by eressoft

Reposts with credit are okay! 🌷Translations are NOT permitted — I handle those myself. Please don't copy. Thanks! ✨

[eressoft]

The Real Reason Varka Left [Varka]

Just a little headcanon.

Actually, Varka didn't leave on that expedition because of some debt or a call to adventure. The reason was you.

You two had been together for too long. So many years that you had become a part of each other, and the breakup, unfortunately, hit him far harder than he could handle. At first, he just refused to believe it. He thought it was temporary, that you'd come to your senses and come back. But when he realized you weren't coming back? Something inside him just broke.

He went on a drinking binge. The other knights saw their Grand Master drinking alone, but they stayed silent. The alcohol didn't help, though. It only prolonged the agony.

So Varka decided he just had to leave. Not just go away for a bit, but disappear so far that the physical distance might somehow match the pain inside him. He put the expedition together not for discovery, but to wage a war against himself. He needed to exhaust his body to the point of collapse so his mind wouldn't dwell on you, so he could fall into bed at night from sheer exhaustion and not lie there remembering your scent.

Varka simply chose the longest possible way to keep from losing his mind. He didn't run from his responsibilities. He ran from the memories of you.

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Hey everyone, eressoft here! Sorry for any inaccuracies you might find. Please don't copy!

[eressoft]

His Intimate Preferences [Genshin Impact] 18+

Tags: PWP, Rough Sex, Raw, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dub-con

CN/TW: This text contains explicit and graphic descriptions of sexual acts. The following scenes include elements of coercion, rough handling, physical restraint, and the prioritization of the dominant's pleasure over the partner's physical comfort.

Zhongli

If you think Zhongli prefers unprotected sex simply because "the primordial origins of true love command it," then you are mistaken. Although, admittedly, that is a part of it, but it's merely the tip of the iceberg. He would never say aloud just how much it arouses him. Loving you without the barriers of contraception isn't just hot—it burns to the very bone, granting indescribable sensations. He craves to feel your moisture, your heat, that closeness that ignites a storm of emotions that even a Geo Archon couldn't put into words. Zhongli is the embodiment of history, of eternity. For him, sex is a ritual, a sacred act, a way to feel a connection to life itself, to the flow of time. Barriers of contraception seem artificial to him, imposed, severing that bond. He wants to feel the real you, unbound by modern morality and precautions. He wants to be with you here and now, in the moment when two become one, without barriers or conditions. Zhongli loses his mind when you're riding him, like a true queen upon her rightful throne. He revels in your emotions, from the very first seconds of bliss to the ecstatic moan, when your lips are parted, your tongue teasingly peeks out, and your eyes roll back so adorably. The sight of you is perfection itself. He admires your breasts, touches them with reverence, kneads and caresses them, guiding you, helping you take his length deeper inside. Zhongli always spills his seed inside you. Always. His semen, dripping down his length, becomes the best lubricant, allowing you to move without the slightest discomfort. Yes, Morax adores unprotected intimacy, because that's how he feels you not only physically, but with your very soul. Most importantly, that's how he feels an unbreakable, emotional bond with you—that thread intertwining your hearts into one.

Kaeya

One of the reasons Kaeya prefers anal sex is the absence of any fear of unwanted pregnancy. While he is certainly aware that contraceptives exist, the thought of that risk doesn't exactly inspire him to opt for the traditional sex. Moreover, there's always the burning thought of power and submission searing in his mind, because Alberich is a true dominant by nature. He craves for you to be the one to present your ass for him. He will demand that you spread your cheeks apart with your own fingers. In anticipation, Kaeya will flash a smile and, with a predatory lick of his lips, begin his ministrations. Kaeya always starts things off with his fingers. First, one—he barely grazes your tight little anal ring with it, teasing and arousing you. Then a second—and now, two fingers slide insistently inside, gradually picking up the pace. Your soft moans will arouse him further, almost to the point of a dull ache in his groin, so Kaeya won't hesitate to add a third finger, eager to prepare you for his cock. And the moment he feels the moisture coating his fingers from within, the moment he senses your complete submission, he will thrust into you quickly and without mercy, robbing you of any chance to process what's happening. Full awareness only dawns on you when his balls slap against your wet cunt. Alberich, gripping your wrists tightly, will wrench them behind your back and begin to fuck you relentlessly. He's usually unable to control the intensity of his movements, which means your delicate skin can't withstand the force, often resulting in leaving you torn and aching. Please, don't think that he doesn't love you. It's just that in the throes of passion, Kaeya loses control of himself. It's just that you drive him crazy.

Tartaglia

Tartaglia is obsessed with the idea of having sex with you: he often pictures you naked, imagining what position he'd like to fuck you in tonight. He definitely enjoys every elaborate fantasy, but his thoughts always, without fail, come back to one thing: a blowjob. A Harbinger doesn't need foreplay because he's always ready for it. Oh, if you only knew how sexy you look in Tartaglia's eyes when you wrap your small, wet mouth around his massive cock! He loves watching you playfully trace patterns on the head of his dick with your tongue. He moans, throwing his head back. Tartaglia feels every single one of your movements, every tender lick, and it drives him crazy. His hands grip the back of your head firmly, guiding and urging you on so you can give him even more pleasure. He whispers your name, his voice husky with passion and lust, his breathing becoming more and more ragged. Don't get him wrong, but in the Harbinger's opinion, you were practically made for sucking him off 24/7, and for him to fuck your mouth. These thoughts only arouse him further, so Tartaglia digs his fingers into the hair at the back of your head and forces your little mouth to take him deeper. He's in ecstasy when he starts to push you to the point of gagging. Hitting the back of your throat with a thud, he holds himself there for five seconds, then releases you from the suffocation just so he can do it all over again. The guy loves to spill his seed onto your outstretched tongue, lightly tapping your swollen lips with his cock. And if you think your wild night ends there, you're sorely mistaken, because the next thing he wants more than anything in the world is to eat you out until you're completely exhausted and trembling with pleasure.

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Hey everyone, eressoft here! Sorry for any inaccuracies you might find. Please don't copy!

[eressoft]

Loving Jesse McCree (Cole Cassidy)

Tags: Fluff and Angst

CN/TW: Please be advised that for a realistic portrayal of the character, this text includes mentions of heavy smoking, alcohol consumption, blood and injuries in the context of missions, as well as rough language and blunt honesty reflecting his outlaw-style habits and emotional defense mechanisms.

🌵I’m still used to calling him McCree, so I’ve used that name throughout. Please keep that in mind while reading!

What do you think Jesse McCree would be like if he fell in love? Let's talk about it.

First Stage: The Awkward Attempt at Flirting

Sarcasm. His compliments would sound like jabs, delivered with warmth and maximum awkwardness. McCree would never say, "You look nice today." It would be more like, "What are you wearin'? Looks like one of old Joe's potato sacks back at the ranch... I mean, if you were a potato... It, uh, suits you."

Jokes. He'd start including her in his inner circle through humor. Telling ridiculous raunchy tales from his past, joking about mutual acquaintances or situations, expecting her to get the subtext and banter back. If she parries—that's a huge plus.

Acts of Service. McCree is a man of action. He won't talk about feelings, but he'll subtly cover her on a mission, silently hand over a spare magazine, or "accidentally" end up in the same bar where she's drowning her sorrows after a failed op.

Non-Work Questions. For a man who lives for the mission, the most personal gesture is to ask about something unrelated to the job: "Did you have that same dumb habit [some mundane detail] as a kid, or is it just me?"

Second Stage: "Courtship," McCree-Style

Flowers and fancy restaurants? Definitely not his scene. But he might:

Offer her a mug of his terrible, strong liquor with a, "This swill's better than what you're drinkin'."

Defend her reputation. McCree might be getting into it with someone criticizing her behind her back. Not in her presence, but somewhere in the smoking area. And he'd never admit to doing it.

Show vulnerability (extremely rarely). Jesse might share something non-traumatic but personal from his childhood. Not about betrayal, but something silly or warm.

Find excuses for touch. Very careful. At first, it's a casual brush—guiding her arm so she doesn't bump into something; a light, joking shoulder bump. If she doesn't pull away, McCree might allow for more sustained contact—holding her elbow to get her attention as she walks away.

What happens if she shows interest back?

The defense mechanisms kick into high gear. McCree might, after a particularly warm moment with her, suddenly vanish for a couple of days on "business."

He might say something like, "Don't go gettin' ideas, darlin'. I'm a bad bet." It's his way of giving her a "last warning" and seeing if she gets scared off.

McCree will ask a direct question if he's finally cornered by his own feelings: "Do you have any idea what you're signin' up for? With me? Seriously?"

Third Stage: The Confession

It would most likely happen before, during, or after a dangerous mission. Possibly with both of them covered in blood and dust. 

McCree stops her. Awkwardly, almost business-like.

"Hey. Hold up. We need to talk."

"Look, I know I’m... a far cry from a good man. Just a gritty old gunslinger with one arm and a trail of bad calls behind me. My life’s mostly been one long stretch of dirt and trouble."

"But with you... Hell, I’m making a mess of this."

"Point is, you’re the only one I don’t feel the need to play the 'poster-boy' for. You see the grit under the spurs and you don’t blink."

"I can’t promise you white picket fences or flowers. But I’ll promise you this: I’ve got your back. Always. And... I’d mighty well like to know you’ve got mine."

Having said it, McCree won't wait for an answer. It's too agonizing. He'll likely turn away sharply and busy himself.

"There. Said my piece. Now you can call me a fool and walk away, or stay and finish that swill I brought you."

The First Kiss

Very spontaneous and awkward. 

It probably wouldn't happen in a romantic moment, but in a moment of extreme emotional tension and danger. They just cheated death, the adrenaline is still buzzing. 

She says something, and McCree, unable to bear the weight of his emotions, pulls her to him roughly, almost desperately, and kisses her. 

The kiss would be hot, desperate, and imperfect. 

Afterward, he'd jerk back, adjust his hat in embarrassment, and mutter, "Sorry. Lost my head." 

Or maybe the kiss happens right after the confession.

Jealousy?

The main trigger for McCree's jealousy wouldn't be the attention from other men, but her potential naivety.

He wouldn't police who she talks to, but if McCree senses someone is fake or a threat, he'd tell her something like, "Be careful with that intel guy. Got a shiftiness in his eyes. I know the type."

McCree would address that other man with exaggerated, sarcastic politeness, as if he's a naïve child.

He'd watch closely how she reacts to another man's advances. Is she irritated? Politely brushing it off? Or is she flattered? Her reaction dictates his next move. If she's clearly not interested and just being polite, McCree's anger would be directed at the man who won't respect her "no."

That man would start having minor problems: his vehicle keys go missing, a supply shipment he needs gets "delayed," he's called away on urgent but pointless busywork at the worst time. All of it would look like bad luck.

But if even that doesn't get the persistent guy to back off, then McCree goes for the direct approach: 

"You know the difference between you and me? I'm a problem people try to avoid. You're a nuisance people remove so they don't trip. Get my drift? Need it simpler? Back off. Vanish from her sight. 'Cause you won't appreciate the next warning."

Cons of a Relationship with McCree

He smokes. A lot. Indoors, he constantly smells of tobacco, gun smoke, and leather. Ash will be everywhere: on the windowsill, the table, even in the sink. All their clothes will carry the scent.

Drinking for McCree isn't about pleasure. It's not romantic wine-sipping, but the silent consumption of whiskey, after which he either gets pensive or falls asleep wherever he is.

Order is not his concern. Dirt, dust, a revolver on the dinner table, dirty mugs—it's all background noise to him. He only notices clutter if it blocks a path. He might go out to "clear his head" and come back a day later, smelling of cordite and booze. Questions about "where were you?" get an evasive answer or a joke.

Trying to plan anything long-term is futile. You can't make 5 or 10-year plans with McCree. He doesn't believe he'll live to see old age. Talks about kids, stability, a quiet life will earn a sad smirk.

He doesn't fit into normal social settings. She'll either constantly be apologizing for him or gradually drift from a conventional social circle because there's no place for McCree there.

Home can become a target. Their routine can be shattered by a sudden firefight or the need to immediately relocate. They will always be on guard.

Pros of a Relationship with McCree

He will always come back. For an eternal drifter, this is the ultimate gesture. Not with loud declarations, but just appearing on the doorstep, tipping his hat, tossing out a, "So, how'd y'all manage without me? I know you missed me."

Fixes the loose strap on her gear without being asked.

Stashes an extra magazine with her primary kit before a mission.

Brings her coffee just how she likes it, though he'll grumble that it's "too sweet for a grown person and tastes like donkey piss."

They develop their own inside jokes no one else gets. He'll call her ridiculous nicknames that only make her blush. His sarcasm softens, directed outward at the world, not at her.

Every word he says, even a harsh one, is genuine. If he's silent, he's silent. If McCree speaks, he means it.

He is on her side. Always. Even when she's wrong. He might grumble and say "told you so," but in a conflict with the outside world, he'll stand by her without hesitation.

McCree doesn't have a home, but her presence becomes home. The fact that she lets him into her space and doesn't chase him away, seeing all his flaws, is an act of the greatest mercy and love he believes he doesn't deserve. His loyalty will be absolute precisely because he has nothing and no one left to lose but her.

Being with Jesse McCree is hard. He's like strong whiskey—it burns, it's bitter, and it can knock the wind out of you if you're not used to it. You can't build a conventional "nest" with him. 

But McCree is incredibly worth it. 

Because underneath that rough exterior is a peculiar, but utterly genuine, loyalty and love. 

He would be her cowboy, her most dangerous and most reliable fortress, all at once.

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Hey everyone, eressoft here! Sorry for any inaccuracies you might find. Please don't copy!

[eressoft]

How They React to You Touching Their Scars⚔️[Genshin Impact]

Tags: Scars, Blood Mention, Hurt/Comfort

🍷Diluc Ragnvindr

Let's be clear from the start. This man is generally quite reserved, but that goes out the window the moment you reach for the battle scars on his body. Diluc will sharply catch your wrist, stopping you from touching the marks left by the Abyss. He acts this way not because your touch is unwelcome, but out of a deep-seated desire to protect you from unnecessary worry and dark thoughts. Please, don't hold it against him. Ragnvindr just wants to shield what is precious to him—and the most precious thing in his life is you.

🍁Kaedehara Kazuha

A gaze overflowing with tenderness. Kazuha watches you with loving eyes the moment you focus your attention on his scars. In moments like these, he feels they were worth enduring, as your curious yet concerned gaze sparks the inspiration he has long pursued. Don’t be surprised if a haiku suddenly falls from his lips while you carefully examine the marks on his body. Those three lines will surely be dedicated to his love for you.

👹Arataki Itto

Oh, believe me, there's nothing Itto could be prouder of than his scars. The oni is sure to strip off his shirt to put them on full display—those marks left on him by whatever punks were brave enough to try him. 'Check it out! Look at this one! I got this when I was brawlin' with those Treasure Hoarders!' He'll definitely offer to let you touch his long-healed wounds, then boast that with him, you're rock-solid safe, and that for you, he'd gladly earn a thousand more scars over and over again.

📜Alhaitham

Alhaitham is a man of logic. He might barely register you staring at his scars, but the moment you reach out to touch them, it genuinely piques his curiosity. 'Is there something interesting there?' or simply 'What are you doing?' To all your concern, the Akademiya Scribe would likely just shrug, claiming he doesn't even recall how he got those marks. 'Probably bumped into a bookshelf. Don't dwell on it—you’d be better off focusing on something more productive.' It’s truly not out of malice, believe me. Alhaitham simply thinks this isn't something worth making a fuss about.

⚖️Zhongli

It is only natural that you would ask about the prominent scar on his back, and he will most certainly provide an answer. Zhongli finds your curiosity endearing. No, it’s not because he takes pride in old battle wounds or feels the need to show them off; rather, the Archon never refuses a chance to recount a tale of antiquity. 'Go ahead and touch it, don't be afraid.' 'Seven hundred years ago...'

🌊Kamisato Ayato

Ayato always shields you from the uglier aspects of the weight his shoulders bear. He never wants you to know that the same hands that hold you so tenderly are stained with the blood of many. What he cannot hide from you, however, are the scars on his body. Every time you question him and touch those traces of his past, Ayato smiles softly to put your heart at ease. He will do anything to stop you from dwelling on his wounds—perhaps a passionate kiss to sweep those thoughts away.

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Hey everyone, eressoft here! Who else would you like to see with this theme?

[Sorry for any inaccuracies you might find. Please don't copy!]

[eressoft]

Unrequited Love💔[Honkai: Star Rail]

Tags: Angst, Yearning, UnrequitedLove

A feeling they cannot define, control, or claim...

JING YUAN

Jing Yuan, who sits near the very top of Xianzhou's social hierarchy, bears the burden of detachment—a mask that hides the storm of his personal feelings. He is the General of the Luofu, bound by the necessity of cool analysis and objectivity, where any misstep from a figure of such importance risks true catastrophe. Though solemnity may seem an inherent part of his nature and his life as a whole, something… deeply passionate rages within Jing Yuan's soul. Behind the armor of reason lies a carefree gentleness, a trait seemingly incompatible with the stern duties of a military leader. But which facet of himself will he reveal when near the one who has captured his heart, yet does not return his feelings? On one side lies composure—a shield guarding against disappointment, at least until hope for reciprocity becomes tangible. On the other, Jing Yuan is not one to avoid the object of his affection, condemning himself to the torment of alienation. He will not hide his fondness, yet he will not allow it to become an oppressive shadow. His attention is like a gentle breeze, barely perceptible yet ever-present: he picks up the conversation, finding the right words when you fall silent; he observes you discreetly; he strives to help you even in matters where his assistance seems unnecessary; he jokes, smiles, and laughs, trying to dispel the clouds of sadness if you ever frown. All this care is devoid of pressure, delicate and unobtrusive, so that it is unlikely anyone would suspect the General is deeply immersed in love for you. But Jing Yuan is indeed immersed in love. In such heartfelt moments, he is not the General, not an arbiter of destiny, but simply a man enchanted by the image living within his heart. And even if you do not return his feelings, Jing Yuan will not demand more. He will accept your choice with dignity, continuing to offer support and care, though without hope for closeness. His love is not a burden, but a gift he is prepared to give you, asking for nothing in return except the chance to remain by your side, even if only as a loyal friend and ally.

DR. RATIO

Dr. Ratio strives to subject everything to doubt. This includes emotions. Even his own... Fear, anger, love—they are merely complex biochemical reactions, deterministic chains of neural connections. This is what he tells himself, trying to rein in the chaos of something profoundly irrational within. But doubt seeps through the meticulously constructed fortress… What if there is something more behind the formulas and equations? What if feelings are not just the sum of their parts, but a separate force, impervious to analysis? Ratio doubts, yet he still tries to ignore these questions that resurface again and again whenever you enter his field of vision. Damn it all, could he actually be feeling something for you? Theoretically, you are an irritant. In practice, however... in practice, your presence evokes a strange disquiet in Ratio, a mixture of agitation and... something else. The doctor's gaze often drifts toward you. He tries to find a logical explanation for his reaction, to break you down into components, to isolate patterns. But you slip away from his analytical mind, remaining an unsolvable enigma. You are chaos that has invaded Ratio's order, and this chaos, for some reason, attracts him... When you begin to speak, the doctor tries with all his might to focus on the meaning of your words, but his attention treacherously slips away, catching on trivial details: the curve of your lips, the beautiful way the light plays in the color of your hair, the look of fatigue on your face when you haven't slept enough. He hates himself for this weakness, for his inability to maintain clarity of thought. The debates he constantly initiates between you become merely a way to conceal his turmoil, to keep you at arm's length while he desperately tries to understand whether he wants what is straining to break free within him or not. The realization comes gradually. The attraction that Ratio so diligently denied now washes over him, drowning him completely. He sees you in a new light, and this light burns him to ashes. He now understands that his intellectual battles were just a pathetic attempt to mask a desire to be closer, to touch, to know the real you. But in your eyes, Ratio sees only friendly curiosity, a barely perceptible sympathy, and nothing more. You remain an impenetrable mirror, reflecting only his own feelings. This asymmetry causes the doctor unbearable pain. Ratio is accustomed to control, to order, to reciprocity. But here, he is powerless, condemned to eternally await a favor he may never receive. It's hard to believe, but here he is—the great Dr. Ratio, laid low by a force he cannot withstand! His mind, his logic, his unshakable confidence have turned to dust, leaving him alone with the bitterness of unrequited passion and the realization that the most complex theorem of his life will remain unsolved.

BLADE

Blade's mind is held captive by a curse. The only thirst that remains in him is to drown in the blood of those he deems unworthy. However, that does not mean he is incapable of feeling… something foreign to him… toward you. Blade's feelings are not warm, but cool. Yet, isn't that better than the absolute cold he feels toward everyone else? Meeting you is like a faint glimpse of the moon in the pitch-black darkness of his existence. Blade does not seek your company, yet he does not push you away with the same fury he directs at all others. You are not prey, but not an ally either. You are more like something he tolerates. A splinter he has grown used to, one he can no longer be bothered to remove. He watches you with the same wary vigilance he reserves for any potential foe. Yet, there is no hatred in his gaze, nor is there love. There is only a cold, analytical interest. The man observes your movements and words carefully, trying to understand you. But he does not. And it is so irritating… You evoke a strange, vague unease within Blade. Not a desire to destroy, but rather a genuine curiosity, like a child examining a peculiar insect. He does not know what to do with you. Kill you? Too simple. Ignore you? He cannot. Yet sometimes, in moments of quiet when the curse weakens, something flashes in his eyes that resembles… concern. Or perhaps it is merely a trick of the light and shadows playing across his tormented face… Regardless, Blade is acutely aware that beneath the shroud of madness and the crimson haze of blood, a weak spark of humanity still flickers. And in the deepest part of his tormented soul, there burns a fierce, almost desperate hope—that it is you who might see this faint, elusive light.

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Hey everyone, eressoft here! Sorry for any inaccuracies you might find. Please don't copy!

[eressoft]

FENNECHOLE 18+ [Tighnari]

Tags: Smut / PWP, Master/Apprentice, Mating Rituals, Coming in Inside, Soft Tighnari, Vaginal Sex, Estrus, Breeding, Rough Sex, Dubious Consent, Dirty talk

CN/TW: Creative liberties taken. This story contains Explicit content including Heat Cycle themes, Power Imbalance, and Breeding. Due to the nature of the estrus cycle, Dubious Consent is a factor. Read at your own discretion.

You have no strength left to endure this torment. Your body demands immediate relief of this thirst, so as soon as your pelvic area meets the hard edge of the sofa, you're forced to freeze sharply from the surging pleasure.

Who would have thought that finding relief on your own could be so delightful! So pleasant, yet unbearably agonizing... You want more. Even more! You want to feel inside you someone who will share this intimate moment; you want to feel the hot, searing seed that will take your breath away.

Once, in naive younger years, you were told that the mating season would come sooner or later, and you must be ready for it. It has arrived, and you are not ready. Morally armed to the teeth, but physically, it's a disaster. There is one problem, as huge as your desire-swollen clit... You have no one to mate with.

Alas, in the Avidya Forest there is not a single suitable fennec fox who can quench your thirst. There is only... him. There is only Master Tighnari and you.

But this is absurd, right? Tighnari is a forest watcher, your mentor!.. The thought of sharing a bed with him has only ever visited your most daring, secret dreams. Tighnari has taught you so much, given you so much, and you can't just ask him for this "little" favor... And how would that even go?

"Master, could you please fuck me?"

This thought makes you lustfully bite your lower lip, because lust knows no bounds, recognizes no authority. It, like a wild beast, bursts forth, demanding satisfaction.

"Ah-h..." you moan.

Your fingers convulsively grip the edge of the sofa, and your hips involuntarily thrust a few times, intensifying the already unbearable desire. Rubbing yourself against the sofa is nothing like what you imagined when hearing stories about heat. Only thoughts of your mentor help you not lose the last shreds of your sanity.

But thoughts of Tighnari only inflame you further. With each forward movement, you imagine the master, positioned behind you, making sharp, authoritative thrusts into your tight little ass. How your walls convulsively clench, gripping his hot, hard cock.

A sudden knock on the door makes you jolt and stop. To your horror, judging by the shadow, it's Tighnari.

"Y/n, are you in there?" comes his voice, laced with concern. "You haven't come out for two days, I'm worried. Is everything alright?"

You spring up from the sofa like a bullet, hastily smoothing down the hem of your shirt to hide the traces of your shameful activity. You throw a blanket over the furniture to hide any suspicious stains from the fennec's sharp eyes and avoid uncomfortable questions.

"Y-yes, Master Tighnari!"

"May I come in?"

What is he doing?.. Any other time you wouldn't have given this question much thought, but now...

"Oh, how I wish he would..."

"Yes, o-of course... Come in!"

Tighnari peers into your hut with concern, and his gaze meets yours. In the master's eyes, you see not only worry but clear irritation. He carefully scans the room, as if trying to find the reason for your two-day absence from patrol duty. Tighnari's gaze momentarily, disastrously, lingers on the sofa, then settles on you with a studying look.

"I expect an explanation." The fennec crosses his arms over his chest.

Your cheeks burn with shame. What to do? Confess? But how on earth do you tell your mentor such a shameful truth? How do you tell him about the uncontrollable desire demanding immediate intimacy with another fennec? How do you tell him about your heat?

"I-i..." you whisper quietly, pressing your knees together. It seems just a little more, and all the moisture will flow down your legs.

Somewhere deep inside, a suspicion begins to form in Tighnari, leading him to understand what's happening to you. The thick, intoxicating scent emanating from you is the key to the puzzle. So... tempting, indecently arousing!..

Under the influence of this fragrance, the fabric of his pants stretches treacherously, betraying unmistakable desire. Tighnari involuntarily takes a step back, afraid his subordinate will notice his obvious interest... But you can't fight nature. The scent relentlessly overpowers reason.

The fennec thoughtfully scratches the back of his head.

"So, you're alright," he says.

You nod frantically, hoping to hide your true state.

"Y-yes, of course. Just a little unwell, nothing serious. I'll be back on patrol tomorrow."

"Are you sure you don't need help?"

An icy shiver runs through your body at this question. What does he mean?

"N-no... Yes! Y-yes, I'm sure..." you answer with a heavy sigh. "I'm sure I don't need help. I'm sorry."

Tighnari frowns. He always senses when you're lying.

"I could help you with that."

"I know, Master. But please, don't worr..." you stumble. What did he just say? "Help with that"? Did you mishear? "I'm sorry?.."

The master merely sighs deeply, as if there's nothing objectionable in those words.

"You're in heat, correct?" The question hits you with the force of a slap.

Your thoughts are jumbled, words lose meaning. Any attempt to answer will undoubtedly turn into incoherent mumbling. Silence seems the only salvation.

"Well," the master musingly touches his chin, sinking into thought, "I have a proposal."

Everything inside you boils. Has the mentor decided to banish you from the forest? Wants to send you home, to a safe harbor where you can wait out the "storm"? No, that can't happen! Your position in the Avidya Forest was earned through immense effort.

"You... want to dismiss me?" you whisper, preparing to fiercely reject any such suggestion.

"What??.. No! Of course not!.. What nonsense has gotten into your head?"

Your heart lightens. So, it's something else...

"Then what are you talking about, Master?"

"About fertilization."

So simply. As if it's an everyday matter. Tighnari says it with such ease, as if he's dealt with this before. On one hand, you're glad the mentor gets straight to the point; on the other, this bluntness is slightly unnerving. Now only one question pounds in your head: how many others has Master Tighnari "made happy"?

"What?.." you try to feign innocent misunderstanding, but it comes out strained.

"Simply put, I should take you. This is your.... first time, correct?"

Shyly lowering your gaze to the white hem of your shirt, you whisper: "Yes..."

"That's what I thought. So, you need someone you trust unconditionally. I, of course, can help, but... perhaps you already know a fennec with whom you'd like to.... share this moment?.."

"No!" a desperate cry bursts from you. "I-it's better... Better you, Master Tighnari..." With each word, your voice fades, turning into incoherent mumbling. But the call of nature proves stronger than embarrassment: "P-please... Please, Master. I want you to be the one..."

To hell with this awkwardness! The agonizing wait becomes unbearable. Slowly turning your back, you carefully lift the hem of your shirt, exposing yourself. Overcoming your shyness, you lean forward, raising your fluffy tail and putting your alluring form on display.

Footsteps behind you make your heart skip a beat, and when Tighnari stops beside you, you squeeze your eyes shut in fear.

"Relax," he whispers, and this whisper burns your skin. His touch on your buttock is cautious but confident. A barely audible growl escapes his lips. "I won't hurt you."

"I... I trust you, Master Tighnari," the words come with difficulty. "P-please... do it. I beg you."

Mission accomplished. You've found the one who will help you through this phase. And the Archons are merciful: with one hand, Tighnari authoritatively grips your thigh, and with the other, he touches your swollen clit, unmistakably noting your readiness.

Your dampness makes the mentor lustfully bite his lip. His pants fall to the floor, revealing his aroused nature to the world. Tighnari has been waiting for this moment. He knows about the approaching heat, about your solitude these days. In his fantasies, images have long resided of him reveling in your moans, plunging into your yielding flesh. He needs you to quell his animal hunger. He needs you.

When the head of his cock touches your trembling entrance, you barely hold back a moan, anticipating the unknown. What is it like to be fertilized?.. And why are you suddenly concerned with how many others Master Tighnari has had?.. He is your mentor, and you are his subordinate! He wants to help you in a difficult time, nothing more. And you should be grateful!

"M-master?.." you timidly glance back, trying to understand the reason for his sudden halt.

"No," he growls, not even allowing you to move. "Bend lower and spread your buttocks with your own fingers."

You obediently press your face into the sheet, exposing your rear even more. The touch of your own fingers to your entrance burns. It seems you'll die if Tighnari's seed doesn't mix with your natural lubrication right now.

"Like this?..." you whisper, as if delirious.

Tighnari slowly begins to run the head along your slit, teasing and tormenting.

"Agh.... Damn, y/n, you're s-so wet.... D-damn!.." He digs his fingers into your buttocks, continuing his torturous game. "How long ago did your heat start?"

"Since yesterday, m-master..."

"Why didn't you say?" Tighnari's voice is so low, burning... His fingers firmly grip your buttocks, pulling you closer, so his hard cock noticeably presses against your tight ring. "I would have taken you yesterday..."

A shiver runs through your body at his words, like a lightning strike. A burning warmth spreads inside, and a fire ignites in your core.

"M-master.... please... I can't bear it any longer," you brazenly start rocking your hips, trying to impale yourself on his hot, stone-hard member. "Please..."

In response, Tighnari only smacks your buttock sharply.

"Please, what?" he growls, like a wild beast. "Come on... Say it, y/n..."

"Master.... take me. Please..."

The words tear from your lips, unleashing an uncontrollable storm. Tighnari smirks, and the next moment, his cock plunges into your yielding, wet pussy, making you moan with indescribable pleasure. This is exactly what every cell of your body craved, what nature itself demanded – a possession that seems to reach your very womb.

The room fills with moans mixed with the sound of colliding bodies. Tighnari's balls slap against your thighs, sending waves of trembling that border on bliss. You could never have imagined a fennec capable of such fierce passion, that his body would pound into you with such force!

"So tight...." Tighnari almost presses you into the soft mattress, growling and greedily gulping air. "Let me... f-fill you..."

He doesn't finish, and in response, you only emit an inarticulate moan. Tighnari interprets your silence as permission, and his movements become even more frantic, driving you to madness.

Your mouth, half-open in a silent scream, and the sheet crumpled under your face are wet with saliva. When the fennec's hands slide roughly under your shirt and squeeze your swollen breasts, you almost jerk in convulsions of ecstasy.

Will you be ashamed to look your mentor in the eye after this? Possibly. But right now, it doesn't matter. You feel so good right now that you don't want to think about the consequences at all. You instinctively tense your pelvis, trying to grip his cock as tightly as possible, and in response, Tighnari lets out a wild roar, thrusting forcefully into your very core.

"Let me fill you to the brim..." Tighnari hoarsely whispers. "Let me drench your cunt with my seed..."

"P-please, m-master... Do it, I b-beg you..." you plead.

Your heart pounds wildly, each of Tighnari's thrusts sends a wave of pleasure rolling through your entire body. You feel your muscles contracting in rhythm with his movements, squeezing out the last drops of your sanity.

His lips find the nape of your neck, leaving wet kisses, while Tighnari speeds up, his movements becoming more and more furious. You feel the end is near, feel your body beginning to tremble involuntarily in anticipation of orgasm.

"Y-yes... m-more...." you moan.

The mentor slows his pace, but the thrusts still burn. And on the fourth time his hips slam into you, he freezes. You feel something hot and thick spilling inside you, slowly escaping your womb as Tighnari pulls out his cock.

A sweet moan escapes your lips as his slender fingers touch your entrance, preventing the seed from escaping. Tighnari gently but insistently pushes it back in, and you finally sink your face into the pillow, drowning in a wave of shame and arousal.

Master Tighnari was inside you. He possessed you! Oh, Archons, what now? Will you bear his child? Your cheeks burn as you catch yourself thinking that you want him to do it again... Over and over...

"Are you alright?" the master's hoarse voice pulls you from the whirlpool of thoughts. "Would you like me to rub your tail with essential oil?"

You only mumble in response, unable to lift your head and meet his gaze.

"Y/n?.." Tighnari cautiously touches your buttock, making you flinch. "Is something wrong?"

"N-no, Master, everything's fine. I'm fine, really..." you whisper, trying to convince yourself as well.

An oppressive silence falls.

"Are you sure?" Tighnari worries. "Was I too rough?"

His hand gently rests on your cheek. His eyes reflect genuine concern, and this only intensifies your inner conflict. You hate yourself for feeling shame, because the master is so tender and attentive...

"It's just... all so unexpected," you mutter, shyly averting your gaze. "But I really liked it...."

Tighnari nods understandingly.

"If you liked it," he breaks the two-second silence, "then maybe you'd like to try riding me?"

You slowly lift your head, realizing that a burning desire is seizing you again.

═══════════════════════════════

Hey everyone, eressoft here! Sorry for any inaccuracies you might find. Please don't copy!

[eressoft]

You're Pregnant [Neuvillette]

Tags: Angst, Major Character Death, Grief, Hurt No Comfort

CN/TW: This chapter contains major character death and depictions of intense grief. Please take care.

Was he troubled when you told him of your pregnancy? No. God, no! Neuvillette was utterly terrified, enraged, and heartbroken!

He usually hid his feelings behind a mask of composure, like a stranger to the world of human emotions. But this time, the mask cracked. Monsieur Neuvillette is not opposed to children, especially those born of love. He is all for it, damn it! The problem is different... you cannot carry this child. You, a mortal with a fragile human soul, physically cannot bear the offspring of the Dragon Sovereign.

Neuvillette had never even considered he could create new life, so until the very end, he hoped it would all work out. But the news of your condition crashed down on him like an avalanche. His first reaction was a desperate attempt to persuade you to end the pregnancy. He foresaw your refusal, and this thought, like an icy needle, tormented him from the very beginning. He feared losing you, feared being deprived of what meant more to him than air, more than his own heartbeat! He spent sleepless nights studying ancient texts, trying to find any way to protect you, to save you both. Neuvillette scoured the archives of the Court of Fontaine, consulted the wisest Melusines, and even—to his immense displeasure—sought counsel from the Deities of other regions. But it was all in vain.

He, the Dragon Sovereign, the protector of Fontaine, could not protect his love. Anger and despair choked him. The man was ready to unleash all his power upon this world, just to find a way out. But there was none.

Why are you so blind to his feelings? Why, knowing that childbirth would be your death sentence, did you willingly step into the abyss? Why did you do this to him?..

Then came the day when Neuvillette approached your bed, knelt down, and took your hand in his. It was cold, weak, almost weightless. It was the Dragon Sovereign who unleashed the storm of his feelings, and outside, an impenetrable darkness split open in the form of clouds and heavy rain. He, once unshakable, the great Iudex, was now merely a broken being, kneeling before you.

"Forgive me," he whispered in a trembling voice. "Forgive me for failing to protect you. Forgive me for dooming you to this."

He understood perfectly well that his words meant nothing, but he could not stay silent. Neuvillette had to voice his pain, his remorse, his love, before it was too late.

He pressed his lips to your hand, feeling the last glimmer of hope fading in his soul. Darkness enveloped him, swallowing the remnants of light. And in that moment, Neuvillette understood he was dying with you. He wanted to die.

A couple of days later, you left this world in agony, leaving Neuvillette with only the cry of a newborn. And even that tiny miracle, the fruit of your love, could not disperse the shroud of despair that enveloped him. Even if you had wished for your child to know the caress of the sun, he could not stop the rain or scatter the clouds that had become a requiem for his lost love.

Neuvillette stood, petrified with grief, by the cradle woven from luxurious vines. The small body, still warm from the heat of entering this world, breathed unevenly. He was afraid to touch it, to taint that innocence with his sorrow. Reflected in Neuvillette's sorrowful eyes was a tiny face, so much like yours, yet so foreign...

He reached out a trembling hand.

The rain drummed on the roof of their house, echoing the turmoil within him. Each drop's impact resonated with pain in his heart, a reminder of fate's cruelty. Neuvillette suddenly began to recall your laughter, clear and pure. Your touches, gentle and tender like a breeze. All of it was now just an echo, a painful memory tearing at his soul.

He fell to his knees, pressing his face to the cold floor. The scent of your hair, still lingering in the air, choked him like an invisible noose. He pleaded with Death to take him too, to free him from this unbearable agony. But his pleas went unanswered; only the rain continued to pour, washing away the last hopes for the desired release.

The suffering had to be interrupted, however briefly, when the child let out its first cry. Taking the infant into his arms, Neuvillette felt a tiny heartbeat—faint, but so alive. In that warmth, in that fragile life, the man saw your reflection, your legacy. And then he understood he had to live. To live for you, for your child. He would be both mother and father to it. Neuvillette would definitely show it the sun, even if the sky were to weep forever.

═══════════════════════════════ Hey everyone, eressoft here! Sorry for any inaccuracies you might find. Please don't copy!

[eressoft]

You're Pregnant [Wriothesley]

Tags: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

CN/TW: Brief mentions of a painful childhood; emotional distress, fear of rejection. Happy/comfort ending.

The first thing to pierce Wriothesley’s heart when you told him of your pregnancy was the ice-cold rush of his own childhood memories. The years of his youth had forged in him a relentless vow—to become for his child what no one had ever been for him: the best of fathers. He had always known he would try to be a good parent, but he never imagined it would happen so soon.

And now, as you stand before him waiting for any reaction at all, Wriothesley goes perfectly still, stunned by the news. Shards of painful childhood recollections, promises he’d sworn to himself, and the sudden understanding that this new chapter of his life was starting here and now—all of it flashes through his mind. Fear tangles with anticipation, stirring up a strange, unfamiliar tempest in his chest. And though a hurricane rages inside him, only detached curiosity shows on the Duke’s face, as if he’d just been briefed on a new inmate whose file required review.

That coldness cuts deep. Dark thoughts begin to take root in your mind—that Wriothesley might snap, hurling curses as he throws you out and orders you never to dare cross his path again. A treacherous tear rolls down your cheek, and your heart, which had naively believed the Duke would be happy, now clenches at the icy indifference in his eyes. Should you leave? Should you even say something, one last thing?

"Wriothesley…" you whisper softly, as if afraid to break the silence hanging between you. His name sounds like a plea, a hope that behind that stone mask there remains at least a drop of warmth. "I… I’m so sorry…" Your voice betrays you, trembling and laying bare the whirlwind of feelings tearing you apart inside. "Forgive me. I’ll go."

But you don’t get to leave, because the Duke suddenly turns you around and pulls you into his arms. He lets out a slow breath, as if gathering his thoughts.

"Silly girl," he says hoarsely, and the words hold no reproach, only a startling tenderness. "How could you think this would leave me indifferent?"

Wriothesley draws back just enough to look into your eyes and carefully, as if afraid to break something fragile, brushes his thumb across your cheek, wiping away the tear. A spark ignites in his eyes—one you’ve never seen before—a spark of boundless love and hope.

"Forgive me for letting you doubt my feelings. It’s just… such unexpected news," Wriothesley admits, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I need a moment to let it settle. But know this: I will do everything to ensure this child grows up surrounded by love and care. I promise to be the best father I can possibly be."

Now only one thought gnaws at Wriothesley’s heart: your stay in the fortress. The air here is tolerable, but for your body, now sheltering a new life, it simply won’t do. So, in the nearest future, the Duke is determined to acquire a cozy little house with a spacious veranda, nestled among flowers, with a garden full of ripe fruit and berries. A place where you can wake to birdsong instead of the creaking of mechanisms and the echo of gloomy corridors. A place where your child will be the happiest child in the world.

The only obstacle is his title. Wriothesley is responsible for all of Meropide, which means he cannot leave the fortress for long. He has no right. And yet… he understands that your shared happiness and the well-being of your child are his main priority. Thoughts of tiny fingers reaching for him, first words, uncertain first steps—all of it will compel the Duke to make an unorthodox decision: to temporarily delegate some of his duties to trusted individuals. He will teach them everything he knows, share his experience and wisdom, so that Meropide remains in safe hands while he is away.

That very evening, after Wriothesley has processed the unexpected news of your pregnancy, he will share with you his fears and hopes. The Duke will tell you of his own childhood, of the dreams he holds in his heart, and how desperately he wants to be a better version of himself. You will listen intently and smile gently, knowing that he already is everything your child will ever need.

═══════════════════════════════ Hey everyone, eressoft here! Sorry for any inaccuracies you might find. Please don't copy!