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when you take off your wedding ring during a fight [genshin men]
⋗ ft. alhaitham, ayato, baizhu, dottore, kaveh, pantalone, zhongli
⋗ ~0.6k | fluffy angst | gn!reader
Alhaitham
“-what does that have to do with the issue at hand?” Alhaitham breaks off his sentence in the middle, his eyes narrowing. And right now, you have half a mind to believe it’s only because he’s mad he didn’t finish his thought.
The ring sits heavy in your palm; the weight of the promises it symbolizes. The memories of you and him. He stares at the band in your hand, his thumb touching the matching ring on his own finger. For a moment you feel like he might take it off too, despite how out of character that would be for him, and your heart feels like it’s gonna crumble on itself. You bite your lip.
“Do you need a moment?” he asks in a tone much softer. For the first time since you began fighting his voice isn’t the same as it always is.
“Yeah,” you admit. More words form and die on your tongue. You don’t even know where to begin - to spill your arguments now that you have the chance, or apologize? Part of you just wants to scream and cry.
Alhaitham gives you space. You can hear him in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water, while you sit down in the armchair and stare at the ring still in your palm. You forgot what it looks like removed from your finger. It looks so foreign, and not in a good way. You slowly slip it back on your finger. There’s guilt gnawing at your conscience. You shouldn’t have done that.
And so you stand up and join him in the kitchen. Before you can speak, he slides a glass of water towards you. Maybe the fight was pointless. Just a little bit. You drink the whole thing.
“Better now?” he asks, voice still careful. You nod. The lump in your throat only dissolves when you see the ring securely on his finger. It seems he looks for yours too. “Do you want to continue discussing that?”
You need to remind yourself that this is Alhaitham. He’s only asking. He’s not mocking you, not blaming you.
“No,” you shake your head. You put the glass back on the table, rounding it to stand closer to him.
“I explained my side,” he says, but he doesn’t push, “It’s more productive if you tell me what you think now.”
You suppose it would be. You know it would be. He’s right like he always is.
“Can we revisit it later?” you suggest, “It… I feel tired.”
It’s almost hesitant, the way he nods and opens his arms for you to walk into. Still you do, without question. The longer he holds you, the more you think about whether the fight was worth it. Was this really that important to you? Was he so mean that you had to do that?
Your thoughts are brought to a standstill by a hand prying yours away from his chest. Unsurprisingly, it’s just him. Just Alhaitham taking your hand, intertwining your fingers and resting your hands above his beating heart. Your rings press against each other. It’s not much of a difference, but you feel him relax. His eyes reflect on the shiny surface of the rings. You’ve never seen him look so relieved, and you don’t think it’s the metal distorting the image.
After a brief hesitation, you look up. Nothing changes, Alhaitham looks exactly like his reflection on the silver mirror. His thumb strokes the side of your hand.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you say quietly.
“I’m not letting you,” he smiles, careful. But the smile can’t hide how serious he is - not that you’d want it any other way.
Ayato
How can he just stand there? Calm, impassive, as if this was just another diplomatic negotiation. Perhaps it is, perhaps you should think about it that way too but-
“I’d think about that some more,” Ayato’s voice raises, “If I were you.”
You should. You definitely should. But him pointing it out makes you not want to, gets on your last nerve and so your fingers wrap around the band on your finger and tug- Try to.
There’s a patient hand, though really not so patient now, preventing you from moving. His touch isn’t rough, but it certainly isn’t the gentle, reverent touch you’re used to. How did he get to you so fast, you have no idea, or why it feels like there’s nothing you can do to break free from his touch. The candlelight paints shadows that make it feel like he’s towering over you.
“I know you’re upset, my love,” he speaks slowly, not much of a difference from how he’s been talking the whole night but there is a barely noticeable strain to his voice that makes you reel in any attempts at pulling your hand away from him, “But what you’re about to do is playing dirty. And you know I’m more than capable of stooping to that level too.”
You swallow. Of course he is. And he’s not threatening you, you know, not yet. He only reminds you, you think, of the previous times where he didn’t play fair in way less serious situations, where even playful teasing ended up hurting you. Though naturally, it wounds him too to cause you pain. You don’t want to force his hand.
“I’m sorry,” you say, then quickly add - albeit softer: “For this, I mean.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t get the wrong idea,” he chuckles. Before he frees your hand, he brings it to his lips to kiss just above the ring.
Yet he doesn’t let you go. Instead of your hand, he now holds your waist. It’s grounding, both his embrace and his proximity. Maybe this whole argument getting so severe could be avoided if you talked like this. You can dream.
“It seems to me we won’t reach an agreement,” Ayato sighs.
“No,” you admit as much as you don’t wish to. Unresolved conflict only means repetition later on, in some form. “Not with the way things are.”
You let him wind his arm around your waist and bring you closer. You, too, embrace him, resting your head on his shoulder. The argument exhausted you.
“Then we both need to put in more work,” he hums, “And continue at a later time.”
Maybe. It’s the only thing you can do, but that doesn’t mean you have to like it. Perhaps you should go pray, there must be someone who could grant you both what you want without the other losing their chance. He’d laugh if you suggested it, though.
“I hate how efficient you are,” you let go of your final grievance for the night, making him chuckle.
“Years of experience, darling,” he reminds you, “With higher stakes - which of course doesn’t mean I’m calling our marriage insignificant.”
You only roll your eyes but nod. You know that’s not his intention. He’s right anyway, and to some extent you’re glad he can remain stable and unshakeable like this. Being able to always depend on him, that’s one of the reasons you married him in the first place, after all.
“But I must say,” he murmurs into your hair, “I’ve never been threatened so violently before.”
You laugh and shake your head.
“No sword, no polearm or a bow is as scary as seeing you without your ring, my dear,” he whispers, “Believe it or not.”
Baizhu
“What are you doing?” his voice cuts through the air. Amber eyes staring at you, wide and afraid, eyebrows furrowed and his lips twisted downwards.
You hold the ring in your palm, your gaze dropping to the band like you need to make sure you really did that. But you did and now Baizhu is crossing the room to cradle your hands in his.
“What do you mean by this?” his chest is still heaving but at least his voice drops into something softer again.
“We should stop,” you lick your lips, your attention is split between the warm ring and his cold hands, “We’re just talking in circles.”
He takes a deep breath, lets it go again. His touch is so careful, even though he keeps distance between you. His gaze slowly seems to be warming up too the longer you silently stare at each other.
“Life’s too fragile to keep fighting,” Baizhu murmurs. Tension still holds his body in its grip. At the same time he looks like he really wants to let go.
“But this is really important to both of us,” you remind him, “Or we’d be better at making a compromise.”
He seems torn. Stuck between wanting to argue his point and dismissing the argument. It’d be easier to pretend nothing happened, but the core of the issue would just loom over your heads. He doesn’t come closer but his thumbs stroke the sides of your hands.
“We shouldn’t be together right now,” he sighs eventually. You nod. The pain in his eyes reflects your own.
“Stay here,” he suggests, cautiously, “I’ll go - but I’ll come back, okay?”
And so it’s agreed. You sit by the open window for the most part, taking deep breaths of the cool air in hopes it’ll clear your mind - it does. What it doesn’t do is magically give you a revelation as to what would be the perfect solution in this situation. Your anger ebbs and flows, even though it’s no longer directed primarily at your husband, more so at the circumstances.
And by the looks of it, Baizhu fares no better than you. He looks disheveled, as if he ran his hand through his hair the whole time he was out. Even his braid looks horrible, clearly having taken the most abuse.
Baizhu kneels next to your chair, easily intertwining your hands once more when you offer. With his other hand he reaches up to cup your face. You’re tired, you’re angry and you’re sad. You let him touch you, leaning into the familiar comfort.
“I’m gonna take the couch today,” you inform him. There’s no malice in your voice, only the silent understanding passes between you - you both still need time.
“I should be the one-”
“Let me,” you shake your head. You push some of his hair away from his face. “You take the bed and I’ll put the ring back on.”
He huffs, incredulous, before his lips settle on a softer smile.
“That’s a strong bargaining chip, are you sure you want to use it this way?” his thumb strokes your cheek.
“Mhm,” you give him a weak smile too, “You already know I’m yours.”
He nods. His eyes fall to your lips before he, sadly, looks away. Now it’s your turn to make him face you with a gentle touch to his jaw. Your lips meet slowly, first a hesitant brush, then they melt together like it’s the first time. Baizhu soaks up the contact, drinking the reassurance from your lips. You think you could be convinced to forget everything, if only for the night.
“We’ll figure this out,” he promises, then he adds after some hesitation: “Together.”
And really, that’s all you’re asking. So you let him take your hand and guide you to the bedroom. Then you let him slide the ring back onto your finger.
Dottore
The ring slips off your finger to the very last digit, as if giving you time to reconsider. Dottore watches the action intently. Nonetheless, his words only stop once he’s finished his sentence - that, too, as if it was your chance at redemption. Despite the mask shielding his eyes, you can feel his gaze on you and swallow heavily. As passionate as he was about presenting his arguments, the energy is gone now, turned into cold tension.
You hesitate, the ring still gingerly held between the fingers of your other hand. Dottore doesn’t move, tense and silent, observing your next step. He doesn’t say a word. And in the wordless face off, you understand - he would let you make this choice. He won’t say he wants you to stay and put the ring back on. Sometimes you have to do the work for both of you. Your ego is not more important than him.
It takes effort to make a step forward. The fists at his side clench but he makes no move to stop you, his silence remains deafeningly loud. You walk on until you stand before him and offer him your hand, ring dangling on the tip of your finger. The mask allows him a lot of anonymity. He tilts his head, the lower half of his face offers no hints as to what’s going on inside his head.
“That was very irrational,” you admit quietly, “A lapse of judgement.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. You don’t pull your hand back. “I have no use for an unwilling partner. I believe I made myself clear about only giving one chance.”
He waves you off, disinterested. Even so, he purposefully moves in a way that won’t remove the ring barely balanced at the tip of your finger.
“Did I catch you off guard, doctor?” you ask, “Do we have no further use for each other? Is that what this is about?”
Dottore bristles. Perhaps it’s pointless, as he warned you it is, to attempt to persuade him that a relationship can work even if the parties have no vital need for each other.
“I need you,” you whisper, little more than a breath, “Why stall? If you had no need for me at all, you would take the ring back already.”
It might be a trick of the light, the moment it seems like he wants to say something. He doesn’t. Instead, he grabs your hand rather roughly and shoves the ring back down your finger. He doesn’t let go.
“So stubborn,” he growls, “Inefficient. If you just-”
“You don’t need me for the experiment to progress,” you sigh, “Why get upset with me beyond the way in which I wronged you?”
His grip tightens. His jaw is set, which is about all you can read in his face. From the tilt of his mask and his fingers lingering by the band now securely around your finger, however, you can guess where he’s looking.
“Have you never doubted your decision? I should be allowed to make the same mistake,” you reason. He scoffs.
“Mistake?” he mocks, then he huffs, “Perhaps.”
He swipes his thumb over the ring. His own rest hidden inside his breastpocket for safety. Not that it matters - it’s more important that his claim on you is clear for all to see. Above all - for him, Dottore himself, to see. As if the intricacies binding you together were not enough.
“I should find a more permanent way of branding you,” he mutters. No attempt to hide it. No need for the mask either - now you know well that’s looking at you, studying you.
You just smile.
Kaveh
You can barely see what you’re doing but you feel the empty space immediately, and perhaps more so the painful void inside your chest than the cold air on your finger.
The room goes deadly silent. Kaveh stares at you, speechless. His mouth opens and closes like fish out of water. A thousand different emotions flash across his face before they settle on anger.
“Fine,” he scoffs, “Fine, go on then!”
He’s supposed to be furious. Why does he look like a cornered dog? Too scared to see through his fears. You blink and the anger turns into hurt, as if he wore nothing else on his face before. It breaks something inside of you. He’s not fully sober, he’s not thinking rationally, the whole fight got blown out of proportion-
You jump when something lands somewhere in front of you and rolls away. His own ring.
“I won’t hold you back!” he keeps screaming even as he falls to his knees. He looks like he can’t believe what he’s done, what he said. Your heart breaks but… this is just too much. And you’re in the wrong too, you have no right to be upset with him - you took off your ring first. But it’s too much.
So you ignore him when he starts crawling forward to look for his ring. And because you’re hurting and emotions are high, you drop your ring too. The search should entertain him for long enough that you both cool down, you could take a walk-
You don’t get the chance. And maybe you should’ve expected it.
“Kaveh…” you sigh.
Looking down, you see exactly what you thought you would. It doesn’t matter, your heart still clenches painfully. His eyes glisten with unshed moisture, his cheeks burn red. His face is twisted in agony, suffering which only you may free him from. He’s holding onto your leg like a lifeline, clawing at your clothes to make you stay.
With another long exhale, your frustration dissipates into nothingness. Your hand falls to the top of his head, pushing his hair away from his face. He leans into your touch like a cat.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, looking much more sober now, “I’m so sorry. Please don’t go.”
Words would be pointless. They’re cheap and without substance Kaveh could latch onto. He rests his head against your thigh while you slowly keep combing your fingers through his hair.
“Let’s look for them together, hm?” you suggest eventually as you get down on the floor with him. He furiously nods his head.
It’s easier than you thought it’d be, with the light catching on the metal and guiding you to the discarded bands like the stars guide ships at the sea. Even so, Kaveh keeps looking your way as if still scared you’ll leave. The fear remains despite both rings resting in his palm, it lingers after you put them back on with shaky hands. Not long after you find yourself looking up at the ceiling.
“Please don’t leave,” Kaveh mumbles into the crook of your neck, lying on top of you after tackling you to the ground, “I’m sorry, I’m-”
“I’m sorry too,” you stop him from the inevitable self-depreciating rant. You hold him closer. “Let’s talk about it again after we get some sleep.”
It’s so easy to get him to agree. He always insisted that the bed you share is his only safe space, a sacred space he never brings work to. He sinks into the mattress with you, more like a snake than you ever imagined was possible for a human being. Sleep evades you. Kaveh holds you so tight it’s hard to breathe. You can’t say you mind, though.
Pantalone
The world narrows down to this moment - his office, his biting remarks, your voice hoarse after hours of this. Nothing else exists. Nothing beyond this room. And then Pantalone says another hurtful thing and you’ve just about had it. The ring tries to stick to your finger, truly it does. But you’re stubborn.
And then the click of safety being dislodged, the pull of a trigger - not enough to make the gun aimed in your direction shoot but close - rings through the room in the sudden deep silence.
You freeze, staring at him not quite in disbelief, but in cold clarity of what happened, the whole sequence of events. His usual mask is already back in place.
“Now now, be careful with that ring,” he says smiling. That calm, deceptive smile that fools nobody that ever made the mistake at displeasing him. Your palms start to sweat, goosebumps rise over your body. You think your body starts trembling. “It might be your only chance at survival should you leave, to sell it.”
Pantalone comes closer, quiet, slow strides. His hand cups your jaw to tilt your face towards him, holding you in place. Apparently, he needs to work on his temper and you need to work on your survival instinct.
“No pawnshop will buy it,” you argue. Because what else are you supposed to do than submit to him fully, to admit his full control over your life. You messed up, and Feofan is not a man easily placated. “And anyone foolish enough to want to buy it won’t have enough mora to do so.”
He smiles, looking almost proud as he leans closer to you. “And why is that?”
“Because only the smart survive, get rich and stay in business,” you answer, “And because they’re smart, they’ll recognize the ring. And they’ll know that you’d come for it. And that you’d make sure the word doesn’t get out and that there’s no witness.”
Pantalone looks most pleased, closing the distance between you to rub your noses together.
“Very good,” he murmurs, “So how about you make sure the ring is safe on your finger, hm?”
You don’t acknowledge the threat to you. That was only to be expected. You wounded him, or at least upset him, destabilized a favourable situation that is your relationship; naturally he’d lash out. You know better than most. The ring feels heavy on your finger. Less like a ball and chain locked around your ankle, more like a heavy winter coat around your shoulder.
Feofan can be incredibly sweet and attentive to those he cares for. He is. Unless given a reason not to be.
“There we go,” he whispers. Some of his smile is genuine, which is a relief.
He’s about to pull away but you’re quicker. It doesn’t matter much, whether he stays or not is entirely up to him. For a moment you don’t think he will, considering how coldly he regards your hand tugging on his sleeve. Then he indulges you, allowing you to even put his hands on your waist.
“I hurt you with my words,” he states, licking his lips. The haze of the argument must’ve left his mind. “I apologize.”
“I also apologize,” you sigh, “I shouldn’t have done that. You know how to be incredibly infuriating and I never know how to stop you and then act out of line.”
He chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “Yet you’re forgiven. A benevolent lover, am I not?”
You agree, with reluctance that remains privy only to you. Feofan knows how to be very benevolent, yet unapologetically cruel at the same time. You, at least, are protected by his fondness for you. Still you think you’d rather pamper him for a while, to make him forget your mistake.
Zhongli
You’d maybe prefer if Zhongli showed his emotions more. You’d perhaps appreciate more if he looked as worked up as you. This is going nowhere and it’s frustrating, he’s frustrating-
“Do it and you’ll have to face punishment,” he says, sternly, impatiently. Exactly the way you hoped he’d talk ever since your blood started boiling. Yet now you completely disregard his tone for sake of what he’s saying, or rather - those words with that tone make you forget what you were doing in the first place.
He closes the distance between you swiftly and you all but shiver when he takes your hand into his. However, his mood changes rapidly the moment his fingers brush the ring halfway down your finger. Zhongli’s very good at hiding his emotions, but when he lets them show, they’re painfully clear. And now the remorse consumes him completely.
“I didn’t mean to upset you so,” he murmurs, stroking over the ring now safely in its usual place, “I apologize.”
You take a deep breath, exhale slowly. He means it, of course he does, sometimes your tempers just don’t match well.
“I’m sorry too,” you mumble, then you swallow, “What did you mean earlier though, by the punishment…?”
You know better than to genuinely think Zhongli was suggesting what your body clearly seems to think, or maybe even hope for.
“We signed the certificates,” he says, slowly, almost carefully, the tone you know well because that’s how he always says what he’s half-certain might be upsetting to you without fully comprehending why, “Marriage is basically a contr-”
“Zhongli, I swear, if you call our marriage a contract I am resigning from it,” you sigh. Exhausted by the revelation so much that you can’t even get mad, let alone think about what you were fighting about in the first place, you let your forehead fall against his shoulder. He freezes for a moment in a silent contemplation.
“I don’t think of our relationship as a contractual obligation-”
“Zhongli, I know you think that’s comforting but please be quiet,” you stop him before he can get the rest of the explanation out.
“I love you,” he chuckles, settling for the safe option.
“I love you too,” you accept, a small smile blooming on your lips, “But don’t ever call our marriage that.”
He nods against your head, his arms wrapping around your waist. He holds you closer, rubbing circles into the small of your back. How easily does he undo you with his words - how easily you undo a god. With nothing but a simple mistake in the heights of emotion.
“I wasn’t planning to leave,” you mumble into his shoulder, “I was just so frustrated.”
He makes a small noise of acknowledgement. The longer he holds you, the more you feel like you’ve both calmed down. The golden light of the late afternoon casts a warm glow around the room.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he says, slowly, as if each word was hard to spell out, “I don’t like the idea of you leaving… our home, and me.”
His hand finds yours, squeezing, tracing the ring again. You have to appreciate he made the effort to not say breaking the contract. You reward him with a chaste kiss to his cheek.
“I don’t plan to,” you pull away enough to meet his eyes, “We swore until death do us apart, didn’t we? I’m keeping that promise.”
Zhongli cups your face, his thumb strokes your cheek. You close your eyes when he leans in. The kiss is enough, the tenderness of his touch. The god of contracts made his vow to you, he wouldn’t dream of breaking it.
Can I have a smut where the fem character wants to help Nero during his mating season and they end up make love to each other?
Omg yes! i only have limited knowledge on Nero, since i only ever watch the animes of dmc tho. Lovely request tho! Im sorry!
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, fluff, and slight angst.
"N-nero! O-open this door right now!" You shouted, pounding on the door. But to no avail, the door stayed shut. Growls could be heard however.
"Damn it! Y-you know what! im getting Vergil...whereever he is!"
"There is no need, as to your avail, i will just simply inform your right here."
After all, Vergil did inform you, about what the hell was happening to his son. With your face beating bright red after that. "I-is that why he wouldnt open the door?"
"Yes, if that is all, i will take my leave, however..." Vergil places the small, petite key into your hands, vanishing away. A silent plea to help his son.
The key fumbles against the lock. "D-damn it! what a stupid lock." you grumble.
"Y-y/n?...s-stop..." he growls.
"Boy, i live here too, dingus." You practically push the door open with blunt force, as Nero had barricaded it with pillows.
"Look, Nero-"
"yes...i know dad told you...."
'Let me help."
"No!"
"Well im not taking no for an answer!" you shout, slamming the door shut with pure blunt force.
"Fine, play like that." Nero grunts, wrapping his arms around your waist, before grinding his bulge against you.
Could I ask for A Flins X corpse bride reader, as in a reader that is like Emily from the movie corpse bride, if possible add some fluff in the end 🫶🫶🫶
- 🪼 anon
Aun: OMG! what a lovely request! i never really watch corpse bride, so i had kinda change the idea a bit! My apologies! *Heart*
Warnings: Fluff, hehe.
Pain.
Pain is all you felt when you looked at yourself.
Tears of sorrow drip down your chin. Mangled sobs come soon after. Kyryll Flins is quick to stride over. A worried look plastered on the Light Keepers face.
"My light, what is wrong?"
"w-who am i!?!?" You flinch, when even touching your own, cracked, paled complex.
"dead..." he swiftly replies.
"As my wife, i have fulfilled your wish."
In a entire minute, time stopped, the ticks in your head dissipated. unable to speak until you stutter out some words.
"W-w-hy!!? j-just l-leave!?"
"as you wish."
-Timeskip-
Two hours, two hours is all it took for you to crack. Soon enough subtle footsteps creep down the lighthouse, in search of Kyryll Flins. But he is nowhere to be seen.
"Kyryll...I'm sorry!...i was scared..."
"i know." a voice, hiding in the shadows mutters. Regret straining past his voice.
"Kyryll...i swear!-"
You cant even finish your sentence, before kyryll is cupping your cheeks, pulling your crack, pale face to his lips. Each time he pecks a spot, he rubs your back on and top. Every one ends up making you soften up even more.
You let out the softest sigh.
"I was scared...even if im dead ill still spend the rest of my olden days with you. Lightkeeper."
"ill keep you to that promise then. Corpse Wife, even the hunt wont ever touch you, ever."
Plot: Every Genshin Man wants to cuddle with their wife right?
-Ft: Venti, Flins, Scaramouche/Wanderer
Warning: None. (PT 1)
"Venti! Venti!" His name echoed through the room. Panic heaping is way into your system. However soon, a certain Tone-Deaf Bard come into your gaze. Prying the front door open, Venti bursts in.
"Wind Chime!"
"Your late. Again." You sigh.
"I Know, i know..." He sways, clearly a tad bit drunk, wrapping his arms around your waist. He tackles your onto the bed. "V-venti! W-w-what are you!"
"Cuddling..." He mumbles, face smushed into your stomach, you don't complain however, just simply stroking his hair in response. "i need this please Wind Blume." he mumbles once more, nuzzling his face deeper into your stomach.
"Alright, Long Day?'' you ask, but receive no remark. As he is already asleep, drooling on your shirt.
"Ugh, are you kidding me Venti!"
"Kyryll? Are...you Ok?" you question, as Flins simply sits there, running a slick cloth over his polearm. Raising an eyebrow, you attempted to stride over there, when Flins reacts fast. He lets his polearm go with a clack!
"K-kyryll!? Are you!-" you couldn't finish your sentence, as flins envelopes you into an embrace, arms circling your waist, and a longing gaze following your eyes.
"Apologies My Light...it simply came over me."
"N-no...its alright, please keep going."
"as you wish." he replied, his eyes searching, no awaiting. For words that might signal to stop. But it never came.
Instead, he made hast to carry you into bed. Eyes gazing at your lips, just waiting for the right time. However cuddling matter more than a simple desire that could be cured in a mere matter of minutes.
Wanderer found himself in quite the predicament. His pride reframed him from asking one simple question. Can you cuddle me?
Currently, you stuck signing papers from the Akademiya. However Wanderer stand right behind you, hands twitching at his sides.
"Kuni? Do you...need something?" you pipe up, raising an eyebrow in pure concern.
Yes, imbecile i do." He sputters back.
"Oh Ok?" you mumbles, slight hurt by the rude name.
Wanderer swiftly allows himself to wrap his arms around your waist. Practically throwing you onto the bed.
"K-kuni!?"
"Silence, the papers can wait. But i cant." He grins, tossing his hat away.
"Sylus Let me out!" Pleas of screeches could be heard, as his wife pounded on the bathroom door. However he seemed unbothered, unlike her.
"Sylus!"
Mephisto gaze fell upon her, the crow as well seemed unbothered. The bathroom door swung open, revealing Sylus, robe wrapped around his toned form.
"Sylus...why did you locked me in your room!-"
"You worked too hard." He blunted stated, like that was the most honest phrase ever.
"I-i do not!-"
"Silence." The tone in his voice was dark. All emotion faded with the gaze he provided you. "Do.Not.Lie.To.Me.Wife." He roughly grips your shoulder, flinging you onto the couch, but carefully not to injure you.
'Out Mephisto. Now" The crow quickly descends out the room, fading away from your vision."
"W-wait S-s-sylus what are you doing!?-"
"Tiring you. You.Need.A.Break."
Sylus swiftly plops on top of you, caging you in between his broad arms. One hand goes and cups your cheek, while the other one grips the back of your hair, forcing your into a rough kiss, tongues fighting for dominance, your quick to lose the fight, as Sylus's tongue explores your mouth. His hand grips your hair even tighter, pulling you straight out the kiss.
Drool drips from your chin, practically staining the luxury couch. While Sylus starts planting kiss after kiss. One on your cheek, forehead, and moving lower to your neck.
In the end, you couldnt walk for days. Hey! at least you got a break!...Right?
hi! may you, please, write hc of characters of your choice (twst) with a reader who dyes their hair too often? like, they have a different hair color and patterns every month. thank you in advance!!
A/n: OMG! what a lovely request! Tysm! sorry for posting for late...the original story for this had a hc and a written one...but then my Laptop crash...and i lost all of it....so sorry!!
Riddle Rosehearts,
Would be giving you a whole lecture, to the point of an headache, scolding you damaging your hair AGAIN, however he does say it looks beautiful, but not before dragging you away to the Heartslabyul Dorm
has warned you about dying your hair again.
He May or May not put a collar on you. -(Ps: he did.)
so now your stuck with a collar, and feeding the flamingos, That will teach you!
"My Rose this is unacceptable! How many times have i told you?! Hm??" Riddle shouted, dragging you away.
"Mmm...Me dont know? Do you like it?"
"Of course i do! But my rose, that junk will damage your hair!"
"So what" Sticking your tongue out playfully, regretting it as soon as you feel that heavy collar weigh on your neck.
"Then its off with your head!!"
....TimeSkip....
"Sooo...Ace buddy what happen to you."
"How did that stupid Tyrant make his lover suffer..." Ace mumbles.
"Dunno. Still loves me though!" Redness tinted your blushing cheeks.
Es Tut Mir Leid- Micheal Kaiser x Reader
Angst With Comfort
Disclaimer: ONE I USED GOOGLE TRANSLATE MAN. TWO IM NOT GERMAN. :>
Enjoy!
Es Tut Mir Leid: Im sorry
AUN: Authors Note.
Micheal Kaiser strides over, with his ever so gleaming confidence. However in this very moment he shoves his stupid pride, stupid ego.
To Know.
Why?
Why tears are flowing down your cheeks in a endless stream of wetness.
He needed to know why?
Right Now.
"M-micha?" you question, too dark to completely notice why he's standing there. hands shaking like he already lost you. "L-liebling...- Why must you cry?" A question that struck a string in your disheveled appearance.
Hes quick. Being Germany's star football player in all, however just coming back from practice, and having to deal with a nerve-racking Yoichi Isagi, made him in a completely crabby mood.
While you just needed comfort.
But it never came, instead you were met with vile, harsh, words, that made your heart crack with hurt. Spiriting off and barricaded yourself in your shared- bedroom.
And now Micheal Kaiser. Germany's prodigy, Isagi's biggest rival (Plus Rin.) realizes real fast. His grave mistake.
His swift to envelope you into his arms. heart beating like never before. Sweat lingering on his brow.
"Oh My Schatz, Es Tut Mir Leid." He mutters, hands jittering slightly.
He's panicking. You can tell.
Losing you. Hurting you. becoming like his father.
"M-m-micha....Oh Pl-" You mumble, hands clasping against his cheeks. "Shhhh....Liebling...es tut mir leid...Im So sorry..." you cut him off with a love-filled kiss. Tears still streaming down your face. Splashing the floor with a droop.
Micheal Kaiser is quick to latch on.
and soon. The argument fades.
AUN: man...im too lazy lowk! I promise ill keep posting more! AN PLZ REQUEST ME GANG FOR FIC STUFF! its really appreciate! tysm for reading! and have a good day!
i had a request for housewardens being called a good boy, BUT IT GOT DELETE. was tweaking sooooo, may this fulfull thee anonymous who requested it. ITS A MASH BETWEEN THE YOUR MINE AND THAT. anyways toot a loos.
- Being called a good boy, meant Malleus was doing/ did something good to you.
-Lowk think he has a praise kink or smth.
- when you say it to his face. he will simply agree, and confirm it.
- Takes place in book 2, after that parade ahh crap for spelldrive.
- DOESNT MATTER IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT.
IMPLIED NSFW, MINORS NO
"Child of Man, may i ask what you are doing?" Malleus piped out, curiosity lacing his oh sweet voice you loved! You ever so slowly turn your head to Malleus, where a very delicate box rests dormant on the fancy nightstand.
"Nothing!"
"Nothing? Hm? Well Child of Man, the all graceful Wife that i have desired all these years, is poaching at-"
"Malleus Draconia. Change it"
"Yes My Dearest."
"Good boy."
Malleus horns somehow twitched at that comment. He softened his gaze even more. He swiftly strides over to where you are, which is poaching on the bed, with a teasing gaze in your eyes.
"Yes i am, your good boy. my dearest."
he cups you cheek, patiently pinning you against the bed.
"Malleus, Make sure Sebek, or anybody at that matter....like last time."
"My dearest. I have already finished that, what happen last time, was merely Lilia's lack of privacy playing at fault, My dearests"
You, the ever so kind wife you are, shuffles close to him, and ever so sweetly place the same dormant box was stay silent. Now rested palm still in Malleus's hands.
"Open it"
''My dearest-"
"you deserve it, after all you put up with Leona today, im proud. My good boy."
"Y/N"
"Hm?..." you never all most never heard him use your actually name...only during...interesting compromises.
"Your mine."
"I know."
"I know you know dearest. however im going to remind you again. As a gift hm?"
''EXCUSE ME. MY HUSBANDS DIRTY!"
"Now, Now silence, we wouldnt want Lilia creeping against the door again, while we have intercourse hm?''
"Hmmmmm, why the hell am i supposed to help Heartslabyul?" you growl, confusion etched onto your facial features. "Ugh Y/n pleaseee" Ace pleads.
"Bro, Ace. Do you remember who the hell i'm married too.-" "Yeah, Housewarden Kingscholar can miss some nap-cuddles once in a while! plus Riddles gonna bite off my skin if you don't help!''
One transition later!
"Bro, Ace, i ain't never doing this again!" You practically shove the tart into the orange-bluish haired idiot's face, but re-framed from doing so. "My bad! Trey couldn't make all the tarts by himself in time! so blame him! OR CATER! he just sits around until the tarts are finished, then he gobbles them up!"
"Ok, damn Acey, never knew you hated your superiors that much." You cough, a fake one at most. "Look i gotta run now, i think im screwed at the least." You bolted onto there. Checking your pocket-watch along the way, to notice.
9:01
"GAHHH! IM SO SCREWED! LEONA GONNA BANG A TOOTH OUTTA ME!"
"Your sure right i am."
"EH!"
"Leona!...i was helping Heartslabyul with their Unbirthday Party! I swear, i didn't mean to miss our nap-cuddles, or Cheka..." "Herbivore-." He flicks your forehead. "-i will seriously knock out one of your teeth, if you don't notify me next timw. However ill will let it slide, but i need my nap-cuddles and regular ones all week. And you let me groom you. and if Cheka wanna cuddle with yah. but i aint allowin it. Your Mine."
"Excuse me, what!"
"Yah, have a problem Herbivore?"
"Yes."
"Well too bad."
Pt 2 gonna come soon! and mayhaps a Riddle, Malleus part too
