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#wriothesley fic
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This Garden You've Grown ❀
Wriothesley catches you where you shouldn't be, little did he know, you were just the right person, in just the right place.
wriothesley x fem!reader II fluff, romance
part two ♡ part three ♡
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"I'll need you to come with me, miss."
You whirled around, a basket full of perfectly bloomed tulips clutched in your hand. Before you stood a large, burly-figured man, dawning a set of spiky cuffs and a grim expression. You recognized this man as none other than Wriothesley---Duke of the Fortress Meropide. But what did he want with you?
All you had been doing was enjoying your time in your favorite spot outside the city---a small plot in a lush expanse of fields you'd made your own personal garden; growing all sorts of plants, including the pretty pink tulips you'd just been harvesting. You'd found this place a handful of months ago on a stroll outside The Court of Fontaine's grounds---needing a break from city life. It was so easy to get wrapped up in the buzz of the bustling streets and forget the beauty of nature. You'd decided it was a waste to leave a perfectly fertile field unused, so you began your garden.
...that you were now being arrested in.
"Excuse me?", you asked politely, needing clarification as to why he wanted to take you away.
"You heard me, don't make this difficult.", the duke had an irritated look on his face, like he was reprimanding a bratty child that knows better than to do what they did.
...but really you had no clue what you did!
You frantically squabbled to find your words as he descended on you---his strides slow but covering much more distance than your quick, short legs could as you scurried backwards away from him. Once he reached grabbing distance from you, preparing his cuffs as his large hand gripped your squishy bicep, you managed to squeak out, "but what did I do?" as he dragged you to him.
For a moment, he haulted his actions, holding you against him and taking in your genuinely perplexed, even fearful expression. Had you really not known what you were doing?
"You're trespassing on restricted grounds.", he clarified.
Your face paled.
"...I am?", you asked, panic rising to your throat.
He nodded sternly, "These grounds are property of the city, common folk are not allowed to enter without licensed permission,", he leaned over slightly to peer into your basket, "even if it is just to pick tulips.".
Your mouth fell open as you looked between your basket and Wriothesley, whose intimidating attention on you was beginning to make you feel suffocated. All you could manage to come up with in your anxious brain frog was, "Oh...". Your mind was screaming---you couldn't go to Meropide, not over this!
The clear horror and confusion in your eyes, paired with how you'd begun to shake in his grip stilled him. Normally, this is when criminals would start pleading for their freedom, making bribes to circumvent the law, but you just froze like a deer in headlights.
From where he stood, it appeared that you'd been knowingly stealing properly-grown-goods from a city-owned field with the possible intent to sell them; but the innocent expression on your face told him otherwise. If selling your stolen goods was truly was your intent, you wouldn't relinquish them without a price. So he decided to run a little test.
"Maybe, if you offered me those tulips, I could look the other way.".
He braced for your bartering, your indignance or anger...
...what he didn't expect was your forlorn expression; how your eyes became heavy as you looked down at your flowers, your poor lip quivering as you held out your basket for him to take without hesitation.
A criminal wouldn't relinquish their goods so readily, and they definitely wouldn't look so broken hearted over something they'd merely stolen.
No, these flowers were special to you.
In any other case, he wouldn't have hesitated or cared about motives when prosecuting a trespasser...but something about you moved him.
His hand gingerly covered yours and pushed your basket back to your chest.
"I can see these are important to you, and you have no ill-intent, but you're still breaking the law by coming here.", he looked dissapointed---you were a perfectly good person, and you'd looked so happy before he showed up; you didn't deserve this.
You quickly nodded, hope in your eyes as you squeezed your basket tighter, "I'm sorry! I won't come back!".
The duke let out a long sigh, but nodded---satisfied with your answer. He felt guilty for ruining your fun, he hadn't known you'd get so scared over something so minor. He wished he'd handled you more delicately. "Don't go taking anything else from the field...but you can keep the flowers you picked. I won't tell.".
There was hesitation in your eyes as you looked up at him cautiously, "...you're sure?".
"Of course. I couldn't deprive you of something you clearly love so much.". Though his words were kind, his stern expression did not leave his face---maintaining his rough law-man exterior so as not to look soft in the face of crime.
"Thank you..." you said, your voice almost like a whisper as you touched the soft petals of the flowers you'd nurtured to full growth, then looked back at the rest of your field sorrowfully. This was a goodbye to your project---to the little respite you'd made for youself outside the city.
His eyebrows furrowed, you looked like your house had just burnt to the ground before your eyes. There had to be something he was missing.
"...if I may ask, why would you risk trespassing in a restricted area just to pick flowers? Did you think you wouldn't get caught? Or did you just not care about the rules?", you felt the rumble of his gruff voice in your chest---having just realized you were still pressed right up against him.
You looked down bashfully, half from your proximity to the dashing, rugged gentleman, and the other half from the admission you were about to make.
"...I wasn't aware this area was restricted...I'd actually planted this garden quite a while ago. I've been coming back every day to care for it ever since.". You were nervous that the details of your situation that you were disclosing might get you into greater trouble, but you couldn't just leave your garden with no one to care for it---at least if you're honest, the city might hire someone to nurture it in your stead, rather than just leaving it to die.
If you looked closely, you could see a twinkle of realization in the duke's eyes, though he masked it well.
"...I see...", not only did you not intend to tresspass, you weren't actually stealing either. All of this garden, save for the ground it is planted on, belongs to you. "I'm willing to make an exception for you, but in the future, make sure you're aware of the laws and regulations before you enter a restricted area.".
You nodded obidiently, something Wriothesley approved of in criminals, but made his heart twinge with guilt seeing a person with good intentions like you comply out of intimidation.
"I understand, sir. I'll vacate immediately."
You'd begun to step away from him, but he easily pulled you back, drawing your concerned gaze. You wondered if there was something else you had to do to right your mistake; was he going to have you tear up your beloved garden as well? That would truly devastate you.
He was quiet for a moment as he looked on at your lush garden and weighed his decision in his mind. Then, he looked back down into your innocent, breathtakingly adorable eyes and spoke, "...you may continue your gardening as long as you don't expand it. Don't go past the tilled land.", he pointed the boundary out to you, "Understand?".
His eyes widened as he met your gaze once again; he didn't think your eyes could get any prettier, but the way they glittered in excitement had his heart doing summersaults---and your pleased smile filled him with a sense of accomplishment.
You nodded gratefully, it was like he'd just given you the world, "I understand. Thank you so much for letting me keep it."
With that, he nodded curtly, then turned to leave; he didn't want to bother you more than he already had.
But before he could exit the grounds, you piped up, "...would you like to see what else I'm growing?".
You'd caught him by surprise; he slowly turned back to face you, taking a moment to process the question, before nodding, "Sure. Love to.". That sense of accomplishment once again bloomed in his chest as his simple agreement to be given a tour of your project brought the brightest smile to your face.
You quickly ushered him over, looping your arm through his to tote him from destination to destination; pointing out the various plants you'd been growing and telling him about each and every one.
"These are cherry heirloom tomatoes; they're a little more citrussy and sweet than regular tomatoes, and obviously, they're teeny. I like putting them in salads.", you picked one off the vine and held it up for him to try. He inspected it for a moment, before cleaning it on his shirt and popping it into his mouth. His eyes lit up as the taste hit him---these were really good. Better than anything he could buy at the market, that's for sure. You continued on with your little tour, "This is lavender---it smells wonderful.".
He chuckled at your interesting collage of plants, "the tomatoes I can understand, but what's with the lavender?", he didn't find much point in growing anything inedible in a garden.
The sun perfectly illuminated your rosy cheeks and cheerful smile as you beamed up at him, "The smell helps me sleep, and sometimes I like to dry bundles of it and give them away as gifts.".
His expression once again became thoughtful and judicial before he replied, "If you have trouble sleeping, then by all means, grow as much lavender as you want. But you can't go giving them out to the public.". He felt guilty for suddenly imposing all these rules onto your passion project, but it was his job to maintain order. You didn't oppose, only nodded in understanding.
"Ok, I won't give any away...", you reached down and picked a few vibrant purple, fully bloomed sprigs, then sinched them together with a little roll of twine you keep in your gardening basket, "...but would it be ok if I gave you some?". You outstretched you hand to him, head tilted as your eyes almost begged him to take the gift.
You were such a sweetheart.
"...you don't have to, but if you really want to give me some lavender, you can..." he carefully took the bundle from your outstretched hand---his fingers brushing yours in a way that made your cheeks turn pink, "I won't refuse.". Your eyes widened in surprise when he flashed you a wolffish grin, this was the first time his stoic expression broke. You were dazzled.
You found yourselves admiring one another in silence; you were infatuated with his smile, he was infatuated with your kind, gentle expression. For a moment, it felt like both your hearts were beating as one---racing together through your chests...and you two were standing awfully close for strangers.
You'd lost yourself so completely in him, you didn't realize how long you'd been standing like that. Once you came to your senses, you shook your head right and looked away from him shyly as you found your words, "If you put it in a vase beside your bed, it'll help you fall asleep...".
He continued to admire you as his grin became a softer smile. No one had ever offered him lavender as a gift before, and your desire to help him sleep peacefully touched him, even though it wasn't a problem he struggled with.
"Thank you. You really didn't have to do that."
The duke's mind was practically spinning with new emotions. You were pretty, sure, but your sweet nature, your compulsion for compassion, your friendliness to someone who is not only a stranger, but had nearly been an assailant not too long ago, reached deeply into him and practically claimed his heart just as you had claimed this garden.
It was yours now---because of what you cultivated in it.
Your smile really couldn't get more wonderful, but the doting look you gave him made him sigh contentedly.
"I know I didn't have to, I wanted to! You've been so generous with me, I want to be generous with you too..."
Wriothesley, who had never been in love before, wouldn't have guessed that a single meeting with a stranger could make him fall so hard. He had only just met you, but he felt like he'd been searching for you forever, and in a way, that means he's already known you longer than anyone else.
If he could stay in this garden with you forever, he would, but he had important duties that demanded his attention. Regretably, he had to take his leave.
He flashed you one last charming smile before parting with you.
"Thank you...I won't forget this.".
He felt like he had to assure you; like promising he'd keep them was promising he wasn't going to let you go. He cherished the grateful smile you gave him, and with one last wave, he departed.
...he'd have to patrol this area more often.
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inazuman · 6 months
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childhood best friend!wrio who ruffles you hair every time he sees you, even as you exclaim "wrio!" in both pleasant surprise and annoyance, slapping away his hand. he chuckles, remembering all the times he's done it in the years he's known you. how even with the way life moves, with how much you've both changed over the years, he still has you (and your usual antics) to lean back on.
childhood best friend!wrio who gets more affectionate with you the more drunk he is, going from petting your head to kissing you on the forehead as he drops you off in front of your door.
childhood best friend!wrio who finally gets a weekend off to spend some time with you. you get on one of fontaine's aircrafts together, with him holding a picnic basket full of snacks and two bottles of wine. and you just both talk when you're up in the air together, clinking your wine glasses together, staring out at the beautiful scenery. after being down in the fortress for so long, being up in the sky is a nice change of pace.
childhood best friend!wrio who against the beautiful backdrop of the sun setting, can't help but watch the way the light glows around you like a halo. you're gazing out at the edge of the ship, laughter in your breath, and when you turn to look at him he feels his heart stop.
childhood best friend!wrio who moves to join you, his elbows leaning against the railing, because he cares more about looking at you. in the intimate silence between you both, with the sun setting, you ask him, "do you believe in soulmates?". you're almost scared to look at him as you ask, his cheeks flushed a slight pink from the wine. there's a softness to his eyes as he reaches for you, fingers tracing over your forearm, before pulling you in, cupping your face as his lips touch yours.
childhood best friend!wrio who checks for your reaction, thumb grazing across your cheek. you smile at him and he immediately smiles back, both of you leaning back into each other, your giggle still lingering on your lips as he pulls you closer again, and again.
and a lil extra :)
boyfriend!wrio who lifts you up and spins with you in his arms the moment he sees you after work. who can't believe he waited all these years to have these precious moments with you. who won't ever take a minute of it for granted. as he presses a hand into your hair and lays a kiss on your forehead, all he feels is love.
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earthtooz · 4 months
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how would you write wriothesley needing reassurance?
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x : TO LOVE A GOOD THING :*+゚
in which: wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.
warnings: 1.4k words, reverse hurt/comfort with angst, wrio being insecure sorry, gn!hot-headed!reader, reader gets into a fight, wrio patches you up.
a/n: thank u @sixosix for helping me out during my my hard times. this fic was already half written before I got this ask but then it was like the stars aligned and anon came to save a fic that might have never made it out of the drafts. anyways, idk if the writing is good, but i came, i saw, i conquered. enjoy!
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Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.
If he voiced these thoughts to you, you’d shut him down without another breath. He can almost picture it now, the way your nose would scrunch as a precursor to all the statements you will make rejecting his. He can hear all the things you’d say, insisting ‘that’s just not true!’, and then he’ll laugh to cover up the way his chest will swell with pure adoration. 
But it is true. 
Loving you is easier than breathing. The heart that sits in his chest beats harder for you than the circulation of oxygen in his lungs, but he breathes because it keeps him alive. If he’s alive, then he gets to see you, the best thing that’s happened to him his entire, unfortunate life. 
He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you once told him your favourite flowers were glaze lilies. However, when you complained that they only bloomed during the night, Wriothesley knew that he would wrestle the sun just so the moon could shine a little longer. 
He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you linger in the crevices of his mind. Down in the Fortress of Meropide, the days may pass excruciatingly slow sometimes and the only cure for him is yearning for the one he loves most. Perhaps if he wishes hard enough, you’ll burst through those doors with a declaration of a new discovery and sit on his desk, avoiding the paperwork. 
Most times, his wishful thinking doesn’t work out. On the rare occasion it does, Wriothesley will be fortunate enough to end the work day with your palms on his cheeks, gently motivating him to finish what’s left. 
You’ll peel stickers off his body, ignorant of the fact that he saves them up just for an excuse to feel your hands on him, then he’ll kiss you in thanks, eyes fluttering closed. Near you, he can finally let his guard down, let the gauntlets and coat fall as he sinks into you. 
Wriothesley already feels bad whenever you come down to a place so unforgiving and confronting. He tries to brighten up the place sometimes, but metal can only shine so much before it rusts again. 
Is it pathetic to want to better yourself for another person? Or is it love?
Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him, and he’s perfectly fine to continue living with that fact. As long as he’s the one you return to every night, he’ll be fine to live with whatever burdens you press onto him.
He just didn’t expect that one of said ‘burdens’ would result with you, Sigewinne’s infirmary, and your face littered with cuts and bruises. 
“You should have seen the other guy,” is your poor attempt at humour as your lover frets everywhere, pacing back and forth as the small nurse tends to you. His heavy boots resounding against metal floors.
“Seriously, Y/n, what were you thinking?” The warden clearly isn’t amused by your joke, the only thing keeping him back from completely lecturing you is Sigewinne and that stun gun of hers. 
A small yelp slips past your lips when she applies some balm on your sore knuckles and Wriothesley winces, as if feeling your pain. “They were talking bad about you, Wriothesley, what did you want me to do?”
“Nothing!”
Sigewinne gives him a look. He immediately shuts his mouth. “I can’t do that,” you insist.
“You can, and you should’ve. I can defend my own honour. Besides, you didn’t need to lower yourself to the level of crooks just to prove a point.”
“But-”
“-The guys you beat up were just admitted here. Normally after receiving a life’s sentence, the first name that’s slandered is mine as an outlet for anger. This is normal, Y/n, they’ll continue on to realise that the Fortress of Meropide is not their standard prison and reform. You, however, might have just set back their progress.”
Your head drops, a little in shame, but mostly because you don’t have anything to say in retaliation. Silence envelops the dim space, none of you brave enough to break the tension that came from Wriothesley’s scolding. With a few final words from Sigewinne about what medicine to apply, when, and what not to do, she leaves the room quite hurriedly, as if eager to let you and Wriothesley talk about it alone.
Immediately, he crosses the room to where you sit, closing in on your personal space. 
“The things they were saying about you were unforgivable. Meropide’s great duke may forgive, but I won’t.” 
“Nothing is as unforgivable as you getting hurt.” Care laces his voice this time when he talks to you. 
“You won’t throw me in prison for this, right?” You ask with a bashful smile, one that sends him reeling.
“Not prison, no,” he coughs. “However, I can’t not reprimand you.”
“Fine. I guess this just means that I love you more.”
He knows you’re kidding, that you’re only trying to make him feel better because the grin on your face is nothing short of mischievous. Part of him falters, cracks like an earthquake splitting the land apart and pulling him under. To stabilise himself, his rough palms find purchase on both sides of your jaw and his forehead is pressed flushed to yours.
(You don’t love him more, how can you love someone as ragged as him?)
“Impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth. 
“Really, let these bruises be a reminder,” you chuckle. His thumb ghosts over a bruise on your cheek and his heart aches at the way you wince, even if just slightly. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, sat on a hospital bed with wounds he inadvertently caused.
You wouldn’t be here, in a dingy, dreary Fortress that you’re only obligated to visit because of him.
(Oh, but he hopes you never leave. The day you go and never come back is the day Wriothesley will turn all of Teyvat upside down just to search for you. Where is his place if not by your side?)
There’s a warm poke to his cheek that’s quickly followed by a damp residual. Wriothesley quickly realises that you wiped a tear away, and he curses the following few that spill. You shouldn’t waste your efforts on him: a man half-coherent, and wholly undeserving of you.
“Love, oh, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the bruised area. “Why did you do this?” 
“I already told you,” you hum. “Because I love you.”
“I’m not worth it.”
Your hand stills. “What do you mean by that?”
“This happened because of me,” there’s pain in Wriothesley’s voice when it cracks. “You didn’t need to harm yourself for me, I’m more of a burden than you think, Y/n, nothing good will come out of loving me too much.”
For a second, everything stills. The beating of his heart, your breathing, the dull humming of the fortress’ mechanics, it all becomes silenced. The world only kicks up again when you speak.
“How could you say that about yourself?” You reprimand, shaking his face lightly. “A ‘burden’? Are you hearing yourself right now, Wriothesley? You’re not making any sense right now!”
There’s a passionate look in your eyes. One he doesn’t think a man like him deserves.
“I do not love you for ‘good things’ to come out of them, I love you because you are the good thing, and I will do anything for you to remain the way you are.”
Oh, he might cry again. Are there tears in the corners of his eyes? How can he help it when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him?
“Don’t write me off as some poor soul whose subjected to your love,” you whisper, but he hangs on to every word you say. “Your love is not a burden I bear, but rather, the most fortunate thing I’ve ever had the luxury of cherishing.”
Unable to hold himself back any longer, Wriothesley presses his lips to yours in an all-consuming kiss. He drinks up all of your praise and lets it settle in his gut to bloom, untethering himself from the chains that rubbed his wrists raw. You love him, you love him more than he thought possible. 
How lucky he is that you pull him closer, selfishly taking all of him.
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© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
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onigirio · 7 months
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wriothesley’s not sure how many times he’s seen your face in the fortress of meropide, but everytime you make your way back, you never fail to ask him the same question with the same mischievous grin
“aren’t you gonna ask what i’m in for this time?”
with a sigh, the duke looks at you in defeat, “defacing private property”
and then if possible, your smile widened, “bingo! we have winner!”
in all honesty, he really wasn’t sure how you kept getting put back here. unlicensed graffiti was a minor offense in fontaine, so everytime you were arrested, it was for a month or two at the very most. you just kept coming back to the underwater prison.
“how about you take the art off of the walls, and put it on a canvas?” wriothesley asked one day when he had seen (caught) you spraying your tag near the coupon cafeteria, “you would spend significantly less time in confinement”
you looked at him with a brow raised, “and what if i want to be in confinement wrio?”
“wriothesley”
“a rainbow rose by any other name smells just as sweet, doesn’t it?” your wink caught the duke of meropide off guard. shaking it off, he kept pressing on, “no one wishes to be in jail”.
you shrugged, “have you not noticed i am not like other people, monsieur”. his hand caught your wrist before you could continue vandalizing the metal walls of the underwater prison, “i like to be unpredictable. never let your opponents know your next move”. wriothesley was caught off guard by yet another can of spray paint appearing in your other hand. you could only laugh at his confused expression, “i do take requests! miss sigewinne has informed me about your lone wolf attitude, so maybe a wolf right on your office door?”
oh how was he going to deal with you?
“tell you what, how about you don’t spray paint a wolf on my door” he grabbed your other hand, “and i give you a different place to spray paint to your little heart’s content.”
your eyes darted down towards his grip on your wrists, “if you wanted to hold my hands monsieur, you could’ve just asked”
wriothesley flushed, immediately retracting his hands from your form, “you’re insufferable”
“and that’s exactly why i’m your favorite monsieur”
before he could protest, you had already disappeared into the crowd of hungry workers. the duke had never dealt with a prisoner as troublesome as you. mayhaps he deserved a cup of tea for the trouble he went through for you. yes, a cup of tea would be perfect
he made his way to his office door, and before he could even open it, wriothesley was met with an image of a wolf sipping a cup of tea. below the artwork was a note left by none other than you
‘i hope you enjoy your tea time. consider this artwork a gift from me to you! (p.s. it was sigewinne’s idea :p)’
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archonsabyss · 3 months
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╰─..✶. [ Carnal Urges ]
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❒ pairing: wriothesley x fem!reader
❒ genre: smut [nsfw 18+] minors do not interact!!!
❒ warnings: involves the topic of blood play / kink? / drinking, idk honestly! not a vampire au!
❒ word count: 1.3k
─❒ authors note: pls don't judge my smut writing abilities. it's still not my forte but i tried lol.
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When rationality and any sense thereof is trampled by the irrepressible desire that consumes him, Wriothesley's hooded eyes widen in shock as he slowly pulls back, shifting his entire weight onto his knees positioned on either side of your body. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, licking away at the red substance prickling from a minor wound while arching an incredulous brow that makes you avert your gaze and tightly press your lips together to conceal your amusement.
"Sorry," You muttered insincerely.
"Sorry?" He repeats, not buying into your feeble attempt at an apology as tension tightens, coiling in your stomach.
Wriothesley seizes your chin with his thumb and index finger, compelling you to meet his gaze directly, his tongue glides over his pointed fangs, eliminating the final traces of blood, and your eyes are inevitably captivated by the sight.
The tension is palpable as he swiftly narrows the distance between you once again, pressing your back flat into the mattress. With the broadness of his upper body, he effortlessly parts your legs until his face hovers mere centimetres above yours and his nose repeatedly brushes against yours. His warm breath cascades across your face, seemingly infusing life into your mouth.
You're so undeniably turned on but Wriothesley persists in teasing you to the brink of your breaking point, pulling at every string and pressing every button within his reach. Your patience has its limits, and it doesn't help that he's close but not as close as he could be.
"Wriothesley" You present a subservient plea, aware that it's a step closer to unleashing his primal instincts into a fervent frenzy, ready to accept your gracefully extended offer. It proves effective as his breath quickens at such a rapid speed that you barely have time to process when his face draws nearer and his lips aggressively attach to yours open-mouthed and wet.
A string of inebriated and unintelligible curses escapes his crude mouth between kisses, they're muted by the suction on your tongue and the pressure of his calloused hands against your skin.
"Such a little minx" He whispers hoarsely into your ear, his teeth lightly grazing the tip.
He grants you no time to process or respond to his statement, as he attaches his mouth to the junction between your acromioclavicular joint and your neck and laps at the skin. His tongue glides back and forth in repetitive motions, akin to a paintbrush caressing a canvas, and left in place of its stroke is an array of beauty, forming an artistry of sensations.
Your skin flushes as he tantalizes and prepares you until seizing the perfect moment to immerse you in pleasure, a sensation only he could provide. His teeth pierce your shoulder deep enough to draw blood, and your cry of pain echoes off the walls of your room at the sudden intrusion. Your body writhes beneath him, your palms pressing into his shoulder blades, nails digging without restraint. There's a perverse kind of pleasure that comes with the pain and the relentless intensity of his rhythmic thrusts. It's overwhelming but you find yourself desperate for more.
"Wriothesley," You whimper as tears trail down your face, but his only response is a sudden forceful thrust without warning. His cock sinks all the way inside you and your cunt clenches pathetically around him.
Blood caresses his tongue, leaving behind a red marking in the shape of a kiss as he pulls away. You gaze up at him in a hazy daze, your eyes fixating on the blood that coats his lips.
Wriothesley wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes, and your eyes nearly roll back as he cleans his mouth of blood with his tongue. With his other hand not occupied by your neck, he smears the blood across your skin with his thumb and grins.
"Princess..." He drawls, yet amidst your fog of haze you're unable to coherently respond, and he's smothered in arousal and blinded by the urge to ravish you much the same.
Wriothesley rolls his hips against yours and you gasp, at the way his cock invades your walls to its breaking point. He shifts, slowly rubbing himself teasingly and you can't constrain the noises that slip out of your mouth when he applies more pressure to his hold on your neck, even as you clutch the sheets, it becomes impossible to endure his increasingly intense, animalistic rhythm.
"You drive me beyond the brink of insanity" Just like that, his mouth plummets and recaptures yours as he draws his hips back until just the tip of his cock brushes your cunt, and then it drives right back in with a force unlike before; in fact, it's more powerful. You feel like your back could snap at any moment.
His anger, love, frustration, and desperation all seeped into the snapping motion of his hips.
Moans weave a symphony of pleasure, his heavy breaths setting the bass, while the sound of skin slapping adds the final embellishments.
You grip onto his back as the air is knocked from your lungs, barely making its way past your throat as a wave of unrefined pleasure slashes through you. Wriothesley reaches down to your clit and teases it with a devilish smirk, applying just a tad bit more pressure to your neck before he thrusts into you one final time.
You come with a shriek, and Wriothesley groans, his orgasm follows shortly.
"That's my Good Girl" Warmth fills your insides.
“Fuck, I must confess, witnessing you in such a state is always a fucking delight. It never fails to captivate me," He remarks, releasing your throat and you gasp for air with a series of hacking coughs.
He swiftly pulls out and gets off you. He helps you sit up and gently begins to pat your back.
The darkness in his eyes fades temporarily, but there's no doubt it will return once he's reassured you are okay.
"You okay?" He asks, scooping you into his arms and shifting back to rest against the headboard with you nestled between his legs.
Exhausted, your head falls back against his chest, but you manage a weak nod and affirm with a whispered 'yes'.
Now that the peak of adrenaline subsides, you start to feel the aftermath of your activities and your shoulder aches, the puncture wound from his fangs causing discomfort.
Wriothesley swallows harshly in acknowledgment. He moves out from behind you and doesn't bother to dress as he swiftly heads to the bathroom, returning with two wet cloths and a small aid kit, he tends to his intentional marking on your shoulder and the mess he's created between your legs. Throughout the entire process, he steals glances at you with pleading eyes, and you feign ignorance of what he silently requests.
"Do you think you can go again?"
"No," You promptly reject without any hesitation.
"I go back to work the day after tomorrow. Please" He implores.
"No"
"I'll be gentle"
"No, you won't" You refute knowingly.
"Princess" Seductively, he beckons, moving closer, but you avert your gaze as he attempts to woo you with a kiss.
"Not happening, my love"
"You were begging for it earlier" He pouts.
"Give me an hour and then you can go on" You conceded, finding it amusing how readily you succumbed. It wasn't fatigue or reluctance on your part, but rather your body struggling to match the pace of your desires. Wriothesley's approach to intimacy drained you more than you had anticipated. It always did.
Softly cradling his cheek, you guided his face towards yours, bestowing a sweet kiss. Wriothesley smiled within the embrace, his eyes meeting yours as they both opened simultaneously.
"I love you," He whispered tenderly, his thumb gently stroking your thigh and you replied with a reflection of his affection, "I love you more,"
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☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations!! All credits to original owners of characters/anime/pictures that are not my own!
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hana-no-seiiki · 6 months
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more gn kafka(esque badoom ching)!reader x yan!wriothesley because goddamn it this man is so fine
mostly fluff and less yandere but the scene is pretty violent
“Oh, hello your grace! I didn’t expect you to be here!”
You beamed at the tar haired man. His wolf like eyes narrowed at your presence. His eyes scanning the blood all over your fists, clothes and face.
You, a thief worth at least several billion mora, now spent your few measly credits you just earned to beat his men up.
You pressed your thumb across the guard’s cheeks. Almost in a comforting, parental manner. Overlooking their broken nose and nearly unconscious bearing, many would see this as being intimate.
Wriothesley only stares before he stalked off.
“See? I told you no one would save you.” You chuckled, kissing the guard on the forehead before you give them one final headbutt to seal the deal.
You glance at the mess made by the ordeal on yourself and sighed. You’ve gotten sloppy. But it was fun not having to sweat over the details when it came to taking people down.
As you walked around the unconscious, brutalised bodies on the floor you hummed, playing air violin as you seemingly danced across the floor.
“[Y/N].”
You hear Wriothesley. His voice so low and quiet it is barely above a murmur.
With your back faced to him, you asked, “Yes, pup?”
You hear his boots tap the floor, the sounds of bones breaking and then light groans before silence.
“You need to eat. A meal a day isn’t enough for you, you know that.”
You turned your head to the side, catching a small glimpse of his features. His eyes drooped and never met yours. Years ago and even now.
“Or else you’ll put me in my personal cage again, your grace?”
At his sour response you smile. You’ve never felt anything throughout your entire life. Was this what others would call amusement?
“Remember when I used to tell you to eat, pup?” You turned your head back at the glass window that overlooked the waters outside, “Still . . . it is a pity, by the time you put me in there again this place would have already been carved open.”
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mmmooorriii · 5 months
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present [wriothesley, genshin impact]
the day turned into night in a blink of an eye, you huffed as you stepped out of the steambird headquarters, stretching your joints after a long day of sitting down and having to deal with various problems.
you squinted your eyes as you observed the streets, it was partially quiet, since it was already night and all you wanted to do was go home, lie down and sleep.
but something was bothering you, it felt like something slipped your mind. you thought and thought, thinking about what you may have missed. was it possibly a grammatical error you forgot to correct while editing the papers? was it the wrong illustrations you put on the articles? did you forget your keys in the office?
oh, no they're right there, in your pocket.
you sighed, clutching your keys near your chest as you puffed out air. your mind eased a little bit, but the bad feeling came back and it was making you a little uncomfortable.
"think, think, think." you muttered to yourself as you walked, rubbing your temples while your keys jiggled in your hands. hmm, let's see...
newspapers, articles, editing, house, home...
you gasped, it was as if a lightbulb had appeared over your head and lit up. without missing a beat, you skipped through the streets and found yourself in front of your house in no time. clumsily juggling with the keys and fiddling with the lock, you opened the door and made your way in.
"wriothesley!" you yelled, shrugging off your coat and draping it over the couch. you scanned the living room, then the kitchen, your shared bedroom, and then his office. you huffed, he was nowhere to be found. you figured he was back at the fortress of meropide, gone before you even said goodbye.
you shuffled backwards, your legs hitting the plush seat of the couch, catching you as you fell on your back and slouched against the cushions.
defeated, you closed your eyes and sighed. it was his birthday and you can't believe you forgot about it.
just as you were about to melt into a miserable puddle of shame and sadness, your heard the front door shuffle open.
"you left your keys in the lock, that's pretty unsafe, y'know." wriothesley entered with a grunt, shouldering the door close as he twirled your key ring in his fingers.
you perked up immediately, a grin washing over your features as you rushed to him, almost tripping over the coffee table.
"happy birthday." you greeted as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. wriothesley made sound of surprise as your lips hit his with a soft thump. nevertheless, he reciprocated, smiling as his right hand cupped your cheek, his other wrapping around your waist to pull you in closer to his body.
"what's up?" he whispered as you broke the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours while his calloused thumb swiped your lips carefully.
"i thought you went back to the fortress... and i forgot about your birthday, im sorry. im such a horrible partner, i dont even have a gift for you." you sighed, closing your eyes, absentmindedly tousling the hair on his nape.
wriothesley exhaled a low laugh, his hand tilting your chin upwards so he can look at you.
"your presence is gift enough." he says, pecking your nose. your cheeks flush at his statement, eyes fluttering open to stare at his pale blue ones. he smiled at you, pulling you in for a warm hug.
you laughed, wrapping your arms around him to return the gesture.
a/n: blurb blurb belated birthday blurb ☝️😢 forgot to post... hope u enjoyed - mori 🤓
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joonie-beanie · 7 months
Text
Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]
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Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k
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Sigewinne is evil.
You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)
It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.
You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.
Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.
You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.
…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.
“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”
Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—
“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”
And you’d responded with—
“Errand girl.”
“What?”
“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”
—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.
“Hmm. Very convincing.”
The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.
So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.
Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.
Safe to say, the two of you get along.
…which Sigewinne notices.
You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.
The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.
However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.
Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.
“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.
“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”
Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.
The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.
But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.
“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.
“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.
“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”
You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.
“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”
“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.
“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”
Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.
“What?”
She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.
“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”
Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.
Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.
“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”
Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.
“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”
You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.
Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.
“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.
“Of course!”
“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.
You nod.
“I see.”
“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”
She cutely huffs.
“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”
“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”
“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.
“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”
You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.
“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”
“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne. 
“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”
The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair. 
“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”
“I suppose that’s fair.”
Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—
“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”
“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.
“Hmm…”
He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting. 
Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.
“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.
“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”
“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”
You shake your head.
“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”
Sigewinne cutely laughs. 
“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”
Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.
“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”
“Good! I want both of you to drink up.” 
Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?
“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.
Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.
You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today? 
You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.
“Oh! Y/N!” 
Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.
“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”
“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.
His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.
“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.
“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.
Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.
“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”
You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.
There’s sweat beading on his brow.
“Where are you going?”
“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”
You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.
Your tummy starts to ache.
“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”
Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face. 
“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”
You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing. 
What’s this about doctor’s orders?
You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.
His pants feel too tight.
“Sigewinne, you did not—”
There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing. 
He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.
“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…
“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”
She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.
“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”
“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.
“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”
Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor. 
Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…
So, she decides to cut to the chase.
Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.
“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”
“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.
“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”
“Sigewinne—” 
Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.
Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.
“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”
Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.
“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”
With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.
A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.
"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."
You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.
You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.
"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."
Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.
"Have I been acting like a hardass?"
"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…
"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."
"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.
"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"
"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."
"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.
However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .
So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.
"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"
"Ah, you caught that."
He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.
"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."
"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"
"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight. 
"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"
Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth. 
"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."
You pout.
"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"
"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."
Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.
You sigh.
"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"
You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.
"And?"
You take a deep breath.
"That you're a cute puppy."
He blinks in shock.
"...excuse me?"
Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.
"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."
For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs. 
Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak. 
With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair. 
Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.
He coughs, pulling himself back together.
"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."
You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.
The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.
"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."
You swallow, anticipating his next words.
"Would you be…interested in having sex?"
Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.
"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded. 
"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"
"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head. 
"We are."
In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.
Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.
You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.
You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another. 
Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.
“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.
“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.
“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”
Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.
When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.
“Wh—”
Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.
“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.
“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.
“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.
“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”
Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.
Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.
“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”
His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue. 
“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.
And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.
So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.
…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.
Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.
No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.
Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.
The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.
Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…
“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.
“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light. 
“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”
You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.
However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.
With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.
Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.
Shit, he thinks. 
His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.
There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—
“Let’s get you right side up.”
—and the world spins again.
Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.
“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.
You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.
You glance down at his lap.
“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”
“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.
“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”
Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.
“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.
“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”
His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.
It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.
“Here we are.”
Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots. 
By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.
His lips twitch into a little smile.
“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”
Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.
“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”
Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.
In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.
“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…” 
He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt. 
“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.
“Why? Because you like it too much?”
He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them. 
Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.
“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…” 
His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.
“...what say we continue like this, hm?”
Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy. 
His icy eyes catch yours.
“Any objection?”
“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets. 
Wriothesley nods—
“Good.”
—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.
Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.
His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.
It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.
Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him. 
And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.
“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.
Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.
“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—
Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!
“Fuck! ” 
You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.
The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.
…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.
“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.
You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.
Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you. 
The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.
“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.
His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.
Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…
Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.
Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.
So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.
The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.
“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”
Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.
Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.
“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin. 
“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”
You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.
Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.
He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.
Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.
To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.
“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.
Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.
“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.
You can’t take it anymore.
Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.
He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy. 
His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.
It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.
The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.
He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.
After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.
…only to realize that you’re laughing.
“...puppy…”
He props himself up, glancing at you.
“What?”
“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”
You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.
“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”
His hand rubs against your waist.
“...right?”
Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.
“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”
Wriothesley chuckles.
“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”
“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.
“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.
You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.
“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.
“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”
Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.
The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.
For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath. 
…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.
“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”
“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”
You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.
“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”
“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.
“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”
His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?
“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.
“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”
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The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.
“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”
“Sounds good.”
The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle. 
Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.
“So, I’ll…see you later?”
His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.
“You’ll see me later,” you promise. 
With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.
Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.
To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.
…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.
With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.
When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.
“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”
Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.
“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”
“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.
As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.
“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”
Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.
“...maybe.”
Sigewinne smiles. 
That’s good enough for her.
13K notes · View notes
chichikoi · 4 months
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jealousy, jealousy (?)
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synopsis: asking them for someone else's number. pairing: diluc, childe, al haitham, wriothesley x gn! reader fandom: genshin impact genre: fluff warnings: mentions of cheating, insecurity(?) a/n: my first smau :o definitely have something big planned, but this is me trying. hahehwehwjehjehe.
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bonus: kazuha !
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4K notes · View notes
nariism · 6 months
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ೃ⁀➷ WHERE THE HEART LIES ˚ ༘♡
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a/n: fluff, pining, childhood friends to lovers, reader was in the same orphanage as wriothesley when they were kids, mild codependency (?)
happy wishing everyone! ≧◡≦
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Amongst the hundreds of books stored in the Duke's office, none hold a place in his heart quite like the dusty old atlas you gave him when you were children.
It's old and worn, something aged with the faint scent of Tidalga wafting as the pages turn. To an outsider, the atlas almost looks like garbage, or rather, exactly what it is—the only crappy book in the entire vintage shop that you could afford with your terrible allowance.
He doesn't see it that way.
It's a precious commodity to him, something he holds in high regard (despite the way he's glued the spine together on nearly a dozen occasions with the amount of times he's flipped through it).
Wriothesley is not a sentimental man. Growing up the way he did taught him not to grow too attached to material belongings.
There are few things in the world he would consider treasures: his boxing gloves, for one, though that's a given. His growing tea collection that originally started as a treat he would spend coupons on, but somehow evolved into a hobby.
And lastly, but perhaps most importantly, the map of Teyvat you gave him in the orphanage you came from. Because it wasn't only a birthday gift, it was something infinitely more meaningful than that.
He remembers that birthday fondly: he was twelve and you were ten. You'd snuck into his room beyond curfew and lights out, sheltered yourself under his blanket, and shoved the poorly packaged gift bag into his hands.
The two of you spent the entire night going through the pages, amazed at how giant the world truly was outside the confines of your orphanage—imagined how freeing it would be to explore it with nothing but your pair of feet and each other.
"One day," you breathed with excitement bubbling in your voice, "We'll leave this place and travel all across Teyvat."
It wasn't just a promise to see the world. It was a promise to see it together.
For a boy who had nothing at all, what you offered him was like placing the universe itself in his hands. And even at twelve years old, with you and that book sitting between his legs and a blanket thrown over his body, he knew he'd found a dream.
The older he got, the more he clung to that. 
You were the one he came back to when he was lost. The one who made the orphanage a home. The one who gave him a raggedy atlas of the world and whispered purpose into him.
Something to cherish. Something to protect. Something to love in this world when he had little to spare.
Though time had changed everything in his life, he still found it hard to abandon the welded pieces of your conjoined hearts.
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Unlike Wriothesley, you had chosen to return to the surface after you finished serving your sentence.
It was lonelier beneath the crushing pressure of the sea without you. He made sure you knew that, too, always bringing it up whenever you came by to visit in the most nonchalant ways.
The Fortress of Meropide was a home both of you had discovered after years of being without one. "Come home already," he used to complain when he was still just a regular inmate and you were dropping by with a care package. "I miss you."
Nowadays, he made certain you understood the gap in his heart without you by other means. Like, say, when he would invite you personally to his office for a cup of tea and some cake, which was a rare treat you missed out on as kids.
Once, you called him out for attempting to bribe you back down into the iron fortress which he, of course, denied with his chest. Still, you never failed to make the trip down despite your outspoken disinterest in being back in the prison, and his weak offer of sweets since you now worked at one of the most prestigious bakeries in the city.
You had initially greeted him this time with your hands all over him, arms wrapped so tightly around his neck in a hug that he could barely breathe. Sweet smiles and kisses pressed to his cheeks and fingers pinching his nose—every action endearing and a remnant of your childhood spent together.
Now, you're seething in the office at his simple question: how are things on the surface?
"... That's when I turned to Lady Furina and, get this, she somehow ate every pastry I'd brought in a matter of seconds!" You huff, pacing back and forth in front of Wriothesley's desk while you rant about your latest visit with the Archon.
Furina was often in your schedule in one way or another, and almost always she wanted you to bring along sweets from the shop you worked at.
Wriothesley finds humour in your woes, following you around in your pacing with his arms folded over his chest.
"You know, you could just show up to your audiences with her without treats."
"She would call high treason and toss me back in prison!"
The Duke just snorts, earning him a well-deserved glare. Even with the pull of your lips into a thin line and the narrowing of your eyes, he thinks you look like a breathing angel under the warm orange light of the office.
There was nothing in the world you could do that would make him stop loving you. Not even glaring daggers at him like he's your mortal enemy.
"You're exaggerating," he hums, trailing behind you once again as you pace around the desk. 
"No, I'm not. She's absolutely crazy. She's insane—!"
He nearly bumps into your back when you suddenly halt in your steps, attention stolen from the conversation. The hands that were flailing around in the air to animate your anguish drop to your sides.
Wriothesley peers curiously over your shoulder at what has caused you to stop so abruptly.
Oh. Oh, Archons. He can sense the heat rising to his ears.
He feels as though he's been spotted in vulnerability, even though that isn't at all what has happened and that you would be the last person to judge him even if he was.
But he feels seen. Caught in the act of sentimentality just because you've picked out the book you gave him all those years ago when all you had was each other.
"You still have this?" You gawk, pulling the atlas from its prestigious position on his bookshelf. It's in a spot that he can always see as soon as he enters the room—in his direct line of sight, he has a part of you with him.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Well, I just thought..." You consider the words for a moment, tasting them in your mouth before admitting embarrassingly, "I just thought you'd have thrown it out for a newer atlas. You know this is out of date, right? Half the oasis in Sumeru is covered in sand now."
"Why would I ever throw it out?"
"It's old," you lament again.
"And?"
"And... you can't even use it?" Your statement comes out more as a question and he can't help but roll his eyes.
"I can still use it," he insists.
You raise a brow, slotting the book back into its regular spot. "Good luck. When are you ever going to have time to do that, oh great and powerful Lord of the Fortress of Meropide?"
He ignores your little jab, as he's gotten so good at throughout his life. There's a sense of familiarity that rises in his chest, a strange nostalgia that drives him to open his mouth once more.
"Actually, about that..."
You turn to look at him again, hand coming up to brush the hair from his eyes. You always used to scold him for not taming it better. Now it seems permanently stuck as a fluffy mess.
"What is it?"
Your fingers graze his skin and he falls apart on the spot, feeling as though you had just tipped him over the edge of the cliff he's been too afraid to dive off of.
His hand catches yours, holding it just beside his cheek for a moment before lowering it to his side and tugging you just a little closer.
If he didn't ask now, would he ever?
"Let's leave this place," he murmurs, reciting the dream you promised him when he was twelve years old. "Let's travel all across Teyvat."
The silence that follows is so loud that it makes his ears ring. For a moment he falters, thinking he may have misread the situation and in turn whatever feelings he thought you may have harboured for him.
But then you take a daring step forward, nearly flush against his body. There's a look of wonder in your eyes that makes his heart race.
"Just you and me?"
"Just you and me." Just us.
There's a heavy implication behind that and you both know it. More than a proposal to chase a dream of bygone days, it's starting to sound like a confession. In his own roundabout ways, of course.
He can see the hitching of your breath, the subtle widening of your eyes, and all he wants to do is laugh at how seriously adorable you look.
"And what about the Fortress?"
"People here are less problematic nowadays than you may think."
"Won't the paperwork back up?"
"I can deal with it whenever I come back."
"Why me?"
Another silence.
"You ask too many questions," he says quietly, dodging your interrogation. In reality, he already has an answer. It's instantaneous, resting comfortably in his mouth but never leaving.
Why would it ever be anyone else?
He's having trouble focusing on anything right now with your chests so close together and his thumb running along your knuckles.
"Wriothesley," you say his name and it sounds like honey, the sweetest thing in all of Teyvat. And the look you're giving him, so touched and melting into nothing but a smiling mess—he isn't sure his heart can handle this. "I can't believe you remembered that."
"You kiddin'?" He laughs, slowly closing the distance between you. "It's all I've thought about my whole life."
He watches you carefully as you swallow down the lump in your throat. Your hand squeezes his and that's when he knows he's got you. You kiss him and he can feel the curve of your lips, the ever growing smile on your face meeting his. His knees are on the verge of buckling by the time you pull away.
"Surely you'll miss this place in your absence. This is your home now, isn't it?" You tease.
"Well, you know what they say." He gives you a grin so wide that his eyes crinkle. "Home is where the heart is."
It didn't matter if you were braving a sandstorm or the rainforest or the depths of the sea. 
Wherever you were, you would be his dream. You would be his home, too—just as you always had been for as long as he could remember.
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© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.
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This Garden You've Grown ⋆˚✿˖° Part Two
A continuation of part one. After your first meeting, The Duke of Meropide could not get you out of his head; so he decided it was time to make you his.
♡ part three ♡
Wriothesley x fem!reader || mutual pining, romance
Eeeeek thank you all so much for your sweet comments about part one ♡ I am thrilled to deliver you a part two ♡ enjoy my darlings ♡
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A long, comfortable sigh rumbled from Wriothesley's chest as you carded your fingers through his hair, humming a tune to some distant lullaby while he rested his head on your lap.
Your fingernails felt heavenly on his scalp, almost making his eyes roll back from your soothing touch; he'd never experienced anything like it. There was no better cure for the toll his brutal work day took on his mind and body than this. All of the tension built up in his well-toned muscles released at the mere ghosting of your fingertips over them. Although you both were lying on the ground in the open fields of Fontaine, resting here felt like sleeping on a cloud. He could get lost in this feeling, lost in you.
The world seemed to buzz around the both of you, it's colors soft and the sun's warmth so gentle. You made this place heaven.
His longing gaze was fixated on your eyes; the first part of you he'd come to adore. They were so kind, and so cute. The way they widened when you were surprised or glittered when you're excited, even when they'd get all droopy like a puppy's when you were dissapointed---he couldn't get enough of it. Each expression made him want to pinch your pink cheeks and chuckle. Though, with the way you were looking at him now, he could melt.
He'd never seen this expression on you before; your eyes were half-lidded and amorous, enchanting him as you continued to pet his hair---looking down at him like you wanted something.
You spoke, but your voice was a blur; though that didn't keep him from nodding anyway. There was no request you could make that he would refuse.
The sultry smile that pulled your pouty lips into a sacharrine curve made him weak; he felt his skin grow hot under your attention---no doubt red from the tips of his ears to his burly chest. His heart thundered as you began to lean down, your beautiful hand moving from his hair to cup his cheek and upturn his face to you. He returned your touch with one of his large hands covering the small one that held his cheek, leaning into your heavenly touch. He watched you all the way down 'til your lips were mere centimeters from his own; he could smell your sweet breath from here. He wondered how you tasted as he closed his eyes---about to find out. He felt the first brush of your soft lips against his own...
Before the loud blare of his alarm clock had him jolting out of his perfect dream.
He had been sleeping so deeply, when he woke, he didn't recognize his own bedchambers.
He groaned and scrubbed his hands down his face, reaching over to clamp a hand down harshly onto the off switch.
"Thanks a lot.", he muttered, like it was the clock's fault you were taken away.
You were right about that lavender---ever since he'd put it by his bedside like you'd instructed, he'd been sleeping much more deeply...though, an unexpected symptom of the sleep aid you gave him was vivid dreams.
Vivid dreams about you.
He'd been seeing you every night in his sleep; always meeting you back in that field, always ending up tangled up with you, holding you, kissing you, running his hands over every inch of soft skin you'd give him. Drinking you in like you were the most intoxicating liquor. He couldn't get enough.
Every morning, he'd wake up sorely dissapointed, wishing he could stay in dreamland with you for five more minutes---but duty calls.
Though he'd get on with his brutal work day, the thought of you would swim around his mind and steal his attention when he needed it most. He'd find himself reading and re-reading the same paragraph of some dull report as his thoughts would keep drifting off back to you. How, after one meeting, was he so bewitched?
It's because you were perfect, that's how. You were perfect, desperately so, for him.
Both the guards and prisioners of Meropide alike would rubber-neck their Duke as he strode by them in the halls; his pink-dusted cheeks and smirk giving away that he was beyond smitten---but with who?
Gossip and theories about the Duke's secret lover spread through the fortress like wildfire. Everyone wanted to know who it was; they'd grasp at any information they could and run with it.
"I heard it's one of the guards!" "Well I heard it's someone from the overworld!" "Sigewinne said he'd gone up on a summon last week, maybe he actually went up to see his sweetheart!" "Maybe Meropide will have a duchess!" "You think they'll throw the wedding here?"
This was the hottest story Meropide had seen in a decade, the Duke was lucky the steambird hadn't come a 'knockin, and the whole time, he remained blissfully unaware---a clear example of how you were a debilitating distraction.
He was dying to see you again, but he couldn't just take off from work; the only reason he was able to meet you in the first place was a summon he'd had to answer at the courthouse and an impromptu patrol around the grounds of the city while he was on his way.
He would write to you, but in the flurry of emotions meeting you had flooded him with, he forgot to get your name. A mistake he'd been kicking himself for ever since he'd parted from you.
At least he knew where to find you---if he'd ever get the chance.
He explored every break in his schedule, schemed up any reason to take another trip up to the overworld, but with the influx of prisoners funelling in and the shortage on fortress staff to manage them all, there was no way he was leaving his post anytime soon.
Fortunately, he didn't have to.
It was a particularly gloomy day in Meropide as Wriothesley walked the halls with dark circles under his eyes and a grimace on his face. It had been a few weeks since he'd set your lavender out next to his bed, and by this morning, it's smell had depleted entirely and the sprigs had wilted. No matter how hard he tried to preserve them, the flowers simply weren't made to survive without the sun. The loss of his sleep-aid in turn became the loss of you, the familiar smell no longer there to cart him off to that special piece of heaven in his mind where you existed. Last night was the first in a long time that he did not dream of you, and his rest had suffered for it.
The prisoners and guards whispered about "trouble in paradise", but were quickly silenced by his attention snapping in their direction---their duke having returned to his normal, vigilant state.
Tensions were high in the fortress as it's administratior was falling apart.
When his lunch break finally rolled around, he stumbled into his office grouchy, dischevelled, and groggy. All he wanted to do was take a much-needed nap while waiting for the heavily caffinated tea he ordered to arrive. He felt like his tie was suffocating him so he loosened it, unbuttoning the top couple buttons of his collar as well to give him a little more breathing room before folding over onto the mahogany surface of his desk with a thud and letting out a deep, tired sigh.
...this short moment of respite was quickly interrupted, however, by a soft knock on his door.
"Not. Now.", his voice was that of a big bad wolf's as he all but growled at the disturbance, a clear warning that he is not to be further disrupted.
However, the small, sweet voice that responded from the other side of the door had his eyes snapping wide open.
"...Sir Wriothesley?"
He recognized that voice.
For a moment, he thought he'd been dreaming---having only heard that voice in his head for the longest time.
Another knock.
"...Wriothesley?"
He's not dreaming.
He quickly righted himself; straightening his desk, smoothing out his prieviously rumpled hair and clearing his throat before responding.
"Come in."
His door slowly opened before you peeked your cute little head inside--his heart seized at the image.
There they were: your glimmering puppy eyes, your plushy lips, your beaming smile. All he'd been dreaming about for weeks was right there in front of him.
He stood to greet you; with a flick of his fingers, he gestured for you to come in. He was surprised, however, by your hesitancy. You stepped in politely, the smile on your face nervous and your cheeks pink. He ajudicated your expression for a moment, wondering what had you so startled.
...then he noticed your eyes flicking from his own down to his chest and back up again.
He realized, mortified, that he forgot to straighten his tie.
His hands twitched up to fix it, but it was much too late, you'd already seen everything. However, despite your initial surprise, you looked happy to see him.
You flitted right up to his desk with the sweetest look on your face; his heart drummed in his chest at the sight.
"Good afternoon!", you sang.
"...Good afternoon.", he sighed. Seeing you here was like taking a breath of fresh air---something rare in a fortress so deep within the sea. "What brings you to Meropide?".
"Well...I came to see you."
He tried his best to hide his delight, but his stony exterior quickly crumbled in your presence; he couldn't surpress the grin that grew on his face.
"Oh really now?" his sharp canines shone in his crooked smile as he leaned over you, bracing himself on his desk to get a good look at your beautiful face. You unconciously brought a hand over your heart to steady it---like it would leap out of your chest if you failed to hold it back.
You'd never seen a smile like his before, it was dreamy.
It took you a second to find your words before you set down your whicker gardening basket on his desk.
In it sat little containers of strawberries, blueberries, mini cucumbers, and the cherry tomatoes he liked, as well as two small bundles of lavender---one fresh, one dried.
His eyes were wide as you laughed shyly, "...I won't get in trouble for giving these to you, will I?".
You knew he told you not to give the things you grow on the city's land to the public, but did he count as the public? And if he did...could you push that line just the teeniest bit?
You weren't sure if he'd accept your gift, but you couldn't help bringing it to him anyway. Since the day you met, you'd been thinking about him every time you'd gone out to your garden; wondering if he'd really kept the lavender you gave him, musing about whether or not it was helping him sleep, daydreaming about him and wondering if he was thinking of you too...
He was.
"...you picked these for me?"
You nodded, fiddling with your fingers exictedly.
“…Thank you.”, he looked down at the basket and picked up a sprig of lavender, bringing it up to his nose for a sniff. He sighed contentedly. “You came at the perfect time. Mine just lost its scent last night.”.
"Oh, did it?", you point at the dry bunch you'd tied together for him with a little black ribbon, "These should keep their scent for a while...though I know the fresh ones smell sweeter."
"That smile is so cute.", he thought. He couldn't get enough of your blushing cheeks, the sweet, sheepish upturn of your lips, the way you couldn't quite look him in the eye. He needed that smile, needed you, and now that you were here, now that you'd come to him, he wasn't going to let you leave. Not without the promise of your return.
"...I know you've already done so much, but could I make a request?"
Your head tilted and lips formed a darling pout in curiousity, proving to him that yes, you could get cuter. "What is it?".
"...if I asked you to start a garden down here as well, would you?"
Your eyes lit up like fireworks, giving him exactly what we wanted to see.
"Yes, of course!", you nearly squealed, the heart in your chest felt like it was moments from bursting.
His wolfish grin broadened now, hugrier; if you were a lamb you'd be terrified, but your human heart was thrilled by his satisfaction. He's caught you, to both of your delight. The lamb happily entering the wolf's den, where she will gleefully stay.
"Then I'll make the arrangements.", he purred, the rumble making your heart skip; you weren't sure you could actually work in Meropide without your poor heart giving out on you from prolonged proximity to this man you were already dying for, but you sure as hell would try.
༻❦༺
It's like your presence alone mimicked the sunshine that otherwise hid itself from the underworld.
Everyone noticed it; your smile brought light to any room you entered, enchanting not only the guards, but the inmates as well. Even on Meropide's wost days, your kindness rid the fortress of doom and gloom---the way you adressed everyone as not only an equal, but a friend, the way you'd show care to everyone alike, even strangers, and not to mention, how the fruits of your labor changed the welfare meals from dull grub to colorful and flavorful masterpieces. Wriothesley was reluctant to share your work with anyone other than himself, but what other excuse would he have for starting a garden in the underworld, if not to feed the residents? It's not like he could advertise that it was just a way of keeping you close (though everyone was already fully aware of his intentions. The smirk on his face everytime he entered a room with you in it had all in proximity sharing knowing glances.).
Your cheer brightened any dreary day as you flitted through the expansive halls to the office of your duke, intent on sharing the results of any project you started or to ask for his council on your plans, to his great pleasure. He showered you with praise not many who drew the duke's gaze would recieve; you were precious to him and everyone knew it, adding fuel to the bonfire that was the gossip around Wriothesley's love-life.
You'd spend long hours in Meropide, from the early morning before the sun rose to long after darkness covered the sky and the stars shone in reflections of the water's ripples. By the time you'd arrive at your home above at the end of your day, it would only be a few hours before you'd make the trek back down. Wriothesley worried about you, telling you that he didn't want you staying so long and losing sleep, but every time he'd try to send you home, heeding your promises of "just five more minutes", "I'll wrap up soon!", he'd always return to find you still at work with that pretty smile on your face. He just couldn't bring himself to shoo you away. The final straw was the morning he'd entered his office after a good night's sleep, only to find you passed out on his couch. He thought about threatening to banish you if you continued to work yourself to death, but that would just be a cruel punishment for him too. The alternative he thought up was much kinder, having his staff set up a room in the fortress for you; complete with a big, soft bed and dozens of plushy blankets and pillows to ensure you rest well. He would not accept your mounds of thank-you's, assuring you that it was only his duty to care for you just as you care for the people of this fortress, himself especially.
It wasn't long before the subjects of Meropide began addressing you as "duchess", a mistake you'd flusteredely correct and one Wriothesley would neglect to, the insinuation bringing the slightest upturn to his lips. New residents were especially prone to this blunder, simply assuming that you and their duke were married; and who could blame them? The puppy eyes both of you gave each other while the other's back was turned was more than enough reason for them to come to the conclusion that you two were deeply in love with one another, and you were...though neither of you could bring yourselves to confess.
"Not yet...", Wriothesely thought as he watched your hands with soft eyes while they expertly worked in the soil---kept safe and clean by the pretty pink gardening gloves he'd gifted you.
"...Not yet.", you thought while dreamily listening to the low rumble of his voice that made your heart skip and knees grow weak as he gave you advice on the next plants he'd like to see you grow, distracting you from actually absorbing the information. He was more than happy to repeat it for you, keeping you in his office for just a few minutes more...keeping you close for just a few moments more.
Thanks to you, Wriothesley had been sleeping better than ever, though he had no use for dreams now; what helped him shut his eyes every night, what woke him with a beating heart in his chest and a blissful smile on his face was knowing that you'd be with him when he got out of bed.
You were right there, whenever he needed you, whenever he wanted more of you, you were always there.
The day he'd finally make you his was steadily approaching; the feelings you stirred in him beginning to overflow. His gaze on you as he watched you work became ever more longing, no longer bothering to look away once you met his eyes--making your heart flutter as you hastily looked away. His touches became more needy; what were once featherlight brushes against your hand as you stood next to him and talked about your garden became a possessive hold, interlacing his large fingers with yours. The soft words of praise he would speak to your labor became ardent words of affirmation that a believer in an archon might say kneeling before their alter---musings about you, not a gardener in Meropide, but a woman loved:
"You warm this Fortress more than any blazing fire could."
"Although it aches me to keep a beautiful thing like you from the sun, I couldn't bring myself to let you leave the darkness without me."
"I'm lucky to have met you. Sometimes I can't believe you're real; maybe your lavender has made my dreams too vivid. If that's the case, I'd never want to wake again."
Neither of you could bring yourselves to say it, say you wanted the other---truly, deeply wanted. It had just gone on too long, this period of stasis you both shared was one neither of you would risk ending with three meaningful words:
I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.
At a certain point, you stopped correcting the residents of Meropide when they called you "duchess".
At a certain point, Wriothesley stopped holding back his desire to touch you, feel you; slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest from behind as you both looked on at the garden that had tethered you together---grown roots within both of you that tangled with one another into knots that would never be undone.
All that he had left to do was kiss you.
It wasn't at all grand, it was just another moment between you two, one that you wordlessly fell into step together like every moment before. Just a quick good-morning meeting in his office, like you had every day. Just an update on what you will be working on in your garden today. And just as you were about to turn and go, a decisive hand he combed through your hair to bring you to him, a soft kiss that had both of your hearts thundering like a steam engine down a track, and then a moment of shared breath and coupled smiles before you both parted and got on with your day.
You were his and he was yours.
You belonged to him, to Meropide, to the entirety of his underworld.
He belonged to you, your garden, and the fruits of life born from your care and affection.
And never again will the space between land and ocean seperate you.
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xiaowhore · 4 months
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intoxicating.
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premise. your boyfriend dumps you and says he doesn't love you anymore. of course, being the petty bitch that you are, you have to prove that you don't need him in your life either. and of course, intense emotions often lead to rash decisions, so you go to a bar in hopes of finding a new man.
somehow, even when all you've managed to do is scowl at anyone who approaches you and mope at the bar counter, you still manage to get one.
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Wriothesley has dealt with his fair share of unruly drunks before, but they were something more along the lines of aggressive and sloppy, not depressed and sappy.
He finds that he'd rather manhandle angry alcoholics than a person who makes a slobbering mess all over his shirt, clinging to his arm and sobbing to his sleeve. Your body starts to sway even when he supports your weight, your footsteps unstable as your attempt to walk in a straight line fails entirely.
Okay, so maybe you are sloppy after all.
Wriothesley sighs and tightens his grip on your shoulders. There's no point in losing his patience with a drunk person. He didn't even mean to pick you up, it's just that as a police officer, his sense of responsibility makes him want to fix a troublesome situation whenever he sees one. Even when he isn't on duty, he often leads disruptive drunks out of bars and restaurants, forces them out when he has to, and is always on the receiving end of owners' gratitude.
However, he has no experience dealing with drunks that just got dumped by their boyfriend and chugged away the sorrow with alcohol. You know, like the one dragging their feet as he drags their inebriated body away.
At first, he thought you were hitting on him when he felt your head lean on his shoulder in the bar. It's a common strategy, one that he's dealt with enough times to know when someone is just pretending to be drunk and trying to get his attention. He was still thinking of what to say when tears actually rolled down your cheeks and you started retelling your life story that he never asked to hear about.
Wriothesley isn't actually trying to listen, but he still gets the gist of it. It would be hard not to when you're still prattling on about it beside his ear as we speak.
“He said...” You hiccup, warm liquid seeping into his shirt as you sob into his arm. He hopes that's from your tears and not your snot. “He said he doesn't feel anything for me anymore...”
So you glammed up for tonight and tried to have fun at a bar so you could prove to yourself you didn't need him in the same way he didn't need you. He can already recite the story perfectly from the amount of times you told him. Your plan is irrational at best, and he doesn't see himself doing the same if he were ever to be in the same situation, but he can't berate you for it. Not when you looked so miserable and hopeless to the extent he didn't think it would be safe to leave you alone back at the bar.
“You can't force yourself to be happy,” Wriothesley grumbles, finally giving up on carrying you by the shoulder and instead hoists you up on his back to give you a piggyback ride. Your shoes slip off your feet, so he sighs as he crouches down to pick them up. “At times like this, you should find other ways to feel better.”
Your body jolts against him as you hiccup once again. “Like what?”
“Dunno.” He shrugs, and he can feel you gradually getting used to being carried. It takes only a bit more for you to melt against his body, your chin snugly tucked in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Watch movies at home in your pajamas, I guess. Treat yourself to good food. Go on a trip. You look like the type to enjoy that. Much safer than getting involved with guys when you're still emotionally unavailable.”
You sniffle. “Romance movies only remind me of him. Eating at restaurants will make me remember the dates we've gone to. And going on trips will make me wish he's there with me.”
Why do they have an argument for each point I make? And I never said anything about the movie having to be romance. “Well, you still have to go through that,” he gives up on making you think otherwise. “But one day, you'll feel a little better about it. Maybe you'll want to start dating again when you watch that romance movie, or you'll want someone else to eat with on that restaurant you once went to. And when you're on a trip, maybe you'll even think you want somebody special to go with you.”
You go quiet. For a moment, he thinks you've fallen asleep. But then your head slowly rises from his shoulder, dazed eyes peeking at him unsurely. “You really think so?”
“It won't be easy,” Wriothesley says, because nothing ever is. “But you want to say you don't love him anymore, right?” He glances at you, at the dry tear streaks on your cheeks, at what glitter remains around your eyes from all the times you've rubbed away your tears.
For the first time that night, he sees you smile. “Yeah... I want to say it without feeling hurt anymore.”
He turns away, and he feels himself smiling without meaning to. “That's good.”
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“...So do you like watching romance movies? Or eating [hometown] cuisine?”
“...No?”
“Then I'll settle for a movie you like. And I can make good food from anywhere.”
“...Are you hitting on me? Using my advice?”
“Is it working?”
Wriothesley laughs, looking at the person he's carrying on his back, who he is escorting to his apartment because you lost your keys and your roommate won't be back until tomorrow, whom he wrapped his leather jacket around because he felt you shivering against him, and who caught his eye the very moment he entered the bar.
“That's not a no.” He knows you're pouting even when he isn't looking anymore.
“Yeah,” he agrees with you, almost indulgently. “It isn't.”
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When you wake up in an unfamiliar bedroom, dressed down to your undergarments and a t-shirt you definitely do not own, and with hardly any recollection of events from the past night, you think you've made a terrible, terrible mistake.
But then you spot the hangover medicine on the bedside table, your alcohol-spilled clothes drying in the laundry room, and possibly the most gorgeous man you've ever seen cooking breakfast in the kitchen, so whatever you did last night couldn't really be that bad.
“Oh, you're awake,” he says once he notices you standing in the middle of the room, completely awestruck. You don't even know what you should be staring at; his chiseled face, his strong arms, his tight tank top that faintly traces his muscled torso, the gray sweatpants that-
Okay. You are not going to look anywhere below his waist.
“Yeah,” is all you can manage, simply glad you didn't fuck up that one syllable. You feel like you're on the verge of either saying something really stupid or making really weird strangled noises. You prefer the former, if you can help it.
“Sit.” He pulls one chair from the dining table, gesturing for you to take it. You meekly take your seat, eyes shifting everywhere but his face. “You're rather quiet today,” he muses, taking one glance at your reddening face as he fixes the plates of pancakes in front and across you.
“...How was I yesterday, then?” You ask, though you don't actually want to hear the answer.
The man hums in thought, taking his sweet time while pouring coffee over two mugs. “Troublesome,” he decides to say. “You nearly puked over my rug, after all.”
You sputter, making all kinds of apologies and promises of compensation when all of a sudden, he laughs. “Nah, I'm kidding. But this means you don't remember anything at all, right?” He sits across from you, sliding the mug to your hand.
“No...” You take a sip, but you barely register how it tastes. “I remember ordering a lot of drinks, but that's pretty much it.”
“That's a shame.” He sighs, leaning back on his chair as he sips coffee. “I suppose that means our dinner plans are void, then.”
“Absolutely not!” The words come out of your lips before your brain-to-mouth filter processes it fully, your hand slamming down the mug on the table in protest. “Uh... that is... if you're available whenever...” You get a hold of yourself and feel your cheeks burning in shame.
He doesn't try to hide the amused smirk on his face. “Sure. I'll be looking forward to your hometown cooking, then.”
Just what on earth did you do last night...?
???
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mitsvriii · 2 months
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men who may come off as distant within your relationship to others when the two of you are in public, but in private they cling onto you as if you're a flame and they're a moth.
men who always make sure your needs are satisfied before his. whether it be you getting more helpings of food before him, maybe you getting more warmth from the mess of blankets on your shared bed, or even sleeping in an uncomfortable decision for your sake.
men who act like a dog guarding their prized bone from wolves whenever someone looks at you in an inappropriate or stares at you for too long. who makes sure that the creep is far gone before you can notice that they were their in the first place.
men who let you decorate their faces with color-tinted kisses whenever you wear lipstick, and don't dare to wash it off until he has to get a bath later on. if they're feeling generous they'll let you place some hidden ones on their necks.
men who prepare you food in their spare time that makes your mouth water at the smell of it. who makes your favorite dishes no matter how difficult they are, and if the dish doesn't come out as he expected you can't help but give him a kiss for his efforts.
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blade, wriothesley, ARTEM WING, xiao, WANDERER, kamisato ayato, TOMIOKA GIYU, obanai iguro, lucifer, megumi, veritas ratio, tighnari, sanemi shinazugawa, DILUC, pre-astral express dan heng + your favorites
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archonsabyss · 5 months
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Wriothesley Royal Au (Manhwa Edition) where he's the feared / renounced cold Duke of the North, hired by the King to bodyguard you (the semi-neglected royal), ONLY no one actually knows he's the Duke of the North hence they assume he's just an ordinary mercenary (the best of the best)
The king is Manhwa stereotypical, mistreats you only to have a hidden protective motive that it's for your safety. The King may be a King, but he's stripped of his power, a puppet caught in the web of the corrupted (Nobles & His Mistress)
Wriothesley has a cold front but is really just a very chilled dude with unmatchable skills, mis interpreted, and cautious. So he finds himself heart and mind centered in the Palace which he's despised all his life, protecting you, the person he was originally going to kidnap only to have the greatest idea of marrying you just to piss off your damned step brother' and his best friend who is weirdly obsessed with you (in a very scarily annoying way)
Yet, instead, he finds himself hiding his identity and playing the role of your bodyguard. Falling in love First and falling hard, following your every step like a lost puppy with murderous skills of a merciless killer :D
Imagine all the little soft fluffy moments the build up of this relationship could give us! All the tension! All the hot jealous and possessive (in a non toxic way)! Because in my head wrioth is a red flag to everyone BUT you ❤️🥹
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elixrr · 4 months
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ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ! ☆ ʜᴏʏᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ᴍᴇɴ¡
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ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.
ꜰᴛ: Xiao, Wriothesley, Lyney, Dan Heng, Argenti, Blade.
ꜱʏɴᴘᴏꜱɪꜱ: Headcanons about their cuddles with you!
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I considered adding Alhaitham into the mix, but I figured that I didn't know his character well enough for his part to be accurate and good. Apologies to all of the Alhaitham fans! Also, new format for my fanfiction posts, inspired by many creators! (Namely iheartganyu)
ᴘꜱ: pretty little spoiler warning if you haven't caught up with anything in either game 😭😭
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✰ xiao ✰
— An adeptus of Liyue, the Vigilant Yaksha. It's easy to guess that cuddles with him are rare. Mostly due to his job, but he's too... awkward. Xiao has been touch-starved for the great majority of his life, so it's easy to assume that he's inexperienced, much to his dismay.
Don't get me wrong. He'd love to cuddle more often, but— while inexperience is one part of it, Xiao is ultimately insecure. He strongly believes that he's tainted. He believes that he's a disgusting, vile creature that lives only to slaughter, but he thinks of you as an angel. Xiao thinks that too many cuddles would taint you, alongside the fact that he worries about his Karmic Debt situation.
Nevertheless, when you do convince him to cuddle with you, he'll be awkward at first; hesitant to put his arm here, overthinking how he put his hand there, etc., etc. He doesn't emit much body warmth, but he finds you to be really cozy and warm to the touch, thus finding comfort in the closeness once he moves past the insecurities and hesitation. By the way, unless you like to initiate and contribute to conversations, most of the cuddles will be in comfortable silence, excluding the occasional comment about the scenery or compliments about each other.
Xiao would cuddle on the condition that it's in a secluded area and nobody else is present except for you and him. He'd prefer to book a bedroom at Wangshu Inn, but if not, then he'd prefer to cuddle on the rooftop of the inn, late at night when the stars shine from the heaven-blessed galaxies, the subtle natural light kissing your features to give him a little bit of an extra view. He doesn't think too much about how he looks to you, but he could only hope that he's at least bearable to look at. (Which he very much is.)
☆ wriothesley ☆
— He's so touchy and extra cuddly that sometimes that extra cuddly can be too extra, resulting in a near impossible mission to get out of bed in time for you to even get ready. Wriothesley loves holding you close to him. You're his love, and so he wants to treat you like it, but sometimes cuddles can transform into something a little bit more than just a cozy night, wrapping one's arms around the other.
Speaking of, good luck to you if you prefer being the big spoon, because you can't be the big spoon anymore. Wriothesley will always be the one to hold you, always the one to just wrap his arms around you and cherish you like never before. As previously mentioned, you're his lover, and he wants to treat you like it! Wriothesley wants to make you feel special, like you're the most important person in his life, so he'll do his best to give you that.
Also, I feel as though he'd whisper to you a lot. Even if there's no need to be quiet, he finds it intimate to just lean in and whisper compliments in your ear while holding you close. It doesn't matter what situation you're in; it doesn't matter where you guys are, even if you're talking about your day or the constellations in the skies above, he'll interrupt you, lean in close and just say something about your eyes, maybe your clothes, but preferably your lips.
Wriothesley would also love kissing you at random whenever you cuddle. Not to say he doesn't already do that outside of cuddles, but it's just, to him, you look amazing. You look cute, and why wouldn't he kiss you when you're his gracious lover? He hopes that he doesn't go overboard and accidentally make you uncomfortable, but at the same time, he knows you enjoy it— that smile on your face every time he pecks a kiss on your nose or cheek tells him everything he needs to know.
Before I forget, he doesn't prefer cuddles during any time of the day, but given his job, it's mainly during his afternoon tea breaks, and 100% at night in bed with you. To be honest, if he could, he'd take a full day off just to hold you tight and spend the day with you, wrapped like burritos in a blanket and sipping the day away with refreshments and love.
Some day, he might as well do just that.
☆ lyney ☆
— If it weren't for his job as a magician and as part of the fatui, he wouldn't let go of you. When Lyney can, he clings to you like a lost child who had finally found their parent in a big city. He holds your waist with one hand and performs little magic tricks with the other to impress you. Lyney's a very clingy, touchy lover.
When cuddling, he loves getting super close to the point where there's almost no space between the two of you. But on the occasion, he'll snuggle so close that it's basically just a tight hug—the only difference is that you're both lying down. The only times he isn't super, mega close to you, is when he's making rainbow roses appear randomly around your body. Most of the time, it's all fun and innocent, but other times, Lyney enjoys the look on your face when he does something quite bold.
Also, Lyney's very talkative while cuddling. Even in moments of relaxation, he'll take the time to just stare at you, even if he can't get the full view because of the ungodly lack of space, Lyney will look at you and start complimenting you. He loves you so much, and that's another huge way to show it. He's a romantic kind of guy. If there's a way to show his affection, he will take and use that way to show his affection. He loves your smile; he loves it when you blush, and it slowly grows more evident by the second because he starts to blush, too. Also, Lyney would immediately just hold you more at the sight of your reaction.
Nevertheless, his need to be close can change. Whenever he's out on a mission given by Arlecchino— more specifically, an assassination mission— you won't see him for a good three days. Even when the mission's complete, he'd want to seek out your love, comfort, and affection, but he stops himself. Lyney believes that his hands are still painted with the blood of the murdered, no matter how many times he washes or scrubs them, he'll still see the visible darkening red blood stains. There's no way he's even going near you with those kinds of sins straight on his body. It's sad, and you might have to seek him out yourself if he doesn't show up for the next few days. When you do find him, the moment he sees you is when that wall of guilt shatters, and he nearly breaks down seeing you again. Seeing you every day made him used to you, and just a few days of deprivation made him feel miserable. The simple, mere sight of you had him almost sobbing, running back to you and holding you tight, finally reunited with the one he loves most.
Were he not guilty of association with the fatui, he wouldn't have ever needed or wanted to let go.
☆ dan heng☆
— Blushing little mess. He's never a fan of PDA, so even when he does want to hold you outside of his or your room, he doesn't. Hence why the moment you both enter the private space of a hotel room or a bedroom, Dan Heng takes your hand and leads you to the bed for cuddles. He loves them, really, but he's a flustered mess of a lover because of how embarrassed he felt about being so clingy.
He's a big spoon, too, so he holds you close to him while cuddling. He likes the closeness, but he hates how visibly red his face gets, so he buries his face into your shoulder to hide. Sometimes, he just lays there listening to you or simply calming down in silence, but he does like hearing your voice before bed. It helps him sleep, and it somehow prevents nightmares of Blade. Quick note, your comfort and warmth make him feel safe through the night, and you accompany him when he'd usually be alone, either on his phone or reading a book.
PS: Dan Heng prefers to sleep in your room and/or in a hotel room because your bed and the hotel's provided beds are much more comfortable than a sleeping bag. He loves wrapping a blanket around the two of you and holding you like that. He says it's so you both get an even amount of warmth, and neither of you takes more of the blanket than the other, but he really does it because he feels a bit closer to you.
In his Imbibitor Lunae form, sleeping with him gets a bit harder, simply because he finds it harder to control himself. But when he can control himself, he'll let you run your fingers through his long hair, maybe even letting you touch his horns. Still, he doesn't allow the latter too often for reasons left unsaid. Anyway, he dislikes using this form because of how it reminds him of his former's past. He feels as though he's trapped in the memories and sin that are not his own. Yet, you make him feel comfortable in his own skin. He feels free with you; he feels alive, and he loves you for your ability to make him feel that way. Dan Heng will do everything in his ability to make you feel the same way.
And he likely already has.
☆ argenti ☆
— The most proper and romantic. Compliments littered across your entire figure, his hand in yours kissing your knuckles constantly with the addition of the most rosey and romantic sweet nothings. Argenti is old-fashioned and the most romantic, as he believes that this is the only way to live for his adored Aeon. The most comment compliment you'd hear between kisses is, “you're the most exquisite person in my world,” and Argenti would always wink with his compliments. Sometimes, it's wonderful to be the subject of his rose-colored words, but other times, it gets old; you become slightly lovesick.
The solution to that is conversation while holding each other in bed, or perhaps it's simply ushering Argenti to cuddle with you beneath the stars at night. It's beautiful to see the galaxy in its brightest moments, hovering from the dark skies. Argenti would silently pray to his Aeon, thanking her profusely for letting him see this wonderful view in person.
Still. You are his lover, and sometimes the weight of fear and trauma gets to him. Argenti often looks to you to confide in, and usually, nights like these are rarely cuddle nights, but sometimes, when it gets bad, you'll hold him in the night while he talks about his past— the wars, the music, the old friends, the worries— and how terrifying it can be if he would succumb to the same fate as his once so honorable friend. In exchange for your comfort, he holds you close and vows to protect you in your dreams and from the moment you wake to the moment you sleep again.
Argenti prefers to cuddle in bed, during a picnic, or beneath the stars. He seldom makes exceptions for heavy PDA, but when it comes to cuddling in public, even if there are people around during the day or at night, if it's stargazing or a picnic, he doesn't care as much. He'll smile, his eyes set only on you, not the eyes that may linger on your cuddles.
He doesn't care enough to look at anyone else, not when the embodiment of beauty lays right by him.
☆ blade ☆
— He's cautious. Blade's name takes after his weapon, and though he himself is not a sword, he still worries that he'll hurt you through cuddles. Blade is marastruck, and if it starts to get to him, he's terrified that it'll strike you, too. He admires death and the concept of it, but for you to die and for him to live with that? Impossible.
Anyway, convincing him is still 100% doable. When you do cuddle with him, he holds you with hesitation and care. He doesn't show it, as he masks his emotions with lips pursed to a line, but he feels relief. He feels happy, even, but he can't really tell. The Mara has calmed, and he can catch a break from the trauma. Something worth noting: Blade's trauma might cause him to cling to you, holding you close for comfort and reassurance— but that's only when he finds himself to be desperate for your love and affection. It's the one thing that keeps him together; your smile alone can mend all of his wounds, physical or not.
That can happen at any time of the day, but he'll typically seek you out at night. Blade will— without a spoken word— hug you from behind with a sigh of relief, and he'll take you to the nearest spot with the most privacy, and he'll hold you tight once more without a sign of letting you go. He loves you, and without even saying that he does, you already have all the evidence you need to conclude that he does. Holding you feels like heaven, in Blade's eyes. Once he gets past his fears of hurting you, he'll wrap his arms around your waist, but if he cuddles with you from behind, he'll wrap his arms beneath your chest, all with a sigh of relief and the tiniest hint of a smile.
The two of you cuddling is cute, so cute that Silver Wolf just had to stream it and broadcast one of your cuddle sessions to all of the other Stellaron Hunters.
Of course, you and Blade will never cuddle near any of the Stellaron Hunters ever again after that.
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catcze · 6 months
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"What flowers do you like?"
Wriothesley asks one day, trying to seem nonchalant. Trying to make it look not as obvious that he's already mentally running through a list of Fontanian florists.
But you hm to yourself, frowning. "I... don't know. I've never really received flowers before," you say with a shrug, acting like it's no big deal. Wriothesley, though, has to catch himself before he drops the pen in his hand.
"Never?" He asks with wide eyes, head snapping in your direction, jaw dropping the slightest bit. "None of your past relationships ever got you flowers?"
You shake your head, not really bothered by the fact, and although you're nonchalant about it, Wriothesley immediately feels the gears in his head turn. That mental list of florists runs through his mind at double the speed. His finger absently taps on the wood of his desk, mind racing as he does some rough estimations. Unaware and unsuspecting, you merely go back to perusing the books in his office, running your hands over their worn spines, oblivious to the clench in Wriothesley's jaw and the determined glint in his eye.
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A week later, and Wriothesley returns from the surface with a bouquet in his hands. It's nothing too big or ostentatious— that's not really his style. Instead, it's simple in its beauty and easy on the eyes. All sorts of flowers have been included, even ones not native to Fontaine. Cecilias from Mondstadt, Glaze Lillies and Qingxin from Liyue, Padisarahs from Sumeru, and even Fluorescent Flowers from Inazuma's Chinju forest, among others. All arranged by hands more skilled and talent more honed than he could ever hope to achieve.
Wriothesley knocks on your door, heart stuck in his throat, and can't help but laugh a little at how cliche it all looks. Him, standing in front of your door with a bunch of flowers in hand, desperately trying to fight down his blush when he hears a 'coming!' faintly behind your door.
When you swing it open, your greeting is caught in your throat, eyes wide as they behold the blue and white blossoms Wriothesley brought for you.
"What... what's this? What's the occasion?"
But he shakes his head, and at his behest you take the bouquet into your arms, holding it carefully. When you bury your nose among the petals, they smell sweet but not saccharinely overpowering. It's enough to make you want to cry.
"No occasion," Wriothesley says, one hand going to scratch at the back of his neck, his smile shy and bashful. "I just wanted to get them for you. Wanted to be the first person to ever get you a bouquet of flowers, you know? But importing them took longer than i expected and, well, I told the florist that I was giving it to someone very special so they spent some extra time on the arrangement..." He trails off, clearing his throat nervously. "...Do you like it?"
And that sets loose the tears behind your eyes.
Wriothesley panics a little when he sees how you blubber, sobs making your shoulders shake as you hide your face in the flowers. His eyes widen, a frantic apology on the tip of his tongue while he fears that he messed up somehow. But then you tackle him into a hug, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close until you can bury your head in his chest and cry. His arms wrap around you almost hesitantly, but when you nuzzle closer into his embrace and they tighten around you.
You're barely able to speak through your tears, words muffled around his undoubtedly ruined shirt.
"I love it." I love you, you really mean.
And how can you not? This sweetheart of a man bought you flowers just because he wanted to. Because no one else had before, and he wanted to be the first person to do so. All his sporadic trips to the surface for the past week make sense— you doubt procuring so many imported flowers so quickly was an easy task on top of troubleshooting the various hiccups of the fortress and sorting through some documents that found themselves on his desk. But he did it anyway, just because he thought it'd make you happy.
"I'm glad," Wriothesley murmurs. He rocks you back and forth in his embrace until your happy tears begin to subside. Then he clears his throat. "So, can I buy you another one next week, too?"
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