gonna do that and i already prepared some stuff + found some banners from a creator here eheh tomorrow i will create the acc from pc and start copying everything in the drafts also hoping it will kick in my willing to write again
prepared the captions, the hashtags and everything else, just needing some aesthetic pictures and then banners (i already got my eye on some from a resource acc, luckily i found them lol)
now the only problem left is: HOW TF DO I ORGANISE MY MASTERLISTS???
I HAVE NO IDEA I WANT THEM TO BE PRETTY AND EASY TO NAVIGATE BUT AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH HOW MANY POSTS SHOULD I MAKE FOR THAT TO HAPPEN FUCK
gonna do that and i already prepared some stuff + found some banners from a creator here eheh tomorrow i will create the acc from pc and start copying everything in the drafts also hoping it will kick in my willing to write again
come do the "would you sit next to me" picrews i found on twitter (and tumblr) with me!!
https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/1873485
https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/230275
(no pressure) tagging: @kazemiya @ainescribe @thalaglia @dustofthedailylife @venusflwers @kaeffeinee @soleillunne @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @catcze @euniveve @snobwaffles @haliyamori @jingyuansbird @faesther @oveloof @heiayen @akiayama @https-furina @achy-boo @zhongrin @twanette @vennnnn-diagram @mhiieee @realkavehgf @yinyinggie ++ everyone else who wants to do it!! if you see this you're automatically tagged. no pressure though hehe
anyways i’m gonna tag - @kazooms, @azaliyas, @hydreesia, @favoriteboy, @finanah, @heizouwtff ( i don’t have that many moots :< ) no pressure to do this btw!!!
i'm tagging my mutuals @wriothesleybear @ayaboba @averageallogene + some of my favourite writers like @vivalabunbun , @the-travelling-witch and @angelltheninth ;; of course feel free to ignore, no one is forced to do the game~
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.
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?"
THIS!!!!! creator appreciations and honestly basically just be nice (and fun?) people whether or not you're asking on anon!!!!!!!!
and if i see one more ask going like "yeah uhm this is repetitive we get it you want interactions but it's annoying me" that ask sender is going to catch my fists i got a martial arts background try me
Wriothesley’s thighs are probably really strong, so I’m wondering, do you think he uses that to his advantage sometimes? I do. I think he wraps them around readers waist in the morning to keep them in bed lol and then reader has no choice but to stay until he lets them go
HE SO TOTALLY WOULD oh HE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE IN THE MORNING !! I firmly believe that he is a huge cuddler, and this man will not let you leave the bed under any circumstances. You've gotta extract yourself by force. (if you can, that is.)
Wrio takes such advantage over the fact that the fortress is self-sufficient, and that there are days where neither of you are as busy. Those are the days where he'll wrap himself around you like an octopus, hold you close against his chest and will absolutely refuse to let you leave. Wraps his big arms around you and traps you, weaves his legs and thighs with your and makes it virtually impossible for you to get free.
No matter how much you try to shake him or whine or even if you try to smack his chest to wake him up, it doesn't work. All he does is roll the two of you over a little bit so that now he's crushing you to the bed with his body weight and forcing the air out of your lungs. And he can pretend that his still asleep all he wants— you can feel him smirking while you cuss him out and demand that he release you.
The only sure-fire way to get free as soon as possible is to give him a morning wake-up kiss. Like magic, you just give him the lightest of pecks on the lips, and he's suddenly awake and holding you tighter against him, deepening the kiss much farther than just a good-morning smooch.
And he still has the gall to run his hands through his hair after— to wink and smile at you lazily and say, "Good morning, sweetheart."
wriothesley binding your wrists with his tie is all well and good...
but what about when he ties it around your ankles before lifting them in the air? his leaking cock bounces when he catches sight of your swollen pussy lips sticking out between the fat of your trembling thighs. he's got a firm grip on the makeshift restraint, keeping your legs up when they want to give out. with his free hand he guides his cock to your slit, spreading your wet lips open around his fat tip as he slowly pushes inside you. you cry out at the fullness of the stretch, your legs shaking on his shoulder as he wraps his hands over your hips to steady you.
"fuck, so warm and tight, baby..." wrio groans, working his cock in deeper with slow thrusts until his heavy balls are pressing against your taint. "gonna fuck my shape into you..."
he fucks you long and hard, making you twist and white-knuckle the fabric beneath you, your eyes rolling back as his strong thighs slap into you. holding his shirt up with his teeth and your ankles together with his tie, the duke watches while your wet, puffy lips suck and give on his creamy, thick length.
“Stop moving your fucking head,” you growl. Wriothesley sits on a bench, black compression shirt drenched in sweat after his spar in the fighting ring. There’s a cut on his head, just underneath his hairline, that you dab at with some antiseptic and a cotton pad.
You still think that he should have called Sigewinne, just in case, but he was adamant that she didn’t need to bother over ‘something as small as this.’ Granted, he wasn’t hurt too bad— it was just the aftermath of a small accident between him and his opponent in the ring, after all. No broken bones or the like, just some bruises and scuffs. You were just worried over him.
“I’m fine, you know,” he tries to tell you again, trying to duck away from the cotton pad to look you in the eye. You scowl again, grabbing him with a hand on his collarbones, dangerously close to the base of his neck. Wriothesley immediately stills, and you resume.
“I know.” You keep dabbing until the last of the blood is gone, and there’s just the cut left. It’s not even that deep. You doubt it’ll even scar. “Just… just let me worry for you for a little bit, would you?”
He swallows. You can almost feel the movement of it against your hand. You know of his history— of how he’s barely had anyone give a shit about him his entire life. You wonder if he’s ever had anyone patch him up or worry about him like this.
You think of a much younger, much more baby-faced Wriothesley having to bandage his own bloodied knuckles in some dark corner of the fortress of Meropide, and your heart aches.
“Okay,” your Wriothesley finally says, voice quiet. He stares at you in a way that you cannot decipher. In a way that is softer than you’ve ever seen him look at anything before.
Your hand transfers to his shoulder, and one of his own comes to hold it in place. You press a kiss to his nose, then either of his cheeks, then end it sweetly on his lips.
The kiss doesn’t drag on very long— it’s quick and chaste, little more than a peck on the lips. But Wriothesley still smiles at you when you part.
“You sure you’re fine?” You ask, hand cupping his cheek. He leans into your touch the way a cat would lean into the sunlight.
“I’m fine,” he murmurs. Turns his head. Presses a kiss to your palm, locking eyes with you the entire time.
“Okay.” You’re breathless, never breaking eye contact with him. “Okay, that’s good.”
You feel his smile against your skin, then. Tender and sweet. His arm wraps around your waist, drawing you near. His voice is almost a whisper when he speaks again. “Thank you, sweetheart.”