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wri0thesley · 6 days

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let me see - arlecchino x fem!reader (3.8k)

you work as a tutor at the house of the hearth; but the father of the children you teach seems to haunt your thoughts.

cw: not sfw, fem reader. employer-employed dynamics, reader calls arlecchino 'sir', chubby reader, reader is inexperienced. arlecchino calls reader 'good girl' and 'darling'. guided masturbation.

You see your employer only rarely, but that does not mean that you do not think about her often.

It’s in the way that the children - your students, the ones you have been engaged to teach basic arithmetic and reading and as much history as you can squeeze in - speak of their ‘Father’. The look of wonder and devotion and just a touch of intimidation that comes over them, even as they chatter to you about the next time she is coming home and what they plan to do to welcome her. It’s in your salaries; perfectly paid, on time, with extra money left in an envelope and a note in beautiful, sharp handwriting mentioning your students by name and how well they’re progressing.

And, of course, it is in the times you see her - for you do not think anybody could see Arlecchino and not think about her regularly for the rest of their life.

She makes you nervous. There is something about her commanding presence; her lovely marble face, the strangely striking appearance of her eyes, the self-assured way that she stands. You think her beautiful, of course - but you have always had trouble around beautiful people, and so you find yourself stumbling over your words, your cheeks burning hot, coming far too close to making a fool out of yourself whilst she keeps a small, polite smile on her face as she watches you falter.

You worry, sometimes, she knows that you find her at once intimidating and irresistible - that something about the way you hold yourself will give away that you have wondered what her nails would feel like, digging into the soft skin of your throat as she tipped your chin upwards - or that you have wondered what it would feel like to have her corner you like a trapped rabbit and have her way with you--

But they are just daydreams. The truth is that you are as green as they come; you had gone to Sumeru’s Akademiya, a child who could not stop devouring books, who was obsessed with learning - and you had returned back to your native Fontaine to teach, and had no time in between that to pursue romantic relationships. The sum total of your romantic experience is a hurried kiss with another student, another beautiful older woman, who had pulled back and laughed at you, touching your cheek gently.

“Aren’t you adorable?” She’d asked you, in a low, sleepy voice with her eyes half-lidded. “Maybe a bit too adorable for just right now. Come find me again if you’re ever in Mondstadt.”

So . . . your fantasies about Arlecchino are just that. Simple fantasies. You have other things to attend to, after all! You care about the children whose education has been entrusted to you - even those who have now grown too old to need your guidance, who you watch flower and blossom and strike out from the House of the Hearth. Even if they stray beyond the nation you live in, though . . . they always seem to come back, to pay their respects to Father.

But it doesn’t stop the fact that sometimes she looks at you, when your paths crossed, with her head tilted just slightly to one side, and you feel like she knows exactly what you’re thinking. She always makes you feel strangely exposed; you keep up with fashion, because you enjoy it, but something about the fripperies of your gowns and skirts and blouses and the ribbons and the carefully chosen accessories in front of Arlecchino make you feel as though she is stripping you down in her mind, so perfectly poised and tailored. So you drop books in front of her. Your sentences get tangled together. You go hot all over and look at the floor--

But still she employs you, and still you hurry home at night and try to ignore the pounding in your chest and the way your breath goes short at the sight of her. Your paths cross only occasionally, you tell yourself. Next time you will be prepared.

But you are not prepared, the day that Arlecchino meets you in the hallway (your arms full of books and the work of the children that you intend to look over that night), running late with your hair ribbons askew and your dress crooked and she looks at you and says, in a voice that brokers no argument;

“Won’t you stay a little longer and have afternoon tea with me?”

“Do I make you nervous?” The red crosses in her eyes bore into you as she pours you a steaming cup of tea into a delicate teacup. You sit primly, your hands folded in your lap, your feet together, feeling entirely too exposed alone in this room with her. “You shake like a leaf whenever I speak to you.”

You wet your lips awkwardly, your throat dry, as you reach out for the teacup. You notice your hands are shaking and try to stop them, but she leans forward herself and places one of her hands over yours, steadying you. You stare up at her, eyes wide, whilst she looks down at you with something calculating and predatory in her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice very soft. You can feel your cheeks going hot against your will, and you wonder what you must look like to her - because you feel like a rabbit who is about to be pounced on by a wolf. Arlecchino slowly and purposely guides your hand back down, to put the teacup back on the saucer, and you begin to get the strangest impression that her invitation for ‘afternoon tea’ was actually an invitation for something entirely different. Her hand comes back up, and one of your idle questions is given an answer as you feel her sharp nails dig into the soft skin under your chin, tipping it up as she leans in closer. Close enough that she could kiss you, if she wanted - close enough you can smell the scent of Rainbow Roses and smoke that lingers on her clothes.

“Oh,” says Arlecchino, and she smiles at you and something about the smile makes you go hot and cold all over all at once. “Don’t be. It’s terribly cute.”

You don’t know how you end up sprawled out over her lap, your thighs hooked over the arms of her chair, as she takes control of you - but before you know it, that is the position you have found yourself in. Her hands roam slowly all over you, savouring the feel of your skin - soft and warm, generously curved - beneath her long, elegant fingers.

“These ribbons drove me to distraction today,” she murmurs against your ear, as you melt helplessly against her and she tugs at a brightly coloured red ribbon that trims your blouse. “I kept thinking about tying it around your pretty wrists instead.”

“M-Miss Arlecchino--”

She clicks her tongue at you in admonishment, running her thumb over the seam of your lips.

“Call me ‘Sir’, darling.” You practically fall over yourself to rectify your mistake, your tongue messy and heavy in your mouth, and you win a little chuckle from the woman who has you at her mercy. “You’re just so eager to please, aren’t you? What a good, obedient little thing.”

“Please--” You whisper breathlessly, as she tugs at the ribbon completely and the throat of your blouse falls open. Her nails scratch a slow line over your neck, almost like a threat, and you shiver again helplessly under the touch.

“Please what?” She murmurs against the shell of your ear. “You know, I did employ you as a tutor . . . for an academic, you’re rather inarticulate.” One button of your blouse, torturously slowly. The next, and she smiles against your bare skin to see the way your chest is rabbiting. “One would think you’d never been touched like this before.”

She knows.

There’s an edge to the way she says that, a note that’s teasing and suggestive, and it tears from your throat a little whimper of embarrassment that, in turn, makes her let out a sigh of satisfaction.

“My, my,” Arlecchino says to you - two more buttons, and your blouse is barely fastened. You’re inordinately glad you wore pretty underwear today, though you suppose it must look rather fussy to Arlecchino. “Have you not, sweetheart?”

“Sir,” you whine out, feeling tears spring to your eyes at the humiliation of the whole thing. Despite the humiliation, though, heat spirals out from between your thighs - your matching fancy underwear, you know, is soaked through. “Please-- it’s embarrassing--”

The final button, and Arlecchino’s fingers are running over bare skin now. The pudge of your stomach, the curve of your chest through the ruched cups of your brassiere.

“Say it,” she says to you, her voice sharp in the command. She circles a finger over your nipple through the lace and chiffon and you squirm in her lap at the sensation of the bud puckering and hardening. “If you want me to touch you, you understand, you have to at least have the confidence to tell me the truth. Or I’ll just send you home without your blouse and with your poor little aching cunt untouched, hmm?”

“Sir--!”

She grabs your cheeks between thumb and forefinger, squeezing the roundness of them roughly. The Father of the House of the Hearth, after all, is not one to be intimidated by whining or begging. She has plenty of experience dealing with brats. Her fingers still as she waits for you to do as she asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut and hiccup out a sob of longing.

“I--I’ve never . . . had anyone else touch me . . . l-like this--”

She lets out a pleased purr in the back of her throat.

“There,” she soothes. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Good girl.” She drops a kiss on the side of your forehead like a reward, her hands sliding over your body to find the catch of your brassiere. There’s a brief tussle of movement as she ensures you are shed of both your blouse and your underwear, and then you’re once more on her lap, your entire top half bared, only your skirts and stockings and underwear still on. “And if I’m honest . . .” She moves back to your ear, pressing a kiss on your jawline beneath the earlobe. “I rather like getting my claws in someone before they can learn any bad habits. I, too, am an excellent teacher.”

She takes a firm hold of you, pulling you even closer to her so that her hands can each take a palmful of your breasts. You feel exposed before her; the rolls of your stomach, the way that your chest sags into her grip, but Arlecchino does not seem to care about these things - instead she just sighs like you’re a fine wine she’s sampling, palming and squeezing the heavy weight of them.

“You’re such a pretty thing beneath the flounces,” she says to you, plucking idly at your nipples between thumb and forefinger - the movement sends hot lightning flashes of pleasure right down to the space between your legs. “If I were in charge, I think I’d leave you naked in my bed. Much more practical like that, don’t you agree?”

“I--”

“What about kisses?” She asks you, not letting you say anything. Your head is spinning pleasantly, and you cannot say that you are annoyed she’s stopping you from making a fool of yourself. “Are you as unversed in those, too?”

“I--I’ve kissed . . . someone--”

“Just one?” She laughs, a not unkind noise. “Oh, just the one kiss, I see. Poor thing, your cheeks are like Pyro slimes. Come here. Let me show you how to kiss someone properly, hmm?”

Arlecchino pulls you into a kiss that is so unlike the one you once had that to call them both by the same name seems a great disservice. There is no other way to describe it; she claims you, her mouth like a conquering king, your own the battlefield. Her teeth tug at your lower lip and you are helpless to do anything but open your mouth, let her tongue sweep over yours. She tastes like fire and tea, some of the little cakes she had offered to you - and you whine helplessly, clutching at her slacks because there’s nothing else you can reach in the position she has you in.

She lets go of your face with a satisfied sigh, and your head lolls back against her shoulder as she delicately wipes a smudge of her lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s get this off you,” she says, tugging at the frills of your skirt. “Let me see you, darling.”

You’re only too eager to assist, embarrassed but needy, wanting but nervous. The fastenings at your waistband are unhooked, and then she is carelessly sliding it off of you until you are back before her in nothing but your underwear and your stockings, digging into the fullness of your thighs. For a moment, you are embarrassed again of your softness - but Arlecchino grabs your hips, pulling you back bodily onto her, and you realise from the possessiveness of her movements that she does not see it for a moment as something to be ashamed of.

Arlecchino’s hands are hungry as she squeezes at the softness of your thighs, as her palms sear hot across your stomach, as her fingers drift towards the gusset of your underwear. Her touch is feather-light, there, but you keen even so - terribly aware of every movement, even the smallest brush of her fingers. Arlecchino clicks her tongue against your ear again.

“So sensitive,” she whispers. “I’m afraid I might hurt you, and I’m afraid I’d very much like it. Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?”

Your breath gets caught in your chest. Her suggestions so far have been, perhaps, embarrassing - have put you at a disadvantage due to your lack of experience. But nothing so far has been quite so brazen. You burn with the unease of it, but Arlecchino is already grabbing your hand, placing it over your soaked underwear.

“Don’t worry about making a mess,” she murmurs into your ear. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. My pants are soaking.”

She seems to enjoy watching you squirm as you whimper again, face hot. But her hand does not move, keeping your own anchored against your underwear until you do as she asks and shyly, nervously, rub at yourself through the sodden fabric just a little.

“Oh, darling,” she breathes, condescension dripping off every syllable. “You’ll never get anywhere like that.” You are inarticulate with your touches, still trembling and shaking at the strangeness of all of this - and you have done this, of course, but never with an audience! Never spread out over someone’s lap as they critique your technique!

“Sir, please--”

“You’re supposed to be a teacher,” she admonishes you. “You’re supposed to know everything, are you not? Have I really got to help you with something so simple as touching yourself?” She’s enjoying it; the sight of you, normally so prim and shy, utterly undone by her every word and action. Her hand moves over yours, holding it, guiding you to press two of your fingers together and circle over your swollen clit through the underwear.

It’s different, with her guiding you. You turn your head to try and bury it against her collar as she continues to mercilessly guide you into circles, sniffling pathetically - but she just coos, just nudges you back so you watch the visual of her hand over yours between your thighs.

“Shall we get your underwear off too?” She phrases it as a question, but it’s not one - she is already peeling off the frilly cotton, inching it down your generous thighs. She laughs a little meanly when she sees just how large the damp, darker patch is, and you think you will cry. Every feeling you have ever had is magnified a thousand fold here, in this incredibly vulnerable position spread over the lap of your employer.

(There are whispers that Arlecchino is even more than that; that there is a secret purpose behind the orphanage you have been employed by. But you do not put much stock in rumours, even when the children look at each other strangely and whisper when they think you cannot hear them. The thought of who you might really be letting touch you . . . You wish it did not stoke a fire in you even hotter and brighter than before).

“There we are,” she murmurs. “Good girl. Look at you. Look how pretty you are.” She deals your sex a short, soft slap - her palm comes away sticky, the noise indecent in the little room she had brought you to for afternoon tea. “I wonder how much prettier you’ll look with three of your fingers stuffed inside of you?”

Another strangled noise from your throat at the easy way she says the filthy things, and Arlecchino merely makes a soft huff of laughter.

“Carry on touching yourself for me,” she says to you. “Let me see.”

It’s an order, and you know that orders from Arlecchino are to be obeyed. Shyly and hesitantly again, you bring your fingers back to your sex. She rests her head against your shoulder, and moves her own hand; uses two of her fingers to make a ‘v’ shape and places them on your sex, using them to spread the plump outer lips aside so that you have better access to your clit and your entrance, still soaking and leaking slick out onto Arlecchino’s lap.

You’re hot and awkward as you touch your clit; as you try and mimic the circles that she had drawn on you earlier - but you are not brave enough to keep at it, and before long you have returned to your own faithful back-and-forth motion on your clit, your hips moving in little thrusts to try and prolong the sensation. You can hear yourself in the charged air; the hot little pants, the whimpers of frustration that none of it feels as good as it did when she was in charge. Arlecchino, though, merely watches you struggle.

You cannot see her face, but you can imagine the look upon it; the barest quirk of the lip, the single raised eyebrow. You carry on as best you can, trying to think of all the things you would usually think of - but it all spirals back to where you are, what is happening, and the fact no fantasy can truly compare.

Her voice is a little thick when she speaks next, and you realise with a strange jolt of pleasure that your inarticulate touching is still having an effect on her. It’s almost unnoticeable - but Arlecchino’s normal tone is so very poised, even the smallest change feels like a blaring siren to you.

“Put two of your fingers inside of you,” she says. And then, as you inexpertly slide two of your fingers inside your channel, she lets out a shuddering breath. You’re wet and tight around yourself, aware that you must look a mess - but Arlecchino’s fingers are sliding between your sex, moving to touch the space on your clit you just vacated, and your entire mind goes blank. “Don’t stop. Let me see you move them.”

You do your best, but Arlecchino’s own movements are just too much. The sensation of her dragging the pads of her fingers over your swollen clit; the way she circles and flourishes and swirls . . . you try, desperately, to keep your fingers in some kind of rhythm as they slide in and out of you, but before you know it you’re using your other hand to clutch at her arm and whimpering as you hump upwards into her touch.

“I ought to stop you,” she tells you, but she doesn’t for a moment stop her ceaseless assault on your clit; the wet, sticky clicking noise of your slick between her fingers. “You’re being a brat.”

“Please, Sir,” you whisper, babbling, “I’m . . . it feels so good--”

“Flatterer,” she murmurs, in that low, hungry voice. “You’re lucky that you look so very pretty like this, and that I am perhaps more soft-hearted than I appear . . .” Tears are running down your cheeks, sniffling, whimpering, helplessly moving your hips in time with her touches. Nothing seems to exist but the feel of Arlecchino’s fingers on your clit and the firm, certain way she touches you. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

The order tips you over the edge. The knot of heat in your belly comes undone and you whine helplessly as you buck into her touch, and you feel a gush of your own slick wet the fingers that are still stuffed inside of you. Your thighs try to clamp shut around the sensation, but the position that Arlecchino has you in with your thighs over the arms of her chair stop you from doing it - and so does she, still working her fingers over your clit through every trembling moment of your orgasm.

You come back down, panting, aware of the wetness between your legs and your nakedness, the stiff points of your nipples and Arlecchino’s fingers on you and the fact that Arlecchino is still dressed exactly as she was when she caught you in the hallway.

She moves her hand, and to your surprise she presses her fingers against your lips, forcing your mouth open.

“Taste yourself,” she tells you, and you are still so in awe of her that you can do nothing but obey - the slightly tangy taste of you lingering on your lips. You’re even more surprised when she uses her other hand to pluck your hand from between your thighs and guides the two fingers that had been inside of you to her own mouth, her tongue hungrily drinking in the wet webs of your slick. “Well. Aren’t you sweet?”

The unprofessionalism of what you’ve just done begins to creep up on you, shame drenching your back. All of those talks about ethics that you’d had at the Akademiya - but Arlecchino takes your head and turns it and gives you another firm kiss, another bite to your lower lip, another conquering that makes you feel weak at the knees. Your own taste lingers in your mouth, but, too, it lingers on her lips, and she seems supremely satisfied as she pulls back.

“I’ll be away on business for the next week,” she tells you. “In Snezhnaya. I’ll bring you something back.”

“Sir--”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she continues. “That little apartment you live in - well, it seems a shame, when we have so many empty rooms, and a live-in tutor would be far more beneficial - don’t you think? The children do adore you, and it seems so very practical.”

It’s a bizarre time to be having a business meeting, with your slick staining her clothes, with your own clothes a crumpled pile, with your position so terribly open and exposed - but all you can do is blink at her, and she smiles at you like a cat who has gotten the cream. She pats your cheek.

“Besides,” she says. “It will give us far more time together. And I do have so much more I’d like to teach you.”

#writing #arlecchino x reader #fem reader #genshin impact posting #im GAY okay!!!!! leave me alone!!!! this is self-indulgent and i dont care!!!!!#not sfw text

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inou-ie · 7 months

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GENSHIN IMPACT WOMEN AS YOUR WIFE/GIRLFRIEND(SFW) WARNINGS: female reader,forehead kissing,blushing,hand holding,kissing,cuddling,biting.

CHARACTERS: Arlecchino, Kujou Sara, Shenhe, Yae Miko, Raiden Ei, Eula Lawrence, Jean Gunnhildr (might add other characters if I feel like it.)

Arlecchino

At first, she didn't take your marriage seriously, finding it more like a playful idea due to her perception of you as a child. However, as time passed and your bond deepened, she gradually began to open up to the idea of a more serious commitment, realizing that your connection was far more meaningful than she initially thought.

Her protectiveness over you grew stronger. She'll become possessive and would insist on your constant presence with her. Arlecchino might even go as far as having you wear a necklace or bracelet equipped with a tracking device so she could always know your whereabouts, ensuring your safety to an extreme degree.

Arlecchino became quite controlling when it came to your activities outside of her presence, despite her ability to track your every move. She would insist on receiving her permission before you could leave, emphasizing the importance of her approval even though she already had full knowledge of your actions.

After a long and exhausting day, Arlecchino would eagerly seek your company as soon as possible. Your mere presence had a calming and soothing effect on her. She would affectionately cuddle with you and insist that you sit on her lap, craving the physical closeness and comfort that your presence provided.

Arlecchino has a sweet habit of bestowing soft kisses upon your forehead. She does this before you drift off to sleep, when you wake up, before she leaves for work, and upon her return home. Each forehead kiss carries her affection and care for you, a silent but intimate gesture that speaks volumes about her feelings.

Kujou Sara

You may have fallen for her, but Sara fell even harder. At first, she treated you nonchalantly, but as time went on, she began to warm up and let her guard down. Her feelings for you grew stronger, and it became evident that she cared deeply about you.

Sara would often sit close to you, resting her head against your shoulder, her cheeks flushed with a deep blush. It was clear that she wasn't accustomed to such displays of affection, but her growing comfort around you was evident. You briefly considered teasing her, but simply enjoying the sight of her blushing was satisfying enough, especially considering how distant she had been in the past.

Sara might not have been consciously aware of it, but her demeanor had certainly changed. Instead of the frowns and disapproval you were met with in the past, she now greeted you with warm smiles. Her eyes held a certain tenderness that spoke volumes, and it was clear that her feelings for you had shifted, even if she hadn't explicitly acknowledged it yet.

Sara's gestures spoke louder than words. She showered you with affection in the form of delicious food and quality time spent together. Those quiet moments when you held hands and admired the beauty of Inazuma were precious, and they showcased a deep connection that was steadily growing between you.

Sara's shyness was evident when it came to kissing. She would often attempt to kiss your lips but get too flustered to follow through. Her cheeks would turn a bright shade of red, and she might hide her face with her hand or avert her gaze. When you took the initiative to kiss her, her embarrassment would intensify, making her blush even more.

Shenhe

Initially, Shenhe wasn't aware that the two of you were in a romantic relationship when you confessed to her, and she simply said 'yes' without fully comprehending the implications. However, you explained the concept of dating to her, and she gradually began to understand. Due to her personal circumstances, she wanted to distance herself at first, but her feelings for you were too strong to resist, and she eventually found her way back to you.

Shenhe's approach to your relationship is marked by gentle care and concern. She treats you delicately, as if you were a fragile piece of glass that needed to be handled with the utmost care. Although you need to teach her many aspects of dating and physical affection, your patience pays off as she gradually becomes more comfortable with skinship and expressing her feelings for you.

During your dates, Shenhe loves taking you to serene locations like riversides and mountains to help you both relax and enjoy the beautiful views. However, when you're in crowded places, Shenhe becomes quite protective. She'll cast stern glares at anyone who dares to look at you, akin to a watchful cat guarding its territory.

Shenhe has a penchant for giving you unique and unusual gifts. Occasionally, she'll present you with curious items that catch her eye. She also has an interesting habit of lying on your lap while she nibbles on various flowers and herbs, all the while gazing up at your face with an enigmatic expression.

You once taught Shenhe how to kiss, and she found the experience delightful. Since then, she's been eager to kiss you whenever the opportunity arises. After each kiss, she looks at you with an expression that seems to silently ask for your praise and approval, clearly enjoying this newfound form of affection.

Yae Miko

For Miko, everything, including your relationship and even you, was initially just a playful joke. It was all part of her teasing nature. However, as time went on, it seemed that everything had backfired on her, as she ended up falling for you deeply instead.

Despite her teasing and playful demeanor, Miko would find herself blushing and feeling quite embarrassed whenever you attempted to be intimate with her. Her ears might twitch, and her tail could start wagging involuntarily, revealing her true feelings even as she tried to maintain her playful facade.

When having your dates, Miko would take you to savor delicious foods and then find a quiet, cozy place to read books together. As you both relaxed in each other's company, you'd often find her tail wrapping around you while the two of you rested your heads on each other, enjoying the peaceful moments together.

During quiet and relaxing moments, you'll find yourself wanting to touch her ears and tail. She would attempt to teach you how to properly interact with them, but often, your gentle caresses would make her feel so relaxed that she ended up feeling drowsy, nearly falling asleep as you lovingly touched her ears and tail.

When Miko is feeling particularly clingy, she might attempt to sit on your lap, cuddling you while her fluffy tail sways lazily. During these affectionate moments, she'd pepper your face with soft, loving kisses, showing her deep affection for you in her own playful and endearing way.

Raiden Ei

Ei would make sincere efforts to be a good lover, even though she might be a bit clumsy in her attempts. She's not very experienced in romantic matters, so she'll frequently turn to you for guidance and assistance. She's conscious of her own inexperience when it comes to romantic relationships but is determined to improve and become the best lover she can be for you.

Her constant concern for your well-being and her willingness to check in with you to ensure that everything is to your liking is undeniably adorable. Her genuine efforts to make you happy shine through in her actions and questions, and you can't help but appreciate her sincerity and thoughtfulness.

As Ei noticed a couple holding hands during one of your dates, she hesitated at first. However, her affection for you overcame her reservations, and she tentatively reached for your hand, wanting to emulate the intimate gesture she had observed. The warmth of your hand in hers brought a genuine smile to her face, and from that moment on, Ei felt more at ease being affectionate and clingy with you.

When Ei is going through difficult times, she instinctively seeks out your presence as it's the only thing that brings her comfort. She cherishes the moments when you let her lay on your lap, allowing you to gently play with her hair. It's a gesture she deeply appreciates, as it helps ease her worries and creates a sense of peace.

When it comes to kissing, Ei always gives you those innocent and soft kisses on the cheek. She'll even look at you proudly afterward, her affection shining through her gentle gestures. Every night, she cuddles with you, holding you close, and it's clear that she's afraid of losing you. She often tells you not to leave her, her words a heartfelt plea to keep you by her side.

Eula Lawrence

Although Eula's words and actions didn't initially align, you managed to see beyond her facade. In the beginning, she kept a certain distance, but as time passed, she grew more at ease in your presence. She came to understand that with you, she didn't need to put on a front – she could simply be herself.

Eula often blushes when she presents you with gifts, and she occasionally extends her hand without uttering a word, silently hoping that you'll understand her unspoken request to hold her hand, as she's too bashful to ask outright.

She frequently invites you to join her for a drink, even if you're not particularly fond of alcohol. She explains that having you by her side makes the experience more enjoyable, claiming that her drinks taste better in your company.

When Eula becomes intoxicated, her tough facade crumbles completely. She becomes incredibly clingy, discarding her usual reserved demeanor. In her inebriated state, she'll ask for plenty of love and affection, holding onto you tightly for comfort and reassurance.

On those drunken nights, Eula becomes more uninhibited in expressing her feelings. She'll steal kisses and even give you gentle bites, unable to hold back her desires any longer. It's a rare glimpse into the depth of her emotions that she usually keeps under control while when Eula is sober, she often shows her affection in a more subtle way. She'll silently snake her arms around you without saying anything, and if you reciprocate her attempt to cuddle, she'll bury her face in your chest, trying to hide the inevitable blush that creeps onto her face. It's her way of expressing her feelings without words, letting her actions speak louder than her carefully chosen words.

Jean Gunnhildr

Jean's busy schedule and dedication to her work might give the impression that she prioritizes it over you, but she always ensures that you receive ample love and attention from her.

Jean warmly welcomes your presence in her office, and she doesn't mind when you hug her or settle into her lap while she diligently attends to her duties. Rather than becoming agitated, she responds with a gentle smile and affectionately pats your head, creating a comforting atmosphere that assures you of her love and care.

When Jean completes her work and notices you patiently waiting for her, she experiences a sense of guilt for keeping you waiting. To make amends, she goes out of her way to ensure that you feel cherished and appreciated. Sometimes, she'll even take a day off from work to devote her undivided attention to you, making the most of your time together and demonstrating her commitment to your relationship.

Your dates with Jean are often filled with meaningful conversations as the two of you stroll together, discussing your shared interests and passions. On other occasions, you prefer to stay home, enjoying the simple pleasure of cuddling. These moments not only allow Jean to unwind and recharge but also strengthen the bond you share as you find comfort and solace in each other's embrace.

When Jean feels overwhelmed and exhausted from her duties, she seeks solace in your comforting presence. She holds you close, often pressing tender kisses upon the crown of your head. Your mere presence serves as a soothing balm, allowing her to momentarily forget the stress and burdens of her work, finding a respite from the chaos in your embrace.

#inou works #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin women #arlecchino x reader #kujou sara x reader #shenhe x reader #yae miko x reader #raiden ei x reader #eula x reader #jean gunnhildr #jean x reader #inou sfw

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opultea · 1 year

Text

Abnormal Love Languages

Genshin men with weird ways of expressing their love for you - Gender Neutral Reader (No Pronouns) - SFW - Romantic - Fluff/Crack

ft. Alhaitham, Wanderer, Heizou, Tighnari, Dottore

Alhaitham

The Scribe of the Akademiya, a renowned scholar, and a totally awkward boyfriend

So what does this intelligent, well-known, socially unaware man do when he wants to show you he loves you?

Infodumping

Knows a lot and makes sure you know it too

If he fell in love with you that means he respects your intelligence and curiosity enough to find interest in your company

So whenever he's on the couch with a new book on Theoretical Quantum Mechanics, he will be reciting the facts to you as if he's doing an oral presentation

Alhatiham keeps one of those big rolly whiteboards in his house (usually used to lecture Kaveh) and you know that when he pulls it out then it is officially date night

He pours you both a glass of wine for a nice candlelit dinner, but then you ask him about his new book and suddenly it's a romantic candlelit lecture

Lucky you find his intelligence attractive ;)))

If you ever need gift ideas for him just get a pack of multicoloured whiteboard markers, he always needs new ones

Even though you might end up regretting enabling his little habit

Wanderer

Traumatised Tsundere (TM)

Has never wanted anything more than to be loved the way he observed in humans, but has always believed he could never be loved in any way. It has only been proven to him that it isn't possible

So he protects himself from rejection by teasing and swatting you away, almost trying to make you hate him so he can at least expect what reactions to get from you

He views it as safe, he knows how humans are when they are angry and hateful, he's experienced it firsthand, so he knows what will come of it

Even though he's secretly saddened by feeling like he has to hurt you

So when you respond to him bonking your head with laughter and a smile brighter than he's seen on anyone in his direct presence before, it startles him

When he pushes your face away with his hand and you retaliate by latching onto his arm he freezes (Wanderer.exe has stopped working)

Calls you stupid and insults your survival instincts

"Honestly, if a complete stranger were to push you away like this, would you still clutch their arm like a lost puppy? How absurd, you obviously couldn't survive without me protecting you, since you evidently can't tell good intentions from bad ones,"

Then you pout and tell him that of course you don't do this with other people, you do it because it's him!

He stops working again

Shoves you to the ground to avoid you seeing how red his face is

Heizou

Riddles and puzzles/tries to quiz you by making you help him solve a case

Brings you to crime scenes even though you are not a detective and definitely aren't allowed to be there just so he can test your skills

"So, what can you gather from this crime scene? This case isn't particularly difficult, so I have no doubt you'll be chasing down the perp in no time,"

Honestly your whole relationship is like an escape room

You want to get into your house but forgot your key? Well knock in morse code and maybe Heizou will let you in

You want to have a nice lunch date with your boyfriend? Well you best be prepared for an intense game of shogi while you eat

You want Heizou to pass you a pen? Well first you must answer these questions three!

But seriously, he makes it fun for you and makes sure to let you know that it’s his way of telling you how much he respects you and he values your input and intelligence

Tighnari

As an Amurta scholar and a forest watcher who has seen way too many cases of mushroom-based food poisoning, Tighnari has learnt to be prepared to dish out medical treatment

So if you cough even once, or sneeze in his presence, Tighnari will begin an impromptu check-up to ensure you're still feeling your best

You try telling him you're fine, people sneeze all the time without being sick, but he just scolds you even more for thinking you could get away without him making sure you're alright

"Don't be so proud, you idiot. What am I going to do with you if you go and get sick?"

Tighnari would hate if you fell ill under his careful watch, but if you do get sick or injure yourself, prepare for a two hour lecture and a bowl of fresh creamy mushroom stew to help you get back into tiptop shape

He's usually incredibly busy with his forest watcher duties, but will somehow almost never leave your side if he's tending to you

When you aren't sick, he makes sure you're eating well, going so far as to prepare your meals or make a nutrition table based on the vitamins he thinks you need more of

Always reminds you to drink water and take any medication you need, your health is his top priority

Dottore

Psychopath (Endearing)

Takes x-rays of you just to admire your lovely bone structure and hangs them up around your shared bedroom as if they're regular date pictures

He loves to have you sit in his lap as he caresses your body and coos at your flesh, whispering sweet nothings in his suavest voice about your organs, and telling you what a strong heart you must have because he can feel it through your shirt

Unwinding with Dottore almost always goes this way, with you getting a shower of what you're pretty sure are compliments about your internal systems and physical attributes

He once shocked you with a mini electric buzzer just to see your central nervous system go off. You were naturally quite annoyed about it but he just shrugged it off, claiming that he just loved to see your body at work, although he never did it again

His doctor brain never turns off, so be prepared to have his fingers in your mouth as he goes on about what wonderful teeth you have

It certainly makes you feel... special

You should feel special, he definitely doesn't do this with anyone else

Dottore is so enchanted by your being that he grows human organs in his lab that are exactly the size and shape of yours, saying it's so you can see for yourself just how beautiful you are

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #fluff #romantic #sfw #alhaitham x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #heizou x reader #tighnari x reader #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #love languages #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #gn reader #no pronouns #gender neutral reader

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merakiui · 2 months

Note

Helloooo! I’d like to order a flower bouquet + strawberry ice cream from the misc. menu as well as some lemon squares + custard donuts from the midnight menu for Scaramouche <3

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, forced pregnancy/baby-trapping (no pronouns; reader has a pussy), modern college au note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

You’re writing a paper.

Sitting at your desk, scrolling through clothes online, you wonder if your meager paycheck will cover the shipping costs. This is all research. Research that is very necessary in the paper-drafting process, of course! You click on an outfit just as Scaramouche looks up from his phone.

Correction. You’re trying to write a paper.

“Great progress. I can really see the thought you put into this.”

“I’m envisioning it as we speak.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere.” He sets his phone down and leans closer. “Last I checked you’re not writing about clothes.”

“Last I checked,” you say, mocking him, “I didn’t ask for commentary. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

A smug smile sharpens on his face. “I can think of a few things.”

Groaning, you shove him away. “No way. Not today.”

“Why not? It didn’t seem to bother you that last time when we did it before your lecture. You were so out of it you didn’t want me to leave you alone. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Not my fault I was tired! Don’t tell me you’ve never said and done stupid things when you’re running on three hours of sleep.”

“Not once,” he declares, looking quite proud. As if it’s some grand achievement. Does he want an award? “And even if I was, I wouldn’t be reduced to sugary, sappy putty.”

“I called you ‘sweetheart’ once by mistake. Get over it.”

Scaramouche rests his elbow on the desk, his cheek in his hand. “I don’t think I want to.”

Shutting your laptop, you turn in your chair to face him. “And I don’t think I want to fuck you today.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re gonna do all the work?”

“That’s the plan. Be grateful I’m so good to you,” he teases, leaning closer and closer until—

You block your lips before he can capture them. “I really can’t today. Paper aside, I don’t have any protection and I’m not on birth control right now.”

“It doesn’t have to be inside.” He sits back in his chair, exuding casual confidence. “Unless you want to risk it.”

You try to put enough ice in your glare, but it melts quickly. You really shouldn’t. It’s not a safe day. You really, really shouldn’t…

Scaramouche raises a brow, waiting for your reply.

Despite everything, you’re wheedled into it anyway. You’re not even sure what you want. Is it yes or no? It’s been months since you fell into this arrangement with him—the campus’s infamous lone wolf who goes out of his way to make himself unapproachable. Or, according to your friends, he’s more of a lonely stray cat in need of a friend. Scaramouche had scoffed when you told him that.

Your friends are idiots, he said with a scowl. It only made him look even more like a grumpy cat in need of companionship. Not that you’d ever tell him that. It would only serve to stoke the flames of his ire.

But right now, looking up at him while he ruts into you, sweat sticking in all the right places, his hair falling over his eyes, you’re inclined to agree with that observation. There’s a depth to his gaze that draws you in, a sad glimmer hiding behind the ardor. There’s never been any attachment outside of the bedroom. You’re not even sure if he considers you a friend.

Still, you wonder…

“Scara, do you—” You cut yourself off with a startled gasp, your nails curling into his shoulders. He’s holding you down by your hips, fucking into you like the world’s about to end. “S-Slow down. Wait, I—aah—oh!”

He sucks in a staggered breath through grit teeth, his jaw set firmly. “You’re never going to leave me.”

Your brain stalls out, and suddenly you’re not sure how to respond. He doesn’t lessen the brutal pace at which he thrusts, so you’re forced to piece together a half-coherent answer amidst your groans.

“N-Not anytime soon—mmh… Why? What’s up?”

Scaramouche lifts his head from your neck. A strange smile turns the corners of his lips up. “It’s not a question. I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

You blink back at him, lust-drunk and dazed. The horror edges in, slow and steady like invasive rot. It isn’t until he’s pinning your legs up by your ears to force you into another position that the implication finally catches up to you. You claw at his back with weak strokes, babbling futile protests against his mouth. In response, his cock throbs inside of you, pressed so deep in this position you fear the repercussions. He kisses you with much the same force, insistent on driving you into the mattress—on pinning you here until you finally submit. Until the last of your resolve withers away, stamped out and replaced with something agreeable.

“Even if you wanted to,” he says around a shaky laugh, seeming positively deranged, “you couldn’t.”

You think you should be worried, but you’re so stunned with this development that your brain can’t keep up. Embarrassingly, you cum with a strangled sort of cry, your pussy clenching tight. He hisses through his teeth, fucks you through the high of your orgasm, and then falls with you, his own climax fast like a flash.

You’re panting in the aftermath. What just happened?

Scaramouche keeps you plugged with his cock for as long as he possibly can before he’s sliding out, flaccid and spent. For now, you suspect, for there will certainly be more later if your wits aren’t about you by then.

“Pill,” you mumble, voice hoarse from crying. You shake him, hoping he’ll climb off of you and get to it. “Scaraaa…”

Oddly, for someone who never shows any vulnerability, he clings. “We’ve got time. I’ll get it. Don’t worry.”

You don’t believe him. Not when his hand strays to your stomach. His palm brushes over the area once. He sighs, wholly satisfied.

“We’ve got time…”

Nine months of it, in fact. But that goes unspoken. If not today, there’s always tomorrow. You know he won’t rest until then. Neither will you. Your heart is too big, too soft, for that lonely stray cat, and part of you wonders if he knows that.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon #tw: forced pregnancy #tw: babytrapping #lunar love hotel 2023

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bonbunnydreams · 6 months

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werewolf Wriothesley x bunny girl reader x dragon Neuvillette fem reader and gendered terms used monsterfucking, Neuvillette has two cocks, sub reader (This is just a short drabble I wrote out a week ago, but part of me wanted to share even if I'm not super satisfied with it.) NSFW under the cut. 18+ | Minors DNI

"Shit, you're such a tight fit, little bunny." Wriothesley growls in your ear, grinding the tip of his cock into your warm and wet pussy. You whimper softly in response, your urge to squirm getting stronger with each movement of the werewolf grinding your inner walls to mush. Wriothesley holds your thighs still however, while Neuvillette breathes heavily in your ears, the dragon's claws sinking tightly into her hips.

As Wriothesley rocks against you, Neuvillette's twin lengths, painfully hard, press against your rear. You bite your lip from the stimulation, tears of pleasure stinging at her eyes as your ears flatten against your head.

"Aw, is it already too much for you, bunbun? We're just getting started." Wriothesley growls in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster as he settles into a rhythm. His heavy balls slapping against your clit while you whimper softly for him, and Neuvillette groans whenever your ass brushes against his lengths.

"Wriothesley." Neuvillette hisses, his claws moving from her hips to her warm belly. "Be gentle with her. I don't want to break her already."

The wolf merely chuckles in response, continuing to fuck their little bunny until you're clinging to his shoulders for dear life.

"He is right though, my sweet... You still have me to satisfy tonight, don't forget that... Let yourself go with him, but remember you'll be taking both of us tonight."

#genshin x reader #genshin smut #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #sub reader #fem reader #not sfw

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undermine-the-instinct · 8 months

Text

Can't Sleep Love

CW: Somnophilia(F! receiving), Oral(M! and F! receiving), Knotting (M), edging/orgasm denial(M! receiving), multiple orgasms( M! and F! receiving), FLUFF, NEUVILLETE IS SWEETHEART, Petnames ( love, dear, dearest,my love, etc), reader is called princess once, Smut (obviously), Husband!Neuvillette, AFAB reader, fem reader (Reader wears a dress and heels, and has a vagina and breasts), dirty talk, praise, Neuvillette is a service top leaning towards a sub, reader is a switch, Neuvillete is prim and proper--so he's clutching his pearls, sorta scandalized when reader talks nasty. Inexperienced(??Neuvillette hasn't had anyone else as a bed partner so he's still kinda new?), Reader calls him 'Villette'.

Wc: 5.3K Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Cropped art. Original art belongs to @sviteer . Support the artist please.

Neuvillette cherishes the quiet moments, like these, more than anything else.

You're both tired, you moreso, from a date night out. A lovely candlelit dinner followed by a play at the opera house. And though he held your hand through your sniffles and nodded his head sympathetically throughout the play, you knew immediately what was up when you both stepped out of the opera house to a light sprinkle.

You smiled at him, knowingly, charmingly, reaching forwards to press your lips to his cheek. And just like that the stars were out again.

And now you're home, in the bedroom, on the master bed. You fell down onto it as soon as you entered the room and haven't moved yet, even after he's exited the bathroom. It's late, after all.

Half asleep and dozing, your hands are half curled by your head, and a smile paints your face, sweet and blasé.

You are so beautiful.

He's going to take care of you.

The heels unclasp with hardly a sound; pretty little blue things you bought to match him, you had said. The dress and everything else however, he bought for you.

It makes something in his chest curl, as he carefully shimmies off your heels, as he drags his hands under the hem of your skirt to unclasp your garter belts, rubbing away the indents left there. Old, possessive feelings he thought he'd outgrown long ago.

But you are in his bed, wearing the clothes he bought for you, looking so soft and sweet there, as he rests his head on the soft plush of your thighs, breathing you in and trying not to shake with the urge to just grab you.

You always evoke these sorts of emotions from him. Something he once thought he could never understand, something to be repressed, for its unsightliness; You hold it all all up to the light and don't even flinch.

You give a little half sigh, and Neuvillette relents.

He slides your thighs apart, slowly, nudging closer to your core, swiping his long tongue over the fabric of your panties. Smooth silk and a lace pattern, the seam of your womanhood he can all feel, but he wants to taste.

They slip off easily like they are meant to, and soon enough Neuvillette is lapping at you, smooth wet glides along your inner folds. Slick gathers under his tongue while you sigh and gasp above him, and he groans into your skin, pressing himself closer, spreading your thighs further.

"Neuvillette…? What are you, oh, archons ...." Now that won't do, he lifts his head from your skin, mouth smeared in slick, and clicks his tongue at you.

"I want to hear only my name from your lips, dear. I'm the one here with you, after all." And just the thought of them hearing; Focalor would act smug and pester him to no end, so no need. This was none of her concern nor business.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Not nearly long enough. I was hoping I could get you to climax whilst you still slept. Alas," he lowers himself back down, "I guess I can try another time."

He takes off his gloves, spreads your folds with his fingers and spits on your cunt, once, twice, spreading it with his tongue, before slipping a finger into your tight hole. He groans into your pussy when he feels how you flutter, the moan that leaves your lips as you fall back into the covers.

You taste sweet. It must be from the desert you had earlier.

He thrusts his finger, feeling you clench around it, and he opens his mouth wider to have more of you, alternating between slipping his tongue in your hole alongside his fingers and sucking on your clit. Your hands fly to his hair and tug; the scalp by his horns sensitive, and heat curls in his stomach, hips twitching into a half thrust. He moans deeply, like a rumble around your clit, and you come with a cry.

He doesn't let go. He thrusts his fingers in deeper, sucking harshly around your clit, swallowing everything you have to offer. Your hands are buried in his hair, and he's practically wearing your thighs like earmuffs; the soft, thin fabric of your stockings tickle his ears, the points no doubt flushed like the rest of his face.

You came quickly, you must have been pent up. He presses a last kiss to your clit before he rises, smoothing his fingers out of you slowly– his composure threatens to snap with the happy, flushed look on your face, the way his fingers are almost pruned with how wet you are.

He licks his lips and he can still taste you, the tang of your orgasm something he could rip people apart for.

Hm. He should act with more restraint. This is not very becoming for the Chief of Justice.

But rather fitting for your husband.

Your legs snake around his hips as you draw him in, he lets you, your hands reaching to cup his face, pressing him into an open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue laps up the mess you made and he chases it with his own, you smile at the mess of it all.

"You're supposed to close your eyes when you kiss," you murmur sweetly, opening your eyes.

"And miss those precious few seconds of seeing you? I could never."

"Oh love, come now, you're going to make me blush if you keep teasing me." Yes, tease that you are, he gives a sharp nip at the thumb you swipe over his bottom lip, a pleased hum in his chest as he looks at you and you giggle.

"Good. I'd like to do much more than that."

"Oh, but of course, I'm all yours." His large hands smooth over your thighs and hips, inching the lace and ruffles of your skirt higher up.

"It's not too much?"

"I'll let you know if it is. Come now," and you tug him closer.

"I want you to make love to me."

You unbutton his top half, untie his cravat, slip the fabric of his suit over his shoulders till his skin is bare to your touch. Cool blue lines, some bold, some thin, breaking waves over the planes of his body.

He stops your hands as you start to undress, half exposed you are already.

"It's fine. Leave it on."

"Oh? Does the Chief of Justice have a thing for half dressed debauchery?"

"Perhaps I do. Would you be willing to indulge me?" Your smile stays yet your blush deepens when he tugs down his pants and briefs, his member hard and dripping already.

"Surely you'd allow me to remove this much, it's so hot already," you whine as you strip, just enough that the fabric is over your shoulders and bunched under your breasts, nipples half hard in the low lamp light.

His mouth waters. He mouths at your shoulder, nipping marks onto your collarbone. He feels the hitch of your breath when he slides his cock through the slick folds of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs.

"Hm? Do you like this?" He makes sure to slide his cock all along your walls, smearing himself with the fluids of your orgasm, catching himself on the rim of your hole.

"Is this good enough for you Princess?" He pulls back, taking himself in hand, slapping the fat head of his cock against your clit, a slight growl in his chest when you cry out.

"No…"

"No? How greedy. What else can I do for you, my love? Hm?" He slaps your clit again, and once more, and you whimper, delicious.

His other hand moves, cupping your breast, squeezing and massaging, pinching the hardened nipple.

"Or do you prefer this, my love?" He breathes before popping the other breast into his mouth, gently suckling, rolling the bud in his mouth.

You groan, hands coming up to his hair and pulling him face to face with you, stroking over the ponts of his ears and making him shiver.

"I prefer it when you're inside." You kiss him, silky smooth, and he shudders into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside of you.

He slides his cock along your puffy, petal soft folds, and starts pressing himself inside. You can probably feel the stretch because you groan again, telling him to hurry the hell up.

But he's not going to hurt you with his…considerable length. He ruts into you, one slow inch at a time, till you're softer and he's seated fully. He doesn't stay still though, he grinds into you, slow enough you can open up more and get used to the feeling.

He feels the skin at the base of his cock tighten, a telltale sign of his knot beginning to swell. He has to remind himself to breathe, and focus on you.

He thrusts, but stops when you wince, feeling you tighten around him, slick and hot, so tight he's not sure whether you're clamping down on him or trying to push him out.

"Relax,relax my love, or was it too soon?" You shake your head, sighing as you try to force your walls to soften. You must be worked up, extra sensitive from your last orgasm.

"I-I'm fine…"

"Are you sure?" He moves again, tentative. Your eyes roll at the stretch, hands scratching at his arms and chest. He can feel how slick you are and sighs, tossing his head back.

"Yes, just go, move, please, please…"

He starts to move, fucking himself into you, hissing when you clench around him. His hands fall to the soft fat of your thighs, dimpling in his grip when he slides them further apart, angling his hips to reach deeper.

You whine, and he can feel how slick you are, feel you gushing as he slides over that spot that has you cringing away.

He lifts a thigh, over his shoulder, so he can fuck into you harder, hitting that one spot so he can feel you gush around him. He thrusts and you breathe in time, your pretty face flushed and your pretty tits bouncing with how he's fucking you, deep and fast. His cock jumps when you whine out his name.

He feels a bit stupid like this. Or rather, undone. His mind stalls, thoughts dripping slow and sweet like molasses. Your tight, warm cunt pulling him in, squeezing like a vice around him. He can't help thinking about anything else, can't help the harsh snap of his hips, the way he grinds into you.

You cry when as he does so, the length of him is no longer a problem with how wet you are, his cockhead just kissing that spot that will no doubt have you seeing stars, the slap of skin on skin loud and wet.

Your hands scramble in the sheets so he holds them down for you, entwining his fingers with yours. It helps ground him. And you smile up at him, tilting your chin up for a kiss. He indulges you, as he always has, sweet thing you are.

He's looming over you, fucking into you, deep and eager. You sigh, the drag of his cock, a hot rush of pleasure every time he fills you up. He gasps your name and you whimper in reply.

"Doing so good…Fucking me so well love." The air stutters in his chest, and he can feel his knot swell, the praise going right to his dick.

"You're so beautiful." You hum in reply, the sound so smooth and pleased it's almost a purr.

"Yeah? I am?"

"Yes, you are," he chuckles, dark and low.

"So beautiful. I'm going make you cum again, just like this, okay? You deserve it."

He's not…very experienced at this, but, for you he tries. The bulb at the base of his dick is thick and inflated, half slipping inside your cunt with every snap of his hips.

"I’m gonna cum, I'm gonna cum soon…"

"That's good, you can cum. You can cum darling, I've got you." His knot doesn't fit inside you just yet exactly, but feeling your cunt try to to take him still has his mouth watering, hips twitching out of rhythm.

His teeth drift along your collarbone, before he bites down, and you clamp on his cock and cum around him. He fucks you through it while you make a mess of the sheets, hands scrambling at his back. A growl rips itself out his throat, his teeth still buried in your flesh, marking you.

Your leg kicks out, and Neuvillette lets you yank yourself away, curling into yourself with the force of your orgasm. His hand holds his cock, his knot throbbing almost painfully, firing a heated rod in his belly. A hiss escapes his gritted teeth, while he reigns himself back in. it would’ve been nice if you could’ve taken all of him, but this was about you, not him.

His hands move to your belly, your legs and sides, soothing you and reminding you to breathe through your cries. You gasp out his name in soft pants, brow furrowed and thighs trembling.

Slowly you uncurl from your little ball, like a flower, Neuvillette thinks, as you open yourself up to him. Your skin is blushed, from your face to your chest, ruddy and ruined.

Beautiful.

"Are you alright dear? Anything you need at all?" With a hum and a soft 'no', you wrap your arms around his neck so he can pull you up and into his lap. He tries to pay no heed to his still hard cock between the both of your bodies, thick and dripping.

"Are you satisfied, dearest?"

"Mhm…" You press lazy kisses to his jaw and he smiles, smoothing a hand over your hair.

"That's good then."

"Hmm…but what about you?"

"I'm alright dear." You roll your hips down and he groans, hips twitching up. He has to grab your waist to stop you from moving, ignoring when you whine.

"I said… I said it's alright dear."

"But you didn't get to cum. Please?"

"Making love is not about reaching an orgasm." You pout, teary eyed and pitiful.

"But I want to make you feel good, you do this far too often as is."

He smiles and noses your jaw, the soft skin beneath your ear and the marks he left lower.

"I'm satisfied just pleasing you dearest. I don't need much else."

You try to wiggle your hips down onto hips but he still has that steel grip on you; You whine and paw at his chest.

"Villette–!"

"You don't have to worry about pleasing me love," he pulls you down as he lays back, pulling you flush against him. Affection is warm in his chest, making his words honey and humored.

"I'm more than fine with just this. Pleasing you is enough for me."

"Well not for me," you grumble. You pout, but then your eyes light up in a realization. He trails his hand down your spine while you think, undoing a few buttons while he's at it to feel more of your skin.

"You know…"

"Yes, love?"

"I like it when you make love to me like this Villette."

"I do too." He kisses your cheek, feeling you smile.

"You always make sure I'm satisfied."

"Of course."

"But you know what I like better?"

"What is that, love?"

"When you cum." He sighs in exasperation, but fond when you turn his face back towards you.

"I'm being serious! That's when I'm most satisfied."

"Well, it seems we're both in the habit of preferring to please the other."

"Hm…no. It's more selfish on my end."

"Oh? How so?" He swipes his thumb over your soft cheek, feeling you melt in his hands, putty. Your smile is more mischievous and sultry than sweet, however.

"Well, I just love it when you cum inside me, when you fill me up and fuck it all back into me when it spills out."

Your voice goes low and he swallows thickly, frowning.

"Don't be so crude dear."

"Who else am I to share my desires with if not my husband? Would you rather me go to someone else?"

"Of course not." Don't be daft, he wants to tell you. Just the idea has his hands tensing, his mouth twitching, ready for a snarl. How possessive he feels over you. How right it feels to be so. But, he knows you're just teasing him.

And you know it's working. Your smile is coy, as you move to take off your dress. He helps you and soon you are as bared to him as he is for you.

You make a sight, sitting in his lap with nothing but your stockings and mussed hair, his cock stiff along your thigh. Your earrings catch the light, twinkling like stars.

You take the hands he has on your hips and draw them up your body, drawing them up to your face where you kiss into his open palms, sighing.

"I love you." His breath catches in his throat, sticky and thick.

"I love you. And I want you. I want all of you."

"...You have me dearest." His voice goes low, soft enough that it's just a rumble in his chest. You slide your hands down his torso, lightly dragging your nails and he trembles.

"Then let me make you feel good? Please?" Your hands go below his hips, rubbing circles into his skin when he shudders.

"Love, love you don't have to–"

"Please? I want to." You lean, to whisper in his ear.

"I want to feel you. I want all of you. I want you to cum inside me and I want your knot and I want you to fuck me, Villette. Please?"

"...You are so vulgar."

"But you love me anyways?"

He groans, covering his eyes, tossing his head back and you grin at the surrender.

Your hands come around his cock, and he gives a little half-aborted thrust into your hands. He had swelled down some in the aftercare, but he felt the growing heat in his groin and sighed, a mutter under his breath.

You have to use both your hands to wrap around his girth, your thumb just under the head of cock, pressing down on a vein there. He snarls, softly, and moves to cover your hands with his own.

"...Tighter. And faster. Like this." Your hands are so small compared to his, as he shows you. Soon you’re stroking his length, wet clicks every time you pump down, squeezing around his knot and twisting your hand around the red head of his cock, digging the pad of your finger into his dripping slit.

He bites down on his lip, tossing his head back onto the pillows. His thighs shake, and he can see the dark red tip of his shaft, wet and shiny. He wondered how much of the slick is leftover from when he was inside you. How slick it'll be when you're finished with him.

"You are so pretty, you know that?" You catch his attention with a harsh pump, twisting your hand down around his knot. His breath catches.

"When you're like this, with your pretty face and your pretty thighs and your pretty cock making such a mess in my hands. I love it." His dick jumps in your hand and he clicks his tongue at you.

"Sweet talker."

"But you like it! You're blushing, look," and your mouth curves dangerously.

"Even your cock is blushing." He hisses your name but you laugh, moving off his lap to lay between his thighs.

You open your mouth and let your tongue loll out. A thick bead of spit falls, right onto his tip, and you quickly gather that and spread it over his cock. He has no time to wonder what you're going to do, because you duck your head, taking one of his balls into your mouth.

You run your tongue over the delicate skin, suckly softly, before slurping the other into your mouth. His hand comes and twists into the hair of your nape and you hum, just to feel him shudder.

You move up, to the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. You drag your tongue slowly along the path of it, taking just the tip of him into your mouth. You make sure he's looking at you as you suckle softly, and when he tugs at your hair you start in earnest.

He's too big for you to take him in one swallow, so you work yourself, inch by inch. He helps you, using your hair as an anchor and rocking into your mouth, slowly, till his knot slips inside and you can feel him twitching at the back of your throat.

It's a stretch, as usual. He's so big and so good you can't help moaning around him, high and needy, and he breaks.

His hips snap back and he slams into your mouth with a growl. You moan again and he curses under his breath, tilting your head for a better angle when he thrusts again.

He picks up rhythm, and the smooth glide of his cock on your tongue has you moaning and rubbing your thighs together, slick gathering. You want him inside, you want him to fuck you again, but more than that you want him to cum. Hard.

You don't think he's going to last long, anyways. He never has, the few times he's let you do this. Even now, his rhythm is sloppy as he fucks into your mouth, his moans going breathy and high. But that's fine, you want him like this, so you meet every thrust, sucking harder, hollowing out your cheeks and taking him as far as he can go.

He tugs at your hair again, and you look up, meeting his eyes,the pupils blown out and mouth open in a pant.You make sure yours are wide in faux innocence; Even fluttering your lashes when he bucks into your hot mouth again, rolling your eyes back a little. He snarls, and you feel his cock jump, the first hot spurts of cum on landing on your tongue. But before you could swallow he pulls you off, a slick pop when he leaves your mouth.

A dark growl snarls out from his clenched teeth, but he holds you in place, not letting you sink back onto him.

"Neuvillette!!" You're mad. What the hell?! Why would he do that? Not only did he pull you off of him, robbing you of his taste, he ruined his own orgasm!

His teeth are still barred, pupils blown dark and wide, diamond shaped. His chest falls and rises in harsh pants, a bit of drool at the corner of his lips, red and bitten, kiss swollen. He looks wild.

"Didnt…I didn't climax yet."

"What?"

"I didn't cum. I'm, I’m holding it..."

"Wait, what? Why?" Why? You want to demand your answers, you want him back in your mouth or your cunt, but he moves before you do.

His hand is still on your nape, and he doesn't talk, just uses it to drag you up and over his body, so he can kiss you. His tongue sweeps the wet cavern of your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue, the roof of your mouth, your canines.

He lays back, pulling you on top of him, while you hook your leg around his waist. His hand comes under your thigh, spreading you farther as he slips inside, splitting you on the first few inches of his cock. You clap onto him, sensitive still from your last two orgasms.

You rock your hips, trying to slip more and more of him inside your quivering cunt, eager and impatient. He throws his head back, exposing the pretty line and bob of his adams apple, when he feels his knot catch the rim of your entrance, the way you try to suck him in.

"Dont….Don't force yourself-"

"I can take it," you cut him off, and fuck if that doesn't make his belly tighten.

"I can take it, just help me." He meets your rocking with shallow thrusts of his own, slipping further inside you, a rush of warmth every time you gasp when he enters.

You gasp when his knot slips past your entrance, he can feel you stretch to accommodate him and waits for you to adjust, trying to ignore the urge to just buck up into you, ans swallow everything you have to offer. He can wait.

But you’re not that patient. You lean against him and bury a whine into his shoulder when you start to move; bouncing up and down on his cock, not that he lets you go far. Neuvillette's hands clamp onto your waist, pulling you down to meet his thrusts everytime you come back down.

You can feel him, his cockhead hitting that gummy spot with every thrusts, making you shiver, eyes rolling back a little. You can feel his knot too, massaging into your walls, thick and tender. You're going to cum soon, like this.

He doesn't let you do this often. You're going to milk it for all its worth.

You give that breathless smile you know makes his heart flutter, and start whispering the things that come to your mind, the thoughts you had this evening.

How pretty he looks under you, flushed and barely holding onto decorum. How pretty he’ll look when he comes inside of you. How you've been wanting to have him all night; perhaps sneaking away and tasting him during dinner, have him fuck your mouth so you can swallow him down. Or maybe even in the opera house, in the darkness behind the curtains, have him feel how slick you were even then, how tender and eager you are.

"How lewd." He berates you, frowning but you smile wider, moaning when he traces over a sweet spot of yours, his hips drawing magic figure eights that have you gushing around him.

"Hm? And yet…you're the one fucking into me right now." You flutter your walls and he groans, but if anything, he moves faster, jaw tight like a bowstring.

You trace the line of his throat and he swallows, looking up at you where you are with just the slightest vexation, a scolding. He can't hide the desperation gleaming there though.

"Don't pretend," he hisses when you tighten, rolling his hips to get you to soften, "that I'm doing you a favor."

"But you are. I want you just like this my love." With a nudge you press him further down into the sheets, his wide eyes shot with pleasure and awe.

Your voice turns tender, sweet.

"I want you all flushed and pretty, and fucking your knot into me till you fill me up with your cum, okay?"

"Oh fuck," you feel him twitch inside you and shudder, lifting your hips and bouncing down on him, pulling his hair a little.

You move, sliding off of him with a slick pop, before slamming back down in a single thrust, arching your back in that way you know he likes. His hands scramble at your back, a moan wracking in his chest.

"Love you, love you, ah fuck I love you," you moan against his mouth, the messy sweep of his tongue. You grind down just to feel his knot tighten inside of you, fluttering your walls. His back arches off the bed, and he cums with a sharp gasp.

He doesn't let you slip off of him; He presses tight against your cervix, hot spurts of cum painting your womb white. You whimper, just teetering that edge, caught on his knot and unable to move.

His belly twitches under you, breath hot and labored. A tortured moan leaves his throat as you move again, chasing your own pleasure, desperate. You smooth the hair back from his forehead, just to see the ruddy fucked out look on his face better.

“So fucking pretty. So, so good to me. Can I keep going? Just a little more, alright?” You run your hands down the planes of his chest, lean like a swimmer but more built, the quivering skin of his belly, happy trail wet with sweat and fluids.

"Please, please, let me just–" You start to slip him inside but he moves for you, laying you both on your sides and snapping his hips snug against yours. The new angle has him hitting that spot with perfect accuracy, and you gush around him, back arching. He stifles down something that sounded half whimper, half moan, and bucks into you like an animal in heat.

It's filthy, loud and wet, the way he fucks you, and so out of character for him that you’d get whiplash, if you could think of anything other than the tight curl of heat in your belly, the way your orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave.

He rolls you onto your back and slides his mouth over yours to swallow your cries, his hands scrambling everywhere-your knee, your tummy, your hips and breasts and shoulders, possessive little touches. You soak the sheets, and he rolls himself into you to tide you over, murmuring reassurances into your mouth, sliding his knee on the soft skin of your thigh. He came again, you can feel how full you are, it probably would’ve been leaking out if his knot wasn’t acting like a sort of plug. He throbs inside, pumping his hips in a sloppy rhythm.

When it wanes you groan, smoothing your hands down the column of his spine. He moves to your neck and chest, nibbling and sucking marks into your skin.

“Hm…That was nice.” You wince when he slips out, and yeah, you can feel his cum rush out of you, the feeling is too open and not welcome.

“You certainly let loose. You must have been pent up, huh?”

“Oh shush you,” He kisses along your jaw and cheek, seeking out affection. Your foot slides along his calf, soothing, calming him down.

”Still, we should do this more often.”

“You’ll be spoiled if I indulge you too much. It’s best we show restraint.”

“Hm, I could see your point. But, if we do this more often we can get to the point where I can take your knot more easily and–” He kisses you to cut you off, and before you can reply he has you scooped up in his arms, sliding off the bed and heading towards the bath.

“Your mouth is so vulgar; I don't understand how your mouth filters out everything but the obscene.”

“It's one of my charms. Do you not find me charming, love?” He gives you a look, up and down, and you realize you probably look a bit more than charming; Flushed and covered in his marks, his spent still leaking from your cunt. You still lift an eyebrow, waiting for your answer.

He sighs, setting you on the lip of the tub, reaching behind you to fill it. You brush his hair back from his neck as he leans in, just to press a kiss there.

“Yes. I find you charming and lovely and alluring, beautiful and damning. Though, I hope to find you clean and resting in my arms, in our bed tonight. Can we have that, my dear? I want nothing more.”

“Well,” you know you’re blushing, like a schoolgirl with a crush, and not someone who just made love with their husband. How silly. “If you insist.” You flutter your lashes at him and he smiles, fond and adoring, rolling his eyes and pressing his lips to your temple. Your heart warms.

“I love you, Villette.”

“I love you as well. Most ardently and wholeheartedly.”

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 1 year

Text

In Sickness and In Health

Synopsis: You fall ill while Childe's away, and while he might care about the Fatui’s missions, Foul Legacy doesn’t.

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Warnings: Being sick, mentions of pain, headaches, and difficulty breathing, worry, general suffering

~ * ~ As a Fatuus, Childe is often away from you. It’s his duty as the Eleventh Harbinger to carry out orders, completing missions in the name of the Tsaritsa while training young, eager recruits to grow into another member of Snezhnaya’s pride and joy. This he explained to you, over and over, before you had even begun to consider him more than a friend. He was so nervous at first, scared you would reject him, disgusted by his status as a Harbinger. It’s only when you finally moved to silently slip your hand into his that his voice faltered and trailed into silence, lips twisting in uncertainty before lifting into a relieved grin when you gave him a smile full of understanding. Since then the constant, nervous reminders of his position have faded away, replaced by dates of absences and return, one mission after another. It breaks his heart to be away so much, but you always wave off his apologies- his home isn’t the Harbor; it never has been, and as long as he returns, you’ll be alright. And yet no matter how dire the circumstances, Childe would always leave you with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered promise to spend time with you when he returns- anything you like, whether that be dinner, travel, or simply a walk. You’d always laugh and playfully hit his shoulder, unable to do any real damage. He knows what you want, you choose it every time, as the comforting arms of his Foul Legacy form around you are incomparable to anything else, the knowledge that Foul Legacy adores you as much as Childe does ensuring you a good night's sleep after weeks of worry. It makes him smile, seeing how much you love his Abyssal form. He wasn’t even aware Foul Legacy could feel emotions such as love, but the constant, rumbling purr in the back of his mind whenever you’re nearby says otherwise, and his hand briefly rests in your hair before he’s forced to pull away. You’re there when he boards the ship to his destination, smiling and waving goodbye, and his subordinates swear they see the famed Tartaglia’s eyes sparkle as he waves back to his dearest secret standing on the shore. Childe’s only joy in the coming weeks are the letters you send, detailing your normal, mundane life as well as how much you miss him. It’s the only time he genuinely smiles, normally confident smirk gone from his face as an agent hands him a letter almost daily, although they’ve been sparser lately. He opens today’s letter eagerly, making sure not to tear the paper, but his expression morphs into one of confusion when he sees the short, terse paragraph in elegant writing. Zhongli, it must be- Childe knows that script anywhere- and his dull eyes widen in horror as he reads the message. You’re sick. Extremely sick. Zhongli’s been tending to you for a few days, but your fever refuses to go down and the only thing you say when awake is how much everything hurts, mumbling Childe’s name whenever you slip into uneasy dreams. Zhongli assures him that he’ll do his best to take care of and hopefully lift you out of sickness before Childe returns, but that doesn’t prevent his stomach from twisting into a knot of guilt as he thinks of you suffering without him by your side. Foul Legacy whines in his head, to the point Childe can almost see the Abyssal beast curling his claws anxiously as he urges the Harbinger to return home, wherever you are. Childe grits his teeth as he folds Zhongli’s letter; obviously he’d love to go back to the Harbor, but his duties have taken him across the sea, miles away from you, and even if he could go back he wouldn’t dare leave his duties and reveal you as his beloved- the mere thought of the danger you’d be in sends a shiver down his spine. Foul Legacy’s whines turn to hisses, repeatedly insisting to go home, go back, go HELP! And Childe throws his hands up in frustration. “I can’t!” He says aloud, trying to placate the monster clawing at the edges of his mind while his own thoughts race with worry for you. Foul Legacy falls silent, and for a moment Childe thinks he’s won the argument, before he hears a sudden, deadly growl. If you won’t, then I will. There’s barely time to blink before Foul Legacy assumes control of their shared body, inhaling the crisp air and flexing his talons. Without a backward glance he leaves, star-speckled wings spreading and catching the seaborn wind. The agents will awaken to their Harbinger missing, but Foul Legacy doesn’t care- the Fatui’s petty problems are unimportant compared to your pain. His haste is so great that he reaches Liyue Harbor just as the sun is setting, touching down carefully outside your back door to avoid the late-afternoon Millelith. The door’s unlocked, a foreign scent leading inside, and with a growl Foul Legacy enters your home, gaze landing on Zhongli who whirls around in shock. The ex-Archon exhales in relief when he sees Foul Legacy, moving aside to reveal your frail body curled on a bed, fingers clenching the sheets in discomfort. A frantic cry tears itself from Foul Legacy’s throat, rushing past Zhongli to kneel by your side, claws hovering over you, unsure where to place themselves. Zhongli pats his shoulder, trying to reassure the Abyssal monster, and the commotion shakes you from slumber and into unsteady wakefulness, dazedly looking at your love. This must be a dream, it has to be. Childe’s somewhere overseas, completing his latest task for the Tsaritsa; he shouldn’t be back for weeks. And yet, Foul Legacy stares at you, crystalline eye flooded with concern as his whines dip, with some effort, to gentle purrs and he slowly extends a hand to you. “Legacy…” You catch one of his claws in a weak grip, fingers wrapping loosely around the talon before falling back to the mattress, and Foul Legacy whimpers at your lack of strength. Archons, you’re so frail- just how long had you been suffering before Zhongli wrote to him? His hand brushes against your forehead, only to immediately recoil when your skin burns with sickening warmth, far beyond a healthy range. Your eyes flutter shut, too exhausted to stay awake but comforted by the presence of the one you hold dear. Foul Legacy watches you drift into an uneasy sleep, absentmindedly playing with your hair. His touch calms your fevered dreams, and soon your features relax into an expression more peaceful than Zhongli’s seen in days. Legacy’s gentle coos turn to a low hiss as he turns to face the funeral consultant, keeping his claws gentle but his glare steady and pointing at you with his other hand. “Fix. Help. Heal.” And Zhongli simply nods, moving to fetch today’s dose of medication. When he returns, Foul Legacy has curled around your body, cradling your head against his chest and holding your limp hands. The room fills with soft, soothing purrs, refusing to pause even when Zhongli tilts your chin upwards so you swallow the bitter medicine. It tastes like mint and ginger in your dreams, and you nearly spit it out, but the gentle hand petting your hair urges you not to as you lapse back into slumber. From then on Foul Legacy never leaves your side. Day and night he tends to you, comforting your twisted dreams and giving you medicine and making you drink water, when he can. More often than not you feel his cool talons settle on your cheeks and forehead to stave off the heat, and in the fleeting moments you’re awake you can make out his figure keeping you company, claws wrapped around your hands and wings laying over your body like gauzy blankets. His routine is to care for you and nothing less, directed by the vague memories of when Childe’s own siblings were ill, and even when Zhongli stops by, the Abyssal monster refuses to leave you. In a way, Zhongli’s grateful- surprised, yes, but also grateful for the help. He could already see how your condition improved simply by having Foul Legacy tend to you, your breaths coming out easier and sleep being far more peaceful. When you’re in pain, Foul Legacy is too- and on nights when your head feels like it’s splitting open from agony and you can do nothing but cry, he cries with you, attempting to coo and reassure you only to break out into full sobs at the sight of your suffering. But such nights become few and far between the longer he stays, and soon he sleeps the starlit hours away alongside you, the need for constant supervision diminished. He’s napping by your side the day you wake up, tired but lucid, and cup his cheeks in your hands. Foul Legacy jolts awake with a surprised chirp, staring at you like he can’t really believe that you’re here, awake with your consciousness intact, giving him a sleepy smile. “Hi…” Legacy cries out and swoops down to bundle you in his arms, burying his face into your neck with overjoyed clicks and croons. You’re still fragile- he can feel it from the way you lean against him as you thread your fingers through your hair- but you’re alright, you’re okay, and you’ll only get better from here on out. With a tenderness only you’ve had the right of knowing, he sets you back down, the bed cushioning your aching bones, and you open up your arms towards him as an invitation. With a delighted trill he accepts and cuddles against you, claws wrapped securely around your waist and head nudging underneath your chin to make small, hoarse chuckles bubble out of you for the first time in weeks. Your laughter is the sweetest melody to his ears, and Foul Legacy purrs blissfully at the sound. Eventually your hands begin to slow, going from scritches to long, languid pets as sleep tries to pull you back under, fighting against it to no avail. Foul Legacy simply pulls you closer, slotting your body against his as he strokes your arms; his permission to wander back into unconsciousness. You yawn, snuggling impossibly closer and latching onto the scarf that hangs around his neck with a sleepy mumble of goodnight, before peaceful dreams inevitably claim you again. With a soft, affectionate rumble, Legacy pulls the covers over both of you and allows your quiet breathing to lull him to sleep, too, where you can both finally rest. “Love you…” It’s the sun instead of pain that wakes you, filtering through a space in your curtains and bathing you in golden light. You stretch, delicately, and crane your neck towards the Harbinger dozing beside you, before nudging him with a mischievous grin. Childe mumbles, blinking tiredly- it feels like he’s been asleep for days, the only thing on his mind being the murmur from an exhausted but happy Foul Legacy- and when he turns he’s met with the sight of you, the effects of your illness still present but almost invisible due to the smile on your face. “Good morning.”

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 months

Text

a gesture

Warning -> fluff | reader gets a blister on their foot, genshin men notice and provide respite from the discomfort | pre-relationship (it's silly, and dumb, but let me have this)

Includes: Diluc, Xiao

Character X GN Reader (adventure guild reader*) | Anthology

A-N: I was planning on writing for a few more characters, but I'm a bit slow in my genshin right now, plus I *should* be resting ... 人(_ _*)

Diluc

"Be right there!" you shouted over the calls echoing in the hall. Your hand dropped from your lips and back to the stack of rolled papers in your arms. The guild was busier than normal. Perhaps it was because of the snow fading from the streets, or the warmer wind blowing in from the south. Being surrounded by the lake meant damper and colder winters, but you didn't mind.

You loved the snow.

What you didn't love was returning to restrictive shoes now that the cobblestone streets were less barred by ice. You missed your warm fur-lined boots.

"Hey, got a few more requests for you to review," you told one of the auditors as you leaned onto the polished wood counter that separated you from the workers just inside. You tapped the toe of your shoe on the floor to force room between your heel and the leather rubbing against it. "Oh, and this came from Alfry." You reached into your pocket and handed a folded, sealed letter to the attendant.

After waiting for several minutes, and shifting from one foot to the other - relief waning and waxing - you made your way outside toward the Kiosk near the front of Mondstadt. It took a while, you were particularly slow on the stone steps of the city since each one put added pressure on your heels. You could feel a blister on the horizon.

Katheryne greeted you with a wave when she saw you.

She was, without a doubt, one of your favorite people. She didn't lock you in long, uninteresting conversations about her life outside of work. She just thanked you for the updated commissions and let you be on your way. You wished everyone was like Katheryne.

It wasn't that you hated talking to people. You just preferred to get your work done and found it distracting to get lost in small talk about the weather. But you learned to be pleasant and control your drifting eyes that willed your soul to be anywhere but there.

When you approached the Guild, someone called you over and explained you were being requested in one of the assessment rooms. A room used by evaluators and requestors to work out the details of a commission. You weren't an evaluator - so who could possibly be asking for you?

You imagined several scenarios except for this one. The one where Diluc Ragnvindr was standing on the other side of the door, waiting for - you. In fact, you were so unprepared, taken aback, that you rechecked the room number.

It was odd to see Diluc outside of his normal patterns. The man was routine. Days spent at Angels Share, days absent from the city while he tended to his estate at the Dawn Winery. You had several run-ins with him over the years since his reappearance, but they were always in public spaces. Fleeting, nervous moments when you'd gather the courage to ask him for a drink while he worked or make polite - short - conversation when he dropped it off. You didn't even know he knew you worked at the Adventurers Guild.

"Sir Ragnvindr, is something - how can I help you?" you asked as you stepped inside the room and let the heavy door close behind you.

"Have I pulled you away from your work?"

"Yes," you said but caught yourself, "No. I mean, yes, but it's alright. Are you alright?" The thought crossed your mind that perhaps something had happened. An issue at the Winery or the tavern, maybe he thought you were the best person to help him? Not sure why. But you did know a lot of adventurers.

"I am well. Please," he gestured to the table and chairs beside him. Crossing the room, you noticed a tall, decorative bag on the corner of the table. The top was knotted by someone with experience. Diluc placed his hand on the table, and you stopped a few feet from him. He looked -- odd. Out of sorts even.

"Did you need something from the Guild? I'm not sure if anyone told you, but I'm not an evaluator, but I can find someone who can assist you in building a commission report."

"I do not require one. I am ..." he clenched his jaw and fumbled. "Please, sit," he repeated, gesturing to the chair slightly pulled out beside you.

Confused, you took a seat.

You considered yourself a rational person, a relatively calm person. One that could keep their head in most situations, but when the man you could hardly look at long enough to breathe knelt in front of you, lifted your calf, and began to untie your shoe, you yelped so loud it startled him.

"Dilu- I mean, Sir Ragnvindr, what are you doing!?" You reached for his arm but pulled back at the last second. A war raged inside your mind - one billowing urge shouted to push him away so you could steady your fluttering heart, and the other shrieked, terrified of making contact out of fear he'd know the truths of your unsettled heart.

"These are uncomfortable, are they not?"

You glanced at your shoes. "I mean - yes, but you don't have to worry about it. Please," you begged, fingers hovering above his hand, body fighting the will to rip free from his grasp. "Sir Ragn-"

"Diluc," he interrupted and looked up at you, "I much prefer when you call me Diluc."

You didn't know how to respond, didn't know how to react, so you just sat frozen while he carefully removed your shoes and tended to the wounds they had caused.

His touch was warm. Violently warm. It was like heat seeped from every bit of him. Tendrils of flames licked across his brow, his cheeks, his jawline. You were so close you could smell the earth and trapped dust from the melting snow trapped in his clothes.

He placed the bandage across your foot and carefully wrapped it until it was secure.

"T-Thank you," you mumbled. You were stuck between being embarrassed by what was happening and being smitten by it. You were in a haze. Your eyes could barely focus on his hands as he worked, barely noticing the stick he placed beside your right foot. The medicine he applied had soothed the soft burn of the blister.

He stood and a wave of his scent washed over you. It took a moment for you to catch your breath, but when you did, you reached for your shoes that he had placed on the table.

"I'll repay you for the treatment."

"No need," he replied as he tugged at the decorative cloth bag. His back blocked you from what was inside. You worked on stretching the laces of your shoes so you could slip them over your foot. Just as you were about to place them on, Diluc returned and stalled your actions, taking the shoe from you and returning it to the table. He easily held your calf and slipped on another shoe. A flat, wide one that wouldn't rub against you the way your own had. "How does it fit?" he asked as he carefully slid it over your heel and adjusted it until it was on completely.

The shoe was elegant, beautiful. Something you would only dream of buying - most of your clothes were from sales and take-bins of neighbors doing their yearly cleaning. These were --

"Wait - did you buy these?"

"I did. But I was unaware of your size. If these are not satisfactory, I purchased several others which may be more suitable for you," he explained and that's when you noticed the stack of boxes now exposed from the cloth bag. Two boxes were placed to the side, another still in it, while the last was open, the lid placed at an angle as if forgotten.

"You bought," you paused, disbelief pulling in your brows, "multiple pairs?"

"It seemed better to purchase multiple than to guess. Though I could have inquired from you directly," he trailed off as if the thought had only just crossed his mind.

But only one crossed yours, "Why?"

He looked up at you, still kneeling and preparing your other foot to accept your new shoes' partner, "I notice you. You would be unable to work in this state."

"Noticed me?"

"Yes. Besides, I couldn't rightfully ... never mind."

"What," you blurted, hanging on his every word.

He glanced at you and then looked back at your feet. There was a pause, a heavy pause in the air. "To see you in discomfort. It - It did not sit well with me."

You sat in silence as he ensured the shoes fit, as he laced them, and made sure they wouldn't irritate the bandage. You held your tongue and swallowed the pounding pressure in your chest when he lifted you from the chair and made sure you could stand before he let go.

You breathed him in while he stood before you.

"I will be at Angel's Share tonight. I can set aside some time for you, should you find yourself-"

"Okay," you blurted again, followed it up with an embarrassed sorry. It made him laugh, and you snatch the lurching urge to jump on him.

"Until then," he hummed, a smile tugging at his lips. "Do not rush in the meantime. I have already given my recommendations to the guild to allow you rest, though I do not imagine you'll heed it."

Diluc packed up the bag and bid you farewell, lingering his voice on the sound of your name, his eyes on your warm face. He slipped out of the room and left you in disbelief in a pair of beautiful crimson shoes.

Xiao

Why did you decide to wear these shoes?

You thought at least twenty times as you trudged down the path. As you hiked over the mountain passes that had seen better days in their time. A giant bolder blocked you a few paces back and you were still brushing yourself off from the unprepared scramble; you found a tear in your clothes and groaned.

For an adventurer, you got off pretty lucky. Only taking the low-priced requests. Ones left for running between towns, helping clear out someone's back room, or helping with a shipment. You weren't interested in the daring adventures that some in the guild would take, snatch up before you even had a chance to read the whole thing. And you certainly weren't about to follow in the footsteps of that strange traveler who - for a while - was accused of killing the Liyue Archon. (You still had your suspicions).

Nope, you were complacent, content with the simple jobs that helped you keep the lights on and splurge on the things that caught your eye. One of which was currently on your feet and digging into the skin uncomfortably. You hopped on one foot and shoved your finger inside the edge of the shoe in the hopes of stretching out the tight leather.

The top of the path crept over the horizon and you picked up the pace to reach it. You adored cresting the hill and seeing the harbor stretch across the bay, how the tall mountainside loomed above her - a watchful guardian, a shield and protector. You sighed and adjusted the pack on your back. The road into the harbor wasn't long, but it was steep, and you prepared yourself for a rough descent with your aching feet.

Every step slowed you down. Each one more uncomfortable than the last. You thought about taking off your shoes but didn't want to catch the disapproving glares that came from Liyue's citizens. So, you pushed forward.

A plume of green and black smoke enveloped you. You would have shouted but you were used to the sensation and how it obscured your view. Months ago you stumbled upon the smoke's owner in a field. He seemed injured so you went to check on him only to learn he was fine, and rather unappreciative of your concern - actually, he was irritatingly annoyed that you had distracted him from his lay-about.

"Hello, little Xia--woah!" Instead of appearing near you like he had before, you were suddenly floating in the green smoke. It whipped through your hair, tugged at your loose clothes, and bit at your skin. You felt like you were falling, and then you were - into the arms of the Adeptus who normally kept his respectful distance from you.

When your eyes adjusted to the return of light, you twisted to look at him, one arm draped over his shoulders as if he had placed it there.

"What are you-?" The words caught in your throat. Confusion, surprise, and bashful bewilderment tickled your cheeks and stole your ability to speak. Your face was inches from him. Closer than it ever had been before.

"You're injured," he spoke softly, matter-of-factly, his eyes drifting to your feet. You could already see the broken skin around your heel.

"It's nothing. Just my shoes," you explained as you stared at your own feet as if that explanation meant anything to him.

"Hold on," he said as he held you to him and the two of you disappeared into a puff of ethereal phthalo.

Xiao placed you on the small stool you had left out on the balcony the night before. He was careful to not let you crash into it. His strength - despite his size - was easy to sense as he eased you onto it and waited for you to settle.

"Thanks," you hummed, stealing a peek at his eyes. Eyes the shade of ginkgo trees in fall, eyes that held eons of history and centuries of sadness. Xiao didn't speak much, but his searching and timid eyes quenched your thirst for his voice.

He lifted your leg and you covered your mouth to avoid making a noise. Before you could ask him a question, he withdrew into his haze and was gone. You sat motionless for only a few seconds, and contemplated entering your house as you, in a daze, took off your shoes but when you rose to leave, Xiao reappeared holding a small container.

"For your injury. It's important to - take care of yourself," he mumbled the last part of his sentence as he held the container out to you. Averting eyes, open fingers unmoving, waiting for you to take it.

Your fingertips brushed his skin. "Did you get this for me?" He crossed his arms and didn't answer but his actions still made your chest warm and lips pull into a giddy smile.

"Don't dally," he scolded and threw you a sharp stare, "Or you'll be left with a scar."

"Oh right." You nodded and uncapped the container. The salve held a potent medicinal scent. "You don't have to stay," you added, a little sad at the thought of him leaving but recognizing that he didn't enjoy the sights and sounds of the city. His avoidance one of the many secrets locked in the amber of his soul.

"I'll wait."

You opened your mouth to protest but he turned his back to you, crossed his arms. Watched, observed. Protective.

"Thank you, Xiao," you whispered and chuckled at the grunt that floated toward you from the Adeptus statue standing near the corner of your balcony.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #genshin x diluc #genshin impact diluc #genshin x gn reader #diluc x gn reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #xiao x gn reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #genshin diluc #genshin sfw #genshin fluff

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vampi-fixx · 9 months

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scaramouche + “drenched”

for @scaranya. thanks for the request!

tw/cw: 18+, cunnilingus, scaramouche is kind of a mean dom, but not as mean as he usually is

The slick sound of slurping between your thighs, paired with the exquisite feel of his lips suckling your clit sets your nerves afire. You plant your hands on either side of you, attempting to raise your hips--to get away from him? to push yourself closer to his mouth? You’re not sure yourself. But your efforts prove futile. His grip is iron, his lithe frame betraying the sheer strength in his hands as they pin you down to the bed.

“This...” You swallow hard, your toes curling into the sheets, as you grind into his mouth hopelessly. With a shaky moan, you feel yourself come undone beneath him, bit by bit. “This isn’t exactly what I meant by--c-cooling down, you know..!”

There’s a challenge in his violet gaze. A sharp pinch to your inner thigh has you jolting, but then he kisses your clit soothingly. His mouth releases you with a pop before he licks his lips clean of your juices. His tone is level, conversational even.

“I said we would test it, right? Your theory that I ran cooler than you. Heh... seems like it’s a moot point now though.” He eyes your glistening, drooling slit with barely-concealed arrogance. “You’re burning up down here. You’re practically soaked.”

You squirm under his scrutiny. The way he looks at you, as if you’re a fledgling creation of his. “You’re such a jerk,” you mutter, curling your leg back, aiming to kick his shoulder. But he blocks it easily, the fingers of one hand curling around your ankles as he yanks. You yelp as the movement smacks his nose right up against your clit. He takes advantage of your surprise to spread your legs even wider.

“Relax,” he says, glancing up at you through his lashes. The way it makes him look even more beautiful than before is downright criminal. You throw a few choice words at him, his gaze narrows dangerously. His grip tightens a fraction.

“I said relax.” Reluctantly, you do so, and he hums his approval. “Good girl. Isn’t this better than your incessant complaints about the weather?”

You purse your lips. “Incessant--”

He rolls his eyes at your indignation. You’ll forgive him for his comments, and even if you don’t, it’s of no consequence to him. You won’t even remember what you’re up in arms about when he’s done with you. His long fingers reach out, stroking a stripe down your clit, watching with half-lidded eyes as your folds part for him. Your hips jerk upwards, a soft mewl escaping your lips. So obedient. So receptive to his touch.

And all his. A sight only for him.

Gaze trained on your heaving chest, he brings his fingers to his lips, tongue darting out to taste you once more.

His eyes flutter shut, a soft exhale leaving his lips.

“…Good. You taste really good.”

#scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin smut #ADALYNN girl there was a cracky start to this fic that I decided to take out but ngl I might just post it separately LOL #not sfw #tati writes

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i23kazu · 8 months

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SLEEPY PAPA CUDDLES

characters. neuvillette x gn!reader genre. domestic romantic fluff. an. MORE melusine daddy content. please send help guys i literally cannot stop making daddy neuvi content | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

on the days when some of the melusine get sick, neuvillette wishes he could stay home.

the heartbroken wails of his sick littlest ones pierce his heart – but as chief justice, he rarely gets to take the day off. even after scouring the pages of the fontainian law books, he finds nothing that allows him to take parental leave because his child is sick... because you're a stay at home parent.

(therefore, the responsibility falls onto you to take care of the little ones, as much as neuvillette would like to share it with you.)

early in the morning, you feel some sort of movement within your bed... you sleepily turn to look at neuvillette getting up and walking to your littlest's room.

"it's alright, ma trésor... papa's here." you can hear him attempting to soothe little puca.

puca's cries resound through the halls of the house, neuvillette's quiet shh-shhs soon following. it's not long til you hear the sobs that turn to whimpers, a sweet picture of puca laying her head on your husband's shoulder forming.

it doesn't get better when everyone is awake. iara, puca, and mela are all now down with the same cold puca cried her little lungs out for last night, and all three sweethearts sniffle at the dining table, hot soup freshly ladled out in front of them.

"papa, don't go! please?" iara cries, tugging on neuvillette's sleeve. justice has no time left to waste, and neither does your husband.

"i'm sorry, ma petit ange, but i have to go to work," neuvillette responds remorsefully, picking up iara and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"but i don't want you to go! stay home! i want to stay with you!" iara wails, burying her head in neuvillette's shoulder. he begins to bounce her gently on his hip.

"i'll see all of you tonight, ma chérie. alright? i'll come back early today."

at last, little iara's hands seem to finally let go of neuvillette's shirt, her sobs still wracking her frame.

"come here, sweet girl," you gently hug her from behind, gathering the little melusine in your arms. iara bursts into wails once she hugs you tightly, heart broken over feeling sick and having to say goodbye to papa.

you distract the children while neuvillette slips away to work, undetected. the rest of the day goes somewhat smoothly, with the older ones helping out around the house while the younger ones rest in bed.

by the time the clock says that papa was about to come home, all of the little melusines that lived in your household were all fast asleep, hands softly tucked under the covers.

"i'm home-" neuvillette walks in, setting his work bag down. why was it so quiet? a typical day included a chorus of "welcome home, papa!" and the pitter-pattering of melusine feet padding to the doorway.

"mon cœur! please, calme– i just got the bébés to take a nap," you shush him, cracking open the door to the melusine's room, just a touch.

neuvillette wants to laugh. never in his... centuries? eons? of life, did he ever think he would have evolved to be a man of domesticity.

i know nothing of french all of this was google

reblogs w/ tags & comments appreciated !!!

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @softcosmixs @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @aqualesha (send ask to be added to taglist)

#[📝 stewardess' notepad!]#astronetwrk #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x gn reader #genshin fluff #neuvillette fluff #genshin x reader sfw #neuvillette x reader sfw #melusines #genshin melusines #dad!neuvillette #found family

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wri0thesley · 7 months

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gift wrap - wriothesley x reader (2.7k)

you're just so excited to show wriothesley your newest purchase - but the duke can't help but think it would look better on the floor.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. reader is afab and wears a dress, corset, stockings, etc, but no gendered terms are used. reader is implied to be chubby. soft dom wriothesley, pet names 'sweetheart, pretty baby'. reader keeps calling wriothesley 'your grace'.

“Do you like it?” You twirl in front of Wriothesley, making sure that the full dramatic effect of your new gown is not lost; that Wriothesley is able to see every ruffle, every carefully embroidered rainbow rose, every neatly tied bow. It’s a complicated confection of a dress, and you had delighted in sending missives to the dressmaker with every new idea you’d had, your measurements carefully taken by the Duke himself--

(“Tighter!” You’d urged, the tape measure around your waist. Wriothesley had huffed out a noise that might be fondness and might be exhaustion.

“You’re not going to be able to breathe in it,” he’d said, but he’d pulled the tape more snugly even so.

“I’ve got a new corset coming,” you’d told him. “And you’re not going to complain about it showing off all of my assets, are you?”

Wriothesley had paused.

“ . . . No,” he’d said, and he’d shown you the number on the tape for you to rush off and scribble down before it went out of your head).

“So,” you urge him, coming to a stop in front of him and striking a pose you hope is effective. You certainly feel good in it; the new corset underneath, and the new chemise (silk and trimmed with exquisite lace) and the new stockings and new shoes all working together to make you feel like the most exquisite flower in the garden - not that such a thing is hard, in the Fortress of Meropide. “Do you like it?”

Wriothesley rests his chin on his hand behind his desk and motions you over with the other, beckoning you to come closer. You eagerly follow instruction, and he reaches out and tweaks one of your ribbons, his expression not changing.

“So this is what you’re spending my Mora on?” He asks you. You pout at him, and the tension breaks - he lets out a gruff bark of laughter. “Yes, yes, sweetheart. I like it plenty.”

You beam at him, and he shakes his head, an expression as familiar to you as your own hands playing across his face - an attempt to be tough and maintain his reputation, tempered with his inability to say no to you and his tendency to break whenever you exert the slightest bit of pressure on him. Nobody else could say that they have the Duke of the Fortress wrapped around their finger the way you do.

“It’s not the only new thing that arrived in the mail room for me today!” You chirp at him, and his eyes go dark as he remembers you chattering idly in bed next to him about all of the other fripperies and fancies you were having made.

Nobody would accuse Wriothesley, normally, of excess in anything but the amount and variety of teas that he orders for himself. Unfortunately, when it’s you beside him, fluttering lashes and sighing and pouting and saying “Your Grace, please” . . . he has a lot of willpower, but he’s not made of stone.

“I take it back,” Wriothesley says, taking a sip of the fragrant tea resting on his desk. It’s supposed to calm him before bed, but he’s no longer feeling sleepy at all - not with the promise of what might be beneath your gown calling to him. “I’d like it much, much more if it were on the floor.”

“I only just put it on--” You say to him, teasing, batting your lashes - and Wriothesley places the teacup down and puts his fists upon his desk. That dark cast in his eye does not abate, and he uses a voice that means business when he opens his mouth again;

“Now.”

You know what that tone means. You take a shuddering breath, and then say to him, your own voice wavering;

“I’ll need your help. Sigewinne helped me put it on . . .” As you speak, you turn slowly, showing the row of buttons down your back - they’re helped along by both ribbon lacing and hooks and eyes, and you can practically feel Wriothesley’s displeasure emanating off of him as he surveys them.

“Blasted thing,” he grumbles to himself, and you hear the heavy footfall of his boots as he stands up and comes around the desk to be closer to you. You gasp as strong, work-roughened hands grab you by the indent of your waist and haul you bodily closer to him. “Why make this so complicated?”

Despite his grumblings, his fingertips are tender as he undoes the first hook and begins to work on the small satin-covered buttons.

“I ought to just rip it off you,” he breathes into your ear, breath hot against your neck. “Save me all of the trouble.”

“I just bought it,” you repeat, helplessly, as the Duke deftly reaches the lacing at your hips, and you feel the gown fall from your shoulders. His lips press against the nape of your neck. “Th-that would definitely be a waste of Mora--”

“Anything that ends with you naked,” Wriothesley murmurs, “is not a waste of anything.”

“Your Grace--”

He chuckles roughly at the title, hand reaching around to pull your face towards him. Standing there in chemise and corset and stockings and heels, aware that you would be most embarrassed were anyone to walk into Wriothesley’s office looking for an audience with him, you are nevertheless helpless to do anything but let your lover draw you into a kiss as deep and hungry as there’s ever been.

Teeth dig into your bottom lip and you whine into his mouth, as Wriothesley’s calloused hands trace the shape of you. Where the corset makes your waist smaller, your hips all the rounder, the swell of your chest as ripe and heaving as it can be.

“You know,” he breaks the kiss to say to you, his voice dropping semitones with every syllable, his throat clogged with want. “I’m a simple man. I don’t need my gifts to be in fancy wrapping or anything; you could walk in here in brown paper and string and I would devour you just as eagerly . . . But,” and he cracks a grin, his teeth bright and sharp and wolfish. “Well. This makes a man re-evaluate.”

He squeezes the globe of your ass through your chemise and you whine, your hands coming up to rest on his chest, fingertips curling about the lapels of his waistcoat.

“Still,” he slides his hands up, and deftly, without even looking - like a master criminal, a master thief - you feel your corset lacings loosen, and then the beautifully embroidered garment is falling from you too and you feel your chest, freed from the stricture of the corset, spill forward to fill out your chemise. “It’s hard not to prefer you . . . au naturel. You don’t need the ornamentation, sweetheart. You’re the nicest thing to look at down here for miles. In fact, every time I catch one of the inmates looking at you I wanna punch them out myself.”

“I like it,” you whisper, helplessly, because your stomach is rolling pleasantly and your head has gone light and fluffy like cotton wool, egged on by the palpable lust in the Duke’s voice as he slowly strips you of your accoutrements. “I know I don’t . . . need to . . . for you . . .”

Wriothesley’s fingers on your chin, smile on his face as he kisses you again, gentler this time.

“As long as you know,” he murmurs, sweet as honey. “The day I don’t want to throw you over my desk and fuck your pretty little brains out the minute I see you, call the Chief Justice and have the idiot tried and incarcerated for impersonation.”

He does this, sometimes; says the most vulgar things whilst sitting in his luxurious office, his title obvious in his regal bearing - and every time, it does not fail to make you wet.

“This, though . . .” He tugs at the lace hem of the chemise; the fabric clings to you, the true shape of your body without any need for whalebone and ribbons. “Ooh, I daresay you can keep this on.”

“What are you going to do to me, Your Grace?” You ask him, your heart pounding in your ears - or perhaps between your thighs. You feel a little too out of sorts to locate it properly.

He answers by lifting you up, uncaring of how much you weigh - all of that time in the Pankration ring has made it so you barely ever see him break a sweat, regardless of what he’s doing. The only time you’ve ever really seen him sweating, he’s been above you, eyes fever bright, hips pistoning in and out of you, veins prominent on his scarred forearms as he caged you beneath him. You find yourself deposited onto the edge of his desk, and then Wriothesley is fumbling with his trousers and slotting himself between your thighs.

“Another time,” he says to you, in between rough kisses and bites to your lower lip, your earlobe, your throat. “I’d take my time with you, sweetheart. Get on my knees, use my tongue on you until you’re nice and wet and trembling . . . Really taste you. But . . . Ah.” He heaves a wistful sigh. One of his fingers slides into the top of your stocking, twanging it against the fullness of your thigh where it pinches just enough to drive him wild. “S’taken me too long to get you out of all of that nonsense, and now . . . well, I’m only flesh and blood.”

You gasp out his name as you feel something slap against your thigh, slick and hard and hot. You can feel his shaft pulsing even now, and you let your eyes drift down to see Wriothesley’s impressive length in his fist, tip flushed purple-red with want, a bead of silvery precome dripping onto your new stockings.

His other hand carefully drags the strap of your chemise down, urging you to shrug it off your top half - and then your chest is free, your nipples hardening in the cool air, the soft bounce of them being unrestrained making Wriothesley unconsciously lick his lips.

He’s still fully clothed, but for his cock, and the knowledge of just how exposed you are - thighs spread wide to allow him space between them, chemise pushed down to below your breasts and up to above your hips. Anyone who walked in on you right now would see how shameless you’re being for the Duke of the Fortress, and you could not care less.

“At least you’re well-behaved,” Wriothesley grunts, pinching your nipple with one hand - the shock goes through you, straight to your cunt. “You’re wet, sweetheart. Ah. You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” your voice comes out a soft little whine. You can’t think straight; his cock slaps against the outside of your cunt, your slick mingling with his precome, the head barely brushing your clit.

“Can’t hear you,” he says, smiling down at you. “These old pipes get loud this time of night, y’know. Downside to the whole underwater fortress thing.” The calloused palm travels over your breast, over your collarbone, brushing your throat with the lightest of touches until he’s gripping your jaw firmly in his hand. His thumb brushes over your lips, gently pressing down on the lower one until your mouth opens for him.

Your tongue shyly probes at his thumb, and you see a spot of colour high on his cheeks.

“Say it again,” he says, though from the crack in his voice you can tell it’s taking all of his self-control to wait. Through the thumb in your mouth, you say to him, all want and need and soft panting;

“Please fuck me, Your Grace.”

“Good,” Wriothesley praises you - and then, he presses his hips forward and his cock catches on your opening and you lose the ability to do anything but let him push forward, opening you up.

The hand formerly on his cock comes to grip onto your hip in order to act as leverage. Your eyes roll back into your head, your lips closing about his thumb so you can suckle on it as a distraction to the sting of being opened wider than your body thinks it can handle. It’s an almost-sting, not-quite-burn - Wriothesley’s thick length almost too much for you to bear, bullying itself inside of you and almost making the channel of your cunt mould to the shape of his. His tip bullies further and further into you, and he grits his teeth and lets a low guttural groan fall from his mouth.

“Shit,” he grunts. “Always forget how tight you are. Ought to fuck you more.”

He spends every night inside of you that he can, and plenty of lunchtimes and ‘afternoon tea breaks’ too - but you’re not sure Wriothesley could be satisfied even if he had nothing to do all day but fuck you. His stamina is something to be marvelled at. You’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve been beneath him, whimpering out as he filled you with another round of his come, that you don’t think you can take any more - and every time, Wriothesley has soothed and kissed and cajoled - and every time, you’ve been left so full of his release that you feel it leaking out of your cunt and onto the bed sheets as Wriothesley turns ‘just one more’ into ‘just three more’.

You wrap your own arms around his neck, fingers tangling into the mass of his hair, and let him set the pace as he always does.

Thrust comes after fast, hungry thrust - Wriothesley is as merciless in this as he is in all things, though you know from experience he has it in him to be tender, when things get too much. Right now, though, he has no time for tenderness - you helplessly suckle on his thumb, grateful for the distraction, as Wriothesley snarls and grunts and teaches your body to take him with every squelching cant of his hips. You feel your own slick drip down your inner thighs to make a mess of whatever it is you’re perched on, and you hope Wriothesley wasn’t working on any important paperwork when you’d flounced in here to show off your newest wardrobe addition.

The beautiful dress you’d waited to be delivered lies in a crumpled heap on the floor, though, and it seems far less important right now than the growing ache between your legs - the tension that builds with Wriothesley’s groans. You can’t breathe. You can’t do anything, as Wriothesley notices how you react and shifts his body just so, so that his cock batters against a sensitive spot with every fast-paced thrust he fucks into you. Your fingers twist deep into the hair at the nape of his neck, drool escaping your mouth and trickling down from around Wriothesley’s thumb.

“You close, sweetheart?” Wriothesley murmurs. “Come on, pretty baby. Are you gonna come for me?”

You nod, dazed, and as Wriothesley presses a kiss to your forehead that’s as tender as his fucking is brutal, you feel your body contract and then explode into a hundred pinpricks of light. It’s a sharp kind of pleasure; an explosion of sensation that starts between your thighs and travels into all of your fingers, all of your toes. Sweat beads on your forehead and you whine out unintelligible drooling noises as your vision goes white in sparks of electricity, your cunt pulsating around Wriothesley’s length as he slows his thrusts just enough to let you crest over the hill of your orgasm.

When you come back down, aftershocks of pleasure still making you tremble and shudder, Wriothesley’s cock is still inside of you. There’s a twist to his lip, an amused little smile.

“Good?” He asks you, voice rough. You nod dazedly. “Good. There’s a reward for looking so fucking pretty in everything I buy for you.”

He pauses.

“Now. Are you gonna give me a reward for spending all my hard-earned Mora on you, huh?”

You blink at him, your eyelids syrupy thick. As the final waves of your orgasm ebb away, and your heart slows to a rhythm that no longer worries you, you’re once more made aware of just how hard Wriothesley is inside of you. How his thighs are flexing with want; the mess of his hair, his clothes in disarray.

You lock your thighs about his waist, pulling him closer in.

“Of course, Your Grace,” you murmur, your tongue heavy. Wriothesley lets out a chuckle, another kiss bestowed upon your forehead as he murmurs into your hair;

“That’s what I like to hear, sweetheart. How about we order you three new dresses tomorrow?”

#writing #not sfw text #genshin impact smut #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader

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