much longer.

But then you remember how…apathetic Xiao looked like the night he dared to tell you he wanted you. There was no love to be found in his animalistic gaze, and you fear that he’ll turn you even further away at the slightest hint of more-than-friendly affection from your end.

You can live with this. His fleeting yet heated touches. His deep, piercing stares.

You’ll do anything to preserve what you have with him now—even if that means sacrificing everything else you could still dream of.

08.

Sometimes, you think Xiao is making you hope on purpose.

Sure, your friendship was more or less salvaged after offering your Statue of David tattoo as a quiet apology. You’re back to teasing him for all the most minuscule things, and Xiao is back to being your voice of reason in no time.

These days, though, you don’t really have much time to hang out with him like you usually do. You’re in the last year of your nursing degree, and your shifts at the hospital on top of your regular academic workload render you much too exhausted to catch up with any of your friends. Xiao included.

But there comes a night when he visits you in your apartment when you’re busy studying for a tricky surgery exam—a bucket full of fried chicken, and a bottle of sparkling water in hand. What kind of fiend would turn away an unannounced blessing like that ?

You munch through the midnight snack Xiao brought for you all while forcing him to do your flashcards with you. He knows the drill, anyways. Though he’s been out of school for years, Xiao is still familiar enough with your study habits to be of substantial help during these trying times.

While you’re in the middle of differentiating the different types of sutures, though, he proposes an idea.

“It’s been a while since I inked you with a sewing needle and pen ink, isn’t it?”

You narrow your eyes, taking a swig of your carbonated drink as your gaze flickers to the pseudo-Orion’s belt on your right forearm. The third star has all but faded from view over the years.

“Yeah, why are you asking?”

Xiao rummages through his knapsack for a few seconds before bringing out what seems to be a small sewing kit, and a jar labeled ‘Indian ink’. You gulp in equal parts dread and anticipation.

“I figured out how to make the tatts stay longer,” he says, a gentle smile settling over his face. “You want me to give you a new one? I can even revive good old Orion, too.”

You sigh. Who are you to turn the love of your life down anyway?

Xiao gets to work while you’re lying sideways on your bed, flinching every now and again because he decided to outline the spitting image of the flower vase sitting on top of your nightstand along the curve of your waist.

Unlike your first experience with manual needling, your pain tolerance is much better. The only reason you’re squirming every time Xiao embeds the ink into your skin is because you’re fucking ticklish. All those years of being intimately acquainted with Beidou’s tattoo machine were all the sensory training you needed, it seems.

When Xiao is done with this piece, he pulls you into an upright position, making you hold out your arm so he could resurrect the first tattoo he ever gave you. You roll your eyes, but let him do as he pleases anyway.

At this point, you’ll let him do anything with you.

It’s nearly three in the morning when you’re putting away the dishes and glasses you and Xiao used for the night. He’s kind enough to throw out the trash while you clean up in the kitchen, and when he meets you back in the living room to exchange farewells, you don’t really want him to go.

“You have morning classes tomorrow, right?” he murmurs as he pulls you into a firm embrace, careful not to press down too hard on your new tattoo. “Take care. Don’t burn yourself out too much. All your hard work will be for nothing if you end up keeling over before graduation.”

You can’t help it. The soft timbre of his voice coupled with the fond look in his eyes tears all your defenses asunder. As you look up to meet Xiao’s uncharacteristically doting gaze, your chest twists more and more as you keep yourself from lunging in for a kiss.

“You’re such a pessimist, it’s almost funny how caring you sound,” you chuckle. “Go on, now. Shoo. It’s late.”

Before you can push him out of the door, however, Xiao catches you by surprise when he leans down to peck your lips. You stay frozen in place even as he pulls away—smiling so prettily, you can hardly believe this guy is your perpetually pissed off best friend.

“Good night.”

Unlike the last time he left you all alone in your apartment, you’re filled to the brim with an emotion you can’t quite name. It’s far from the emptiness that made a home in your heart when you thought you were in love with someone who didn’t love you back. But you’re not about to call it happiness either.

Whatever this strange feeling is, you let it sit in your chest for a while longer, and it lingers even when the memory of Xiao’s lips stops prickling against the skin of your own.

09.

On the day of your graduation, Xiao asks you to drop by his shop after the rites have concluded. You tell him that he’s self-centered as fuck, and that this is your day, so if he wants to use your body as a practice canvas again, he’s going to have to wait tomorrow.

You don’t tell him that you’re sulking because he didn’t even show up to congratulate you for surviving four gruesome years of nursing. But you suppose that someone who never went to college in the first place wouldn’t be the best at sympathizing with this particular milestone in your life.

He shows you his latest sketch when you make it to his shop the next morning—and you can’t contain the look of disbelief that colors your features when you realize what it is.

“A bouquet that’ll never wilt,” he chuckles, one finger expertly pointing out the flowers he’s drawn on the neat page. “Orchids and hydrangeas: your favorite. Violets: you press a bunch of these in books every summertime. Pink baby’s breath ‘cause you wouldn’t stop gushing about them at your sister’s wedding.”

You aren’t able to stifle the flattered giggle that spills from your lips. “Can’t believe you actually remember all that. What’s the lily of the valley doing there though?”

“Oh, this?” Xiao hums with one brow raised. “Your mom had lots of them in her old garden. Those are my favorite.”

“And, pray tell, why is your favorite flower going to be permanently tattooed on my body?”

Xiao doesn’t humor you with a verbal answer right away. Instead, he wheels his revolving seat closer to you so that he’s close enough to press your foreheads together. Your breath hitches when his mouth curves into a loving smile you’re starting to get used to seeing.

“Because you’re mine,” he says simply. “Now, are you going to tell me where you want me to ink your eternal bouquet or not?”

10.

You’re a complete sap when it comes to weddings. Everyone knows this.

It’s for that reason that none of your guests are surprised when you end up crying in the middle of exchanging vows with your fiancé. Xiao sighs before taking out a handkerchief from his front pocket, dabbing at the tears streaming down your face. For someone who comes on so tough to other people, you’re awfully sentimental.

“Sorry, sorry—” you sniffle, thanking every single god out there for the invention of waterproof mascara. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

The rest of the session proceeds swiftly. You get to kiss your best friend of more than two decades and call him your husband in front of some friends and family. The matrimonial rites were held in a private resort at the base of a mountain. Both you and Xiao wanted to preserve the intimacy of your wedding as much as you could. After all, you didn’t need all that flashy and grandiose wedding prep to prove to the world just how much you want to spend the rest of your life with Xiao.

Your thoughts stay the same even as he lays you down in the king-sized bed of the cabin you had to yourselves. He sighs in between kisses as he strips you off your wedding garbs. You’re surprised he’s taking his time with you. Xiao has been eye-fucking you since you started walking down the aisle. It was so bad that even Beidou made a few off-hand remarks about the sexual tension during the reception.

“I was thinking,” you breathe as he grinds his hips against yours, “of getting another tattoo. My last one.”

Xiao lifts his head for a moment, one brow arched. “You’re married to a tattoo artist, and you think the tattoo you’re getting after the wedding is your last one? You’re dreaming, princess.”

“Fine. Point taken.” You roll your eyes. “But anyway, I want a dragon tattoo riiiight…here.”

Your husband watches with rapt attention as you guide his hand to the spot you’re talking about—just below the collection of your favorite flowers inked above your waist is a blank stretch of skin. Xiao’s lips twitch into a fond smile as his calloused fingers graze your flesh.

“Still against having showy tatts?” he asks before pressing a soft kiss on the spot you pointed at.

“Mhmm. You see, my dad doesn’t care if I’m married and have my own life. If he sees that I have tattoos, he’s still going to murder me,” you chuckle. “So yeah, tatts are staying under my clothes until he grows old enough and forgets that he hates seeing ink on other people’s skin.”

“I’ll keep that in mind then.”

When Xiao ravishes you for the first time as your husband, your chest overflows with love for him. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their best friends by their sides for as long as you did, yet you ended up tying the knot with yours. Although the entire process was more than twenty years in the making, you suppose there’s no point in rushing anything.

After all, Xiao is as permanent in your life just as much as the ink stains on your body.

“Look,” you chuckle once Xiao is done cleaning up in the bathroom and settles down right next to you on the bed, “Kaeya sent us a postcard. He says congrats on overcoming the emotional constipation.”

“Throw that thing away,” your husband grumbles, pulling you away from the pile of postcards on the nightstand. “Why are you even keeping touch with him still?”

“So I can use him as an excuse to get you jealous, and have you fuck me rough?”

“Oh, princess. If you wanted it rough…” he starts with a sigh, rolling his neck with a smirk. You gulp, wondering if you’ve bitten off more than you can chew this time around.

“All you had to do was ask.”

⟢ end notes: it's been a while since i wrote for genshin, so i hope you liked it! thank you sm for reading ^^

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin xiao #xiao fanfic #xiao smut #xiao x reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #cryoculus

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